La Plata Pk – Northwest Ridge

Date: June 28, 2003
Elevation: 14,336′
Rank: 5th
Route: Northwest Ridge, Grade II, Class 2, 9.0 miles, 4300ft vert.
GPS: N 39° 1.766′ W 106° 28.35′
Team: Matt Esser (Toid), Colleen Rickard, Jamie Vollenweider

Pre-climb: Jamie Lynn was on Colleen’s swim team in college in Michigan and is her Chi Omega sorority sister, and just happened to come out to Colorado in the summertime when the weather was perfect. And I just happen to be Colleen’s boyfriend. So naturally, we wanted to show Jamie a little something-something. You know…something that she would never forget. Thus, Co and I immediately started scheming. And after about 20 seconds of deliberation…climbing a gigantic mountain was proposed, voted on, and ratified. Let’s begin.

Climb: Colleen and Jamie were over at my house in Boulder by 5am. I was quite surprised by this so I took a photo of my watch. We were actually *leaving* my house at 5:30 am. That’s good stuff! Colleen volunteered to drive which was awesome of her, because she never drives to the mountains and it would be good for her. The trailhead for Lake Creek was on a paved road, so her car could handle it. Jamie quietly slept in the backseat as I tried to provide conversational stimulation for Cobes as she drove. Apparently I had competition from Colleen’s giant mug of coffee, and really it was a losing effort on my part because her coffee was #1 and what I said did not matter, unless of course, I interrupted her nursing her lifeforce-in-a-mug. Haha….then, suddenly, somewhere before Eisenhower, we heard a rustle in the backseat followed by the oh-so-innocent, “So we won’t get above treeline will we?” Oh boy. Jamie, aka, yet-to-be-initiated-girl-from-sea-level, was going to have some fun.

We were right on time to the trailhead. We got there around 8am. As we were loading up our gear, a few cars started showing up. From our car, we could see a false summit on La Plata, but it was close enough to the real thing and Jamie and Colleen were excited. Please take a moment to note the smiles on their faces in the pictures.

Flying up the mountain would adequately describe the pace we were going at. Basically we blinked and we were in the valley looking up the giant ridge towards the lofty summit of La Plata. Not moments after we snapped a photo of ourselves did we get surprised once again. I’ll call this one, The Return of Amy and Jamie. Haha. They caught up to us and said they camped in the valley the prior evening and saw Colleen wearing her Hillsdale swimming t-shirt. How weird is this!?! Of all the mountains…I kid you not, this was again, unplanned, but exciting, as Jamie Lynn hadn’t seen Amy and Jamie #2 in over a year! I think I need to sit down and take a deep breath! *whew* Ok, continuing on now…

If before we were flying up the mountain now we had rockets strapped on our backs. Amy and Jamie are proverbial billy goats. They don’t wear pants, they don’t wear hiking boots, they don’t wear high socks, they don’t have huge packs, but they do run up these mountains. I guess being in good shape and living in Leadville is a good thing. However, after about 45 minutes of us going at their pace, I cracked. I bonked. I was about to hurl. Never before have I risen so many vertical feet in such a short time. I couldn’t imagine how Jamie was feeling. Oh wait, as I look back at her, she’s now got the Asprin bottle strapped for frequent and easy access. Smart girl. Unanimously, we decided on taking a good 20 minute break, with mega-feasting involved.

As we were sitting there, we heard this one marmot on the ridge chirping. That’s how it started. Then, the one marmot became dos marmots. And they came very close to us. So close in fact, that Co and Jamie jumped up and wanted my trekking poles to hit them with. I wouldn’t have it! I just wanted a picture! Eventually, we finished lunch and the marmots attacked our crumbs that we inevitably left, and we carried on towards the ridge.

The switchbacks before lunch had taken most of my strength from me, so now I was having to just take a couple steps at a time rather slowly. It’s really steep gaining the ridge. Once you are on the ridge, you still rise at a good rate towards the summit, but it isn’t as steep as those switchbacks. Regardless, once we reached the ridge the view of Ellingwood Ridge was fabulous. That’s the big picture I have below. That route is the birthplace of legends, and where climbers get knighted into mountaineers. Only a handful of people attempt it every year. You can probably imagine why.

