Conference 7.286::sports_91

    We received the entry form for the BUMMER 50 yesterday.  BUMMER stands
    for Boulder Ultra Marathoners Mountain Endurance Run.  It is an
    extremely rigorous run (over 10,000' elevation gain and loss over 50
    miles of very rugged trails).
    
    There were a couple sections of the entry form that were different from
    most and that I found amusing, so I'm entering them for your amusement.
    First, after the normal sections (Date and Time, Course Description,
    Instructions for Runners, etc.) came the following:
    
    
    BODY DISPOSAL OPTIONS:  While no one has died on the course, we
    have had sprained ankles, hypothermia, dehydration and people
    getting lost; and that's just while marking the course!  Should
    you have the misfortune to die, please note the following:

    1.  If you die, you will be listed as DNF (did not finish).

    2.  Please die at an aid station if at all possible.

    3.  If you do not die at an aid station, we have provided three
    options for disposal of the body.  Please select one:  a) Abandon
    body on side of trial -- no charge.  b) Drag body to nearest
    ravine and drop in; simple wooden cross on trail -- $50.  c) Body
    removed by helicopter; Cremation ceremony with moving speeches by
    well known runners; Ashes scattered on course -- $25,000.  Please
    include pre-payment with entry.

    ======================================================================
    
    The last part was the waiver.  This was interesting in that it had the
    standard ultra waiver (long form) and new version (short form).  I
    think this country's lawyers could learn a lot from the race director:
    

                  BUMMER 50 WAIVER AND ENTRY AGREEMENT

    Long Form

    In consideration of accepting my entry I, intending to be legally
    bound, hereby in behalf of myself, my heirs and executors, waive,
    release and discharge any and all claims for damages for death,
    personal injury or property damage which I may have, or which may
    hereafter accrue to me, as a result of my participation in, or
    travel to or from the BUMMER 50, on Sunday, May 19, 1991.  This
    release is intended to discharge in advance the promotors,
    sponsors, the U.S. Government, the local jurisdictions, the BUMMER
    50 Run Committee and Officials/Volunteers from and against any and
    all liability arising from and out of or connected in any way with
    my participation in the BUMMER 50, even though that liability may
    arise out of negligence or carelessness on the part of the persons
    or entities mentioned above.  I will abide by the rules for use of
    all the public land or open space through which I will run.  I
    further attest that I am physically fit and have trained
    sufficiently for participation in this event.

    Short Form

    I have been warned that participating in this run is a stupid
    idea, but I am going to do it anyway.  If I get hurt, it's my own
    fucking fault.

    Sid,
    WELCOME BACK!!!!!
    
    If the hold-harmless notes are real, WOW!! I agree.
    
    If not, you gotta be in the running for Note-of-the-Year!!!
    
    Best o' luck with your healing.
    
   Kev (3:27:58 in '78 and it was a killer((although I recovered w/i
    :30 minutes)
    

    > WELCOME BACK!!!!!
    
    Thanks.
    
    > If the hold-harmless notes are real, WOW!! I agree.
    
    Real as can be.  Got it here in black and white.  Gordon Hardman
    (BUMMER 50 Race Director and Ultrarunner Extraordinaire) is a very
    funny man.
    
    Sid

    
    >    3.  If you do not die at an aid station, we have provided three
    >options for disposal of the body.  Please select one:  a) Abandon
    >body on side of trial -- no charge.  b) Drag body to nearest
    >ravine and drop in; simple wooden cross on trail -- $50.  c) Body
    >removed by helicopter; Cremation ceremony with moving speeches by
    >well known runners; Ashes scattered on course -- $25,000.  Please
    >include pre-payment with entry.
    
    If you want the ashes buried in the ravine, do they charge extra for
    the ash hole?
    
    -Just wondering
    
    

Welcome back Sid!

You may have been tagged a DNF, but I think 50 miles is awesome. The
last time I was up in the mountains I spotted a cougar. I just ran
around to the other side of my truck, and it took almost two six packs
to replace my precious bodily fluids!

Mike JN

    Well, I just got back from vacation (over 1200 unseen notes in
    this conference, which I'll never see) and have a second-hand race
    report to give.

    Some of you may remember my report in the OURGNG:: conference on
    the 1990 Cross Timbers 50 Mile Trail Run.  I left Gail at home
    with the kids and went to Lake Texoma, Texas for the run.  It was
    cold, wet, and muddy and I ended up with a DNF after 45 miles.

    This year, I stayed home with the kids and Gail went to the run. 
    Conditions were the exact opposite.  It was sunny and hot, so much
    so that only 60 of the 91 starters finished the race.  There were
    many casualties to heat, dehydration, and cramps.

    Fortunately, Gail was not one of the casualties.  She says she
    poured gallons of water over her head and a fair bit down her gullet
    over the course of the day.  She felt strong through most of the
    race, and when she had completed 45 miles and saw that she had a
    shot at breaking 10 hours, she turned it up.  In the last 5 miles,
    she passed many people on the trail and flew in to finish in 9:52.

    This was good enough to make her the third woman, eight minutes
    behind second place and only 16 minutes behind the winner.  The
    winning men's time was just under 8 hours.

    What was really disgusting was that after driving 12 hours to get
    there, running hard for 10 hours the following day, then driving
    12 hours back the day after that, she was hardly sore.  She said
    there was some muscle tenderness the first day and a little pain in
    her big toe, but no other soreness.  We ran together up in the
    mountains above Mt. Princeton Hot Springs last Thursday and Friday
    and she said she felt a twinge of tendinitis in her left ankle (a
    chronic problem), but that it wasn't bad.

    She was hoping to run the Collegiate Peaks 50 this Saturday, only
    two weeks after Cross Timbers, but has decided not to tempt fate. 
    She doesn't want to do anything to risk injury before Leadville. 
    There is a trail marathon option at the 50 miler that she may do
    instead.  26 miles of trail at elevation will be a good training
    run.

    I've tried to talk her into doing a real race report, but I'm not
    particularly optimistic that that will come to pass.

    Next scheduled ultra is the Doc Holliday 35 Mile Trail Run in
    Glenwood Springs on May 4.

    Sid

�                                   -< Wow! >-


No, Ow!

8^)
    

re: .7

Sid 

These race reports never cease to amaze me!  

I'm done for at least a couple of weeks after a measly marathon (26.2 on ROADS).
I just can't imagine running ultras on successive weekends.

Top 'o the hat to you and Gail.

=Bob=

sid,


How have your knees healed up since Leadville last year? If I remember correctly
you had to drop out because of them.....


Metz

    Re: Bob
    
    Thanks for the encouragement.  I wish I could get Gail to write race
    reports; they're always much better from someone who was there.  As for
    your personal name, you should be aware that the transition from
    walking to running is almost instantaneous, and there's no turning back
    from there. :-)
    
    As for marathons versus ultras, there's no comparison.  Frankly, I
    think marathons are harder because you end up pushing harder the whole
    way.  Running trail ultras, you can space out for hours at a time and
    just watch the scenery go by.  It only *really* hurts when it's over.
    
    Re: Metz
    
    I wish I could something good about my knees.  I just got in from a run
    with Gail and even though we only did six miles, they didn't feel
    great.  They're okay, and I'm considering doing the 26.2 at Collegiate
    Peaks this weekend as a slow training run, but I'm not feeling
    particularly encouraged.  They usually start to ache around 8 or 9
    miles, but not so badly that I can't keep running.  I'm hoping they
    just reach a particular point and then stay there.  If they don't give
    me more pain at 20, say, than they do at 8 or 9, I can deal with that.
    
    I'm still hopeful that I'll be able to run at Doc Holliday (35 miles)
    on May 4.  I have until April 19 (enrollment deadline) to decide. 
    That's why I'm thinking about running the short version of Collegiate
    Peaks:  to help me decide if I'm ready or not.
    
    We had a short thunderstorm this afternoon at CXO and it came in the
    middle of our run.  I don't know, but running along a ridge with
    lightning and thunder and a good rain has a lot to say for it.  It
    brings back great memories of running through high-altitude
    thunderstorms.  There's something really invigorating about it.  I sure
    hope my knees don't crap out altogether, because I really love this
    sport.  I don't know what I'd do if I had to give up the trails.
    
    Sid

    
    In other ultrarunning news:
    
    Ann Trason has done it again.  At the Houston Ultras, a $10,000 bonus
    awaited anyone who could break the world record for 50 miles.  Canadian
    Andy Jones was there to challenge the men's record (he was just four
    minutes shy of the record in his *first* 50 miler last fall) and Ann
    Trason had set the women's world record just five weeks earlier.
    
    The course is a two mile paved loop, which was good for Andy but not so
    great for Ann (she's at her most awesome on trails).  There was also
    blistering heat, which was bad for Andy and good for Ann.  She told
    me last summer that she heat trains for Western States by going to
    Sacramento (she lives in Oakland) in the summer and running in black
    sweats in the heat of the day.  She also rides a stationary bike in the
    sauna.
    
    Andy went out at a torrid pace (sub-5:30/mile).  Ann went out as she
    always does, looking like she wasn't even working.  By 20 miles, Andy
    was slowing down and people were beginning to think that he might not
    make it, despite being well ahead of record pace.  At 20 miles, Ann was
    still just cruising, also well ahead of record pace.
    
    At 40 miles, Andy crashed and burned.  His quads went out and he
    collapsed face-first into the infield.  Ann just glided in, breaking
    her own world record by five minutes, clocking 5:40:18 and collecting a
    cool $10,000.  She was beaten by three men, Sean Crom, Charlie Trayer,
    and Ray Krolewicz, all ultrarunning legends.
    
    What is really amazing is the way she able to pace herself.  Below is a
    chart of her per mile pace for each two mile lap:
    
    Lap   Pace   Lap   Pace   Lap   Pace   Lap   Pace   Lap   Pace
    ---   ----   ---   ----   ---   ----   ---   ----   ---   ----
      1   6:43     6   6:24    11   6:34    16   6:40    21   7:12
      2   6:42     7   6:34    12   6:33    17   6:39    22   7:21
      3   6:46     8   6:30    13   6:33    18   6:49    23   7:30
      4   6:40     9   6:43    14   6:39    19   6:54    24   7:33
      5   6:32    10   6:32    15   6:36    20   7:02    25   7:27
    
    Everyone expects her to eventually break 5:30.  It's just a question of
    how far below that she can go.
    
    From the March 1991 issue of UltraRunning:
    
    "Trason's potential is difficult to gauge.  Her 4:52 high school mile
    time is very good, but not anything to prophesy the way she has
    impacted the ultra scene.  Even her 2:40+ marathon ability belies the
    dominance she has exerted at ultras.  With her silky smooth stride and
    her iron will on the course, Ann is unquestionably the most exciting
    ultrarunner on the U.S. scene."
    
    Sid

    Reprinted without permission from the March 1991 edition of
    UltraRunning magazine:


    Iditashoe
    Big Lake to Skwentna, Alaska
    109 miles, snowshoes    Feb. 16, 1991

    1.  Tom Sobal, CO            23:52!
    2.  Shawn Lyons              27:08
    3.  Braun Kopsack            32:18
    4.  Brooks Wade              39:11
    5.  Clint Playle             53:38
    6.  Melissa Lee, CO          64:55

    8 starters       ! = course record

    Weather and trail conditions were almost perfect for the sixth
    annual Iditashoe.  Five-time winner Shawn Lyons was able to shave
    one minute off his course-record in spite of the extra eight miles
    added for this year's race.  But that was only good enough for
    second place behind winner Tom Sobal, who finished in just under
    24 hours.  Sobal's performance was especially impressive when you
    consider that each racer had to carry enough camping gear to
    bivouac on the trail or melt their water, if necessary.

    Third place was taken by Braun Kopsack.  Braun was able to stay
    with Lyons for about half the distance until equipment problems
    caused him to lose contact.

    The women's division was won by Melissa Lee, a veteran of summer
    100-mile trail runs, who entered this event despite no winter
    camping experience.  Her "war stories" were the hit of the awards
    banquet.

