Transrockies Stage 6 Vail to Beaver Creek Brother can you spare a C note?

Camping in Vail was heaven compared to the previous nights stay at the abandoned dump. Tent city had been erected on the manicured outfield grass of a baseball diamond complete with chain link fences and “No Dogs Allowed” signs. The only negative was Interstate 70 a hundred yards to the North. At dinner, a few teams voiced concerns the truck noise would keep them awake... I slept as if I were in my own bed and awoke refreshed and ready to tackle the last stage… perhaps this ‘camping’ thing wasn’t so bad after all!

Doug and I brought enough Old Goat shirts so we could wear a clean shirt every day, whereas some of the competitors wore the same outfit every day – I didn’t notice until that final line-up in the starting chute. I recalled the ultra-runners manta... clear mind - clean body… take your pick! We can only guess as to what the ‘millionaire’ population of Vail was thinking. Annie had already overheard two tight-assed scolds, complaining about tent city. They apparently thought we were homeless squatters or delegates to the Democratic Convention – probably both.

Unlike our previous city start in Leadville where we were clear of buildings in two blocks, this start took us through the village of Vail, under the Interstate, and through a neighborhood before we arrived at the trail head. The knuckleheads as usual bolted ahead… they apparently had an agenda… Not actually beat us, I thought. Hadn’t they learned the futility of that strategy yet?

I spent some time with the stage profile the previous evening… another two peak trek, and according to the organizers the second climb was going to be very steep. After five days of outrageous scenery, I thought it unlikely we would be wowed again. Wrong - this time it was a thick Aspen grove followed by flowering meadows. We could see Vail receding below if we cared to look – I did, and paid the price, tripping, and landing squarely on the top of my head before flipping onto my back. I momentarily saw stars! I liked the aspens better. Doug and three teams rushed to help me – they probably thought the old fart had croaked. Doug said, “Wow, that was great, you rolled like a pro. I gotta learn how to do that.” Thanks, I said as a couple of pretty ladies brushed off the dirt. I checked the top of my head for blood – dry – nothing to show for my gymnastic skills other than a bruised ego and a dirty shoulder.

One of the teams asking if I needed help was the team of Amy and Ryan, both wore all white because they were going to get married at the finish line. Heady stuff this long distance running thing, eh wot? At least they know the other can relate if one says, I need to go long and doesn’t return until the next day! They remarked that Doug and I were inspiring and I felt a little verclempt. They were just starting while we were in the homestretch. I said "When you come to that point in your life when you realize there are more trails behind than ahead, the next mile tastes that much sweeter." I would need to apply that mot of wisdom sooner than I thought.

I kept the pace slow because I didn’t want to repeat the previous days stage and burn Doug out on the first climb. We topped the summit with relative ease and began the long trek down towards Beaver Creek. The route departed from the jeep trail and followed an overgrown single track back towards the Interstate. I was a little concerned about Doug. Other than coming down from Hope Pass, and even when the course was difficult, he seldom dropped back on the downhills. After spotting Avon, Colorado below, I waited for Doug to catch up… We had about five miles to go and only one more hill in our way.

When we arrived in Avon we weaved our way on surface streets and traffic circles until we arrived at a large parking lot - the parking lot where visitors to Beaver Creek Village boarded shuttles. Had it not been illegal to take in too much oxygen without a permit we could have smelled the finish line. We soon arrived at the races last aid station, and the last climb of the stage. Doug asked the question one dare not ask. “How far?” In my experience, spectators are always wrong and aid station people are seldom right. “Only a short climb,” she responded. But, I could tell from her eyes she was speaking as someone who hadn’t already logged 103 miles. Her partner said something about 800’. “Hell, Doug,” I sang – “That’s only half of Horsethief. (the 1400 foot climb in the OG50K)”. We began the climb – straight up the ski slope – about a third of the way up we began the girly-man traverse, this time traversing the entire width of the slope. Even I was overjoyed when we arrived at a wide path at the top of the slope… That joy was short lived as we saw the path still climbed, though at a dramatically shallower angle. We trudged along, passing mahogany benches, multimillion dollar homes, carved signs, and other accoutrements only found where the rich and famous play. A few mountain bikers passed in the opposite direction... I didn't know Armani made cycling gear too.

We passed a sign that read “Beaver Creek Village 2 miles” and immediately picked up the pace. We started going down-hill and knew we would be able to finish even if we had to roll down the slope. The course left the groomed path and took off on the diagonal across a ski slope. We spotted the finish line. After several switch backs we entered a small patch of forest. I stopped, turned, and hugged Doug. I wanted to express my gratitude without an audience. Annie met us at the bottom of the slope and led us to the finish… The obligatory cheesy medal was draped around our necks and the knuckle heads sitting on the outdoor patio of a restaurant tipped their beer bottles towards us. They only knocked twenty minutes off our total lead, but had bragging rights at the awards ceremony.

The awards banquet was long, the thank-yous profuse, and the behind the scenes support crews got drunk… The food was great, the good-byes teary, and the prospect of a good nights sleep in a plush bed inviting… I was sad that it was over! So sad, that after a restless night in a plush bed, I arose and went for a nine mile run up a mountain with Annie.







THE START