Ouray 100 - A True Mountain Ultra Experience

View from the Chicago Tunnel - an old mining tunnel @ 12k ft

Looking up from the red rock rain soaked trail on Corkscrew Gulch I heard people shouting "Where is the trail?" A still-shifting mudslide about the width of a tennis court has eaten up a big section of the trail and was tall and wide enough that a group of about 10 runners didn't know the trail picked up on the other side. Luckily, I had been on this section the week prior and I led them over the slide to the other side. Every step sunk up to my upper calves with thick iron-rich red mud and rocks. To our right, the normally quaint little creek coming down from the Red Mountains had turned into the river from hell. The stream swelled to 12 feet wide, filled muddy water that raged down the mountain with amazing power. Full grown trees and boulders were rampaging down the mountain stream like they were weightless. Overhead things were looking equally sinister. We were in the middle of a series of storms that would last through the afternoon and into the evening hours. We'd already been hailed on twice, and it was clear this weather system meant business. As my group of about 10 climbed the pass over Red Mountain #1 a lighting bolt hit the top of neighboring Red Mountain #2 about a 1/4 mile away as the crow flies. I debated for about 10 minutes as I continued to climb the pass, but ultimately decided the exposure to lighting was too great to go over the pass. I hunkered down, taking a seat on the side of the trail, zipping up my rain coat, putting down some fuel and hydration, and waiting until the storm passed us over. As I sat there admiring the power of a mountain storm, I thought to myself "This is exactly what I signed up for. This is spectacular." 

The Ouray 100 is a 102 mile footrace is the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. It has become well known in recent years as possibly the hardest 100 mile race in North America. It features 43,000 ft of elevation gain and loss, an average altitude of 10,200 ft, and some of the most rugged mountain terrain you can find in the Rockies. My introduction to Ouray started in late 2018. My coaching client, Ben Foreman, was looking to tackle his first 100 mile race. He fell in love with Ouray after spending some time out there, and when he learned there was a race based out of the town, he signed up. What he didn't know was the magnitude of the challenge he had signed up for.....not an ideal pick for a 1st 100 miler. Nevertheless, after months of hard training both in the gym at Performance Running and on the trails, Ben would go on to crush the event, one of the only 32 who finished out of 82 starters. He described it as one of the most fulfilling experiences of his life. 

Early this year I was looking for an inspiring and challenging event that would help pull me out of my running rut. My wife, Isabel, and I had two babies in two years in 2018 and 2019. The sleep deprivation and stress of two young children, running a business, and covid-19 had taken their toll. Although I never stopped running, I struggled to make the progress I had seen in years prior. 2021 was looking to be different. The pandemic looked to be coming to a close, my kids were getting old enough to sleep full nights most of the time, the business was on a successful trajectory, and I was starting to see an opportunity to focus on a big goal for myself once again. Naturally, I signed up for Ouray. After officially qualifying for the event with a 2nd place finish at the Free State 100k in Kansas in early June, I had punched my ticket and was ready for the big dance. 

Fast forward a month and we we're living and working out of Montrose, CO. A silver lining of the pandemic was that we had learned to work virtually, making the idea of living outside of MN more realistic than ever. The idea was to spend three weeks near Ouray prior to the race. I would live, train, and acclimate at altitude; all while getting a chance to familiarize myself with sections of the course. It was a dream come true to be able to do this. 

Fast Forward to the Race....

Race morning started at our hotel in Ouray. My coach, Jeff Miller, and I woke up on race morning at about 6:30am for the 8am race start. I woke up with a big smile on my face...despite having had a ton of trouble sleeping the week prior and going to bed with a ton of anxiety, I had managed to get about six broken hours of sleep. This might not sound like much, but that is great night of sleep prior to a big race. 

Mentally I divided my race into 14 mini sections (one for each major climb in the race) and three main sections:

1. The Solo Race (miles 1-53.7)
2. The Matt Race (My first pacer - miles 53.7-74.5)
3. The Jeff Race (My second pacer - miles 74.5-102)

View from Silver Basin

We kicked off shortly after I checked in at Fellin Park in Downtown Ouray. Heading up the first climb on Camp Bird Road, I found myself quickly able to settle into my all day adventure pace. I didn't have any strict heart rate goals or pace goals, just to try to stay at or below at 5/10 RPE (rating of perceived exertion) for as much of the race as possible. Hitting the first aid station at the abandoned Camp Bird Mine, we headed further up the canyon towards Imogene Pass and Silver Basin. Silver Basin features a beautiful alpine lake with cliffs towering overhead. This was the site of the first of many hole punches - which were used on out and back sections to prove you went all the way to the top of the climb. 

