Pikes Peak Ascent - Race Report

Earlier this summer, a friend and running buddy of mine convinced me to sign up for the Pikes Peak Ascent.  It was something neither of us had ever done and this seemed like the year to do it. Even with a lengthy resume of trail racing and assorted agony-adventures, racing up Pikes Peak seemed an intimidating venture.  Intimidating and very painful.  I would be wrong of course, a day in the hills is better than a lot of things even when it includes large stretches of climbing. This sentiment is born out by the stampede of registrants each year that rush to claim their spot on the starting line months in advance for the weekend's two races.

'Before' photo

We had logged a ton of miles earlier in the year and for that reason we were running Pikes, and when confronted at future cocktail parties and/or dirtbag barbecues as to whether we'd run this area test-piece we could now answer with a, 'damn straight' and leave it at that. Well, the race went better than planned and the following is recap of how it all went down.

When August rolled around we found a dog friendly hotel in the Springs (the La Quinta), and made the drive north. The next morning we made our way into Manitou Springs and found the general race registration area and starting line.  The place was congested and chaotic - a couple thousand serious looking runners, ourselves included, clutching Cliff bars and water bottles as if that alone were the secret to lift oneself into the heavens.  We pulled the car up as close as possible, Christina snapped a 'before' photo, and the wives drove off for some breakfast before meeting us later at the summit.

I looked around for any NM faces that might be familiar.  I heard the announcers say something about the Maas family, that they were running three generations strong that morning with Fred, Dan, and Dan's kid.  Brendan Maas was also in the race as were Matt Scarborough and Chris Chavez.  Chris has a sizable twenty-or-so year streak going, including running the double - both the Saturday Ascent and the Sunday Marathon - for the last nine of those years.  An impressive feat even among this not-so-easily impressed pack of runners. 

Boots and I discussed our relative fitness, whether we had a chance of besting any names, and whether we'd blow ourselves up spectacularly before tree-line - the last outcome seeming the most probable.  My goals were to dominate folks from lesser states (like Texas), and to not blow-up.  We had determined that 3hrs would be a good finishing time, so that would be an additional goal.  My strengths as an athlete are suffering, and motoring along at altitude - so I felt the race could go well if I could hold it together after the two-hour mark.  All of this is a familiar strategy of lies that athletes tell themselves before racing out into the unknown.

The start, heading west and up - photo by: PikesPeakSports.us

The starters sent us off and we moved together through the village of Manitou along with about eighteen-hundred other runners/climbers/suffer-bunnies at a controlled pace.  A large number of the runners we were moving with were sporting tattoos, shaved legs, waist-belts filled with energy gels and multiple water bottles, full camelbaks for some, arm-warmers with skulls and crossbones - I wasn't sure what to make of all that.  Boots was sporting basketball shorts because he enjoys destroying inflated egos when he goes by people, the guy is all business and a cold black heart. I wore a Running Hub hat and a NM race shirt so people around me would know what's up, New Mexico in the house people!  Boots and I chatted it up for the first mile plus, after which the grade of the road kicked up to an uncomfortable angle and the chatting abruptly stopped.

A couple minutes from the top

Miles two and three were unpleasant.  It turns out they were the steepest of the course, and maybe the most difficult aside from the last mile but we did not know this. Alarms went off and doubt crept in.  I had a sickening realization that this morning's misery might be several orders of magnitude worse than had been planned for.  Dozens of runners began to move backwards and we powered past large groups of them on the switchback corners.  Our position was improving after a relaxed start but I was more or less red-lining it through this section and wasn't going to hold out for too long.  After grinding for some length we passed a group of spectators blasting the Rocky theme song from their radio. Save me Rock! Save me Mother Mary and baby Jesus! The trail grade began to ease up just then and the flashing panic sign in my mind faded back. Eh, that part was not so cool. So more of that to come probably, but for the time being I started to make pace.

Boots and I were separated at this point, so I'd jump on the shoulder of just about anyone that came past me.  Working with a couple young guys we rolled past half a dozen runners, and then at mile six or so one of the guys I was with just blew up and they were both gone as if they'd jumped off the mountain.  Holy smokes, we were barely an hour in fellas. What gives? More than like there's some of that for me up ahead. We'll just ignore that for as long as possible.  

Sponsor's shot, The Running Hub

I felt comfortable in these middle miles and tried to get a sense of where I was on the course.  Was I through the W's?  Was the A-Frame at mile nine or ten?  It all just looked like a mountain trail to me.  I knocked out a couple 9min.plus miles in there and then miles nine and ten brought the pain once again.  I felt I was finally beginning to slow up and move backwards but I would catch a runner here, then a runner there. I seem to be moving fine so the trail was likely just getting steeper.  Nobody had run up from behind since my young pacers had walked-the-plank. At mile ten I could actually hear the finishing line announcer monotone-ing away about the lead guys coming up the trail near the summit.  I had 3mi of trail and at least forty-five minutes of effort ahead of me yet I was listening to a play-by-play of the finish a few thousand feet up the hill. This sounds kind of neat, but it was an indicator of how steep the next few miles would be so it kind of put me into a pain trance. 

