RC Triathlon and Adventure Blog

Tuning UP

2009-11-08T16:43:00.000-08:00

Starting to turn my attention to 2010. November and December are transitional months with a strong focus on running. I did 35 miles in my first week of November which is definitely a m ove in the right direction. Back into the pool tomorrow and also starting to focus on bringing more discipline into my riding as well. Also will hit wieghts a couple of times a week for the next few months.

As for 2010, I may hook up with some Canadian crazies out in Tuscon again for either a March or April training camp. Race-wise the focus will be all Long Course next year. It's beginning to shape up as:

IMCali70.3 in March (registered)
White Lake in May
Eagleman70.3 in June (registered)
either IMCDA or IMGermany (June/July) with the XC program
IMFL in November (registered)

Plus I'll plan on 8 shorter tris and an assortment of other racing (runs, AV, swims, etc.)

Getting in the IM mindset again.....

Another First (of sorts) :)

2009-09-27T17:06:00.000-07:00

Just returned from Concord, NC where I participated in the ITU World Duathlon Championship. In a season of firsts, I achieved another one--this was the first race I ever finished LAST in my AG--whooo-hooo!

I'll post a race report shortly but here are the main reasons:

1. The competition were way more talented duathletes than I (for the most part)
2. I was sicker than a dog (basically felt like I had 50% of my lung capacity)
3. The spring in my barrel adjuster in my rear deraileur crapped out and led to my chain jumping every stroke--this caused me to have to get off and adjust the tension somewhere between 20-30 times and caused me to lose 10-15 minutes on my bike ride. (Not to mention the resultant interval session that it forced). I felt lucky to just be able to get into T2!
4. Given the above my effort was certainly quite a ways below 100%--I didn't see any point in going for it.

That said, if everything had been perfect, I would have finished between 25 and 30th (as oppossed to 35th) as I was way out of my league for sure.

Check back for the race report.

rc

#25 at Smallwood!

2009-09-21T16:54:00.001-07:00

General Smallwood Sprint Triathlon
Race Report #14: September 20th, 2009

Background

I traveled 140 miles south to the town of Marbury, Maryland on the shores of the Potomac to try my hand at this sprint triathlon. I left at 3:45am and found myself on site by 6:15am, which allowed me time to do some recon on the bike and run course. The race was advertised as a 750-meter swim in the river, a 16-mile bike over rolling roads followed by a mixed surface 5k. In practice, the bike turned out to 16.52 miles and the run distance is not know but was certainly significantly longer than 5k.

I wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt as it was only in the high 50s will dawn came. By race time the temp would climb to the low 70s. This combined with brilliant sunshine, low humidity and negligible wind made for perfect sprint racing conditions.

This race was to be my 14th triathlon of the 2009 season and 87th of my career. Notably, I was going for my 25th AG win, which if I achieved it, would mean I had realized one of the long-term triathlon goals I had set for myself some eight years ago. I knew little about my age group competition so tactically; I was at a bit of a competitive disadvantage.

The Swim

The water temp was 71 degrees and I was in my full wetsuit. The swim course was essentially an out and back with an in-water start and a swim finish 50 yards down the shore on a cement boat ramp. Buoys were to the left so I elected to go wide right so I could keep the field in my sight line with my predominantly left-side breathing pattern. My wave was the 3rd and we were off at 9:08 am.
I started fairly hard and then quickly settled into a nice comfortable rhythm. I had none of the issues from last week’s swim and I could see I was up towards the front of the field. I could see a few guys in front of me and I thought I could go harder but this seemed like a good solid effort so I elected not to. I found some feet and drafted for a while.

The water was pretty clear but filled with a lot of “salad”. I hit the turn with little challenges and headed back for home with the sun glaring in my face. My left goggle developed a leak and soon filled with water. My visibility was poor but the course was so simple it really wasn’t a problem. I was passing a few guys in my wave and many from both of the prior waves. It felt like I was having a reasonable swim.

I gained the top of the boat ramp at 12:53 with an average HR of 156. My immediate thought was that this was a decent swim. The HR is surprisingly high, my highest of the season, but is probably an anomaly—I certainly didn’t perceived this to be an exceptionally hard effort. I thought there was a good chance that I had the fastest time in my AG but in fact I was 3rd (out of 9) and overall, I had the 43rd fastest swim out of 230 (81.7 %-tile). This was a decent swim for me. Here is where we stood in the AG competition:

1. Predzin --------
2. Schneider + 0:17
3. Christofferson + 1:10

Transition One

I was blissfully unaware that I was down by over a minute to a pretty decent triathlete as I trekked through a very lengthy T1. We had to climb a hill, run on sidewalks, across some stones, through a parking lot, across some grass, down a hill and finally wind our way into the transition area. I tried to push this effort and I passed quite a few folks who had finished the swim before I.

I quickly found my bike and executed a fairly smooth change into biking stuff and was on my way with an elapsed transition time of 3:06 (average HR of 167). This turned out to be a relatively solid transition as I was 30th OA (87.4 %-tile). In my AG I was one second slower than Predzin but faster than everyone else and in-fact was able to pass Schneider and move into second as we started the bike:

1. Predzin --------
2. Christofferson + 1:11
3. Schneider + 1:58

The Bike

I didn’t see anybody from my AG on this bike. I became increasingly convinced as the ride progressed that I was in first and opening up a sizeable lead. In retrospect, I think Predzin went in the 4th wave (as a Clydesdale) so I was not aware that I was behind him.

In any event, I felt considerably better than I did in last week’s Olympic contest. I could feel that quite a bit of my power had returned—it felt like I was finally recovering from climbing Shasta (4 weeks after doing so!). The bike course had a couple of decent climbs right away and since this was a shortish bike ride I jumped up out of my saddle and put the power well into the high 300s on several occasions. Not the smartest way to ride but it seemed like a fun thing to do.

I was passing a bunch of folks although one 40 year old did pass me—I tried to stay with him but no such luck. I’m pretty confident that the RC of the last two years would not have had such a fate.

The ride was pretty uneventful. I stayed in my 54 the whole way as I had noticed my front derailleur was a little sketchy when I warmed up. I was able to hit the low 40s on several descents so it was a pretty exciting ride. I felt like I was going pretty well, but I just didn’t have the will to really hammer it—I felt like I was dominating my AG as it was.

I finished the bike in 45:23 with an average HR of 163. This indicates that I wasn’t quite “on the rivet” and the average speed of 21.8 mph reflects the challenging nature of the hills on the course. My average power was 247 watts, which is a nice rebound from last week. Not up to my recent standards but part of this reflects the coasting and soft-pedaling inherent in a course with a lot of descents. I am reasonably pleased with this number considering everything. My average cadence of 76 rpm also reflects the impact of the hills.

Competitively, I had the 6th fastest bike split (97.8 %-tile), which is a pretty descent result for me as I am not generally know for my climbing/descending ability. This result dominated my AG. I put 5+ minutes on everybody but Predzin but even with him I was 3:36 faster. Here is where we stood after the bike:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Predzin + 2:25
3. Schneider + 6:15

Transition Two

I executed a solid T2 in 52 seconds with a HR of 159. Overall I had the 41st fastest transition (82.6 %-tile) and the second fastest in my AG. As I headed out of transition for the run, I felt I was in complete command of the AG race. While, my tactical understanding was a little flawed, this viewpoint turned out to be correct. Here is where we stood at the start of the run:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Predzin + 2:17
3. Schneider + 8:06

The Run

The first part of the bike and run where on the same road course so before the race I clocked the first mile at 1.19 miles. While I wasn’t able to measure the rest of the course as it headed into the rods on stone and dirt paths, I do know that only 2 of the 230 runners were able to get under 21 minutes. I know a fellow who is a mid 18 5k guy and he ended up doing 21:40 so it’s clear this course was longer than 5k. It was a tough run with several pretty long, steepish climbs so that was a factor for sure as well. In any event, my guess is that the course was around 3-4 minutes slower than a flattish, true 5k run.

I felt pretty good quickly into the run. I was passed by a few folks I had smoked on the bike (they always seem compelled to tell me I had a great bike, which is another way of commenting on my run speed.) I glanced at my HR monitor and I could tell there and by how I felt that I was just cruising. I honestly didn’t feel the need to really hammer it just so I could be another 30 seconds faster at the end.

There was a little turnaround on the road just before we entered the woods and I saw there was a huge gap behind me and no dinosaurs in sight. I decided to just cruise the run and enjoy myself. I was pleased that my knee felt ok, as it had really hurt after a 10-mile run I had done earlier in the week. I had to skip running for 5 days and apply a lot of ice.

Anyways, on this beautiful morning I encountered no problems and truly enjoyed a beautiful run in the woods. I crossed a cool arched wooden bridge across a bay and made the final turn and ran up the hill to the finish in 26:58 with an average HR of 165. Again I think this is the equivalent of a 23-24 minute 5k and I definitely felt I could have gone faster if need be—my HR confirms this. OA, my run was the 67th fastest (71.3 %-tile). However, I did turn in the fastest run in my AG—whoo-hoo!

I ended up beating Predzin by 2:21. Technically, he was counted in the Clydesdale competition so the final official AG standings were:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Podolin + 8:52
3. Dighe +12:23

My overall time of 1:29:12 was good enough for 20th OA (91.7 %-tile). I’ll certainly take it! Especially given the somewhat easy nature of my effort.

This could be my last triathlon of the season. If so, it’s been a good one. In my 14 races I have 8 firsts, 5 seconds and 1 third—in the money on all of them. Over my last 18 short-course races I have 12 wins. This also represents an important milestone as it represents my 25th career win.

Next week is the World Duathlon Championship in North Carolina, which I’m approaching as a fun effort. Extreme Bocce is the weekend following and then maybe, just maybe I’ll try one last Tri before calling it a season.

General smallwood Sprint Triathlon "Flash"

2009-09-20T20:50:00.000-07:00

Raced this morning down in Maryland--14th of the year and 87 of the career. Good, solid effort yielded my 8th win of the year and perhaps more importantly, career win number 25. I set a series of career goals 8 years ago and winning 25 times at the AG level was one of them.

Race report in a couple of days....

very nice!!!!

Pine Barrens Race Report

2009-09-16T15:37:00.001-07:00

Pine Barrens Olympic Triathlon
Race Report #13: September 12th, 2009

Background

After a three-week hiatus, post the summit of Mount Shasta, I finally felt like I might be able to race again. The prior Sunday I had used the Tim Kerr 7-Mile Island Run as a training effort and was struck by how “shredded” my legs, especially my quads still were. Further, my back went-out and only in the day or so before the race did it begin to feel somewhat serviceable (lots of muscle relaxers!). During my Shasta recovery period I hadn’t been able to train much so my expectations about my performance in this race were quite low.

None-the-less, the season was drawing to a close and I only had a few more opportunities to race so I really wanted to get this race in. This was to be my longest race of the season—an “Olympic Distance” race. The swim was to be somewhere around a mile, the bike just a hair over 24 miles and the run I clocked at 6.35 miles. More on the course latter. Race morning was dreary with a light rain but otherwise pleasant conditions.

This was about the 28th running of this particular triathlon—making it one of the oldest in the country. I had done this course once before with a 2:21 and change as the result. The race has fallen on somewhat hard times with only 70 triathletes pre-registered and I suspected with the persistently rainy weather that had preceded this race that probably less than that would actually race (in fact just 59 started).

The Swim

The swim is contested in Lake Attison, which is a pleasant, though very dark, cedar lake. In fact, visibility in the water is at best a foot or two, especially given the overcast conditions. I had been swimming very well in my prior few triathlons, especially given my reduced training load, so I was still optimistic about this swim despite having been in the water only four times in the three plus weeks prior to this race.

The water was quite cool (maybe 64 degrees) from all the recent rain but I decided to use my long-john (short sleeves) since I had been doing well with them in the recent past. Also, I had a new one that I wanted to try out.

We split into two waves with all the men going first. I decided to start to the left away from the buoy line, as it was just a simple out and back. This race, and its sprint cousin, is notorious for crude estimated swim distances so I had no real expectations for my time. I thought it could be anywhere from 0.75 to 1.25 miles in length.

Off we went and I tried to sprint out hard to catch clean water initially and then to catch a faster swimmer’s draft. However, my lack of recent wet time caught up with me as that and the coldness of the lake quickly led to hyperventilation and a racing heart for yours truly. I felt a bit of panic rising down in the primitive parts of my brain but I tried to remind the many internal voices that I had done 85 prior triathlons, had experienced this phenom before, and had always been able to slay the demons. I’d like to say that I got it quickly under control but I did not. I had to really focus for a good 5-8 minutes while simultaneously backing off the pace before I was finally able to get on top of it and find an equilibrium.

When I did calm down a quick recon of the tactical situation told me that I was well off the lead pace and that maybe as much as half of the field was out in front of me. I settled in and focused on my stroke (nice and long with lots of body torque) and I begin to address some of the early damage. Slowly but surely I began passing folks and as we hit the turnaround I could see 14 minutes on the clock. Since I think I’m in 25-27 minute mile shape right now it occurred to me that the swim probably was pretty close to a true mile. The rest of the swim was uneventful as I picked off a few more guys in front of me.

I hit the shore in 27:14 with an average HR of 151 bpm. The latter, being a little below average was probably a reflection of my earlier adventures. This turned out to be the 15th fastest swim overall which was only good enough for 76.2 %-tile, a big drop off from recent races. As for my AG competitors, I really only knew about one of them and he was racked right next to me. As I saw his bike still there I knew I was in good shape. In fact I would have the top swim in my AG and enjoy over a 2 and a half-minute lead going into T1.

Transition One

I completed transition one in 1:37 with an average HR of 160. This was 7th best OA and easily best in my AG.

The Bike

I like this bike course. It’s pretty flat but not particularly fast. It has rough roads and is susceptible to wind—factors I noted this morning. I’ve ridden this bike course 4-5 times before having gone as fast as just over 60 minutes. I thought that maybe today, given the recent past, I might be able to do 63 minutes or so. I could soon see that this was likely to be a fantasy as my SRM was showing power in the 230s (versus 260s in my prior races). Man, I had lost a lot of fitness on Shasta and in the ensuing weeks!

I soldiered on and soon began passing a lot of bikes—I counted 10 or 11 in the first 6 miles. I admonished a certain well know triathlete for drafting (seems to be the summer for it!) and pushed on.

After mile 6 I saw no one else until the very end when I could just make out another triathlete in the distance. I had no spunk but just focused on trying to be consistent. I finished the bike in 64:43, which is objectively pretty slow, but it was all I had today. This works out to only 22.3 mph (Ironman pace!) and my average HR was only 158—probably 5-8 beets low—clearly I was limited by the power in my legs due to de-training. My power averaged only 230 watts and I had an average cadence of 77—probably my weakest ride of the season.

Still I had managed the 3rd best bike split OA and had moved into 4th OA. My AG competitors were now well behind me and ready to fall even further behind in the run.

Transition Two

I had a solid T2 of 43 seconds (157 bpm) which was 9th best OA and again tops in my AG and I raced out of T1 to see if I might be able to move up—I knew I was in 4th because I counted 3 bikes in transition.

The Run

I had low expectations for my run given the race the prior week and my mediocre bike but I was pleasantly surprised to feel pretty good early on in the run. Normally this run is back in the Pine Barrens on sandy trails but these were flooded with all the rain so we were all out on 206 for a road out and back. As I left the park and turned right on 206 I could see the 3rd place guy about a minute or so in front of me. It was tantalizing to look up and see him so close and know I had a lot of room to run him down but Tuckahoe and Pinchot had taught me that the people I was racing were really behind me, not in front. This is another way of saying I’m a slow runner!

In any event, two folks passed me in the first mile and I was hopeful that I could maybe hold on for my 3rd top 10 of the season. After about 15 minutes of running I turned and saw a fellow just 40-50 yards behind me but a big gap behind him. Maybe I could hold onto 7th?!?

I hit the turnaround in under 25 minutes, which I knew was OK for the longer than regulation course. My pursuer was just 5 yards behind me. I headed for home and saw that I had a huge gap back to the rest of the field—hey this is fun! Strangely enough I began to feel pretty good and actually began to push it. It felt to me like I was running better than any other tri this year.

After a while I turned and looked, wondering why I hadn’t been passed and saw that I had opened up a very impressive gap—I was running away from him—this is really fun! I knew I would be able to cruise to 6th OA, which I did! My run split was 49:16 (7:46/mile) with an average HR of 166. Well, I’ll certainly take that! I had the top run in my AG making this the first race where I was 1st in my AG in all five splits. I was 11th OA in the run: 83.0 %-tile. The joys of a small race!

Mt final time was a 2:23:23. I’m happy with it. My 7th win of the year (along with five seconds and one third) and my 24th of my career—just one short of my career objective set eight years ago. A good day indeed!

Back in the saddle

2009-09-13T05:37:00.000-07:00

Well I finally seem to be emerging from my post Shasta body malaise. I can feel power returning to my legs on both my bike and run. That said, I am definitely less fit (race-wise) than I was before Shasta as yesterday's race indicates.

I raced at Pine Barrens in my first Olympic distance Triathlon in quite a while. On my bike, I averaged 235 watts which is about 9.5% below what I've averaged in the last few races(260 watts). Granted the Olympic Distance is a little longer but call my drop in racing fitness something like 7-8% or so. I averaged 7:36/mile on the run which in an absolute sense sucks, but in a recent relative sense is quite encouraging. I actually felt reasonably good during the 6.35 mile run yesterday.

Competitively, I had a very satisfying race. I finished 6th overall (not sure how many people in it but probably 75 or so) and easily won my AG. This was my 7th AG win of the year (out of 13 races) and my 11th win in my last 17 short-course triathlons...a nice little run for sure.

Trying to figure how much more racing to do before I shut her down for the season. I'm racing in 2 weeks at World Duathlon Championships in North Carolina and the following week I'm once again competing in the World Extreme Bocce Championships. That leaves next weekend and 3 weekends hence as my last two opportunities to race a tri. Of course, I could end it here and finish with a winning record for the season. :). Or I could go for another win and secure my 25th career win which would knock off one of my long-term career goals which I set 8 years ago. Decisions, decisions.

I've started the first of my 4 training meso-cycles building to next year's IMFL. This phase is focused on getting in the range (165-170 pounds) of my target race weight (163 pounds) and trying to get my 5k time down to 20 minutes. I've started my monk diet thing and am hitting the track mid-week with Sparty.

I must say I am very eager to get focused again--not that I didn't enjoy this past season of decadence!

Rest

2009-09-05T06:23:00.000-07:00

Opted to pass on marlton. My legs are still just toast. I think the climb at shasta has hit them almost as hard as an Ironman. I ran 4 miles yestertday and even that proved difficult....hopefully my body will bounce back soon....

Triathlon late season and then looking ahead

2009-09-03T06:04:00.000-07:00

Getting into the last 4-5 weeks or so of triathlon season. I've raced 12 triathlons and would like to add 3-5 more.

I'm signed up for the Marlton Sprint this weekend but am 50/50 on it. My legs this morning, some 11 days after Shasta, feel almost normal--I know I've lost a lot of fitness not being able to train since shasta--in the last two weeks I've run 6 miles and swam 3000 yards.....

Looking ahead I hope to race the next two weekends--races TBD and then I'll head down to North Carolina for the Duathlon World championships.

I'll probably get one more tri after that and 2009 will be a wrap.

2010 will be my return to Ironman racing with IMFL in November as the "A" race.

I envision four meso-cycles between Labor day 2009 and race day:

Labor Day-New Year's 2009: Focus on diet to body weight/composition to IM level (165 pounds) and run focus to get 5K run time to 20 minutes

Jan-Mar 2010: Swim focus--try to develop 60 minute IM swim speed: 20,000+ yds/week

Apr-Jun 2010: Bike focus--develop sub 5 hour IM bike capability: 400+ miles/week

July-Oct 2010: IM specific build

Looking forward to the focus, clarity and discipline again...

Mountaineering videos

2009-09-03T06:01:00.000-07:00

I've posted two Mountaineering Vids to You Tube--the URLs are:

Mount Rainier: www.youtube.com/watch?v=yb1azyFc-UI

Mount Shasta: www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjDj4ArBa5U

Mount Shasta Summit Report

2009-09-01T08:51:00.000-07:00

Mount Shasta Summit Report
(August 21-23, 2009)

Friday August 21st

Anders and I met up at SFO when his plane arrived around 4 pm Friday afternoon. We grabbed his bags and threw them in the back of our Saturn “SUV” rental and we were driving north by 4:30. We were off to take a shot at our second big Cascade volcano of the 2009 season, as we had climbed Mount Rainier back in early June. The target for this weekend was Mount Shasta, the 14,179-foot giant of northern California.

Shasta is the 2nd highest peak in the Cascades (behind Rainier) and the 5th highest in California. Its name in Karuk (indigenous folks from the area) is “Uytaahkoo” which means White Mountain. The name is more appropriate in the months other than August and we fully expected to see a lot of rock to go along with the white. Shasta is big with an estimated volume of 108 cubic miles, making it the most voluminous stratovolcano (which means it is comprised of many layers or strata from periodic eruptions and lava flows) in the Cascade Volcanic Arc.

Shasta is a famous mountain that captured the imagination of two great American environmentalists, John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt. Muir said: “When I first caught sight of it over the braided folds of the Sacramento Valley, I was fifty miles away and afoot, alone and weary. Yet all my blood turned to wine, and I have not been weary since.” And Roosevelt: “I consider the evening twilight on Mt. Shasta one of the grandest sights I have ever witnessed.”

