Climbing to the Top

Detroit, Detroit!

2025-11-19T18:36:00.000-08:00

Less than a week after Sears, I drove to the Detroit suburb of Southfield, to climb up 3000 Town Center. Standing at 122 meters with 32 floors, it is the 2nd tallest building in Michigan outside of Detroit.

It was a charity event to benefit The Gift of Adoption and while the event is relatively tiny and unassuming, it has attracted many well-known climbers. Likely because it's the last climb of the year and scheduled a mere week after Sears. In fact, in prior years, Southfield and Sears were scheduled on back-to-back days. Check out Stair Life for a comprehensive list of fast climbers who've participated.

At the beginning of the Season, after moderate success at Bop to the Top and the US Championship at Hustle up the Hancock, I realized that while I was slowly getting back to form, I was nearing the twilight of my racing career. In prior years (pre-COVID) I focused on the most competitive races in the country and only a handful of local climbs in the Northeast. I've been to very few other climbs outside of the Northeast and I knew that I would regret skipping these climbs while I was still relatively fast.

Rather than retire, I added a bunch of new climbs to my schedule. Technically starting with Bop to the Top (to see if I still had some speed) and then adding Pittsburgh, Buffalo, Providence, Rochester, The Space Needle, and now finally Southfield.

I got faster as the season progressed, but it wasn't all smooth sailing. Most notably, I lost a duel in Providence with Troy Alston to see who's faster. By a mere two seconds. I wasn't happy; it was the shortest race I've ever done (even shorter than Bennington) which plays right into Troy's strengths. I should've seen the loss coming.

But as luck would have it, Troy climbed Southfield last year and set the American Course Record in the single climb. That gave me one last chance for redemption. While it wouldn't be a head-to-head matchup... It was a perfect opportunity to take the American Course Record for myself.

Did you find it strange that I referred to it as the "American" Course Record? That's because the overall Course Record belongs to Wai Ching Soh, the current #1 climber in the world. He's literally 15% faster than I am... so in my mind Wai Ching's record was too far out of reach. For illustrative purposes, here is a list of the fastest times up the building (under 3 minutes)**:

1. 2:24.1 - Soh Wai Ching, 27, 2021
2. 2:36.1 - Troy Alston, 37, 2024
3. 2:50.5 - Cole Hetzel, 18, 2021
4. 2:52.3 - Chris Hoffman, 32, 2021

**All these names should be familiar to you if you follow competitive stair climbing. A few other well known names just outside this list are Josh Duncan, Mark Henderson, Steve Marsalese, and Jill Paha.

I set my goal time of 2:30 which gave me a solid 6 second buffer if I started to struggle.

I did my homework during the week between Sears and Southfield. As previously mentioned, 3000 Town Center is 122 meters tall, but we'd only be climbing to the 28th floor. You can tell from its boxy shape that the floors are uniform and the roof is just above the top floor (i.e. no extra height due to antennae or other nonsense). As such, the race should only have 103 meters of ascent. The stairwell is a uniform 10/10 configuration across 27 floors (i.e. ground floor to the 28th floor) with 540 total steps. Therefore, the steps should be ~7.5 inches tall (which Josh later confirmed with a tape measure).

Photo courtesy J. Jacket

Now that the geometry is well understood, there are a few different ways to approach the 10/10 stairwell configuration from a technique standpoint:

#1: Take double steps at all times. even around the turns. The fewest footfalls, but the turns are very challenging.
#2: Take an extra footfall on the landings. Similarly, you could keep a single footfall on the landings, but take single steps before & after the landings. Not much difference. In both variations, the turns are quite easy at the expense of taking an extra footfall.
#3: Take double steps on the first flight, but take a single step after the landing, the switch to double steps and then finally a single step up to the next landing. That is: double-double-double-double-double (landing) single-double-double-double-double-single (landing) repeat. Essentially a mix of the first two options.

As my goal time was 2:30 that meant my metronome pace (beats/footfalls per minute) for the different options were as follows:

#1: 108 BPM--> 108 beats/min x 2.5 min x 2 steps/beat = 540 steps
#2: 130 BPM --> 130 beats/min x 2.5 min x (10 steps / 6 beats) = 541.67 steps
#3: 119 BPM --> 119 beats/min x 2.5 min x (20 steps/11 beats) = 541 steps

I felt option #1 would be too difficult to maintain on the upper floors. When tired, it's too easy to miss steps and start placing both feet on the landings (essentially option #2, but now slower). I also nixed option #3. While on paper, it is a good compromise, it's hard to execute** without practice.

**Honestly, did you have trouble following option 3? I had trouble writing it... so imagine trying to execute it without practice.

That left only option #2. 130 BPM is a brutal pace, but I figured that with the "easy" turns, I could focus solely on climbing.

The climb started at 9:30 AM with the doors opening at 8:30 AM. That meant I was able to wake up at a reasonable hour and have time for a light breakfast (Coffee + English muffin with PB&J). At 8:20 I was out the door and I power walked over to the building.

At the race, I quickly checked in. But just like in prior years, despite the small size of the event, there were quite a few competitive climbers: Josh, Steve M, Steve C, Todd, Dale, Z, Jill, Debbie, Nicole, and Michelle.

After saying a few "hellos" I did a practice/warm-up climb at half (65 BPM) pace. As my goal was 2:30 for the race, I wanted to make sure that at half speed, I'd reach the top in about 5 minutes. Plus I wanted to scout the stairwell - verifying the 10/10 configuration and finish line on the 28th floor.

Five minutes later - technically 4:55 later - I found myself on the 28th floor. The stairwell was indeed a uniform 10/10 configuration with the finish line just past the doorway. I took the elevator back down to the bottom for some more practice.

Back in the stairwell, I set my metronome to my planned race pace: 130 BPM. If you read my last post about Sears Tower, you'll note my old metronome finally broke and I borrowed Jill's Garmin watch. This time, however, I used the "Click" metronome app via my Apple watch. While it technically works... it turns off automatically when I start climbing (specifically it only works while my wrist is in position to look at the watch face). Plus it's slightly buggy - it doesn't always turn on when I switch between apps. The workaround is to turn on the metronome and listen to it for a few seconds until I internalize the beat. This method works reasonably well... but the metronome no longer serves as a task master. The internal rhythm eventually drifts away from the original beat. In my experience it naturally slows down as fatigue sets in unless you consciously push to go faster.

Now back to the stairwell... I didn't dare keep the 130 BPM pace for very long so I decided to take a break on the 6th floor. The pace was fast but I could handle it over such a short distance. With the extra planned footfall on the landings, the turns were pretty easy to execute. The question was, could I handle the pace over the course of 27 floors?

As I rested on the 6th floor, another climber passed me. It was #15. Josh mentioned that there was a fast firefighter climbing without gear and I suspected that's who it was (which I later confirmed was Chris Saadatjoo).

After nearly a minute of rest, I took off again at race pace for another 5 floors. At the 11th floor I rested a moment and then descended on foot. The 130 BPM pace felt manageable and the turns clean. I felt ready.

Back downstairs again, I switched into my racing flats. I asked the timer to climb first and to give me a long heads up before the 9:30 start time. Meanwhile, it was time for the pre-race introductions and announcements. I skirted off to the side to continue my warmups**. First some active stretches followed by some burpees. Plus a quick trip to the restroom.

** Under normal circumstances, I'd listen patiently to the announcements and introductions, but pre-race, I don't take any chances. My best practice is to stay warmed up and jack up my heart rate with burpees up until just a few minutes to start.

Finally we lined up. I had already started up Strava but my metronome app wasn't playing along. I restarted the app a couple times and that did the trick. I listened to the beat for a solid 30 seconds to internalize it before switching to my stop watch. The timer gave the ten second warning as I tapped my foot to what I hoped was 130 BPM. Otherwise I kept motionless in order to make sure I didn't accidentally move my wrist and turn off the touchscreen**.

Remaining photos courtesy of Jan Paha

**I love my Apple watch and all, but I really have to get a proper metronome and maybe even a stopwatch.

Showtime!

I darted into the stairwell climbing at 130 BPM. I tried to stay focused. I knew that If I just kept up my pace, I'd finish in 2:30... but to do so, I couldn't afford to slow down or make many errors.

I mostly stayed on the inner rail as I climbed. 130 BPM is quick, but the extra step on the landing made the turns quite easy. Getting into the zone, I didn't look up until I hit the 10th floor.

Ten floors was the easy part. My practice stairwell is about that height and has more difficult turns and taller steps. In fact, I usually climb even faster at 135+ BPM. The problem is that the race course is about triple the height of my practice stairwell and I know from experience that I can only maintain this kind of speed for about two minutes before fatigue sets in.

I hit the 15th floor without any kind of problem. I hadn't taken any extra footfalls and I was still consciously pushing the pace so that I wouldn't subconsciously slow down.

More than halfway!

I rounded the 20th floor. I accidentally took a single step around one of the landings, but I didn't panic. I ought to have a 6 second buffer and one extra footfall would hardly eat into that. I quickly reset my pattern on the next flight.

I was quickly approaching my limit. What I hoped was still a 130 BPM pace was becoming difficult to maintain. But I had only 8 floors to go. Even less than my practice building.

I hit the 22nd floor. This was my "go" point. Instead of pushing the pace simply to counteract my natural tendency to slow down, I pushed the pace to go even faster.
Right then and there I knew that I'd break the American Course Record. It would be painful, but the record was going to be mine.

I had another misstep on the landing leading up to the 24th floor, but it didn't matter. I was back on track on the 24th floor. My lungs were on fire and my legs were burning from lactic acid. Yet with 4 floors remaining, I didn't let up.

Up to the 25th floor. Then the 26th. Speedwise, I was at my limit. I'm guessing I was pulling 140 BPM @ 650 watts?

I couldn't keep this up for much longer, but I didn't need to. I powered up the last few flights using both handrails in an effort to eke out a little more speed.

I flew out of the stairwell and across the finish line. I fiddled with my watch for a moment** before hitting the stop button. 2:33.

**F'ing Apple

I broke the American Course Record! I guessed my official time would be in the neighborhood of 2:31 which was right on target.

I was ecstatically happy for a solid 3 seconds. Then reality set in.

Did I forget to mention I signed up for the *power hour race*, not the single climb

That meant I had to climb this building over and over again for the next 57 minutes. I wanted nothing more than to collapse to the floor and rest, but instead I stumbled down the hallway towards the elevator bank. As the first climber, I had the first elevator all to myself. I kind of slumped to the floor on the way down, but as soon as the door opened up again, I picked myself up and ~~jogged~~ shuffled back to the stairwell. The ride down was maybe 30 seconds long, certainly not long enough to recover after giving the first lap nearly my all.

I set my metronome up for 80 BPM. It wasn't easy as the "Click" app is wonky AF and I was still woozy from the first climb. Before the race, I calculated that 85 BPM would get me to the top in just under 4 minutes just fast enough to get in 13 laps. For my 2nd lap, however, I planned to go a little slower in order to recover.

I got into the stairwell. Immediately I knew that 80 BPM wasn't feasible. My heart rate was still jacked and my legs were leaden. After a couple floors I slowed down to something like 60 BPM (my best guesstimate). What had I gotten myself into?

I climbed in a fugue state for the next dozen floors. Despite the glacial pace I was barely recovering. However, I eventually reached a state where my body was in pain but my mind was coherent. I could hear another climber coming from below. It was #15, the fast firefighter. At this point I knew he'd handily win the power hour, but I had to at least confirm that I won the sprint. Weirdly, I had enough energy to speak properly, but not enough to climb any faster. I asked him his time. I think he said 2:46? Anyway, Chris passed right on by.

Miraculously, I made it to the top. Well over 5 minutes. My first climb was literally more than twice as fast. I trotted back to the elevator and as luck would have it, I missed the elevator and spent an extra ~10 seconds for the next one. Let's just add some salt to the wound.

The elevator ride down was still too short for much of a rest, but compared to the previous climb, my heart rate actually went down somewhat. I entered the stairwell again for my 3rd ascent. I bumped my metronome up to 85 BPM, but I couldn't hold it for more than a few floors. I likely dropped it down to something like 65 or 70 BPM. Still not very fast, but at least it got me to the top in under 5 minutes.

The next few laps were more of the same. Gradually, my ascent times were coming down to the mid 4's, but it was a far cry from the sub-4's I initially targeted.

The stairwell wasn't crowded as there were only 25 of us doing the power hour**. But every lap I'd pass a few people. It was easy to say "Hi Debbie!" or "Hi Dale" but my body was essentially stuck in 2nd gear. My heartrate was well under max, but constantly in the uncomfortable zone. Every time I tried going a little bit faster, I felt like crap. Maintainable for a single lap, but then I'd be in such rough shape, it would be just like repeating the 2nd lap. No way.

**The single climb used a different (but geometrically similar) stairwell which was likely already finished by now.

Weirdly, I passed Nicole on my 5th lap or so. She's pretty fast, so I found it strange that I had already caught up**. We climbed together for a few floors but then I slowly pulled away.

**I'd later learn she wasn't feeling well.

Later on - I had lost track of laps by now - Jill caught up to me. At first I thought she might've lapped me, but after I thought about it, we were actually on the same lap. It's just that I started ahead of her in the first place.

I was not using my metronome at this point, seeing how it was unlikely to keep up for any significant duration. Instead, Jill served as the pacemaker. Fortunately, I could keep up. Barely. While I never fully recovered from the first climb, I was steadily improving.

We did the few remaining laps together. Seemingly getting a little faster with each climb, though at some point we were still lapped by Chris the aforementioned fast firefighter. I had no idea what lap I was on at any given moment, but after each lap I did get a chance to see the clock at the stairwell entrance. It was steadily inching towards 10:30 AM - the end of the power-hour.

Finally, it was time for one last lap. I entered the stairwell and began my last ascent. But where was Jill?

Shoot. I realized I made a mistake. If you really want to do well in a Power Hour, you run out the clock and enter the stairwell just before the end of the hour. As long as you get into the stairwell before the clock runs out, your last lap will count (e.g. 59:59:59 counts... 60:00:01 doesn't). That way, if you have any extra time on the clock before the hour is up, you are able to use it to recover a bit more for your final - hopefully fast - lap. I had like 3-4 minutes on the clock. Oh well.

For the first half, I maintained the same pace Jill and I had used for the past few laps. I'm guessing like 75-80 BPM? But once I got to the 15th floor, I started to let loose. While it was a far cry from the 130 BPM I used on the first lap, maybe I topped out somewhere between 90 - 100 BPM? Anyway, it was enough to make me very uncomfortable, but with only a dozen or so floors, it was manageable. I got to the top tired, but not overtaxed. While I felt like crap, I felt so much better than I did earlier in the race. I might have finally broken 4 minutes? LOL.

After a few minutes of hanging out at the top, I eventually took the elevator back down. They had a nice continental breakfast spread... but they were already dismantling it. I quickly grabbed a bagel before it was gone for good.

Finally a chance to catch up with all the other climbers - including Steve Marsalese who I never encountered in the stairwell. Apparently I was going just fast enough to keep ahead of him.

Likewise, I met up with the Power Hour winner Chris Saadatjoo. He had a strong debut climb without gear. Here are my initial impressions: First, he stands maybe a little bit taller than I am, but is a solid 12 pounds heavier (185 lbs.) yet still lean. I'm guessing his BMI is about the same as mine, possibly even a little higher. That's pretty impressive. Secondly, his single climb was quite fast (2:43.6 official) and it was followed up by an American Course Record for Power Hour**. I honestly don't know if I could've pulled that off if I had a slightly conservative first climb. Lastly, it's quite clear that Chris would be one of the top climbers on the circuit if he decided to climb without gear. Let's hope he does a few non-gear climbs in the near future.

** Sadly, this race had timing issues. Due to a malfunction at the top lasting ~15 minutes, it was impossible (according to the timers) to calculate ascent times. As such, only the full lap times were listed (which include intentional or unintentional breaks). So we'll never know if Chris's 12 ascent victory was faster than Mark Henderson's record. But honestly, I believe Chris's overall ascent time was a little bit faster.

Final Thoughts:
Power Hours are a different breed of race. In the case where it's combined with a single climb, you need to pick your poison: Do a fast first lap and have a slower power hour? or ignore the single climb to focus on consistent power hour laps? This was only my 2nd foray into this type of event and I underestimated just how deep in debt I'd be if I pushed my first lap. Maybe I'm just not suited for this kind of double headed format? Regardless, I felt stuck in 2nd gear for most of the power hour. It was a weird feeling close to bonking (a really icky feeling) but also capable of speech. While it was always possible to go faster (at least after the 2nd lap) the lack of willingness to suffer for an extended period of time kept it out of reach. It was as if I spent all my willpower on the first climb and had nothing left.

My heart rate during the race is shown in the graph below. The first two thin spikes are actually my pre-race burpees. The first spike during the race is actually a combination of my first two climbs - it appears my heart rate remained elevated during the "rest" on the elevator ride down. It also appears that my heart rate never climbed above 160 BPM on the first lap, likely due to heart rate lag during such a short climb. In a longer climb, it usually peaks at 173 or so after a few minutes. Lastly, my heart rate hovered around 140 BPM (drifting upwards as time progressed) during the breaks which is way higher than my normal rest breaks... and typically peaked around 160 BPM which is well below my maximum. In other words, during the power hour I was constantly miserable, but never really pushing myself.

Consider this: My official time of 2:28.4 is very close to Wai Ching's single climb record of 2:24.1. However, after that he managed 14 more climbs averaging 3:13 appiece. That's over a minute faster than my lap times... and 4 more laps to boot. I'm sure part of it is being able to recover from such an exertion in the first place and part of it is not overdoing it on the first lap. My guess is that Wai Ching could climb the building in roughly 2:05 if he went "all out" on the single climb. He's really impressive.

Regarding the overall course record, I was actually within striking distance. If I could redo the race knowing what I know now, I would've gone as fast as possible. However, that wasn't my goal. Tactically, I was focused on beating a record, not going as fast as possible. These are two very different things.

To beat a record - especially one you are somewhat confident in breaking - it's 60% about finding the right pace, 30% about mental fortitude to keep that pace when it starts getting tough, and 10% about aggression (pushing harder) despite the pain.

Going as fast as possible, on the other hand, is only 20% about knowing the right pace. The rest is evenly split around pushing hard and the mental fortitude required to keep going when it hurts. While it improves the odds of having your "best" time, it also increases the odds of flaming out before you get to the finish line (fly and die).

The two scenarios above are generalizations. They obviously converge if you are chasing a time that is at the very tip of your capability. Like, if I wanted to break 2:20, I'd seriously have to take some risk in order to achieve it. Possible? yes. Probable? no. There would be a good chance that I'd bonk in the 20s and my time would be over 2:40 once my legs stopped working.

If I do come back, it won't be to break the single climb record. Instead, I'd focus solely on the power hour. I'd need either 3:35 ascents to have a shot at 14 laps or just under 4 minutes for 13 as long as the descents were just under a minute on average (very iffy).

Grades: (Single/Power Hour)
Fitness: A minus - Very close to pre-COVID levels.
Weight: A minus - I'm around 171 which is a good race weight. The final goal is just below 170, though 165 would be a dream come true.
Effort: A / B minus - Strong effort for the Single climb. I was not ready for the suffering during the power hour and I just didn't force it.
Pacing & Technique: A / C minus - 130 BPM was perfect for the single climb and I only had a couple of missteps. The power hour was a different beast and not in a good way.
Overall: A / B minus - Very happy about the single climb. Not a very good performance in the power hour. Partly because I was already cooked, but also because I didn't really push hard. Admittedly, I was fine with just finishing the power hour after accomplishing my goal for the single climb.

Chicago, Chicago!

2025-11-14T10:31:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, there was a 35 year old named Alex. He started climbing stairs competitively because he thought he was pretty good at it. He did some research and found the tallest and most competitive race in the country. It was the Sears Tower and he flew to Chicago to race up the building. He reached the top in 16:52. The winning time was 13:03.

It turns out there were a *lot* of faster climbers.

Alex flew back to Albany and trained really hard. The next year he climbed Sears in 15:13. It was a big improvement, but still slower than the best climbers.

So Alex flew back to Albany and trained really hard. The next year he climbed Sears in 14:53. It was a big improvement, but still slower than the best climbers.

Again and again, Alex traveled to Chicago and climbed up Sears Tower. His times kept dropping. 14:45…14:19… He was certainly fast, but he was still slower than the best climbers.

By then, Alex was in his early 40s. His race results were still pretty good, but the times were no longer dropping.

Then disaster stuck. The COVID pandemic shut down society. Workplaces, Schools, and even *charity races* were closed. Since there weren't any races to train for, Alex got fat... and when COVID was over, he wasn't in shape to climb. He took a year off to train.

When he finally lost some weight, he flew to Chicago to race up Sear Tower, but then he got sick and missed the climb**.

**It was probably for the best since he would've struggled to break 20 minutes.

The next year, Alex was in much better condition. He flew to Chicago to race up the Sears Tower. This time, he didn't get sick. He climbed up the building in 16:40. He was over two minutes slower than his best time. He was disappointed.

Alex flew back to Albany. He was now 48 years old and feeling discouraged. Maybe he'd never again compete with the best climbers, but he still wanted to be fast. So Alex trained and dieted and then trained some more.

A year later, it was time for Alex to fly to Chicago to climb the Sears Tower again. He was now 49 years old and it would be his 12th trip to Sears - including the time he got sick.

Here is where the story begins...

------------

Sears Tower. Round 12. The previous year, I was in decent shape, but my performance at Sears was underwhelming. While I expected to break 16 minutes based on my training, I ended up 40 seconds slower than my goal.

This year I was a little leaner and slightly more fit. Based on my training, I knew I should shave at least 20 seconds off my time. However, 20 seconds *still* wouldn't get me under 16 minutes if I climbed like last year.

But I came into the race more prepared. For the past year, I've been incorporating 15 minute time trials to simulate the exertion needed to climb up a tall building. While the absolute levels of my fitness didn't change much, I was better prepared to handle a longer race.

It seemed to work. I had a good race at ESBRU that was on par with many of my races pre-COVID. Heading into the race, I was pretty confident I could climb Sears well under 16 minutes. Possibly under 15 if I had a good race. But let's not count our chickens prematurely...

The week leading up to Sears was rough. I climbed up and down Cap Blanc in Quebec 29 times with my friends Napoleon, Tom, and Jill and my legs were absolutely trashed. I stupidly had a "leg" day 48 hours after Cap Blanc and I didn't feel fully recovered until Thursday. But Thursday, I had an awesome time trial. I took off Friday to rest and fly out to Chicago. In Chicago, 24 hours before the race, I did a short "shake out" climb in my 19 story hotel. It wasn't pretty. Despite using a slow 80 BPM "Sears" pace (e.g. like running at a 5K pace for a few 600m repeats) I felt super sluggish.

Unsure of my fitness, I decided to use a slightly conservative pace on the morrow: 78 BPM rather than 80 BPM which I had originally planned to go with.

I hung out with David and Jill later that day. It appeared that the competition at Sears was fairly light this year, which has been a common theme since COVID. There wouldn't be any fast international climbers and many top US climbers would be absent. That meant that if I had a good race, I might take a podium spot?

The next morning, I power-walked to Sears. Of course, it was raining**.

**Wet socks, but at least my racing shoes remained dry.

There were a lot of familiar faces at check-in including my friend Tom who drove 12 hours and slept in his car to be here.

Warm-up time. Active stretches and burpees. Then the long trek to the start line. I'm not kidding. Since the remodelling, they added a labyrinth in the 2nd level basement which serves as a "mini-museum" for the Skydeck. At least I think that's what it is - I wasn't going to leisurely browse the exhibits while jazzed up for the race.

At the start line, reality finally set in.

Like I mentioned, the competition was light this year. There were a few perennial power houses like Jason Larson and Mark Ewell, but nobody else that I knew... that is until I noticed our current US Champion - Chris Wiatr - on the start line**. Plus a couple other fast-looking climbers.

**You are probably wondering why I was surprised to see the US Champion at the race. The reason is quite simple: Chris isn't on the stair climbing circuit. He typically only does one race - Hustle up the Hancock - which just happened to be our National Championship race this year (traditionally it's been at the Stratosphere in Las Vegas). As a competitive cyclist, he is quite fast in the stairwell. It wasn't a surprise that he won at Hustle... but I was somewhat surprised to see him at Sears.

While my chances of winning just took a nosedive, I still held out hope for a podium spot, especially since Jason - my longtime rival - wasn't in top shape**.

**For a very good reason. Congrats!

I finished up my last round of burpees and lined up 4th behind Chris. The two other fast-looking guys lined up ahead of us. Potentially they had no business starting out in front, but I wasn't going to say anything (sometimes there are very fast dark-horses at these events). I assumed Jason, Mark, and Jill were behind me but I honestly was too focused on the start line to pay attention.

The organizers gave us 7 seconds between climbers and soon it was my turn.

Go!

Did I mention I broke my metronome? The battery died while climbing up Cap Blanc and it was so old that the screws were corroded and the heads stripped (as I've changed the battery many times over the years). After forcefully cracking it open, it stopped working. Luckily, I borrowed Jills Garmin which has a built-in haptic (a fancy word for vibration) metronome. Much better than any of the Apple metronome apps which turn off as soon as you move your wrist to start climbing or switch between apps (Strava, stopwatch, etc.).

I started my stop-watch and started climbing. While the Garmin metronome buzzed against my right wrist, it was faint and I regretted not having my audible Seiko metronome. Fortunately, after a few flights, I finally "felt" the beat properly and got into a 78 BPM rhythm.

Prior to the race, I worried that I'd tire out prematurely based on my disheartening "shakeout" climb the previous day. However, at this point my mind was blank. No thoughts other than keeping one foot on the landings. Sears is generally a 10/10 pattern so by purposely taking one step (rise) after each landing that meant I was taking the turns rather conservatively. Single-Double-Double-Double-Double-Single-Turn. Repeat. Far easier (but slower) than taking only double steps.

Already I was into the 20s. I might've passed one of the first two climbers? I can't remember. But I distinctly heard heavy breathing and quick steps coming from down below. It was strange. The audible footfalls had a much higher turnover rate than mine, but they weren't catching up very quickly. Then it dawned on me that they were single stepping (i.e. running) up the stairs. Mystery solved.

Slowly but surely, the climber was catching up. Finally I had visual contact in the upper 30s. Unsurprisingly, I didn't recognize them as few top climbers take single steps**.

**While I personally don't use single steps, I've been passed by a couple top Europeans using that technique, so I'm not knocking it.

I didn't panic. While this climber (which I later learned was Thomas Baker) had already put 20-30 seconds into me, I could tell by his heavy breathing that he was starting to struggle with the pace. He eventually came within a flight of my position, but slowly I started pulling away. By the time we hit the halfway point (around the 51st floor) he was no longer in sight.

I was climbing alone again as I entered the 60s. I was handling the pace fairly well, but I was starting to feel fatigued. Could I maintain this pace if I restarted the race? Probably not. Could I maintain this pace for another 6 minutes? Probably yes.

I passed another climber (which I later learned was Benjamin Mohrdieck). That meant that only Chris Wiater was ahead of me. That meant I likely sealed up 2nd place unless there was some other unknown dark horse starting further back. I didn't dwell on it as I was now in the suffer zone.

I hit the 77th floor, roughly 75% of the way to the top. I briefly peered at my watch. While I didn't get a good look, I did register the first two (minutes) digits as an 11, meaning I was still under the 12 minute mark. That meant I was on track to break 16 minutes. This didn't take a lot of mental math as my goal was ~4 minutes per quarter. Easy enough to calculate when loopy.

More importantly, I heard cheering from up ahead. It had to be the volunteers cheering for Chris as he was the only climber ahead of me. I mentally approximated how much time it took me to get to the cheering/aid station. Maybe 15 seconds? A bit more than the 7 second gap we started with... but within striking distance.

I consciously sped up after crossing into the 80s.

Here is where I noticed the advantage of using a haptic metronome. While it's annoying to get into an initial rhythm because the pulse is so faint, it also makes it easier to ignore and climb at a faster pace.

I was definitely feeling the pace, but with less than 3 minutes to go, I knew I had saved enough for a strong finish. The guard rails of my metronome were off and I climbed with urgency. Not quite a sprint... but I could feel my legs churning out the extra watts.

Into the 90s, the stairwell changed from 10/10 to 7/7/7 and I could now hear Chris up ahead. As we started with a 7 second gap, I knew I didn't need to pass him - I just needed to keep within a couple flights. But now my finishing instincts kicked in. Chris was climbing fairly well, but I managed to catch up with another surge. He stepped out of the way to let me pass right around the 96th floor (give or take a floor).

I kept up my surge on the final few floors. Tired? Yes, but I wasn't quite at my limit. 100. 101. 102. Those triple flights made it a bit harder to tolerate, but finally I was a mere three flights from the end. I could hear the cheering from the Skydeck as I climbed towards the top.

I burst through the doorway and crossed the finish line. I stopped my watch right at 15:29.

It took me a few moments to register that I had (probably**) won the race!

**As there were 2000+ participants the climb would last all morning and there was always the possibility someone faster would climb later.

I was tired, but not on-the-floor dying. I managed to stay on my feet albeit hunched over with my hands on my quads for support. By the time a few of the other racers had finished, I was walking off the fatigue.

For the next 45 minutes or so, I hung out on the Skydeck with all the other climbers. I got a chance to catch up with many other climbers on the circuit and had the opportunity to meet & chat with Chris (2nd place) and Ben (5th place).

Jill (unsurprisingly) won the women's side, but unlike me, she was on the ground for quite a long while. As winners, we got to hold up the Towerrunning Challenge poster.

Meanwhile it took Tom a bit longer to get up to the top. While he was initially on pace for 30 minutes, he suffered during the later half, but still finished in 35 minutes.

Final Thoughts:

While my time this year (15:26) wasn't the best I had ever done, it was still solid and more importantly, I had lopped over a minute off of last year's mediocre performance. Catching up with Chris near the end of the race was just icing on the cake. At the very least, it gives me confidence that I can perform well at our National Championship at Hustle early next year.

As a comparison, here are my times across the years. This ranks 8th out of 11 climbs (not great) but it's not too far behind some of my "average" climbs.

2011 16:52

2012 15:13

2013 14:53

2014 14:45

2015 14:19

2016 14:21

2017 14:50**

2018 14:45**

2019 15:09**

2023: DNS (sick)

2024 16:40**

2025 15:26**

** Since 2017 we've had two extra floors (44 steps) which adds ~18 seconds, so this year's 15:26 is faster than my 15:13 time from 2013.

I'm quite pleased that I won, but let's be real. At the start of my racing career this performance wouldn't have been remotely close to a podium spot. There were so many faster climbers back then. Since COVID, however, the competition hasn't been as strong. On the positive side (?) I'm probably the oldest winner of the race which means I've benefited from the longevity of my career. There are older climbers out there who are (or who have been) faster... but every year that passes, the list seems to grow smaller.

Next year I plan to improve even further. I'd really like to crack 15 minutes and I honestly think I have the capability. If not now... then after a bit more training and proper dieting.

My pace of 78 BPM turned out to be conservative. In prior years, I used 82-85 BPM though I've bonked at the top of that range. Perhaps 80 BPM would've been optimal? I'm walking a fine line between bleeding time (too slow) and blowing up (too fast).

Grades:

Fitness: A minus - Very close to pre-COVID levels.

Weight: A minus - I'm around 171 which is a good race weight. The final goal is just below 170, though 165 would be a dream come true.

Effort: B Plus - This was a solid effort, but I could've handled a faster pace for the first 80 stories. I wasn't on the floor at the end of the race which means I had some energy.

Pacing & Technique: B Plus - 78 BPM was slightly conservative, but it delayed the suffering which tests mental fortitude. Likewise, it enabled me to save some energy so that I could pick up the pace towards the end. Other than hugging the rails and avoiding placing both feet on the landings, my technique wasn't special. I simply didn't pay much attention to my footfalls.

Overall: A minus - This was another "breakthrough" race post COVID and it gave me added confidence for a long race. I can finally put last year's performance in the rear view window. I was honestly worried that my racing years were winding down

New York, New York!

2025-10-14T19:24:00.000-07:00

Lead Up:

I've been feeling dejected of late. While I hit my weight loss goal and my fitness seemed close to pre-COVID levels, my race results haven't matched my expectations. With races in both Albany and Seattle clocking in 5-10 seconds slower than I expected, I felt like I had lost my top gear. Like, when I was in my late 30s and early 40s, I would've found that extra gear. While I probably would've gone out a little aggressively and paid the toll for it in the latter half of a climb, I would have also pushed through the pain - finally collapsing in a heap at the end with a solid time. These days maybe my body can't tolerate it? or maybe I'm just unwilling to get to that point?

While I'm still in very good shape, I can't help but think my glory days are behind me.

That didn't stop me from grinding out a solid week of workouts in between races, however. I pushed myself hard and I hit 2nd (post-COVID) bests in all my major workouts leading up to ESBRU. While they weren't absolute bests... doing them back-to-back-to back during the same week was a solid achievement.

I finally stopped grinding on Monday with only 48 hours before the race. I limited my weight training session to about 70-85% (legs) and did a fairly easy workout on Tuesday, keeping my HR below 160 which is where fatigue really starts to accumulate.

While I wasn't completely fresh come race day, I still felt pretty darn good.

My goal for this race was low 13s. Last year I climbed in 13:38 and fitness wise, I knew I should shave off a solid 25 seconds. My stretch goal, however was 12:59. Breaking 13 would be fantastic and be in line with many of my other ESBRUs.

Logistics:

Amtrak didn't have any cheap & convenient rides from Albany/Rensselaer to Penn Station on race day, so I drove down to Beacon to take the commuter rail.

View of the Hudson at Beacon

Though it is two stations south of Poughkeepsie (my usual stop) it actually takes the same amount of time to drive to Beacon since it is right off I84. A few more tolls, but it cuts 18 minutes (and a couple of bucks) off of my train ride. I wish I had figured this out 20 years ago.

I left the house at 2:45 and got to Beacon around 4:25. Plenty of time to catch the 4:49 train to Grand Central. On the train I read a few chapters of "A Canticle for Leibowitz" and tried to not think about the upcoming race. I arrived at Grand Central around 6:15 PM (on time) and had my pre-race snack downstairs in the food court - a banana with peanut butter. In case you are wondering, I like my bananas a little under ripe when eating them with peanut butter and mostly ripe when eating them plain.

As I walked towards the Empire State Building, I took a snapshot of it right as the sun was setting. You can see One Penn Plaza (another NYC racing venue) in the background since they are both on 34th Street. The entire walk takes maybe 15 minutes.

Pre-Race:

ESBRU attracts a pretty strong international field each year as well as a gaggle of top American climbers. While generally you see a lot of familiar faces in the lineup, you don't find out the actual lineup until you're lining up.

Here is a bunch of strong climbers I knew in order of expected finishing order:

Internationals: Wai Ching Soh, Fabio Ruga, and Omar Bekkali. Also, former Olympic 2x gold medalist triathlete Alistair Brownlee was set to make an appearance, though for some reason he wasn't starting with the elites. Surprisingly absent was Ryoji Watanabe who won last year.

There were at least a couple other international elites as well, but I don't keep up with the World rankings these days and I just don't know them well enough to comment. I just had to assume that if they traveled to NYC for a race, they were likely faster than I was.

Americans: Cole Hetzel, David Roeske, Myself, Martin Pederson**, Troy Alston, Mark Ewell, David Tromp, and Steve Marsalese. A fairly competitive field... but surprisingly missing were Sproule Love and Jason Larson. Of the field, the only climber strong enough to compete with the faster internationals was Cole Hetzel.

**Martin is actually Danish, but he is my friend and he shows up a lot of big American Climbs. Hence, I'm grouping him with us.

I'm not as qualified to speak for the Women's side, but of the women I knew, my top picks were: Shari Klarfeld, Kamila Chomanicova (international), Anna Carlson, Jill Paha, Nicole Robbins, Tricia O'Hara, and Debbie Officer. There were several other international women in the line-up, but I follow women's racing even less than the men's. The only other woman I hoped would be at the race was Cindy Harris, but sadly she didn't attend this year.

I had a good 30 minutes to kill before heading to the start line. I changed into my racing gear and checked in my bag *twice* as I forgot to change into my racing flats the first time around. As I waited in the auditorium, I chatted with a few of my stair racing friends and Tower Masters teammates** who I haven't seen for a long while and finally met Cole Hetzel who I knew only through reputation. Before heading to the start line, I began doing my active stretching routine followed by a couple rounds of burpees to start my warmup.

**David Tromp, Steve (dad) and Sebastian (son) Marsalese, & Jim McNamara (there for moral support).

Showtime:

I followed my friend Jill to the start line (I was hoping she'd earn a podium spot) and finished up my last few rounds of burpees. They felt easy, though they spiked my heart rate much higher than I would've otherwise expected. Probably nerves?

We were given a short warning a few minutes prior to the 8:00 PM official start time. I lined up in the 2nd row. Last year I started at the back was boxed out of the stairwell for a few seconds.

I was expecting a couple minutes of announcements and introductions, but to my surprise, we were given just a "Ready... go!" as the clock hit 8:00. Honestly, I kind of like it better this way; it helps me time my last round of burpees in order to keep my warm-up fresh for the race.

We began a mad dash to the stairwell as I started my stop watch. I may or may not have yelled "Charge!".

I got stuck in the doorway for a trice, but soon I was climbing up. The first couple floors were crowded, but I was still able to climb at my metronome's 90 BPM pace. Within a few floors, the fastest climbers (and rabbits) were already a couple flights ahead leaving a gruppetto of slower climbers in their wake. At this point I think it was David R., Alex (me), Martin, Troy, and Mark climbing ass-to-nose in a vertical human centipede.

The floors passed by fairly quickly and I only looked for the floor numbers when we hit double digits. We were still in formation but no longer climbing on top of one another, As we entered the mid teens, I noticed Troy gaining on me. A conundrum. Should I stay on the inside lane and force him to expend extra energy to pass on the outside? Or should I lose a second and step out of the way to give him a clean pass? My rule is that if I'm confident I'm the better athlete, I'll stay in my lane. It's not my fault that a weaker climber is unable to reign in their enthusiasm. But if I'm unsure... I always get out of the way.

I got out of the way.

While I hoped to eventually pass him further up, Troy beat me earlier this year in a 22 floor sprint climb and also beat me 9.5 years ago (February 2016) in this very same building.

I soon hit the 20th floor where the stairwell transitions from a regular stairwell (Single flight, landing, 180 turn, Repeat) to a Z pattern (Single flight, 180 turn, Run towards the next flight, 180 turn, Repeat). Time to take stock of the situation. While nearly at the quarter point vertically, time wise it's just under the 20% mark and still early in the race. I still felt pretty strong. Fresh even. The real climb was just beginning and I'm glad I felt as good as I did.

I quickly found my new rhythm and over the course of the next two floors. Unexpectedly, Troy had stepped out of the way to let the rest of us go by. Did he blow up? There wasn't enough oxygen in my brain to think about it.

Into the 30s, we were now down to three climbers. David, Alex, and Martin, though maybe Mark was still holding on. I couldn't tell.

For the past 10 floors, it went something like this:

Climb steady to my metronome up the flight, turn, sprint to the next flight, catch on to the side rail and swing myself around the corner, using the momentum to carry me up the first few steps. Repeat.

The problem was, I was constantly grabbing on to the side rail right next to David's hand as he began to climb up the next flight. While my momentum carried me up the first few stairs, I'd have to pause slightly to let David get a little further ahead so we weren't bumping into each other. Frankly, it was getting tiresome (mentally) and I knew I was wasting a little time and energy after switching from the flat to the stairs.

I contemplated passing to make my climb a little easier. But considering we were virtually going the same speed, I knew that I'd have to accelerate for a few floors to get away clean. That seemed like a foolish idea considering I was approaching my red line. Honestly, I didn't want to go any faster. Rather, I just wanted some space. So going into the 40s I eased up a bit to put a half-flight of space between us.

At this point, our trio had dwindled down to just two of us. I could kind of hear Martin down below, but I couldn't see him.

On 42, I cheered internally. One Corning Tower done... and a little more than one to go**.

**Years ago, David Tromp told me this is what goes through his head and it's stuck in mine ever since.

From here it started to feel tough. No longer was I attacking the flats and aggressively turning. However, 90 BPM pace on the stairs still felt reasonable.

Into the 50s, I was still holding it together. The gap between David and myself was nearly a whole flight. While he was exiting, I was entering.

Then came the 60s. I knew we were approaching the last phase of the race. I could hear David, but I had nearly lost sight of him.

On the 65th floor transition to the next stairwell, I nearly panicked. At this point, you exit the stairwell and run down a few different hallways with a couple 90 degree turns in between. While I didn't get lost, I realized I had lost contact with David. Not only could I not see him, but I couldn't hear him either.

I got back into the stairwell and climbed up to the 66th floor. If I had any breath to spare I would've breathed a sigh of relief. While I couldn't see David, I could hear him on the flight above. The acoustics of the previous hallway had just muffled out the sound.

Climbing up towards the 70s it was time for a gut check. I was pretty much on the knife's edge of the redline. Once you go past the red line, there is no coming back so you'd better be close to the finish... and with nearly 20 floors to go, I wasn't yet ready to push harder. It was a weird feeling. On one hand I was in pain and ready to stop, but on the other, I felt I could continue this pace for a good while yet. This far into the race, I think I was a half-step slower on the runs. However, I could still handle my 90 BPM pace on the vertical sections. Barely.

I was mentally trying to avoid thinking about the pain. I just checked each floor off one by one until I hit the 76th floor. Only 10 more to go. I glanced down at my watch. I don't quite remember the number, but I think it was somewhere in the low 11s. While these are "long" floors with all the running involved, I felt like I had a shot at breaking 13.

I had nearly lost David at this point. He was probably over a floor ahead; I could hear him, but only faintly. I mentally chastised myself - I shouldn't have let him get so far ahead in the first place. Time to reel him in.

77, 78, 79. I attempted to run on the flats with a little more urgency and take the turns a little more aggressively.

Into the 80s.

By now I realized I had run out of room to catch up to David who I assumed also increased his pace, but it didn't stop me from trying to close the gap.

81, 82, 83. Just three floors to go. I stopped caring about the pain and just climbed.

83, 84, 85. Almost there. Push!

I swear that the last floor or so skips a run and just goes vertical. After getting used to the landings it felt like someone socked me in the gut.

While I exited the stairwell on the 86th floor, I thought I saw a glimpse of David as he went around the turn on the observation deck. Now it was just a sprint to the finish line. I made it around the final turn and I could see the race clock with big red numbers. 12:46... 12:47... 12:48... I ran through the finish line to squeeze out a fraction of a second. I stopped my watch at 12:53 a few seconds after crossing. Then I collapsed to the ground. I had really pushed myself and there was a real possibility of climbing under 12:50.

The Aftermath:

It took a few minutes to get up. I didn't even notice when the remaining men and the next wave of women crossed the line. I was woozy, but happy. I had beaten both my goal and stretch goal in what was probably my 2nd fastest time ever in this building going back 10+ years. So while Albany and Seattle indicated I hadn't regained my former climbing shape... this race flips that script.

Eventually most of the climbers I knew were gathered on the observation deck and for once I could truly admire the view. I bumped into Jill who for once seemed pleased with her race. She mentioned that although she didn't reach the podium, she kept up with the other top women, battling it out throughout the entire race.

After race photos courtesy of Mark Ewell

By now the race results were being posted and I took a quick glance. The placement seemed legitimate (9th overall) but the times looked wonky. They had me coming in at 12:34 which was ~15 seconds faster than reality and it appeared all the other climbers in my wave had the same timing issue. You can see the official results here.

Finally time to go back downstairs. By happenstance I ran into Alistair Brownlee (the aforementioned gold medalist) and had a quick photo with him. Turns out he raced in a different wave and clipped me by 6 seconds. It's too bad he didn't compete with the elites as I might've been with him our little group.

Before I returned home, I grabbed some Pizza with Jill and her mom to celebrate. I think it was well deserved as Jill came in 4th among the ladies and I came in 9th overall.

I caught the 10:47 PM train back to Beacon. I was on a high nearly the entire way back. Like a rational adult, I tried my best to take a nap as I had a 3-seat row all to myself, but all I could do was close my eyes. Possibly a mix of endorphins and caffeine. After arriving at Beacon, I hopped in my car and drove back to Albany. I arrived home by 2:00 AM, though I didn't actually go to bed until 3:00. I'd be tired tomorrow... but the trip to NYC was worth it.

Grades:

Fitness: A minus - Very close to pre-Covid levels.

Weight: A minus - I'm somewhere between 171 and 172 lbs on any given day which is where I typically race at. The final goal is just below 170.

Effort: A - I pushed myself pretty hard. I thought about giving an A minus, but considering how pleased I was with myself afterwards, I'm giving myself that A.

Pacing & Technique: B Plus - 90 BPM was pretty solid at least after the 20th floor. My technique - sprinting the landings and swinging around the rails - was solid, but not really the right strategy (more thoughts below)

Overall: A minus - While I was in survival mode, say into the 50s and above, I didn't break mentally and kept with it. I didn't have a "killer instinct" but that might be due to the venue.

Final Thoughts:

I've always struggled at ESBRU. Even this time around I feel like I underperformed relative to other climbers (like in a similarly timed building, I'd expect to be in the mid/lower 12s rather than upper 12s/lower 13s). I think over the years I've accepted this fact. This year, my only aspiration was to erase last year's poor performance** by putting down a more respectable time. A 13:10 would be solid. Anything below 13 would be wonderful.

**It's not that last year was a "bad" race. Rather, I was slower because I was a few pounds overweight and my fitness was still a work in progress.

Tactically, I think my decision to stay behind David was sound. He's stronger in the building and his pace was pretty consistent. However, I think I wasted a bunch of energy in the 20s and 30s attacking the flats and turns only to pause when catching up to David. I either should've passed or been less aggressive... and because I wasn't feeling confident enough to pass, I should've been less aggressive.

The funny thing is, after I stopped attacking and had some space... I lost the will (and perhaps even the ability) to attack.

After looking at the race results, I think I uncovered the main source of error. I specifically remember starting the race just as the clock passed 8:00 PM. However, all of the men in the elite wave have their official start time as 8:00:18 (eighteen seconds past 8 O'clock). So assuming that the top and bottom clocks were in sync, I trust my crossing time of 8:12:49 means I really climbed in 12:49.

Finally, after looking at the splits on the 20th floor, 65th floor, and finish line on the 86th floor observation deck, it's amazing how the top men climbed up. Essentially, the top 6 men sprinted up the first 20 floors and then settled into a much slower pace for the rest of the building.

As an example, take the 3rd and 4th climbers (Ching Chun & Cole) who basically climbed up the building together. Overall, they were ~82 seconds ahead of me. By the 20th floor (representing ~20% of the race) they were already 35 seconds ahead. From floors 20-65 (representing ~55% of the race) they pulled further ahead by another 35 seconds. Finally, from floors 65 to the finish on 86 (representing ~25% of the race) they pulled ahead by only 12 seconds.

To put it another way:

43% of the gap came during the first 20% of the race

43% of the gap came during the middle 55% of the race

14% of the gap came during the last 25% of the race

While I don't adhere to that strategy myself, the fact that all the faster climbers used it appears to give it some merit, at least in a race with a mass start.

The Terminator

2025-03-26T11:41:00.000-07:00

Go!

I shot into the stairwell and tried to hit the start button of my stop watch.

"Tried".

The watch face display showed my screensaver rather than my stop watch app. After pressing the digital crown of my apple watch, I realized that the stop watch went to sleep... and it would take 5 seconds of calm, deliberate manipulation to get it back. LOL.

Fuck. I'd have to climb without a stopwatch. It wouldn't be my first rodeo.

Up, Up, Up... To the Left, To the Left, To the Left...

I was Bib #7. Bib #6 was a no-show, so Jason Larson with Bib #5 was fifteen seconds ahead of me up the stairwell. He was last year's US Champion so this would be a tough race.

It's been a year since my return to stair climbing and what a humbling experience it has been. My debut race was at last year's US Championships at the Stratosphere. I was 10 lbs overweight and in mediocre shape. It showed. I was over a minute slower than my slowest attempt (Pre-Covid). Very embarrassing.

Throughout the season my fitness increased and my weight dropped but my race results continued to be dismal. World Championships at Taipei, Empire State Building Run-up, and Sear Tower were all below expectations.

However, a decent showing at Bop to the Top had my hopes up for this year's US Championships.

This year it was hosted at Hustle up the Hancock in Chicago instead of at the Stratosphere. It's a somewhat taller race course with about 3 minutes of extra climbing (at my level at least).

I had some experience at Hustle, having climbed it in 2012 and 2013. But that was well over a decade ago when I was relatively new to this sport. If I recall correctly, my times were 11:11 and 11:08 respectively. While I believe I would've challenged the 10 minute mark at my peak, I certainly wasn't at that point now. Maybe I was around my 2013 speed? I suspected as much, but I've kind of lost faith in my ability to estimate fitness (I'm 0-4 in all the big races).