    The Iditashoe is run on the historic Iditarod Trail, popularized
    by the dogsled race of the same name.  This year's race was run
    under the umbrella of Iditasport. This event also includes
    205-mile bike and ski races, plus a triathlon combining all three
    modes.  Many of this magazine's readers look for the toughest
    challenges.   Next year consider doing Iditasport.

                                                    Brooks Wade

I saw a really wild winter iron man on ESPN the other day. I don't remember the
mileage but it was a combination of X-C skiing, running with snow shoes and 
the speed skating.

Looked even harder than the Iron man ...


Metz

One man's garbage is another man's treasure.  8^)


    

>        <<< Note 83.15 by VAXWRK::SCHNEIDER "The crux of the biscuit" >>>
>                -< Where does exercize stop and lunacy begin? >-
    
    You miss the point.  This is not done for exercise; it's done for fun. 
    Hmmm.  I guess there's a connection between lunacy and fun, too.
    
    Sid

    Sid, I don't think I miss the point.  I enjoy reading the accounts you
    write, but I cringe at the same time.  It sounds to me like your
    pushing yourself into wasting your knees for life...if probably being
    presumptuous, so don't take offense.  My brother is/was an avid runner
    who cycles between lots if exercise (running, cycling, swimming; he
    does triathlons) hurting himself, longer and longer recovery periods
    where he moans about not being able to exercise, start again.
    
    Some women snowshoes 100+ miles in Alaska in February for almost three
    days straight?  That's fun?  That's not fun.  It's a challenge to the
    spirit.  It's probably nice to say you did it.  It's risking your life. 
    It's risking your health.  It's totally unnecessary.  It's satisfying
    an addiction is what it really is.
    
    Dan

    Dan,
    
    I do worry about wasting my knees and worry that I'm playing a denial
    game with myself.  But the fact is, it really is a lot of fun.  If I
    don't do it now because I may not be able to do it later, I never do
    it.  So I just go for it while I can.  I've met many, many ultrarunners
    who are 20 years older than I am who have run with pain for decades and
    still enjoy the hell out of it.  I'm hoping to be one of those.
    
    As for Melissa's run at Iditashoe:  there's more to that than is
    revealed in the article.  First off, Tom Sobal and Melissa Lee are a
    couple.  They live in Leadville and I've run with them (well, not
    really with Tom; he's way too fast for me) and they're really great
    folks.  Tom holds the world snowshoe marathon record as well as several
    trail ultra course records.  Melissa is a good, though not spectacular
    trail runner.  She and Gail ran the 1990 Fat Ass 50 together and,
    despite taking a wrong turn and adding four miles to the run, set the
    women's course record.  It was broken this year.
    
    Melissa is from Florida.  Last time we were at her house in Leadville,
    she complained that she'd been cold every minute since she moved to
    Colorado.  I was certainly amused to see that she'd gone with Tom to do
    Iditashoe.  I'll be seeing her again soon, and I'd bet everything I own
    that she had a *great* time doing this race; not every moment, for
    sure, but overall I'm sure she enjoyed the hell out of it.
    
    I'm not trying to be argumentative.  It's just that different people
    have different ideas of what's fun.  A challenge to the spirit is fun.
    Risky?  Definitely.  I find that most things that are fun (for me) have
    some element of risk.  We each decide for ourselves what level of risk
    we'd accept for fun.
    
    Sid

Personally, I think a lot of sport can be addictive. 

We always refer to it as not being able to take the needle out of your
arm.

Case in point, Tom Vinnick.  Here's a guy who reached the pinnacle of
rugby success, playing on the national team in the World Cup.  He
has a world wide reputation as one of the best hitters ever.  So 
he retires from the Wanderers, they give him a retirement dinner
etc etc.  Then, the next season, he just shows up, and helps out
at a C side game.  The week after he's there too.  Never see him
at practice, though.

All of a sudden this season, after the Bahamas tour, he's at practice.
Played C side last week, this week got an A side selection.  While
I don't think he's gonna get selected for the Eagles again (he's 34)
he's certainly back playing.  We're even kidding him about taking
back his retirement plaque.


Other notables are Johnny Kelly, who was profiled in SI this past
week, as the most durable Boston Marathoner going.  This will be
his 60th Boston Marathon.  He said he runs because he loves it.


I think that you will find some of these "addiction" things more in
sports that have classes that allow you to still compete as you
get older.  Running, Rugby, Golf (ie Seniors Tour)....
I don't see it in Hoops, where it's all young studs, or football....8^)



Just a few Friday observations...

'Saw (who's got the needle in now)

    'Saw -
    
    And I'll predict that we'll become more and more aware of more and more
    sports that have age group categories as the baby boomers grow older,
    'cause we *sure* as hell don't want to grow up!
    
    To add to the list that already have age-groups - tennis, swimming, 
    soccer......
    
    A&W

   � Ann Trason..... going to
   � Sacramento in the summer and running in black sweats in the heat 
   � of the day. She also rides a stationary bike in the sauna......
   � She was beaten by three men.....

   Is this lady a party animal or WHAT!?!?!?

   I mean, I've run after women in black tights (them... not me), drank
   beer in a hot tub, and was outwrestled by three women....

   BUT.... for  god's sake... I'm a PROFESSIONAL!!!!!!

   MIKE JN

    The 1991 Bud Light Doc Holliday 35 Mile Trail Run was run on
    Saturday, May 4, at Glenwood Springs, Colorado.  It had been an
    extraordinarily snowy year and the weeks immediately preceding the
    race were particularly bad.  Three weeks prior to the race, Race
    Directory Bob Julich sent postcards to all runners informing them
    of the need to change to course because of the high snow levels.

    Well, even with course changes, conditions were unlike past years,
    which had been blessed with beautiful race day weather and mostly
    dry trails.  One section of the run, a six mile stretch through
    Forest Hollow, had to be eliminated altogether.  Snow was four to
    five feet deep and the only way in is on foot or by chopper.  In
    its place was another loop a little further along through private
    property, thanks to a very helpful property owner who not only
    gave permission to run through his land but also took Bob out
    in his ATV to set up that portion of the course.

    In the week prior to the race, a 5-6 mile stretch along the top of
    Red Mountain still had several feet of snow, so Bob arranged for a
    bulldozer to go up Three Mile Road and plow a tunnel through the
    snow.  The dozer got stuck twice and almost gave up, but
    eventually the deed was done.

    I did not run the race; I injured my ankle on a training run three
    weeks before and have not been able to run since.  I'm hoping to
    go out on it on a flat surface in another week or so.  Gail ran,
    however, so I can give a description of the course and race.  The
    whole family went to Glenwood, and I played the part of Mr. Mom on
    race day.

    The race began at 6:30 a.m. and the temperature was in the upper
    20s.  Dark clouds were forming to the north.  Gail and I left the
    kids in the hotel room and went to the race start at Sayre Park. 
    Doc Holliday, played by Jim Nelson, fired the shotgun and the
    runners were off.

    The course is two loops:  the first loop goes a couple miles
    through town over the the 27th Street bridge and turns up Three
    Mile Road, a good jeep road.  A few miles (and 2500 vertical feet)
    up the road is the start of the newly created snow tunnel,
    traversing Red Mountain to the west of Glenwood Springs.  Large
    chunks had fallen from the walls onto the icy surface, which made
    negotiating the "trail" pretty exciting.  People had difficulty
    staying on their feet.  Gail, who appears to be half mountain goat
    on difficult trails, fell twice.  The trail back down Red Mountain
    to Glenwood Springs is very steep and narrow, and thanks to the
    fact that it started to snow very heavily about 15 minutes after
    the race began, was muddy and slippery.

    I went back to the hotel after the race start to get the kids some
    breakfast and then went out again to Aid Staion #3 (mile 14),
    where the runners come down from Red Mountain and run through town
    to get to the second loop, a 21 mile loop up and over Lookout
    Mountain to the east of town.  I got to the aid station as the
    lead runners came through.  There were three runners in a tight
    pack, well ahead of the rest of the field.  I recognized Tom
    Sobal, winner of the previous two Doc Hollidays, at the head of
    the threesome, but it was snowing so hard I couldn't make out who
    the other two were (and I was no more than ten feet from them).

    Gail came through in good time (2:30) and changed clothes and
    shoes.  The lead woman, Jo Gathercole of Jackson, Wyoming, had
    been through about twenty minutes earlier and there were nearly
    two dozen women within five minutes of each other at around the
    2:30 mark.  Many people were dropping out of the race rather than
    face the long and, today, dangerous second loop.

    Fortunately, the snow stopped around 8:30.  It didn't warm up
    right away, but by early afternoon it was up to the high 40s down
    in town.  Because the 7th Street bridge was out, there was a long
    detour through town, adding 4 miles of pavement that nobody
    (including the Race Director) was happy about.  It was during this
    portion of the run that Gail first starting having abdominal pain.
    She took two Advil and kept on trucking.

    Once through town, the run goes up the Boy Scout Trail, climbing
    over 3000' to the summit of Lookout Mountain.  The trail was very
    sloppy.  The last .3 miles is know as "The Mother" as it rises
    700' vertical feet.  This year it was a serious mother, as it was
    snow-covered.  Gail said that the feet of many previous runners
    had produced a mixture of snow and mud that made it very tough
    going.  One runner described it as axle grease.  Gail had to take
    two more Advil once she reached the top.

    From the summit of Lookout Mountain, the run follows a good jeep
    road for several miles.  Then it turns onto the new portion of
    trail that was added to make up for the loss of the Forest Hollow
    portion.  This trail is relatively wide, but was ankle deep mud for
    about five miles.  The last few miles of the run were drier, with
    the final steep descent to Doc Holliday's grave and then into to
    town and back to Sayre Park for the finish.

    Gail began feeling sick to her stomach about 25 miles into the run
    and had to fight nausea for the last ten miles.  She slowed
    considerably, but still finished in 7:05:08, about a half hour
    slower than her two previous Doc Holliday runs.  Not really bad,
    considering the conditions.  Everyone I spoke with who had run the
    race before ran anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour longer.

    The race itself had a very exciting finish.  Tom Sobal and Matt
    Carpenter ran neck and neck the entire race.  When they hit the
    city streets together, less than a mile from the finish, Matt's
    superior speed took over and he finished 16 seconds ahead of Tom. 
    Third place was almost 17 minutes back.  The results of race were:

                                   Men

    Name           Age     Home town                 Time
    ----           ---     ---------                 ----
    Matt Carpenter  26     Colorado Springs, CO      4:41:21
    Tom Sobal       33     Leadville, CO             4:41:37
    Kevin Cooney    35     Boulder, CO               4:58:08
    Bart Miller     25     Boulder, CO               4:59:55
    Richard Were    35     Auckland, New Zealand     5:00:00

                                  Women

    Jo Gathercole   36     Jackson, WY               5:57:45
    Betsy Kalmeyer  29     Colorado Springs, CO      5:59:44
    Becky Hall      26     Boulder, CO               6:07:45
    Michelle Wewel  24     Lakewood, CO              6:12:53
    Kathy White     40     Morrison, CO              6:16:12

    re:  previous notes on the Iditashoe
    
    I spoke with Melissa on Friday night before the running of the Doc
    Holliday and asked her about Iditashoe.  I asked her if, all in all, it
    was enjoyable.  She responded, "I had a wonderful time.  I cried alot,
    but all in all, it was great."
    
    She and Tom Sobal were married two weeks ago.  I spoke with Tom after
    the race on Saturday (Melissa was still out on the course; she finished
    about a half hour after Gail) and his view of Iditishoe was quite
    different.  He said that he thought that it was a crazy race and he
    never wanted to do it again.  He also said that he has no plans to run
    any 100 mile trail runs until he's at least 45 years old.  He thinks
    it's bad for younger runners.  I think part of his feelings toward
    Iditishoe come from his worry about Melissa being out there so long. 
    There is no search and rescue.  There are no course markings.  There is
    no aid.  They fly you in to the start, dropping you in the Alaskan
    wilderness, and fly you out from the finish.  That's it.
    