After Silver Basin we descended back down to the Camp Bird Aid Station before heading back towards Imogene pass from the other direction towards Richmond Aid Station and our next two climbs. The first climb up from Richmond is when things started to get challenging from a terrain standpoint. This section features the first long sustained climb with truly steep grades up towards the Chicago Tunnel, the sight of our second hole punch. Along this section we passed the remains of old mining buildings, that are now inhabited by fat and happy marmots. The Chicago Tunnel is an abandoned mining tunnel that is only tall and wide enough for a small rail car to travel through. The views from this spot were incredible, among the best of the day (see photo at the top of the blog). 

After the Chicago Tunnel we descended back down to a junction with a rocky and steep jeep road that brought us up towards Fort Peabody, the high point on the course at over 13,000'. This climb is when the race started to feel real. It was long, it was steep, and I ran out water before even reaching the top. You could tell by looking around that this climb was a pivotal fitness reality check for the competitors in the race. Not only were we dealing with real high altitude, but an unrelenting lung burning climb. On the way back down we got our first rain of the day (which felt nice at this point..). This hard earned summit was maybe my favorite of day one, the view from Fort Peabody is incredible, as you can see for miles in every direction towards Ouray, Silverton, The Red Mountains and more. After Fort Peabody we descended back down to the Richmond Aid Station and towards Richmond Pass. 

The climb to Richmond Pass gave us our first taste of what was to come weather wise, with rumbling thunder and a couple bouts of hail. This climb is challenging because of the technical nature of the trail. The trail is made up almost completely of shale rock that moves underfoot. This made the climb slow, but the views as we got higher were spectacular. After climbing the shale rock trail, the trail jumps onto a section that is off-trail towards the pass itself. Once you hit the pass you're rewarded with what starts out as a nice gentle decent on an alpine meadow overlooking the red mountains and everything west of Hwy 550 ("The Million Dollar Hwy"). This was one of the most beautiful sections of trail on the first day. The descent down Richmond Mountain gets progressively steeper as it descends down towards tree line, and then loses about 1000'/mile in the final two miles or so. It became apparent why this spot has become infamous for causing DNF's on the way back up the pass after Ironton (you go down Richmond towards Ironton, and after Ironton head back up and over Richmond). It is steep, it is relentless, and in the dark and cold of the night it would going to be damn near impossible to climb for anyone who has blown their legs up too early in the race. 

Heading over Richmond Pass

At the bottom of Richmond we hit the road on 550 for a short stretch heading into Ironton. Ironton is an old mining ghost town that used to be a hub that connected mining industry traffic between Silverton and Ouray. It is nestled at the base of the Red Mountains, a stunning set of peaks that is painted red due to the iron ore found in the rock. The thunder was still rumbling and the rain was intermittent as I hit Ironton, making me think I was likely to get some weather up on the Red Mountain section of the course. I hit the aid station at Ironton to find my crew (this is the first time in the race that crew could be at an aid station, around mile 27.5). I got my first preview of how great my crew was going to be for this race. They made quick work of tending to my feet (Thanks, Matt...), getting pack restocked with fuel, and sending me on my way. This was my first chance to act out what I had planned with my demeanor going into aid stations. This plan was centered around running strong and smiling like an idiot going into each aid station, and trying to never let on if I was feeling down. Luckily this wasn't hard, as I was almost never feeling down going into an aid station, and it was always great to see the familiar faces of my crew. 

In the Ironton/Red Mountain section you hit a ~8.5 mile loop counterclockwise, then clockwise with a stop at the Ironton aid station in the middle. After leaving the aid station, I headed up corkscrew gulch and was greeted almost immediately by hail and a worsening lightning storm. I continued climbing up toward Red Mountain Pass, hoping that things would calm down before I left tree line. They didn't. 

