I had missed the 2004 version of Pikes Peak due to a significant work transition & had promised myself that 2005 I was going back to the mountain. In 2003, I had run the marathon in 4:47 but really hadn’t done the work necessary to feel as if I’d been worthy of the mountain. There was some significant unfinished business. I hadn’t trained seriously in almost 10 years & knew that I was going to need some serious commitment to keep me from sandbagging again, as I did in 2003. So I decided to offer a training group for Pikes Peak. I thought maybe 7 or 8 folks would sign up. I was shocked to have over 30 folks register for the program, some folks who’d never trained with Rogue before & some regulars. In my registration information I repeated that this training would be very, very difficult & the race would be unlike any race they’d ever experienced. These warnings seemed to only encourage the group. Before anyone expected, the 50th Anniversary of the Pikes Peak Ascent & Marathon were full. No turning back now.
Given that there were more folks registered than I expected, I knew I was going to need some help. Abe Dashner was more than willing to help & he turned out to be an inspired choice. In any training situation, it is helpful to have a good cop/bad cop duo. In preparation for Pike Peak, it was absolutely essential. I had planned the toughest training schedule I ever dared to throw at a group of runners. I was going to need someone who understood the need for VERY hard workouts but could help me know when I was throwing too much at them. The program’s intensity was due to the fact that I knew what a lack of preparation would mean & because I was racing the mountain myself & wanted to ensure that I would be as prepared as possible for what I knew was going to be a difficult race. I doubted I would be prepared enough to compete with the mountain men, but I figured we’d all be as ready as possible for the mountain.
A basic synopsis of the program would include Hill of Life repeats, many long trail runs, treadmill runs (increasing the grade to 12%) & a healthy mix of anaerobic threshold runs. We also included a few field trips to Bandera’s Hill Country State Natural area, one to the Guadalupe Mountains (thanks to the Hill Country Trail Runners for putting up with us!) & used the Rogue Trail Series to test our progress. Oh, & we also drank healthy quantities of beer. Mexican beer, primarily. I find Tecate & Modelo to simulate high altitude, or at least that is what I told myself.
Training is all guts & little glory, but with a group as fun & committed as this one April moved quickly into August. The race was approaching & our group began to get jittery. People talk about taper madness & I can assure you this group was experiencing some heavy psychological shit. Think about it this way: When you are preparing for a lowland marathon, you practice covering distance, you practice marathon goal pace & learn about your course. OK, you’re ready. You hope the weather holds up & off you go. Pikes Peak is something altogether different. The race is a mountain, up & down. There are so many different variables, you cannot prepare for them all. Austin, Texas is at 500 feet; the race starts at 6300 feet Oh, & the race climbs up to 14, 000 ft. The Hill of Life is 15%-17% & less than a half mile; the race is 13.32 miles at an average of 11% grade, consistently at 13% for miles & mile on end. The weather in Austin is just a little humid & hot; the weather on top of a 14,000 ft. mountain is cold (& this year we had hail for the Ascent; sleet for the marathon.) Good luck with getting prepared for these contingencies. It is impossible without getting to altitude, something not everyone is able to accomplish. So if the Rogues were a little nervous, I couldn’t blame them. Hell, I was shitting bricks before I headed out to Colorado the week prior to the race.
Acclimating to high altitude is not an exact science, in fact I sometimes wonder if science is effective in determining the reactions & acclimation levels of individuals. I like to head out to Colorado a week early, to get the feel of the limited air. Though I know that science says it is not effective in getting acclimated, I FEEL like I am better able to control & adjust my efforts by running at those altitudes prior to the race. This year I was especially concerned with checking out the W’s before race day. In 2003, I went out too fast & redlined straight into lactate buildup before I was even 20 minutes into the race. I really wanted to ensure that I knew the first 3-4 miles well enough to be able monitor my effort & stay in a comfortable rhythm throughout the ascent portion of the race. My down hilling had been getting better & better, so I really wasn’t too concerned with that this year. I was intent & focused on getting to A-Frame in a relaxed state, ready for the assault on the tree line.