The route stays pretty much on the ridge, however, there are a couple “other” paths that seem to be forming that is more on the west side of the ridge. Either path gets you to the top, however staying on the ridge is probably the most efficient. The rocks here do move, and so one has to be careful, although there was no real exposure. The girls did great and we slogged up the slippery dirt path towards the summit ridge. Upon reaching this, smiles started to appear across the faces of everybody. We were only a couple minutes away now, and negligable elevation gain. La Plata Pk was ours.

Viewing the various peaks from summits is astounding. Snowmass lives up to its name, as it is still covered with snow. Elbert to our north is the highest point in Colorado, second highest in the lower 48. Harvard and Columbia were to our south. We joyfully sat down on the summit after 5 hours of hiking. It was time for us to eat our group candy bars that we all saved for the summit. They tasted like heaven. All of us were on the summit for about 30 minutes and Jamie felt like she needed to get to lower elevation because she had a headache that wouldn’t go away. We agreed, and began our descent.

Hopping the rocks on the way down was much easier than doing lunges to step from rock to rock on the way up. The hardest part about coming down was making sure not to slip on the smooth dirt sections of the trail that seemed to be angled pretty viciously. After a couple hours and no real breaks, we were back at the car again. Oh what a joy it was!

On the way back home Jamie thanked me and Colleen for taking her up a fourteener. I have to agree and say that while it’s a lot of work, it definitely grants one a feeling of self-accomplishment. Now Jamie can go back to the beach, and look up in the sky about 2.5 miles and think…wow, I was there. You were Jamie, and so were we, congratulations!

Drive: 2.5h
Ascent: 5h
Summit: 30 min
Descent: 3.5h
Drive: 2.5h
Total: 9h

Huron Pk – Northwest Slopes

Date: June 14, 2003
Elevation: 14,003′
Rank: 53rd
Route: Northwest Slopes, Grade II, Class 2, 4.0 miles, 3400ft vert.
GPS: N 38° 56.733′ W 106° 26.286′
Team: Matt Esser (Toid), Colleen Rickard

Pre-climb: Colleen and I wanted to climb a fourteener sometime soon. It had been 2 and a half months since we attempted Mt. Princeton *right* after the Blizzard of 2003. So this time we decided on something simple, although there’s no such thing as an easy 14er, however, in comparison to others, this one is definitely easier than harder. We didn’t decide to climb this peak until the night before. A mere 12 hours before we would depart from my house in Boulder.

Climb: As always, I have trouble sleeping before climbing a 14er. I don’t know if it’s anxiety or what, but whatever the reason, I can’t sleep. However, this does allow me to leave on time in the mornings. So I guess there actually *is* a bright side to everything! Colleen and I left my house in Boulder by 6:15am, and headed out to Huron Peak. This is not as early as I wanted to leave, but we wanted to make sure we had everything since we were camping.

We arrived at the 4×4 start of the South Winfield Trailhead in about 3 hours. The road is definitely clear the whole way. And not so bad. I was expecting rougher, but hey, I’m glad it’s no South Colony Lakes. Due to the later than preferred start, we hustled through our packing and got onto the trail by 9:30am.

The trail register was full, but we found a place to cram our names. The temperature was warm, as we were hiking in shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt. We made good time, and the trail was fabulous. The Colorado Fourteener Initiative (CFI), did an outstanding job with this trail. It’s very easy to follow and well maintained. Next thing we knew, we were up to the basin and the snowfields.

