"Leadville is home for miners, muckers, and mean motherfuckers. Folks who live at ten thousand feet are cut from a different kind of leather." - Ken Chlouber, Colorado miner and creator of the Leadville Trail 100

My experience at the Leadville 100 mile is more than an IG post (plus it will exceed the word capacity); it's intimate and dramatic. As I've been gathering my thoughts and checking in with myself, my memories of this event come in waves like déja vu. The inbox and texts have finally slowed down, and I'm feeling the effects of the "Big Event Hangover." It is time for me to rest, reflect, and spend time healing (my mind, body, and spirit).

I asked Mike what he learned during this race, and aside from the logistics of crewing, he said, "There were a lot of highs and lows. And everyone's emotions are involved, but the thing is, if you didn't make it, everyone would go their separate ways, but I would go home with the heartbreak."

He's right. His role as crew chief would continue.

Spoiler alert: My adventure did not break any hearts.

...Maybe gave a few heart attacks.

I will not give you a race recap because it's cheap and overplayed. But I will provide you with an account of my adventure.

Get comfortable, find an intimate place, put that do-not-disturb setting on, and be here with me.

The people accompanying me in this Odyssey are:

Crew Chief: Mike (Partner)

Co-Chief: Marc (Family Friend)

Crew/Pacer: Cody (My Texas Queen)

Pacer: Jess (My Mountain Queen)

It begins...

The week of the race, Wednesday, August 16th, I said goodbye to the lullabies of crickets and sleeping in my tent.

And I checked into my base of operations, welcoming the first shower in 9 days.

In the few days of the race, I slept terribly due to bad dreams. I had one every night starting Wednesday. In one of my dreams, I woke up crying hysterically. I dreamt I missed packet pick up and could not retrieve my bib, and NO ONE WOULD HELP ME. In another dream, I missed the start of the race, and somehow, the start was in downtown NYC. I tried to run to the start line, but all these obstacles were in my way.

One More Sleep.

I was still bearing the weight of my dream, and it would be a busy day. Friday kicked off with a 10:00 A.M. athlete meeting. My ability to pay attention came and went. It was full of head nods and side conversations with Cody. As the meeting began wrapping up, Ken and Merilee (Creators of Leadville 100) were brought on stage to inspire us, make us laugh (And make us cry).

The Moment Merilee said, "Welcome to our family," my fidgety Heart became still, and tears rolled down my cheeks.

As Ken spoke, he asked three questions to help get us through the race.

1. Where do you come from?

Think of the time spent away from loved ones and friends to train, time sacrificed. And this time away is where we came from, and it accumulated debt—the debt we (the runners) had to pay.

2. Where are you?

The highest City in North America (Elevation 10,200ft), standing on highly mineralized ground. And you'll be standing on the truth - Ken Chlouber.

3. Where do you want to be?

"Cross the red carpet and pay your debt.

Know you'll be in a lot of pain and get rid of motivation, but you commit - dig deep (dig deep), Ken said.

When the time came for me to take the Leadville pledge, I stood up alongside 800+ other runners with tears in my eyes. I said, "I commit I won't quit." It was spoken - my promise.

From Cody: On Leadville eve, we sat around the kitchen table for our crew and pacer meeting. I was struck by Mel's level of organizational detail and clarity for the race. She was in boss mode, and I liked it! Fuel, clothes, and ETAs were planned for each aid station. She knew exactly what role each of us would play. She had specific directions for how to best support her as a pacer. Any nerves I had about being there for her dissolved because the roadmap was clear.

As I reflected on these questions all day, time is irreplaceable. I said no to friends and family (frequently) and YES! To running down my goal(s). Quality time at home was compromised with late dinners and unexpected naps on the couch. I left home to acclimate for 14 days before the race (total time away from home was 20 days).

My family and friends who came to help also sacrificed time from home, work, kids, pets, etc. In my soul, they deserved every ounce of my Heart to give it my best.

"I commit I won't quit." This promise I made to them, too.

My truth, hanging over my tender heart - I peeled back another layer since arriving in Colorado. Lastly, I wanted to be underneath the "Welcome Home Banner" in under 30 hours. I had visualized running down Sixth Street with Ken and Merilee, putting that medal around my neck the very day I received my race confirmation. I, however, didn't know under what circumstances it would take me to get there.