I had set my metronome to 88 BPM. In 2012 & 2013 I used 90 & 92 BPM respectively, but according to my notes (thank you blog!) this pace was slightly aggressive and towards the top I started double stepping the landings. So 88 seemed like a decent target*.

*Plus, 88 is an auspicious number..

The pace seemed fine for the first dozen or so floors and I climbed fairly cleanly - hugging the rails and keeping just a single foot on the landings.

The problem with Hustle, however, is that the stairwell isn't uniform. Sometimes there's an even number of steps per flight and sometimes there's an odd number.

Before the race I looked for a stairwell chart. There isn't one - not even on Stan's blog. However there were a few online videos of the stairwell. I saw a few 11/11s, but sadly that is just in one section and it seems to vary significantly.

So my strategy was to take a single step every time I got to a landing. This would be perfect for 11/11s and merely acceptable for 10/10s

By the 20s, I was still in good shape. My heartrate had stabilized and I could feel the pace. No longer easy... but sustainable.

In the 30s I was still climbing alone. I passed a few volunteers wordlessly (like I couldn't really afford to speak) but other than that I didn't hear anything from above or below.

In the 40s and 50s it was just my metronome keeping me company. By now, the pace felt hard. I knew could maintain it for a little while... but the fact remained that I was merely halfway up the building.

As I approached the 60s I was starting to fade. My turns were becoming sloppy, though I still managed to keep up with my metronome. Somewhere along the way I had switched over from hugging the inside rail to pulling on both sides. Slightly more ergonomic... but less efficient on the turns.

The only silver lining was that I thought I could hear another climber up ahead. Likely Jason. It was hard to tell how many floors ahead he was, but simply hearing another climber gave me some hope.

By this point I was in the upper 60s. While I was still in the hunt, doubts were creeping in. My heart rate had peaked and I was suffering. I honestly considered quitting as I still had 24 more floors of pain to go.

But I managed to suppress those demons. At least partially. My climbing technique took a hit and I started double stepping those landings more often than not. Worse yet, the sounds from above were fading... and so was my confidence.

Somehow I made it into the 80s. I was chasing a ghost... but I was still chasing.

With only a dozen floors remaining I knew I only a minute or so of climbing left. It would be painful, but no longer impossible.

On the 84th floor I started to increase my pace slightly. Turns weren't pretty, but I managed to stay ahead of my metronome.

I crested the 88th floor and I could smell blood. Jason couldn't have been more than a couple of floors ahead.

I used what remaining energy I had on the final few floors. 90, 91, 92. It wasn't much faster, but it was enough to close the gap even further. I could hear cheering coming from the top of the stairwell. One last push. 93... 94... and then a quick run through the door.

While I didn't quite catch Jason, I could see him walking down the finisher's corral. I couldn't have been more than 10 seconds behind.

I collapsed to the ground. No idea what my time was (thanks Apple) but I was thrilled to finally keep up with the pack.

I spend a few minutes on the ground, but slowly I managed to get back to my feet. I was tired, but thrilled.

After speaking with a few other climbers, I realized that I was likely the top American in the US Championship wave. However, as Hustle is a huge event, I didn't really think my time would survive. I was in the low 11s and there are often a few really strong Chicago athletes that show up (runners, cyclists, etc.) that dip into the 10s... and sure enough I was right. You can see the results for yourself:

https://resphealth.org/hustle-2025-results/

A pair of local cyclists (Chris Wiatr & Sean Eisen) took first & second place at the US Championships (2nd & 4th overall) though I wouldn't learn of Sean's time until later in the day as he climbed in the team event.

While I had to settle for 3rd place at the US Championships (6th overall), I was more than happy with the result. My time of 11:11 matched my time in 2012 and I managed to keep up with all of my rivals (Jason, Chris, and Martin).

Grades:

Fitness: A minus - My workouts have been slowly getting better. Slowly.

Weight: B plus - At 174 lbs., I'm only a couple pounds away from an acceptable weight, though I really need to be around 170 lbs to feel like my old self.

Effort: A - I pushed myself hard.

Pacing & Technique: B - Pacing was a couple beats too fast. My technique was okay until I hit the 60th floor. After that point... not so great.

Overall: A minus - I started to break mentally, but I held firm. This was a solid race.

Final Thoughts:

While I still haven't regained all my fitness or shed all of the weight I gained during Covid, this was my first solid race at a big event since my return to competition. While I'll probably never be as fast I was pre-Covid, I feel like I've turned the corner.

I'm Back.

Bop Till You Drop

2025-02-01T14:12:00.000-08:00

I struggle writing about my races. I used to love writing, but these days it just feels like a chore. In fact, I have many posts that are half-complete. So this time around, I'm just going to write for myself. Something to remind myself of what the race was like, how I felt, and how I could improve.

The race was on Saturday so I basically had my normal workouts that week. I just replaced my Thursday workout with some stairwell time trials at race pace (which is slower than my normal sprinting pace). Plus I took Friday off.

The drive was brutal. I drove down to Poughkeepsie to meet Tom on Thursday evening. Fortunately, my wife made me take her car after a bit of protest. Thank goodness. It started snowing halfway down the Taconic and her car is heavier with studded snow tires. We drove a few hours and stayed over at my Dad's house near Harrisburg. That meant we only needed to drive 9 hours to Indianapolis the following day. It was a short, but nice visit.

The following day we made it to Greenfield by 7:00 PM - roughly 30 minutes east of Indianapolis. The weather was much better than the prior day. A quick trip to Walmart to pick up some food and in bed by 10:30.

Despite multiple trips to the bathroom, I had a decent sleep. 7+ hours.

The 30ish minute drive to Indianapolis was tough. I was full of nervous energy and it was still dark. Indianapolis is still on Eastern Standard Time, but a full 12 hours west of Albany. So it gets dark nearly a whole hour later than Albany... and that means sunrise is a whole hour later too. We arrived at One America Tower around 7:40 AM. Still dark. Parking was a breeze as they let us use the near-empty employee parking garage next to the building free of charge.

Check in was smooth. A small auditorium was full of volunteers and I received my #4 bib quite easily.

I met up with Steve Marsalese near check-in. Just after 8:00 AM we scouted out the stairwell as a warm-up. I was all nerves. My legs felt like jelly and my heart was fluttering. But after a dozen floors or so, I felt a little bit better.

The stairwell itself is very straightforward. While I didn't get a proper step count of the bottom floors, most of the floors are 11/11 which in my opinion is very good for turning. However, the stairwell itself turns to the left, which (unfortunately) is my weak side. Another nice feature is that the rails are close enough to use both sides effectively. Lastly, the steps are a little shallow. I'd estimate they are 7 inches tall?

Compared to the Corning Tower in Albany, One America Tower is a bit shorter. 162 meters tall vs. 180 meters to the roof. Likewise, it has fewer floors 38 vs. 42, though Bop only races to the 36th floor. While the Corning Tower is definitely taller, the step counts are a bit closer: 780 steps vs. 824. That's roughly two floors worth of steps. So my estimate of 7 inch steps seems appropriate. Albany's steps are about 7.25 inches tall.

(One thing I regret is not creating my own stairwell map and measuring the steps, but alas I was too busy climbing stairs)

Looking at the history of the race, there have been a lot of good climbers. I believe Justin Stewart holds the record at 3:30 and fast climbers like Eric Leninger and Cole Hetzel have done the race in about 3:45. Other fast climbs include David Shaffron and Martin Wilkey who both climbed in the 3:50s. Rounding out the list is Jesse Berg. while he hasn't done the single climb, he has done the triple in under 12 minutes, meaning each of his climbs averaged under 4 minutes which is very impressive. I only looked at the results since 2008 so I'm guessing there are a bunch of other fast times in the building as the race has been going on for 45 years.

While I suspected I would have broken the 4 minute barrier pre-Covid, I'm older, fatter, and not in my best shape. Just looking at how slow my Albany times have been recently (4:53 vs. 4:33 PB) means I was likely spotting myself at least 15 seconds. Possibly more than that since I've never climbed the Corning Tower in peak form (the race always conflicted with Scale the Strat).

Maybe I could still break 4 minutes? I'd probably have to settle in the low 4 minute range, but I'd give it my best shot nonetheless.

The races started at 8:30 AM and after the practice climb I had maybe 15 minutes to go. I did some active stretches and burpees to stay warmed up. The active stretches didn't go well. I could barely stand on one leg because of how nervous I was. The burpees at least seemed fairly easy.

At the start line I had the #4 bib, but only Cindy (wearing the #1 bib) and the guy with the #2 bib were actually ahead of me. They started us off with 20 seconds between climbers.

I set my metronome for 125 BPM. Jill had mentioned that a 105 gets her in the 4:40s so a 125 should get me to the top in about 4 minutes. That's as fast as I've ever set my metronome for a race, but it made sense since the steps appeared to be relatively short.

Soon it was my turn. I felt that the setup was a bit strange because they had what appeared to be a timing mat on the floor, but were using a wand to scan the bibs (which held our timing chips). I heard an audible beep, but still had a good five seconds before they allowed me into the stairwell. Shrug.

I started my stopwatch upon entering. Though I hugged the inside with the inner rail, I couldn't seem to keep just a single foot on the landing. Every time I did so, I was a fraction of a beat behind my metronome, so I'd have to spend the next step or two catching up. At 125 BPM, this just sapped my energy a bit too much. I quickly switched to double rails with a mixture of single and double footfalls on the landings. While not optimal, it put me right under the redline.

Somewhere in the teens or twenties I caught #2. By this point my breathing was getting ragged, but #2 sounded like he was struggling even more than I was. It gave me a measure of hope and I continued climbing.

By the upper 20s I was in dire straights; At floor 26 I knew I had only 10 floors to go and started mentally checking off the floors one by one.

As I entered the 30s I could hear Cindy's footfalls and heavy breathing up ahead. I thought I was going to catch her, which would mean I'd be close to breaking the 4 minute barrier (she usually climbs in the 4:40s). On the other hand I was in really bad shape. While I was still keeping up to my metronome, my turns were pretty bad. When I hit floor 33, I started tripping over my own feet. Tunnel vision an fatigue had taken their toll. I could hear the volunteers cheering for Cindy. She was just up ahead. By the sounds of it, she finished just as I crossed the 35th floor. I had run out of real-estate. By this point had already tripped 2 or 3 times, losing a beat each time as I recovered. Not a good way to end the race. I managed to climb the last couple flights without incident. I quickly ran over the mat just inside the open doorway. I hunched over panting and stopped my watch. 4:13. Not what I had hoped for, but I had given it my shot. I stumbled another couple places and collapsed to the ground. I was completely spent.

I probably spent a good minute on the floor. I honestly have no idea. I don't even recall if #2 made it to the top before I finally climbed back to my feet. I was in a service hallway. Slowly, I shuffled to the recovery area near the elevator banks. I grabbed my finisher's T-shirt and a cup of water. I was so out of it I don't even remember if I met up with Steve or Jill before heading back down.

Downstairs, I circled around until I hit the cafeteria which served as a general hangout spot. There I met up with Tom and the other tower running regulars. I mentioned I had likely climbed 4:10-4:12 based on self-timed 4:13 taken a couple seconds after finishing.

I was still exhausted so I decided to take a rest on the floor using my bag and Tom's shirt as a pillow. My heart rate was still up around 100 BPM whereas it should really be below 80 when walking around or below 60 when sitting around.

I stayed on the floor for maybe 5 minutes before getting up to socialize.

Around 9:15 Tom was getting ready to have his first climb. I was still out of it, feeling equal parts dizzy & queezy. The thought of climbing three more times seemed crazy.

I probably should've mentioned this earlier, but Bop to the Top hosts two races simultaneously. The Single Climb and the Triple Climb... and I signed up for both. As they are two separate races, you have to climb a total of 4 times to finish both races. The good news is that you can do the climbs whenever you want within the time limit (8:30AM to Noon). My rough plan was to start each of my climbs on the half-hour: 8:30, 9:30, 10:30 and 11:30.

Anyway, Tom was already on his way to do his first climb (he had only signed up for the Triple) when I decided to climb with him. In the back of my mind I had initially planned to serve as his pacer, but I was in such rough shape, the last thing I wanted to do was get back in the stairwell. But at the last minute I figured an easy climb might actually help me recover (as it did with Steve the last time we climbed the Corning Tower after the race).

I caught up with Tom as he was just getting in line.

His plan was to use 60 BPM and then double step for the first ten floors and then switch to single stepping at a 80 or 90 BPM. I had suggested that he just climb at 50 or 55 BPM and try to double step the entire way up, but it was his race, not mine. He'd have to learn the hard way :)

Tom entered the stairwell and I started a few seconds behind. I had taken off my bib just to be sure that I wouldn't be timed.

The first few floors were actually kind of tough. What was I getting myself into? It took a bit more effort than I had anticipated to catch up and stay behind Tom. Furthermore, I had forgotten to start my stopwatch, so I quickly started it up. We were probably less than a minute into the race, but I decided to call it a minute just to be safe.

By the 10th floor, I was finally feeling a bit better and I felt my energy starting to return, but this was also the spot where Tom started single stepping, meaning the pace was even slower (like 45 BPM when double stepping). Easy peasy.

Around the 18th floor (nearly halfway) I checked my watch. Just over 3 minutes which probably meant we just passed the 4 minute mark.

Tom's goal was to at least break the 10 minute mark. He did 10:45 at the Corning Tower which roughly translates to 10 minutes at Bop. As he's been training a bit since then (he bought a Stair Master) he ought to be even faster.

Now that my blood was pumping, I felt a lot better. Fatigued, yes, but no longer queezy. As Tom climbed I'd call out a little bit of encouragement and reminded him to hug those turns. I checked my watch again around the 27th floor. I can't remember exactly what my watch indicated, but I knew we were about a minute ahead of schedule.

Continuing our ascent, we passed by the landing of the 31st floor which meant we had nine more flights to go. I started calling out the percentage complete as of that point: 11%, 22%, 33%, etc. Probably not the most straightforward way of thinking, but it helps me stay focused.

Tom charged up the remaining couple of flights and I stopped my watch around the 8 minute mark. I think he broke the 9 minute barrier!

I was in much better spirits at that point. Tom, however, was on the floor panting. Believe me, I know how it feels! Eventually Tom got to his feet and we hung out a few minutes at the top before taking the elevator down.

Now it was my turn to start the Triple Step.

I felt a lot better after climbing with Tom, but I was still exhausted. While 4:40s should be possible, I'd be hurting the entire way up and I doubted I could do that three times in a row. Instead, I bumped my metronome down to 100 BPM thinking that would get me on track to just break 5 minutes. I wasn't in any condition for heroics.

The first 10 floors were okay, but the further up I climbed the crappier I felt. At this point, the race became mental rather than physical. I really didn't want to be in the stairwell; I could handle the pace but it was sapping my energy and my willpower. I didn't even pay attention to my technique and I pretty much used both rails the entire way up.

Oh yeah, I forgot to change into my climbing shoes. Maybe I was carrying an extra pound?* At least I was climbing in comfort.

*You'd think I'd know the exact weight of my shoes, right?

Around the 27th floor, I checked my watch. I had just crossed the 4 minute mark. Thinking this was still a 4 minute race (rather than 5 minute race) I figured I had only another minute left to climb. Totally doable if I hustled a little bit.

Somewhere around 33 or 34 I checked my watch again. Crap. I don't remember the exact time, but it was somewhere in the 4:40s. That meant I had only 15-20 seconds to climb 3-4 floors. I just wasn't going to make it. I bounded up the few remaining flights to try to limit my losses. I crossed the finish line and stopped my watch at 5:09 or so (5:08.87 official). Oh well. I wasn't super disappointed because although I was tired, I didn't push myself over the redline like I did in the first race.

While I physically felt like crap (exhausted, nauseous, etc.) I was able to recover from the exertion without collapsing to the ground. Soon my heart rate was back to normal levels and I headed back down to recover more fully.

Around 10:10 or so, it was Tom's turn to climb.

This time around we climbed in the "Left" stairwell rather than the "Right" stairwell. Bop uses two stairwells - which eases congestion - and you can choose which one to climb. They are nearly identical; same height and configuration except for the first few floors (So I'm told - I can't remember). The other difference is that the Right Stairwell is mostly concrete - the big exception is on the 10th floor which uses a hard rubberized surface with raised circles (coins). The Left Stairwell is also concrete, but has many more floors with the coin surface.

Tom set his metronome a little bit slower - like 55 BPM - with the hopes of maintaining this pace a little longer and then switching to single steps at 90 BPM.

This time around I started my stopwatch on time - which gave me a much better sense of our pace. Like clockwork, we climbed up the first ten floors. Around the 12th floor, Tom switched to single stepping. We passed by the 18th floor at the 4:20 mark so I knew we were on track to breaking 9 minutes. The problem was, our pace had slowed down after switching to single steps and we'd have to pick it up again near the top to have a shot at slipping under nine.

We continued our ascent, slowly passing by other climbers. We hit the 30s and I glanced at my watch. We were approaching the 8 minute mark. Only a minute left to climb... but Tom was starting to flag. I urged him on as the clock slowly ticked. We hit the 34th floor and I started pushing on Tom's rear to get him to move a little faster.

Finally the top was in sight! we crossed the finish line and I stopped my watch. We had just missed the 9 minute mark. Not quite what we wanted... but it wasn't that much slower than our first climb. Still pretty solid.

Tom laid on the floor for a few minutes after finishing. I could tell he was tired, but not completely spent.

Around 10:30, it was time for my 2nd climb of the triple. I chose to remain in the Right Stairwell for consistency.

I still felt fatigued, though maybe a shade better than my first triple? I was determined to break the 5 minute barrier, but not willing to go much faster than that. Therefore I kept my metronome set to 100 BPM. The difference would be that I'd need to climb more efficiently.

I entered the stairwell again. Man, I didn't really want to be there.

Despite my trepidation, the first few floors felt easy... but slowly my heart rate climbed back to discomforting levels. By the 10th floor, I was back to hurting. Yuck.

Here and there I'd pass by climbers either on the landings or the inside rail. It kept my mind off the pain I was in.

I knew I should be hugging the inside lane more often but time and time again I'd find myself using both rails and making sloppy turns. Blah.

I reached the landing in between the 18th and 19th and risked a glance at my watch. 2:35. About 5 seconds slower than my planned pace. Not good, but not yet doomed. I'd somehow have to make up those seconds.

In the 20s, I made a conscious effort to hug the turns, though I still used both sides of the rails. I was suffering, but it was half mental. Deep down I knew this pace was more than reasonable.

I hit the 30s with a sense of relief. The suffering was nearly at an end. I even had the willpower to pick up the pace over the last couple floors for good measure. Thank goodness. I just slipped under 5 minutes (4:56.54 official).

Recovery this time around wasn't so bad. No collapsing, but I did sit on the recovery couch for a minute or two to savor the moment. I'm kidding. I still dreaded the fact that I had one more climb to go.

Back downstairs, I felt better as I hung out with the other climbers. Syd dropped by around 11:10 mentioning we only had 20 minutes left since the race ends at 11:30. I was a little surprised as I thought the climb lasted till noon and had initially planned to get my last climb in around 11:30. Oh well. A few minutes early wouldn't kill me.

This time around Tom would need to climb on his own and I told Jill that if she kept up with me I'd be able to pace her to hit 5 minutes.

I was first in, right around 11:20. I could've waited a few more minutes, but this late in the morning, it really didn't matter. Physically, I felt better relative to my last couple climbs, but only slightly. My body was still tired and running partly on fumes. The plan was merely to dip under the 5 minute mark and get this race over with.

I started my watch just before hitting the first flight and climbed up at 100 BPM. I contemplated using a slightly higher pace - say 105 considering this was my final attempt - but why change what worked?

Unlike most of the other climbs, the line into the stairwell was basically empty. However, by the time I reached the 10th floor, I was busy passing people - more so than usual. In fact, a couple of times I ended up passing by on the outside rail when they wouldn't move out of the way.

I was into the 20s when I heard Jill call "Pass" from down below. Maybe three floors down? Hard to tell. Then she said it again more emphatically. Then I heard a guy's voice cursing back at her in a loud whiney voice. "I AM just fucking wait" or somesuch. I had passed a heavy-set older guy 20-30 seconds ago on one of the landings so my guess it was him.

My first reaction was WTF? and my second reaction was how are you two still able to speak coherently? I certainly couldn't say anything more than a grunt or two.

Then a floor or two later I heard Jill call out to a volunteer that some guy was swearing at her. Always drama with her around.

Up until now I had been climbing on cruise control - using both rails and taking sloppy turns. I felt like crap, but was used to it. Towards the upper 20s I dug in a little bit, hugging the inside rail and taking the turns more efficiently. Why didn't I do this in the first place?

I climbed up maybe 5 floors efficiently before switching back to double rails, but now I was approaching the 30s.

While I felt awful and my breathing was laborious, I felt a surge of energy. I was almost done. Unlike any of my previous climbs, I kicked it up a notch, climbing slightly faster than my metronome. I reached the 34th floor knowing I was pushing myself hard, but confident I could keep up the pace for a little while yet.

I crossed the finish line and glanced at my watch. 4:48 (4:50.93 official)!

The last few floors had taken its toll, but surprisingly I recovered quite well. Arguably I felt better than either of my other two triple steps despite this being my 7th trip up.

I waited at the top for Jill and Tom. Jill was rightfully pissed at the dude who wouldn't move out of the way. Tom arrived several minutes later, pleased with his solo climb. While this was his slowest ascent (by a mere fraction of a second) he felt pretty good and was able to recover quite quickly. He told me that he slowed down his metronome to 50 BPM and managed to hold that pace for a few more floors despite being fatigued from the start.

Aftermath:

The awards ceremony started at noon. I took home first place overall for the single climb (initially 4:20 but eventually corrected to 4:13.88) and second overall for the Triple. Race results are here.

After the ceremony, I snapped my picture with Joseph Kenny, a top climber 20-30 years ago. Later, Tom and I took a quick walk around Indianapolis and met up with Jill and her mom for a late lunch near their hotel.

And just like that we were on the road again. We had a snowstorm to outrun.

Grades:

Fitness: A minus - A little hard to estimate as weight plays a role in most of my workouts, but I think I've gotten back most of my Pre-Covid fitness.

Weight: B plus - At 175 lbs., I'm getting closer to my 170 lbs. target.

Single

Effort: A Plus - Pushed myself close to breaking and I paid for it!

Pacing & Technique: B minus - Pacing was hair too fast and my turns too slow.

Overall: B plus - The pace was a bit too much and my technique suffered, but I still put up a good showing

Triple

Effort: C Plus - I feel like I could've gone faster, but the fatigue of the first race made it hard to pump up those watts.

Pacing & Technique: B - Pacing was okay for my (somewhat underwhelming) goal of 5 minutes. My Technique improved a bit over the course of the three climbs.

Overall: B Minus/Plus - On one hand, my times were mediocre and I left a good chunk of time on the table. However, Holy Cow was I in rough shape because I over-exerted myself in the first race. It was a mental challenge just to finish.

Final Thoughts:

If I were to do this race again, I'd need to be 172 pounds or less and in top shape as my only goal would be to break the 4 minute mark. That's a tall order. The truth is, I still have several pounds to lose, but at the same time I'm not getting any younger. I remember climbing up the Bennington Monument (a true sprint race) several years in a row. Despite being in better shape year over year, I'd be a second slower each successive climb. That was in my late 30s. Now in my late 40s. I suspect my window for breaking the 4 minute mark at Bop has nearly closed. I can only guess how I would've fared back 5-6 years ago.

But if I do come back, I'd need to go out at a more reasonable 120 BPM and use the slower pace to hug the inside rail. While I'd lose about 11 seconds of speed, I'd potentially gain up to 35 seconds if my turns were clean. Heck, even 115 might squeak under if I sprinted the last 6 floors.

Regarding the Triple, I would be lying if I said I was happy coming in 2nd. The winner (a college runner) put up respectable times, and I lost by 38 seconds (cumulative). Had I been able to keep my best three climbs of the day - keeping my 4:13 and dropping my 5:08 - I would've come out on top, though just barely. I think had I only done the triple, I think I could consistently hit the low 4:30s. Maybe try 110 BPM if I were fresh? Just a guess.

Lastly, Tom did quite well. Considering he collapsed at the top of the Corning Tower in 10:45, I would've expected him to climb Bop in 9:45. But instead he put down a 8:47 and followed it up with a pair of 9:07s. It is quite a remarkable improvement. Realistically, I think he could've climbed up in under 8:30 if he had done just the single climb, which would've put him in the top 25%. In the car ride back East, we talked about pacing an he agreed that climbing up at 45 or 50 BPM and keeping that pace is probably a better strategy than going out a bit faster and purposefully switching over to single steps at 80-90 BPM halfway up. Hopefully we'll be able to put this plan into place during our next race!

Awkward in Albany

2024-05-01T17:48:00.000-07:00

You know you fucked up when you crest the *43rd* floor in a race to the *42nd*.

Now, the Albany Corning Tower will always have a special place in my heart because it is where my stair climbing journey began*. But right at this moment? Well, I'm not a fan.

But I'm getting ahead of myself... so let's back up a few steps.

The Lead-up:

For the past few weeks I've been humming along on all cylinders. My weight has been slowly dropping and my fitness has been steadily improving, so going into this race, I felt pretty good.

While I still need to drop some weight (~8 lbs.) and gain some fitness, I feel like I'm right around 93% of pre-COVID levels.

So how would this translate into the stairwell?

Considering my best time has been in the low 4:30s, a simple ratio shows that I *should* be able to climb the building in the low 4:50s.

However, after some further digging, it appears that I've never actually done this race at peak fitness. The traditional CF Corning Tower climb usually conflicts with the Scale the Strat (the US Championship) so I've had to skip it over the past 10 years. The only other time I raced in this building was for the T2T Corning Tower climb back in 2016. While I was in in very good shape, I had the misfortune of starting behind a bunch of fire fighters in full gear which necessarily cost me a bunch of time (but that is a story for another time).

So my only real data point was a 4:33 set way back in March 7th, 2013.

Digging deeper into my workout history from that time period, it appears my speed back then was only a hair faster than where it is today*.

*In March 2013, I was a little bit lighter but slightly less fit.

As such, my official goal for the race was to break 5 minutes with a target of 4:40. Anything below 4:40 would be icing.

Pre-Race Rituals:

My penultimate workout prior to the race was done at 105 BPM which translates to about 112 BPM - my proposed race pace at the Corning tower. This was the same setting I used in 2012 when I climbed up in 4:39 and a couple beats slower than what I used in 2013 at my best race (in 4:33). I figured this pace was fast enough to reach my goal, but conservative enough to ensure I wouldn't blow up prematurely.

My training building is much shorter than the Corning tower (~22% of the height), so my normal workout consists of short "sprints" followed by longer rests. Typically, I'll sprint up at 120-125 BPM so reducing my pace to only 105 BPM gave me a much needed reprieve.

The following day was a planned easy day. Rounds of Pull-ups and Bicep Curls mixed in with easy 3 minute rounds of rowing. Enough to sweat, but not enough to tire me out.

The night before the race, my friend Tom drove up from Poughkeepsie to spend the night as this would be his first official race. I woke up bright and early and made coffee for us while reviewing the stairwell map one last time:

9/10 steps per floor until the 17th floor with left-hand turns
10/9 steps per floor until the 42nd floor with right-hand turns
Jogs on the 17th and 32nd floors to keep it interesting
Finish on the observation deck of the 42nd floor

A few of the floors - notably the 41st floor had four flights with ~6 or 7 steps each.

We arrived at the Empire State Plaza just after 8:00 AM. While waiting in line for our bibs, I bumped into climbing legend David Tromp, who would be doing his ~23rd Corning Tower Climb. Sadly, he had an injury during COVID and wouldn't be pushing me during this edition of the race*.

*If you've never heard of David, it's because he mainly does local races. He's climbed the Corning Tower in under 4:30 and ESBRU in under 12:00. The one time he did the Scale the Strat, he did it in 7:32 (like 10 seconds faster than my best).

Besides stair climbing, the other connection that David and I have is we are both Clarkson graduates... as is my friend Tom (and roommate Junior year). As it turns out, David recognized Tom since they were in the same service fraternity.

But wait, there is more! I also ran into my old coworker, Maria, while warming up. She was one of my early influences in the gym - showing me squats, lunges, and the dreaded jumping lunges. I hadn't seen her in over a decade!

As the clock approached 9:00 AM, I executed my active stretch routine immediately followed by sets of 12 burpees every three minutes. I probably did 4 or 5 rounds of burpees before heading upstairs* to the start line. Right at 9:00 AM, the MC of the event - U Albany Head Coach, Dwayne Killings - kicked off an introduction on behalf of the LLS. I did another 3 rounds of burpees in the background (and for the record, Coach Killings did say we could continue stretching).

*There is a huge underground mall beneath the Empire State Plaza and the entrance to the Corning Tower (at least the one that I know of) starts here. So the first floor is actually a level above.

The Race:

I set my metronome to 112 BPM and entered the stairwell at exactly 9:10. I quickly pressed the touchscreen of my apple watch knockoff to start the timer.

I hadn't been in the stairwell in 8 years, so it wasn't exactly how I pictured it. The rails are tubular but more chrome than I remember, like something that might be at home in a 50's themed diner. While the rails are close enough to grip both comfortably, they seem to flair out around the turns on the landing. The 112 BPM pace felt "easy" for the first 10 floors, but I just couldn't focus on taking the turns efficiently and more often then not, I added an extra footfall on the landings.

The most noticeable thing however, was the LOUD music playing at various stops. Sometimes I could hear David (who I believe started 10 seconds behind me) but at other times, I couldn't even hear my metronome beeping out it's steady rhythm.

I hit floor 17 which I knew has a short hallway that leads into a different stairwell. However, the stairwell begins off of a blind corner and... of course I ran right by it!

I saw the stairwell fly right by me on the left while the volunteer at this juncture frantically pointed toward the stairs. I dropped maybe a second as I lost all of my running momentum. I quickly backed up a step and turned left into the new stairwell.

I entered the 20s knowing I was halfway to the top and annoyed at my literal misstep. While I continued to march to the pace of my metronome, I felt like I was bleeding time on the turns - especially since the pace was becoming brutal.

By the time I reached the 30th floor I was officially in pain. I knew I should pick up the pace as the race was entering the final phase, but instead waited until I hit the 32nd floor. Here there is an even shorter jog to yet another stairwell. Fortunately, this time I didn't miss it.

With 10 floors to go, I finally started to dig in. While my turns were sloppy, I managed to climb ahead of my metronome on the flights.

By the 36th floor, my legs and arms were aching from the strain. I glanced down at my watch. Honestly, I have no idea what I saw, but it didn't look good. Maybe I saw it crossing the 4 minute mark? I couldn't completely process it, but I do remember thinking it was odd that I lacked the ability to do any sort of estimation. Regardless, I *felt* like my goal time of 4:40 was out of reach and if I didn't push harder, I could possibly miss the 5 minute mark, too.

I hit the 40th floor glad that the race was nearing it's end, but still wishing I had pushed a little harder and took the turns a little more aggressively earlier in the race. I bolted up the remaining six flights (two for the 41st and 4 for the 42nd) as hard as possible*.

*The last few flights are always really weird - especially when you've held a little bit back. On one hand, I still had a little bit of energy left. But on the other hand, using up that remaining energy was *painful*. My arms and legs were chewed up and my lungs were on fire. Try as I might, I couldn't get my body to sprint all out despite having something left in the tank.

Finally, I crested the 42nd floor. I just had to get to the end of the hallway and through the open door.

And here is where everything fell apart.

I was completely alone in the hallway and nearly spent. I dashed down the hallway. The doorway was on my right and on my left was yet another stairwell. I crossed the threshold of the doorway expecting to see the finish line, but instead it was just an empty room.

"Hello?" I called out.

Silence.

There was another doorway at the far end of the room and an open stairwell right behind me.

"Shit." I thought to myself. "Nobody is here. They must have changed the finish line."

I quickly dashed out of the room and up the stairs.

Fuck. I was unprepared to climb another floor and of course this was another one of those long four-flight floors.

I crested the 43rd floor and the door was closed shut. More stairs. What the fuck?

I was in a complete daze and all hopes of breaking the 5 minute barrier were dashed. My nightmares of stair-climbing had somehow come to life*.

*When I dream about tower racing, I *always* get lost or have some strange barrier blocking my way. Rarely do I finish and most of the time I'm climbing in slow motion.

With nowhere to go, I continued my ascent. After a flight or two up I stopped. The finish line couldn't possibly be on the roof. It *must* be on the 42nd floor because that is where the observation deck is. Maybe the finish line was just beyond that empty room?

Quickly, I turned around and then proceeded to stumble down the 5 or 6 flights I had just climbed.

I reached the empty room and ran to the doorway at the opposite end.

Sure enough, there was the finish line. It was literally just beyond the next doorway. I didn't even have time to start running again.

"Congratulations!", called out one of the volunteers.

I was furious. I leaned against the wall and with my last remaining energy I said something like: "What the hell*? I ended up climbing past the 43rd floor! Where were the volunteers? And why wasn't the stairwell blocked off. You really gotta get someone out there...".

*I'm somewhat proud of myself for not dropping an F-bomb or two.

Energy spent, I stopped my watch slumped to the floor. By now it said 5:36. Another kick below the belt.

I lay on the ground for perhaps 30 seconds. I was equal parts tired and angry. How could this happen?

I got up and stormed my way around the observation deck. Slowly, I began to process what had just occurred.

I was irked that I didn't break the 5 minute mark. I was irritated that I messed up the turn on the 17th floor. I was disappointed with myself for having an uninspired sloppy-turned race. I was angry at the volunteers for ghosting the 42nd floor and at myself for royally blundering the finish. Last of all, I wasn't happy with myself for chastising the volunteers. Yes, they messed up... but the fact is they are *volunteers*. It would be a different story if this was a for-profit race like the ESBRU and managed by professionals.

At the end of my walk, I snapped a few pictures from the observation deck. After all, I was in the tallest building in New York outside of NYC and why let a tune-up race ruin my day?

I headed back down the elevator for my second round with Tom.

Tom's Climb

Tom was in the last wave so we still had a little time to chat. When I told him my story he was incredulous that the stairwell wasn't blocked off at the finish.

Meanwhile, it was time to warm up. I did a few more rounds of burpees while Tom - significantly taller and with his "big man" knees opted for jumping jacks.

Like, I know that some stair climbers opt for a super-low resting heart rate on the start line, but I'm personally convinced that the body needs a proper warm-up. Like, not just the muscles being nice and supple, but that the heart rate also has to climb up to the point of being slightly uncomfortable.

Tom's goal was to break the 10 minute mark and he positioned himself last in line. Rather than starting 10 seconds behind the next-to-last climber, he was able to wait for 30 seconds in the hopes of getting a slightly less congested stairwell.

I set the metronome at 60 BPM and entered right behind Tom*.

*special thanks to David for speaking with his friends a the Albany Running Exchange (the timers) so I could get in a 2nd climb.

I quickly realized that climbing behind Tom wasn't a great idea as it is harder to set the pace from behind. So by the 4th floor, I passed by and started harping on Tom to hug the turns for efficiency*.

*I mean, if I messed them up during my race, I might as well fix that problem for my friend.

However by the time we reached the 5th floor we began reeling in some of the slower climbers and it was a challenge just to weave out of traffic and keep Tom behind me.

By the 10th floor, I could tell Tom was starting to falter just a little bit, though he was still more or less double stepping and keeping up.

We reached the first checkpoint on the 17th floor a decent clip and this time I darted into the stairwell without any trouble.

As we climbed into the 20s, Tom was having a hard time passing the people we reeled in and by the 24th floor he wanted to stop for a brief respite.

Heck no! I told him to keep moving even if he had to single step.

As we approached the final checkpoint on the 32nd floor, I glanced down at my watch. 7:30. This time around I could do the math. As we were roughly 75% of the way up the building, we're just barely on pace to break the 10 minute barrier.

But we were clearly slowing down.

I started counting down the floors yelling things like "Push harder, only 7 floors to go!" and "You got this, just one last sprint!".

We had picked up a small grupetto by this point and I later learned that my words of encouragement helped a couple others get to the top.

Finally I could see the 42nd floor up ahead, but Tom had really struggled. Sub 10 was out of reach, but maybe we could squeak under 11.

"Go go go!" I yelled.

Now that I could see the hallway on the 42nd floor, I whipped out my phone to take a quick video of Tom's finish.

As he crossed the finish line, I hopped back out into the hallway to get a good look at the final floor (more on that later).

After exploring the hallway and the upper levels, I went back to the observation deck to look for Tom... but he was nowhere to be found. I walked the entire circuit forwards and backwards. Where was he?

Just as I was about to leave, I found him on one of the medical stretchers. The head EMT was keeping a close watch on him.

Tom appeared to be in good spirits, but the EMT had serious look on his face. Tom had apparently over-exerted himself and had several symptoms of heart attack (shortness of breath, pain in the chest, clammy hands) and were performing a stress test.

Fortunately, Tom seemed fine after resting on the gurney and after another few minutes was able to peel off all the EKG electrodes (I think that's what all the round sticky patches are called).

Meanwhile, the timing desk was right next to the EMT station so asked the timers for our official times.

I finished in 5:25 and Tom in 10:45.

While neither of us reached our official goals we both still did quite well. I ended up as the fastest climber and Tom finished in the top 25% (46 of 203 climbers).

Aftermath

While still unhappy about the mix-up at the finish line, there is no reason to let it ruin a fine spring day. Here are few highlights:

Walking to Lark Street
Dove & Hudson Used Bookstore

"Towers of Midnight" (WoT book 13 by Robert Jordan)
"V for Vandetta" (Graphic Novel by Alan Moore)
"Bulfinch's Mythology" (eponymously named after Thomas Bulfinch)

Lunch at Sukhothai Restaurant
Disc Golf at Blatnick Park (overlooking the Mohawk River)

Grades:

Effort: B minus - Timid until the 32nd floor, especially on the turns.

Weight: B minus - At 178 lbs., I'm getting closer to my 170 lbs. target.

Pacing & Technique: C minus - Those turns. Ugh. Pacing was a little too conservative.

Overall: C plus - This was a forgettable race even when ignoring the screw-up at the end.

Final Thoughts:

I don't want to be remembered as the prima donna of stair-climbing. While bad things seem to follow me around in the stairwell, there is no reason why I should let it impact others surrounding me - especially the other climbers & volunteers. While I don't think I overreacted at the finish line, there have been other times where I've made more of a scene. While completely (or at least mostly) justified, it just makes me look like an asshole. After all, I suspect that most people at these climbs treat them as novelty events rather than athletic races.

The question is, why does trouble seem to follow me around? After all, I can think of several examples off the top of my head where the finish line has been messed up.

Albany Big Climb (Stairwell not blocked, no directions)
Boston FFA Climb (Told to get off at wrong floor)
Milwaukee CF (Doors locked)
Chicago CF (Doors locked)

In Albany & Boston, I was the only impacted athlete. In Milwaukee, it was the top two athletes. In Chicago, at least a dozen athletes got lost.

What these races share in common is that I was the first athlete (or in the case of the Chicago one of the first few athletes) to get to the top of the building. My theory is that the race organizers simply weren't ready to receive the athletes. After I got to the top, it served as a wake up call to get their shit together and the problem was fixed for (most of) the others finishing after me.

This happens more frequently than you might expect. Assuming I've done about 80 races (~10 years of climbing with ~8 races per year) these screw-ups happen roughly 5% (i.e. 4/80) of the time

Sadly, most of these instances could have been prevented by arriving early and previewing the stairwell - specifically at the top. I've actually posted about this before and it's painful that I failed to take my own advice.

After the race, I spent a long time analyzing what exactly happened at the end of the race. Here are my thoughts.

When I reached the 42nd floor, I was extremely fatigued and lacked the mental alacrity to make sound decisions. Furthermore, since I haven't done this race in eight years I barely recall the top of the stairwell. While I created a stairwell "map" and knew what to expect regarding step count, flights, and changeovers, I didn't remember the actual exit or the empty room.

Another thing that sticks out is that I was completely aware of which floor I was on and distinctly remember counting down the final 4-flights between the 41st and 42nd floors. But on the other hand, the actual position of the doorway on the 42nd floor and the entrance to the 43rd stairwell are *completely* different from what I recall during the race. In other words, my memory during the race is not 100% accurate.

Here are some pictures that I took to get a feel of the end of the race:

Last flight leading up the 42nd floor. Left hand turn on the 42nd leads to the hallway shown in the next picture.

Final hallway. The door on the right leads to an empty room. The 2nd landing of stairwell up to the 43rd & 44th floor (roof?) is above the doorway.

A closer look at the entrance to the stairwell and the doorway. Notice the volunteer blocking it off. Notice that you'd get to the stairwell *before* you reach the doorway.

Closeup of the doorway

The empty room. Photo taken while standing on the threshold of the previous doorway. During the race, I expected to see the finish line here rather than just an empty room. This is the exact spot where I called out to see if I was going the correct way... and nobody responded.

So I turned around and of course the stairwell leading up to the 43rd floor was right behind me... so in the confusion I started climbing up.

Had I only walked just two more steps... I would have seen the finish line. It was literally only 10 feet away, but it was completely hidden from my viewpoint If my mind wasn't so addled, I probably would have checked the obvious OPEN DOOR 🤷.

So how much time did I actually lose? it is hard to tell, but I can make some estimates.

First off, the layout of the stairwell beyond the 42nd floor is:

43 - 6/7/7/7

44 - 8/8/8/8

While I know I continued climbing past the 43rd floor, I turned around before reaching the 44th floor. I might have climbed 2 more flights, but to be conservative, let's say I turned around on the first landing. That means I climbed 35 extra steps (6+7+7+7+8).

Now let's estimate that I climbed the Corning Tower in 5 minutes (300 seconds). As the building has 828 steps (not 809 as published), that means it took me on average 300 seconds / 828 steps = 0.36 seconds per step. Since I climbed an extra 35 steps, it would have taken me 0.36 x 35 steps = 12.6 seconds.

Estimating the descent is a little trickier. From experience, I know that it takes me nearly twice as long to descend than to ascend a stairwell. However, I'm usually racing while going up and resting while going down. So maybe during the race, my descent was roughly equal to my ascent? That estimate can't be too far off.

So altogether that would mean I spent ~25 seconds going up and down those steps, which means I likely would have broken the 5 minute mark.

Realistically, though, I suspect I was more in the neighborhood of 4:50. I spent a few seconds paused in confusion, calling out to see where the finish line was. Furthermore, when I finally turned around, I was no longer climbing with a sense of urgency. But like I said, my memory of the race doesn't necessarily line up with reality. So who knows?

Next year I'll redeem myself.

Shaking off the Rust

2024-03-26T15:13:00.000-07:00

"There is a water station just a couple floors up", one of the volunteers offered.

One Penn Plaza, NYC

I was somewhere in the 20's and by now I was having a hard time keeping a single foot on the landings. My arms were jelly and my heart rate was beating out of control.

I stepped out of the stairwell and took a drink of water. Spots of perspiration were already showing through my T-shirt.

Shit. I was only halfway to the top and I was already exhausted. With time ticking away, I re-entered the stairwell and continued my climb.

What was I doing here?

After my uninspiring return to competitive stair climbing at the Stratosphere, I signed up for One Penn Plaza in NYC. I knew I needed a couple more races under my belt before I attempted the World Championships at the Taipei 101.

Training had gone well over the last month, though I regretted going out to eat a handful of times. Other than that, I had stayed on point with my diet. Oatmeal and Salad. Oatmeal and Salad. Somewhat depressingly, the scale showed me just north of 180 lbs. a couple days before the race. I had gained 1.5 lbs in just two days?

I *knew* this was just normal fluctuation - probably due to water weight (and such) - but it didn't help my confidence.

Both Steve M. and David R. were in the lineup, so I knew this race was going to be competitive.

David is an amazing athlete, though "extreme" might be a better term. He climbs tall mountains (like K2 & Everest) without oxygen and has been top 100 at the NYC marathon. If you want to follow someone hardcore yet unassuming on social media, he's my pick.

Steve is my Tower Masters teammate. Ex-Marathoner turned stair climber. Back in the day he was as fast as David. Though he's 58, he's proven that age is just a number and he hasn't slowed down in the 10+ years I've known him.

Inevitably as a competitive stair climber, you make comparisons with your rivals. If this climber beat so-and-so at this race and that climber beat so-and-so at that race, than this climber is faster than that climber.

So when I saw that Steve just beat Alex (Jill) at a recent Milwaukee power-hour* and Alex (Jill) clipped me at the Stratosphere, I knew Steve was in great shape.

*to be fair, I believe Alex (Jill) had a double header that weekend.

But I digress.

The point is, I was still 10 lbs. overweight and spotting a couple strong climbers 25* seconds... and I found myself on the 30th floor feeling both nervous and winded.

*after the fact, I did the math and it was more like 20 seconds.

As I crested the 40th floor, I could hear another group of volunteers chatting up ahead. The final water station. This was my designated "Go to" floor but by now I was a hot mess and the clock was still ticking.

Screw it. I was done. Cooked like a turkey. I pulled out my water bottle and took a swig. Time to take the elevator down.

With my warm-up complete*, I rushed back to the waiting area. I donned my racing jersey and changed into my damaged racing flats - hoping they'd hold out for another race.

*Sorry for any confusion. I still had 10 minutes before the official race start.

After a final round of burpees, I headed to the start line. Behind me, my friend and traveling companion Tom called out "Good luck!"

27 Seconds to Go!

The ALA race organizer, Paul Curley*, started lining us up. David was likely the strongest climber - despite his recent shoulder injury - and took to the front. I tucked in 3rd behind Steve - he won the race last year and had the #1 bib. I suspected that my under 7 minute goal time would be faster, but his recent win in Milwaukee and my less than stellar performance at the Strat meant he deserved to start ahead**.

*A competitive stair climber in his own right. He's a former cyclo-cross semi-pro and masters champion.

**The truth is, I hate having my rivals start behind me. Getting passed by a rival is one of the worst feelings and I try to avoid that whenever possible.

Right at 9:00 AM, David entered the stairwell. The organizers were doling out 30 seconds of space, so I had time to wish Steve good luck before he took off climbing.

9:00:57, 9:00:58, 9:00:59. GO!

I set my metronome to 91 BPM, roughly 50% faster than my warm-up pace.

When I first did this race back in 2012, my goal time was to beat 7:00 minutes (6:40 stretch goal) so I figured I'd use a similar pacing strategy. Back then I climbed in ~6:54 with a 90 BPM pace.

Why was this still a reasonable pace? Glad you asked!

Looking back, my best time in this building was 5:55 set in 2018 when I was in close to top shape. I remember I had recently dropped weight for an indoor rowing race (Crash B) so I was also fairly light (like 170 or possibly 169 lbs.). Considering I was 10+ lbs heavier now, that meant I was spotting myself a solid 20 seconds (10 lbs. / 180 lbs. = 20 seconds / 355 seconds). Add in another 20+ seconds for fitness (estimate) meant that the best I could hope for was a 6:35 in the stairwell. Let's round that up to 6:40 as the extra climbing time meant I'd have to decrease my pace even further to accommodate*.

*Remember, the added weight and decreased fitness means the building "feels" like a taller building... and the taller a building is, the slower you need to set your pace.

So after careful consideration, this race matched perfectly with the 2012 edition. However, I added 1 BPM to my metronome for extra insurance.

With a proper warm-up under my belt, I quickly got into the groove. For the most part, I tried to keep one foot on the landings, though considering this was a 10/10 stairwell configuration*, this was somewhat challenging.

*10/10 means each floor has two 10 step flights with a 180 degree landing in the middle. If you take 2 steps at a time, this means that you have an odd number of footfalls each flight which puts you on the alternate foot each time you turn.

Though still nervous, I felt that I could keep the pace going until at least the 27th floor - about halfway up the 55 story building.

Steadily I climbed into the teens. I could feel my calf muscles working overtime. The biggest difference between running shoes vs. racing flats is the lower heel drop. This meant I was climbing more on my toes/forefoot and using my calves for support. Truth is, I hadn't worn my racing flats in 4+ years and the difference caught me a little off guard - not good considering I was in the middle of a race.

By now I was in the upper teens. I could hear another climber coming up from behind. Was it Paul Curley? Or maybe that other racer who mentioned he climbed up 1WTC? My pace wasn't fast... but it wasn't necessarily slow either. During my practice climbs, I force myself to strict two count (2 beats per inhale, 2 beats per exhale). However now I was breathing with a one-count. Controlled and maximal... just barely under the red-line. I knew that whoever was behind me would be even worse off. I kept faith that I'd pull away eventually.

Sure enough, by the time I passed the water station on the ~22nd floor, I could sense the gap widening and by the time I hit the midway point on the 27th floor I could could no longer hear anybody below me.

I entered the 30s full of doubts. At the Stratosphere, my biggest mistake was conceding to my metronome which put me in range of - but not actually under - my goal time. Would 91 BPM actually get me under 7 minutes in this building? As I was marching up, the remaining time on the clock was ticking down. I'd need to make my move soon or lose the opportunity. The problem was... I was already gassed and with 20+ floors to go, it seemed inconceivable that I'd be able to maintain a faster pace for that long.

