RUNNING BLIND: 2019 Leadville 100 Race Report & MORE
TRAINING
I made the Leadville 100 my "A-Race" for the year - meaning, I wasn't racing multiple 100 milers, or crazy adventuring during the 8 months prior to Leadville. My plan was to be able to "run" the entire 100 miles - where the terrain was runnable. I incorporated several 50 mile runs every 2 weeks into my training. I also ran a couple 100 mile races early in the year to build a solid base. with 2 months to go, I incorporated mountain and altitude training on Pikes Peak (14,000' peak), Mt. Evans (14,000' peak) and in Winter Park (11,600' pass). I had good weekly mileage, and felt relatively fast at the ultra-distance; however, I did not have the amount of trail miles on my legs that I wanted. Not being able to drive to the mountains was a big problem for me - I'm legally blind so I don't drive anymore. Coordinating rides with people who could train at the same times as me, and run the distance I wanted to run was a problem. Hence, most of my miles were city miles - this is something I will work to change in the future. Within 2 months of the race, I incorporated significant core work and pushups as well as Hindu-squats (thanks Rich Airey). This helped a lot, and gave me a 10-15% lift in my running, and some 6-pack abs for awhile. I'll keep this regimen up in the future at all times. A strong core results in a strong runner.
GUIDES
I was planning on having only 1 guide the entire 100 miles. With about 1 week to go, my guide and I spoke and thought having 1 guide the entire 100 miles was not the wisest idea. We created a plan where he would pick me up for the last 60 miles, and I'd find somebody else to guide me from the start until sunrise (probably 15 miles). I planned to run during daylight on my own, following other runners without call-outs of terrain. My guides are required to run faster than me, wear reflective ankle straps and call-out 20-30 obstacles per minute - "rock left", "root right", "large step down", "water crossing", "drop-off left, fall right", "false flat", etc. Basically, they are like verbal closed captioning for the trail. They need to tell me everything I cannot see that could be an obstacle in my path. In order to run as fast as I need, and talk and concentrate that much, they must be at least 20% fitter than me. They cannot chit chat with other runners and are working the entire time. Guiding a blind runner on trails is mentally grueling and exhausting. It is not for the faint of heart, or unfit.
BIKE CRASH
I still ride a bike at times to get from place to place. I was at my son's school riding my bike when I T-boned a 2 foot brick wall. I didn't see the brick wall at all, as it was out of the tunnel that I see through. I went over the handle bars, scraped the left side of my body, broke my sunglasses, my left foot went numb and I injured my right wrist. Within a couple minutes, feeling came back to my left foot - I must have hit a nerve during the fall. I had some blood from the scrapes on the left side of my body. However, the concerning injury was my right wrist. It was swelling quickly. I could still move my fingers some, but it was not possible to squeeze the hand. I must have partially torn a ligament, tendon or something. I was convinced it wasn't broken, and I intended to race. I was concerned however, because I use trekking poles for the entire 100 miles of the race. I calculate that I plant each pole an average of 30 times per minute, and 60 minutes in an hour for 25 hours would mean 45,000 pole plants on my injured right wrist. I would just have to deal with it.
THE RACE
THE RACE
I went to Leadville 3 days prior to the race in order to acclimatize. This is something I've never done before, but I will do in the future whenever possible. I felt positive effects of letting my body settle into the altitude with a few nights of good sleep at altitude.
On race morning, I woke up at 3 am and ate some oatmeal, a bagel, a banana and tried to chug some coffee. I also drank a full bottle of water. I walked to the start line at 3:50 am (the start is 4 am). This late start had my crew worried, but I knew what I was doing. I didn't want any mental distractions from my race plan. It's fun to get to the start line early and say Hi to friends, and get an adrenaline rush; however, that would just be burning matchsticks in my opinion. I needed to save all my energy and adrenaline so I could run the full 100 miles when it was runnable for me. I edged my way to the front of the pack (829 runners total started the race) just in time for the national anthem. Before I knew it the gun went off, and we were trotting.
I put my last minute-guide in front of me, and we settled into our pace. The plan was to jog easily for the first 10 miles until the trail got technical.