The mountain consists of four overlapping volcanic cones, which have built a complex shape, including the main summit and the prominent satellite cone of the 12,330-foot Shastina, which has a visibly conical form. If Shastina were a separate mountain, it would rank as the third-highest peak of the Cascade Range. Shasta’s peak is noticeably more pointed than the fairly broad-shouldered Rainier as it’s most recent eruptions are not as distant in the past as Rainier’s.

Nearly 7,000 feet of Mount Shasta’s height is above the timberline. Consequently, this is among the most barren wilderness areas in northern California. The plushest forest within the boundary is found on the northeast and southeast slopes of the mountain. Glaciers, tundra and massive scree fields dominate the rest of the area, although small meadows punctuate the lower flanks of Mount Shasta.

We were planning to climb from the North Gate Trailhead up the Hotlum-Bolum Ridge (this ridge cleaves the Hotlum and Bolum glaciers), which has a total elevation gain of 7,262 feet from a start altitude of 6,917. Although some 15,000 people attempt to summit Shasta each year (and about 5,000 make it) most of these attempts are on the south side on what is known as the Avalanche Gulch route. This route is considerably easier than the HB ridge but the rock-fall danger there this time of the year persuaded us to attack the more difficult and technical north side of the mountain.

In our drive up we encountered a lot of the weekend Tahoe traffic and so did not roll into Mount Shasta City until about 10:30. We pulled off the highway and checked into the nearest hotel, which turned out to be a Best Western. We readied our gear and were both in bed by 11:30—hopefully ready for a couple of big days.

Saturday, August 22nd

We awoke around 6:30, showered and scored a little grub and a lot of coffee. By 8 we were at The Fifth Season (the local mountaineer store) to meet our guide. We had arranged to climb with a private guide to help us with route finding and as a safety precaution as we know some aspects of our chosen route were potentially somewhat technical. We were a little surprised, but no less excited, to find our guide to be named “Natalie”—a 25 year-old Russian graduate of UC Davis. While she had an extensive endurance sport background (collegiate swimmer, long-distance biker and recent marathoner), her climbing resume seemed a little light—certainly in comparison to the outstanding guides we had at Rainier. None-the-less, she had a lot more experience than Anders and I--and she seemed nice enough so we were good to go.

We dumped all of our stuff on the lawn and went through a fairly quick equipment check, which we passed in flying colors (we may not know much about climbing but we do most certainly have the right gear). We loaded all of our stuff plus a bunch of group gear (tent, food, cooking gear) into our packs and hopped in our cars for the 30-mile drive to the trailhead—it was just about game time!

We drove up I-5 to the very California town of “Weed” and then headed east on CA 97. To our right were a series of fairly intimidating views of Shasta and Shastina. Big lava flow masses periodically stretched down very near the highway. As we looked up at the north face and the HB ridge it was clear that there was going to be a lot of rock in our future.

We turned off of 97 and proceeded to drive up a very jarring, dusty “road” to the North Gate trailhead. We rolled out of the car at 10:30 and immediately set about getting our gear ready to go. At 11 we were off.

We were in shorts and t-shirts, which was awesome—especially compared to Rainier. Unfortunately, at least in my opinion, we were climbing in our alpine, double/plastic mountaineering boots—our guide service wanted to make sure that we wouldn’t get stopped with blisters higher up. This was a bad call as climbing in 6-8 pounds of boots is not the best thing when it’s 80-90 degrees out.

The lower, trek in was just fabulous. Massive Redwoods or Sequoias (our so-called guide had no idea what I was talking about when I asked—heh-heh…more on this latter) towered above us and the trail was a very well maintained 2-4% grade path. We were cruising and getting to know each other as we moved very quickly up. Natalie had told us that we were looking at a minimum of 4 and more likely 5 hours to climb up to our mid-mountain camp at 9800 but both Anders and I thought we would pound through this climb a lot faster. After an hour or so we stopped and ate and drank and all was very cool in Christofferson climbing land.

The rest of the climb to mid-mountain was unremarkable. We soon left the forest and found ourselves negotiating the chaos of the scree/talus field that exists over essentially all of Shasta’s flanks. We stopped once again around 12 and finally made mid-mountain right at 1 pm—just 3 hours after leaving the trailhead. Natalie was pumped and both Anders and I felt totally on top of our game.

On that point, being able to climb Shasta with more competence, elegance and reserve was a big objective for me on this trip. Anders had far less problems on Rainier so I know he was less focused on this than I. I, on the other hand, wanted to avoid the couple of moments of drama that I went through on Rainier. I was in a lot better shape for this climb then I was in early June. I wanted to dance up the mountain with no mistakes and come back down, head to SF and then celebrate our mastery with an Anchor Steam. I was convinced that despite my complete absence of hiking/climbing specific training that my recent, strong performance in triathlon indicated that I would have a very high level of competence on Shasta. Certainly our climb to mid-Mountain reinforced this optimism.

Natalie gave us 2.5 hours to pitch our tent, chill and get ready for a refresher course in alpine mountaineering techniques. Natalie asked us if we snored a lot, which we fumbled a bit in our answer, and then she decided to set-up her tent a ways away from us. This left Anders and I the task of erecting a tent we had never seen before this trip. Anders laid down to rest and I fumbled around for a while and then deciding that I need not have an ego with respect to mountaineering I called up to Natalie for help. Help she did, and soon we had our home away from home set up. We put our sleeping pads, blankets, etc. in and we still had over an hour until “school”.

I decided to go over to our water source, which was a very small, algae encrusted, rocky stream running out from the snowfield above our camp. Natalie assured us that it was good and no purification was necessary. I had some pretty strong doubts but lacking any viable alternatives I went with the flow. I filled my bottles, drank some and hoped for the best.

Around 3pm we saw some other mountaineers, that we had left at the trailhead, trek on up past us and they eventually set up their camp a few hundred vertical feet above us. Besides that, this was a strangely uneventful and almost boring period of time.

At 3:30 Natalie came down from her area and we were off to practice alpine techniques. When we did this at Rainier it had taken 6 hours. On this day it was at most 45 minutes. I’d like to report that this was because Anders and I were so good now but realistically, that was not the case. The Shasta program clearly seems far less rigorous and safety oriented than the guides we worked with at Rainier.

Just like Rainier, Anders excelled at Alpine School and I struggled. Natalie, however, did not seem all that focused on honing my skills and soon we were heading back to camp after less than an hour of instruction. During this time another Shasta Mountain Guides group of four came into camp from their successful summit—they were returning to camp around 4:30pm and where staying the night at mid-mountain as part of a four day climb. They gave us some intel on the route—it seemed that the path up was in pretty descent shape. They described it as “mixed climbing” with some ice in parts. I didn’t like the sound of that last part.

Upon arriving in camp we had a discussion about gear/clothing strategy (which I thought Nat did a good job on), and went about preparing for dinner and the climb tomorrow. She thought it would take us 8-9 hours to summit and that we would be back to camp by 4-7 pm. This would put us down in the parking lot at the trailhead sometime between 7 and 10 pm. Anders and I needed to drive to San Francisco that night for our early Monday morning departures so we insisted that we would go much faster. Natalie wasn’t entirely convinced but did note we were much faster to mid-mountain than was typical. Nat boiled water and Anders and I soon enjoyed some nice “instant” Teriyaki Chicken. We cleaned up and soon were ready for bed.

It was only 6:30 and very much still day-time but Anders and I decided to “retire” to our palace and try to get at least a little sleep. It was still very light out so we spent the next hour or so shooting the shit and laughing about all sorts of dumb things. We pitched our tent (or so Anders claims) on a slight side slope so Anders kept rolling into me trying to be the big spoon. Anders hit me several times during the night claiming I was or about to start snoring—this I fully deny. At one point Anders wandered outside to take care of business and came back in muttering about the stars—really? At 10,000 feet on a clear moonless night—what are the chances? During the night the wind came up a bit and the fly of the tent rattled about quite a bit. It also began to feel noticeably colder—having Anders as the big spoon wasn’t so bad after all! In any event, we both slept a lot, much more than Rainier, and soon found ourselves nearing the Summit day wake-up call.

Sunday, August 23rd

Right on cue our respective alarms went off at 1 am. We said our good mornings and soon Natalie wandered by to make sure we weren’t slacking off. The plan was to do everything we needed to do to get ready and head up at 2 am. So we immediately set about the tasks at hand. It went something like this for me:
- turn helmet lamp on
- pull climbing pants on
- put Dragon soft-shell on
- put socks on
- open tent and grab boot liners and put them on
- grab food bag and put outside tent
- put down jacket on
- put helmet on
- go outside, look at stars, remark on coldness
- put outside boot shells on
- put gaiters on
- get hot water from Natalie and make double coffee
- crack jokes with Anders
- check backpack (for 5th time)—especially to make sure crampons, axe and glasses are good to go
- eat two crumbly frosted raspberry pop-tarts, drink coffee and lots of water
- grab pack-out bag and “hit-the target”
- store pack-out bag under rock for latter retrieval
- throw various odds and ends into tent and zip it up
- refill water and put in pack
- take off down jacket
- don pack, grab trekking polls
- check watch—1:59 am…. good to go!

The first part of the climb is up from our camp area to get to the HB ridge proper. This is over a rock field and of modest slope. We pass a couple of tents of another group of three who were here to climb the north side as well (they would not summit). The initial hike up to the ridge itself was easy and pleasant. Our headlamps provided ample illumination in the moonless night. Since the ridge was quite exposed we were blasted with a 20+ mph wind. The only sound (besides the wind) was the crunch, crunch, and crunch of our boots as we walked in single file.

We gained the ridge and could look up and see the darker outline of the mountain and just above it the great planet Jupiter burning bright high in the sky to the south. I could see my breath, it probably was around 35 degrees, but was very comfortable despite my lack of clothes.

We climbed until about 3 am and stopped for our first break at around 11,000 feet. We ate and drank (I drank 2/3rd of a liter as I had brought three liters for this climb). We put on our crampons, stored our trekking polls and took out our axes. We did not rope up as Natalie said the slope was modest and the snow pretty good over the next section. Soon it was time to layer down and get back to it—we stopped for about 10 minutes in total.

For the next part of the climb we actually ventured out onto the Hotlum glacier and climbed on the good snow that was directly adjacent to the ridge. Even though we were un-roped on a 25-degree slope I did not have any safety concerns. Our crampons were digging securely into the snow and even in the very unlikely event of a fall I felt very confident I could arrest with my axe.

After about a half hour of this we once again climbed through a rock field/ridge and moved to the climber’s left as we were heading to the bottom of a feature know as “The Ramp”. We continued to make very good time and soon found ourselves at the beginning of The Ramp around 12,000 feet. It was around 4:30 or so and still quite dark with just the very faintest suggestion of the dawn to come etched on the eastern horizon. Here we stopped for another, though extended, break as we ate and drank and Natalie prepared our team rope for the next section. Far down the mountain, on the lower ridge, we could periodically see the lights from (presumably) the other party’s headlamps as they climbed towards us.

The Ramp stretches from about 12 to 13 thousand feet and is about a 30-50 yard wide swath of snow that steeply (35-45 degrees) climbs up to an area of the mountain known as “The Step”. This is the area of the mountain that is 300-600 vertical feet below two prominent features on the upper mountain: The Shark Fin and the Bunny Ears. Due to the prevalent ice on the Ramp, crampons and ropes are a necessity here as a non-arrested fall would be catastrophic.

Before we departed from the North Gate, Natalie had stated that her three goals for the climb were: “1. Safety; 2. Having fun; And 3. Helping us meet whatever our goals were.” As for number 3, our first two goals were identical to hers. Then we wanted a round trip to the summit. Lastly, I wanted to do this climb with a higher degree of competence and “elegance” then I displayed on Rainier. I did not want to have to dig as deep as I had to there and I definitely did not want to trip and fall or display any of the sloppiness I had on my descent in June. I was optimistic about my chances of achieving this as I had the Rainier experience under my belt and I was in considerably better shape now than early June.

Up to the bottom of The Ramp everything had gone very well indeed. We were moving much faster than Natalie had forecasted. In fact as we roped up, she commented that she had never been this high in the dark before. (While I was a bit proud of this, I didn’t view it as particularly good news as she seemed a bit uncertain of the route). My HR had stayed low and I was well within my aerobic capabilities all the way up to 12,000 feet. I was feeling a little cocky which is probably a bad thing from a karmic perspective.

Anyways, off we went executing a series of traverses up The Ramp. We were short-roped. Short roping is the desired way for a small rope team to climb when there is no crevasse danger. On Rainier, with all of its crevasses, we climbed with about 30-40 feet of rope between us to give us ample opportunity to respond if someone fell into a crevasse. Here on Shasta, with no crevasses to worry about, the distance between us was only 8-9 feet or so.

The short rope made ascending quite easy and we very efficiently managed the many direction changes as we traversed back and forth and always upward. There was no wind here and we were effectively by ourselves on the mountain. While it was still very dark, a definite glow was visible on the eastern horizon and Venus shown very brightly just above the horizon. Absolutely magical! I was very focused on my climbing and we were hitting on all cylinders as a team. I love this part of mountaineering. This was a truly great life moment for me.

The snow was steep and very icy but the crampons ensured that we had no mistakes. I was in command of my feet and felt on top of my game. I did notice however that I was beginning to work quite a bit harder. My HR was probably well up into the 150s at this point. Our pace, the pitch and the altitude were beginning to expose limitations in my mountaineering fitness. None-the-less, we pushed onwards up The Ramp and without incident reached the mellower Step area just as dawn clearly asserted itself in the east.

We stopped for another maintenance break and Natalie announced that we had surpassed the hardest part of the climb. That was good news to hear for sure—unfortunately it wasn’t true. We had a quick break and then traversed off to our right towards the Shark Fin. This traverse was across a steep, uneven icy snowfield. I was definitely working hard right now. I was clearly working harder than my climbing partners in front of me. This is probably not surprising given the composition of our team. When you have a three-person team and you have more than half of the combined years (100 in our case) you know you are potentially at risk of being the slow child.

We worked around the Shark Fin and then headed up a steep area aiming to get above the Bunny Ears. This section was all loose talus and scree and I found the going to be quite difficult here. My section of the rope frequently went taunt as I was having trouble keeping up with Natalie and Anders in front of me. The footing was very difficult and it was hard to keep balance as the ground beneath me kept slipping and sliding.

While this section only entailed about a 600-foot vertical ascent I found it far more taxing than any of the prior sections. We sat down with the Ears to our left and looked back down the frighteningly steep slopes below us all the way down to the lower ridge where we could clearly see a yellow tent. The sun was above the horizon and it was a beautiful, bright and clear sky. I tried to focus on eating and drinking as I fought to catch my breath in the thin air. I probably should have announced that I needed to slow a bit (there were no objective dangers such as we had faced on Rainier that required us to move fast) but I sensed that Natalie was starting to get a little irritated with my slowing pace and my brain seemed to not be functioning as well as I fought through the fog of fatigue.

I milked the break as long as I could by breaking out my video camera just as Natalie moved to head up. Even this move soon played out and off came the down and on came the packs and we headed up again.

Immediately above us was a very difficult, steep talus and scree slope the seemed to lead to a dead-end at a 10 or so foot high vertical wall of rock. I was huffing and puffing to keep up but kept looking up and wondering where and how we were to get around this obstacle. After a seemingly interminable time we reached the base of this cliff and I realized that Natalie intended us to climb it! I was dumfounded. We were at 13, 700 feet or so. Below us was a steep slope (and fall) of over 3,000 feet. I was over my aerobic threshold and struggling just to keep it together. In the back of my mind was the thought that I had no chance of climbing down this wall when we returned. (What we didn’t know was there were two routes to the top. To the right was a relatively simple class two climb up a talus/scree slope all the way to the summit. For some reason, Natalie had decided instead to take Anders and I up this exposed, class three/four vertical rock climb.) She announced at the bottom that we were now going to do some real climbing. My only thought was: “Great—that makes a lot of sense!”

She proceeded to scramble up the climb in something like 20 seconds. She turned and looked down at Anders and told him to go for it, which he did in seemingly no more time. They were perched above me—10 feet or so. The rope was tight and tugging at my harness. Natalie was effectively creating a tight belay for me. Natalie told me that it was now my turn. Anders said something that I took as a form of encouragement.

My world seemed to just stop. I looked up. I wedged my left foot, with my big bulky mountaineering boots in a bit of a crack/ledge. I reached up with my left hand as high as I could and grabbed hold of a two-inch ledge—this was complicated by the ice axe I was still holding. What I then needed to do was lift my right leg up about three feet to a narrow outcropping, place my foot on it and simultaneously drive my body (and backpack) upwards and reach and grab a handhold that was about four to five feet above me. I felt a surge of strength and just went for it and I was able to do it perfectly. I was absolutely at my physical limit but I saw the next move and quickly went for it again. I felt the tug on my harness as Natalie was doing her best to “pull” me up and just like that I was sitting next to Anders and Natalie. I received some type of congrats from both but I mostly remember just being really buzzed—that was awesome—I was so in the moment.

We had a short steep rock scramble and soon we were on a mere 45-degree rock slope above the wall. We had clearly surmounted the true crux of the climb. We un-roped and pushed upwards towards the summit—some 500 vertical feet above us.

Physiologically I was toast—I had gone way to far into the red zone. Natalie and Anders were moving steadily away from me as I struggled to negotiate the rocky terrain with my HR still maxed. I needed to slow down but for some reason I felt a need to try to keep up with my climbing team. I was unsustainably anaerobic. In hindsight I’m amazed that I made these mistakes without reflecting on my level of effort. Apparently, I was caught up in the idea of moving up and down the mountain quickly (we wanted to get down to San Francisco at a reasonable hour) and my mind was not functioning normally in the thin air.

Natalie and Anders reached the summit plateau and waited a few minutes for me to join them. Natalie pointed out the North and South summits and said we could climb either of them. I asked which was higher and she said that the south was. Seemed obvious to me then—let’s go to the south. I asked her how far it was and she snapped at me that it was right there. It occurred to me that Natalie seemed to be developing an attitude but I let it go, as I was very focused on gaining the summit.

I shot a little video of them climbing towards the summit and then made the final push myself. There were three other folks on the Summit who apparently came up from the south side. As I walked towards the summit they loaded up and headed back down. I took a great picture of Anders on the summit and soon joined him and Natalie took a shot of the two of us. It was 8 am—we were 2-3 hours ahead of Natalie’s predicted summit timeframe. The summit pinnacle was a relatively small, rocky spire with a several thousand-foot fall to the south. Anders stood but I was content to sit next to him on the summit as our pic was snapped. We soon climbed down and then signed the National Park Service’s Summit Register.

We sat on the summit plateau soaking in the sunlight of a truly spectacular day. I tried to eat and drink but this proved difficult. Despite wearing my down jacket I began to shake pretty violently. Natalie noticed and asked what was up. I said that I was pretty wasted but that I would get it under control. She looked at me with a hint of disgust.

The truth is I felt horrible. I had extended way too deep for way too long. My body was trying to shut things down—it wanted desperately to rest and replenish. Unfortunately, this was not the place for that. I began to realize that I was in for a tough slog to the bottom. I wasn’t exactly in trouble, but I’ve been in this place physically a few times (late in Ironman races typically) so I knew things were not going to be pleasant. I was calm about this because I knew that I would need to walk down the mountain no matter what I felt like. I knew that I have succeeded in the past when I felt like this. I resolved to be positive and focused on not making mistakes.

After about 30 minutes on the summit we layered down, hoisted our packs and began the climb down. I was quickly relieved to learn that our path down was the much more reasonable class two climb around to the east of the summit, avoiding the rock wall that we had ascended. I once again quickly fell behind as we walked down a reasonably well-defined trail through the talus and past numerous sulfur vents (Shasta remains an active volcano). I was trying to be careful but still go as fast as I could. My HR seemed fine but I began to notice some definite muscle fatigue—especially in my quads, and most especially in my right quad.

As I fell further and further behind Anders and Natalie, I began to have trouble with route finding and several times Anders hung back and helped me find an easier path. The slope was about 35-45 degrees but all rock so there was minimal risk of a serious fall. The rock was constantly moving and very uneven and it required a great deal of concentration to move efficiently.

After about 45 minutes or so we came to a snow patch at about 13,700 feet. This was fairly steep and had an exposure of several hundred feet that terminated in a nasty rock field. Natalie and Anders were on the other side and Natalie asked me if I wanted her to come back and rope up with me. My brain was not working that well but I looked at the snow and my ego questioned why this was even an issue. I asked Anders what the snow quality was and he said it was good and that I would probably have no problem. I looked at Natalie and asked her what she thought and she said, in forceful terms, that falling was not an option. I thought for a second and said: “well if that’s the case, I have no ego here, let’s rope up”. She came across and attached the rope to me and we easily traversed the snow in just a few seconds. I had no issues with it. It was a little awkward but I reiterated that safety was the most important objective and my ego was a non-factor so it was all-good. Anders laughed and Natalie actually smiled for the first time in a couple of hours.

Soon we were at The Step and we stopped for another maintenance break. I still had trouble eating but was able to drink a fair amount. My body temp was under control so I was feeling a little better. Natalie asked what was going on with me and I told here I had gone too far into the red zone and was having trouble managing my energy levels. She seemed a bit confused and not particularly interested in this. We threw our crampons on, de-layered, and soon were on our way downward again.

The next major section was The Ramp. I was very fatigued but positive inside and focused on not making a mistake. Anders led, followed by me and then Natalie. Several times during the climb down The Ramp she would say something mean or rude and I tried to ignore or deflect it. She was clearly upset with me that I was no longer flying up and down the mountain—maybe she had a hot date or something. We reached the bottom of The Ramp—which really was the last truly objectively dangerous section-- without incident. I may not have been graceful but I never fell either. I felt pretty proud about this because it took a lot of concentration. When Natalie wasn’t looking, Anders turned to me, looked at Natalie and rubbed a fake tear out of his eye. I laughed—yes she was being a very big baby. Extremely unprofessional and not at all customer oriented.