Slowly the ticked off each floor and somewhere in the upper 30's I could hear cheering from up above. That would have to be Steve crossing the final water station in the lower 40s. Still a pretty good lead, but at least I knew he wasn't too far ahead. 5 or 6 floors? Hard to tell.

As I crossed the 39th floor I knew I had a big decision to make. Should I go for it on the 40th floor? or wait and see how I felt on say the 45th? What to do?

Firstly, stop second guessing. The 40th floor is the GO floor because it's less than twice the length of my super short practice stairwell. That means less than 2 minutes of climbing to go which is the bare minimum necessary to make up any sort of meaningful deficit.

Secondly, just GO, damn it!

So I finally listened to myself and picked up the pace. I didn't touch my metronome. I just climbed faster. 100 BPM? 110? I couldn't say. But my footfalls started skipping over the beat. Again and again and again.

I cruised by the final water station on the 42nd (?) floor. This is where I ended my warm-up. And this is where I'd make up lost time.

43, 44, 45...

Ten more floors to go.

By now I was in the pain cave. I could *still* keep up my pace, but I didn't have much left in the tank.

46, 47, 48...

I knew that if I could just make it to the 50th floor I could cruise to the 55th on fumes if need be.

48, 49...

I could hear another climber just a few flights ahead. I was actually catching Steve?

50, 51...

I couldn't believe it! I was less than a flight away from catching Steve.

52, 53...

Steve ducked out of the way for me to pass on the inside. I was breathing so hard I couldn't even thank him. It probably cost him a second, too*.

*Shoot. I really should have started one spot ahead. Apologies, Steve.

I attempted to pick up the pace on the final two floors but my muscles wouldn't respond. Like, I still had energy, but couldn't climb fast enough to use it.

I crossed the finish line exhausted, but still able to move on my own. Then, a few seconds later, the fatigue hit me like a truck as my heart rate caught up to my final burst of speed. I leaned against the wall for a moment until my heart rate finally started to settle down.

I walked off the fatigue for another minute or two before I was finally able to speak to Steve and David. I didn't have a watch so I needed to rely on them to estimate my time. In my foggy mental state all I recall is that David finished well under 7 minutes and based on Steve's time (7:15? 7:20?) I had likely been somewhere in the 6:40s.

I was definitely stoked. Win or lose, I had beaten my goal time of under 7 minutes and came close to my stretch goal of 6:40. Furthermore - assuming Steve watch was correct - I definitely climbed faster than I had in 2012.

As we were waiting for other climbers to finish, David noticed the door to the balcony area was unlocked and we took a quick peek outside. Even though it was raining pretty hard, it was a magnificent view. I wished I had my camera with me. This was the first time I had seen the view from the balcony as it is usually blocked off... and sure enough, after a few minutes the staff cordoned off the area.

The waiting area became ever more crowded as the other climbers made their way to the top. It was time to head down to relax, though not before we took a few "Tower Masters" team photos.

At the bottom, Tom congratulated me. Apparently, I finished the race in 6:40. Not only did it match my stretch goal, but I had taken the win by a mere 3 seconds!*

*While David may wish he dug a little deeper to make up those 3 seconds, I suspect our positions will be reversed come ESBRU.

It was a welcome surprise. Before the race I suspected David would handily take the win leaving Steve and I to duke it out for 2nd place. However, after I finished, I knew that my sprint from floor 40 onward had taken a bite out of that margin.

I chatted for a few minutes with Tom and David before David headed back home (he's a Brooklynite). Later I caught up with my Tower Masters teammates as I haven't seen any of them in over 4 years.

Lastly, while waiting for the award ceremony, I took Tom for one last look at the stairwell. Though he has traveled with me to some big races (e.g. Taipei 101) he's never actually participated in a stair climbing race, let alone climb up a tall building (sorry - 8 stories doesn't count).

So he started his stop-watch and up we went!

We were the last climbers to start prior to the full-gear fire fighters, so Paul asked us to count how many people we passed and let the organizers at the finish line know how many climbers were left in the stairwell.

I set a conservative pace. Tom tried to get me to go faster... but I didn't budge. Let's see how we feel at the first water station...

and by then it was time for single stepping and a quick water break!

We slowly reeled in our first climber towards the halfway mark, offering encouragement along the way. By the time we had reached the final water station, we had slowed to a crawl, though we managed to catch a few more climbers during the ascent.

By now we were all "warmed up" and after another quick water break, we finished the remaining 15+ floors at a faster pace, finishing the climb in a respectable 16 minutes.

Epilogue:

It turns out the award ceremony occurred during our "fun" ascent. Whoops!
Peanut butter balls (You know what I'm talking about, Tom)
A nice lunch at "Five Senses" in Korea Town near the Empire State Building.
Rain! Completely soaked by the time we got to Grand Central. Should've bought/brought an umbrella.
More Rain in Poughkeepsie
Driving carefully because of flooding.
Freezing Rain?
Snowstorm!?!

Overall I give myself an F for the umbrella, but an A+ for the studded snow tires.

Freezing Rain?!

Times Square!

Grades

Effort: A minus - A bit timid up to the 40th floor, but I turned it up a notch afterwards. At the finish line, I was still standing... but I did use the wall for support.

Conditioning: C plus - 5% off my peak

Weight: C minus - Still spotting my rivals about 10 lbs. of fat, but I'm trending lower.

Pacing & Technique: A minus - 91 BPM was a little too slow. Maybe I should have tried 94 BPM? Clearly I had a huge negative split. In a perfect race, the splits would've been closer to even. Technique-wise, I'm glad I had a warm-up lap to practice the turns. During the race, I remember paying attention to my steps at least until the first water break. Then things get fuzzy. Likely some room for improvement.

Overall: B minus - While the fitness and weight can't be fixed overnight, I did everything else right.

Final Thoughts:

I was very disappointed with my Stratosphere results, so coming back and having a solid race a month later really picked up my spirits. The biggest difference was that at the Strat, I didn't know how I would measure up, so I raced very conservatively until the last 8 floors of the "donut". That just wasn't enough real estate to mount an effective comeback and I was left with a half-tank of gas at the end of the race. In fact, I spent a few minutes after the race just staring up at the tower. Even from the outside, you can see that the "donut" is just a small percentage of the overall height.

At One Penn Plaza, I knew that sub 7:00 was achievable (the Strat did provide a solid data point with regard to fitness and pacing). The key moment came on the 40th floor. Though I raced conservatively for most of the race, the final 15 floors gave me a lot more room to play with (like 27% of the building) and I was significantly more gassed at the finish line. Compared with the Strat, I was willing to dig deeper and execute my plan at the right moment.

I'm very happy with a 6:40. It isn't close to my best (5:55) but that is something I'm learning to accept. The good news is my weight is trending down and my fitness is trending up. 6:40 is actually slightly ahead of where I thought I'd be and if this continues, I honestly believe my fitness will fully return.

The Return

2024-03-15T08:21:00.000-07:00

I finished my final set of burpees in the Stratosphere Tower entry hallway as the volunteers continued to remind me that my water bottle wasn't allowed in the stairwell.

Yeah, no shit. I heard you the first time*.

*I hoped my inner voice wasn't too loud - they were just doing their job

By this point the first international competitor had started the race. With 25 second intervals, I had a couple minutes to recover and prepare myself. After a bit of dithering, I got in behind Cindy and just ahead of Mark H.

Normally, I'd be right behind the faster international elites, but it's been a long 4 years since I did a stair climbing race. In fact, my last race was exactly 4 years ago at this very same tower.

Why the hiatus? If you're reading this in the future, races shut down for the COVID19 pandemic... and during that time I became fat and out of shape.

About a year ago I decided to make a comeback and it was harder than I thought it would be. First, I gained 22 lbs. - which was significantly more than I had intended. Considering I exercised regularly - though admittedly less than before - I was taken aback by how much weight I had gained. Second, my fitness took a moderate hit. Base fitness was certainly there, but the extra weight and decreased volume of exercise cost me my competitive edge.

Despite increasing my training volume and watching what I ate, I only managed to lose a few pounds. By the Sears Tower race (November) I was finally below 190 lbs... but still nearly 20 lbs. heavier than my goal weight of 170 lbs.

(I actually traveled to Chicago for Sears, but ended up getting sick and missed the race. But that is another story)

Right around Thanksgiving I decided to *really* step up my diet and exercise to prepare for the US Championship Race at the Strat.

So how did I do? You can be the judge.

The table below shows my average speed on my Precor Stepper for my 5 x 4 minute HIIT sessions. For reference, my pre-COVID speed was in the range of 180-182 spm (steps per minute).

Date Weight Speed Delta Speed

14-Nov-23 188.5 150.4 DNF - Did Not Finish

21-Nov-23 189.25 151.3 0.19

28-Nov-23 189.75 150.8 DNF

05-Dec-23 186.75 151.6 0.29

12-Dec-23 188.50 152.3 0.69

19-Dec-23 186.00 153.0 0.66

09-Jan-24 185.00 153.7 0.75

16-Jan-24 184.50 154.7 1.00

23-Jan-24 182.75 155.6 0.90

30-Jan-24 183.50 156.7 1.04

06-Feb-24 183.25 158.0 1.31

13-Feb-24 181.50 159.5 1.54

20-Feb-24 181.25 160.9 1.35

While I dropped ~8 lbs. of weight and increased my speed a solid 10 spm, I didn't reach either of my goals. But it was still a marked improvement.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but I knew I would be fighting to get under the 9 minute mark and likely over a minute slower than my previous times (all in the range of 7:42 - 7:58).

A quick calculation shows that at best I could achieve would be ~180/160 x 7:45 = 8:43.

Notice the emphasis on "at best".

As the race would be a whole minute *longer* than usual... it would be as if I was racing in a slightly taller tower - and therefore I'd have to cut my pace a litter further to accommodate.

So yeah... getting under 9 minutes was the goal... and considering all my rivals were in the 8:30 - 8:45 range... it meant I had only a sliver of a chance at taking the US Championship.

I'd be lying if I said wasn't disappointed. I used to be the guy people were chasing and taking a back seat was a blow to my ego as well as my confidence.

What's more, I knew I would've been in the hunt had I only been down to my race weight. The extra 10 lbs. meant I'd be spotting everyone a solid 30 seconds. Fitness wise, I was probably on par with my top rivals?

Finally it was my turn on the starting line. I was nervous, but it was good to be back.

I'd be climbing without my normal racing flats (broken left sole) and I chose to forgo wearing a stop watch. The absolute worst feeling would be to get half way through the race and realize I'm even slower than I thought I would be.

However, I *was* wearing my metronome and I dutifully set it to 86 BPM.

(The night before the race I read one of my older posts claiming that 97 BPM would get me to the top in around 8 minutes... so a simple ratio shows that 86 should get me to the top in about 9 minutes - i.e. 86 BPM / 97 BPM = 8 min / 9 min)

Go Time!

It felt strange being back the stairwell after such a long hiatus, but it was also quite familiar: the open stairwell, the abnormally long flights, and the oddly rectangular handrails that would inevitably blister my fingers.

The first few flights were nerve wracking as I settled into my pace. My biggest fear was that my "slow" 86 BPM pace as still too fast and I'd bonk halfway through.

I reached the 200s* pretty quickly and to be honest, the pace still felt easy. But from experience, I knew that the pace should feel manageable until about the halfway point. It's only in the latter third where you feel like hanging on for dear life.

*Remember, this tower doesn't have "floors" and is instead measured by altitude (in feet). We start out a few dozen feet from ground and climb to the upper 700s until we hit the bottom of the "donut". Then climb another 8 short floors until the top.

With substantial 25 second gaps between racers, racers more or less have the stairwell to themselves... but by the time I coasted into the upper 300s, I could see Mark a few flights below. He might've gained 10 to 15 seconds?

I probably should have been concerned, but between concentrating on the climb and the intensity of the exercise, I had limited capacity to worry. While it was conceivable Mark could edge me out in this race, I knew that I had still had plenty left in the tank and if it came down to it, I could always speed up. In addition, at the bottom of the tower Mark mentioned he would be setting his metronome to 81 BPM and was easily keeping up with 86 BPM. I *should* be pulling away, right?

Sure enough, by the 500s I had pulled away.

I knew I had passed the halfway point so that meant 3-4 minutes left of climbing. This far into the race, I still felt pretty good, so I climbed a little bit faster than my metronome. It lasted only a few flights; the extra output put me closer to the red line and I was concerned that I'd burn out*. I figured I was already close to my sub-9 minute goal so I didn't wan to take the risk of bonking out. I could still turn on the afterburners when I reach the donut, right?

*I find your lack of faith disturbing.

The 600s crossed into the 700s and by now, I could feel the pace as I was starting to tickle the redline.

I glanced up, hoping to see the donut, but all I could see were more loooong flights of stairs.

Where the hell was the donut? Wasn't it somewhere in the 700s? Or was it in the 800s and I just forgot the building went up that high?

I immediately regretted not reviewing Stan's Stair Chart ahead of time.

By now I was in pain and just wanted the race to be over. While I still had energy in reserve, tapping into it would be painful.

As I let my mind wander, I finally hit the bottom of the donut.

Time to jet.

I ignored my metronome and darted up. Floors 101 - 104 went by in succession.

I distinctly remember Jason telling me that he accidently left the stairwell on the 105th last year, so I when I saw the 105 placard, I made sure to keep climbing upwards.

106... 107...

I made one last attempt to increase my speed; foregoing the use of the handrails, instead pumping my arms to increase my turnover rate.

The Last Flight

I darted through the open door and crossed the line on the 108th floor.

While the final burst of speed inside the donut left me winded, I quickly walked it off.

I was happy to finally have a race under my belt, but slightly disappointed that I didn't climb a little harder. Under normal circumstances, I should be lying on the floor panting for air.

Still, I easily maintained 86BPM for the majority of the race and climbed faster than that during the final sprint. I was pretty certain that I broke the 9 minute mark.

As the minutes ticked by, more racers finished and I had a chance to stretch, eat a banana, and see how everyone fared.

Though I was confident I had met my goal, a small seed of doubt germinated in the back of my mind. I knew that Cindy - a perennial woman's champ - should be climbing in about 9 minutes and I never saw her in the stairwell... meaning she either maintained her 25 second lead... or increased it.

As I was chatting with her, I did get a look at the online race results. Sure enough, she clipped me by a few seconds and it turns out I crossed the line in 9:07.

In-line with the tail end of my goal... but still disappointing. Especially considering I had energy to spare.

After the race, I went back to my hotel to take a quick shower and then back to the Stratosphere for the award ceremony.

It was difficult to be there.

While I was glad to finally make it back to the Strat and see my climbing friends, four years ago, I was the US Points Champion (best "point total for top 8 races) and runner-up American in very tight race. This year I wasn't even ranked... and I barely received an age-group award.

What's worse, is I was so much slower - well over a minute off of my previous worst.

I felt... washed up.

And to top it off, I learned that I was bumped down yet another spot in the rankings.

Normally that shouldn't be enough to get me riled up, but the circumstances of it raised my hackles. You see, a competitor raced in the elite wave, but didn't push themselves. An hour or so later - after all the times were posted - did a *second* much faster climb. And of course that 2nd climb was 9 seconds faster than mine. While their 2nd climb was undoubtedly faster, I don't see how it can be counted. Are there any other types of races that allow a do over?

You can see the final results here. I was a distant 9th overall.

Congrats to Wai Ching Soh for setting the course record*
Congrats to Jason Larson who won the US Championship on the men's side
Congrats to Jill (Alex) Paha who won the US Championship on the women's side

*To be fair Ryoji Watanabe was only .008 seconds back which is probably within the timing equipment's margin of error.

I spent the rest of the trip decompressing. I met a few friends for dinner that night which helped me take my mind off of the race. The following day I spent shopping and walking around the Vegas Strip (like 25,000+ steps) before taking the red-eye flight back home.

Final thoughts

Part of me regrets going to Vegas. Had I skipped the race, at least my pride would still be intact. On the other hand, it gave an honest assessment of where I am at:

My initial target of just under 9 minutes was pretty accurate. Yes, I was slower than that, but considering my confidence was poor and effort level was lower than usual, a 9:07 makes sense.
Dropping another 10 lbs. is going to take at least another 3 months, but it will shave off another 30+ seconds.
My fitness is still good, but it isn't at pre-COVID levels. I'm likely down 4-6%. While I may not get it all back, I am hopeful most of it will. My workout data supports that I'm still increasing my fitness at a steady rate. Admittedly, it is hard to separate weight loss gains* from fitness gains. I'll have a much better idea when I finally hit 170 lbs.

*No oxymoron intended

While I'm disappointed with my race, I'm more disappointed with myself for being at 181 lbs.

The cold hard truth is that I came to the race fat and out of shape and it's entirely my own fault. It's not going to be an easy fix and I have many months of hard work to do before I'm race ready.

The only silver lining with my weight gain and subsequent (partial) weight loss is that I have first hand knowledge of how weight impacts speed in the stairwell. I've always have *theoretical* knowledge, but that isn't the same thing as living through it.

I guess there is one more silver lining:

I have some unfinished business in the stairwell and I'm motivated to finish it.

Grades

Effort: C - Lack and confidence and a whole lot of rust

Conditioning: C - I'm not yet close to my peak, but I trained my ass off to get to this point.

Weight: D - Spotting myself 10+ lbs. is unacceptable.

Pacing & Technique: B minus - 86 BPM is more like a 9:15 finishing time. Maybe if I paid closer attention to the turns it would've helped? There are ~70 turns and shaving a "step" off of each translates into 48 seconds, which is massive. I'm honestly not sure how efficiently I climbed, but it's clear that I should have either 1) increased my pace or 2) had fewer steps on the landings.

Overall: D plus - Below average effort and slightly underwhelming pacing compounded by the fact that I was fat and out of shape made this my worst race ever.

Dreams Pt.1

2023-12-19T07:53:00.000-08:00

19DEC2023

I often dream about climbing stairs. They are often bizzarro versions of real stairs. I might as well document before I forget.

Premise: I met a young, fit Asian girl and convinced her to try competitive stairclimbing. I took her to RPI to practice at the Approach (an outdoor stair case).

Dream: For the first round, the goal was to climb as fast as possible to the top of the hill (Approach + Running + More Stairs) to test her fitness. However, I was slightly nervous as I was carrying an extra 20 lbs. But surely, I could still keep up with a newbie, right?

We started up the steps. Although we were at the Approach, the staircase looked different. The stairs were nestled between brick walls of apartment buildings reminiscent of a hilly NYC suburb. In addition, the pedestrians were well-dressed. Not the college kids, vagrants, and the occasional exercise fanatics I'm used to seeing.

I kept up with her on the first extended flight. I was winded but so was she. I decided to pick up the pace.

The next flight was long and straight. About 100 steps. Rather than pass her on the stairs, I decided to take a parallel detour consisting of a dirt path carved into the grassy hill (note: this parallel path does not actually exist irl).

I ran up the pathway, pulling away from my trainee. However, at the very top of the path, a four-foot wall blocked my path. For some reason, I didn't notice the wall until the very top. Despite the rails (which struck me as odd considering I was on a dirt path) my muscles didn't have enough strength to get me over the top*. I was stuck.

Somehow I managed to get a leg over the wall and pull the rest of my body over the top. I had lost maybe 10 seconds. My trainee was nowhere in sight. I had either lost her on the previous flight or she was way ahead of me. Probably the latter. So I continued my ascent as quickly as possible. I couldn't let a newbie beat me to the top.

*Imagine doing pullups to exhaustion. That is what it felt like. Enough strength to hold on to the pullup bar, but not enough for one more full rep.

The end.

Analysis:

Clearly I dream way too much about fit Asian girls... and stairs.
Despite taking place at a real location (The RPI Approach) the dream version looked nothing like the actual location. The four foot wall blocking my path seems to be a common theme. Something *always* prevents me from finishing a race in my dreams.
In real life, I'm actually struggling with losing the excess weight I gained during the COVID19 pandemic . It turns out I need to lose about 19 pounds, so from now on I'm just going to call it "The COVID19". It has a nice ring to it.
Like usual, the dream finishes without anything being resolved. Did I make it to the top? where was the trainee? More questions raised than answers...

Climbing Back...

2023-12-12T12:28:00.000-08:00

The last few years have been a disappointment - at least with respect to my relationship with stairs.

Maybe I'll go into depth on the why and the how of things, but here is the tldr:

With no races to look forward to, I gained 20 lbs and lost some fitness.

Sure, I trained ~4 times per week for the past few year - including stairs - but it wasn't enough to stave off the COVID weight gain or a moderate decline in fitness.

About a year ago, as COVID was winding down and races started to pick up again, I increased my training, thinking I'd make my comeback sometime later in the year.

But my weight wouldn't budge.

For perspective, I like to be at 172 lbs or lower on race day and during January I hovered around 192-193 lbs... and if I'm truthful, I was up around 194-195 lbs at my peak weight.

Come September, I finally weighed below 190 lbs. I signed up for the Sears Tower race in November thinking that maybe I'd be able to shed a few more pounds and not completely embarrass myself.

But my weight wouldn't budge.

Still, I signed up for Sears and I wasn't going to back out. At the very least I had gained some of my fitness back and I could use it as a benchmark.

Fast forward to Halloween and I made the trip to Chicago.

It was hailing. Seriously?!

Fortunately, the bad weather didn't last and I had a few days to train, relax, and experience the city.

The day before the race, I met up with David at Sears to pick up my racing bib. I hadn't seen him since pre-COVID and it was nice to catch up.

After walking around the city, I got back to my hotel room completely exhausted. My throat was scratchy and I had a headache. I took a short nap. My alarm went off just before dinner time. I had planned to meet up with a few other climbers for dinner, but by now I had a fever. Instead I took a couple Tylenol and tried to rest up.

How could this happen 12 hours before the race?

I felt even worse by bedtime, but set my alarm to 4:30 AM anyway. Maybe I'd feel better in the morning.

I didn't.

Racing was out of the question. I wanted to at least attend the race to see the other racers, but between bouts of chills and fevers, I wasn't sure I could get to the Tower let alone climb it. So I stayed in bed.

It was the right choice. The next couple days were spent mostly in bed, though I ventured out a couple times to replenish my dwindling supplies.

I managed to make it back home though the flight was miserable. I ended up missing a couple more days of work, too. So much for the "vacation".

I was disappointed. Not only did I miss the race, but my fitness took a hit as well. I tapered my workouts while traveling specifically so I would stay healthy and be at my best on race day. But instead I ended up resting for an entire week.

Though I was depressed... it somehow flipped a switch. Suddenly I was motivated again.

Motivated enough to change my diet

Motivated enough to step up my workouts

Motivated enough to write my first blog post in 4 years.

I've got 74 days until the US championships at Scale the Strat and a solid 15 pounds to lose.

Midwest Madness

2019-12-10T14:07:00.003-08:00

Welcome to Chicago

This would be my 9^th time racing up the Sears Tower. I’ve spent over 20% of my life training for this race and I’m still not prepared.

I’ve been juggling a lot of stuff recently and I’m not as young as I used to be. At 43, I’m still in good shape - but these days I feel like my age.

The months leading up to the race were stressful. I’ve been steadily working on the new house and finally made the big move in September. Adding to the stress was the fact that I had to do it alone since my SO was out of town dealing with other stressful problems. It also meant I had to get Lance ready for the school year by myself*.

*Lance is in 7^th grade now and is participating in *way* too many extra-curricular activities. I’m chauffeuring him to Band, Stage Band, and Chorus every morning and picking him up from Crew practice after school. Not to mention Tennis, Piano, and the “Music Studio Kids” song and dance troupe. It’s far too much, really, but the kid’s got potential. He’s already 5’ 11” (two inches taller than yours truly) and he’s a beast on the indoor rower for a 12 year old. At the beginning of the crew season, he could probably pull an 8:30 2K on the erg, but I bet he’s closer to 8:00 minutes flat nowadays. By the time he’s an upper classmen, he might even be as fast as I am – but only if he trains hard. He’d rather be playing tennis.

With all that additional stress, it is a wonder I’ve been able to train consistently.

The real problem has been maintaining my weight and recovering from injuries. I’ve struggled to stay below 175 lbs. which I consider the very top of my “race ready” weight range. And regarding injuries, I have a bunch of old chronic issues, but In particular, my piriformis has been a nagging injury and sitting down just makes it worse. Most recently, I injured my hip. I don’t know how it occurred. A week before the race I was sitting down at my desk. When I stood up to take a quick walk, I noticed I was in pain and limping. I chalk it up to weird bad luck. It only curtailed a couple of workouts, so I’m thankful it wasn’t worse.

Fast forward to Sears.

Fitness-wise, I was in good shape but still a few pounds heavy. Plus my hip still wasn’t at 100%. I didn’t think it would impact my performance… but it was still a worry.

I arrived at Sears around 6:15 AM and bumped into a few other climbers I knew from the circuit. Some of us still didn’t have our bibs (including me!) so we had to wait patiently for David Hanley, our sports director, to show up.

I should mention that I didn’t completely know who was going to be at the race, so it was only when David showed up with all the bibs that the lineup became clear. On the men’s side, here was my predicted finish order:

Frank Careno (COL)

Alexis Trujillo (MEX)

Goerge Heimann (GER)

Jesse Berg

Alex Workman

Jason Larson/Mark Henderson (tie)

“Oz” Osborn

Mark Ewell

Josh Duncan

There were a few big-name scratches: Terry Purcell, Justin Stewart, and Sproule Love. Don’t ask me to guess a fantasy finishing order with them in the lineup. All I can say is they’d all be in the hunt for 4^th place if they were present.

On the women’s side, I was grasping at straws. Cindy Harris would likely win but other than her, the remaining podium spots were up for grabs. The big names I knew were Sherri Breese, Meg Santanna, Stephanie Hucko, and Maria Lopez. This is not in any particular order; I just don’t follow the women as closely as I should.

Back to the start line....

Before I began my active stretching, I ran into Mischa from Towerrunning. I still hadn’t payed my annual dues (due to technical difficulties of the website) so I paid him 30 USD to cover the 24 Euro fee.

With my dues taken care of, I completed my active stretching routine and followed it up with a couple rounds of burpees as I made my way to the start line. For the record, the start line is two floors below the “normal” start line. It’s been like this for two (now three) years so perhaps starting in the basement will be the new normal.

I didn’t have my race-ready confidence and I felt like I didn’t belong at the race. However, I needed the points. As long as stayed within a couple spots of Mark Henderson I should be able to maintain my lead in the TowerRunning USA rankings. Theoretically, I could skip the race and still win the USA cup, but doing well here would cement my spot. Anyway, I signed up for the race and I wasn’t going to back out now.

The internationals were up front. Jason, Mark and I discussed who should go next. I wasn’t volunteering because if I went next, it meant I’d likely be passed at the beginning of a race only to re-pass during the later stages. Jason wanted to keep me in his sights, so he wasn’t volunteering to go next either. That left Mark. He didn’t want to right after the internationals, but he *was* willing to go 2^nd.

So I approached Jesse Berg and told him it was a “unanimous” decision for him to go after Goerge. Problem solved!

I did a final round of burpees and a couple minutes later I entered the stairwell.

I set my metronome at 81 BPM. By all accounts, this is one of the slower paces I’ve used at Sears, but after consulting my blog post from last year (the year I got locked out of my room and didn’t have my metronome) that was the pace I planned to use. Considering I was a bit heavier than last year, I figured it should be sufficient. After all, I’d rather be a little slow and have a bit in the tank towards the end of the race. Going out too fast is a death sentence at Sears.

I tried focusing on being efficient for the first few floors. It’s tough to concentrate during a race, but the slow pace made it possible. By the time I hit the 6^th floor Jason had nearly caught up. He tucked in behind me and commented that maybe he went out to fast (probably just to make me feel good so I’d let down my guard).

Together, we climbed into the teens. Slow and steady.

When we reached the lower 20s, I could hear another climber approaching. It turned out to be a kid named Nick Sdrenka (I looked up his name after the race). I say “kid” because I’m twice his age. He’s likely in his early 20s. I don’t know Nick personally, but I did recall him talking with David Hanley after I picked up my bib.

He cruised past Jason and me, but from the sound of his breathing, I could tell he was working harder than we were. Would he last another 70+ floors? From experience, probably not… but you never know. Perhaps this kid was going to be the dark horse of the race.

Jason and I remained together for another decad of floors and once again we found ourselves being passed. This time it was someone we both recognized: Cindy Harris. She was tearing up the stairwell, but I knew it was going to be somewhat short lived. She was breathing quite heavily - but then again, she *always* breathes heavily (it’s kind of her signature mark).

As we approached the lower 40s, Jason had had enough of my slow pace and moved to pass me. As he passed me I mentioned I planned to kick it up a notch at the half way point (lower 50’s). This was more of a defense mechanism of sorts because by now I felt guilty about going out so slow. Jason quickly built a lead of one and a half flights.

By now we had crossed the halfway point (about floor 52) and I took stock of my situation. On one hand, I had already been passed three times so my confidence was shot. On the other hand, I felt relatively fresh. I *knew* I went out too slow. To be honest, I’ve felt worse during my time trial training sessions on the Precor Stepper.

There was only one thing to do: Pick up the pace. I slowly reeled in Jason and together we pulled passed Cindy in the upper 50s.

Now comes the hardest part of the race: The Dead Zone.

With only 40 floors to go, I was well beyond the halfway point, but 40 floors is still a loooong ways to go. If you’ve gone out too fast, the Dead Zone is where you start to bonk. Even if you’ve gone out too slow (like me) the climb becomes painful. Could I go faster? Yes! Did I *want* to go faster? Heck no! The best I could manage was a step* closer to the redline.

*Stairclimbing pun intended.

As I ascended through the 60’s I was climbing nearly on top of Jason. With the 70^th floor approaching, I made my move to pass and a few floors later we caught up with Nick who was being swallowed by the Dead Zone. The fact that he managed to stay ahead for so long means he’s a solid athlete.

In the upper 70’s I had maybe a flight or two on Jason, which meant that he was still technically ahead of me at this point (as he started 10 seconds behind me).

For Jason to win our duel, he just needed to stay with me. For me to win, I’d have to drop him for good… but with just over 20 floors to go, it was going to be an uphill* battle.

*Stairclimbing pun intended.

Time was running out as the final 20 floors should take only 3 minutes or so. The good news is that I was out of the Kill Zone and headed into the Final Sprint*. Furthermore, the stairwell configuration in the final section is a fast and narrow 7/7/7.

*The Final Sprint comes right after the Dead Zone. This is the point where you are able to push past the pain and increase the pace since the finish line is fast approaching. This assumes, of course, that you haven’t already bonked. If you’ve bonked, the Final Sprint just becomes an extension of the Dead Zone.

I muscled up those stairs like a man possessed. I had way too much energy left and I kicked myself for going out to slow. Yes, I was making up time, but with only 10 floors left to go, I knew I had left some time on the table.

As I headed into the mid 90’s I was truly suffering, but I wasn’t about to slow down. I still had energy in the tank, although tapping into it was going to hurt.

I crossed into the 100s and above me I could hear the crowd cheering. Was that Mark finishing? I had nearly forgotten about him… drat, it was going to be a tight finish. I kicked myself again for going out so conservatively.

The final few flights were a bitch. Having sprinted the last 20 floors left me in pain and I couldn’t afford to let up.

I crossed the finish line and stumbled a few steps before putting my hands on my knees to catch my breath. Yes, I felt like crap, but 20 floors of sprinting tends to do that. The silver lining is that my recovery time was pretty quick. Going out too slow for 80 floors tends to do that.

I didn’t mention this before, but I raced without my stop watch. It ran out of batteries a couple days before the race. As such, I had no idea what my time was, although I figured I was nowhere close to my PB. I’d be lucky to break the 15 minute mark.

I walked around for a bit to help recover and asked Mark, Jesse, and Jason about their times. Jason clocked in the lower 15s and I thought I was a good 10 second gap between us, so I figured I would be a few seconds faster. Mark mentioned he was in the lower 15s and I was nearly on top of him when he finished (though I never saw him). Jesse timed himself as just over 15 minutes.

It was real nail biter until we got the official results. See them here.

The biggest upset was that Alexis outsprinted Goerge for the win with both of them beating out the course record holder Frank Carreno who held on for a distant 3^rd place. Among the Americans, Jesse was the fastest (he actually *did* break 15 minutes). I took fifth place narrowly ahead of Jason and Mark.

How did the dark horse fare? Nick finished about 30 seconds behind which means I’d better watch out. If he learns how to pace himself in the stairwell, he could easily drop 30 seconds. Or more.

How did the women do? Cindy Harris won handily. For the rest of the field, the big surprise was newcomer Anna Carlson taking 2^nd place.

Race Grades:

Effort: B- ; My pace for the first 80 floors was too slow (C-) but I made up for some if it by pushing hard during the final 20 floors.

Conditioning: B+ ; I was in decent shape.

Weight: B- ; 170 or less is needed to score an A in this category and I tipped the scales at a heavy 173/174.

Pacing & Technique: B- ; My initial pace wasn’t aggressive enough and I didn’t really change it until I was more than halfway finished… but at least I was able to conserve energy and use most of it up during the sprint. Technique was fair.

Overall: B ; Although I left some time on the table, considering my weight, I’m pleased with the overall result.

Final Thoughts:

I’m relieved that I did as well as I did and pleased that I squeezed ahead of a couple of my rivals. Yes, I could have gone faster, but my game plan was reasonable. I wasn’t in top stairclimbing shape so I’m happy I was closer to the 15 minute mark rather than the 16 minute mark (which I thought was a real possibility). I think the only thing I regret was not picking up the pace earlier in the race. I should have checked my status and adjust my pace at the 30^th floor rather than after the 50^th. I think the reason I didn’t check my status was:

I wasn’t confident.
Coasting by at a slower pace is waaaay easier.
Racing head-to-head with a rival discouraged me from speeding up. In my head I was thinking “Well if this speed is fast enough for Jason, then it must be fast enough for me.”

When I do this race next year, I may consider going out at 83 or possibly 84 BPM if my weight is closer to 170 lb or even 85 BPM if I’m in top condition.

The story doesn’t end here.

When I booked my flight to Chicago, the original plan was to stay in the Midwest and race in Milwaukee a few days after Sears. However, this year the Milwaukee race would be held a week later. Drat.

What is a climber to do? Find another racing venue!

Welcome to Missouri

It turns out there is another well known race in the Midwest called Master the Met in St. Louis. It’s held annually in April (drat!) but it turns out that the stairwell of Met Square is open for public use (yes!). Although I wouldn’t be able to officially take part in Master the Met, I could at least race the course on my own.

I stayed in Chicago overnight and the following day I rented a car to drive down to St. Louis.

St. Louis is surprisingly awesome. It is roughly 3 times the size of Albany so it boasts a decent skyline which is dominated by the Gateway Arch, which I learned is made of fabricated steel, not concrete (I got up real close to verify).

Close-up of the Arch

Although St. Louis has it’s share of sketchy neighborhoods, it also had some fantastic public spaces. During my stay I explored:

Missouri Botanical Garden (A+): Top notch botanical garden. Highly recommended.
St. Louis Art Museum (A-): Decent size, nice collection, and free!
St. Louis Public Library (A+): Wide selection in a historic building.
Gateway Arch Museum (A-): Small but very detailed and informative. Also free!
Old Courthouse (A): Beautiful domed architecture and you can climb up to the 3^rd level to see it up close. Plus a small museum. Also free!
Cherokee St. Antique Row (B): Lots of Antique Shops but sadly only a few were open when I went exploring.

Botanical Garden

Old Court House

There were a few other places that I saw, but didn’t have a chance to fully explore:

Old Cathedral (note: it should have been open during the time I tried to visit!)
Forest Park. Think Central Park NYC but bigger. I caught a glimpse of it when I went to the Art Museum.
Christ Church Cathedral. Next door to the Library.

Last but not least, the surprise hidden gem was the “Apotheosis Comics & Lounge” which is a comic book store... with a bar! The owner is friendly and introduced me to the series “Manifest Destiny”. It’s the story the Lewis & Clark expedition… but with a supernatural twist.

Before I digress too far… the purpose of the trip was to climb up One Metropolitan Square (Met Square) so let’s get on with it.

On Wednesday, I met up with the John Wilmas, the self-proclaimed “Stair Ninja” of St. Louis. I’ve met him once or twice before at Sears, so I gave him a call when I decided to do a time trial at Met Square.

Met Square is a 42 story building with a listed height of 180.7 meters. That makes it the tallest skyscraper in St. Louis and 2^nd tallest in Missouri (1^st place belongs to One Kansas City Place, which is less than 10 meters taller). Met Square is virtually the same height as the Corning Tower in Albany, my hometown race, so I kind of knew what to expect.

I met John in the lobby of Met Square just past noon. He was already wearing his custom “Stair Ninja” racing kit. John is an office worker in a nearby building but he noonlights as a fitness trainer. If you live in St. Louis, you might run into him if you ever have lunch near the Gateway Arch. He often leads Cross-Fit-esque workouts on the steps leading up to the Arch. In fact, he is in the middle of opening up his own “Stair Ninja” gym. Somehow I imagine the gym will be equal parts Cross Fit and American Ninja Warrior. Plus some stairs.

Met Square is essentially John’s personal stairwell. He works in a nearby office building so when he’s training for stairs, Met Square is his go-to spot (his office building is “merely” 20 stories tall). To get into the stairwell, all that is needed is to sign a waiver at the security desk.

As we prepared to do a warmup lap, John confessed he wasn’t in stair-climbing shape quite yet but planned to do more stair workouts to get ready for the 2020 stair climbing season (which is generally in late winter/early spring). Although he’d be climbing with me, he wouldn’t be exactly “racing”.

I set my metronome to 75 BPM for our warm-up lap. The stairwell layout is a standard two flights per floor with right hand turns. The width is fairly narrow so I was able to grip both sides of the tubular steel rails pretty easily. I also noticed that there isn’t much of a gap between flights so I was able to take the turns quickly. Taken together, this meant that this stairwell would be a fast!

We chatted while climbing and John reminisced about prior editions of Master the Met. Because St. Louis is so close to Springfield, it often attracts top climbers like Terry, Oz, and Justin. Other editions have attracted the legendary Sproule Love since St. Louis just happens to be his home town. For such a “small town” race, it certainly has attracted some top talent over the years.

The stairwell switches up on the 19^th floor (about halfway) so we had to run down a short hallway to get to the next stairwell. The new stairwell continues up to the 42^nd floor, but the actual race finishes on the 40^th floor, so that’s where we exited. It’s actually quite convenient because there is bathroom right near the elevator. After a short pit stop, we took the elevator back down to the ground floor.

Now I was getting butterflies in my stomach. Although I wouldn’t be in official race, I knew I would be pushing quite hard.

Here is a secret: I *hate* pushing hard. It’s painful. I dread some of my workouts because I know I’ll have to push hard over and over again until I can no longer maintain the prescribed pace. Racing is even worse because you can’t even quit – even when you bonk.

After changing into my racing flats it was go-time.

Sproule owns the record at the Met which is 4:10 flat although Justin has come within a couple seconds of it. Other speedsters, like Terry have come in just under 4:30. In a time trial, I figured I should be able to come in around 4:30. That’s pretty much my goal time in Albany, which is a similar if not longer course.

But what pace to use?

Here is what I knew:

I didn’t take any measurements of the steps although they felt about 7 inches tall (which is *not* a precise measurement).
Warm-up lap was 75 BPM and we completed it in a bit over 7 minutes (I don’t remember the exact time)
Race Pace at Albany is about 120 BPM

I couldn’t do math in my head to ratio 75 BPM with 7 minutes (and change) to figure out what pace to use for a goal time of 4:30, but 120 BPM sounded about right.

So that’s how I set my metronome.

For the time trial, it was decided that I’d go first and John would try to keep up with me for as long as possible. I ended up borrowing John’s fit bit watch since my watch’s batteries were still dead.

I had to restart once because I wasn’t familiar with John’s fit bit, but I finally got it to work.

The first 10 floors were quick and easy and John stayed about a flight or so behind.

When we got to the 13^th floor, however, the pace really started feel brutal. It was the sucker punch you get when you haven’t warmed up properly: things seem fine… until they don’t.

At the 15^th floor, I was struggling, often taking an extra step on the landings. Could I handle three more minutes of this crap? I had my doubts.

I made it to the 19^th floor and ran down the hallway to the next stairwell. Just about halfway through the time trial.

John was likely a couple floors behind by now. When I crossed 21 or 22, I thought I could hear him down below as he crossed over to the next stairwell.

I was suffering, but it would be embarrassing to quit in the middle even if this wasn’t a “real” race. Oddly enough, I felt a little bit better. Likely I was getting my “warm-up” back as my body adjusted to the pace.

Maybe I *could* do this…

By the time I reached the 30^th floor I was climbing slightly faster than my metronome. The pace hurt, but I was handling it. Only 10 floors left! 75% complete! 25% to go*. I got this!

*I know it’s redundant, but that’s how my brain works when climbing stairs.

I increased my pace yet again, madly tearing up each flight. Although I could no longer single step the landings, I made up for it with fury.

As I rounded the 35^th floor (5 floors left, 87.5% complete, 12.5% to go!) I still had energy to spare, but boy was I hurting. The little voice inside my head said, “Hey, this is only a time trial… there is no need to burn yourself out. This isn’t a *real* race”.

In the end, the little voice partly won out as I coasted to the top at my current pace. At least I didn’t slow down.

As I made it to the 40^th floor, I looked down at John’s Fit bit. The screen was blank! Frantically I pressed the touch screen. 4:35… 4:36… 4:37… and I finally stopped it.

I stood there with my hands on my quads and waited for John. Maybe I waited for another 30 seconds? I don’t know since I didn’t restart/continue the fit bit. I’m guessing he finished somewhere in the lower 5s.

We rested for another minute or two before heading back down via the elevator. The time trial took a lot out of me so our next lap would be our last one. I set my metronome at 65 BPM as a cool down. One fast climb was enough!

At the top of the cool-down lap we celebrated with photo. Then I explored the 41^st and 42^nd floors just to see what the rest of the stairwell was like. John told me that during the first few editions of the Master the Met, the race ended on the 42^nd floor, but he rarely goes up that far during training since the doors are always locked*.

*Except for that one time he ran into the cleaning crew and got to see the top floor.

Before our final descent, I took a closer look at the stairwell, specifically the stairwell between the 38^th and 40^th floors (as I didn’t feel like taking the stairs *all* way down).

Holy Crap! The stairwell is a fast 11/11 configuration*! I asked John about the rest of the stairwell and he confirmed that floors 1-19 are somewhat random, but 19-40 are all uniform. Before exiting the stairwell, I did a couple turns just to show John just how fast 11/11 can be. I wish I had used that technique during the time trial.

*IMO 11/11 is the best possible stairwell configuration. You can read about my stairwell analysis and suggested foot placement ad nauseum here.

Time Trial Grades:

Effort: B ; I pushed the pace for most of the time trial but I Iet off the gas with about 5 floors to go.

Conditioning: B+ ; I was still in decent shape and well rested after Sears.

Weight: C+ ; After Sears I switched from a lower sodium diet to a higher sodium (pizza) diet so I’m guessing I was in the 175 lb range.

Pacing & Technique: B ; 120 BPM was challenging. My stairwell technique was passable, but I did not utilize the efficient 11/11 foot pattern.

Overall: B+ ; I’m pleased with my results because it was a solid learning experience. If this was a real race, I would have graded my performance as a B-. There is room to improve in each category.

Final Thoughts:

I suspect I wasn’t fully warmed up prior to the time trial. If I ever come back to Master the Met, I’ll need to make sure I do some sprinting or at least some burpees to get my body accustomed to the fast pace. If I were to race again (at the same weight and conditioning) I would probably bump the pace up to 122 BPM and focus on foot placement for the 11/11 section. I think a good goal would be 4:30 with a stretch goal of 4:25. I bet a 4:20 flat would be possible if I get my weight under control.

Epilogue:

I hope to someday to come back to Met Square and put my knowledge to good use, but what is a stair climbing trip without a couple of WTF moments?

On the outskirts of Chicago, they still have coin operated automatic toll booths on the interstate. Seriously, who carries $2.60 in change these days?!?
In St. Louis, they have an eatery called “The St. Louis Bread Company”. It sounded kind of awesome so I tried it for lunch. Big mistake. This cute name is just a disguise for the “Panera Bread” chain*. Normally, I don’t have a beef with Panera - other than the fact I hate spending $10 for a sandwich - but this particular branch was awful:

I ordered a soup and waited for well over 10 minutes… only to be told that they were out of soup and I’d have to change my order. I wasn’t happy, but sometimes these things happen unexpectedly. No worries (yet).
While waiting for my new order, I decided to use the restroom. It was electronically locked with a key pad. The sign above the keypad said to check your receipt for the access code. I pulled out my receipt. No access code. When I inquired at the ordering station, the cashier mentioned that they are supposed to put the code on the receipt… but for some reason they don’t. I wasn’t sure how to reply. That’s like saying, “We have rules, but choose not to follow them”. At least she gave me the bathroom code.
When my meal finally arrived, it came with a bag of chips instead of the bread that I had ordered. I asked my server about the unexpected (and unwanted) switch she told me that they were out of bread because they were busy earlier in the day. Not only did I doubt that a place named “The St. Louis Bread Company” was out of bread, but I took offense that she thought that giving me something I didn’t order (or even want) *without* asking me beforehand was okay. It’s like going to coffee shop and ordering a cup of decaf… and then purposefully being handed a can of diet coke (not even caffeine free!). It would have been one thing if the server accidently got my order wrong… but she knowingly made the switch even though adequate substitutions were literally right behind the counter.

That was the third strike. I had enough of this nonsense and finally spoke to the manager to get a piece of bread after waiting 20+ minutes for my “fast casual” meal. Long story short: although they were out of the mini-baguette that they usually serve with meals, apparently they *did* offer a wide variety of other baked goods that they could substitute… you know, because it’s a flipping sandwich shop that makes bread.

*Fun fact: Panera Bread started in St. Louis as “The St. Louis Bread Company” and the original stores in St. Louis have kept that moniker.

Six Hours in Salt Lake

2019-05-24T12:52:00.000-07:00

Less than a week after winning the US National Championship, I headed to Salt Lake City. I spent the past few days bumming around Vegas and Zion National Park. My experience is summarized by two pictures:

Although I did bit of hiking, I only went to the gym once during the week. Heading over to Salt Lake City, I found myself well rested, though I also felt a little heavier than usual - likely due to the added salt in my diet. The excess water weight didn’t bother me too much. Salt Lake City was going to be a 6 hours of “fun”, with the goal of completing as many laps up the Wells Fargo building as possible within the time limit.

This was going to be far longer than any of my previous races. My longest race to date was the Dallas Vertical Mile, and the time limit there was merely 2.5 hours.

This was also going to be unlike any other race I’ve participated in. Believe it or not, I’ve never done a true power hour. Remember, the Dallas Vertical Mile is set at 12 laps and you can take as long a break as you want between laps as long as you start your final lap within the 2.5 hour time limit. My breaks in Dallas were a whopping 7 minutes and I was able to push myself fairly hard each lap. The only other power hour I’ve done was many years ago in Calgary, and in that event, I had to climb down the stairs rather than ride the elevator.

The 6 hour SLC climb was on the opposite end of the spectrum. I had to pace myself fairly slowly and minimize my breaks – theoretically only resting on the elevator ride down. Plus, it was far longer than anything I’ve ever experienced.

Despite having little practical experience at such an event, I did my homework.

My friends Josh, Martin, and Christine all own records at the event having climbed the building 52 times (Josh & Martin) and 50 times (Christine). So a few weeks prior to the race I asked them all for advice and they gave it freely. The most useful piece of information of all was Christine’s lap split spreadsheet. It showed both the ascent and descent times for all 50 of her climbs. This armed me with a critical piece of information: The elevator ride down takes about 2 minutes on average, but can vary widely. I was warned that sometimes I’d have to wait for the elevator and sometimes people would get on & off on the 19^th (break room) floor.

As far as climbing is concerned, I’m roughly 5% faster than Josh and Martin and perhaps 15% faster than Christine in a *single* climb. I stressed single on purpose. I have very little experience in ultra-events. My strength is really in the 4-5 minute range although I’ve trained hard over the years to be strong in longer events too.

Anyway, I figured I should shoot for the record and try to get in perhaps 54 climbs in (9 laps per hour).

To achieve 9 laps an hour, I’d need to have a round trip of 6:40. Assuming it took ~2 minutes to descend and get back to the start line, this meant that I’d need to complete each climb in about 4:40 or so.

I tested out this pace in my training building before I left for the Strat and It came out to be about 75 BPM. It felt extremely slow, but that was a good thing.

Fast forward to the night before the race.

I met up with John Rosswog, the race director, and had a quick preview of the stairwell. I used 77 BPM since this stairwell had shorter steps than my practice building.

