Baldy Blitz

My first time running the Baldy Blitz left me with feelings ranging from an awesome feeling of ecstasy as I ran down off the summit, my yee-haws drowned out by the roar of arctic style winds. To the feeling of despair as my spirits were crushed, by the bushwhacking decent, rivaled only by The Bataan Death March.
My ascent started with me painstakingly trying to find the correct pace, I’d accelerate to pass on the single track, near vertical trail only to find the effort left me winded and embarrassed as I stepped off the trail to let the chuckling passee by. By the time I reached the ridge I was just finding my stride, it turns out in my training runs the ridge is where I would usually rest. I looked around to see others pressing on, even picking up their pace. I let out a heavy sigh as I managed a weak jog towards Baldy.
I couldn’t get the sound of footsteps out of my head as I made my way between tight rocks, along exposed ridges, and over downed trees. I finally realized that the footsteps weren’t only in my head but belonged to a pair of runners hot on my heels. I was so impressed with their gear that I let them pass only so I could admire their style not because I couldn’t keep up.
I made my way up higher to reach some of the first deep drifts of snow. I thought “too bad there is so much snow here”, not realizing this was a mere dusting of flakes compared to what lay ahead. It was at one of these drifts where I made my first successful pass. I chatted with the man as I gloated knowing I’d blow by him as soon as the trail widened. My boastfulness was deflated however as I found out he’d recently undergone knee surgery, and I thought “wow nice job, you’re doing slightly better than a middle aged handicapped man”. I stumbled by, my tired legs starting to lose their balance already.
Then the trail took a wonderful dip, a downhill pitch so welcomed that I started to run in full strides for the first time in this race. This of course was overshadowed by the fact that every step I took meant a drop in altitude and another foot further away from the summit where I was certain others was already standing. This saddle also provided foreshadowing for the rest of the race. A long meadow, where I was hoping to speed up and make up some time, was filled with snow. Not the couple of inches from the blizzard that had been raging since 7am, but what I can only assume was a million year old glacier probably 100 meters thick. Or so it seemed that thick as my feet plunged up to my groin in wet, sugary, snow and I trudged through the snow, remembering a similar feeling of hopelessness as I did when I was three feet tall trying in vain to pull my sled up a hill in snow as deep as my armpits.
After that the trail winds around a large rock formation, this is where I get my first (notice I said first) feeling that I’m not heading the right direction. I even went as far as to look at the direction of the footprints I was following to make sure I didn’t do a 180. Looking back I wonder “what was I thinking when and how would I have done a 180 without realizing it”. Let’s just say it is a good thing I wasn’t leading the group, because we’d be lost and I would have already collapsed from exhaustion from trying to stay ahead of the athletic front runners.
At this point I reach the crutch of the ascent a short but steep snow slide over a short but vertical rock drop into deep sugary snow. Now again looking back there probably was a better way to down climb this feature, but hindsight is 20/20. I chose the huck yourself method; I threw my Nalgene (product placement; sponsorship opportunities) bottle over the edge and slid after it. I quickly gained speed before flying over the vertical spot of the route. I landed in the snow below, but didn’t stop there. I kept sliding down the wet slope. I flipped myself over and dug my elbows and fingers into the snow to stop myself. This would be the first of many times I would scold myself “no gloves, it’s a blizzard; you’re dumb”. This is also where I start to think my cotton sweatshirt maybe wasn’t the best choice of attire for this day. I can only describe my outer layer as, absorbent, an adjective that is positive when talking about paper towels or baby diapers, but the same word can be negative when describing light weight, insulating, trail running clothing.
After this came the exposed, treeless ascent to the top of Baldy Mountain. I set off up the scree field that was buried by new blowing snow, which was still falling; sideways. The whiteout conditions made it impossible for me to see the leaders, who I thought for sure must be right in front of me, not enjoying hot chocolate at the finish by now. I followed the disappearing tracks in the snow as runners sprinted effortlessly down offering encouraging words as they flew past. Between the whiteout conditions and the fact that I’d been staring at my feet for the last hour, I had no idea how far I’d gone or how far left I had to climb. I was just thinking I should slow my pace so I can make it to the summit strong when I heard the most wonderful sentence ever uttered by a human being “only about one hundred more feet” I looked up in disbelief “this jokester thinks he can fool me into tricking myself I’m almost there”. I stared hard upwards and saw the pipe sticking out of the rocks signifying the summit. My legs still felt strong and I was only yards from the top. I felt I had made it, the way down would be a breeze. This was the highest altitude I’ve ever reached on foot. I was standing in 20deg weather, with 30mph gusts, soaking wet with no gloves, but with a big smile on my face. I stood there for about one minute enjoying it.
I then took off down the mountain running very fast, even letting out a yee-haw as I flew past the people on their way up. This is where my feelings plummeted faster than when I descended that short scree field. The snow was the deepest it had been, the trail was the steepest, my legs now seemed incapable of balance and control and I started what I can only describe as a “controlled” tumble down the mountain.
After leaving the deep snow behind I was faced with fresh, wet, slippery snow to slide, fall, jump, and traverse across. Every fall and subsequent self arrest left my gloveless fingers cold and sore. My shoes where soaked and the insoles of my shoes had twisted themselves into what looked like a wrung out wash cloth. But the most discouraging thing was, everybody I saw still ascending after I left the summit, were now passing by me. I was covered in mud and feeling so clumsy. “How on Earth are they going so fast” I thought. I would hear someone coming behind me and I’d try to pick up my pace. Only every time I sped up I would take a tumble and go even slower. Finally I just started walking “they can pass me if they want”.
I walked on only to get that feeling again that I wasn’t on the planned route. I was walking through the forest not on anything that even remotely resembled a trail even in its loosest definition. My tired legs made my weary eyes look at every downed tree as if it were a daunting obstacle that would surely end in a trip, a fall, and probably impalement.
Finally I heard someone yell from up ahead “Trail” I wasn’t sure what to expect, being as though at that point I thought we were following the “Trail”. But I came over a rise and saw an honest to goodness well worn trail. Heading straight UP! What I thought this is supposed to be the descent? I really didn’t think that uphill would even be an issue anymore. But it was a trail, and this is a trail run, so I retied my shoes, gathered my ambition and started running.
I made it about 100ft before realizing I was a lot more tired than I thought. I walked until I was to level ground. I started running again. I never really felt like I was in control from this point on. The mud had the traction of an oil slick. I slipped around and my feet slid side to side with every step. I ran hard trying to cover as much distance as fast as possible so I could finally make it to the finish.
As soon as the finish was in sight I sped up and blasted out the last 100 yards like it was the Kentucky Derby. All feelings of despair left me when I got to that parking lot. I got my osprey bag full of goodies and a poster to hang on the wall next to my number. I have to say I was very happy. All discouragement was erased from my memory as I chatted with the people standing under the tent cheering on other runners as they came into the finish. I drove home took a shower, made some tea, and took a well deserved nap. I’ve never slept as well as I did that afternoon.
Stats.
Highest Altitude I’ve ever gained on foot 8914’.
Most Elevation Gain achieved on foot 4300’.
Most elevation change on foot ~8600’
10+ miles
Coldest endurance race ever in history.