By HPRS Staff Columnist Jacob Stevens
“All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible. –E. Lawrence
As the brilliance of the day fades with golden rays cast upon the darkness of the Wet Mountains of Colorado, Michele and I find the Horseshoe Lodge in Beulah, CO which will act as our surrogate home while I spend the next day and a half navigating the depths of this beautiful sub-range of the Sangre De Cristo Mountains searching for something that I wasn’t even aware I was looking for. This is the home of Mace’s Hideout 100.
Born out of legend, mystery, and intrigue; this race claims the terrain to be as beautiful as it is tough, and a hidden gem set amongst giants. As advertised, this was probably the toughest 100-mile course I have navigated with roughly 22,500 feet of climbing over the course of 102(ish) miles at an average altitude of over 9,000 feet (9,058 to be exact). This race did not disappoint, and Race Director Chris Westerman and his girlfriend Marci absolutely knocked this first-year race out of the park. From course expectation to course marking, from volunteers to aid station supplies, from safety precautions to action plans, Chris and his team were prepared from start to finish and I want to extend a HUGE thank you to all the volunteers but especially the aid station volunteers; every single person I encountered did their jobs efficiently, effectively, and with great energy at all times of the day and night; they uplifted, rejuvenated, and gave us all a little more hope than what we came in with.
With an 8:00 am start there was plenty of time to get to know some of the other runners, tinker with drop bags and gear, and to basically do everything possible to ensure that I will inevitably begin to question my life choices…all of which were accomplished by about 6:30 am so you can imagine how the next hour and a half went.
As the sun was beginning to set the morning sky ablaze, we began our ascent of an 18.6-mile climb to Greenhorn aid station that reached up 6,600 feet above the point at which we began, and it was also the point at which I realized we were all gasping for air at over 11,000 feet above sea level. From here, there is a long, technical, and overall sketchy descent to Pole Creek aid station and then a short climb, relatively speaking, followed by another descent into Sand Hollow aid station. As I was already near the mid-to-back of the pack, this is where I would prepare for an 8-mile out and back with a 4-mile climb which would allow me to see the sun set; astonishingly, I realized it had taken me 10 hours to travel just 37 miles over this brutal terrain and after the out-and-back I would be at roughly 13 hours and only 45 miles…It was time to go into the night.
My wife and I had decided that I was going to run this race “solo”, meaning no crew and no pacers; I would provide for myself and utilize only aid stations and pre-placed drop bags. Something special happens during the middle of the night during an ultramarathon; this particular ultramarathon found me with the extra joy of knowing with absolute certainty that no one would be there to help me other than the aid station volunteers. Michele would not be there, my dad would not be there, there would be no pacers anxiously awaiting my arrival to help me successfully cross the finish line, I was alone, and I needed to make it to the morning.
That is my mantra, “make it to the morning”; it is tattooed on my hands and represents the promise I have made to myself to give myself every single opportunity to finish a race or a task. If I just make it through the darkness and to the light, then I may have a chance. Never quit in the darkness, always move forward, and make it to the morning…that is where the light is. Once you have experienced the darkness and survived to reach the light you are now armed with the knowledge to make an informed decision as to whether or not to carry on.
This particular night in the Wet Mountains brought with it a 20+ mile stretch that involved a quick 1-mile out-and-back along with three big climbs ranging from 4 to 6.7 miles. After hours of seeing the world through a strange 8-foot orb that housed snakes amongst the pinecones and a country boy wearing overalls and a straw-hat fishing off a log into the abyss that fell drastically and dramatically off the side of a mountain, I would be led through a beautiful array of paintings that mimicked sunrises in which I saw the Sangres painted pink and purple as the rising ball of fire rejuvenated the land upon which it shone.
My world swirled brilliantly with colors and scents that were as vivid and as pure as the driven snow; it was as if my world reflected an Edvard Munch painting as I rose up through the clouds to over 11,000 feet where the new day gave me new life while the darkness of the night dissipated like stale cigarette smoke at that seedy small-town bar we all once knew and loved.
The ascent would continue through the Greenhorn aid station to the high point of the course at 11,672 feet above sea level. A long technical descent with an unofficial aid station halfway down is what awaits and, if you are like me, you could very possibly be pushing up against cutoffs at this point. I would suggest doing your research and carrying a small card with goal times for major check points.
