It was the best of times, it was the best of times...
Hill runner that I am I've been hankering to take on Pike's Peak for several years
now. Pike's isn't as hard to get in as the Dipsea, but you DO have to act quickly
- the race sells out in April. As it is I got my check in just in time.
Training for the race was limited; after working hard training for the Dipsea, I
pretty much slacked off. I did have one week of 37M but averaged more like 15-20
mpw. But for once I was going into a race just for the experience, not with any goals.
I DID have expectations of a tough race. The Pike's Peak Ascent is 7800' of ascent
in 13.3 miles. Brad's Mt. Diablo Challenge is 3000' in 5.5 miles, which works out
to 7200' in 13.3 miles, so I was expecting a hill at least as tough as that.
I knew I'd be going into the race hill trained, but there was the great unknown -
how would my body react to the lack of altitude at 14,000 feet? Time would tell.
As far as a time expectation, last year I did Mt. Diablo in 1:18, which multiplies
out to 3:10 or so for 13.3 miles. Of course I wouldn't be able to go as fast in a
race 2 1/2 times as long, and I knew the altutide would have SOME effect (43% less
oxygen at 14,000 feet!) so I was guessing 4 hours. In the end, that's exactly what
I did - 4:00:22, just one 30-second pee break away from being able to say "oh,
3-something" when asked what my time was. And in the end, the "Pike's Peak
Pace Calculator" at www.skyrunner.com was right on the money. This calculator
gives you times at a dozen intermediate spots given a target time, but warns "without
altitude training, you can expect to lost some time after Barr Camp [7.3M into the
race, 10,200']; without training in high altitude you can expect to lose some SERIOUS
time after the A-frame [10.3M, 11,950']." Considering that my altitude training
consisted of one 5-mile run around my brother's neighborhood (in Castle Rock, about
an hour north of Pike's Peak, at 6000') the day before the race, I was PRETTY sure
that warning would apply to me. It did.
Awaiting the start. My new running style (as of the last few weeks) features
a "head cover" - running in the woods, I find the brim of a hat restricts
my vision, and I absolutely require something on top of my head (for sun protection)
and something on my brow (to absorb sweat). This item does the trick.
You'll also notice if you look very closely the tell-tale spot on the nose indicating the presence of a "BreathRite". I don't normally wear these things, but with 18% less oxygen available at the start of the race, and 43% less at the finish, I figure - hey, every little bit helps!
Also note the red spot which is a pair of gloves, and the long-sleeve shirt wrapped
around the waist. The race organizers issue dire warnings about how cold it gets
at the top, so I was prepared.
What I hadn't anticipated about this race was the totally, almost unacceptably so,
crowded nature of this race. The ascent caps at 1500 runners, in two waves of 750
starting 30 minutes apart. Considering that the average ascent time is 4:25 for men
and 4:54 for women, I assumed that it wouldn't take too long before the race was
as spread out as a typical ultra. I was wrong about that. The race starts out in
the very picturesque (all sorts of interesting shops, well worth spending several
hours as we did after the race) town of Manitou Springs as, in typical road race
conditions, heads down a slightly uphill street for 1/2 mile or so, then turns uphill
on a steep paved street for several blocks. This is actually the steepest pitch in
the course, and the only time all day I was running on my toes.
After that, at about the 1.4M point, the race hits the Barr Trail, a single-track
trail which leads all the way to the top of the mountain. This is kind of like starting
everyone at the Dipsea out at the same time and having them all hit the stairs at
the same time, and never encountering a trail wider than two people side by side
for the next 4 hours. It's a mess. The trail is never particularly steep, I never
once (after the brief initial road stretch) was on my toes or putting any stress
on my Achilles, and it's definitely all runnable, but most of the people (at least
in the mid pack) seem to spend most of their time walking.
Everyone knows my thing, however irrational and non-optimal it may be in terms of
finishing time, is running, and although I didn't have a time goal, I DID have a
goal of running as far as my legs would take me. But this was VERY difficult to do,
not because the lack of oxygen was getting to me (it wasn't, yet anyway), or the
steepness, but all those darn people in my way. I had started at a pace which I thought
I could maintain for four hours; in retrospect, because I anticipated a steeper mountain
than I actually found, I probably set a pace even slower than I really could have
maintained. But even at that pace, I found myself practically running in place half
the time, waiting for those slight widenings of the trail which would let me get
by the person in front of me and move up a few feet to repeat the process with the
next person. Several hours of this gets old.
As it turned out, I DID have one other problem - the expected one. I ran all the
way to Barr Camp (7.3M), arriving at a 3:45 pace, but somewhere just past there all
at once the altitude (around 10,500) got me - I started getting very light-headed
and felt like I was about to fall off the trail. My muscles seemed to be fine with
the lack of oxygen, but my brain was not so happy. I started walking. Given the peer
pressure (everyone else around walking most of the time), it had taken a lot of mental
strength to get this far, but now I had to give in to the pressure from within.
