Race Report: The Sheep Mountain 50k

Sheep Mountain is a rather unassuming name for a peak. In fact, in Colorado there are dozens of mountains with that name. But I had been looking for an ultra that would fit into my travel schedule this summer, and Sheep Mountain 50k is the one that worked out for me. This particular "Sheep Mountain" is near Fairplay, Colorado, where the race starts. It's 12,800 feet tall... not too big as Colorado mountains go, but plenty big for a flatlander from North Carolina. I have tried to run at this elevation before, and I knew it would be a challenge for me, especially as the path took me above 12,000 feet, where I usually start to get altitude sickness.

Fortunately the race is only above that height for a couple miles. Unfortunately, the rest of the race is all above 10,000 feet! It starts in Fairplay, and gradually winds its way uphill towards the big ascent of the mountain. The trail doesn't quite take you to the summit, but it peaks out at nearly 12,500 feet! Here's the elevation profile (from my Strava record of the race):

After you reach the top, you descend nearly to the start elevation, then climb back halfway up the mountain before returning to the start / finish line. 

I had been in Colorado for two weeks before the race, but only spent 4 days in Fairplay at 10,000 feet. The previous 9 days were in Basalt, at 6,500 feet. That's a decent elevation, but still doesn't quite prepare you for the conditions nearly 2 miles above sea level. According to my Garmin, I was acclimated to an 8,000 foot elevation when I awoke on race morning. That's not bad, but of course I'd be running up to an elevation 4,500 feet above this! Despite having run this far a few times, I'd never been an official finisher of a trail 50k. 

I got to the start area about 5:30 am, and sat in my car like most of the other runners, trying to stay warm on a 45-degree morning. At 5:50, we all jumped out of our cars and walked up to the start line. After a short talk from the race director, we were off! 

There were maybe 150 runners, most of us running the 50k, but maybe 30 or 40 doing the 50-miler (they added an extra loop starting at about the 15-mile point). The first 5 miles were a gradual climb up a smooth gravel road. I ran easily at a 10-ish-minute pace, walking whenever the grade steepened too much. 

The road was gradually getting rougher and a little steeper. Then suddenly a group of 15 or 20 runners was running towards me. "Turn around," they said, "we missed the turn." It hardly seemed possible to get lost along this road, but the actual route took a left turn and we all had missed it. The course had been well-marked with pink ribbons but clearly someone had removed them at this spot. Fortunately I had only run an extra half-mile or so, but it still sucked to miss the turn. A friend told me the women's winner went an extra 2 miles!

Moose sighting!

Back on course, the road continued to get rougher and steeper, until we finally crested and descended a very rough road to the first aid station, officially at Mile 7 (though my watch read 7.5). After a half mile on a smooth gravel road, we turned onto a singletrack trail. The trail headed upward, then across a difficult section of scree composed partially of petrified wood. There was no way to run on this section; the rocks were too loose and uneven. Fortunately that ended after about a half mile, and we were again running on singletrack through forest. 

Around Mile 10, the big climb began. It would be 2,000 feet over 2 miles, switching back and forth up Sheep Mountain. About halfway up, I got passed by an old guy. "Another graybeard?" he said, "Might I ask your age." I told him I was 54. "You're no graybeard! I'm 67!" And he charged ahead. 

Not long after that another guy passed me and I said "Can you believe that guy is 67?" 

"Well, I'm 69," he replied. 

Yep, that's a 69-year old leaving me in his dust

As the 69-year-old zipped ahead of me, I plodded my way up the ever-steeper slopes, now once again a crude trail made of piled-up scree. I could see runners hundreds of feet above me on another switchback, and was disheartened to realize that I'd have to climb that high as well. Finally I reached the high point of the trail and stopped to take a photo. 

A hazy day near the top of Sheep Mountain

I had been told that we'd have a spectacular view of Pikes Peak from Sheep Mountain, but sadly it was so hazy from all the forest fires across the west that I could barely see the valley at the base of the mountain. Next was a steep 2,500 descent to nearly the same elevation as the start line. Much of the trail was the difficult, non-runnable scree I had been laboring up on the ascent. Eventually I reached a forest road that was a little easier, and after a half-mile or so of this I reached the aid station, where the friendly check-in guy asked me if I had had enough rocks. I told him I thought I had, and he said "good, you're in for a lot more of them!"

A trail marker in the scree

After I had my fill of cookies and stocked up on water, I continued down the mountainside. Fortunately it wasn't the scree I had been laboring through, but just a very rocky jeep road. Still difficult to run on, but not nearly as challenging as scree. Eventually the road leveled out, and I reached the third aid station, at Mile 16.8 by my watch. At this point I was having difficulty running at all, even on relatively flat, even surfaces. I filled up on water, cookies, and chips, and then headed off again. The trail rolled on through the woods, up and down gradual hills. Not being able to run, I just hiked as quickly as I could, trading places with a couple other runners who looked to be about as beat up as me. Eventually the trail markers clearly indicated I should be turning left, while the map I had uploaded to my watch clearly indicated I should be  continuing straight. I decided to follow the trail markers, while my watch beeped in protest. 

This trail headed back up Sheep Mountain, and I knew from looking over the official course map before the race that that was what we were supposed to do, so I must have made a mistake with the map I uploaded to my watch. In fact we climbed halfway back up the mountain, before joining up with the trail we had climbed up on before. The course was a big, misshapen lollipop, with the first and last 10 miles or so as the "stick" and the middle 11 as the "candy": 

Now it would all be familiar territory. I was dreading the one last scree field before we moved back onto roads for the 8 miles to the finish. I made my way across the petrified scree and onto the road, where another couple runners passed me. I told myself it was time to start running again, but every time I tried, my body wouldn't cooperate. Finally I arrived at the last aid station, at Mile 25.8 by my watch, where I allowed myself a 10-minute break, eating as many cookies and drinking as much Coke as I could before heading back out on the road. 

7 miles to go, and now it would all be gravel roads. After a steep climb out of the aid station, it would be mostly downhill. The road surface gradually improved, and I did manage to run a bit -- 1 minute on, 2 minutes off. 4 miles to go, and  there was an unmanned water stop where I refilled a flask, just in case. With 3 miles to go the lead 50-mile runner ran passed, looking solid and steady at probably a 9-minute pace while I could barely manage a walk. I noticed I had phone service and texted Greta to let her know when to expect me at the finish line. 2 miles to go, then 1 mile to go. Surely I could run the last mile, couldn't I? Nope. At this point I was just walking. With a quarter mile to go another man passed me, also walking, but faster than I could. He was maybe 50 yards ahead of me as we approached the finish, and he sprinted to the end. 40 yards from the end, a photographer approached me and said "show me what you got." 

"This is all I got," I said, and I walked to the finish. Greta was there, and snapped a picture of me walking across the line. 

I had gotten my first official finish at a trail ultra. A really tough trail ultra -- I definitely didn't make this easy on myself. I was absolutely spent. My body didn't know what to do with itself. I didn't know if I wanted to eat, drink, or take a nap. Greta drove me back to our rental condo and I decided what I wanted to do was sleep. "Not before you take a shower," Greta said. Reluctantly, I stumbled into the shower, then took a 45-minute nap, and woke up hungry, still not knowing what to eat. I finally choked down a potato and went to bed, dreaming of anything but running up the side of a mountain. 

If you're interested,  here's the Strava record of my race.