Crossing the snowfields was anything but pleasant. I guess when you have snow in June, it is going to be soft, and thus primed for post-holeing. Our feet were soaked but I had to laugh, as my gaiters were sitting in my Blazer back at the start. Doh. Oh well. After crossing the snowfield we started ascending again and noticed a strange phenomenon. Hordes of people were at various points along the ridge and scree field, lost, trying to cut across to the CFI trail that we were on. It turns out that just about everybody made the wrong turn as they followed the 4×4 road. They turned left at the junction that Roach specifically says not to turn left on. If they looked at a contour map, they might have noticed to just follow the road that followed the river (which is what I did), or maybe the sign of a peak and an arrow that pointed to the right fork, however, they didn’t and ended up creating their own route as they had no clue about the route they were actually on, because they were planning on doing the CFI one. So, for those of you reading this, I will state it one more time…

Stay to the right when the trail forks, as of now there’s a small sign with a peak on it that points you to the correct way. If you do this, you will make it to the South Winfield 4×4 Trailhead with no problem.

Needless to say, it was interesting hearing everybody’s experiences climbing straight up the other side of the ridge and then either descending down into the valley, and meeting up with the CFI trail or staying on the Ridge. I would have to say that the people who just stayed on the ridge had an easier time than those who descended all that elevation.

Colleen and I were doing great, even though our feet were soaked. Co was smart because she had an extra pair of socks in her pack that she could switch into. She said she had a small headache, but was otherwise ok. I was a little dizzy because of our fast ascent rate. We continued on, and after we reached 13,000ft we began to stop every 100 vertical feet to rest. This was when I ran out of water. No bother, Colleen had some. I had let her drink out of mine earlier in the day, so now I was dry, but at least she had some. Next time I’ll remember to take more water for this one. Even though Huron is short, it was a warm day and we were thirsty.

Upon reaching the summit we were greeted by about four others, and the setting was perfect: Warm, about 50 degrees, clear skies and no wind. Yep, no wind. One must cherish these types of summit visits and we did. I took a lot of pictures as this was Cobes’ first 14er! Yay! I was so proud of her, and we sat down and ate lunch on the summit enjoying one of the best views I’ve seen. There are peaks all around. I bet an astute climber could name off 20 of them from this vantage point. Then came a surprise.

As we were sitting there, one of Colleen’s swim team buddies from Hillsdale (a college in Michigan where she went) showed up on the summit with her husband! Amy walked up to the summit, saw me drying out my socks on the rock and said, “Hi”, as she asked if there was a summit register. About this time Co yelled out, “Amy!?!” It was her! What a coincedence! Of all things, without any planning, to meet somebody you know from Michigan on the summit of the same 14er at the same time of day is crazy! This would be like me finding Gugals on one someday! (a college buddy that lives in Arkansas) So, we sat down, caught up on things, and enjoyed the view.

Eventually though, I guess you have to come down off the summit and come back home, so we began that process. Amy and her husband Jamie left earlier than we did from the summit, and we made our way back across the snowfield and down the CFI trail. We ran out of water just before reaching the trailhead, but we were ok. After eating on the summit, I was good to go.

Then began the process looking for a campsite. We found one about a mile from the 4×4 trailhead and made camp. The views from here were gorgeous and we spread out our tent and started making dinner. Since I forgot my forks, we were again left with eating some rice with utensil’s probably not designed to eat with. However they worked and after dinner, we could finally stretch out and relax.

Exploring the area was fun. Although it was sad to see some campers tearing down live trees to use for firewood. We didn’t make a fire as I used my blowtorch, err, rather my MSR Dragonfly stove to make dinner. Co filtered water from the stream and then at around 7pm, we went to bed. It was so nice going to bed this early as remember, I didn’t sleep the night before. The weather was so nice that we didn’t put the fly on, and viewed the very bright moon from the skyview of my tent.

Since we went to bed so early, we broke camp early in the morning, and started the drive back to Boulder. On the way we stopped at “The Log Cabin” in Frisco to eat breakfast. They were a busy place on a Sunday morning! Regardless, they were yummy and would go there again.

After arriving home, I quickly opened a can of Coke, and downed it. We unpacked, and then on the second day, I napped. And it was good.

