Mount Baldy - proper hill running

So I was browsing the rails of REI (a cross between Blacks and Nevisport) and I got talking to one of the ever attentive assistants. With the energetic notion of doing the LA marathon I was keen to start pencilling in some interim events to help inspire some training discipline so we got gassing about local running events. She tells me about this "run to the top" thing held around Labor day and how she does it every year, usually ends up walking most of it blah blah blah. "Sounds great" thinks me - combines hills with running, but not in that damp, cold, grassy, muddy, KIMM way - this is more like running on the moon. Excellent....

Exactly as expected, I didn't bother doing any training except for the two weeks before the big event when the running shoes got dusted down and put to use, plodding round the streets of sunny Cucamonga in search of some running enthusiasm. (Well - it was dark o'clock by the time I finally went out running most nights so it wasn't "sunny" as such...but still - it was warm and dry and coming from the west of Scotland that's not a combination of words we're used to saying expect perhaps for those two weeks of the year when we go abroad on holiday)

The event itself is called the Run to the Top. It simply involves running to the top of Mount Baldy - easy peasy lemon squeezy...

Except "The Top" is 10,064ft above sea level, and as far as I remember, sea level is pretty much the same here on the west coast of America as it is on the west coast of Scotland. That's going to be a bit of a problem - obviously when I submitted my online registration back in June I didn't see that however. For 95% of the people who took part, the name is a complete misnomer - there's not even the slightest possibility we will "run to the top", not even for one of those "sprint finishes" we keep hearing about from seasoned athletes. (In fact getting to the top on the same day as starting and without the assistance of the air ambulance will be an achievement for many - I like to think I'm not quite in that category yet though...) There is some good news though - the race doesn't actually start at sea level - since the nearest bit of sea level is about 50 miles from Mount Baldy it's a fact which is likely to make the event somewhat harder to plan, so the race actually starts from the car park at the foot of Baldy, somewhere around 6000ft.

I know what you're thinking...10000ft - 6000ft = 4000ft = that's not so bad. And if I tell you its only 8 miles long you start to think that perhaps I've gone a bit girly. And now the pain in my chest has finally gone away I'm starting to think that too, but then my mind drifts back to the burning in my legs and it all starts to creep back up on me again. Unfortunately I couldn't find my heart rate monitor with which to record the pain - but I'm pretty sure the heart rate profile would have been similar to the profile of the mountain.

The race starts nice and early - with registration at 6000ft at 0600 there's a very definite Scottish chill in the air. It's only when I hear the pre-race chatter (or is that actually my teeth rattling from the cold?) that all of a sudden I start to remember what it is about these events that makes me keep coming back for more. It's that "like minded sorts" thing again - who in their right mind would be here (knowing they have no chance of winning) other than people just like me. Except this is Southern California and I'm a Scottish bloke so there's noone else here just like me - and that's the point - it obviously doesn't matter where you go in the world, there will always be folk like you...

From the car park you actually run downhill for a few hundred yards in search of the trailhead - and from that point on, it's uphill all the way. For the first 30mins or so I manage to keep running. The surface is pretty good - just a normal compacted rock/gravel path much like a forestry road so it's not too bad on the ankles, but with the dust getting kicked up it's not long before everything starts to develop a fine coating and you start to spit mud. This path leads up to the chair lift station on the Baldy notch but thats where we leave it behind and set out on the narrow trail that forms the Devils Backbone path to the summit of Baldy. By now I'm approaching 8000ft and still feeling ok - I'm still running and passing many of the people who pelted past me on the downhill section right at the start. If I could catch a breath I would shout some profanities at them but gulping ever thinner amounts of cold air, I decide to save my energy for shouting for help sometime fairly soon.

Onwards past the 8000ft point and I catch onto the tail of a typical older, southern california dude - he's got the tan, the "outdoor complexion", the white hair and the Oakleys and he's just unwillingly become the target for some scottish patter. The logic here is simple - If I befriend this fella, then he'll hopefully feel obliged to ensure that my exhausted carcass gets recovered from the top of the mountain - providing I make it that far which by now is starting to feel like only a distant possibility.

Perhaps it's psychological but I'm pretty sure by 9000ft I'm starting to feel a bit of a headache coming on and I'm convinced I should have brought some of that scuba gear for oxygen support. I'm also thinking that perhaps some acclimatisation might have helped and that next year I'll mebbe camp out the night before the race...and that's when it hits me - I'm struggling to get up this hill, legs are burning, sweat's lashing off me, there's a cold wind ripping across the path threatening to throw me down the scree slopes to oblivion, and I'm already planning for next year...and somehow with a wee bit of conversation going with surfer dude I'm feeling ok again. That only lasts about 10 minutes however until the final climb comes into sight and I suddenly remember about the bit at the top of Baldy. Only good thing is that by this time there's noone left running so when I slow to a walk, I'm not losing any places...just time, which doesn't seem to matter because the view is spectacular and I'm just glad to be here looking at LA in the West to San Gorgonio in the East with the Santa Anas to the South and high desert to the North (and is that the Sierra Nevadas in the far horizon?)

It's a relentless grind for the last 1000ft - (I'm reminded of Ben More but without the grass and then my mind wanders onto other nonsense such as Ben Tumorousvan) Crossing the finish line in 97th place (out of 554) with a time of 1:38:52 becomes my new personal best and a benchmark for future attempts. Of course, now there's just the 4 miles back to the chairlift to go...fortunately for those still climbing, we're not racing back down...well, not officially...

I hear that the LA marathon is quite a show - I'll report on my findings sometime after March 19th. Just 24 weeks to go.

Lee Gilberston