Living my Dream: 527 Miles for Hope
Lessons from the Colorado Trail
On Wednesday, August 21 just after sunset, I rolled into Junction Creek Trailhead in Durango on Big Hope, my trusted adventure bike, and completed the Colorado Trail Race by bike in 11 days, 15 hours, 1 minute. A ride literally years in the making, this is a blog post about the ride, the race, and lessons learned.
Turning an idea into a goal. Ever since I moved to Colorado in 2016, I have had a fascination with the Colorado Trail. I think it started when I participated in the Breck Epic mountain bike stage race, which includes portions of the Colorado Trail in its race courses. I saw the logo on trees and it made me look into the awesome concept of a trail that runs across our beautiful state, through the backcountry, and over the Rocky Mountains. It was something that did not just blow my mind, but rather expanded it. The Colorado Trail Foundation calls the Colorado Trail “mile for mile the most beautiful trail in America.” In terms of national scenic trails, the Colorado Trail is young. The concept of the Colorado Trail began the year I was born, and the building of this trail was led by Gudy Gaskill, an American mountaineer who was the first executive director of the Colorado Trail Foundation (CTF) and a leader in the organizations that led to the CTF. The Colorado Trail (CT) was built by volunteers, segment by segment, and the inaugural end-to-end hike was completed 14 years later in 1988. The CT travels among the tallest mountains in the lower 48 states, through a variety of ecosystems, at an average elevation of 10,000 feet, and with long sections traveling over tree line. There are 6 wilderness areas through which bikes are not allowed, so the bike route includes wilderness area detours, including delightful trail towns (Leadville, Buena Vista, Silverton) and special spots (Goose Creek Campground, Cathedral Ranch Cabins) along the way.
“Someday I want to do the Colorado Trail Race,” I would think/say, and I put it on my “bike-it” list. Then in 2020 I worked as a healthcare worker alongside my colleagues through the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. I think the pandemic taught many of us not to take anything for granted. At that time I was also inspired at the time by my friend, Sarah Robison, who quit her job (that she loved) for a year and thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2021 while sharing her journey and evolution in her blog, AndThenIWalked.com (highly recommend). Nudged by the energy in her writing, I internalized one of her core messages: “Whatever it is that calls to you, don’t keep putting it off. Do. It. Now.” Let’s go.
I trained and extended my mileage in 2021, and my first attempt at the CTR was with the Grand Depart in 2021. Being an odd-numbered year meant that the race started in Durango and went northbound (NOBO, in the trail lexicon). Although I had ordered a fork and thinner, 29-inch wheels, due to supply chain issues they did not arrive in time, so I rode my fully rigid (no suspension fork) Why Cycles Big Iron Fat Bike. I felt very fit for the race and rode well, however suffered several mechanical issues (loss of front braking power requiring downtime and help of a mechanic in Lake City, and complete failure of my Arkel Seatpacker Saddlebag) that ultimately, after spending 6 days on the course, brought my ride to an end at Marshall Pass, 230.5 miles into the course. You can read more about my first attempt of the CT here.
I took away so much from that first attempt however, and I LOVED my time on the trail. I absolutely felt satisfied with my efforts, having done what I could and leaving it all out there on the course at the time. And those failures were the absolutely critical, experiential learning to become a better bikepacker and one day finish this trail. The CT became a puzzle to solve. It wasn’t just about physical fitness, but bike fitness and being able to solve problems on the go.
In September 2023, I made my second attempt from Durango. This was at a separate time from the Colorado Trail Race, but I was going to just do it for myself. This time I had a great bike set up. However due to some important life issues that summer, which required my attention and impacted my training, I really struggled fitness-wise in the trip from Durango to Silverton. I remember feeling the altitude more than I had in 2021. With shorter days and a just less confidence in my own abilities, especially as the course after Silverton would hit a 181-mile stretch in exposed backcountry before the next on-course resupply area, I pulled the pin on that attempt at the top of Stony Pass (just after Silverton). More notes on this attempt here. I went back to Elevated Coffee in Silverton, sat down, wrote out important notes to myself, talked with my coach and then over the next months we hatched a plan to complete the CT in 2024. I chose the CTR as my A race, the most important event on the bike for the year, and all other races and rides would be secondary to and supportive of this 2024 goal.