    It's amazing enough that Tom covered the 109 miles on snowshoes in
    23:52.  What I found out on Saturday, though, is that he pulled a 33
    pound sled behind him with his equipment.  Melissa's sled weighed 55
    pounds; she knew she'd be out much longer than Tom and needed more
    gear.  She was within sight of another runner for the first 35 miles
    and he ran into trouble and dropped out.  Apparently, had a friend with
    a chopper (sheeesh!) and radioed to him to come fly him out.  Melissa
    never saw another sole the rest of the way.  The toughest part, she
    said, was that in February you only have 8 hours of daylight and 16
    hours of darkness.  It made the run rather lonely; making your way
    through the long, black nights with a headlamp that didn't really show
    much.
    
    Anyway, I find races of that sort very appealing, and if I had the time
    and money, I'd love to do an Alaskan wilderness run.  However, I'd do
    it with a partner, which is common on long wilderness runs.  I may be
    crazy, but I'm not stupid.
    
    Sid

Sid

As always, great race reports!

What's with your ankle, related to your other injuries?

=Bob=

> What's with your ankle, related to your other injuries?
    
    I thought I was over the ankle problem.  About a year and half ago, I
    came down wrong on my left ankle and tore my canocalcaneal ligament.  I
    took some time off, got new orthotics, did months of physical therapy,
    and all seemed to be well.  Then I lost my knees.  I've been working
    back from that and was finally beginning to see good progress.
    
    I went out for a training run on Waldo Canyon Trail, which I've run a
    million times, and felt great all the way around.  About a half mile
    from the end of the 7 mile run, I felt no pain at all in either of my
    knees and was planning on filling out the Doc Holliday application when
    I got home.  I'm not sure what happened (lost concentration at a bad
    time, I guess), but I came down the same way on the same ankle and
    nailed it good and proper.  
    
    If I don't see improvement soon, I'll probably go visit the quack.  He
    told me last time that I was lucky I didn't chip off a piece of the
    bone at the end of the ligament, a common occurrence with this type and
    severity of injury.
    
    On the brighter side, I guess I should be glad that my knees are
    getting a bit of a rest. :-)
    
    Sid

Just for curiosity sake...

 How much do guys make for winning triathalons?

I'm curious because I had a late soccer game last night (finished at 11:00pm)
and I was home cooling down before going to bed so I decided to switch on ESPN.
They had some show where they were showing exerpts from a triathalon in Florida
(something like the gold coast jr triathalon). Anyways they show the guy leading
the triathalon and he's a guy I used to do a lot of skiing with back in NE in
my college days. His name is Jeff Devlin (relation JD?) and I guess he's pretty
big in the triathalon world.

It's kind of strange to see somebody you know on national tv like that. 


Metz

    Metz -
    
    No relation - but I've seen a guy named Chris Willis, who I ran with at
    NU, on the Triathalon circuit.
    
    Like running, biking, surfing, etc., it is possible to make a living
    doing the triathalon - the first step is getting sponsership (in the
    form of equipment, and hopefully a job that pays AND allows for lots of
    time off for training - the kind of jobs Nike gives top runners, for
    example...)
    
    However, I'd say that there are only a few that make a real good
    living.
    
    I'd guess like running, that prizes range from the $100 to $50,000
    plus..
    
    JD

I figured you'd have to get sponsored somehow. These guys can't participate in
more than 1 a month can they?

btw- He ended up winning the triathalon after pulling a nameth and predicting
his victory before the race. He pulled away during the running phase and won
by a couple of minutes....


Metz

    Since we're only 3.5 weeks away from the 1991 LT100, I thought I'd post
    a quick note on the upcoming race.  Tension is building in the Snyder
    household in anticipation of the event.
    
    As I believe I mentioned earlier, Gail is running the race and I will
    be crewing for her for the first 50 miles and pacing her some portion
    of the second 50.  How much of that is currently a matter of debate: 
    she's afraid that if I take her over Hope Pass (the start of the second
    50), I'll injure myself (knees or ankle again) and not be of use to her
    later when she'll really need.  She's too damn rational.
    
    Her training has been going really well.  She's only running four times
    a week, on average, but the runs are good quality.  She gets in a 30-40
    miler every weekend and does at least 40 of the weekly miles above
    10,000' on rough trails.  She's become incredibly strong on the
    ascents, but still works too hard on the flats.  She ran a 40 mile
    training run a couple weekends ago with Marge Adelman (1985 LT100
    winner) and left her in her dust on the Hope Pass ascents, but could
    only marvel at Marge's speed and ease of running on the flats and
    downhills.
    
    Anyway, I'm late for a 3:00 meeting, so I'm gone.  I'll be entering
    more as the race approaches and will enter a race report, of course,
    after the fact.
    
    Sid

    Leadville update:  Gail and two other runners went to Leadville on
    Friday evening and then spent Saturday simulating race day.  They
    started at 4:00 a.m. at the corner of 6th and Harrison and ran the
    first 50 miles of the run.  Two spouses (not me; I had other
    commitments) crewed for them.
    
    The run was slow, but it was a training run after all.  They took 12:25
    for the 50 miles, but that included a 30 minute stop at Twin Lakes to
    rectify a crew snafu (this *will not* happen on race day).
    
    The river is already down to knee depth, which is better than this time
    last year.  Looks good for the river crossing on race day, though you
    never know.
    
    Gail had developed a mild case of plantar fasciitis on a training run
    the previous weekend (she blames it on a fast ascent/descent on Buffalo
    Peak [3000' of gain in 2.5 miles] after a fast 18 mile high-altitude
    run).  She found a way to tape her foot to restrict motion and did the
    entire 50 miles with no problem.  She was not the least bit sore on
    Sunday morning, so she's encouraged.
    
    There'll be no more long training runs before the race.  The toughest
    things she'll do will be some round trips on Pike's Peak, and probably
    not too many of those.
    
    Sid

    Race day approaches.  Some things are going well, others not so well.
    
    Good things:
    
     The problem of what to do with the kids has been solved:  we're taking
     them with us.  They'll crew with me for the first half of the race.  On
     Saturday afternoon, one of Gail's other pacers arrives and he's
     bringing his 19-year-old daughter, who will babysit Saturday night and
     Sunday morning.
    
     We found someone to stay at our house for the long weekend to take care
     of the dog and cat.
    
     Gail's plantar fasciitis appears to have cleared up completely.
    
     Our bedroom looks like a running store:  running gear strewn all over
     the place.  It appears we have everything we need.
    
     Gail is psyched, though she's already starting to talk about how much
     better she'll train next year.
    
    Bad things:
     
     One of Gail's key pacers (me) forgot that he's not 21 any more and
     pulled a hamstring playing Frisbee in the park on Sunday.  The quack
     has me taking 600 mg of ibuprofen three times a day and icing the
     hamstring.  He showed me how I can tape it on race day to minimize
     stress and possibly allow me to pace several legs of race.  He was
     skeptical that I'd be able to do more than a few miles, but what does
     he know?
     
     The weather has been less than ideal.  It has been incredibly wet and
     the river may be way up.  There's probably still snow on Hope Pass. 
     Fortunately, the long range forecast calls for pretty good weather on
     the weekend.
    
    We leave for Leadville on Thursday.  Pre-race medical check and
    weigh-in is on Friday morning.  Race begins 4:00 a.m. Saturday.  I
    still have the course description online (the one I entered in last
    year's OURGNG:: conference).  I'll probably include some of that when I
    do the race report.
    
    Sid
    

>     
>     One of Gail's key pacers (me) forgot that he's not 21 any more and
>     pulled a hamstring playing Frisbee in the park on Sunday.  The quack
>     has me taking 600 mg of ibuprofen three times a day and icing the
>     hamstring.  He showed me how I can tape it on race day to minimize
>     stress and possibly allow me to pace several legs of race.  He was
>     skeptical that I'd be able to do more than a few miles, but what does
>     he know?
     
Sid --

Go for it.  I experience a slight pull at the start of spring season.
(You didn't say anything about a SNAP, so I'm assuming it's not major)
I iced it and iced it and iced it (ad nauseum) for the next two days
and by the next practice, I could run on it, although not at my
full speed of 4 MPH (Mister Potato Heads)....

In fact, I hurt it forgetting that I don't have gazelle like speed...


Best of luck to you both.  8^)

'Saw

    
    >> Gail's plantar fasciitis appears to have cleared up completely.
    
    So, how's the Rhododendron doing????
    
    
    JaKe
    

Nope.

Sid's been spending far too much time pouring over his collection of
Nobel Prize Winners Cards to do any training..  That's what it is...


'Saw    

But seriously Sid...

I'm wicked psyched for you guys.  Bested of luck to Gail, and hopefully the 
elements wil be with both of you.  The other, obvious thing about pulled
muscles is to be real careful when you first start out, and be sure to warm 
up enough.

Go for it Gail and Sid - I look forward to a full report.

=Bob=

    re: .35 ('Saw)

> Go for it.  I experience a slight pull at the start of spring season.
> (You didn't say anything about a SNAP, so I'm assuming it's not major)
> I iced it and iced it and iced it (ad nauseum) for the next two days
> and by the next practice, I could run on it, although not at my
> full speed of 4 MPH (Mister Potato Heads)....

    It's on ice right now.  I try to keep it iced for twenty minutes out of
    every hour.  I bring ice packs and an ACE bandage to work.
    Unfortunately, there was a definite TWANG when it went.  It's been
    three full days and it's not healing all too quickly.  I'm hoping that
    taping it up on Saturday will make the difference. 
    
> In fact, I hurt it forgetting that I don't have gazelle like speed...

    Me too.
 
> Best of luck to you both.  8^)

    Many thanks.  We'll need it. :-)

    re: .37 (Hawk)
        
>                        -< Nintendo must be too blam! >-

    NINTENDO IS KNOT TWO BLAM!!!!!!11  We've got lots of entertainment
    stuff at our house (horseshoes, pool, ping-pong, darts, hoops, etc.).
    My kids spend less than 5 hours / week in front of the tube, and
    don't even ask for more (fortunately).
    
>    What?  You mean the kids aren't running Leadville this year either? 
>    Snyder family unity is apparently going the way of pure laziness...
    
    The kids are both runners, though we don't allow them to run anything
    longer than a 5K.  My 8-year-old is already running sub-8:30 miles;
    she has her mother's athleticism.  Joshua is stuck with his Dad's
    physiology, poor bastard!
    
    re: .38 ('Saw)
    
> Sid's been spending far too much time pouring over his collection of
> Nobel Prize Winners Cards to do any training..  That's what it is...

    I've got doubles of the 1975 Sakharov and the 1909 Marconi.  Looking
    for a 1907 Renault or 1929 Euler.  Anybody?
    
    re: .39 (=Bob=)
    
> I'm wicked psyched for you guys.  Bested of luck to Gail, and hopefully the 
> elements wil be with both of you.  The other, obvious thing about pulled
> muscles is to be real careful when you first start out, and be sure to warm 
> up enough.

    I'll warm up plenty.  Gail was quick to point out that I should
    have warmed up Sunday before taking off after the Frisbee.
     
> Go for it Gail and Sid - I look forward to a full report.

    Thanks.  There will definitely be a full report, but probably not
    for several days after the race.
    
    Sid

    I know you've all been waiting with bated breath for a full report on
    the 1991 Leadville Trail 100.  :-)
    
    Unfortunately, I'm up to my cojones in work right now and haven't had a
    chance to write it all up.  It's going to be rather long, and will be
    split up into several replies.  As I get them written, I'll enter them,
    probably early next week.
    
    You can all rest easier now.  :-)
    
    Sid

    Sid -
    
    Actually, I had figured that you guys were still recuperating, and that
    we would hear from you in due time.
    
    Looking forward to the first of however many installments it turns
    into.
    
    A&W

    Sid -
    
    You still here?  Any info on how Gail and you did this year?
    
    Turns out my Dad, sister and her family were up in the area during the
    run this year, staying at a cabin across the street from part of the
    course.  (I want to say they were in Estes Park, but that doesn't sound
    right..........)  Anyway, Dad was fascinated by what I remembered of
    your description of course and race preparation from last year, and
    would love to know more.  Permission to print and copy this year's
    report when it finally comes out?  Any chance that you still have last
    year's description someplace and could send it/repost it?
    
    Many thanks.
    
    A&W

    A&W,
    
    I believe I do have last year's race report online, so I'll mail it to
    you.  Sorry I haven't been faster at getting this year's report done. 
    I only get a few moments to peek in here now and again; just too much
    going on at work (and home; school's started) right now.
    