About halfway up Corkscrew Gulch we were looking at a full on mountain rain/hail/lighting storm. The quaint stream that runs along the side of the trail had swelled to a 12 foot wide behemoth traveling at a staggering pace down the mountain. The power of the water was so great that it carried downed trees, massive rocks, and whatever else got in it's way. It was amazing to see the power that water has on the mountain, it was literally reshaping the landscape in front of us, and our trail was becoming more of a river itself. As we hit a bend that heads back in toward the trees a huge mudslide happened right in front of us, first rapidly moving, then settling to a more "quaking" slow movement down the mountain. It was a good 20"wide and the small group I was with was dumbfounded as to where the trail had gone. As I caught up with the group, they asked "Where is the trail...any idea which way to go?" The trail was on the other side of the slide, and the only thing to do was to go over it. We proceeded to wade into knee deep slide of mud and rocks as quickly as we could to the other side....where we were greeted by another slide that was ever deeper. After traversing the fresh mudslides, we continued the climb up towards the tree line with our fingers crossed that the storm would blow over quickly. It did, but just as fast as it left, we were greeted by another storm that had even more dangerous cloud to ground lightning. The heavy rain picked up again, the thunder cracked, and lighting struck the peaks and ridges surrounding us. At this point I had already traveled a good mile or above treeline, but the pass was far too exposed feel safe going over the top in a lightning storm. I zipped up my coat, put on some waterproof gloves, took some food from my pack, and hunkered down for what ended up being about 20 minutes before the storm had moved far enough to the west to feel more safe going over the pass. As I finished the climb over Red Mountain Pass, there was still lighting that was far too close for comfort. I picked up my pace and nearly sprinted over the pass and down the other side. 

As I descended the other side of the Red Mountain loop the storm settled considerably to a light rain and we began our descent towards the abandoned Cutler Mine. After the mine, we traveled over a section of single track that was one of my favorite parts of the course. I found myself passing almost everyone who had passed me when I was hunkered down waiting out the lighting. At the bottom of this long descending single track we hit the jeep road that led back to the aid station. After a water crossing near the base of the loop, I headed back into the aid station, throwing my big smile back on and running strong. As I came in, I told my crew "This is exactly what I signed up for, this is amazing." Apparently my sentiment was not shared by all, as those around me in the aid station were not looking as happy or spry, and many seemed to be dealing with cold related issues from the icy rain. Again my crew stepped in and helped me get a fresh pair of socks, fuel up with some soup, and restock my pack. I threw a headlamp on my head and went back out to do the clockwise loop on Red Mountain. As I left the aid station, I met Jim Walmsley for the first time, he was there to pace a friend, who ended up dropping at Ironton (Jim Walmsley is who most would consider the greatest American ultrarunner of our generation, if not of all time). He noticed me first, probably because I looked like a fresh daisy in a pile of mud (me with my big idiot smile, while everyone at the aid station looked miserable). We exchanged a handshake and he wished me luck on my next loop. At that point I had no idea that he would play a pretty big role in lifting me up throughout my entire race. 

Getting ready to head up Richmond

The second Ironton loop was much less eventful. The climb back up the single track towards the pass was beautiful. The streams still ran strong, but there was a calm in the air that made this section feel peaceful. It began to get dark and I switched on my headlamp...which proceeded to shut itself off immediately. After struggling with the lamp about 10 times, I gave up and switched to my backup lamp, which is very reliable but far less bright. I proceeded to go over the pass and back down Corkscrew Gulch, seeing the aftermath of the storm that hit this side of the mountain especially hard. There were a total of six mud and rock slides that had occurred during the storm, which made for some very muddy and sediment filled socks. After hitting the Ironton aid station for the third and final time and getting in as many calories as I could stomach, I decided to try to take a 30-minute rest in the car. I was hoping to nap, but I was far too wired to actually fall asleep. 

Upon waking Jeff handed me a Monster Energy Drink, and I downed a last few calories before heading back up and over Richmond Pass. This spot is notorious for drops during the Ouray 100, and for good reason. It is a sizable and steep climb (although eclipsed by several climbs later in the race), with three straight miles at over 1000' ft per mile (25% grade avg, certain sections are much steeper), followed by a three mile rocky descent on shale rock back down to the Richmond Aid Station. On top of that it's dark and the field of runners is spread out. Although this climb was very challenging and seemed to go on forever, I felt very dialed in to my mission - "Get to the Matt race" I kept telling myself. 

Heading over Richmond and down the rocky descent was beautiful in the dark, with stars gleaming overhead. I managed to choke on a bit of bar and catch the hiccups for nearly an hour on this descent, which was pretty miserable. After tagging the Richmond Aid Station we crossed a creek that had swelled with fresh rain water following the storm. In retrospect, this was one of the more dangerous points on the course. The creek was flowing extremely fast, and had swelled to about 12 feet across with water up to about my hip height. I crossed carefully, keeping my poles grounded and three points of contact the whole time. Even with this cautious approach, I could feel my feet slipping on the smooth rocks at the base of the creek. I was concerned that shorter runners may not be able to traverse this as easily. After the crossing we headed back past the abandoned Camp Bird Mine (in the dark...I was assuming this would be a great place for hallucinations..but no dice), and towards the Weehauken Aid Station - the beginning of The Matt Race! 

