Leadville 100 MTB Race Report: Grit, Wind, and Gratitude
August 9, 2025
The day started in that perfect Colorado way: a crisp 40 degrees that had most of us bundled up in jackets we'd happily discard to the nearest tree as we shuffled toward the start. I was in the Orange corral, far from the front but with plenty of folks behind me in the White and three new Brown corrals. The energy was electric, a nervous buzz of anticipation.
My plan was simple, and maybe a little ambitious:
- Don't Blow Up: Start slow and steady.
- Stay Fueled: Keep the liquid calories flowing like a mountain stream.
- Draft Like a Pro: Find a group on the flats and cling to them like a barnacle. The afternoon wind was no joke.
The climb up Kevins was gave me the confidence I needed. I had been fighting a low level cold the previous few days and now I felt strong, pedaling past a lot of riders. I even managed a mid-climb pit stop, which I took as a sign of proper hydration. My nutrition was a mix of Infinit Go Far from my USWE pack and a few well-timed Lara bars/Gel Bloks. I was feeling great, withe the realization that I had less power from the 10-12,000-foot elevation, my heart rate was exactly where I wanted it to be: a steady, happy rhythm in the low 150s.
The ride outbound towards Twin Lakes was pretty uneventful. I got in with a pretty fast group until we hit the singletrack section where I was stuck behind a guy for several miles, me and about 10 other riders, anxious to pass and even asking to pass but he would not budge. The first pro came flying by me at mile 38, camera crew on his wheel- he was flying ! keep in mind, he had already covered 65+ miles at this point and ended up finishing in 5:45!
I rolled into Aid Station 1 at Lost Canyon on a pretty good timeline. I felt strong and pretty fresh. Ben was there just finishing up and he headed out as I was grabbing food and bottles. I was ready for what lay ahead. Columbine.
The haul up Columbine was a different beast. A 7-mile monster with a brutal 3,200-foot gain. I settled in and rode my own race, passing a lots of riders who were already hitting their limits. The last two miles were a walking party thanks to the crazy steep grades and rock gardens, and with the pros flying down in the other direction, it was a bit chaotic as people yelled “racer up” as the downhillers went flying by. I wisely joined the walking group because I didnt really have a choice. I reached the top in a respectable 4 hours and 57 minutes, a whisker past the sub-9 hour split.
The descent was enjoyable, made even better by my decision to swap my rear tire from a Thunder Burt to a Vittoria Peyote. More control meant more fun, and I ripped down the mountain, rolling back into the aid station easily under two hours. I grabbed a fresh U
SWE pack and more food, ready to tackle the second half.
Then came the wind. Oh, the wind. It was a relentless headwind from the west-northwest that turned every pedal stroke into a fight. I played the ultimate game of leapfrog, jumping from one group to another as they fell apart. I was in a strange purgatory of riders: some who had given up on the 9 hour cut-off and were just cruising, and others who, like me, still wanted to push. On one long section, we were in a "right echelon draft," desperately clinging to each other to block the crosswinds. My brain started doing the math, and the answer was always the same: a sub-9 hour finish was likely a pipe dream. Maybe I should’ve planned the splits better?
Powerline was the final obstacle of the day. A brutal, relentless, 3.5-mile climb at mile 80 that just hurt. I was low on energy a bit behind on my nutrition and decided early on that walking was a legitimate option. I hated it. It was a slow, painful grind that alternated between walking and riding with other equally tired riders. I was so grateful to hit the top and start descending, my mouth tasting of dust and my USWE pack bone dry. I dropped down the descent and made the cruse to Haggerman’s and Aid Station 3. Quick drop of the USWE pack, grabbed two bottles, a little food, and I was off. I settled in on the paved descent, sucking The road climb up to Carters was a nice, smooth change of pace. I went through Carters Aid Station at 8:24 and a solid 10 miles for the finish.
The final miles were a blur of more math and a new goal: sub-9:20. That gave me the kick I needed. I chased down two riders and we worked together on the bumpy pavement back to town. The crowds grew, the music got louder, and the announcer's voice carried on the wind. As we hit the final dirt road, I couldn't hold their wheel. The Boulevard as its called was a slow slog back into town and I felt like I was dragging a sled behind me. Head down, I pushed, wishing for a strong tailwind like the headwind at mile 70. How come the head/tail winds never seem to balance out?
I crossed the finish line at 9:17. My first thought: "Thank goodness, it's over." My second: "Where could I have found those 17 minutes?" The answer, as I now know, was probably in the wind and finding a faster group inbound. Looking back on my split times, I continued to move up in both the overall and age group throughout the race, gaining the most ground on the Columbine climb. Overall, I finished in the top 13% of my age group (52 of 402 starters) and the top 20% overall (317 of 1661 starters). Not bad for a first time at Leadville. Will I go back you say? Doubtful. But first, a nap. And maybe a quiet moment to figure out where those extra 17 minutes went.
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