Running News: July 4th, 2008

Mount Marathon, Seward, AK

We arrived in Seward, AK a day earlier than the gang to try to secure campsites. We anticipated high demand since the 4th is on a Friday this year. We got it right, the traditional campsites were completely booked and now the officials had created "overflow" camping at the High School. We stopped by and talked with a family that was just setting up camp.

"You got in on your first try?"

"Yes I did!"

To run this crazy race requires first-timers to register and then wait for the lottery. For about 300 spots in the men's race, the lottery gives about 50 slots to lottery winners - all the rest are race veterans or Charity runners (who bid up to $2,000 for the right to run this thing). I never thought I had a chance to get it on my first shot - the family we talked with had been trying for 5 years to no avail!

Since we wanted to have a fire (not allowed on School property), we ended up going a little further out of town and found campsites for the group at much higher prices, but we at least had a place to sleep.

I was feeling lucky. Besides, how tough could this be, at 3.5 miles it should be a piece of cake - I had run a race almost 10 times longer before! Lucky is the how I felt, do this little race, kick back with some friends, put this in the done column, it will be a slam!

That first day was just great, it was the first day to get above 70 degrees all summer and with sunny skies how could you not feel you were in heaven? We set up camp, took a look around and relaxed. The next evening the gang would be down from Anchorage (a drive of about 135 of the most beautiful miles in the world!). We went to bed when it was still clear blue & bright skies (does not get that dark this time of the year), of course we didn't know at that time that would be last of the blue skies for 3 days.

The next morning greeted us with gray skies and light rain which ended up being persistent, too. Now I start to wonder about my luck this year, this would be my 4th race this year and it is raining. The frustrating part about the rain is the low cloud deck that blocks the view of the mountains.

Now I can't see up the mountain I will be challenging the next day. We drive over to where the race starts up the mountain and since it is raining, I decide against a reconnaissance hike up the mountain. After all, it is only 3.5 miles up into those clouds there, how tough could that be?

But back in my mind I remember when I lived in AK and came down to see this race as a spectator and remember how dirty, exhausted and bloody the runners looked when they finished or was I dreaming that? Not going up the mountain the day before the race was the first of many mistakes I made that weekend.

Everyone made it down to Seward okay the night of the 3rd and set up camp while I went to a safety meeting about the race.

That was a tough meeting as they stated how difficult it is and how if you have not been up the mountain you can just leave now and forget about it.

They show pictures of people that needed $30,000 worth of reconstructive facial surgery after doing a header on the way down!

What was I thinking?

The best course of action is to go back to camp, sit by the fire, enjoy a few beers and talk with my buddies. Just don't think about it and it won't be too bad.

The Mount Marathon Race started many years ago when two Sourdoughs made a bet that you couldn't run up the mountain and back down again in less than an hour. Local Merchants got involved offering a suit of clothes to the winner. The first race took 62 minutes and a tradition was started. 2008 marks the 81st running of the race making it the second oldest race in the United States. The mountain itself is typical for Alaska; it is jagged, steep and unforgiving, averaging an incline of 38 degrees.

Since the location of the mountain is Alaska, the tree line is low at about 1,000 feet, the bottom sits at sea level. The Spring and early Summer were unusually cool this year leaving much more snow on the top half of the mountain for the race.

Race day is also a little weird. The day starts with a junior race where kids run up and down half the mountain. Only in Alaska would you see kids as young as 11 running this kind of race, but it is very exciting.

Then comes the women's race at 11 AM followed with a parade at 1 PM. Often the runners are still coming down when the parade is going on and this year is no exception.

So my day starts slow since I don't need to worry about racing until after the parade. So I go through my check list; two pair of shorts (in case one gets ripped off during the decent), duct tape for the shoes - to ensure that as little of the shale as possible goes into your shoes and cuts up your feet - tends to slow you down, my shirt that has BOSTON on it and gloves - necessary for grabbing onto things on the ascent and to "ride on" for the decent. Check, check, check - good to go. Two hours before race time I start drinking Gatorade and start putting everything on but I am not feeling lucky any more.

We make our way to the race starting area and all I can think is "I don't wanna". That is the only thing going through my head over and over and over again. Luckily it had not rained this day, but it will be wet up there from yesterday. The cloud cover is limiting any view up the monster. You know, I should have probably gone up some of the mountain the day before, I should have, I really should have.

The Men's race has two heats and I am in the second one that starts 5minutes after the first at 3:05 PM. I go to the back of the pack knowing that is where I belong, the horn sounds and off we go, me in my blue duct tape next to nice old gentlemen wearing pink duct tape.

The start takes you on an L shape route through city streets for about 4 blocks before you make your choice - up through the trees or up the slide area. I choose the trees. It is about 52 degrees as we start climbing up the through the jungle. I have no idea what I am doing and my previous strategy in these situations was to simply follow the guy in front of me and figure it out as you go.

That will prove a bad strategy this day.

It was so steep, you need to grab something to pull yourself up while targeting a place to put your foot. I grab a root or branch and lift myself up, one step at a time. Basically lifting my entire weight up a foot or two for each step forward.

I now understand what they meant when they said the ascent speed averages less than 2 miles per hour. I am doing okay since the guy ahead of me has his butt in my face, I just keep plugging away. You cannot see anything but mountain up and trees down.

Fifteen minutes of this and I can't believe what I see, it is two National Guard soldiers with shotguns standing next to the so called trail. At first I deliriously thought it was to put down injured runners - something would I hope for later - but no, they were they to make sure bears didn't eat any competitors. That made me feel better.