Somewhere higher up the mountain, it suddenly dawned on me that except for my head,
I was really fine. My muscles weren't hurting at all, my heart rate was hardly elevated,
in short, I had all sorts of energy to spare. If I started running, the dizziness
set in, but I could pull off a racewalking pace without danger, so I started pouring
it on. I continued to walk all the way to the top, but from that point on passed
dozens of people. As I got closer to the top, I saw more and more people sitting
on rocks on the side of the trail, obviously more affected by the altitude than I.
The
last section of the course; pretty barren here above tree line! If you look closely
you can see minute zig-zag lines which are the trail; if you had a magnifying glass
you could see lines of people on the trail as well.
At 13,000' or so, the headache started. It was clear to me that the altitude was
hitting me even harder, but it never got really bad (I've certainly had worse actual
headaches), so I pressed on without worrying about it. I was pushing as hard as I
could, knowing that although I had fallen behind the 3:45 pace I was pretty much
on the 4-hour pace, and I figured that sounded like a reasonable goal and a good
motivation to push myself as hard as I could. But even now the crowds persisted,
and it was a repetition of walk real hard, catch someone, walk behind them for 5
or 10 seconds until there was an opportunity to pass, then walk real hard 5 or 10
feet until catching the next person, and so on.
Here I come, finally! That's me having donned the long-sleeve light blue shirt. It really wasn't that cold, and if I didn't have the shirt or gloves I would have been fine, but since I had them I had put them on once I got above tree line. Look closely and you'll see I'm running, unlike most of the others in the picture!
Oops, walking now! (Had to negotiate a large "step-up" at the corner)
With the top in sight, I took off my shirt and it's now in my hand. Had to make sure the number was showing at the finish.
Just caught sight of Debi who has been taking these pictures.
Thumbs up! Still thought I had a chance at 4 hours because I hadn't seen the finish line clock yet.
Realizing that time was getting short, I'm trying to run as hard as I can, but it's tricky footing with rocks and zig-zags and hard to go too fast (I'm about 20% up from the bottom and 40% over from the left in this picture)
Just a few steps from the finish line (just visible behind the guy in the dark coat), but the clock has already ticked past 4 hours.
In the end, there were just too many people in the way, and I missed by 22 seconds. That damn pee break. But I had done it - I conquered the Peak! Pike's Peak is not the tallest mountain in Colorado (there are 55 peaks over 14,000 feet in Colorado), but it IS the largest ascent (7800') from base to peak of any of them. Despite the crowds, doing the ascent WAS satisfying, and I felt good about persevering to the top. Finished 539/1679 overall, 439/1128 male, 32/117 in 50-50 a.g., and 8th Californian. :-) Timewise for once I was NOT the "man on the edge." The two waves in this race are divided on the basis of a 4:20 finish (either previous or predicted based on other races). I had been seeded into the first wave based on times from races like the Quad Dipsea; now I'm firmly in the first wave if I care to be. Not sure I do.
The view from the top
Debi was waiting at the top, where although it is often cold and very windy, on this day it was in the 50's and absolutely beautiful (Debi says it was windy earlier on), as it had been the entire way up. We admired the view, grabbed some grub at the snack bar on top, and drove down.
The final "souvenir" picture - I made it! In the shadow, not really visible, is the elevation - 14,110 ft.
I don't want to be too negative about the race. The race organization is very
good, the T-shirt (actually a long-sleeve shirt with buttons on the front of the
neck) very nice, the medal gorgeous (engraved on BOTH sides), the trail lovely (all
but the last 3 miles about tree line run through lovely forest, and in the last three
miles there are some great views and great rock formations to look at) and quite
runnable, and the accomplishment satisfying. But the crowds were very frustrating
(I can't even IMAGINE how bad it is in the marathon with people descending at the
same time), particularly BECAUSE the course is so runnable. Certainly it was worth
doing once. If I ever do it again, I'll start out close to the front and run hard
the first mile and a half and risk dying, just for the opportunity to maybe spend
the next few hours focussing my mental energies on the mountain instead of on the
other runners. And if I die, so be it. Unfortunately, looking at results on the web,
the race doesn't really thin out until you're at 3:15 or lower, which is a time pretty
much beyond my reach. So even the go out hard strategy may not reduce the crowds
sufficiently.