My Leadville Squad, missing Jess. L - R (Marc, Cody, Me, Mike)

I'm crying and mumbling something like, "Help me," which finally wakes me from my nightmare. I lay there awake, now with the urge to use the restroom, just begging my body to hold it in exchange for extra minutes of sleep. Well, you know who won that battle. I fight the urge to look at the clock as I return to bed. I'm annoyed and assume my alarm will sound in the next 30 minutes. I toss and turn, but my mind and body are officially awake - I reach for my watch, and time read 12:55 A.M.!! My alarm is set for 2:15 A.M.! At this point, I am so annoyed by every sound and movement made by Rebel and Mike that I gather my pillow and blanket and head to the living room to join Cody on the couch beside her.

The hour the house came alive, morning coffee filled our cups, and Mike and Marc reminded me, "Sip often and eat slowly." I could see the sleepiness still in their eyes and wondered if they were anxious or nervous or reciting their morning “to-do” lists before the BIG show began. Cody called time, which meant it was time to make our way over to Sixth Street.

As we waited for the start, I became goofy in my cape (poncho) by dancing and singing to ease my anxiety. I sang "Heads Will Roll" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs." Cody reminded me that "Dancing makes you brave." - Grey's Anatomy

So, I continued dancing until it was time to get situated in the race corral.

Shotgun.

0.0Mile - 23.5Miles (Outward Bound)

"Make friends with pain, and you will never be alone." -Ken Chlouber

Once that shotgun went off, I followed the wave of headlamps. Runners were darting left and right into the trees to alleviate the nerves (use the restroom). Spectators lined up all along the road, coffee in one hand and cowbell in the other. As I made my way around Turquoise Lake, I was grateful I had stopped to admire the lake days leading up to the race. Why? Because I didn't trust myself to take my eyes off the single track, I was running on. At Mayqueen (Aidstation/mile 12.6), the morale was high! I high-fived strangers as my ears caught some shout, "Great job, 807." I used this excitement to carry me through the climb up Hagerman Pass.

As I neared Outwardbound (23.5mi), I began rehearsing what I wanted from my crew; the weather began to heat up, so I craved something refreshing and desperately wanted to change the flavor of electrolytes in one of my breast bottles.

I entered the aid station, moving slowly through the sea of people cheering and looking for their runners. I felt like a lost 5-year-old in a Mervyn's department store - where is my crew?

Finally, I heard my name, and there she was - Cody reaching for my hand. We locked arms as she led the way, shouting, "Runner (runner) coming through."

Party Time.

23.5 Miles (Outward Bound) - 37.9 Miles (Twin Lakes)

"Whatever doesn't kill me, makes me mas Chingona."

It's like a blur. I left Outward Bound, hoping to build a cushion with the road miles that followed. But those miles were hot and exposed, so I moved conservatively until I touched the dirt. I shuffled through side conversations and focused only on moving forward as the sun beat down on my body.

Arriving at Half-Pipe 29.3mi, I did my best to get in and out. I forgot I had a drop bag and the contents in the bag. I perked with a smile when I saw the Trader Joe Olive's (Winning). The next miles were shaded, and I took advantage of the streams along the trail by attempting to cool off. I dipped my hat and buff every so often. These miles were lonely; I didn't connect with anyone. Whenever I felt low, I'd pull out my charm that read, "Whatever doesn't kill me, makes me mas Chingona" (this was a gift from the girls of Chingonas On The Run).

I knew I was getting close to Twin Lakes when I began to descend on this lengthy fire road. Spectators and crew began to appear.

Let me take a few sentences to describe the party known as Twin Lakes. Leadville is an out-and-back course, and Twin Lakes is the aid station crews spend the most time at. So, this aid station outbound is mile 37.9, and inbound is mile 62. This micro-town is filled with spectators, crew, and residents. There are rows of decorated canopies and gangs of people cheering, crewing, and partying. This area is very much alive and LOUD.