Wells Fargo Building (From Wikipedia)

Here was the layout: The first couple floors were pretty tall and had 3 flights per floor, all turning to the right. This led to a short hallway on the 3^rd floor, perhaps 5 paces or so long. The remainder of the course (floor 3 – 24) was fairly uniform and turned to the left. I believe the step configuration was primarily 13/13 (but don’t quote me). All in all, the stairwell was fairly efficient. Not only could I use both sides of the rails, but the turns were fairly tight. With effort, I could usually keep one foot on the landings.

When I finished my practice climb I glanced at my stop watch. 4:40 on the dot. I couldn’t have asked for a better result!

This pace seemed quite easy and although I was breathing quite heavily at top, I felt like I could keep this pace for several hours without fading.

The biggest surprise – which Josh and Martin warned me about – was the long hallway leading from the stairwell to the elevator. The stairwell dumps you out in a reception area (for some financial firm I think). After about 5 paces, it leads you to a long hallway overlooking the 23^rd floor (as the 23^rd and 24^th floors share a tall open area). This hallway is a good 100 feet long. At the end of the hallway is the elevator bank (immediately after a hard left turn). All in all, you end up running for 10-15 seconds to get from the stairwell to the elevator. What’s more is that when you exit the elevator downstairs, you have to jog outside to get back to the stairwell, adding at yet *another* 10-15 seconds even if you run.

Essentially, the “break” each lap wasn’t a total break. For example, if the “rest” on average is about 2 minutes, then ~30 seconds of that (i.e. 25% of the break) would be jogging.

Armed with this knowledge I went back to my hotel room to prepare for the next morning.

I woke up right just after 5:00 AM and ate a quick meal of oatmeal and a hardboiled egg. I usually have something lighter for my pre-race breakfast, but I figured I needed the extra calories. Next I headed to the race to pick up my jersey and drop off my race fuel.

Altogether, I had 5 energy gels and 12 bitesize chews (candy and caramels). I also carried a small bottle of salt pills as well an emergency bottle of pickle juice to in case I developed cramps. The plan would be to eat gel and two salt pills every 9 laps (1 per hour) and eat one candy every three laps. I also brought a banana in case I didn’t want to eat candy throughout the entire race. For hydration, I planned to take a couple sips of Gatorade from the downstairs rest station and a sip of water from the upstairs aid station.

At 5:30 AM, I arrived at the building. I brought two small bags for fuel. One carried my salt pills, pickle juice, banana, 3 gels & about two thirds of my candy. The other bag was smaller and contained just two gels and the remainder of my candy. I picked up my racing big and dropped off the larger of the two bags near the front of the building (about 20 feet from the Gatorade station and exit door). Next, I took the elevator to the up to the 24 floor to drop off my smaller bag. I placed it in a corner of the reception area.

I made my way back downstairs and then headed to the 2^nd floor to use the bathroom.

It was locked!

Someone mentioned the 19^th floor bathroom was open and I dashed to the elevator bank. No time for the stairs!

Around 5:50 AM John Rosswog introduced a few of the elite climbers. I did my active stretches while waiting. I didn’t do any burpees. I figured the pace was slow enough where I’d naturally warm-up in the stairwell during the race. I was one of the last climbers to be called up and I was announced as the current US National Champion and 3x National Points Champion; I fed him that info earlier in the week and I kind of regretted it because now I had to live up to those titles!

Shortly afterwards John led us to the stairwell. The stairwell entrance was outside so we had to walk outside. It was cold and dark outside and there was faint dusting of snow still on the ground from last night. The time was just about 6:05:30 when he let us start. There was a huge digital clock right displayed right on the start line just inside the stairwell. It was kind of a mass start, although people seemed to take turns going. I wanted to get in quickly but I ended up about 4^th into the stairwell. My official start time was 6:05:35.

Lap 1

I switched on my metronome and started the climb. I was soon passed by both Christine and Josh. What the heck? I knew my 4:40 pace was slightly aggressive so I was surprised that they’d want to pass me*.

*I later learned that our fastest lap counted towards the sprint climb so it made sense after the fact.

I was passed one more time by Admir, a local athlete I met the night before. However I was able to keep up with him fairly easily. Actually, it is more accurate to say that my metronome’s pace allowed my to stay close behind.

When I got to the 19^th floor I must have accelerated ever so slightly because when I crossed the finish line I clocked in a 4:30 – roughly 10 seconds faster than my planned goal pace.

I grabbed a quick drink of water and then ran to the elevator. I caught it immediately. I got back downstairs, grabbed a quick shot of Gatorade, and made it back to the start line in less than 90 seconds.

Lap 2

I had pretty much recovered from my first lap. After all, the pace wasn’t very taxing. I switched on my metronome and entered the stairwell.

I was still fairly close to Admir and I climbed behind him for much of the 2^nd lap. When I got to the top, I was a little bit slower. 4:43. Still a pretty good time and still on track for 9 climbs per hour.

I grabbed a quick drink of water and chased after Admin who ran off ahead. When I turned the final corner to the elevator Admir was already gone, leaving me to wait for another elevator. “Fuck!” I cursed. He didn’t wait for me. I only paused briefly for a cup of water and now I had to wait another umpteen seconds for the next elevator. “Fuck!” I cursed again.

It took a few moments to calm my myself. I knew I couldn’t keep ranting in front of the volunteers. It wasn’t their fault. I felt like an asshole for letting my emotions get out of control.

I caught the next elevator down and to my dismay I ended up waiting for another couple of climbers to get on board.

Finally I made it back downstairs. I grabbed a quick drink of Gatorade and reset my stop watch. It took a whopping 2:15 to get back to the start line. I had lost around 40 seconds. Damn it!

Laps 3 - 9

I climbed pretty steadily for the next hour. Climb times held steady at 4:45 or so and my rests ranged from 90 seconds to about 2 minutes. Not bad.

Every three laps I’d grab a piece of candy. My upstairs bag wasn’t in a great position and it probably added an extra 10 seconds to my lap time whenever I’d grab something from it. After my lap #6 (my 2^nd piece of candy) I moved the bag down the hallway next to the elevators and the water station. This made a lot more sense. Now that I could see the elevators, I wouldn’t randomly waste time. If the elevators were going down, I could just get onboard. If I had to wait, I could use the extra time to casually take the candy out of my bag and have a drink of water.

As for the race itself, I started out in 4^th place, but by the 5^th lap I finally caught up to Admir. I lost him briefly as I took a drink of water. Oh no, not again! I had to wait until the next lap to finally overtake him. I saw him greet several other climbers and volunteers so I knew he cared about the charity and its mission; it wasn’t all about racing. I felt a little foolish for getting so bent out of shape on my 2^nd lap. While I passed Admir, he mentioned the pace was just a hair too fast and would need to slow down a bit. 4:45s were doable for an hour, but not for six hours!

Now that I had passed Admir, only Josh and Christine remained ahead. I was nearly an hour into the race still no sign of them. Where were they? I knew my pace was solid and it was hard to imagine that they were going much faster.

I caught up to Josh around lap #8. Or was it lap #9 or #10? We exchanged a few words of encouragement and Josh mentioned that he lost sight of Christine somewhere on the 2^nd or 3^rd lap when he missed the elevator. She couldn’t be that far ahead, could she?

Oh yeah, it was now it was light outside. Yay!

Laps 10-20

I was in a solid rhythm. I could still maintain 4:45 although once in a while I’d hit a 4:50 or so. It couldn’t be helped. Traffic in the stairwell was becoming heavy as more waves started. Honestly, it wasn’t much of a problem because people tended to hug the outside rail and let me pass by on the inside. Yeah, I lost a second or two here and there, but it could have been a lot worse. As a matter of fact, most of the lost time occurred on the bottom two floors. People just didn’t want to get out of the way.

It finally dawned on me what was going on. The other climbers were told to let faster climbers pass on the left. This is great for floors 3 – 24 which all turn to the left. Not so great for floors 1 & 2 which turn to the right. No wonder a couple people gave me dirty looks when I passed them on the inside!

The 2^nd hour became increasingly difficult. Sure I could maintain 77 BPM but now I was counting down the flights once I crossed the rest area on the 19^th floor.

My “rests” were also taking longer. Not only were the elevator waits random, but there were more people getting on than before which made the trip down hot and stifling.

In other news, I couldn’t believe I was still chasing Christine. Where the heck was she?

I finally caught up to her on the 19^th lap. I snuck into the elevator with her just as the elevator doors were closing. She looked a bit ragged, but then again up until this point, she’d been going faster than me and I wasn’t feeling great either.

I stayed with her for the first part of the 20^th lap but then slowly pulled away.

At the top, I got into the elevator fairly quickly, but it was *crowded* and of course we ended up stopping on the 19^th floor. After the doors closed again, it seemed to take forever to get back down to the ground floor. I wasn’t imagining things. It was taking an inordinate amount of time and I was worried that we were going to get stuck. Did I mention it was hot and crowded?

Thankfully the elevator made it down in one piece, but I had lost over a minute in the process. Was I still ahead of Christine? I had no idea.

Laps 21 - 30

I’d like to say the next few laps were like clockwork, but they weren’t. I felt like I was slogging up those stairs. Yeah, I was still climbing at 77 BPM, but I was barely keeping 4:50s. Part of it was fatigue, but another part of it was the temperature of the stairwell. The first few floors were nice and cool, but the majority of the climb was hot and humid. I could especially feel it when I’d pass large groups of people.

The highlights of the climb were the dancing nuns playing 80s music. And the big fan blowing air. God bless that fan!

The rests were no longer a pleasant respite. I could barely jog down the hallway (more like a fast shuffle) and I just couldn’t recover efficiently in the crowded (read balmy) elevator.

Somewhere in the middle of all this suffering I heard one of the volunteers call for CPR and an EMT. On the next lap I learned that another climber had a heart attack. Poor guy (or gal).

I secretly wished they’d close off the stairwell due to the medical emergency. At least for a few minutes. I really needed a break.

I didn’t get one.

Around lap 27 or so I made the conscious decision to slow down my pace from 77 BPM down to 75 BPM. Up until now, I had averaged a 4:45 or so, but I couldn’t possibly maintain that pace for another 3 hours. Another few laps? Yes. But 3 more hours would kill me.

At first, the pace didn’t feel any slower. But by the time I reached the 19^th floor, I felt slightly better (or at least less exhausted). My lap time was 5:00 on the dot.

Okay, maybe I can do this.

Laps 31 - 40

My climbs were getting slower and right off the bat I had trouble with the elevator. Great.

For the most part, I did my best to keep 5:05s, but every once in a while I’d clock in at 5:10. I knew that 54 laps were out of the question. But maybe I could still hit 53?

I lost track of my lap count. I asked for my lap count upstairs and it seemed a bit low. I needed to finish my 40^th lap with at least 90 minutes to spare in order get #53 in. I suspected I was behind schedule, but I couldn’t do the mental calculation so see just how far off.

After switching to 75 BPM I had felt a little better, but sure enough, fatigue was catching back up to me. This time, however, I didn’t have 3 hours left to climb. I had less than two. Ok, let’s round it down to 90 minutes. Yeah. I could survive another 90 minutes.

Somewhere along the line I lapped Josh. He asked me how I was doing. I told him I felt like crap, but was hanging in there. He looked like he was in slightly better shape.

Lap 36 almost ended my race. On the 21^st floor my left calf completely seized up as I was passing a group of people. It felt like someone took a sledge hammer directly to the muscle as it balled itself into a knot. I felt sorry for the people I just passed because now I was going slowly and taking up the entire stairwell in an effort not to put pressure on my leg. It f’ing hurt! At least it happened near the top.

I was in agony as I dragged myself to the elevators. Immediately upon entering, I began stretching the muscle. I could help but think this was it. I’m done. Finished.

Down at the bottom, I hobbled over to my fuel bag and downed my emergency bottle of pickle juice. Please work. I didn’t want to lose this race due to a muscle cramp, especially since I had been faithfully taking my salt pills. I spent another 20 seconds stretching my calf before resuming.

Lap 37 was touch and go. My calf was not longer completely balled up, but it still hurt. I didn’t dare put my entire weight on my calf. Instead I placed my weight on my heels*. It was awkward but it worked. I made it up in under 5:10. Okay, if I could make it up once, I could do it again…

*This bears some explanation. Typically when I climb stairs I’m usually on the balls of my feet and my heel hangs slightly over the edge. This is mostly due to geometry. My feet are nearly the same length as the tread of the step, so keeping my heel planted on the tread is awkward. I suspect if I had smaller feet, it would be a lot easier.

Laps 41-50

Oh how I wanted the suffering to end! I was still maintaining a 5:05 pace but instead feeling it near the top, I was feeling it closer to the 12th floor.

With just under an hour left to climb, I realized now that I wouldn’t make 52 laps let alone 53. I was starting lap 43 and it would take exactly 60 minutes to complete 8 climbs assuming I kept my lap times to 7:30 flat. Eight more climbs would give me a total of 50 laps. If I could go slightly faster, I could get in the 51^st - as long as I made it into the stairwell before the 6 hour time limit, they would count my final lap, no matter how slowly I climbed.

The problem was I had slightly less than an hour to climb and I was having trouble keeping my round trips under 7:30. I knew it was going to be close.

From here on out I was determined to jog the hallways. Or at least shuffle quickly.

I lapped Josh again. He was looking pretty good all things considered. In the elevator I bummed a salt pill from him and drank one of his Dixie cups of water even though I had my own stash at the bottom. I think I was becoming slightly incoherent.

The clock read 11:36:50 as I entered my 47^th climb. I had started right around 6:05:35 so I had less than 28 and a half minutes to finish 4 climbs and start my 51^st lap.

That meant my laps had to be like 7 minutes or so, right? Christ, I couldn’t even do simple math! All I knew was that for the past few hours a bunch of my laps had been in the 7:15 – 7:30 range. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I pulled in a lap time under 7 minutes.

Well, if I hurried and had some luck with the elevators, getting in the 51^st lap would be possible.

I lapped Christine somewhere along the line. She bounced up and down in the elevator and I envied her energy. She looked fresher now than umpteen laps ago. What the heck?

It was fortunate that the stairwell was far less crowded this late in the race. I cranked out my next two climbs in just over 5 minutes apiece and my total lap times were 7:10 and 6:50 respectively.

I started my 49^th climb right at 11:50:50. If I could maintain a 7 minute lap pace I could get in my 51^st climb.

I really wanted it now. 51 Laps might not be the record, but it would be pretty darn close.

I cranked the next two laps both in 5 minutes flat and my total lap times were both under 7 minutes. I had done it!

Lap 51:

I entered my victory lap with about 45 seconds to spare (apparently, they were going to close the course right at 12:06 and not at 12:06:30 like I had expected).

I knew I could climb as slowly as I wanted but at the same time I didn’t want to totally blow it off. After messing around on the first few floors I decided to finish strong with my 75BPM pace.

My final ascent was 5:30. Sure it was my slowest lap of the day, but still not too shabby.

At the top they gave me my finisher medal with 51 laps taped to the underside. I felt proud I had completed the entire 6 hours. I eventually collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. My whole body was fatigued!

I found my way to the 19^th floor. They were giving out fudgesicles and I was hungry.

John Rosswog gave me a plaque for winning the race. It was special because it was made from granite – the same material the Wells Fargo building is made from. I also got to wear the fancy winner’s belt, so I briefly felt like a WWF champion.

It gets better.

The timers told me I had actually completed 52 laps! I *did* remember thinking my lap count seemed a little low earlier in the race. That meant I tied the record!

Final Thoughts:

I knew this was going to be a hard race and words can’t completely describe how awful it felt during the final couple hours. But I’ll try:

It felt like the final interval during interval training... only doing it over and over again.
It felt like my left calf was about to tear.
It felt like I was half drunk, but not the mellow & happy kind of drunk.

I’ve felt worse before, though. A couple climbs come to mind: The Strat in 2015 (or 2016?) and even more so at US Bank in 2013. Those feelings of pain were far more intense and it took me a looong time to recover afterwards. I never want to go through those experiences ever again.

I’m pretty happy about my performance and I’m not that disappointed that I didn’t reach my 54 climb goal.

I believe my preparation helped me achieve that 52^nd climb. 77 BPM might have been a little too fast, but it was pretty darn close to optimal considering I’ve never done a 6 hour climb before. Yes, I ended up slowing down… but not by much.

I would like to come back to Salt Lake City and get 53 climbs in. I think it is achievable with a slight change of pace and better attention to logistics. If I could shave off 8 seconds per lap – roughly 7 minutes in total - I’d be within range.

It’s completely doable and here is where I can shave off time:

Each lap I stopped for a drink of Gatorade a the rest station at the bottom. Skipping the Gatorade and taking my own fluids while waiting for the elevator would easily shave off 2.5 seconds.
Carrying a gel or candy with me would save me from stopping by my fuel bag once every three laps. That would likely shave off another 1.5 seconds (per lap).
Prioritize the elevator first before drink/fuel. I missed a few elevators by a hair because I was busy drinking water or grabbing a candy. Missing an elevator could cost up to 30 seconds. I’d rather waste a few seconds drinking Gatorade at the bottom than losing 30 seconds at top. This is yet another reason for carrying an extra candy/gel with me at all times.
Jogging rather than slogging could shave off 2 seconds.
I could eke out another 1.5 seconds in the stairwell. My average pace was 4:56.7 and I bet I could handle 4:55 using a 76 BMP pace (remember I was climbing ~4:45 for the first half, so this slower pace is theoretically doable for the entire duration).

Logistic wise, I’d rely primarily on my upstairs fuel bag rather than my downstairs one. I’d also include my own bottle of Gatorade. When I’m waiting for an elevator ride, I might as well have a drink and top up on supplies. That said, I’d still have a redundant downstairs bag just in case.

Lastly, I really have to hand it to Christine, Martin, and Josh. I knew the race would be tough, but I didn’t realize just how challenging getting 52 laps would be. I assumed my fitness level would allow me to easily keep a 4:45 pace for the entire 6 hours. I found out the hard way that it’s sustainable for only 3 hours. Having barely survived the race myself, I have newfound respect for these 50+ lap climbers. A six hour climb is no joke.

Race Grades:

Effort: A ; The first hour or so was “easy” per plan. The remainder of the race took some guts.

Conditioning: A ; Still fresh off of Strat, I was in great shape.

Weight: B ; Likely a pound or so heavier than I was at the Strat. Maybe 173ish?

Pacing & Technique: B+ ; My initial pace was only a hair faster than it should have been. Considering this was my first attempt at 6 hours, I couldn’t be more pleased. In fact, I almost gave myself an A.

Overall: B+ ; As a first attempt, I’m very pleased with my race. The only reason I gave myself a B+ rather than an A is because there are several small improvements I could make (as detailed in the previous section).

Epilogue:
The climber who had a heart attack was a competitive climber named Brian Zamboni. I didn't know him personally but I recognized him from some of the other climbs I've done (Sears Tower, Dallas Vert Mile, etc.). In fact, he was good enough to be on the podium at some of the local races, so it took me by surprise when I learned that he was the one who had the heart attack. During the race, I had just assumed it was a local person doing a single charity climb.

The doctors put him in a medically induced coma to help him recover, but unfortunately Brian never woke up.

RIP Brian. You'll be missed.

National Championships at the Strat

2019-03-15T15:01:00.000-07:00

I’ve yet to figure out the Scale the Strat.

This race is the US National Championships and during the past seven years I’ve been the National Champion twice*, yet I’ve never won the race. Both times I’ve been beaten handily by a foreigner**

*Once officially, and once unofficially as there wasn’t a governing body back in 2014.

**Goerge Heimann is my hero. He just turned 50 and he just keeps getting faster.

If you look at my times year over year, you’ll notice they are very consistent and I’ve been getting faster each year.

Taken at face value, you’d think I’d be pleased. However I’m not; A 7:42 isn’t a whole lot faster than a 7:57, especially considering I’m in better shape and I’ve had plenty of experience in this particular tower. Since my first race in 2013, my goal has always been 7:30 and I’ve yet to crack even 7:40.

As far as consistency is concerned, each race has a completely different story to tell, so to me it seems odd that my times have been so close. In my first attempt, I raced too conservatively and had to play catch up. Another year I completely bonked toward the end of the race. There was also that time I raced sick*… and that time when I was in top shape…

*I had a fever before and after the race, but miraculously, I felt okay the morning of the race. Go figure!

I feel like I’ve hit some weird plateau such that no matter how good *or* bad feel, I’m going to beat my previous PR by a mere second or two, yet still not break into the 7:30s.

You’ll notice that the above chart skips over 2018* so the last time I raced at Strat was in 2017. I wrote a blog about that race but never published it (I just wasn’t in the mood). Summary: I *thought* I climbed a solid race until I learned the results. Not only was my time still in the 7:40s (goal 7:30) but I came in 5^th (worst place yet) and missed a podium spot by 11 seconds. I was super disappointed afterwards.

*In 2018, I raced at the Crash B Indoor Rowing Championships which was held the same day as Scale the Strat. Up until that point, I had come in 2^nd place at the Strat three years in a row. I was a bit disappointed to learn out that the winning time at the Strat in 2018 was 8:10 – a time that was well within my capability. As a consolation, at Crash B, I ended up 2^nd in my age group (ironically yet another 2^nd place). The winner was the former captain of the Dartmouth rowing team and the race wasn’t very close - he was taller and had far better technique, not to mention he had an extreme amount of horsepower.

This year I was determined to break through the 7:40 plateau.

My original plan was to cut weight and race at Crash B which was fortuitously scheduled the week before Strat. If I could set a PB at Crash-B, I would undoubtedly crush Scale the Strat since I’d be racing at my highest power to weight ratio ever.

The plan started to unravel a week prior to Sears Tower (late October 2018).

I had been training seriously on the erg (indoor rower) for months and my split times were dropping (at that point I estimate my 2K time was right around 6:37 FWIW). During my long workouts, I had been noticing that my butt was getting sore (not much of a surprise) but a week before Sears, I realized it was more than just a sore butt… I had aggravated an old piriformis injury and I needed to take a break from the erg.

Fast forward to early February, my piriformis wasn’t fully healed so I still couldn’t train on the erg. However, I knew I could still bang out a quick 2K without too much pain. I still wanted to race Crash-B for fun, although breaking 6:40 probably wasn’t in the cards.

My dieting, however, didn’t go according to plan. I needed to be 165 on race day which meant I’d have to be around 169 a week prior to the race (4 lbs of water in one week isn’t too hard). Instead I was around 172. An okay weight for climbing stairs, but it would be impossible to make weight for rowing without becoming too dehydrated.

It was my own fault. I just didn’t buckle down and do what needed to be done.

Otherwise, my fitness was very good. I didn’t break any workout PBs, but I had several close 2nds all in the span of couple weeks. If I wasn’t in the best shape of my life… I was awfully close.

The days leading up to Scale the Strat I checked out my competition. My main rivals from the Dallas Vertical Mile would all be in attendance (Jason Larson, Harrison Kieffer & Mark Henderson) and I estimated I had a good 20 second advantage on each. Added to the list was Tristan Roth who is usually right around Jason’s level of fitness. Last but not least was Greg Billingsley. He was the dark horse. He climbed the building in 8:12 in 2018, but that was just his first stair climb and he apparently started with the general wave (not the elite wave). Plus he was still only 20 years old (less than half my age I might add!).

All in all, I felt I had a very good chance of finally winning the race.

That feeling didn’t last long. A day before the race I learned that Team Mexico would be attending in full force which meant Alexis Trujillo – Mexico’s fastest tower runner - would be on the start line. He’s young and fast enough to challenge the Scale the Strat record. Totally out of my league.

I’d be racing for 2^nd place yet again. But since Alexis is Mexican… I still had a great shot at taking the US National Championship!

On Sunday, I was full of race day jitters. This year the gathering point was in a slightly different location due to construction, so it took a little bit longer to get my bib. It was cold outside!

About 30 minutes prior to the start, I headed to the gym with my friend Napoleon to warm up. They happen to have a Precor Stepper (albeit with a barely functioning control panel) so I was able to complete my normal pre-workout routine: 6 minutes of active stretching followed by 6 minutes of warm up.

With five minutes to go, I headed back to the staging area. They were running a few minutes late so I got in a couple rounds of burpees in the casino hallway.

Finally we were called to the staging area. We followed our guide all the way to the Skydeck entrance and about 10 of us crowded into the elevator to go *all* the way up to the 3^rd floor start line (typically we’ve taken the stairs, but this year the Strat was doing some remodeling).

In previous editions of the race, we’ve had to wait in the 3^rd floor hallway for up to 20 minutes before the official start of the race, but this time we started a couple minutes after we arrived.

Alexis was first out the gate as we all knew he was the fastest climber.

I was up next… and I was in for a bit of a surprise. I’m used to 30 second gaps at the Strat (which helps avoid unnecessary passing) but this time it I was ushered in after just a few seconds!

I quickly turned on my metronome and checked to make sure it was set to 97 BPM. Showtime!

Alexis was out of sight by the time I entered the stairwell but I could hear him a couple flights ahead. He was going out fast! A few seconds later heard Jason start behind me.

My pace felt relatively slow and my first thought was that Jason would soon overtake me. But then he settled in about a flight behind, which upon further reflection made sense – Jason is too experienced to go too fast right off the bat. We both knew the “slow” pace would become brutal in a couple minutes.

Prior to the race I debated what pace to use. My goal was to climb in 7:39 or less (roughly a 101 BPBM pace) but I also knew my competition would likely struggle getting under the 8 minute mark. Prior experience told me that a 97 BPM would get me to the top in about 8 minutes and I contemplated splitting the difference. However, my desire to take the US Championship outweighed my desire to go for a decent PB. Going out too fast increased the odds of bonking near the top which would jeopardize the US Championship. Anyway, If I felt good during the middle of the race, I could always go faster and still meet my goal.

Jason eventually settled in about a flight behind me. I risked glancing at my watch. 2 minutes down and I still felt strong.

Behind me, things were getting tense. I could see Jason climbing head to head with another climber. Presumably Harrison. Now I had to deal with two climbers breathing down my neck. Considering they had started roughly 5 & 10 seconds behind me respectively, I was likely sitting in 4^th spot. Great.

Unlike a traditional skyscraper, the Strat is a tower and the vertical position inside the building is marked off in feet rather than floors. To be honest, I don’t exactly know where the half way point is, but I knew that it was somewhere in the low 400s. I was now approaching that point and out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone blast past Jason & Harrison. Crap… now I had to deal with Tristan, too!

Just after Tristan passed, I did the math. Tristan likely started 15 seconds behind me and with this trio hot on my tail I was now likely in 5^th place with just under 4 minutes of climbing left in the race.

I was fully winded, but the pace didn’t seem brutal. I knew I had climbed fairly conservatively for the first half of the race and now it was time to pick up the pace and drop my rivals.

But here is the thing: I was scared and doubting my ability. The only thought going through my mind was that this was the US National Championship and I was losing! Plus, the pace was hard enough that it was beginning to get uncomfortable. In this mental state, it took a lot of willpower to force the pace… but I did.

Over the next couple minutes, I slowly pulled away, climbing just a little faster than my metronome on each flight.

When I reached the 700s, I could sense the final part of the race was coming up. I thought I could faintly hear Tristan down below so I figures he was still in the hunt for 2^nd place. Oh how I wished I knew exactly how many seconds he started behind me!

With a quick right turn, I exited the tower into the occupied “donut” section. I had maybe 7 or 8 floors left to go. Unlike the tower core, this section had true floors consisting of shorter yet wider flights and tubular rails. I think it starts at floor 100 and ends on the Skydeck at floor 108.

This was it. The final push to determine who would be crowned US Champion.

I had way too much energy left, but it was still a struggle to sprint these last flights. Faster pace, yes… full out sprint, no.

I burned what energy I could, but I knew I had left something on the table.

I crossed the finish line tired, but still standing upright. I glanced at my watch as almost an afterthought. 7:45. Crap. I stopped my watch a little late so likely was a little faster, but chances were that I didn’t break the 7:40 mark. Now I just had to wait for my rivals to show up.

I didn’t have to wait long. I heard Tristan whooping for joy as he crossed the line. He was perhaps 15-20 seconds behind me so I knew the race had been close. Damn. If I lost the National Championship by a few seconds it was going to sting. I briefly put my hands on my quads for a rest but stood up after a few seconds. I was winded, but feeling good enough to walk around. I grabbed a glass of orange juice. Nothing to do now but wait for the results…

As the other climbers filtered in, I chatted a bit and learned that I had handily beaten everybody but Tristan (and of course Alexis). Tristan self-timed himself at 7:45 so it indeed was a close race. I suspected I was slightly faster, but too much uncertainty remained – I know from experience that a few seconds is solidly within the margin of error.

After downing a banana and another couple glasses of orange juice, I headed back down with Tristan to see the final results.

Up on the screen, I found my name up in 2^nd place behind Alexis.

Yes! I was finally the US National Champion!

Then I peered at the times. Holy cow they were close…

Alex Workman 7:42

Gregory Billingsley 7:43

Tristan Roth 7:46

You can find the overall results here.

I felt bad for Tristan who had a good race, but was clipped by a handful of seconds for not one, but two podium spots.

I knew I was lucky for narrowly edging out Greg. He started further behind us so I honestly forgot about him. Clearly he had a good race. Had he been climbing up front with the rest of us, it might have been a different outcome. I certainly had enough energy go faster but did I have the mental fortitude to back it up? Doubts linger.

I would have been bitter about the results had I been in Tristan’s shoes, but he seemed pretty happy about his performance. He easily shattered his goal of breaking the 8 minute mark which is a great prelude to the Columbia Tower (a similarly sized building in Seattle, where he lives). Someday I hope to have such a positive attitude.

All that was left was to take a shower and attend the awards ceremony for the annual points competition. For the past three years I’ve been atop the points rankings, but this year I gave up the top spot to Terry Purcell who has had my number in 2018. With a couple of big wins already under my belt this year, I hope to be top dog again in 2019.

Final Thoughts:

A couple people came up to me to congratulate my 2^nd place finish at the Stratosphere, but nobody mentioned that I was the US National Champion. In fact, the accomplishment wasn't even mentioned during the Towerrunning USA awards ceremony. Boy that really stung.

A few days after the race I checked out Towerrunning USA and Stairlife.com to see if there was an announcement that I could share with my friends and family. Nothing. Nada.

Sometimes I feel like climbing stairs doesn’t matter and I’m honestly sick of training my ass off. I know I’m not the fastest climber, but at least I show up and compete in the big races; nobody can accuse me of cherry picking only races I can win. Officially winning the US National Championship was supposed to be my time to shine and nobody gave a damn. To be honest, it still hurts.

Awkwardly, I contacted Stairlife and the Towerrunning USA director a few days after the race. I felt embarrassed having to ask for my name to appear, but upset enough to actually push for it. Thanks Stairlife for updating the Stratosphere post to include my name.

Finally, thanks to Towerrunning.com (the governing international organization) who at least mentioned me in a brief post. That made my day.

As for my performance, I’m happy about my place, but disappointed with my time. Not *that* disappointed mind you. I’m another year older and few seconds faster and I plan to keep the streak alive next year.

I learned a lot in the stairwell during this race. There have been times were I’ve blown up at 97 BPM and this time I handled it with aplomb. In fact, I had energy in the tank even after I increased my pace during the 2^nd half. For the 6^th time in a row I believe a 7:30 is in the cards (no pun intended being Vegas and all).

Effort: B; The first part of the race was more like a training session. I pushed it during the latter half, but I left too much in the tank.

Weight: B+; I was likely around 172 or just hair above. Good but not great. I honestly need to 170 or less.

Conditioning: A; I was in great shape this time around.

Pacing & Technique: B+: The turns seemed to be efficient and the blisters on my right hand can attest to using the rails. My strategy was sound and I increased the pace during the latter half, but I should have used a faster pace right off the bat.

Overall: B; There is room to improve as long as I can maintain my conditioning (no small feat, I might add).

Record at Reunion

2019-01-19T15:52:00.003-08:00

Dallas!

As kid, I’d envision J. R. Ewing* wearing his white ten gallon hat with the “Dallas” theme song playing in the background. I’ve never actually watched an episode of the TV show despite it being a television staple of the 1980s (I was more of a MacGyver fan).

*Played by Larry Hagman from “I Dream of Jeannie”.

Dallas!

As an stair climber, I now picture the 560 foot tall Reunion Tower – home of the Dallas Vertical Mile, one of the best climbs in the country.

As the name suggests, the race is a full vertical mile and you need to climb the stairwell 12 times to reach a mile (as the stairwell is “merely” 470 feet tall) within a 2.5 hour time limit.

The venue also hosts three other races: The Half (6 climbs), the Quarter (3 climbs) and the Vertical Sprint (1 climb).

This year the races were spaced across two days - giving athletes a shot at two (or more) events without being too fatigued. Saturday featured the Half and Sprint while the Mile and Quarter were on Sunday.

I chose to climb in the two most competitive races – the full Vertical Mile (which requires the most endurance) and the Vertical Sprint (which requires the most speed). As they were on separate days I figured I could go all out on Saturday’s Sprint and still have a full tank to compete in the Mile on Sunday.

This would be my 2nd year racing the event so I already had a good idea of what to expect.

I never formally blogged about my experience in 2018, so let’s start off with a short recap:

In 2018, the race was held on a single day with all four events (sprint, quarter, half, and full mile) happening either simultaneously or back to back.

My goal for the vertical mile was to break the hour barrier which was essentially the winning time from 2017. That meant I’d have to do each lap in just under 5 minutes. However, since Terry Purcell (one of the most decorated stair climbers ever) was attending the race, I figured I’d need to shoot for 4:50 laps in order to have a chance at winning.

I had a chance to preview the stairwell the day before so knew that a pace of 95 bpm would get me in that range.

At the start line, I let most of the other top guys climb ahead of me. They were planning to sprint the first lap since the first lap of the mile also counted toward the Vertical Sprint race. However, since the Vertical Mile was considered the “premiere” race (with the most points on the US circuit on tap) I chose to climb conservatively – hoping that my rivals would over-exert themselves.

It didn’t quite work the way I had planned. Although my first lap was on target (4:52) my rivals all had *much* faster times. Terry set a new course record with a 3:58 which meant that I’d need to overcome a deficit of nearly a minute.

After the first set of climbs, my times were in the low 4:50s to mid 4:40s. When I learned that Terry was keeping low 4:40s to upper 4:30s I had already completed ~5 laps. At that point I knew the race for 1^st place was essentially over. I was already becoming fatigued and in order to catch Terry, I’d need to make up ~90 seconds. Assuming that Terry would continue pulling 4:40s, I’d need to pull 4:20s for the remainder of the race. That would be a tall order even if I were on fresh legs!

I climbed a little bit faster during the 2^nd half of the race. I knew I couldn’t catch Terry, but I at least wanted to stop bleeding time. Plus, I had to pull ahead of my other rivals.

Things nearly fell apart on my 11^th lap when my left calf seized up. I was painful, but fortunately I was near the top. I managed to finish the lap using my arms and my one good leg. However now my 12^th lap was in serious jeopardy. I was on knifes edge of either 2^nd place… or DNF.

I spent my remaining time massaging and stretching my calf. I also downed a bottle of pickle juice (thanks Scott) to relieve some of the cramping. It worked. With two minutes to spare, I climbed my fastest lap of the day with a solid 4:29. My calf hurt, but it never seized up completely.

Rather than a DNF, I came in 2^nd overall. I was pleased. This was my first time completing a true endurance race and at the very least, I showed I can compete at any distance. The only disappointment came many months after the race when I learned that the TWA awarded points for the sprint race rather than the more competitive Vertical Mile*. I suddenly wished I hadn’t bagged the first lap…

*There are two different ranking systems. TowerRunning USA solely for US races and the TowerRunning World Association which ranks races across the globe. The former offered points for the Vertical Mile, but the latter strangely gave points for only the sprint.

Fast forward to 2019.

A week before the race, I learned that Terry wouldn’t be racing since he was injured. He’s beaten me consistently throughout 2018 so I was saddened I wouldn’t have another shot at going head to head. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have so much pressure on my shoulders. This bears a little explanation: You might think that being the #1 seed is more stressful than being the underdog. Well, in my case it is just the opposite. I always feel intimidated by faster rivals and I prefer the freedom of climbing at my own pace. I hate feeling the need to keep up to my rivals.

That said, the field was still deep. During Saturday’s sprint, my main rivals were going to be Jason Larson and Harrison Kieffer who both went under an hour at last year’s race (they were 3^rd and 4^th respectively). Joining us on Sunday would be Mark Henderson and Martin Pederson. I’ve only raced against Mark at the Sears and LaSalle double header. I beat him by about 30 seconds in the main event (Sears) but he came back and beat me an hour later at LaSalle (I was exhausted!). That meant he either raced conservatively at Sears… or he’s able to recover quickly. In either case, it meant he was dangerous in long lap races like the Vertical Mile. Martin was the dark horse. He travels around for races (he’s Danish) and he’s built for endurance. If anybody else was going to break an hour in the mile, I’d place my money on Marin.

The trip to Dallas was uneventful and I arrived at my hotel just before 8:00 PM. I spent the next couple hours hanging out with my roommate (Josh Jacket editor of StairLife) before hitting the hay.

The Sprint was scheduled to start at 8:30 AM so that meant I had to get up by 7:15 in order to have enough time to get ready, walk to the tower and warm up. Everything went smoothly, except that I spent too much time chatting with other climbers and only completed a couple rounds of burpees before heading to the start line. No matter - I was ready.

And then things nearly fell apart.

I was just about to jump into the stairwell when Lonnie (the head timer) told me I had the wrong bib…

What? You’ve got to be kidding me!?!

Apparently, I was given tomorrow’s Vertical Mile bib rather than today’s Vertical Sprint! I ran upstairs to the registration table and cut to the front of the line. It took but a moment to switch bibs and I dashed back to the start line. Fortunately, they had waited for me! With nervous fingers I pinned on my new bib and entered the stairwell. At least my warm up was complete!

I had one goal for the Sprint: Beat the course record of 3:58.

During my last race, I climbed Milwaukee’s US Bank Center in roughly 5 minutes using a pace of 112 BPM on my metronome. It is a good comparison because both buildings have 7 inch steps. However, this course was a bit shorter and I anticipated finishing in just under 4 minutes. With that in mind, I chose to use a slightly faster pace of 117 BPM.

It took a few flights to get into a steady rhythm. The pace seemed almost too easy and I fought the urge to accelerate. I’ve raced enough to know that it’s never a good idea to go out too fast and fade later. In the rare instance you do go out too slow, you can still accelerate in the latter half to make up lost time.

Sure enough, right around the minute mark I felt the strain of the pace.

Right around the half-way point there was a Gatorade stand. I tried glancing at my watch but it was too dark in the stairwell. By now, I was way over the red line. I could keep the pace up for a little while longer but could I hold it until the end? Or would I fade?

I checked my watch again when I approached better lighting. 2:30. Less than 90 seconds left to climb!.

The last minute was the hardest. In my periphery vision I noticed volunteers cheering in the stairwell. I was so focused on the hand rails and navigating the turns that I couldn’t spare a glance in their direction. However, I did recognize a few friends through the sound of their voices (Sue, Paul, etc.) and their words of encouragement kept me going.

My lungs were on fire, but I knew the top couldn’t be far. I accelerated. That record was going to be mine, dammit; even if it killed me!

The purpose of this photo is to show the "fancy" steps.
I don't actually know this girl (but she's cute, right?)

Suddenly, the stairwell changed. Gone were the dingy, rusty treads and rails. Now the stairwell was bright and clean – featuring glossy black steps highlighted by fancy chrome rails.

I got to the top of the first flight and stopped. The stairwell continued upwards, but it was blocked by a stack of electronic equipment. There was a single guy in the stairwell looking directly at me. As I contemplated jumping over the equipment, I frantically asked “Where’s the finish line?!?”. “Right there.” he said, pointing to the open doorway to my left.

I nearly smacked my head it was so obvious.

I jumped out of the stairwell as my stopwatch passed 3:48.

Despite losing a few seconds to sheer stupidity, I still shattered the previous course record by a solid 10 seconds! YES!

I was tired, but not collapse-on-the-ground tired. By the time some of my other rivals had arrived, I had recovered enough to able to grab a cup of Gatorade without help.

Tired

Less Tired

I hung on the observation deck for a good while to chat with other climbers and pick up my fancy finisher’s medal. Paul (the race director) really out did himself this time. The medal is essentially a flattened torus holding a colorful spinning medallion in its hollow center – kind of like a gyroscope.

I then learned my official time was actually 3:43 since timing mat was as the top of the stairwell, not at the stairwell exit. My moment of stupidity hadn’t cost me any time after all! Bonus!

As I recovered, I felt fortunate that today wasn’t the Vertical Mile (with another 11 more laps to go). I wasn’t completely drained… but I doubted I could put together a string of sub-5 minute climbs within the next couple hours.

Race Grades:

Effort: A-; Although I was above the red line for most of the race, I wasn’t dying on the floor afterwards (which isn’t an entirely bad thing).

Weight: B; I was around 172 but I need to be sub-170 to be truly competitive.

Conditioning: B+; Training has been a mixed bag. My speed has been top notch, but I’ve had trouble completing my key workouts.

Pacing & Technique: A; Pacing was spot on. I could have hugged the turns a little tighter and had better foot placement, but it’s hard to be perfect!

Overall: A-; I honestly think the record is still a little soft, but overall I’ve gotta be pleased!

Immediately after the awards ceremony*, I had an overly big breakfast (ham, eggs & pancakes) at Cindi’s NY Deli & Diner with a bunch of my climbing friends. Although my energy levels were back to normal, I was developing a headache at the rear of my head - right where my neck meets the skull. Also, my lungs were pretty raw and I developed a mild case of climbers cough.

*I took 1^st overall and our Tower Master’s team came in 2^nd in the team event.

After breakfast, a smaller group of us took he courtesy shuttle to Whole Foods to pick up some grub. I picked up a salad for dinner as well as some snacks for the trip home and energy bars for tomorrow’s race. Josh and I walked back to burn off some of the excess calories from breakfast.

Despite being fully hydrated, my headache was getting worse, so I took a nap for an hour. I woke up feeling rested, but my headache persisted. At least it wasn’t getting worse. Fortunately, I felt good enough to grab dinner (pizza) with a large group of climbing friends. This time, I didn’t overeat!

Lights out came around 10:00 PM. My head was still hurting and my lungs were tired from coughing. I needed a good night’s sleep.

I woke up just before 5:00 AM. My throbbing headache had disappeared although the back of my neck/skull was sore to the touch. My lungs felt okay, but not 100%. Phlegm had settled in during the night and it took a couple coughing fits to get everything out.

The race would be starting at 6:00 AM sharp. This time around I received my proper bib. Unlike yesterday, the check-in was outside (read: cold) but we were still able to put our racing gear indoors.

My goal was to win the race and my stretch goal was to beat the course record (55:36). To do that, I’d need average splits of 4:37. Considering that last year was tiring and my average splits were a mere 4:47, I knew that climbing ten seconds faster would be extremely taxing. Certainly within the realm of possibility… but frankly I didn’t give myself great odds*.

*As Llyod once said: "So you’re telling me… there’s a chance? Yeah!!"

Fortunately I had prepared for this: I set my metronome a couple beats faster than last year (97 BPM) and I plotted down my nutrition plan in my journal:

Salt pills after laps 4 & 8 to alleviate cramping.
Energy gels after laps 3, 6 and 9.
A small bite from my energy bar (maple & sea salt) if I wasn’t scheduled for an energy gel.
Gatorade after each lap to stay hydrated.

Last year I had climbed in sneakers because the race was so long. This time around, however, I switched to my lightweight racing flats. If my feet started hurting, I could always switch footwear.

Finally, I kept a pen handy in order to jot down my splits in my journal after each lap.

This time around I had a much more relaxed warm-up. The pace for at least the first few laps shouldn’t be too taxing so the warmup wasn’t quite as important as it was for yesterday’s sprint.

At 6:00 AM sharp, I entered the stairwell (with no last minute bib switching!).

Lap #1 (4:43)

Today I had more time to view my surroundings since the pace wasn’t so brutal. The most notable aspect of the stairwell is the plethora of motivational posters tailored to each climber. I also noticed the flight numbers marking the way up the tower as well as posters announcing 20, 15 and 10 floors to go respectively. Lastly, I was welcomed by a cheering squad with 5 flights to go. If memory serves me right, there are 55 flights in total?

I reached the top and exited the stairwell (this time around I remembered the location!). I stopped my watch at 4:43. This might seem slower than my goal pace of 4:37, but considering that this stairwell has an extra floor compared with the other stairwell – remember we’d be completing the remaining 11 climbs in the 2^nd shorter stairwell – a 4:43 was nearly perfect.

I was tired but still able to walk around. As I rested, I sipped on a cup of Gatorade and waited for some of my other climbing friends to arrive. I didn’t need to hurry downstairs as I had roughly 8 minutes before I needed to start my next climb. My plan was to enter the stairwell once every 13 minutes in order to start my 12^th lap within the 2.5 hour time limit*.

*Theoretically, I could start each lap at 13:37, but a 13:00 flat was easier to remember and would provide a decent cushion “just in case shit happened”.

I took the elevator down with a few minutes to spare. While downstairs, I jotted down my time, ate a bite of my energy bar and finished the rest of my Gatorade. At the 13 minute mark I headed back into the other stairwell for lap #2…

Laps #2 & #3 (4:40?, 4:37)

I got into a good rhythm for the next couple laps. On lap #2, I didn’t start my stop watch properly but considering I was using my metronome, I figured my lap time was at most 4:40 so that’s what I jot down. The stairwell was clear for lap #2, but I passed several climbers still on their 1^st lap in the other stairwell*. As more climbers finished the first lap and were into their 2^nd, I ran into a little more traffic on my 3^rd. Fortunately, I didn’t run into any bottle necks and I finished lap #3 in a solid 4:37.

*Stairwells #1 & #2 are intertwined like a double helix; they share the same space but are still separate.

While resting downstairs after my 3^rd lap, they posted some of the intermediate results. Mark was in 1^st place, and I was tied with Harrison for 2^nd place with Jason mere seconds behind.

Crap. All four of us were on record setting pace. Furthermore, my lungs were aching; I obviously hadn’t fully recovered from yesterday’s sprint. This could turn out to be a dog fight.

Laps #4, #5 & #6 (4:36, 4:38, 4: 37)

I didn’t panic. My lungs hurt, but it didn’t seem to be hindering my oxygen uptake. I was surely getting tired but then again I was climbing relatively fast. The pace had to be taking a toll on my rivals, too. If needed, I could *perhaps* find another gear but I didn’t want to use it until the latter half of the race. Gotta keep the powder dry*.

*As Sproule once famously remarked.

By now the stairwell was getting fairly crowded. The good thing about 13 minute laps is you can afford to choose when to enter the stairwell. I had enough buffer to wait until 13:30, but if needed I could get in at 12:30. To be honest the extra 30 seconds of rest had negligible impact to my recovery. The trick was to find a lull in the crowd. This normally meant waiting until a slug of people came up out of the elevator and hop in line right before their arrival.

As such, the first minute of climbing was usually pretty clear, but invariably I’d catch up to small clusters of people. I’d recognize climbers here and there (sometimes with words of encouragement if it was early enough in the climb) and most were happy to move out of the way. Once in a while, however, I’d run into folks who simply wouldn’t budge. I’d usually say something like “passing” or “coming up”, but when folks don’t get out of the way, I’d take the inside lane and physically move them aside. I feel slightly bad about it, but I wasn’t about to lose time because of slower climbers. Perhaps next year I’ll offer to make speech about climbing etiquette. I’d hate to ruin a newbie’s climbing experience. I’m sure they just don’t know any better.

My pace was right on target for the most part and there was a point during my 5^th lap where I experienced a (somewhat short lived) 2^nd wind in the latter half of the tower. However by the time I had finished my 6^th lap, I was definitely starting to tire.

Preparing for yet another brutal lap...

Laps #7, #8 & #9 (4:38, 4:37, 4:37)

The race was over halfway complete! The ache in my lungs had thankfully disappeared, but I was steadily becoming fatigued. In the first half of the race, I didn’t really feel the pace until well into the 2^nd half of each lap. But now I was struggling in the 30s… and then in the 20s… and by the time I hit the 9^th lap, I felt like crap as early as the 18^th flight.

I could still keep up the pace, but it was becoming more and more of a mental challenge the further I progressed into the race. I also noticed that my recovery at the top of the tower was taking longer and longer.

By now I was solidly in 1^st place. Mark faded after his 3^rd lap and although Jason and Harrison were still going strong, they were averaging about 10 seconds slower per climb (they were in a real dogfight for 2^nd place).

Laps #10 & #11 (4:35, 4:28)

I finished my last energy gel*l prior to entering lap #10. I was definitely tired, but I was still close to the record. No time to let up.

*Chocolate is my favorite and I saved it specifically for lap #10. On the other hand, Citrus and Raz (whatever that is) both kinda suck.

Several climbers had already completed all 12 laps (e.g. Josh & Martin) and it was kind of demoralizing knowing that I still had 25% left to climb.

Lap #10 was slightly worse than #9. I felt crappier earlier in the tower and my recovery was longer and more painful. But knowing I was closing in on the record helped me over the hump.

