Leadville 100 2026 Race Report Pt 1: What Was I Thinking?

Dear Reader, quick tip: This entire tale is told through my inner dialogue, so italics represent spoken words by me or others.

August 15, 2026, 2:52 am 

There’s no use trying to fall back asleep now; turn off the 3:30 alarm and just get to work. Breathe. Pull the mind out of the body. Rice. So much rice. Syrup and cinnamon should help. This music list needs a few more songs; I can’t believe I have time for that. It will come in handy on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams at mile 98-ish…my secret weapon I’ll not deploy until then.

Becky, can you make me some eggs… please? 

This master of time management has yet to publish a blog post with a link my friends can follow. That’s it! We need to get here Tuesday instead of Wednesday to get all this done without a rush. Too bad there is no next year. 

Becky, did you make me those eggs? You did? I can’t smell them. I can’t smell the coffee either.

Ed’s voice: Your nasal passages are pretty dry, I imagine.

This place is slowly killing me. There’s not enough saline solution in the world. I wish I had more time in this shower. Really, you had the whole kit set up except for a bra? Wow. What a mess this rifling can make. Check out the full-length mirror just opposite the sink mirror. Never noticed that. Well, there we are—all my selves. Hey you guys, one of you is getting the buckle today. Which one…hmm…this one. I anoint you the buckle bringer! Let’s go get it!

4:50 am

Holy...wow! The stars. It’s so clear; it hasn’t been this clear in weeks. I can’t believe I get to stargaze before the bike race. What a pretty bike. Be careful with her; she has a long day ahead. I could easily fall back asleep right now. Time to tune into the abundance of fitness I’ll need. Walk with purpose. 100% that’s gonna happen today. Ride with purpose. How about drive with purpose? Why is that person going 35 mph? Don’t they know they have a string of nervous bike racers behind them? Ah, well, we have plenty of time.

Good morning, Leadville. Bike. Helmet. Vest. Armwarmers. Shoes. Pack. What am I forgetting? Food. I guess that’s everything. We’re at the front of White. Ain’t that fancy. Cheryl, can you hold my bike? I’m off to the porta potty. Where are they? 

6:00 am

Boom! The shotgun. I was almost in the crapper during the shotgun. So funny. 45 minutes to go time, I’ll probably be back again. I am. Whew, this stinks. Back to White. AirPods in one last time.  Never give up; I’m not giving up yet; I'm not giving up yet. Over and over. Perfect earworm.

This pack of water tastes gross. Really should’ve done something about that.

6:45 am White Corral Start Mile 0

Five. Four. Three. Two. ONE! GO!! 

I’m in a pack of buzzing bees: so many silent people—such reverence. The mountains are stunning! Such crispness in the air. Puddles! Wet dirt! Let this West Virginian through! I ain’t afraid of no mud. More puddles? Road wide? Take it through the grass. What is this, Unbound? Haha. Now this is traction! Here we go. That’s it. No more talking; remember your promise. Climb. Hold your line. Kerfuffle up ahead. It’ll clear. Another one. What’s that?

Coming through, Dreamchaser! 

Keep climbing. Drat, I can’t hold this track stand any longer. Foot down, back on, keep left. Rider back! Sweet. Still on. I love this climb. Eat, drink, break’s over, back to climbing. Wow, what a view some timbering can make. There’s always one more climb. Top of St. Kevin’s! Finally, the pavement. Hold it together, Weeks. We don’t need another Harriet. This isn’t that bad. Wonder what my max speed will be. Don’t look down, only ahead. Another promise to yourself you must keep. 

Whew, well that was more relaxing than Powerline!

I’m gonna hit Pipeline aid early. I wonder if I’ll surprise them! This will be a first. 12 minutes early. I feel great. Am I actually in a paceline? Flying and barely pedaling. Now I see what the fuss is all about. It’ll break up once we hit the trail in, but I’ll take what I can get. Twinge. What is that? Bigger twinge…is that…is that a cramp? WTF! No way. I never cramp, and this early in the game? Mile 23. But how? Becky and Ed have electrolytes, and we can add more to the bottle. I have my mustard. Keep going. Never give up. 

8:46 am Pipeline Aid Station Outbound Mile 25.7

Where are they? Not again. Why am I soft-pedaling through this aid station? Where are they? Oh. This is the pro feed zone. I have to cross that road up ahead and then start looking. I knew that. What a waste of time. There's Becky waving around a red shirt, and Ed! What a sight for sore legs. I’m cramping! I need ELMT in the bottle. These packets never open easily. More food. I only finished one gel flask; I’ll keep the other (oops). Go go go! This false flat section feels good. It’s over too soon. What…another cramp? Ohhh…really, the whole inner thigh from my knee to my groin? What is happening? I need mustard. This is gonna be gross.

Thank god it works. Climb to the singletrack. You did this the other day. It’s easy. Take it slow. Keep drinking that salty bottle—more salty chews. You can fix this. Ugh, my stomach hurts. Punch it up that last hill. Cramp! Slow down. Ok. Hold that guy’s tail through the singletrack; don’t relax. I’m falling behind. RIDER DOWN. What an angel, calling that out. He’s OK. Slippery dry dirt. Must not have had as much rain as town did. What a dream this piece of trail is. I get to lead it…so much fun.

Time to pedal. Cramps seem to be subsiding. I’m going to finish this bottle way before I get to Twin Lakes. Oh well, I need the salt. That, plus the pack…three liters in less than three hours. And it’s not even hot. I might’ve underdone my electrolytes. Not a day to worry about my blood pressure. Rookie mistake. I know so much better. Oh well, focus on the salty chews and add more electrolytes to the pack at Twin. We can do this. Never give up. That climb wasn’t so bad. Twin Lakes! What a view! I shaved off another minute! I can do this! I’ve got this! So many people out cheering. Wow. So much love. Those tears are not just from the wind. This is the best day ever. I’m so lucky.

