Leadville is such a special race. I love walking around the venue the day before and hearing the goals of each individual race.

It’s an atmosphere of abundance. While in some races, we operate under scarcity (only one person can win), at Leadville that script is ripped apart and thrown away.

I think it’s because the race is so hard.

The challenge of the race, softens people. It always people to show vulnerability. It forces people to lean on others for success and as a result, we all race a little stronger because of it.

The person hoping to get their first belt buckle, the person hoping to make the cut off, and the person hoping to finish the race for their 10^th time can all celebrate together. They can all cheer each other on, and they can all “win.”

When I won this race in 2022, I stood at the finish line hours after I had completed the race and I watched people racing in for the small buckle cut off. I saw the ecstasy in their smile as they crossed the line with just a few moments to spare and I realized that we experienced the exact same things on that day. We were united through the pursuit of something bigger than us.

I always carry this with me when I race Leadville, and I think the mindset has served me well. This was my 6^th Leadville and my 6^th time finishing in the Top-10. That’s a consistent record I’m very proud of. When I race this race, I’m racing to see what I can do. I know the result will take care of itself. And, I know that if I continually put up consistent results at this event, I will eventually find myself on the top of the podium again sooner rather than later.

With a new course design this year due to the devastating fires that ravaged parts of the original course, there were a lot of unknown on the start line. How would the race play out? How fast would times be? Who would excel with a less technical course? The questions alone could have easily been distracting, but my race plan stayed exactly the same. Through the words of Enso Mental Performance, I was “committed to the effort.” That meant that no matter how the race played out, I was committed to going to work, to turning myself inside out.

The started with some very scary crashes. Just being near them was enough to put a knot in your stomach. It seemed like people were racing and riding desperately, making moves without thinking of the chain reaction. I was lucky enough to avoid the crashes and aware enough to steer clear of the after math.

It was clear that day would be no-holds-barred. After the 2^nd big crash, the field surged up the first main climb and I zoomed in on my effort. I was working on extracting everything I could out of myself. I crested the first climb just a few seconds shy of the group I was aiming for. It was only a few seconds, but it was enough to leave me in no man’s land as we started the long 7 mile road descent. I looked back and saw a big group chasing me down. It was time to put ego aside and make the smart decision. I sat up and waited for the big group that could help me carry the load.

The group worked relatively well together, but inevitably the consistent rotation was always interrupted by something or another. It wasn’t enough to catch the group ahead, but it was enough to keep them within striking distance and that’s all that I needed.

The moment we hit the Columbine climb, I set my own pace, leaving my previous group behind and set off on a mission.

I saw the little dots up ahead, come into focus, as I caught and passed several riders on the climb to the summit. At the turn around I saw just how close so many of us were and found added inspiration in the possibilities left in the day.

At the bottom of Columbine, I found myself 30 seconds behind Sofia and I made the conscious decision to close that gap as quickly as possible. We worked together, trading pulls, for mutual benefit chasing what was ahead. With about 10 miles to go, she got about a 10 second gap on me. We race all the way to the line. The gap ebbed and flowed, but was never big enough or small enough for either of us to let up or lose focus.

I crossed the line in a hard-fought 8^th. I’m truly thankful for all this race has given me over the years and I’m genuinely excited to see what lessons I’ll take away from it in the future.