Let me preface this by saying that this was the most humbling sporting event I have experienced. From about 3 mins after the gun went off until about 20 mins after I finished, I experienced a pain and torture that was both nauseating and exhilarating.
The start took place in downtown Manitou Springs, which is a beautiful town south of Colorado Springs. There was more nervous tension and anticipation than at the start of any other race I've run. Everyone was wandering around muttering meaningless statements under their breath and giggling. It was like I checked in to an insane asylum - in a way, maybe I had.
From the start, the course proceeded about one mile on paved road, the first 200 feet of which was the last of anything resembling flat road (and it really wasn't all that flat). Once on the trail, the crowd of 800+ thinned to an orderly single file line. From this point the trail went up in a big bad way. The course description said that the average grade was 11%, with sections as steep as 24%. This is extremely misleading. The only reason the average is 11%, is because there is a short stretch of downhill somewhere around 5 miles up. Other than that it’s like running up the side of a building. It sucked… hard!
I walked the majority of the ascent. I just want to throw that out there. I ran when I could, but for the most part NO ONE was running. Its more of a fast paced march up the hill. Everyone tried to watch the heals of the person in front of them and try not to fall and lose pace. At one point my group dropped a slower bunch; I thought this was really odd considering we were essentially at a pleasant saunter. Needless to say, this was a totally different experience.
To add insult to injury, the officials warned us of high temperatures. The only thing worse than fighting a 14,000ft mountain, is fighting it with all your moisture being baked out of your body. Over all I think I drank over 200 ounces of liquid during the race and another gallon or so after.
After 10 miles of steep, wooded, relentless and humid trails I finally reached the treeline. This is where the race really starts. I had reached the treeline in 2:40; I reached the summit in 4:10. Meaning, it took me 1:30 to travel the last three miles to the top. In fact, it took me 45min to suffer up the highest mile. To be honest I did not have problems with the altitude, I had severe problems with the steepness. The last mile to the top was like ascending a 800 ft building, two stairs at a time with a tiger gnawing on your quadriceps. It's hard to describe how steep this was except to say that if I looked up with my head cocked straight up, I still could not see the summit.
The summit was chaos. Race officials immediately ripped a portion of my bib number for verification, filled up my water bottle, shoved handfuls of food in my face, and rushed me back down the trail. I would love to say that the view was breathtaking and it was so romantic to know that I had just ascended one of Colorado's fourteeners in just over four hours, but it was nothing like that. I have no idea what the view looks like, when I did manage a peak at the view it was when I stopped to let people pass or when I slowed to descend a very difficult section. As soon as I got to the top I was headed back down, in a mad hurry.
While I was ascending, I constantly thought "how are these people running down so fast? How do they have the energy or the focus?" I soon found out. Gravity has a funny way of helping you down the mountain and it takes a lot more energy to fight gravity than to go with it. So, I did my best to place my feet well and pray I did not fall of the trail (which would have been really bad).
About a mile down, I ran into Tom, who didn't really recognize me. At that point I was feeling rejuvenated. So I yelled hello and booked it down to the treeline.
As bad as the ascent was, the descent was much, much worse. After being trashed from the ascent my legs were screaming for mercy. However, the relentless grades that I experienced on the ascent were merciless coming down. The constant breaking, sliding, jumping, bounding, and full-out sprinting were torture on every muscle in my body. Something had to give. Finally, with about seven miles to go, I lost focus fell about 10 feet down a gravel section. I came to a stop with the aid of soft gravel embankment. Two miles later it took my second, nastier spill. This time my shin and knee helped me put on the breaks. At that point I had enough fun and decided to slow down, which is not easy to do.
It may sound counter-intuitive, but walking or running slowly down such a steep trail is actually harder than running full-out. Running down-hill becomes like a controlled fall requiring good foot placement and sharp attention, but far less muscle control. However, when you put on the breaks, all the momentum forcing you down the mountain is transferred and stabilized by your quadriceps. Translation: it is very difficult to walk the next day!
6 hours and 52 mins after the start, with bloodied legs and hands, beaten and humbled, I finally sprinted across the finish line. Every person was cheered on like they were about to win the whole race. It was a totally different experience than any other marathon.
Immediately upon crossing the finish line I was greeted by a volunteer who was assigned to me to make sure I got whatever I needed before I left the finish tent. At this point I could barely function so requesting a Gatorade was a major stretch. I was ushered to medical to have my leg fixed. The nurse promptly scrubbed my open cuts with some sort of bristled iodine scrubber. Ordinarily this would have been extremely painful, but I was so numb I didn't feel anything.
Finally, after ten minutes or so, I hobbled around and waited for Tom to finish. I'm happy to now know what pain feels like. And it's a good thing because I have the Chicago Triathlon this coming weekend.
