Solo Christmas climb of Mt. Hood

Much like last year at this time, I spent my Christmas vacation in Portland, OR. This time I was more determined to summit 11,249-foot Mt. Hood. While it's not a super tall mountain, the final climb to the summit ridge is quite technical, especially with the conditions I faced. Frankly, I feel lucky to have made it up and back without injuring myself; I would recommend against anybody attempting this climb by themselves, at least if conditions are like what I found. In terms of ranking its difficulty, it's kind of a tie for second with Granite Peak, MT; Granite was longer, and my legs hurt a lot more the next day, but I think the crux move on Hood was more technically challenging than anything on Granite. Fortunately I survived to tell the tale, and I get to end 2013 with 40 state highpoints, 80% complete.

Holiday Note

December 2013

     Happy Holidays! I hope this note finds you well. I am quite well. In fact, 2013 was such an amazing year, there's no way I can talk about it without sounding like I'm bragging. So, fair warning, I'm going to go ahead and brag about my adventures this year.

     Climbing 20,320-foot Denali, aka Mt. McKinley, in Alaska in June and July was an incredible experience. The first thing you notice is the immense scale, which is unlike anything I've ever experienced; on a clear day, the mountain can be seen from more than a hundred miles away. Our team of 10 (7 clients and 3 guides) spent a total of 20 days on the mountain, the entire time on snow and ice devoid of permanent life (other than the climbers and rangers, the only living things above microscopic size were a few birds scavenging). Much of the time was spent as part of the acclimatization process (having flown in on a bush plane to 7,200 feet elevation) and weather delays. The trip was a study of extremes: From roasting heat in the sun at lower elevations to sub-zero wind chill at the summit; From some of the most relaxing days I've had in ages (designated rest days) to some of the most physically demanding, hauling 100 pounds of gear; From the boredom of a weather day after having exhausted my reading materials to the heart-pounding excitement of walking on a narrow ridge with thousand-foot dropoffs to either side. To great amazement, all 10 of us stood at the highest point in North America on July 5.

     Returning to the real world (after having to wait at the air strip 26 hours for our flight back) was absolutely surreal. First it was the smells: After so much time in a nearly sterile environment, everything smelled quite strongly. Perhaps even more bizarre was that the town of Talkeetna is a tourist destination, popular with cruise-goers; to go from only seeing climbers to seeing mostly tourists was mind-boggling. After weeks without fresh food, I was nearly as eager for a green salad as I was for a juicy steak. It's a good thing Anchorage is a laid-back city, nobody seemed to mind that the only clean clothes I had were shorts and a t-shirt I bought in town (and flip-flops, as I didn't want to put shoes on after killing my big toenails on the descent).

     Denali was by far the biggest, but not my only mountain experience this year. In February I spent a week doing technical training at 10,000 feet on Mt. Rainier. Conditions were harsh, starting with a 24-hour snow storm, and below-freezing temperatures most of the time; at least we had a hut for shelter, even if it wasn't heated or entirely weathertight. In August I climbed the highest peak in Montana (Granite Peak), nearly as physically challenging as Denali, but only for 2 days. Granite Peak was actually the last state highpoint to have a recorded ascent, in 1923. In September I returned to Mt. Rainier, mainly because I had never been to the very highest point (we didn't get anywhere near the summit in February, and while I did get to the summit crater in 2009, I did not continue to Columbia Crest, another 100 feet higher). I was glad to remove that asterisk from my "résumé." It's more of a hill, but in September I went to the highest point in Illinois for state highpoint #39. Later this month I'm going to Portland, OR, hoping to bag Mt. Hood to end the year with a nice even 40.

     In May, I raced in Ironman Texas, my second full-distance triathlon (2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike, 26.2-mile run), in The Woodlands, just outside of Houston. While the heat did its best to beat me down, I did manage to improve on my time from last year in Louisville, finishing in a little under 15 hours. Not only was it in the 90s that day, but it had been a relatively cool spring until race week, so I wasn't prepared for that kind of temperature. To compound the sun's scorching rays, I didn't take adequate steps to mitigate the heat; I got very overheated on the bike, and it took the first half of the marathon to get under control with ice and drinks (the sun setting helped). Even that was insufficient; after finishing I needed 5 liters of saline at the medical tent.
     This year I also set new personal records in the half and full marathon distances running, and the half Ironman distance in triathlon. As a full-blown racing addict, I did many other events and distances through the year, seemingly every weekend I wasn't climbing a mountain.

     I got a little more serious about stair racing this year, even joining up with a group of fanatics from around the country. I met some of the team at races in Houston, Austin, and Dallas, and many more at the "granddaddy"- the race to the 103rd floor of Chicago's Willis Tower (still commonly known as the Sears Tower). With two second-place finishes (in Austin and Houston), I ended the year ranked 27th in the US by stairsport.com, and 146th in the world on towerrunning.com. It's almost impossible to say for sure, but I'm claiming to be the first person to climb a 6000-meter peak, finish an Ironman, and be ranked in the top 50 in the US for stair racing in the same year. What that says to me is I'm at least mediocre at several things (and I have free time).