Incidentally, one more thing about Pike's Peak Ascent - this was the most litter-prone
trail race I have ever done. I'm used to doing ultras in the Bay Area, where the
sight of a single GU wrapper on the ground almost certainly means it fell out of
someone's pocket, because no one would ever do that intentionally. The Ascent, by
contrast, was a constant stream of runner litter from bottom to top. Must be all
those road runners. :-)
As an indication of how much I had left after this race, the next day I went out
with Debi for a hilly 6-mile run, without the slightest pain.
Today (Sunday) is a different story - I'm walking around with very sore legs.
Because yesterday I decided, on about a 48-hour spur of the moment decision, to take
on the Headlands 50K. This is a race which reduced me to tears last year, so what
the heck, why not have another go?
I *think* this is a beautiful course, heading from the start at Rodeo Beach, up the
Miwok Trail to Pantoll on Mt. Tamalpais, then down the Matt Davis Trail to Stinson
Beach, back up Steep Ravine to Pantoll and then over to Muir Beach, and back to Rodeo
Beach via the Coastal Trail. There are 7500' of climbing over 31 miles on this course,
about the same amount as Pike's Peak. But this race is WAY tougher, and not just
because it's longer. The last 6 miles between Muir Beach and Rodeo Beach contain
two long, ultra-steep climbs and one more just plain steep climb. It's a tough one.
I started by saying I *think* this is a beautiful course, because, like last year,
I never got to see all that much. The race starts in heavy mist and, on Saturday,
pretty much ended the same way. Except for a brief stretch on the Matt Davis Trail
between Pantoll and Stinson Beach, we never did see the sun all day. The first 10
miles I hardly saw anything, since the condensation was so bad on my glasses I had
to take them off and run with them in my hand. With eyesight as bad as mine, this
is a considerable challenge.
But even without being able to see very much in terms of views, the trails themselves
are so beautiful and so varied that this race is a joy to run. Well, until you get
to the last 6 miles. :-)
As per my usual, I was going for the go out hard and hang on strategy, run as far
as I can. Having done the race before, I knew there was no chance at all I'd be running
the whole thing, but I figured to give it my best shot. I arrived at Stinson Beach
at 2:58, 2 minutes ahead of last year's pace, feeling fine. Going up Steep Ravine
Trail I was definitely starting to tire, and did a fair bit of walking, but still
ok. Richard Pon passed me in here, as did a guy with a big dog (who was doing the
race). Arriving back at Cardiac I downed two glasses of coke, as I had at Stinson,
and as I would again at Muir Beach. I used to be scared of the carbonation, but I've
come to realize how valuable that caffeine is to me to keep my mental focus. I ran
well down to Muir Beach (and was passed again by the guy with the dog; I think he
stopped to feed and water the dog) and arrived at Muir Beach at 4:46, 30 seconds
ahead of last year.
At Muir I grabbed two of the best homemade chocolate chip cookies and I think that
must have been the key, because where I had really died on the last three hills last
year, this year I walked the first two (like everyone else), but actually managed
to run most of the last one (and even when I was walking the hills, I was pushing
hard, unlike last year when it was pretty much a death march). Getting near the top
of the last ridge I started to smell the barn (either that or the chocolate chip
cookies kiicked in) and just started flying over the last few rises and down the
final descent; like last year I just hammered the last 0.4 downhill road miles and
finished in 6:07, a full 8 1/2-minutes ahead of last year, with 8 of those coming
in the last 6 miles. Considering my relative lack of training (the last time I did
a run longer than 20 miles was at the Quad Dipsea last November!) I was VERY pleased.
Finished as 56/120 overall, 46/82 male, 9th/25 in a.g. Lucky thing I'm not aspiring
to ever win my age group, since Danny Dreyer finished 6th overall and first in my
a.g. (50-59) in a time just an hour and 22 minutes ahead of me. :-) Andy Black also
had a good strong race, even if he had to pass me twice to do it (Andy and I have
a "thing"; since we're always doing handicapped races like the Dipsea,
Double Dipsea, Woodminster, it seems like every race I do, some time after the start,
there goes Andy (having started behind me because he's younger). This race wasn't
handicapped, but Andy obviously likes to start slowly, because a few minutes after
the start there he was, passing me. Then 5 or 10 minutes later, there he was again,
passing me again. He just can't get enough of it. :-) )
I AM likely to do Headlands again, but I did make the race organizers PROMISE me
that next year there would be sun. Incidentally, here's a picture of me in the ONLY
section of the race where there was actually sunshine (Matt Davis trail) and I had
my long-sleeve shirt off (it went back on later in the day and stayed on). If you
knew their race numbers (I don't), I'm sure you can find Andy, Richard, and Danny
there too. Dave Wright is also there somewhere, but I never did see him. I was looking
for Jim Winne, but now I see his race report and found the answer to his whereabouts.
Time for a well-deserved rest (from writing, not from running).
Steve "Loves Hills" Patt
back in Cupertino, CA