Right before quarantine settled over California, a friend and I were training for the Ragnar Trail series. We were focused on running the gnarliest trails we could find. One of my favorites, despite how much I struggled to run to the top, was Cucamonga peak. This peak lies in the shadow (not really but kind of) of Mount Baldy, which is the tallest peak in Los Angeles County.. Baldy peak sits at a cool 10,000 feet above sea level. Cucamonga peak measures just shy of 10k, but still at an impressive 8800 feet. If I recall correctly, the elevation gain for both runs is approximately 4000 feet, a hefty climb to be completed in the six or seven miles to arrive at the top of each.
I remember Cucamonga Peak all too well. We ran it twice. The first time, we didn’t quite make it to the top, having run just beyond the Icehouse Saddle—a rest point and intersection for numerous peaks—before having to turn back due to a time constraint. The second time we ran it, I fuckin’ struggled hardcore as we approached the peak. We were maybe about a half mile from the summit when all of the effort hit me. I had spent a solid mile walking already, but I had arrived at a point of feeling disappointed in myself for not having been able to run to the top. I was no stranger to distance; a separate trail we would run often was a minimum of 11 miles roundtrip, if we stopped at the top, which we rarely did. Half marathons on trails was a normal thing. So to feel completely wiped out at just shy of seven miles was a total bummer.
Except, I hadn’t factored in the altitude.
The trail starts at over 4000 feet elevation and rises another 4000 feet. I was lightheaded and nauseated and the whole time I thought that I was simply not in as good a shape as I thought.
And, tbf, I wasn’t. At least not for altitude. But I didn’t know any better at the time. This was my first experience doing something like this at this height.
When I told my friend that I wasn’t feeling so hot, she replied with “huh. Think it’s because the air is so thin up here?”
Well fuck. There it was. I wasn’t a shitty trail runner, I was just shitty at running at altitude.
Fast forward to earlier this year. Another friend had recently migrated to Flagstaff, and I had gone to visit. Not wanting to lose any conditioning while I visited, I made it a point to run some trails while I was up there. There was one day where my friend had a number of errands to run and dropped me off at popular running/hiking spot.
And of course, being the extra sort of person that I am, I found and traversed the trail that led me to the peak of the mountain that sat dead center in this place. Now, Flagstaff sits at 7000 feet elevation. I climbed an additional 2000 feet in about three miles. That was a little rough. But as I climbed, I had the presence of mind to recognize that I was working at altitude and needed to manage my effort accordingly. And while I’m so out of practice with running long distance at this point, I still manage to make the climb and get back down without feeling sick.
It wasn’t easy, but I got a solid 10k that day that included a mountain.
Fast forward to Halloween this year, and my Flagstaff friend has moved to a different location. When I visited, I also went running to maintain some level of conditioning. There are trails behind her new place, so of course I go galavanting on those trails. And what do I find?
Another peak.
I gotta do the damn thing. I can’t not at this point. My training has been all about strength with little to no running recently, but damn it all, I’m climbing this fucking trail.
So I get up and down with little to no issue, though I’m sore as shit once I arrive at the base of the trail that leads to the peak, and then get lost as I attempt to make my way back to my friend’s place.
Still, I did the damn thing.
So now, with all this under my belt, I’ve decided to return to increasing my capacity for running trails at length and at altitude. There’s a tame peak not far from where I live that served as a good training ground in earlier days. I’m challenging myself to see how far into the foothills I can get on this trail in an hour. At the hour mark, I log my distance and turn around.
Today was day one of doing this. I managed to run just over four miles on the fire road, which is about a mile and a half shy from the peak. Almost eight and a half miles in under two hours isn’t too bad, though I intend to eventually get all the way to the top and then all the way to the start in less than two hours.
This will be a weekly thing. Starting today. And I’m super excited about it.