Failure on the RTP

Today I had set off to try and fulfill a dream of riding my mountain bike on a trail system that surrounds Pikes Peak. It is known as the Ring the Peak Trail (RTP). Only I didn’t do well, managing about a little less than half-way before having to call it quits; more on that later.
Failure, if used properly, can shape our character more than any string of successes. Not that we don’t learn and benefit from what we do well. It is sometimes the sheer frustration of not being able to accomplish what we have set out to do that can push to work harder and perhaps succeed when given the chance to try again. At least that is what I hope I can use today for…
I had wanted to give the RTP trail a try since discovering it on the Internet deep within the dark recesses of last Colorado’s winter, when summertime mountain bike riding in the high country can only be dreamed of. Knowing what my training schedule needs to be for the Leadman series this summer, I thought that perhaps the time to give it a try was now at hand. So, while hanging out and resting up on Sunday from the Leadville Trail Marathon, I thought I would get ready and try for another big adventure for Monday July 5th, since I had the day off because the 4th was on a Sunday.
I had spent the afternoon of the 4th getting all of my perpetrations done; printing out maps, getting a water purifier and some energy food and drinks from REI, and a few spare parts from Criterium Cycles here in Colorado Springs. Everything seemed to be going well, and I went to bed that Sunday evening with the satisfaction that I had tried as best I could to be ready for the next day.
Somewhere deep within the night I was awoken to the sounds of tremendous lightning and thunder. As my wife came to bed, she informed me that there was a flash flood watch from Chipita Park down to Manitou Springs that was going to last until 1:00 AM. I didn’t give it much thought at the time, thinking that I was heading out a few hours later in the morning, and the weather forecast was supposed to be clear for Monday. Little did I know how big a factor that storm was going to play in my day.
Getting up at 3:30 AM, I ate some breakfast and made my last minute preparations. I was headed out the door by 4:20 AM or so, pedaling my down Cucharras St, heading west towards Manitou Springs. Being all too familiar with the way to Manitou, it wasn’t long before I was huffing and puffing my way up Ruxton Ave. Though today was the first time I was riding a bike up it instead of running; neither, it turns out, is very easy. Turing right just before the Cog Railroad, I made my way onto the Ute Pass Trail and got a brief respite before the trail reared its ugly uphill head and forced me off into some hike-a-bike.
The trail was in OK shape, a little loose from the rain, but not muddy. I made it over the 3 hills of the Ute Pass Trail, getting to ride a little on the downhill side; it’s interesting how this trail is one of a kind in that it is advertised as being uphill both ways. Just go look at the Incline Club website. Somewhere in the process of negotiating the Ute Pass Trail it got light enough for me to turn off my headlight on my bike. Soon I was heading downhill to where the trail ends and the rider must get out on Highway 24 for a bit.
Highway 24 scares me. There is not much of a shoulder and the cars are screaming by, making a mad dash towards the west to whatever high country destination the driver has in mind. Fortunately for the RTP rider, there is only about 1 mile of the highway that has to be ridden before taking a left turn to get into Chipita Park on the road for the Pikes Peak Highway and the North Pole. At the fork in the road where the Pikes Peak Highway heads uphill, I veered off to the right, heading off on Chipita Park Road to find Picabo Road. Finding the road is pretty easy, but the directions for the RTP get a little vague from there; “head uphill on Picabo until it intersects with Mountain Road, where the rider should take a sharp left turn, and find the Mt Esther Trail within 100’ or so”. What actually happens is that Picabo and Mountain Road merge with each other without any kind of signage indicating the event. There happens to be an unsigned dirt road that takes off to the left at the very top of the crest for Picabo/Mountain Road, and that is the sharp left turn that should be taken. The reality of the matter is that Picabo Road is hideously steep. There are a couple of roads that could be taken to the right, such as Ute or Maveta Way that might take a little of the edge off the ascent. If you are planning on trying this trail, it might be useful to MapQuest Chapita Park to suss out the roads a little bit.
After a few false turns trying to figure out where the junction of Picabo and Mountain Roads were. I finally spotted a tiny wooden sign off in the weeds that indicated I was at the Mount Esther trailhead; paydirt! I was expecting something a little more obvious, but was very happy at being back on track and on the trail again. Peering up through the overgrown trees and weeds, I saw a set of stairs heading uphill, and I followed them.
The Mount Esther Trail is really steep, gaining a lot of elevation to get up onto Pikes Peak in a short amount of time. Lots of stairs are on the trail as well as numerous switchbacks. I don’t think I was able to ride my bike for any great length of time between hike-a-bike sessions all the way to the top of the trail. Eventually I did stop for a few moments to refuel and take in the scenery, marveling at how much elevation gain there was from where I could peer back down into Colorado Springs. I think that by the time I had gotten to the top of the rise, I had gained something like 3,000’ in elevation.
At the top, the rider is rewarded with some singletrack, but there reward doesn’t last too long. This section of the trail is rolling, and the uphill sections are still a tough climb. Everyone once in a while I encountered a log across the trail and dismounted to get past. Eventually I worked my way onto a utility right of way for a power line. At the top I turned around and was amazed that the view seemed to open up directly onto downtown Colorado Springs. The RTP veers off to the right of the right of way and heads back into some more interesting singletrack.