After a short break we continued on downward and it was more of the same. Finally I said to Natalie that I was concerned about her and asked her if she was OK. She snapped back: “I don’t want to fall!”. (Obviously implying I was a liability that might make her fall). I responded that gee, neither did I, that I was doing all that I could to avoid it, that I hadn’t so far, and that I was confident, despite my fatigue, that I would not. I then reminded her of the three goals (safety, fun, and a round-trip, etc.). She grew quiet for a while after this. A short while after this she announced that we would stop up ahead and “have a meeting”. Bring it on!

When we stopped, it was at the top of the HB ridge below The Ramp, and she said we could descend roped together on the snowfield or stay on the rock and go without rope. At one level I wondered why I was even being asked this—I thought she was the guide but I also knew she didn’t want to be roped to me so I suggested the latter and off we went. It was very rocky and uneven and I would frequently fall behind and then catch-up as Anders and Natalie waited for me. I resolved to be nothing but perseverant and upbeat and I tried to have an apology and a joke ready each time we rendezvoused.

At one point, when we were together, we passed a solo climber thinking about going up and he asked me for route advice. I said if he didn’t want to free climb a vertical rock face he should avoid the route we climbed. He asked where that route was and I told him that he should ask Natalie because she was the pro here. Silence ensued as we uncomfortably waited for miss Stalin, oops I mean Natalie to reply. When she didn’t, I asked her directly if she could help our fellow mountaineer with some route advice. She replied, very icily (and I thought in a classically Russian way): “no”.

Well there you have it. I looked at him and said: “I’m real sorry about that. Be careful and good luck.” He raised his eyebrows and said thanks and we then went our separate ways. I hope he was ok.

We continued on for a while. At one point I asked the ice-queen if she was having fun and she didn’t really reply. I told her that I really wanted her to have fun and asked her if there was anything I could do to help her enjoy herself more. She was silent. I finally said: “I know you’re upset that I’m not going faster. I want you to know that I’m going as fast as I possibly can and still be safe. I wish I could go faster as well but my 52 year-old body doesn’t seem to be able to go any faster. This surprises me but I think all in all we are still doing pretty well—we’ll achieve our three objectives. No response. After a second or two I pointed out that we were 3-4 hours ahead of her schedule so maybe it wasn’t that bad. She didn’t say much after that—good or bad.

The last 500 vertical feet above camp she suggested we “ski” down on our feet. I think this is a fine idea although it proved to be something that I was not capable of doing. It was slippery (duh!) and uneven terrain as there were many large sun-cups. Soon Anders and Natalie “skied” over the ridge and I was left to my own designs. I tried to carefully walk the ridges between the cups but I fell down hard several times (not dangerous because it wasn’t steep). I thought several times that it was ridiculous that I didn’t have my crampons on. Finally on one of my falls I slid into several inches of freestanding glacial water at the bottom of a cup and decided to put them on. No problem getting down the rest of the way.

When I finally caught up some 15 minutes latter Nat and Anders were waiting for me on some rocks. Anders latter told me that he was very worried when I took so long and asked Natalie if maybe they should go look for me (he was worried I had fallen and maybe broke something). She told him that I would be fine because we were so close to camp.

In any event, at 1:45, some 5 hours after leaving the Summit we made it back to camp. It took us one hour less to get back to camp then it had taken us to get up. My guess is that it should have taken 1.5-2 hours less but we were still 2-5 hours ahead of the schedule she had first told us about. I tried to be upbeat and self-deprecating. Anders paid me a sweet complement when he that he had never seen someone exhibit such extended perseverance with such a positive attitude. Frankly, that alone made the whole trip worth it.

Our next task was to break down our campsite, load up our packs and beat-it down the lower mountain to the parking lot. Little Miss Sunshine gave us one hour to do this. We did it mostly because Anders stepped up and handled the tent decommissioning mostly by himself. I was in a lot of pain so this was greatly appreciated. I tried to drink as much of the algae water as possible but I could not even think about eating anything. The sun was beating down although the temp was noticeably cooler than Saturday—probably about 60 degrees (We were blessed with absolutely perfect weather for this whole trip). At 2:44; 59 minutes after we arrived, Anders and I hoisted our-70 pound packs and we were on our way.

I’ll spare you the tedium (or at least anymore tedium) and the agony of the 7+-mile walk out. Suffice it to say it was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do. Anders and the Commandant were fine but I was faced with soul-searching pain. At one point, Anders and I talked about how long we could sustain a task like this if we know at the end a loved-one would be killed (in this case Alex). I said that I was sure I could make it to the parking lot but I wasn’t sure how much more I could really do—maybe only a few hours beyond that. Anders said that he wondered what that feeling was like and that he hoped he felt it someday—hey kid, climb a big mountain when you’re a fossil!

Anyways, all is well that ends well. We arrived at the parking lot at 5:45. We took care of business and I gave Natiskie $60 which most folks will question the wisdom of—given how bad a guide she was. My thinking was that we made it; she needed $60 more than I did, and I didn’t want any more drama.

We drove out the interminlble 11-mile drive to the main road and then another 15 miles to the great town of Weed, CA where we hit a gas station and I consumed 2 Mountain Dews, 1 Squirt (all 16 oz) and 4 Advills. Anders then took over driving. During this time we talked to Judy and let her know that we had survived. About 100 miles from SanFran we stopped had some salad and lemonade and took some pizza to go. Anders folded for me as we ate on the way to SF. We arrived at the airport Hyatt at 12:30 am—totally strung out. In the parking garage we got our gear in order and went up to the room to shower and amazingly we were in bed by 1:20am.

Up at 4:15 and Anders and I each caught 6ish flights and we reentered the real world. Whew!

Great trip. We did it. Two big mountains this summer for the rookies. A bit of bummer on having such a horrible guide but the silver lining is that it did give us an extra chance to exhibit grace in the face of adversity—which we did. Many extremely special moments during the climb and hanging with Anders—my true adventure bud.

A lot to reflect on. Clearly I have a real problem with my descending technique. I definitely have to proactively address this. I work a lot harder than other people on the descent. As I finish this discourse some 8 days latter I am still not fully recovered. Even in Ironman, I’ve not had this challenge. But still, all in all, an awesome trip. Much less real danger and drama than Rainier partly because I think we are better mountaineers now. Anders is potentially a great mountaineer—I have a lot of work to do before I climb Everest with him! ☺

Thanks for reading.

rc

pre shasta!

2009-08-20T19:25:00.000-07:00

well tonight brings a flurry (3) of new blog entries! Two race reports plus this missive.

I'm in San Francisco doing a little business tomorrow and then meeting up with Anders to drive up to Mt. Shasta City for our two day summit attempt on Saturday and Sunday. We are very pumped!

Stay tuned for the update.

rc

Tuckahoe Sprint Triathlon Race Report

2009-08-20T19:24:00.000-07:00

Tuckahoe Sprint Triathlon
Race Report #12: 8/16/09

Background

My 85th career triathlon and 12th of the 2009 season was about 28 miles up the GSP from our place in Stone Harbor. The Tuckahoe Sprint was a 0.33-mile swim/12.57 mile bike/2.15 mile run. Race day was very nice with low 70s and very little wind. A nice sunny day to race. 335 souls showed up to race the triathlon and where joined by another 67 in the duathlon and 3 in the aquabike.

In my prior 11 races of the season, I had achieved 6 AG firsts, 4 seconds, and 1 third. My major AG competition was John Krick whom I had beaten at Parvin and he had returned the favor at Sunset. A nice surprise saw Judy coming out to watch my race for the first time this season.

The Swim

The swim is held in the brackish waters in front of the Tuckahoe Inn near the old Route 9 Bridge and nearly underneath the GSP as it spans Great Egg Harbor. Being right near the power plant the water felt quite warm but we were told wetsuits were good to go none-the-less. Works for me! The clockwise triangular course was announced as 0.33 miles but we were soon to see this was not true.

The first wave left three minutes in front of me and as they hit the first right turn buoy it seemed to get knocked free and was either drifting to the right in the tidal current or was being pulled along by the lead group.

It took me a few seconds to process what I was seeing but I quickly recognized this was a good development for me. I had debated where to line-up for the start—the far left being off the buoy line and my first choice but had finally decided to go far right. The reason for this is the left side of the course was constrained by a roped off swimming area and everyone in the race was actually inside a perpendicular buoy line to the first buoy. I recognized by going right I’d have to swim further and have to swim from the inside to the crowds at the first buoy but given how packed it was on the left I decided that the right was the lesser of two evils.

With the buoy moving right just as we started my line quickly became the superior one—almost like a dramatic wind shift at an America’s cup race. I pushed hard while trying to keep my eye on the moving target—I knew the whole mass of the wave would be converging on my line.

Competitively, I figured I really needed to stay within about 1 minute of Krick to have a chance. At Parvin he had beaten me by 0:56 over a quarter mile and at Sunset by over 3 minutes over a non-wetsuit half-mile. John was a collegiate swimmer and I needed to work hard to limit my damages. Coming into the race I felt that I was swimming very well—both in my training sessions and in my race the week before.

As I hit the crowded first buoy I knew I was doing quite well and pushed and shoved my way around the buoy. As I hit the second buoy I looked ahead for the third and saw that it was gone! (What I didn’t know as when they lost the first buoy they had pulled the second buoy left and now there were but two buoys on the course). I shrugged off this confusion and really tried to hammer it home. I knew the course was going to be shorter than a third of a mile and this was very good news for me indeed.

I hit the beach in 6:12 with an average HR of 154 bpm. I was thrilled—I knew I had to be within a minute of Krick and at 154, I knew I had really pushed this swim. Competitively, I would learn latter that I had the 21st fastest swim, which was at the 94 %-tile and was my highest relative OA swim finish ever. Perhaps more importantly, I had the second fastest swim in our AG (out of 12, or 91.7 %-tile) and was just 35 seconds behind Krick. As I ran up the beach Judy yelled to me that I was just 40 seconds behind and I was very pumped. I was right where I needed to be. Great swim! Here is where we stood after the swim:

1. Krick --------
2. Christofferson + 0:35
3. Gibbons + 1:14
4. Sherry + 1:24

Transition One

I knew I would probably lose a little time in the transition to Krick as he went without a wetsuit. I thought I did a reasonably decent job but a look at the results indicates a middling result at best. My T1 split was exactly 2:00 (average HR of 168 bpm) and that was only 4th best in the AG and 47th OA (86.3 %-tile). Still, I only lost 3 seconds to Krick (who historically has not been good in transition) and I was in excellent position leaving T1:

1. Krick --------
2. Christofferson + 0:38
3. Gibbons + 0:54
4. Sherry + 1:23

The Bike

The bike was a simple out and back on mostly flat, although rough in places, asphalt. It was GPS’ed at 12.57 miles and I clocked it at 12.693 miles so close enough. I figured I was probably about 45 seconds behind Krick and so I expected to catch him around 4.5 miles as I’ve averaged about 10 seconds/mile faster than him in the past. I was passing a lot of cyclists, especially younger ones who had started in the wave in front of me. I felt pretty good and despite a bit of a recent cycling lay-off I felt like I was moving it. Soon enough, at 4.8 miles I caught Krick and pumped it up a bit and went by him at 30 mph. Take that! At this point in the race I was very confident. With another 8 miles to go I should be able to build an 80 second lead which would be good enough for the victory.

At the turnaround I was surprised to see Krick pretty close behind me. Oh oh! Maybe he was upping his game. I was worried and tried to dig a little deeper. I pushed pretty hard past drafting cyclists here and there (not even bothering to say anything) and hit the dismount line with a bike split of 31:20. This averages out to 24.3 mph (pretty decent!) and my average power output was 258 watts, which was just a couple of watts less than a month ago (before my lay-off). My HR averaged 164 bpm so a pretty decent effort and my cadence came in at 81 rpm.

I thought that this had to be enough to do the job. However, Krick must have upped his game down the stretch as I was only able to achieve a lead of 48 seconds (I out rode him by a total of 86 seconds). My bike was 9th OA (97.6 %-tile) and 1st in the AG. Here is where we stood as we dismounted from our bikes:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Krick + 0:48
3. Gibbons + 2:29
4. Sherry + 3:49

Transition Two

I was confident as I ran to my transition space but mindful that I needed to hurry. I had a lot of trouble in this transition though. There was a lot of gravel around and it seemed to complicate getting my running shoes on. I took an extra couple of seconds to make sure a back-up pair of glasses would be protected. I felt sluggish but was finally on my way with a T2 of 1:00 (HR: 164). I ran out the backside of the transition area and made a left turn onto the run course. As I did this I ran past Krick’s transition space and was shocked to see him sprinting right to his rack. Way to close! How did he stay this close? I knew I was in trouble as I headed out and as I passed Judy she asked where Krick was and I said: “Right behind me!”

Looking at the data after the fact I had a horrible T2. Further, Krick had an awesome one—in fact posting the 4th best transition OA! This is a big shock because I have handily beaten him in T2 in the two prior races. I gave up a whopping 21 seconds to John in T2 (remember that number) and my lead had been cut to 27 seconds. Overall, I had the 87th best transition (74.3 %-tile, my worst of the year) and a dismal 6th in my AG. I didn’t know if at the time but T2 was an unmitigated disaster! Here is where we stood after T2:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Krick + 0:27
3. Gibbons + 2:21
4. Sherry + 4:05

The Run

I measured the out-and-back run course at 2.153 miles before the race and I was hoping I could hold Krick off. I knew I still had a chance but I needed to really push it. I dug deep and felt like there was a chance I could pull it off.

Soon I reached the turnaround and I anticipated the moment of truth when I found out how much of a gap I had—I was thinking I needed 25-30 seconds. I was bummed to see it was only 11 seconds. Oh no—I’ve seen this movie before. John had caught me at Sunset with a half-mile to go and sat on my shoulder until he blew me away with a far superior finishing kick.
I desperately tried to stay ahead but with still quite a long ways to go Krick came cruising by. I congratulated him and thought to myself that he was a much better athlete now than two months ago. (Next year I’ll get my revenge—you heard it here first!).

I was a little bummed but managed to keep a respectable pace up and crossed the line in 15:31 (7:13/mile) and an average HR of 171 bpm. Hey, that’s all there was—thus is the cost of my limited training regime! At 171 bpm I really gave it everything I had. In the end I lost by 21 seconds (you might recall that is the amount I gave up in T2) and I finished with an overall time of 56:03. This was good enough for 2nd in the AG and a respectable 12th OA (96.7 %-tile).

Despite finishing 2nd I’m very pleased with this race. I had a fabulous swim and I hung tough to finish well up in the OA field. My regional USAT rating for the race was a satisfying 83.8. I was actually 3 seconds faster than Krick for the SBR portion of the race and lost to him in the transitions. That’s the way it goes sometimes.

Off to Mount Shasta and a break from triathlons for a few days.

Talk to you soon!

Trimax Pinchot Triathlon Race Report

2009-08-20T19:23:00.000-07:00

Trimax Pinchot Triathlon
Race Report #11: 8/9/9

Background

I decided to take a trip back into central Pennsylvania, as I was bound and determined to finally race once in this northern neighbor of Delaware. I had tried to race at Patriot’s the prior week but was turned back by horrible weather (the swim was cancelled in that event due to lightning). As I drove through Lancaster at about 5:30 am I was once again engulfed in a torrential downpour. My heart sank as it looked like another potential washout. However, I was very eager to race and with a 9am start and another 50 miles to drive I was hopeful conditions would change.

My perseverance was rewarded as the rain finally abated as I arrived at the race site. I decided to drive the course and found it to be very hilly with several sharp climbs and screaming descents. The pavement was soaked so I was pleased that I had brought both my TT and my road bikes. I decided to go with the Cervelo SLC-SL road bike, even though I knew it was quite a bit slower than my BMC—safety first.

When I checked in I saw that this was a small “grass-roots” kind of a race—not even chip timing. The director told me that there was likely to be 135 in the race. I was happy to learn wetsuits were to be legal. I looked over my training wheels on the Cervelo and saw several chunks of glass embedded in the rubber. I contemplated changing over to my BMC race wheels but the procedure looked like it would take too long (adjusting the SRM and brakes) and just didn’t seem worth it. I decided instead to deflate the tires, remove the glass and I inserted a couple of strategically placed dollar bills to protect the tubes from the holes in the tires. I was laughing about my low-key approach to the race but I thought I was good to go.
The Swim

The swim venue was a large, fairly attractive lake in a heavily wooded state park. The swim was a two lap counter-clockwise triangle that was 3/4ths of a mile in length. The water temp was 76 degrees and I noticed that only 4-5 people had wetsuits of any kind. This struck me as very strange as I was happy to have my long-john on to keep my butt high in the water.

We started as one wave and I positioned myself to the far right, away from the buoys. I went out hard at the gun and pushed for about 50 yards before I did a real survey of my competitors to the left. I was shocked to see that there was only one guy in front of me and that I was right next to the 2nd fastest starter! Whoa! I backed off a little bit but then happily settled into the back of the chase pack (2 guys off the front). I found I was very comfortable there and could think of no reason to change my position.

After the first lap we ran around a flag in foot deep water and I took the opportunity to see where I stood. I guessed I was in the top 10 and as I looked behind me I could see that I had a nice gap on my chasers. Sweet!

The second lap was more of the same as I just tracked a group of 5-6 swimmers. I exited the water feeling great with an elapsed time of 20:16 and an average HR of 153 bpm. This was awesome news as it translated into a 27 minute mile pace, which I’ll take any day for sure! The 153 indicated I worked a little harder than normal but perceptually I felt great—I was pumped!

Competitively I was 9th out of the water (not sure how many in the race as the spreadsheet was truncated at 49). From an age group perspective I was 1st, 57 seconds ahead of my main competitor, David Miller, who is an Eagleman veteran.

Transition One

I moved very quickly through transition, as I was interested in leaving before Miller arrived so he would not know how far ahead I was. In so doing I passed two of the folks who had beaten me in the swim and I completed my transition in 1:41 with a 168-bpm average HR. Given the lengthy run from the water’s edge to the transition area I figured I had at least a minute lead on Miller (who was racked next to me). And the fun part was about to begin!

The Bike

Leaving the lake we immediately faced a half-mile climb, followed by a fast (38 mph), steep descent of a quarter mile or so and then a very challenging 11-13% grade climb that took about 5 minutes. Yikes! My HR was pegged and I was very glad I was riding my Cervelo’s compact drive train. A youngster I had passed in transition, briefly passed me on this climb, but I was seeing power readings of 300-350 watts so I wanted nothing to do with his aggressiveness and further I thought he was probably making a mistake. This proved to be true as we crested the climb and he sat up huffing and puffing and I didn’t see him again until the bagel table at the end of the race.

I was generally pretty conservative on the first lap. It was slippery and at 18.2 miles (RD announced and RC measured) and a hot and humid morning I thought patience was probably the right call. I sat up and coasted or soft-pedaled on most of the bigger descents and I knew this would be reflected in my final average power readings. I did pass two riders during the first lap and figured I was anywhere from 4th-7th OA. I finished the first lap right around 28 minutes.

The second lap, despite my growing fatigue on the climbs, was a lot more fun as familiarity allowed me to push the descents more. I lapped several triathletes on their first bike lap (wow—I was more than a half hour ahead of them!), as there were a number of folks walking their bikes up the climb. On the final big descent (a long 5-6 % affair), I briefly hit 42.4 mph, which was about as fast as I wanted to go (having just spent two months riding at the Jersey Shore and it’s never-ending flatness).

I zoomed down the final descent with a couple of triathletes not too far in front of me and hopped off my bike with an elapsed time of 55:24. My power averaged only 231 watts (although I guess if I loaded the ride into training peaks I’d see a Normalized Power Output closer to 260—lots of coasting). My cadence reflected the coasting as well and averaged 73 rpm. My HR averaged 159 bpm so I probably was a little conservative on the ride.

Competitively, I out-rode Miller by 3:26 and was now 4:23 ahead! Surprisingly, I only had the 6th fastest bike (a reflection of my hilly-course riding skills no doubt).

Transition Two

With two younger competitors right there in transition I really pushed it. My T2 was a very fast 37 seconds (HR of 158), which was faster than the other two guys and I exited T2 about 50 and 100 yards behind the two men in front of me. Although I didn’t know it at the time I had moved into 5th OA—here is where we stood after the bike:

1. Fesler --------- (local pro)
2. Gibson + 12:19
3. Yourkavitch + 13:24
4. Kruper + 14:14
5. Christofferson + 14:33

,

The Run

As I started the run the RD yelled that I was in 5th! I had 3rd and 4th dead in my sights and I thought that maybe I could go top three overall. Why not? I decided to go for it.

The run was a 3.35 “lollipop” through the woods on trails near the lake. It was billed as a flat course but I was soon to find out that this was not true.

As we turned away from the lake, about a half-mile in, I could see that I was staying even with the guy in 4th, (a 19 YO). When we hit the first water stop he walked and I closed to within 10 yards. Maybe I could catch him and then go after number 3!

My close approach (and no doubt thudding footsteps) seemed to spook him and I would get no closer. My HR was above 170 and it began to occur to me that maybe this going after third thing was not a good idea. Then I hit this longish hill and I was certain it was a bad idea. I eventually heard footsteps behind me and struggled to hang in there as four runners passed me and dropped me to 9th.

