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“There is but one Leadville. Never will there be another.” —Carlyle Channing Davis, Leadville newspaperman, circa 1890
The first time I set foot in Leadville, it was a broken town.
Broken economy. Broken community. Broken buildings.It was the summer of 1994, and like many residents of Colorado’s Front Range, I was just passing through. I had driven up from Boulder for the weekend with the intent of hiking a few of the 14,000-foot peaks in the Upper Arkansas River Valley and camping along Half Moon Creek in the valley between Mount Elbert and Mount Massive.Driving through Leadville for the first time, I was struck by both the majestic peaks on either side of the city but also the deplorable state of what looked to have once been a dignified main street business district. Dozens of late-19th-century buildings still proudly lined Harrison Avenue, the main drag through town, as the end of the 20th century drew near, but chipping paint, boarded windows and defunct storefronts blatantly exposed the economic collapse following the Climax molybdenum-mine shutdown in 1982.
I was intrigued as I drove by what must have been at one time thriving businesses—the Golden Burro Café and Lounge, Bill’s Sports Shop and the Silver Dollar Saloon—but I only stopped for gas and snacks at a mini mart on the edge of town and continued on my way.
On that first visit to Leadville, I ran and hiked my way up Mount Elbert, the highest of Colorado’s 14ers at 14,439 feet, and was captivated by the views from the summit. Anchored by Elbert and neighboring Mt. Massive (14,421 feet), the Sawatch Range is Colorado’s loftiest mountain range, with three of the five highest peaks in the state making up Leadville’s western horizon line. Being up on those mountains will conjure up an awe-inspiring sense of scale to any hiker or trail runner, but they can also give context to the ruggedness of Leadville’s lofty perch too.
I returned again later that summer to bag more peaks and watch the Leadville Trail 100 unfold, witnessing the record-setting performances from Tarahumara runner Juan Herrera and American legend Ann Trason. While the Leadville 100 will always be among the most notable races in the ultrarunning world, it was the storyline of the 1994 race that really put it on the map.
Trason, then 33, was in the prime of her record-setting career when she came to Leadville and went head-to-head with five Tarahumara runners from the Copper Canyon of Mexico. Her stated intent was to win the race outright and she went for it. Only 25-year-old Juan Herrera outran Trason that day, doing so in a record-setting time of 17:30. But as an indication of how dominant Trason was at the time, her 18:06:24 effort from that race remains the course record 25 years later.
It was a transcendent summer for me, with moments that cultivated a deeper interest in trail running and what would become a growing intrigue for the small, but enduring city nestled 10,151 feet above sea level.
“It was a different time, a different sport and a different place back then,” says Peter Downing, who placed fourth in the 1991 Leadville 100 and finished runner-up in 1992. “Ultrarunning was still in its infancy. Back then, it was a bunch of old guys shuffling along and almost no one under 30 running at all. And Leadville was definitely a broken place with a dead economy.”
That Was Then
It wasn’t the first time the city went belly-up from a mining decline—that’s happened several times in Leadville since it was founded in 1860—but few understood what Jim Butera had in mind when he started making plans for a 100-mile race in Leadville.
Butera was the president of the fledgling Colorado Ultra Club and a well-known trail race director who had dreamed about putting together a 100-mile run in Colorado’s high country for years. He originally wanted to hold the event between Vail and Aspen as a one-way event that would alternate directions every other year. But those ski resort towns never showed interest, so he approached other locations.
By September 1982, Butera had mapped out an out-and-back course that would start and end in Leadville early on a Saturday morning the following August. He went about rallying local support and getting permits from Leadville, Lake County and the U.S. Forest Service, knowing he’d need sponsors and volunteers to pull it off. He found enthusiastic support from Ken Chlouber, a Leadville miner, ultrarunner and Lake County Commissioner, and Merilee Maupin, a local travel agent, who both saw the new race as an opportunity to help revive the local economy.
“We had to do something,” says Chlouber, who would eventually own the race with Merilee Maupin after Butera backed away in the late 1980s. “We wanted to do something that would bring people here for the weekend and stay in our hotels and eat in our restaurants. We couldn’t just put on a 10K and have them come up and leave in the same day. We wanted to put on an event that required grit, guts and determination that symbolized what Leadville was all about.”
And what it was all about was a certain grittiness that comes with living at 10,000 feet. That hardiness had long been tied to a passionate running community well before the Leadville 100 came to life. Dozens of small trail races and snowshoe races have been held in the area since the 1970s.
The quirky sport of burro racing, the Colorado Summer Heritage Sport, had its origins in Leadville in 1949 and always been tied to a vibrant community of local trail runners. Plus, no high school in Colorado can claim as many cross-country championships as Lake County High School, which won 28 titles in girls and boys team titles between 1967 and 1996.
The other big change, ironically, was the 2010 decision of Chlouber and Maupin to sell the race series to Lifetime Fitness, a growing Minnesota-based chain of health clubs and endurance events. After adding 50-mile mountain bike and running races and promoting the six-event Leadman and Leadwoman series, Chlouber and Maupin packaged it up for a reported $1 million. Bahram Akradi, Lifetime’s founder, CEO, president and chairman, also saw the economic potential in Leadville through an endurance-sports lens and was eager to help both the town and the race series grow.
Since then, as the race series has continued to grow and property values have finally started to tick upward, the city has finally shown signs of an economic upswing.A 2014 study showed that the race series brings about $15 million in economic impact to Leadville every year.“The race’s biggest contribution is that we’re absolutely changing lives,” Chlouber says. “It’s not just in the town here or even in Colorado, it’s the lives of the people who come here and absorb what Leadville is all about. That’s why we tell people, “You don’t find Leadville, Leadville finds you.’”
This is Now
“We had a dry patch for a while when the economy dried up after the mines closed, but the point is there’s always been a really a proud running history in Leadville,” says Willis, who’s mom, Jeanne Willis, helped man the Hope Pass aid station in 1983 and completed the race in 2005 at the age of 49. “The ultra vibe around the 100 has been great, but I think it might have also kept people away too. I think there is plenty of opportunity for growth around shorter races and opening up Leadville as a bigger running destination.”Not only are there more locals out running on a regular basis, last year, the top three finishers of the Leadman six-race series, Marvin Sandoval, Rodrigo Jimenez and Wesley Sandoval, were all residents. There are also two stores that sell running gear and accessories—Burgess’s Community Threads consignment shop and Leadville Outdoors and Mountain Market.“There’s actually a pretty good amount of people to run with up here now,” Burgess says. “About half of my runs are with other people now, which says a lot considering how few people were running not long ago, aside from the big races.”
What’s Next?
Plus, there’s something Leadville has that those other places do not—legendary toughness.
“I think the town has a huge opportunity to be one of the athletic centers of the nation. And why shouldn’t it be?” Chlouber says. “We know it can not only bring the best out of anybody. You wanna be leather tough? Come to Leadville.”
