By Tyler Sheedy
When you think of the greatest athletic accomplishments in history, what do you imagine? Maybe Usain Bolt running the hundred meters in 9.58 seconds, or Roger Bannister breaking four minutes in the mile. You could even consider Secretariat the horse smashing records on his way to a dominant Triple Crown. To me though, I think of Brian Reynolds, who just made history on August 22nd by finishing the Leadville 100 Miler. Not because Brian set a course record, or beat the best athletes in the world. In fact, he nearly finished last place in the race! The reason I believe it was one of the all-time great athletic achievements is this: Brian does not have legs.
A couple weeks ago, when I was driving through South Dakota on my move to Colorado, I got a text from Tom Hooper of SIX03 – who I would consider to be one of the most well-connected guys for anything running-related in the Northeast. Knowing I would soon be living two hours away, Tom asked me if I’d be interested in pacing at the Leadville 100, one of the most iconic 100 mile races in the United States. I’d already been planning to go watch since Leadville happened to be an event I’d been dying to see my entire life, but having just raced a hundred miler of my own I wasn’t sure if I wanted to commit to the strenuous job of pacing and crewing. However, all that changed when Tom told me that the guy I’d be pacing was a double amputee.
So many thoughts rushed to my mind. First off, how was it possible that someone could even attempt a hundred miler without legs? But secondly, and maybe more importantly, I figured this person couldn’t be going very fast, so I heartily agreed knowing that I wouldn’t have any trouble keeping up. And finally, I knew deep down that I couldn’t resist the opportunity to run the Leadville course during the race – how many people actually get that chance?
Over the next few weeks before race day, I did some research. I learned that Brian was trying to become the first double amputee to finish a hundred miler, which made sense. He’d attempted it at Leadville three times before, and at his best had made it to Mile 72 before missing the time cutoff. Then during a phone call with Brian himself, I learned that he was legit – his 50K PR was only seven minutes slower than mine! During the call, I got all the logistics and understood that this was the year that he was finally going to do it. Training had gone extremely well, and the crew had never been more prepared.
I drove into Leadville, Colorado at 3:15am on race morning, ready to watch the iconic race and do my best to help Brian accomplish his dreams. The energy at the start was incredible, just like any other hundred miler. Everyone looked ready to take off on the adventure of their lives, and the town was alive in ultrarunning celebration. I got to quickly say hello to Brian at the start, meeting the man for the first time ten minutes before the race! I saw his custom prosthetic running legs (of which there were a few spares with the crew, ready to be swapped out depending on terrain). He made his way into the starting chute, and soon after I watched hundreds of athletes take off down Sixth Street into the darkness.
I took off to the Outward Bound aid station, a marathon into the race. This was where I would begin my pacing duties, and I’d be on with Brian until Twin Lakes at Mile 40.5. Luckily, while waiting for the runners, I was able to get two more lovely hours of sleep in my car. I woke up to a striking view of Colorado’s two tallest peaks, Mt Elbert and Mt Massive, rising high above the plain sprawled with cars, tents, and crew members getting ready to give aid to their runners.
I walked over to Brian’s setup and got to meet the full crew. It was a giant operation, but it was necessary due to all the moving parts required to get Brian in and out with everything he needed. I filled my pack with tons of food and water to carry for him, and while we waited for him to round the corner, I learned that he had run the first 10K of the race in fifth place. It made sense – since it’s much harder for Brian to navigate the terrain on the trails, he had to bank as much time as he could on the early roads of the race.
Suddenly, Brian rounded the corner and I was excited to go. I stayed out of the way as the crew cared for him and was told “get ready, he leaves without warning!” This was true, because before I knew it, we were off and in an instant the chaos of the aid station turned to just me and Brian in the middle of the plain, nothing ahead of us but the biggest mountains of Colorado.
I gathered quickly Brian was going through a rough patch, completely normal in a hundred miler. I, on the other hand, was trying to juggle three conflicting tasks: looking at Brian in amazement that he was able to run at the pace he was going with two blades for legs, a feeling of giddiness I was actually on the Leadville course, and trying to do my job as pacer to keep Brian going. It was difficult though, because Brian and I had only spoken for about 15 minutes total before on a poorly-connected phone call. He didn’t feel like talking much, so I was stuck saying random encouraging quotes and hoping something would help.
