Pikes
Getting there
Where to start? I could start when I finished the Ascent last year but that would make for too long of a write up … J
I got down to Manitou Springs Friday afternoon. Just like last year, the ride down from Erie went through hit and miss rain. I checked into the Silver Saddle hotel (seems nice), and settled in. Andy and John arrived about 20 minutes later and we headed over to race registration. As we headed over, the lightening was getting really spectacular over the peak. As we walked up to get our numbers, it really began to pour. We toured the event expo a bit, and I tried to scope out a few gifts for my family – who have been ridiculously supportive of me for this even more ridiculous event.
Andy and John headed back to the hotel but I went to the spaghetti dinner across the street. I wanted to bask in the race environment – people who had come here to race up (and down) this mountain. Eating my lousy spaghetti, I found myself pondering that same question that has gotten louder in my head the last couple of weeks.
“Why are you doing this?”
There is no good answer of course. And while it is probably pretty simply, I tend to make it seem more complex in my head than it actually really is. Ever since the Ascent race last year, I knew I wanted to come back here and do this race again (it took me longer to land on whether it was the Ascent or the round trip but that is a different story). In short, I am doing this because this event reveals to me how weak I am. In doing this event, and the training for it, I am forced to face how undisciplined I am in my eating, in my training, in my mental strength in attacking a hill.
And in doing that, I hope to get a little stronger. I am not sure if I am, but nothing puts it in your face like training for an event like this.
And to that point, it is less about the event itself … it has been much more about the journey … the training to get here. I have rediscovered running in this training. Last year I had been up Green Mountain once in the year before the event. I have run Green no less than 30 times in the last seven months. I have learned or perhaps relearned the joy of being outdoors, smelling the pines, feeling the earth, and enjoying the gift of the Rocky Mountains.
Race Goals
In considering my goals for this event, I am forced to consider to two schools of thought.
School of thought one … I have prepared for this race unlike I have prepared for any race before. While I have prepared well for races in my life (some significantly better than others), this race has been a focal point for a year. It forced me to change my training. I went after hills and long runs unlike I ever have. Whereas last year, I’d labor through a 90 minute run, they became happenstance for me this year. I climbed over 2500 feet over 60 times this calendar year thus far. I did a half dozen runs over 3 hours and another dozen or so over two hours. I actually came down to the course itself (a hundred mile trip one way) and trained on it to get familiar with it. I tuned my diet to eliminate beer, chocolate (mostly), and other junk. I am prepared for this race as well as I can be.
At the same time, school of thought two … I am woefully unprepared for this race. I have eschewed speed work for more hill climbing and hence have lost a step of speed. I have done hardly enough long runs, and I still struggle in hill climbs consistently. I don’t stretch enough. I still go out too fast. I have not seen improvement in my fitness on hills over the last couple of months and it is probably the same as it was last year. I cheat on my diet and the little things. I run only 10 hours a week, when I should probably be doing 15 at least. I am going to get killed in this race.
Both are true of course. And both are flawed. As I said, this event has forced me to focus, but then also forced me to realize how little focused I am.
My concern for the race is the first quarter of the race (executing smartly) and the last quarter (surviving the fourth hour of running). I feel the middle portions are the grind ... and they will be what they are.
The high level or A goal:
Ascent: better than 2:35 (a PR), descent better than 1:35. Sub 4:10 whole.
While this is a stretch goal, it is not overly so. In January, I had entertained ideas of a sub 2:30, but evidence in training and racing does not point to that. In fact, I had thought a 2:27, 1:33 for a four hour event. A sub 4:10 is within the realm of possibility, but it will take a solid ascent (from me), and continued strong downhill running.
Of course, I consider place in this but with this time, that is more victim to who shows up. Certainly I race in any of these goals and don't let somebody go by ... but the place for me is an icing on the cake. If I race smart and well, the place will come. I have entertained ideas of top three, four, five and ten.
