Pikes Peak Challenge

Last year I trained throughout the summer, packed my gear, studied and talked to every smart person I knew and took all the advice I could get, and signed up to participate in the Pikes Peak Challenge, which is a fundraiser for the Brain Injury Alliance of Colorado.



In spite of my preparations – I don’t think I was really truly ready for what a challenge climbing Pikes Peak would be...

It’s a 13 mile hike with a 7,400-foot elevation gain to the summit, which stands 14,110-foot tall. It takes hikers between 8 and 12 hours to reach the summit, with some trail runners who scale it in around 4 hours during the annual Pikes Peak Marathon.

Sunrise on Barr Trail

It took me ten hours. I think I was overly optimistic about the time it would take to climb. We started early, at 5:30am, which was the one part of the excursion I was massively underprepared for since I only had a tiny pen light (I sorta forgot how dark it is that early since I’m rarely up at that time) and climbed the first four miles in the dark, right past where the trail meets up with the Manitou Incline. There were a lot of switchbacks, and luckily a lot of other hikers who had much brighter flashlights than I did who lit up the mountain so I could safely follow. Just past the incline and No Name Creek, the trail got a lot easier to hike, with beautiful aspens just turning their colors for fall along the way. At Barr Camp (which I called "Peanut Butter Point" because that was the carried food of choice for every hiker in sight) I took a quick break and did some calculations. I’d already hiked seven miles of the trail, and it was 9:15am when I hit the camp. So I reasoned the remaining six miles should get me to the summit by just after 1:00.

...which wasn’t quite how it worked. The trail got much harder after Barr Camp, steadily increasing both the incline and the number of switchbacks…and decreasing in the amount of available air. We zigged and zagged all the way up to the A-frame, and took another break before we got above treeline just before noon.


After A-frame, above treeline

From there, things got really interesting. Even though it took only three and a half hours to hike the first seven miles of the trail, it took exactly three and a half hours to hike the last three miles of the trail. Plus, above treeline you don’t really have the shade, shelter or comfort that the vegetation provided on the way up – it’s miles of rocks with breathtaking views of the entire city that could occasionally get overwhelming. We hiked an hour to get to the "Two Miles" to go sign – which devastated me to know how long that last mile had taken and how much was still to go. We could see other hikers, tiny in the distance, higher and lower than us on the mountain, took a deep breath and kept on trucking... because, really, the only choices at that point were to go two miles up or walk the eleven miles down.

So close, yet so far!

The second to last mile was the toughest for me. I was thankful for every sip of water in my Camelpak, for the energy gels I had brought along that gave me pep in my step when everything else in me wanted to shut down, and for the friend I had made at Barr Camp who trekked the rest of the way with me. We learned it was actually better not to take long breaks or sit down, because it became that much harder to get going again every time we did. So instead we would pause, catch our breath, and keep moving, taking shorter breaks every few steps instead of longer ones when we were tired.

The weather was great for our entire hike that day, but we could instantly feel it when the sun went behind a cloud. We’d see our breath, stop, get our jackets out, keep hiking, and five minutes later the sun would come out again, and we’d have to stop and put our jackets away. A cloud made that much difference in temperature the closer we would get to the summit.

When we made it to the "One Mile" to go sign, I got giddy (also maybe from the lack of oxygen… and also maybe from the fact that I had to pee and no longer had the luxury of trees for privacy). I was almost skipping, in spite of my ridiculously tired feet. When we hit the "16 golden stairs," a series of 32 switchbacks that lead to the top, I got exhausted again – but we continued to take our short breathing breaks as needed and kept moving forward, by slow tiny steps when we had to, telling ourselves we were almost there even though the top still seemed impossibly far away.

But we did it – crossing personal barriers I didn’t think possible before. And I’m thankful for the Pikes Peak Challenge and all the volunteers, including the El Paso County Search and Rescue who make it the safest day of the year to hike by checking in all the hikers along the way and by providing oxygen or first aid if needed.

And best of all – we raised money for what is truly a worthy cause. From the Pikes Peak Challenge fundraiser letter:

"Although this is quite an undertaking considering the altitude and possible weather conditions we might encounter, it pales in comparison to what survivors of Brain Injury face every day. In the United States a Brain Injury occurs every 23 seconds. We now know that over 20% of our American Soldiers are returning home with a Brain Injuries and some have sustained several. Every dollar makes a difference and we appreciate any help you can give."

I'm glad I had the opportunity to climb, and I'm excited for the opportunities that this fundraiser provides for individuals who survive a brain injury. If you’re interested in donating for this year’s event, please click here:
https://www.pikespeakchallenge.com/how-you-can-help/make-a-donation/