After negotiating a short technical section, I felt something funny going on with my rear wheel and looked down to see that my tire was flat. Guess that I should admit here to having been lucky enough to have not had a flat tire before. So, just past dawn, I started to get some practice in the art of changing a flat tire. First thing I noticed was that the sidewall of my real tire was blown out. Not sure how that happened; had I been building up to it, or had it just happened, as none of the riding I had done that morning seemed too severe. The tire change went pretty smoothly, but I felt a little uneasy thinking that I only had one more spare tube until I realized that the folks at Criterium had also talked me into purchasing a patch kit; those guys rock. So, it was with a little easier state of mind that I took off back down the trail again, completing the last of the Chipita Park section of trail before getting on the service roads that head around the reservoirs encountered on this side of Pikes Peak.
I am not familiar with all of the reservoirs or their names; seems like they are Crystal Creek Reservoir, South Catamount and North Catamount. However, the roads in this section allow for some time to be made up for all of the hiking that went on the Mt Esther Trail. You go down some and you go back up some. While cruising through this section of the trail, I started to notice a build-up of hail in the shady areas off to the side of the road. Must have been leftovers from the storm last night; looks like they got hit pretty hard up here in the high country.
Eventually the trial leaves the road network and heads off onto the Limber Pine Trail. It was here that I started to notice just how significant the build-up of hail was having an effect on the trail. All of the hail, several inches deep in some areas, had kind of congealed together to form a sheet of ice! It was cold too. However, the ice was a concern to me because I remember just how hard it was to ride on the stuff from last winter when I first got my bike and had learned a few hard lessons about negotiating the stuff. For the most part it was better to not try and negotiate ice!
Soon enough the Limber Pine Trail gives way to some old logging roads, kind of a double track section of trail. There were a few deeper puddles here and there on the logging road, causing me to have to switch sides from time to time. I decided to stop and have a snack and refill my water bottle from my CamelBack, and mix up some more CytoMax. I was getting tired from the effort. Looking at my GPS, I had gone a depressingly short distance for all the hours I had been in the saddle; something like 5 hours at this point, and I had only been 25 miles.
The next 5 miles were the crux of the day and also what caused me to eventually throw in the towel. As I went further on the trail, the hail/ice got deeper and deeper. In the shaded uphill sections, it got to where I couldn’t ride at all as my tires were filling with ice and refusing to get any traction. On the downhill parts I had to ride slowly in order to stay in control and not slip on the ice. I wasn’t making any time at all. This part of the trail seemed to last for a long time. There were sections of the trail that were really pretty, but the tedium of the ice took away from most of the enjoyment of the moment.
Eventually I made it down to the road between the Crags Campground and the Mennonite Camp. Here I had a choice; I could continue on the trail over to Horsethief Park and enjoy more of the same slow, icy progress or head down the road to Highway 67. I decided to head down to Highway 67. On the way down, I had visions in my head of continuing on the highway over to Gillette and trying to get back on Gold Camp road in order to have a chance of finishing the ride or at least completing a circumnavigation of the peak. However, upon reaching Highway 67, I remembered how much uphill there was to reach Gillette, and was also dismayed by how heavy the traffic was. So, it was with some reluctance and a little shame that I turned my bike towards Divide, ready to give up on the day.
Knowing Highway 67 really well from having done a lot of work on the casinos in Cripple Creek, I knew exactly where I would pick up cell phone reception. I stopped at the crest of the last rise before descending into Divine and called my wife Lisa to ask/beg/plead with her to come pick me up in Divide and give me a ride back down into Colorado Springs. I was whipped. I am so thankful to have her in my life, to pick me back up and dust me off when my playtime goes wrong.
Sitting in the parking lot of the Western Convenience store in Divide waiting for my wife, a group of Harley Davidson motorcycles rumbled to stop beside me. They had Texas plates. One of the riders got off and asked me if I knew where Mount Evans was. I told him they were quite a ways from Mount Evans and that the big mountain off to our south was Pikes Peak. Also I gave him directions on how to get to Evans; head north to Denver and west on I-70 until you get to Idaho Springs. They took off on their bikes; I wonder if they got there?
Lisa showed up soon after; my rescuer, and took me back to Colorado Springs. Though I would have preferred to still be out on the trail, sanity had prevailed. I wasn’t prepared for the severity of the challenge of the trail, and the trail conditions were a nightmare. Also I had not brought along enough food for the calories I was going to need to complete the day. All of these were lessons I will need to dwell on for my next attempt. See; we do learn and benefit from our failures. The scenery on the way home was spectacular and had taken on a whole new meaning. While staring out of the window, looking to the south, I could tell myself that I had ridden every inch of it until we pulled into the driveway at home. 7 hours, 35 miles, 5,700’ elevation gain.

Leadman – Act One

It is our journeys that define us. Sometimes we set out on them intentionally, knowing where the beginning was and with what original purpose we started. None can know with certainty what the ending or change within ourselves will be.
Occasionally we can accurately predict the outcome based upon past, similar situations. Other times we can only hope to achieve the purpose that we have kindled within, knowing that we are truly venturing beyond any familiar harbors, sailing upon a sea of change that we know not the boundaries of or whether we have the capacity within ourselves to meet any challenge upon which we may chance.
