The Leadville 100
Posted on May 8, 2009 by Andrew
OK, it’s time to write about the Grand Dame of American mountain bike ultras, the LT100. I guess I’ve been putting this one off because it hurts so much I don’t really want to think about it any more than necessary. This race, in a nutshell, is a bastard. Why do I despise it so much? Well, let me count the ways: First of all, it’s 100 miles, on a mountain bike. Second, it has over 12,000 ft of climbing. Third - and most importantly - it starts at 10,200 ft and pretty much goes up from there, topping out above treeline at 12,600 ft. For those not familiar with altitude like that, let me just say this: there ain’t much oxygen up there. Also, lest I forget, there are typical Colorado afternoon thunderstorms and occasional sleet or snow. The weather is very unpredictable and can play havoc with your race - no matter what your level of fitness or preparedness.
Typically, only 60% or so of the 700 or so entrants finish in under the cut-off time of twelve hours. That’s a pretty high rate of attrition and should give you some idea of the difficulty of the race. I must, at this stage, admit that despite all of my whining about this event, despite the fact that I’ve spent a little time in the medical tent (hypothermia, exhaustion) after my last two races and despite the fact that - every year - I swear I’ll never do the race again, this will be my 6th time at Leadville.
It’s also worth noting the “other” cut-off time and the difference between just finishing and taking home the coveted “Plata Grande”. It works like this: if you finish the race in under twelve hours you are awarded a very nice, sizable silver belt buckle - the kind you see rodeo winners wearing. If, however, you are fast enough to finish in under nine hours, you get the extra big buckle - the much coveted “Plata Grande”. This thing is big enough to eat off, believe me…
Entrance to the race is done by means of a lottery, but it has become increasingly difficult to get into lately, especially since both Floyd Landis and Lance Armstrong have raced it over the past few years, and a huge number of racers are now turned away annually. For the last six years the race has been won by ex-national MTB champion - and old man at age 43 - Dave Wiens. Wiensy lives in Gunnison, CO so he’s used to the altitude, and apparently he just hasn’t aged much since his NORBA glory days because he has taken on all comers and disposed of them quite handily, including Mr. Armstrong, who he just rode off his wheel in the latter stages of last year’s race.
What makes the event so cool as well, is that - for us Texans at least - it’s a great road trip. We get out of our brutal summer heat for a while, hang out in in beautiful Colorado, ride bikes on some great trails, and just chill out. In 2008, teammate Beto Boggiano rented us a ranch house just outside of Leadville where a group of us from Austin stayed. Four racers (Marc Mayo, Kyle Rodemacher, Beto, and myself) a few family members and a few support people. It was just a great group and a great way to do the race. We also had a bunch of friends from Austin scattered around town - Jeff Williams, Charles Bisantz and a few others - and after meeting and chatting, we devise a strategy for the support crews to share the work of keeping the racers going.
Another reason the race is so popular is that the organization and general spirit of the racers is just top-notch. All of the aid-stations are well-staffed and well-stocked, the race timing is always efficient, the results promptly posted and the racers are generally just happy to be there. There’s very little of the nasty elbow-to-elbow stuff that can happen at other events like this. There are easy access points for family and support crews for racers at the aid stations, so there is a little bit of a party involved in that side of the race as well. The race organizers, Ken and Merilee are just awesome people too. They deliver a rousing pre-race speech to the racers before each race - basically just saying “do not quit, no matter how much you want to”, and believe me, you really really want to quit at some stage of this marathon suffer-fest. The award ceremony the next day is equally inspiring, with every finisher going up and getting their race buckle and sweatshirt with their finishing time printed on it. There are a lot of tears shed during this ceremony by both racers and support people alike.
The course is an out-and-back, starting in Leadville, going outbound to the highest point at Columbine, then turning around and heading back to Leadville. Although it’s not a technical course, there are two sketchy descents where a few riders invariably hurt themselves every year. The climbing is epic, the scenery spectacular, and the distance and altitude make it a real physical and mental challenge. The race start is at 6am, from Harrison Street in downtown Leadville. Racers start lining up hours before that to try and get a good position on the grid. By virtue of my finishes over the past years I’ve been lucky enough to get into the front enclosure - a roped off area for the top-100 finishers from the previous year. Last year I lined up right behind Lance, the year before, behind Floyd. It’s quite a rush to be right next to two previous winners of the Tour de France (well, make that one winner, post drug-test).