As I reemerged from the woods, a half-mile from the finish, I panicked a little because I realized I hadn’t seen Miller, which meant he was on the smallish loop at the same time as I. I didn’t know how long the loop was but I was certain he was closing on me as I bet I was more than a half-mile ahead of him as he started his run. I kept glancing over my shoulder but as I neared the picnic area about 400 yards from the finish I relaxed as no one had emerged from the woods behind me.

I crossed the finish line with a run time of 24:56 (7:27/mile) and an average HR of 167 bpm. Not very good by objective standards but a solid effort given my fitness and good enough for me to secure my 6th victory of the 2009 season.

As it turned out, Miller out-ran me by 2:13 but my finishing time of 1:42:52 was good for a victory margin of 2:10. After loading my car with my stuff, the RD was kind enough to give me the 1st place medal and I was on my way back to Stone Harbor (4 hour drive) long before the race was over.

Undefeated in PA! lol

Your basic update

2009-08-08T18:08:00.001-07:00

Recently returned from a great trip fishing with my youngest up in NE Saskatchewan (372 fish caught in 4 days--mostly big pike) and then a nice visit with my rents in Minnesota. didn't do much training over the 9 days.

Tried to race last weekend in a LC event but torrential rain, wind etc convenced me to bag it. Trained a little bit this week--was quite busy .

Back in DE and hopefully racing a sprint in PA tomorrow.....I'll do another one next weekend and then Anders and I are off to take a shot at Mount Shasta....

stay tuned!

Sunset Sprint Race Report

2009-08-01T10:01:00.001-07:00

Sunset Sprint Triathlon
Race Report #10: 7/18/09

Background

Tenth race of the season and my second shot at this 18-year old Jersey Classic. This sprint is comprised of a half-mile swim, 16-mile bike and 5k run. The other time I did this race was in 2005, shortly after my bike accident/separated shoulder—I thought it would be a reasonable indicator of my fitness as I was in pretty decent shape in 2005.

I thought that my main competitor would be John Krick. I had finished ahead of John at Parvin a few weeks ago. However, with the longer swim, I calculated that I was likely to finish around 16 seconds behind him for this race. I knew it would be close and probably a fun, competitive race.

The weather was relatively nice for the middle of July in New Jersey with a race start temp of 72 degrees. The water was 82 degrees so it was a no-wetsuit swim.

The Swim

I chatted with John and some of the other guys in my AG before the race. I learned that John was a varsity swimmer in college so I knew I would be facing a big deficit after the swim today. Based on Parvin, I calculated that I should exit the water 1:52 behind John. However, since this is a non-wetsuit swim (and Parvin wasn’t), John’s advantage, as a stronger swimmer, would likely be greater than the calculation indicates. I guessed I would be down by 2:30 after the swim.

We were in the last wave and I started to the right, away from the buoy line on this out-and-back swim course. I got off to a good start and avoided any hand-to-hand conflicts. I was focused on controlling my HR given this was a no-wetsuit swim and as a consequence I started pretty conservatively. I felt pretty good throughout the swim and began to pick up the pace a bit as we headed back towards the shore. I could tell I was in the top half of the pack but I could see the leaders were quite a bit ahead of me.

I exited the water in 16:12 with an average HR of 153bpm which is a typical swim average for me. My initial reaction to this time was quite positive. I knew in 2005 that my time was 18:46 (bad shoulder) so as I ran up the hill to transition I felt pretty good about my performance. I looked at our AG’s rack and did not see Krick—no surprise there—but I did see quite a few guys from my AG, so this put a bit of doubt in my mind. As it turned out, I was 56th OA (out of 170) in the swim, 67.6 %-tile, and 6th (out of 10) in my AG. The bad news, which I wouldn’t know until after the race, was that Krick had out swum me by 3:07! I was in a deep hole. Here is where we stood after the swim:

1. Krick --------
2. Strauss + 1:18
3. Kozialia + 1:19
4. Clinger + 2:28
5. Berland + 2:51
6. Christofferson + 3:07

Transition One

I felt like I flew through transition and I was able to pass 3 guys in my AG who beat me in the swim. My total transition time was 1:26 and my average HR crept up to 162 bpm. At Parvin, I had picked up over a minute on Krick in T1 but he told me he was using a wetsuit for the first time at that race and had trouble getting out of it. I knew my advantage would be less at this race. As it turns out, I had the second fastest transition time in our AG and picked up 17 seconds on Krick. Here is where we stood as we started the bike:

1. Krick --------
2. Strauss + 0:58
3. Christofferson + 2:50

The Bike

The bike at Sunset is a rolling 16.54 miles in length. It has quite a few hills (for NJ) and with the wind today was a little tougher than the typical NJ triathlon bike leg. I figured I needed to catch Krick by around 12 miles or so if I was to build a big enough buffer for the run. I felt very good on the bike and was comfortably around 260 watts. In my mind, I thought this would be good enough to do the job. The calculations indicated I should be able to pick-up 2:25 or so on Krick (about 9 seconds per mile). I noticed my HR was relatively low but for some reason I didn’t decide to go harder as I was pleased with the power numbers I was seeing.

I kept hammering away passing many folks from the waves in front of me. About 4-5 miles in I blew by Strauss and eagerly looked forward to doing the same with Krick. However, when 12 and then 13 and 14 miles clicked by I began to think that I was in trouble. By 15 I concluded that I wasn’t going to catch him. Then at 15.5 miles I saw him and put the hammer down passing him at 15.8 miles. Fortunately for me, the bike leg was a half mile long and I was able to jump off the bike 8 seconds in front of Krick.

My bike split was 44:05 (22.5 mph). However, my HR only averaged 157 bpm and my cadence 79 rpm, which indicates that I did not push nearly as hard as I could have. My power averaged 260 watts and I as I analyze this data I realize I made the mistake of seeing reasonable power numbers and not listening to my body telling me I was in better shape than I expected.

I did several analyses (comparing to 2005 and looking at historical correlations between my HR and average watts) and determined that I probably should have been able to average 270-275 watts for this race. If I had done this I would have caught Krick at 12.8 miles vs. 15.8 miles. And more importantly, I would have had around a 50 second lead vs. the 8 that I had. It’s clear in retrospect that I made a rookie tactical error in letting my power meter dictate my intensity as opposed to using it as one of several collaborating data sources to how my body felt.

I was the fastest in our AG on the bike but only 14th OA (92.4 %-tile). Here is where we stood after the bike:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Krick + 0:08
3. Strauss + 2:43

Transition Two

I knew Krick would be hot on my heels and I really pushed hard through transition. I did everything very quickly and dashed away with a total transition time of 1:14. This was tops in the AG and was also 7 seconds faster than Krick. I knew he was very close and that the cards were stacked against me. None-the-less, I was determined to not go down without a fight. Here are the standings after T2:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Krick + 0:15
3. Strauss + 3:06

The Run

I knew that John had outrun me by 49 seconds at Parvin and that my lead was considerably less than that. I also felt I was running better now than mid-June and maybe, just maybe I could hold him off. I really thought I pushed hard on the dirt trail that follows a stream in the early part of the course.

I hit the one-mile marker in 7:57 (165 bpm HR), which was a bit deflating—I figured that I needed to run 7:30s. Yet, John had not caught me. Shortly after one mile there was a bit of a u-turn and I was able to get a look at where he was. I saw that I probably had at least a 10 second lead. I could tell he was hanging with me but he didn’t seem to be really gaining on me.

I kept trying to push harder, to perhaps open up a gap but my lack of run training/speed work was clearly in evidence. I hit the 2-mile marker after climbing a short but steep hill with a split of 7:51. I stole a glance at John and he seemed no more than 30-40 yards behind me. Yikes, this was going to be very painful.

We pushed across a big field and then back down a steep hill (which I ran very hard) and on to the final stretch of road to the finish. We were at about 2.5 miles and I became aware of John’s breathing as he was sitting on my shoulder. I tried to throw a surge at him but he stayed glued to my shoulder. I slowed way down hoping he would go by but he refused to do so. I could see the three-mile mark ahead and put a final desperate surge in to try to break free. We passed 3 miles and I could see the finish line just about 150 yards ahead. For a second I thought I might be able to hold him off.

Then with 100 yards to go reality set in and John sprinted past me and it was immediately clear I would not be able to respond. I deflated like a balloon and almost came to a complete halt. I had been running at my limit and now the game was over. I stumbled across the line a full 14 seconds behind John with a run split of 24:07. My final 1.1 miles were covered in 8:13 (7:28/mile) and my HR averaged 168bpm. Strauss came in 2:45 later. I had the third fastest run in my AG and 54th OA (68.8 %-tile). For the race I finished 29th OA (83.5%-tile).

It would be easy to say I lost this race in the swim or maybe even the run—certainly my current fitness in those two disciplines would support that view. But in the final analysis, I think I talked myself out of going as hard as I could on the bike and as a result lost the race through poor tactical execution. C’est la vie! It was a lot of fun and John won fair and square in an exciting race—you really can’t ask for more than that!

signs of progress

2009-07-17T17:26:00.000-07:00

2009 Vincentown Sprint Triathlon
Race Report #9: 7/11/09

Background

My first time racing at this DQ run event. The triathlon involves a quarter-mile swim in a very muddy, shallow pond, which really seems to be part of a river. The two-loop bike course turned out to be 14.5 miles in length and that was followed by a mostly loop course 5k run. Race day dawned cool (60s and 70s) and calm. A great day to race.

My expectations were to bike and run much stronger than recent races due to my strong two-week training block leading into this race. I thought my swim might be a little off as I deemphasized it to focus on the bike/run. There were 12 guys entered in my age group—only two, Tom Dillon and Mickey Syrop appeared to pose a competitive challenge and there were 204 entered in the triathlon overall.

Swim

We went in the last wave as is customary in Chuck’s events. The swim course was an out and back with just three minutes between waves; as we started there were many slower swimmers spread out before us. I started right, away from the buoy line and felt like I did a reasonably good job. I avoided most of the congestion and after the turn buoy swam what I thought was a truer line to the swim exit than most were swimming. I had mostly calm water.

I felt good but sensed that maybe the lack of recent water time had clamped down on my top-end swim speed. I exited the water in 7:31 with an average HR of 151 bpm—definitely a lower quality effort than my normal swim HR of 153-154 bpm. As I ran into the transition zone I did not see either Tom or Mickey, which indicated that I was probably about a minute behind them, which is more time than I really could afford to give up. I ended up 44th on the swim OA (78.9 %-tile) and 3rd in my AG (83.3 %-tile). I was correct in my assumption that I did drop about a minute to Mick and Tom:

1. Mickey Syrop --------
2. Tom Dillon + 0:01
3. Randy Christofferson + 0:57

Transition One

I had a lot of trouble getting my wetsuit unzipped. I had decided to use my old LJ (sleeveless) wetsuit and just couldn’t stretch my arm enough to get the Velcro undone—I am getting very inflexible. I had to stop for a few seconds and finally solved the problem. When I went to jump on the bike I had trouble getting my shoe clicked in (yes I know if they were already clicked in I would not have that problem) so I knew I had followed up my slow swim with a slow T1. My total T1 was 1:43 with a 162 bpm average HR. I was 33rd OA in T1 time (84.3 %-tile) but was 3rd in my AG losing time to both Mick and Tom. The standings after T1:

1. Tom Dillon --------
2. Mickey Syrop + 0:11
3. Randy Christofferson + 1:18

The Bike

I knew right away I was going to have a much stronger bike than I have had this year. I was consistently well above 250 watts and my HR was staying right around 160 bpm. I thought that even though I dropped a little more time than desirable in the swim that I should be able to catch Mick and Tom relatively early in the ride—I thought by mile 6 or so—perhaps I could build enough of the lead to hold them in the run.

I knew that I was in trouble when we got to the end of the first loop and they were still no sign of them. I saw a “group” of triathletes up the road and over the next few miles was able to steadily close the gap. Eventually, around 12.5 miles I passed a bunch of folks including Mick and Tom and knew that there was no way I could hold off Mick on the run. Even though I knew I had a much more competitive bike ride, for some reason, Mick and Tom were able to hold me off much longer than expected.

I finished the bike with a time of 36:28, which works out to a decent 23.9 mph. My power averaged 260 watts which is by far my highest average power output this year—and over a little longer sprint course than normal. My HR was only 160 bpm so I probably could have gone a far bit faster—I was perhaps a little too conservative. My cadence was also relatively low at 78 rpm. This data is consistent with a fairly strong increase in my base aerobic engine but indicates I need to work on top-end power/speed—no surprises here.

Competitively, I had the 7th fastest bike (97.1 %-tile) OA and was 1st in my AG. However, I was only able to put about 90 seconds on Mick and Tom who rode basically the same bike time. Here is were we stood after the bike:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Dillon + 0:11
3. Syrop + 0:24

Transition Two

Uneventful but comparatively slow for me. My total T2 was 0:59 with an average HR of 161. I lost time to both Mick and Tom and was 66th OA (68.1%)/3rd in my AG. After T2 the standings were:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Dillon + 0:05
3. Syrop + 0:12

The Run

I felt much better in the run than I have for most of this year. I felt like I was running considerably faster (I don’t know how long the course actually was so it’s hard to know for sure). Mick passed me relatively early in the run but at a little out and back half-way through the run I saw that Tom was quite a ways behind me and I knew I would finish 2nd in my AG—which I did. My run time was slower than expected at 24:07 with an average HR of 168. The time was disappointing but perhaps the course distance was not accurate. I loss less time to Mickey than prior races on the run but OA I was only 75th on the run (63.7 %-tile) and was once again 3rd in my AG. Overall I finished 20th (90.7 %-tile). My regional race ranking was a healthy 82.2, which is quite satisfying.

Clearly my strongest overall race of the year even though some unexpected results on the bike seemed to constrain me to 2nd in my AG. Oh well. Onward and upward.

hittin a groove

2009-07-08T19:23:00.000-07:00

So 2 real nice training weeks in the book. I actually feel almost like a real triathlete again! Last week included 22.5 hours of SBR work and led to 303 miles on the bike (after 254 the week before) and my 3rd straight 20+ run week (24.4 miles). My swimming was pretty weak but enough hopefully to keep things interesting.

Body comp is definitely changing which is nice, but I'm still quite heavy from an IM perspective. Still I feel real progress in my body (banging out 80 mile days on the bike has a way of doing that).

Trying to let my body absorb the training these next few days. Racing vincentown on Saturday (Mickey and Tom--shoud be a good test) and Sunset the following week. I'd love to get one victory out of the two races but that may be overly optimistic. Just so I don't get too carried away in this my "off" season I have a nine day sabatical planned to Canada and Minnesota for fishing and family starting on the 20th.....

ahhhhh...I love the summer life here in NJ!

peace out!

new plans

2009-06-30T19:22:00.000-07:00

OK--I've decided to blow off Philly and Avalon and actually train for a while. Last week I rode my bike 250+ miles and ran over 20 again for a second week in a row (the running anyways). this week the plan is 300/30 plus some decent swimming--almost like a real triathlete again. I'm not saying no to racing but yes to training...besides I've got 5 wins and 2 summits in the bag so far this year so why not!

Further out, anders and I are beginning to crystalize a climbing plan that includes Shasta (either July or August), Whitney (October) and hopefully Cerro Aconcagua next January--very exciting stuff.

Also, strangely enough, both Anders and I won the lottery and have been selected to race for the USA at the Duathlon Short-Course World Championships in September which we think we'll do--should be good for a few yucks....

more latter but it's great to be training again.....

rc

St. Andrews' Sprint Race Report

2009-06-30T15:23:00.000-07:00

St. Andrews’ Sprint Triathlon
Race Report #8: 6/21/09

Background

After a good eight hours of sleep I awoke at 4:30 feeling pretty stiff and sore from the prior day’s activities down at Parvin State Park. I was up early to compete in the 22nd edition of Delaware’s best triathlon and to complete my first triathlon “double”—two races in one weekend.

This race is my favorite sprint triathlon and I would be competing in it for the seventh year in a row—more than any other race. Prior to this year I’ve enjoyed three 1st place AG finishes, one 2nd, one 3rd and in my first attempt, one 4th.

My main competitive focus for this race was Paul Schlosser. Paul has been competing in triathlons for well over 20 years and has raced in most of the prior versions of this race. He was the first AG competitor that I remember being aware of as he was a perennial All-American and dominated his AG in this race (and many others) through the years. Over the last few years I’ve managed to close the gap between us and as we entered this race, our head-to-head record in this race stood at Schlosser: 3, Christofferson: 2. Here is how we have compared through the years:

Year Christofferson Schlosser Delta

2003 74:53 69:14 (5:07)
2004 73:46 71:47 (1:59)
2005 71:21 71:42 +0:21
2006 71:14 68:47 (2:27)
2007 69:54 DNF
2008 70:50 DNS

So while I was only behind 3-2 coming this race the more in-depth perspective would tell you that Paul had killed me 3 times and I barely beat him once and he DNF’ed another time.

But not to worry! My expectations about my performance were low but I was very pumped to race this great race again. While I did not expect to be able to hang with Paul, I was still excited to jump into the fray and give it my best shot!

The Swim

Race morning looked ominous and it seemed that there was a good chance that more than just the swim would be wet. It was pleasant temp wise, but there was a noticeable wind blowing in connection with the front that was moving in—I knew it would definitely be a factor on the bike (which of course is to my advantage).

The water in Noxontown Pond was about 74 degrees and we were all in wetsuits. The swim is a simple out and back in the shallow weedy waters. The RD, Wayne Kursh, has always had an “elite” wave and because of my three prior AG wins here I was afforded the honor of being in that first wave. This is an advantage for sure due to the traffic that back-up on the swim as well as early in the bike if you’re in wave five (where I would be if I was with the majority of the 50-54 year-old AG). Paul was also up in this first wave as well as my good buddy Dave Spartin. I didn’t think that Dave would be able to hang with Paul and I but I figured he had a good chance of grabbing 3rd (or better if we had problems).

I positioned myself way to the left off the buoy line and tried to stay out of the congestion of the 60 or so folks in the first wave. In this I was generally successful. I saw Dave off to my left as he was definitely pursuing a solo route—despite the longer swim path he seemed to be having no trouble staying with me.

I knew Paul was up ahead as he is one of the best swimmers in the overall field. In the past my task in swim versus Paul has been to try to keep the gap as narrow as possible. As I have improved through the years I’ve been able to do better and better at that. Here is how my swim disadvantage to Paul has trended through the years:

2003 (3:11)
2004 (2:32)
2005 (1:57)
2006 (1:38)
2007 (0:41)

I didn’t expect to do as well as 2007 when I was working with Pete as my coach but I hoped to at least keep the gap less than two minutes. I thought I swam pretty well but it seemed like the course was longer this year. I exited the water in 8:37, which is quite slow. I was 31 seconds slower than last year but in looking at folks who raced both years, most folks were 15-25 seconds slower so it seems my swim was fairly decent. My HR averaged 153 bpm, which is typical for me so I know I gave a good solid effort.

Competitively, I was 43rd OA (84.3 %-tile) and 3rd in our AG (87.5 %-tile). Most importantly I had only lost 1:21 to Paul—my second smallest gap to date—and I had given myself a chance, with a very good bike, of beating him. Here is where we stood after the swim:

1. Schlosser --------
2. Faccenda + 0:48
3. Christofferson + 1:21
4. Spartin + 1:25

Transition One

As I made the very long run up from the pond to the transition area I could feel my HR spike. The fatigue from yesterday’s race was very evident. My total transition time was 3:16, which is very slow indeed. In the six years prior my T1 times have ranged from 2:44-3:18 and this year was my 6th slowest of the 7 years. I had been under 3 minutes in each of the last 4 years so my guess is I probably threw 30 seconds away here.

As I reached my bike Dave came right in behind me. I knew he was close on the swim but to see him here was quite a surprise. Not only is Dave typically a lot slower than me in transition (something I bug him about) but he also claimed before than race to have a stress fracture and wasn’t even planning on running the last leg of the race. He had about 4 pounds of tape on his leg and ankle to back this suspicious claim up. In any event, since he clips his shoes to his bike and puts them on while rolling he was able to leave T1 a few seconds before me. Geez! I knew I was going to get some grief from him after the race on this (which I did) but more importantly I had to get moving—I was sure Paul was well up the road already.

I soon caught Dave on the St. Andrews road as he fiddled with his shoes—as I went by him with at least a 10 mph advantage I yelled: “Nice transition—until now!”. Dave and I have had this debate about the efficacy of clipping your shoes in and putting your feet in on the fly. Dave feels that this is cooler and it makes you faster. I’m not sure about the former but for us dinosaurs, I’m highly confident that he is wrong about the latter. In any event, it was time to put the hammer down.

The Bike

I felt surprisingly good very soon into the bike leg. I expected my legs to be stiff and weary from yesterday’s race but the stiffness quickly dissipated and I was seeing some pretty decent power numbers. For the first half of each lap we had the wind helping and I was seeing some healthy high 30 speedo readings. I was into the racing and starting to have a good time.

I passed quite a few folks and around five miles in I believe I passed Paul. I wasn’t certain but in retrospect I think it was he. He tried to stay right on my tail (a little too close in my opinion) and I waved him off and simultaneously stood up and created a sustainable gap. It was a little silly throwing a 500-watt surge at that point in the race but I didn’t want any one hanging around my rear wheel for any length of time.

The wind on this section of the course was significant (I’d say 15-20 mph) and combined with the hills made things a bit challenging for all. I kept at it and felt pretty good. I could tell my power was off 10-15 watts from yesterday’s effort but I was feeling optimistic. Especially to catch Paul this early—I’d normally expect to catch him in the second lap, if at all.

