Silverheels 100: My First 100 Mile Run

Preparation

Four years ago, I ran my first marathon. It was around that time that I heard about ultrarunning, which covers races for any distance beyond 26.2 miles. What stood out to me the most though was the 100 mile distance.

I think the first time you learn about people running that far, your initial reaction falls into one of two camps:

1. That's impossible!

2. That's possible?

I fell into the second group the first time I read about renowned ultrarunner Scott Jurek winning several 100 mile races. Not only was this guy running 100 mile races across the mountains of California, but he was doing it with hundreds of other people. And there were hundreds of these races across the world, spanning decades back. It blew my mind. The marathon always reigned supreme for me as the longest distance a person could go, but I learned that people were running way, way, longer than that, up and down mountains, and I wanted to try.

The past four years have entailed a consistent effort to work towards running a successful 100 miler. Trail running and ultra-distances are inextricably intertwined in the United States, so I switched from focusing on road running to trail running in 2018. In the years that followed, I ran a handful of trail races from the half marathon to 100K, learning from each experience and spending countless hours exploring trails around my home and across Colorado.

After a pair of really successful 50 mile and 100k races in 2020, I felt prepared to tackle the 100 miler at last. I chose Silverheels 100 to be my first attempt at the distance since it met the following criteria:

• Location: Colorado is awesome. There are countless amazing races outside of the state, but I love living here and knew my first attempt would have to be close to home.
• Location: My parents also have a cabin in Fairplay near the race start. This would greatly simplify crewing and general race logistics.
• Location: The mountains-- while this race didn't summit any peaks, it had a lot of climbs, ran through some familiar terrain and takes place at a high elevation, all of which I was looking for.

In hindsight, this is likely not the easiest first race to try 100 miles. But I don't regret it, and you don't do this because it's easy. Besides, this area is beautiful, and as they say, location, location, location!

The Course

The Silverheels 100 starts in Fairplay and runs around several ridges of Mount Silverheels just north of town. The course for 2021 was sort of a lollipop with several out and back sections along the way, though the race director, John, mentioned that it would be changing significantly next year due to the USFS shutting down some of the roads that the course uses.

John provided a ton of communication in advance of the race. I felt very comfortable with the route in advance of the race and was able to provide my crew with clear directions and time estimates for each of the areas along the way. The prerace meeting was a good time and it was really cool to see someone so passionate about the sport put on a great race.

I hoped to finish around 30 hours and 30 minutes, which I decided on by comparing my finish times on races that past finishers at Silverheels had also ran. It was a bit of a crapshoot, and you can never really predict how the day was going to go, but that helped me provide times that I thought I would be at each of the aid stations along the way to my crew. I figured if I even finished at all, it would be somewhere between 30 and 36 hours.

Course map for 2021.

Elevation profile for the race

Race Day

My wife Calli and I drove up to the mountains Thursday night so I had all day Friday to sort through my crew bags, drop bags, and race gear to bring. I quadruple checked the critical gear for success and enjoyed dinner with my family. We were joined by my second cousin Paul, who in a strange turn of events had actually signed up for the race last minute. He has finished several other 100 milers in the past few years but we hadn't talked since I started long distance running, so I had no idea about his history in the sport. He shared a lot of stories from his experiences and gave me a first aid kit with some supplies I don't normally carry that would come in handy the next day.

The obligatory 3:30AM drop off picture. Lily was grumpy since she couldn't join us for the day (no dogs allowed) and refused to look at the camera.

Reuniting with family at the start line of a 100
mile race of all places, still can't believe this
happened!

At 4AM, the field of 49 runners left from the track in Fairplay to begin our journey. Headlamps lined the road for hundreds of yards in each direction as the group spread out along the road out of town. I ran with Paul for much of the miles to the first aid station at mile 14, High Park, and those were some of the best of the day. As we climbed, the sun rose and the shadow of Mount Silverheels was cast upon the eastern slopes of Mount Bross across the valley.

I began eating early and monitored my heart rate during the first ascent and switched to hiking whenever it neared 145 BPM. This felt comfortable for the whole climb and I was hoping to keep this plan going for as long as possible.

As we climbed, a group of 15 or so of us ended up getting off route in the woods outside of Alma. Fortunately we were able to backtrack to a flag a quarter of a mile back, and could see the correct route from there. This added 0.5 miles to my day, but I figured if that was the worst thing that happened to me I would come out the other side of this just fine!

Aside from the quick detour, the climb to Silverheels mine was relatively uneventful. I made sure to continue eating and drinking while admiring some incredible wildflowers.