     As much travel as I did for mountain climbing and racing, the only "leisure" travel I did was over Thanksgiving (other than the trip to the Illinois highpoint, that was calm compared to other trips). I flew to Virginia and finally saw the house my parents moved to a year ago; after some time there, we all drove up to New York to where we have been having Thanksgiving dinner regularly for over 20 years. Unfortunately this year was something of a memorial to one of our longtime hosts, artist Jack Beal, who passed away earlier this year.
     I would be remiss if I didn't give credit and thanks to the many people that made such a great year possible. To the many athlete friends who push me in training and in races, and especially my coaches. To the folks who made donations to the charities my racing helps support. To my aunt and uncle for their hospitality while I was in Montana (particularly when I could barely walk after the climb). To the great climbing guides and climbing partners. To the many strangers who helped, especially the scores of race volunteers. To so many Facebook friends for their encouragement, kudos, and 'like's. And of course to my parents, who followed all my adventures with great anticipation, and surely more than a little concern. Thank you all!
     I have no intention of slowing down in 2014. The calendar is filling up quickly with things, including the New Orleans Marathon February 2nd, a climb of Mexico's tallest mountain (Orizaba) 2 weeks later, Galveston half Ironman in April, Ironman Coeur d'Alene (Idaho) in June, and Ironman Wisconsin (Madison) in September.

Season's Greetings,
Michael

PS if you're into social media, feel free to follow my blog, Facebook, twitter, and Instagram @mldarm.

Austin Beer Mile / Natural Bridge Caverns Duathlon

Last Saturday, hours after flying back from spending Thanksgiving with my parents, I participated in the Austin Beer Mile for my second time, and it went much better than the first. Today, I raced in the Natural Bridge Caverns Duathlon. The past two years, I won my age group in the "Woolly Mammoth" division. This year, since I age grouped up, I decided to up the distance to the "T-Rex" division (5 mile run/15 mile bike/5 mile run). I am quite pleased to have once again come away with the age group win, and fifth overall. The field was smaller this year than last, due to frigid temperatures, hovering around freezing, with 20 T-Rexers.

Kerrville 70.3

On September 29, I completed my fifth half-distance triathlon, for the first time repeating a race, at the Kerrville Triathlon Festival. Even though I shaved more than eight minutes off my personal record for the 70.3 distance (set at this race last year), frankly I left disappointed. I was really hoping for a run split close to two hours, so I felt a 2:15 was a poor showing, considering the weather was about ideal for a great race. After a new PR for a 1.2-mile swim and a reasonable (but not exceptional) bike ride, I had high hopes. But they were dashed by quads that didn't want to run up a small hill and a stomach that didn't want to absorb any more water. After some time for reflection, however, a 5:45:28 really isn't a bad time; on the plus side, it makes it a little easier to beat next time.

SkyRise Chicago

This morning was my second time racing SkyRise Chicago, up to the 103rd floor of the Willis Tower (formerly, and still generally known as the Sears Tower). I felt like my pacing was a little better with more experience, but my time was 3 seconds slower than last year, 19:50. I was really hoping to be closer to 19, so I was kind of disappointed. But with the kind of views you get from the SkyDeck, and to be able to hang out with old and new friends, it was a pretty nice weekend overall in Chicago. As a minor consolation, my finish position improved from 81 to 75; some of the fast people sat this year out, I guess.
The biggest difference this year from last is that I have joined the West Coast Labels/X-Gym stair racing team, probably the only national stair racing team in the US. In addition to meeting a bunch of people I previously only knew through Facebook, we got together last night for dinner. I'm pretty sure the top three, and most of the top ten, men today were there, as well as some very fast women. Mark, the team captain, even got some of the guys who came over from Germany to show up for dinner.
I actually slept pretty well last night, other than waking up numerous times. The extra hour thanks to daylight time ending was nice for some extra winks. I woke up about 5, went for a warmup jog (not as long as Dallas two weeks ago, not sure the effect), and picked up some sugar for breakfast on my way back to the hotel. I ate my muffin and walked over to Willis. Breakfast was not sitting well at first, but fortunately it resolved itself before the race started at 7am. As the "elite" wave was assembling itself at the start, people were talking times, and I seriously felt like I was in the wrong line- the people around me were saying 16, 17 minutes. I let a lot of people go ahead of me once the line started moving, until the folks looked closer to my pace. They were sending one person every 6-7 seconds, so it was about 7:03 when I started.
My vague plan was to go at a sort-of quick pace for the first 40 stories, take it easier until 80, then pick up the pace for a solid finish. Hardly a winning strategy, but I thought it could work for me. Other than slowing down for a sip of water at 24, I pretty much followed that plan. I was doing two steps at a time, pulling up on the railing with both hands. I thought maybe I could continue the whole way like that, but around 43 the wheels came off and I started walking one step at a time. I continued like that until above 88, where the stairwell gets narrower and the flights get shorter. This section is narrow enough that I was using the rails on both sides. It was only a short ways from there to the proverbial, and somewhat literal, light at the end of the tunnel, the doorway to the SkyDeck observation level, and the finish mat.
I passed a couple people in the lower floors, I don't think either passed me back. Several people passed me, mainly in the middle region where I was going slow. For a while I heard slapping feet of someone sprinting up every flight. When I saw the source of the noise, it was 11-year old Robert Liking. I was sure there was no way he could keep up that pace, but he kept coming. He passed when I paused for a sip of water at 24, and I didn't see him again until the finish.

I had brought my phone with me to take some photos from the top. Everyone was getting their picture taken in the glass boxes that stick out of the building, making sure to get one straight down of their feet floating above the city below. The WCL team crammed as many as possible into one of the boxes for a team photo. It was so crowded, the effect of being suspended way up in the sky was kind of lost. Let's just say that many people who just finished a non-trivial athletic feat pressed together did not smell of roses.
After chatting and comparing notes at the top and back down in the lobby, it was 9:30 before I headed back to my hotel to shower and change. Of course I'm nuts, so I spent several hours wandering around the city, taking some cityscape photos. At 3 I went back to my hotel to chill for a bit before heading to the airport.