The Silver Rush weekend features a 50 mile run on Saturday and a 50 mile mountain bike race on Sunday, both on the same course. The race starts in Leadville at 10,200 feet. First, you run or push your bike up a ski hill. You reach 12,000 feet 4 times in 50 miles, with a total elevation gain of 7,000 feet. The surface consists mostly of jeep paths and gravel roads, with a little bit of single track and a little bit of asphalt. Runners get 14 hours to complete the course and cyclists get 8 hours and 20 minutes.
In 2018, I failed to reach the finish of my one and only 50 mile run before the shotgun went off — at 14:08, I was eight minutes late to the line. One of the reasons I signed up for the Lead Challenge was to get an official finish at the Silver Rush run, but I injured my knee in April and had to scale back my running dramatically. There was no time to recover and then train for a 50 mile run. The only viable option for completing the Silver Rush requirement of the Lead Challenge was to do it on a bike.
I clearly remember spectating the bike race, standing at the Printer Boy aid station and watching the bikes squeeze between two large boulders and down a short, steep hill. I thought to myself I could never do that on a bike. I also remember watching the cyclists going up and down the out-and-back hill into the Stumptown aid station at the halfway point and thinking I could never ride up or down that on a bike. It was so rocky and steep. One cyclist lost control at the turn at the bottom of the hill and crashed. I thought: I would never do this on a bike. I remember during the run, using poles to pick my way down a rocky, steep descent, at least I'm not doing this on a bike. Five years later...I was about to do all of that on a bike.
Building Confidence
My new Little Rock friend Ari talked me into doing one small local mountain bike race here in May. When Trent and I drove out the day before and pre-rode the course I was so nervous that I was almost in tears. It was ridiculous. I panicked at a creek crossing and tried to stop, couldn't unclip in time, lost my balance and fell over. After that I was terrified to clip in on my mountain bike and I switched back to flat pedals for the race the next day. It worked fine and I actually had fun instead of being scared. Finishing that race gave me a huge boost of confidence. I even got to stand on the podium in third place in my category!
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| Category 3 podium at the Ugly Gnome MTB Race! |
At the Unbound Gravel 50 miler in June, as I floated up hills on my gravel bike, I realized how much stronger I've become. I gained just a little bit of confidence for the mountain biking I'd be doing this summer in Leadville. Another confidence builder took place two days before the Silver Rush race — I rode my bike up and down the Powerline segment of the Leadville 100 MTB course. Even though there was definitely some pushing of the bike uphill and walking of the bike downhill on that ride, knowing that I navigated the scariest part of the 100 course was a relief.
Pre-Race Joy
I decided to drive to Leadville to make it easier to transport my bike and avoid the hassles of flying. When I was mapping the route, I realized that one of the options took me through Oklahoma and past Amarillo. Could I talk a friend into driving up from San Antonio to go with me?! Shelly was up for it and we met on Wednesday night, leaving her car at the Amarillo airport. I can't say enough about how wonderful it was to share this experience with Shelly. I miss my friend so much and it was just incredible to spend several days together doing what we love to do. Shelly was even able to sign up for the Silver Rush 15 mile run on Saturday, so she got to have her own experience racing in the mountains. I know she's hooked.
My Gravel Girl friends, Amy and Terri, were also racing the 15 mile run, and we all stayed together in an Airbnb that looked like it was built from Lincoln logs. It was adorable and we had a wonderful girls' weekend. Because they were all racing on Saturday, after I saw them off at their start I was left to my own devices. I hopped on a shuttle to try to get out to their turnaround point. The shuttle wasn't running to that aid station, but it was running to Printer Boy for people spectating the 50 miler.
At Printer Boy, a small group of spectators and crew gathered to watch their runners come through. As I watched the runners navigating the steep hill and the two large boulders that I remembered from 2018, I took a deep breath and wondered aloud if I'd be able to make it up and through that little section on my bike. "Of course you can," said my new friend Matt, who was running the timing mat right there at the rocks, "and I'll be here to cheer you up it tomorrow!"
