Pajarito Blanket - June 6, 2024
I kept apologizing to Tommy for being slow. The steep climbs at the top of the "Fab Four" were relentless and I was tackling the last of the four around 7pm after being on the move since 6:30pm the previous day.
In my brain fog fatigued state, I couldn't understand why Tom would want to continue hiking up so slowly with me. I felt guilty--I should be going faster and I'm wasting his time. It's Friday night--so many other fun things to do than watch me suffer and lumber. But Tom kept at it--his smile and that look, you know the one, kept me going.
If I were a man of god, which I'm not, I'd call Tom a blessing. He had come up to the mountain mid-afternoon to join, and encourage, me as I completed what I call the Pajarito Blanket--Ascending and descending all of the roughly 41 ski runs at Pajarito Mountain in a single outing. This would turn out to be 44 miles and 27,000' of ascent and descent. This was hard. Stupid hard. But I was doing it and I was close. Can't stop now. Never gonna try this again so better make this one count.
But Tom wasn't the only one helping me through it. Allison had been supportive and encouraging of this hare-brained idea when I pitched it a week earlier. Sure, I had talked about it in the abstract, now and then, for nearly a year but it wasn't serious. But now it was serious. The ski runs had been mowed free of the gnarly locust bushes last autumn. If there was ever a time to try it, now was as good as it gets. Was I in shape? Is one every really in shape for something like this? I could have done a few more hill repeats, put it off longer, keep talking about it. Someday. But if not now, when?
So I headed out solo Thursday evening after work. Stashed a few coolers of food and water at strategic locations at the base of the mountain and headed off and up in the heat of the warmest day of the year so far. The first few runs, on the east side of the mountain, before sunset, ticked off easily. I was feeling great, the sun was setting and things were cooling off a bit. It got dark but this close to the solstice I knew the night's darkness would be short. Texts and messages from my family and Allison pumped me up. They were following my progress and cheering me on.
I cranked up music from my phone, playing it loud as I wasn't going to disturb anyone out here overnight and the music helps ward off any wildlife I cannot see. And if I can't hear them over the music, they don't exist. Right? I saw only one massive bull elk, a ton of deer, some grouse, one rabbit and one bear--all more scared of me than I of them.
The sunrise was gorgeous. High clouds, beautiful early morning hues. Legs still feeling good. Spirits high. The sunrise always lifts one's spirits after a full night out on the trail. I had covered close to half the mountain's distance and close to half the vertical feet to be climbed, I estimated. Friends started appearing. Tom and Margie had camped at the base overnight and came to well-wish and see how I was doing. Allison came up to join me for the climb of Pussycat on this fine morning. I saw others making laps up and down Aspen, met a new-to-town ultrarunner in the parking lot and we chatted about Hardrock. Ryan biked up the mountain and met me at the top of Compromise to say hello. David and Gilbert found me as I descended Compromise and hyped me up. How cool is this? Pretty damn cool.
Then it got hot again. Ugh. But I needed to embrace the heat and stay hydrated. I did. No hematuria, something I experience all too often. No hematuria, no excuse to quit. Keep at it. Poor strategic planning left the "Fab Four" runs for late in the run and I cursed myself for "saving the best for last". Right! But hey, is that Tom? Amazing timing--I wasn't sure I could complete this but Tom was here and said I could. Yes, I could. Just slower than I would have liked. Did I mention this was hard? Damn hard. But this is living. What else would I be doing on this Friday evening? Nothing much.
The Fab Four behind me now and we're poking around in the dark on the west side of the mountain. This portion of the mountain has few trees and the runs are ill-defined. My small headlamp may or may not have much battery life remaining. Tom didn't expect this slow pace and has only his phone's flashlight. Where the hell is this run called "Redemption"? Strava map has it wrong but we find it. Down and up. One remaining--"Ma Bell". The "Ma Bell" of today looks nothing like I remember from thirty years ago. I don't see the famous "Ma Bell cliff" but we do see the sign and the run. It's done. My headlamp didn't die and Tom has 20% battery left on his phone. Well, shit, it actually happened. Never again. Probably.
44 miles, 27,123' feet of climbing, 28 hours, 19 minutes. I slept harder than this run was.
