The following article was written by Mike English who recounts his experiences at the Leadville 100 Miler in 1994, 1995, and 2015. English, who although retired from trail running, plans to crew a friend at Leadville this year or volunteer if he does not make it to the race. This article will be one of many this year to celebrate ATRA’s 2026 theme: Roots & Horizons.
Back story at Leadville: 1994-95
I stood there, paralyzed, as she (Ann Trason) ran through the thin crowd shouting tersely, “Where is Carl?” We all looked around desperately trying to spot Carl. Where was he? She shouted again, this time with more desperation, her arms outstretched, “Where is Carl? Where is he?” One universal thought pervaded the crowd, I sure as hell would not want to be Carl!
It was 1994 in Leadville, Colorado, the race sensationalized by the novel, Born to Run. I was there to support my good friend as he pursued another finish of this grueling event. I recall feeling the burden of a sleepless night draping over me like a warm blanket. The previous night was spent packing, and repacking. Floating through the rambling hostel buoyed by the nervous energy of other crewmembers while our runners struggled to sleep. The eclectic mix of individuals sharing the experience created an odd sense of community, of family.
Before dawn the next day, I eased to the finish line in the wake of my runner. The towering lights illuminated the warm faces cheering my runner as he fell into the arms of Merilee O’Neal Maupin, the co-race director. She draped the medal over my runner’s sagging shoulders, wrapped him in a bear hug, and congratulated him. Unwittingly, I decided in that moment to run the race myself the following year.
I never crossed the finish line that next year (1995). My crew worked tirelessly to keep me moving. I just could not do it. I missed the lights, the cheering, the hug from Merilee. Instead, I climbed into the warmth of my girlfriend’s car, flinched as the bracelet was cut from my wrist, and fell mercifully into a restless sleep. I would return to Leadville a few times over the years to run other races, explore the surrounding landscape, and enjoy the quiet, unassuming appeal of the tiny mining town. Eventually, I moved my young family to Colorado, to be closer to the mountains and trails Leadville introduced me to years before.
Fast forward: Leadville 2015
Late in 2014, I found myself short of breath setting my room service tray down in the hall of my hotel. I rested on the corner of the bed and thought about my four amazing children, our beautiful home, my successful career, and my declining physical condition. I needed to do something. Needed a catalyst. I turned to my computer and typed marathons in the search window.
As I scanned the list, the word Leadville darted across like a deer on a dark highway. The race was now owned by Life Time Fitness? Several blogs derided the original owners for selling outto a big corporate entity. The race was forever changed. Geared toward profit, not people. Hopeful entrants now entered a lottery to secure a slot in the race. Despite the incessant banter of a virtual community imploring me to stay away, I felt the gentle tug of a familiar place. I entered the lottery. I would tell my wife…later.
I’m not sure what I expected when I arrived in Leadville in 2015. Would there be billboards, people running around in suits, news crews, crowded restaurants filled with sponsored athletes? The town appeared unfazed by all the hype. The Golden Burro still served hot biscuits and gravy. The Delaware still sold kitschy antiques in the lobby. The stretch of road at Sixth and Harrison where the race would start and finish stood quiet and empty, drawing our eyes to the majestic peak of Mt Elbert.
We visited Club Lead (now the Leadville Hostel) and felt the familiar buzz of nervous energy as racers and their crews/families pored over course maps, watched old movies in the communal living room, and shared strategies for race day. I sat briefly on the couch I was certain cradled my defeated body 20 years ago. At the pre-race briefing, the new corporate race director welcomed us in a gymnasium lined with banners noting other corporate sponsors. Good for you, Leadville. In a touching moment, they honored a member of the Leadville family who had died tragically during the Leadville 100 Bike Race the previous weekend. It was a heartfelt and moving tribute. Ken and Merilee took the stage to address the crowd and raised everyone’s spirits with chants of, “I commit, I will not quit!” and “You’re better than you think you are, you can do more thank you think you can!”