After a rough six miles or so, we arrived at Half Pipe Aid Station, where I refilled the bottles while Brian sat down to eat some food. It seemed like getting a break and some more fuel really lifted his spirits, because not only were we moving a lot faster afterwards, but we started chatting, and it was awesome.
As we began some climbing through the woods, I learned all about Brian’s past experiences in the running world, and I got to share some of the cool things I’d done as well. What amazed me was how similar the two of us were – to a stranger, you might only see a guy with legs and a guy without, and going into the race, that’s all I really knew and thought about Brian. But marching along, I learned just how much we shared a passion for ultras, mountains, and running as a whole. While we might approach races in very different ways just based on our abilities, our excitement for all things to do with the sport connected us and carried us through the next seven miles, where oftentimes I would forget that he was even a double amputee.
Unfortunately, I was reminded of it when I heard a tumble behind me and saw Brian lying on the ground in pain. After the race, I’ve seen idiotic comments where people think that having prosthetic legs makes running 100 miles easier, but this is not the case. Unlike the average person who can make natural micro-adjustments with their feet, uneven and technical terrain forces Brian to put much more thought into each step, and occasionally leads to falls he cannot prevent. This was one of those situations on a climb at Mile 37. However, Brian knew exactly how to fix the problem and barely needed my help as he treated his leg and got back to trudging forward again. It wasn’t long before spirits were back up.
By Mile 38.5, all that stood between us and Twin Lakes Aid Station was a 1000 foot descent off the base of Mt Elbert. However, downhills were easily the hardest part for Brian – which makes sense. He has absolutely no way to stop himself on a descent, and if he started to fall, that would be a disaster. Luckily, another member of the crew, Mike, met us at the top and together we worked as human crutches for Brian as he held onto our shoulders and made his way to the bottom. It was hard work, but more than anything I couldn’t stop smiling at how cool it was to be a part of. This guy was doing something unheard of in world history, and no matter what problem got in his way, he had a plan. Brian noted how much nicer it was to have two people to hold onto, as in years past he’d only used one and it hadn’t gone as well. Soon, we began to hear the roar of the crowd at the aid station. The three of us knew that once they saw a double amputee run his way in, they would only get louder.
It is my dream to win the Leadville 100 some day. But even if I do, and I run through Twin Lakes in the lead with everyone cheering for me, it will never be as powerful as it was running through with Brian. The crowd went nuts – it was unlike anything I’ve ever seen, even at the finish of Western States, the biggest hundred miler in the country. The best part was that the crew had set up at the end of the long street, so we got to run the entire length of the aid station with people screaming the whole way until Brian got to sit down again and my pacing duties were done.
Brian sat down and everyone took care of his food, his legs, and making sure the next pacers were ready to bring him through the next section. Having just finished my longest run since the Vermont 100, at 10,500 feet no less, I was feeling a bit dizzy and sat down opposite of Brian to just watch the action. After about seven minutes, he was off again, and was about to begin the infamous climb up and over Hope Pass, which everyone knew was far and away the hardest part of the race – especially for Brian.
Knowing that I would be useless for about eight hours until Brian got back to Twin Lakes on his way home to Leadville, I thought it would be fun to go watch the leaders in the tail end of the race. I shuttled back to a now much less crowded Outward Bound at Mile 78.7, and relaxed for a couple hours reading and waiting for the top group to arrive. After seeing the top four roll through, I took a quick shower at Tom’s AirBNB and walked out in the driveway, which just so happened to be Mile 95. Finally, I drove into town and witnessed Adrian Macdonald take the victory in 15:47:23. Through the entire excursion, I was constantly refreshing the tracker to see if Brian was making progress, but unsurprisingly Hope Pass was taking a while.