We moved good for the first few miles, without talking much to other competitors. I wear a LEGALLY BLIND bib and my guide wears a GUIDE bib, so other runners know we are working as a team. Inevitably, other runners ask me or my guide questions about what we are doing or the process we use to work together. For this race, I needed my guide 100% focused and I asked her not to talk to other competitors while guiding me, and just to focus on calling out obstacles and picking out the smoothest line on the trail. After about 5 miles, we were comfortably hitting a pace of 9:30/mile and most of the "talkers" were behind us.
When we got to the single track trail at Turquoise Lake, my guide's light was totally ineffective. I use a super-bright headlamp that enables me to see my guide's feet, calves and 2' of the terrain surrounding their feet. The problem becomes that the light is so bright, it casts a black shadow for the guide of what is directly in front of them. The guide effectively becomes just like me and is running blind hitting rocks and roots and is trying to call them out for me. At about 10 miles into the race, my guide took a bad fall and I had to continue on without her. I was scared.
Other racers around me had picked up on my needs and tried to call out obstacles here and there - maybe one every few minutes. I was tripping quite a bit, but did not fall. I found a racer with white calf sleeves that lit up nicely with my light. I began following him and he took me into the May Queen aid station. At May Queen (mile 12.5) I was in 329th place out of the 829 starters in a time of 2 hours 18 minutes. Then, as the sun rose, I ran a very technical 2.5 mile section of the Colorado Trail solo, following other runners. There was a lot of tripping, but it was pretty technical for many people so there was also a lot of hiking and I was able to keep up.
At the top of this section is Hagerman Road, a mile long gravel road with a slight incline. I have a killer "Granny Gear" and started running the climb, passing many runners. Soon, there was a hairpin turn onto a jeep road with loose "doll head" rocks (ankle twisters). I tried to memorize this section as I knew it would be my nemesis on the way back in around mile 80. I ran the entire climb - many were hiking, but my Granny Gear was just on fire and my heart rate and breathing never increased above "all day pace". "All day pace" feels like about 60% of max effort. Then, I ran down power line at an easy clip. When I popped out of the trail onto the pavement, I easily jogged a little over a mile on an undulating paved surface and arrived at the next aid station, Outward Bound (mile 23.5), in 221st place in a time of 4 hours 30 minutes. I had moved up 92 places in just about 11 miles.
I dropped my night time gear - running pack, headlamp with a battery stick and coat - picked up nutrition, a water bottle, gave some hugs and kisses and I was off trotting again. This next section was the most runnable section of the course for me, and I knew I needed to nail it, not fall, and stay up on hydration, salt and nutrition in order to have a chance at making my 25 hour goal. I trotted easily and ran up and down every hill on the way to Twin Lakes aid station (mile 38). I arrived Twin Lakes at 7 hours and 18 minutes into the race, in 146th place and had moved up another 75 spots in 14 miles.
I picked up my guide who would be with me for the next 60 miles - until the finish. We trotted easy, then began the infamous "double crossing of Hope Pass". This is a 23 mile section where you climb from ~ 9,000' up and over a 12,600' pass then down to ~9,000' on the other side. Then, you turn around and do the same thing in reverse. That crossing plants it's flag on your body and mind, in a bad way.
My guide is a significantly better climber and runner than I am, and I found myself constantly trying to "keep up". I was beginning to not race "my race." This was a problem, and I had to consciously make an effort to just let him go, instead of yelling out that I was getting dropped. I felt like I was climbing fairly well at a hiking pace, although I felt the strain in my legs. I wondered whether I would be able to run after a double crossing. On the descent of the pass, I ran well but twisted both ankles several times in rock fields, and on embedded rocks and roots. My eyesight is getting worse, and I'm just hitting more obstacles and tripping. Tripping was becoming a problem. When I trip or have a near fall, it consumes a lot of energy. There is an associated adrenaline rush after a near fall, or fall, then when the adrenaline goes away I feel much less powerful and weak. We arrived at the halfway point of the race in Winfield (mile 51) in 11 hours 5 minutes in 134th place, moving up 12 spots in 11 miles.