Drive: 3h
Ascent: 3h
Summit: 45 min
Descent: 2.25h
Drive: 3h
Total: 6h

Walker Ranch

Date: June 8th, 2003
Route: Walker Ranch
Distance: 8-mile loop
Location: Boulder, Colorado
Team: Matt Esser (Toid), Colleen Rickard (Co)
Time: 3h 15m

Every town has their trail. The one trail that’s a step above all others. The trail that carries the stigma of legendary trails from far away places. Walker Ranch does this and is like the little brother to some really great trails. Walker carries the tough role of providing Boulderites something to do with their thousand-dollar mountain bikes so they don’t get bored. I think it achieves it.

Colleen hadn’t ever been mountain biking before. In fact, her last bike was a pink Huffy with a cute, little basket on the front. That was years ago. This was now, and all her pink Huffy would be good for is to collect your life insurance. Neither would return. No bother, Colleen borrowed her Dad’s bike which has a mysterious background. Co said she about fell off trying to ride it down the street, and that it had been a while since she’d ridden a bike.

“Pffffft” Matt her boyfriend said! You see, he wanted to insure the saying “Once you learn to ride a bike, you never forget” was true. In fact, you really don’t ride Walker Ranch. You merely just try and survive it. Thus it was and Matt loaded up Co’s bike and drove her straight to the bike shop to get a helmet. Colleen didn’t have a helmet and there was no way anybody should ride Walker Ranch, let alone a bike, without a helmet. Not with me, no way. Gonzo-abusive singletrack here we come!

After unloading the bikes, which in its own right was a monumental task, I discovered that I placed my front wheel on backwards. How is this possible you ask? Well, I have a computer on my bike and it needs to have the wheel on the correct side so it can get a steady reading from the magnet on the spoke. I quickly changed this and we proceeded to dive down into the canyon where South Boulder Creek resides. I look back at Colleen, she’s nervous, she feels uncomfortable on the bike, but that’s understandable, this *is* Walker Ranch. This isn’t paved road.

(There are two ways to go around the loop at Walker Ranch. You can go clockwise, or counter-clockwise. Today we were going counter-clockwise and it’s definitely easier than the former. I’ve done both, and can testify to this. However, some people like going the other way, so, I guess the only way for you to find out is to do it. However, the route description that I talk about today is counter-clockwise.)

Riding along the river was relaxing. However, soon enough you have to start heading uphill. Not two seconds after I clicked in and was pedaling furiously up the gargantuan hill, I hear the words, “Honey, my chain fell off!” Doh! Trying to stop in clipless pedals while going up a steep incline is hard to do, because basically the second you stop pedaling to unclick, you fall over on your side and if you don’t get your foot unclicked, you land on your hip. Needless to say, being the heroic boyfriend that I am, I stopped and attended to Colleen and her bike. It turns out that the chain didn’t fall off, and that it was just in so low of a gear she thought it did. Awesome, that was easy. Especially compared to this hill I might have mentioned we were on.

Cresting the top of the rocky singletrack brings you to a glorious meadow. This was well received by us, because it meant we could head downhill again and the path was a little smoother. After some kodak moments we made up some time, and then begain another harrowing descent into an abyss. This time it was a little more technical, and it culminates with this cliff section where there’s a sign that states bikers have to dismount. (Seriously, if you didn’t dismount you aren’t going to be typing a trip report afterwards) We did this and Co was super as she carried her own bike on her back down the steps.

After crossing the bridge you have two options. Take the ridiculously hard singletrack back to the parking lot, or take the road back. We took the road. It was soothing. However, we did spot a mountain lion habitat sign and to watch out for them. No comment.

What a day! Walker Ranch is definitely a fun ride. I probably should have taken Co down something easier, but I figure if I can throw the hardest thing at her, everything else will seem easy the rest of summer. That’s how I like looking at things.

2003 Steamboat Marathon

Date: June 1, 2003
Event: 22nd Annual Steamboat Marathon
Distance: Marathon (26.2 miles)
Location: Steamboat Springs, Colorado
Team: Matt Esser (Toid), Colleen Rickard (Co)
Results: 5:10:54 (0:11:52 min/mile)

Twenty-six point two. This is the exact distance in miles of a marathon. 18 weeks. This is the exact number of weeks Colleen and I have trained in order to finish those 26.2 miles.