The B goal:
I see this as a solid race but a thing or two can go wrong. As a thing or two is more likely to go wrong than all things right, this is the race that I know I have run well, but recognize a few issues. It could be as little as having a bad patch at the wrong time ... 2:38-2:44 Ascent, Round trip 4:10 to 4:20. This is a little harder to nail down because I could have a great Ascent, but have an off last hour, fall ... so the round trip defines the B more than the segments.
The C goal:
Sub 4:30. Given I ran 4:25 by myself at an easy pace on 24.5 miles of the course, I ought to be able to do this. But shit can happen. This is where the day IS bad, and I run on the foundation of my training ... but get little more than a finish of thinking I have unfinished business.
Ascent Race Considerations
The Ascent race looks to be stacked on the men’s side. Arguably there are nearly ten guys that could contend to break 2:25: Ames, Tribbia, Carpenter, Selig, Batliner, Parker, Romero, Burell, Gutierrez, some Kenyan, Kloser, Koch, Lebo and Guadette … I am sure I am missing somebody.
The day before the race, I find myself wondering what Matt Carpenter is thinking. He has registered for the Ascent, the Marathon, and the Jungfrau race (four weeks from now) in Europe. Would he actually attempt such a triple? If he did, would he run for the win in the Ascent? Being the class of the crowd mentioned above, would he try to run away from everyone and then compromise his chances in the other races? Or would he run for the win – eeking out what he needed to in the last third of the race to save something for the marathon? Does he skip the marathon if he wins the Ascent in hopes that he can rebound for Jungfrau?
Being a fan of the race, this stuff swirls around in my head, probably much like fantasy draft information does for NFL fans. The race for the top ten will be interesting. Matt will leave us guessing until Sunday morning … all we know is he has left his options open.
Behind these guys is a host of kick butt runners that no one will ever hear of … Clegg, Valerie, Prater, Petersen, Koski … I can’t wait to see how they do.
On the women’s side … I am less familiar but I know we have Goldsmith, O’Neill and Ortiz. As well as some international competition.
Friday night
I run into Jeff V and we chat over my plate of spaghetti while it is raining. I am so stoked for this guy. I am certain he can break 2:30 but he just does not know it yet. He has been my training partner for this past year. I am going to shout my ass off for him tomorrow. He lends me his bike so I will use that tomorrow at the start. I will bike around with Scott in the AM before we shoot up to the top to watch the finish.
Before going to bed, I spent some time in front of one of the hotel rooms with some of the older Arkansas guys … one is doing the Double, another the marathon and another did not get it at all – so he is just out to cheers on his buds. We chat on runs in Colorado, the humidity of Arkansas, Leadville, etc. A guy (Anthony) from LA joins us. It is his first Ascent and he has never been above 12K feet. He looks for words of wisdom, tips as to when to walk. It comes with a fair amount of sarcasm – out of respect for how the mountain has humbled all of us.
After the race, I saw Anthony. He apparently got to the 16 Golden Stairs when race med staff decided to give him oxygen. I think this technically disqualifies him. He says he does not remember much from the Aframe up … but his attitude is good – he will be back.
Thanks
I have received so many good luck wishes from so many people who have seen that I have dialed into this event. There are so many people to thank. First … my family. Tracy, Kali, John … they have supported me so much in this journey, I can’t thank them enough. Thank you.
Don and Carrie … my wife’s parents, who have also supported me … they have let me use their wonderful home in Fairplay as a high altitude shelter, and shag wagon’d me up on runs out to Mosquito Pass and the like.
Marty … my brother in life. He has talked me through running highs and lows, and has been an older brother to me in life. Thank you.
Tim, Peter … my original green shirt team mates … you guys are the best. I race on any team with you any time you’d take me. Thank you.
Training partners of Jeff, Scott, Dave M, Andy, Claude, John. Guys who all love the challenge of the mountains, hear its call and are always good to make you work. Thank you.
