Conquering the East West Trail Line End-to-End

For three years I've wanted to run the East West Trail from end-to-end.  It is a trail line that is very close to my house and I've run every piece of it, excluding the last mile, just not all at once.  Last fall my friend, husband, and I all decided to pick a date and go for it, but illness and injury set us back.  While driving by a small stretch of it Saturday afternoon, I regretted missing that run.  It was going to be epic.  We planned stashes of food and water along the 16 mile course.  We promised to celebrate with beer and great food at the finish.  I still wanted to go.  My friend, Monica, and I needed to run 16 miles this Sunday anyway.  And truthfully, it is really hard to find a 16 mile loop in the middle of the suburbs that include interesting scenery and something new.  This fit the bill so I called Monica and asked if she were game.

Mapmyrun.com I made the map the morning before the run.

 Monica has never told me, "no."  She's a great friend like that.

So we quickly stashed a car at the finish line and rushed over to the Cabella's in Lone Tree, Colorado where the trail officially starts.  Our husbands and kids waved us goodbye.  I quickly told my husband I would send him a Glymse if something went wrong.  If we were radio silent, things were good.

The trail starts uphill.  We climbed 500 feet up a system of hills called the Bluffs.  We ran down this hill a month before and we lamented it is much more fun to run it in reverse.  Nothing like warming up on a 7% grade.  The 360 degree views from the top of the hill are absolutely stunning.  You can see all of Denver, the Tech Center, Foothills, and even as far south as Colorado Springs.  The trail is crushed gravel and considering the 20 mile per hour winds, we were making good time.

8 miles in.  The trail switched back to crushed gravel from rocky single track.

After heading down the other side of the Bluffs, we started ascending Wildcat Mountain.  It isn't a huge mountain, but I look at it everyday from my house.  The climb fluctuates between 7-14% grades for almost 2 full miles by the time we reached the back side of the mountain and finished at the top of the ridge near Castle Pines.

Monica standing in front of Wildcat Mountain in the distance and behind that are the Bluffs, where we started.

Going into the run, I already covered over 47 miles in the last 6 days.  (I logged 63 miles this week after completing this run.)  By the top of those hills, already almost 2,000 ft in elevation climbed, my legs felt weak and tired.

Exactly 10 miles in, there is a compass rose that points to major land marks.  As the crow flies, it is 1.7 miles, as my legs ran, much, much, much further.  I should have been a bird.

 But as the trail became more narrow and we bounded up and down the rolling hills, I felt refreshed.

The next 4 miles are rolling downhills followed by a final 2 mile short climb. 

Miles 8-14 felt amazing.  I was easily conquering the trail that I'd wanted to cover for so long in one stretch.  I love the Highlands Ranch Backcountry.  It is the number one reason I am grateful to live in this town.  Sure the schools are great, the rec centers are a definite bonus, but really, it is the trail system that allows me to escape the city and find some inner quiet that I truly appreciate.  All these thoughts were happily bouncing through my brain, until Monica almost got hit in the back by a mountain biker.

We were cruising along a nice stretch of open grass lands.  The trail is narrow single track with lots of rocks, sand, bends, and bumps.  We just turned down a slight hill and were nearing the bottom when we heard a loud screech and sand went flying in every direction.  Naturally, both of us vaulted off the trail before looking behind us to find a man laughing his ass off.  He thought it was hilarious that he came really close to creaming Monica in the back and was not shy about his demented sense of humor.  Neither of us had headphones.  We weren't talking.  We were peaceful and quiet.  He came out of no where and made no apology for his dangerous riding.

I have yet to see a sign like this on any of the trails.  I think it is time the city invested!

After he zipped by, we took a moment to collect ourselves.  We had 2 miles left, all uphill and that 20 mile per hour wind was relentless.  More and more bikers came out of no where and while I too mountain and road bike I pride myself in knowing the yield laws.  All but 2 of the 25 bikers we met needed a reminder.  It is really hard to start running up a steep hill and stop again 30 feet later to let someone pass, then to start up yet again.  It was killing my knees.  Even Monica grumpily breathed behind me, "If I have to stop one more time, I might not start again..."  Agreed.

Sixteen miles is not my longest run to date.  I run trails all summer long.  But when I saw the sign that marked the end of this journey I was elated.  It felt like a real finish line.  At a half or full marathon the crowd pulls me to the finish.  I love the cheering fans and the cow bells ringing.  When they place the medal around my neck I know I accomplished something big and honest.  This finish line didn't have any of that and yet it felt bigger and in many ways better.  It was a private euphoria. 

