It would be great to be able to say that the Boulder Badass (BBA) was a masterly demonstration of all that I’d learned about trail running since becoming a part of the Rocky Mountain Runners ten years ago. I’d like to be able to say that it was my best 100-mile event, one in which all the collective wisdom I’d absorbed over my years in RMR was executed and displayed to great glory for myself, and as a fitting appreciation for all my RMR trail-running mentors.
It was, instead, a deeply flawed performance that showcased my lack of talent more than anything else, but in so doing, also showcased my strengths, if only by comparison. One thing it did was demonstrate the amazing power of having RMR support along the way, coaxing and cajoling someone with my limitations all the way to the finish. Perhaps in that way it was a more appropriate way to tip my hat to the event and to the RMRs — without the collective support I would not have done it. My finish was a triumph of the community.
The 2024 Badass started for me a whole year ago only because the Committee for Bad Ideas decided in its obscure but infinite wisdom to ruin my year by giving me the Handshake of Destiny. Because of the obscurity of the committee and its deliberations, I can never say for sure what (if anything) I had done to deserve being singled out in this unfortunate way. I’ll share with you my guess, though.
Earlier in 2023 I’d tried to run the Cascade Crest 100 which, if I’d finished, would have been my third completed 100-miler against three DNFs. The race was going very well through almost the first half and I was starting to hope that I’d finally put together a 100-mile performance that I could genuinely be proud of. But then it quickly went pear-shaped after I accepted a cold beer from a pleasant guy at a road crossing running a bandit aid-station he called ‘the beer aid station.’ I should have known better. In retrospect it’s obvious from the entirety of Christian theology that Lucifer always appears like a pleasant guy offering you a cold beer at mile 40 of a long race. I’m not a Christian but I know enough to know that. Nevertheless, I drank the beer, and promptly went straight to Hell. Puking, not eating, not running. Had to sit immobile in the next real aid station for hours, then walk slowly along to the midway point of the course at the Hyak aid station. By that time I was so angry that I had fallen from somewhere in the middle of the pack to clearly at the back (again), that I called it quits. I was not in the mood for another 100 just chasing cutoffs. It was my fourth 100-mile DNF to two finishes. Infuriating. I was so angry!
On the long drive back home I made two decisions. One was to avoid indulging my self-pity and anger by helping other people at their 100s. Two was to indulge my self-pity and anger by running through the night by myself in Boulder to provoke a little suffering and to prove to myself that I was still capable of it.
This little indulgence ended up on Strava titled ‘My first Gold Hill’ because it was the first time I’d run to Gold Hill. I also included Anemone, Sanitas, the Hogback, and the Skyline minus Flagstaff. In 24 hours by myself I ran about 60 miles, which was enough to get some attention on Strava and make me somewhat less angry.
I also helped at other races. I paced Andy at Wasatch which was intrinsically fulfilling, especially because Andy had a bad knee and after 60 miles of running was content not to drop me on the course. And then I helped at the 2023 Badass, crewing the first overnight to Rattlesnake Gulch and then pacing the Skyline on the second night. These efforts to help other people did relieve my self-pity and rekindle my love for trail running, but they probably raised my profile too much with the Committee for Bad Ideas. The end result was the Handshake of Destiny and my year ruined by knowing I was running the BBA in 2024.
When the fartblaster (failed to) sound and we ran off into the night, I was feeling reasonably good. I was thankful for the dry weather which made everything about a million times easier, even if the night was cold. My companions Levi, LeRoy, Letrisha, Lestephen, and Lemack all seemed to be in good spirits. We made our way down to Marshall Mesa without being crushed by the two spirited horses we saw on the lower big bluestem trail, and then slowly around the Dirty Biz loop to the Greenbelt Plateau aid station.
RMR aid stations the first night be like...
By that time we were all starting to feel like we’d been running for a while. Stephen was getting a little cold, which is usually my role, but I was wearing an ungodly amount of clothing and, surprisingly, still felt ok. Trisha had been the pacesetter most often around the Mesa, but we were all pretty much together. This continued until the Fowler descent when I was slowed a bit by some GI difficulties and everyone except Stephen ran ahead a bit. We appreciated the gifts from the BBA elves just before turning left into Eldorado Canyon and the Rattlesnake aid.