Cole Chlouber, the son of race founder Ken Chlouber, was out there spectating too. When someone commented on the difference between a 50 mile race and a 100 mile race, Cole said matter-of-factly, "it doesn't hurt more. It just hurts for longer." I sat there soaking up the experience and the knowledge from the folks around me for as long as I could, then realized I needed to scoot back to the finish line to see my friends cross it.
Around the four-hour mark, they started coming through. Of course they had all made friends during their race. One of Amy's new friends was Matt the timing mat guy's wife! It's a small world in Leadville. I love it. I love the people and the experience and the community and everything about it.
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| Three happy finishers: Shelly, Amy, and Terri. |
Race Day
There were two waves to start the race: one at 8:00 and one at 8:05. I opted for the second wave because I didn't want to get in anyone's way. The gun went off for the first wave and the song that played to kick off the race was "Kick Start My Heart" by Motley Crue. That's my favorite pump-up song — Terri and I had even been talking about it the night before! I shrieked when it began to play. This was the sign of a good day.
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| My Team SFQ teammate, whose husband was also racing! |
As I lined up for the start, the man next to me noticed my Lead Challenge plate. He had one too. "I did the run yesterday," he said, "did you?" No I did not, thank goodness. Then he said, "Remember the Trail of Tears from the marathon? I can't believe they're making us go up and down that." What? I was going to have to ride up and down the steep, rocky, one-mile segment that makes you question your will to live at the marathon?? I pushed it out of my mind as I pushed my bike up the hill.
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| That Hill. |
My plan was to keep moving forward while remaining aware of the time cuts. The first cutoff was at the halfway point at the Stumptown aid station at 12:30. That gave me almost four and a half hours to go 23.5 miles (the course was short at 47 miles this year because of a water table survey that was taking place). I had to stop and take a deep breath at the top of the hill. It felt like T1 of a triathlon. I stepped over my bike and was on my way, uphill for the first 11 miles of the race.
Because I started almost dead last, I began passing people right from the start. I assumed they would pass me back again on the descents, because that's how it usually goes when I run trails. They didn't. You guys, my descending has improved so much.
I felt so joyful riding the parts that were rideable and walking the parts that weren't. There's a steep uphill segment around mile 10 that makes you question your sanity, and then you turn onto a four-mile descent. I was so happy to make it up that first long climb and descend into Printer Boy. When I got there, I zoomed up the little hill and saw Matt at the top of it. "I did it!" I exclaimed at him. I don't think he knew who I was. Then I panicked and put my foot down trying to maneuver through the two boulders. Oh well, at least I made it up the hill.
Onwards to Stumptown and up the Trail of Tears. I swear that after the marathon they went through there and dumped out more rocks. As I pushed my bike up one side, the winners were descending the other side. They had no choice of what line to take because of all of us on the right side, so they just rode over all of the loose, large, baby heads. They floated down, actually. It was amazing to watch.
As I turned the corner to Stumptown where I'd seen the guy wipe out a few years ago, I was overwhelmed with the realization that I was doing something I'd said I could never do. I choked back some tears. I'm doing this, I thought. I am a mountain biker.
I reached Stumptown with time to spare and hugged Shelly, who was prepared with a cooler full of my stuff. She switched out my water bladder, two bottles, and a supply of gels while I stepped into a porta potty. I took a couple of motrin for a headache and ate an incredible banana and two squares of grape uncrustable at the aid station. Shelly said she'd see me at Printer Boy inbound and I was on my way again.
Four hours into this race and I'd been having fun! I heard a spectator yell the familiar, "Go Pinky!" at me, which made me smile. The other racers were so friendly and encouraging. I was eating and drinking and feeling good. And, it was probably all downhill from here, because it had been all uphill on the way out, right? Nooooo. Pretty much as soon as I turned back towards the start, it started getting tough.