The real preparation for the CTR started last winter, with a training program built with Coach Jason of Team Wilpers, which included lots of riding, indoors and outdoors (Fat Pursuit Camp and race and our awesome winter bike race series in Leadville, Colorado, 18 hours of Fruita), as well as strength training and running to be able to push the bike on the hiking sections as well. Step by step, we trained and worked toward the CTR start in August. After I returned from World Symposium on Pulmonary Hypertension in Barcelona in early July, the last and most important/intense phase of my training ensued. This would be on-bike, on-trail, multi-day training rides over three long weekends: Breck to Copper, Denver to Breck, and then Copper to Buena Vista.
I chose to ride these ultra rides and the CTR for many reasons. One, I wanted to honor the 10-year anniversary of our first major event RAAM, my teammates and our community. I wanted to also celebrate all that Team PHenomenal Hope has become, and — most importantly and still ongoing — raise funds to help those living with pulmonary hypertension by doing this epic ride. So I chose to sign up for the race and put myself on the Trackleaders as a way to proudly toe the line in my Team PHenomenal Hope uniform and put my dot on the dot tracker for the world to see. Second, I wanted to celebrate my own personal milestone and see that my mind and body, 10 years after we raced RAAM, could accomplish something extraordinary. Finally, with these types of events I always to learn something about myself and take life lessons away resonate both on and off the bike. In this regard, the CTR — and especially prep for the CTR — did not disappoint. I’ll share those here.
“Our biggest enemy is our own self-doubt. We really can achieve extraordinary things in our lives. But we sabotage our greatness because of our fear.” — Robin Sharma
“Doubting yourself is normal. Letting it stop you is a choice.” — Mel Robbins
People ask me what was the hardest part of the race, and I tell them that actually, it was getting to the starting line. We are often the biggest obstacle that gets in the way of our own dreams. Would you believe that after years of imagining and training/preparing, I almost didn’t do the race. For my first overnight training ride of the summer I chose Segment 7, from Gold Hill in Breckenridge to Copper. I chose it because it “sounded cool” to me to ride from Breck to Copper, just a short intro training ride. I didn’t realize that the 13.5-mile route would take me over 8 hours, riding some but mostly hiking up steep climbs and rocky terrain over the summit at 12,470 feet. “If 13.5 miles took 8 hours,” I thought, “how will I ever do the entire 527 mile course?” The next day I got a morning coffee in the Conoco Station in Copper and talked to the attendants there. I said to them: “Going over the mountain was a lot harder than I thought it’d be.” To which the woman behind the counter said, “Well of course it was. You went over a mountain.” I smiled and rode back to Frisco on the recreational path and then rode Segment 6 northbound for a couple of hours. This had much more rideable trail and somewhat reassured me, but that seed of doubt (could I really do this thing?) had been planted. The next long weekend I rode from Denver to Breckenridge, 145 miles in 72 hours. This weekend my mind was all over the place, spending the first day churning through how I handled a work issue with my inner critic, who I unaffectionately call “Reviewer #2.” (In scientific writing, when you submit manuscripts for peer review for academic journals, reviewer #2 tends to be the most critical, picky and often snarky reviewer, hence the name for my inner critic.) Reviewer #2 is a trip. She often stokes the doubts as to why I am even attempting something like whatever adventure ride I’m on or for which I’m training. She is quick to remind me about all the important stuff I’m supposed to be doing (or that I’m not doing as well as I should be), and asks me why I’m not doing those things instead of riding my bike. Many years ago I actually stopped a 12-hour mountain bike race mid-race because I could not stop thinking about how behind I was in my clinical task bucket. So this voice can be really powerful.
So on the 2nd day of the Denver-to-Breck training ride, my mind started negotiating with me that perhaps instead of thru-biking the Colorado Trail, since my number one goal was to finish it in the same year, why not just section it? Sectioning means riding different parts of the trail at different times and completing the trail in chunks. I would complete Denver to Buena Vista in my 3 weeks of training rides, so riding the 2nd half of the trail to finish it out was more than reasonable and still a HUGE challenge. It is fully respectable to do it this way, and many do so that they can fit their dream into their real lives. Like presidential campaigns in debate rule negotiations, I entered into intense internal negotiations with my mind. My friends and family supported me in whatever choice I made: “Your ride, your rules,” Hap said. And my coach supported me as I sought to find which way was calling me. Again my definite top goal was to ride every part of the Colorado Trail in 2024. But it was when I talked to my colleague Darlene in the following conversation that put me back on my path to thru-biking it in the CTR.
