Cliff notes version: exceeded my expectations, running 4:42:28 off a 3:01 ascent. Landed 3rd in the Masters in what have been my easiest and the most fun I have had at Pikes yet.
Long version: Lots of stuff here – hugely egocentric and focused on my race … I will do more on other news out of the race in the coming days (typing this while on a flight to Canada).
With a markedly different mindset in terms of fitness and related activities this summer (that is, one of exercise versus training), I had also gone through the mental process of releasing myself of any expectations at the Pikes Peak Marathon race.
Except that is sort of a lie.
I had some expectations. I expected to finish. I expected to toe the line and work the run. But I did not have the hyper laser focus of expectations where I dialed splits in for the way points across the course. I did not have the A-B-C goals. I looked at this race as one in which I would enjoy myself, and do the best I could on that day. I had the opportunity to run and race, and so I was going to do that – but in a way where I felt I did it with both respect for the race event itself (and so competing), and happiness. As hokey as it sounds, I wanted to have another day in the mountains, where I could both smile at others out there and myself, but also my teeth sweat a bit as I worked this shell I have.
In the days leading up to the event however, the historical wiring of being hyper focused on this race managed to still send some messages to my conscious thought. I began to think a 3 hour ascent was possible. Then I would shake my head and think both of how easy that would have been in past years, and how damn hard it was in past years as well. Looking at results on Saturday, I saw a good number of folks who were challenged with this time goal – reaffirming to me as to how difficult it can be if things go wrong. It is humbling. You see folks who have trained their literal arses off and they are given a harsh kick of reality as they stumble up the upper slopes of this mountain. There is no caring by mountains of course. They are just hunks of rock that have been here and will be here. The testing of ourselves against them is something we choose to do. Seeing that the majority of the output is not record setting runs, but rather bruised, bloodied, and physical crush people reminds me as to how damn hard this is. A three hour ascent and five hour round trip was not something I could just snap up.
I headed down to the Springs area on Friday. Unlike past years where I would head to the summit on Friday night to wake up on Saturday to see the Ascent action, I spent Friday evening sleeping under the stars at the Air Force Academy. My son’s Boy Scout troop was camping there and I elected to make the trip with them. The camping kept me busy most of the time Friday and Saturday, with probably more time on my feet than I wanted. I did make a brief trip into Manitou on Saturday to pick up my race number and caught up with a couple of the finishers in Memorial Park. Other than that, I was “grub master” – not far from the static display of the B-52 (the model of aircraft I used to work on while in the USAF) that sits at the Academy.
I headed to bed as the kids played Capture the Flag in the setting sun Saturday night. I had found some spot away from the camp where I could be away from the noise and not be run over by some Scouts. I had planned to wake up around 4:30 to make for a slow and sleepy drive over to Manitou Sunday AM. Being up that early would give me time to get coffee, pin the bib, get my outfit all set, hit the bathroom the obligatory six or seven times, find a good parking spot, eat a little something, etc.
And so of course I overslept. I first woke up at 1:30AM. I considered for a moment driving into Manitou then but rolled over in my sleeping bag / pad and slumbered back off. When I opened my eyes again, and saw the morning twilight light, I knew I had an issue. It was 5:55! Damn it. I hustled up my gear, hit the car and buzzed out of the Academy with tons of self talk: “This will be okay. You have plenty of time. You got a good night’s sleep. No worries. Don’t stress. SHIT!! DAMN IT!! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?! Relax. It will be fine. You have time.”
I did make it, and I eased up to the start line at about 6:50, giving me time to connect with Dave M, Jeff V, Wes H, Matt H and few of the others. I had no warm up, but I had met the prerace obligation of visiting the portalets 3 or 4 times. I figured no warm up would keep me tempered in the start, where I am nearly always faster than any of the split calculator.
And so we were off. It actually felt both comfortable but a bit fast as we turned onto Ruxton just a few ticks past 3 minutes. With the greater slope that comes at this point, I consciously geared back and down. I knew that to have any chance of running this well, I’d have to be careful through the Ws especially. I kept my spirit in check: be positive, enjoy this, don’t go negative ever.