I went through the first lap in a little under 21 minutes so I knew this was going to be a very slow bike leg (I had never been over 40 minutes for the whole ride before). I knew the wind was a big part of this so I tried not to worry about it.

The rest of the ride was more of the same, although the wind effect was stronger on the second lap, and I eventually dismounted my bike with a split of 41:48. I knew this was very slow but right in front of me was Rich Brokaw who had out rode me just a couple of weeks earlier at Pocomoke so I knew my ride couldn’t have been that bad. I averaged 237 watts and a 164 bpm HR. This is about 15 watts and 4 bpm low and probably a reflection of the fatigue in my legs. My cadence was quite low at 77 rpm and I averaged 22.32 mph over the measured distance of 15.55 miles.

Competitively I recorded the 7th fastest bike split (historically I’ve had the 6th-9th) which I’m very happy with. This is at the 97.8 %-tile. I was fastest in my AG and most importantly put a very surprising 3:16 into Schlosser. This was by-far my best relative showing to Paul as the data below illustrates:

2003 + 0:22
2004 + 2:17
2005 + 2:07
2006 + 0:19

Looking at last year’s results everyone was a lot slower this year due to the conditions. I was perhaps a little more slower than others but not really that bad of a ride, especially in the 2nd race of a double:

2009 vs. 2008 bike splits

Faccianni + 2:12 + 5.5%
Brokaw + 3:21 + 7.8%
Sauer + 3:12 + 6.9%
Holmes + 4:00 + 9.1%
Christofferson + 4:01 + 9.7%

The best news of course was that I had now opened up a nice lead heading into the final leg of the race:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Schlosser + 1:55
3. Dana + 2:15
4. Spartin + 3:40
Transition Two

I really pushed it in T2 and I was out of transition in just 38 seconds, which I’m pleased to report, was my best T2 at this race to date. I left in a group of young guys that included Jeff Strojny who was on his way to a race best 15:27 run.

The Run

The kiddie corps blasted away from me astonishingly fast. The relevant question for me of course was: Did I open up enough of a gap on Paul to be able to hold him off. Paul has usually easily outran me here in the past as this data shows:

2003 (2:41)
2004 (1:44)
2005 +0:11
2006 (0:52)

I of course didn’t know how big a lead I had or how much I needed but I guessed it was probably about two minutes given my fitness and fatigue. Due to the shape of the run course I did not expect to see Paul until either when he passed me or towards the very end of the race. I just had to go as fast as I could and hope for the best.

I noticed very quickly that my legs felt very leaden and tired. I had a very poor run the prior day at Parvin and my legs did not improve from that effort. I had a deep muscle soreness/tightness in my left glute and I was a little worried I might have to walk. I felt like I was running slowly but no one was catching me and the young studs in front of me were long gone.

The cross-country course was a little sloppy from all of our recent rain and one point we had to get around a large tree that had fallen during the storms. I kept plugging along and with about a half mile to go I turned around and there Paul was (or at least I thought) about 75 yards or so behind me. I put my head down and decided to give it everything I had. If that was indeed Paul I was determined to not lose to him in the final few steps of the race.

I pushed hard, really running better than I had at any point prior in the race and eventually crossed the finish line at 76:59 for a run split of 22:39. And just eleven seconds latter Paul finished his race. His first words were: “Damn, I really wanted it but I couldn’t catch you”. I was frankly as surprised as I was thrilled. I had managed to eek out a close victory in my second race of a double, with questionable fitness. Very satisfying! Also, it was my fifth win of the year, more than I’ve ever recorded in a season.

Overall I had the 82nd fastest run (69.8 %-tile) and the 4th best in my AG (81.3 %-tile). Here is how we stood at the finish:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Schlosser + 0:11
3. Dana + 1:43
4. Spartin + 4:22

I was 21st OA in the race, which was good enough for a 92.5 %-tile.

Parvin Sprint Race Report

2009-06-25T15:48:00.000-07:00

Parvin Sprint Triathlon
Race Report #7: 6/20/09

Background

Back at the shore in New Jersey, and mostly recovered from our Mount Rainier exploits, I was ready to get back to the sprint triathlon scene. While the expedition had necessitated about a 20 day departure from normal triathlon operations, I was none-the-less excited and fairly optimistic about the weekend’s agenda. I decided that this weekend would be my first Saturday/Sunday triathlon double—two races in one weekend. First the Parvin State Park sprint on the 20th and followed the next day by the Marathon Sports sprint triathlon at the beautiful campus of St. Andrews. These were to be my 80th and 81st triathlons of my career but they would be just my first triathlon double—I was psyched but had no idea if this was a good idea or not.

I came into the weekend with 4 firsts, 1 second and 1 third in my AG races this year. I’ve never been able to win five times in a season and I was hopeful that I could get the job done this weekend—maybe even go two for two. First up was Parvin where I won last year by holding off Mickey Syrop in a close finish. The rematch was on and I was especially motivated to do well since Mick had taken me down at Hammonton three weeks prior. In that race I had a bad day after just getting back from Australia and I was hopeful I could give Mick a better challenge on this Saturday morning.

My legs were returning to a semblance of normalcy after the post Rainier recovery period. My legs still felt a bit heavy but I thought that maybe I would benefit from the training effect of the Rainier climb. The whole not-Tri-training was a bit of a worry but I was anxious to find out. Race morning dawned in the low 70s and overcast with little wind. During the run it would rain a bit but it was a very good day to race and so we did!

The Swim

So this is just your basic little NJ lake swim. A little right hand (clockwise) swim in a 70-degree lake that is reasonably clear. Since Chuck Sellers was running the race, us old guys were once again in the last wave—number 5. I started way right, on the buoy line for a change. I was able to stay there out to the first turn using my natural left-side breathing pattern to keep track of developments. I felt good about the early swim though it was evident to me that I was a bit back in the pack—not unexpected given my training.

The rest of the swim was uneventful—while we had to swim through the slower folks in the waves ahead of us I felt it did not really affect my race. When I exited the swim at 8:11, I was a bit disappointed because in the past my swim times were in the 7s at this race. My heart rate ended up averaging 152 bpm, which seems to be my comfortable sprint energy level. I was soon to learn that everyone’s times were slower than prior years so it seems that the swim was a bit longer this year. Anyways, I dropped 25 seconds to Mickey, which is on the lower side of my expectations about my disadvantage to him. As it turned out I was 45th out of 264 for an 83.3 %-tile—which I’m fine with. I was 3rd out of 13 in my AG for a 84.6 %-tile...again something I’m happy with given my fitness. Here is where we stood after the swim:

1. Krick --------
2. Syrop + 0:31
3. Christofferson + 0:56

Transition One

So business as usual here. Mick kicked my butt in T1 and I took down everyone else. Overall I was 30th (89 %-tile) in the transition but because Mick is so good I lost 16 seconds to him but passed Krick who seemed to be focused on making sure he looked good as opposed to being fast (my T1 time was 1:27)! Here is where it was after T2 (btw my HR averaged 168 during T1):

1. Syrop --------
2. Christofferson +0:41
3. Krick +0:48

As I left T1 I saw Mick leaving and glancing at my watch I figured I was about 35 seconds behind him— this was a bit optimistic but a reasonable estimate. In any event I was pleased with this as I thought if I brought my “normal” bike split that I’d leave myself with a reasonable chance to push him on the run. Anyways, off we went!

The Bike

I felt real good right away on the bike. As I looked down periodically at my SRM I saw very happy power numbers. I was motivated and energized. I had come into this race thinking that I needed a very fast bike leg to have a shot at beating Mick and I proceeded to try to give it everything I had.

I hoped to pass Mick by the 4th mile or so. I figured that this would translate into a 90-120 second lead coming off the bike. In fact I caught Mick at about 4.4 miles and as I powered by him I thought that I had a reasonable chance to take him down today.

The rest of the ride was uneventful but I was conscious of always pushing it—probably too much so. I jumped off the bike with a 30:36 split. This was good enough for 11th OA (96.2 %-tile), which is a bit disappointing. The last three times I’ve raced here I’ve had either the 2nd or 3rd fastest. Oh well. Power-wise I averaged a respectable 251 watts—probably a little high given my current fitness and all the downtime associated with Rainier. My HR was 168 bpm, which definitely implies I was a little hot on the bike. My cadence was 81 rpm so I was probably guilty of trying to grind through too large a gearing in my drive to open up a lead on Mick. For the 12.125 miles I ended up averaging 23.74 mph.

I was able to open up a nice gap on my AG competitors. I had the fastest bike split and was 1:56 and 1:50 faster than Mick and John respectively. Last year I put 2:27 on Mick so this result is not surprising. I had a pretty decent bike but so did Mick and as a consequence, I was only 1:15 ahead as I hopped off my bike and raced into T2:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Syrop + 1:15
3. Krick + 1:57

Transition Two

I pushed hard through transition (my HR averaged 168 bpm) and was able to get running in just 0:53. Mick and John were both marginally faster than I with 49 and 51 second T2s respectively. My T2 was the 4th fastest in the AG (76.9 %-tile) and 33rd OA (87.9 %-tile). Here is where we stood as we ran out of T2:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Syrop + 1:11
3. Krick + 1:55

The Run

As I started the run I was feeling pretty good about my chances of holding Mick off. I thought that my bike was pretty solid—I was hoping I might have as much as a two- minute lead at the start of the run. Had I known that I was only 1:11 ahead I would have known that I was probably not going to prevail. Especially if I had known this 100 yards into the run when I realized that my legs were absolutely dead. I can’t remember a sprint race when they were this fried—probably a combination of my fitness, Rainier and an overly optimistic bike ride.

I was chuckling to myself at how slow I was running—there wasn’t anything I could do about it—I could either run slow or slower. I tried to remain optimistic. I was hopeful my legs would come back at some point and after all I was still in the lead. Maybe if I could get to the turnaround with a 45-60 second lead I could hold Mick off.

It seemed to me that we ran up the road considerably further than we had in past years—maybe my blinding speed was playing havoc with my perceptiveness. Soon the moment of truth arrived and I made the turn and lo and behold, right behind me was Mick! So much for holding him off. I could only chuckle and wish Mick well as he sped by. To amuse myself I tried to stay with Mick for a while but I steadily fell off his pace. Little did I know that Krick was also closing on me although not at the pace Mick did and he would ultimately run out of real estate and not close the gap.

I struggled home with a run split of 25:29 and an average HR of 168 bpm (a good honest effort). This sounds slow (and of-course it really is) but perhaps not as slow as it seems. Last year Mick ran 20:45 and I ran 21:53. This year Mick ran 23:11 so he put an extra 1:09 on me this year. I’m guessing based on this and a look at other comparable runs that the course was about a quarter mile longer this year. In any event Mick finished the race with a 65:29 which was 1:06 faster than my 66:35. I was able to retain a 65 second lead on Krick.

My run was an embarrassing 104th (!!!!) or 60.9 %-tile OA and I was 5th in our AG (69.2 %-tile)—pretty sad. In addition to finishing 2nd in our AG I was a middling 35th OA (87.1 %-tile).

Conclusion

I’m not going to get too hard on myself about this race. I raced hard and as fast as my fitness allowed me. Rainier was a bit of a factor but the reality is I was beaten by a stronger triathlete this morning. I did a much better job than I had done at Hammonton several weeks ago. As I did at Pocomoke at the end of May I raced hard but ultimately had to settle for second.

I drove home satisfied but sore and wondering what I would have left in the tank for the 2nd game of the twin-bill down in Middletown, DE. We would soon find out. On this evening I grabbed some pasta and crawled into my bed at 8:30 to await the 4:30 a.m. alarm.

Rainier Slide Show

2009-06-18T09:41:00.000-07:00

Up on utube--check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yb1azyFc-UI

Mount Rainier Summit Climb

2009-06-10T06:44:00.000-07:00

Mount Rainier Summit Climb
June 3-6, 2009

Background

Anders and I met at the Seattle airport on the morning of Wednesday, June 3rd, gathered our belongings and jumped in our rental car for the two-hour drive to the town of Ashford, WA. We arrived and checked into the Whitaker Bunkhouse, which is situated at the Mount Rainier Base Camp. Also at the Base Camp were Whitaker Mountaineering, which was useful for last minute climbing needs and Rainier Mountaineering Inc. (RMI), which was the guide service we were using during this adventure.

We were here to climb Mount Rainier. Mount Rainier is arguably the most coveted alpine peak in the lower 48 states. At 14,410 feet (4,392 meters), it is the 3rd highest peak in the lower 48 with Whitney, as the highest, being just 84 feet taller. Rainier however, is a far more demanding challenge. With over 35 square miles of glaciers, Rainier is the most heavily glaciated peak in the lower 48 states. Rainier has 6 times as much glacial area as the next most heavily glaciated peak, Mount Adams. In fact, Rainier has more than 3 times the glacial area than all of Glacier National Park and over 60 times that of all the Rockies of Colorado. Rainier has recorded as much as 93 feet of snow in a one-year period. Rainier has many defenses including steep glacial ice, huge crevasses, high altitude, and challenging weather. The mountain was first climbed in 1855 and by 1900, 160 people had made the summit. Today some 8000 people attempt to summit Rainier each year with about a 45-50% success rate.

Rainier is an impressive and imposing mountain. It dominates the skyline for hundreds of miles around. As I flew into Seattle, it’s shear mass and relief from the surrounding area was startling. One of the most impressive things about Rainier is off-course its extensive and afore-mentioned system of 25 named glaciers. Rainier has about 156 billion cubic feet of ice (enough to fill a line of dump trucks, bumper to bumper, from the earth to the moon, and back again. Eighteen times!) Rainier is perpetually snow and ice covered for thousands of feet all around its broad flanks.

Anders and I have enjoyed each other’s company on many great adventures through the years. Most recently we have been partners in many fun triathlon adventures including four Ironman triathlons (Western Australia, Wisconsin, Florida and Austria), racing for Team USA at the World Long-Course Triathlon Championships in France, and probably an additional 40-50 smaller races. We have also enjoyed weeklong bicycling sessions in Spain, France and Arizona. Over the last year we began to discuss the possibility of a new type of adventure and last November agreed to try to tackle Rainier together in the late spring of 2009. While we were clearly novices at mountaineering and arguably it was a stretch for us to go for Rainier as our first mountain adventure, we hoped that our extensive triathlon experience and the physical conditioning it affords would help us achieve our goal. I for one was thrilled at the anticipation of being reunited with my adventure buddy, as we had not been on a race or cycling trip together in the year since Anders moved to Los Angeles.

Day One: Classroom

We selected RMI’s four day Ingraham Glacier Summit Trip. RMI is the best known of the guiding services on Rainier. In 2009 they are celebrating their 40th anniversary. Through the years they have put thousands of climbers on the Summit, including newbies like Anders and I. RMI has a storied lineage including the most famous family in American Mountaineering, the Whitakers (Lou being the first American to climb the North Col of Everest. Lou’s twin brother, Jim, was the first American to summit Everest back in 1963). Their current roster of guides includes Ed Viesturs, arguably the most successful American mountaineer of all time whose resume includes successful ascents, without oxygen, of all 14 of the 8000-meter mountains in the world as well as the Seven Summits. Other guides include David Hann, who has climbed Everest 14 times (more than anyone else who is not a Sherpa) and Peter Whitaker (equally impressive climbing resume). These three had just rolled back into town having just completed another successful Everest ascent.

After sorting out our gear, our first activity was a three-hour classroom session at Base Camp. Here we met our lead guide, Dave Conlan, who was attempting to summit Rainier for the 68th time, and the other members of our climbing team. There were nine of us in our climbing team. In addition to Anders and me, there was another father and son team, Larry and Jack, both doctors and two of their friends from Michigan John and Tom). Jack was 26 and the other three were in their late 40s/early 50s. These four had recently climbed Mount Shasta, another 14,000+-foot peak without a guide. There was a husband and wife team in their fifties (Gary and Nancy) who were attempting to climb the highest point in all 50 states. Rainier was to be their 43rd such summit. Lastly, there was a Minnesotan named Jared, who was on a quest to climb Denali. Two years ago he had been 300 pounds but after deciding to make a major lifestyle change and training intensely he was a very fit looking 185 pounds. Anders and I were clearly the least experienced.

After introductions, Dave reviewed all of our climbing equipment and clothing choices. He was very helpful in his suggestions, and in quite a few cases told members of the group they had to make changes or else they would not be allowed to climb. Anders and I scored straight A’s on this part, as our strategy had been to procure exactly what RMI recommended on it’s website. I’ve always been oriented to having the best equipment for my passions, and I think it’s especially important when it comes to alpine mountaineering as your safety and physical well-being are fundamentally dependent on your equipment and clothing.

We then went through a session where we learned a variety of important things including how to don our crampons and gaiters, layering strategy, how to operate our avalanche transceivers, and how to pack for our climb. This was immensely helpful for Anders and me given our novice nature. As an example, Anders and I debated about whether the spike of an ice-axe points up or down on your pack. I asserted it was down because I couldn’t see how to secure the axe if it was upside down. However, Anders proved to be correct, as a nifty little procedure was all that was required to secure it spike up.

Dave said he had three objectives for the climb: 1) we all return safe and sound to the base camp on Saturday; 2) we all remain friends; and 3) if possible, that some or all of us summit Rainier. This seemed right to me and certainly in the correct order. Unlike triathlons, I was certainly OK with a DNF—or more accurately a DNS (did not summit) if the conditions or my fitness dictated that. For sure, we were planning to get back on the plane and fly home come Sunday.

After the equipment check we went into RMI’s Mountain Hut and had our pre-climb talk and reviewed a slide show of the route we were likely to take. Dave started our talk with the statement: “Rainier is NOT a safe climb. There are many substantial objective dangers on the mountain including crevasses, avalanches, rock and icefall, steep slopes and weather. These objective dangers are inherent in climbing Mount Rainier and should not be taken lightly. That said, we at RMI, have extensive experience in climbing Rainier and we follow a climbing protocol that is designed to mitigate against these objective dangers and to make your summit trip both as safe and rewarding as possible”. The talk and the slide show were both exciting and a little sobering.

After the classroom session, Anders and I headed down to the Copper Creek Inn restaurant, which we were told had the best food for miles around. We had disappointing fish (Halibut and Trout) but did enjoy our bottles of Rainier beer.
We repaired to our room at the bunkhouse and readied our packs for our Mountaineering Day School, which was to begin early Thursday morning.

Day Two: Mountaineering Day School

One of the most attractive features of the RMI program to Anders and I was our Mountaineering Day School session. We awoke at 6:30 am and after a quick breakfast boarded the RMI van at 8:15 for the 40-minute ride up to Paradise, in the Rainier National Park at the foot of the mountain. Paradise is at 5400 feet (Base Camp was at 1600 feet) and is where our climb would start in earnest the next day.

We assembled in the parking lot and met the second of our three guides Mark Falendar; another experienced guide. We were very fortunate to have two such strong guides. Dave is a bit of a superstar at RMI who leads climbs at Denali and Aconcagua as well as Rainier. Mark had just been promoted to lead guide and was to begin leading climbs on Rainier after our trip. We were in very good hands. Dave described the day ahead of us and we soon were off.

Mountaineering Day School takes place on the slopes above Paradise mostly around 6000 feet. It took close to an hour to reach the “classroom” and we were soon at it. The first task was to learn the proper way to climb up, down and across slopes without crampons and axes. This was a bit more difficult than it sounds as several of the team members slipped and went into lengthy uncontrolled falls/slides. Anders and I did pretty well at this part. It was fun and it was partly cloudy so Rainier kept peaking in and out of the cloud cover—it truly is an impressive looking mountain from this close in!

Next we learned about two critical mountaineering skills: rest stepping and pressure breathing. Rest stepping is a way of progressing up the mountain where you lock out your back-knee and momentarily pause between steps to take the weight off of your leg muscles and place it on your skeletal system. It seemed a little awkward at first, but we were soon to learn how critical it is to summiting a mountain like Rainier. Pressure breathing involves taking a very deep breath and forcibly exhaling it trying to create pressure in your lungs. The objective here is to try to increase the pressure of oxygen in your lungs to counteract the loss of oxygen partial pressure encountered at altitude. As with rest stepping, this technique was absolutely vital to our climbing.

Next we donned our crampons and grabbed our ice axes and practiced all these techniques with crampons (especially cross over stepping and duck walking). We then learned the proper way to carry our axes (self-arrest position on the up-hill side of the slope) and how to handle them in case of a fall. Then we practiced for a couple of hours how to self-arrest in case of a fall. This proved to be very difficult and awkward. Basically the idea is that in case of a fall to bring the axe up from the self-arrest position (down at your side) up to the space between your ear and shoulder blade on the up-hill side of the mountain while rotating the axe 180 degrees so that the pick is pointed out from your body. Meanwhile the opposite hand slides down the shaft of the axe and covers the spike (so that it doesn’t do something bad like jabbing into your abdomen). Next you have to roll over onto your stomach (this assumes you’ve fallen to your butt; there are different techniques if you are falling face first on your back or stomach) and drive the pick into the snow while levering the axe with your opposite hand and placing the weight of your body on the shaft for additional leverage. Meanwhile you have to aggressively drive, several times with both feet, both of the front points of your crampons into the slope below you. If done right, you arrest the fall with the pick of the axe buried in the snow, the shaft angling upward at a 45 degree angle under your upper body, both feet firmly planted below and no other part of your body touching the snow. If it seems complicated in print but it is more so on a slippery mountain slope.

