Collegiate Peaks 25-mile Trail Run Race Report

I debated for a moment whether to call this a race report. It's not really a race for me, after all. not really. But then I decided that, most of the time, it's a race not to be last. So, I'll go with that.

This race, in Bueno Vista, Colorado (and you must, you MUST pronounce it "BEYOONA Vista" to the locals, because I guess it sounds Hispanic or something otherwise...)

Anyway. This race was well-run, with a well-marked course and super nice voluteers (aren't they always?) BUT it was a difficult race for several reasons.

First, it was 28 degrees at the start. My new rule: If you're comfortable at the start, you're overdressed. I wore several lightweight layers: a wicking thermal l/s shit from REI, the kick-ass shirt that you get from signing up for this race, my favorite Brooks hoodie with built-in mitties. I carried a small pack with some carbo-pro 1200 and assorted sundries, like TP, bandaids, advil, eye drops, and a water bottle. The race provided HEED and assorted trail foods, aid stations between 4 and 6 miles apart. For breakfast, I had 2 quaker oatmeal-to-go bars, some coffee, and some Hydrade.

This is one tough course. Over 4000 feet of climbing, much of it over ATV-torn very sandy ground and a couple of wet stream crossings. Also, high altitude and I do not get along. The race started at over 8000 feet above sea level, and before long, I was breathless and bitchy, which gave way to despair as I settled to a very dark place

E.g., I hate everyone. I hate colorado. I hate mountains. I hate people on ATVs. I hate sand. I hate that bird. Stupid bird. I hate that rock. Stupid rock.

Then,

Why, oh why did I think I could do this. I can't. I'm too out of shape, I'm too heavy, and I'm not trained enough

And eventually,

I suck.

One thing I did try was what Doc suggested: deliberately hyperventilate, just a little, before climbing those hills. So for most of the race I went up the hills breathing deep and fast, trying o get as much oxygen and trying to ignore my rapidly swelling fingers and hands.

Here's my annotated course profile:

I managed to catch and pass a few people at the end, so I think there were a half dozen or so people behind me.

My goal for the day: Finish the 25-mile trail run about 7 hours or so, and don't be last.

My results: finishing time was about 7:02 or so, and I wasn't last. So, go me.

Dontacha JUST love those feet?

I'm a dirty girl, all right.

I got to finish with Sweet Baboo, who was gentlemanly enough to let me go first and officially "beat" him. He does that sometimes.

Then I got an egg-salad sandwitch loaded with veggies and it was the best egg salad sandwitch EVAR.

Then I had a little Ben and Jerry's and it was the best Ben and Jerry's EVAR.

Then I had some Lays chips and--you guessed it.

The best.

EVAR.

Sweet Baboo and I were running together because of an incident on the trail. He started out and, of course, wound up well ahead of me pretty quickly. I was perhaps 3rd or 4th from last. So I was surprised when, just after the 2nd aid station, around mile 11 or so to see Sweet Baboo hauling ass up the hill toward me.

"You on your way back already?" I asked, surprised, since his original plan was to finish the 25 mile run, then backtrack and do the course backwards, which is the 50-mile course.

"NO - THERE'S A RUNNER DOWN AND I'M GOING TO GET HELP!" He shouted this breathlesslessly and red-faced as he tore up the hill past me.

After a while, a search and rescue car passed me. Or maybe Sweet Baboo caught up to me first. I don't remember.

From what we heard, the guy didn't make it. He may have taken his last look at life facing the snowy-peaks of the Rocky Mountains. I don't have the details yet.

So that's it about that run, I guess. Bittersweet.

I suppose that, if I were to go suddenly, I'd like it to be on a beautiful day, in a beautiful place, with perhaps my last thoughts being about the cold drink I'm going to have at the finish, surrounding by like-minded people.

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