I stopped to have a snack and another cyclist pulled up next to me with an orange Santa Cruz Blur identical to mine. He told me he had a nickname for me, that he had been calling me "Pink Joy." "We have the same bike!" I exclaimed, and instead of telling him my name, I said, "my nickname for my bike is 'Santa Baby.'" He looked a little bit confused. "You're so joyful on this course," he told me. Perfect. That's exactly what I was trying to do, and the fact that it came across to other racers was not lost on me.
Rick and I ended up riding together for the rest of the race. He's done the Leadville 100 six times, but this was his first Silver Rush. When I asked him what he thought of the course, he told me that it's been described as "the Leadville 100 with all of the easy parts taken out." I'd heard that before. "Is it true?" I asked. He confirmed that so far, it was definitely the case.
He rode ahead of me through the Trail of Tears and told me to stay within myself and take what the trail, the bike, and my body had to give. "Come on, Pink Joy," Rick would yell. I still had to stop and catch my breath and collect myself halfway down. It was scary to try to navigate a line down the steep, loose, rocky section. But I made it!
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| There was some unnecessary walking. |
When I reached Printer Boy, Shelly was there taking pictures and yelling. I stayed on my bike through the two large rocks. Matt recognized me this time and yelled "you did it!" and tried to give me a fist bump. (If I'd returned it, I would have fallen off my bike.) I was so excited for this small victory as I flew down the little hill to the aid station. Amy and Terri were there and they helped to refuel me again. I asked them to confirm that Rick with the Santa Cruz was indeed standing there at the aid station — I thought I had hallucinated him because his encouragement and presence on the course was helping me so much. They confirmed that he was indeed there and we headed up the four-mile hill. Just 15 miles to go.
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| Amy and her freezing cold ice towel at Printer Boy. |
It was difficult to climb the hill, but not that difficult. I thought to myself that I'm much better at riding bikes in Leadville than I am at running there. I was scared to turn onto the rocky descent, but again Rick was in front of me, literally riding my same bike, proving to me that it could be done on the equipment that I was using. I descended well, stopping to walk on a few of the sketchier, ruttier sections. I watched a guy slide out in front of me and do a perfect cartwheel off his bike, dismounting with his arms up like a gymnast. "Did you see that?" he asked in disbelief. He was fine and his bike was fine. It was wild.
With about seven miles left the storm that had been threatening for a couple of hours finally opened up and rain poured from the sky for the last part of the race. I was soaked and frozen and my glasses were difficult to see through. As usual time had ticked away rapidly in the second part of the race, so I didn't waste time stopping to put on my raincoat. Rick had arm warmers that he'd been pulling up and down all day. I made a mental note to do the same thing at the 100 next month.
We rode though the cruel mile of single track at the end that I remember from the run (Amy called it "the bullshit section"), down the steep hill to the finish (I walked my bike down), and finally across the finish line. As I finished the race I was laughing hysterically with joy and relief. My friends were there to greet me, including Sarah, another Gravel Girl whose husband had finished hours earlier, who has been giving me advice and encouragement for Leadville all year. Other racers standing there under the tents congratulated me. I had made it across the line at 8:01, with 20 minutes to spare before the cutoff.
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| A failed fist bump from trail angel Rick at the finish line. |
With the help of my friends I changed my clothes. Shelly and I went back to grab some food (it was all gone at that point) and a beer. It was still raining so we didn't stand around long. We jumped into the car and started our long drive back to Texas.
I cried when I left Shelly in Amarillo to continue on my own to Little Rock. It was just such a joyful weekend. I'm so grateful to my friends, new and old, for making this experience so incredibly positive. I'm so grateful to my coach,
Nell Rojas, for helping me become a mountain biker over the past year. I know that the Leadville 100 mountain bike race will be really, really hard, and I'm so motivated to train for the next few weeks to get as strong as I can to do all of those climbs and descents. I know that if I keep the positive attitude and bring "Pink Joy" to the race with me like I did at the Silver Rush, that I'll have a good day out there. I can't wait.