Not a thrilling sign, but it holds new meaning.

Together, Monica and I covered 16 miles and 2,300 feet of elevation gain, in two and a half hours.  We stopped at the inconspicuous sign that marked the end of the trail, threw our heads between our knees for a while, took a few pictures, and walked to my car.  It wasn't exactly the most thrilling celebration, but I felt infinitely proud.

Our kids and husbands were waiting there to surprise us for almost an hour.  They let the kids play at the playground and fly kites to pass the time, but when they saw us they came running up the sidewalk full blast, smiles huge!

My oldest son asked his dad while waiting for us to arrive, "Did mommy really run from one side of our city to the other?"  Yes I did! 

She Who Runs With Cows Gets a Fist Full of Poop

Because the Highlands Ranch Backcountry Half Marathon is only a week away, Randall and I wanted to taper at an easy trail 15 minutes from our home.  I never ran this specific trail before, but I heard countless stories describing its epic beauty for weeks before the run.  "There are amazing views of Denver, the Rocky Mountains, and rolling plains," Randall boasted.  After leaving our kids with Randall's parents, we drove to the top of Wildcat Mountain, right above Highlands Ranch.

The run started simple enough.  We ran at an easy incline to the top of a ridge with a spectacular view.  It was everything Randall described and more.  We had a 180 degree view of the front range, Denver Tech Center, and Denver itself.  Eager to keep our blood pumping, we stopped only briefly and circled back around to the main trail.

About half way down, Randall pointed to a trail at the bottom of a valley.  "That's where we're headed!" he said.  "Um, the trail that is covered in cows?" I replied unenthusiastically.  My husband reassured me the cows would move and he's run this trail before - lumbering beasts never posed any real threat.

A mile later, we ducked through some scrub oak around a tight bend in the trail.  On the other side of the corner stood a 2,000 pound beast, starring us down without manner.  At that point, I half joked it was time to turn around and find another route.  But the cow moved away as we ran closer, proving Randall's theory temporarily correct.  However, I learned cows travel in packs and after passing that one simple creature, we found ourselves locked into a herd so tight there was no where to lurch but forward.

Stupidly, we ran instead of walking, hoping our rapid pace would scare them out of our way, but as we clumsily passed each massive obstacle, now numbering more than 30 cattle, they became less passive and showed fewer signs of backing down.

Finally, we approached a creek at the bottom of the valley.  The creek was only a few inches deep, but getting down to the water was tricky.  There was a muddy and poop ridden ledge on either side of the water about 3 feet high and the creek itself was over 7 feet wide.  Randall wanted to jump the entire thing, ledge to ledge, but unlike my long jumping husband, I am not 6 feet tall.  I am 5'4".  I found a dry enough patch, jumped to the water, waded through urine and fecal matter, and climbed back up the other side.  I proceeded running around some bushes and immediately found myself face-to-face with 50 cows.

They were everywhere.  I have never seen so many cows up close.  They were literally inches from our faces and while most didn't seem impacted by our existence, I was plagued with fear caused by, "When Animals Attack."  There were just too many to feel safe.  One in particular was hiding behind a large bush of scrub oak; she looked at me with menacing eyes so eery I wanted to pee myself.  I begged Randall to turn around, I was done.  I didn't want to navigate a trail containing an unknown number of creatures larger than my Subaru sedan.  Cows occupied the trail and every inch around the trail for a good half mile. I begged Randall to turn around, laughing and crying in my terror. 

Randall reassured me I was being dramatic.  "Cows don't hurt people, Jen!  They are perfectly safe animals who are too slow to hurt a fly."  However, just as his words flew offensively from his lips, the nearest cow got up quicker than a jack rabbit on steroids.  She leaped from her position and charged forward towards Randall.  "Now we RUN!" Randall screamed passionately.  Randall took off sprinting, but I couldn't move.  I was paralyzed like a deer in the headlights.  I couldn't escape the horrific image of a cow raming my butt repeatedly with her head while I helplessly bucked forward.  I contemplated my options: if I followed Randall, I would be turning my back to her, thus giving her a real attack opportunity.  If I turned back the way we came, it meant wading back through a fecal swamp and the 50 cows I already passed.  Seeing Randall run 75 paces ahead of me left me feeling alone and made my mind up for me.  I quickly caught up to him and by the time we freed ourselves from the bovine gontlet, I knew I was going to have a heart attack.

My heart rate was over 200 beats per minute.  I could feel the pounding of my heart through every pressure point in my body.  I was horrified and shaking uncontrollably.  Worse, Randall was laughing so hard he was collapsing under his own weight.  We stood there taking in the view, laughing and calming my nerves for about five minutes and then we moved forward.