We quickly turned around and started back up over the pass. From Winfield to the top of Hope Pass sapped me of "hope" (pun intended). I felt like a hot mess. I was beginning to blame my guide for all my trips and falls. I began falling and skinning knees, knuckles and feeling toenails dying as I kicked embedded rocks. Some runners following me began giving me scores on my near falls - at times I felt like egging on the joking and at other times I felt like yelling at them. My mental game was melting down on the climb. After summiting Hope Pass, I leisurely moved to the aid station about a half mile from the summit and sat down. I had a headache, a heartache and was demoralized. I had moved so well through the prior parts of the race, but this section "kicked my arse good!" Slowly, I raised myself and tried to jog 5 miles down Hope Pass to Twin Lakes. It was tough to see the rocks and roots on the trail. My eyesight was failing more, than when I had started the race. With fatigue, my eyes perceive less. It felt like I was tripping on everything and my guide just could not call out enough. Tension began to mount between me and my guide, and it was unnerving. We soon recovered, and each of us focused on running and moving at a decent pace so we could try to achieve the 25 hour finish goal.
When we finished the 3 mile descent of Hope Pass, I found my running legs. My body and mind seemed to recover well as soon as I got back to around 9,000' of elevation. I ran the rest of the way into the Twin Lakes Inbound aid station (mile 62.5) and arrived at 15 hours 19 minutes in 126th place, moving up 6 spots in 11 miles.
I changed shoes, socks and my shirt. I would be going into the dark, so I also picked up my night gear which included my headlamp and pack (I needed a pack to carry the headlamp's battery stick). Off we went in the daylight, eating up mile after mile. We continued passing people, who were bent over, puking, hurting and aching. I was amazed that my body was moving so well. When the trail became a runnable incite, we were off trotting again. We ran and ran almost all the way to Outward Bound. In my 25 hour Big Buckle strategy, it was critical that I be able to run between Twin Lakes and Outward Bound - outbound and inbound. I accomplished this to 85% of my goal arriving at Outward Bound inbound aid station (mile 77) at 18 hours 58 minutes in 114th place moving up 9 spots. I calculated that I could make 25 hours if I could do each of the next sections in 3 hours apiece. I had to move, and run where ever possible. I truly believed I could run the sections and still Big Buckle at mile 77.
Then, disaster struck! I slammed a Mountain Dew and planned to start running the pavement to the trail section and start climbing Powerlihe. Within a minute of starting to run, I felt my stomach gurgling, then before I knew it I was puking Mountain Dew all over the blacktop. It took about 5 pukes to empty my stomach to where I was feeling good. I told my guide "uh oh!" I had stopped taking in calories and liquids about 7 miles prior. My stomach had shut down. The only way to get it back functioning was to slow down. Only that was not an option at this point. I had to move as fast as possible if I was going to make 25 hours, so we pressed on. My ultra-mentor onee told me that I didn't need to eat any calories for the last 25 miles of Leadville, if I got into trouble. He did say that I had to continue drinking. I had no choice but to press on for as long as my body and mind would allow.
We moved quickly up Powerline and continued passing people. We were not passed by anybody. I was hopeful and feeling "good." Once at the top of Sugarloaf pass was a mile section of doll head rocks. I started rolling my ankles with every other step. My guide was doing the best he could to call out the rocks, but there were just too many. People began passing me as I was tripping and falling. It sucked! I got mad at my crappy eyesight. Then, I realized that would do me no good and I just needed to be patient as we moved through this section. It took way too long - close to 30 minutes for a downhill mile. Then, we got to Hagerman Road and ran well to the Colorado Trail section. For the next 2.5 miles we pretty much walked. It was so technical, that a big fall could spell the end of my race and a DNF. I was exhausted and my guide was exhausted. We arrived the May Queen inbound aid station (mile 87.8) at 22 hours 33 minutes in 109th place moving up 5 spots.