It is with these thoughts that I now set upon my Leadman challenge. One upon which I have risen to accept, but the ending of which I can only hope. I have felt this way before, thinking back upon when I volunteered for the Special Forces. Of course I wasn’t sure enough of myself at all then, where inside myself I questioned what I dared think I had inside me that might rise up to meet the standard upon which I was to be judged. After successfully completing training with the Special Forces and earning the “Green Beret”, I can say that it was heart and faith that saw the finisher through much more than talent or might ever ruled the day.
Knowing this, I can only guess of what lies ahead of me, having never attempted, much less completed some of the distances that lie before me this summer.
The Leadman begins with the Leadville Trail Marathon; 26.2 miles, climbing to an elevation of 13,185’ within an 8 ½ hour time limit. In its entirety, the Leadman is an ultra endurance racing series consisting of 5 events, all of which are based out of Leadville, CO. 2 Weeks after the trail marathon, there is the Silver Rush weekend where the participant can chose from either a 50 mile mountain bike race or a 50 mile trail run. I am going to try the mountain bike race. Just a little less than a month after that, things really get busy with the Leadville Trail 100 mile-mountain bike race on a Saturday. The day after, on Sunday morning, there is a 10K race. On the following Saturday, the Leadville Trail 100-mile run is held. Each race has a cut-off or time limit that has to be met, or the racer cannot advance to the following event and complete the Leadman (or Leadwoman).
Standing at the entrance of Leadville, I felt as though I was venturing upon hallowed ground, where so many have treaded before me. Many who are faster and better at what we are doing; probing the limits of human endurance and desire. My wife Lisa was beside me, waiting patiently in our vehicle, as I took a moment to soak in the scenery. She had kindly volunteered to come up and hang out on race day, even though I know she finds it pretty boring to wait while I am out running around.
Who wouldn’t be bored with endless hours of standing around at a start/finish line or at an aid station waiting for their loved one or fiend to show up? At least Leadville was a small town, where Lisa could park the vehicle and get out to indulge in her favorite activity; shopping. My hat is off and I salute all of those who are caring enough to even think of coming out to cheer us on at a race, which for most of us is purely a personal accomplishment and a triumph only in our minds, as most of us will never grace a podium, destined always to lurk somewhere back in the pack.
Since we had made good progress on our drive up from Colorado Springs, we had a little bit of time to blow after picking up my packet at the 6th Street Gym. We found a nice coffee shop out on Harrison and got Lisa some breakfast. I had eaten a pre-race meal about 2 hours prior to the race start while we were driving. A little enviously, I sat and watched Lisa have a more regular breakfast of fresh brewed coffee and a delicious looking ham and cheese croissant. I made some small talk with some of the other racers who were killing time in the coffee shop too. I was surprised to find that the couple seated across from me had arrived from Florida just the day before. Leadville is high enough in elevation to be boarder line dangerous of developing a high altitude sickness. I hoped they were going to feel OK for the race that day since they had been up at elevation for over 24 hours now.
After Lisa ate breakfast, I went back to our vehicle and fussed with getting the last of my gear ready for the race. I wouldn’t be carrying any fluids with me, but I would take some gels, Enduralyte caps, arm-warmers, a jacket, toilet paper and baby wipes, and a camera in a hydration pack. This has proven to be a pretty good combination for me before in some recent races. Since there were going to be aid stations every 3 miles or so, I didn’t think I would need to be carrying anything to drink with me. I also spent a few minutes rolling around in the parking lot on one of my wife’s beach towels, using a foam roller, which my good friend Kristy Milligan, had given me to help loosen up my IT band and hamstrings. If I can make it through the summer without being sidelined due to injury, I will probably owe that entirely to Kristy for having bestowed half of her foam roller upon me; letting me saw it into 2 pieces in the parking lot of Memorial Park in Manitou Springs one blustery Saturday morning back in May when we were doing a Garden of the Gods rehearsal run.
With a few minutes to spare, Lisa and I ambled back up to the start/finish area. I wondered in the back of my mind if I was messing up by not having done a warm-up run, but the time to the start of the race was drawing too near to change things. Luckily I was able to get in line for one last visit to the bathroom, and actually make it into the bathroom, with just a couple of minutes to start time left over. Soon Ken Chlouber hoisted his shotgun into the air and; boom! We were off. Off that is running up the streets of Leadville.
I put an emphasis on up, because that is what half of this race seems to be. Conversely, what goes up must come down. In the Leadville Trail Marathon there just doesn’t seem to be very much of the in-between; flatter or less inclined running that is. I was shocked at how steep and sustained the first 4 miles of the race are. Loose too, as in the trail is covered with a lot of loose rocks, making the footing somewhat treacherous. That is what it takes to get to the 1st aid station, Aid Station A.
From there the trail rolls around the side of Ball Mountain. Still there is a lot more up and less down when going outbound around Ball Mountain. However, the views really start to open up, with high peaks and 14teeners gracing the horizon. Though the uninitiated among us don’t know it yet, we could also see exactly where we are going as Mosquito Pass lurks in front of us. The realization of our destination will soon be undeniable. The trail around Ball Mountain also becomes a true single track trail for a little while. Most of the running for the whole race consists of jeep trails and dirt roads, but for a little bit around Ball Mountain, there is some real single-track heaven.