At Rattlesnake, I immediately headed for the bathroom which was a good idea. When I came back I found out that Stephen was wrestling mightily with staying warm. He had gone inside the his van for a warm-up and then Stephanie gave us the bad news that he was dropping. Only later I found out that he’d passed out briefly in the warm van and although it was a benign thing in retrospect, at the time I think it was right to call it.
We were now a group of five and there were still a few hours left until the sun came up. Thanks to Middle Kyle, Mario, and Ryan all warning me at various times that the first night was nothing to mess around with, my mental state was still fabulous since I had never had any expectations that this first night would be easy. Trisha was maintaining most of the pacesetting up and then down the Eldorado trail into Walker. When we crossed the South Boulder Creek around mile 31 and started climbing up the infamous Walker staircase, Levi and Trisha moved ahead and me, LeRoy, and Mack stayed roughly together until the Gross Dam road where everyone in the group moved ahead and I was a bit slower up the final climb to the first ‘fun’ aid station at the Walker parking lot.
Here was where the major theme of the rest of my run was revealed — an inability/unwillingness to eat enough. All my apologies to everyone who had to deal with this, whether by futilely cajoling me to eat at aid stations, walking far too slowly with me on pacing duties, or hanging around the SoBo aid station for a heroically long time. I could drink Coke and ginger beer and sip broth, but solid food was absolutely not going down very well at all. I managed to eat a pierogi and some hash browns while saying good morning to Kai dog, but for the amount of exertion I was doing, this calorie intake was nowhere near enough.
When we left Walker everyone was generally pretty happy since a group of wonderful pacers had joined us for the jog along the Meyer’s Homestead trail, the bushwhack down to the aqueduct, and the life-preserving car avoidance down Magnolia Road. My lack of calories was slowing me down and I got into Mags a bit later than the leaders but not too far back. There I had some amazing foot work from Chantal and Eli fixed a blister (sorry Chantal!) while I got rid of my overnight clothing and into my daytime gear of shorts and t-shirt. I got to see Stephen again who was looking fully recovered from his overnight hypothermia experiences, and his dog Eva who was, of course, also looking fabulous. She’s a good-looking dog!
The next segment from Magnolia through Betasso and over to Lion’s Lair trailhead was mostly notable for Victor’s reading to me his write up of President Joe Biden, which concluded his amazing project of describing the highlights and significance of every US president on Strava. It’s a fascinating history education, and as a fellow political junkie I really loved it. That segment was also notable for being one of the few times I would actually be moving well until the finish. The thermodynamics of no fuel consumption just doesn’t allow a lot of energy output no matter how much you wish it were otherwise. This was obvious on the climb up Poorman where I lost a ton of time to the rest of the group and despite running in the mix with them most of the way from Magnolia, ended up arriving several minutes after everyone else at Lion’s Lair.
To be honest I don’t remember a whole lot about Lion’s Lair. I’m not beating myself up about this; I’m surprised with all the sleep deprivation that I remember anything about this event at all. I think Trisha let me use a little diclofenac cream for my knees/quads (thank you Trisha) and I had some orange slices. Mentally I was still in a good place. Just not eating enough.
Time for the climb up Sanitas and then over to the dreaded and hated hogback ridge trail. I say ‘hated’ not because everyone hates it, but because everyone who did the BBA in 2022 probably hates it because of the truly nasty wind that day. As someone who paced that section, I will cop to hating it. Leaving Lion’s Lair, I was alongside Matt Shaw who I hadn’t seen since very briefly at the 20-mile aid station earlier this season at the Bear 100. It was good to catch up with him up to the top of Sanitas. Trisha and Levi had already gone over the top, but me and Mack and LeRoy got our hero picture taken on the summit and then started the descent down the east face.