Sunrsise on Mount Bross and Mount Lincoln

First stop at the Silverheels Mine, my next visit
would be 24 hours later.

Descending from the mine, I returned to the High Park aid station and continued on towards Poor Man's Gulch, the first point at which I would meet my crew. As I dropped in elevation, fields of columbines and paintbrush gave way to lupines and cinquefoil. Many of the miles were downhill, and despite getting off-route earlier in the day, I made it to Poor Man's Gulch within 15 minutes of my planned time.

There I met my dream team crew-- Mom, Dad and Calli. They quickly helped me refill my water bottles, get some sunscreen on and stock up on food for the next portion of the race. I wouldn't see them again for another 20 miles or so at Taryall, which I thought would take me close to 5 hours. Fortunately, there were a few aid stations spread out between here and there so I wasn't worried about running out of food or water.

The Dream Team-- who can possibly take better
care of you than your wife, mom and dad?

I left Poor Man's Gulch to continue the journey north. The next few miles were mostly downhill, but were followed by two big ascents. I continued to monitor my heart rate and made sure miles felt easy. I thought to myself that this race was really a 50 mile run, but in order to start it, I had to run 50 miles through the mountains to the starting line. These miles were just the commute, no need to push it or feel even remotely competitive. Just try and enjoy the views! And keep eating! I have a mantra during these races, ABC: always be chewing. I've bonked once before and vowed to never do it again.

Singletrack descending towards Crooked Creek.

I made it to the end of the next out and back, Crooked Creek. After ascending back out, my stomach began feeling a bit uneasy. I attributed it to the heat of the day as the temperature had risen significantly with no clouds in sight, so I dialed back my pace to try and keep things settled. I passed through Jungle Hill and Trout Creek aid stations without much event, although I have to shout out the volunteers at Trout Creek. I grabbed a few pocket quesadillas for later, and saw that they had brought some amazing homemade food that I had to try: fresh baked chocolate chip barbeque cookies (an amazing combination that I had never considered before) and some chocolate pretzel caramel bar-goodness. Those tasty treats helped propel me up and over a steep mountain pass before I began my descent to the Taryall aid station. Taryall would serve as sort of the race HQ, as I would visit it 3 times that day before returning back to Poor Man's Gulch.

A meadow on the way to Taryall.

At Taryall, my family helped get me stocked up once more and asked how I was doing.

"Not bad all things considered," I said. "Remember mile 40 of Never Summer last year? I was a mess." Calli agreed and we were all relieved that the nausea had only lasted an hour or two this time around. We took a quick picture before I left the aid station, and I told Calli that I didn't expect to run it any faster than I had planned-- I'd probably see them in another 5 hours or so.

First stop at Taryall.

I left Taryall and embarked on a loop towards Boreas Pass, stopping by another smaller aid station on the way up and down. As I neared Boreas Pass, a familiar sight loomed in the distance to the north-- the slopes of 13,000 foot Boreas Mountain that I hiked last fall.

Boreas Mountain, near mile 50.

A good friend invited me to join his group for that climb, and we had a great time summitting it and nearby Bald Mountain with nice weather (for October). I remembered one of the climbers, Brian, who struck me as one of the most friendly and inviting people I had ever met. He shared stories of trips to Alaska and Florida and asked me a ton of questions about ultrarunning. He was on a mission to climb all of the 13ers in Colorado, having finished the 14ers in short order. I think he had climbed 80+ mountains that year-- his motivation was tangible and contagious. I was convinced I could talk him into ultrarunning one day.

A few weeks before this race, Brian fell while climbing another 13er in southern Colorado and passed away at the age of 29. 

I didn't realize how close we would come to the trail that took us up to that summit last year.

Tears were quickly streaming down my face as I began crying uncontrollably. I reflected on how fun that day was and how I had hoped to hike more mountains with Brian after wrapping up training for this 100 miler. Hiking towards that mountain's slopes, life's ephemeral nature really got ahold of me and wouldn't let go.

About 15 minutes later I noticed a runner behind me as I rounded a corner on Boreas Pass Road. The course gently descended east from the pass at this point. Even a few hundred feet back, his presence helped me to collect myself as I descended towards the Selkirk Campground, away from Boreas Mountain.

A quick stop at Taryall for the second
time before meeting the crew at Como.

A few minutes later he caught up and introduced himself as Derek. We chatted on our way down before being joined by another runner, Eric. The three of us ran the 5 or so miles back to Gold Dust together, sharing stories and passing the time with relatively easy miles compared to the rest of the day. A truck full of frat bros drove by and offered us Bud Lights. Tempting, but that was clearly self sabotage, so we declined. These miles greatly helped my spirits and turned me around mentally for sure. Once we got to Gold Dust, Eric and Derek left quickly so I ran in the final 3 miles back to Taryall solo.