Coming back into Aid Station A again, we then turned down a dirt road for a fast-paced descent down to Aid Station B. A lot of this part of the race is through the heart of the historic mining district to the east of Leadville. It is very interesting to observe the old mines and realize too this is where people had put forth lots more effort than we were currently exerting, all in the name of survival, and today we were just involved in having fun. It also occurs to me that absolutely nothing grows on mine tailings.
During the descent to Aid Station B, I fell in beside another person from Colorado Springs, who introduced himself as Ron. He was wearing an Ironman St. George, UT finisher’s shirt. So, I couldn’t resist striking up a conversation since I had participated in that event too. It wasn’t long before we both owned up to having signed up for the Leadman, so I guess we will be seeing a lot of each other over the course of this summer.
The aid stations in the Leadville Trail Marathon are very nice. They have lots of goodies to eat; cookies, potato chips, M&M’s, cantaloupe, watermelon. PB& J sandwiches, Power Gel, PowerAid, soda, and water. I probably shouldn’t have, but ended up diving into the cookies and chips when I should have stuck with the Power Gels. Who can resist though; I can’t because I am a cookie monster. However, I would pay for this later. At each aid station there were also a couple of porta-potties, of which I would have to use due to too many cookies I think.
Upon reaching Aid Station B, I stopped to walk through the aid station, just as I was doing at all of them, grabbing a handful of things to eat and a cup full of water. I ended up walking out of the aid stations still eating and trying to drink the whole cup of water. Since the trash boxes were so close to the said station itself, I always seemed to end up stuffing my crumpled cups inside the front pockets of my shorts and then trying to remember to throw them away at the next aid station. I also ate an Enduralyte cap at each aid station.
From the time I left Aid Station B, I think I walked up to the top of Mosquito Pass without running at all. Mosquito Pass is something else. It is really steep; I mean really steep and rocky too. Did I mention steep? I forgot to say that the trail was really rocky too. I mean the kind of baby head sized rocks that are perfect for rolling an ankle on or falling down and rolling around on the ground with. I prayed, and God protected me from all harm and danger, and I managed to stay on my feet all day.
Heading up Mosquito Pass was where I started to meet folks who were headed back the other way. I was surprised to see several runners who were wearing sandals. I didn’t see many Vibram Five Fingers, which I was expecting to, due to the popularity of the book Born to Run and the current barefoot running craze. However, I did see a very Native American looking gentleman flying down the Mosquito Pass trail in sandals that looked to me to have very recently come from a pair of tires. Wow, I was in awe. Here I was praying about just staying upright and whole in my padded running shoes, and here comes what I had only been reading about.
The pass seemed to go on forever, or at least uphill for a very long time. For every runner who passed us going downhill, I started counting how many were wearing a marathon number. I knew that Mike Shafai, from Colorado Springs, was somewhere in front of me, as he is a very talented athlete and fast runner. I think I had counted up to around 20 when I finally recognized Mike coming down the hill towards me. I shouted out an encouraging greeting. He shouted back that we didn’t have too far to go before we would get to run some “free miles”. I chuckled to myself at that; it was way obvious that running back down Mosquito Pass was going to be as hard as walking up it and very heads up too, not exactly relaxing downhill running.
At the top of the pass the wind was howling. I stopped for a moment to snap a picture of the sign explaining the history of the place and wandered into Aid Station C for a snack before heading back down. Try as hard as I could, I didn’t remember to tell the folks at the aid station thanks for hanging out and supporting us. Given the conditions, the cold wind and the altitude, I am sure their job was a hard as our play.
Heading back down the pass, I ran a slow pace to make sure I stayed on my feet and didn’t damage anything else, like an ankle or knee, etc. Ron took off like a streak back down the pass. Before long, I fell in beside another face I recognized from the Mount Evans Ascent a few weeks prior. He had done this race before. As we made our way back down into Aid Station B for the 2nd time, he told me that the way back up to Aid Station A would “separate the men from the boys” as in the road we ran down earlier would be surprisingly steep on the way back up. I gulped to myself, thinking that here he was throwing down the gauntlet, and I am always too stupid and ready to pick the dang thing back up again. I am sure that is not how he intended it, probably as more of a hope or desire about his own performance, but I took it as a motivator for myself.
Before we reached Aid Station B, my tummy was rumbling at me with the all too familiar feeling of GI distress. Thankfully I found an unoccupied porta-potty upon arrival at the aid station and took care of business in relative efficiency, as efficient as that sort of thing can be when one should really be out running instead. After a subsequent visit to the buffet of Aid Station B, I began walking up the road until I finished drinking the entire cup of water. From that point on I tried to run for 100 meters and then walk 100 meters. For the most part it worked except for a few sections that were just too steep for me to run.
From the top of the road, I made a quick stop at Aid Station A and then reversed my course around Ball Mountain. By this time I was getting a little tired and needed to walk most of the uphill sections. Maybe I was walking because the uphill sections were really steep too. They seem to specialize in this commodity on the east side of Leadville. After walking back up to Aid Station A again, for the final time, I was directed to “head around the tent and back downhill into Leadville”, only 4 miles away.
At first the downhill was really severe, the same trail we had walked up earlier in the morning. Running down them I went pretty slowly so as to make sure I didn’t stumble and trip, especially due to my increasingly tired state. 2 things were going through my mind at this point; 1st was that I hoped that the Leadville 100-mile trail run had some less steep terrain or I am going to be in trouble. I can’t image what running 4 Leadville Trail Marathons would be like. 2nd I was praying that we would not be using these same roads for the Silver Rush 50 mountain bike race in 2 weeks time. I’ll get back to you on that one, but there may be some major hike-a-bike involved.