“Darlene, I’ve decided over the past 2 weeks that I’m going to section the Colorado Trail. I have 2 weeks off from clinic, but I didn’t rearrange the call schedule for the hospital in the 2nd week to get coverage, and this will allow me to cover and do the entire trail this year, in segments. It is so challenging, and I feel pretty good about this decision.” (I was looking for any sort of justification to NOT do the entire trail so the call schedule was convenient.)
Then Darlene told me, “If you want to do it that way because you want to, that’s fine, but don’t let work get in the way of doing the whole thing. Kevin and I will cover.”
She took away my excuse in two sentences.
Then as I got closer to the race start I approached Ann, our lead PH coordinator, and said, “Ann, things right now just seem to be in a bit of chaos. I want to ask you honestly, should I not go away for 2 weeks? Wouldn’t one week be more reasonable just so I’m not absent with all that is going on?” And again, she didn’t let me off the hook. “Patty, you’ve been talking about this for so long, and it’s important — you need to do it for you. You’ll be a better doctor if you go and do this for you.” Second excuse shot down by Ann Randall.
“Your doubts create mountains. Your actions move them.” — Mel Robbins
“We can have courage or we can have comfort, but we cannot have both.” — Brené Brown
So there I was, and these two friends crushed the arguments proposed by Reviewer #2. I thought to myself, “When would I ever get this opportunity again, where my colleagues not only allowed but encouraged me to go after this dream?” I went back to my Coach with my whiplash final answer: I’m going to ride the entire CT.
“I’ve missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I’ve been trusted to take the game-winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” — Micheal Jordin
Failures were absolutely essential for success. I have ridden a lot of challenging races, from RAAM solo events (Ohio and Florida) to Paris-Brest-Paris and the Silver State 508, Breck Epic, 18 Hours of Fruita, and other long distance events, I know what it feels like to be on the bike a long time. But bikepacking the CT has been a different level. Riding many days self-supported, carrying your camping gear, food and water, and everything you need to keep going and stay safe, over one of the most challenging mountain bike courses due to elevation, elements, and terrain (there is a LOT of hiking as well as riding), is a next-level challenge. And with a couple of incomplete attempts as described earlier in this piece, the CT became about solving a puzzle. The mechanical failures on my bike in 2021, as well as the physical and mental failures of 2023 were essential to being able to ultimately complete the trail. I learned how to replace my brake pads. And there were other lessons in this year’s prep such as: Did you know rain gear loses its waterproofing when you wash it over the years? The training ride from Denver to Breck with my 2016 purple rain jacket that got soaked through under the steady showers quickly taught me I needed a new shell. And then bikepacking several weekends in a row helped me dial in my system. Expeditions are all about systems: knowing where everything is on your bike, and unpacking and packing in the same way every single time so you don’t lose something or not fasten it securely so that it falls off your bike altogether (I lost my Leatherman last year when it flew off my bike while descending on the trail). So it’s about optimizing the systems.
When you say yes to others, make sure you are not saying no to yourself. — Paulo Coelho
Saying no to embrace my yes. One of my biggest challenges is truly knowing what I’m capable of and — more importantly — what I’m not capable of. I tend to overextend myself and say yes to a lot of things because 1. They’re all great opportunities and important and 2. I actually believe I can do it all. But as the CTR got closer I soon realized that I could not do it all. The meeting after work that I wanted to attend and support, well it would mean that I would not complete something important prior to hitting the trail. Getting entirely to EPIC Inbox zero the night before the race would make me even more sleep deprived so eventually I had to stop work after at least the important stuff was done (it is never all completely done anyway). I took some of my vacation time in those training rides which meant other work items would have to wait until after the trail. I absolutely HAD to say no to things in order to be able to start — and finish the CTR. I literally had to say no to others in order to embrace my own yes. And it felt really good.