I'm calling this Sanitas Plus
This started my lowest emotional period of the Badass. About five seconds was all it took for everyone else to — Poof! — disappear ahead of me down the descent. I didn’t think I was moving that badly, but the difference in our descent pace was extraordinary. I did not catch a single glimpse of any other runner or pacer for the entirety of that segment, even though I looked for them often and had great sightlines far ahead on the trail. Matt became my first Angel Pacer of the event on this section, sticking with me all the way into Foothills despite my slow pace. I appreciated this immensely, as I started to have all kinds of horrible fears about how everyone would be at Coot Lake by the time I finally got to Foothills. I was pretty sure I would be solemnly informed at Foothills that I couldn’t continue, and that I would be the first Dodo to be officially cut off. Even just writing about this makes me depressed. It was definitely my low point.
Crossing under the road through the tunnel and seeing the cavorting dinosaurs was a relief, which was reinforced when I saw the other dodos still there at Foothills. Of course this was a fabulous aid station with everyone looking just as suave as usual, just wearing different kinds of clothes. It was my turn to get the scalp treatment from Silke and Flan give me a ginger beer and Chantal loosened my right hip, and these things made everything much better. I put on some nighttime (again?!) clothes and set out with the rest of the dodos for Coot Lake. My low period was over, and I wouldn’t have any more emotional problems for the rest of the event.
Foothills to Coot was highlighted by watching Andy hold various gates open for us, and then cavort back up to the front of the group. He did this several times and it was very entertaining. I managed to run most of this segment, with Maggie and Maddie closest to me doing pacing duties. Arrival at Coot was in the dark, which I was vaguely aware was slightly behind the schedule of some previous BBAs, but I did not care. Eli did hero work forcing me to eat several more bites of pizza than I would have otherwise, and I talked with Stephanie for a few minutes. Time to set out on the next segment, one of two that I did not know (the other one being Walker to Magnolia).
Fortunately I had Jefferson with me, and intermittently Yiran and Eric, who made sure I didn’t get lost in the goofy residential neighborhoods of Gunbarrel. I say goofy, because my strongest memory of that section was that although there were several beautiful homes in there, the neighborhood was too-frequently marred by the most architecturally amateurish home designs I’ve seen in years. Like knock-off Disneylands where you’d expect to find a Cybertruck in the garage because it was owned and occupied by someone in the ninth grade who wouldn’t outgrow their love of Green Day until they turned 62.
Let’s just say that I was happy to arrive at Cottonwood where I once again failed to eat enough but didn’t spend too much time. I got out of there paced by Genn (= walking) and we walked all the way to the Boulder Creek Path and then close enough to Eben G. that when I felt bad enough to get on my hands and knees alongside the trail to fight off the nausea I was suffering from, Genn had to worry briefly about a few downtown Boulder methamphetamine users nearby. This city is full of urban wonders. But they didn’t do anything, and the next lurking person we encountered along the trail was fortunately not a methamphetamine user but instead was our friend Jefferson. We had arrived at Eben G. Fine Park.
Here is where I saw the other dodos for the last time until the pub on Monday, since although we all had problems of some sort, my problem was that I couldn’t move very fast because of lack of calorie intake. Did this bother me? No it did not. Mentally I had recovered at Foothills and wasn’t having any emotional problems. Which was nice, because my one physical problem was plenty! It was starting to get cold AF again, so I put on excessive amounts of clothing and dropped two new chemical hand warmers into my mittens and set out with Raphael and Sam to do Flagstaff. Before we left I looked at Sam who’d said he’d be pacing me. He was wearing shorts and a light shirt and I remember asking him whether or not he was going to be warm enough, since I doubted we’d be running any of this next section. “Sure, I’ll be warm” he said. And then I said “I doubt it, but you’re an adult so you can make your own decision.” Sometimes you just have to let it go and worry about yourself. 🙃
RMR aid stations during the second night be like...
Folks, I hope it does not surprise you that we walked every step of the way up Flagstaff, down Tenderfoot, up Chapman, and down Gregory into the next aid station. There was no running. Sam and Raphael were so amazing. To walk that slowly with me in the middle of the night is something I’m very grateful for. It takes a highly talented athletic mindset to do that. Genn did it from Cottonwood to Eben G. Fine. Luke and Ben did it from Gregory to SoBo, and then Maddie joined us down Shadow to the finish. I’m still in awe of how none of them were made psychotic by the pace. But they weren’t. Role models, every one of them.
