The race was a ton of fun, and thanks to your efforts, I was able to raise over $300 dollars, nearly one-quarter of which eventually made its way to the Foundation, with the balance going towards a new wool hat and matching mittens for my wife. But that only makes sense.
I kid of course.
The race started at 6 PM, so my buddy Jay and I were greeted with dark skies, which we expected, and sub-zero temperatures, which we did not. Getting dressed was a bit of a conundrum, as we needed to stay warm, yet not overheat when we exerted ourselves. And with a 3,500 foot vertical climb awaiting us, we would most certainly be exerting ourselves.
The picture above is of all the athletes going throught the registration process. Needless to say, in a town like this, the bad-ass quotient was extremely high. For starters, Chris Klug was there; as he should be, since this is his race.
In case you're not familiar with Chris' story, he was an elite snowboarder who's liver inexplicably failed during 2000. Months away from certain death, his lucky number came up on the transplant list, and he received the healthy organ he desperately needed. Within months he was riding again, and in 2002 he won bronze at the Salt Lake City Olympics in the downhill. It's an inspiring story, and having the opportunity to meet Chris on this night was certainly one of the highlights of my time in Aspen. You can read more about Chris here, and I highly recommend that you do. He's one tough dude.
Also present was Aron Ralston, one very accomplished ski-mountaineer and a client of Terry Schaeffer's. Oh yeah, he's also better known as the guy who cut off his own arm to save his life when he became trapped in a narrow canyon while hiking in Utah. I'm gonna' go out on a limb (no pun intended) and suggest that Aron's a bit of a bad-ass as well. I mean, the guy is back climbing and skiing as if nothing ever happened. It blows my mind just how determined people can be when they're passionate about something.
Here's yours truly at the start of the race. There were three ways to get up the mountain. In increasing order of difficulty, one could choose to use crampons on regular sneakers and hike (kind of hard), wear snowshoes (very hard), or skin up the mountain on skis (obsecenely, disgustingly hard). (I have a post coming up that explains the skinning process a bit more, as it has become my latest obsession. Stay tuned.)
Jay and I, as well as my man Terry Schaeffer, opted for snowshoes. So after donning our shoes, tightening our bindings, and checking the batteries in our headlamps, we toed the start line and waited for the gun to go off.
I had every intention of taking photos along the way, as the scene was a bit unique, to say the least. The falling snow got a bit heavy right away, and the string of headlamps ascending throught an otherwise pitch- black, narrow gulch towards the summit was quite a sight to behold, and would have made for a once-in-a-lifetime photo diary. However, my competitive nature got the best of me, as it sometimes tends to, and I opted instead to leave the camera in my pocket and get the thing over with as quickly as possible. The picture above is of the finish line at 11,500 feet. I finally made its acquaintance after 1:18 of agony; not bad for a kid from Jersey.
This, by the way, is the single greatest picture I've taken since my arrival in Aspen. That is Terry Schaeffer. If you read this blog with any regularity, you already know that Terry is an Aspen icon, and also happens to be the CPA with whom I share office space downtown. He's a great guy and one hell of a crowd pleaser. Here he is finishing, and I believe all of us at the summit were genuinely concerned for his well being. He looked like he had been dunked in a pool and ROLLED up the mountain, as he was covered head to toe in a thin layer of ice. Without a hit of hyperbole, I tell you there were four inch icicles coming off his face. Don't believe me????
I told you so. That enourmous stalactite by Terry's left ear was the last -- and SHORTEST -- of the ice appendages Terry picked up along the way. Volunteers knocked the rest off, but I begged they preserve this lone one so I could capture it for all of posterity. Mission accomplished.
There's my man Jay crossing the line, strong as when he started. Jay's a big, solid kid, and to haul that muscle mass up 3,500 vertical feet is one heck of an accomplishment.
There's Chris Klug, the hero of the night, in the red parka. He hung out at finish line and personally congratulated all 250+ finishers. Class act.
Finally, here's Jay and I enjoying a brief photo-up at the summit. Yes, I need a haircut. Inside the Sun Deck warmth, food, and free booze awaited. I attacked all three with equal aplomb.
I can't say enough about just how cool an expereince this race was. There's something about finding yourself completely alone, 11,000 feet above sea level in a driving snow, surrounded by blackness, mountains, and little else, pain filling your lungs and legs with an ever-increasing cruelty, that makes you feel rather, well...alive.
And to do it all for a good cause, a cause that changed the life of my mother-in-law Rosalie and brother-in-law Freddy, well that's as good as it gets. So thanks again to everyone, and let's do it again next year.
Oh, and Freddy, this one's for you.