Once downstairs, I looked at the times in my notebook and compared them with the times shown online. My journal showed me climbing just under record setting pace, but I found a couple discrepancies in the published results which showed me going a bit slower on a couple of my laps. That meant I had little to no buffer and my next couple climbs needed to be fast ones.

I bumped up my metronome from 97 to 98 BPM on lap #11 for insurance.

Honestly, it wasn’t noticeably harder, but it was draining nonetheless. Midway up I could feel my left calf starting to tighten up. Crap. Not now! Fortunately it never completely seized, even when I pushed the final 10 flights. Thank goodness I took those salt pills.

Lap #11 felt really tough, but with a time of 4:28 – my fastest lap so far – no wonder! Though it took even longer to recover than before, my energy wasn’t completely tapped. I knew I had another climb left in me.

Lap #12 (4:18)

OK… one lap to go! With a strong lap #11, I knew I was on track to break the record.

Downstairs, I inquired how much time I had left before my 2.5 hours was up. I was told I had about 10 minutes to spare. I intended to use the extra rest to my advantage. I also learned that Jason and Harrison were neck and neck and this last lap would be the deciding factor. What a battle!

I was tired and nervous, but also a little excited. If I climbed well, I’d smash the record. But if I bonked, it could be over in an instant.

Knowing that 98 BPM would get me over the hump, I started my last lap conservatively. The record would be mine if I could just stay on course.

As I passed into the 20s, my left calf started to twitch. Please don’t cramp… please don’t cramp…

I trode gingerly as possible up the stairs still going strong at 98 BPM.

I passed Alberto doing single leg hops up the steps just for… fun?!? If I had any energy to spare, I would have cracked a smile. I think leg hops would have killed me…

The lap seemed to drag on forever until the 20 floors to go banner. I was getting close and I could smell victory. However, I was also climbing on fumes. This bears some explanation. On one hand, I still had something left in the tank. Theoretically, I *could* accelerate. My heart rate wasn’t sky high and my legs were still strong. But on the other hand, I was in pain and climbing any faster meant more even more suffering. I may not have been at my physical limit, but I was certainly close to my pain threshold.

Screw it. I’m not going to throw down a mere 4:28… I knew I could go faster.

So I did.

With 10 floors to go I knew I was going to put down a solid time. My heart rate still hadn’t peaked and my body was still capable of going faster. However this time I couldn’t summon the mental strength to increase my level of suffering. I had already won the race and was 99% sure I’d break the record. The voices telling me to “take it easy” eventually won out.

Despite the voices in my head, I kept my current speed. The cheering squad at 5 floors to go made the final few flights bearable.

I could see the chrome rails signifying the final flight. I bounded up the remaining few steps…

… and my left calf seized up.

I knew It was only a matter of time before it would happen, but the fates were with me. I only had to take a couple more steps to cross the finish line.

I hobbled in pain over the mat and then exited the stairwell. I stopped my watch at 4:18.

Though my calf was in a knot, the pain didn’t detract from the feeling of accomplishment. I said I was going to try for the record and I did it!

Unconsciously, I furrowed my brow and my lips turned upside-down into a frown. It was all I could do to hold back the tears of relief.

It took a couple seconds to compose myself, but moments later I raised my fist into the air and cried out an emphatic “YES!” to celebrate my victory.

Then back to reality. I had just climbed my fastest climb of the day – on my last lap to boot! Recovery was definitely a bit slower than after any of my previous climbs, but all in all, I felt pretty good. I could probably have climbed another couple laps at a decent pace (say 4:40) if I absolutely had to (and I would need a *very* good reason).

I grabbed my finishers medal and went to tell my friends the good news. A while later I learned my friend Jason had a fast final lap and was assured 2^nd place. Congrats!

After finishing a couple cups of Gatorade, I finally made my way downstairs. It was time to switch into my comfortable sneakers and stretch. As I had another 90 minutes until the awards ceremony I headed back to the hotel to take a shower, pack and check out.

The awards ceremony was held outside this year and although it was cold, I barely noticed. I was still stoked about the race. My official time was 55:13 for all twelve laps and I couldn’t have been prouder.

Podium: Jason, Alex and Harrison (I'm the one in the middle).

After the ceremony I hung around the hotel for a while sharing stories with the other competitors but at 1:00 PM sharp, it was time to head to the airport - just in time to see the Patriots win.

Final Thoughts:

Although I’m happy I have the record in both the Vertical Sprint and Vertical Mile, I’d be the first to tell you that the prior record was set when the first lap of the Mile counted towards the Sprint whereas I had the luxury of a day between the two races.

Despite the day of rest, the sprint took more out of me than I wanted. My lungs were raw during the Mile so I wasn’t quite back at 100%. Don’t get me wrong – I was certainly race ready – but I know I left some time on the table. Perhaps a second or two here and there?

From my experience, after clocking in a 3:43 sprint, I couldn’t have been able to continue at a 4:37 average pace for another 11 laps. I bet I could have clocked in a 4:20 first lap (after all my last lap was a 4:18!) and maintain the necessary pace, but honestly I don’t know if I could have matched Terry’s first lap (3:58) and still break the VM record.

If I had to guess, I would bet that Terry didn’t go quite all out when he set the bar at 3:58. That’s my take, at least.

Even if my records have stars associated with them, I’m still very pleased. I crushed the Vertical Sprint and I shaved off over two minutes from last year’s Vertical Mile. Let’s take a look at how my times stacked up. I’m also including my self-timed splits to highlight a couple of discrepancies I noticed after the fact.

Lap Number	2018 Actual	2019 Actual	2019 Self-Timed
#1	4:52	4:42	4:43
#2	4:48	4:38	4:40*
#3	4:50	4:35	4:37
#4	4:57	4:36	4:36
#5	4:55	4:38	4:38
#6	4:50	4:42	4:37
#7	4:40	4:37	4:38
#8	4:46	4:38	4:37
#9	4:49	4:38	4:37
#10	4:42	4:39	4:35
#11	4:50	4:38	4:28
#12	4:29	4:18	4:18

*I didn’t time my 2^nd lap so this was my conservative estimate (it was pretty close!)

As you can see, I beat each of last year’s laps – often by 10 to 20 second margins. Considering I purposefully *didn’t* participate in the Sprint last year, this is truly an apples to apples comparison. Needless to say I’m pleased. I knew it would be possible to shave off 5 – 10 seconds per lap, but to have climbed so consistently and fast? Even I’m impressed with the year-over-year improvement.

Upon closer look, most of my self-reported times are within a second of the actual results. However two of the results are 4-5 seconds different (laps #6 & #10) and my 11^th lap was a whopping 10 seconds slower than what I timed. I could probably chalk up laps #6 & #10 to random error, but I know I used a faster pace on my 11^th lap and purposely pushed a bit harder. I’m guessing something was off with the timing on this lap. Oh well.

The last observation is the just how different this race can be for various athletes. This warrants a bit of explanation…

To get all 12 climbs in, you need to have a decent amount of fitness. Even the slowest 12 lap climber is an athlete in my book. Logistically, you need to start your 12^th lap under the 2.5 hour time limit. Based on data from the last couple years, it appears you need to have an average pace of under 10:40 for the first 11 climbs. You also have to have a bit of luck with the elevators so that you can get back to the start line in under three minutes. In this case, the slowest possible time (assuming you don’t bag the 12^th lap) is about 2:07. Essentially, the slowest athletes spend over two hours climbing with less than half an hour of total break time.

The fastest athletes, on the other hand, have lap times of under 5 minutes. Overall, they spend about 1 hour climbing and about an hour and half resting (~5 minutes per climb with ~8 minutes of rest).

This is a vastly different race for those on opposite ends of the spectrum!

Slower athletes climb nearly continuously and therefore have to pace themselves underneath the red line (mostly cardio). For the fastest athletes, the pace is often over the redline (mainly on the upper flights) so the race is really like a HIIT workout (i.e. a good amount of anaerobic work).

I will say one last thing about the fastest athletes. Personally, I was nearly recovered with just 5 minutes of rest. I took the full 8 minutes in the hopes that I’d shave a couple seconds off my lap times. I’m pretty sure I could have completed the Vertical Mile in under two hours without sacrificing too much speed. On the other hand, If I only had say 2-3 minutes of rest each lap (just like the slower athletes) I bet I’d have a noticeable increase in my lap times.

Race Grades:

Effort: B+; I climbed this race conservatively enough to make sure I wouldn’t bonk. This was a good trade off.

Weight: B; (same as Sprint)

Conditioning: B+; (same as Sprint)

Pacing & Technique: A; My splits were *very* consistent and right where they needed to be to capture the record. Behold the power of the metronome! As the pace was much slower (compared with the sprint) my climbing technique was good.

Overall: A-; Yes, there is room to improve… but I wouldn’t want to try it any time soon. Overall, I’m satisfied with this race.

Milwaukee's Best

2018-11-15T13:56:00.002-08:00

After the Chicago Double (Sears & LaSalle) it was nothing but sex and alcohol in preparation for my next climb in Milwaukee.

Okay, maybe I’m stretching the truth a bit, but Chicago style deep dish pizza is the equivalent of sex.

After a day and night of indulgence and a bit of sightseeing around Chicago, I hit the gym with David Hanley on Tuesday. The RNG gym is pretty swank; I almost felt guilty leaving a pool of sweat on the step mill.

My standby workout is something like this:

7 sets of 3-minute intervals on your choice of cardio machine (indoor rower, step mill, etc.) interspersed with 6 rounds of either pushups or pullups. The first two sets of cardio are at warm-up pace and the last 5 sets done at “Sears” race pace. I try to keep my water break & pullups/pushups to about 2 minutes, so the entire workout lasts under 35 minutes. The number of pushups/pullups is about 2/3 of your max number of reps… but hitting those numbers becomes increasingly difficult as the workout progresses. On the last set, I’ll take an extra 30 seconds of rest and go to failure, cause why not?

It’s tough workout…. but I’m always fully recovered by the following day.

Note: David and I did *both* pullups *and* pushups as I hadn’t been keeping up with my upper body workouts while traveling.

The next day (Wednesday) I rented a car and drove to Milwaukee. Once again, I found myself drinking beer. This time it was at the Lakeshore Brewery. For 9 bucks, you get a tour, 4 cups of beer, and a sweet pint glass. Great deal!

This bottling line was used in "Laverne and Shirley"

That evening, I had dinner with my friend Josh (who lives close by) to talk about stair climbing and diet. You should checkout his site: www.stairlife.com

The following day (Thursday) was race day. The race was at 6:00 PM so in the morning I hiked over to the Harley-Davidson museum. The first motor bikes (circa 1905) were nothing more than bicycles with a small motor tacked on. However, but the late 1920s, they started looking like the hogs we see on the street today. Highly recommended – even if you’re not a motorcycle fan.

Bicycle

Hog

I got back to my Airbnb around 3:00 PM and spent the next couple hours vegging out watching Netflix (Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown) and surfing the internet.

Around 5:15 PM, I started getting ready. This time I was not locked out of my room, so I had my full arsenal of tools at my disposal: racing flats, metronome, stop watch, & asthma inhaler (I had already taken my long-acting Advair 50/250 that morning).

My Airbnb was only a ten-minute walk to the US Bank Center (the tallest building in Wisconsin) and I easily made my way to the check-in desk.

Despite this race being in a “small” city, Milwaukee’s proximity to Chicago often attracts several competitive out-of-towners. This time would be no exception. On the men’s side, we had Jesse Berg, Josh Duncan, and Mark Ewell (and me of course). On the women’s side we had Natalie Doolittle-Shadel, Olga “Stair”kova, and Jill Paha.

My biggest rival would be Jesse Berg. I barely squeaked ahead of him at Sears and at LaSalle it wasn’t even a contest. If memory serves me right, he’s won this race before and is PB is about 1 second off of Justin Stewart’s course record of 4:50 (feel free to correct me, folks).

I wasn’t feeling that confident going into the race. I figured I had a shot at the low 5s, but honestly, all the beer and pizza in between races didn’t help my cause.

The US Bank Building is 42 stories tall and stands at 183 meters. It is only few meters taller than the Corning Tower in Albany (180 meters) but since the race starts a few floors below ground, the race course is a bit longer. The race is still considered a sprint race, albeit a very long one.

Just before 6:00 PM, the top climbers made their way down a series of escalators and hallways. I felt like a rat trapped into a maze descending into the bowels of hell*.

*Yes, I’m exaggerating again… but I was still a nervous wreck.

The doorway to the stairwell was non-descript and they had a bathroom right next door (bonus!). After a quick trip to the porcelain god, I continued my warmup burpees in earnest.

We were in a kind of a limbo waiting for the start of the race. In some races, we start at a prescribed time, but in this case, I was told we’d start “when the timing guy shows up”. When asked when the timing guy would be showing up I got a non-committal shrug.

I cranked out another set of burpees and just then the timing guy showed up. Just my luck.

Jesse and I dickered who was going to go in first. Frankly, I wanted another minute of rest, so I tried my best not to be “the guy”. Finally, the timing guy said: “You know, the race doesn’t start until the first person enters the stairwell…”

Finally, one brave soul entered the stairwell (I think it was Adam Bruss). I guess he had enough of me and Jesse hemming and hawing about going first.

I was up next!

I set my metronome to 112 bpm. This is a little slower than I use in the Corning Tower, but this was also a slightly longer climb. Plus, as a newbie in this stairwell, I figured I’d rather err on side of conservative. If I was really feeling good, I could always pick up the pace later in the race.

I settled into my pace quickly using just the inner rails for guidance. I’m not quite sure if I could even reach both rails had I wanted to.

Knowing I was below ground, I didn’t bother looking up until I climbed into the single digits. At some point I knew the steps would follow my favorite 11/11 pattern and I wasn’t disappointed. By the 10^th floor I found my rhythm and I glided up the steps quickly and efficiently.

Up ahead I could hear Adam so I knew I was catching up quickly. I eventually caught and passed him somewhere in the lower 20s.

Then I began to struggle. My heartrate had peaked, and my arms and legs were starting to tire. Could I survive another 20 floors?

My turns became sloppy and started double stepping the landings despite the efficient 11/11 step pattern.

However, by the time I reached the 30^th floor, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. Yeah, I was tired and well above the redline, but I knew I had another gear left in reserve. I couldn’t hold this pace forever… but I *could* hold it for another 60 seconds.

With less than a dozen floors left to climb I cranked up the pace*.

*And no, I didn’t stop and fiddle around with my metronome… I just climbed faster than the current beat.

The 30s were a blur and soon I found myself crossing into the 40s. With only two floors left I cranked up the pace again.

40 to 41 was longer than expected and I think it had a couple extra short flights of steps. I hoped that the next floor wouldn’t be so brutal as I was finally reaching my limit. As luck would have it, this floor was even more brutal with 2 extra full-length flights. I grit my teeth and continued to push.

And then I reached the top. Success!

Then I realized the doors were locked.

FUDGE*!

*I didn’t actually say fudge.

In my semi-delirious state, I managed to turn off my stop watch as I banged one of the doors in the hope that someone would come to the rescue.

Memories of LaSalle came to mind. At that race, I didn’t really care about my time since I barely had enough energy to climb, let alone race. On a fresh set of legs, however, it was an entirely different story. I had a legitimate shot at winning!

About 10 seconds later, I encountered Jesse. I told him to stop his watch because the doors were locked. I think he made to the 3^rd landing (i.e.completed 3 out of the 4 extra flights). He immediately started to climb back down. Then it dawned on me that perhaps the finish line was on the 41^st floor!

I hobbled down as quickly as possible and crossed the real finish line on the 41^st floor.

I was a little upset, but such is life. I walked around the perimeter of the floor (essentially it was a long square hallway) to catch my breath and recover. Unlike Sears – where I was on the ground for several long minutes – I felt pretty good. My lungs were raw, but I wasn’t completely exhausted.

Some people think that short climbs are easier (i.e. less physically taxing) than long climbs. Despite my recent experiences at Sears & Milwaukee, I disagree. I believe it depends on energy expenditure and pacing more than total duration. In fact, I’ve been on the floor feeling close to death after quite a few short races in my career. My theory is that Invariably you’ll bonk during a race (and if you don’t, you aren’t pushing yourself hard enough). The sooner you bonk, the more you’ll suffer. I can say that my most taxing races have come where I bonk somewhere down below and struggle immensely just to even finish. The trick is to pace yourself conservatively in the beginning of a race and pick it up towards the end – no matter the venue*.

*Races lasting less than 2 minutes are the exception, but they are a rare breed.

Today, I pretty much nailed my pace. Sure, I could have gone a little faster… but not by a significant amount.

Meanwhile the organizers put a series of barrier cones up to block off the stairwell to the 42^nd floor to make sure there were no other mishaps. Yet another reason not to go first.

Now to figure out what our times would have been had Jesse and I not climbed an extra few flights of stairs.

My stopwatch said 5:17 and Jesse’s said 5:14, but I think I climbed an extra flight (as I remember stopping Jesse one flight before the top). Wow – what a close race!

To be honest, I didn’t care so much about winning. Rather I wanted to see my time relative to Jesse and Justin back in the day. Back then, Jesse was the #1 US athlete and Justin was (and probably still is) the fastest sprinter. Really my purpose in Milwaukee was to see I measured up to some of the all time greats.

5:17 sounded underwhelming considering my goal was somewhere between 5:00-5:10. But how much did one floor cost me? As it turns out, quite a bit!

I asked the security guard permission to check out the stairwell up to the 42^nd floor. They said it wasn’t allowed.

Me: Oh, that’s okay! [Climbs up anyway]

Security Guard: Hey, that’s not allowed! [Begins chasing]

I’m not typically a rule breaker and I’m not proud of what I did, but I needed to count the number of extra flights and steps.

<begin rant> I mean, come on! The doorway is upstairs is locked and if you were so concerned with security… why didn’t you stop me the first time around! Plus, there are literally 40+ other un-monitored floors! <end rant>

Turns out the last floor had a 10/11/10/11 configuration. Considering the race was officially 985 steps, 42 extra steps is significant (essentially two extra floors).

With those numbers in mind, I estimated my finish time would have been about 5:03 and Jesse’s would have been about the same. Far too close to call with all the uncertainties of self-timing.

Eventually, all my other friends finished the race and a group of us headed back down. At the bottom, Josh took Jesse and me to talk to the head timer to see what (if anything) could be done about our times. The head timer appeared understanding as I told him my story.

By now, it was time for another (albeit slower) climb! I think we finished just under 10 minutes, passing a handful of cheerleaders near the top*.

Only 31 floors to go!

*At least Mark and I passed a few cheerleaders. David stayed behind as a proper gentleman should.

The top was *really* crowded and the elevator line wrapped around the hallway, so we chose to descend via the stairwell. Though it took another 10 minutes, it was significantly faster than waiting for the elevator.

At the bottom, I took a look at the timing sheet. Jesse came in first with a time of 5:01 and I was in 2^nd place with a 5:03. Oh well. I really thought I had a shot at winning. Still, I was quite pleased with my time of 5:03.

Next up food and beer!

After listening to the MC talk about CF and how much our support means to the CF Foundation they gave out the awards.

1^st place: Alex Workman

What?!?

I made my way forward and told the MC I think there must have been some mistake.

Back at my table, Josh pulled up the online race results on his smart phone. You can find the results here.

Now I was listed with a time of 4:53 in first place with Jesse in second with a 4:55. These times seemed way too fast, even given the uncertainties of self-timing.

After further investigation, Josh found out that the timers decided to use the data from the proximity sensors rather than the timing mat. I’m not exactly sure how that works, but I think it means there was a secondary timing device that picked up the timing chip prior to arriving at the mat. As such, the sensor’s time was a bit faster than our actual mat time by about 6-7 seconds (according to Josh’s estimate).

A win is a win, but I take it with a grain of salt. I’m only 60% confident I won… and my gut feeling is I legitimately climbed the race in about 5:03. It is possible I broke the 5:00 mark, but I wouldn’t bet on it.

As for the rest of the trip?

The next day I headed back to Chicago, but first I took a detour to explore The House on the Rock. I learned about this unique place when I read “American Gods” by Neil Gaiman. The House is worth the visit and the book is worth the read.

One of many rooms with self playing instruments

To infinity and beyond!

Final Thoughts:

The benefit of going first is that you have a clear stairwell. The downside is if shit happens, it’s gonna happen to you first. Yet again, I’m kicking myself for not checking out the finish line! Although I’ve blogged about it before, I still haven’t taken my own advice...

First and foremost, I blame myself. I had the time to check the stairwell ahead of the race. Plus, I had access to Josh’s stairwell map which clearly shows the race ending on the 41^st floor*.

*Before the race Josh told me it ended on the 42nd floor... but sometimes memories aren't always accurate. "Trust, but verify" as the saying goes.

Secondly, I blame the race organizers. Why can’t turns and hallways be clearly marked, and wrong turns/extra steps be sufficiently blocked off? It is too much to ask to have a volunteer direct traffic at these junctures? I can forgive a new race in a new building… but Milwaukee is one of the oldest (correct me if I’m wrong).

Race Grades:

Effort: A-; A slight mental lapse in the middle of the race cost a little bit of time, but I pushed hard near the end.

Weight: C; I didn’t weight myself beforehand, but for the past few days my diet has been all you can eat. I likely gained a pound or two since Sears though given the time frame it’s likely mostly water weight. Pizza has a lot of excess sodium.

Conditioning: A; I was well rested from Sears where I graded myself with an A.

Pacing & Technique: A-; My 112-bpm pace was solid. Possibly I could have handled a little faster?? (The question marks are intended)

Overall: A-; There is at least little room for improvement in all areas, although the biggest bang would be to drop a few kilos. Easier said than done. All in all, I’ve got to be happy with this race!

Double Dragon

2018-11-12T18:39:00.000-08:00

Click.

That is the sound my door made when when I locked myself out of my dorm room at the Airbnb.

Fuck.

I meant to leave the door unlocked on my way to the shared bathroom.

It was just over an hour until my race up the Sears (Willis) tower. I was wearing my tank top and racing shorts, but my watch, racing bib, metronome, and my lightweight racing shoes were still in the room… as well as my asthma medicine.

Double Fuck!

Only one other guest was awake at the Airbnb, and I let him know my situation. He let me borrow an undersized vest (actually his girlfriend's) and promised to get in contact with the landlord and (hopefully) find a spare key.

I power walked over to Sears (Willis) in the cold November wind and I could feel my lungs starting on constrict. It was drizzling on an off, but I made it to the building without freezing to death.

I tracked down David Hanley in the hope of securing an extra bib. He got me in touch with one of the race directors who had a small pile of extras (thanks Janet!). I also ran into Jesse Berg, another asthmatic, and he let me borrow his inhaler for a couple puffs of albuterol.

I was as ready as I was going to get.

I made my way to the start line and started my warmup routine. Active stretching followed by several rounds of burpees to get the blood pumping. Then I made my way to the start line to assess the competition.

Favorites were the international athletes Frank Carreno, Alex Trujillo and George Heinmann. No contest. Next up were the US athletes vying for 4th place: Terry Purcell, Jesse Berg, and Jason Larson. Terry was probably the strongest of the group as Jesse hadn’t been on the racing scene for a few years. However, Jesse used to be the #1 US athlete, so he couldn’t be counted out. He was definitely the dark horse of the race. Last on my list was Jason. He is consistently one of the top US finishers and we always seem to be next to one another in the standings regardless of the venue. It would actually be strange if more than one or two slots separated us.

I figured I had a shot for 4th place, but beating all three of my rivals was going to be a tall order. I was in great shape physically but I was also a few pounds heavier than I should be. Actually, up until a few weeks before the race I had been sitting at 176 lbs, a far cry from sub-170, my peak racing weight. At the start line, I was probably sitting at 173. Not to mention I was wearing my heavy sneakers and custom orthotics which weigh a solid pound more than my racing flats.

I did my final round of burpees and snuck in behind Terry and Jesse. Showtime!

Ok not so fast (insert sound byte of a record player violently stopping).

Terry made it out the gate, but Jesse got stuck at the start line. The timer’s magic wand stopped working due to technical issues.

Of course I did another round of burpees while waiting :)

Finally I was in the stairwell. I started about 15 seconds behind Jesse and 15 seconds ahead of Jason.

I didn’t have a metronome to guide me nor a stopwatch to keep track of my time. Instead I relied on my internal clock as I played Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring*” in my head. I probably played it faster than my goal pace of 81 bpm, but at least I throttled my pace down to a manageable level.

*Same song I play in my head at 1WTC - a similarly sized climb.

I got into a good rhythm using only the inside rails for turning. By the 10th floor I could barely hear Jesse up ahead (actually, I could only hear the volunteers cheering him on). Jason on the other hand was clearly catching up. Oh well, nothing to do about it but climb.

For the next 20 floors I focused on climbing efficiently - making sure I hugged the inside rail and kept only one foot on the landings.

The floor numbers increased into the 40s. I felt the first signs of fatigue (increased breathing rate and tiring muscles) but overall I was still okay. Jason was no longer breathing down my neck and I could faintly hear the volunteers up ahead indicating that Jesse was still ahead of me

I climbed into the 50s and 60s. My turns were becoming sloppy because I was starting to tire. At some point I remember crossing a hallway into a different stairwell. The power walk/jog was a necessary respite. Now I found myself taking the turns to the left. Despite being my slower* side, climbing in the opposite direction helped take the load off of my tiring right side.

*I've actually been practicing in a left turn stairwell once per week, so my left turns are nearly as efficient as my right.

In the 70s I had nearly caught up with Jesse. He was only about one floor ahead. However, I could not muster the energy necessary to close the gap. I was exhausted and my pace was probably slowing (I couldn’t be 100% certain as I didn’t have my metronome).

I crossed into the 80s knowing that I had about 3 minutes of suffering left. When I crossed 83 (basically 20 floors to go) I started counting out out the remaining distance in terms of percentage - where each floor represented 5% of the remaining distance.

5, 10, 15%...

I was slowly losing sight of Jesse but if I could just hold on a couple more minutes…

25, 30, 35%...

Less than 2 minutes to go!

50, 55, 65%...

Just over a minute of climbing left and I'm at my limit.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch Jesse, but perhaps if I dug deep I could match his final surge and come out ahead.

I switched over to counting floors. With only 5 floors to go, I grit my teeth and pushed, despite being close to empty.

It wasn’t much of a push. As I crossed Into the 100s I simply had nothing left to give. My “sprint” was barely faster than my initial pace. But at least I didn't bonk.

Two floors left. One floor...

I crossed the finish line fully spent. Was it enough to edge out Jesse? If not, it had to have been a close race.

I crumpled to the floor, unable to move. After a short while, I heard Jason finish. It seemed like a good 30 seconds or so, but my sense of time wasn’t all that great.

"i TOLD you i'd kick your ass if you blocked me again, alex!"

I lay on the ground for what must have been a good few minutes because by the time I managed to get up, there were several other finishers milling about.

I slowly got to my feet and grabbed my finisher’s medal from a volunteer.

I eventually ran into Jason and Jesse and inquired how they did. Jason wasn’t too pleased - having climbed slower than last year - but Jesse seemed upbeat after breaking the 15 minute barrier (as his goal time was “merely” 15:20).

Eventually I learned my time (14:45) and found out that I edged out Jesse by a single second (I secretly pumped my fist). On the other hand, my other rival, Terry, ended up with a solid 14:26, which pushed me down to 5th place overall. You can find the results here.

With Sears out of the way, I somehow had to recover enough to climb up 300 N LaSalle. Did I mention today was a double header?

Josh let me borrow a spare windbreaker and I jogged behind a few other racers (Jason, Josh, Natalie, etc.) over to the next venue. *Well* behind. Despite the “relaxed” pace, I’m not a runner and I was still exhausted from the climb. I struggled to keep up. In fact, I nearly lost sight of the runners and had to push a couple of times just to make sure I didn’t get lost.

I managed to make it to 300 N LaSalle in one piece and received my bib without incident.

This time around, I simply had no energy to warm up. Doing burpees was the last thing I wanted to do.

Shortly after 9:00 AM the organizers lined us up. First through the door was Alex Trujlio followed by Terry Purcell. I was nominated to go third, despite my protests. Before entering the stairwell, I half jokingly said to Jesse, “Don’t pass me too quickly!” (note: we were given a fairly lengthy 30 seconds between racers).

I still didn’t have a watch or a metronome, so I played “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” a bit faster than I did a couple hours ago at Sears. It was a fairly easy pace and I knew I could maintain it throughout the race. However, I couldn’t force myself into a higher gear. The last place I wanted to be was the stairwell and the thought of pushing my body to its limit for a 2nd time in a row terrified me. I couldn’t go to that place again.

The first 10 floors went by smoothly. The pace was manageable although I knew if I went any faster it would put me over the redline and I’d start to suffer.

Things were going well up into the 20s although by this time, I could faintly hear Jesse down below and he appeared to be getting closer.

Here is the thing about 300 N LaSalle - it is fairly isolating. There are several sections of stairs with carpeted treads, so sound is often muffled. Plus, there weren’t any volunteers cheering along the way, so I was literally climbing alone.

I headed into the 30s and by now I could hear Jesse quite clearly. Crap, he was actually going to catch up to me!

For the next 10 floors I debated whether or not to speed up. A small part of me wanted to race, but the larger part still didn’t want to push into the dreaded red zone.

As I crossed into the 40s, Jesse was only a couple floors behind. It was now inevitable that he would pass. I contemplated pushing hard for the next ten floors to stay ahead. I knew I had plenty of energy to sprint the final 10 floors but once again I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Instead, I moved over with about half a dozen floors left in the race. Jesse was looking pretty focused (and winded) so I offered a couple words of encouragement and gave him a little boost from behind.

For the next few floors I upped the pace by a little bit. I wouldn’t call it a sprint per se - rather I merely climbed a little closer to the red line.

With about 2 floors to go I heard a lot of commotion from upstairs and I heard Terry calling down to use our stopwatches (as if I had one - LOL). The doorway on the 56th floor was locked and we couldn’t get to the finish line!

I finished the race slightly winded, but kind of glad the race was over prematurely. As we stood on the landing, I could tell Terry was pissed and we all knew the situation would just get worse as more climbers ascended to our floor.

One by one, the landing became more and more crowded. Meanwhile, Terry tried using the emergency intercom (there was a big red button at the top) to let the building management know that were were locked in the stairwell.

After about ten or so people showed up, I decided to climb back down. No sense waiting around.

Every few floors I ran into another racer and I told them the bad news. Around the 46th floor (I can’t remember really) I encountered a fully stocked aid station. Apparently, we were supposed to run down this hallway to go into another stairwell in order to finish the race. I bumped into a girl (possibly Natalie?) when the volunteers finally showed up to direct traffic. Fortunately, she had only climbed an extra flight before being called back down.

At the aid station I pocketed three Cliff Bars and I contemplated taking the elevator up to the finish line. However, at that point Hal showed up in his red and white striped jersey and I decided to finish the race legitimately. What’s another 10 floors?

Anyway, I climbed behind Hal for the rest of the “race” and I crossed the finish line just under 14 minutes after I had started (at least that is what the official results say - I would have guesstimated my time to be slower than that).

By this time, the doorway to the locked stairwell was open and a bunch of racers were crowded around the timing desk to give them their “unofficial” times. I probably should have given my time but I wasn’t really in the mood. I knew I had a relatively slow time, plus I was still peeved about the locked doorway and lack of clear directions and volunteers.

Eventually I headed down for the post race party. Despite not really racing at LaSalle, I still deserved that Bloody Mary!

After hanging out and chatting with my fellow climbers, I saw the results. You can find them here.

Had I submitted my self-timed results, I would have placed myself around the 7:50 - 7:55 mark (I was 5-10 seconds behind Jesse and he started ~30 seconds ahead of me).

I think the biggest surprise was that Alex Trujllo set a new course record. I certainly think he is capable of doing it, but I’m slightly surprised he did it after climbing so fast at Sears a mere two hours prior. Here is a quick gap comparison between Alex, Jesse, and Terry (all of which seriously raced both venues).

Alex beat Terry by 40 seconds at Sears and 62 seconds at LaSalle
Alex beat Jesse by 59 seconds at Sears and 55 seconds at LaSalle

Considering LaSalle is a much shorter building, the gaps at Lasalle seem larger than I would have expected.

The other surprise of the day was the 7:30 by Mark Henderson. I don’t know him, but a 7:30 is fast especially considering he is over 50 (he did Sears in 15:16 which is also very good). Not that age matters that much in this sport (just look at George for inspiration).

Final thoughts:
I honestly hate double headers. I’d much rather have a power hour where I can dole out my energy appropriately. If I race all out, I simply can’t bounce back quickly enough for a second race - especially if I went out too fast in the first race.

Ain't she a beaut?

Race Grades:
Sears:
Effort: A; I was on the floor for a good long while
Weight: C+; I should have been sub-170 lbs for me to be competitive.
Conditioning: A; I was in excellent shape - likely because I’ve been climbing “heavy” for the past several months.
Pacing & Technique: B+; Considering I had neither a metronome nor a watch, I felt pretty good about my pacing. I went out a little too fast and paid the price at the end of the race. However, I never bonked, so I’m still happy. My technique was good for the 1st half of the race but I became sloppy near the end (as I was tired).
Overall: B+; I was under-medicated (i.e. I didn't take my Advair) and had on my heavy sneakers. Still, I managed to beat last year’s time by 5 seconds. In a normal year this would translate to something like a 4:25 or a 4:30, which isn’t that much slower that my PB of 4:19 (note: The past two years we started from the basement rather than the ground floor).

LaSalle:
Effort: C-; I didn’t need time to recover after finishing.
Weight: C+; As above
Conditioning: A; As above
Pacing & Technique: C+; At least I cracked the 8 minute mark. My technique was pretty good. That said, I had plenty of energy so I didn’t really have to think about it. Obviously, my pace was far to slow.
Overall: C; I was already tired so my effort level just wasn’t there. I think I could have climbed 7:30 or less (given my level of fatigue) but it wouldn’t have been pleasant. I keep telling myself that Sears was the race that really mattered, but I’m still disappointed with my level of effort at LaSalle.

Power Up a Tower: Part 4 (aka The Magic Number 11)

2017-08-10T15:57:00.002-07:00

I’ve climbed a lot of stairwells during the past 6 years and my two favorite stairwells are:

One City Place - Hartford, CT
US Bank Tower - Los Angeles, CA

Although I’ve only climbed these two building a handful of times*, I can tell you with certainty that these are two of the fastest, most efficient stairwells on the circuit.

*One City Place: 3 times racing and 4 times for fun. US Bank: 2 times racing, 2 times for fun.

Why?

They both share the magic number eleven. Eleven steps per flight, to be specific.

This edition of Power up a Tower will explain why 11 steps per flight is so efficient and while covering a few related topics such as:

The Physics of Climbing & Turning
Stairwell Configurations & Efficient Footfall patterns

Part 1: The Physics of Climbing and Turning

In this section I will share several principles that are 2nd nature to most competitive climbers and provide evidence justifying why each principle is true.

Unlike my other Power up a Tower articles, there won’t be any fancy calculations. I just rely on basic physics principles and geometry, although I will recommend one or two scientific papers along the way.

Taking two steps at a time is more efficient than taking one step at a time.

Most competitive stair climbers will nod their heads in agreement, but if you want scientific evidence, I recommend reading a paper by Halsey et. al. entitled “The Energy Expenditure of Stair Climbing One Step and Two Steps at a Time: Estimations from Measures of Heart Rate”.

If you don’t have access to the paper or don’t feel like reading, here is the gist of it: The authors hooked a bunch of people on heart rate monitors and had them climb a stairwell multiple times alternating between single stepping (i.e. taking one step at a time) and double stepping (i.e. taking two steps at a time). It turns out that single steppers had a higher heart rate at the top of the stairwell which indicates that single stepping requires more energy overall than double stepping.

The paper suggests that it has something to do with bio-mechanics of single stepping vs. double stepping. Single stepping has a much higher (roughly double) turnover rate it means you end up swinging your legs (and possibly arms if you aren’t using the rails) twice as much as double stepping. This additional motion costs additional energy.

If two steps at a time is better than one step, then how about three or even four steps at a time? That is a question I’m not entirely prepared to answer. It likely has something to do with bio-mechanics as well. My guess is it takes too much power (i.e. leg strength) to climb three at a time - kind of like trying to bike up a hill using a gear that is slightly too high. Furthermore (at least from my experience) taking three steps at a time puts the body an awkward position* that isn’t suited for sustained output.

*Usually I try to lean a little bit forward when climbing and it is harder to lean forward when taking three steps at a time because I'm raising my legs up so high.

Perhaps there are certain tall individuals who might be more efficient when taking three steps at a time or certain buildings with extremely short steps (e.g. 5 inches tall) where taking three steps at a time makes sense, but in general, these cases would be the exceptions rather than the norm.

Tight inside turns using the rails is faster than other turning methods.

This should come as no surprise. Race cars will take the inside line because it has the shortest distance. The same holds true inside the stairwell. In addition, using the inside rails (using upper body strength) can help you pivot and accelerate around the turn.

I’ve been tracking my own performance inside my practice stairwell for years, so I have a lot of data to back this up. For example, in my last training session, I sprinted up a total of 12 times, with 4 – 5 minutes of rest between each climb. Four of the climbs were done using the inside rails. Four of the climbs were done using only the outside rails. Four of the climbs were done using no rails whatsoever (i.e. legs only). The ascents were climbed sequentially using the following pattern: Outside, Inside, No Rail, Outside, Inside, No Rail, etc.

Here were my average climb times (in seconds):

• Inside: 40.08

• Outside: 43.30

• No Rails: 43.80

Using the inside rails is faster than the other methods and a brief analysis of my previous training data* (spanning thousands of climbs) corroborates.

*You’ll have to take my word since I’m not ready to share all my training data. Perhaps in a later post…

Geometry of the stairwell has a role to play, especially when you consider the climb times using the outside lane. In a narrower staircase, you’d expect the time gaps to narrow. Likewise, climbing technique matters. Over the years, I’ve learned a few tricks to eke out a tenth of a second or so of speed when turning inside my practice stairwell. Every climber has their own unique climbing style, so slightly different results would be expected between climbers*.

*If you are a statistician, you might point out that data from a single climber doesn’t pass muster. Point taken. I’ll be sure to update this post once I have an adequate sample size, smartass.

It is interesting to note that the slowest climbs were done without using the rails. I don’t have a clear-cut answer why this was the case, but I can come up with a few reasons:

Although I tried to stay in the inside lane, I often steered toward the center as I was pumping my arms rather than hugging the rail.
My turns were slower because I could accelerate my body around the turn using the handrail; I could only use the power of my legs.
The “no-rail” assents seem to be the most physically demanding so fatigue near the top of the stairwell likely contributed to slower times.

Turning on the landing is easiest when pivoting on the inside foot.

Most stairwells will have either a couple large balusters (i.e. vertical members to support the handrail) or a wall which physically separates the individual flights of steps from one another. To turn efficiently – no matter which foot you pivot on – your foot needs to be as close to the baluster/wall as possible. Pivoting on the outside foot is difficult* because the barrier interferes with your inside foot as you bring it around to the next step. Obviously, the closer your outside foot is to the baluster/wall, the less clearance you have between the barrier and your inside foot, which makes the turn even more difficult**.

*unless you are as flexible as David Hanley.

**unless you are as flexible as David Hanley.

Pivoting on the inside foot is much easier because your outside foot will not interfere with the baluster/wall barrier.

You may argue that some stairwell configurations make it impossible to keep just a single foot on the landing during the turn. This is certainly true if there is a significant horizontal gap between adjacent flights or some other barrier. However, even if you end up taking two or even three steps on the landing, your final pivot around the baluster/wall is still easiest when pivoting on your inside foot.

Turning requires extra energy.

Simple physics will tell you this is true. After all, when turning in a typical stairwell, you basically come to a stop and then turn on the landing – essentially making a 180 degree turn. Then, once you are facing the other direction, you quickly accelerate back up to full speed. All this acceleration (including the turning) requires force and energy*.

*If you don’t think starting and stopping requires extra energy, try a few shuttle sprints. Though to be fair, it is easy to de-accelerate when approaching the turn thanks to gravity. I find that most of my energy is spent turning and then getting back up to speed.

Calculating precisely how much energy is required to complete a turn is a complicated matter and would require a decent scientific paper to cover this topic adequately*. For example, figuring out how much energy is required to run at a given speed in a straight line requires a good understanding of the bio-mechanics of the human body as well as a foundation in kinematics to create an accurate model. Modeling a pivot while using the rails would an even harder problem to tackle, as the movement is complicated (e.g. each limb has an independent motion) and the entire action happens over a brief period of time.

*There is a paper by Misetti et. al. “Skyscraper running: physiological and bio-mechanical profile of a novel sport activity” which broaches this very topic, but I don’t agree with their model. Otherwise this is a highly-recommended paper.

Part 2: Basic Stairwell Configurations

Most stairwells inside tall buildings will have two or more flights of steps per floor with landings* separating each flight. Flights usually alternate 180 degrees from one other at each landing. Most floors are of a uniform height so you will see the same (repeating) flight pattern on multiple consecutive floors.

* I consider the floor to be a kind of a landing, too.

Throughout this article, I will use the following notation to represent the layout of a repeating stairwell: X/Y*

X represents the number of steps in the 1^st flight.
Y represents the number of steps in the 2^nd flight
“/” represents the mid-flight landing.

For example 10/10 represents two flights per floor with 10 steps per flight.

*I also use the same notation for certain turns, where the numbers just mean the number of steps per footfall.

This article only handles typical stairwells with two flights per floor, but this notation can be expanded to include stairwells with additional flights. For example, The “Lucky Sevens” 7/7/7 has three flights per floor with 7 steps apiece*.

*A separate article isn’t going to happen for three reasons. First of all, 3+ flights/floor is relatively rare. Second of all, there are too many combinations to document (for example 3 flights/floor has 40 different configurations). Finally, a good chunk of the time these 3+ flights/floor configurations mimic their two flights/floor brethren. In the case of the Lucky Sevens (7/7/7), it is really nothing more than a 7/7 (which is a shorter version of the Magic 11s (11/11) configuration which you’ll read about shortly). Climbing up two floors of the Lucky Sevens is virtually identical to climbing three floors of the 7/7.

There are numerous exceptions, of course. For example, the Bennington Battle Monument’s stairs wrap around the inside of the building using a series of 90 degree turns. In fact, the Empire State Building (arguably the most famous skyscraper in the world) primarily has just a single flight of stairs per floor followed by a short run to get to the next flight*.

*which is why I frickin' hate that stairwell.

There are also numerous exceptions within a building's stairwell as there are usually maintenance floors, fire doors, and other irregularities which will mess up the repeating pattern.

However, in general, the flight pattern is repeatable and throughout the rest of this article we’re going to focus on this repeating pattern.

Common Time (e.g. 12/12)

So far we’ve learned that best method to climb a stairwell is to (1) take two steps at a time, (2) hug the inside rail on the turns, and (3) use your inside leg to pivot on the landing.

Wouldn’t it be just peachy if there was a stairwell configuration that satisfied all three conditions?

It turns out that a (4m)/(4n) flight pattern (where m & n are positive integers) satisfies this condition*.

*Set m=n=1 and if you read music, you’ll understand why this stairwell is nicknamed Common Time.

This occurs because you end up with an even number of footfalls per flight when taking two steps at a time*.

*With an even number of footfalls, you’ll end up in the same position you started with. Conversely with an odd number of footfalls, you’ll end up on the opposite foot.

Figure 1 shows an illustrative example for a 12/12 flight pattern (where n=m=3).

Figure 1: 12/12 Footfall Pattern

The figure represents two flights with 12 steps each. The red dots represent footfalls and the shaded area represents the landing. The turning arrows represent your pivot foot (which makes a 180 degree turn).

The Common Time stairwell has a solid footfall pattern, but it has a couple of limitations.

First, this step pattern only works if the horizontal gap between flight is tight and there aren’t any major barriers (such as a wall or balustrade) on the landing which hinders your inner foot placement on the landing. Otherwise, keeping a single step on the landings may be difficult or even impossible.

Secondly, turning requires additional energy (more about that in the next section) which makes pacing a concern:

If you try to keep a constant vertical pace (e.g. by using a metronome*) your level of exertion will no longer be constant, and the turns will sap your energy.
If you try to keep a constant level of exertion, your turns will need to be slower, which makes using a pacing device (like a metronome*) difficult.

*Of course if you don't use a metronome, these concerns are less important... but seriously, why would you not use a metronome?!?

How important are these concerns? In my experience, they play a minor role in a short race, but become more important in the longer races when you are climbing for an extended period at just slightly above the red line (i.e. lactate threshold or whatever biological term you want to use). In the latter case, even minor fluctuations of energy expenditure could be enough to push you well past the redline - causing you to bonk prematurely during a race.

The Magic 11s (e.g. 11/11)

Is there a stairwell configuration which overcomes the limitations of a (4m)/(4n) flight pattern?*

*spoiler alert: Yes there is.

Yes there is!

I present to you the most efficient stairwell configuration known to mankind:

(4m-1)/(4n-1) where m and n are positive integers*.

*From now on just assume that m and n are positive integers so I don’t have to keep typing it out.

For example, when m=n=3, you have an 11/11 stairwell, just like at City Place in Hartford an US Bank Tower in Los Angeles. See figure 2 for the foot pattern.

Figure 2: 11/11 Footfall Pattern

Basically, this pattern is just like the 12/12 step pattern (i.e. it has an even number of footfalls) except you only take a single step when approaching the landing.

This has two benefits:

First, you can reach a little bit further onto the landing with your inside pivot foot since you are covering only one step, not two. This makes turning a little bit easier and efficient since allows you to plant your pivot foot closer to the optimum spot.

Second, taking a single step at a time requires less energy than taking two steps at time*.

*It is more accurate to say that two single steps require slightly more energy than one double step because of wasted motion.

Keeping this latter piece of information in mind, I propose the following equation:

Energy used taking two steps (two steps at a time) ≈

Energy used taking one step (one step at time) +

Energy used taking executing a turn

I use the ≈ rather than =, < or > because I don’t have the tools available (experimental or analytical) to determine exactly how much energy is required to turn.

However, I think we can safely bound this so called “turning energy” by the following:

Zero energy < Energy required to turn < Energy required to climb two steps

Clearly, the turning energy isn’t negligible and if turning costs more energy than climbing two steps than I should have died from a heart attack long ago.

Personally, I’m estimating the turning energy is about equal to that of climbing a single step… and if my upper bound is true, then at worst, my estimate is off by less than a single step’s worth of energy.

What all this means is that (despite the uncertainty) taking a single step while turning requires about the same energy as taking two steps at a time on a straight flight.

If you use a metronome to keep pace (as you should) your energy expenditure will remain fairly constant…even while turning (and that is a good thing).

Seriously, this configuration is the bomb. Once you start pivoting on your inside leg, you don’t even have to think about it. You automatically end on your inside leg. Every. Single. Turn.

Interlude: Common Turning Patterns

Quick turns are predicated on having your feet in the right spot as you enter a turn. The 12/12 and 11/11 stairwells automatically place your feet near the sweet spot so that is why I hold them in such high regard.

Unfortunately, not all configurations are so convenient*.

*All together, there are ten basic stairwell configurations* and we’ve already covered the Common Time and Magic 11s stairwells. Several of the remaining eight are more complicated.

*Proving there are exactly 10 two-flight stairwell configurations is a neat math problem. If you have a few minutes (and are so inclined) I urge you take a short break from reading and solve this problem before continuing.

We can’t change the number of steps per flight in a stairwell, but we can change how we take the turns. Before we get into more complicated stairwell configurations, let’s discuss turning.

Turning has two primary goals. The first (and obvious) goal is to get around the current landing quickly and efficiently. The second (and less obvious) goal is setting up your footfalls to make the next turn is as quick and efficient as possible.

Here is an example to illustrate the 2nd goal.

Let’s say you are in a 12/12 stairwell and just started a pivot turn on the inside foot. Should your next footfall take one step or two steps at a time?

Back in figure 2 we showed that taking one step after the turn is optimal from an energy expenditure standpoint. But if we took only one step, we’d find ourselves on the outside (wrong) foot when we reached the top of the next flight! Clearly taking two steps at a time is the right choice*.

*Unless you are a contortionist.

The key to figuring out the best footfall pattern in a stairwell is choosing the best type of turn that doesn’t screw up your next turn*.

*Note: I used bold typeface because this sentence is really important.

Before moving to the remaining stairwell configurations, let’s study the type of turns we have at our disposal.
A: 2/2 Inside Pivot
B: 2/1 or 1/2 Inside Pivot
C: 2/2 Outside Pivot
D: 2/1 or 1/2 Outside Pivot
E: 1/1 Inside Pivot
F: 1/1 Outside Pivot
G: Double footfalls on the Landing (Inside Pivot)
H: Skip Landing (Inside Pivot)

The 2/2 inside pivot is the same turn used in a Common Time (e.g. 12/12) stairwell. See figure A. The turn spans two footfalls and each footfall covers two steps, so it is a fast and energy intensive turn. This turn may be difficult to perform if the landing has any obstacles, so this choice may not always be available. On a letter grading scale, I’d give it a solid B+.