9:50 am Twin Lakes Aid Station Outbound Mile 37.9

This dam crossing is glorious. Where is she? Cheryl! Cheryl! There she is, right away; what a smile. So much flurry; I need more electrolytes in the pack. More chews and flasks; let’s get out of here. Crap! I forgot my jacket! These arm warmers and the vest are doing their job. Not going back. Never look back.

The climb before THE climb. I’ve been here twice before; never felt this good. Punch up that hill. Save the walking for later. CRAMP! Whew, this is getting old. Ok, some pedally flats; I can spin out the legs. Why am I losing my new group? Not a good sign. Not time to burn a match; plenty of time for that up ahead. Into the arms of the aspens. On any other day, this would be almost relaxing, settling into a steady pace. My steady pace. No one else matters. No sudden moves. Steady. Shoot, I have to pee. Again. I really thought I’d worked all this out over, I don't know, the last YEAR. Why am I peeing and cramping so much at the same time? Did I say that out loud? Apparently so...It’s an electrolyte issue...Stating the obvious...And maybe a nerve issue. As in, this is getting on my last nerve? Amen.

But he has a point—so much saddle time. Everything down there hurts. Let’s lower the seat the tiniest bit via the dropper; I won’t be dropping it down for at least another two hours. Two hours. This is a long climb. Only 3,100 feet to go. 100 feet at a time. Eat. Drink. Be merry. This is the crux today; never give up. Never, ever give up. How many hill repeats of Back Hollow is this? Four? Five? I only ever did three. Huh. Well, this isn’t as steep…yet. 

And so it goes. Pedal, pee, cramp, drink, peddle, pee, cramp, drink, pedal…don’t forget to eat…mustard…time to walk. Cramp. My knee! There it is; of course she had to come out to play. Last time this happened, I rested for a while and did some knee stretches. No time for that. It feels better to pedal, back on the bike. That guy is walking faster than I’m riding. Ok, I passed him; I don’t feel so silly anymore. The lady behind me is walking. Up floats a note of approval from another lady about how efficient that is. I’m not listening to that. I’m here to ride. She’s back on. She passes me. She’s on a single speed. Of course.

Wow, now that’s hard.

-Or stupid!

I think it's pretty badass. Off she goes.

Goat trail. Let the hiking begin. My knee refuses to play along. I can’t even walk. Yikes! Cramp! Mustard. What would Ed say? Two ibuprofen, one Tylenol (ish). Down that hatch. Wait, which pill was which? Too late now. This is desperation. Need to protect the kidneys, but obviously they are working just fine today. 

Keep pushing. I’m not giving up yet. Never give up. Fast descent into the mine!

1:01 pm Columbine Mine Turn-Arund Point Mile 48.6

Where did all my time go? I was 13 minutes ahead of my 11-hour goal. That’s a 28-minute buckle buffer. Now I’m turning around a few minutes behind where I should be. I can’t waste any time. I’m cutting into my buffer big time. Why am I doing math at 12,500 feet? Turn around, bright eyes… What a sweet man-child, singing that song to lift our spirits. Turn around…Why am I singing? Oh, that’s right, that monster climb is about to become a speedy descent where I feel like an actual mountain biker! Turn around, bright eyes…every now and then I fall apart! Kid seems to know the lyrics, and he’s belting it out. We still have to climb out of this godforsaken mine. I wasted over a minute getting my bottle filled. Now he’s wasting energy. Fine. I’ll take it. He’s lifting my spirits. We hoot and holler down the goat trail together, along with the Man in Black, calling out oversized babyheads and fresh potholes and wheel-sucking ruts. This is what I call fun.

Finally, the trees line the roadside without a cliff. This is where I pee; see you at the bottom. 45 seconds. That’s fine. My wrists and brake rotors needed a break anyway. Let’s get back to Twin Lakes and Cheryl’s cheery spirit.

1:32 pm Columbine Descent Mile 54.6

Wait…man down? Shit. It’s Bright Eyes. Now I’m skidding.

Are you ok?

-Yeah, but I’ve never done this before. 

Done what?

-Change a flat.

What, are you serious?  He’s desperate. What would love do? Ok, where are your tire levers?

-I was told I didn’t need them. 

Keep your comments to yourself. This is a pretty flimsy tire. Maybe I can do it without the levers. 

Look for your levers just in case. I’ll give you one minute. Just one minute!

Only seconds to finish getting the tire half off. Easy. Hilarious. 

-Now what? 

Do you have a pump?

-Yes, and two tubes. 

A man after my own heart. Ok. Can I give a tire-changing tutorial in less than a minute? Unscrew the stem, take out the tube, put a little air in the new one, pop it in, remount the other side of the tire, and pump it up. 

Ok…got it? I gotta go, honey. I’m sorry. You got this! I gotta get my buckle!

One minute and 27 seconds later...

That was more than a minute. Was that a mistake? What would love do? We’re all connected. That easily could’ve been me. I thought he was hurt. What’s that Beatles song…Love, love, love, love is all you need. Love is all you need, I hear myself singing. All that’s missing is Bright Eyes’ energy-wasting return. I have the descent to myself. This is a blast. I feel no pain.

Dear Reader,

The Victory Lap is a labor of love. Please subscribe for Part 2, which I promise won't take another three weeks. Then, after the story is told, I'll take a deep dive into the life lessons learned during this bike race! Also, I promise more photos to come. Enjoy, and if you have thoughts (either way) about me helping Bright Eyes, please comment below. If you are Bright Eyes, please subscribe, and we can talk tires.