Not fit for human consumption
28 April 2005If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!
I hit the super-steep fire trail on Wednesday. It was a bitch going up and a bitch coming down. It was a bitch. The climb up to the crest took 20-minutes on the nose and was as near to a Sherpa experience as Ive ever had. The ascent was near vertical, a thigh-singe, lung-searing experience of the 1st magnitude. The combination of muscular exertion and aerobic taxation made the climb a tough go. This task was a little different than normal; the loose gravel that marked the path made for jittery footing. There were five sets of power lines sat at different intervals and as I walked to the each set of poles I stopped, caught my breath, and allowed my heart rate to bottom out at 70% of my age-related heart rate maximum before pushing on. I had zero problems hitting 90-100% of ARHR max at any juncture along this hell path, other than my appointed rest stops.
The physical dilemma was balancing muscular effort against the limits of cardio capacity. If I got carried away I would lapse into oxygen-debt and have to stop and recover for a long while before pushing on. Since 300 and 500 yards lie between resting points, and seeing the grade went up, ever up, I needed to push hard but not overdo it. Before the introduction of the horse to North America, certain Indian tribes taught warrior-raiders a tribal trot. The pace was barely a jog, but they trained themselves to be able as a unit to run this way at this pace all day long. This damned hill was never ending. I made it to the crest in 25-minutes.
I took in the view recovered my breath and pushed further on I wanted to see what lay of the other side. The top of this mini-mountain was relatively flat and I had to walk fast for seven minutes to reach that juncture where the view of the other side suddenly opens up and reveals itself. The panorama was absolutely spectacular and worth every minute of the uphill exertion. On open plateau, an expansive plain with ribbons of highway, checkerboard brown and lush green farm fields cut in squares and rectangles, a complete view of a small city. Not a soul, not a mechanical sound to be heard, no sound other than the wind cutting through the trees. The ascent was brutal and I really had no desire to walk down the far side of the mountain, thereby imposing another hell walk back up again just like the one Id just completed. This will be a worthy goal to shoot for later this summer.
The walk back from the opposite side to the long descent took another seven minutes. The sun lighted the pathway that cut through an amazing assortment of rhododendron that lined both sides. They waxy green leaves hung as high as seven feet and this patch stretched to the tree line. One thing became apparent as soon as the descent began: the gravel footing was treacherous! It hadnt occurred to me that the trip down would be downright hazardous. Every foot fall had to be placed and the foot rotated in a braking fashion. There was a real danger of stumbling and taking a header that might not stop for a hundred yards. No 911 out here, this aint no party, this aint no disco, this aint no fooling around. A minor injury like a twisted or broken ankle can be problematic in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone. The continual braking began to kill my toes as the feet jammed violently forward against the inside of the boot. Each step bought a little stab of pain. I wasnt even a quarter of the way down this mother yet!
My walking stick (my snake stick actually) saved me from slipping on two separate occasions. To make bad things worse, because I was forced to drastically reduce my pace, my heart rate went way below 70% Not only was this descent painful and time consuming (albeit spectacularly beautiful) but as exercise this careful descent stuff wasnt worth a damn! I finally made it back to the jeep, 64-minutes after commencing. I headed over to the lake and went down to the boat dock to see if anyone was catching anything or if anyone had caught any fresh trout they wanted to sell. Afterwards I reflected on the disappointment of the fire trail: the power walk up Pikes Peak was a thigh-blasting, cardio-taxing challenge of the 1st degree and one I would do at least once a week as part of my aerobic training. I would love to take about eight weeks and see how much time I could chop off my initial walk time to the crest.
What an incredible combination of valuable athletic attributes this grueling exercise would bestow: endurance like a locomotive, thighs swollen with mitochondria and bursting with sustainable power and a great excuse to hike around in total seclusion in a location of exquisite natural beauty. The walk down cancelled all that out: anytime a cardio exercise becomes dangerous then perhaps its time to consider using a new mode. I would only do the descent with really limber athletes who know how to take a fall without killing themselves. However since there is no cardio benefit to the descent - what is the point? The zero-aerobic effect of the descent is an over-riding buzz-kill. Sometimes exercise is deceptive and that which appears hard sometimes is easier than anticipated and sometimes what appears easy is harder than anticipated but not harder in a better sense, harder in a danger way. I shall continue my search for the ultimate fire trail.
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