In the early hours of Saturday morning, Leadville was awake with nervous anticipation. Racers paced inside the gates of the starting area, hugging friends, taking selfies (that was new), and making last minute adjustments. The only difference I recognized from 20 years ago, was my good friend (a 10-time finisher of the race) standing across from me providing last second words of instruction and support. We counted down together just as we did in 1995, and a shotgun blast sent us teeming down 6th street into the star-draped morning.
“Maybe the aid stations will be different, less personal,” I thought as I jockeyed for position with my fellow runners. The lights (now LED) strung across the perimeter of Turquoise Lake in a bobbing line were beautiful as we made our way to the first aid station. The gentle hum of the generators signaled my arrival at May Queen under an orange sky as dawn erupted above the mountains. A cacophony of “Great job runners!” “What can we get you?” “You look amazing (always a welcome exaggeration)!” rose above the generators and the crowd. Light filled the aid tents with warmth and people smiled and were attentive to my needs. Outside the tent, my crew scrambled to equip me for the next leg of my journey. As I exited the road onto the rising trail, it all felt so familiar and exciting.
Throughout the day, as we moved through the enormous crowd at Outward Bound (also new), descended into the chaos and excitement of Twin Lakes, summited daunting and beautiful Hope Pass (the llamas are still there), and reached the turnaround at Winfield (where only crew vehicles are allowed and a new trail keeps us off the dirt road, thank you Life Time), it never seemed foreign, or corporate, or impersonal. In fact, it felt as if the race had improved over the years.
I crossed the finish line. More descriptively, I staggered on blistered feet along the carpeted entrance to the finish held up by the cheers of the crowd and the arms of my beautiful children. I heard the piercing beep of the timing mat signaling my arrival (also new) as well. As I looked up, Merilee was there, draping a medal across my sagging shoulders, hugging me warmly, and congratulating me. In the periphery, I watched Ken Chlouber (the race founder), hard rock miner turned endurance athlete, entrepreneur, philanthropist (and apparent sellout) embrace my pacer (the 10-time finisher) and bark loudly, “Well welcome back my friend! Welcome home!”
As I walked away from the din of the finish line, my daughter gathered my hand in hers. With my sons flanking us, and my wife and friends close behind, I knew I was OK. I was with family. I was home. Thank you Leadville. We will be back.
To all the critics and skeptics
The majestic and daunting mountains in and around Leadville are still there.
The well maintained, canopied trails and relentless fire roads are still there.
The unbearably cold stream crossings remain where you left them.
The unfathomable fatigue, pain, suffering, self-doubt, injuries, nausea, and seemingly insurmountable lows, still await you.
The funky, quaint, receptive, and friendly town of Leadville is alive and thriving.
The selfless volunteers, the warm soup at the approach to Hope Pass, the banquet of food and drinks at aid stations, the unwaveringly positive crowds, and a uniquely bizarre and fascinating new aid station (with aliens, I swear) on the return at the top of Sugarloaf, are all there.
Merilee and Ken are still there.
So, get over yourselves ultra community. Until you conceive of a 100 mile race across some of the most scenic and challenging terrain on earth, revitalize an entire town with your dedication and service to the race, serve it loyally for over 25 years, sell it to ensure it survives you and your children and continues to inject money and life into a remote mountain town, you should probably just remain silent. Or better yet, register for one of the Leadville events. I’m certain they will make you feel at home.
More about the author
Mike English worked at Garry Gribbles Running Sports in Kansas City after he came home from military service in the United States Army. He has completed over 50 marathons, a few ultra marathons, and some half-IRONMAN races. He founded the Gobbler Grind Marathon in the early 90s in Kansas City and it is still running today. He took a long break from running to focus on his career in medical device and to raise his four children. English returned to ultra running in 2015 at the Leadville Trail 100 and in 2016, completed the Leadman competition as part of the race series. Says English, “I can claim two race wins in my running career: a New Years 5K in Panama City Beach FL nursing a hangover and the inaugural Quivering Quads 50-mile trail race in Missouri. Today I enjoy hiking and biking the trails around Colorado Springs and walking my rescue dog Mabel.”
Editor’s Note: The 2026 Leadville 100 Miler will be held on August 22.