By the mid point of the Ws, most of the jockeying and position changing had sorted itself out. In fact, in retrospect – I think I can say that I was only passed three times after this point – once by a man on the Ascent above the 2 to go mark (who I then passed in about the same place on the descent), and once by a woman on the climb just past A frame (who I passed only only a few minutes before, and then passed again as we got above tree line) and once by a woman going into the Ws on the descent (who I then passed on the road as we dropped past the Cog). From there on, it was pretty much running with the same folk most of the day, and slowly grinding up the hill. I walked through the aid stations, taking water and gatorade – as I elected to carry nothing.
I elected not to click my watch on the splits, so the ones I have (below) are somewhat approximate (but getting them by looking at the track on the map). Throughout the run, I can say I never felt super great but I never felt super bad. I had some better spots (typically flatter) and I had some harder spots (steeper stretches). But I kept telling myself that I needed to keep going and keep upbeat. . When I’d get to a walk, I kept telling myself to get back to the run. I played games with myself of promising myself to run 100 steps for my son. Then I’d lose count and have to start over. Then I’d start with my daughter.
Barr Camp came in 87 minutes plus. While did not think this was doing “okay,” I also knew it was no guarantee of anything. It seemed like I was shaping up for a 3 hour ascent, but I knew it could be equally as likely that I’d implode and run a 3:30 at this point. Rather than overly concerned with that, I focused on getting to the Aframe. Could I do that before 2 hours?
Above Barr Camp, on the long switch back to Bottomless Pit, I saw a group of four people, spread over maybe 150 yards. More patience I reminded myself. The race starts really at A frame. I used the competitors as mental leverage – playing a game of working through them over this tough stretch (I go back and forth as to what is the toughest part of the course: I have said the Ws because you can blow your race there if you go out too hard, I have said this stretch from Barr to A frame because it is easy to fall asleep there, and I have also said from A frame to finish because while it is runnable, the thin air and accumulation of fatigue make it very easy to lose 10-30 minutes there).
Occasionally as I rolled up to someone, I felt myself going a bit above myself and I’d then have to back off. I think this may have been annoying to the other racers, but I had to run my race. I think they might have accelerated to race it up a bit, and I would at first bite at that – but I could feel the damage it was doing – particularly as air got thinner. I’d go to a power hike right behind them … they’d run and I’d lose only the slimmest of ground before I’d recover back and move by them slowly.
My legs were clearly my weak point throughout the run. They lacked power in the climb and they were indicating cramping signs – even below Barr Camp. I often felt I was fine in terms of my breathing – it was not nearly as labored as it has been in past years, but my legs were often concrete – clearly showing a lack of climbing fitness.
A-frame came in 2:05. Eh, not bad, but not great. Surely not a huge positive sign as I was showing signs of slowing down. But, now – above treeline … Above Barr Camp, the cramps that I had begun to suspect would take place way back in the Ws began their evil work – the occasional stabbing of a dagger into a hammie here and there. I had to start to chose how I pick a line through the rocks more carefully.
It is pretty amazing what happens above timber line. The slopes are not that staggering up there. The Golden Stairs are not easy, but the rest of this is really runable. The issue however is that you have put in 10 miles, 5k feet plus of climbing, and you are above 12k feet. Your body just screams NOT TO RUN. I am increasingly convinced that you are gonna feel like crap regardless if you walk or run … so run as much as you can. Easily said. As I mentioned earlier – a man named Scott came buzzing by me and was making up huge ground.
The weather was perfect up there. No significant wind. Maybe 40 degrees? I came through the John Garner captained aid station, and tried to give as much positive energy as I was getting. Through out this, I knew that if I could smile, keep positive, keep moving – it would be a good day. A help – as much as you know it is a bit contrived – is that folks would call my name because they could see it printed on my bib. It gives us all a bit of celebrity status … I started to count people as they came down, giving them encouragement, figuring out where I stood – and trying to take stock of who I thought I’d have a chance of catching on a down. Whoa – let’s not get ahead. Be patient. In the moment. You are not going down yet.
Photo by John Garner, who I owe beer to.
As I climbed I started to realize I could get a sub three, but only if I went bananas for the top. This – I reminded myself – is NOT the Ascent. Going for it here could mean I could potentially send myself into a leg lock that I could not get out of, or putting myself over an edge that would crush me for the descent. So I continued to grind – patient and purposeful. And I topped out in 3:01:08.