We practiced this innumerable times and with many different scenarios. When we fell we had to scream “Falling!” at the top of our lungs and then go through the above. Some times we would be walking up a slope and one of the guides would call falling and down we would all go. Other times we would start sliding down the slope on our butt or stomach and then the guide would yell falling and we’d have to stop ourselves. When the axe was on the left this required a different set of steps (though mirrored) than when it was on the right. Still other times we’d start with no axe and as we slid by the guide, he would hand us our axe and we’d have to control the axe and initiate an arrest while in an uncontrolled slide down the slope.

Anders proved to be a very quick study and soon was differentiating himself from the rest of the team. He quickly mastered the self-arrest; which is the most critical skill of all in alpine mountaineering. I, sorry to say, was not so fortunate. It took me a long time to get it right. I always seemed to do one thing wrong. A typical error for me was to reach up the slope with the axe as I was sliding and thus lose the leverage of my body in setting the axe-pick. Eventually, I learned enough to pass, albeit with an average grade.

The school lasted some six hours and we broke every hour and a half or so for “maintenance breaks”. These are vital to success as a climb like Rainier involves burning some 9,000-11,000 calories and combined with sweat from the exertion, eating and drinking enough to make it through the climb are crucial. This would be a constant theme pounded into us by our guides. Anders and I felt ahead of the game here with our Ironman experience. Coincidently, the caloric burn in an Ironman is of a similar magnitude.

The last major portion of the school was learning how to travel roped together as a climbing team. Above Camp Muir, on the upper mountain where the greatest objective dangers exists, we would always travel roped together. This provides added security against falls or crevasse collapse and other such things. This is a lot harder than it might at first appear as the rope is held in one hand and the axe in another and as you change from one traverse direction to another (which happens frequently in a climb) you have to switch both. We also learned how to progress past anchors, which the guides might set in particularly sketchy sections.

Our biggest focus was practicing team arrest of a falling rope member. Any falls we might face were most likely on the more extreme terrain of the upper mountain when we were roped together. We learned how the team needed to react in a variety of different fall situations. Our final test occurred when after we had set our arrest positions Mark grabbed the rope behind us and tried to individually yank each of us off the slope. When he came to Anders, Mark tried particularly hard throwing his whole weight down the slope. Anders yelled, “Bring it on!” and the Mark gave it everything he had until dissolving into a fit of laughter. “All right, I’ll climb with you guys” he said after he stopped laughing.

This was a light-hearted moment. But it was also an important one. The guides are constantly evaluating the climbing team for climbing fitness (skills, physical stamina, and mental attitude) and are prepared to pull someone off the team if they don’t think they can cut it. This is a critical thing you pay for in a guided climb as the last thing one wants is to be allowed to climb or to be roped to someone when his or her climbing fitness isn’t there. We were constantly reminded of this and to hear we had passed this test was good news indeed.

Soon class was over and Dave reviewed some of the important details for the next day when our Summit attempt would begin and then we boarded the bus to head back to Base Camp. Back in our room, Anders and I excitedly reviewed the day and talked about how cool it was to learn all the things we had been reading and thinking about over the last eight months. We were finally going to do it! After dinner and an early repair to our beds, I couldn’t help but lay there thinking through all that might happen to us over the next two days—the good and bad. I was juiced for sure but did finally manage to eek out a few hours sleep.

Day Three: Paradise to Camp Muir

We awoke at 6:30 am for a quick breakfast at Base Camp and then loaded up our packs and joined our climbing team at 8:15 for the van ride to Paradise. Paradise lies at 5,400 feet and the route RMI had selected is called the Ingraham Direct. It involves first climbing to Camp Muir at 10,100 feet and then on up to the Columbia Crest Summit at 14,410 feet—a total elevation gain of just over 9,000 feet. The plan was to climb throughout the day on Friday, rest at Camp Muir for a few hours, and then set out for the Summit in the early hours of Saturday the 6th. After reaching the Summit, we would return to Camp Muir, collect our gear that we didn’t need for the Summit push and return to Paradise some 30 hours after our departure. The trip would entail some 18 miles and over 18,000 feet of net vertical altitude change (with the ups and down along the way the total gross altitude change is considerably greater).

After unloading our gear in the parking lot we gathered together and met our third guide, Tim Hardin. Tim was a 21 year-old “junior guide” who despite his age had extensive climbing experience including 7 summits of Rainier. Dave told us the plan for the climb to Muir and what to expect and concentrate on. At Paradise we were engulfed in clouds—really pretty much of a white out. Dave said the weather forecast was “iffy”. The forecast called for increasing cloudiness, a chance of rain and snow, colder temperatures and increasing wind with the combination of a low front approaching from the south and a marine layer moving in from the west. Saturday’s forecast at the summit was for 13 degrees and 30 mph winds (these are average conditions). He said he didn’t know for sure but he thought it worth a shot to climb to Muir and then wake up Saturday morning and see if it was climbable. My heart sank a bit at this. Objectively, I knew with a big alpine mountaineering trip like this one, the weather was a major factor in determining whether or not one could summit, but in my dreams we always seemed to be blessed with great weather. Hearing the prospect of not being able to go for the Summit was a little discouraging. None-the-less, Dave ended his pre-climb talk by turning towards the beginning of the route up and saying, “Let’s go climb Mount Rainier.” Indeed. Lets! Anders and I smiled at each other and we were finally at it.

The total Ingraham Direct climb involves 14 distinct climbing segments—nine on the way up and five on the way down. Our climb to Camp Muir on this day involved the first five. We left at about 9:45 am and were to climb for about 1:00 to 1:15 at a time before we would take 10-15 minute “maintenance breaks”. The climb to Muir involved 4.5 miles and 4700 feet of altitude gain.

The early part of the climb took us past the area where we had our mountaineering school. For the most part, we ascended through soft snow and soon were above the tree line. We traveled together in a single line practicing following in each other’s footsteps (a skill that is important when there are crevasses about). The climb to Muir is not very technical and we climbed with our heavy-duty plastic mountaineering boots and trekking polls eschewing crampons until the Summit push.

There was very little chatter and some fairly heavy breathing as we ascended to about 6400 feet. Anders was towards the front and I was at the back. I tried to focus on my rest-step and pressure breathing techniques and felt very much in control. I would guess my heart rate was around 120 bpm or so—an easy aerobic pace for me. The guides were trying to pattern the pace we would need to follow in order to make it to the Summit in the desired timeframe. Of course, as the slope got steeper and the air thinner this was likely to become increasingly difficult, but in the early stages it was quite manageable.

We reached our first break and drank (Gatorade for me) and ate (Mojo bar) and peed in the snow. We replenished our drink bottles from snow (not the same snow) and our guides reinforced yet again the importance of fueling ourselves. I was very thirsty and I had completely sweated through my base layer (we wore just one layer top and bottom). It was warm (probably 70 degrees) even on the snow and very humid with the cloud cover. I should also point out we were carrying fully loaded packs—I guess mine was 55-60 pounds and Anders’ was maybe five pounds lighter. This probably seems like a lot but with our guides counsel we had been ruthless about eliminating everything we could. In any event, as I rested I took my shirt off and sat on my pack during my maintenance break “working on my tan” as the sun had broken through. Soon it was time to move on and I put my thoroughly soaked shirt back on and hoisted my pack.

Anders convinced me to move towards the front of the group and this proved to be sage counsel. The second section had some more technical sections on rocks and along cliffs. The group began to separate a bit as difference in fitness levels of the team became apparent. About half way through the climb, after Anders and I had crossed an invisible snow bridge, one of the Michigan team, John Micallef, at the back of the group, fell through into a hole and as his lower body fell in he tipped backward and significantly strained one of his quadriceps muscles. He was in a fair amount of pain and stuck in the hole. Mark hurried to dig him out and he decided to push on. This opened up a big gap as the group that Anders and I were in moved more quickly up the mountain.

Soon we reached our second break at the bottom of the Muir snowfield at about 7500 feet. The Muir snowfield is a huge expanse of snow that climbs more or less directly all the way to Camp Muir. It’s technically not a glacier although it flows like one and has crevasses as our unluckly teammate had discovered. We sat under the relentless sun (we were constantly applying spf 70 and lip balm) and admired the views of the Rainier massif to our left. The Nisqually headwall and glacier were very prominent. Dave admonished us to stay closer together as a team as it was good practice for Summit day when we were to be roped. He said that he was setting the pace we needed to follow and everyone should stay together. Anders looked at me knowingly and I knew I owed him one.

We were soon on our way and very quickly a gap opened up once again. Anders and I were in the front group along with the father and son team from Michigan (Lenny and Jack) and Jared. The climbing was not difficult (in my view) but the sun was relentless and the slope was steeper (20-25 degrees) and seemingly never ending. As we climbed higher the sheer mass of Rainier became more and more evident.

Soon we stopped for our 3rd maintenance break at 8500 feet. It was a beautiful day and quite warm and sunny. At this point I had consumed over 2 liters of fluid and an impressive amount of food (energy bars, jelly beans and a big turkey sandwich). When I peed my urine was still fairly clear so I felt like I was doing a good job of hydrating to this point.

Lenny, the other father was not. Dave started getting on him because he was not drinking enough. He said he was having trouble getting fluid down. Dave said he had to drink even if it made him throw up. Without aggressive hydration, Dave said Lenny would suffer on the Summit push.

Up again 10 minutes later we kept putting one foot in front of the other. The climbing was a little harder here but both Anders and I felt great. The scenery was impressive and the weather perfect. It was now a little cooler at the higher altitude, which was greatly appreciated. We saw several skiers and snowboarders carving big sweeping turns down the slope above us. Apparently its possible to get as much as 10,000 vertical feet of skiing on Rainier.

We separated yet again as the increasing altitude and pitch was evidencing different fitness levels in our group. Anders and I were happy in the front group feeling confident that the guides would have seen enough from us to give us the green light for the Summit. Our last rest was at about 9400 feet. At this height the various structures of Camp Muir were clearly visible to us and I felt very excited as we neared this day’s objective.

We were on our way shortly latter and about 40 minutes or so rolled into Camp Muir at 10,080 feet. It was about 3:45 in the afternoon so our climb had taken about six hours. This was slower than our target of five to five and a half hours and I had the sense that we would have to push harder during our Summit attempt.

Camp Muir sits on a ridge above the snowfield and below the Cowlitz glacier. It has outstanding views of a number of mountain ranges and in the distance great views of Mount Adams and Mount St. Helens. The Camp has several separate structures including a first-come-first-serve public sleeping shelter, a guide hut and RMI’s very basic shack (which we were grateful for). Also there were several tents pitched on the close in portions of the Cowlitz.

Our first order of business was to organize our stuff into dinner things, sleeping things and those items we were taking to the Summit. We left our packs, polls, axes and crampons outside due to the limited space inside the hut.

After about 90 minutes of taking care of business, Dave came into the hut and gave us our pre-Summit talk. His description of the climb ahead was quite sobering. He talked at length about the dangers of the climb to the Summit and told us that on the second section of the Summit push we would encounter “real climbing” with numerous crevasses and rock and ice fall. It was hard not to be a little apprehensive.

He told us what to bring and how the departure would work. Mark and Tim brought us both hot and cold water (a real luxury) and we soon set about eating. I had two cups of soup and a delicious pasta primavera. Everyone was pretty focused and quiet—I think we were all thinking about tomorrow morning and what it might bring.

The hut we were in was very small and basic. Just bare wood with no insulation. It had three levels of wood boards and could sleep (snugly) about 18 people. It was only about 10x20 feet so you can imagine how tight it was. With nine of us it wasn’t that bad and Anders and I took the “honeymoon suite” on the 3rd level where the two of us would sleep next to each other in a space that was about five feet across.

After dinner people were in and out making our last preparations. John said that he was going to have to make a game time decision about his leg but he was doubtful for the Summit. Nancy, from the husband and wife team, started crying and said that she just couldn’t do it and she was going to stay behind.

A quick aside here about fitness. It is absolutely essential to be as fit as possible for a climb like this. Not just raw aerobic fitness but mountain climbing specific fitness (as I was soon to find out). The climb to Camp Muir, while challenging, was well within Anders and my fitness levels. This made it very enjoyable and we were able to look around and talk to our fellow climbers as well as focus on the climb itself. Others in our party were continually stressed by the pace and as a result, their experience was much less fun. Success, safety and enjoyment are all fundamentally driven by fitness level. It’s hard to stress this enough.

Back at Camp Muir, Anders and I were able to get Judy on my cell phone and we had a nice talk. She was relieved to hear of our progress and wanted to talk with us for a lot longer than we could. It also seemed like the cold was having an effect on my battery life so we said goodbye after 10 minutes or so and told her we would try to call tomorrow if we could.

Anders and I sat outside together for 15 minutes more or so and enjoyed the view together. We looked down on a vast sea of clouds at about 7000 feet with mountaintops peaking through. Although it was now past 6:30 it was still quite bright out. We talked about how fantastic the trip was so far and about the prospects for tomorrow. We were both optimistic about our chances. We also spent some time wondering who would be roped with us—the plan was for three teams of 1-guide/3 climbers. We knew that this was a critical issue both from a safety and summiting success point-of-view. We talked about Lenny and how he was behind the hydration curve and Anders predicted that it was already too late for him—no matter how much he drank tonight. With the lack of clarity about who was even going to attempt the Summit, we decided it best to let it go and try to sleep.

We all lay down around 7 pm knowing that the wake-up call would come sometime between 12 midnight and 3 am. The departure time was a function of the anticipated weather. If it was going to be clear and the weather good we would leave earlier. This “alpine start” is designed to get the team on the Summit in the early morning and than back down off the glaciers before the heat of the day made things on the glacier unstable. If the weather was bad or uncertain we would delay the start—or perhaps call-off the Summit push entirely.

This was just one of a million things that went through my mind as I uncomfortably lay in my sleeping bag in the light of the early evening and tried fitfully to sleep. I was certain that I did not sleep but Anders told me later that he got up around 9:30 and went outside to pee (another luxury here was the solar powered outside toilets). I never heard him so I must have slept some. I know Anders slept a bit as I heard him breathing in a comfortable sleeping rhythm a couple of times.

Dave had told us to hydrate but not to drink so much that we had to run outside in the dark all night (not much fun in my view). So I went sparingly on the water and in retrospect this was probably a mistake. Soon, I looked at my watch and saw that it was 11:54 pm and I knew the moment of truth was soon to arrive. I was hoping to hear Dave very soon as that would mean the weather was good and that we were on.

Day Four: The Summit Push

Shortly thereafter the door opened below us and a light came on—it was 12:05 am—yes! Dave said, “good morning mountaineers. It is a beautiful morning with a clear sky and a full moon. The wind is light and we have a great day to climb. So get up and attend to your breakfast and packing. We recommend that you wear a base layer top and bottom and that you wear just one layer on top of that—your climbing pants and your soft-shell. So let’s get to it and we’ll try to leave around 1:15 am”. Then he left. Anders and I looked at each other and raised our eyebrows and smiled—we were really going to do this thing—I almost couldn’t believe it.

The first discovery of the early morning was that in addition to Nancy electing to stay at Muir, both John and Tom from the Michigan team had elected to stay as well. John’s quad unfortunately had tightened during the night and he didn’t think it made sense to attempt the climb and end up slowing everybody down. Tom said he just wasn’t fit enough. I admired them for making what were tough, but absolutely correct decisions. We were now down to three guides and six climbers—three groups of three. This meant that just Anders and I would be roped together with a guide—we were quite excited by this prospect.

The hut was a beehive of activity as the six of us busily prepared for the challenge ahead. I kept looking at the three that were staying behind and felt a pang of guilt—I was so excited and they must feel so bummed! I had to let it go because I had a lot to do and I had to do it correctly.

We ate breakfast (pop tarts, a cookie and coffee) and made several trips outside to stuff our packs. I made three trips to the outhouse just to make sure I wouldn’t have to worry about that latter when it might prove more inconvenient.

It was a breathtaking morning! A clear sky lit-up by the full moon and a very bright Venus. It was cold—I’m guessing about 25 degrees, but there was just a breath of wind. Perfect really. It was surreal looking around as people walked to and fro all over Muir with their headlamps beaming, getting ready for the climb ahead.

Anders and I secured our packs and then efficiently donned our crampons—this was one skill we had mastered. The guides came down and we learned that we would be roped with Tim, the newest of the guides. We were cool with whichever guide we were roped to as they all three seemed very competent. We were to be the second of the three teams. First was Dave as the lead climber roped with father and son, Lenny and Jack. Then our team followed by Mark with Jared and Gary (the husband of the husband and wife team). Although they did not say why they chose this configuration it was pretty clear what they had concluded. First, they had decided that Anders and I were the strongest climbing pair of the three pairs. Strongest in this case is defined by the weakest person in each team. In our case that was clearly I. They judged me stronger than Lenny or Gary so they had the stronger guides with the two weakest climbers. Also, I was to be in the middle between Tim and Anders. This was where the weakest person on the rope goes. It was the same with the other two ropes: guide up front, over 50 guy in the middle, young buck at the back. The guides had decided correctly in my view.

Dave checked to make sure we were all good to go and Mark came and examined our crampons. Next we clipped in and Dave said: “Let’s do this” and he led the first rope team into the dark. My heart was pounding.

The push to the Summit and back entailed seven sections; four up and three back down to Camp Muir. The most difficult section and the real crux of the climb was up the Ingraham Glacier and through the icefall under the glacier’s headwall. More on that latter. The Ingraham Direct Route (ID) that we were taking this morning is the preferred route to the Summit up through late May and early June when the crevasses and ice/rock falls begin to make the path impassable. Then, most folks move over to the parallel Disappointment Cleaver Route (DC), which is to the right side of the Ingraham Glacier on a rocky ridge. The guides had debated which way to go but ultimately decided that the ID route was still stable enough for us to give it a shot.

The Ingraham Glacier, on the eastern flank of Rainier, covers an area of about 1.5 square miles. It contains about 7 billion cubic feet of ice. At the bottom it merges into the upper Cowlitz Glacier and together they melt into the Cowlitz River. In the past (35,000 years ago) they have flowed as far as 65 miles down from Rainier.

I should digress here to talk about safety. RMI has been guiding on this mountain for 40 years. During this time they have had three accidents on their trips that have resulted in fatalities. In 1981 a massive section of the Ingraham Icefall broke away and swept eleven climbers into a crevasse where they remain today. This remains the worst mountaineering accident in North American history. Prior to that, in 1977 a 47-year-old woman died when her rope team slid 1500 feet down the upper Ingraham. Last year a 29 year old man was killed when loose snow knocked him off the Disappointment Cleaver route. RMI typically guides over 3000 people a summer on the ID and DC routes. And as I mentioned earlier, they have been guiding here for 40 years. There is danger, but from a statistical basis the probabilities are small. Those are the facts.

Anyways, that part of the mountain was a ways ahead of us as we headed out. The first section of the climb involved traversing the Cowlitz Glacier under the Cathedral Rocks and then up and through the Cathedral Gap. Then, a short trek to the lower section of the Ingraham Glacier at 11,100 feet, which is called the “Flats”. This section was expected to take us about 70-75 minutes.

This part of the climb was magical. I was almost giddy with excitement. Anders kept saying “Look Dad” or “This is so awesome”. Ahead you could see the reflection off the snow of other climbers’ headlamps, including groups who had left ahead of us. The Cowlitz Glacier is heavily crevassed but the path was well defined and the guides seemed pretty mellow. As we progressed higher we would look down to our right aware of a pretty steep slope that was dimly illuminated by the moon. It was surreal.

Mostly the only sound was the rhythmic crunching of our crampons into the icy-hard snow. After about 30 minutes Dave yelled back that we should all be alert and listen for rock fall. This kind of snapped me out of my reverie and back into the reality of what we were doing. In case of hearing ice or rock fall we are all to try to see it and then try to point it out to everyone. Then we have to listen to Dave to tell us what to do. The options were basically: do nothing as it will miss us; watch it and wait until the last second to dodge anything headed directly at you, walk forward or backward as a team; or turn around and crouch down in an attempt to have your pack cushion the blow. I reviewed these options while listening for the rocks and ice that never came.

Soon we scrambled through some loose rocks (which is a challenge in crampons) and exited through the Cathedral Gap (10,640 feet) onto the Ingraham Glacier proper. The Cathedral and Gibraltar Rocks were now to our left and we were in a very mellow part of the mountain. Despite the altitude, this was very pleasant climbing as the slope was quite mild. I was very comfortable in my two thin layers—it’s amazing how little you need to wear to stay warm when you’re climbing. I felt strong at this point of the climb. I looked up into the night sky and was stunned to see several small groups of lights moving in unison impossibly high up in the sky. When I looked more closely I could see the slightly darker hue of Rainier itself on which the climbing parties were pushing upward. I knew if all went well I would be there soon—it was a little mind-boggling.

We reached the first rest point just a few minutes behind schedule. Here we took off our packs (which thankfully only weighed about 25 pounds now) and laid them onto the snow. We took out our big down parkas to stay warm and quickly ate and drank. I wasn’t that hungry but ate a frozen Snicker’s Bar and drank too much of my Gatorade—I was feeling very thirsty. In no time at all we packed up, stripped down and were on our way for the crux of our Summit attempt.

This second section involves climbing directly up the face of the Ingraham Glacier weaving our way through the crevasses and icefall debris all the while under the overhanging seracs of the Ingraham Headwall. Our guides admonished us to move very quickly through this section. I felt a little anxiety with their tension and the increased physical stress of the pace and growing altitude.

It was still very dark but soon I became aware of huge masses of fallen ice and large gaping trenches all around. Some of the blocks of ice were easily several times my height. The moon cast enough light that you were aware but not altogether certain of the typography around you. Several times I called out to Anders to look at some thing and he invariably answered: “I know”. I think he was a little spooked too.

