Please don't stop the grind: DNF @ Mace's Hideout
My friend and trusted guide, Camilo, was just steps ahead of me climbing up a steep pitch on a mountain in Southwestern Colorado. We had been moving on foot for more than 80 miles and almost 30-hours, climbing and descending mountains, crossing creeks, post-holing through snow banks and sloshing in muddied single-track that tried to suck the shoes right off our feet. We heard a voice. You made it?! Where's your buddy? Camilo responded, "He's right here." As we breached a wooded area the trail opened up to the voice, and before us stood the Mace's Hideout 100 Race Director. He seemed surprised to see us. As we passed him, he thanked me for coming to the race and participating in the event. He pointed us to the trail which continued climbing up what seemed like a never ending mountain. We continued upward and onward. You'll never make the next aid station before the cut-off! I was startled by these words which erupted from behind me. After processing the state