During those 18 weeks, we have endured snowstorms that have snowed 5 inches of snow not before, not after, but *during* our run. Sleet that hit our faces with such force that it caused us to run with our eyes closed. Chilling rain that soaked us to the bone that only increased the probability of a muscle cramp to near certainty. Dehydration that caused us to bonk before we even know what happened. Runs that lasted long after the sun dissapeared behind the mountains and runs that began earlier than I felt like getting up was possible. And finally we planned mountaineering snow climbs to the summit of 14,000ft peaks in waist deep snow all to help us achieve one goal: cross the finish line in Steamboat….standing.

Many of you that have done a marathon before probably feel that I’m being overly dramatic. Well, I want you to take your sub 3-hour butt and go elsewhere. This race report isn’t about you. This is *my* story. The moment you try and belittle what I’ve done to get myself to this point is the exact moment you crush who I am. I have no respect for you. My allegance goes out to those people who run 4+ hour marathons. Race Directors may only give out awards to the first few finishers, but anybody who finishes a marathon in over 4 hours knows that the most rewarding finishers, finish, not first in a race, but at the end. Their stories, (and they all have stories), aren’t about running, pace charts, time splits, or heart monitors…it’s about how their lives changed.

The Race:

We packed up our bags Saturday morning, and began our drive west into the mountains. Not even 1 hour into our trip did Co notice something that threw the first hurdle our way. My sunglasses were broke. Not just the lense, not just a scratch, but the frame itself was cracked and the lense hard a hard time staying inserted in place. I *had* to have my sunglasses. I wasn’t heartbroken that my sunglasses were busted, because they were less than $20 and had lasted me over a year. I would just go buy another cheap pair of sunglasses when we got to Steamboat. I could stop worrying now.

After arriving in Steamboat we checked in at Christy’s Sports and got our race packets along with our free pair of SmartWool socks! We loaded up on free goodies, and then began our adventure trying to find a pair of sunglasses for me. My only requirement is that they were less than $20, lightweight and polarized. Polarization is important for me, because when I go climbing in the mountains, the sun reflecting off the snow is really bright and I can’t stand glare. After stopping at about four places, we finally found a fishing store that had fishing glasses that were lightweight, and polarized and $17. Perfect. Bring on the pasta dinner.

The pasta dinner was awesome, as they had a buffet line of all the pasta you could possibly ever want, and the softest cookies this side of just-out-of-the-oven. We sat down in front, and listened to the race director give us last minute instructions for the race. After he finished Amby Burfoot of Runner’s World gave a speech about how he ran a marathon with Will Ferrell and Oprah. After he was done, he introduced who the #1 bib wearer was (in other words, the guy predicted to win it), and it turns out that the guy sitting right next to us had won the Steamboat Marathon four years in a row. He was going for his fifth straight victory! (To forshadow a bit, Co and I would beat him the next day)

With a full stomach we went back to the hotel and noticed it was flooded. We had to park at a nearby Village Inn because the parking lot at Holiday Inn was overflowing with standing water. They said the mountains were getting quite a bit of rain this weekend and that it would continue for four more days until the crest of the runoff had made it’s way through town. For some reason, I thought nothing of this. I figured the weather was perfect in town, and no reason to worry about rain in the mountains. But oh, the minor detail is that 26.2 miles is a long ways, and our 26.2 miles that we would have to run started in the very mountains that was getting all the rain. However I didn’t make this connection and we went inside and tried to lay down. It was impossible for me to sleep. I was too anxious. For those of you that don’t know, I work the night shift, so my schedule is a little different than most people, so I had to figure out a way to change my hours that I’m functionable to coincide with the race start at 7:30am. Well, I guess if it worked in college, I’d do it again now: I pulled an all-nighter the night before the marathon.

The alarm went off at 4am, and Colleen didn’t want to wake up, however, when she rolled over, she saw me standing there with my race clothes on, complete with bib number pinned to my shirt. She wanted to sleep more, so I laid down next to her for a while. Eventually she got up and took a shower. We were dressed and ready to go by 5am in order to catch the bus at 5:45am to get to the race start on time. So we grabbed our breakfast and drove to the transit center where the bus would pick all of us runners up. We lathered up with sunscreen, vaseline and ate as much as we could and we felt good and were ready. We were on the bus at 5:45 in the morning, and on our way to the starting line.