After I started getting closer to Leadville, the steepness and looseness of the road/trail started to ease up a bit. I began to recognize a few landmarks from the morning that signaled how close I was getting to town. Glancing down at my watch, I realized that I could make it back in less than 6 hours if I started to pour it on a bit. So, from the point at which I crossed the paved bike path on the east edge of town, I really started to run at a faster cadence and lean into the running, ala some Chi running. It helped as I could noticeably detect my pace increasing without putting much more of a strain on my lower body, since I was still running downhill.
Turning down onto 6th Street, I could see the finish line ahead. I sprinted the last few yard in, pumped my fist in the air for my personal victory, and slapped the finish banner; 5 hours and 40 minutes after the shotgun blast that morning. Typical finish line stuff ensued; a medal around the neck, removal of the timing chip, realization of not having to move anymore, and snacks; lovely snacks and cold drinks. Unfortunately my wife Lisa was nowhere to be found. I had told her my goal time was between 6 hours and 6 ½ hours. She had checked the finish area at 5:20, and then gone back to shop again in the stores. She returned to the finish line at few minutes after 6 hours. In the meantime, I had snacked and drank a Sprite and a PowerAid, and cheered in the next few runners. Somewhere in this process I missed Lisa and began to walk back down to our vehicle.
Lisa caught up with me as I was rolling around on my foam roller in the parking lot again, trying to loosen up. We decided to skip out on the after race dinner and awards ceremony, wanting to get back down to Colorado Springs and look after our 2 kitties and doggie, who were probably going to be hungry and thirsty by the time we got back. Unfortunately as we got in the vehicle to leave, it would not start, having a dead battery, for what reason I do not know; maybe we accidently left something on. Having gone through this before, I dug into the recesses of my secret stash and produced a set of jumper cables. It didn’t take too long to find a very kind person, another runner, in the parking lot that jumped us off, and we were soon under way.
Lisa volunteered to drive. I spent the time as we left town digesting the view and the miles thinking of what lies ahead of me this summer, all within just a short period of time away. In the past I would have slept, being totally exhausted and drained after a race of this distance. Maybe it is a good thing that I had a little more left in the tank and spent the time sharing with Lisa how her day went, and trying to describe my feelings about the race to her instead of snoozing. Maybe I will need that kind of energy in the next several weeks ahead.
Leadman – Act One, the Trail Marathon is done, and I think I did OK. I am happy with my time, and equally happy not to have damaged anything. Next up is a just a little 50 mile mountain bike ride.
The Leadville Trail Marathon 2010

Pikes Peak

The end of something old marks the beginning of something new. That’s the way I feel as I sit here and write what I hope is only a short entry to my blog. Nothing too special was accomplished this weekend; not in the big scheme of things anyway. No races that I took part in, though I am anxious to hear how my friend Kelly Ping did in the Treasure State Triathlon, which took place this morning up in Bozeman, MT. I know she will do well.
For my weekend, I took care of some unfinished business, climbing Pikes Peak. Funny thing is that I have lived in Colorado Springs since 1998, and I have climbed a few of the 14teeners by now, but for some reason I had never bothered to take care of Pikes Peak. Perhaps it’s because I didn’t think the ascent of the peak itself was going to be technical enough to satisfy my appetite for climbing. Of course I have climbed many times upon Pikes Peak; the ice climbs upon its north face and over at the Bigger Bagger too.
Since having seriously taken up running a couple of years ago, I have been able to look around Colorado Springs and say,”Yeah, I’ve run there”. Everywhere except for the most important spot, or at least the biggest one. So, it was on Saturday morning that I set out to take care of that loose end.
In front of the Cog Railroad depot was the spot we were going to meet at 6:00 AM; a bunch of us from our running group, the Attack Pack, after having suggested the idea earlier in the week for a Saturday long run. Knowing it was going to be insanely busy on Ruxton Ave that day, I parked down at Memorial Park at 5:40 AM and began a slow warm-up heading up to the depot. Ramsey, Dave, Monique, Brian, and Hope all gathered with me, each of us with a different distance in mind, as most of the group was only going up to Barr camp and back. It was neat also to see many other folks we recognized from different Pikes Peak Road Runner events; lots of folks it seemed were out today with plans of heading up on the peak. At about 6:20 AM we headed out on the trail too.
Having never run with any of the Attack Pack on the Barr Trail, I was wondering what kind of strategy everyone would have for the W’s. Normally I will walk up Ruxton from just above the depot, where the road is really steep, run a little to the gate at where the dirt road begins, where I walk to the first bend back away from the creek, and then run up to where the cut-off trail meets the actual Barr trail. From there to the top of the W’s, I run a little and mostly walk the odd or north facing segments of each switchback, and then run all of the even or south facing ones. No one seemed to be in the mood to suggest anything different. So, I was relieved to get a mellow start and not have to deal with anyone wanting to like totally run the first part of the trail. From the top of the W’s, we ran where the trail was rolling on up to No Name Creek, and then walked for the next segment until we got on top of the ridge and ran most of the way up to Barr Camp, except in a couple of the more uphill sections. Perhaps I should add that we also walked most of the section from where the ½ mile to Barr Camp sign is.