The next 3 miles were relatively uneventful.  We were jumpy because our nerves were already on high alert.  I saw a large spider in the middle of the trail.  I called, "Spider!" and dodged him, but for some reason, Randall heard, "SNAKE!" and pounced off the trail before the imaginary rattler could pierce his achilles.

Finally, we looped back around and approached the herd from the opposite end.  We passed an introverted bovine in the bushes, but somehow after we passed her, we were instantly surrounded by 50 cows.  A large speciman decided to humiliate us further by challenging us directly.  We paused, took a step forward, paused, and watched her reaction.  She grunted, stepped towards us, stopped, cocked her head in mockery, and moved forward again.  Randall grabbed a large switch off of a bush, but when she saw that direct act of aggression, her eyes widened.  "PUT THE STICK DOWN, RANDALL!" I pleaded.   

Within 2-3 minutes of this confrontation, there were cows all around us, pooping in every direction, and sharing the same breathing space.  We took our time approaching our challenger and after a while she balked.  She turned and followed the trail where we wanted to go, but at least we felt less intimidated by her backside.  When she found her exit point, we moved into a field of 75 more cows, tiptoed our way through and returned to the dismal water hole.

Because of the angle of the stream, we couldn't cross it the same way we did initially.  It was a bit lower now and jumping straight across wasn't as simple.  I went downstream about 20 feet and lowered myself to the bank.  Carefully placing my feet on some emerged stones, I navigated my way to the other side, placed my foot on the muddy bank and put my weight into the hill.  Slipping deep into the mud, I clawed at the slippery slope, trying to keep my hold.  I scratched for dear life like a panicked cat, literally using my finger nails to grip the mud so that I would avoid going completely into a stream of unknown excrament.  Reaching the top of the hill, I found my final grip - a giant pile of cow poop. 

I sat on the edge of the bank screaming, laughing, and crying.  "Cow poop!  AHHHH!  Cow poop!"  Randall crossed the river, after planting his shoe in a giant stool.  He collapsed by my side, laughing hysterically.  We sat on the river bank for a good 10 minutes laughing.  We were covered in mud and poop, we were another couple miles from the car and 15 minutes from home.  Randall promised this run would be epic, mind blowing perhaps.  Sadly, it was not the views that blew my mind. 

HRCA Backcountry Half Marathon Course Preview

My husband and I scoped out the course for our upcoming Backcountry Half Marathon in Highlands Ranch and because of the tough hill climbs we were curious about the grades.  Using MapMyRun, we plotted out the course to produce some nice elevation and grade graphs.  For an interactive map, see: http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/view/149874915.

To see the full hi-resolution image below, right click on the image and select "Open Link in New Tab".  You may also have to use the magnifying glass in the new tab to zoom to actual size.

As you can see there are some good ascents (for a race in the city) with grades in the 8-12% range.  My husband added some additional points of interest including spots on the course where we've encountered mud and ice from unmelted snow (marked with an orange X).  Here is his description of the course:

• Starts at Southridge Rec Center and begins uphill on sidewalks for 1.4 mi.
• Turns left onto a private dirt road headed east towards Rock Canyon High School until mile 3.
• The single track trail then turns south towards the first major climb from mile 3 to 4.5.  Beware of potential mud/ice after mile 4.
• At mile 4.7 is the first water station at the Wildcat Mountain trail-head parking lot.
• Mile 5 to 6 is another winding hill climb section, sandy patches with potential mud/ice in shaded oaks.
• Mile 6 to 7 slowly descends to Daniels Parking Lot (another water station), with lots of mountain bike roller jumps.
• Mile 7 to 8 is crushed dirt road, then left onto a quickly descending trail.
• Mile 8 to 9 is descending single track with several shaded scrub oak groves that can be very muddy/icy depending on conditions.
• Mile 9 to 10.5 is the last major hill climb with some tough grades, at 10.5 is another water station.
• Mile 10.5 to 11.5 is more single track, with large stones and pebbles, be careful not to roll your ankles.
• Mile 11.5 to 12.5 is downhill single track, crossing Daniels Park Rd at the bottom.
• The rest is downhill sidewalk back to rec center for the finish line.

There is a chance the route will be altered depending on conditions, but hopefully this provides a good preview for those racers that haven't had a chance to run on any of these trails; and for seasoned veterans some hints as to the current trail conditions.  This is going to be one "bear" of a run and we wish all the other participants good luck and happy trails.