I ran through the center of canopies to get to my team. I couldn't help but feel the uproar of cheers coming from every direction. I could not wait to sit, see my crew, and mentally prepare myself to climb Hope Pass twice.

As anticipated, I would be spending more time in the chair. Cody collected my trash and soaked my clothes in the stream behind us, Marc went to work on a hotspot on my foot, Mike fed me and refueled my pack, and I tried to answer their questions as best and honestly as possible. Once again, Cody called for time, and that was it. It was time to make friends with pain, climbing up Hope Pass.

Silly Me.

37.9 Miles - 43.5 Miles (Hope Pass) - 50 miles (Winfield) - 56.7 (Hope Pass)

"Let everything happen to you: Beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final." - Rainer Maria Rilke.

I got up from my chair and acknowledged it was time to move. Mike walked with me down the middle of party city and emphasized what I needed to do. It's funny that despite the noise and loud cheers, I felt like it was only us two.

I entered the water crossing sassy. It felt refreshing; I didn't mind having wet feet (that was the least of my worries).

For some context - Hope Pass (frontside), the base of the climb is mile 40 at an altitude of 10,344ft. You climb 3,500ft in 4 miles to the top of the pass (mile 44). Hitting an altitude of 12,344ft.

It was time to climb. I tried to listen to music, but it was annoying; instead, I drew my attention to my breathing. I was grateful for the shade coverage and the water that flowed alongside the trail. But still, I felt hot, and my efforts to be cool were short.

This climb exposed our vulnerabilities. Wounded runners were taking frequent breaks to sit and regain any ounce of courage. I'd see these runners resting and told myself, "Do not get sucked in." I yo-yo’d with some and used that as a tactic to help me climb the steep mountain. I felt the change in altitude, my Heart beating in my ears, and my breathing rate changing rapidly. I reminded myself I was safe. This is natural. I moved at a 30-35 minute pace per mile! But there was one little problem: I lost track of time. I was puzzled! Fuck what time is the cut-off at Winfield (mile 50)? Is it 4:00 P.M.?

(I learned from my friend Callie to screenshot the cut-offs and set it as your lock screen.) I whip out my phone to double-check and yelled to myself 4:00! I have to move faster. I arrived at the checkpoint of Hope Pass at 3:29 P.M. At that moment, I decided to descend the backside of Hope aggressively to make the cut-off.

Big Mistake. HUGE!

Yes, I paid deeply and dearly for this. Are you ready?

Hope so.

Out of breath, dead, I reached the bottom of this steep technical descent, and this spectator was encouraging another runner. I heard part of the conversation: "You have plenty of time. You have until 6:00."

Okay, wait. What?! My heart sank further into my chest. I quickly whipped out my phone and looked again; this spectator was correct. I misread the line. The cut-off for the top of Hope was 4:00 P.M. and Winfield 6:00 P.M.
I cringed inside. The following 6 miles would be grim. I struggled. I told myself, "I have to try," and put one foot in front of the other.

Three things happened during these miles.

I saw my coach, and he reminded me to not spend too much time at Winfield. Get there and get out.
A runner in passing said to me," Vamos amiga, si se puede." How did he know this Chingona needed to hear those words? This brief connection meant so much to me. I hung onto Si se Puede.
I sat on a rock. I sat on a fucking rock to regather myself. I ate a ginger chew, filled my bladder with water from the stream, and said again, "I have to try."

I made it to Winfield at 5:30! 30 minutes before the cut-off, I sat in a chair; a volunteer came over to help, and I was trying to get my head straight. Runners to my left and right looked like their souls were ripped from them. We wore our agony loud and clear.

I sipped a ginger ale, and there she was. The Queen of Cut-offs, this woman wrote the cut-offs and pulls your bib. In her appearance, she began telling the volunteers, "It's time to get these people out of here."

The same volunteer runs over to me with my drop bag and says, "You need to get yourself together and get out."

Again, I was hit with urgency. I began fumbling through the contents in my drop bag, unsure what to do. The Queen of Cut-offs shouted, "The bus is getting full." She meant the bus back to Twin Lakes for those DNFs. This could not be how my story ends. Come on, Melissa, focus; what do I need?