We got to Barr Camp in 1 hour and 40 minutes. Saying goodbye to Ramsey, I headed on up the trail, and was pleasantly surprised that Dave wanted to stick with me for a little while longer. I pulled out a chocolate peanut-butter sandwich and split it with him. Aside from the sandwich, my nutrition plan consisted mostly of Power Gel, Enduralyte Caps, and a hydration pack full of water. I was eating a gel and a cap each hour, and sipping water whenever I could remember to. I had brought along a 20 oz bottle of HEED too, but wasn’t planning on breaking into it until much later.
Dave stuck with me until we got to the trail that turns off for the Bottomless Pit. We said our goodbyes, and I headed off up the trail alone; Dave headed back down. Not that I was really alone though; there were what seemed to be almost a hundred other people out on the trail, with designs on climbing the peak that day.
The section between Barr Camp and the A-Frame is the roughest part of the trail in terms of how rocky and technical it is. Soon enough it passed by and I was at tree-line, where I could see the top of the mountain, though there was still a long ways to go. It is 3 miles from tree-line to the summit, and I walked most of it. The trail is much smother in this section, though there was still a patch of snow or two to be negotiated. I was amazed at the views, and also by some really nice looking cliffs where there would be some good climbing, if only it weren’t so far from the road.
The trail gets rocky again where the 16 Golden Stairs are to be found just below the summit. For the most part I had stayed pretty warm up to this point in only a short sleeved shirt and some shorts. At the top, a jet of cold wind was coming over the summit from the west, as is so typical of the weather on top of Pikes Peak. I stuck around long enough to talk someone into taking my picture, and to say hello to a fellow runner, Mike Shafai from Colorado Springs, who is also taking part in the Leadman series. Mike had left the depot about the same time I had, but is a much faster runner, and had gotten to the top I am sure quite a bit sooner than I had.
Not wanting to cool off too much on the summit, it wasn’t long before I said more goodbyes, and headed off again, this time actually running, as I was now headed on my way back down the mountain. So, I ran most of the way back down. Of course I stopped to walk in a few spots, where there were large rocks to negotiate just below the summit on the 16 Golden Stairs, and for the couple of snow patches. However, all the way back down the mountain I kept up a slow shuffle, only stopping to walk just below Barr Cap, where there is a slight uphill section.
I wasn’t embarrassed to pray to God for exactly what I wanted; to not trip and fall down and get hurt. A couple of times I stumbled when my feet hit upon a rock sticking up out of the trail. For the entire descent though, God kept me safe from all harm and danger, and for that I was very grateful.
By the time I got back down to Barr Camp, I decided to break into my HEED, mainly as an experiment to see how it would sit on my stomach after having wrung so much out of my body on the way up. So, I stuck with the gels and water on the hour, and started drinking some HEED on the half hour. It tasted good, but it didn’t set too well on the tummy. Mostly it just gave me some gas. I was thankful to not have any major GI distress. Maybe I need to find something else to try instead of HEED. I love the stuff, and drink it pretty regularly while I am on the bike, but it doesn’t love me when I run…
As I got further down the mountain I allowed myself to visualize what it would be like to run back down Manitou Ave and cross in front of the Coquette Creperie, where we always cross the road while running with the Incline Club on Sunday mornings. Except I don’t get to run with the Incline Club too much, because I usually go to church instead. Visualization became reality, and I eventually did cross Manitou Ave. and made it back to my vehicle at Memorial Park at 1:00 PM exactly. By my figuring, this was just about 7 hours round trip for a distance of 28.4 miles. My legs felt a little worn out as I walked a lap back and forth in front of the park as a cool down. Other than that though, I was pretty much injury free; no severe knee or foot pain and no blisters either.
Back to the beginning; where I started with the end of something old marking the beginning of something new. Today also marked the turning of a page so to speak in my journey for this summer. Next week, on July the 3rd, the Leadman series starts. How it will end, I can only hope is with success. I realize that this is a journey that not only will my mind have to accept, but my body must be a willing accomplice too. Can I hold up physically and mentally to see this through to the end? Will I discover that I truly enjoy and want to try other ultra-endurance races? Will I finish and say that’s enough for me? Or will I crash and burn, ending somewhere in between with a DNF? I place my faith in God that He always takes me exactly where I need to be. I’ll keep you posted along the way.

Mt Evans Ascent 2010

This year I got a really cool father’s day present from my son, Jubal. He volunteered to help me with the Mt. Evans Ascent, a race held each year about the same weekend as Father’s Day, which starts at Echo Lake, CO (elev. 10,600’) and runs 14.5 miles up the Mt. Evans Highway to the summit at 14,264’. This year was my first time running the race. What a great race it is, but more on that later.
On top of helping with the race, my son also volunteered to help make my day a little longer by ferrying the car over to the Guanella Pass trailhead so I could continue on from the summit of Mt. Evans and traverse over to Mt. Bierstadt via the Sawtooth Ridge. That was the special part of my Father’s Day present; that and being able to spend some quality time with him too.
We left Colorado Springs fairly early by racing standards; 4:00 AM. This is not so early for alpine climbing, where 4:00 AM might seem luxuriously late to others. However, the race wasn’t due to start until 7:30 AM. Maybe that is one of the luxuries of a running race; you get to the top of what you’re climbing a little faster than just plain hiking. It was still a little early when we arrived at Echo Lake; maybe just a little past 6:00 AM. Since we were not going to be parking our car at the start area, the nice folks at the race let us pull up temporarily right at where check-in table was set up.