Figure A: 2/2 Inside Pivot Turn

The 2/1 & 1/2 inside pivot are the same turns used in a Magic 11s stairwell. See figure B. The 2/1 & 1/2 are interchangeable. For example, in an 11/11 stairwell you could construct a footfall pattern using either type of turn*. The turn spans two footfalls and on average, each footfall covers 1.5 steps (2 then 1 or 1 then 2 steps). Therefore, the turn itself is moderately fast, but energy balanced (i.e. the energy it takes to get around the turn per footfall is approximately equal to the energy it takes climbing up two steps at a time on a straight staircase). Since one of the footfalls only covers one step, it is easier to perform than the 2/2 inside pivot. On a letter grading scale, I’d give it an A+.

*To prove this to yourself, go back to figure 2 and change the direction of the arrows to widdershins.

Figure B: 2/1 & 1/2 Inside Pivot Turns

The 2/2 outside pivot turn is shown in figure C. Like the 2/2 inside pivot turn, it spans two footfalls and each footfall covers 2 steps. It is fast and even more energy intensive than the 2/2 inside pivot because an outside pivot is relatively awkward and inefficient. Because this turn is so difficult, it can only be performed in a stairwell with little or no obstacles. On a letter grading scale, I’d give it an C+.

Figure C: 2/2 Outside Pivot Turn

The 2/1 & 1/2 outside pivot turns are shown in figure D. Like the 2/1 & 1/2 inside pivots, these two turns are interchangeable. Each turn spans two footfalls and each footfall covers 1.5 steps on average. It is moderately fast and slightly more energy intensive than the 2/1 inside pivot turn because an outside pivot turn is relatively awkward and inefficient. This turn can be performed in most stairwells; it is easier to perform the 2/2 outer pivot, but harder than the 2/1 inside pivot. On a letter grading scale, I’d give it an B.

Figure D: 2/1 & 1/2 Outside Pivot Turns

The 1/1 inside pivot is shown in figure E. This turn spans two footfalls and each footfall covers 1 step. It is a slow but easy to perform. As such, it can be performed in most stairwells. On a letter grading scale, I’d give it a C+, but I’d rank it higher if the landing had obstacles.

Figure E: 1/1 Inside Pivot Turn

The 1/1 outside pivot is shown in figure F. This turn spans two footfalls and each footfall covers 1 step, which makes the turn slow. The outside pivot is awkward, but easy to perform because of the single steps. As such, it can be performed in most stairwells. On a letter grading scale, I’d give it a C, but I’d rank it higher if the landing had obstacles.

(Crap... I forgot to make Figure F. I'l have to do it later)

The double footfalls (on the landing) turn usually uses an inside pivot turn*. See figure F. This turn is slow because it wastes an entire footfall on the landing which makes the turn relatively slow and inefficient. The main benefit of this turn is that it can be performed in most stairwells, as two single step footfalls gives you a lot of extra room to turn. On a letter grading scale, I’d give it a C, but if the landing had obstacles, it would be ranked higher.

*I’d be hard pressed to find a situation where using an outside pivot turn would be preferred.

Figure G: Double Footfalls on the Landing Turn

The skip landing turn shown in figure H is probably the least well known turn. It is executed with an inside pivot on the step below the landing with the next footfall landing on the step above the landing – such that you completely avoid touching the landing. It is a fast turn on par with the 2/2 inside pivot turn, but it is slightly more difficult to execute. This turn requires a very good stairwell with convenient handrails and very little gap between the flights. On a letter grading scale, I’d give it a B.

Figure H: Skip Landing Turn

Now that we know all about turns, let's get back to business...

Part 2: Basic Stairwell Configurations - Continued

We’ve covered (4m)/(4n) and (4m-1)/(4n-1) stairwell configurations which both have an even number of footfalls per flight.

The discussion would not be complete without considering stairwell configurations which have an odd number of footfalls per flight: (4n-2)/(4m-2) and (4n-3)/(4m-3)

If you insist on taking 2 steps at a time, you’ll find yourself out of position every other flight. This happens because you have an odd number of footfalls (e.g. for a ten-step flight, you have 5 footfalls when taking the steps two at a time).

The Oddball Ten (e.g. 10/10)

Let’s consider a 10/10 stairwell (i.e. (4n-2)/(4m-2) where n=m=3).

In this configuration, you can do one of three things:

A: Alternate between 2/2 inside and 2/2 outside pivot turns (figure 3-A).

B: Uses two footfalls on the landing (figure 3-B). This pattern turns the total number of footfalls from odd to even.

C: Uses a 1/1 inside pivot turn (figure 3-C). This pattern turns the total number of footfalls from odd to even.

Figures 3-A, 3-B, & 3-C: 10/10 Footfall Patterns

Pattern C is often overlooked because you must consciously decide to single step before and after the landing. Unless you’ve practiced this pattern, it won’t be reflexive.

Personally, I like to use pattern A as it keeps my vertical pace constant. But in practice, I usually end up switching to pattern B as fatigue sets in.

I don’t often use pattern C since the 1/1 inside pivot end up being too slow for my tastes. That said, I keep the technique in my back pocket for special cases. Certain types of landings make it very difficult to keep one foot on the landings (e.g. wide gaps between flights, rails/balustrades that stick out, etc.). In those cases, this step pattern might give you enough room to keep just a single footfall on the landings.

Double Odd 9s (e.g. 9/9)

Next, let’s consider a 9/9 stairwell (i.e. (4n-3)/(4m-3) where n=m=3)*.

*Colloquially called the Double Odd because each flight has an odd number of steps and an odd number of footfalls.

There is only one obvious climbing choice as shown in figure 4.

Figure 4: 9/9 Footfall Pattern

This pattern alternates between 1/2 inside pivot turns and 1/2 outside pivot turns.

Turning on the inside foot is a piece of cake, but turning on the outside foot is troublesome. Fortunately, the single step ameliorates some of the awkwardness of doing an outside pivot because it allows you to plant your foot step further into the landing (and the added room makes the turn less awkward).

Personally, I dislike the outside pivot turn, but otherwise this is a solid pattern with limited downside.

Part 3: Asymmetric Configurations

Before continuing, I need to define the term symmetric and asymmetric with respect to stairwell configurations.

Symmetric means we have the same number of stairs per flight*.

Asymmetric means we have different numbers of stairs per flight*.

*Technically I need to tack on the phrase “when we set m = n” to the end of these sentences. For example, the 12/12 configuration is clearly symmetrical. It comes from the symmetric (4m)/(4n) pattern when we set m=n=3. But if we set m=2 and m=3, we get the 8/12, which is also symmetric using this expanded definition.

So far, I’ve only described the symmetric stairwell configurations, so now let’s turn our attention to their asymmetric counterparts.

Close Cousin 11/12

Remember the Common Time (e.g. 12/12) and the Magic 11s stairwells? Both feature an even number of footfalls per flight.

Their asymmetric cousin is the 11/12* pattern, formally written as (4m-1)/(4n), which also features an even number of footfalls per flight.

*By the way, the 11/12 pattern is identical to the 12/11 pattern in a repeating stairwell. To prove it to yourself, start your step count from the floor start counting from mid-floor landing. Since we’re in a repeating stairwell, it shouldn’t make any difference where you start counting from. For sake of consistency, though, I always list the smaller number first (e.g. 11/12 rather than 12/11).

This configuration (like most other asymmetric configurations as it turns out) is a bit hard to visualize in a simple figure. Rather than do a fancy bit of resizing and re-scaling (which ultimately is still visually confusing) I’ve opted to show the 11/11 and 12/12 patterns side by side to help visualize the 11/12 pattern. See figure 5. You may ignore the shaded region, but I’ve left it semi-transparent so you can still see the related 11/11 and 12/12 patterns as a reference.

Figure 5: 11/12 Footfall Pattern

As far as stairwells are concerned, this pattern is among the best. It alternates between using the 2/2 inside pivot turn (grade B+) and the 2/1 inside pivot turn (an even better A+).

As such, I like this stairwell a little bit better than the Common Time (e.g. 12/12) stairwell, but it falls slightly behind the Magic 11s.

Close Cousin 9/10

Next, we have the asymmetric cousin to the 9/9 and 10/10 patterns; the 9/10 pattern - formally written as (4m-3)/(4n-2). They are cousins in the sense that they all share an odd number of footfalls per flight.

Since there are quite a few different ways to handle the 10/10 pattern (go back and see figures 3-A, 3-B, and 3-C), there are a bunch of ways to handle the 9/10 pattern as well. Here are two of the best:

Pattern A: This footfall pattern alternates between 2/2 inside pivot turns (grade=B+) and 1/2 outside pivot turns (grade=B). The outside pivot turn is awkward, but the single step makes it palatable. See figure 6-A below.

Figure 6A: 9/10 Footfall Pattern (A)

Pattern B: This pattern is hard to visualize, but that’s the price you pay for asymmetry. Rather than repeating every floor, the pattern repeats itself every other floor. On odd floors it cycles through a couple of 1/1 outside pivot turns (grade = C). On even floors it cycles through 2/1 & 1/2 inside pivot turns (grade = A+). See figure 6-B below.

Figure 6-B: 9/10 Footfall Pattern (B)

The main difference between patterns A and B is the that A uses a total of 10 footfalls whereas B uses 11 footfalls per floor. Pattern A is faster but requires a bit more effort on the turns. Pattern B takes the turns very efficiently at the expense of more footfalls. Which option would I choose? Probably option A since I use a metronome, but option B is a solid 2^nd choice - especially if the stairwell has troublesome landings.

The Ugly Stepchildren

The final configurations, the 9/11, 9/12, 10/11, and 10/12 (I’ll write the formal terms later) have the following in common: One flight has an odd number of footfalls (9 or 10 steps) while the other flight has an even number of footfalls (11 or 12 steps).

This means that the total number of footfalls per floor is odd (since odd + even = odd) and if you take two steps at time*, you will always end up on the opposite foot when you reach the next floor.

*I should clarify to say “two steps at a time wherever possible”. Obviously, you’ll have to take at least one step at a time before or after the landing if you have an odd number of steps in a flight (like 9 or 11 steps).

Compare that with the symmetric configurations and their close cousins which have an even number of footfalls per floor (since even + even = even; odd + odd = even).

Naturally, the ugly stepchildren are fairly hard to map out since the map will often cover two floors (i.e. four flights) worth of steps.

The Bastard (e.g. 9/11)

The Bastard 9/11 stairwell, formally known as (4m-3)/(4n-1) is in a difficult position. If the stairwell is perfect, it has one top-notch pattern…but all bets are off if their are any obstacles.

The most efficient pattern uses a combination of 2/2 inside pivot turns (grade B+) and skip landing turns (grade B). This pattern works because it has the same number of footfalls as the symmetric 4m/4n pattern*. See figure 7-A.

*Its kinda cool when you think about it. The 9/11 has exactly 20 steps and 10 ten footfalls just like the symmetric 8/12*. Since the skip landing turn spans two separate flights (i.e. covering one step in each flight), it essentially converts the 9/11 into a symmetric stairwell. In fact, if you really wanted to, you could even use the skip landing pivot turn in a regular (4m)/(4n) stairwell. I guess you could call this pattern the legitimate “bastard” of the (4m)/(4n)**.

*Remember that 8/12 is in the (4m)/(4n) family just like the familiar 12/12 we studied back in figure 1.

**Your father is symmetric & your mother is asymmetric, but you are close enough to your father to claim an inheritance.

Figure 7-A: 9/11 Footfall Pattern (A)

The skip landing turn makes the 9/11 into a solid stairwell choice, but if there are any obstacles which prevent the skip landing turn, you are going to have to settle for another complicated two-floor pattern*.

*Which turns the 9/11 into an illegitimate bastard.

There are several variations of the two-floor pattern. I’m going to only show one of the variations to illustrate, but I’ll give you enough information to construct the others for yourself.

Check out figure 7-B. This pattern (and all variations of this pattern) uses 11 footfalls per floor which means we are taking a few single steps here and there to help us get around the turns.

Figure 7-B: 9/11 Footfall Pattern (B)

There are four basic types of turns illustrated

A: 2/2 inside pivot turn (grade B+)

B: 1/2 inside pivot turn (grade A+)

C: 1/2 outside pivot turn (grade B)

D: 1/1 outside pivot turn (grade C)

You can create other variations of this pattern by pairing up the turns as follows: A pairs with D and B pairs with C.

This give us the following variations:

A, B, C, D (as shown in figure 7-B)

A, A, D, D

B, B, C, C

Of which, I think BBCC is the clear winner since it uses 1/2 pivot turns.

You can also construct similar variations by including double footfalls on the landing. I personally don’t like these kind of patterns because if you must switch feet to get around a turn, you might as well climb a step while you are at it (and with an odd number of steps per flight, you’re going to have plenty of opportunities to do so).

The Doppelganger (e.g. 10/12)

The 10/12 stairwell, formally known as (4m-2)/(4n), can look a lot like the symmetric 10/10 stairwell. The difference is it will nominally take two floors to complete a cycle rather than just one floor*.

*This makes logical sense. 10/12 has an odd number of footfalls per floor whereas 10/10 has an even number. In order for 10/12 to get back to an even number of footfalls, you’ll need to complete two circuits (since odd + odd = even).

If you just take two step at a time (and you can because each flight has an even number of steps) the step pattern is straightforward. It is very similar to the the 10/10 pattern shown back in figure 3, but it covers two floors to complete a cycle rather than just one. This 10/12 pattern is shown below in figure 8-A.

Just like the 10/10 pattern, the 10/12 pattern will alternate between standard 2/2 inside pivot turns and awkward 2/2 outside pivot turns. The only difference is that the pivot turns alternate between floor rather than between flight (i.e. you get the same pivot turn twice in a row before it alternates).

Figure 8-A: 10/12 Footfall Pattern (A)

10/12 can mimic other patterns as well. One particularly simple configuration cycles only once per floor. See figure 8-B below.

Figure 8-B: 10/12 Footfall Pattern (B)

This 10/12 pattern is like the 10/10 pattern shown in figure 4, but it is more efficient. In 10/10 figure 4, you have a double footfall turn each landing, but in this 10/12 pattern, you have a double footfall turn every other landing*.

*You can thank the 12 step flight. Since it has an even number of footfalls, it effectively delays the double step to once every other landing rather than every landing.

The final 10/12 pattern ranks right up there with the Magic 11s because it uses both 2/1 & 1/2 inside pivot turns . See figure 8-C.

Figure 8-C: 10/12 Footfall Pattern (C)

This pattern is very interesting because it mimics aspects from both the 10/10 and 12/12 patterns:

The right (10 step) side of the figure is just like the right-hand side of the 10/10 pattern show in figure 3 - which has easy, but slow turns.
The left (12 step) side of the figure is just like the left-hand side of the Common Time 12/12 pattern shown in figure 1 - which has fast, yet energy intensive turns.

When combined, these two patterns mimic the Magic 11s*. The only difference is with this 10/12 pattern, you alternate between 2/1 and 1/2 inside pivot turns rather than just using one or the other.

*Which isn’t too surprising since they share the same number of steps per floor.

Overall, the 10/12 stairwell offers a lot of versatility. The footfall patterns shown above are all viable… but let’s face it, the final pattern gives the Magic 11s a run for the money*.

*I still give the nod to the Magic 11s stairwell because you automatically take 2/1 inside pivot turns – and that’s hard to screw up. With the 10/12 you must remember where to place your feet, so you need to be on the ball to get the correct pattern. I will concede, however, that the alternating 1/2 & 2/1 inside pivot turns are perfect balanced between legs. In either the 1/2 or 2/1 patterns, one leg will end up doing a little more work than the other (since one leg will be always be doing a single step rather than a double step around the turn).

The Politician (e.g. 10/11)

On the surface 10/11 (i.e. the (4m-2)/(4m-1)) has a lot going for it. It has the same number of footfalls as it’s big brother the Doppelganger (10/12) and the 11 step flight makes it appear similar to the Magic 11s.

But looks can be deceiving.

You can construct a lot of different patterns with the 10/11 and all of them are compromises. Look at figures 9a and 9b to see what I mean.

Figure 9-A & 9-B: 10/11 Footfall Patterns

In figure 9-A, the top turn is a 2/1 inside pivot turn (yay!) but the bottom turn features a 1/1 inside pivot turn which makes the turn easy, but slow (boo!).

In figure 9-B, the bottom turn is a 2/1 inside pivot (yay!) but the top turn features double steps on the landing, which is slow (boo!).

Next, let’s take a look at figure 9-C.

Figure 9-C: 10/11 Footfall Pattern (C)

This pattern cycles one every two floors and features the following turns:

A 2/2 inside pivot turn (grade B+)
A skip landing turn (grade B, but only in a perfect stairwell)
(2x) 2/1 outside pivot turns (grade B)

The bottom line is that no matter what pattern you choose, you always end up with a less-than-stellar compromise.

The Shortcut (e.g. 9/12)

The final stairwell configuration is the 9/12 (i.e. the (4m-3)/(4m)), I like to call it the Short Cut.

The basic pattern is straightforward. See figure 10-A. It features a double footfalls turn (grade C) and a 2/1 inside pivot turn (grade A+).

(Crap.. once again I forgot to include the figure. I'll add it later. Good news is that the pattern is illustrated on the left hand side of figure 10-B. Just ignore the green arrows.)

This pattern ain't too shabby. But guess what, there is a shortcut! See figure 10-B.

Figure 10-B: 9/12 "Shortcut" Footfall Pattern

This pattern starts off the same the basic one, with a double footfalls turn (grade C). For the next turn, rather than use a 2/1 inside pivot, instead use a 2/2 inside pivot (grade B+). This will set us up for a couple of back-to-back skip landing turns (grade B).

These two patterns are equally viable. The difference is that the basic pattern uses 12 footfalls per floor whereas the "shortcut" uses a combination of 12 and 10 footfalls on alternating floors. This means that the "shortcut" pattern is faster, yet more energy intensive on the whole.

Final Thoughts:

This article has covered the common footfall patterns for all two flights/floor stairwells. It provides a lot of detail – admittedly too much detail for the casual reader – so I’ve made a quick summary of the different configurations in Appendix A for easy reference.

(OK - I haven't actually made up the Appendix, but I will eventually)

Many of the patterns require a near perfect stairwell with good landings and rails. But in real life you’ll find plenty of stairwells which require an extra step or two.

Therefore, I leave you with the following advice: Study your stairwell and figure out an efficient footfall pattern suitable to your turning style.

You can thank me after you shave a few seconds off your PR.

Bogota!

2016-12-16T13:16:00.001-08:00

After Willis (aka Sears) I was a mess. First off, my lungs took nearly a week and a half to recover. Heavy breathing during strenuous exercise made my lungs hurt and I had to tone down the intensity of my workouts. Secondly, the race really took its toll on my mental health. I was simply numb to the World and had zero will power to continue dieting. During the next week or two I gained nearly 5 pounds. To top things off, I got sick the week of Thanksgiving resulting in 5 days without exercise and several more “active recovery” days to ensure I wouldn’t relapse. If time travel were possible, I’d like a redo for the entire month of November.

I headed to the Pan-American Championships at the Torre Colpatria in Bogota, Columbia 100% healthy, but a few pounds overweight and a bit undertrained.

A lot of mixed emotions were going through my head. Under normal circumstances, I’d never choose to go to Bogota on my own dime. Bogota sits at 8700 feet above sea level which puts low-landers like me at a pretty severe disadvantage compared to the local athletes (for comparative purposes, Mile High stadium in Denver sits at a paltry 5280 feet). But as I qualified for a travel package that covered most of my expenses (I still had to shell out $250) I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

As I was only in decent, yet not great shape and was worried about that altitude, my confidence going into the race was pretty low. On the bright side, I didn’t really have much to lose as the race was pretty stacked so I didn’t have much of a target on my back. If anything, my goal was simply to not embarrass myself on the international stage. That meant treating the race with a healthy dose of fear and respect and climbing an ultra-conservative race.

I took a puddle jumper from Albany to EWR on Wednesday morning, killing about 4 hours in the terminal awaiting my international flight*. While lining up to board the flight I ran into Sproule. At least I wouldn’t be making the trip by myself**.

*The Kindle Fire is my new best friend (Terry Pratchett’s “Hogfather”)

**We’d later learn that Cindy missed her connection flight and wouldn’t be joining us on our adventure.

After a 5+ hour flight*, we touched down just after 10:00 PM (no change in time zone) and we met our ride to the hotel around 11:00.

*The Kindle Fire is my new best friend (William Gibson’s ~~“Shadowrun”~~ “Neuromancer”)

Bogota sits at 8,700 feet above sea level, which means it holds considerably less oxygen. I was worried that I’d feel lightheaded or get altitude sickness since I’ve never been at high elevation (Mount Marcy’s peak is a shade over 5000 feet). The air felt fairly dry, but otherwise I couldn’t tell the difference.

We checked into the IBIS hotel shortly before midnight and found out I’d be rooming with Sproule. The room was decent, but fairly small. Although we had two separate beds they were sandwiched together, so it appeared to be a single queen sized bed. At least we each had separate blankets.

Lights out at a little past midnight, but as it was a national holiday in Columbia, random fireworks kept me up for another 45 minutes or so. Next time, I’ll bring my ear plugs.

As the elite wave didn’t start until about 11:00 AM, we were able to sleep in till about 8:30 before heading downstairs for breakfast. There I ran into Mishca (Towerrunning Executive Director) my Canadian friends Napoleon and Veronica, and met a few of the competitive Mexican athletes (Gustavo, Roberto, etc.). I only ate a couple pieces of bread and some fruit as I hate racing on a full stomach.

After breakfast I headed back to the room to change and gather my gear. At 9:30, I met up with all the other Towerrrunning athletes and our guides escorted us ot the start line and VIP waiting area.

Our hotel was only a 5 minute walk to the Colpatria. The road was closed off from vehicle traffic and the closer we got to the building, the more crowded it became with cyclists, spectators, and runners (presumably warming up). By the time we got to the start line, people were standing nearly shoulder to shoulder.

We were led to the gated VIP area which was also fairly crowded. After receiving my racing bib we were introduced to the race sponsors. Everything was spoken is Spanish so I didn’t have a clue what was really going on, so I just shook hands and smiled.

We dropped our stuff off at a private tent behind the VIP area and as we still had an hour or so to kill*, I decided to head back to the hotel to rest.

*The start time wasn’t exactly clear, but appeared to be somewhere between 11:00 AM and noon.

Right around 10:50 our minders met us in the hotel lobby and we headed back to the tent behind the VIP zone to warm up.

Right before I finished my active stretches, they brought us to the VIP area to finish our warm-ups. While everyone was jogging, I did several round of burpees. It was my first exertion at altitude. Truth be told, I didn’t feel any difference.

A few minutes before the official start, we were corralled to the actual start line. I finished my last round of burpees as everyone else completed laps along the long straight away behind the start line. Fans and cameras were everywhere! With a couple minutes ago, they lined us up somewhat randomly (not by bib number) although last year’s winner (Frank Carreno) was positioned last.

Other than last year’s finishing times I had very little information about the race course and only a vague idea how the attitude might impact my performance. Sproule finished in about 6:01 last year so I figured I’d ought to be within 20 seconds. From that, I gave myself a goal of 6:30 with a stretch goal of 6:15. However, executing that pace with my metronome was going to be a shot in the dark because I knew very little about the stairwell (e.g. step heights) and how much the altitude would affect my performance.

I did a quick back-of-the envelope calculation to figure out my target pace. I read online that above 5000 feet, performance drops about 3% for every additional 1000 feet*. As the race starts at ~8700 feet and ends at ~9300 feet (taking into account the height of the tower) the average elevation of the climb is about 9000 feet. As such, I estimated that I’d need to go ~12% slower than normal. I figured the race should be comparable with One Penn Plaza (time wise) where I typically go out at 95 BPM. Assuming similar step heights (a fairly large leap of faith) that would mean I’d need to set my metronome at roughly 85 BPM – which is even slower than my Sears Tower pace. It seemed insanely slow for such a short race, but I wasn’t going to argue with physics.

*I doubt the performance drop is linear with respect to altitude, but that is a topic for another day.

I was 5^th in line* and they gave a 20 second gap in between climbers. When it was my turn, I ran toward the tower. It is about a 20 seconds run to the building entrance and maybe another 5 seconds to get to the stairwell.

*right behind Franklin Saenz, the guy who cheated at the World Championships in Doha back in 2015. Just sayin’.

Once inside, I kept up to the beat of my metronome fairly easily for the first few floors. It seemed incredibly slow, but I didn’t dare adjust my pace for fear of the altitude.

The stairwell turns to the right and appears to use a 10/10 pattern. I tried using both rails for the first few flights but eventually just stuck to the inside rail. The rails were slightly too far apart for my tastes. The inside rail was the tubular metal kind, but was of a larger diameter than what I’m accustomed to. The other thing I remember about the stairwell is that the landings are fairly easy to turn. The first step juts out a bit and the railing only extends to the 2^nd step. This means that there isn’t much impediment when you happen to turn on your outside foot.

By the time I reached the 5^th or 6^th floor, I was passed by the racer who started just behind me. I was perhaps a minute or two into the race and he passed me like I was standing still. I was feeling like a fish out of water. Was I really going that slow?

By now I was feeling the pace. It didn’t hit me like a ton of bricks (which I was dreading). Instead it was as if the pace dialed up from “easy” to “medium-hard”. Fortunately, I could tolerate “medium-hard”.

I crossed into the double digits and then into the teens. I was a bit more than a quarter of the way through the race (considering all the running) and I was feeling fairly good. I felt like I still had something in reserve, but still didn’t know if the altitude was going to wreak havoc on the upper floors.

I cruised into the 20s and checked my watch on the 24^th floor (the presumed mid-point). I can’t remember my split, but I remember thinking I was on track for a sub-7:00 climb. Not very competitive, but not embarrassing either.

I readjusted my pace and climbed ahead of my metronome. To break 6:30 I knew I’d need a strong 2^nd half.

I climbed into the 30s. The 10/10 pattern was broken only twice with sets of spiral stairs (don’t ask me what floors). Before I knew it I had less than 10 more floors to go. I was right at the red line by this point, meaning that I was hurting and could keep up the pace for only a few more minutes before bonking.. But with only 10 more floors (a minute or two at most) I should’ve dropped the hammer. Instead, I just maintained my pace; I lacked the drive, that special “fire” that comes wanting to win.

As I climbed I could hear another climber ahead of me; probably the guy who sprinted past me in the beginning. By the 46^th floor I could hear him just a floor or so above. At first I was like, “Ha! Serves him right for going out so fast!” But then I realized I had only a few floors to go. Even if I did manage to re-pass, I wouldn’t be able to make up the 20 second deficit. I redoubled my efforts for the next couple floors. Too little too late. On the 48^thfloor I became a little disoriented. Suddenly I was out of the main stairwell and directed up a concrete ramp to the outside of the building. Around the next turn I could see my opponent climbing the final flight of outdoor metal steps. At that point I knew I wasn’t going to catch him as the finish line was likely just beyond view. I climbed the last flight a little dejected, but determined to finish strong. I glanced at my watch. It was approaching 6:30. Shit, I had to hurry! I dashed to finish line a couple of seconds shy of 6:30.

I was out of breath (of course) but I quickly walked it off. I had come under my goal time, but knew I left way too much in the tank.

The other climbers finished one by one. I was pretty much fully recovered by the time Sproule crossed the line. I walked around a bit waiting for the guys to recover and the ladies to finish. The view on top of the roof was spectacular. Mountains form a ring around the city and because of the climate, everything is green year-round.

I walked over to Sproule and Gustavo who were sitting on a mat recovering. They both came under the 6 minute mark, which left me feeling a little bit depressed (last year they finished in ~6:01 and ~6:15 respectively). I shouldn’t be 30+ seconds behind either of them.

By now the roof was filled with athletes and camera crews were interviewing some of the top athletes. Eventually, we were herded back down the tower for the award ceremony.

At the bottom, I could barely see & hear the awards ceremony because there were so many people (not to mention the language barrier). The podium was dominated by the Colombians, although one of the Mexican climbers managed to earn 4^th place (and snag some decent prize money).

I later found out that Sproule came in 7^th, just a couple seconds shy of 5^th place. I came in 11^th place for the men and 12^th overall (yes, I hate getting chicked). Here is a copy of the results. Keep in mind that the elite wave is a separate race. The other 3000 athletes climbed the same building, but ended on the 48^th floor rather than the roof. I’m guessing the extra distance would have taken perhaps ~15 seconds, so there were probably a dozen or so other climbers in the regular race who would have been faster than me.

After the race we walked back to the hotel and I had lunch with Sproule in the dining room. As other racers filtered in, I made plans with Napoleon, Mischa, and another girl to hike up to the church overlooking the city atop the nearby mountain (I later learned it’s called Monserrate Mountain).

The journey started out fairly well as we navigated through the city to get to the base of the mountain. At one point we meandered our way through a local public park. It was quite beautiful, but what struck me as out of place was all the graffiti covering nearly every available surface.

We eventually found ourselves on a road which snakes its way across the base of the mountain. At this point it appeared we were on the outskirts of the city as all the commercial buildings lay beneath us and only a few clusters of colorful shacks (which can be appropriately described as “favelas”) separated us from the steep slope of the mountain.

As we walked along the sidewalk, I noticed a group of men coming down from the residential slum across the street going in more or less the same direction as we were. My spider sense started to tingle, but I didn’t think much of it. After all, it was in the middle of the day and we were on a somewhat busy road. But I remained slightly cautious and hung back a few paces behind my companions.

Suddenly, the men rushed across the street directly towards us. I didn’t even have time to warm my companions as I sidestepped out of their way. They appeared to be four young men in their late teens or early 20s. One of them grabbed at Mischa and his backpack. Another one stood next to him with a knife in hand. Shit! At this point I was on the balls of my feet and I backed up another few paces. I glanced behind me to make sure we weren’t going to be surrounded. As I turned my head towards the scuffle, the four men took off and ran back to the slums. Incredulously, the girl who was with us chased after the thieves. She was running full tilt up the hill and was going to catch up to one of the stragglers. Knowing the men were armed, I called out to her from across the street to come back. She didn’t heed my warning until the thief turned and pulled out a wicked looking blade. She reluctantly stopped pursuit.

By this time a small crowd had gathered and folks were leaning out of their windows to see what was going on. We flagged down what appeared to be a police officer with a police dog, but he told us he couldn’t help (we later learned that some of the “police officers” are just private security guards). Finally, one of the locals pointed down the hillside and told us there was a police station nearby. As we walked, we compared notes. Mischa lost his backpack and phone and had his shirt pocket ripped (as he was carrying his phone in his breast pocket). The girl suffered a similar fate - sans ripped clothing. A man with a club came after Napoleon, but he managed to duck out of the way. As he turned back toward the scuffle, he tripped and fell to the ground. Luckily the attackers were already fleeing and didn’t take anything from him (other than wounded pride).

After a short walk down a public staircase, we arrived at the police station and told the officers what had happened. They couldn’t do much about the attack since the inhabitants of the slums usually cover for one another. In fact, it appeared the police rarely try to venture into that particular district. That said, the police took a report and met us back at the crime scene and then did a cursory look inside the heart of the shanty town on motor bike. Unfortunately, the didn’t turn up any leads but offered to escort us back to our hotel. We took them up on their offer.

Back at the hotel, I *finally* took a shower and then told Sproule about our ordeal. He told me he was bummed he couldn’t go with us (due to work commitments) but when he learned about the attack, he was thankful he wasn’t involved.

By now it was dinner time. None of my other friend were in the mood to go out (because of the attack) but Sproule and I ventured out on our own. He knew of a nice little restaurant (Restaurant “Bruno”) in the city that he enjoyed the last time he was in the city. We took a cab and shared a nice quiet meal, talking about a range of topics including politics, family life, and of course stair racing.

By the time we got back to the hotel it was almost time for bed. Although our flight left at 9:30 AM, our ride to the airport was picking us up at 5:00 AM (yikes!) to avoid traffic delays.

Other than having to wake up super early, the next day was uneventful. Sproule, Napoleon and I hung out at the airport for a few hours* and on the plane ride home, I managed to make a few seat exchanges so the three of us could sit together.

*Fun Fact: The money exchange kiosk at the airport is a pretty good deal. I exchanged nearly $400 worth of pesos for only $7.

Effort B- ; This race scared me so I went out very conservatively. When I had excess energy in the latter half, I didn’t push the pace hard enough.

Strategy: B+; I set the bar fairly low and didn’t screw up. That has to count for something, especially with so many unknown factors in play.

Execution: B ; Even though I didn’t know the course, I still climbed pretty efficiently. I did push the pace in the latter half, albeit not to my full capacity.

Overall: B ; Considering all the unknowns, I did a fair job. If I had to repeat the race today and ended up the same splits/results, I’d give myself a C+.

Final Thoughts: It’s funny how my perspective changed before, during, and after the race. Had you told me I’d race a 6:28 beforehand*, I’d have been fairly pleased with my time. But now that I know what kind of energy expenditure is needed at 9000 feet altitude, I would have set my goals a bit higher (say 6:15 goal and 6:00 stretch). All-in-all, I’m not pleased with my performance, but I also think I set myself up for a solid race the next time I’m in Bogota (yes, there will be a next time). Now that I’ve raced at altitude, I know how my body will respond. I still respect 9000 feet, but I’m no longer afraid of it. The next time around I’d likely go out at 90 BPM and start cranking at either the 24^th floor or the 40^th (depending on how I feel).

*Note: We’d rule the world together with your supernatural powers.

Last note: While on the plane ride home, Sproule showed me a comparison of his splits at Torre Colpatria between 2015 and 2016. He just presses a button on his stopwatch to record the data on a given floor during a race and his watch records the splits for use later. I’m going to have to see if my stop watch has the same functionality. I often check my splits manually, but I often forget my exact time in the middle of the race.

"Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?"

2016-11-16T07:18:00.000-08:00

After US Bank, I had 4 amazing weeks of training.

Everything clicked together and each time I stepped into the stairwell or got on my Precor Stepper, I set a new PB.

I attribute my fortune to three things;
1) I dropped weight
2) The weather
3) Hard Work

I had so many workouts during the summer where I had to bail out early that it became my new normal. Back then, I weighed in at 178 (at my heaviest) and the summer heat and humidity was brutal. You know it’s a hot outside when the rails of your practice stairwell are slippery because of your own sweat.

However, once I dropped the excess weight, things started to get easier and once the temperature dropped, I felt like a new man.

As difficult & depressing as those Summer workouts were, I know they helped me get into the best shape of my life.

So yeah, I had pretty high expectations for Sears Tower.

I’d like to say my trip to Chicago was uneventful considering all the drama I’ve witnessed on prior trips (you can read about my earlier misadventures elsewhere in my blog).

No such luck.

I planned to give my friend David a jar of homemade jam since he would be hosting me over the weekend. I placed the jam carefully in my carry-on luggage so it wouldn’t break.

But of course it was confiscated during check in. In my defense, didn’t know that jam was considered a liquid.

The TSA officer gave me a bunch of poor options, like checking in my bag, mailing it to myself, or giving it to a waiting friend. None of them made any real sense as I only had 15 minutes until boarding. After a few choice words I told them to just keep it. So much for David’s present.

On my way to the gate, I filled up my water bottle and opened my pack of gum in preparation for boarding. However, when I finally arrived at the gate, I found out that the plane would be delayed for another 75 minutes.

I might not be able to bring the jam to Chicago, but I was determined not to let it go to waste. I hatched a plan…

I marched back to the TSA checkpoint and asked for my jam back.

TSA Agent: Sorry, its gone.
Me: I was here less than five minutes ago, what do you mean it’s gone?
TSA Agent: Once you leave an object with TSA it is considered forfeit.
Me: Give me back my jam.
TSA Agent: We have a rule where blah blah blah (I’m not listening at this point)
Me: Give me back my jam. It’s probably in that small trash can. <pointing>
TSA Agent: <picks up jam and hands it back once I’m past the security checkpoint>

I made my way across the bridge and headed to the parking garage.

Phone booth? Nope – too out in the open.
Gap in guard rail? Nope – won’t fit
Back corner? Getting warmer...
I-beam Post near car ramp? Yes!

I found my hiding spot for the jam. No casual observer would be able to find it and it would be out of the sun. Perfect.

I hastily got back in line for my 2nd screening.

“Is this water bottle yours, sir?”

Damn it, I forgot I refilled my water bottle. It’s an 8 oz. mini-bottle and it’s small enough not to notice.

Me: Crap, I totally forgot my bottle. Can I just drink it? (remember it is only 8 oz.)
TSA Agent: No sorry.
Me: I literally just filled it up just a few minutes ago right there <pointing to the fountain near the bathroom>. Can I just dump it?
TSA Agent: No sorry.
Me: Seriously? Fine. Whatever.

I march out of the security zone, dump the water out into the garbage can literally three paces away from the security zone, and get back into line.

3rd time was the charm, though TSA decided to go through my luggage by hand. Again.

Once on the ground in Chicago, David picked me up in his Porsche. Sweet ride. After pickup up a few groceries, we headed back to his place to eat dinner and chat.

The next morning, we spent way more time than was necessary ordering a Towerrunning Banner online from Staples. Afterwards we headed down town to hang out.

After parking the car, we headed toward Monadnock, the tallest brick building in Chicago. We were going to check out it’s fancy staircase, but security kicked us out*.

*Note: Next time tell the guard you are there to see the doctor on the 9th floor. Bring a girl with you just in case the doctor is an OBGYN (we didn’t check).

Next, we walked toward Millennium Park, the site of last night’s White Sox celebration*.

*It must have been a huge event; cleaning crews were hauling away porto-potties by the dozens.

Next stop was the Adler Planetarium. During out stay, we learned about dark matter, read about the history of the Universe, and saw a movie about the 9th planet*.

*Hint: it’s not Pluto

After the planetarium we picked up Roxanne and took an Uber to the Willis (Sears) Tower to pick up our bibs. We stayed there for nearly an hour as I needed to speak with the RIC & Skydeck folks to make final arrangements for tomorrow’s race*.

*In case you didn’t know – I’m the President of Towerrunning USA and was responsible for managing the competitive Towerrunning/World Federation of Great Towers wave of climbers. It is a shitty job, but someone has to do it.

After Sears we headed to the Chicago Public Library for a very quick tour of the indoor garden and to meet up with our pal Jason Larson.

Finally, we headed to the Flattop Grill for our pre-race dinner and meet and greet. I just ordered an iced tea and ate the salad I brought from home (why change what works?).

After dinner, David, Roxanne, Sue, Daryl, and I headed piled into David’s car (the Outback, not the Porsche) to head back home. Along the way we stopped by Trader Joe’s to pick up more groceries as well as Staples to pick up our poster*.

*Note to self: Why bother submitting the poster to online for same-day pick up if they’re just going to make you wait and print the stuff out when you get there?

At David’s house we chatted for a bit before I heading to bed. I stayed up reading till about 10:20 before turning out the lights. Although I was nervous, I managed to get a good night’s sleep. The extra hour due to daylight savings was an added bonus.

The next morning, we were up by 5:15 AM, out the door by 6:00 AM, and in the lobby by 6:30 AM. Several people were already looking for me because I had the box of bibs.

At 6:40, I began my round of active stretches in earnest. Then at 6:45 I started my rounds of burpees, though I only got in 2 or 3 rounds before heading to the front of the start line.

We had several strong climbers drop out of the race over the last few weeks including Sproule Love and Jesse Berg who’ve both won the race in the past. Still, there were several good climbers in the line-up. Here were my top picks:

Frank Carreno (COL): Ranked 7th in the World. Definitely someone who could challenge Sproule’s record of 13:03. Despite racing in Boston on Saturday, he was still my favorite
Matjas Miklosa (SLO): Ranked 6th in the World. Another one who could challenge the record.
Eric Lenninger (USA): He’s probably the 2nd fastest American actively on the circuit and he’s won Sears before. He’s the only American left on the roster who has gone sub-14 at Sears.
Alex Workman (USA): I gotta give myself at least *some* credit.
Dennis Curran (USA): He’s come close to beating Eric in the past, so he’s probably a little faster than I am. I only give myself the nod because I have a bit more experience in this building (103 floors is tough)
Daniel Walters (USA): Another good athlete from Chicago. He’s done the Hancock in 10:12, which is right around my goal pace. Again I give myself the nod because I have more experience at Sears.
Dr. Scott & Jason Larson (USA): Tie - I’d spot them 30 seconds at most.

Last year I did the race in 14:19, leaving only a handful of seconds on the table. This year’s official goal would be 14:10 with a stretch goal of sub 14. Unofficially, anything more than 13:49 would be considered a failure.

I was ready to break 14. I was in the best shape of my life and a couple pounds lighter than last year. It wasn’t going to be easy; sub-14 would require a pretty good race. In my internal scoring system, I’d need at least a B+ or A- kind of race to come under 14:00. Certainly doable, but not guaranteed.

Last year I set my metronome to 83 BPM, so this time I set it a couple clicks higher to 85 BPM. If I had the same kind of race as last year, those extra two beats should put me just under 14:00.

I finished my last set of burpees a couple minutes before the start and then I got in line behind Frank, Matjaz, and Eric. Once Frank was through the door they gave us each a 10 second gap.

When it was my turn I took a quick drink of water and set my metronome. As I crossed the timing mat I started my stop watch.

The first few floors felt like they were in slow motion, but I knew my pace was solid; it’s supposed to feel easy this early in the race.

I took each turn quickly, making sure I kept up to the beat of my metronome. At first, I tried single stepping the landings (i.e. keeping just a single foot on the landing when turning) but it felt too awkward. I soon switched over to double stepping the landings (i.e two footfalls on the landing). However, to make sure I kept the same pace, I made sure to have two footfalls per beat on the landing.

I got to maybe the 10th floor and caught sight of Eric. By the time we hit the teens we were climbing together at the same pace.

Things went fairly smoothly for the next dozen floors. When we hit the 26th floor (about 25% into the race) I glanced at my stopwatch. 3:20, which meant I was about 10 seconds faster than my goal. That seemed like good news!

If I had stopped to think about it for a moment, it really wasn’t good news. A 3:20 meant I was on track for a 13:20, which is about 30 seconds beyond my capabilities.

Anyway, my mind was solely focused on climbing, so up the stairs I went. I was getting tired, but I knew that I wasn’t at my limit.

For the next 25 floors I followed behind Eric, steadily climbing to the beat of my metronome. He remained about half a flight ahead of me. At each turn I seemed to gain half a step and in the middle of the flights Eric would gain it right back.

We hit the 52nd floor still going at a fast clip with a split time of 6:45 if I remember correctly. In the back of my mind I thinking I’m on pace for a 13:45, but in reality I’m on pace for a 13:30 which is still a bit faster than my capabilities.

At this point I’m basically right on top of Eric and we’re bumping hands on every turn. I could tell he was struggling, but I wasn’t in much better condition; I was close to my limit, too. I knew I could keep up the pace for another dozen or so floors… but there were still 50 more to go.

A few floors later, Eric moved out of the way to let me pass. Part of me was screaming “YES!” but the other part of me was in too much pain to care.

I pushed on for another half-dozen floors. Nothing is worse than letting someone pass only to have that person suddenly slow down in front of you. I didn’t want to be that guy.

Now I was at my limit. If this was the end of the race I could probably hammer out maybe ten more floors, but I still had over 40 floors to go. Immediately I started taking two beats on the landings instead of just one beat. Hopefully my 15 second cushion would sustain me until the end.

I climbed into the 70s by myself. The stairwell changed direction (from right to left turns) and the sudden change in pattern seemed to sap what little energy I had left. Although I’m stronger at turning right, for the last 14 months, I’ve been practicing in a left turn stairwell to overcome this imbalance. “I’ve got this!”, I reassured myself.

Through the 70s, I kept up to the beat of my metronome on the flights, but my turns were getting sloppier with each landing. I crossed the 77th floor (about 75% the way through) to see how close I was to hitting my goal of 10:30. My watch was stuck at 9:04. I must have accidently stopped it. Damn.

Nothing to do but keep climbing. Perhaps it was better *not* knowing my split. After all, I knew I was bleeding time.

I was truly in pain crossing into the 80s. At one point I paused for a beat, ready to throw in the towel. No, I *must* finish this I told myself. Just another few minutes!

At floor 83 I told myself that from this point onwards, each floor is 5% of the remainder. I counted down 5%. 10%, 15% 20%, 25% complete...

Eventually I hit the 90th floor and entered the final section of the race. Each floor had three flights of seven steps (7/7/7) with handrails close enough to grip both at the same time. This is one of the most efficient configurations I could ask for since turning in a 7/7/7 is usually easy and fast. This is where I planned to dig deep to finish strong, but I had nothing left. I tried single stepping the landings on a couple flights, but found it impossibly difficult. I just couldn’t find the strength to pull it off.

Somehow I managed to continue my ascent. If you’ve ever bonked in the middle of race, you’ll appreciate how I felt: absolutely miserable.

Time simultaneously slowed down and sped up: On one hand each flight seemed like an eternity of punishment. On the other hand, I was barely conscious and I scarcely remember anything but the pain.

I finally hit the 100th floor. Only a few more to go. Up ahead I could hear another climber. Could someone be just up ahead of me? Sure enough I could hear cheering as I crossed 101, yet it seemed improbable that I could have caught up to Matjaz let alone Frank, who had started 20 & 30 seconds ahead of me and were better athletes to boot. Plus, I definitely was going at a much slower pace this late in the race.

I tried to pick up the pace on the final two floors, which means I climbed slightly ahead of my metronome on the flights, but still slogged through the turns as if were standing in molasses. I had nothing left to offer.

I crossed the line and glanced up at the main timing clock. It had just crossed 15 minutes. I crumpled to the floor. As three people started ahead of me in ten second increments, II likely finished in about 14:30, about 30 seconds slower than I had anticipated. I would have been disappointed, but I was in too much pain to think. At any rate, 14:30 was still a fairly good result especially considering I bled so much time from 70 onward. It could have been *a lot* worse.

I lay on the floor for at least 8 minutes*. I was completely wiped and my heart rate was having trouble coming down. Eventually I felt well enough to stand but I was still woozy. One of the volunteers asked me if I wanted to take my finisher’s medal. I just gave her a blank stare, not really processing the question. In fact, I don’t really know how the medal got around my neck. Did I pick it up off the floor or did someone else? And how did it finally get around my neck?

*Honestly, I don’t remember being on the floor that long, but I have photographic evidence which proves otherwise.

I shuffled around the corner. By now there were a lot of climbers who had finished the race. I briefly congratulated Frank and Matjaz for their climbs. Both had used stopwatches and knew their approximate times. Frank came in about 13:10 and Matjaz finished about 14:25 or so – quite a bit slower than I initially expected, but still probably enough for 2nd place.

I was still wiped but back on my feet. I congratulated a few of my friends and met up with Laurie from the RIC. She pointed me towards the Towerrunning and World Federation of Towers banner where we would be able to hold our awards ceremony. I shuffled my way around the Skydeck to find it. I found the banner hanging just past the elevator bank, away from the crowd at the finish line.

Now that I was alone, I decided to take a rest. I was still pretty messed up from the climb. My heart rate was no longer racing, but I still felt woozy and my lungs felt like I had breathed in hot ash. I crawled over to one of the binocular stations and lay myself down on the floor. I closed my eyes.

I was still on the floor when David stopped by and asked if I was okay. I looked up and murmured that I was fine and then closed my eyes again. He had the preliminary results in hand and I really didn’t want to see the damage; I was already in rough shape and I was dreading this moment.

But David was upbeat: “Guess what? You came in 2nd place!”.

Impossible, I thought.

I propped myself up and looked at the sheet. There it was: Alexander Workman – 2nd place – 14:08

I had clipped Majik by about 15 seconds. Apparently the person I sensed just ahead of me at the finish line *wasn’t* a figment of my imagination.

I was in disbelief. I lay back down and started sobbing uncontrollably with my both hands over my face to cover my tears.

Some of the tears were of those of sadness; watching my sub-14 race slip away on the upper floors was a rough experience, both physically and mentally.

Some of the tears were of those of joy; 2nd place at Sears in such a deep field is something to be proud of.

Some of the tears were those of relief; I was thankful just to survive this race intact.

A couple people (volunteers I assume) noticed me crying and asked if I was okay. Between sobs I waved them away.

After a minute or so I pulled myself together and stood up. The tears seemed to have washed away some of the fatigue and I was feeling oddly refreshed. That was fortunate, because I still had a job to do.

Now that we had the results in hand, it was time to kick-off the award ceremony. But first, I wanted to take a closer look at the results. My 2nd place seemed legit, but my time of 14:08 appeared to be fast. If only my stopwatch hadn’t conked out!

David and I consulted a few other climbers who had used stopwatches and it appeared that times were off 10-15 seconds across the board, which meant I had likely climbed the race in about 14:20 or so. Ugh! At least that didn’t impact the order of the climbers. The awards ceremony would go on!