    Your dad was probably at Twin Lakes; there are cabins there and the run
    goes right through the town at miles 40 and 60.
    
    Permission to print and copy anything I put in here is retroactively
    and for the future granted.  How's that?
    
    Sid

    Yep, it was Twin Lakes.  Glad you could figure it out.
    
    And thanks again for the mail.
    
    A&W

    The next several replies will be the first installments of the 1991
    Leadville Trail 100 race report.  More will come when I get a chance to
    write them.
    
    Sid

                           1991 Leadville Trail 100
    
    The weekend finally arrived.  A year of training and planning and
    training and planning and training were about to culminate in Gail's
    third attempt at this beautiful, but demanding course.
    
    Our hopes of having Steve crew again this year went down with Steve two
    weeks ago in a parapente accident.  He lived to tell the tale, but his
    back is (temporarily) shot.  He was kind enough to let us use his
    Trooper II, which makes an excellent crew vehicle.  We arranged for
    another friend, Elbert, to takes Steve's place.  Unfortunately, Steve
    had two years experience at crewing for this event and Elbert had none.
    
    On Thursday afternoon, Gail, Josh, Shayna, and I got into the Trooper
    and headed for Leadville.  We arrived in plenty of time for the pasta
    dinner and schmoozing with other runners from all over the world.
    Everybody was talking about the course, about weather predictions,
    about who was running this year and who wasn't and why.  The smart
    money was on Brian Purcell to win the race and Alice Thurau to win the
    women's crown.
    
    Gail and I woke at 4 a.m. Friday to the sound of wind and heavy rain.
    There were predictions of a front blowing in on Saturday and we spent
    much of Friday making sure we had everything we could possibly need at
    every point of the race regardless of the weather. Predictions along
    the Continental Divide are never worth anything, so you have to be
    prepared for everything from intense sun to high winds to violent
    thunderstorms to snow and hail.
    
    We ate and drank and made final preparations all day Friday, including
    mile by mile strategy and time goals.  In the end, the plan was:
    
         Aid               Leg     Total     Clock
       Station      Mile   Time    Time      Time
    -------------   ----   ----    -----   --------
    May Queen       13.5   2:30     2:30    6:30 am   
    Fish Hatchery   23.5   2:30     5:00    9:00 am
    Half Moon       29.5   1:15     6:15   10:15 am
    Twin Lakes      39.5   1:45     8:00   12:00 pm
    Winfield        50.0   4:00    12:00    4:00 pm
    Twin Lakes      60.5   4:00    16:00    8:00 pm
    Half Moon       69.5   3:00    19:00   11:00 pm
    Fish Hatchery   76.5   2:15    21:15    1:15 am
    May Queen       87.5   3:30    24:45    4:45 am
    Leadville      100.0   3:30    28:15    8:15 am
    
    We knew that that was ambitious, but felt that Gail was capable of
    making those times if absolutely everything went right.  That made it
    seem to be the sensible thing to shoot for, even though we knew that
    the chances of everything going right were slim and none. 
    
    Friday morning was the weigh-in and medical check, followed by
    the pre-race meeting.  Ken Chlouber, Leadville's representative
    to the Colorado House of Representatives, co-Race Director, and
    seven time LT100 finisher, went through all the race rules,
    introduced ultrarunning notables that had come to participate
    in one way or another, and gave out the Jackass Award (a trophy
    with the hind end of a donkey as the figure on top) to last year's
    winner:  Mike McCormack and his crew.  Mike is from Laguna Beach
    and evidently didn't realize that it is necessary to alter your
    running style to suit conditions that may not be Southern
    California-like.  Running at night on the flanks of Mt. Elbert,
    from Twin Lakes to Half Moon, in a freezing rain, he didn't think
    it necessary to slow down for the log bridge creek crossings.  He
    hit one that was frozen and, in Ken's words, did a one and a half
    gainer into the creek below.  Six miles later, he came off the trail
    soaked to the bone, frozen stiff, and hobbled up to his crew car,
    his wife sitting behind the wheel.  She rolled down the window a
    crack and he told her what happened and that he was through.  She
    rolled the window back up and locked the doors.  He finished the
    race, and was back again this year, hoping for a better time.
    
    We had a huge pasta dinner early Friday evening and got ourselves
    and the kids into bed by 8:00, about the time that Elbert arrived
    (several hours late).  The sky was clear when we went to bed and
    we were hopeful that the weather gods would smile on us.  The race
    would begin at 4 a.m., so we set the alarm for 2:00.

    I woke at 1:30 and lay in bed until the alarm went off.  Fortunately,
    Gail slept until 2:00.  I think I was more nervous than she was.
    I stepped outside to a star-filled sky.  Looked like good weather
    at the start, anyway.  We ate some English muffins with jam, had
    a couple cups of coffee, and drank some orange juice.  Gail took
    800 mg of ibuprofen (prescribed by the podiatrist for the plantar
    fasciitis) and then headed out to register at 3:15.  In an event
    like this, you have to register the morning of the run so they know
    exactly how many people (and which ones) actually start the race.
    
    I woke the kids and Elbert and we all went to the starting line.
    It was a scene I've come to know and love.  The start banner was
    strung across 6th St. at Harrison and the announcer's booth was
    set up.  In front of the booth was a large sign that read:
    
                                   WELCOME
                                   TOP GUNS
                                    TO THE
                                  MOTHER OF
                                   ALL RUNS
    
    Runners and crews milled around, exchanging war stories, talking
    race strategies, joking away the nervous energy.  At 4:00, the gun
    sounded and the runners were off, a stream of flashlight beams lighting
    6th St.  Elbert, Josh, Shayna, and I went back to the house, got
    into the Trooper, and headed for the first crew access point:  the
    Tabor Boat Ramp on Turquoise Lake.

    The Tabor Boat Ramp on Turquoise Lake is about 7 miles into the run.
    The parking lot was jammed with crew vehicles.  The trail around the
    lake crosses the boat ramp, and crew were huddled together, peering
    into the night at the long string of bouncing flashlight beams.  One by
    one, runners would come through, drop some gear, add some gear, and
    disappear into the early morning darkness.  The runner's crew would
    race back to the crew vehicle and head for the next access point. 
    
    Gail came through exactly when expected, dropped her fanny pack and
    took off with a water bottle in one hand and flashlight in the other.
    She barely broke stride in the exchange.  She now had 6.5 miles to the
    first aid station at the May Queen campground on the western shore of
    the lake. 
    
    The parking at May Queen is horrible on the outbound portion because
    the field doesn't spread enough in only 13.5 miles.  We had decided
    that we would skip meeting her at May Queen, opting instead to hike the
    mile up Hagerman Pass Road to where it crosses the trail, 15.5 miles
    into the run. Gail would refill her bottle at May Queen and truck right
    on through. Target time for May Queen was 2:30 into the run. 
    
    We jumped into the Trooper and drove to Hagerman Pass Road.  Crew
    vehicles are prohibited from driving up the road, so we parked at the
    intersection of Turquoise Lake Road and Hagerman Pass Road and took
    everything that we thought Gail may want. Crew vehicles are (rightly)
    prohibited from driving on most dirt roads that are part of the course.
    Crew, however, are welcome to meet their runner anywhere on the course,
    provided they do not violate driving or parking restrictions, or ride
    bicycles on the trails. 
    
    The sun was just rising to the east, giving us dawn light to make our
    way up the dirt road.  The excitement of the race was already wearing
    off on the kids and the lack of sleep the night before began to tell on
    them.  Shayna found lots of things to complain about, but grudgingly
    trudged along. 
    
    At about 7:00, Gail came climbing up the steep, rocky trail to the road
    and informed me that she had passed through May Queen 2:31 into the
    run, so was right on time.  She felt great (some of the runners
    *already* looked to be suffering!).  She had given her flashlight to
    another crew (friends) so she wouldn't have to carry it.  We had her
    fanny pack and fresh bottles (one with water, one with Metabolol)
    ready.  She grabbed her stuff and started running up the road. 
    
    We grabbed the remaining gear and hiked down to the truck.  At this
    point, we decided to drop the kids back at the house in Leadville, and
    then head out to the Fish Hatchery Road to meet Gail as she finished
    her descent from Sugarloaf Mountain. 

    From where we had met Gail on Hagerman Pass Road, the course winds
    about a mile up the road to a jeep road that switchbacks its way up to
    11,400' Sugarloaf Pass.  It then plunges down the other side, following
    a powerline cut.  The footing is tenuous on the descent and the quads
    take their first real beating here. 
    
    Elbert and I were waiting for Gail as she come off the trail.  We took
    everything she was carrying, gave her a fresh water bottle, and headed
    over to the second aid station, the Outward Bound station at the
    Leadville Fish Hatchery, 23.5 miles into the run. 
    
    We had allocated 2.5 hours for this second leg of the run.  It's only
    ten miles, but a very difficult ten miles.  Many runners make the
    mistake of hammering the downhill side Sugarloaf, only to pay dearly on
    Hope Pass.  Gail was determined to run a smart race this year and run
    easily on this leg.  She arrived at the aid station at 9:50, ten
    minutes ahead of schedule.  This is the first medical check point, but
    on the outbound portion is no more than a quick weigh-in and a shove
    out the gate. 
    
    The sun was getting higher in the sky and there was not a cloud to be
    seen in any direction.  There were ice patches on the higher, northern
    slopes of Mt. Massive and Mt. Elbert, but the heat down at 10,000' was
    beginning to take a toll on some of the runners, who looked like they
    were dragging a little more than they out to so early in the run.
    There was still 76.5 miles to go. 

    The next leg of the run, from Fish Hatchery to Half Moon Campground, is
    the most boring, with about two miles of paved road followed by 5 miles
    of sometimes flat, sometimes rolling, dirt road.  There is no
    protection from the sun, which was getting to be pretty intense. I
    smeared Gail's face, shoulders, and arms (at this point she was running
    in jog bra and shorts) with sunscreen and she was off. 
    
    We met her at a couple of points in the next five miles to exchange
    water bottles and give her some things to munch on.  Crew vehicles are
    prohibited beyond the tree line on Half Moon Road, so there we gave her
    her newly replenished fanny pack, a fresh water bottle and a bottle
    with Metabolol, and watched her disappear toward Mt. Elbert and the
    Half Moon aid station.  She complained about the heat making it
    difficult for her to drink as much as she'd like, but she was still
    looking and feeling good. 
    
    We drove back to Leadville to pick up the kids and then went over to
    the next crew access point and aid station at the firehouse in Twin
    Lakes. 

    From where we had left Gail on Half Moon Road, she had about a mile and
    a half to the Half Moon aid station and then another mile and change to
    the Colorado Trail trailhead.  The trail rises steeply onto the slopes
    of Mt. Elbert and then rolls through some of the most beautiful scenery
    on the course, generally between 10,200' and 10,600'. 
    
    It then begins a rugged, 1400' descent into the town of Twin Lakes,
    which at 9200' elevation is the lowest point on the course.  Half Moon
    Campground is 30.5 miles into the run.  Twin Lakes is at 39.5 miles,
    though there are many who don't believe that that section is only 9
    miles.  In fact, there are many who swear that even if it is only 9
    miles on the way out, it's at least 12 on the way back. :-)
    
    Elbert and I arrived at Twin Lakes with the kids at around 11:00.
    According to Gail's schedule, she would be arriving at noon.  We had
    arranged to meet Bob and Colleen there as well.  Bob had been helping
    Gail train for the run (he's been running ultras for eighteen years)
    and was coming to pace Gail for much of the second half of the run
    (since her silly husband/would-be pacer had pulled a hamstring the week
    before chasing a Frisbee).  It was also a good opportunity for Bob to
    get in a longish night run prior to doing the Wasatch Front 100 three
    weeks hence.  Colleen, Bob's 18-year-old, would be babysitting the kids
    while Bob, Elbert, and I spent the night crewing and pacing.
    