The pitch began to ratchet dramatically upward and with the increased incline came many more, wider and deeper crevasses. At first we would weave around them. Then we would come to distinct, fairly small “snow bridges” precariously spanning the chasms. Here we would slow and Mark would issue commands, as the three of us would cross in turn. As we did this I felt myself becoming more intensely focused. I was not afraid, just completely in the moment focused on executing.

It seemed like we had to wait a lot, which physiologically I was thankful for as it allowed me to control my breathing and heart rate which were beginning to race a bit at times with the exertion. Still in the back of my mind I knew we needed to be moving faster. It seemed like the team in front of us was having trouble.

As the pitch increased again we had to resort to a lot of cross over side steps. This was very demanding and I found myself taking a breath with each rest-step, advancing just 4-6 inches with each methodical step. The crevasses now were completely open and we had to walk to the very edge and then leap across as our rope team partners maintained appropriate tension on the rope. Thankfully, for the most part we could not see down into the black abyss below us although from time to time the moon illuminated some of the cracks and I was conscious of their shear size—some where 30 feet or more across very near where we were. At one point, a crevasse was in our path that was about four feet wide and the other side was five or so feet higher. To surmount this we climbed an aluminum ladder that had been previously anchored to the ice across the chasm. I’ve seen this move on Discovery Channel and was very anxious about it but it proved to be easy to do—even with crampons.

We were now slowly approaching the headwall itself. We were closing in on 5 am and with the nearing dawn I could begin to see more clearly the topography around us. I looked up and saw hanging seracs that were several times bigger than our house sitting on a 60-degree slope several hundred feet above us. I was aware that it was certain these blocks would fall-some day—but I was not frightened at all. Every time I looked at or thought about them the loss of concentration would cause me to slip or trip a bit and so I decided to just not think about them anymore. I guess it’s like driving a car. Sure someone at anytime could swerve across the lane and hit you but you don’t think about it because it’s extremely unlikely and it’s better to focus on driving well.

Finally we gained enough altitude to cross over above the top of the Disappointment Cleaver. We had one final obstacle to pass before we would reach our second rest stop. Here the most dramatic event of the climb unfolded. At the bottom of a slight decline directly in front of us and clearly visible in the growing light, Dave had made a hard left turn about 20 feet above a huge crevasse that interrupted a slope of about 40-45 degrees. He climbed up and set his feet and called down to Lenny to come up. This part required a step up of about three feet and as Lenny tried to step up he fell and slid a foot or two. Dave yelled at Lenny to focus and to hurry and try again. Lenny tried 2-3 more times and appeared unable to surmount this obstacle. Dave was increasingly forceful in urging Lenny to do it. He tried and slipped again and Dave yelled: “Lenny, you can not fall there. Stay there, don’t move, don’t move at all.” I wanted to look back at Anders but we were hanging out on a very steep slope so I just put the weight on my locked back leg and waited to see what was going to happen.

Dave took out an anchor and buried it. He unhooked from the rope and tied Lenny to the anchor. He then free-climbed, un-roped down to Lenny and hastily cut several steps into the ice for Lenny with his ice axe. He quickly climbed back up and re-roped leaving the anchor in place. This all happened in about 2 minutes—it was amazing to witness. With these freshly cut steps Lenny was able to make it and right behind him the rest of us soon followed.

We climbed a couple of hundred feet higher to 12,300 feet on a ridiculously steep slope (probably 50 degrees) and to my amazement Dave announced that we would rest there. Every move had to be carefully thought through and executed. We drove our ice axes into the snow and short roped to them. We carefully took our packs off and took out our down jackets and I grabbed some warmer gloves. I zipped my jacket with my crampons digging in below me and my back to the slope behind me. Soon I had my drink and food out and turned around to admire the view.

What a spectacular view it was! The sun had just popped up above a thick cloud layer that probably was at 8000 feet or so. Directly in front of us was Little Tahoma (11,138 feet), which is the third highest peak in Washington. Many smaller peaks were also visible and to our right was the top of the DC and the Gibraltar Rock. As I looked down between my feet I saw a shear slope that fell away at least 2000 feet. Strangely, I was comfortable enough perched here that I asked Dave if I could shoot some video, which I did—it’s amazing stuff. While we were sitting there, Jack dropped his water bottle and it shot down the slope and quickly disappeared from sight. Yikes!

Dave announced that Lenny and Gary had decided to turn back and that Tim would un-rope from Anders and me and lead them back to Camp Muir. Mark came forward to lead our team and Jared joined Jack, who now would climb without his father, on Dave’s rope. We were now down to 4 climbers and 2 guides on 2 ropes. We had taken almost two full hours to master the second section-much slower than desired. The good news was that we were likely to be able to move quite a bit faster going forward. The bad news, from my perspective, was that I was now the weakest climber as everyone left was in their 20s and evidently fitter than I. Dave said we needed to make up some time and we would go harder. The good news was that the rest of the route was fairly straightforward. He said it would still be hard as it was relentlessly steep and of-course altitude was becoming a factor.

We set off in the growing light and we basically cross-stepped with a crossover traverse every now and then. At the crossovers I had to step both feet over the rope behind leading to Anders, switch my ice axe to my other hand without dropping it (no leash) and then re grab and tiddy up the rope behind me so that Anders wouldn’t have it at his feet as the slack increased as I traversed above him. I was increasingly fatigued but we generally did this very well. Occasionally Anders or Mark had to remind me to shift my axe grip or take better care of the rope. I was aware that Anders was increasingly thinking about taking care of and watching out for me. It was very comforting to have two stronger climbers on the rope with me. At the same time my ego was driving me to live up to their standards.

Most of this part of climb was side stepping up the mountain, one foot over the other with one’s body perpendicular to the fall-line. Each time you placed your foot down you had roll your ankle down the hill to make sure to engage as many points of the crampon as you could. I focused on rest stepping and pressure breathing and I thought I had pretty good technique. In reality I was fatigued and not as precise as either Mark or Anders and this was creating a feedback loop of increasing fatigue and more sloppiness. Mark urged me several times to focus and be more precise as I would occasionally have a clumsy step or two. This section was extremely difficult as my HR was constantly elevated close to my anaerobic limit. I was very conscious of how hard I was working but mostly I was just absorbed completely into the task. I could not tell you what the view was like although every time we would reach what I thought was a crest a new, equally steep section was revealed stretching away to the sky above us.

All of a sudden I was surprised to see Dave taking his pack off at a mellower section, which was our 3rd rest stop at the “High Break”, which is at 13,500 feet. This was very good news indeed. I really had to focus on getting my breathing under control—the air was very thin. I couldn’t drink very much as I was running out of water, having consumed about 75% of the two liters I had brought. I really could eat just a couple of bites as I was working too hard now and my appetite was fading.

As I sat there in the quiet of the team, I seriously pondered if I had enough to make it up to the top and then all the way back down again, not just to Camp Muir but to Paradise. I didn’t want to endanger myself, Anders or anyone else on the team. I was pretty certain I could get to the top but I wondered about the descent—I just didn’t have any real experience to judge this with. It was probably a moot point anyways because we were pretty much committed to the top now, which was just 650 vertical feet above us (the east rim of the Summit Crater).

Very quickly it was time to make a final push for the Summit and Dave said the 4th segment was just like the 3rd except with less oxygen but it was notably shorter. He thought we should be to the rim of the crater in 30-40 minuets or so. And so it began again. This time, probably because, it was half the length of the 3rd section, I soon saw Dave coiling in the rope of his team as they all paused—evidently at the summit crater. It was just 60 feet away. Then 30. And finally I looked up and saw Rainier’s Summit crater. We were now at 14,150 feet. Mark smiled and said, “good work”. Anders soon joined me and we smiled through our fatigue. We short-roped down through a tricky section onto the crater itself and we took our packs off and donned our parkas. We high-fived and took pics and video.

Dave said it was ok if we just stayed here but if we wanted to we could all walk across the crater and up the 260 feet to the true Summit. He said either was fine because in his mind we had made it. Anders and I had talked about this before and I just pointed at the Columbia Crest and the others all said let’s go.

We un-roped and left our packs and took our axes and walked across the crater—it was about 500 yards across. As the slope steepened on the other side I stopped to rest in the thin altitude for a few seconds. Mark urged me to keep going saying we did not have much time. We climbed up a rocky patch and Dave dug out the Park Service Summit Register that we all signed. I signed it “Randy Christofferson MIOGA”. We took some more pictures and Dave announced we were now official.

Of course we really weren’t as we still had a few hundred more feet to go to get to the true Summit. Dave said, “Should we finish this off?” No one said a thing but we all started slowly trudging up the final slope. It was one slow step after another. With each step the view became ever more beautiful with a full 360 degree panorama opening up. I saw Dave shake Anders had ahead of me and soon I joined them. We had summited Mount Rainier! I hugged Anders and said, “We did it!” It was 8 am, 6 and a half hours after we had left Muir, and some 22+ hours after leaving Paradise. I looked nervously out at another peak that looked even higher and wondered if we had to go further but Dave said that it was Liberty Cap which was actually a couple of hundred feet lower (Rainier has 3 distinct summits with the Columbia Crest where we now stood being the highest and official Summit at either 14,410 or 14,411 feet, depending on what source you read).

We stayed for about ten minutes enjoying the view and the sense of accomplishment. I was thrilled and very proud of Anders—what a fine and multi-talented young man he has become! We were all notably subdued—no dancing or overt celebrating as we still had a descent of 9 miles and 9,000 vertical feet in front of us. We took more pics and videos and soon it was time to go.

Day Four: Back to Camp Muir

We went fairly quickly down to the crater floor and across to where we had left our packs. There is a lot to explore on the Summit of Rainier including tunnels, wreckages of a plane crashe, various volcanic effects but we had none of that. I was very much in game-on mode wanting to get down as quickly and effectively as I could. I sensed it was going to be a tough sled down and I was a little apprehensive. The attitude of the team was all business.

We stripped down and hoisted our packs and climbed back up out of the crater and began the descent. We broke the climb up into 4 sections but on the way down we planned to consolidate the highest two sections into one—stopping just above the Ingraham.

It was great to have no more indecision. At this point the only thing that mattered was to get down safe and sound. I was pleased to find that descending, even on very steep terrain was both much easier and faster. My HR was under control and I began to look around a bit to see what I had missed on the way up. At one point, just below the High Break I clipped my crampons and fell to my knees on a pretty steep slope. I stopped right away and there was no damage done. Mark looked at me and asked what happened. I told him I lost focus and he told me to stay focused. No doubt he was right. But the truth was that I was now quite dehydrated and beginning to bonk a bit. My quads were beginning to tighten quite a bit and it was hard for me to constantly extend them down the slope and easily arrest my “controlled fall”. Instead, especially with the weight of the pack I tended to slam down from several inches above the snow surface. It was much more jarring than it needed to be and with the steep uneven terrain, difficult to always properly balance. When we would stop for several seconds, my legs began to vibrate and shake from the fatigue. I knew I was locked into a pretty tough fight for the next 4-6 hours and I wished I had done much more mountaineering specific training—especially walking downhill with a heavy pack. From this point on, my aerobic fitness was generally not an issue but my muscle strength, specifically in my quadriceps was. Anders for his part, while working very hard, was well within his comfort zone.

Eventually we made it down to the place we had stopped earlier above the DC at 12,300 feet. I was fairly thrashed at this point and basically out of water and with no appetite for anything solid. I knew the next 1200 feet of descent was the key barrier between a great trip and something worse. I was into positive self-talk and when Mark, Dave or Anders asked how I was doing I told them I was on it. I did so in a monotone and without my earlier enthusiasm—it was all I could muster.

We then dropped into the Ingraham Glacier just below the headwall. Revealed in all of its beauty and horror in the daylight I was amazed that we had been through this place just a few hours before. The upper glacier was riddled with many significant and a far greater number of lesser crevasses. Above, to the right, were massive seracs hanging ominously over a 50-60 degree headwall. Strewn all across the glacier were the remnants of recent and some cases, massive icefalls. Mark turned to me and said we had to move very quickly and effectively through this section. The sun was now beating down and I began to sweat as everything was heating up—amen to moving fast!

About halfway down, on a steep slope some 30 feet above a deep crevasse I made my worst mistake of the climb. I was very fatigued in my quadriceps and I moved my legs too close together as I down stepped at one point. This caused me to catch a crampon on my other leg and just like that I fell forward somewhat perpendicular to the fall line. Immediately and above me, Anders fell into a self-arrest position and I, at the same time was able to quickly control my fall. I stopped after sliding two or three feet. All was silent for a second and I said, “I’m fine and I’m sorry”. I felt embarrassed with such a mistake. Mark looked at me and said, “don’t do that again—what happened?” I agreed with him and basically said I lost focus and I wouldn’t let it happen again. The truth is that I was losing the ability to precisely control my down steps.

A ways further into the descent through the icefall, Mark reversed our rope structure and put Anders in the lead. This was, I think, due to two things. First, Anders was climbing exceptionally well and Mark had a lot of confidence in him. Second, while at the back of the rope, Mark was above me and could see me and more effectively set an anchor if I fell again. He probably thought this was a safer position. It was. That said, I was bringing 100% of my focus to make sure I didn’t fall again and in this regard I was successful.

At one point Anders told Mark that the route he wanted us to take wasn’t as good as one some 20 yards to his right. They discussed this for a minute or two while I gratefully sucked Os to try to get back to steady state. Eventually they decided that Anders was right and we successfully moved past yet another crevasse. We down climbed the ladder as we mostly retraced our earlier steps. At long last, about 10:30 am we were safely past the most dangerous part of our climb and in the Ingraham Flats. Here we digressed into a long and very interesting discussion on a wide range of mountaineering topics. The tension in my body just released and I had no doubt that while the rest of the climb was going to be demanding, I had more than enough to make it home. I loved our chat—especially because it allowed me to recover a bit. All my water was now gone and Dave made sure that I ate some of his sandwich. I did and a bit of an energy bar. We looked back up at the glacier above us and marveled at its massive chaos. I blew it by not taking a picture or some video here. Frankly I was too busy living it to remember to record it.

The final slog back to Muir was painful (on my quads), hot and wearying. I was sweating to death and Anders kept trying to get me to speed things up. I resisted because I felt if I went any faster then I would fall.

Finally, we made it back to Muir at 11:30—some 10 hours after we left. The other members of our team were here and they warmly greeted us. We made sure that they knew that we appreciated their decisions and reinforced that they had made the right calls. Anders said I was in post-triathlon mode when I wanted to talk to everybody about our shared experience. It was great but I only had an hour before we were to be off again for another 4700-foot descent to Paradise. I finally got all packed and stripped down to lighter layers. I wish I had more time to eat and hydrate but at this time I was content to focus on just getting the climb over.

Day Four: Back to Base Camp

We prosecuted the slog down to Paradise in two lengthy sections. The first from 10,080 to 7,500 feet and the second to the parking lot at 5,400 feet. Soon after we left Muir the clouds closed around us and we were in white out conditions. I found that I was now one of the slower people on our team as everyone on the team was either younger than me or had had done considerably less climbing today. We were pushing straight downhill in slushy deep snow with our trekking poles but no crampons. With every step you slid several inches and the task became one of controlling the slide without tumbling over with the full 60-pound pack I was now carrying.

In a few places we actually got to glissade down short hills on our seats, but it hardly seemed worth it, as then I would have to struggle to my feet with my full pack on. Right before the final break my glasses were so badly fogged and the clouds were so think and moist I could barely see anything.

At the rest stop I switched over to my amber ski goggles and everything was much better as I could see again. It was very tiring and monotonous trudging but finally we reached the parking lot at 3:30. After 30 hours, we had successfully summited Rainier and returned safely to the base of the mountain.

Conclusion

We endured an up beat but fatigued 40 minute ride in the van back to base camp. We unloaded and Anders and I each took a much-needed shower. We finally sent e-mails and called Judy to tell folks we were safe. We had to cut it short, as we had to meet with the group. We reassembled as a team and Anders and I received our certificates documenting our successful Summits. I felt so proud of both Anders and my efforts and performance. We said our goodbyes and promised to stay in-touch (now as I write this its two days latter I have already sent the team a bunch of photos with more to come).

Anders and I hit the Base Camp Grill and now feeling very hungry each ordered our own very large pizza. We also grabbed a pitcher of draft Sierra Nevada—we were in heaven. Jared came by and chatted with us for away. Soon some scruffy local climbing dudes came in and we gave them our pizzas as we could only each eat a slice and a half or so. We talked about our climb and all the other possibilities that this earth provides. I think both Anders and I felt proud that we could now legitimately say we were Mountaineers.

I’m not sure where this all goes now. I’d like to climb again but obviously I’ll need to do a better job at preparation. I will not do something as tough as Rainier again without a lot more, highly specific training. I was strong enough to get the job done but I definitely will want a lot more fitness cushion if there is a next time. There are a lot of great mountains to climb and trails to trek in the world and most of them are far easier than Rainier. I’d like to climb some of them—hopefully with Judy and other friends and family. That said, there is a certain mountain in South America that has caught my eye—and the good thing about that one is that it’s far less technical than Rainier (although it is a little bit higher!).

It was awesome to “ride” again with my adventure buddy Anders and we once again helped and encouraged each other to achieve a pretty significant objective. I learned and confirmed a lot about my self and my inner will and courage to get the task in front of me done—no matter how tough. It is a privilege to be able to receive such a lesson.

I am lastly most thankful for the support of my wife and family. This was not an easy one for Judy or them. In a lot of ways this thing that Anders and I just completed did not make sense. But they stuck with us and sharing the struggles and joys of this adventure is very sweet indeed. I arrived home last night (Sunday the 7th) at 8 pm and ended up staying up to 5 am writing much of this history and creating a slide show of our trip. Judy came down at 2 am wondering where I was and we ended up watching the slide show and talking until 5 am. Much that she heard was unsettling but I think she sensed how much this experienced energized me.

Life is great—thanks for reading!

rc

6/8/9

Pocomoke Sprint Race Report

2009-06-10T06:43:00.000-07:00

Pocomoke Sprint Triathlon
Race Report # 6: May 30th, 2009

Background

After the decidedly unsatisfactory results of the week before at Hammonton, I headed down to the eastern shore of Maryland looking for a little redemption, or at the very least a bit of a rebound. I had heard good things about this small, old school triathlon run by the folks at the Pocomoke YMCA.

After registering and driving the course late Friday afternoon (my father’s 75th birthday), I made my way 20 miles south to my hotel on Chincoteague Island. I dropped my gear off and headed across the short bridge to Assateague Island hoping to see the famous wild horses. I did not succeed in that endeavor but did manage to see quite a few of an apparently endangered type of squirrel during a very pleasant run.

It was absolutely beautiful out and I was feeling considerably better than the week before. I felt ready for a good race. I grabbed some pasta, which I ate back in my hotel room. I watched a spectacularly violent storm sweep across the bay in front of my hotel and repaired to bed early.

I awoke at 5 am to a power outage but was able to get everything down in the car and I was on my way back north to the race site by 5:45, having scarfted down my pre-race PB&J and banana. The weather had cleared after the storm and it looked like a good day for racing.

The Swim

Exactly 300 people started the swim separated into 5 waves. I started in wave 4, six minutes after the first wave. I was to learn latter that there were 17 people in my AG. I only knew about the 9 of them who had pre-registered and was mostly concerned with one competitor, Bob Huber, Sr.. He looked like a pretty good triathlete who ran sub 19 5Ks in open road races. Coincidently, he had showed up at Registration the same time as me so I knew what he looked like. He seemed to also perk-up when he heard my name—perhaps the race was on! As for the others, I really didn’t know who they were and since there was no body marking, I had no way of identifying them out on the course. It was going to be a tactically blind race.

The swim was advertised as a half-mile in small spring fed pound. It was shallow, murky and surprisingly warm—76 degrees. I found my full wetsuit a bit uncomfortable by the end of the swim. I started to the right side, away from the buoy line once again. I was over by Rick Brokaw a good buddy of mine whom I’ve raced with many times (I’ve only beaten him once—at White Lake in 2007). I swam nice and steady and stayed out of trouble in what was a crowded swim. With only 2 minutes between waves we soon began to weave through a ton of slow, breast and backstroking stragglers from the waves in front of us. This required a lot of heads-up swimming and course changes. I seemed to do this pretty well.

I kept my HR under control and felt pretty good about the swim. That said I had only been in the pool 3 times in 15 days due to my Australia trip so I suspected I was going to be quite slow. After climbing up on a little Island and jumping back in, I hit the beach in 11:18 for what was clearly a short swim (probably something like 0.4 miles). My HR averaged 155bpm, so I worked pretty hard. After the race I was not surprised to find that I was 70th OA (77th %-tile) and 4th in my AG (82.4 %-tile). This is really not that bad considering everything. My swim fitness is declining with my estrangement from the pool and it’s likely to get worse with the Rainier Expedition this coming week. I’ll have to put some significant time in when I return from Rainier to get back some decent swim fitness. Here is where we stood after the swim:

1. Graham ----------
2. Horsey + 0:50
3. McGagahin + 1:32
4. Christofferson + 1:35

The good news was that I had opened up a 55 second lead on Huber. The bad news was Douglas Graham, whom I never saw during the race, who turns out to be a very experienced and accomplished triathlete who just aged up into my AG, was way out in front. As it turns out he has posted some impressive IM times and has qualified for Hawaii where he did very well.