“The trail will always change.” — Jay Petervary
On day 2 I was finishing the Lost Creek Wilderness Bypass (mountain bikes are routed around wilderness areas on the CT), and it was wide open so I could literally see the skies 10 miles ahead. And in the distance I saw these dark storm clouds. I started thinking all sorts of questions: Will I need to pull out my rain gear? When should I stop and put it on? How much should it be raining for me to put on my rain pants as well as the jacket? Won’t I be hot with this gear on? Will there be lightning? If there is, where will I take cover? And on and on. And while planning and thinking about these things is important (especially having a plan if really severe weather like lightning happens), perseverating continuously on it is a bit less than helpful. The irony of that moment was that by the time I got to the point in the trail where the dark clouds had been, it was already sunshine. This pattern did repeat itself a few times, especially when passing through areas with cellular signal and access to 3 weather apps, but I started to be mindful of it at least, which helped assuage anxiety. So although it is easy to worry about what is ahead, the question is, does it really serve us? The trail will change. Weather will change. You just have to keep moving forward.
“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.” — Henry David Thoreau
Living my dream. Many times as I was riding the CTR (and in my prep ride from Copper to Buena Vista as well), I acknowledged out loud, sometimes to others and many times to myself, “I am living my dream.” I was really doing it.
Highlights of the expedition:
- My first sunrise with pink clouds on the trail as I rode toward the single track at Waterton Canyon. “Good morning, Ornah.”
- Beautiful, rideable trails on segments 1–3, and meeting my goal of getting through the very exposed Segment 2 prior to afternoon storms
- Talking to the bison as I rode past on the Lost Wilderness Detour
- First night camping in Goose Creek Campground
- Every single night I slept in my tent (I got such great sleep after my full days of riding)
- Every summit accomplished, from Georgia Pass to the top of 10-mile range and beyond
- Trail angel ! — Coca Cola in the cooler for CTR racers in Breckenridge
- Segment 8 from Copper to Leadville over Searle Pass and Kokomo Passes with streams, wildflowers, and the chatter of marmots, pikas and chipmunks from their alpine communities (one of my favorite sections in the first half of the race)
- Tacos from my favorite taco truck in Leadville
- Resupply and laundry in Buena Vista
- The wildflowers everywhere, still blooming into August!
- Camping next to the roaring creek at Chalk Creek Trailhead
- Finishing Segment 14 (my mantra that day taken from fellow NOBO racer, Allen, who cheerfully told me when we passed, “If you ain’t hiking, you ain’t riding.”)
- Huge brown cows grazing on beautiful green Sargent’s Mesa
- Sunset and conversations with those who had gone before me as I rode (and hiked) up Monarch Crest Trail toward Marshall Pass
- Passing the Marshall Pass milestone (where I ended my CT expedition in 2021)
- Talking with friendly hikers and riders from all over the world all along the way
- Making a pact with fellow racer, Mike, to leave and conquer Segments 22 and 23 overnight. This was the highest extended exposed stretch of the CT and we traveled under a nearly full moon, a sky full of bright stars and planets, intriguing ridge lines in the La Sal mountains, 2 shooting stars, lights from homes miles and way down the mountain in the distance, marmots and a giant hare with huge ears watching us pass, napping on the side of the mountain at 4 AM and being woken up by raindrops, “nature’s alarm clock,” as Mike called it, seeing the light come followed by colors as sunrise broke while we meandered up and down over pass after pass, finally to the last climb to Stony Pass then descending into Silverton for a gluten-free egg bagel sandwich and coffee at Elevated Coffee
- Gluten-free Palisades Peach Pizza at Avalanche Brewing in Silverton
- Taking Blackhawk Pass under blue skies
- Every single waterfall and creek crossing
- The first sips after filtering cold, clear, delicious mountain water
- Receiving text and satellite communications from my family and friends
- Segment 27 as it wound over mountains up and up toward Indian Ridge
- Segment 28, the final segment, descending up and down green canyons over creeks and past waterfalls, through ferns, aspens, and conifers, and finishing at Junction Creek Trailhead just after sunset
- Pizza with my Dad to celebrate completing the Colorado Trail
- Breakfast in Durango and then a car trip home from Durango with my dad
“Life is not what you alone make it. Life is the input of everyone who touched your life and every experience that entered it. We are all part of one another.” ― Yuri Kochiyama
