Creede Mountain Run

There is a place in Colorado that is authentic west. This place is home to a rich mining culture, the "Immaculate Conception" mission, "Liquid Ambitions" liquor store and the CMR, a mountain run with 2, 12 and 22 mile options. This place is Creede, CO.

The CMR has been held every Labor Day weekend since 1987 and has been on my radar since I made the move to Colorado. I find myself in Creede this year, sitting in an upstairs bar with my fiancé Lyssa and Chris Westerman, the man that beat me in the 22 mile by a matter of seconds. Half way through the race, on top of the "ladders", a climb that ends at 12,500 feet, I looked back and saw him charging just a few minutes back. I held him off until four miles from the end, then after chatting with him until a mile from the end, we made an exciting race of it. Now we were drinking beers and taking turns weaving yarns.

"There is a mining competition here every Fourth of July." Chris continues, "A few years ago I see a fellow miner accidentally smash his partner's hands with a mallet. He didn't stop. Kept going and a few minutes later blood is pouring out of his gloves."

"Shit....That might be the most badass thing I've ever heard."

"That's Creede."

That's Creede. As Lyssa and head back to our campground, we chat about the impressions the town and it's folk have left on us. It's strong enough, perhaps we have the next several Labor Days booked.

Game faces for the CMR

Lyssa looking down on Creede the day after

Start of the climb up the pit

More early climbing on the course

Sharing the Mountains...Missouri, Oxford and Belford Loop Trip Report

The great Coloradan past time seems to be peak bagging. More specifically, peak bagging 14ers. Living in an area of CO plentiful with 14ers, I developed an early evasion to hiking/running 14ers. More interested in concocting routes through areas that were less traveled, it wasn't until 3 years ago that I finally gave in and ran my first 14er, Castle Peak, just down the road. As expected, there were armies of people from all walks of life and from all over the country out to 'bag the peak'. The 14er does not exist as the quiet place you go to get away from it all. It doesn't sit in secret. It can't because it's too tall. People are attracted to the idea of climbing the highest peak and so these mountains sit squarely in the radar of many. Taking this into consideration, I look at tackling 14ers as a way to share the mountain with others. Look at any 14er.com trip report and you will notice an account of both the route taken and the people encountered. And so here is my own trip report.

A few days ago, my buddy Casey Weaver and I decided to hit three 14ers in the Collegiate Peaks through a classic loop. The route would take us up Missouri Gulch to Missouri Mountain, and then back down and over to Elkshead Pass where we would then hit Mount Oxford and Belford. The route was steep from the beginning and made for some difficult running. The route had 8000'~ of climbing and took us around 4 hours and 20 minutes. All along the way people were awesome...until we began our descent down Missouri. As we neared the end of the descent, fully in the mellow only mountains can bring, we passed a guy who twisted his face into a grimace and shushed us. The grumpy pants mumbled to us to slow down and stop talking because he wanted peace and quiet. He had apparently been yelling at everyone on the trail as he went along. I understand his desire to escape to the solitude of nature, but he was so focused on the people he forgot that he was sitting in a rad place many will never see. Lesson: Stop, look around and appreciate what you got. And don't harsh other peoples' mellow.

Casey just above tree line

Casey heading toward Missouri

Rock field before steeper climbing up Missouri

On the ridge. Missouri just ahead

Going back down Missouri toward Belford and Oxford

Casey on top of Elkshead Pass

On top of Belford

View from the top of Belford, Oxford off to the left

Beer Cheerios

June 2012:
My buddy Morgan Williams and I were jonesing for a rad jaunt off the beaten path. It was still pretty early season but we wanted to get up high. Through the grapevine I got the scoop on a gnarly out-and-back route that climbed around 4,500 to 5,000 feet in 6 to 7 miles to the top of Elk Mountain outside of Redstone, CO. Only the first and last two-ish miles of the run are on actual established trail, making a good portion of the route a bit more primitive by traditional trail-running standards. Taking us nearly four hours, Morgan summed up the difficulty of the run by saying, "I'm ready for some Beer Cheerios..."


June 2013:
I was using my water bottle as an ice pick to climb the bullet proof wall of ice right below the summit of Elk Mountain as Morgan scaled a pine tree to get above the wall. Our friend Casey Weaver joined us this year when Morgan and I decided we wanted to make this run an annual outing. It was a bigger snow year and even though we were moving faster, the snow was frustrating and added a new level of difficulty as we continually punched through snow drifts. We came out of the woods in 3 hours and 34 minutes. I looked at Morgan and asked, "Ready for those Beer Cheerios?"