I passed a Slovenian runner here who was cutting switchbacks like a mother. Could tell he was Slovenian by the 'Slovenia' on the back of his jersey. My man cut the trail so severely on one turn he moved ahead of me and I had to weave past him for a second time.  I laughed and asked 'whassup Slovenia?', and he answered back 'alright!' like Fonzie.  Ok dude, might want to stick to the trail.  Guy was trying to shark my finishing M&M's or victory beer or something.  I'm not ok with that.

Soon after, we had reached tree-line and the finish seemed really close.  My legs kept churning away and guys kept coming into view and passing out the back.  I passed a few women with national jerseys - USA! USA! That's right. Around mile twelve I passed a kazoo-band playing Coming Around the Mountain.  I felt better than I had all morning and continued to press.  Feeling great at 13,000 ft. meant surging and digging to bank a 15min. mile split.  Lots of legs and arms, not so much forward speed.  

Jackal smile in the finishers' chute

The final mile was grueling.  The altitude couldn't be ignored at this point and I tottered and lost my balance on a couple of switchbacks from dizziness.  The trail was narrow up top so you could reach out and stabilize yourself on the nearest boulder.  I passed three more runners in this last mile and these guys were suffering badly.  I felt guilty going by them and muttered some pathetic stuff like, 'looking strong man!'.  Dumb.  Rocky would've shaken his head disapprovingly at such foolishness.  I was pushing hard to bring it in under 3hrs, so I was jacked to come around the final switchback and see the clock at 2:52.  I know I could've just looked at my watch, but that really wasn't a good idea. Time is not your friend in those last couple miles. I raced through the final stretch all wild-eyed and crazy looking - happy to be done, and happy to have somehow dodged a prolonged detour of deep pain and misery. Too funny. Thankfully, Christina wasn't there to see this lack of stoicism.  Our support crew had to park a 45min hike from the summit and I made it up there first, even with an 18min final mile.  Boots wasn't too far behind, but the guy had had a bad day and blew-up down trail. Way too much work getting up that slag-heap to have to settle for a poor result.  He was not happy until we got a beer in his hand.

My crappy sand-bagging attitude from the previous week had given way to serenity as I shared the details of my morning with Christina.  I was told they'd seen a marmot on their hike up and Lucy had given it hell.  Good dog, those furry rats need to recognize.  Boots and I exchanged war stories. We waited for Brendan and Chris to climb the switchbacks and cross the line, and we rang our cowbell and made a racket much louder than the other runners were receiving.  We checked the time sheets and saw that Americans had won both races (touche my Slovenian friend), that the 56yr old age-group legend Ed Baxter had crushed me by several minutes, that I just barely made it into the top 50 overall, and that the trail-cutting Slovenian had somehow finished just behind me which was actually a little shocking.  

Self devastation much less than a typical marathon-length race

Later we walked off the back of the mountain back down to our car.  I met Bart Yasso at the after-party, introduced myself and shook his hand (Yasso 800s for the win suckas!).  Bart was pitching his new book, but we were more interested in food and beer right then. We tried in vain to get ourselves more than one slice of pizza but the pizza ladies were stern and un-yielding.

The following day Chris and Luis Chavez ran solid marathon legs as the only northern NM representatives in the race.  Well done gentlemen.  I don't know how people race the marathon distance without hurting themselves on the descent, so that's a race I doubt I'll ever run.  I know back in the day, Jemez' Steve Gachupin used to own that race. Los Alamos' Lynn Bjorkland still holds the women's marathon record. I actually got to meet Coach Gachupin this fall at a local cross-country meet and he told me he was at Pike's this year as a dignitary, handing out awards, and giving interviews. Steve was great so we wrote him into a page of New Mexico trail running all-stars and past champions.

The Ascent lived up to its highly rated reputation, at least in good weather.  The race organization and after- party were first rate.  I don't know if the trail itself can be compared with La Luz or Imogene or Big Tesuque - they're all fantastic trails in their own way.  My descriptions above not withstanding, the morning was not as difficult as I had imagined 3hrs of climbing to be.  I may have just had a big day.      

