Some family stories feel like quiet threads, woven gently through time. Others feel like mountain air — sharp, strong, impossible to ignore. The story of my second great-grandfather, Thomas Crocombe, landing in Leadville, Colorado in 1881, feels like the latter.
Long before I ever laced up a pair of trail shoes…
Long before I stood at 10,152 feet — lungs buzzing and heart awake —
one of my ancestors left Devon, England, crossed the ocean, and made his way West to work in the Leadville mines.
And that choice still ripples through my life today.
Leadville, 1881 — A Town on the Edge of History
When Thomas Crocombe arrived in Leadville, the town was rough-cut and pulsing with silver fever. It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t easy. It was loud, gritty, and full of risk and possibility.
Thomas didn’t just show up to mine —
he was known to have a “nose for the ore.”
The kind of miner who could read rock the way some people read faces. Someone who sensed value deep underground — long before the rest of the world could see it.
I imagine him stepping into those dark mine shafts with courage, instinct, and a determination that leaves a mark on the people who come after you.
A Family Rooted in Resilience
The Crocombes didn’t just pass through Leadville.
They lived there.
They worked there.
They built a big, beautiful, bustling family there.
So much so that in December of 1899, the Crocombe family was awarded a baby carriage — yes, really — for having the largest family in Leadville.
I love that detail. It’s funny. It’s tender. It’s real life in a rugged town.
Miners by day. Parents always. Community woven into daily living. Proof that even in hard places, joy and celebration still find room to breathe.
Legacy in Layers
A few years later, another ancestor of mine would arrive.
In 1887, my second great-grandfather, Reverend Arthur Edison Armstrong I, became Leadville’s second Presbyterian minister.
So there they were:
Mining and ministry.
Hands in the earth.
Hearts in the heavens.
Two branches of my family tree…
rooted in the same high-altitude town.
It feels like Leadville wasn’t coincidence.
It was calling.
Returning as The Fed Diabetic Runner
And now — generations later — here I am.
Returning to Leadville with:
🏃♀️ trail shoes
🩸 diabetes tech
💧 electrolytes
🌄 reverence for the mountains
💚 and a heart full of gratitude
I don’t mine ore.
I mine courage.
Compassion.
Endurance.
Self-trust.
When the altitude tightens my lungs…
when the climbs feel endless…
when my blood sugar writes its own storyline…
I think of Thomas.
The man with a nose for the ore.
The man whose children filled a baby carriage prize list in 1899.
The man who crossed an ocean for a future he could not yet see.
And I remember:
Endurance runs in families.
Even when it changes shape.
Why His Story Matters to Me
Knowing that Thomas Crocombe left Devon, England and came to mine in Leadville in 1881 gives my miles meaning.
Knowing that the Crocombe family was once recognized as the largest family in Leadville adds heart and humor to the journey.
It reminds me that:
✨ Resilience can be inherited
✨ Courage can be ordinary and daily
✨ Roots grow even in rocky soil
✨ My story began long before me
Leadville — Then and Now
Thomas came with hands ready for work.
I come with a body I care for fiercely — and dreams I refuse to shrink.
Same mountains.
Same thin air.
Same quiet spirit of perseverance.
And somewhere, I hope Thomas would recognize the grit.
The instinct.
The willingness to keep going.
Even if he’d shake his head at the idea of running uphill for hours on purpose 😂
Honoring the Past — Living the Present
His story reminds me that I am not the first in my family to face:
Hard work
Uncertainty
Fatigue
Hope
Faith
And that gives me strength — especially as a chronic-health athlete — to keep moving forward.
Not perfectly.
Not fearlessly.
But faithfully.
Just like Thomas did in 1881.
And in some small way… every mile I run in Leadville feels like saying:
Thank you.
I remember.
And I’m still here.
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