Coworkers … Julie, Tom, Jan and Siusaidh … who know how much this means to me and have supported me through work and friendship
Finally … Lucy (the dog) who has shared runs with me and been the happiest running partner I ever have had. Thank you.
Saturday
Great weather for today's ascent. I scooted around the start on Jeff’s bike, loving the environment, sucking up the atmosphere, taking shots, hooting for folks … absolutely cool. I biked with the racers up to part of Ruxton, and then jumped in Scott’s Element to ride to the top. Joining us were Lisa’s sister and her sister’s boyfriend. The top was clear, gorgeous and we took seats about 5 switchbacks down where you could see clear to the A frame. We got there about 8:40 (after leaving Manitou around 7:30) and were well primed to begin to see guys popping out above treeline.
The men’s race was stacked. I think it was probably the deepest men’s race ever with more runners under 2:30 ever. I enjoyed fifty yard line seats with Scott E a few switchbacks down from the finish. We could see clear to the A frame through the final three miles of the course. Matt Carpenter won easily in around 2:13 (sorry, I could not see the clock when folks finished). He definitely looked like he was cruising it in - leaving open speculation that he will return on Sunday for a double. 2.) Hobie Call, 3.) Aaron Rubalcaba-Lopez (I think the top three all broke 2:20) 4.) Peyton Batliner 5.) Galen Burrell (2:22) 6.) John Tribbia 7.) Daryn Parker 8.) Simon Gutierrez 9.) Alex Nichols 10.) Mike Kloser 11.) Andy Ames (all these were under 2:30) 12.) Mike Selig
Lots of BTRs out here ... Claude, Jeff, Bronwyn, Susan, Andy, TDK, Galen ... sure I am missing someone. The BTR story of the day is Lisa G came in second in the women's race and set a masters record - 2:42 and change.
On the women's side Portilla took it from the gun and ran near 2:35 for the second fastest time ever (I think) for a woman. After Lisa, Cyndi ONeill took third. I think Conillee Walter took fourth but don't quote me on that.
Officially results will be posted later at: http://www.pikespeakmarathon.org/results.htm
It was cool screaming for Claude and Lisa. Jeff had a really off day and finished north of three hours. I was awed by efforts by guys like Kloser and scared to see Jeff and Gerald struggle. Claude blows me away. Sub 3 after being on chemo just over a year ago. Seriously – this guy is a hero to me.
Saturday night and I am a bit nervous. A twinge in my head … should I be drinking more water? Am I a bit bloated? I am nervous but I also know I am ready. In a day from now this will be over … Marty is coming with his whole family! Tracy and the kids are coming down later tonight. I have set up my gear for the morning.
I head over to the race awards ceremony. Scott, Matt, Galen, Buzz, Susan, Claude, Dave, Lisa, Simon, Andy, John … they are all there. It is good to see them but I still feel like the newbie, the outsider to these guys because they have shared so much more together. I stay for the awards assembly, get some spaghetti over at the dinner but forego the talk by Danelle in the City Hall (it is really hot in there). It is raining slightly but the peak looks clear.
I talk to Matt a bit. He is non committal to the marathon, but I am confident he will look to run it. He just leaves all his options open all the time. I talk to Jeff on the phone. He is disappointed. I try to cheer him up but I know this day will rack his brain for the next year. It is unfortunate because the guy is amazing. He had an off day … not a good day for that but we all have them. I remind myself of this. It is the journey – not just the destination that you have to consider.
Marty calls in the evening. He and his family are going to come down to watch. I talk some to Tracy. They are not coming down tonight. Tracy feels strongly compelled to come down. I try to tell her that it is not important to drive 100 miles to see me stagger across a finish line. She tells me that she wants to participate in this but is torn between what she wants and what might be best for the kids. I know she has been there for the last year. She will be with me the entire race.
