Leadville, Colorado

Leadville.  Hump day of the TransRockies 6 day foot race that Rob was once again running.  It was the scene of catastrophe for the pair of runners I was rooting for in 2009.  How would it differ in 2011?

For starters, no one in 2009 clambered to get aboard our 1988 Ford truck with our 1988 Bigfoot camper strapped on its back.    Not so in 2011.  Stage Two of the race ended at Twin Lakes.  The race organizers did have vans aplenty for the runners to travel the 15 miles to the Leadville camp.  But when 5 Flagstaff runners asked if they could hitch a ride with us, we thought, sure, what the heck.  It quickly became reminiscent of the days when college kids would try to squeeze as many of them as they could into a VW bug or a phone booth.  These guys saw an opening and swarmed, lighting into the Bigfoot like senseless moths. Unflappable as I am, I finally closed the door behind the 10^th “passenger,” and swatted the rest of them away.  We recounted the story of the trip to Leadville at the camp dinner that night. Eric, who was also part of the 2009 race, shot out with amazement: “Did they not know the history of that truck?!”

Catastrophe was completely averted as we arrived successfully at camp and everyone exited the clown bus.  Rob ran a very successful, albeit, hard run for himself.  Much unlike 2009 he did not have to jack the truck up after he ran, attempt to fix the brakes, have the truck fall off the jack, and then figure out how to get the truck back up and fixed.  Then take a shower, have dinner, and get some rest so he could run 24 miles with his partner the next day.  This was a vacation compared to 2 years ago.  He had hours available to him to rest.  He doesn’t rest when he’s at home and finishes long runs.  He did not know how to do this thing called rest.  I had to show him.  I demonstrated by lying down in the bed and falling asleep.  I was completely unfazed that he laid there watching me throughout my whole demonstration.  Well, a little fazed.  His eyes finally bored their way into my unconscious until his competing restlessness won out over my nap.

We decided to take a stroll around the town.  Leadville sits at an elevation of about 10,000 feet.  I don’t know what the means of income is for the residents.  It’s a small town.  Many of the homes that aren’t ramshackle are Victorian-like with scalloped eves and painted many colors.  There’s a certain grit to the atmosphere there.  It’s a town of unique individuals.  Many have their teeth still, but many do not.  Most have all their appendages, but some do not.  Many have a certain roughness to their edges, but some are nymph-like as they flit in and out of your life, sprinkling their fairy gritty-dust that quivers your spirit.  The magic of Leadville is palpable.

Leadville invites you to enjoy the experience of living in the present and simultaneously feel the soul of a life from generations ago.  Maybe it’s this duality that unbalances people that live there.  But just maybe it’s the present that is unstable for these residents and they have found their balance there.  Something of consequence has always happened to me when visiting Leadville.

We were walking hand-in-hand as we passed a hovel that was home to some old hippies.  The evening was approaching and the air was changing from the dusty heat of the day to the cool flowery scent of mountain air as it welcomed the twilight’s humidity.  The birds were discovering their last bugs of the day and the townsfolk were discovering the bloom of their early evening high.  As we walked by the hippie house I knew they were watching us – and probably with as much curiosity as I was watching them.  We were different kinds of people.  We wore different kinds of clothes, we engaged in different habits of personal hygiene; we lead different kinds of lives.  These generalizations were pronounced in the few seconds it was taking us to walk by their house.  And yet, there was something that transcended our differences.  The hippies, beer cans in hand, joints singeing fingers, slowly shifted and called out to us, “You guys are beautiful!  You are so in love!”  I was clearly in agreement and answered back that indeed we are and that life is great.  And we thanked them.

It was a moment with a connection.  It was Leadville.