Pikes Peaking, Part I

At the starting line, I'm flat out scared. Not as terrified as I thought I SHOULD be. Not as nervous as I used to be before marathons, when I often lay awake the whole night before. But scared enough. For one thing, I had NO altitude training, coming in. I'm living and running here in New Jersey, and for me the high ground is 600 feet. Also, I hadn't -- how do I put this? -- pooped. NOBODY likes trying to put insistent bowels on hold, especially on a steep slope in the middle of a big crowd.   

But there I was, as the gun went off in Manitou Springs on Aug. 18, looking up at Pikes Peak. Looking way, WAY up, to 14,115 feet. The race about to ensue, the Ascent, would take me up the last 7,815 feet of it. If I were lucky. That day, nearly 900 experienced runners would cave in on the way up.

As a metaphor for life, running (and walking, and stumbling, and staggering) up Pikes Peak might seem ramshackle compared to, say, an allegory such as "Spoon River Anthology" or "Pilgrim's Progress."

It hurts a helluva lot more, too.

Still, the run with Dave Anderson, my roommate from college (Colorado State, class of 1971) and his stalwart daughter, Kajsa (now a dentist), and first-born son, Davin (an engineer and former world-class triathlete) and several of their friends and in-laws would restore a closeness that I've mostly lost. And, as always, it would pose a more edgy version of what every run poses: mystery. Would I arrive? Would I survive? Or would I end up locking myself in some Porta-Potty? That might have been the smartest move. 

Some might see the Ascent, 13.35 miles from the streets of Manitou Springs, Colo. to the peak's summit, and the even more punishing marathon (up and back) and the even MORE daunting "double" (both races on consecutive days) as enterprises for egotists, or idiots. The 2,500 seasoned distance runners, who fought off a major computer glitch to sign up online (hundreds more were denied) in a matter of hours last May and came to the starting line from across the U.S. and the world, saw it, I think, much more as a new and different challenge, with better scenery. 

For me, it was a reunion. That's where the lessons were. I'll share a few of them with you next time. For now, imagine the gun going off and a throng of a thousand pounding uphill through the streets of Manitou Springs to the start of Barr Trail and the climb of a lifetime.

 

Comments

[Danny G]

It's nice to know that I'm not alone in pre-race sleepless nights...and bathroom jitters at the starting line!