We head into the clouds, still inching up and finally we hit the end of the trees. This is about the half way up mark and it is also where we cris-cross with those fast guys heading back down. I can't believe it, I am half way up after a half hour of nonstop sweating and these guys are flying down already.

This second phase of the mountain is very different. Now we wind our way up the spine of the mountain, sometimes only 45 degree angles, other times you are climbing straight up. The shale at this part of the mountain reminds me of jagged books laying down sideways in a wall. Each section is about Britannica thick, but sometimes when you go to grab a book, the dang thing comes off it's shelf! You don't want to have all your weight on that pull, you would just bounce all the way down to the trees where the soldiers wouldn't need to shoot you.

I figure I will only grab where the guy above me steps or grabs. I need to make sure my timing is on, I don't need him rocking back his foot and crushing my hand. We are no longer protected by the trees and the down side of the mountain is covered in snow and it is windy.Finally I am not too hot, though I am exhausted, yet I could not see the top. Looking down was worse. You can actually see hundreds of feet down to the clouds and it is steep. Did I mention I do not like heights? I look down and the world starts to spin, not good. Look up dumb ass! I am so tired and for the first time ever for me, I want to quit the race. But there is no good solution to that thought. I would still need to get down and I had this awful feeling that would be harder than going up.

Then just when you wipe the sweat, or was it tears, off your face one last time you here voices and you can see the top! An hour and 12 minutes after the start and I am at the peak. There are volunteers in parkas handing out cups of water. They will get down the same way they got up, by helicopter. I take a moment and look out and see the top of the mountains from across the bay and I remember what made me fall in love with Alaska in the first place. It is so beautiful to see all those jagged, snow cap mountains for miles in every direction. Some of those mountains have never had a man step on top of them, ever.

Oh yea, it is only half over.

For the first half of the down hill portion, you have two options. You can go over to the snow area, sit down in what looks like a luge from the Olympics and slide your way down. I had heard stories the night before about sliding down and hitting a jagged rock sticking up and besides they say it creates quite a rash. Skis would have worked, but I had none. The other option is longer as it goes around the snow field, but probably better for a novice like me to try that.

I finally start having fun! After a little bit, I figure out how it works. This top area is all loose shale and very steep, so the trick is to lean back on your heals and just start running, but not too fast. The shale swallows your feet to mid calf and is very soft to land on. Each step seems to take you 15 feet down the mountain! It is awesome and I make it half way down the mountain to the tree line in 7 minutes!

Of course all good things come to an end, don't they? As I cross where I saw the earlier guys run down a half hour ago, I find that things are changing as we head down to a waterfalls. At about 120 feet prior, I kick loose a rock about the size of a cantaloupe and it flies down ahead of me at amazing speed.

"ROCK!"

Says the chorus of runners ahead of me. You don't need that hitting you in the head.

The rock takes one final bounce and splinters into a thousand pieces 90 feet below me.

This portion becomes what they call "technical", which means you could kill your self with one wrong move. We start by running in a stream. I have had some experience in this and actually pass some racers instead of being passed for a change. That doesn't last long, though, as all of a sudden there is a waterfalls. I pause and try to look down without falling and figure what the hell, I sit down and shimmy down the first 15 feet of the water falls on my butt. By the way, snow melt streams are very cold.

I continue down and then I lose track of the guy ahead of me. I am all alone and back in the trees and I see 3 paths ahead of me.

Where did everyone go?

What do I do now? I pick the middle path and head down.

Big mistake.

After about 50 feet of climbing down that took me for ever, I found myself stuck. I decided to sit down and think, only when it is this steep, when you sit, you are actually still standing. I am in a what looks like natures inside corner wall. I can see a place to grab, but it is on the other wall about 10 feet down. I do not know what to do. Some dumb asses actually followed me to this point and one yells, "Step on the flat area" and all I see is vertical flat, not horizontal flat.

Have you seen any of the Spiderman movies? That dude just jumps and sticks to wherever he lands. Sounds like a plan I could use. Finally I get the nerve to jump and I land on the other wall and actually stick. For my efforts, I got multiple cuts on my left knee and right elbow, but what the hell, at that point I was totally numb from the earlier ice bath. I also got applause from the other racers and a "Great Jump!" which translates to "I can't believe you didn't kill yourself". I think I looked more like a contestant from "Wipe Out" than Spiderman.

I thought I was in the clear, I didn't know there was a part two. At this last juncture, you can actually see the soldiers below with stretchers ready and they are yelling at me to not go down the way I had chosen. So, slowly I try to inch my way back up. Wet shorts tend to help, actually, since the dirt and twigs causes friction and you scoot up fairly fast. But the alternative paralyzes me and I just stand/sit there. I figure I will just die here.

Then this nice guy comes out of the woods and knows my problem instantly,

"Put your hand where I put my hand, put your foot where I put my foot and do exactly as I do and only what I do, okay?"

"Oh shit!"

This worked for about five minutes until I looked the other way and then he was gone. After a little hesitation and I gun it and make it down to sea level. Now all I need to do is run 4 blocks to the finish line. My legs are like rubber and the soldiers are approaching with the stretcher and asking me if I was okay. I mumble something and stumble away like Nick Nolte after a '2 for 1' night at the local Corner Bar.

Soon I get my legs back and I catch up to the guy that talked me down. He says the key is to have a shot of whiskey before the waterfalls. Really?

I catch up to pink duct tape guy and pass him - seems so long since we started this thing together.
After 2 hours and 22 seconds, I cross the finish line exhausted as any marathon I have ever run and my friends ask if I will try this again.