Every year I do this, I think I am going to get up there and hoot and holler how great it is. Thank the volunteers and all that. In past years, it has not worked out that way. I stumble into the turn around, take a swing and start a stumble down. This year I stopped, took a good long drink and hollered loud. It was more a show of positive energy and reflective of how good I felt.
Photo by Bethany Garner who I also owe beer to.
And so I started the down. With the 3:01, I felt fairly confident that I could get under 5. 60 minutes to Barr Camp, 60 minutes from Barr on down. I picked my way carefully through the rocks, really not going much faster than a jog at best. I started to roll up guys. They were complimentary of my descent, but it felt really easy. I was being careful – I did not want to fall and I was fighting cramps on any odd steps.
The early section down is both motivating in the feedback you get from the crowd – as it is admittedly frustrating. It is hard to run through 800 people (and we all do it one way or the other!). I tried to draw the positive feedback and pass it back. Soon enough I was back through the A frame, and then into the trees below where the runners thin out, and then disappear. I had passed three people at this point, but I knew there were folks who were coming and so on some of the more open sections, I began to move from the jog to looking to open it up some.
I’d be remiss at this point if I did not mention the Hokas. They were awesome. I am not endorsed by them as a shoe company and I know they are not for everyone. But for a guy who has a ton of scar tissue on one of his feet because of a lawn mower accident, my feet were well protected as I went through the rocks. I did occasionally start to roll an ankle, but I’d catch it (which would then cause a cramp issue that I had to then work through). But my feet have never felt more protected (of course in past years I have raced in Brooks Racer STs – a road flat!!)
I got to Barr Camp around 10:53 in the morning – so 3:53 into the run. Yup. The top guys had already finished and were enjoying the labors of their work. I told myself “okay Zack, that is good, another hour down and you are sub five.” My concern at this point was the slight ups you get back, the possible heat as you drop in elevation, and the greater possibility of cramps as I went through the Ws. And falling of course.
I mused on how well this was going, but I dismissed those thoughts – knowing that typically when I entertain such ideas I am most likely to bite it. I had to keep focused now, look to keep it together and see if I could not get caught and if I could catch anybody.
I started through some of the little ups past Barr Camp, and brought my pace to very slow. These little bumps are little but my attacking them in the past has left me reeling. As I came around a corner above No Name Creek, I saw Jeff V. He looked to be stretching out his legs. I tried to give him encouragement as I went past but I knew he was having a tough drop. It drives me a bit batty because I know that Jeff is a way better runner than than me on all things mountain. I joked with him later that Pikes is my one day of the year where I get to beat him, but I am still convinced his best day for Pikes is yet to come. Jeff returned the kind words and told me to get after it.
Shortly after passing Jeff, I started to give a little more on the gas. And the cramps really fired up. I started my ridiculous mantras of talking out loud: “be easy, flow easy, like water, don’t fall, relax.” It is silly but it works. And perhaps because I have dealt with this cramping in the past, I actually can ride a fine line of running while I am cramping to some extent without going into a full on lock up.
Post No Name, I came up on another runner. I was stoked to get another place, but just as I was doing that I realized that I was also getting caught. Michelle Suszek (who would run a 1:34 down) came BLASTING by both of us. I tried to go with her, but she was really hauling for me.
This brought me to the Ws. A quick glance at my watch had me thinking I could break 4:50, and perhaps even run faster than I had last year. Michelle disappeared slowly into the distance, but I could then see another long haired shirtless runner that I was closing on. He saw me from a switchback below, and it seemed to me that he began to pick up the pace. As I closed on him, he almost took a stumble but he caught himself without hitting the deck. He stepped the side and said, “okay, no more hard running for me.”
As I came to the top of Ruxton, I could see that Michelle was not that far up, and on the really steep stuff, I was catching her. I passed her at the Cog and tried to encourage her to come along (at the same time thinking it would suck to get into an outright kick fest with her in the last 100 yards of town). I got a little daylight and as I came into the town, I enjoyed slapping the hands of the kids on the side.
Photo from the Gazette.
4:42.:28. Wow.
Photo by HappyTrails. (pointing to the French Giant!)
