Collegiate Peaks Trail Run Race Report

Buena Vista's 25 Mile Trail Race

Despite having spent 95% of my life residing in the Midwest, I somewhat impulsively agreed to travel to the Collegiate Peaks Trail Run moments after my Colorado-based friend put this mountainous race on my radar. I went in feeling ill-prepared, cautiously excited for an adventure, and with just a touch of altitude sickness.

Collegiate Peaks offers two distances: the 25M and the 50M. I opted for the 25M (Strava), thanks to my faint sense of self-preservation.

The Course

Let’s get this out of the way right off the bat: the race is actually 25.3 miles, as confirmed by the race director. An extra 0.3 miles may feel insignificant, but I surely felt it at the end, so please don’t approach this race with a plan to collapse immediately at mile 25.0.

The course is a single loop consisting almost entirely of dirt trails. I was pounding pavement only from mile markers 0.7 to 2.9 (mostly on State Highway 371) before turning onto a dirt road just before the Midland Tunnels. This dirt road led to a trailhead in a matter of minutes. As such, I was happy with my decision to wear trail shoes over road shoes.

The course is incredibly easy to follow. A someone who’s gotten lost in multiple races and often doubted my way even when on the right route, I never once felt lost or confused during this race. Perhaps the only exception would be at the very end (brain fog no doubt contributed to this), but more on that later.

Collegiate Peak’s vertical gain mostly comes from ascending to two notable peaks at miles 10 and 17:

Being a Flatlander, I was anxious about the vert, but I was actually pleasantly surprised once I reached the peaks: there was never a single, massive “wall” to climb up. This is a blessing, but it can also trick runners into approaching the climbing too aggressively and burning out; walking (read: power hiking) every noticeably steep inline - regardless of its length is still my recommendation.

In fact one of the final ascents is deceiving: look directly ahead at the trail at mile 15, and it’ll look pretty flat. But in reality, it’s the start of a long, gradual, and big climb. I actually thought I was hitting the wall when I suddenly slowed way down and started to feel significantly more fatigued and braced myself to start getting passed left-and-right. But then I noticed everyone else around me was slowing down too. At this point I switched to power-hiking, and was able to keep up with those who were still jogging.

Everyone I met along the way seemed to have the exact same strategy: just get to mile 18, then “roll the rest of the way down” (an exact phrase heard by no less than four fellow runners that day). This plan somewhat worked perfectly for me: I was pretty spent by the second and highest peak, but coasting down the mountain was quickly rejuvenating. That being said, the last two miles still absolutely took some work, mostly because of the switch to single-track and how technical the trail got.

This is the point in the race where technique becomes a major factor. There were some gnarly and unnerving downhill sections that I watched someone fly down at lightning speed. I was even watching her foot placement so I could literally follow in her footsteps. Later we chatted and she told me she loves technical, downhill running and makes it a regular part of her training. Needless to say, using a stairstepper to train for this race for a massive help for the uphills, but did nothing to prepare me for the descents.

I enjoyed that this race wasn’t your typical go-up-then-come-down mountain race; the course offered plenty of ascent and descent interspersed throughout. This helps runners of different specialities stay within range of each other: I shared a few miles with one runner, Luke, before eventually pulling ahead. He soon after passed me on the next downhill section. I soon after caught up and passed him on the next uphill section. We repeated this pattern for miles and miles, eventually calling out “see you soon!” when we passed each other, rather than the traditional “good job!”

The final two miles are mostly single-track and offer the most technical and the steepest downhill sections by far. Throw in a handful of slab crossings for good measure. It’s a great time, but tricky as hell when you’re already tired from running 23 miles by that point. All to say, anyone approaching this race competitively should practice their downhill running: I last saw Luke around mile 23 and he ultimately finished a full two minutes ahead of me.

I was told at the pre-race meeting that we were “pretty much done” once we exit the trail and cross a bridge. This is objectively true: the bridge is less than 0.5 miles from the finish. However, that final stretch felt like an entirety to me. It doesn’t help that the finish line isn’t visible from the bridge crossing, which I was expecting. This was a big mental hurdle for me, so it’d serve one well to study the finish closely. Once I crossed the bridge, I took a left turn, ran up a dirt road for bit, and turned again to enter a parking lot. Running into the parking lot immediately had me feeling lost and confused: it felt like I had stepped off course and missed the finish line. Fortunately I pressed on - once I crossed the parking lot, I was just one turn away from finally seeing the finish line, only 400 meters away. So if you’re competitive, don’t wait until the finish line is in sight before starting your final kick.

The Aid Stations

Aid stations were a big highlight of this race. Each of the five had a wide assortment of food, including oreos, potato chips, candy bars, fruit, and more. Each aid station was unique in its assortments as well; I looked forward to what surprises the next stop would offer, but if you find something you love, be careful to not plan for it at the next stop. The only exception to this rule would be Tailwind, which all five aid stations had. As well as helpful and kind volunteers who were eager to refill my water bottles for me and happy to withdraw and deposit supplies into my race pack to save me the trouble of taking it off.

The final aid station is at mile 22. Since it’s so close to the finish, I considered skipping it, but I was low on water and feeling quite depleted. So I stopped for two minutes…and witnessed five runners fly by in that time. I have no regrets, considering how tough the final miles were, but keep in mind a lot of racers will opt to skip this aid station.

The Community

Every single individual I met along the way with was friendly, supportive, and happy to run together. Most of the 25-milers either had run ultramarathons in the past or were training for one, so everyone seemed to have the “ultra” vibe. Additionally, since the 50M is run at the same time and starts an hour earlier, I passed by and cheered on plenty of ultrarunners along the way.

Collegiate Peaks is particularly gracious to the 50-milers by allowing them to skip their second lap and instead drop down to the 25M. I got passed once or twice by racers dawning the 50M race bib toward the end and wondered just how slow I was actually going. In reality, my pace was holding (mostly) steady, and these were just runners who decided to switch distances.

The After Party

Everyone gets a bagged lunch included with their registration. Crossing the finish line and having a veggie wrap and potato chips ready to go was a godsend. Plus the volunteers working the finish line were just as kind and helpful as those at the aid stations.

Also included in the registration is two drink tickets - which I guess is valuable if your stomach can tolerate two beers after running 25 miles. Despite not being able to use my drink tickets, the beer garden they set up was still a great place to hang out and meet other runners. It’s set up right next to the finish line, which also makes it a great place to watch and cheer on subsequent finishers.

Overall

10/10 would run again and don't forget to hit the nearby hot springs afterward.