Scott pops into the hotel room. I had offered for him to stay if he wanted. He is going to do that but he intends to round trip to Boulder before crashing here. We talk a bit about Hobie Call – the second place finisher and how he feels he can break two hours.
Sunday
I wake up early and get some coffee in the hotel room to move things along. Scott got in late last night after the awards assembly and making the round trip to Boulder and back (ACK!). I spent the night sitting in the hotel room after the awards assembly, prepping my gear, talking with Tracy, watching the tube (on line predators getting caught – very freaky! … along with other movies like “Scent of a Woman.”) I struggle to get to sleep. At one point, as the race begins to play out in my head, my heart rate jumps and I need to try to separate my sleep mentality from the task that is coming up.
I spend the early morning sipping coffee, reading race reports from Bill Wright on his adventures in this race, catching up on news on the net, and thinking about my race plan. The weather seems perfect but I fully expect it to be hot in the last half an hour of the race. 89 is the predicted high.
I will take the first quarter of the race conservatively – behind Bernie and Dave for sure. If I get ahead of them, I am pacing too fast. Once we get out of the Ws and to No Name Creek I will begin to open it up. I will look to grind and struggle from Barr to the top and then start the so called second race on the way down – amping up my effort as I come down.
90 minutes to the race …
I walk up to the race, wearing an old thrash bag. I feel good. I hit the jog a bit to loosen up but I feel fine. I see a few folks who wish me well including Marty. I keep the warm up real light, knowing that there is plenty of time to gear into the race. I end up a few yards ahead of the start, chatting lightly with Matt, Dave, Bernie and Marty. The skies are clear, the announcer warns us of warmth to come and to hydrate well.
I tuck into the start and we listen to America the Beautiful – very well sung by a young woman. And then we go. It starts a touch quick but not crazily so. There are a bunch of folks ahead but I tuck a few strides behind Dave, very relaxed. It feels like a brisk jog not a race going out too fast. Nonetheless, we cruise into Ruxton at 2:45. I mention to Dave that the pace must be a bit hot and he says is about sub two hour pace. It is not fast though … it is just is a good reminder with this turn up to gear down, and to slow down. So I do. The early pace setters have begun to drop back. There is one guy well ahead of Matt, then Bernie, then Dave, then me and a couple of others close in tow.
Side note … for what it is worth, while Matt’s pace calculator is good, he was well ahead of the 2:23:51 ascent pace he would do for the marathon. While I appreciate the value in the calculator that people need to start slow, I question if the paces subscribed for the road prior to Ruxton make a lot of sense … particularly when the guy who wrote that calculator does not seem to subscribe to it.
Scott is there on the bike cruising ahead, and then slowing down, shouting words of encouragement. I pass Hydro in 9 minutes on the nose. I feel good. I slow down, shorten my stride and relax for the steep road hill. We quickly begin to string out. I have moved into fifth place now but there are a few guys on my tail. I am not concerned about them or who is ahead because I know there is a ton of racing to go and that the mountain will straighten us all out. I feel really in control and relaxed – and I ought to. I am ten minutes into a journey that will go over 200 minutes.
We begin the climb in to the Ws. This is the section that has killed me in all my races in this event thus far. I have always gone into them too fast and while I may post a fair time I pay for it. I stay relaxed and try to find a rhythm. Dave and Bernie begin to pull away and I am not surprised or concerned by that. I am not expecting to be able to hang with them here today – they have been stronger than me on these events thus far.
There are a couple of guys strung back behind me in the switchbacks as I begin the grind through the Ws. I am relaxed but it is still work. I focus on running, keeping easy but you are still climbing at a good clip of a 13% grade. We near the top of the Ws and “Smiley” closes in on me. As we turn to the top of the Ws (29:55, so a 20:55 through the Ws) he passes me. I am not worried. There is a lot of racing to do – and I have been passed through the Ws before.