Post race I did my typical thing in the tent – get me to a cot, let me lie down for ten minutes or so with a chair under my legs and my feet elevated. No thanks on the IV. I got to share some good conversation with Brad and HappyTrails. I then wandered about soaking up the good vibe of the race – talking to (I am sure I am forgetting someone here) Scott E, Corey D (who ran an awesome marathon but was probably more stoked from his wife’s performance the day before – more on that and other racers in a separate post), Jeff V, Dave M, Craig the Knuckledragger, Brad P, HappyTrails Steve, Pittbrownie, $100, Amy P, Rob, fellow burro racer Diane V, and Matt C. “How’d your race go? You cramped too? What happened in Leadville?” I know there are folks that would run this mountain even if there was no race and they’d love it. I’d probably do that. But sharing with everyone in this community is incredibly invigorating to me.
This race performance certainly exceeded my expectations. 21st overall, 3rd master (sort of, Mackey was 7th overall). And so I am happy.
The effort certainly does raise the question: what would I have done had I actually trained? It is not like I was completely out of shape here, but would I have PR’d had I trained for this? I will never know the answer but I think I can conclude the following:
a.) this was my 7th marathon at Pikes. I certainly benefit from knowing how to exact my effort over this course. I think I ran almost nearly as well as I could have – turning the gauges for a strong performance for me.
b.) and so in past years, I think I have been fitter, but that means I have NOT run as smart as I could have. And I think I am much more likely to do this when I am more fit. I am more likely to get after it, make mistakes and pay for that.
c.) my climbing legs were clearly a factor for me in the race. They were a limiter. And so, as odd as it sounds, I am not as beat up as I have been in past years. I really couldn’t “crank” on myself as hard as I have in past years.
d.) Some folks were complimentary of my down. I appreciate that, but I can say that I have a LOT I could improve there if I wanted. A fellow runner said to me that 1:40 down was jogging. I know for many, that is not. But for many – it is jogging. I can say woulda shoulda coulda here for me … but you get the idea.
e.) the weather helped a lot this year. It was about as perfect as you could get. Sure it was warm down low, but it was not the typical blast furnace I feel as I hit No Name Creek and lower.
f.) mentally, I certainly race better when I am “loose” in my mindset and expectations. I’d probably not recommend sleeping in a field at the AFA to ensure this going forward, but being “in the zone” is not a best practice for me.
So, maybe if I was fitter, I would have run faster. Or maybe I would have done something stupid and run slower. There you go. Still learning the same old lessons I guess – and that is part of the fun of it. I think today – I got this race. It felt like I had my hand on the tiller as well as I ever had it. I’d like to think that means I’d be able to do that again there, but I know there is no promise of that. The mountain simply does not care.
I can say this Pikes is probably the most fun I have had with it. I was not going to be tortured by the result by some constructs I had made up in my head. And for me, I think that made me run more free and happy. These last four weeks of racing have been a beautiful thing and I feel really lucky Burros in the mountains, great people, time with my amazing and wonderful family, sharing the time in the high country. It really does make me grin. I am a very lucky dude. Races and events like this make me re-realize that … and make these posts seem all the more self indulgent and ridonkulus.
Splits (approximate):
Hydro (1.23) 6:40:00 9:44:00
Top of Ws (3.07) 23:41:00 33:25:00
No Name Creek (4.29) 16:30:00 49:55:00
7.8 Sign (5.82) 17:45:00 67:40:00
Barr Camp (7.52) 19:45:00 87:25:00
Bottomless Pit (8.48) 13:35:00 1:41:00
A Frame (10.01) 25:00:00 2:06:00
2 to go (11.07) 19:05:00 2:25:05
1 to go (11.94) 18:05:00 2:43:10
Summit 912.03) 17:58:00 3:01:08
1:41:20
Again, thanks to all who provided any encouragement and support. I am one lucky dude.
Ah, and so to the question, “will I do this again? Or will I go do that other race?” I don’t know yet. I know that Pikes is – as they say – in my blood. I can see a day where I would want to step away from it, in an “absence makes the heart grow fonder” sort of way, but not today. Right now, I am not gonna worry about what I do in 2013. Instead, I am going to enjoy this fruits of this day, this summer and keep smiling.
More on the Pikes scene in the next couple days.