On the Tuesday before the race, Kent Snead, a fellow Rogue, & I ran from the starting line up through the W's & to the Rock Arch. Kent had some times scribbled on a piece of paper that he'd figured from Matt Carpenter’s book & the pace calculator. We decided we'd use these as a rough guide to "pacing."
As we left the start line & moved up Manitou Avenue, we slowly separated, running to our own internal rhythms. I quickly forgot the times Kent had written down & so decided to focus on effort, muscular cues & breathing. As I turned onto Ruxton, I heard Kent holler, "TOO FAST!" Story of my life, man. I felt very relaxed, too slow even.
As Ruxton continued up, up & up, I adjusted my effort according to the grade. As I passed the Cog Railway & the new asphalt road came under my feet, I felt that a cruel god pulled the road up around my ears...& barely passed a mile. "Damn" I thought,” I don't remember this being sooooo damn steep!" Instead of freaking, I just adjusted my speed. As I hit the gravel road I knew I was hitting the right rhythm, even if it felt hard. I mean, it is a damn mountain climb, not a picnic...just keep the heart rate & breathing in control & don't let the quads burn too much. Nice & steady. I chugged through the first few switchbacks trying to figure out if I should walk, or just keep running. After a few 20 second walk breaks, I decided to abandon that tactic & ran all the straights & walked the steep switchback turns. This allowed me to keep running but minimize the heart rate spiking up. There were a few turns I just HAD to walk...too steep & required me to lift with my hip flexors; I knew I needed to keep my hip flexors for later. I was warm & getting warmer. Sunglasses worked well, visor kept the sweat out of my eyes, I was working hard but very in control. After about 25 minutes, I tried to start counting switchbacks but it was pointless & hopeless...I had no idea where the Top of the W's was. At the 30 minute mark I approached another switchback turn & saw 2 large plastic trash containers that were obviously aid station supplies & then knew I was close, if not at, the ToW's. The next straight was nice & long before it turned slightly right & there she was: the Mountain. Man, she was a LONG way away. I just smiled & said to myself, "I’m gonna make it on Sunday, the only question is how long it takes me..." From here, I felt the ground move under my feet a little more smoothly, dipped a little & then gained again. Before I knew it, I was at the Rock Arch, the predetermined meeting spot with Kent. I was feeling so good I thought, "I'll just slip up the mountain a little ways & get back to the Arch by the time Kent does." Then I remembered that I had a race on Sunday & this was Tuesday...no need to waste a good day.
I waited about 10 minutes before Kent came trucking up the mountain. He looked phenomenal & smiled as he rapidly approached. I asked him what he thought & he just kept smilin', almost like he didn't want to jinx anything. As we started back down, we decided to run easily, comfortably. Kent pointed out to me where he thought the ToW's was & we agreed that it would have been a whole lot easier if the pace calculator locations were obvious landmarks, like the Rock Arch. Oh, well...history trumps. At the aid station location, we stepped over the fence & looked up & down the Incline...absolutely awesome! Straight UP!
We were back down to Hydro St. in less than 20 minutes of very relaxed running.
After the run, we bumped down to the finish line for a cup of coffee to discuss the run. We both agreed that the run was very valuable to help determine pacing & effort. It helped Kent get a visual on the landmarks & helped end 5 months of numbing curiosity about what the mountain was like. He knew we saw only about 27% of the Ascent but it was more than he knew before that morning. For me, it confirmed that the race is a personal journey, not a real race & that I was absolutely out of shape when I ran it the first time. We both felt far more confident in our training & mental preparation after the recon mission, but we were also forced to recognize that the mountain will run us, not we the mountain.
The rest of the week just rolled on by…& then Saturday. You’ve undoubtedly heard about everyone getting stranded on the mountain, so I’ll leave that alone. Suffice it to say that standing on your feet for 6 hours at 14,000 ft. & getting hailed on by marble-sized ice pellets the day before a race is not the best pre-race routine.