One of the benefits of walking slowly down Gregory is that I had a few seconds to contemplate the bloody hands, and then a few seconds to contemplate the black cat, before I walked into the aid station. The effect of being physically exhausted, massively sleep-deprived, undernourished, hearing that goofy music (flight of the bumblebees?), while seeing everyone lined up in two rows, silent, with expressionless masks, not moving, was simply fabulous. Apparently Mack was the only other dodo that thought this. Lmao. Or rather, lmfao. I truly love you all. I only wish I could have been there to see Levi and Trisha’s reactions.
I got into Gregory with about 31 hours elapsed, and it would take me… many more hours to do the relatively few remaining miles along the skyline to the finish. One of the juicy parts of the Badass is that so much of the vert comes at the very end. I had thought last fall that my impromptu 60-mile solo run would be the slowest time I would ever log climbing up Bear Peak. I was wrong. And poor Luke and Ben got to climb it slowly with me, which they did without complaining once. I’m still amazed. I have enormous respect for these angel pacers. Pacing can be a very hard thing. You can either suffer by being made to walk long hours with a nearly immobile ‘runner,’ and at the other end, you can be dropped like a sack of potatoes like I’m vaguely aware happened to Doug trying to pace the Skyline Superman, LeRoy. Either way, pacing is a tough, tough job. Pour one out for all the pacers.
You know who else has a tough job? People who work the SoBo aid station at the BBA. Especially during a year that I’m running. I heard afterward that they were up there for twelve hours. I could not tell that from their enthusiasm and good cheer when I came through. The first person I saw (other than Ryan going up the trail with reinforcements) was Adler, coming down Bear with a big pack. He lied and told me that Shadow Canyon was ‘a baby.’ Sure, Adler. Maybe for someone who did what I still consider one of the most amazing athletic things I’ve ever seen when he descended the Sanitas east face and goat trail in the 2022 Badass. Ask him about it sometime. He probably doesn’t remember. Because to him it was probably no big deal. Then I saw Silke and Ryan at the top of bear and the rest of the crew in the saddle. After hitting SoBo with Ben and Luke, I finally got to have the whisky shot I’d been looking forward to since Maggie told me on the way to Coot Lake that she’d be bringing whiskey to SoBo. I had pancakes with syrup and berries. I had hot spiced cider. I didn’t have enough of either of these, but they were delicious. I was mercilessly bullied into having some Tailwind recovery mix. Because these bullies know more than me about trail running. I really needed it. I love them all.
I'm keeping these friends
I was able to move pretty well down Shadow with Maddie, Luke, and Ben, and avoided the infamous Colleen Detour at the bottom. We were joined by The Eric Lee on lower North Shanahan. The walk to the finish wasn’t as annoying as I though it would be, and I arrived just minutes before the cold rain started. I am blessed. As soon as I sat down, every one of my large joints turned to cement. It was kind of cute. And Heidi was there to drive me home.
In the aftermath of this performance I’ve finally learned that I won’t ever have a ‘good’ 100-mile race unless I learn to eat much more. Although I’m pretty sure it was the beer that turned my stomach at Cascade Crest, I can’t point to any particular thing that kept me from eating during the BBA. Maybe it’s just my flawed physiology that makes eating and running mutually exclusive, but I’m not ready to accept that yet. More 100s are in my future because I’m curious whether or not I can solve this problem. Mack and Yiran have given me the targets to shoot for.
The other thing to take away from this is that if I can finish the BBA by 4pm on Sunday while not eating anything, you can do the BBA (or something like it) too. I will let you decide if ‘you’ means ‘you’ but trust me, it probably does. Go into it with the right mindset and let the amazing RMR community (or whatever community you're blessed enough to be a part of) help you solve the problems, and you’ll get it done. You will never experience a better support system for running 100 miles (or the equivalent in your own life), so you should take advantage of it.
Finally, my love for this event is enormous and the Strava shape of the route is burned into me forever. Thank you to every single one of you who helped me any any way, directly or indirectly. I look forward to repaying the favor no matter the weather or time of day. And that means you!
The 2024 Boulder Badass 100
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