    Twin Lakes was teeming with crew and runners.  Crew stood nervously at
    the aid station, looking at their watches, straining to see their
    runner crest the hill to make the final, obscenely steep and rocky
    descent to the aid station.  Ooohs and aaahs would go up as runners
    fell onto the rocks and into the scrub oak.  Ouch!  More war stories
    would be traded, since most crew are runners themselves.  Brian Purcell
    was sitting under a tree, looking very unhappy.  Apparently, a hip
    injury he had incurred while finishing second at Western States in June
    was acting up and causing him a lot of pain.  So, the pre-race favorite
    was out.  He would go over Hope Pass just for yucks, and drop out
    officially at the 50 mile point. 
    
    Noon came and went.  The heat was clearly taking its toll, as most
    runners were behind schedule (judging from crew comments as they
    arrived) and looking the worse for wear.  At around 12:20, Gail came
    bouncing down the trail, smiling ear to ear, and apparently having just
    a wonderful time!  We all sighed a sigh of relief as she emerged from
    the medical check and demanded food.  Good sign. I took off her shoes
    as planned and headed up the trail with the shoes, fresh socks,
    vaseline, and a towel.  I was to take this stuff the mile and a half
    beyond Twin Lakes to meet her after she made the last river crossing so
    she'd have clean, dry stuff to change into.  She ate what she could at
    Twin Lakes, put on a different pair of shoes for the crossing, and
    headed out. 

    As I hiked along the swampy trail toward the river crossings, I looked
    up (and I do mean up) at Hope Pass, 7 miles and 3400 vertical feet
    away.  There were a few puffy clouds behind Hope Mountain and the Twin
    Peaks, but nothing that looked like bad weather.  The sun was high in
    the sky and burned hot through the rare air.  As I walked, I'd exchange
    greetings with other crew on their way back to Twin Lakes, carrying
    soggy shoes and socks. 
    
    The river had split several times upstream of what had been the single
    crossing in past years, so there were four smaller streams meandering
    through a bed of tennis ball sized rocks.  The first three were only
    ankle deep.  The main crossing was mid-calf; shallower and weaker than
    in the past.  Nobody was complaining.  I crossed over to the far side
    and sat on the large log with other crew and the occasional runner
    changing into dry gear. 
    
    Runners without crew would either slosh on through and start up the
    pass in wet shoes or would pull thick garbage bags out of their fanny
    packs and try to wade across, one foot in each bag.  Some would break,
    others not.  I watched about a dozen runners cross. Four had crew
    waiting.  A few just pushed through and didn't seem concerned about
    sloshing up the trail wet.  Several got wet unintentionally, most
    because of broken bags and one because he fell on the slippery rock
    bottom and had wet clothes to go with his wet shoes. 
    
    Melissa Lee Sobal (of Iditashoe fame) crossed just ahead of Gail and
    trucked right on through.  She told me Gail was right behind and looked
    a lot better than she (Melissa) felt.  Gail soon crossed and sat on the
    log while I pulled off her shoes and socks, vaselined her feet, and put
    the fresh stuff on.  She took her fanny pack and water bottles and
    disappeared into the trees, looking quite happy. 
    
    I carried everything back to Twin Lakes, where Elbert, the kids, and I
    jumped into the Trooper and led Bob and Colleen back to the house in
    Leadville.  After seeing that all was well at the house, Bob, Elbert,
    and I headed out Highway 24 and stopped at a little bar just past the
    cutoff to Twin Lakes, where I bought several grilled cheese sandwiches
    to go.  We continued on Highway 24 to Clear Creek Road, the dirt road
    that leads to Winfield.  Bob and I each ate a sandwich as we bumped
    along the poorly graded road.  Elbert wasn't interested in grilled
    cheese, instead munching on things he had brought with him.  We reached
    the long line of parked cars near the trailhead to Hope Pass, found a
    place to park the truck, and carried food, drink, first aid supplies,
    and a folding chair to the trailhead to wait for Gail to descend to the
    road. 
    
    Given that she had left Twin Lakes almost a half hour later than
    planned, we were surprised to see her appear right on the originally
    scheduled time.  She handed me the fanny pack, grabbed a fresh water
    bottle and a grilled cheese sandwich, and headed up Clear Creek Road
    toward Winfield. 
    
    It's 2.4 shallow uphill miles from the trailhead to Winfield.  We drove
    to Winfield and set up the lounge chair and other stuff. She arrived at
    4:00 on the dot, right on schedule.  She checked in, went through the
    mandatory medical check, grabbed some cantaloupe from the food table,
    checked out, and came out to the crew vehicle. 
    
    She lay on the lounge chair and accepted a massage.  She said that she
    thought she was taking it easy up the pass, but passed many people,
    including Melissa.  She was concerned that she was getting too much
    sun.  She ate and drank and relaxed.  Actually, she spent far too much
    time at the aid station, just over twenty minutes.  She told me that
    she wanted plain cheese pizza at Twin Lakes.  Yes, ma'am. And she was
    up and off. 

    The tent at Winfield was strewn with casualties.  There were lots of
    very disappointed runners.  Most were sick and simply couldn't face the
    brutally steep climb back up Hope Pass.  Others were injured and being
    helped out to their crew vehicles so they could go back to Leadville,
    shower, sleep, and make plans for next year. 
    
    Elbert and I drove out to the trailhead to meet Gail and Bob.  They
    arrived, chatting happily, took their fanny packs from us, wrapped
    jackets around their waists, and headed up the trail.  So far, so good. 
    
    We drove into Leadville to check on the kids.  Then we went to the
    Pizza Hut, grabbed several pizzas, took a couple to Colleen and the
    kids, and drove back to Twin Lakes. 
    
    We got lucky and got a spot right by the aid station.  More casualties
    all around.  One of Gail's training partners, Craig, had run into
    serious trouble.  It may have been altitude sickness or heat stroke or
    both, but he was delirious.  He was on oxygen and unable to put
    together a single coherent sentence.  His wife looked worried, even
    though she said she wasn't.  Craig is a veteran of many trail 100s and
    has been through tough times before.  We spoke with him a couple days
    later and he was fine. 
    
    The return trip over Hope Pass claims a slew of runners.  2600' feet of
    climb in 2.4 miles to 12,600' and one of the most spectacular views in
    the Rockies.  Coming right on the heels of the same climb in the other
    direction and the cumulative effect of 60 miles at high elevation, it
    can be discouraging if you look on to the prospect of 40 more miles
    through the night.  For some, it's just too much. 
    
    Gail's schedule called for an 8:00 arrival in Twin Lakes.  The skies
    continued to be clear, so the runners missed the usual hail and
    afternoon thunderstorms of Hope Pass.  At a few minutes before 8:00,
    Gail and Bob came cruising into town. 
    
    Gail lay out on the lounge chair again, drank a bottle of Sundance, and
    starting scarfing pizza like a growing teenager.  A friend from Buena
    Vista, Mary Lou, came over to see how Gail was doing.  Mary Lou is a
    massage therapist, so she worked on Gail's legs and Gail ate and drank
    and talked about what she wanted me to carry in my day pack on the next
    leg.  I would be pacing Gail on this critical leg of the run, because
    she felt I would be able to offer the most psychological support.
    
    In each of the last two years, Gail has fallen apart on this portion of
    the course.  The first year, we had been caught unprepared in cold, wet
    rain.  Gail had become hypothermic, and coupled with the stress
    fracture she had developed earlier in the run, she was forced to drop.
    Last year, she had developed stomach problems on Hope and vomiting just
    wouldn't clear it up.  She had become dehydrated and totally sapped of
    energy. By the time she had reached Half Moon, the cutoff time had
    passed.  This year had to be different.

    re:  Hawk and JD
    
    Sorry this is taking so long.  I'm just barely keeping my head above
    water here.  I haven't even had time to look at the U of M note!  Good
    thing they have a bye this weekend.
    
    Anyway, here comes a bit more . . .

    
    Again, Gail spent more time at the aid station than planned, but the
    time was well-spent.  She ate well, and the massage was very good.  It
    was still light as we headed up the 1400' climb out of Twin Lakes. I
    was carrying a fanny pack with two water bottles, a day pack with
    inclement weather gear, and water bottles in each hand.  Gail had a
    water bottle in one hand and yet another piece of pizza in the other.
    
    Sunset gave way to dusk, which soon gave way to darkness.  A half moon
    shone through a cloudless sky.  There was enough moonlight to see
    outlines of trees, meadows, mountains, and quietly moving,
    unidentifiable shadows, but not enough to negotiate the trails, so we
    finally put on the flashlights and made our way as quickly as our
    bodies and the still-deficient light allowed. 
    
    Most of the time, we felt like the only people out there, making our
    way through a dark wilderness.  Gail was moving strongly, in contrast
    to previous years.  She admitted then that even though she had said she
    felt fine at this point two years ago, she was suffering.  This year,
    she said, she really did feel good. 
    
    Occasionally, we'd come upon another runner, usually with a pacer,
    exchange greetings, and pass on by.  Less frequently, there'd be
    someone sitting by the side of the trail, either adjusting equipment
    (changing batteries, changing clothes, etc.) or resting.  A few words
    would be exchanged to ensure that everything was okay and soon it would
    be only us again. 
    
    The hours and the miles passed slowly.  I could feel my hamstring
    starting to tighten, but Gail's pace was also slowing and I was able to
    keep up and keep her distracted with mindless chatter. She commented
    several times how much longer this piece of trail is in the dark. 
    
    It stayed remarkably warm, given the altitude and the clear sky. As we
    picked our way down the sharp, rocky descent to Half Moon Road, I
    glanced at my watch and saw that we were more than a half hour behind
    schedule.  But Gail was still moving strongly.  We came to the aid
    station at Half Moon Campground, Gail still smiling.
    
    Again, the aid station tent was littered with sad-looking, tired
    people, now huddled around a fire to keep warm, wrist-band removed.  In
    past years, Gail had been one of these people.
    
    She ate some Ramen and some cantaloupe, refilled bottles, and we were
    off.  We may have been behind schedule, but we had left her past
    nemesis behind and were pushing on into what was, for us, uncharted
    territory.  I could see that Gail had lost some of the spring in her
    step and there was a slight change in her mood.  It would become more
    pronounced as the hours passed. 
    
    A mile and a half down the road from the aid station, we emerged from
    the trees and found Elbert and Bob resting comfortably in the Trooper.

    It was here that we fell prey to our first logistical error.  We hadn't
    brought enough of the right kind of shoes.  The next section of the
    course was, for all intents and purposes, flat.  Gail had soaked two
    different pairs of shoes at the river crossings and was wearing her
    Trail Dogs, which are great on trails but poor on roads.  She wanted
    her Nikes back, and there weren't any to give her.  There hadn't been
    time for them to dry.  She could have taken her Turntecs or her Asics,
    but she decided to keep the Dogs on. 
    
    It was clear that Gail would not be able to make up the time lost,
    so we re-evaluated the position and set new goals for the remaining
    portions of the course.  The new schedule would bring her into
    Leadville one hour later than originally planned:  9:15 a.m. for
    a finishing time of 29 hours, 15 minutes.
    
    Elbert would accompany her for next 5.5 miles to the Fish Hatchery.
    Gail took a water bottle and disappeared into the night, becoming
    just another anonymous beam bouncing down the road.  
    
    Fifteen hours earlier, in the bright midday sunshine, there had been a
    steady stream of runners making an almost unbroken chain along the
    road.  The mood had still been festive, with runners talking and
    laughing with each other. 
    
    Now the field had spread and thinned.  As Bob and I drove along
    the road to the Fish Hatchery, we'd pass runners, usually in pairs,
    moving slowly along, looking tired, even somber, but most definitely
    determined.  It was gut-check time.
    
    We waited anxiously at the aid station, watching runners arrive, go
    through the medical check, complain about various maladies, bark orders
    to their crew, and leave.  It was after 1:00 a.m. and everyone was
    tired and testy.
    
    Eventually, Gail and Elbert arrived, and I must admit, Gail was
    no more pleasant than those who had preceded her.  She was very
    businesslike in ensuring that her gear was in order and that she
    had sufficient food and drink.  The medical check showed that she
    had maintained her weight despite 76.5 consecutive miles.  Her feet
    were getting sore and her stomach was not happy.
    
    Bob took over as pacer, and he and Gail headed out along the road
    toward Sugarloaf Mountain, carrying only water bottles.  Elbert
    and I would meet them at the trailhead, less than a mile down the
    road.