Headlamp! um, jacket! Electrolytes!

Quickly, I asked the volunteer to help me refill my breast bottles, and I "gathered" myself - took my ginger ale with me and pressed on with purpose.

I met my beast, the backside of Hope Pass. Yes, my friends, it was time to climb back up.

For some context: The backside of Hope Pass is 2.4 miles with 2,700ft of gain. The base of this climb is mile 54 of the race at an altitude of 10,411ft - 12,344ft.

Runners descending Hope Pass - Photo courtesy of the Leadville 100 Run Participants Facebook Group

Dusk began to set, and with trekking poles in my hand, I took a deep breath and climbed. Physically, I was still trying to recover from my abrupt decision earlier. I was taxed.

But I had to keep moving. I knew I would be close to cut off (I just didn't know how close). My body was still hot, and I felt like bricks. I moved slowly, like 35 - 40 minute pace, SLOW back up the steep mountain. I kept my gaze ahead and could not wait to reach the top to cool off.

The steep terrain began to ease into switchbacks, and my shaky legs celebrated with each step. My cadence picked up, and the prayer flags became visible.

Finally!

I made it, but there was no time for celebrating. I had a cut-off to meet. The first sign of service I got, I texted my crew to communicate that I would not have time to stop, and these were the items I needed. One of the items included changing my vest.

Mike gives me grief about this because he had to run 2 miles to the car for it. LOL

So, right about now, you've been sitting too long. So get up, shake, step outside, and gather yourself because this adventure is about to make your jaw drop (or not. I may be hyping it up too much).

Milagros

56.7 Miles (Hope Pass) - 62 Miles (Twin Lakes inbound) - 64.2 (Mini Mount Ebert) - 70. Miles (Half Pipe inbound)

"Don't break character. You've got so much Heart.

Is this real or just a dream? Oh rise up like the sun and

Labor 'til the work is done." - Still, The Killers

Remember I mentioned looking forward to cooling off at the top? It was WARM! It was a nice breeze but not enough to cool my body. I took a deep breath and said, "I can do this." The descent is steep, technical, and mountainous. I turned on my headlamp and ran with my Heart. I pretended I was following Daisy down Devil's Back Bone (Last year, we used to do Wednesday Night Mount Baldy Runs; she helped build my confidence descending technical terrain). I ran hard and felt like this descent was never-ending! As I passed others sitting, I shouted, "YOU CANNOT SIT!! We have to GO! Or WE will NOT make the cut-off." I tried to rally as many as I could. I got frustrated because I knew what was at stake. I was officially racing the clock. I had to return to Twin Lakes and cross the timing mat by 10:00 P.M.

Right now, take a moment to envision, to feel - you hear your heartbeat aggressively in your ears, your mouth dry, and your entire body tense from descending. Cognitively, you are fatigued, and panic is setting in.

That is precisely how I felt.

Fueled by adrenaline, me and another runner alternated, pulling each other - aggressively into the water crossing we went. There are spectators now yelling! I felt like I was racing college track again. You have 10 minutes to run half a mile! Let's Go!!!

I felt the weight of every word. The pace gets faster, and my arms - pumping, my legs - driving. I entered party city, and the atmosphere was on edge. Everyone is shouting. I was in a full sprint, my gaze distracted; Where the fuck is this timing mat? My body communicates we can't hold on much longer.

Amid the anxiety, Cody remembers this moment as such- Nearly 90 minutes after her estimated arrival time at Twin Lakes (inbound) and approaching the 10:00 P.M. cut-off time, we had all spread out along the course, anxiously scanning the darkness. Mike had walked somewhere out of sight. Marc was standing on the course, arms crossed, and Jess had taken supplies for Mel and headed for the timing strip. I was 10-15 feet back from the course with Rebel, who seemed to sense everyone's uneasiness. My watch read 9:58 P.M., and I started to sort through new steps we would take to navigate a DNF.

I am running for my life. I accepted whatever the outcome would be in the next few minutes - but accepting doesn't mean giving up. Once more, I said, "I have to try."

I am hurting, holding on to hope; Mike appears in the darkness. Sprinting beside me, shouting, "WE HAVE TO RUN GIRL! We have to SPRINT!" Tears in my eyes, I reply, I don't have another gear. It stung to say those words, "I don't have another gear."