Smiley and I run back and forth together but he is predominantly in the lead. On the flatter sections he rolls a bit harder than me. On the hills he begins to come back a bit to me. He does not gain a substantial lead … the most it ever is might be 30 yards but it goes back and forth. I occasionally even lead him a touch. I still feel fine. The temps are beautiful. We are just grinding at a fair pace up the Barr Trail. I welcome the company and think it would be great to race him for fourth place all day (even though we are fifth and sixth at this point, I have already ruled out the early leader who was ahead of Matt as a guy who would blow up). We grind up to No Name Creek a few strides a part – I hit it in 44:27 (split is 14:31). Again, from Matt’s calculator, this is well ahead of 2:35 pace (but most of that comes from the early part). I feel good. I get a gel just before the Creek, staying to plan of getting one in every 45 minutes. I have also taken water or Gatorade at each of the stops (No Name is the third) thus far.
As we go through Bob’s Road, Smiley begins to pull away. In retrospect, if there was a warning sign of the things to come, it was this section. I typically roll this section, even if I am having a bad day with a fast start in the Ws. For the competitors around me, this section is one I typically dominant – as I put the speed I have (compared, again, to those around me), to use and gain people or put them away. But Smiley pulls away. And pretty easily. I don’t think much of it at the time, thinking he is being reckless and I will get him later. But I never will. I pass the 7.8 sign in 60:21. I still feel fine and my pace from the pace chart is on form. I think, however, when I do later comparisons of this section to how I have run it in past years, I usually get a bit more ahead of pace here then just keep it. In the race, I don’t realize this and just continue to grind.
But in the hills post Bob’s Road, I do hit a bad patch, and I know it. I am determined to run through to Barr Camp though and so I shorten my stride, and mentally gear into not being concerned about having a bad patch. It’s a four hour run I think – you are bound to have a bad patch. It is not my head, or my gut, but my legs just don’t have a ton of power. I see Smiley ahead of me, and focus a bit on him. He does not seem to be gaining any significant ground (well, maybe a little) and so I take some solace in that.
I struggle up to Barr Camp. I miss hitting the split timer on the watch exactly but I looked at the watch enough before and after that when I see I missed it, I guesstimate that it was 78:30 (18:09). This is a red flag. Last year in 2:37, I was here at 74 minutes. I am not feeling like I am going to tear up the top much faster than last year and so to hit this split that much slower provides a dose of reality. All this thinking of course does not change race strategy … it is simply feedback that you internalize and deal with. I just grind on. But the race above Barr Camp gets tough. My bad patch has become really tough and I know it. I had hoped to shake it. I try to get my legs back with some power hiking segments but it is just not coming. I power hike and then bring myself back to running and the efforts feel hard and harder.
I reach the Bottomless Pit in another 14:02 (1:32 total). The description here, well it would be redundant. Power hike, run, power hike, run. Finally, I reach the A Frame in 1:54:44 (split, 22:32). I am falling behind pace and quickly. I try to calculate if this will be a 2:40 ascent. I think 2:45 is more likely. Surely it won’t be north of 2:50. Just past the A frame I get passed by Erin H (who would go on, catch Smiley on the descent and take fourth).
Above treeline is clear, and gorgeous. Yeah, it is cooler but it does not require a coat. I have my gloves on, but the skies are clear. It is a truly a spectacular day. My splits continue to drift off pace, and I know it. I try to keep pushing, driving the focus but I am still moving slower and I know it. I feel the eyes of folks on me from the summit and so I try to use this pressure to keep driving. But it just ain’t coming today. It is a struggle between wanting to drive, the body not responding well, and knowing that. I begin to get odd cramps in my legs behind my knees in the connection of my hammie. I shake through them and continue the grind.
2 miles to go sign is reached in 2:15:45. The last mile took me 21 minutes. I get rolled up by the eventual eighth place finisher and he goes by me like I am walking. Which, well, I am essentially. He keeps putting greater and greater distance on me. I don’t know what he did above treeline but it must have been damn good.