For the next few minutes we gathered all the competitive climbers together and herded them towards the TWA/WFGT banner.

I didn’t have a microphone and my voice was hoarse, but I’m pleased to say that the ceremony went off without a hitch. Typically I’m nervous when giving a speech, but considering all I had been through over the past 30 minutes, public speaking was a piece of cake. Plus I was thrilled to actually receive an award.

After the ceremony we snapped a bunch of group photos and since I was next to the elevator bank, I made my way back to the lobby. I could finally relax.

I chatted for a bit with other climbers as David spoke to the timing folks to figure out what was wrong with the race results. All he learned was that the times were off, likely because the upstairs/downstairs clocks weren’t in sync – presumably because of daylight savings time (which I find to be a fairly weak explanation)*

*as I’m editing this, we *still* don’t have a good answer and posted results are still incorrect.

That left me with the rest of the day to relax. I hung out with a bunch of other climbers (Steve, Jason, David, Jeff, Bob, Sue, Daryl, Roxanne, and Will). Before heading to the airport, we decided to get some deep dish pizza at Lou Malnati’s, but as luck would have it the location we chose was take-out only. Instead we ended up at a nearby Italian restaurant. Jason and I split a pizza. It may not have been deep dish, but it was still pretty damn good.

The flight back home was fairly easy and yes, my jar of jam was waiting right where I left it.

Race Grades:
Effort: A+ ; I pushed myself beyond what is normally safe. I bonked somewhere around the 80th floor and still pushed myself until the end. My lungs are still feeling the aftereffects a week later (as I’m editing this). This ranks up there with US Bank 2013.
Strategy: C ; I went out too fast and kept pushing the pace until it was too late. This is a recipe for disaster.
Technique: B- ; I climbed fairly efficiently until just over the halfway point. In the end I was very sloppy.
Overall: B- ; I did not have a good race, but somehow I kept pushing and limited my losses.

Final Thoughts:
I’m happy to have come in 2nd place at Sears Tower. I attribute my placement to equal parts luck, perseverance, and experience.

I did not have a very good race, but neither did Eric nor Majik. In essence we all bonked in the latter half of the stairwell. I was fortunate to have it happen relatively late in the race and pushed myself closer to my limits. In addition, there were several first time climbers (i.e. Matjaz, Dennis, & Dan) who are near my level or even better. Because the building is so tall it is hard to give the building the respect it deserves the first time around. In my own rookie experience I raced nearly a minute slower than my capabilities. I imagine this year’s rookies will experience a similar drop in time their sophomore year. Good news for me this year… but bad news for me next.

The effort I put into the race couldn’t have come about if I wasn’t in the best shape of my life. I knew I was capable of going sub 14 and when I saw it start slipping away, I was able to push through the pain. My attitude near the end was: “Even if I’m not going to break 14:00, I’m still going to put up a respectable time. Even if it kills me.” If I wasn’t so set on (and confident of) breaking 14:00, I would have limped to the top considerably slower.

That effort came with a steep a price. My lungs are still hurting more than a week after the climb and I’ve been binge eating all week (post-race) despite my better judgement. It took a lot out of me both physically and emotionally and it is a price I’d rather not pay. I honestly hope I never have another race like this ever again. It is performances like this one which make me dread racing.

Lastly, here is my analysis of what when wrong:

First off, my 85 BPM pace wasn’t what did me in. It was the fact that I kept up to the beat of my metronome on the turns so far into the race which did me in. In prior years, I gave up on the turns far earlier, but in my quest for sub-14, I refused to let off the gas pedal.

Let me do a back-of-the-envelope calculation to illustrate:
When keeping up to my metronome, I take essentially 5 footfalls per flight as each flight is typically 10 steps. Compare that with 6 footfalls per flight when I’m taking two steps on the landing (each to the beat of my metronome). That is a difference of roughly 17%.

In other words I (foolishly) pushed myself ~17% harder than last year for maybe 20-30 floors.

No wonder I bonked!

Secondly, I did not heed the warning bells when I checked my pace at the quarter and halfway points. Heck, I didn’t even realize they were warning bells! When I saw 3:20 instead of 3:30, it never occurred to me that I was going way too fast. I kept pushing the pace even though I was already 10 seconds (40 seconds overall) ahead of my goal pace.

Next year I’m going to re-tool entire strategy.

First, I’m going to come into the race slimmer and in better shape. Hopefully.
Next, I’m going to re-tool my entire race strategy. I’m going to scrap my standard 5-beat climbing pattern and go with a (theoretically) more efficient 6 beat climbing pattern. I will likely have to increase my metronome’s pace to account for the extra climbing beat (say 96 BPM) but the two “rest beats” on the turn should help mitigate the higher cadence. It sure sounds suicidal… but on paper it might just work.
Lastly, I’m going to pay close attention to my pace at the 26th floor and adjust accordingly if I’m ahead or behind my goal pace.

Moral of the story: Confidence is a good, but don’t let it turn into foolhardiness.

Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring

2016-05-15T14:14:00.000-07:00

The crescendo of excitement had been building since January. It reached its climax in the wee hours of Sunday, May 15^th atop the tallest building in the United States.

It’s been a tough road.

After an awful performance at Empire in early February (which still stings) I set the record in Boston despite having a meltdown on the final few floors. It was a gusty - if not foolhardy - win and I paid the price for it in the form of a severe climbers cough… which turned into a nasty protracted lung infection.

The following month, I set a solid PB at the Stratosphere despite my lingering lung infection and fighting off a fever. I developed a cold while flying back from Vegas * and for the next month I struggled to find the right balance between exercise and recovery. I kept most of my fitness, but by the end of the month I was feeling half a step slower. I’m thankful because it could have been far worse.

*My left ear sucks at flying. Since I was so congested on the flight home from Vegas, my ear never adjusted to the pressure changes and filled up with fluid. Believe it or not, my ear is still recovering from that incident and I’ve been partially deaf for the better part of two months.

I had three races in April. In each case I went out too slow and had to play catch up in the 2^nd half. None of them were records, but fortunately they were all wins*. During the course of the month I felt stronger with each race as my regular training resumed. By the end of the month my lungs were finally back to normal.

*Philly was a particularly competitive race with both David Tromp and Thomas Scott in the lineup.

I finally hit my stride in May. My times in the stairwell approached (yet not quite reached) my 2015 peak and I managed to set a personal record on my Precor stepper even though I’ve gained a few pounds. Fit but heavy. The story of my life.

The 1WTC race almost never happened. The Durst Organization (who have a stake in 1WTC) lobbied to cancel the race (in a really dick move) but the Governor’s office stepped in at the last minute and convinced them to reconsider and work with the Tunnels to Towers (T2T) race organizer to make it happen.

The race was finally greenlighted and it created a significant buzz in the climbing community. Last year’s inaugural race was very competitive but it ended “only” on the 90^th floor. This year the race was going to go all the way up to the observation deck on the 102^nd floor. Despite a hefty price tag ($100 registration + $250 fundraising requirement) it attracts climbers from all around the country. Since I lived so close by and it was worth 150 points on the US climbing circuit, I quickly signed up.

A couple days before the race T2T published the start list.

To my surprise the men’s field was missing last year’s winner (Tim Donahue) and runner up (Sproule Love). On one hand, I’d miss an opportunity to measure up to my rivals/idols. On the other hand, it left the keys to the race dangling within reach since I was now the #1 contender.

Despite a weakened men’s field, the pressure was enormous. Not only was there a $300 cash prize (sponsored by Travel Pak and the WCL team) but there was significant media presence covering the race. After all, that building has serious mojo; a phoenix rising from the ashes of 9-11 and (arguably) the tallest skyscraper in the Western Hemisphere.

Winning was not going to be easy despite being the #1 contender. Dr. Thomas Scott was in the lineup and he has been nipping at my heels for the last two seasons. He was right behind me at the U.S. Championships in Las Vegas in March and he beat me at Empire in February. Also in the hunt would be Norbert Lechner a well-known climber from Austria, although I knew from experience that he doesn’t excel in taller buildings. Plus (as in any other race) there was always the possibility of a top-caliber athlete from a related discipline (like cycling or rowing) showing up.

With less than 48 hours to climb, I did my final tune-up workout in the stairwell. I tried to use the exact same pace I planned to use at 1WTC*. I climbed my practice building a total of 12 times. Half of the climbs were done using my metronome to get a feel for the pace. The six remaining climbs were done without the aid of a metronome to get accustomed to climbing without electronics (since electronics weren’t allowed during the 1WTC climb). When climbing without a metronome, I kept the melody of Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” in my head. Although it is usually performed at a much slower pace, I enjoy playing this tune a little faster and it just so happens that my preferred playing tempo matches that of my planned 1WTC pace. Much to my satisfaction, all my climbs were completed within a fairly narrow band of times (between 55-57 seconds) so I knew the technique worked.

*I planned to use 90 BPM at 1WTC but since the stairs at 1WTC are shorter than my practice building, I used 84 BPM (roughly my Sears pace).

The day before the race started out as a fairly typical Saturday. I hit gym early with a light upper body & core workout and did my weekly grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s. After that I packed my bags and made my dinner (salad and oatmeal) and placed them in to-go containers. I should have been out the door by 3:00 PM to catch the 4:50 train to Grand Central, but time slipped by without me noticing. Not only was it already 3:20 PM by the time I got in my car, but I realized I had less than half a tank of gas!

Crap.

I drove to the train station in record time - including a quick pit stop for a single gallon of gas once the dashboard’s low fuel light popped up. It was all for naught. I saw the train leave just as I pulled into the station. I was bummed, but I didn’t lose my temper. It gave me time to eat my salad and catch up on the latest Sci-Fi novel I’m reading (Tad William’s “Otherland” Series).

I caught the next train an hour later. I hit Grand Central around 8:00 PM and eventually made it to my friend Michael’s place sometime after 9:00 PM. My friend Ken was also staying over, but since it was already quite late and the race was horrifically early (5:00 AM) we quickly turned in for the night.

I slept for perhaps 4 hours and I must have checked my clock half a dozen times throughout the night. Ken’s alarm clock went off at 3:00 AM although I stayed in bed for another ten minutes. We were out the door by 3:40 AM and picked up the subway before 4:00 AM with plenty of time to spare.

Then the train stopped.

Apparently there was an “unauthorized person” on the track and the driver suggested that we find other means of transportation. We were lucky that we stopped at a fairly big stop and there was another subway line that could get us fairly close to 1WTC. We waited for a good 10 minutes, but at 4:12 AM with no sign of an approaching train and time running out, we decided to leave the station and find a cab. Fortunately, it was easy to flag one down and we were soon on our way to 1WTC*.

*Although we had to listen to the cabbie complain that we were his last ride for the night and he was on his way back to Queens.

4:30 AM. Seriously!?

We arrived at 1WTC just after 4:30 AM and it was cold, dark, and windy.

I quickly changed out of my warmups and received my racing bib & timing chip. To my surprise they also gave us an armband and told us to slide our id’s into the plastic pocket.

I ran to last year’s start starting corral to use the outdoor porto-pottie, but the security wouldn’t let me bring along my water bottle. Seriously? We weren’t even inside the building!

I could see the porto-pottie station, but there was a labyrinth of portable barriers in the way. I attempted to cut some corners (as the queue was completely empty) but got yelled at by security. I threw a few generic curse words but complied with the law.

Have you ever used a porto-potie in complete darkness? I have.

After dropping trow, I ran back to have my last sip of water and then through yet another labyrinth of portable barriers and into the building. Apparently the start line was indoors this year - which was a relief since it was freaking cold outside.

As soon as I entered the building, the 1WTC staff stopped me from going downstairs to the security line since it was too crowded. I was literally next in line.

In frustration I tried to explain that I was the #1 contender and I needed to get to the front of the line. They looked at me like I was crazy and wouldn’t let me go citing "rules & regulations" and stuff.

I watched as the downstairs queue slowly thinned, seeing many familiar faces get past security while I stood by helplessly.

I did a couple rounds of burpees while waiting and in between sets, I asked another staff member if I could cut in line once downstairs and he looked at me sternly (as if I were some kind of criminal) and said it wouldn’t be appropriate, but admitted that he has no control over the matter once I was past the checkpoint.

Once the herd downstairs had thinned, I was allowed to descend the escalator. Downstairs, I met my friend Jack in the security line. We chatted for a few moments and then he suggested that I get my butt up to the front of the line since the race had already started.

I passed a bunch of people. Some folks gave me a dirty glares but I balanced that by shaking hands and saying hi to my other climbing friends*.

*If you’re going to cut in line, you have to do it with style.

I finally got through security and jogged down another long hallway to the actual starting queue. It was tightly packed, but that didn’t stop me from passing folks –fortunately I knew a many of climbers and I remained unmolested as I made my way to the front. There I met up with Stephanie as well as my friend and rival Dr. Scott.

Sure enough the race had already started, but the elite wave still hadn’t entered only the stairwell. Only the (slower) firefighters were climbing and the organizers were giving them a good head start to make sure the stairwell wouldn’t become congested.

My throat was parched but of course nobody else had water since water bottles had been confiscated by security. However, apparently oranges were allowed and Stephanie Hucko graciously shared a few slices with me.

The race organizer manning the doorway told me we had another 6-7 minutes of waiting before the elite wave would begin, so I began my final set of burpees in earnest. Moments after I had finished, the same race organizer indicated he was ready to let the elite wave start.

What the heck? A moment ago you told me we had 6-7 minutes! Are you kidding me?

My heartrate was sky high after my set of burpees so I motioned to my friend Kamen and his daughter to start the elite wave. Dr. Scott was waiting for me to go next, but I pushed him through instead. Then I gave him a 10-15 second head start before entering the stairwell myself. I would have preferred another minute or two of rest, but I didn’t want to let Dr. Scott out of my sight.

I started the long climb up with “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” playing in my head.

The first few floors were weird. For some reason, the landings turn to the left (as opposed to the right - like all the upper floors), but what surprised me most were the long sets of hallways we had to pass through. Last year had some lengthy hallways, but this year there appeared to be even more. Completely different stairwell I guess, not to mention we were starting one floor underground.

I didn’t really look up until I hit floor 20. From last year, I knew the floor numbers up until this point didn’t make sense anyway either repeating, missing, or skipping numbers.

By this point I was climbing smoothly, even keeping one foot on the landing whenever it felt convenient.

I crossed into the 30s still feeling okay and soon enough I began to catch the slower fire fighters. All of them let me go by on the inside (right) lane. I was still feeling nervous and had a dry mouth so I grabbed a cup of water at the next aid station. I had one sip and then set the cup back down on the next flight. Hopefully someone picked it up before it was spilled.

I hit the 40s in reasonably good shape, but now the climb was starting to take its toll. My march was steady and “Jesu” was no longer needed. In fact, I couldn’t spare the energy to even think about the tune.

I hit 45, which was last year’s midpoint and it became clear to me that this race was going to be a struggle. I was already tiring and I still had a few more floors before hitting the half.

I climbed through the 50’s and 60’s doggedly. I was close to my limit but unwilling to slow down - although I suspect that I unconsciously did. Every few floors I’d hear someone up ahead. I hoped it was Dr. Scott, but each and every time it turned out to be another firefighter.

In the upper 60s I could hear another climber up ahead. Unlike the last few climbers, this climber was managing to keep ahead of me. A few floors later, just a single floor separated us. On one of the landings I risked a glance up. It was Dr. Scott and I could see the whites of his eyes peering at me from above.

I got to within a single flight, but no closer. We were in the lower 70’s and I was inching towards my limit. At this point last year I was in dire straits. This year I was merely in trouble; the boat was still floating, but had sprung a couple of leaks.

Half of my brain told me to pass and seal the win, but the other half was screaming to slow down. Eventually I settled in about a floor behind. As long as I kept Dr. Scott in view I knew I would be able to eke out the win.

Together we climbed into the 80s. Slowly Dr. Scot pulled away and I struggled to keep up. The Doctor was no longer in sight but I could still hear his heavy breathing up ahead.

I crossed the 90^th floor, last year’s finish, and I remembered staggering over the finish line fully spent. If the race ended here again, I’d be standing (or lying down as the case may be) in the winner’s circle. This time around I still had a little bit of energy left in reserve, but unfortunately, I still had a dozen floors to climb.

I started counting down the floors. With less than two minutes left in the race I somehow had to keep my body moving.

I crossed floor 93. I had less than 10 floors left to climb – the equivalent of my practice building. However I was nearing my limit. I could still hear Dr. Scott up ahead but the sounds of his breathing were growing fainter. He had me on the ropes and I knew that I was in serious trouble.

I crossed the next floor. I expected to see the number 94, but instead the number “93M” appeared.

WTF?

Another floor had been tacked on to the race? I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

My odds of winning were quickly dropping but at that point I was in so much pain the statistics it barely registered. I was going to completely bonk within the next few floors. I simply didn’t have anything left to give and there were still a bunch* of floors left. I was pretty much toast but I knew Dr. Scott couldn’t be in much better condition. I wouldn’t concede the race quite yet.

*I could no longer do simple math at this point so I’ve left out the specific number of floors remaining.

I crossed the next floor and looked for the floor marker.

I was half expecting to see floor “93N” because let’s face it - my luck had been pretty shitty up until this point. Yesterday I missed my train. This morning the subway stopped because of some random dude on the tracks and when I finally made it to the race, I got held up by security. To top it off, they started the elite wave a few minutes too early and I didn’t get a chance to properly recover from my last round of burpees. What’s next, an endless stairwell?

Then a miracle happened: The marker said I was on the 100^th floor!

I wouldn’t have been able to handle a small-yet-significant number of floors*, but I could certainly handle two more**. My heart soared in joy***.

*Again, simple math escaped me.

**I still could handle 102 – 100 = 2 without thinking.

***Figuratively as my heart couldn’t handle anything more.

I bounded up the two remaining floors running on fumes, but with the finish line so close I pushed with everything I could muster. It wasn’t pretty. I escaped the stairwell on floor 102. Only a short hallway remained between me and the finish line. I glanced around hoping to catch a glimpse of Dr. Scott, but he was nowhere in sight. With one final push I dashed forward knowing that each second would count.

I crossed the finish line completely spent and I spent the next minute or so hunched over with my hands on my thighs for support. I eventually staggered to the water station and collapsed to the ground. It would take several more minutes to get my heartrate down to a manageable level.

My mind was a complete blank as I lay on the ground. I was simply thankful that I had survived the climb in one piece.

Slowly I came back to my senses and a volunteer helped me up off the ground. I wasn’t completely ready to stand, but I knew I ought to move away from growing throng of climbers. One question still remained unanswered. Did I win the race?

I had built up nearly a 10 second lead in the 70s, but I knew I lost some of it in the 80s and 90s when the Doctor climbed out of sight. The fact that I could still hear him up ahead in the 90s meant I couldn’t have been too far behind, but was it enough?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out. A volunteer approached me and told me I had won the race by 8 seconds and sure enough, there was a flat screen monitor with the preliminary results with my name at the very top of the list! You can see the final results here.

For the next ten minutes or so, various news agencies came over to interview me and I had my picture taken with Stephanie Hucko, the winner on the woman’s side. I’ve never had so much media exposure in my life and I was a little bit starry eyed as I traveled from one news program to the next.

The Winners!

Notice how the sun hasn't yet risen?

When the media buzz was over, I had a few minutes to chat and take photos with my Tower Masters and WCL Teammates before heading down tower to change into warmer clothes.

Does it even end??

Hanging with the Doc

At the bottom, I met up with Thomas and Chuck and since we didn’t have anything else planned for the morning (as there was neither an after climb buffet or awards party) we decided to go find a place to have breakfast. After climbing up ~100 floors* we were all hungry.

*Damned if I know the actual floor count.

After stopping by Thomas’ and Chuck’s hotels, we eventually made our way to “Georgia’s Dinner” and sat down for a breakfast of French toast, eggs, and bacon. We talked at length about our the duel on the upper stories of the building (among other things) and it appears I was pushing Dr. Scott as hard as he was pushing me. What a dogfight!

Finally it was time to go. I said goodbye to my climbing friends and then meandered through downtown Manhattan to pick up subway back to Michael’s place. Along the way I took a stroll through Battery Park and took a detour through Wall Street.

^ I climbed this ^

The Wall Street "Charging Bull"
(edit: I just noticed that I accidentally photographed some random Chinese dude fondling the statue's testicles whilst his wife snaps a photo to commemorate the moment)

I took a shower at Michael's place and afterwards took the subway back to Grand Central. While waiting for the train, I stopped by Shake Shack (conveniently located downstairs) for a coffee milkshake*.

*As their location is peanut free, my preferred peanut butter option wasn’t available.

This time, I didn’t miss the train.

Final Thoughts:

1WTC may be the tallest skyscraper in the U.S., but the tallest race course still belongs to Sears. According to Chuck’s altimeter, the race course is approximately 70 feet (21.3 meters) shorter than Sears. That height is equal to 4 stories of my practice building. Climbing at 1WTC race pace, it would take me about 40 seconds. However the 1WTC course has a bunch of running; I’m guessing perhaps 20 seconds of running more than Sears. Therefore, I estimate that WTC1 should be about 20 seconds faster than Sears (at my pace). Maybe less. Remember, Sears has a sweet upper third (changes direction & close rails) and is much easier to pace since you can wear a watch, mp3 player, or even a metronome.

There is a lot to like about 1WTC:

· - The tallest skyscraper in the Western Hemisphere

· - A competitive race with lots of media attention

· - It is in NYC*

Unfortunately, there is also a lot to dislike about 1WTC:

· - 5:00 AM start time. Even if you lived Queens or Brooklyn, you’d still have to wake up by 3:00 AM

· - No after climb party or buffet

· - No electronics and over-the-top security (two checkpoints + we had to climb with our ids)

· - Porto-potties

· - Having to pass a bunch of slow firefighters

· - $100 registration and $250 fundraising - It is the most expensive race I’ve ever climbed

· - It is in NYC*

* Feel free to debate

Some of my dislikes are not The Tunnels to Towers fault. In fact, I bet $10 that the 5:00 AM start time was the Durst Organization’s way of flipping off T2T. Classy move Durst. Classy move.

In closing, I will say that letting slower firefighters climb in front of the competitive climbers is typically a bad idea. Fortunately there were fewer firefighters this year and all of them got out of the way - unlike last year - and having them go first didn’t slow me down. Plus, I totally get why the T2T chose to let the firefighters start the race. Respect.

Race Grades:

Effort: A+ ; There are only a handful of races where I’ve pushed myself harder. Most notably Strat (2015), Boston (2016), US Bank (2013). In those three races I physically bonked. I came very close to bonking in this race.

Strategy: B ; Clearly I went out too fast and suffered in the latter half of the race, but at least my “Jesu” technique kept me honest during the first 20 floors or so. Considering I didn’t have access to a stop watch or a metronome, I can’t give myself a lower score than a B.

Technique: B ; Average. The stairs are wide I could only grip the inner (right) rail. The rails themselves aren’t the best – one of those double rail systems with a smaller diameter inner rail. After floor 70, my right shoulder started to tire, but I continued using good form until the very end. Lastly, I didn’t focus on single stepping the landings, so I’m giving myself an average score in an average stairwell.

Overall: B+/A-;. This was a tough win both physically and mentally and I’m proud to have ground this one out. That said, 14:26 isn’t a really super-fast time for me. This courses should be climbed faster than Sears and my PB at Sears is 14:19.

"Baby, What a Big Surprise"

2015-11-14T18:43:00.000-08:00

My fifth Sears (Willis) Skyrise Chicago climb is in the books.

This was probably the most stressful event in my racing career because I organized the elite wave.

My friend Dano, the Towerrunning World Association (TWA) Vice President, is a member of the World Federation of Great Towers (WFGT). This year he cut a deal with the Willis Tower, who is also a WFGT member, to provide free registration and waive the fundraising requirement to 40 competitive athletes.

Since I’m the Towerrunning USA President*, Dano asked me to organize the elite wave.

* Towerrunning USA - as the name suggests - is affiliated with the Towerrunning World Association.

In theory it should have been pretty easy to recruit the top athletes. After all, I know most of the top climbers personally and have a fairly robust ranking system in place. But in practice, it took a lot of effort. Not only did I have to handle the application process, but I had to track down people to get registration completed and waivers signed. Suffice it to say, handling 40 climbers was like herding cats, but in the end I managed to attract an extremely talented field.

But that wasn’t the end of it. I was also expected to host a pre-race dinner, coordinate packet pick-up, purchase trophies, and manage the awards ceremony. Without help from my friend David Hanley (who lives in the burbs of Chicago) I wouldn’t have been able to get everything completed in time.

I steeled myself for the overnight train ride to Chicago. Every time I’ve taken the train to Chicago I’ve had to deal with a crazy lady keeping me awake at night. Keeping the tradition alive, some poor fool accidentally spilled water on a crazy lady’s laptop and she completely flipped out. Not only did she berate her seatmate for 30+ minutes (loud enough so the entire car could hear her), but she wouldn’t let the conductor do his job and collect the appropriate information from her hapless seatmate.

Eventually the crazy lady escalated the situation and threatened her seatmate with a lawsuit. She even requested told the conductor to stop the train in Utica to wait for police (which would have sucked for the hundreds of other passengers). Fortunately the conductor wasn’t a pushover. He finally separated the crazy lady from her poor seatmate and told her to find a seat up front. I hope her hard drive is completely fried and all her important documents unrecoverable.

The remainder of the trip was uneventful and I managed to get a fairly good night’s sleep after reading a couple chapters of “Cider House Rules”.

The door to the Willis stairwell

I arrived at Union Station at 9:30 AM on Saturday morning and met David, Rudi, Mischa, and Tim Young a short while later. Together we met with the RIC folks (the charity who runs Skyrise Chicago) and picked up all the racing packets for the TWA elite wave. We also discussed a few points of logistics since both Rudi and Mischa are members of the TWA Presidium and wanted the elite wave to run smoothly.

After dropping off the bibs at David’s car we parted ways with Mischa and Rudi. It was time for lunch and we were hungry. We decided upon Native Foods since both David and Tim are both vegans.

At lunch I had a chance to get to know Tim. He is super nice but an bit of an oddball – more so than most climbers – and I mean that as a compliment. He has been climbing stairs since his teenage years and he is an extreme endurance athlete. He climbs up and down stairs for a couple hours each day in addition to all his other training. He also either bikes or runs everywhere he goes. I mean that literally. He doesn’t own a car and he doesn’t walk unless he is in a confined area, and even then he often bounces around like Tigger (according to my observation). Because he is always moving, he wears a triathlon kit *all* the time, including while at work*. He also claims to eat thousands upon thousands of calories each day because his metabolism is so high, once topping out at 13,000 calories per day - which even he admitted sounds completely nuts, but true.

*Although he admitted he owns a semi-formal pull-over that he can slip on prior to important meetings and other engagements.

Yet despite climbing stairs for the majority of his life and despite running a 2:30 marathon in training… he has never actually participated in a race of any sort.

Tim certainly looked fit, but I was curious to see how he’d fare at Sears which has dashed many athletes hopes and dreams. Been there. Done that*.

*See my 2011 Sears Recap.

After lunch we dropped Tim off at the gym and David and I drove around looking for an electronic metronome. A metronome you might ask? Well if you are a regular reader of my blog, you know that I like to pace myself using a metronome and unfortunately, I lost my clip-on metronome somewhere along the way to Chicago. I normally keep it clipped to my bag… but somewhere along the way it fell off. Yes, I realize it sounds silly to keep it clipped to my bag rather than keeping it *inside* of my bag, but I have a good reason for doing so. You see, it is very easy to bump into something and accidentally turn on the metronome. Imagine if it happened while on the crazy lady overnight train to Chicago and I couldn’t hear it beep. Then imagine the look of surprise horror on my face when I try to turn on my metronome on the start line only to find out the batteries are dead. Yes, it has happened to me before.

It took maybe an hour or so (mostly due to traffic), but we found a clip-on metronome/tuner at a local music store. It wasn’t as streamlined as my Seiko, but it would suffice.

We picked Tim up at the gym and then headed over to La Quinta for the pre-race meet & greet. I was pretty nervous because I was the primary host and I’m not much of a social person. On top of that, we changed the event from a pre-race dinner to a meet & greet at the very last minute because La Quinta’s meal options were not gonna pass muster. I crossed my fingers that the event wouldn’t be a bust.

I didn’t have to worry. The meet & greet was a success! Since I passed out all the racing bibs, I had a chance to meet almost everyone personally, and in fact my throat became a little raw afterward because I spent so much time chatting.

After the meet and greet, David, Bob, Tim and I headed back to David’s place for dinner (Salad) and watched a little TV (Archer) before bed. I was nervous but still managed to go to bed early.

The next morning, I was up around 5:15. I quickly changed into my racing gear and headed downstairs for my pre-race meal: An open faced British muffin with peanut butter and blackberry jam*. We left David’s house around 5:50 and headed to the Sears/Willis Tower. The building loomed in the distance as dawn approached.

*#MyOtherHobby #MyJamRules

By the way, have you ever noticed that peel-off timing chip/strap you receive taped to your bib? You are supposed to peel it off and attach the chip/strap to your shoes. Apparently, there is a wrong way to peel it off such that the chip will completely delaminate from the strap. Luckily, the timing chip is fairly sticky and can be stuck back on if you are careful.

We arrived in the lobby around 6:15 AM and we quickly set up the TWA elite registration table. Fortunately, most of the climbers had already picked up their racing packets so there were only a few left over to hand out. I started my warmup routine with about 30 minutes left to go before the start of the race.

In between rounds of burpees I met with Stefani, the Skydeck manager to discuss the awards ceremony. According to Dano, arrangements were made for 2:00 PM (after the race) to hold the ceremony on the Skydeck. However, I wanted to get her permission to move the ceremony up to 1:30 PM since several athletes had early flights to catch. Much to my surprise, Stefani had no knowledge of the 2:00 PM arrangement and she expected we’d have the ceremony after the elite wave finished.

Doh.

Fortunately, this turn of events worked well for us since all the climbers would be hanging out on the Skydeck anyway. I just needed to communicate this message to the herd of cats waiting at start line.

I finished up a couple more rounds of burpees and then headed to the start. It was already crowded, but I found a spot to finish up my last couple sets.

To be fair, he was legitimately fast
and cordial in the stairwell

The front of the line was jam packed and I told a few people the new plan for the award ceremony and to pass it down the line. I also noticed a few unfamiliar faces had inserted themselves into the TWA elite wave line up. I yelled at them to get out of line but to no avail. Apparently the regular elite wave also had a 7:00 AM start time. This one guy with a painted mohawk refused to budge. I was pissed but it couldn’t be helped. I just hoped he was smart enough to get out of the way once the faster elites caught up to him.

This edition of the race was pretty stacked, despite losing a few strong climbers at the last minute. Sproule, Gorge, and Tim Dohahue were the race favorites since all of them have done this race in less than 14 minutes – a pace I knew I couldn’t quite match. I could probably stand toe to toe with in a fairly short race (say 5 minutes or so) but Sears is the longest and tallest course on the American circuit. I knew a podium spot was out of reach.

The best I realistically hope for was a 4th place finish but I had several rivals who stood in the way. Rudi, Ralf, Zack, Sylvio, Adam, and Tim Y. are all strong climbers who are in my gruppetto . Here was my pre-race assessment of the field, more or less in order of perceived ability.

Rudi – I had beaten him in Doha this past March, but I knew he was having a resurgent career. It would be unwise to count out a former ESBRU winner. Definitely a Dark Horse.
Ralf – We’ve traded blows over the last few races. I narrowly beat him in Chicago last year, but he returned the favor in Doha. Ralf was the most obvious threat.
Zack – We’ve raced head to head at both Sears and WTC1. Both times I’ve come out ahead. Barely.
Sylvio – I’ve beaten him on several occasions, most recently in Doha. Not my biggest threat, but definitely a concern.
Adam – He’s not very well known on the circuit since he has only raced against a few top climbers. Fortunately I’m one of those few. I’ve beaten him in Boston this past February and again in Hartford in April, both by narrow margins. However those were much shorter races so I didn’t know how he’d fare in a taller building. Definitely an outside threat.
Tim Y. – He talks a good talk but could he back it up? Definitely the biggest Dark Horse of them all. I wouldn’t be surprised if he won the race. But I also wouldn’t be surprised if he completely blew up.

With all the work I’ve put in during the off-season, I knew I was in the hunt for 4th place. It all depended on what shape my rivals were in.

A couple minutes after 7:00 AM they let us into the stairwell. First through the door was Sproule. The rest of us followed in ten second increments: George, Tim, Rudi, and then Ralf. A few moments later I was on deck.

I set my metronome* and prepped my stop watch. I jogged through the doorway and into the stairwell.

*Actually I borrowed a Seiko metronome from Steve Stermer at the last minute. Thanks Steve!

This was my fifth time climbing the Willis/Sears Tower and I drew on my experience when setting the pace. Last year I tried 83 BPM and was on track for my goal time of 14:30 until about the halfway point. I started to fall off my pace in the middle of the race but still managed to finish with a respectable 14:45. Last year my 83 BPM pace was just a little too aggressive.

This time around I was coming into the race in even better shape – roughly 2.5% better shape according to my training logs – which translated to an estimated finish time of 14:22. As such, I set my goal time at 14:30 and chose to use 83 BPM again. With my improved conditioning, I felt that 83 BPM would feel fairly conservative yet still fast enough to break 14:30 if I didn’t slow down too much in the 60s and 70s where the pace really starts to take its toll. With any luck, I’d still have energy left in the tank in the 80s and 90s and be able to pick up the pace on the upper floors.

Back in the stairwell for a fifth try, the pace seemed agonizingly slow during the first few floors. I glanced down at my metronome to make sure it was really set at 83 BPM. It was.

After a few more floors I could hear Zack closing the gap. He was climbing pretty fast and he caught up to me well before we reached the 10th floor. He skipped by on the outside without missing a beat. He was well out of sight before I had even crossed into the teens. Next up was Sylvio. I was in the mid-teens or so when he started to catch up and by the time I reached the lower twenties he too was already out of sight.

Passed twice and not even a quarter of the way through the race. This wasn’t the position I expected to be in, but rather than succumb to the urge to chase, I kept steady.

I kept my eye on my watch and made sure I was still on pace. I crossed the 26th floor somewhere in the mid 3:30s. Just a hair under my target pace still feeling fairly fresh. No need to panic.

Through the 30s and 40s I kept up to the beat of my metronome. I allowed myself to double step the landings as needed, but made sure to single step them whenever convenient. The pace was no longer easy, but I wasn’t in trouble. Sure, I was in the red zone, but I wasn’t past the point of no return. As I crossed the 52nd floor I checked my watch again. 7:10 on the dot. I was just under a 14:30 pace.

I climbed into the 60s and the going got tough. I was double stepping the landings more frequently than before, but still I marched onward to the beat of my metronome. Doubts began to fill my mind but I held them at bay. I was struggling, but I knew I could hold on for at least few more minutes.

A few floors later I sensed someone climbing up ahead. As I turned the corner I caught sight of Ralf. He was clearly having a hard time with the pace and soon enough I was nipping at his heels. As I got close enough to pass, Ralf used a burst of speed to gain a half flight, but the burst was short lived. I reeled him in and passed on the inside.

By the time I reached the 70s I could hear someone else climbing up ahead. It had to be either Sylvio or Zack although it was too soon to tell. Honestly, I was so focused on climbing (or perhaps so unfocused because of the climb) that I had nearly forgotten I still had two climbers to catch!

I caught up to both Sylvio and Zack in quick succession. I could smell blood. The sounds of their heavy breathing told me they were struggling. I was also in pain, but I knew I held something back in reserve. Both climbers let me by and I led the pack for a few more floors.

When I hit the 80s I finally dropped them. Just a few minutes remained in the race, but I knew they were the hardest ones. I struggled through the 80s but still managed to hold on to the beat of my metronome.

I hit the 90s in pretty good shape. By that point the stairwell had narrowed significantly and I could use both rails at once. I increased my pace to ensure I’d break 14:30. It was tough. On one hand I still had strength in reserve. On the other hand, this was the hardest part of the race.

I mentally checked off each floor as I approached the upper 90s. I knew the only person likely ahead of my was Rudi but he was nowhere in sight.

I continued alone into the 100s. Just a few more floors!

I was climbing faster than my metronome but I wasn’t truly sprinting. “Shouldn’t I be going faster?” I thought to myself. I had the energy but not the willpower. I didn’t let loose until the final couple floors and even then I didn’t (couldn’t?) use my full strength. I felt like I was climbing through molasses.

I hit 102 with a full head of steam. One floor left to go!

At that point the strangest thing popped into my head:

What if the last floor had an extra couple flights like they do in the Albany Corning tower - which is a truly unpleasant surprise the first time you encounter it? Who knows? Maybe Sears has some kind of mechanical room underneath the Skdyeck (say for HVAC or something) which is unmarked so that when you finally climb to the top (not the real top, but where you think the top should be) you think you should be done but then you suddenly realize you really aren’t finished because you see several more flights of stairs leading upward… and because you just sprinted the last few flights you are *really* tired and totally unprepared for a few more flights. Wouldn’t that just totally suck? Yeah... Totally.... Damn, I wish I had studied Stan’s stair chart a little more closely*.

*If you had trouble following that last paragraph, don’t worry. I don’t know wtf I was thinking either.

I readied myself for a few more flights of pain just in case (‘cause hey, you never know).

Fortunately, the last floor is pretty normal and a few moments later I dashed out of the stairwell and onto the Skydeck. I glanced down at my watch as I crossed the finish line. 14:18… I had beaten my goal time by over 10 seconds which meant I dropped my PR by over 25 seconds!

I stumbled a few more steps and sat down next to Rudi. I was winded but not totally exhausted. The race volunteers handed me a finisher’s medal and a bottle of water and I stood up to walk off the fatigue and to find out how the other climbers had fared.

After talking with a few others, I suspected that Rudi cracked the podium since he managed to pass Tim Donahue on the upper floors. That meant I’d probably be dropped down to 5th place since Tim Donahue had climbed the building in just over 14 minutes. At that point, the only other climber whose results were unknown were Tim Young – who didn’t even wear a watch in the stairwell.

The Skydeck was getting crowded with all the finishers and I still had an awards ceremony to run. However, to get the show started, I needed to see the official results. I rejoined Rudi and we took the elevator downstairs to visit the timing table.

Things were chaotic downstairs, but we managed to get a couple print out sheets of the current leaderboard. You can find the official copy here.

Sproule was in 1st place as expected and Rudi found out he sneaked ahead of Gorge to take 2nd place. I found myself sitting in 6th place overall with a time of 14:19; one place ahead of Tim Young (14:21), but one spot behind Sylvio (14:14). Prior to looking at the results sheet I had assumed that I had beaten Sylvio since I pulled away from him in the 80s. Apparently he managed to keep it together and minimize his losses near the top (remember, he started ~20 seconds behind me). I was a little disappointed having dropped down a place, but still thrilled to be near the top of the standings.

Rudi and I rushed back upstairs to the Skydeck. We knew the other climbers were anxiously awaiting the results. When we finally arrived, we were enveloped by the crowd.

We handed off the results sheets to elite crew and a few minutes later I ushered everyone towards the TWA backdrop to start the awards ceremony. It took a few tries, but eventually the herd started to move.

I asked Mischa (the ranking TWA official) to say a few words and then I handed out the awards to the top three men and women. Since we were pressed for time, I wasn’t really nervous and the ceremony went by without a hitch – although I admittedly didn’t study the women’s results as closely as I should have and nearly forgot who was in 3rd place. Total mind blank.

I chose this photo only because I appear really buff in it

I'll be turning 40 soon too ya know

After the ceremony we all rushed downstairs. Believe it or not, we had another race starting at 9:00 AM at 300 N Lasalle!

Despite knowing very little about the race (how many floors was it?) I was pretty relaxed. After successfully organizing the elite wave and setting a huge PR at Sears, a huge burden had been removed from my shoulders. I was in pretty good spirits when I checked into the race and headed downstairs for the opening ceremony.

A short while later I found myself waiting near the front of the line next to the stairwell entrance. My body felt pretty strong but my lungs were sore from Skyrise Chicago. I knew a shorter course like LaSalle should favor me, but I didn’t like the fact I didn’t do any homework about the course and that I wasn’t racing at 100%.

Rudi entered the stairwell first and I followed right behind.

I had no idea what kind of pace to use, but I figured it was best to start slow and see how I felt later. I set my metronome at 90 thinking that should be comparable to my Willis pace, which should feel nice and easy in such a short building with fairly short steps.

Within a few floors Zack caught up to me and passed (deja-vu) and I was left climbing by myself. The pace felt nice and relaxed and I focused on climbing efficiently.

The course suited me pretty well. It had fairly long flights and I could use both sides of the rail. Perfect for my climbing style.

For the next few minutes I climbed by myself. The pace still felt easy by the time I hit the 20s so I kicked up my metronome a couple of notches to 92 BPM. I knew I was climbing way too conservatively but I told myself that was okay. After all, I had already left my mark at Willis Tower and this race was really just for fun. Plus, if I pushed myself too hard I might compromise my immune system even further and risk getting sick so I might as well just enjoy the climb. In between breathes, I forced myself to smile.

I crossed the 30th floor (about half way) and checked my watch. I was already in the 4:30s. That would put me in the 9:00 minute range, far slower than I had intended. I started to regret my decision to take it easy. Despite my best efforts to have fun, I was feeling like a quitter.

I was in the lower 30s and I could hear another climber starting to catch up. I fiddled around with my metronome and increased the pace to 100 BPM. I climbed another 10 floors and still I could hear someone a few floors below. No way was I gonna let someone catch up to me this late in a race! I took off with about a dozen floors to go. Too little and too late. I crossed the finish line somewhere in the 8:20s. I was a bit winded - having sprinted the few remaining floors – but nowhere near my limit. Disgusted with myself, I quickly reset my watch.

Moments later, several other climbers came barreling through the doorway. They appeared to be in much worse shape than I was, but it was clear that they had all posted much faster times. With a mental groan I once again regretted my decision to take it easy.

Despite feeling a guilty about treating the race like a fun run, I was still pretty thrilled to have finished the double header. I could now take it easy and relax!

Eventually I made my way into the crowded elevator and headed downstairs for the post-race buffet. It was a pretty nice spread with both food and alcohol (Bloody Mary’s and beer). A short while later I learned that Tim Young narrowly beat out Rudi for first place with a time of 7:13 or so. I mentally kicked myself since I knew I could have been in the hunt had I put in the effort.

However, all-in-all I still felt pretty good. My disappointment with LaSalle was overshadowed by my stellar performance at Sears which was the main event of the weekend.

The remainder of the day was spent socializing with my climbing friends. First we had a casual brunch at Wishbone* and then we headed back to David’s place to get washed up. Later David took Tim and I to the Garfield Park Conservatory, a large indoor garden which was a real treat. It has rooms full of tropical plants, ferns, moss, and even a room full of cacti. The greenhouse closed at dusk and afterwards we picked up Jason and headed to Lou Malnati's for some real deep dish Chicago pizza.

*I ended up jogging 10 blocks or so with Tim to get to Wishbone which is more than I’ve run cumulatively (excluding stairwell landings) over the past year.

Flat Stanley &the Greenhouse

When in Chicago...

Finally it was time to head to Union Station to take the train back home. I bid farewell to my friends and caught the 9:30 PM train back to Albany* with another climb in the books.

*without any crazy ladies, thank you.

Race Grades:
Effort: B Instead of collapsing to the ground after the finish line, I just needed a minute or two to catch my breath. That means I had something left in the tank near the end.
Strategy: A+ 83 BPM was spot on. It felt slow for the first 20 floors but by the 70s it had me gritting my teeth. Nearly perfect.
Technique: B+ I climbed efficiently, but lost time on the landings when I started to feel the pace in the upper half of the building.
Overall: A- I’m pretty happy about my race. I left only a little bit on the table.

Final Thoughts:

Unfortunately a few top climbers bailed Skyrise Chicago at the last minute. Most had valid excuses, but not all. Those extra slots could have gone to some other super-excited deserving athletes who were on the wait list.
If you look at the history of the race, 14:19 is a damn good time. IF I stay healthy in 2016 (notice the capitalization), I bet I’ll have a decent shot at breaking the 14 minute barrier, which IMHO separates the boys from the men. According my data, only seven Americans have broken the 14 minute mark (Love, Purcell, Berg, Schmidt, Stewart, Leninger, & Donahue).
I still remember my first race at Sears in 2011 (the year Sproule & Cindy set the record) when I climbed up in 16:53. I was in awe of the top 10 climbers who all climbed sub-15. It just so happens that my 14:19 would have been good enough for 6th place that year. Funny how perspective changes. I will add, however, that Sproule’s record (13:03) still seems insurmountable.
When I first started climbing competitively, people thought I was just a sprinter and too heavy to compete in the taller buildings. I almost believed them. Almost. To set the record straight, I’m not a true sprinter. I don’t train for raw power and I’m vulnerable in climbs lasting 2 minutes or less. My real forte is in the 3 to 5 minute range, although I’ve been training hard for the past few seasons to extend my range into the double digits.
Where did this year’s big improvement come from? The biggest change was staying healthy. I suffered through a few severe viruses in 2012, 2013, and 2014 which set me back a few months each time. This year I was able to chip away at my goal bit by bit with very few interruptions and my Sears time dropped accordingly.
Rudi has officially come out of retirement. He’s just been teasing us these the past couple seasons.
Kudos to Sylvio and Zack who both made big gains during the off-season. I was also impressed with Scott Stanley who made some huge gains as well. 16:38 is no joke.
With a time of 14:21, Tim Young proved he can talk the talk and walk the walk (or run as the case may be). I’m certain he is a sub-14 caliber athlete, especially considering this was his first race ever and he wasn’t climbing at 100%. I definitely hope to see him again both socially and inside the stairwell.
If I had to re-do this race again I’d be tempted to try 84 BPM. Fitness wise I’m not quite ready to break 14 minutes, but I’m close.
One important lesson I learned is that when you re-pass somebody in the stairwell during a time trial, you still need to make up those seconds at the end of the race. You have to drop the hammer when you re-pass!
I still feel bad about taking it easy at 300 LaSalle. If I was truly worried about my health, I should have just climbed for fun without a watch or a timing chip. There isn’t any middle ground. You either race or you don’t. On the train ride back home I asked myself how I would have felt if I beat Sproule at a race only to learn that he didn’t take the race seriously? I know I would have felt gypped. I guess let myself down as well as my rivals.
I didn't take any pictures. The pictures you are courtesy of James Harris, David Hanley, Madeline Ronk, and Lisa Zeigel.

Tools of the Trade Part 1: The Metronome

2015-08-28T11:45:00.001-07:00

If you’ve been reading my blog posts, you’ll know that I often use a clip-on metronome when climbing stairs. Several people have asked about using a metronome and instead of providing a tailored answer to each individual, I figured it would be a good idea to share my experience on my blog*. This post explains the benefits of using a metronome and how to set the appropriate pace.

*In the hope to win a few more metronome converts.

Introduction:

A metronome is any device that produces regular, metrical ticks (beats, clicks, etc.) settable in beats per minute (BPM). Although primarily used by musicians to keep a steady time, metronomes are also used by athletes to keep a steady pace. I find it particularly useful for climbing stairs because unlike running – where strides can be variable – stairs have uniform heights*.

*For those diehard stair snobs: This is generally true in a specific stairwell although you can expect slight variation between individual steps. For example, when I measured the stairwell in One Boston Place, the steps were typically about 7.125 inches tall, but there were a few outliers that measured closer to 7 inches (on the low end) and 7.25 inches (on the high end). This type of variation won’t impact pacing by any meaningful amount. However, there can be significant variation between steps in different stairwells. I’ve raced up buildings with steps as short as 6.75 inches and other buildings with steps as tall as 7.875 inches. This variation will play a role in pacing. More about that later…

My metronome journey started in Boston and to this day I still have nightmares about my first race up the Hancock Tower * where I jack rabbited up the first few floors. They went by so easily and I felt like I was going to utterly crush the race. By the time I hit the 10^th floor I was still going fast… but suddenly I wasn’t feeling so strong. My heart rate was at the tipping point and my legs were starting to feel like butter. Soon I was forced to slow down to a more realistic pace. When I reached the 40^th floor I was totally cooked… and I still had over 20 floors to go. At one point I even started single stepping (oh the horror!). To this day, I still don’t know how I made it to the top alive.

*Technically this was my 2^nd climb, but I consider Boston’s Hancock Tower my first time competing at a high level.

That day I learned that jack rabbiting is the ultimate race killer. My new mantra was “A steady pace wins the race”*.

*I urge you to repeat this mantra several times before setting foot in a stairwell. Srsly.

A few races later, I started dabbling with using a metronome to make sure I didn’t bolt up the first few floors. Fast forward a few years with a couple dozen races under my belt using a metronome and I’m now completely convinced of its efficacy.

Why use a metronome?