But Mike ignored my pain and continued to shout at me RUN! And kept me pushing. How far? Mike answered it's just over the road. And there it was.

"As they fly down the trail, capes flowing around them, they look like magicians appearing from a puff of smoke." - Born To Run.

Then, at 9:59 P.M., Mel and Mike erupted out of the dark, sprinting toward the timing mat. Arms pumping, legs turning over. I've never screamed and cried so hard all at once. I sort of remember falling down, getting up, yelling, 'Let's go, Melissaaaaaaa,' and then sitting down next to Rebel in shock (I have no idea what he did while I screamed; I momentarily forgot he existed). Mel's appearance was like a scene from Born to Run, and I even thought she looked like a Tarahumara runner with a skirt flowing behind her in the darkness. - Cody

The image hung in my mind all night and I thought it was my imagination, until I saw Jess’ photos much later and realized she did have her rain shell tied around her waist like a skirt. So it really is fitting that she started the morning in a cape. - Cody

My eyes were locked on the timing mat, and in an instant, the Leadville spirit was alive in me; I dug deeper. My ears listening to everyone counting the clock down. I found another gear and made it through the timing mat with 31 seconds to spare.

The magnitude of this one moment will be imprinted on our hearts for the remainder of the race.

It was all fuzzy after this, but what stood out was the emotion on Jess's face; she wore the highs and lows, shocked and teary-eyed.

My crew was now given a short window to administer aid; like a very short window, a volunteer walked over and says 2 minutes. I get up and signal to Jess are you ready. FYI, this was my first time meeting Jess (in person); social media brought us together. In my Heart, I knew I could trust her.

"It wouldn't be easy; pacing is so grueling and thankless, usually only family, fools, and damn good friends let themselves get talked into it. The job means shivering in the middle of nowhere for hours until your runner shows up, then setting off at sunset for an all-night run through wind-whistling mountains. You'll get blood on your shins, vomit on your shoes, and not even a T-shirt for completing two marathons in a single night." - Born To Run.

Jess is right when she says, "I don't think either of us expected our journey together to start with me sprinting across the timing mat...But that's just how the mountains can be sometimes."

I stood up, my heart rate still very high, my body temperature still hot, and with no moment to recover, I was ready as I’d ever be to tackle 25 miles with Jess, starting with a 2.5-mile climb with a gain of 1,350ft. It doesn't sound like much but with 64.5 miles on your legs and a high heart rate? It was grievous.

Leadville is one of the few races (maybe one of the only) that allows pacers to mule. I felt indifferent about this rule, but I took advantage of it at this moment. Jess (Bless her Heart) offered to carry my pack. And as we began, one foot in front of the other, still trying to process what I just did. I asked her, "Do you believe in miracles?"

She answered honestly, "I just saw one."

The rarity of this moment gave us HOPE. Yes, we were told the chances of me finishing after sprinting like Sha'Carri Richardson to meet the 10:00 P.M. cut-off were less than 1%. Call it what you want: chance or luck. As for me and my crew, we'll call it a miracle.

"And so we took our tiny flame of hope and marched and ran and trudged and ran some more through the night." - Jess.

These first few miles were messy; I could not keep food down or get my Heart rate down, regardless of slowing the pace. But there was not enough cushion for us to "slow down." Crunching numbers in her head, again, we were chasing another cut-off. Jess kept time and dictated the movements. I did as she said, and we made it to Half Pipe Mile 70 with 7 minutes remaining of the cut-off.

Brujas.

70.2 Miles (Half Pipe) - 72ish Miles (Pipeline) - 76.9 Miles (Outward Bound) - 87.2 Miles (Mayqueen)

"We're gonna run the bruja down like a deer. Like a venado. Yeah, a venado. Got it? We're gonna run the bruja down like a venado. Poco a poco-little bit at a time." - Born To Run

Our bruja was time; my watch had died, and I felt blind. I became entirely dependent on Jess. She recalls our first and only phone call, our pacer meeting. "Melissa told me she didn't want to hear "almost." As in, we are almost there, we are almost halfway…I think most ultra runners know "almost" can be a dangerous and useless word out there. She wanted facts, distance, and time left."