I told one of my crew members "I quit! I can't make 25 hours." She grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me and said, "you're fast! Just run this section like you did this morning and you got it." At first I was angry at her for not feeling sorry for me in my time of despair, then I heard her words and agreed. I still had a shot at 25 hours. I just needed to run this section faster than I had ever ran it before, and faster than almost everybody else in the race. I could do anything, and this was possible.
My guide and I set off. The technical sections were being walked at a slow pace; too slow of a pace. When we got to the sections that could be ran, we were not gaining on our goal and had lost ground. We ran the flat sections around Turquoise Lake and I had not eaten or drank much of anything for the past 20 miles. I just needed to hold on another 10 miles and I would finish with a significant PR on the course. Soon we were off the single track trail and on runnable dirt roads. We ran up hills and down hills. We hiked short technical sections, but were pretty much jogging the rest. My plan to be able to run the full 100 miles, where runnable, was paying off. I did not have a "death march" in the race.
After we missed the 25 hour mark, my guide and I both dreamed of a sub-26 hour finish and we ran - pretty hard at times. With .8 miles to go, we were hauling (sub-8 minute pace). As the finish line came in sight, so did my crew and my Mom. We sprinted right past my Mom who was trying to run with us and keep up. I told my guide, "slow down. I care more about people than I care about some stupid time goal." We paired up with my Mom, daughter and crew. We jogged and walked it in for a 26 hour 2 minute finish in 104th place, up 5 spots in the last 12 miles.
I finished in the top 13% of starters (104th place of 829 starters). 56% of the field did not finish the race. I bested my prior PR at Leadville by more than 2 1/2 hours. It was my 5th finish at Leadville, and I remain the only blind runner to have ever finished the Leadville 100 mile Trail Run.
I can do nothing without my crew. To my Mom who has been my Crew Chief for every significant race I've competed in - I appreciate you more than words can say. To my daughter Sierra who came to Leadville another time and gave me joy, inspiration and support - I love you and you're old man still has some fight left in him. To Marquis, who came out to this wild running event and crewed - I'm so glad to have shared this with you, and it wouldn't have happened without you. To Nicola and Brandon, my guides, I am nothing without you. You are my eyes, when my eyes do not work. You are my strength and refuge, when I know my body has failed me. You will never understand what a guide does to help a blind runner; but, I hope you will always remember the time when we set the record for the fastest time by a blind person at the LT100. I have a feeling this record will stand for a very, very long time.
And to the Leadville Race Series - specifically Quinn Cooper, Ken Clobber, Marilee Maupin and Tim Brosious - THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ATHLETES WITH DIFFERENCES! During this race there was a blind guy (me), a guy with one foot, and two guys with one arm - that I know of. Leadville makes it so easy for us to compete, and they welcome us with open arms. BTW - these athletes with differences finished at the front of the pack. I have been told that I cannot run races because I am blind and my guide takes up an extra spot. This is not the case at Leadville. I am proud of the stand that Leadville has made in welcoming Athletes with Differences. I will be a race ambassador for Leadville in this arena & hope that other races will follow Leadville to be inclusive.
My daughter created this YouTube video of the race.....I love you Sierra! XOXO
My daughter created this YouTube video of the race.....I love you Sierra! XOXO
Next up.....the Taco Bell 50k in October (10 Taco Bell stops where a food item must be eaten, and is a "pick-up race"), the Polar Bear Marathon in November in Churchill (Northern Canada & the most populous place for polar bears), and the US Blind Marathon Championships in December in Sacramento.
#ONWARD
Jason is an expert at teaching people to transform Dreams into Reality. He has amassed a lifetime of expertise in the field as a General Manager for General Electric leading large teams, where he ran a $400 million dollar business, he was a former leader of Global Operations for a Fortune 100 company, an attorney and CEO of a non-profit that helps children with Autism. In addition to his professional experience, he is a US Paralympian, holds 15 world records in ultra-running and mountain biking, is an author, a highly sought after motivational and business speaker and is the 1st and only blind person to run across America - 3,063 miles where he averaged 51.5 miles/day for 59.5 days. For speaking and media inquiries visit www.jasonromero.net
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