    I finally figured out what this saga reminds me of.  Anybody ever read
    'The Long Walk', a short story by Stephen King?
    
    
    - ACC Chris

Chris --

A most EXCELLENT story written under the pen-name Richard Bachman.

It was a hellish, nightmarish story.....

'Saw

    > It was a hellish, nightmarish story.....
    
    Exactly.  Just like the Leadville 100.
    
    
    - ACC Chris

    Sugarloaf Mountain.  Ann Trason calls it Ugly Mountain. 80 miles into
    the run, you are faced with a steep climb up a power line swath to
    11,400'.  There are four false summits on the ascent.  Ann and her ilk
    start up the mountain shortly after sunset.  Mere mortals get to it in
    the wee hours of the morning. 
    
    It was around 2:30 when Gail and Bob arrived at the trailhead, took
    their fanny packs and other gear, and disappeared into the lodgepole
    pines.  Gail was not smiling.  Neither was she speaking.  She just took
    her things and plodded on. 
    
    Elbert and I were to meet them on Hagerman Pass Road.  We had heard the
    horror stories of crash and burn on Sugarloaf.  This is a truly
    critical piece of the run.  Conventional wisdom has it that if you can
    stay awake and moving over Sugarloaf and get to May Queen before the
    cutoff time, Sunday morning's sunshine brings enough new life to drag
    yourself through the last 13.5 miles. 
    
    Elbert and I scooted into town to use the bathroom at the house, check
    on the kids, and take another look at the finish line.  The red carpet
    leading up 6th Street to the Finish banner and the tape had been laid
    out.  Hardy Leadville residents were out to watch the front runners
    finish.  I tried to envision Gail running up that last hill, onto the
    red carpet, and across the line.  It looked good in my mind; if only
    Gail could hang in there for twenty more miles. 
    
    Things at the house didn't go as quickly as we had anticipated and by
    the time we got to Hagerman Pass Road, parked the truck, grabbed what
    we needed, and walked the mile up the road to the point where the
    runners turn down the Colorado Trail toward May Queen, I began to worry
    that we might have missed her.  I knew it wasn't likely, but it worried
    me nonetheless. 
    
    I left Elbert at the trailhead and walked the mile or so up Hagerman
    Pass Road that is part of the course, to the jeep road that climbs from
    Hagerman Pass Road to Sugarloaf Pass.  It was pitch black.  A few
    clouds had gathered, which helped hold in some warmth.  Occasionally,
    runners would come by.  I'd ask them what time they had left Fish
    Hatchery, and they had all left before Gail.  That made me feel more
    confident that we hadn't missed her.  But as time passed, it was no
    longer the case.  When the first runner came by that said that they had
    left Fish Hatchery *after* Gail, I began to worry.  He did say that he
    had passed many people over Sugarloaf and was running very strongly. 
    
    I wasn't sure what to think.  My stomach was in a tight knot.  Either
    we'd missed Gail, which could be catastrophic, or she was having a very
    bad time up there that result in a DNF.  I made my way back down the
    road to where Elbert was waiting.  I considered running back out to the
    truck and driving down to May Queen to see if she'd come through. While
    discussing this option with Elbert, more runners would trickle down the
    road and turn down the trail toward May Queen.  I had just about
    decided to run out to the truck when Gail and Bob arrived. 
    
    Gail was really dragging.  She dropped her fanny pack, picked up a
    fresh water bottle, and disappeared.  Bob said that it hadn't been
    pretty coming down Sugarloaf.  They had had some equipment problems
    (flashlights) and Gail was sick.  She had thrown up near the top, but
    only once, and seemed to feel a bit better as a result. Her feet hurt
    and she was very tired.  Both Gail and Bob had been momentarily falling
    asleep on their feet, and then immediately waking, as they made their
    way down the jeep road.  It was around 5:00 a.m. 
    
    Bob finished his equipment swap and headed down the trail after Gail.
    Elbert and I raced out to the truck and drove to May Queen.  We parked
    the truck and walked the quarter-mile road into the campground and aid
    station.  At the entrance to the tent, a volunteer with a walkie-talkie
    took numbers from another volunteer a little ways back as runners
    emerged from the trail.  After what seemed an eternity, she called out
    "Number 411 just crossed the creek."  Gail would arrive in a few
    minutes. 
    
    Gail entered the tent, checked in, got weighed, walked to the back of
    the tent, lay down on a cot, closed her eyes, and said, "Fix my feet."
    That was all she said.  I think she fell asleep immediately.  I pulled
    off her shoes and almost gagged.  Her feet simply weren't fixable. The
    blisters were just too big and in places too difficult to patch. I
    looked at one of the medical personnel in the tent, who looked at her
    feet, looked at me, and just shrugged his shoulders.  I went to work
    with Second Skin and moleskin and did what I could. 
    
    Dawn was breaking:  the race's second sunrise.

    After doing what I could on Gail's feet, I spoke to her.  Fortunately,
    she responded.  Not happily, but it was a response.  The medic
    mentioned that a hot shower and good rest awaited her in Leadville.
    This seemed to provide some inspiration as she sat up.  She complained
    about her stomach.  The medic produced four TUMS from his pocket, told
    her to eat two now and two more after 6.5 miles, at the Tabor Boat
    Ramp. 
    
    Gail ate the TUMS, stood up, groaned, and headed out the tent into her
    second sunrise of the race.  Bob ran after her.  Elbert and I ran out
    to the truck and headed for the boat ramp.  Once there, we carried the
    chair, her extra shoes, the first aid stuff, various types of food, and
    anything else we thought she might be interested in down to where the
    trail crosses the ramp.  Then we waited. 
    
    Other crews were also set up on the ramp, anxiously looking at watches
    and peering into the trees for signs of their runners.  I had figured
    that Gail should arrive around 7:30 a.m.  If she came in later than
    7:50, it would be very difficult to cover the last seven miles in time
    to make the 30 hour cut. 
    
    Much to my surprise, and delight, she came running onto the ramp at
    7:10.  She never broke stride, dropping everything she was carrying on
    the ramp.  She barked, "Two TUMS, water bottle, visor" and was gone.
    Bob hung around to gather the things she wanted and took off after her. 
    
    When she realized that she now had the time to make the 30 hour cutoff,
    she stopped running and walked.  These last seven miles would not be a
    run; they were much more like a death march.  Speed?  To borrow a quote
    from Red Fisher after running Wasatch, "I was passing rocks and trees
    like they were standing still." 
    
    We drove over to the dam to see her cross one last time and make sure
    she didn't need anything else.  She just walked on by, totally focused
    on one thing and one thing only:  getting to Leadville.  Bob said
    hello. 

    Four miles from the finish, the road crosses railroad tracks.  As Gail
    and Bob approached, a train came through, forcing them to stand there
    and wait for it to pass.  Worse, the train was preparing to stop and
    went slower and slower, to the point that it looked like it might stop
    before passing completely across the road.  Gail, in her addled state,
    was trying to figure out if she could make it between the cars of the
    train!  This is why they allow pacers during the second half of the
    run.  Bob's sanity prevailed, the train passed, and they headed onto
    the last long stretch of dirt road, "The Boulevard," before reaching
    the town of Leadville. 
    
    Meanwhile, Elbert and I had driven into Leadville and rousted the kids
    out of bed.  We went to the finish line and watched several runners
    come in.  The runner getting the longest, loudest applause was Bennie
    Linkhart of Tuscon.  Bennie held the record for the longest DNF at
    Leadville (96 miles).  This year, he made the full hundred.  Also
    significant is that this year he celebrated his 60th birthday. 
    
    We then walked about a half mile up 6th Street, to the crest of the
    final hill before the finish.  From the top of this hill, the runners
    descend a quarter mile, then climb the last quarter mile to the red
    carpet and the finish banner. 
    
    The sun was getting higher in sky.  Runners would come by with their
    pacers, most walking, some giving the appearance of running but moving
    no faster than those that were walking.  There were precious few signs
    of life in their eyes.  Only determination.  Finally, more than 29
    hours after starting the race, Gail appeared, walking at a pretty good
    clip, staring blankly ahead. 
    
    The kids were all excited and running around, talking to her,
    congratulating her, trying to get her to run.  When they saw that she
    was not responding, they just joined us all in the final walk to the
    finish.  As we came to within a couple hundred yards of the end, Gail
    turned to me, expressionless, and said, "This is too hard. It's too
    fucking hard.  I'll never do anything like this again." 
    
    As she reached the red carpet, our entourage fanned out to both sides
    to let her "run" in the last ten yards.  The loudspeaker blared, "Now
    finishing, from Colorado Springs, Gail Snyder."  I then heard Race
    Director Merilee O'Neal call my name.  She asked me if I'd like to hang
    the finisher's medallion over Gail's neck, and I gladly agreed. 
    
    It was official.  Gail had finished the 1991 Leadville Trail 100 in a
    time of 29 hours, 14 minutes, 53 seconds. 

    Gail staggered over to the curb and sat, seemingly oblivious to the
    tens of people who came over to congratulate her.  She finally rose and
    began hobbling toward the house, just two blocks away. 
    
    Once in the house, she flopped onto the couch.  She shook, rather
    violently, for several minutes.  We covered her with blankets and she
    finally fell asleep. 
    
    I woke her two hours later so she could shower and go to the awards
    ceremony at noon.  It was a riot watching all these folks who had
    performed a fairly impressive physical feat struggle to walk 50 feet to
    receive their belt buckles and certificates.  The women also received a
    silver LT100 necklace. 
    
    In Gail's words, "For finishing Leadville, I got a certificate, a
    necklace, a belt buckle, a bouquet of flowers, a finisher's sweatshirt
    with my name and finishing time on it, and a new set of toenails." 
    
    After the ceremony, we made our way back to the house and Gail slept
    for several more hours.  When she woke, she look and felt pretty good.
    As she stared off into space, I asked her what she was thinking. She
    responded, "You know, I'm going to have make some changes in my
    training if I want to break 28 hours next year.  I'm going to have to
    do more work on the flats and maybe do some speed work...." That's when
    I knew she was just fine. 

    Yee Haa!!!!!!1111111
    
    Congrats to Gail, and Congrats to *you* for perhaps the greatest story
    every posted in SPORTS.
    
    NOTY, 1991.
    
    
    - ACC Chris

    My apologies for dragging this out so long.  In fact, it's been so long
    that I now have *another* race report to write.  It will be much, much
    shorter (the race is only 25.5 miles) and far less detailed.
    
    And now I get to try to catch up on the thousands of notes I've missed
    since the race.  Actually, I think a "set seen" is in order and then
    it's straight to the University of Michigan note (but not tonight).
    
    Seeing as it's Friday night, I have only one more thing to say:
    
    GO BLUE!  BEAT FSU!
    
    Sid

    I agree on the NOTY for Leadville.  
    
    As I said in a note to Sid, this chronicle should be submitted to a
    running publication for the entire world to enjoy.
    
    Wait a minute - just a 25.5 mile race?  You do "sprints" like that? 
    Hardly time to get your rythm!     8^)
    
    =Bob=

       More congrats to Gail. And I agree, you should try and get this
    published Sid. For one, I'd send it to Readers Digest. I haven't read
    it in years, but they love stuff like this.
                                    Denny

    Sid -
    
    1st -- my congratulations to Gail.  It's a tremendous achievement to
    finish at all.
    
    2nd -- yes, publish if you can.  In fact, I'd include both last year's
    tale and this year's if you can swing it.  Last year's DNF added to the
    suspense for this year.
    
    Finally -- I don't mind (for one) that it took you so long to finish
    the saga.  Gave me as a reader a sense of what it took in the way of
    stamina to finish.
    
    A&W

Sid, No way was that too long! Great story. I would rather read a tale
of courage and intestinal fortitude, than another ACCrook/MoRT/Hunt
diatribe on Dean smif'! Congrats to Gail, she certainly does not know
the meaning of the word 'quit'!


Steve

    I agree with the last few.  
    
    IMHO, this is the best writing that I've seen in this notesfile since I
    got into it.
    
    NOTY vote from me!!!
    