Finally, I made my way back to Twin Lakes and hung out with the crew as we awaited Brian’s arrival. I was so thankful I hadn’t been selected for the Hope Pass pacing segment, as the pacers were out there the longest and had to carry a spare pair of legs. Eventually, Brian got there just before 10pm, and after nearly half a day of waiting, I watched him roll in and out in a blur. The sight of a dozen headlamps climbing the hill out of Twin Lakes was epic: Brian and countless others had twelve hours to accomplish their dreams, and the hardest part was over. I was starting to get nervous though, because Brian had never been past 72 miles, and after spending a while going up, over, and back across Hope Pass the time limit was closing in.
Once I got back to Outward Bound, I was wiped out. I had one of the most glorious naps of my life from midnight to 2am, and woke up just in time to cheer Brian on as he hit mile 78.7. The bacon there was delicious (technically, as a pacer, I was allowed to eat some), and everyone on the crew was discussing how excited we were to run the final half mile of the race alongside Brian once the morning hit. He just needed to suffer a little longer, and then he’d have the moment he’d been dreaming of.
I went back to the AirBNB and dozed off in the back of my car again. However, around 5am I was awoken by the sound of Tom pounding on my car: “Tyler! Wake up! Brian needs an emergency pacer for the final miles of the race!” Groggy-eyed, exhausted, and longing for more sleep, I’d never been more ready in my life.
As Tom and I drove backwards on the course to reach Mile 93, the furthest point we could legally reach, I learned that Brian had resorted to leaning on his pacers Chris and Rebecca on all parts of the course, not just the hills. My role would be to take over for Fatiya, who had been carrying all of Brian’s fuel for a number of hours. We spotted the crew of four walking down the road, seven miles to go and after a night of hard-earned miles, plenty of time to spare. It was going to happen, as long as Brian kept moving forward.
Brian walked right past us holding onto Chris and Rebecca as I took the pack from Fatiya and got up to date on the fueling schedule. With everything set, I hustled along to catch back up, which wasn’t very hard. Then, for the next seven miles, we walked.
The sun had risen and Colorado’s two biggest mountains were on full display as Brian marched toward history. Chris and Rebecca knew exactly the right things to say to Brian, and I knew that my only job was to stay quiet and let them carry him home. I decided to walk behind the three of them, so that all Brian could see ahead of him was the road to the finish, and also so that nobody could see me quietly shedding a few tears. I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect: holding the hands of your two friends as they carry you through the final steps of an endeavor years in the making, gorgeous mountains rising above. What a privilege it was to witness!
Every fifteen minutes, I made sure to hand over electrolytes or a gel. As the remaining miles ticked down, there were more people cheering us on, each one of them expressing amazement and a good number already knowing who Brian was and what the moment meant. When we turned onto the pavement by the High School, one mile from the finish, I asked, “Ready for your poles Brian?” He stuck his hands back and grabbed the poles. Then Brian Reynolds, the man with no legs, began walking under his own power in the final mile of the Leadville 100.
The entire crew was waiting for us at the right turn onto Sixth Street. Everyone was yelling, most of us were crying, and countless hugs were shared as we followed Brian up the final hill. Then a half mile out, we caught sight of the finish, and it finally felt real. I was overwhelmed, and I had only been a part of the journey for less than a weekend. I couldn’t even imagine what it must have felt like for everyone on the team who had journeyed with Brian for years. At long last, we entered the chute and the crowd roared as Brian crossed the line in 28:55:43, more than an hour before the cutoff.
It was pandemonium at the finish. Brian received the finisher belt buckle he’d been dreaming of, and we took a million photos to celebrate the incredible occasion. Then just over an hour later, the 2026 Leadville 100 was over and it was time to go home.
As you can guess, the whole experience was life-changing for me. Seeing someone accomplish a dream like that put all my own goals into perspective – if Brian could finish Leadville, then why can’t I achieve all my biggest dreams? It was never guaranteed. Brian failed three times, and had to give everything just to succeed on the fourth. But he gave himself a shot, and surrounded himself with the right people who were willing to buy into his crazy idea. I’m so honored that I got to play a role in Brian’s historic run, and I will always use this weekend as a reminder to dream big – because that’s when you can go make history of your own.