After you reach the last aid station, Second Mace, there is simply a 9-mile section to the finish that contains a short climb and a long descent, however; from approximately miles 93-95(ish) there are 43 creek crossings in a 2-mile stretch; and not just small creeks, we are talking 4-5 steps and ankle to knee deep.
This race was special. Personally, this was the culmination and result of thousands of hours of preparation and exploration that led me down a path in which questions were posed that I had never pondered before. Decisions were made, changes ensued, and all along I had no idea what path I was on or what direction I was headed; I had strong suspicions but nothing confirmatory…Mace’s Hideout 100 allowed me to discover a bit of clarity in a world where that can be a rarity; it was an event experienced alone yet shared with all involved, and one that will live on just as the lore it was birthed from.
As I ran to the finish line with an energy that surprised even myself, I just as quickly hit the ground and felt an amazing sense of relief, accomplishment, sadness, and happiness all at once…and not a moment too soon; I was 11 minutes and 30 seconds under the final cutoff, and it had been 35:48:30 seconds since I had seen my wife…
So, what now? What is next? This is not a question that people believe arises so quickly after such an effort but in fact it often arises sooner than one would expect. The ability to completely and wholly not just forget the severity of the pain but to truly act and believe as if it never existed in the first place is a phenomenon that lies within all of us, and it is shockingly easy to access. The true courage lies in the ability to toe a starting line; to face whatever insecurities or demons that appear so insurmountable you must resort to solutions of epic proportions in an attempt to conquer them.
Herein lies the precipitating factors if you will…the aforementioned insecurities. Most of us are running races like Mace’s Hideout for a reason, and not a very sexy one either. We are searching for something. Sometimes we know what it is we are seeking…other times we haven’t the slightest clue that we are even on a journey; but we will always be there looking for validation of some kind from some idea of some influential presence in our lives that we feel we need, either consciously or subconsciously, or maybe we’ll find an escape, even for a brief moment in time, from something we may not have even known we were needing an escape from…or maybe it is something completely different; maybe we want to just run in the mountains without a care in the world. The point is that there is always work to be done and just as soon as we log a buckle into the collection and begin the recovery process the next race or run is already in the works and probably has been for longer than most of us would care to admit…
For me that will be Silverheels 100. This Human Potential Running Series race is one that has been on my radar for about 3 years now. It is a tough, high altitude mountain race with an average elevation of close to 11,000 feet above sea level. From what I have seen, the similarities to Mace’s cannot be ignored: the terrain will be similar and there will be a little less climbing, but we’ll be at an average altitude 2,000 feet higher…from my experience, altitude seems to level a lot of playing fields.
As I reflect on these past few weeks, I’ll admit that the details are a bit of a blur. When running 100-mile races this close together (5 weeks) things tend to all blend together and it isn’t until after the fact that I realize what a wild ride it is that I am on. Keeping one room in the house that looks like a combination of an aid station and running store while constantly repairing gear, checking batteries, double checking tracking devices, and doing my best to write while preparing to run 100-miles again seems like something every rational, normal human being does. It isn’t until much later that the reality of my life and how it must appear from the outside looking in actually sets in.
What is important is that the right people are on the right page and fortunately for me that is without a doubt, 100% the case. When Jesse Itzler’s wife was telling George Foreman about Jesse running 100 miles he looked at her with a look of seriousness in his eyes, the tone of finality in his voice, and he said, “don’t ever try to understand a man like that…just love him.” That is exactly what my wife Michele does for me and for that I am eternally grateful. So, as I turn my gaze to the fleeting flashes of distorted images into the future, I can’t help but be excited, motivated, and full of happiness…a date with Mount Silverheels and all the late-night, hallucinogenic, mind-bending shenanigans await…
HPRS states that I’ll “run through ghost towns, past abandoned mines, awe at the wildflowers in full bloom, and dance under the watchful eye of Silverheels Mountain herself. The person who finishes this race, will not be the same person who started it…”
This is a welcomed glimpse into what lies ahead in the coming days, and I hope to see you all in Fairplay!
