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 statement for 30-seconds, I responded without looking back, "Why?"

You'd have to run like 5-minute miles to make it!

Neither Camilo nor I responded. It felt like I just got punched in the gut. After another 15-minutes of climbing we could see the 81-mile aid station #10, St. Charles. I looked at the time and realized we had 3 hours and 10 minutes to get to the next aid station which had a 5 pm cut-off - it was 11.5 miles away. I yelled to Camilo, "Dude! We have more than 3 hours to get there. Grab food and go. We got this!"

What would happen next, I have never experienced or heard of in all my years of running.

4 WEEKS EARLIER

After the COVID lockdown, I decided I needed to run with people again. Some local run clubs had opened up and I found one as I ran around Washington Park in Denver, Colorado The club was called Elevate, and one of the coaches was Tucker. He seemed like a nice guy so I stayed with him and chatted a bit. Tucker told me about a 100 he was planning on doing in a few weeks - Mace's Hideout 100. I hadn't heard of 100-mile trail race in Colorado that still had open spots and I got excited. I told Tucker, I just might join him.

The race was in its inaugural year and in the Wet Mountains, a part of the state I had not experienced. The course profile looked stout - 22k+ of elevation gain and average elevation of just over 9,000'. I called the race director and introduced myself. My biggest concern was getting lost because of poor course marking. The Race Director (RD) assured me the course would be well marked, and offered that I could have a guide with me the entire route. I appreciated the accommodation and it seemed doable. 

I asked my Mom to crew me - of course she agreed and got planning. Next, I needed to find a guide for 100 miles. There are very few people on the planet that are always in shape enough to jump into a 100 mile race at elevation. It just so happened one of these people is a good friend of mine - Camilo - a 39-year old running monster who lives in Manhattan and is Columbian by birth. I had met Camilo years before and we had raced together through the Badwater and Salton Sea Deserts, the Keys in Florida and the mountains in Leadville, Colorado. I knew Camilo was capable and crazy enough to do what I needed. Camilo agreed to come to Colorado and guide me for 100 miles with 2 weeks notice at 2-miles above sea-level (that's what you call a good friend).

For the next couple weeks Mom and I planned crewing spots, race strategy and supplies. Camilo was set to arrive Thursday night, spend the day Friday at my place and Saturday morning we would drive to the start of the race. Of course, the plan was derailed. Camilo's connecting flight was cancelled and he stayed the night in Florida - neither of us slept much Thursday night. The airline booked him on a Friday flight, but they ended up cancelling that flight as well. We got Camilo booked with a different airline and flight that got him to my house at 9:30 pm Friday night.

We got to sleep about midnight and the alarm went off at 3 am sharp. About 5 hours later we had eaten, picked up our crew and drove 150 miles away from my home. We got to the start line with 15 minutes to spare, picked up our bibs, heard the end of the pre-race meeting and tied our shoes. The gun went off and the runners took off. Camilo and I were trying to get the map loaded on a GPS watch. We saw the RD and followed the 25 other runners who were in this 100 mile race (36 hour cut-off).

The first 18-miles was a cruel joke. You climbed up respectable pitches, trotted on technical single track and were humbled. MISTAKE #1: I had not given this race the respect it deserved. This was going to be a tough course, and I had not trained hills or mountains whatsoever. I had base miles on my body, but hadn't trained for mountain running as I should have.

The volunteers for the race were great - extremely helpful and supportive. The aid stations were stocked with GREAT race food! They had the usual chips, cookies, coke, water, etc. But they also had a full-on cooking station which made grilled cheese, quesadillas, mashed potatoes and ramen broth. Aid station food and volunteers were 10 out of 10! from miles 18 - 65 were rolling packed dirt roads. This was the place to make time. Even though you were running at 9,000' of elevation, the surface was not technical and relatively gentle on the body (as compared to asphalt or concrete).

Throughout those miles I had cramped, puked, fallen, been bloodied, twisted ankles - the usual stuff; but, we were still moving forward. We picked up a night time guide for me from mile 45 to 67, Dione. She was a great addition to the team as she had a fresh mind, kept us on route, was able to give Camilo some relief from guiding work, and was a welcome positive attitude to two runners who could periodically find themselves being frumpy and grumpy.

We left aid station #9 at mile 73 more than an hour ahead of the cut-off. This part of the course climbed, then descended on single track. It was beautiful and hard. Camilo an I had out heads down and were grinding out each mile.

As we approached Aid Station #10 at mile 81, we ran into the race director in the woods. I overheard him talking on the phone about a lady he was looking for. He seemed surprised to see me and Camilo. As we passed by, he said "you'll never make the next aid station by the cut-off!" 

In all my years of running organized races, I have never heard a race director discourage a runner from trying to reach an aid station before a cut-off. I responded to the race director with one word, "Why?" The race director responded saying, "You'd have to run like 5-minute miles!"

Fifteen-minutes after passing the race director, we summited the mountain and arrived at St. Charles Aid Station #10 (mile 81). I looked at the time and we had more than 3 hours in the bank to go 11.5 miles to make the next cut-off which was at 5 pm. I told Camilo to grab food, water and we had to run hard. Aid Station #10 was in the process of being packed up and two volunteers advised us that our race was over. They said the race director told them to stop us, and we were not permitted to try to reach Aid Station #11 by the 5 pm cut-off. Camilo and I were confused and upset. We tried to explain that both of us are very experienced and capable runners. They said it was out of their hands and the decision had already been made by the Race Director.

There was no time cut-off at this Aid Station so it didn't make sense why our race was being stopped. The time cut-off was at Aid Station #11 (mile 92), which was 5 pm, more than 3 hours in the future.

I have very mixed emotions about this experience, and disagree with being pulled from the race when we had done nothing wrong and did not miss a time cut-off. I think it would have taken a heroic effort for Camilo and I to make the next aid station by the cut-off, and I know each of us were capable of giving what it took to make it happen; however, we will never know what could have happened.

In the end, it was a wonderful weekend - beautiful vistas, 30 hours of running in mountains with friends, making new friends, pushing ourselves together, laughing, going after a tough goal and daring to dream. Kudos to all that toed the line, and extra props to all that buckled. And, I believe there was divine intervention in how all this played out and accept the result.

Success is judged by the journey, not the end result.

ONWARD!

The Team (l to r): Marquis, Camilo, Jason, Dione, Mama Cindy

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