Saturday, October 18, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Pikes Peak
This August Elizabeth and I traveled to Colorado Springs for the annual Pikes Peak accent. We we arrived, we rendezvoused with our friends Frank and Susan, Jess and Keely; and Jim and Darline. Jim’s son Jason was also there with his friend to cheer on his dad.
The drive out of Wichita went smoothly, the brilliant blue sky was a dramatic backdrop for the new windmills north of I-70. Between cities of Goodland and Limon we ran into rain storms that roared all around the car and made it difficult to see the road. The temperature dropped about 40 degrees by the time we made it to Colorado Springs, we ended up turning on the heater in the car.
The evening before the race was a stormy chilly night. We all got drenched as we met up at the Rainbow Lodge and made our way to the restaurant for dinner. The rain didn’t let up at night.
In the morning we discovered that Jim Jolly would not be participating in the race. A nasty cold had gotten into him and hadn’t gotten any better during the trip to Colorado. We were sad to see that Jim wouldn’t be starting, but glad to know that he was doing the right thing. Looking back, he made a very fortuitous decision.
At the start of the race it was still raining and the storm clouds enveloped the mountain. Runners were huddled at the start, dressed in all kinds of outfits. Some folks appeared in full raincoats, while others only had on shorts and a tee shirt. A few folks were even wearing backpacks full of gear. Most of our crew wore shorts with long sleeve shirts and extra jackets.
On the initial few miles of the trail I tried to be very conservative and walked most of it, with short sprits of running or jogging on the flatter sections. The cooler wet weather made it a very comfortable few miles, with interesting glimpses through the clouds of the town below. This was pretty much the way the race went until the ten-mile point at the A-frame. At this point things had really gotten chilly and we knew that we were in for an adventure for the last three or so miles above timberline. The volunteers at the A-frame aid station were yelling instructions to the runners. Urging folks to put on any additional clothing they brought with them and trying to turn those without adequate clothing around.
I stopped to put on my vest underneath my jacket. While doing so, I noticed that folks were taking plastic ponchos being offered by the volunteers. Just a few meters beyond the aid station, the trees started to dwindle and the winds picked up. Soon there were no trees and the wind was howling with an artic ferocity. The rain froze and started to pelt us as small hailstones. I had to use my forearm to protect my face from the onslaught of ice pellets and wind. The only relief occurred as we quickly walked the switchbacks with the wind, only to have to turn back into the wind for the uphill grind.
Higher on the mountain the frozen hail/pellets gave way to a more snow than ice mixture. It wasn’t as painful on the face. However, at this altitude the majority of people were now limited to walking. It was exhausting just to keep one foot in front of the other. I ate my last gu in the hope that the nourishment would provide my body with much needed fuel to generate warmth.
My hands and feet started to go numb. Ice and snow started to collect on my clothing. My jacket got soaked all the way through. My legs were bright red from the cold. Moving forward was the only thing you could concentrate on.
Eventually, the hail let up, and became more of a sleet. The flurry was still so intense that you could only see a little around you before things disappeared into the wintery white elements. You would hear things but were unable to see the individuals making the noise. I knew the aid station was near, when I heard people encouraging folks to keep going.
The folks at the aid stations are my heros. They were out in the very nasty weather and conditions, providing what assistance they could to the ragged bunch trail of zombies that streamed past their positions. They dispensed frozen grapes and water. I quickly filed past, not wanting to delay getting to the top any more than necessary. The trip from the last aid station is a random blur of frozen rock steps and ice. Fortunately, the steps were clear enough that I didn’t slip. At that point, it would have meant some serious time in the hospital. The finish really wasn’t as much a celebration of arriving at the top, as it was a celebration of arriving where the warm shelters were. After collecting my shirt. I stepped into one of the enclosed structures at the top and walked into what I imagine looked like a disaster rescue center. People were in all states of crisis. The guy next to where I ended up standing was suffering from hypothermia. A volunteer got him into a chair with an oxygen bottle and blanket. It wasn’t long before I started shivering uncontrollably. I fumbled with my nearly numb fingers to get warmer clothes on, while standing off to the side. It took five minutes just to get my pants and jackets on. The door to the mens room opened up and I saw folks gathered around the hand dryers, trying to warm up.
The place was a mess. Fortunately, Jim’s son and friend saw me at the finish line and came to see how I was doing. We discussed if we should wait for Frank and others. I made the quick decision that we should head down immediately. I was sure that Frank probably got turned around with the second wave at the 10 mile mark, and wouldn’t be coming to the summit.
On the way down, the snow gave way to rain. I started to warm up, but didn’t stop shivering for another 30 minutes. My hands weren’t back to normal for a few hours. At the base of the mountain we caught up with the rest of the group, minus Frank. It turns out that he made it past the turn around in enough time to keep going. The trip must have been hell. He arrived looking pretty good for a guy that just spent hours in a blizzard at high altitude.