Related Posts:
  - Big Tesuque Trail Run
  - Pajarito Trail Fest
  - Steve Gachupin, Tough Guy List
  - 2011 Trail Racing Calendar

Related Links:
  - Pikes Race Report from up front - Pete Maskimow

Dorothy Stewart - Ridgeline

Picacho mountain and a friendly yucca

This warm winter weather sure sucks for skiing, but evenings on Dale Ball in December are better with less ice and snow anyway.  Can't do much better than the ridgeline above St. John's - I call it Dorothy Stewart Ridgeline even though the Dorothy Stewart Trail section is really only the last two miles.  I have no clue if the trail has a real name.  Awesome Hill Trail would work but it seems appropriate to have a woman's name attached to it - it's just a gorgeous track. 

From the Atalaya trailhead, it heads north down a wonderful twisting easement, then climbs a steep half mile past a few homes to the ridgeline.

The starting chute

The trail then twists north again on leg-stretching single track to the turn off to Picacho where you can loop back counter-clockwise.  The trail-markers are something like 40-32-30. Wide open views up here, and as it gets colder there is often a lot of snow hiding in the north facing ridges.

Ridgeline

Sunset behind the overlook.  Tetilla manning the horizon as always

On the return to mark 32, drop into Dorothy Stewart towards marks 37 and 38 for miles four and five, climbing switchbacks onto the overlook hill which, after a steep climb, yields a mile-and-a-half of postcard views as you wind back to the trailhead just below Atalaya. Water flows through an arroyo here in the Spring.

Dropping into Dorothy Stewart with the ponderosas.

I use this trail for thinking since the aesthetics are top rate.  I also use this trail for a lot of hard training - steep climbing broken up by intervals on the flat winding ridges in addition to a lot of varied terrain.  Loops can be added, laps or repeats can be added, it's all there.  For marathon training, I feel I get more out of these strength runs in the hills than tempos on the RailTrail.  For trail racing, I feel I get more from the flat fast sections than just grinding up Atalaya or Winsor.  This day, I slow-cruised through on a rehabilitating hamstring and took photos.  A beautiful evening.

Approx. 5.5mi., a very easy 55min on a gamey leg. Recover with Fat Tire 2 Below.

The overlook climb

Upper Canyon Rd, and the snowless Sangres

Related Posts:
 - Picacho Peak Trail
 - Atalaya Mountain
 - Santa Fe Area Trails List



View Dorothy Stewart Ridgeline Trail - Santa Fe, NM in a larger map

Fowl Day Run, Atalaya Turkey Trot - Race Reports

The 30^th annual Fowl Day 5K was run at Fort Marcy Park, 11/20.  I've always loved this run because of its tough cross-country layout and because I used to do a lot of running on that side of town back in the day so I consider it to be my home course.  I didn't compete this year but I was there as a field marshal and mid-race motivator ('Hey you're moving right along!  It's not far to go now! Keep at it...'). Race day weather was unseasonably warm and sunny.  Competitors and the dominating Girls on the Run presence brought in hundreds of pounds of donated food for the Salvation Army which were loaded and carted away by truck.  

The race upfront was between Joachim Marjon, Eric Peters and a third guy that I don't know by name unfortunately.  Joachim pulled away by the half way mark (where I was helping direct traffic), and finished well ahead of the others at the end.  We didn't get a finishing time for Joachim (and neither did he), but I'm going to say he was around 19min on a tough course.  Mr. Peters ran to second place.  Liz Sponagle paced the women's race. The second and third place finishers escape me.  Someone out there knows who finished where, please add their names in the comments below.

As part of the old-school character of this fine race, numbered popsicle sticks were handed out to runners at the finish marked with finishing places.  The after-race raffle used these numbers to award large amounts of holiday pies, Striders race t-shirts, and donated gear from REI to finishers and race volunteers.  I brought three pies for the raffle in hopes of finally winning something this year, and bam!, I scored a pecan pie.  An effective rigging of the raffle for personal gain?  I think so.  Girls on the Run had a huge turnout, both in young women navigating the tough course and in running buddies who helped them train and ran alongside with encouragement during the run itself.  Congratulations to all on a very successful run. 

At the ever growing Atalaya Turkey Trot 5K, there were cold temps and snow at this year's Thanksgiving running, 11/25.  Neither of these race elements worked to slow down SFHS senior and eventual winner Andre Miller.  Miller raced to a winning time of 17:34, besting this year's Big Tesuque champion Mike Ehrmantraut in 18:21, and relative unknown Mark Barela in 18:29.  

The women's race was also lead by an under-20 speedster and former SFHS athlete, Medora Allison, who defended her previous year title winning in 21:11.  She was followed across the line by Rachel Gantt in a time of 21:30, and Alice Temple in third at 22:39.  Max Mujinaya has a race photo album posted here.

Stampede!