I was still in a very positive headspace coming into Weehauken. Seeing Matt there and ready to run lifted my mood, and I was elated to know I wouldn't be running alone for the remainder of the race. My only issue was that no food tasted palatable anymore, and I was struggling to force calories in. I had fought off a bit of nausea going over Richmond Pass, but it had subsided, and now I was just left without an appetite. Matt and I headed up Weehauken to the Alpine Mine Overlook, admiring a few remnants of the mine along the way. The overlook was underwhelming in the dark, but we did get a good view of the city below and the stars above. We headed back down to tap the Weehauken aid station again, where I changed socks and got in some more calories prepping for the long climb up and over Hayden Pass. This one of the closest spots I had to a true a low point in the race, as I took far too long at this aid station just getting everything I needed. As we left Weehauken, I did a little rough math with Matt, and realized that I wouldn't make my goal of finishing in less than 48 hours if I continued to handle aid stations like I did at Weehauken. At that point I committed to minimize the stops on the trail (I actually never stopped to take another picture the whole day...many of the photos in this blog are from Jeff's camera) and make quick work of aid stations. The last thing I wanted was to be up against the cutoffs later in the race. 

At Crystal Lake AS (Photo: Jeff Miller)

The climb up Hayden was ridiculous...in a very awesome way. The climb is about three miles up, gaining 3600'.... a very steep climb indeed! The trail is narrow and relentless, and seemed to climb forever. After finally reaching the pass, we gave a sign of relief. Then we realized the trail continued up Hayden Mountain for a bit longer. Hayden Mountain was beautiful section that ran through a high alpine meadow, with great views of the mountains to the east, including the Red Mountains we had traversed earlier in the race. After reaching the top of the climb, a steep descent brought us down to Crystal Lake aid station, where my crew was surprised to see us so early. Matt and I had apparently made quick work of the Hayden Pass climb and descent (sure didn't feel like it...), and Jeff and Isa commented that they weren't prepared for us to arrive so early. Nevertheless, they scrambled to get my gear tub and we did a quick sock/shoe change before Matt and I headed back up and over Hayden Pass again towards Fellin Park. On our way down we ran into Jim Walmsley again as he was out on a training run, he noticed us immediately and said "You still going strong?!" I assured him that I was having a blast and we exchanged another fist bump before Matt and I headed back down into Fellin Park. 

Punching my bib at the summit (Photo: Jeff Miller)

Fellin Park represented the beginning of The Jeff Race for me! My Coach, Jeff Miller, would be joining me for the remainder of the race from mile 74.5 to the finish at 102 miles. The inevitable afternoon storm clouds had rolled in and were beginning to rumble as we gazed up towards the Twin Peaks climb. Twin Peaks is one of the more dangerous sections of the course as far as exposure, and hitting this in the rain meant a lot of slippery mud in places you definitely did not want to slip. As Jeff and I traversed the 3 mile, 3450' climb, we were warned by two runners that were ahead of us that the top was extremely sketchy due to the wet conditions. Sure enough, we got within a 1/4 mile of the top and the mud made moving with our feet impossible. We ditched our poles and began using our arms to pull ourselves up by trees and roots to get to the rocks at the summit. Luckily I've managed to get myself in some hairy situations in climbing out of the Mississippi River Gorge in MN that readied me for this situation.We arrived at the rocky summit scramble and made our way to the top. This summit was one of the best views of the day. 

After tagging the peak on Twin Peaks, we carefully scooted back down the muddy slope and made our way towards the Silversheild Aid Station. Silversheild is one of the more gentle sections of the course, and

The Bunkhouse @ Chief Ouray Mine (Photo: Jeff Miller)

we enjoyed the views on our way down. At Silversheild Aid Station we made a quick turnaround and headed back up and over the mountain to Fellin Park Aid Station to prepare for the final two sections of the race. The final two sections of the Ouray 100 are no joke. In the final 17 miles you have 16,500' of elevation change (8243' of climb). Both of these climbs feature long sections that gain over 1000' per mile, and feature some dangerous exposure. At the aid station I ran into Jim again, and we chatted for a bit and he told us he was going to be pacing a 50 mile runner, since his friend that he was set to pace had dropped out of the 100 mile race at Ironton. I decided to try again to take a quick 30-minute nap (which failed), before downing some more caffeine. Jeff and I headed up the Ouray Perimeter Trail before cutting uphill towards the Chief Ouray Mine. At this point the sun was down and it was completely dark again. This climb was maybe the low point of the race, there were spry 50-mile runners everywhere on the course at this point, and I felt like a bit of a turtle. Near the top of the climb you cross Cascade Creek right above a drop off and a waterfall, which is quite beautiful. We finished the route along steep cliffsides to get to the abandoned mine's bunkhouse, where I punched my bib and headed back down into Fellin Park again for the final aid station stop of the race. If there was a "low" in my race, it was descending Chief Ouray. My quads were starting to become very weak, and steep drops and stairs were incredibly difficult and slow. Nevertheless, we powered ahead. Knowing we had a big buffer in front of the cutoff time built up over the last few sections, I was mentally prepared to suffer up the next section and remain patient with my dead legs. 