1 mile to go is reached 16:18 later in 2:32. I am passed by Matt Carpenter shortly after this sign. I take note and can see Dave Mackey descending much higher on the hill. Dave passes me some four minutes later. Both these guys are really moving. Dave would race well to close the gap to nearly 30 seconds while running one of the best descents ever in 1:20. Even with a 2:32 at the mile, I think I am capable of breaking 2:50. Bernie passes me coming down – looking good.
Halfway through the mile though, I know this is not going to break 2:50. I see Smiley and Erin come ripping down a few minutes before I get to the top and I know that it is unlikely that I will catch them today. I also can tell that Erin will get Smiley and there is not much he can do about it. As crazy as it sounds – I can see it in their faces. Erin wants it and Smiley is looking waxed – even on the descent.
I can begin to hear the calls of Scott “GEORGE ZACK!” Come on George Zack!” It is encouraging. I feel a bit embarrassed because I am not having a good day and I know it, and I know they know it. I know Scott does not think any less of me, but still, you want to race well for you and them too. Okay, yeah, that is an ego thing. But when you are at 14K feet, we are all children. I gimp through the golden stairs. I get passed by the current sixth place runner (the guy who caught me above tree line).
I reach the summit in 2:51:58. A 19:54 last mile. My last three miles have represented more of a three hour ascent than even this 2:5x. It is a bit of a hassle to be stopped at the top as they take my bib tag and mark my bib. I reach over the volunteers and get some water. Peter Vail and Galen are there. They yell that I am going to catch a bunch of folks on the way down. I mention that I am cramping. Peter has the quote of the day by saying “No, that does not matter. Who cares?” It is quite funny. I start the descent.
The descent is a welcome change. But I realize I am running on damaged goods. I catch some weird steps on the way down that strain my legs and I feel cramps shooting up the back of my legs. I shake it out but realize I am running carefully and hence not at full tilt to attack this. Attacking this downhill would risk meaning I can’t finish. I move as quickly as I can while carefully picking through the rocks.
… and the people. Going through the people is not as tough as I thought it would be but that is probably because I am geared back a touch. The people are great. They yell runner and move out the way, shouting words of encouragement. I am pretty convinced that front runners must seem like assholes to the rest of the world. The volunteers shout you are looking great. We just look down and muscle on, maybe we grunt. The racers behind you get out of your way and we just barrel through without a word. It is not that I don’t want to encourage these folks – I just don’t want to waste the energy to do so. It is pretty ridiculous actually.
The people are all on their mission against this mountain, their demons … and in different shapes, sizes and approaches. Some are bareback and driving. Others look horrible. Below the Aframe, I pass a women who is laying in the fetal position on a rock. I expect someone will take care of her … normally I’d stop to help but I figure there is SAR out here, other racers. I need to keep moving because I know if I stop, I am going to have a tough time getting going again.
I try to calculate what my descent will be and hope I can run a 1:38 to break 4:30 but I am practically skeptical. This sets up for the interesting mind heart debate: how bad do you want it? By the 2 mile sign on the way down, I roll up the guy who picked me off on the way up above tree line. This is encouraging. But it is short lived. I get the cramps still and then occasionally start to get really bad.
The first part of the descent is a welcome section. The section from the A frame to Barr Camp is fair, an interesting push. But then from Barr Camp on … (I reach Barr in the descent in 50:17) is hard. There is no one else coming up. The little downhillls you got on the way out seem like mini mountains on the way down. I just try to keep running. At one point, the brain floats the thought … I don’t want to run anymore. I actually laugh at this thought. Of course I am going to run. I am just tired!
I keep contemplating if I will break 4:30 but I can see it is going to be pretty hard to do that. I take mental solace in the fact that I have sixth place for the moment. This is a top ten finish!