RACE DAY
Up at 5:45am, coffee & with the requisite load lightening complete, I walk/jog warm-up to the starting line from the Red Wing Inn. It is about 1.5 miles & lord knows you really don’t “need” a warm-up be prepared for a race like Pikes Peak, but I’ve found that I need about 10-15 minutes of run/walking to get over the initial spike in the heart rate I’ve felt each day I’ve been between 6,000-9,000 feet. The Pikes Peak Inn, right on the start line, is our pre-race reunion location. Everyone looks ready, if a bit nervous. I can’t say I can blame them, given my prior experience with the mountain & the events of the day before. But there is no time for discussion or reevaluation of the plan. It is time to find our places on the starting line & finish what we’d started in early April.
The gun goes off & close to 800 runners start up Manitou Avenue. I had planned on positioning myself somewhere between 20th-30th place. This was just to ensure I didn’t go out too quickly. I wasn’t worried about passing people on the course. If I need to I could, but I was more concerned with my own effort & pace maintenance than I was what place I was in. I made it to Hydro Street only 30 seconds earlier than I had hoped. I was in perhaps 20th place or so with a pack of 10-15 runners ahead, grouped up & rolling. I certainly did not want to be hanging onto that pace. It turned out that the pack was full of BUFF Skyrunner’s, some of the top mountain runners in the world. I knew Galen Burrell was tucked into that group; those running in that pack were beyond my abilities. Freed from concentrating on racing, I listened to my breathing, found a steady, comfortable rhythm & clicked up the switchbacks.
It turned out I was running right around another American, Erin Hutchinson, who turned out to be from Flagstaff, Arizona. I figured he was some kinda stud because he had bib number 4. I was bib number 463…he probably thought I was going to be in trouble later. We started to catch a few runners who went out too quickly & then were joined by another runner, who I later found out was the ultra running stud, Ian Torrence. By the time we came through Barr Camp, I was feeling great. I knew I was on pace for the 2:40 I hoped I top the mountain in & my breathing was comfortable, my head was clear & was in complete control. My quads soon started burning as the course began gaining elevation at a 13% grade again. I started walking on the steepest pitches to try to ensure that my quads didn’t fail me. Somewhere between Barr Camp & A Frame, Ian & Erin left me. I ran solo through this absolutely gorgeous section of the course. But admiring the beauty came at a price; I stepped over a fallen tree on the trail & promptly found myself off the race course. I climbed for a minute, freaked out because I couldn’t find the trail, then turned around the way I came & finally found it. “Damn!” I thought. “You know better than to step over ANYTHING solid on a trail.” I knew then that the altitude was beginning to affect my mind. After A Frame & heading above tree line, I looked down & saw Erica Larson eating up ground on me. She was running every step while I walked where necessary & ran where I could. I let her by me at the 2 to go marker & tried to keep her in sight.
My goal of being able to ascend in 2:40 became unattainable. Though my mind was clear, my breathing comfortable (I even talked to spectators, those who passed & aid station folks throughout the race) I found I just could not push myself. When I did, I’d feel my heart race, my mind cloud & I’d get the old feeling of RACE TIME! But I’d promised myself prior to the race that I would not succumb to the temptation to redline. This was the hardest part of the race for me. I was hovering over my body watching it claw up the rocks, through muddy rivers & ponds of freezing runoff, up, up & up, but I just couldn’t go faster. I heard Ruthie, Lauren, James & Bob on top shouting encouragement. Finally, I tired of the stop & go & began to run again. I went passed Erica on the 16 Golden Stairs, rolled past my support crew (tossing off my handheld & flashing a thumbs up signal & said, “I feel GREAT! I just can’t get up the mountain fast enough!” At the turn around the guy says “STOP!” Begrudgingly, I stop. Then push him away as he lets go & head back down. Ruth has refilled my water bottle & I yell at Lauren for candy. She says, “What kind?!?!” just as I come up. I grab an entire handful of red licorice bites, my water bottle & start heading down.