At the hotel, I took what seemed like the longest hot shower ever. Eventually, I thawed out and we started our week long vacation in the Rocky Mountains. Elizabeth and I spent our time camping at RMNP and celebrating our first anniversary. It was a great time, I’ll get some photos posted soon.
The drive out of Wichita went smoothly, the brilliant blue sky was a dramatic backdrop for the new windmills north of I-70. Between cities of Goodland and Limon we ran into rain storms that roared all around the car and made it difficult to see the road. The temperature dropped about 40 degrees by the time we made it to Colorado Springs, we ended up turning on the heater in the car.
The evening before the race was a stormy chilly night. We all got drenched as we met up at the Rainbow Lodge and made our way to the restaurant for dinner. The rain didn’t let up at night.
In the morning we discovered that Jim Jolly would not be participating in the race. A nasty cold had gotten into him and hadn’t gotten any better during the trip to Colorado. We were sad to see that Jim wouldn’t be starting, but glad to know that he was doing the right thing. Looking back, he made a very fortuitous decision.
At the start of the race it was still raining and the storm clouds enveloped the mountain. Runners were huddled at the start, dressed in all kinds of outfits. Some folks appeared in full raincoats, while others only had on shorts and a tee shirt. A few folks were even wearing backpacks full of gear. Most of our crew wore shorts with long sleeve shirts and extra jackets.
On the initial few miles of the trail I tried to be very conservative and walked most of it, with short sprits of running or jogging on the flatter sections. The cooler wet weather made it a very comfortable few miles, with interesting glimpses through the clouds of the town below. This was pretty much the way the race went until the ten-mile point at the A-frame. At this point things had really gotten chilly and we knew that we were in for an adventure for the last three or so miles above timberline. The volunteers at the A-frame aid station were yelling instructions to the runners. Urging folks to put on any additional clothing they brought with them and trying to turn those without adequate clothing around.
I stopped to put on my vest underneath my jacket. While doing so, I noticed that folks were taking plastic ponchos being offered by the volunteers. Just a few meters beyond the aid station, the trees started to dwindle and the winds picked up. Soon there were no trees and the wind was howling with an artic ferocity. The rain froze and started to pelt us as small hailstones. I had to use my forearm to protect my face from the onslaught of ice pellets and wind. The only relief occurred as we quickly walked the switchbacks with the wind, only to have to turn back into the wind for the uphill grind.
Higher on the mountain the frozen hail/pellets gave way to a more snow than ice mixture. It wasn’t as painful on the face. However, at this altitude the majority of people were now limited to walking. It was exhausting just to keep one foot in front of the other. I ate my last gu in the hope that the nourishment would provide my body with much needed fuel to generate warmth.
My hands and feet started to go numb. Ice and snow started to collect on my clothing. My jacket got soaked all the way through. My legs were bright red from the cold. Moving forward was the only thing you could concentrate on.
Eventually, the hail let up, and became more of a sleet. The flurry was still so intense that you could only see a little around you before things disappeared into the wintery white elements. You would hear things but were unable to see the individuals making the noise. I knew the aid station was near, when I heard people encouraging folks to keep going.
The folks at the aid stations are my heros. They were out in the very nasty weather and conditions, providing what assistance they could to the ragged bunch trail of zombies that streamed past their positions. They dispensed frozen grapes and water. I quickly filed past, not wanting to delay getting to the top any more than necessary. The trip from the last aid station is a random blur of frozen rock steps and ice. Fortunately, the steps were clear enough that I didn’t slip. At that point, it would have meant some serious time in the hospital. The finish really wasn’t as much a celebration of arriving at the top, as it was a celebration of arriving where the warm shelters were. After collecting my shirt. I stepped into one of the enclosed structures at the top and walked into what I imagine looked like a disaster rescue center. People were in all states of crisis. The guy next to where I ended up standing was suffering from hypothermia. A volunteer got him into a chair with an oxygen bottle and blanket. It wasn’t long before I started shivering uncontrollably. I fumbled with my nearly numb fingers to get warmer clothes on, while standing off to the side. It took five minutes just to get my pants and jackets on. The door to the mens room opened up and I saw folks gathered around the hand dryers, trying to warm up.
The place was a mess. Fortunately, Jim’s son and friend saw me at the finish line and came to see how I was doing. We discussed if we should wait for Frank and others. I made the quick decision that we should head down immediately. I was sure that Frank probably got turned around with the second wave at the 10 mile mark, and wouldn’t be coming to the summit.
On the way down, the snow gave way to rain. I started to warm up, but didn’t stop shivering for another 30 minutes. My hands weren’t back to normal for a few hours. At the base of the mountain we caught up with the rest of the group, minus Frank. It turns out that he made it past the turn around in enough time to keep going. The trip must have been hell. He arrived looking pretty good for a guy that just spent hours in a blizzard at high altitude.
At the hotel, I took what seemed like the longest hot shower ever. Eventually, I thawed out and we started our week long vacation in the Rocky Mountains. Elizabeth and I spent our time camping at RMNP and celebrating our first anniversary. It was a great time, I’ll get some photos posted soon.
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