It was torture. Pure torture. Driving the course that you would have to run later that day is like seeing your death march to concentration camp. To make things worse it started to rain. First it was a light sprinkle that made us all kind of laugh. Then we saw lightning in “the distance” but thought it was pretty. However, as the bus ride wore on, the rain continued to crescendo and the lightning that was in the distance was now above us. This was not a good thing and by the time we arrived at the starting line, nobody wanted to get out. It was a 40-degree downpour of rain. And, as any runner knows, you’ve been hydrating for the past couple hours, and need to pee really bad, so therefore, you must get out to make it to the port-a-potty. I did, and I was soaked.

We begged the bus driver to let us back on the bus, which she let us do. Thankfully this kept us from catching hypothermia waiting 45 minutes until the start of the race. I was shivering uncontrollably waiting on Co to get out of the bathroom. Whispers were heard that mentioned that people who didn’t want to run in the conditions, would not run the marathon and instead take the bus to the half-marathon start and just run from there. Wimps. Didn’t they know the heavy stuff isn’t supposed to come down for quite a while? It’s a cinderella story outta nowhere. Here we are at Steamboat. Can’t open our eyes to see where we are running. 26.2 miles to go. I look over and see the guy wearing the #1 Bib. Big runner, the Lama. Trashbags over our heads to keep the rain out. No time to stretch. You either trained in the rain or you didn’t. Taco Bell eating Toid is about to become a marathoner.

And just like that we’re off. The sound of everybody running reminded Colleen of raking leaves in the fall. *whoosh whoosh whoosh* Our first mile was in 9-minutes flat. Doh. Too fast, but we were getting run over by the trash sack people if we went any slower. I needed to stretch. I needed food. My shoelace was untied. Four miles passed and I still couldn’t see where I’m going. I know I’m headed up some giant hill that’s not ending, but I can’t even make out the top of it. I told Cobes to just tell me when we reach mile 8 so I can check our split time again. Then we began a long downhill that would leave us with no quads at the end of the race. At mile 8 I look at my watch and it says, 1:16:17. That’s around 0:09:30 pace. Maybe a little fast, but who cares, we are in the marathon and if I don’t keep running I’m going to get cold. We hit the halfway point a little after 2-hours. Could we run a sub-four marathon? If we kept up our pace we sure could! However, I had to pee and it was time to start taking off some layers of trashbags. At this point I took off one of my trashbags and was left with one still on. I noticed everybody else discarded theirs and all along the road people were getting rid of jackets and pants and whatnot that they had on at the start. Co and I were dressed perfect. The vaseline I rubbed onto my legs before we started also helped insulate my bare legs.

Around mile 15 is where I started complaining. There was no food at the aid stations. The people who ran before us took all the food leaving us with no energy gels at the aid stations, and here I was running a marathon without any food to eat during the run! I ripped off my remaining trashbag in disgust. I slowed to a near crawl as my body screamed for some food. Finally, around mile 17 I noticed a girl standing on the side of the road waiting for her runner to pass so that she could cheer her on. She was eating Chips Ahoy cookies while she stood there waiting. I ran right over to her and asked her if there was *any* way I could have some of her cookies. She gave me two and I thought I just got a gift from God. I could feel those warm, dry, yummy, chewy cookies dissolve in my mouth and slide down my throat into my empty stomach. I then told Co that I could make it a little longer. At 18.5 miles there was an aid station that was once again out of food. I looked around and saw somebody standing there with a box of donuts. Normally, I couldn’t even imagine the thought of eating donuts while running. However, this was a marathon, and I was seriously craving food and Gatorade was useless to me. I asked if I could have some donuts since nobody had eaten one yet. He said I could have as many as I wanted. I took 7. That’s right. Seven. And I shoved them in my mouth at a pace that would make Homer Simpson proud. I caught up to Colleen and she just looked at me shaking her head but we both knew at that moment that we would make it. I now had my energy supply for the final 8 miles.

