Imogene Pass Run Race Report

I've taken the last two days to contemplate how to write this report, but the AWESOMENESS that is #IPR has kept me from being able to express in words all the feelings that came about during this race. So here it goes-I'm going to try...

When my Cholla Chicks first told me about this race months ago and how it was their big annual event, I dismissed it thinking to myself, "I'm not even that crazy!"  Fast forward two months to registration day and I'm setting the alarm to remind myself to register since it typically sells out within the hour.  This year did not disappoint-it took just over an hour before it sold out and I was one of the lucky people to get in.  Miles and miles of hill training later including summiting the tallest peak in Arizona, I felt I was ready to go.

We rolled into town on Thursday afternoon to start getting acclimated.  Seeing as how Phoenix is around 2,000 ft above sea level and the race took place between 7,800 ft and 13,112 ft, this was a necessity.  I ran an easy four on Friday to get my asthmatic lungs used to breathing in that elevation, crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

Saturday morning, the alarm went off around 4AM and half of the house was already awake.  We finished our pre-race rituals and headed out the door.  The bus ride from Telluride to Ouray was rather uneventful as I tried to catch an extra half hour of sleep-I had tossed and turned all night with pre-race anxieties.  We got to Ouray and made a beeline for Mouse's Chocolates where we had some coffee and breakfast before start time.

7:30 AM and we were off.  The first couple of miles were run-able thanks to the prep-work of acclimating and I found the path surrounded by undescribable natural beauty.  There were snow dusted mountains, streams, little waterfalls and canyons to navigate through and I kept finding myself catching my breath-not because of my asthma, but because of how in awe I was of my surroundings.  I caught up to my friend Jenn around mile three and thanked her for inviting me to this race-I was so grateful for the experience, but by mile nine, I was cursing my beloved Chollas.

I made it to the first cut off with thirteen minutes to spare and couldn't help but giggle as I left Upper Bird Camp and crossed a plank wearing my pirate pants.  The only thing that could have made it more amusing if I had had the entire pirate costume on!

The last mile of ascent

Between miles 8 and 10 I wanted to die.  This was when I found myself regretting the day I met my Cholla Chicks.  As the air got thinner, I started stumbling.  Sharp pains stung my lungs like needles on sunburned skin.  I felt as though at any moment, my lungs would decide they had enough and I would collapse.  Finally, I reached for my inhaler and after letting a few good puffs settle into my lungs, I took off again.  We marched single file for the most part up the last 1000 feet to the pass, eventually making it to the summit.  Upon reaching the top, I felt this huge sense of relief wash over me as I headed straight for the chicken broth soup that I had heard so much about.  It was the most amazing tasting Campbells I had ever consumed.  The rest, as they say, was all downhill from there.  Taking care as I navigated the steeper parts of the descent, the downhill went much faster than the uphill.  I had three goals when I set out on this crazy adventure:

The Downhill

1.  Don't die
2.  Don't get cut
3.  Finish in 5:30

I met all three on the first attempt...  and for the record-when I crossed the finish line, I was ready to sign up for next year and no longer cursing my Chollas :-)

I reached the top!