June 2014:
About two weeks ago Morgan, Casey and I decided it was time once again to tackle our annual Elk Mountain Run. In my mind this run sums up why I love mountain running in every way. In 3 hours and 28 minutes we were back at the car and ready for "Beer Cheerios". Enjoy pics from the day below.

Top of Placita Trail

Casey and Morgan getting some Gu

Morgan heading up

Morgan and Casey on the "trail"

Casey and I on the first ridge. Elk Mountain on the left

Preparing to summit Elk Mountain

The Ridgeline to Elk Mountain's Summit

Morgan and Casey chillin'

Be Cool

Be cool. Elmore Leonard's characters often tell each other this. In fact, it's the title of one of his books. As I head into the summer season of running I've already been in a few situations where I had to remind myself to be cool. As is typical, I can sometimes get a little too wrapped up in competition and races but at its core running's importance to me isn't very complex. I think it's fun. There isn't a complicated explanation or deeper reason other than I think it's a hoot and I like the way it makes me feel. I recently raced a pretty stacked field at the TIMP Trail Marathon and had to be reminded to 'be cool'. Despite running fairly hard early on, there was a group of 5 guys just ahead that I couldn't catch. I crossed the line with some frustration. A week later, still in recovery mode, I had a disheartening training run that left me slightly more frustrated.

Enter my girlfriend Lyssa. There is a story she sometimes references that often reminds me not to take things so seriously. Where she grew up, folks didn't necessarily have access to the latest and greatest for skiing, but they had the love and passion. On any given weekend she would be surrounded by incredible skiers "shredding the pow" in their jeans and in old gear. It was about the enjoyment and simple act of moving down the hill.

Following Lyssa's advice that reminded me to "be cool", I have been filling my days with rad runs with good friends. This weekend became a celebration of that at a Ragnar Relay trail event just up the road at Snowmass, CO. Surrounded by good friends for 24 hours of relay running, I couldn't have been happier than to share in the simple act of running with good company. As we celebrated early in the morning after finishing, a guy in a pink dress from a team that hadn't yet finished yelled at us, "Think you guys are cool! Why don't you sissies try an ultra!" 

"Did a guy in a dress just call us sissies?" I looked at my teammates. "That guy needs to 'be cool.'"

 

Alex T and the Lion

 

Carrie in front of the Elk Mountain Goat Tent

 

Vickers with the horns out

 

The Goat

 

Zeker with the...Goat Head

 

3 in the morning

 

...4 in the morning

 

the goat at sunrise.

 

Storm King Mountain

In west Glenwood Spring, CO there is a particular mountain that rises high above it's surroundin landscape. This mountain is called Storm King, and it stands as a reminder of a tragic event that took place in the summer of 1994. The South Canyon Fire, often referred to as the "Storm King" fire, took the lives of 14 wildland firefighters that summer. A trail now exists that takes a very similar route taken by those 14 souls when they embarked on their fatal mission. Along the 4 mile route there are memorials and plaques that honor the lives of those brave folks. The first mile of this trail is extremely steep and switchbacks back away from the highway into the interior drainage where the heart of the inferno took place.

Last year, my girlfriend Lyssa and I decided we should summit Storm King as a winter hike. According to the map, there wasn't an actual trail to the summit, but the distance on the map made it seem like it would be "no thang". After hours of schlepping through thigh deep snow, we finally ascended...the wrong mountain. I looked a few thousand feet above and saw a long ridgeline leading up to a monolith towering above us.

"Dammit! We summited the wrong peak! That thing is huge! I'm going to have to come back and try it again now." I looked at Lyssa. "Maybe Casey and I should try running it."

My friend Casey Weaver is up for anything and everything at all times, and so a few months later, we drove down to Glenwood and "ran" the 4.5-ish miles and 3,000~ feet of gain to the summit. We punched through crusty snow and hiked through brambles that ripped up our legs. At one point I remember seeing blood-soaked snow around us as we scrambled up a snow-covered 50 degree grade. The total 9 to 12-ish miles of running took us almost 3 hours.

About a week ago Casey asked, "So, when are we doing Storm King again?" It had been exactly a year since our epic undertaking.

"How about Friday?"