I needed Jess to tell me these things more frequently and place urgency on them as she saw fit. Facts, distance, and time were indispensable throughout the night.

What I wanted after leaving Half-Pipe was to change my shorts and shoes. However, changing meant spending more time, which we had to be cautious about. Jess would communicate with my crew on our progress, and we fought hard in the 2 miles to Pipeline (not an aid station but a crew stop). Jess kept me moving with intervals by using other runners ahead as markers. When we arrived at Pipeline, we all had to move quickly. Jess stood in front of me, looking at her watch, repeating, “We have to go.” The next aid station was Outward Bound mile 75.6; the cut-off was 3:00 A.M. They shoved chips in my mouth. I sipped on a Coke and changed my shorts (Thank God), and we set off to fight another bruja. I remember telling Jess how the chips brought me back to life and that I'd like more when we reached the next stop. This brought us both some relief (I think), finally! Some calories to help me for the next big climb. That climb is Power Line.

As we approached Outward Bound, it had drastically changed from this morning. There was no cowbell or loud cheers, only dull sounds from the generator fueling the aid station. We made it at 2:47 A.M., 13 minutes before cut-off! I sat, and Marc quickly changed my shoes. I ate more chips, and Mike fed me mashed potatoes, which tasted so good! Again, I was becoming more alive.

We continued through the witching hours hunting our brujas.

Next up Power Line, followed by the 6:30 A.M. cut-off at Mayqueen.

The power line climb is 3.5 miles with a gain of 1,700ft, and as we began climbing, the hallucinations started. I am unsure what I saw; I think people living in the trees. But whenever I told Jess, she would say, "No, it's just a tree." This climb dragged on in the dark, without sight of the summit (only false summits). You can't help but feel a little hopeless until GLOW STICKS! As we neared the top, glow sticks began to light our path; okay, am I hallucinating this? Nope! There it read, "Welcome to Space Camp." We were both in shock. Spectators put this together, and they relit our dim flame.

My time with Jess was endearing; I knew we were pressed for time, but I never felt pressured. She crunched numbers in her head over and over. She told me to move, and I'd shuffle a little faster and longer every time.

When we descended the Hagerman Pass road into Mayqueen, morning light had finally graced us. But time was ticking away fast. We had to move with grit. I told her about the next turn. A single-track trail with roots and rocks. She told me to lead because she was not good at technical terrain. This was it for us. I didn't know how much time was left, but when Jess said, "Leave me and sprint for your life again."

Fuck, again? I thought.

I listened, and a shot of panic fueled my legs. Leaving Jess behind and running towards the aid station, racing another cut-off. The first person to greet me making my way into the aid station was no one other than The Queen Cut-offs. My Heart fell, fuck, did I make it? She motioned with her hands, "You're safe." But I continued running hard (was she telling me the truth?). I began scanning the sea of anxious faces; Mike found me first, jogging beside me, reassuring me I was, in fact, safe - I cried a little with his confirmation. Jess and I battled brujas all night. She never gave up on me, not for a second. There was no almost in our fight, only "Heart. Grit. Resilience." - Jess

More Cowbell.

87.2 Miles (Mayqueen) - 100 Miles (Home)

"You are better than you think you are. You can do better than you think you can do. You can do more than you think you can." - Ken Chlouber

I was standing ready to pace Mel home, again watching minutes tick by toward the 6:30 A.M. cut-off time.

Marc was standing behind me, arms crossed, scanning the horizon. This time, I didn't doubt that she would appear. She had not taken NO for an answer from the clock or the course yet.

At 6:28, there she was, jogging into the morning light, tired and weary but moving with purpose. - Cody

She had no doubt I would appear. Appearing 2 minutes before the cut-off. It was time for Cody and me to finish what I started. During our pacer meeting, I provided details of the section she would be pacing me; I told her cues I wanted to hear navigating the roots and rocks, dictating when to move and move a little faster. All that was left was 12.8 miles, but we had 3.5 hours to do it, which sounds like plenty of time, right?