Several accomplished runners and friends of mine were out working up a Thanksgiving appetite that need mentioning, including ultra-marathoner Jacob Waltz in 4^th, 20:55, multi-event prep state champion Damien Passalaqua in 21:40, Duke City Marathon and Pike's Peak Marathon regular Chris Chavez in 21:48, endurance cyclist and Outside Magazine cover-athlete Steve Yore in 22:07, multi-year prep and collegiate All-American Peter Graham in 22:22, Boston marathoners Richard Curry, 23:02, and Alice Temple, 3rd place, 22:39, and Mt. Taylor quadrathlete Jan Bear in 23:43.  Quite the field.  In only its 3rd running, this is the largest 5K run in Santa Fe.

Simpson > the state of AZ

In other results, my man Dave Simpson ran to a half-marathon title at the Grand Canyon Half on 11/6.  He put 7min. into the rest of the field, running away with a 1hr 31min finish.  The win netted a pair of Salomon trail shoes, Teva sport sandals, and a professionally shot photo of himself and the Canyon. Simpson for the win sons.




Related Posts:
  - Jaguar Cross-Country Invite
  - Dale Ball Buster
  - 2011 Trail Racing Calendar

Related Links:
  - Atalaya Turkey Trot - SF Trail Runner

Glorieta Baldy

Photos of a recent ride up Glorieta Baldy with John and Todd.  Earlier this summer we had taken the forest access road all the way to the fire-lookout on top and descended the switchbacks to the Baptist Conference Center.  I had a crappy phone then and the few photos I shot were garbage, but now I have a few good ones to work with.

Riders on the storm

This ride took us back behind the Conference Center, following an old track up Baldy that Lumley had found and cleared.  We found that it eventually connected to the switchbacks after long steady climbs through a pine forest and soft pine needle track. We didn't have it in us to climb the rest of the way from that point, especially knowing there would be a lot of hike-a-bike, so we sailed down the rock-free path behind us.

Bear approved

Back at the Center, we ventured up towards the Glorieta Ghost Town.  Todd and a couple of horses got to see me pitch wildly from my bike and land in a heap.  A cheap pair of running tights that I'd been taking a ribbing about saved me from losing all the skin on my lower left leg.  Function over form sons! Waffles and beer for recovery when we got back to the house.  ~2hrs, ~20mi.

Lumley pulling gears

Todd & the ghosts of Glorieta

 Related Posts:
  - Apache Canyon Trail
  - Glorieta Mesa
  - Craft Beer in New Mexico

 A clickable map of the Lookout ride below

Ski Crested Butte - Opening Weekend

Our group below Mt. Crested Butte: John, Todd, Susan, & Christina

We made the trek up to Crested Butte for our Thanksgiving weekend. Snow and early season deals made the 5.5hr drive seem tolerable. All this was the brainchild of Mr. Lumley, and it unfolded as the bold strike at genius that it was.

Our group included the Lumleys, Todd and Syd the dog, and ourselves, descending on the Butte for a white winter Turkey Day on the slopes. The drive itself was beautiful, especially the stretch from Saguache to Gunnison on CO Highway 114. Beautiful on a snowy evening and again on a bluebird afternoon on the return home.

Only two of the mountain's lower lifts were open - The Red Lady and Teocalli - and most of the open trails were groomers, but the snow conditions were great. Lots of fresh snow on the edges of trails. The mountain was reporting a 38" base. Not a bit of it was in danger of softening up or melting because the temperatures were frigid.  It was at least 10deg. below zero when the lifts opened on Thanksgiving morning.  I actually thought my lip split during one run down only to find that is was just a bit of frost nip.

Susan & Christina finding their line

Ski patrol was busy getting the upper mountain ready, setting off intermittent charges that would rip loud shock-waves over head as we carved giant-slalom turns down below.  We rode Teocalli most of the day on Thursday since the variety of runs was good and the lift lines over there were zero.  The snow was great, the turns were great - there was some steeper ungroomed trails half way down that were fantastic to just bash-and-hop through. Loved it.  I really appreciated my new helmet since it kept my entire head warm in the bitter cold.  I had a bit of ski envy looking at all the awesome ski setups that everyone but myself was skiing on.  Next year's ski swap will require an upgrade.

Wife & I on the lift, with the Elk Range behind us

The surrounding mountains in the area were incredible, caked in white from the recent storms, with little clouds of blowing snow on each summit.  John traced out the bike route he raced/toured over the summer that heads north and over Pearl Pass, descending into Aspen on the other side - 30mi by bike, 3-4hrs by car along paved routes around the mountains.

Apart from the skiing, we got to see Syd in her fancy purple dog coat. We sat in the Lodge hottub for far too long one evening trading camping-gone-wrong stories. We made short work of just about every available variety of microbrew at the local bars. We stood out in the freezing night and smoked some Monte Carlos that Todd had brought along.  We may need to make another trip this season to ski-out all the stuff we missed out on.

Related Posts:
  - Off Piste - Winter Steeps
  - Santa Fe's First Snow (11/16)
  - Treasure Hunting at the Ski Swap