Mile Twenty is the start of the uphill. This uphill continues for three miles. That’s right. Three miles of running uphill. Which, I guess isn’t so bad on it’s own, however this is after you’ve run 20 miles in the pouring rain. My shoes were soaked, which meant I was running on a soaked gel shoe insert. This can best be described as gathering the crew of Fear Factor and collecting a bunch of slugs, then taking off your shoes so that you are barefoot, and finally proceeding to walk on top of the slimy slugs. You would feel them come up between your toes and shoot out from underneath your foot. Thus as it was in the race. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Just keep running.

That hill took it out of me. I was stripped of all extra power, and reduced to one gear. Granny gear. I had no kick. I had no form. I was now shuffling up the hill. The name of the game was running as long as you could and then walk some, however it hurt Co to walk so we kept running, however slow our pace. Finally, just before mile 24, we crested the hill and were now looking down on the city of Steamboat. Most times, this would be a good thing, however, by now, the jarring of running 24 miles had my knee sending signals to my brain that it wasn’t going to cooperate if I intended on moving any faster down this hill. So we kept up our pedestrian pace and descended into the city. Mile 25 took forever to arrive, but finally it did, and we were greeted by Elise who was there with a camera to take pictures. By this point the weather had cleared up and it looks like the run was in perfect weather but I assure you it wasn’t. Hundreds dropped out. The guy wearing #1 even called it quits on mile 17. The weather caused cramps they said.

Seeing the “One Mile to Go” sign made me smile which was good because it was hard to smile about anything due to the fact that with every step you’re just trying to minimize the pain. The spectators were all along the road, and race officials were directing us which side of the orange cones to run on. We could see the finish line in the distance, and Co wanted to go all out. Little did she realize I was already going all out. I bet a 3-year old toddler just learning to walk could have passed me at this point, but it didn’t matter, I was still jogging. By now the pain didn’t even matter as my legs finally realized that I was going to run to that finish line no matter how much it hurt. Colleen and I held hands and heard our names being announced as we neared the last 100 yards towards the finish. We crossed the line together. We had just run a marathon. Together, stride for stride. We did it.

In the finishers chute, this lady reached for my stomach, and I didn’t know what she was doing until she ripped off part of my bib and told me to hand it to the person at the end to get my medal. In the delerium that I was in, I didn’t have a clue what she was doing or said until after I waddled a few more steps and the person with the medals asked for the piece of paper. Co and I put on our medals and rejoiced. Elise took our picture and then we made our way to the feed tent. I think I had enough salt on my face to make a deal with McDonalds to put on their fries. Hmm, maybe that’s why everybody was suggesting we go get some food and that the medical tent was real close. Oh well, I got my turkey sandwich and then made the big mistake of sitting down in the grass. I could hardly get up to walk across the lawn to the massage tent. The massage was glorious. Eventually we caught a bus back to our hotel and then layed down with our medals on to take a quick nap before dinner. Finally, after pulling an all-nighter I could sleep.

That is, until, Colleen suggested the idea of going to the Rio Grande and getting some margaritas to numb the pain. I was ready to waddle to my car immediately. We went and they were good. They limit you to only three because they are so potent. No matter, one is all it took for us to feel lightheaded and THEN we could go home and sleep. Ahhhh, sleep.

The following day we drove the scenic way home through Rocky Mountain National Park and saw all the cool sites. Of course we were wearing our medals the entire time and having a blast. There were all sorts of animals that we encountered on the drive. (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention on the drive out to Steamboat we saw somebody hit a bear and so there was a downed bear in the road).

All in all it was a great trip. We did what we set out to do. Yeah, our finish time is not that great, but I still finished 10th in my age group and Co finished 16th. We can definitely improve that time now that we know what it’s like to run a marathon. My advice to anybody who wants to run one is to just get a partner, formulate a training schedule (or use the one we used) and do it. If you put the time it, it will happen. You *will* cross the finish line….standing.