Sleep-deprived, low on calories, and weary, I knew if we did not continue to run for our lives, I would not make the 30-hour cut-off.

Around Turquoise Lake, we shuffled, trying to embrace the sunlight. Again, I was grateful for the opportunity to admire the lake earlier. Cody kept us moving with purpose, leading, announcing all roots and rocks, telling me to keep my eyes ahead, and reminding me to pick up my feet. I remember crunching numbers in my head, my watch still dead, and looking at my phone for time. I kindly asked her to text the crew: What should our average pace be?

Jess replied 15:00 min pace. With not a slight panic in Cody's voice, she said, "Okay, Mel, we are going to move a little faster."

I gave a silent "Oh fuck" but did as she said.

We chatted with other runners and their pacers. One of them, in particular, mentioned that he remembered me saying I put up a "hell of a fight."

Two girls passed us, followed by another runner; he told us if "you stick with those girls, you'll make it." At that moment, it felt impossible! But "poco a poco," my weary shuffle got faster.

We caught those girls once we hit the fire road at around mile 95. We encouraged each other; I remember Cody talking, and I began to crunch numbers in my head again, looking at the time. I slowly started pushing the pace.

I led around mile 96.4, creating a gap between my pacer and the two girls. What I remember about this moment is I looked back, raising my trekking poles in the air and signaling to Cody I am done with these - I'm going for it.

Leaving her behind, I told myself I could get there 5 minutes before the cut-off if I ran faster.

But the Leadville 100 doesn't give you a nice, cozy road to the finish line. True to its name, I had one last climb. Once again, I dug deeper. I fought harder. As I crested the hill, a rumble of cheers emerged. It was like thunder empowering me with every boom.

I hadn't even crossed the finish line, but I felt the warm welcome of “Welcome Home.”

I see Marc and Mike first and communicate my plans to run in. My shuffle became a run (I dropped Marc). I now can hear the announcer. It was golden hour, and people lined up on Sixth Street to cheer, hope, and witness the magic of Leadville.

Running beside me now is Mike and Jess. I cross the red carpet as the clock read 29:42:48.

My vision came true; Merilee placed the finisher's medal around my neck, saying, "I remember these braids." The day before the race, I hugged Ken and Merilee; they complimented my braids, and as we were about to take our photo, they gently moved my braids, placing them in front of my shoulders to be displayed.

Final Thoughts

You should know I have never been a back-of-the-pack runner. In this race, not only was I back-of-the-pack, but I was a cut-off chaser. I knew this race would be different because I finally wasn't afraid of my potential. I would no longer give in to the lies I've been telling myself my entire life.

I am not strong enough.

I am unworthy.

I am not capable of great things.

This realization is my truth. With my truth, I stood on the start line, as Ken said, and I held on and fought the entire race with every ounce of my fibers.

Since finishing the race, my most frequent question has been:

Is this the hardest thing you have ever done?

And I am trying to figure out how to perceive this. I am almost offended. Why? Because what am I measuring "hard" to? My limits? My experiences? I've encountered plenty of "hard" throughout my life. Some of those brought shame, anger, and regret. However, neither of those experiences can be measured. Limits - I haven't met my limits. I want to continue to navigate this adventure with purpose, challenging myself to grow with every step forward. I am not choosing races based on a scale of hard that social media puts out. I am selecting races based on learning something new about myself. I will continue to go after hefty dreams and not be afraid of doing it. Regardless of how crazy you think they are.

Merilee said, "When you are running down 6th street and you cross that red carpet, cross the finish line, it is going to change your life. And you are going to realize there is nothing you can't do. Nothing you can't accomplish, and that is going to be in your Heart for the rest of your life. And we call that Leadville in your Heart."

She's right; realizing there is nothing I can't do is life-changing. Again, my chances of finishing were less than 1%. I hope you are encouraged to dream BIG and TRY! Especially when the numbers are against you. I hope you try.

As always,

I am ringing my cowbell for you! Happy Trails!

Quote of the Week: “Potential is your superpower; put on your cape and know you are destined for greatness” - Melissa Perez

Song of the Week: Armani White, PROUD OF ME

MILAGROS