I hadn't checked my pace chart since I left a few hours earlier-- I was about an hour ahead of when I told Calli to expect me. I didn't see her or my parents at the aid station and figured I had missed them. Sure enough, I got a text back from her that they had just left and would have to meet me in an hour or so at the next aid station. This was my first time ever being this far off of a time for my crew, I was able to run a lot more of that loop than I expected.

I grabbed my watch charger and portable battery from my pack and left for Como. I knew my watch would die before the end of the run if I didn't give it a boost.

This portion of the course consisted of an out and back from Taryall to Como, near 285. I spent more time than planned at Como aid after settling into a nice chair, but I had already made up for delays earlier in the day with the loop around Boreas Pass so I didn't mind. I had passed the 50 mile mark, but didn't want to blow things up too early. After eating a good amount of food, I said goodbye to my family and made the final trek back to Taryall.

The Dream Team at Como Aid station near mile 59. The volunteers here made some fantastic potato soup!

Night was near. I swapped out my sunglasses and donned a headlamp once more. On my return to Taryall, I watched the final splinter of the sun set behind Silverheels' northern spur on the horizon. I found myself singing Time by Pink Floyd under my breath for quite some time on the run back:

"You run, and you run, to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking. Racing around to come up behind you again."

An hour later, near 9PM, I pulled into Taryall greeted by my family. I loved seeing them so frequently in the middle of the race. Their presence at aid stations was far and away the highlight of the day. Calli did an excellent job helping me out quickly as always, and I was surprised at how naturally my parents knew what questions to ask and what to bring me. I guess they did raise me after all, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Suffice to say, I was in good hands.

Preparing to leave Taryall for the third and final time, I glanced down at my watch and saw I was at 66 miles. I had never run this far in my life. That brought me a lot of joy, which I definitely needed for the hours that followed. The overnight section was far and away the most difficult portion of the race for me.

The Night is a Very Dark Time For Me

3AM thoughts: "Why did I
sign up for this again?"

I drastically underestimated the difficulty of running through the night. Preparing for this race, I read dozens or so of other runner's race reports for Silverheels and other races. From what I remember, very few spent much time reflecting on the night portion of the race and instead focus on the other parts of the day. Now I see why-- the night was a blur the likes of which I had never felt before.

Halfway up the climb back towards Trout Creek Aid Station, I found thoughts difficult to hold on to for more than a moment. Even now, a few days later, I remember a few random thoughts that fleetingly passed through my mind. They seem like chaotic mental fragments now that make absolutely no sense looking back. One involved me planning to open a laundromat in New York. Another was to line my driveway with palm trees (in Colorado). I don't know... they seemed like good ideas at the time.

In addition to dealing with some mental gymnastics, I found running even downhill had become extremely difficult. The terrain was rocky trail or washed out roads for the most part, and I nearly tripped a few times. I tweaked the angle of my headlight constantly to try and see obstacles more clearly, while keeping my head on a swivel as the smallest sounds made me afraid of what was behind me. My mental capacity faded and I ended up having to mitigate some chafing and blisters since I fell behind on preventive care. I managed to get things under control, but it was a long trip to see my family once more at Poor Man's Gulch. That was the same aid station I saw them at at mile 20, but this time near mile 80 at 3:30AM.

Saying farewell to the crew
for the last time until the finish.

Grateful for my sleep deprived family meeting me
halfway through the night

I lingered here a long time as well. I was just so, so lonely and cold. I wore a fleece through much of the night and put on hiking pants over my shorts when near the many rivers along the course. It felt like the air temperature dropped 20 degrees at times. There were two aid stations along the way with tired (but very friendly) volunteers. Aside from that though, I hadn't seen a soul in 5 hours. The company and warm chicken broth felt amazing.

I was still determined to finish this thing though, and between me and the finish line was one long, solid climb back up to the Silverheels mine followed by just as long of a descent back to Fairplay. My family wished me well and I left with a runner who had caught up to me, Ralph. We played ping pong with each other on the climb, passing one another 6 or 7 times on the way up, occasionally complaining about what we had gotten ourselves into. The road was relatively smooth and steep enough to require me to hike, so every now and then I closed my eyes for 30 seconds at a time while walking, hoping that I was getting some sort of rest.

Hours passed, and at the High Park aid station I felt that climb had taken all the energy out of me. I didn't know how I was going to make it the last 12 miles to finish this thing. It would be slow, and it would be painful.