One of the most profound experiences I had on the trail during the CTR was this knowing that although I was riding in this solo, unsupported bikepacking race, I never was truly alone. I literally felt the positive energy and prayers from my family and friends during the race, and at times, especially at the start when sunrise hit on the first day in Waterton Canyon, and also riding up Monarch Crest Trail at sunset, I reveled in the memory and spirit of my dear friend, Ornah Levy, who passed away in 2021 after living many years with pulmonary arterial hypertension. I felt connected with others a fabric of so many kind and generous people that I definitely did not feel alone. I saw myself not just as a dot on the current 527-mile journey, but that where I was in this race at this time was actually a part of a much longer journey. I recalled memories from childhood, my family, my childhood friends. I recalled more vividly the memories from Pittsburgh, becoming a pulmonary hypertension doc, forming Team PHenomenal Hope in 2012, my original teammates and team members, all the work that went into turning it from a team into a movement with RAAM 2014, and then where the organization has gone since then, building on our Let Me Be Your Lungs Community with innovative programs to improve the lives of those living with pulmonary hypertension everyday. As the finish line got closer, although this race would come to an end, I realized the bigger journey would continue. So in addition to stacking up the W’s along the trail to get to the finish line, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for all of the people and the experiences that supported and led to that very moment.
So with that I want to thank:
To my family and friends who all supported me unconditionally in getting to the starting line and finish line. I am grateful to be in life’s fabric with you. Your support, vibes, and prayers all mattered.
To all those who have donated to my fundraising effort to join in this race to make a difference. Every amount you have donated will help those living with pulmonary hypertension. And your generosity has made this 527 Miles for Hope about so much more than the Colorado Trail. You literally will help us improve the lives of others.
To my parents, who have been in my crew van throughout my life, supporting me through all my ultra events, from the early days of Team PHenomenal Hope to RAAM and RAAM-related events and Paris-Brest-Paris to the Colorado Trail Race. They’ve helped me take on these challenges and have shared in the joy of experiencing them. And they’ve also let my cat take over their home a bit while I’ve been away on trail. And Mom makes the BEST “RAAM Cookies.”
To Coach Jason Aloisio of Team Wilpers, who worked with me over the past 2 years, helping me figure out how to work training in with heavy work responsibilities to be able to prepare and complete this dream.
To Kevin and Elevation Wheel Company, who built my Why Cycles Big Iron and wheels and helped with the final tuning of my beautiful bike that I affectionately call “Big Hope.”
To Don and Panache Cyclewear, partnering with Team Phenomenal Hope to create our beautiful and high quality team uniform this year. You can get our kit here!
To TheFeed.com for partnering with Team PHenomenal Hope athletes for our sports nutrition needs.
To my dear friend, teammate and adventure buddy, Hap Farber, who has not only been been an incredible supporter and collaborator on Team PHenomenal Hope, and now our board president taking it in incredible new directions, but has been one of my best friends and an example of living life to the fullest, both in academic medicine and on the bike, slopes, or the adventure of the moment.
To Sarah Robison for the initial inspiration for “whatever it is that you want to do, do IT now.”
To my friends and colleagues at National Jewish Health, especially my colleagues who not only let me go do this, but encouraged me to go for it. I am so thankful to work in this place with you all everyday.
To all those involved with Team PHenomenal Hope — from my original teammates who were with us at the beginning to all the people involved in our organization now. Your dedication has made this organization what it is and you have inspired me to keep going.
To those who living with pulmonary hypertension who inspire us to get up everyday and keep going. You inspire me 1000 times over, and I am honored to be in this race with you.
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Race Breakdown and Statistics:
I spent 11 days and 10 nights on the trail. 2 nights were in hotels (Leadville and Silverton), and the rest in my tent. I slept better in my tent and when I did not have Internet to cycle through weather apps.