After a controlled three mile start down an asphalt road, you hit the double-track dirt road, the cop car pulls off, and the race is on! After a few miles of balls-out jockeying for position you hit the first climb at St. Kevins. This isn’t a bad climb, but enough to string out the lead pack and let a few gaps start to form. I think this was the last time I saw Lance last year. Then there is a screamingly fast long asphalt descent, followed by the climb up to the start of the Powerline descent. Then some asphalt and double track leading up to the first aid station, followed by rollers on out for miles to the Twin Lakes aid station, and then the ghastly climb up to Columbine.
This is a bastard of a climb. I think that from Twin Lakes it takes me about 1.5 hours to the top of Columbine and only about a half-hour to get back to Twin Lakes from the top - it’s that steep. It’s just an endless switchback climb up through some beautiful aspen groves with some epic views until, at last, you are above tree-line and can see the distant turnaround checkpoint off in the distance. It’s at this point last year that Dave Wiens and Lance Armstrong came blowing by us down the mountain going in-bound. So, you just keep turning the pedals over as best you can in this rarified air. Soon, the trail starts to get too rocky and steep to stay on the bike. A few guys dismount ahead, necessitating a mass dismount of everybody behind. We walk and push the bike probably a mile until the course flattens out enough to ride into the turnaround. Although there is food, soup and drink at the aid station and, although you really, really want to stop and eat and rest, the key here is to stay on the bike and get back down the mountain as fast as you can. The reason? There’s no damn oxygen up here - you can’t recover - I just grab a swallow of soup and begin the journey home. Once you hit the start of the steep descent, it’s really sketchy, but a lot of fun. You are going downhill as fast as you can, while hundreds of other riders are doing what you did a little while ago: trying to get up the mountain. Early on in the descent, the track is very narrow and rocky and you really need to control yourself to avoid hitting incoming riders. Once onto the wider jeep road switchback section, just let go the brakes and go, fast as you can, until the turns make you slow down. I hit 48 mph going down Columbine a few years ago - that’s pretty fast for an MTB and is a measure of how steep the track is!
Then, suddenly, you are at Twin Lakes aid station again. This is the lowest point on the course, so you know it’s all uphill from here. The next twenty or so miles are just a grind and, really, just a mental preparation for what is probably the most difficult obstacle of the race - the ascent up Powerline. Remember the sketchy descent I mentioned earlier? Well, now you have to climb back up that monster. And, although it’s not as long or steep as Columbine, it comes at mile 80 when you are very,very tired. Apparently, most people who quit the race do so on this climb. When you approach it on the bike, it seems insurmountable: the first section is too steep to climb, so you’re walking already. Everything after that is just hard: you alternate between walking and granny-gear climbing. Like, forever. It’s at this point that one questions one’s sanity and wishes one were firmly ensconced on the couch, at home, with a large alcoholic beverage to keep one company.
Once over Powerline, you descend again to the start of the very steep, very long asphalt climb. It was at this point last year that I caught up to and started riding with my friend Wooch Graaf from Houston, another Leadville veteran. Wooch had been dreading this climb above all others, telling me that this - out of all the hard stuff in the entire race - was his nemesis. His 2008 goal was to break 8:15. I think in prior years he has come close to 8:30, but this year he was feeling it, and was optimistic about posting a great time. We suck it up over the interminable ascent, grab a coke at the top at the last mini-aid station, and begin the home stretch. This is mostly downhill and we are really enjoying the respite, although I am starting to crater. Wooch yells encouragement and we keep going, finally reaching the last 4 mile false-flat hated-by-all section into the finish. This is just a tough uphill grind from mile 96 inwards, and you just don’t want to do it. I am barely able to turn the pedals over at this point despite having sucked Wooch’s wheel as much as possible for the past hour. We roll across the line in 8:27 and some change.
To put our (heroic, to us) times in perspective, I have to point out that Lance and Wiens finished about two hours ahead of us. Wow. That makes you feel mortal.
The feeling of being done is just amazing. You just never, ever want to get on a bike again. You are exhausted beyond reason, but just so, so absolutely happy to be done. Then, a few hours later, after all of your friends are in, you’ve had a nap and a shower and eaten something, the nausea has passed - a curious thing happens: You start thinking about next year…
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