So, we dallied for just a little while at the check-in area; picking up my packet, snapping a few pictures, and putting my drop bag into one of the 15-passenger vans that would be taking them up to the summit and then shuttling racers back down to the start after finishing the race. My drop bag looked a little out of place as it had crampons and an ice axe attached to it. I wasn’t planning on being shuttled back down from the summit.
Soon Jubal packed up into our vehicle, and we said our goodbye’s as he began the 1 ½ hour ride over to Guanella Pass. I felt a little nervous/committed at that point because there was going to be no chance to contact and tell him if my plans changed for some reason; injury, missing a time cut-off, bad snow conditions, etc. So, I had to make the traverse over from Evans to Bierstadt, no other options were practical.
Other pre-race activities had still to be taken care of, so I didn’t have a lot of time to sit around and worry. I stood in a short line for the porta-potties, stretched, and then went for a warm-up run on the Echo Lake trail. Maybe it was only for a few minutes that I had run down the trail before I realized I would need to make one more stop at the porta-potties. By the time I got back, the line had quadrupled in size, to the point I wasn’t sure I would get another chance to go before the race started. However, the time in line was well spent as a few of us socialized and realized that our paths would cross again in just a couple of weeks for the Leadville Trail Marathon.
Just as the race director was starting to yell at us through his megaphone about the race starting without us, I got into the porta-potty only to find there really wasn’t much toilet paper left. Other folks were frantically running back and forth outside asking if there was any toilet paper left at all. Some of the porta-potties were completely out. That was my only real gripe with the race; they could have had a few more facilities available at the start, and they could have been a little better stocked too.
Soon enough we all lined up at the starting line. The race director pointed out that he had not taken a lot of time to mark the course, only that it “went that way.”, as he pointed up the highway in the general direction of the summit of Mt. Evans. Just as the last of the spectator cars got through the fee station, the race started, and we were off!
My first impression, and one that still sticks with me, is that running the Mt. Evans Ascent is just like running Ridge Road back home, if only for 14 plus miles! If you have ever run in the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs, then you can probably relate to what I am saying. Since Echo Lake is at 10,600’ in elevation, it isn’t long until you break out of the tree-line and the views really start to open up. Hmmmm…. Up? Well, that seemed to be the mantra of the day. Shuffling along at a pace that wasn’t pegging my heart rate, I managed to actually run. I kept telling myself that I would run the next mile and then evaluate just how hard running at this altitude was going to be.
Many peaks have I hiked and climbed, but I have never purposefully run at this altitude. So, I really didn’t have a lot of experience to fall back on. Mile after mile started to go by. The race director was right; the Mt. Evans highway goes to the summit of Mt. Evans, and the mileage is marked very mile of the way. So, I guess he was serious when he said he didn’t go to a lot of effort to mark the course.
Aid stations were situated about every 3 miles or so along the race course. I made a point of walking through each one, making sure to grab a cup of water and a piece of a banana. They had some electrolyte drink available, but after working on my nutrition plan with one of my running partners, who is a graduate student at UCCS in the nutrition department, I have realized that something like HEED doesn’t sit well in my tummy if I drink too much of it. This is especially true when combining it with other sugary things, like energy gels. In fact it doesn’t sit there too long either as this combination has led to some major GI distress and many epic trips to the woods in some recent events. However, today my tummy felt perfectly dialed in, and I was happily sipping water and munching bananas and the occasional gel.
Up and up and up I ran. The only downhill section is coming into the aid station at Summit Lake, around mile 9. Time-cut offs are enforced at Summit Lake, where you have to make it there by 2 ½ hours after the start. I think I made it to the lake well within 2 hours. Continuing to take it easy with my pace, I was able to make it to just past mile 10 before I had to stop and walk for a bit. From there on to the finish, I used a strategy I had picked up at the point of exhaustion during the Wyoming Double Marathon, where I would walk to one of the reflectors along the side of the road, and then run to the next one, and then repeat the process all over again.
After Summit Lake, the highway really starts to gain some elevation. The views get more incredible as each bend in the highway gives way to next
. Way up above, I could see runners progressing towards the finish. Way down below, I could see the same. Finally the mileage signs started to count up to the finish. Miles 11 and 12 felt pretty long
. Mile 13 flew by for some reason. Then the sign for mile 14 went by, and I was able to kick it in for a slow, but purposeful shuffle to the finish. There I even broke into a short sprint; 2 hours 59 minutes, and 44 seconds after leaving Echo Lake. My finish was nothing to write home about, but at least worthy enough to spend a few lines on for this blog, eh? In the big picture for today; my place was exactly in the middle of the pack, right where I always am (147 out of 300 plus runners and 18 out of 36 in my age group).
At the summit I grabbed my drop bag and told the race folks about my plans to traverse over to Bierstadt. I wanted to make sure they weren’t trying to account for everyone, and that I wouldn’t cause any problems. Off to the side, I changed into some pants and a windshirt and put on my climbing face. Quickly I climbed to the last few feet to tag up with the summit, and studied my route as the West Ridge of Evans fell away to the Sawtooth.
