Editor’s Note: This article appeared in the fall issue of Sports and Fitness Magazine. However,
it was edited significantly — much of it deleted. The author felt that the revised “cut
and paste” edition failed to convey his sentiments accurately so we have reprinted the full,
original, uncut article for you here. There was a bit of controversy over some of the opinions
expressed by Mr. Carpenter (See the letters to the editor for a heartfelt response to his S. & F. version). Some people felt exactly the same way and others totally disagreed. Whatever the response, he definitely struck a nerve somewhere deep in the legs of all who have had close encounters with THE PEAK. Hopefully, by printing “the whole thing and nothing but the thing” his true message will be evident. Then, readers will either nod their heads in agreement or they’ll REALLY hate his guts!
You can look at the edited version at the end of this version to see what Rocky Mountain Sports did to it.
Has peaktus interruptus
left you unfulfilled?
By MATT CARPENTER
Pikes Peak 1994 is history and I am not feeling as good
about the outcome as I thought I would. I did not run
the whole course but opted instead to take the easy way
out. Sure it was easy at the time... A split second decision
made without a lot of thought as to the consequences. I thought
I was getting away with something but that little voice inside my
head now hammers at me. It asks me was it worth it?
It was not until the next day while watching at the turn around
point for the Marathon on top of the mountain that I began to
feel the loss. The more people I watched stagger to the top of
Pikes Peak only to have to turn around, the more I began to
feel like I cheated and took a shortcut. I had only done half the
race the day before and I was now a spectator to the real race.
Just as every 10K has a 1-mile fun run, so too does the Pikes
Peak Marathon. It just has a fancier name — The Pikes Peak
Ascent. In the second it took to check the box marked Ascent
on the entry form I had cut half the course.
I had experienced this feeling before. In 1987, my first attempt
at Pikes Peak, I ran the Ascent. I was a mess when I reached
the “finish” and to date it is still the only race that has caused
me to get on my hands and knees for an audit of my breakfast.
Right then and there I decided that anyone who ran the round
trip is one stupid individual. But the next day as I watched the
runners finish the Marathon my sense of accomplishment
diminished. I felt that my trip to the top was nothing more than
a warm-up act for the big show. After all, in the beginning the
people who stopped at the top were the smokers. I promised
myself I would never do the Ascent again.
Until this year I kept that promise. In 1989 and 1990, while I did
run the Ascent, both years I came back the next day and ran
the Marathon. In 1991 despite little training (the race was my
first run in about a month) I still did the Marathon and finishing
that race meant more to me than winning the Ascent the
previous year. There are other people who feel the same way.
While training for the peak one year I met Jim Heidleberg, a top
5 finisher in the marathon. He had hurt his foot while training
for the peak (he ran down the Cog Railway from top to bottom
in 55 minutes!!! — can you spell FAST! — can you spell OUCH!)
so I assumed he was going to do the Ascent. I was wrong. He
called running the Ascent “Peaktus Interruptus.”
I know a lady who because of a broken toe had to pull out of the
Marathon at the top. A couple of weeks later when she was
healed she took the train to the top of the mountain so she could
run down and “finish.” Another friend who was having a particularly
bad time getting to the top — she almost dropped out — was
beaming with pride after she ran back down. On the way up she
was upset that she was not running near as fast as the previous
year. The long bloody struggle down made her realize that a
race sometimes is more than trying to win or run a fast time, but
about finishing. Finishing the Pikes Peak Marathon is winning.
Ascent runners miss out on half the race and they miss out on
half the struggle; What goes through your mind when you
realize that the top is only half way; What it is like while in an
advanced state of hypoxia to A) try and get out of the way of a
descending runner B) try to get around an ascending runner and
C) no matter what position you are running, perform the sum of
A and B about 800 times mostly above 12,000 feet; What it is
like to have your running — as opposed to the walk-a-thon to the
top — come to a sudden and terrifying stop if you trip and fall;
They will never have to come up with the courage to try and get
up and start running fast again; They don’t know that those little
downhill sections on the way up turn into giant walls on the way
down. They will never know that the 40 degree temperature they
started in sometimes turns into a 90 degree hell on the way
down; And they will never know what it is like to finish
“America’s ultimate challenge” (please do not send “what about
the ‘iron this’ or ‘ultra that’ letters” to the editor stating that the
Pikes Peak Marathon is only a single-sport event that takes
hours and minutes and not days and nights — besides that is
what the race is called, I did not name it).
Then again maybe Ascent runners do know these things and
that is why they do not run the Marathon. But the next time you
go to a race and see someone wearing the ubiquitous Pikes
Peak Ascent T-shirt ask them if they ran the Pikes Peak
Marathon. Listen carefully to the tone in their voice when they
reply “no, ‘just’ the Ascent.” The word “just” not only says that
they did half the race and half the struggle, it says — if finishing
is winning — they did half the winning. As for myself I might have
a friend drive me to the top of Pikes Peak so I can take care of
some unfinished business...