I continued up to the Silverheels Mine for the second time that day, grabbed my required wristband to prove I had made it, and turned around for the descent back to the finish line. I reached into my pocket to send my wife a text that I was going to finish late, far later than planned, as I was hobbling and couldn't muster more than a slow shuffle.

Second trip to the mine for the day, much worse for the wear this time around.

As I started writing the text, I thought to myself, "Really? That's it? You did all this work, trained for months and months, just to throw in the towel and hobble to the finish?"

(I removed some expletives here-- I can be a bit self-critical in stressful situations)

I erased the text message I had started, stashed my phone in the pack, and started running back towards the aid station.

I made it a mile or so before checking my time and saw I had just run a 12:53 min/mile, which felt surprisingly comfortable given my exhaustion at that point. Since my legs had some juice left, I contemplated my options to make it last and finish this race strong. My memory isn't exactly clear looking back at this, but I know I did the following on a quick break coming back from the mine:

• Took off all extra layers: the sun had risen over the ridge of Silverheels, and I finally felt warm for the first time in 12 hours.
• Quickly ate a couple hundred calories of gels and fruit snacks-- I figured I had been in a calorie deficit for the last few hours, as I was only eating food at aid stations and drinking VFuel in hours between them.
• Drank a bottle of electrolyte fluid to try and help the stomach keep things moving
• Took my first and only ibuprofen of the day.

My vest brimming with clothes and with a renewed sense of purpose, I ran back to High Park for water and more vegetable broth. I wanted this to be my last stop of the day, with only 9.2 mostly downhill miles separating me from the finish line.

From High Park, I let it all go. I had proven to myself that my legs still had something left, so I stopped thinking and just ran. I imagined I was running Towers Road, a trail outside of Fort Collins that I lapped many times during training runs. I glanced down at my watch as the minutes passed, and saw my pace was between 9 and 10 minutes per mile. I had planned on averaging 17 minute miles here, so I pulled out my phone again to text Calli that I would actually finish an hour ahead of schedule and was feeling great. Euphoria washed over me as I thought back to the text I had almost sent her an hour ago.

Bombing the way down, I accidentally missed a turn and ended up off route in the same area near Alma. It looked as though some of the pink flags had been removed, but fortunately I was able to find my old track on my watch and return to the correct spot on the course. Aside from that hiccup, those last 10 miles were some of the smoothest, happiest, and most memorable of my life.

In what felt like no time, I turned the corner on 6th Street in Fairplay and saw my wife jumping in excitement in the distance. She ran alongside me towards the track, which I had to run a lap around to finish the race. Adrenaline, along with an incredible view of Silverheels to the north, fueled my sprint around the track and across the finish line in 29 hours and 40 minutes. 

The finish line, with Mount Silverheels providing a stunning backdrop.

This race was incredible. I struggle to talk about it concisely (obviously, this was way longer than expected) and I can't get it out of my mind. I left out so much of what happened, and probably forgot even more. A lot goes down in 30 hours! If you made it this far, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed hearing about a pretty wild day in the mountains.

Even if I had to run, hike or crawl each of these miles, a day like this is hardly an individual effort. I am so grateful for my wife Calli, parents, Paul, Andrew (for the endless questions I've sent your way over the years!), friends who sent me messages along the way, and all of the amazing volunteers on the course this weekend. Without the support I doubt this would have happened. I later learned that some of the volunteers on Saturday would go on to run the Last Call 50 Miler, put on by this same race group and sharing much of the same trails as Silverheels, starting at midnight Sunday morning. I think that just goes to show how selfless and truly incredible a lot of the people I met really are, and they'll help inspire me for years to come.

What's Next

Sleep.

Who knew bleachers could be so comfortable!

Besides that, I'm not sure. For a long time, I've had long term goals of running a 100 mile race and finishing the Colorado 14ers, and I was fortunate enough to see both of those come to fruition in the last year. It feels odd to not have another goal on the horizon, another race planned, or even an immediate call for another project to focus on.

Then again, with my wife already 4 months pregnant*** (where is the time going...), maybe that's a good thing! I'm excited for the next part of our lives together and I don't doubt that we'll have our hands full come December 2021.

***To be clear-- I adamantly told her she did not have to come out and help this weekend since she had the biggest of all trump cards. However, she wouldn't hear any of it and insisted on joining, missing out on sleep, and even running it in with me at the end there, all just to support me doing an arguably crazy thing. I'm just so lucky to have the support that I do and can't thank you enough.