Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Pikes Peak Ascent ~ 2014

I knew it would be hard.

Really hard.

But seriously. How hard can a hike be?

This began as any other race. Race day nerves. No big deal. I mean, I'm climbing Pikes Peak! The race started in downtown Manitou Springs. Runners from all over the world were here to claim the prize; the same prize I wanted. Badly. The first 1.65 miles was uphill. No big deal. I knew it would be tough. I think I managed running about a mile of it. I kept up with the crowd as much as I could. And then it became a hike with everyone else.

We joined Barr Trail in Pike National Forest at the 1.65 mile marker where the first station was. Where we waited...and waited...and waited. The trail bottlenecked and we had to wait. Wait for our turn to continue. People were getting upset. We had deadlines or cut-off points that we had to meet.

People started talking, and I listened. Drink when you're not thirsty, one says. Run when you can another person says.

But, Just.
Don't.
Stop.

I was told to enjoy the view. But I couldn't look up. The terrain was nothing like I've ever ran before. I've been on a few trails. But nothing like this. I do remember looking up at the 2.8 mile marker where I saw the Rocky Mountains. Wow. Look how far I've gotten.

I kept to myself. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to save my energy. As the trail got tougher the elevation increased. Someone said, the first three miles is the worst. It has the most elevation gain. I already had a disadvantage. Hooper has an elevation of 1320 feet. At the start of the race, 6,300 feet was already against me. Remember my view of the Rockies? 7,700 feet.

 
 
Surprisingly, I didn't feel that winded. I never got dizzy and I never got a headache. That was motivating and encouraging enough. I did stop once, and my heart was pounding out of my chest. That was enough to keep going. I couldn't feel it when I was walking. It kinda scared me. So I kept going. The terrain continued. My hips were starting to hurt more than anything. The constant step ups was tiring. So tiring. I thought about quitting but I noticed that I never stopped. I just kept going.
 
The elevation continued. 8,800 feet arrived when we crossed No Name Creek. That wasn't fun. The slippery rocks slowed us down. I'm a clumsy bird so I didn't want to fall. It's funny that I don't remember Bob's Road ~ elevation 9,350'.  I do remember finally looking at my watch and realizing at this moment, that I wasn't going to make it in time to Barr Camp; the first cut off. That's all I wanted. To make it to Barr Camp by the 3 hour mark.
 
Gwen was a life savor. I knew Karen would go. She is such a faster runner than me. Gwen stayed with me. She often looked back as I did for her. She kept telling me to go ahead of her. But I knew that I needed somebody. I didn't want to do this alone.
 
She gave one more final...Go. Make the cut off. I could hear people talking. And I went. I left her. That was so hard for me. What if I did make it and she didn't. I needed SOMEONE. I knew I couldn't do this alone.
 
I made it to Barr Camp ~ 7.6 miles at 10,200'. A volunteer put her arm around me. I looked at her, "Did I make the cut off?" And she looked at me. The same way the vet looked at me when my dog was dying. And I lost it. I cried. I cry writing this. It is still so raw. Like a dagger in my chest cutting my lungs; at 10,200 feet. The one thing I didn't want was to fail. And at that moment, I did. I felt like such a failure.
 
And another volunteer ripped my bottom bib and took my number. And there I was listed. As a DNF.
 
Did.
Not.
Finish.
 

I kept hearing, "I'm so sorry. You did so good". I missed the cut off by 3 minutes. Maybe I shouldn't have looked at the Rockies. Why did I stop to hear my heart beat? Should I had run across the slippery rocks and risked slipping? I sat there on that bench and cried. Someone brought me food. Someone helped me put my long-sleeved shirt back on to keep warm. And I continued to watch others cross. I felt so bad for us. All of us.
 
Gwen. Where is Gwen? I asked for her. No one saw her. And I finally saw her. And it hit again. Disappoint not just for me, but for us. Us flatlanders. That's what they call us ~ FLATLANDERS. Those flatlanders.
 
Well, this flatlander is going back. We all are. And I'm conquering that beast. We have unfinished business. At least I know I do.
 
FYI: Karen did make it. Hearing her story was amazing. She made the next cut off at A-frame (11,950') at the 4:15 hour mark. EXACTLY the time she needed. She made the final finish at 6:26. Just 3 minutes before the cut off.
 
Next time? I need to be at the beginning of the start. Get ahead of the bottleneck and walk hard. Jog on the downhill's and straightaways. Continue to drink. And stay quiet. Train on trails. Do squats. Build endurance. It can happen. I believe it.
 
 


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