This version has the cuts and changes made
by Rocky Mountain Sports highlighted. Most of the section on what Ascent runners
miss got cut. Even worse, the lead-in to how I felt the race could become about finishing
got nuked! However, I felt the fact that they cut most of my conclusion in the last paragraph and added
a single addition to the previous one caused most of the ill-will. This theory got proved wrong when after running the uncut version I got even a harsher response!
Has peaktus interruptus
left you unfulfilled?
By MATT CARPENTER
Pikes Peak 1994 is history and I am not feeling as good about the
outcome as I thought I would. I did not run the whole course but
opted instead to take the easy way out. Sure it was easy at the time... A split second decision made without a lot of thought as to the consequences. I thought I was getting away
with something but that little voice inside my head now asks, “Was it worth it?”
It was not until the next day while watching at the turn around point for the Marathon on top of the mountain that I began to feel the loss. The more people
I watched stagger to the top of Pikes Peak only to have to turn around,
the more I began to feel like I cheated and took a shortcut. I had only done half the race the day before and I was now a spectator to the real race. Just as every 10K has a 1-mile fun run, so too does the Pikes Peak Marathon. It just has a fancier name — The Pikes Peak Ascent. In the second it took to check the box
marked Ascent on the entry form I had cut the course in half.
I had experienced this feeling before. In 1987, my first attempt at Pikes
Peak, I ran the Ascent. I was a mess when I reached the “finish” and to date it is still
the only race that has caused me to get on my hands and knees for an
audit of my breakfast. Right then and there I decided that anyone who ran
the round trip is one stupid individual. But the next day as I watched the
runners finish the Marathon my sense of accomplishment diminished. I felt that my trip to the top was nothing more than a warm-up act for the big show. After all, in the beginning the people who stopped at the top were the smokers. I
promised myself I would never do the Ascent again.
Until this year I kept that promise. In 1989 and 1990, while I did run
the Ascent, both years I came back the next day and ran the Marathon. In
1991 despite little training (the race was my first run in about a month) I
still did the Marathon and finishing that race meant more to me than winning
the Ascent the previous year.
Ascent runners miss out on half the race and they miss out on half
the struggle; including the heat, dodging other runners hundreds of times and
the terrifying downhill falls.What goes through your mind when you realize that the top is only half way; What it is like while in an advanced state of hypoxia to A) try and get out of the way of a descending runner B) try to get around an ascending runner and C) no matter what position you are running, perform the sum of A and B about 800 times mostly above 12,000 feet; What it is like to have your running — as opposed to the walk-a-thon to the top — come to a sudden and terrifying stop if you trip and fall; They will never have to come up with the courage
to try and get up and start running fast again; They don’t know that those little downhill sections on the way up turn into giant walls on the way down. They will never know that the 40 degree temperature they started in sometimes turns into a 90 degree hell on the way down; And they will never know what it is like to finish “America’s ultimate challenge” (please do not send “what about the ‘iron this’ or ‘ultra that’ letters” to the editor stating that the Pikes Peak Marathon is only a single-sport event that takes hours and minutes and not days and nights — besides that is what the race is called, I did not name it).
There are other people who feel the same way. While training for the peak
one year I met Jim Heidleberg, a top 5 finisher in the marathon. He had
hurt his foot while training for the peak (he ran down the Cog Railway from top to bottom in 55 minutes!!! — can you spell FAST! — can you spell OUCH!) so I assumed he was going to do
the Ascent. I was wrong. He called running the Ascent “Peaktus Interruptus.”
I know a lady who because of a broken toe had to pull out of the
Marathon at the top. A couple of weeks later when she was healed she took
the train to the top of the mountain so she could run down and “finish.” Another friend who was having a particularly bad time getting to the top — she almost dropped out — was beaming with pride after she ran back down. On the way up she was upset that she was not running near as fast as the previous year.
The long bloody struggle down makes you realize that a race sometimes is more
than trying to win or run a fast time, but about finishing.
Finishing the Pikes Peak Marathon is winning.
Doing half the race is doing half the winning.
Then again maybe Ascent runners do know these things and that is why they do not run the Marathon. But the next time you go to a race and see someone wearing the ubiquitous Pikes Peak Ascent T-shirt ask them if they ran the Pikes Peak Marathon. Listen carefully to the tone in their voice when they reply “no, ‘just’ the Ascent.” The word “just” not only says that they did half the race and half the struggle, it says — if finishing is winning — they did half the winning. As for myself I might have a friend drive me to the top of Pikes Peak so I can take care of some unfinished business...
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