    JaKe
    

    
    For you dastistical(tm) types,
    
    I figgered that 100 miles run in 29+ hours calculates out to
    
    somewhere around an average of 18 minutes per mile.
    
    Don't seem too tough to me!  
    
    thousands of -> ;^)
    
    (and only kidding too, I KNOW I couldn't run 100 miles at one time even
    if they gave me a week to do it!)
    
    Kev_in_awe_of_Gail
    
    

>              -< Heck, I bet Saw and Slasher could do that!! ;^) >-

When my hand was busted up, I was doing 4 miles or so every day.

At about 2.5 miles I'd have this tremendous mental urge to just stop.
It wasn't boredom, but it was a protest against my basically impatient
nature.

I've always had a problem with pace control because as I near the end
of any run, I just want to be FINISHED.

So, I'm looking at this 4 miler, and then I'm looking at how I felt
at the end of 4 miles.  I was tired, sweaty REALLY sweaty, and I 
wanted to shower up, grab some lunch and that was that.

I cannot even begin to CONCEIVE of what doing *25* times that would
be like.

I know I'm rolling at less than 10 per mile, but I don't think I'm 
doing a mile in less than 8:30.  Even on a flat course, at 18 something
per, I doubt I could do more than 12 miles.


Nope, leave me to scrum and push my heart out, only two amble on
as fast as these Rich Gedman legs will carry me, to the next ruck
or maul.  Let me suck a little wind before a lineout....

I'll leave the grueling, Dr. Mengele-like self-torture to those who
do it best....


'Saw

    Thanks to all who send congrats to Gail.  I'm loathe to pass the
    congrats on to her, though, seeing as how she's already grown two hat
    sizes since finishing.  :-)
    
    As for giving the race report wider distribution, I don't think so.
    First, it really isn't publishable quality.  Second, and more
    importantly, I guess I feel like it's sort of personal.  Running is a
    personal thing.  I'm not sure why I chose to share it with you idiots;
    I guess it's because you all seem weird enough to enjoy it.
    
    I always write up race reports to send to my brother and sister. 
    Lately, I've taken to putting them in here, too.  I'll probably
    continue.
    
    Anyway, thanks for the encouragement, though I'm not sure I should be
    flattered by suggestions that the report is good enough for Reader's
    Digest.  :-)
    
    Sid

       Nah, on second thought you don't want to send it to Reader's Digest.
    They'd just condense it and that would obviously ruin it. 
    
    >I'm not sure why I chose to share it with you idiots.
    
      We're Bonehaids Sid, I always thought idiot  was too clinical of a
     term.
                                          Denny  ;^)
     

    Now, for really crazy race results:
    
    Sandy Barwick of Auckland, New Zealand, Thursday became the first women
    to finish the Sri Chimmoy 1,300-mile race, the world's longest
    certified run.  Barwick, 43, tore a muscle in her right thigh after
    setting a world-best of 12 days, 14 hours for 1,000 miles.  It took her
    another 5 days to complete the final 300 miles.  Her finishing time:
    17 days, 22 hours.
    
    Al Bowie, of Vancouver, B.C., set a world-best of 16 days, 19 hours in
    winning the men's race that ended in Queens, NY
    
    JHD

    > Al Bowie, of Vancouver, B.C., set a world-best of 16 days, 19 hours in
    > winning the men's race that ended in Queens, NY
    
    I'm sure that's supposed to be Al Howie.  Ever seen a picture of Al? 
    A true wild man.  He almost always wins the 1000+ mile events.
    
    Other minor nit:  It's Sri Chinmoy, not Sri Chimmoy.
    
    I'm amazed that this event got coverage anywhere outside of
    UltraRunning magazine.  I look forward to the next issue.
    
    Sid

    A 1300 mile race?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?  I think its time to really take a long
    look at long distance racing.......
    
    REK

    Reprinted without permission from Page 1 of The Wall Street Journal,
    13 February, 1992.
    
    =====================================================================
    
                             Don't Expect to See
                              This Record Holder
                             In the Winter Games
    
                                    * * *
    
                          Tom Sobal Dominates Races,
                           So Why Isn't He Famous?
                            Ask His Buddy Maynard
    
                                   --------
    
                               By Marj Charlier    
                  Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
    
    DULUTH Minn.--The winner has just crossed the finish line of the annual
    Beargrease Snowshoe Marathon here, and Tom Sobal is angry. 
    
    It isn't because he was late arriving and ended up starting 10 minutes
    behind his 17 opponents; or because some of the racers missed a loop in
    the snowy trail, cutting as much as two miles off their runs.  It isn't
    because of the weather--18 below--or because he slipped on ice and
    cracked a rib. 
    
    No, what really frosts Mr. Sobal is that the race wasn't long enough.
    
                                A 'Bogus" Time
    
    This was his chance, you see, to break three hours in the year's only
    snowshoe marathon.  And while he finished at 2 hours, 59 minutes, he
    felt from his pace that the course was not a legitimate 26.2 miles.
    Angry that his time is thus "bogus," he throws his snowshoes in the
    back seat of a friend's car and threatens to quit the sport altogether.
    "If anyone wants to buy these, get a name and phone number," he says.
    Then he trudges off to thaw his beard and frost-nipped face in a hot
    tub. 
    
    Oh, by the way, Mr. Sobal won the race.
    
    This skinny 34-year-old may be the best--and hardest-working--athlete
    you have never heard of.  He wins a lot, but in esoteric winter events
    that rarely rise above the agate type in the sports pages. Last
    February, for example, he won the 100-mile Iditashoe snowshoe race in
    Alaska, cutting the course record by three hours, to under 24 hours.
    He holds the records for all three of Colorado's major burro
    races--marathon-length affairs in which man-burro twosomes scamper over
    rocky mountain passes.  He also holds the record for the annual Doc
    Holliday 35-mile high-altitude run, as well as dozens of other foot and
    snowshoe races in the Western mountains. 
    
    But even with these credentials, Mr. Sobal is forced to run on the
    cheap.  The only sponsor he could scare up for the big snowshoe race
    was a running club in his hometown of Leadville, Colo.  It gave him
    $150 to help pay for a red-eye flight to Minneapolis. From there he had
    to hitch a ride to Duluth.  He has tried attracting snowshoe
    manufacturers and smallish sports-accessories companies, but with
    little luck.  "Corporations want someone who is almost as big a brand
    name as the product they're marketing," says Jim Andrews, editorial
    director of IEG Sponsorship Report, a publication of International
    Events Group in Chicago.  Snowshoers don't fill the bill. 
    
    Besides, Mr. Sobal doesn't exactly exude the matinee-idol image of a
    Carl Lewis or a Joe Montana.  At 6-foot-3-inches and 165 pounds, he is
    rail thin.  A skinny 18-inch braid snakes down the middle of his back,
    and his full beard turns into a hairy icicle in snowshoe races.  He is
    also shy. 
    
    Mr. Sobal isn't complaining, mind you.  He chooses his sports because
    they are local ones, not because they promise endorsements.  "I think
    if you live in the mountains, you should do mountain sports," he says. 
    
    Mr. Sobal actually began his running career on flat land, in Gary, Ind.
    After an embarrassing performance on the high-school cross-country
    team, he and a friend decided to run every day over the summer to
    improve.  They did, securing top spots on the team the next fall.  But
    the rebellious teen-ager balked at the coach's orders and quit. 
    
    After college, he drifted into seasonal jobs, like cooking for a
    Colorado dude ranch, while continuing to run.  He soon discovered he
    ran better at high altitudes than at sea level and went searching for a
    mountain town where he could live and train for more serious
    competition.  One day in 1987, he rode his mountain bike into
    two-mile-high Leadville (population 2,067), where the Climax Molybdenum
    mine had just shut down.  Rent was cheap, the people friendly, and he
    stayed. 
    
    In the winter, Mr. Sobal runs six- to 13-mile snowshoe loops daily and
    swims three or four miles a week in the local public pool. In the
    summer, he runs at least 80 miles a week, about half of that with his
    racing partner Maynard, a burro owned by a Leadville dentist. Mr. Sobal
    bicycles to his 15-hour-a-week jobs--a local snowshoe factory in the
    winter and a bike shop in the summer.  He says he trains so much he
    doesn't have the time or energy for a full-time job. 
    
    All this makes Mr. Sobal a rare physical specimen.  He has a resting
    heart rate around 50, about the same as a world-class athlete's, and he
    has suffered few injuries.  He says he once ran a mile in four minutes
    and 18 seconds, and while that won't frighten any world-class milers,
    it's still impressive.  It is even more impressive considering he did
    it at 8,000 feet and then, 10 minutes later, ran another mile in four
    minutes and 25 seconds. 
    
    Mr. Sobal thinks there are plenty of athletes who could compete with
    him in his sports if they wanted to.  But not many do.  He organizes
    snowshoe races in Leadville, but the turnout is always disappointing.
    About 40 showed up for a 20-mile race in January. (He won.)  "I asked
    my friends what I was doing wrong in organizing the thing," he says.
    "They tell me the sport is just too hard." 
    
    So few are people with his kind of rarefied competitive fever that when
    Mr. Sobal found one, he married her.  He and his wife, Melissa Lee, met
    while competing in an ultramarathon (a run of more than 26.2 miles).
    She is also the only woman ever to complete the 100-mile Iditashoe.
    But even the hardy Ms. Lee doesn't find it easy to live with a man who
    believes that every household should have only one dish per person
    (she's gotten him up to seven, total) and who keeps the thermostat at a
    bone-chilling 45 degrees Fahrenheit in the winter. And "that's a
    compromise," says the Florida-born Ms. Lee.  "I can lie in bed at night
    and see my breath." 
    
    But the sacrifices are worth it for all the prize money, right? Well...
    Over the past 18 years, Mr. Sobal says, the miles he has run have
    outnumbered the dollars he has earned.  Competing in 15 events covering
    326 miles last year--and winning 10 of them--Mr. Sobal earned only a
    couple of thousand dollars.  For winning the Iditashoe, he and his wife
    each received three ounces of gold, worth about $1,000.  By the time
    they paid expenses, they had $350 left. The victory at Beargrease
    earned him a gift certificate to the Ground Round Restaurant; he gave
    it away because he is a vegetarian.  He splits his burro-race winnings
    with the animal's owner.
    
    Mr. Sobal and his wife live frugally, helped somewhat by Ms. Lee's work
    as a massage therapist.  They housesit in exchange for cheap rent.  The
    only shoes Mr. Sobal owns are running shoes and snowshoes, and his
    clothers are layers of inexpensive running knits. 
    
    But his goal isn't riches, it is "improvement," he says.  He still
    hopes to run a legitimate snowshoe marathon in less than three hours.
    Looking much further ahead, he and a friend have a pact to run a
    marathon when they turn 100. 
    
    Why does he do it?  "Everyone has to have a passion in life," he says.
    "To some people their passion is their jobs."  His is running. 
    
    And to Mr. Sobal, the meager returns are fine.  He looks out his window
    each day at the mountain view and considers himself lucky, because, he
    says, "I'm living my dream." 
                            

    Sid -
    
    Yeah, I read that story.   That was a great story.
    
    JD

    I	Isn't it almost time for the annual saga of Gail and the Leadv100?
    
    I seem to recall it usually happens in mid-September.
    
    Hope so, I'm looking forward to it!
    
    Kev
    

>         <<< Note 83.85 by CSTEAM::FARLEY "Megabucks Winner Wannabe" >>>
>                           -< Is Sid still with us? >-
    
    Barely.  I sneak in here for a quick read whenever I get a chance (not
    often enough).  Between work, training, and family, that's about all I
    can do these days.

>    I	Isn't it almost time for the annual saga of Gail and the Leadv100?
>    
>    I seem to recall it usually happens in mid-September.
>    
>    Hope so, I'm looking forward to it!
    
    The Leadville Trail 100 was run the weekend of August 15-16.  Neither
    Gail nor I were running it this year.  We were both there (as well as
    the kids) Thursday through Monday, helping with setup, crewing and
    pacing for a couple of runners, post-race trail sweep, and various
    other tasks.  
    