All throughout or training, I demanded that the Rogue runners NOT run for the first mile or two back down the mountain. Two years ago, I jumped skipped, raced & hollered all the way down to the tree line & paid dearly for the mistake. So this year, as I picked my way down the stairs, through torrents of icy slush & past a steady, long line of other runners, I moved very carefully. As I hit spots I didn’t need to jump down I began running. Once I’d started this, I was gone. You have to realize, I absolutely LOVE downhill running. So once I pointed, I shot.
As I went rolling past all the Rogues, I shouted out to them, “Go, Marty!”, “Go, Kent!”, “Go, Rogue!” all the way down the mountain. As I descended I heard the familiar cries of “Go, Sisson!” all the way down. It was like I was being buoyed by my own personal angels & tears came to my eyes. Just as I was nearing the tree line, I caught my foot on a rock & splayed hands first, with my knee taking a hit. My handheld water bottle was split & the mesh holder (with my electrolytes & advils) was destroyed. All my precious pills scattered on the trail. I popped back up & kept moving. I tried to readjust the water bottle, & after 3 -4 minutes of trying, realized it was toast & tossed it to the ground. I was completely free of encumbrances now, but I was without the electrolytes I would need later. Instead of worrying about this, I said to myself, “You better hurry down this mountain before you cramp.” & picked up the pace.
It is amazing how, when suffering from dehydration, electrolyte deficiency, & lack of fuel, your mind begins to play tricks on you. I’d forgotten to hit my watch at the top for my halfway split & tried to do the descent math coming down. I was pretty sure I was on pace for a 4:25 finish & was working to convince myself I could make up another 5 minutes & get in under 4:20. So I really started pushing the pace. I clicked off about four miles at 5:45 pace before the markers got off. Nearing the W’s, I knew I was close to getting under 4:20 but since I’d failed to take on electrolytes, sugars & caffeine my mind wasn’t working so well. At the top of the W’s I fell, & I fell hard. I tried to avoid my knee & so rolled, scraping up my shoulder & back. I cursed & popped back up…“Keep moving!” I yelled. Not 300 meters later, I fell hard again, rolling. This one was worse. I cursed loudly & forced myself to slow down just a bit. I wasn’t running on all cylinders here & didn’t want to risk the overall race for another couple of seconds. As I hit the pavement on Ruxton, I was surprised that my hamstrings were tightening. They were cramping from the lack of electrolytes. I was pleasantly surprised that my quads, which screamed the entire way down the mountain in 2003, were barely even felt. I tossed my shirt & gloves to Sara Askey (Thanks, Sarah!) & shifted into another gear. As I crossed the finish line, I was ushered into the tent & got an iodine sponge bath from the EMT folks. There was Jill clicking away on her camera.
When you've set a goal that you do not accomplish there is always a let down. Though my real goal was to run in control & enjoy the race, I still burned about not getting to the top in 2:40 & not dipping under 4:15 for the marathon. I know many folks will roll their eyes & say, "Get over yourself, Sisson. You ran great." & I agree with them. I ran against some of the fastest mountain runners around, & coming from sea level, that's an accomplishment. I had the 3rd fastest descent of the day, 1:27, & didn't really expect to perform that well. I ran 27 minutes faster than I did in 2003. However, regardless of these accomplishments, I still feel, as Cathy Bridge does, that I have unfinished business with Pikes Peak. This feeling doesn’t diminish me, the other runners or the even the race itself. I think the reason many people race is to test their personal limits, not to beat other people. Though I accomplished a great deal in this race, I know there is more there. & that’s why you’ll find me at the starting line of the 51st Pikes Peak Marathon, on August 20th at 7am. Come & join me, if you dare.
After 4+ months of training for a single event, through the heat of an Austin summer there was a significant feeling of relief. As the other Rogue runners began streaming down Ruxton & passed our little cheering section, the relief changed to pride. Pride in being part of something bigger, pride in the hard work these runners put in to accomplish a goal that must’ve seemed overwhelming at many junctures, pride in their determination & drive to finish, pride in their altruism & service to each other & strangers on the mountain. I could not have had a better group of runners to coach & share my training with. We like a family in training, in the race, & afterwards. I am proud to have been a part of such a wonderful group of people.