Top of Bridge of Heaven (Photo: Jeff Miller)

We headed into Fellin Park poised for a quick turnaround up to the Bridge of Heaven section. Once again...there was Jim, there to give me some words of encouragement and to wish me luck on the final big climb and descent of the day. This Bridge of Heaven section is done in an out and back format, similar to many of the peaks in the race. It is a 10.6 mile section with 4,844' of ascent, most of which you get within the first three miles on the ascent up Old Horsethief Trail. This section is a big sketchy when you're feeling fresh and stable, but it is a whole new challenge when you're unsteady after 90 miles and 38k ft of climbing and descending. We kept a solid pace up the scree and rock that makeup this trail, using extra caution on a few points where the trail is very narrow (not to mention completely made of loose rock) with steep drops. After finishing the Old Horsethief Section we climbed a ridge up toward Bridge of Heaven. Although it was dark, the moonlight was enough for us to see our ultimate destination at this point. It seemed almost impossibly high, and we continued climbing for another 1800' before finally reaching the summit and the hole punch. At the top of the climb it was actually cold (most of the race It had been quite warm, with the exception of when it was storming). I put on my jacket and we sat down to get some calories in and admire the views of the lights coming from Montrose and Ridgeway that we could see thousands of feet below. We had another 100 miler runner and his pacer join us along with a 50-mile runner. We had a little summit party, just chatting about how crazy that climb had been, and how happy we were to just have one final descent to the finish. 

Falling asleep at the finish line

I found new legs on the descent back down Bridge of Heaven, and we kept a strong pace. I was very happy my legs came around, because this would have been an incredibly long descent if they hadn't. We ran into my friend Ben Foreman on the way down as he was pacing a friend, Tracy, which gave me a nice boost. Then less than a mile later we ran into Jim Walmsley one last time, he was pacing a 50-miler who was just beginning this section. He gave me congrats on finishing the race (we did still have a mile to go, but...barring me falling off the side of the mountain, the race was in the bag) and we exchanged one last fist bump. We finished the descent and hit the street for the .25 mile run into town...that .25 mile was likely the fastest I ran the entire race. The sunlight was just beginning to shine through the peaks as I crossed the finish line, which is just two traffic cones, a tradition at Ouray. 

This race was a huge bucket list item for me, and it was amazing to be able to finish a course that is notorious for such a low finish rate (around 33%) on my first attempt. I think the biggest key was facing adversity with a gentle reminder to myself that it was all part of the experience I signed up for. I signed up for a true mountain ultra, and that's what I got. From start to finish it was just the runners and what the mountains threw at them. It was real, it was authentic, it was challenging, and it was exactly what I signed up for. 

I finished in 15th place with a time of 46:04, there was just a 36% finish rate. 

I have to give a HUGE thanks to my crew. They made a massive difference in my race, and there is no doubt things wouldn't have gone as smoothly without them. My crew was Isabel Boike (Crew Member, My Wife), Matt Van Donsel (Crew/Pacer, Awesome Friend), Jeff Miller (Crew Chief, Pacer, Coach), and Ben Foreman (Crew, Awesome Friend and 2019 Ouray 100 Finisher). 

Big Takeaways: 

• Smiling often makes a difference - do it at aid stations, do it when passing people, do it when getting passed, smile at the trees, smile at the rocks, just smile. It helps. :-) 
• Being patient and just enjoying the mountains is key to a race of this duration. 
• I can handle sleep deprivation quite well after all! 
• Eating on a strict schedule to keep energy up is key in long ultras, I did a great job of keeping a steady flow of calories in (250-400/hour) and it paid off. 
• "Fake It Till You Make It" - I smiled like an idiot and ran strong into every aid station, even if I didn't feel great. This in turn led to the people around me commenting on how good I looked and how well I was moving...which led to be continuing to look great and move well. 
• Do events that inspire you - Likely the biggest reason this race went so well for me is that I wanted to finish it so badly. I was inspired by Ben Foreman's finish two years ago, and inspired by the idea of finishing what is regarded as the toughest 100 miler in the world, and I was inspired by the beautiful mountain landscape of the San Juan Mountains.