Team Atehena – TransRockies Run 2008

Stage 6: Vail to Beaver Creek
Distance: 21 miles, 1839 feet
Climbing: 4623 feet

Now such a very long way – in terms both geographical and state of mind – from Colorado’s gorgeous mountain trails, it is only now that I find myself with the time to post a proper final installment from the 2008 TransRockies Run.  Let’s see if we can get up out of the office chair and back up to speed…

150 dome tents, uniform brown, a symmetrical grove of land-locked polyps on a field of cultivated grass…our tents were all the same, but the context – the beauty and luxury (even the grass was plush) of Vail – struck a stark contrast to our previous mornings. As I creaked my way out of my tent, the air was still sharp as ever, the smell of breakfast as enticing, but something was different.  As I watched for the rising sun, I wondered whether it was a reflection of the start-finish venues – Vail and Beaver Creek – end points about as far as Neverland and Narnia from Camp and Red Cliff.  But I suspected, standing huddled in down jacket and anticipation, that it was something else, something less to do with geography and more to do my internal landscape.  Today would be the last stage of the race and I found myself already missing what was not yet finished.

Red duffels packed and stacked a final time, we adjusted the team numbers on our Icebreaker GT180 tops, snugged laces in a gesture of reassurance and gave each other a knowing smile.  Barring the ever unforeseen, we were going to make it.  The race’s theme song blared one last time and we traversed a final start line.

The early miles were a simple trot trough the village and across the highway, a paved procession of giddy runners.  Some were clearly looking to press the issue on this last day, but our plan was clear and non-negotiable: chill out and have fun every step of the way, soaking up the stage.

Out of town, the trail turned its favourite direction – up, of course – and we headed into the hills.  The crisp dawn was quickly melting into a sweaty morning as we climbed from exposed scrub into a gorgeous poplar grove.  Mindful of my heart and the personal debacle that had been the final 8-miles of the previous stage, I reminded myself to keep the pace mellow, but even at that I felt like I was running on only three cylinders and so tucked in behind Aviva who had no trouble setting an even, conservative pace.

The relaxed pace left us behind some of our regular running partners, but if I’d learned anything over the preceding five days, it was that conservatively trailing early in the stage consistently begot later-stage passing and fresher legs.

True to experience, as we ascended the subalpine ramps we began to regain our favourite, familiar teams. And, further true to form, we quickly settled into a small pack of laughter, stories and good-natured ribbing as we crested the ridge and began our descent.

Through the day’s second aid station I reloaded on calories as Aviva jogged ahead and … jogged? … not so much!  Where did she go? By the time I had looked up from the energy gel smorgasbord, she was disappearing from view, ripping down the long, steep, twisting descent towards the town of Avon.  I quickly gathered our gear and gave chace, once again remarking at the extent to which the technical training routes of Victoria were paying off for my nimble teammate.  The return on that investment was that we soon found ourselves running up the backs of two other mixed teams, the two teams ahead of us in the overall standings.  Hearing our approach, the four runners looked over their collective shoulders and turned up the speed a notch.  And so it was that I again had the surprising, somewhat amusing pleasure of witnessing my wife’s – yes, she of the “Rumon, we’re not racing any of this, so stow your race face – we’re out here to finish and nothing more” – competitive temperment.  With the teams picking up speed, Aviva matched pace and hurtled down the hill with me in tow, me grinning at her tenacity while trying to keep my footing amidst the dust cloud she was kicking up.  We stayed like this, a caravan of six, nearly all the way into Avon, the valley gateway into Beaver Creek.  I say nearly, because about a kilometer from town, Aviva stopped at a stream crossing, shook her head and asked, “What the hell was I thinking?”  I’ve learned enough along the way to know a question that should be left unanswered and simply suggested we keep it mellow from here on in (though still smiling proudly at the girl’s game display).

Unfortunately, Vives’ gameness had dug a little deep into the well and, with the heat mounting towards midday, we were forced to transition – with a little quiet cursing from one of us – from “mellow” to “suffer”.  [Speaking of "suffer", a note to the race organizers: You guys sure know how to make a runner earn his end-of-race beer!  Taking a look at the stage profile above you'll see that before reaching the descent into the finish, and having already climbed over 3000 feet, teams must clear a final 1000+' climb over ~ 4-miles.  Ouch.]  So suffer it was, quad-assisting up the steeper ramps (many of these ski slopes), keeping the fluids flowing and trying not to constantly wonder whether that next hill was…please…could it be?…mercy!…the last of the day.

And, finally, it was. So we rolled downhill towards Beaver Creek, towards the satisfaction of realizing a goal that months ago had seemed like an overreaching dream.  I was on the edge of giddy, so proud of what Aviva had accomplished in short months of training, and ecstatic that my heart had behaved on this final stage.  Vives, though, was a little more reserved, focused and refusing to celebrate until actually across the finish line.  It cracks me up to think about it now: You’re about 300 meters from the finish line when it comes into sight below you.  With only one short downhill and a victory trot across smooth resort town pathways, I started to tell Aviva how proud I was of this monumental finish of hers.  “No!” she pleaded, “stop talking, we’re not there yet!  You’ll jinx it!“  Huh?!  After 105.78365 miles I figured the last couple of yards were in the bag, but apparently not.  So I shut my trap, pasted another one of those grins on my face that only husbands can wear, and waited out the next 295 meters.

Which, of course, were crossed without incident.   And there we were, under the finish arch, one last time hearing Drew the announcer call out our team name and relishing the cheers of friendships forged over the past few days.  Covered in sweat, grime and satisfaction, I gave Aviva a salty kiss that was as sweet as they come.  We’d done it.

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Speaking of friends, we couldn’t have done it without a little help from ours.  So thank you to the following sponsors and supporters:

• Frontrunners (shoes & gear)
• Icebreaker (clothing)
• Lake O’Hara Lodge (pre-race altitude acclimation accommodation for Aviva)
• Ocean River Sports (cross-training support)
• Jim Finlayson (coaching)