The heat begins to build. Just above the Ws I cramp really hard. It forces me to a walk for a few strides but I get back to running as quickly as I can. I don’t want to stop now. I am too close! I run through the Ws – counting down the number I have left. It is pretty hot now but I know I can bear it for another fifteen minutes. I reach the top of the Ws in 4:15ish. I know I am not going to rip these down and fall over. Any goofy motion outside of basic running brings on some odd cramp. My neck is tight. Knowing I am not going to break 4:30 now, I contemplate how I will try to get my family to run across the line with me. The time won’t matter, and as long as I have sixth place, I will ask if they want to do it.
Through the descent, I do feel an occasional wave of emotion through it. I subdue this as I focus on the race and the course. The emotion is the realization of this trip, not just this race but the journey over the last year.
Then I hit the road. It is oddly anticlimactic. You know you are almost done but there is still a mile to go. With a half mile to go, I see Marty. He runs up to me and is complimenting me, recognizing this event. I tell him I had a tough day. He looks me over and notices no blood and we discuss how I have been cramping but did not fall. I ask him to confirm that I have no one behind me in site. When he does, I ask him to get my family so that I can possibly run in with them. The crowds build and they are great but I am in another world. I see where MK has gone to the side of the road and so I break out of the cones and go over to Tracy, John and Kali. The announcer yells at me to get back into the cones and I give him a hand signal that I am going to my family (or something). He recognizes that. I can’t convince Kali and John to come with me but I give them a quick half hug and then jog around the corner to finish. Sixth place. 4:32:59. From Barr to Manitou in 50:44.
Bronwyn performs jinshinjistu on me for about 45 minutes. It helps a lot and gets my head back but I am still cramping and not eager to eat or get up. They have to go and I feel like I will be fine. I suddenly am hit with a wave of emotion of how loved I am. My family is here supporting me. Marty and his family is here supporting me. I have had so much support from so many people. I begin to cry with the joy of how lucky I am to be so fortunate to have had this journey, this race, the result, and most importantly these people in my life to love me. It comes out in tears.
I get my wits and sit up. Tracy goes back to the hotel to get a car and to check us out. When she left, I thought Kali and I would be walking down the street in five minutes. But that does not happen. Tracy has to walk 1.5 miles back to the hotel with John, then fights traffic while I sit in the chair – still fighting passing out. It gets progressively worse. Kali tries to encourage me, help me, but I can’t get water down. We call Tracy and tell her. After finishing in 4:33, it is now 6:15 and I make my way over to the med tent with Kali. They decide to give me an IV. After three attempts (you have really good veins but none of them are seeming to take) the drip starts. 15 minutes later and I am a new man. Tracy and John have now returned and I can walk again.
We spend the rest of the afternoon in Manitou. After the awards assembly, I drive home with John.
Post Race Analysis
This was an amazing journey. The mountain humbled me. I left everything I had on the mountain. I had a bad day, but I ground through this thing and I paid for it. I reached new physical barriers that I had not before. I accomplished something. And I have a lot left to accomplish. I broke my flesh and realized some lessons emotionally and spiritually.
There is a sweetness to this accomplishment. A year ago, I stated I wanted to be top 10 in the Ascent. A year later, here I am top ten in the marathon – an event I could not seriously have contended in any regard a year ago. I got into the ring and took some swings and made a dent.
There is some bitterness to this accomplishment. I know I could have run a 2:35 ascent and 1:30 for a descent. But I didn’t There are woulda, coulda, shoulda songs in my head. Top 3? Prize money? A 4:10? I know I can do it … but I didn’t’. Will I do this next year to prove that? I commit to myself that I won’t decide right away.
What happened? Why did I have that bad day? Where did my legs go just prior to Barr camp? Did I go out too fast? Was my season too long? Did I not do enough mileage? Was I lacking in speedwork? Should I have done more altitude training? Did I do too much in my taper?
I have taken four days off from running since racing this. I am no longer sore and I am ready to run again (at least in my head!) I have a lot to think about as to how I what comes next.
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