Mountain Madness: Running Above the World

When I heard about the Creede Mountain Runs held annually for the last twenty years on Labor Day weekend, I grabbed my running shoes, my BodyGlide, and my windbreaker and headed out the door. A hotshot runner from Texas, I imagined myself gliding past all those inexperienced mountainfolk without breaking a sweat and wowing all the spectators with my fast finish. I debated whether to run the 22-mile course or the 12-mile run, even though I had not done a run longer than eight or ten miles in months. Fortunately, I was smart enough to choose the 12-mile course, which follows the Bachelor Loop mine tour through the mountains above the town of Creede. The 22-mile course extended out to Rat Creek Trail before descending into Creede. When my boyfriend asked how long I expected the run to take me, I replied that, considering a 1:42 split in my last marathon (a completely flat course at approximately sea level), and taking into account the altitude and probability of a few hills, I hoped to finish under two hours. How funny. My first clue otherwise should have been when I overheard two studly runners' conversation.

"What's your strategy?" one runner asked the other.

"Start slow and go slower," the other one replied.

What the event coordinators failed to tell me was that they have secretly hidden 20,000-foot-tall mountains in the canyon above Creede and that we would be ascending these monstrous mountains for 11.8 miles of the total 12. Whoever says that the tallest mountain in Colorado is under 15,000 feet is either lying or else they have never run the Creede Mountain Runs. I started off strong, holding onto a position in the top ten of the 164 runners, and stayed that way for about one mile before I seriously considered joining those who turned back for the two-mile run. We hit the first steep hill just as we reached the corridor of the canyon, at just under 9,000 feet elevation. I tried running up this hill but soon slowed to a walk. When I got to what I believed was the top of the hill, I realized that the hill did not end but merely turned a corner. Not only that, but the grade became even steeper. Just then, tragedy struck: the batteries in my MP3 player died. Forced to listen to the sound of my own labored breathing, I struggled to put one foot in front of the other for the next three miles. My legs burned. I have never experienced such burning leg muscles simply from walking. Trying to run up the mountain roads, which require four-wheel-drive for all sane people who opt to drive the path instead of foot it, was actually detrimental; in fact, walkers actually moved faster up the hills than the runners.

When we finally reached the ultimate elevation of approximately 11,000 feet of thin air above sea level, I caught a second wind and started feeling pretty good. I devised the ingenious plan of picking up the pace and passing everyone during the second half of the race. However, when I hit the seventh mile, I acquired an unpleasant stabbing pain in my side that refused to dissipate. As I succumbed to walking and being passed by the speedier runners, my pride wounded, I saw standing on the trail my boyfriend and infant son, waving at me and cheering me on. The three of us walked together, laughing and talking. I realized then that there are more things important than killing myself on the mountain trails, pushing so hard that I miss the scenery and the fun involved. My boyfriend became my pace car, my encourager, my massage therapist, and my photographer. I found that by relaxing and enjoying the run, I was more able to take in the beauty of the area - the valleys, the mountains, the aspen leaves as they begin their change to fall colors. My little family played my favorite music for me to take my mind off the pesky muscle cramps, and I had time to pray, to laugh, and to smile for the camera.

I finished in 2:30, half and hour off my goal time, but this run was still my favorite. Perhaps the Creede Mountain Runs were not my best performance as a competitive runner, but I am proud of the lessons I learned. I am proud of my family and treasure the experience of sharing the run with them. I am proud that I ran the final two miles without stopping in spite of some pretty debilitating pain. Time holds far less importance in the mountains, surrounded by nothing but creation, than it does in the midst of the rat race. In keeping with this truth, my time at the Creede Mountain Run does not matter. In fact, most runners did not even wear a watch, and when I asked them what their time was, they shrugged and gave me a look like I was out of my mind for asking. For the first time in my life, I am simply content to judge my enjoyment of a run not on my watch but on how much fun I had and what I learned. I walked stiffly away from this race with a newfound appreciation for Creede's beauty, for the people of the mountains, for the ability to run, and for the smile of a friendly face when I need it the most. But maybe next year I will charge my MP3 player before I run!