After a mile of running on the designated memorial trail, we head off trail and continue up a very steep pitch into loose, rock and bramble-covered terrain. There isn't a trail to the top, just an obvious ridge that is waiting to deliver large amounts of pain. Casey and I were reminded with each step of how uncomfortable it had been the year before. As we passed burned remains I couldn't help thinking of the fire that raged here and what it had taken. We covered the entire distance this year in just over 2 hours, taking almost 30 minutes off our previous time.  Next year I'm sure we'll do it again. It's become an annual early year mountain run for us. Perhaps it's also a way to honor the 14 that fought Storm King's fires those years ago.

Beginning of the off-trail ridge

scrambling with Casey early on

Storm King in the background. H-1 burn site down on the right

Summit of Storm King

Ridgeline to the summit from the highpoint

Casey heading back down the ridge

How to Train for Cedro Peak (in Retrospect)

A few days ago Zeke Tiernan and I managed to duck out for a quick 17 mile outing up the Porcupine Rim Trail in Moab, UT. It had been one week since I ran the Cedro Peak 45 miler in Albuquerque, NM. As we climbed up the rocky terrain of the trail, I couldn't help but think doing more of these runs would have prepared me more adequately for Cedro.

The race had started off fine as I ran along with my good friend Brendan Trimboli for the first few miles before having to duck into the woods for a pit stop. I would spend the rest of the race chasing after Brendan. After a bout of projectile vomiting and nearly bonking on some gnarly climbs, I realized I hadn't done the proper homework for this particular race. So I'm here to give you the do's and don'ts on how to train/run Cedro Peak.

1. Do - As many trail runs as you can that offer some rocky/technical sections. Cedro runs through the Cibola National Forest, an area that has plenty of rocky sections you are going to want to be prepared for.

2. Don't - Run on the road and avoid trails like the plague. Finding as flat a road as possible to work on pure speed probably isn't going to help you much.

3. Do - As many desert runs as possible. It's an early season race, and as comfortable as you can get in slightly warmer conditions the better off you are going to be.

4. Don't - Eat the spiciest burger you can find the night before at Nob Hill. Eat there the night AFTER you've raced.

5. Do - Practice as much harder down hill running as possible to prepare your quads for the NET downhill the first 27 miles of Cedro. Be sure to also practice going up steeper climbs later in your long runs as the second half of the race has all of the climbing.

Cedro was an amazing time. On paper the course looks much easier than it actually is. The second half offers a very technical and gnarly climb up a power line section and a second ascent of Cedro Peak. Be prepared for this after 27 miles of some hard downhill and you'll be much happier.

One of the hard climbs later in the race 

Going downhill at Cedro

 Zeke climbing at Porcupine Rim Trail in Moab

More climbing at Porcupine 

 Me realizing my legs are still tired a week later

 

 

Stepping Back in Time

 

I was sitting in front of a cast-iron furnace pulling glacial mounds of ice out of my beard. It was -7 outside, but I was managing to stay somewhat warm in the concrete structure on Mary Ann Miller's farm property just outside of Atoka, OK.

 

I thought back to 30 minutes prior, when I was running through the woods of Mary Ann's property headed back to the finish . I had just signed the sheet at the last check-in table, which was also one of the self-help aid stations out on the course. On the dirt road headed back I saw Ruben Aguilar coming up on his way to the last check-in. He was about 4 minutes behind. I had the privilege to run much of the first 17 miles with him. We yelled encouragement to each other as we passed.

 

Two hours ago we went through the start/finish area to complete our first of two laps. The temperature was dropping rapidly and it was becoming harder to get water out of our freezing bottles. I smashed my bottle against a tree to break off the ice so I could top it off. I asked if there were any extra GU's around. Mary Ann thought I said juice, and asked if I liked Apple.

 

A little over 4 hours ago Matt and I arrived at the property where I would run my first race of the season, a low-key 50K directed by Mary Ann. Run almost entirely on her property, the course is a mix of rocky and technical single-track, fast two-track and some dirt road. Everything about the event was Old School. A throw-back to the way ultra running was in its pioneering days. I'd heard from folks about how ultra races used to organized group runs with a clipboard at the beginning and end. You write your own time down and that was it. I would find out later from my brother that while I was out on the course, Mary Ann told tale of how ultra running used to be. While she was telling my brother this, she was showing me.

 

Snapping back to the present, I realized we needed to head out to get a jump on the ensuing ice storm. I grabbed my bottle of red wine, the spoils of the day (I would later have to use a screw driver, a screw and a vice-grip to pry the cork off), and thanked Mary Ann as we headed out. I told my brother as we walked back to the car that we had just spent the morning back in time, and it was a real pleasure.

 

                      (Enjoy some pics from the day. All photos courtesy of Mike Langille)



 

beginning of the race around the lake

finishing up the run