Average sleep per night:
CTR Day 1 — From Waterton Canyon to Goose Creek Campground — Segments 1–3 then Lost Creek Wilderness Bypass — 63.5 miles, 9580 ft climbing, 14 hours total (12:10 moving time), 2211 total calories eaten, 100 oz water, 8h 1 m sleep
CTR Day 2 — From Goose Creek Campground to Jefferson Creek — Lost Creek Wilderness Bypass to Segments 5–6) — 62.2 miles, 6972 ft climbing, 11:30 total (9:42 moving time), 2571 calories eaten, 168 oz water, 8h 17 m sleep
CTR Day 3 — Jefferson Creek to a solo campsite short of Top of 10-mile range — Segments 6–7–33.48 miles, 6647 ft climbing, 11:47 total (9:06 moving time), 2973 calories eaten, 204 oz water (including 1 Coke), 7h 40m sleep
CTR Day 4 — Just before Top of 10-mile Range to Leadville — Segments 7–8 then Holy Cross/Mount Massive Wilderness Detour — 45.38 miles, 6499 ft climbing, 14:17 total (11:16 moving time), 4080 calories eaten, 165 oz water (including coffee in AM and 1 Coke in the evening), 5h 30 m sleep
CTR Day 5 — From Leadville to Princeton Hot Springs then Chalk Creek Trailhead — Holy Cross/Mount Massive Wilderness Detour to Segment 11 to Collegiate Peaks Wilderness Bypass through Buena Vista (laundry, resupply with Mom’s RAAM cookies!), Segment 13–73.37 miles, 6270 feet climbing, 14:41 total (10:56 moving time), 3528 calories eaten, 226 oz water (including 2 Cokes), 7h 16 m sleep
CTR Day 6 — From Chalk Creek Trailhead, Fooses, Monarch Crest Trail to Marshall Pass — Segments 14–15–36.7 miles, 7694 feet climbing, 13:30 total (11:16 moving time), 3554 calories eaten, 144 oz water, 7h 1 m sleep
CTR Day 7 — From Marshall Pass to Campsite after Sargent’s Mesa — Segments 16–17–25.92 miles, 4583 feet climbing, 9:57 total (8:08 moving time), 3161 calories eaten, 128 oz water, 9h 3 m sleep
CTR Day 8 — From Campsite after Sargent’s Mesa to Cathedral Ranch Cabins — Segments 17, 18 and La Garita Wilderness Detour — 54.58 miles, 4626 feet climbing, 8:46 total (8:46 moving), 3701 calories eaten, 170 oz water (including 2 Cokes and 1 Diet Coke), 4h 26 m sleep
CTR Day 9, part 1 — From Cathedral Ranch Cabins until Thunderstorms about 9 miles into Segment 22–34.8 miles, 5230 feet climbing, 10:01 total (6:46 moving time — lots of sheltering in storms), ~ 60 m sleep
CTR Day 9–10 — Overnight push through high country to Silverton, Segments 22–23 then Weminuche Wilderness Detour — 35.38 miles, 5801 feet climbing, 16:09 total (12:32 moving time) — most of the ride between 12,000–13,000 feet, 5939 calories eaten over these 2 days (including recovery pizza in Silverton!), 222 oz water (including 1 Coke and 1 Coffee), 6h 34 m sleep
CTR Day 11 — Silverton to just before Hotel Draw Road — Weminuche Wilderness Detour to Segments 25,26–38.4 miles, 8337 feet climbing, 14:11 total (11:02 moving time), 3112 calories eaten, 122 oz water, 8 h 19 m sleep
CTR Day 12 — Hotel Draw Road to Junction Trailhead in Durango Segments 27–28–43 miles, 5709 feet, 12:40 total (10:40 moving time), 4441 calories eaten (including recovery pizza and cider with Dad in Durango!), 174 oz (including Ginger beer and cider), 5h 23 m sleep
Total time on Trackleaders: 11 days, 15 hours 1 minute
Total distance and elevation: 527 miles, 77,948 feet climbing
Last but not least, although I finished the CTR by bigger challenge in my 527 Miles for Hope continues. If you have not done so already, I invite you to please donate to support Team PH and help make the impact of this ride reach way beyond the trail and help save the lives of those who live with pulmonary hypertension.
Please donate today at give.classy.org/527MilesForHope.