Roach’s climbing guide said the West Ridge was only 0.7 miles in length, which I imagined would go by pretty quick when analyzed with a glass of wine while comfortably situated at home. Reality in the mountains is that few things are as straight forward as one would like them to be, and the ridge was no exception. The scrambling was nice, but very blocky, and I took a little extra time because I was in my running shoes, and didn’t want to slip and fall. Fortunately the snow wasn’t a problem with only a patch here and there, even a few spots had boot prints where I could take some comfort in that I was staying on the right course. Peeking over the edge of the north face of Evans at one point, I spied a couple of skiers delicately traversing over to the top of a hidden couloir, getting ready for a descent back to Summit Lake. To the other side, I could see several groups of hikers coming up from Mt. Spalding, just finishing up with the West Ridge and getting close to the summit. Lots of folks were out for a good day.
As I began to drop down off the ridge itself following a series of large carins, my iPod started playing Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, which seemed to set the perfect mood for the moment; the Sawtooth was ahead, Bierstadt was off to the left, and I was alone and in the mountains, in my happy place. Immersing myself in the music and the moment, the West Ridge was soon past. I began to traverse the large open slope that forms the top of the Sawtooth Ridge.
This was a point I had worried over a little bit, as this part of the route is fairly broad, open, and lacking in distinct features. If traversing from Bierstadt to Evans, following the Sawtooth is perfectly obvious. However, coming from the direction of Evans to Bierstadt, a crucial piece to the puzzle, a narrow ramp system that allows access through the sheer cliff at the end of the Sawtooth is unobvious, hidden from the eye of climber. Instead, a collection of large cairns must be found that mark the beginning of the descent on to the ramp. Fortunately, by angling slightly upwards as I traversed across the open slope before me, I totally nailed the start of the ramp, intersecting the end of the slope where the chasm of the Sawtooth drops away within 100’ of where the cairns were to be found. With relief I began to drop down onto the ramp, also feeling good about the lack of snow that I was encountering, as I was not having to put on crampons or break out the ice axe.
At the end of the ramp, I crossed back over to the opposite side of the Sawtooth, encountering what was probably the most technical section on the route, a short bit of 3rd or 4th class down climbing. I probably made it harder than it had to be, but the act of actually climbing and not just scrambling was fun. At the bottom of the Sawtooth there remained only a long snow slope ahead, separating me from the summit of Bierstadt
. Looking up I could clearly see someone on the summit; was that my son Jubal?
Because I was wearing my running shoes, and didn’t feel like putting on crampons, I did my best to stay in the series of rock bands to the right of the snow, which formed the summit ridge of Bierstadt. Maybe the snow would have been easier to slog up, and the rock was a little more technical, but I was enjoying every moment as the last of the mountain surrendered itself to me. Dodging back and forth across the sides of the ridge, gaining height towards the top, the wind began to increase whenever I was on the west side of the ridge.
Soon it was blowing hard enough for me to barely be able to keep my balance as I crossed the last few feet of the ridge. At the same time I also noticed the figure on the summit beginning to wave at me; it was Jubal! I waved back, pumping my fist in the air, as happy for him as I was for myself. It was the perfect moment, and also his first 14teener, which he had done all by himself. He was excited too, and we gave each other a big hug when we met on top. The wind was blowing something fierce. I knew Jubal had to be pretty cold. He told me he had been on the summit for about 1 ½ hours while waiting for me. The emotions I was feeling made this one of the best summits I have ever stood upon. Quickly we snapped a few pictures and began the descent back down the west side of Bierstadt towards Guanella Pass.
Getting from the summit of Bierstadt back down to Guanella Pass is listed as being slightly less than 3 miles in several of the popular guide books to Colorado’s 14-teeners. However, it seemed to me to go on for so much longer. Descending from the summit at first involved lots of steep, down-stepping, which was starting to feel a little hard on my legs and feet after having been on them for so long. Parts of the trail were pretty muddy too from all of the recent snow melt, which meant trying to pick a way through without getting my running shoes absolutely filthy. My son Jubal admitted that he was pretty whipped too, and that his hip flexors were really sore, since he hadn’t been out recently practicing a lot of hiking or climbing uphill. Fortunately the weather was continuing to hold and wasn’t going to be a problem at all.
After much hiking down the side of Bierstadt, we finally crossed Scott Gomer Creek, which left us only 1 mile through the willows to get back to the trailhead. By this time Jubal was really starting to slow down, so I got ahead of him by a pretty good ways and waited at the trailhead, reflecting on the day’s events and soaking in the views of the Sawtooth and Mt. Bierstadt. It had been a good day and some good training too. Soon enough Jubal got to the trailhead too and handed the keys to me, asking me to get our vehicle from the upper parking lot and drive back down to pick him up. In back of the vehicle I had packed a cooler full of good things for us to have a victory picnic of sorts. Jubal was a little too gone at this point to want to hang out and eat at the trail head, so we packed-up and headed back to Colorado Springs. I munched on some of our goodies while I drove. Jubal alternated between eating a few bites and passing out into a comatose like state of sleep.
Overall the Mt. Evans Ascent is a great race. The support for the race is really good with the way the aid stations are stocked and manned. The contents of the swag bag handed out at the check-in almost paid for the race entry fee; a bag of coffee beans, 3 energy bars, dried plums, Enduralyte caps, and a $35 card for downloading music from the Internet!