    Gail spent most of the race champing at the bit, bemoaning her decision
    not to run this year because she was so sure she wouldn't have time to
    train properly.  She won't make that mistake again.  Come January 1,
    her application for the 1993 LT100 will be in the mail.  On Saturday,
    she ran the fourth leg of the Trans-Colorado 500K Run for the Homeless,
    a 59-mile stretch from the north entrance of the Air Force Academy to
    Confluence Park, just north of Mile High Stadium.  It took her 15:43,
    but she was basically loafing, jawboning all the way with other
    runners.  The race is raising nearly $10,000 this year to help the
    homeless of Colorado.
    
    Depending on how my training (read knees) goes the next several months,
    I'll be sending in an application to run the Vermont Trail 100 in July. 
    Maybe I'll be able to talk some of you sucke... errr, fine gentlepeople
    into forming a Freakin' Lunatics crew.
    
    Sid

>    she ran the fourth leg of the Trans-Colorado 500K Run for the Homeless,
>    a 59-mile stretch from the north entrance of the Air Force Academy to

Yesterday I ran five miles.  I hadn't eaten enough over the weekend (read
that extremely little), and from 3.5 miles on, I was a hurtin' pup.

Running FIFY-NINE miles boggles my mind.  It completely, and totally
boggles my mind.  

    
>    Depending on how my training (read knees) goes the next several months,
>    I'll be sending in an application to run the Vermont Trail 100 in July. 
>    Maybe I'll be able to talk some of you sucke... errr, fine gentlepeople
>    into forming a Freakin' Lunatics crew.
    
Well, if you wouldn't mind running with someone who could only go about
five miles with you.....8^)


'Saw

    
    *Vermont* Trail 100??????
    
    Gimme details please.  Definitely interested in crewing.....
    
    Where's it start?  Route? Fini?
    
    dtw and all that schlep!
    
    I remain,
    having In-Laws live in Southern Vt.!
    Kev
    

    Sid -
    
    Pease keep us informed.  Depending on things, I could crew or even
    run part of it with you - 20 miles or so would be something I'd
    enjoy...
    
    JD

Sid

Schedule permitting, include me in.  As Hawk would say, I'd love to party with 
you!

=Bob=

Well, so far I'm the Biggest Boy who's volunteered.

Course, I don't have "natural" lats like JD, but mine are getting there,
even for faux lats....


I guess you need the Big Boy along in case any trees have to get moved
out of the trail....8^)


'Saw

    Wow!  Love that response!  One of my big concerns about coming out to
    do Vermont was lack of crew and pacers.  It makes an incredible
    difference having some support in an event like this.
    
    The race is run each year, usually the third weekend of July.  I know
    that the start is in South Woodstock.  I know have race information
    around that describes the course; I'll have to find it and post more
    info here.
    
    I'll say a few words about crewing and pacing, so folks that are
    interested will better understand what it means before agreeing to do
    either.
    
    Crewing:  
    
    What this job usually means is, first and foremost, making a
    *commitment* to do the whole job and to do it right.  A crew that
    doesn't show up, or is sloppy about getting to the appointed places
    with the appropriate stuff is worse than having no crew at all.  You
    don't have to know anything; your runner can give you very explicit
    written instructions.  
    
    It means taking Friday off of work and not getting home again until
    Sunday night, dead beat.  You will be awake from the wee hours of
    Saturday morning (usually around 2:30) through the night Saturday until
    late Sunday morning.  As you get crankier because of sleep deprivation,
    your runner's demeanor/attitude will make you look like Mother Theresa;
    and you have to take it.  Ever coached (what an awful term for this
    particular activity) a woman through childbirth?  Think of her at her
    worst moment and expect your runner to be less rational and infinitely
    meaner.  At least she had a good excuse.
    
    You spend all that time driving from one access point to the next,
    laying out all the things your runner might want/need, having a flurry
    of activity for a couple minutes when the runner arriving, packing it
    all back away in the car again, and driving to the next access point. 
    The times in between are spent bullshitting with all the other crew,
    who are doing the same as you.
    
    Pacing:  
    
    For the second have of the race, runners are allowed to someone running
    along with them, for safety reasons.  Most races allow you to have
    multiple pacers, but only one at a time.  I'll check the Vermont rules. 
    Most of time, you're going at night, by flashlight.
    
    With the exception of the top runners, the second half of a trail 100
    is *very* slow.  The runner is usually alternating between hard walking
    and slow running.  A nonrunning, good hiker would have no problem
    keeping up with your average ultrarunner during the second half of the
    race.  
    
    The term "pacer" is misleading, in that it's really still the runner
    setting the pace.  The pacer may suggest pace changes as appropriate,
    but the ultimate decision is still the runners.  Where the trail is
    wide enough (from what I understand, the Vermont course is 75% on jeep
    roads), runner and pacer go side-by-side.  When on trail, the runner
    leads the pacer, not the other way around.  
    
    The pacer usually carries (in a fanny pack or small day pack) things
    like extra food, water, inclement weather gear, etc. to relieve the
    runner from carrying more than is absolutely necessary.  
    
    It's best if the pacer likes to talk, since a big part of the job is
    keeping the runner awake and moving.  And as I'm sure you can tell from
    the way I ramble on, I'm not shy when it comes to jawboning.  
    
    Again, commitment is paramount.  If you say you're gonna do it, you
    gotta do it.
    
    I hope I'm not scaring anybody away.  Believe it or not, you'll
    actually have a great time.  Everybody does.  It's amazing, but true.
    
    Anyway, when I have more info on Vermont in particular, I'll post it. 
    I can't say how soon that'll be, but I'll try to get back in here
    within a week.
    
    Sid

    
    Sheeyit, since the race is held many weeks before the Vermont Deer
    hunting season, I'm not scared and I know where Woodstock, Vt. is!
    
    What's the typical number of people needed to crew and pace?
    
    If there are multiple "teams" supporting the same runner, how do they
    communicate?  Do people carry portable walkie-talkie's? ('Postrophy
    police, is that the right way or should it not be used in this case?)
    
    Is there typically a "base camp" for each runner or it the course so
    large that having a "central spot" very impractical?
    
    Sid, you said "being home, dead tired late Sunday night" or someting to
    that effect.  Did you mean *home* or just "it's all over but the
    soreness"?
    
    This sounds really interesting.
    
    Do some folks use Coleman(tm)-type lanterns instead of flashlights?
    Do runners carry Walkman(tm)-type radios to stay awake?
    
    
    Lookin' forward to mo' info!
    
    Kev
    

    Sorry I've been so long in responding.  Beside the usual craziness of
    work and life in general, I've managed to break a bone, tear some
    cartilage, build a deck, and put on a race in the last two months.
    
    That hasn't left a lot of time for noting.
        
>    What's the typical number of people needed to crew and pace?
    
    I'd say typical is two crew.  Some folks do it with no crew, many with
    one, and some with many.  I don't like having lots of crew.  Two is an
    excellent number, mostly because it's difficult for one person to crew
    alone.  The toughest part is staying awake for so long.
    
    The same is true for pacers.  Some folks do it with none (but usually
    because they can't arrange for one, though some people prefer to have
    no pacer).  Most common is one pacer, though I think having two pacers,
    who alternate legs of the race, is ideal.  Only one pacer at a time.
        
>    If there are multiple "teams" supporting the same runner, how do they
>    communicate?  Do people carry portable walkie-talkie's? ('Postrophy
>    police, is that the right way or should it not be used in this case?)
    
    While some of large crews do use various means of electronic
    communication, there is simply no substitute for good planning.  The
    planning, by the way, is the responsibility of the runner, not the
    crew.  It's the crew's responsibility to diligently follow the plan.
    
>    Is there typically a "base camp" for each runner or it the course so
>    large that having a "central spot" very impractical?
    
    It varies from race to race, but for most trail 100s, the area covered
    is so great that having a "base camp" is impractical.
    
>    Sid, you said "being home, dead tired late Sunday night" or someting to
>    that effect.  Did you mean *home* or just "it's all over but the
>    soreness"?
    
    All things being equal, crew and pacers should be *home* Sunday night. 
    The race ends at 10:00 Sunday, is followed by an awards ceremony, and
    then most everyone hits the hot and dusty.  It helps to have someone
    driving who hasn't been awake for the last 40 hours.
    
>    This sounds really interesting.
    
    Oh, it is!  Guaranteed!  I've not been able to find my file on the
    Vermont 100, other than the trail map.  I'll be sending for the full
    race information, and when it comes, I'll post relevant info here.
        
>    Do some folks use Coleman(tm)-type lanterns instead of flashlights?
>    Do runners carry Walkman(tm)-type radios to stay awake?
    
    I've never seen anyone use Coleman-type lanterns;  I have seen
    flourescent flashlights and I sometimes use a headlamp.  Walkman-type
    radios are the exception, and I've never seen anyone using one at
    night.  You need all your senses then;  certainly, you need your sense
    of hearing more at night than during the day.  The best way to stay
    awake is to have a pacer who jabbers at you incessantly.
    
    Sid

    As I mentioned in the previous reply, I recently put on a race (my
    first attempt at being a race director).  Here is the race report I
    filed with UltraRunning.
    
    Sid
    
    ===================================================================
    
Colorado Springs 100K Ultramarathon

Colorado Springs, CO                     October 18, 1992
100km (with 50 Mi. splits); flat 2 mile gravel path
TAC Certified Distances.
                                                             
   1.   Steve Mahieu,45,NM        (06:39:19)     08:29:09
   2.   Lew Larson,38             (07:16:27)     09:24:12
   3. F Alene Nitzky,28           (07:38:55)     09:37:25!
   4.   Craig D. Remner,41        (07:32:20)     10:27:00
   5.   Dave Garrison,36          (08:50:24)     11:50:37
   6.   Chris Erickson,29         (09:34:54)     12:21:46
   7. F Suzanne McNeil,39,CA      (09:28:31)     12:33:33
   8. F Francoise Carpenter,43    (10:10:00)     12:56:40
   9.   Bob Ellis,46              (10:27:49)     13:27:15
  10.   John Evans,37             (10:58:40)     14:07:13
      F Pennie Hobert,45          (08:22:40)       ----
        Scott Weber,39            (08:57:33)       ----
        Bruce Ward,47             (09:18:09)       ----
        Jim Shiew,48              (10:12:09)       ----

  17 starters
  ! = course record

The fourth running of the Colorado Springs 100K Ultramarathon started dark and
cold and only about 15 minutes late (first lesson learned by this first-time
race director:  race day setup takes longer than you think, no matter what you
think; arrive *early*).  It was just as well that we started a bit late, since
a few runners had a hard time finding the race start (second lesson: make sure
all runners are given very clear directions to the race start).   Aside from
that somewhat inauspicious start, all went well for most of the runners, as
evidenced by the high finish rate and some very good times. 

Pre-race favorite Steve Mahieu took the lead from the start and never looked
back.  Once the sun finally peeked through and the volunteers had thawed enough
to talk about something other than frozen fingers, there was some mumbling
about Scott Demaree's very impressive 7:56:27 course record being in jeopardy,
but it was not to be.

The women's course record, however, was shattered by Alene Nitzsky, whose
smooth stride and ear-to-ear smile just refused to fade as the day wore on.
She was clearly on a mission, having mapped out her target times for every
two-mile lap.  We've not heard the last of her.

Many runners came specifically to qualify for Western States, and a 50-mile
option was offered to accommodate those who wanted to qualify at that
distance.  As Theresa Daus-Weber stood anxiously at the finish, alternately
looking at the race clock and peering upstream for hubby, Scott was comfortably
(okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration) trotting in with almost 2.5
minutes to spare!  Piece of cake. 

The Runner's Roost very generously donated eight fanny packs to be awarded to
runners and Endura provided the carbo/electolyte drink in four flavors.  Pikes
Peak Road Runners provided invaluable support and advice to this novice RD. 

The volunteers were, of course, the background heroes of the day, handling the
aid station and timer's table duties in fine fashion. I always admired the
dedication of the volunteers as a runner; I'm even more impressed now.  It was
particularly gratifying to see so many runners who were not running the day's
race come out to dedicate their day to making the race great for all those who
were running.  And I still marvel at the patience and support of runners'
spouses/significant others, who not only put up with training, travel, and
other time demands, but also come out to make the day better for everyone.
What a great sport we have.