Transition One

The transition involved a modest run across a grass field (during which I passed a lot people) to the racks where I had secured the prime position (having been the first to arrive at the race site). I felt pretty slow in transition but eventually got everything off and out on my bike. My T1 split was 1:34 and my HR averaged 169 bpm—I was definitely pushing it! As it turned out I had the fastest T1 in my AG and was 26th OA (91.7 %-tile). All in all, an excellent T1 for me! Here is where we stood:

1. Graham ---------
2. Christofferson + 1:24
3. Horsey + 1:48
4. Paul + 2:20

The Bike

After the initial pass through the gravel parking lot of the local Elk’s Club, the bike was contested on basically flat but in a lot of places, twisty and winding backcountry roads. The course was fun, a bit like a video game and in marked contrast to last week, I felt pretty good right from the start. I was seeing a lot of 240-260s in terms of power and early on a lot of 25-27 mph. I suspected there was a westerly tail wind in the first part of the course (which makes sense given the front that went through the night before) as it didn’t seem I should be that fast.

I passed a ton of people but of-course had no real sense of where I stood. I felt pretty positive and was able to keep good pedal pressure all the way through to the finish. I dismounted the 14.3-mile course (which is what they advertised) in 36:55, which works out to 23.2 mph. The back half of the ride was definitely impacted by a solid head wind. More importantly was my power, which ended up averaging 242 watts with an 83 average rpm. While, this shows my lack of fitness, it clearly is a return to current form and I was definitely very pleased with the ride. My HR averaged 164 bpm, so I clearly gave a good honest effort.

Shockingly, I was out split on the bike for the second week in a row, although this week it was just 2 seconds (I was 17th OA or 94.7 %-tile). Graham was the real deal and proving to be too much for me. If I was in the prior couple of year’s form I might have been able to open up a bit of lead on him but it would take a lot more fitness and a perfect race for me to beat him. The good news is I put a lot of time on everybody else and entered T2 in a strong position:

1. Graham ---------
2. Christofferson + 1:26
3. Huber + 7:58
4. Horsey + 8:24

Transition Two

I efficiently dismounted and sped through transition feeling very satisfied with my ride and on top of my game. My T2 split out at 0:58 and my HR averaged 164. Graham was two seconds faster so I had the second fastest T2 in my AG. OA I was 43rd or 86 %-tile. While I was now racing for second, I did manage to build a little more cushion on my pursuers:

1. Graham ---------
2. Christofferson + 1:28
3. Huber + 8:30
4. Horsey + 9:05

The Run

The run course first traversed an open field for about 500 yards and then we made a left turn onto a quite flat out and back paved course. I felt pretty descent—certainly as good as I would expect with my current run fitness.

I motored along for a while and hit what looked like the 1st mile at 7:37. The lead runners started coming the other way and I looked carefully for anyone that might be in my AG but saw no one (I’m still not sure what Graham looks like as he did not show at the awards ceremony). I saw Mark Facciani laying down the 2nd best run split (!!!!!—way to go bud!) on his way to an impressive overall win. I hit the turnaround around 11:50 and I began to think the run was probably short of its advertised 3.5-mile distance (or else somehow I was now running 6:45s!).

I saw Huber a bit after the turnaround and figured I was about 4 minutes ahead or so—more than enough—I settled into a nice groove and chugged home towards the finish. I was passed by a guy who looked like he could be in my AG (turns out he was 45) about 800 yards from the end and I hung with him and then re-passed him. I tried to pull away but when we hit the open field he turned it on and I had no answer. I smoothed it home with a 23:37 split and average HR of 170 bpm—again, a good solid effort. I ended up with the 4th fastest run split in the AG (82.4 %-tile) and 64th OA (79 %-tile).

This was good enough for 2nd, about 7 minutes behind Graham and 3:21 in front of Huber. I finished 24th OA (92.3 %-tile). This was my highest OA %-tile of the season to date. I felt great about my race—like I did everything I could and that even if I had been in the best shape of my tri career I still would have finished 2nd.

So I have this to build on as I turn my attention away from the triathlon world for a while. On Wednesday I meet Anders in Seattle for our prime objective for the year: summiting Mount Rainier. I am hopeful but as a novice I don’t know quite what to expect. I’m sure it will be a memorable experience!

Hammonton Sprint Race Report

2009-06-04T19:42:00.000-07:00

Hammonton Sprint Triathlon
Race Report #5: May 23rd, 2009

Background

I returned to Hammonton for the 4th time in my race career on a 4 race AG win streak but suffering no illusions about my fitness level. I had been somewhat lucky to grab four victories but this week I was up against my old pal Mickey Syrop who is quite an accomplished and experienced triathlete. We have raced many times together and over the last few years I have been getting the better of our competitions. Last year I was able to beat Mick by 2:10, which is about 3.4%. I’ve estimated that I’m about 5-7% slower this year with my lower key focus on training so I thought it would be close. Historically at Hammonton, I’ve won my AG both times I raced as an individual and also won in a relay (the only one I’ve ever done) with Judy, nine days after I separated my shoulder in 2005.

The swim is in a small murky pond and generally is fairly close to the advertised quarter mile. The bike I’ve repeatedly measured as 12.7+ miles is a straightforward out and back (with seven turns) and a couple of shortish hills. It usually has a head wind on the way back and for some reason has never been a particularly fast course. The run used to be on trails but now is an out and back mostly on pavement, although the first 400 yards are so are on a dirt path in the park where the race is held. I’ve not measured it but I believe it to be short of 5k—probably just 3 miles.

Race morning was beautiful—cool and clear and it didn’t seem like the wind was going to be much of a factor. I got up early and found myself the first to arrive and racked my bike in a prime spot in the newly positioned transition area (more on that latter). During warm-ups I felt very tired and sluggish. I hadn’t felt that great since returning from Australia earlier in the week and I was wondering if perhaps all of my recent travel had finally caught up with me. I got reacquainted with the NJ gang and soon we were all ready for the 7:45 am start.

The Swim

Once again us old farts went off in the last wave. I had 11 guys in my AG and in total 254 triathletes would start (there were also 52 duathletes). These numbers were comparable to last year (238 total and 12 in my AG).

I started way to the right, off the buoy line as I am generally of a wimpy orientation these days on my swim. Mick was to my left and as we started he readily swam away from me. I thought I did a pretty good job tactically throughout the swim and reached the turn buoy clean enough. I was constantly aware of the high-end “cap” on my swim fitness and I was on guard against going too anaerobic, even for this short distance. Last year, I had out swum Mickey (for the only time in my career) by 5 seconds and I knew this year was going to be different. I was hoping to limit the damage to 20-30 seconds.

I exited the water in 7:23 versus a time of 7:10 last year. I can’t report on my HR as I left my monitor home (not on my “A” game I guess). Competitively, I was 24 seconds behind Mick and a lackluster 5th out of 11 in my AG (versus 2nd last year) and 55th OA (78.7%-tile) vs. 36th LY (85.3 5-tile). Obviously, a significant fall-off from last year but really about what I expected coming into the race. The standings after the swim:

1. Grout --------
2. Syrop + 0:40
3. Kovar + 0:56
4. Stedman + 1:00
5. Christofferson + 1:04

Transition One

As I mentioned above, the transition area was moved further away from the swim exit this year due to construction. As a result I knew that T1s where going to be slower and that the bike was going to be a bit shorter. I estimate the additional run involved with this new set-up to be about 500 feet or so or about a tenth of a mile. As a consequence (at least in part) my T1 was 2:16 this year vs. 1:39 last year. This was 45th OA (vs. 35th LY) and it was second only to Mick in our AG (same as LY).

Mick has excellent transitions and last year I was somewhat pleased to only lose 21 seconds to Mick. This year I lost 25 seconds and rather than being just 16 seconds behind Mick, I was now 49 seconds behind. As I was doing my thing in T1 I saw Mick leave transition and glanced at my watch. As I left T1 I glanced again and correctly concluded that I was about 45 seconds behind him. I knew I had my work cut out for me. Here is where we stood after T1:

1. Syrop --------
2. Grout + 0:16
3. Christofferson + 0:46
4. Stedman + 1:39

The Bike

The bike is like my “Hail-Mary” play in football. Invariably, if I am to win my AG in a tri I need to both make up a swim deficit and build a big enough cushion to hold off stronger runners. In fact, of my 21 AG wins, I have always posted the fastest bike split. I knew this as I started trying to erase the Mickster’s lead. Last year I was 3:33 faster than Mick and that was more than sufficient to wrap up the win for me. I figured that Mick could be as much as 2 minutes faster than me this year on the run so I worked out that I had to put 2:45-3:00 on him on the bike this year to have a decent chance to win. This works out to 14-15 seconds per mile, so I knew I probably needed to catch Mick by mile 3 or so.

I quickly put it into the hurt zone—I don’t know what my HR was but I was pushing it. My speed seemed pretty good but every time I looked at my SRM I was seeing numbers in the 200-240 range, not the 230-270 watts I would have expected. This did not seem right but every time I pushed my wattage up into the anticipated range my legs revolted. I began to think something was a bit off on this day.

As I approached mile 3 I saw no sign of Mick and I hit the average switch on my SRM and saw just 215 watts and 77 rpm. Early in a race these averages tend to be a little understated due to the time one spends getting mounted and up to speed. Over time and distance that effect is minimized (and I can correct for it for the purposes of these reports) but I definitely knew I was in a great deal of trouble. Soon, I could tell we were approaching the blueberry factory where the turnaround is and I still hadn’t caught Mick. Finally I did, just short of 6 miles and to add insult to injury, several seconds latter Mick came back on me to pass with a big smile on his face—he knew I was in trouble as well. My ego kicked in and I surged ahead and managed to open up about a 5 second lead at the turnaround. Given I had averaged about 7 second faster miles than Mick at this point, I projected about a 45 second lead after the bike. This combined with Mick’s faster transition skills led to the inevitable conclusion that I was cooked.

I felt very sluggish—no zip in my legs. I could not generate the leg speed to spin at my target 85 rpm in the correct gearing and my wattage remained mired just below 220 watts. I frankly considered sitting up and just soft-pedaling in because I knew I was having a very bad ride. I rejected this notion as I felt I owned it to Mickey to give it my very best shot.

I kept trying to push it all the way back—in fact I’d rate my level of effort as a fair bit stronger on the way home—but my low power output would not change. At one point, around 10 miles I passed another guy in our AG and I was momentarily stunned—“wow I’m having an incredibly bad day and may not even finish in the top 3”. However, I correctly surmised that he was a duathlete and I choose to ignore him.

The wind, what little there was, must have been a crosswind. As a result, the bike was much faster this year and combined with a measured distance of 12.6 miles (vs. 12.7 miles) most competitors registered faster bike splits. For example, this year Mick achieved a 34:06 split versus a 35:35 last year. I also was faster, though only by 7 seconds, as I finished the bike with a split of 31:55. This works out to a respectable 23.7 mph (over 12.6 measured miles) and represents a course record for me but the power data shows how misleading speed is as an indicator of performance from year to year (due to changes in conditions and the course). Last year I averaged 254 watts (and wasn’t happy about it) and this year I barely managed 220 watts. My cadence was just 79 rpm.

This power information is worth analyzing a bit. My three races this year (not counting the off-road tri) had the following power outputs:

Smithfield: 253 watts over 9.9 miles
Bumpass: 241 watts over 12.5 miles
Devilman: 244 watts over 21.2 miles

Even with my current fitness level I should have been able to average 245-250 watts today. This 25-30 watt shortfall means I rode with 11-14% less power output than I was capable of. This means my average speed was from 5.5 to 6.6 % slower and my bike time was some where between 1:45 and 2:05 slower than it should have been. These are huge numbers, especially when considered from the competitive context.

As it turned out I was able to put 2:07 on Mickey in this bike leg (vs. 3:33 LY and 3:52-4:22 as calculated above). Thus I entered T2 with just a 1:18 lead (vs. a more comfortable 3:03-3:23) and given the current state of my run, that wasn’t good enough. Compared to the field, last year I was 9th OA (96.6 %-tile) and this year I slipped to 15th (94.5 %-tile…. the 9th place guy this year was 1:06 faster than me). More significantly, I did not have the fastest bike split in my AG. A fellow named Steve Meddaugh easily out split me as he put 49 seconds into me on the bike.

This was without question, my poorest bike split of my triathlon career. I am hopeful that it is not indicative of my new fitness levels but rather represents an off day, probably as a result of my trip to Australia and the jet lag. Time will tell. In any event, here is how we stood after the bike:

1. Christofferson ---------
2. Syrop + 1:18
3. Meddaugh + 1:55
4. Grout + 2:49

Transition Two

I thought I did a pretty decent job in T2 clocking 1:05, vs. 1:09 last year (though it’s hard to compare the two years). I was 40th OA vs. 75th last year and was 2nd to Mick by 6 seconds (versus 12 LY). As I ran out onto the course I glanced back into transition and I could see Mick storming in—I new it was very likely I would be caught. Meddaugh, by the way did a horrible job in transition losing 37 seconds in T1 to Mick. This combined with the 1:30 he lost in T2 effectively threw the race away for him. He easily would have beaten both Mick and I with halfway decent transitions. Here is where we stood after T2:

1. Christofferson --------
2. Syrop + 1:12
3. Meddaugh + 2:26

The Run

The run was more of the same. My legs were completely fried. I tried to push it on the off chance Mick was having a bad run. I hit the turn and saw I was about 30 seconds or so ahead of him—not good enough. Little than either Mick or I know, Meddaugh was gaining on us both. With about a mile to go the inevitable happened and Mick assumed his rightful place in the lead. I backed off a bit now as I knew I wasn’t coming back and I assumed 2nd was mine. Shortly there after Meddaugh steamed past me although I didn’t know it at the time.

I pushed through to the end and ended up with a 22:22 run split. This compares to the 21:15 I did last year and equates to a 7:27/mile average—yuck! I was 6th in the AG (vs. 2nd LY) and 94th OA vs. 60th. I ended up losing to Mick by 47 seconds and to Meddaugh by 23 seconds. My unlikely short-course winning streak was over at eight races.

I finished at 1:04:59, which is only 1:42 slower than 2008 (and almost 4 minutes faster than 2004), which on the surface doesn’t seem that bad. I was in 34th place versus 21st LY. However, the above narrative tells the real story. It’s clear I have a lot of fitness to regain and I’ll need to bounce back to more normal standards in my race next week!

Mount Kosciuszko Summit Day

2009-05-18T20:50:00.000-07:00

Mount Kosciuszko Summit Day
May 12th, 2009

Background

A trip down to Australia to visit Jenny afforded me the opportunity to climb the first mountain of my fledgling mountaineering career, Mount Kosciuszko (“Kozi”). At 2,228 meters (7,310 feet), Mount Kosciuszko is the highest mountain on mainland Australia. It achieved a great deal of notoriety when Dick Bass climbed it and after climbing Everest in 1985 he became the first person to climb the “Seven Summits”. These notionally being the highest peaks on each of the seven continents.

Bass defined the Seven Summits as:

Asia: Everest
South America Aconcagua
North America McKinley or Denali
Europe Elbrus
Africa Kilimanjaro
Antarctica Vinson
Australia Kosciuszko

In 1986, a Canadian named Patrick Morrow claimed that the Seven Summits should not include Kosciuszko but rather Puncack Jaya (Carstenz Pyramid), which is a much taller and more formidable mountain. Patrick reasoned that the continent defined as Australia was really Australia/Oceania, which included a great number of Pacific Islands including New Guinea where Jaya resides. (This would also include Hawaii). Of-course New Guinea is a part of Indonesia, which is part of Asia and it’s really an island—not a continent as defined by most geographers. There are other disputes as well. Elbrus, in the Caucasus range of Russia technically falls within the European side of the traditional boundary line (which is arbitrary) between Europe and Asia but most people think of the Caucasus as being Middle Eastern as opposed to European. Many therefore argue that Mount Blanc should be considered the tallest peak in Europe. In any event, approximately 200 people have climbed some version of the Seven Summits to date.

I have nothing to add to the debate but take comfort in the fact that I am following in the footsteps of the fellow who first coined the term “Seven Summits”. The concept is probably not material to me anyways as it is doubtful I try to climb them all, or any more of them for that matter. What is clear on this fine day in the Aussie fall is that my goal was to climb the highest peak in the great nation of Australia.

Kozi was “discovered” and named by a famous Polish explorer, Count Paul Edmund Strzelecki in 1840. Strzelecki named it in honor of General Tadeusz Kosciuszko, a truly great Polish (and American) patriot and freedom fighter. Strzelecki said: “(…) that, although in a foreign country, on foreign ground, but amongst a free people, who appreciate freedom and its votaries, I could not refrain from giving it the name of Mt Kosciusko.” Strzelecki actually misspelled ol’ Tadeusz’ name and the “z” was added in 1997. The mountain is pronounced in two different ways. The Polish pronunciation is “Kosk-choosh-ko” but the Aussie’s prefer “Kozi-os-ko”. We’ll call her Kozi for short.

While Kozi may not be the highest of mountains, it is one of the oldest with rocks dating more than 450 million years old. There are no technical aspects to the climb and in fact some 30,000 people make it to the summit each year—thankfully most of them between November and February. Strzelecki described his summit day as: ”I followed the windings of the valley (the Murray) for about 70 miles to the foot of the highest protuberance of the Australian Alps, which it was my object to ascend and examine. The steepness of the numberless ridges, intersected by gullies and torrents, rendered this ascent a matter of no small difficulty, which was not a little increased by the weight of the instruments, which, for safety, I carried on my back. Once on the crest of the range, the remainder of the ascent to its highest pinnacle was accomplished with comparative ease. On the 15th February, about noon, I found myself on the elevation of 6510 feet above the level of the sea, seated on perpetual snow.” Most folks today would quibble with his description of the difficulty and we now know that the mountain is considerably higher than he measured it as.

The Climb

Judy, Kara and I flew into Sydney from Philadelphia, the day before my summit day. We traveled down to Wollongong, which is about 80 km south of Sydney. Jenny is spending the semester studying at the University there we had a nice reunion after having not seen her for three months or so. The plan was for me to head south to the town of Thredbo and bag the summit and return to Wollongong all on the next day. We were then going into Sydney to explore and visit for four more days. We had a nice meal with Jenny and ten of her friends and then retired early due to a touch of jet lag.

I awoke at 1:45 am and decided to just get up and start the adventure. The drive is about 470 km south and I was able to leave at 2:25 am. Most of my drive was in the dark but finally the sun came up and I was able to see the last 100 km or so. I reached the park around 7:45 am and drove the final 30 km up to the base of the mountain. Along the way I saw a couple of Kangaroos and stopped and took their pic.

As I neared the base of the mountain I was struck by how big it was and the fact that there seemed to be a lot of snow up there. I parked my car in the Thredbo ski village parking lot and changed into my climbing gear. I headed over and chatted with the ski-lift operator and got the lay of the land from him. He told me in was very icy and slippery up on top and that yesterday someone had slipped and broke his wrist. I showed him my gear and he commented that it looked like I knew what I was doing and that I shouldn’t have any trouble. (One of the benefits of having the right equipment!).

At 9 am I boarded the first chair lift. For environmental reasons, the Park authorities require you to take the lift to avoid the sensitive bogs in the lower part of the mountain. This probably cut out about an hour of muddy climbing. At the top of the lift I was on my own and promptly headed off to the summit.

The first 2.5 km up to the Kosciuszko Lookout was very easy climbing, mostly over a rocky path and then over a steel mesh that has been erected to protect the vegetation. In places the path was covered in snow but I was able to climb very easily with my climbing poles and my normal climbing boots. When I reached the Lookout, I could see a great deal of the path leading to the summit, which was obscured by a large cloud formation. Streaming off the down-wind side of the summit was a mass of rapidly moving clouds—I could tell it was going to be cold and windy on the summit.

I snapped a couple of pics and took a little video and headed for the summit. I was completely alone amid the rocks, streams and snow. It was probably a degree or two below zero (Celsius) but with the sun peaking in and out and the work of the climb I felt very comfortable despite my modest clothing (I carried my down jacket in my backpack). I absolutely loved this climb and could see falling in love with this sport (at least the modest challenge posed by a trek like this one).

As I ascended the weather deteriorated rapidly. The wind was blowing at 30+ mph and I was completely engulfed in the clouds and fog. Visibility was probably only a few 100 meters but the path was pretty straightforward. It did not snow but there was a lot of moisture and some ice began to form on my hat and exposed hair.

I kept trekking along and very soon reach Rawson’s Pass, which is where the trail from Thredbo meets the trail from Charlotte’s Pass (which is an alternative path to the summit). Here I was a scant 1000 meters from the summit. The trail wound all the way around the mountain and as I climbed on the western and southern sides of the peak the wind really blasted me.

Soon enough I was able to discern the small pillar at the summit about 50 meters ahead. I climbed the last few steps into a 40-mph+ wind and then there I was, the tallest person in Australia! I took quite a few pics and some video and I had the summit to myself for 15 minutes or so. Soon a fellow named Stu (a transplanted American who lives in
Sydney) joined me and we took each other’s summit pictures.

After another 5 minutes or so we decided to head down together and we walked all the way down to the top of the chairlift. We had a great conversation. He was quite the mountaineer with climbs at Denali, Kilimanjaro and all over the Alps and the Himalaya. He is 52 and aspires to be a Triathlete but he has a very bad knee. We had much to discuss and the climb down passed quickly.

We rode the lift down together, exchanged information and bid goodbye to each other. The entire climb, excluding the lifts took four hours.

I hopped in the car and drove back to Wollongong. It was great to see the landscape, which was quite striking, especially north of Canberra. At one point I pulled along side a filed that had literally 1000s of kangaroos. Later, I stopped and pulled over and sat on my car and marveled at the spectacular stars in the dark cloudless night. I reached our hotel around 8, a little tired but thoroughly pumped from my most excellent adventure!