The best strategy for doing well in a race – no matter what the discipline (running, rowing, stair climbing, etc.) - is to keep a fairly even splits* throughout the race, potentially going even faster towards the end of a race (i.e. posting negative splits)**. When you apply this concept on a flight of stairs, a metronome is the best way to set and keep a steady pace. Every beat, you take a step. It’s that simple. Marching to the beat of a metronome***is the poor man’s equivalent of setting the pace on your favorite piece of fancy gym equipment (treadmills, steppers, Stairmasters, etc.).

*The term “splits” means a time or pace through a given portion of a race. For example, let’s say you want to run a 6 minute 1600 meters (about a mile) in 6 minutes. If you break 1600 meters into 4 equal 400 meter parts (e.g. a lap around a 400 meter track) to achieve even splits, you’d want to do each part (or lap) in 1:30. Your splits would be 1:30 at the 400 meter mark (1^st lap), 3:00 at the 800 meter mark (2^nd lap), and 4:30 at the 1200 meter mark (3^rd lap).

** Which explains my mantra: “A steady pace wins the race”. To be clear, this strategy is applicable to any endurance sport, but works best in a time trial format on a uniform course. Fortunately for the sport of stairclimbing, most races are done in a time trial format inside a fairly uniform stairwell.

***Most people can keep a steady beat. Sadly there is a small fraction of the population that find this difficult. If you are part of this population then sadly a metronome may not be very helpful.

As Sproule Love once said: you have to “keep your powder dry” in a race, which means don’t waste all your energy in the beginning of a race. You have to make sure you have something in reserve for the final few floors. Otherwise, you’re setting yourself up not only bonk, but to bonk HARD.

It is beyond the scope of the article to prove why even/negative splits are best, but I’ve raced enough to convince myself that it’s true.

What kind of metronome should you purchase?

I personally use the Seiko DM50 clip-on metronome*. It is very light, portable and easy to use. In fact, I’ve even adjusted the pace while racing! I often clip the metronome to the shoulder of my tank top. This position is close enough to my ear so I can easily hear the metronome even on it softest setting. In my expert opinion, the Seiko DM50 provides excellent value for a fair price.

*Warning: shameless product plug ahead.

If you’d rather use your iPhone as a metronome, there is probably an app for that. Alternatively, you could create (or find) a suitable music file that uses a steady beat. The downside of using a music file is that you can’t adjust the beat on the fly (unless, of course, you have an app for that).

Setting the right pace on your metronome

There are several different methods for setting the right pace on your metronome. There are a variety of factors which can make setting the pace somewhat tricky, so read through each method first before committing to a specific one. I’ve tried to lay out each method in a logical order.

Case #1: Continuous Climbing

A good example of a continuous climb would be on a uniform outdoor staircase. This is the easiest case and it lays the foundation for many of the other methods.

Necessary Variables:

Total number of steps
Goal Time (in seconds)

Equation #0: Number of Footfalls = [A] x (# Steps)

Where:

A = 1 (when taking one step at a time)

A = 1/2 (when taking two steps at a time)

A = 1/3 (when taking three steps at a time*)

*#showoff

Equation #1: Metronome Pace (BPM) = 60 x (# Footfalls) / (Goal Time)

The “60” factor is the conversion factor from seconds to minutes (i.e. 60 seconds/minute) and the “# Footfalls” term comes directly from Equation #0 above.

Example: if you want to climb a 200 step flight of steps in 100 seconds (e.g. an outdoor staircase) taking two steps at a time, your metronome pace = 60 x (½ x 200)/100 = 60 BPM

Case #2: Regular stairwell with turns (with time goal)

Metronomes are perfect for keeping pace on a single flight of stairs, but unfortunately, most stairwells have a lot of turns which make pace calculations a bit more complicated. First off, turning (while climbing) takes more energy than then climbing midflight steps. Secondly, turns often screw up your footfall pattern. Finally, footfall patterns may differ from person to person.

Someday, I’m going to write a post about different footfall patterns while climbing up various stairwell configurations, but that is beyond the scope of this article. The most important thing to know, however, is that your footfall pattern matters when climbing a stairwell.

Because of turns, we have to scrap equation #0 and figure out the number of footfalls on our own. With this method, we’re going take a single section of the race (say just a single floor or two) and calculate the pace for that section only.

For illustrative purposes, let’s use the same 200 steps we used in the first example with the same goal time of 100 seconds. Let’s further assume that this stairwell is inside a uniform 11 story building (i.e. 10 floors of steps) such that each floor has 20 steps with a mid-flight landing: 10 steps à landing à 10 steps (in shorthand this is written as “10/10”).

Let’s calculate the pace needed to climb a single 10/10 floor.

Goal Time = 100 seconds / 10 floors = 10 seconds per floor

With this 10/10 stairwell configuration, there are two basic footfall patterns.

Case 1: Single stepping the landings (10 footfalls per floor)

Case 2: Double stepping the landings (12 footfalls per floor)

Because the number of footfalls varies, each case will clearly yield a different metronome pace.

Using Equation #2, we get the following paces:

Metronome Pace (case #1) = 60 x 10 footfalls / 10 seconds = 60 BPM*

Metronome Pace (case #2) = 60 x 12 footfalls / 10 seconds = 72 BPM

The key takeaway is that your footfall pattern on the turns makes a huge difference in setting your pace, and knowing is half the battle**.

*Thoughtful readers will realize this is the exact same answer we found using our first method.

**Go, Joe!

Case #3: Pacing from experience (same building)

Often, you may not know the exact number of steps in a building and methods #1 & #2 won’t be of very much use. But maybe you are fortunate enough to be able to practice in or race up a building multiple times. If so, this is the best method for you.

With this method, all you need to do is keep track of your metronome’s pace and race time each time you climb up the building. After each climb, evaluate if you should have used a faster or slower pace and adjust accordingly.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while you notice that I always record my pace and finish time. I find that this is probably the most reliable way to figure out the appropriate pace for my next race up the same building. If you ever use a metronome, I urge you to do the same.

The main benefit is that you don’t have to do any fancy calculations. It completely ignores your footfall pattern - which probably doesn’t change much from race to race unless you really focus on it.

The biggest drawback is that it doesn’t help you the first time you climb a building.

Case #4: Pacing from experience (different buildings)

There comes a time when you face a building for the very first time and you have no idea what the stairwell looks like. You can’t rely on methods #1, #2, or #3 to help figure out your pace, so what do you do? Fortunately, there is an ~~app~~ method for that.

Let’s take a look at two different buildings:

Building A: The building you’ve never climbed
Building B: The building you are very familiar with (you know metronome pace, goal time, & step heights)

Preferably, buildings A & B should be similar in height but it isn’t a show stopper if they aren’t.

First off, you want to figure out your proposed goal time for Building A. I’ve provided a method for doing so in Power Up a Tower: Part 2 (assuming you can estimate the height of the race course). You can also estimate your proposed goal time via other methods as well (e.g. comparing prior race results, etc.). In fact, I encourage you to use all the methods at your disposal. It never hurts to do a sanity check.

Once you have your proposed goal time for Building A, calculate the “percent maximum power” using the graph below (the table is taken from Power Up a Tower: Part 2 in case you are wondering).

Then find the “percent maximum power” for Building B (i.e. the building you are very familiar with).

Your metronome pace for Building A can now be calculated as follows:

Equation #2: Pace_A = Pace_B x (% Max Power_A/%Max Power_B) x (Step Height_B/Step Height_A)

Where:

Pace_A and Pace_B are your metronome paces (in BPM) for Buildings A and B

Step Height_A and Step Height_B are the typical heights of the steps in building A and B (using either inches or centimeters… just be consistent)

Note: Since you’ve never climbed building A before, I suggest you bring a ruler to the building and measure a few steps on the race course.

Here is a quick example to show what the equation is doing:

Building A has 7.0 inch steps. We predict our goal time to be about 5 minutes (say 30 stories)

Building B has 7.5 inch steps. You can climb it in about 10 minutes (say 55 stories) using a pace of 60 BPM on your metronome.

(% Max Power_A/%Max Power_B) = 67%/64% = 1.05

This positive ratio means you’ll have to use a faster pace (which makes sense because Building A is a shorter race)

(Step Height_B/Step Height_A) = 7.5 / 7.0 = 1.07

This positive ratio means you’ll have to use a faster pace (which makes sense because the steps in Building A are shorter than those in Building B).

Therefore: Pace_A = 60 x 1.05 x 1.07 = 67 BPM

This method completely ignores all the turns (which is key to method #2). Instead it assumes you’ll attack Building A pretty much as you would Building B - which is probably a pretty good assumption of the buildings are somewhat similar.

Final Thoughts:

A metronome won’t make you faster - only hard work will do that - but it can help you race smarter.

I recently had to climb up the World Trade Center One in NYC without my metronome* and I did just fine without it. However, I made sure not to go out too fast right at the start of the race – something I learned through practice and regularly using my metronome.

*stupid security rules

World Championships Run Down.

2015-04-03T14:08:00.002-07:00

Doha, Qatar.

I never imagined I’d visit the Middle East, but anything is possible in the world of stair climbing.

The tower running world championships were held in Doha this past weekend and I couldn’t pass up this once in a lifetime opportunity to race against the best tower climbers in the World.

It was a three day event with meetings on Thursday, preliminary races on Friday, and the finals on Saturday. That meant I had to leave Tuesday night in order to get to Doha by Wednesday evening.

The trip to the NYC was pretty uneventful and I arrived at JFK with plenty of time to spare. They began lining us up to board the aircraft nearly an hour before takeoff and I noticed that only a few of the passengers appeared to be Arabic. Pretty much everyone else appeared to be just your average New Yorker*

*FYI - New York is a huge melting pot of cultures and ethnicities.

As I was getting ready to board the plane, the airline announcer called out a several passengers to come to the front desk. Among those names I thought I heard “Veronica Stocker” – which is one of my WCL teammates from the West Coast. Could she be headed to Doha too? I only knew of three other teammates traveling to the race… and they were all traveling from Chicago. I looked around but Veronica was nowhere to be found, so I though perhaps it was just a coincidence.

The flight was pretty uneventful and I even managed to sleep one or two hours. The airline food was fairly good and they had a good selection of movies and TV shows. Plus I had an empty seat next to mine. No complaints!

After landing, I noticed Veronica standing in line to disembark. I guess it wasn’t just a coincidence! I flagged her down and she was happy to see me. Together we went through customs. Next we to get Veronica’s luggage from baggage claim… but much to my dismay (and Veronica’s horror) her bag was nowhere to be found. She ended up filing a claim at the luggage inquiry desk. The airline reasoned that the bag never made off of her transfer flight which ran late (hence the airline calling out her name at JFK). Her bag would have to be sent to the hotel when it arrived on the next incoming flight*. Although the missing bag fiasco lasted nearly 45 minutes the delay didn’t matter. The Chicago bound flight with my other teammates landed well after us and our hotel’s shuttle service didn’t want to make two separate trips for the team.

*and luckily Veronica got her bag the very next day.

While waiting for our WCL teammates we met a couple of pro triathletes* and their team’s manager. They were also invited to race, so needless to say I was pretty intimidated. How do you make small talk with pro athletes when you’d be competing head to head in a few days?

*Specifically Will Clarke (a 2008 Olympian) and Romain Guillaume from the Uplace-BMC Pro Triathlon Team.

Finally our teammates flying out of Chicago arrived: David, Jason, Karen, and Cindy. After a group photo, we all piled into the shuttle (actually two separate SUVs) and headed to the Aspire Tower (aka the Torch) where we’d be living and climbing.

Good Looking WCLTeam... and David

By the time we reached the hotel it was almost 8:00 PM. We quickly checked into our rooms and then headed to the “Flying Carpet” restaurant for dinner. There we ran into a few other athletes as well as the Towerrunning heads: Sebastian, Rudi, and Dano (I think only Mischa was missing). I know these guys fairly well because I’m part of the Towerrunning council as the Athletes Representative. We also met up with the last couple members of our WCL team: Napoleon and his daughter Jaime.

Over dinner we talked about the upcoming race and our pre-race strategy. If I was fast enough, I’d be racing three separate times. Tomorrow’s 1^st preliminary round would whittle down the field to the 30 fastest climbers (per gender). It would be a time trial going from the ground floor all the way up to the top at the 51^st floor. The 2^nd preliminary round was only for seeding purposes and would be held just 5 hours after the 1^st preliminary. It would be a time trial “sprint” race to the 30^th floor. For the finals (held the following day) the seed order would be based on the average position of the two preliminary rounds. Racers would then be lined up on a huge starting grid (similar to F1 car racing) and be a mass start. The race would consist of about 150 meters of running before hitting the stairwell. The race would end on the 50^th floor, one floor below the top.

Just making it into the finals was going to be difficult. According to Rudi, there were 30 or so elite climbers registered on the men’s side as well as a couple pro triathletes (who we already met) that would be racing. There were also several very strong local athletes who’d be participating too, which meant there were 40+ strong athletes competing for 30 spots in the final. The women’s field was a bit more open, although getting into the final with a decent seed would still take a fast climb.

The Torch

After dinner we went outside and took a few more pictures of the torch. Later, a few of us checked out the stairwell. We entered into the stairwell on the 6^th floor, but only David and I climbed the entire building taking measurements of the stairs along the way of course*. When we reached the 50^th floor we tried to find an elevator, but instead we ended up in the middle of a fancy restaurant instead. We walked down a few more floors and once again found ourselves in the middle of another restaurant. We were about to go down a few more floors when we were confronted by an angry member of the wait staff - after all, we were both sweaty messes by that point in the middle of a fancy restaurant. He stiffly directed us to the elevator. It wasn’t all bad though; while we were waiting to go down the hostess peppered us with questions about the upcoming race**. She wanted to do the race, too.

*The steps are all 6.75 inches tall in case you are wondering.

** I think she was flirting with David.

David and finally headed back to our room (we were sharing one room to save costs) and got ready for bed. The next day would be busy.

Although I was exhausted, I had a pretty poor sleep. David and I spent several hours chatting in the dark after both of us woke up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep. I managed to get maybe 6 hours of sleep only because we slept until 9:30.

The next morning we met up with a couple teammates for breakfast. Then several of us decided to explore the nearby area. It was so hot outside that we soon gravitated to the next door mall to see what shopping was like in Doha. Summary: Pretty much like every other mall in America – only cleaner and with signs in both Arabic and English. I bought a pair of shorts in Carrefour (the French Walmart) since I was overheating in my khakis.

Indoor "Venice" & GAP Store... in Qatar

After the mall several of us hit the gym* and I had an easy workout on the elliptical machine. My goal was just to get my body moving and burn off a few hundred calories. Since the race was less than 24 hours away, I tried to keep my heartrate in the low 140s to make sure I didn’t tap into my energy reserves. It wasn’t a tough workout but it sure got me sweating. After a quick shower I headed to a late lunch. Then I explored the bottom floors of the stairwell to get a better feel for the race course.

*The gym is meant only for men because of Islamic tradition, but we found this out after Karen finished her workout. They staff didn’t seem to mind - probably because Karen’s muscles are bigger than mine (she is a former bodybuilder and still trains like one).

Just after 4:00 PM, the Towerrunning council got together at the Aspire Dome for an obligatory meeting. I won’t bore you with the details, but the key takeaway I came out with is that stair climbing is fast becoming a legitimate sport.

After a short dinner it was time to get our race bibs for the next day. The bibs were given out more or less in assumed seed order and I came out with bib #14. That gave me a bit of confidence since although there were several better athletes seeded higher (e.g. the pro triathletes and other serious athletes) it meant I had a pretty good chance to make the finals.

After the meeting, I met up with Napoleon and Jamie to show them the stairwell. Once again we climbed all the way to the top, but this time around I was smart enough to know to climb down a few floors and take the freight elevator down rather than disturb the patrons eating at the restaurant. Before heading back to our rooms we did a few pacing trials in the stairwell to mimic tomorrow’s pace. I'll make you a metronome convert yet, Napoleon!

The Dinosaur and his Daughter

After the climb I headed off to bed. I was nervous about tomorrow’s preliminary round and I wanted a good night’s sleep to prepare.

I woke up around 8:00 and had a light breakfast. My race was at 10:00 AM so I went back to my room to try and relax. At 9:30 I began my warm-up. I did 5 minutes of stretching and then headed to the stairwell for a warm-up. I went up from the 4^th floor and took the elevator down from the 16^th floor (climbing 11 floors total – there is no 13^th floor). I did a total of three climbs with the last one at race pace. Race pace felt challenging, but I knew I should be able to handle it throughout the race.

The nerves were really on edge at the start line. We would be given 20 second gaps between climbers to minimize passing. As the 14^th climber, I would be starting right after Ralf and right before Jason. I did a couple rounds of burpees to stay warmed up but pretty soon it was my turn to get on the start line.

I had several goals for this race. First off, I had to climb fast enough to make sure that I stayed within the top 30. That meant I couldn’t slack off very much because I figured the cut-off time wouldn’t be too far off my regular race pace. Secondly, I wanted to make sure I kept up with my peers - If I made the finals, I didn’t want to be too far behind. That meant I really couldn’t slack off too much. Lastly, I wanted make sure I didn’t expend too much energy because if I made it through the 1^st preliminary round I’d still have to race in the 2^nd preliminary round later in the afternoon (more about that later) as well as tomorrow’s finals.

The 1^st and 2^nd goals were pretty much in line with one another, but the 3^rd goal was in direct conflict with the others. Basically I had to climb fast... but not too fast. Easy stuff right?

Fortunately, I had a pretty good idea how to pace myself for the race. I dialed my pace to 99 BPM which was just a little bit slower than the race pace I used at One Penn Plaza the week before*. At One Penn I kept to my metronome’s pace during the 1^st half but was able to pick up the pace in the 2^nd half which turned out a very competitive time. I figured that if I just kept that same pace during this race – without accelerating during the 2^nd half - I should still be fairly competitive.

*I used 94 BPM at One Penn Plaza, but the stairs in that building are about ¾ inch taller.

The race officials let us into the stairwell in 20 second intervals. When it was my turn to start, I turned on my metronome and began running towards the emergency exit (i.e. the stairwell entrance).

The race course is as follows: a short run to the emergency exit and then another short run down the hallway. Next up is a short flight of steps followed by a short run around the tower’s core and into the main stairwell (Stairwell B). The stairwell itself entirely made from concrete and is painted with a non-slip gritty paint. The rails are fairly close together such that you can use both rails simultaneously. Up until floor 22, it is an open stairwell, meaning you can more or less see all the way to the bottom if you look over the inner rail. These floors are uniformly 11/12 (11 steps, landing, then 12 steps). The stairwell turns to the left and the steps measure 6.75 inches tall. After floor 22, the stairwell is closed, meaning there is a solid wall between the inner rails. The flights are uniformly 14/14. The stairwell continues to turn to the left and the steps are all 6.75 inches tall. On the 50^th floor there is a separate door that leads up to the 51^st floor. There is a 2^nd stairwell (Stairwell A) with minor differences which I’ll discuss later. (Note: There is no 13^th floor)

I ran pretty fast at the start of the race to make sure I didn’t lose too much time. When I hit the stairwell I immediately climbed to the beat of my metronome. Since the first 22 floors are all 11/12, it was fairly easy to keep one foot on the landing. Even when I placed two feet on the landing, I made sure to accelerate to keep my vertical pace constant.

On floor 22 I had a minor delay. The solid wall blocks the view of the next flight, so when I hit that floor I started running out of the stairwell. I probably lost a second or two as I had to quickly change directions.

From here on out the race became a little bit harder because of the solid wall and the 14/14 configuration. This configuration made it a bit harder to execute turns efficiently. In fact, at some point along the way I scraped my knuckles on the wall - although I didn’t notice the bleeding until after the race.

I hit floor 27 (my assumed halfway point) in about 3:50 which I thought was pretty good. My heartrate had peaked but I felt I could go faster. I resisted the temptation to accelerate and continued my climb.

Right around the 40^th floor the climb became painful, but with only 10 floors left to go, I knew the suffering would soon end. I glanced at my watch. 4:50? Wow, I was doing awesome*! I still had enough energy to burn but I rather than spend it, I held it in reserve.

*4:50 at the 40^th floor seems a little fast right? Keep reading…

I crossed the mat on the 51^st floor and kept walking. I stopped my watch at 4:50. What? My watch must have stopped somewhere in the 30s. Such is life. I manually counted out the seconds until the next climber arrived (possibly Jason?) and I was only 10-15 seconds ahead. Since racers started at 20 second intervals that meant the next climber clearly gained some ground.

I was a little winded but I was able to recover quite quickly. A lot of the other climbers were sitting on the floor recovering so I knew they put more effort into the race. As such, I had a sinking feeling that my time wasn’t very competitive with my peers.

I asked Ralf how he had done and he told me that he had timed himself at just over 8 minutes. He then told me that he counted out the seconds and I was a good 30 – 35 seconds behind, which meant he clipped my 10-15 seconds. I also asked Jason how he did. Apparently he was passed a three times during the race, but managed to re-pass once. He didn’t know exactly how far ahead the two passing climbers were ahead of him, but it appeared that our finishing times were in the same ballpark.

I wandered around a bit more and then learned that a bunch of guys broke the 7 minute and those who didn’t were closer to 7 than to 8. All of those times put mine to shame. Although I felt fairly certain that I had finished in the top 30, I doubted I’d make the top 20.

The next few hours were somewhat of a blur but I did cheer on the women’s finishers at the top of the climb. I also had a light lunch in preparation for the 2^nd preliminary round at 3:00 PM, assuming that I had made it into the top 30.

It turns out I never found out my final time because there were problems with the timing chips. The Towerrunning officials had to manually calculate times based on the race footage. Even as I write this I still don’t know my official time.

After lunch I found out that I made it into the top 30 although my friend David wasn’t so lucky. I think he placed 33^rd which put him just outside of the final cut. The timing issues just made it worse. At one point the officials said he was in and I went back to the room to tell David the good news. But an hour later the officials said he just missed the cut. I felt horrible and I’m sure David was crushed by the news (despite preparing himself for the bad news).

I tried to relax before my next race, so after lunch I went to my room to surf the internet and read. At 2:30 I began my warmup – repeating the same routine I did during the 1^st round – and made it to the start line around 2:55. They made us change our bibs based our results from the 1^st round. I was given bib #11 which was clearly a mistake but the officials didn’t have enough time to fix. I felt a little embarrassed when several better climbers asked me about my preliminary results. I know it wasn’t my fault, but I hated having to explain the situation time and time again.

This time around they’d be giving the climbers 30 second gaps, so was pretty sure I wouldn’t be passed by any climbers, despite the fact I was seeded amongst better athletes.

The race course was basically the same this time around except we’d be ending on the 30^th floor rather than the 51^st floor. I doubted that I’d be passed in such a short race although the Columbian behind me thought differently and gestured that he wanted me to give up the inside rail when he passed me. Of course that gave me a good reason to make sure I stayed well enough ahead.

I spent a few minutes thinking about my race strategy. Should I push hard and gain a few spots which give me a slight head start in tomorrow’s final? Or should I race conservatively to make sure I’m fresh for the final?

I decided to race conservatively. I figured that I was already behind some of my peers so it would be pretty difficult to gain ground (since they’d be taking results of both preliminary rounds into account). I felt it was more important to be fresh for the final considering that I was already likely seeded near the back of the pack.

I set my metronome for 115 BPM which is a pretty fast clip, but fairly slow for a sub-4 minute race. To but things into perspective, I won in Boston in 4:24 with an equivalent pace of 125 BPM, and today’s course was even shorter.

When it was my turn to go I ran to the fire door, around the tower core, and into the stairwell. It felt pretty easy for the first 10 floors or so, and I hoped it would be fast enough so I wouldn’t be caught be the Colombian. I still felt pretty good until the 22^nd floor, but once again I nearly exited the stairwell (see my first race above) and I chastised myself for the mental lapse. Things started getting tough after this point because the turns are more difficult and fatigue was starting to set in. I could have picked up the pace at this point, but I was determined to stick with the plan and make sure I didn’t completely exhaust myself and burn out my legs. I crossed the finish line and stopped my watch at 4:10. Not an impressive time for sure, but hopefully it would be in the same range as my peers.

Once again I was tired, but was able to quickly walk it off. I then grabbed a quick snack (Gatorade and a banana) and waited for my peers. I spoke with Silvio and Jason a few minutes after they crossed the finish line and it appeared I managed to clip them both by 5-10 seconds, but after speaking with Ralf, I learned that he came in about 10 seconds ahead of me. That meant I more or less held my position without expending too much energy. It was a fair trade.

After the race, David, Karen, Jason and I went for a bus tour of the city. For the past couple days we were trapped indoors and we wanted to get a feel for the city. A small bus picked us up from the hotel and about 45 minutes later we were on top of a double decker bus taking in the sights of the city. Here are a few things I learned:

Only 20% of the population is Qatari. The majority of the residents hail from the Philippines, India, Pakistan, Thailand, and many other countries.
Doha is wealthy. It is shopping paradise for high end Western brands.
The cars were all pretty new and there were plenty of high end vehicles on the road (Lamborghini, Porsche, etc.).
The city is growing and there is a lot of construction. They’ve reclaimed a bit of land from the bay and all the sky scrapers were built within the last 10 years.
Traffic is fierce, but they are building a subway to help congestion.
I felt very safe. There weren’t armed guards walking around. There is no social unrest in this part of the Middle East.
Although Westerners are expected to dress conservatively (no bare shoulders, shorts covering the knee) Qatar appears to be very tolerant of other cultures.

Doha Skyline from afar

Doha lit up at night

Because of traffic, the tour took longer than expected and we didn’t get back to the Torch until 8:30 or so. We were famished by that point*

*and my bladder was ready to rupture... you know the feeling, right David?

At dinner we learned our starting positions for the final. I was told I came in 23^rd during both preliminaries so I’d be seeded 23^rd for the final. Jason was a couple spots lower at 25^th, but all my other peers were seeded a bit higher. I think Ralph was 19^th, Norbert 21^st, and Silvio 22^nd. Although I was seeded a few spots lower than I had hoped, I felt that it was worth it to have fresh legs and lungs for the final.

The next morning I felt nervous (of course) but otherwise pretty fresh. I felt more or less fully recovered from yesterday’s races. I skipped a formal breakfast opting for a banana and a granola bar instead.

I stayed in my room until 8:55 AM and then headed outside to the start line to get my new bib. Today the women would be racing at 10:00 AM and the men at 10:45. After getting my bib I headed back to my room to relax.

Right at 10:00 AM I headed to the stairwell on the 4^th floor and cheered for the women as they passed by. Then at 10:15 I began my final warmup using the same routine as the day before.

I arrived at the start line a few minutes before the start and while waiting around I met up with my good friend Dan and his father (who visiting Dan in Doha). Dan is a professor at one of the local universities so when I found I’d be in his neck of the woods, I figured it would be a great to meet up.

The race course for the finals is a little bit different than in the prior heats. First off, we’d be starting off in a huge starting grid similar in layout to a Formula 1 start (so I’m told) with two columns of racers (odd seeds on one side and even seeds on the other). The distance between racers was about 2.5 meters such that the distance between the 1^st and 29^thpositions (or 2^nd and 30^th positions) was 32.5 meters.

To put things into perspective, the 1^st seed starts a good 6-8 seconds ahead of the 29th seed assuming a fast 5K pace.

Next, we’d have to run a good 150 meters (with a slight uphill) to the main entry of the building. I didn’t measure length of the run, but it took me a good 30 seconds with a quick jog, so I figure it is a good 20-25 second run at a fast 5K pace.

Then we’d enter the main building and climb up the main steps to the M-1 level (i.e. the 2^nd floor). At the top of the stairs we’d enter Stairwell B and start climbing as normal until the 30^th floor. Here we’d exit the stairwell and run around the tower core (counterclockwise) and enter Stairwell A (on the other side of the core). I didn’t measure the run, but I’m guessing it takes 5-10 seconds.

Finally we’d climb up to the finish line on the 50^th floor (since Stairwell A doesn’t go all the way up to the 51^st floor).

Before the start they officials had us line up in the proper seed order and a minute later we were given the green light to race.

Lining up. I'm waaay in back

My strategy on the start line was to run at a quick jog to the stairwell and then climb at 99 BPM. At the 30^th floor I would then accelerate and finish the race strong.

I wasn’t really happy with all the pre-stairwell running (since I’m not a runner) but at the start of the race I did my best to keep up with the others. Although I dropped a couple places on the run, I wasn’t too far behind my peers when we entered the building. I bounded up the first few stairs, quickly realizing I was climbing way beyond my 99 BPM pace. Midway up, I started to decelerate and I entered the stairwell in about 26^th place or so.

I knew that everyone was climbing fast and furious and I figured the guys still behind would be tearing up the stairwell. Since this was a mass start, I was not obligated to give up the inside rail, so I hugged the inside lane as tightly as possible. If the lower seeds wanted to pass, I’d give them room on the outside; I knew I’d catch up to them again and I didn’t want to waste my time or energy by giving up the inside lane.

Sure enough, every one passed me except Napoleon. By the 4^th floor I was next to last (about 29^th place). Clearly this wasn’t where I wanted to be (with my aspirations of a top 20 finish) and I was felt a bit demoralized as we crested the 5^th floor. On the other hand, I knew that I was stronger than the lower seeds and I should be able to catch most if not all of them later on in the race.

The real race had begun.

I climbed to the beat of my metronome and caught one of the lower seeds on the 6^th floor or so. He was the last person to pass me so he was never out of my sight. I could tell that he couldn’t maintain the pace and fortunately he gave up the inside lane for me.

Next I caught up to the long grey-haired guy wearing socks. He was climbing fairly quickly so I stayed with him for the next ten floors or so. Meanwhile we both passed the other lower seeds. It was a crowded mess in the stairwell, but fortunately I didn’t have to expend too much energy re-passing. We more or less took the inside track as we climbed.

We were probably in the upper teens when I finally made the move to pass Mr. Socks. The stairwell was no longer crowded so I darted up on the inside. By my estimation, I had cleared all the lower seeds leaving only my peers ahead of me: Jason, Rudi, Ralph, Silvio, Pavel, & Norbert.

I was still climbing to the beat of my metronome and I was feeling pretty good. My heartrate had peaked but I wasn’t in any danger of blowing up. After passing all the lower seeds I was feeling a bit better, but I knew I deserved better than 25^th place or so. I continued climbing at my pace, hoping that the guys up ahead were blowing up and I was closing the gap.

And boy did I close that gap!

From here on out, my memory becomes a bit clouded regarding the order of passing, but I’ll tell it how I remember it.

Somewhere in the upper 20s I finally caught up to Jason. It was quite a relief seeing a familiar face. We’ve raced together a number of times and I usually finish 10-15 seconds ahead, so passing him gave me a boost of confidence; my other peers shouldn’t be too far ahead. The “Steel Oath” let me pass on the inside and together we exited Stairwell “B” and ran around the deck of the 30^th floor.

For the 3^rd race in a row I had a brief mental mishap. This time I nearly exited the deck through the wrong exit. I stutter stepped a brief moment and continued around the deck to the entrance to Stairwell “A”.

I caught up Rudi either right before floor 30 or right after (I honestly can’t remember). I called out "Hi Rudi!" and he let me by on the inside. At the same time we both caught up to Norbert who was having a very difficult race. Norbert actually moved out of the stairwell (into a side nook) to take a short break. Apparently the effort of yesterday’s races and today’s fast start had taken a great toll.

By this point I was climbing faster than my metronome. The pace was tough, but I still had energy in reserve and I was going for a negative split for the 2^nd half of the race. Now that I had passed Jason, Norbert, and Rudi I was in about 22^nd place – one better than my seed – I was feeling pretty confident.

The 30s were difficult but by the time I hit the upper 30s I knew I could keep up the pace until the end. I saw Silvio and Pavel climbing together up ahead and I surged by them on the inside. I was pretty thrilled.

The only one left on my list was Ralph, but I knew he was the strongest of the bunch. In our last two head to head races we were only seconds apart, so I knew catching him wasn’t going to be easy. I was in the lower 40s by this point and pushed the pace. The finish line was fast approaching.

I finally caught sight of Ralph on the 46^th floor and caught up to him on the 47^th. With only 6 flights to go Ralph increased the tempo and we both surged ahead to the 48^th floor. Only 56 steps remained between us and the finish line.

On the 49^th floor I knew the race was over. Clearly Ralf had some energy left in the tanks and I didn’t have the power to pass, especially when we were both going full tilt. I let him go up the final flight uncontested and I crossed the finish line at the top a couple seconds behind. My watch read 8:10.

The finish area was absolute carnage (see David's video). I saw Ralf drop to the ground a few feet beyond the finish line. Beyond him athletes blanketed the floor in a tangle of pain and suffering. I walked by Ralf and gave him a congratulatory tap on the leg and continued onward. I wanted to drop but there wasn’t any room. I pushed past one of the volunteers into a blocked off area of the restaurant, but he quickly pulled me back. I replied to him “What gives? I’m tired and I just want to lie down!*” Angrily I found a place to sit away from the main pile of athletes.

*Yeah, I was rude, but I was also in a lot of pain…

After that point I recovered fairly quickly. Although I put a lot of effort into the final part of the climb, I raced the majority of the building somewhat conservatively. As a result, I didn’t spend all that much time above the redline. A couple minutes later I was up and about chatting with my fellow racers.

Although I didn’t overtake Ralf, I was very pleased with my race. The first part may have felt disastrous, but I really turned it around in the middle and at the end. Rudi and I took a look at the preliminary race results and surprisingly enough I squeaked into the top 20! But admittedly I did have a little help; Omar Bekkali – a very good climber - dropped out of the race with an injury which put me into the 20^th spot. It also showed that I passed the most racers in the stairwell which meant I really had a solid 2^nd half.

After recovering, I went downstairs and met up with Dan and his father. I wanted to get out of the Torch and do a bit of sightseeing, so I suggested we spend the afternoon in Souq Waqif, the most famous market in Doha. I knew about the market because we saw it on the bus tour, but didn’t have time to wander around.

I went upstairs and took a quick shower and then headed downstairs for a quick bite to eat. Along the way I ran into David invited him along. I also had a brief chat with Darren Wilson, the bronze medalist. Apparently there was a bit of drama at the front of the race. One of the Columbian tried to block out several of the top climbers. In fact, Darren had to prop up Mark Bourne (the silver medalist) to prevent him from falling. Although it was bad news for the guys in front, it was good news for me: with a 30 second penalty the Columbian would be moved down several spots and I’d be moved up a spot into 19^th place.

The four of us piled into a taxi and headed to the Souq. Since it was the middle of the day, it wasn’t very crowded and only a fraction of the stores were open. Dan explained that the market is a much busier place at night when it becomes a little cooler outside. The marked reminded me a little of NYC Chinatown with tiny shops selling trinkets, but it was still fun browsing the different shops. Besides trinkets, there were shops selling honey and spices (albeit many of them were closed) as well as lots of places for silk and other fabrics. There was even a small complex devoted to gold and jewelry (the Gold Souq).

Souq Waqif

Reunion!

We stopped by a local restaurant for lunch. I wasn’t too hungry but I had a Turkish coffee and some desert. During lunch, Dan and I finally did a bit of catching up. I told him all about our common friends. In return he told me some good news: his wife would be having twins. Congratulations!

After lunch it was time to get back to the hotel for the formal Gala. We parted ways at entrance of the Souk and took a cab back to the Hotel.

During the trip, as I was fiddling around with my seatbelt strap, I realized I was no longer wearing the strap of my travel bag. I must have left it back at the restaurant. No big loss I thought… until I remembered it contained my passport! Quickly we turned the cab around and headed back to the Souk. Although the odds were good that we’d be able to retrieve my bag, I was still a nervous wreck. I needed my passport in order to get back to the US.

The cab dropped us off at the entrance and the driver offered to wait for us. Quickly, I followed David back to the restaurant (for he has a better sense of direction than I). When we arrived, I asked the host at the front desk if they had found a small bag and he pointed behind the counter. There it was! I showed him my passport to prove that I was the owner and a moment later it was back in my possession. A huge wave of relief settled over me and together David and I headed back to the waiting cab.

We arrived at the hotel without further incident and changed into better clothes for the Gala. We sat with all our other teammates and watched a slideshow of all the pictures taken over the course of the last couple days. Ralf arrived a few minutes late to the Gala with one of his Couch Surfing friends – a pretty girl from Kenya. There wasn’t any room at the German/Austrian table so he decided to sit with all the cool kids from the US*. Dinner was buffet style and I ate as much as possible – including dessert.

*As an added bonus, his friend brought along a bottle of vodka (shhh… don’t tell).

After dinner it was time to get packed. We’d be leaving the hotel at 5:00 AM to catch our 8:15 AM flight back to the US (the NYC and Chicago bound flights were leaving within minutes of one another).

Early the next morning the shuttle bus picked us up from the hotel and dropped us off at the airport – along with Darren and the professional triathletes. Security was uneventful and we departed ways once we arrived at our gate.

We had a "belter", right Darren?

This time around I knew that Veronica was on my flight and we managed to sit next to each other in two of the best seats in economy; most of the seats are grouped in rows of three, but we were able to snag the only group of two, giving us a bit more privacy.

The flight to JFK was smooth and I watched a few movies along the way. At customs I gave Veronica a hug and parted ways. She had another flight to catch and I still had to get to Albany.

It was a long journey back to Albany. The subway right was frustrating. Every time I had to catch or switch trains, I missed it by a hair – either by my own unfamiliarity with the different lines or by pure bad luck (like getting stuck behind someone in the escalator). I missed my train back to Poughkeepsie by mere minutes and had to wait an extra half an hour for the next. Par for the course. When I arrived in Poughkeepsie it was already past 7:00 PM, but I was finally on the home stretch. I arrived at home at a quarter to 9:00 and gave my family a big hug.

Doha was fun, but it was good to be home.

Race Grades:

Effort: B+ ; I raced a bit too conservatively in the finals to give myself an A, but I’m still satisfied.

Strategy: A- ; On the first day I did a pretty good job saving my energy at the expense of a few seeding positions. It was definitely a good trade-off. During the final, I paced myself a little bit too conservatively during the beginning of the race, but on the positive side it allowed me to pick up the pace during the 2^nd half. Since the start was staggered there seemed to be plenty of space in the stairwell, although getting passed and having to re-pass was a waste of time and energy.

Technique: B+ ; My running left something to be desired, but my climbing was pretty good. I did well on the 11/12 configuration but I was less efficient when it switched to 14/14.

Overall: A- ; I’m pretty happy with my climb. The biggest thing I would have changed would be to hit the "go" switch on 22 rather than wait until 30. I also think I could have tolerated a slightly faster initial pace. However, I have to be pleased with my result. It’s better to have negative splits rather than risk blowing up.

Final Thoughts:

I’m very happy about coming in 19^th in a very deep men’s final. You can see the full results here.

One thing that surprised me was how good the top men’s athletes are. I raced against some of these athletes at Empire which is longer course and has a bit more running, but it was still shocking to see how fast these guys are in a middle distance climb. For example, the finals seemed to run about 20 to 30 seconds slower than the Stratosphere – our US championship race - yet the top 5 guys had times that would have equaled or bettered the record at the Strat.

Boy do I have my work cut out for me over the next couple seasons.

Another thing I noticed was how slow some of the professional athletes were in the stairwell. These weren’t the “dregs” of the pro field either; one of the triathletes was on the British Olympic team in 2008. I honestly thought that all the cycling these guys do would have put them into medal contention, but instead they finished only a few spots higher than me (i.e. mid-upper teens). If it sounds like I’m knocking the pros, I don’t mean it that way; my takeaway is that it takes a bit of specificity to be good at climbing stairs and that several of the top stair climbers really are world class athletes.

Rundown of the Empire State Building Run-up

2015-03-13T13:18:00.002-07:00

The 2015 edition of the Empire State Building Run-up is over and I’m having a hard time understanding the results. I was expecting to break 12 minutes this year, but with an official time of 12:50, my estimate was way off. In fact, I was even slower than last year (12:36 – albeit in a slightly shortened course).

What makes this race hard to digest – and this post hard to write – is that all the training leading up to the race and the pace I set in the stairwell seemed to indicate I’d have a pretty good shot at 12 minutes.

Although December was pretty much a wash with respect to training & fitness, January was very kind to me. I started off the month at a decent fitness level, but I ended the month in the best shape of my life. In addition to hard training, I focused on getting plenty of sleep and I went to bed early each and every night. I also lost a couple pounds by eating healthy and using the stairs during my coffee breaks*. As a result, I set a couple PBs on the stepper machine and inside the stairwell during my final week of training.

*I don’t actually drink coffee, but I made sure to get up from my desk every couple of hours for a short break. During these breaks I’d climb up my building (6 tall stories ~ 27 meters) twice. It was enough exercise to get the blood pumping, but not enough to get soaked in sweat.

I also knew that I didn’t have a particularly strong performance in the 2014 edition of the race so I figured I had plenty of room to improve. A year ago, I was in great shape but was fighting off a virus which reared its ugly head after racing in Boston the prior weekend. Because I was worried about my health, I raced very conservatively at Empire and I figured I could easily shave off a good 30 seconds from my time this time around, which would put me pretty close to the coveted 12 minute mark.

Friend or Foe?
Answer: Both

The day of the race arrived with little fanfare. I had a decent night sleep, woke up, and went to work. I left work around 12:30 PM and relaxed at home for an hour or so before heading to the train station. I took the 3:10 train from Albany/Rennselaer down to Penn Station in NYC. I arrived at the Empire State Building around 6:00 PM and met up with my friends (and fellow Tower Masters) Steve Marsalese and David Tromp. We had about an hour to kill before they’d let us into the building so we tried to find a coffee shop to hang out at. No luck - It was rush hour in NYC. Fortunately, I knew of an indoor food court in K-Town that usually had free seats up on the 3rd floor. Sure enough, the place wasn’t very crowded upstairs and we hung out for the next half hour or so.

And guess who we ran into at the food mall? Another Tower Master - Bruce Yang! Talk about luck*.

*Read my post from last year’s race to find out why Bruce is my lucky charm.

Tower Masters!

Just before 7:00 PM, David and I left Steve and Bruce (who were racing in a later heat) and headed over to Empire. The lobby was somewhat chaotic. All the elite climbers were just milling around. We were told to be there at 7:00 PM sharp – no earlier, no later – but very little information was being passed on to the climbers on where to go. So we all just hung out in the crowded lobby. After about 15 minutes of waiting, we were finally allowed to go upstairs, pass through security*, and check in our bags.

*For some reason the Empire State Building thinks it is more important than every other famous building in America (e.g. Sears Tower, Hancock Tower, etc.).

After bag check, I started my warm up and active stretching routine. We still had about 30 minutes until the start of the race so to keep myself ready, I simply did a round of 12 burpees every 4 minutes or so.

Soon the organizers gathered all the elite athletes and herded us downstairs to the start line. We still had 15 minutes to kill so I just continued my burpees in the hallway. I found the temperature to be uncomfortably hot and hoped the stairwell wouldn’t be as stifling*.

*Don't worry, the stairwell wasn't nearly as hot.

A few minutes before the official start, the race director, Steve Lastoe, announced a few individual climbers in the elite wave (including me!*) to the media & photographers before the start of the race.

*I showed off my biceps. If you got’em, show’em.

Shortly afterwards, the ladies were off. Now there were only four minutes left until the men’s start.

The silence on the start line was oppressing, but I felt pretty chipper. I was nervous, scared, excited, and confident all rolled into mixed emotion. I couldn’t wait to get this race over with.

I was offered a starting position at the front of the pack, but I silently declined. I wasn’t planning on sprinting up the first few floors and I didn’t want to get in the way of the top competitors.

Placed toward the back of the pack, I knew most of the athletes personally and a couple others by reputation. I already had a mental picture of how this race was going to turn out. Sproule, Christian, Darren, & Thor were the podium contenders and Tim Donahue would be in the hunt for 5th. Next would be David Tromp and me battling it out for mid-pack honors. Rounding out the race would be Jason, David Roeske (who I knew by reputation), Henry, Josh, Dr. Thomas, and Chris - more or less in that order. That left only three other guys on the start line that I didn’t know - most likely Europeans that would be putting pressure in the mid-pack.

My strategy was simple. I planned to get into the stairwell somewhere around 10th place, climb at an even pace throughout the race, and pick off climbers on the upper floors. I raced conservatively in 2014 using a pace of 87 - 88 beats per minute (BPM) on my metronome. Since I wanted to go at least 30 seconds faster this year, I set my metronome at the slightly higher pace of 92 BPM.

With 30 seconds remaining until the start, I turned on my metronome, readied my stop watch, and silently repeated my mantra: “A steady pace wins the race.”

Suddenly we were off. In a rush we all tried to squeeze through the stairwell door. I got stuck in the doorway for a few seconds, but with only 16 guys or so in the elite heat, it quickly thinned out. I ended up near the back of the pack (in lucky 13th place I believe). By the 4th floor I settled in behind Jason and in front of Henry. I was a little surprised that Henry didn’t sprint out ahead (like he did last year) but by the 8th floor or so he seemed ready to pass me and I let him by on one of the landings. Henry was one of the guys I was aiming to beat this year - having narrowly beat me last year - but I wasn’t worried. If last year was any indication of his racing style, I should be able to close the gap later on in the race.

Jason was less than a flight ahead of me at this point with Henry sandwiched in the middle. The three of us kept the pace up for another few floors and I could smell Henry’s feet – he wasn’t wearing shoes in order to reduce the amount of weight he’d have to carry up the stairs. I silently prayed that Henry would pick up the pace a bit or slow down so I could pass; The combination of climbing pain and foot odor was becoming deadly!*

*I’m joking!

For the next few floors I was right on Henry’s heels; every time I’d turn the corner and reach up to grab the rail, I’d bump into Henry’s hands. Finally he let me pass by and several floors later I caught up to and passed Jason. We were somewhere in the lower 20s. By this point, the stairwell changed from a series of switch backs (flight -- landing & 180 degree turn -- flight) to just a single long flight connecting the floors followed by a short run on the landings*.

*Nobody I know has ever had a chance to map out Empire's stairwell, but I learned something new during this climb: Not all flights from the 20s upwards are uniform. Many floors have just a single long flight, but many others have two flights (a short flight followed by a really long one). I have pictures of the latter case in my 2014 blog. Yeah, the difference between the two cases is pretty minor, but I'm a stickler for these kinds of details.

Jason was about half a flight behind me at this point and somewhere in the 30s we caught up to and passed Chris – who kindly stayed on the outside to give us plenty of room to pass. I also remember crossing a long hallway and nearly slipping on spilled water from the a water aid station. I don’t remember which floor it was on, but the moment my foot started to slide I thought of David Tromp; he recently told me that a few years ago he slipped and fell at an aid station… most likely at this very same spot!

Jason and I continued climbing together for the next 25 floors or so, but slowly my lead climbed to nearly a whole flight. As soon as I’d finish a floor I could hear Jason behind me starting it. This pattern continued up until the mid 60s.

I was grinding out floor after floor marching to the beat of my metronome. I could feel fatigue start to set in the 40s and by the 50s it was starting to get painful. We hit the 60s and it was all I could to hold on to my pace.

At this point, I was no longer thinking about anything other than keeping pace and climbing. I remember passing Jamie Kate (from the Woman’s heat) somewhere along the way and giving her a tap of encouragement, but by the time I caught up to and Madeline I couldn’t even manage a grunt of acknowledgement.

I had dropped Jason by the time I hit the 70s and was still cranking out my 92 BPM pace. I was catching up to another climber, too – I could hear him up above but couldn’t yet see him.

I thought I was doing fairly well at this point. At other races Jason is usually right on my tail and I knew Henry was further down below, so I figured I was in a pretty good position. Plus, I was hot on the trail of another climber. Could it be David Tromp? My lungs were ragged, but my legs were still pretty strong. Things seemed to be going to plan.

I glanced down at my watch to see how close I was to breaking the 12 minute mark. My watch read 11:50. What the heck*?

*Cue brake screech.

I was still in the 70s - at least a minute or so away from finishing. What was going on? With around 10 floors to go I’d be lucky to break even the 13 minute mark!

Time was running short and there weren’t very many floors left. I increased my pace and by the time I hit the 80s I was less than a flight behind the guy ahead of me. It was David… but not David Tromp. It was David Roeske! I slowly closed the gap and by the time we hit the 85th floor I was looking to pass, but there wasn’t any room to get through.

The last flight is a long one and leads directly onto the observation deck. I moved to the right to try and squeeze by, but I David was in the center grabbing both sides of the rails and I didn’t have enough speed to break through. David slipped on the final few steps and for a brief moment I thought I had a chance to finally go around but as he fell, I lost my forward momentum. David quickly recovered and managed to stay a step ahead. I don’t exactly know what killed my speed, but I suspect there is an immediate left turn as you exit to the observation deck and I was on the outside lane (which is a longer - and therefore slower path)*. The other likely scenario is that as David fell I simply didn’t have any room since I was basically right behind him. At any rate, it took us both by surprise and slowed us both down.

*Hopefully someone can confirm the actual layout of the course.

I had one shot left. I could still pass on the observation deck where there would be more room to maneuver. The finish line was in sight – albeit closer than I remembered from 2012 – and I continued on the right hand side to pass on the straight away.

To my absolute horror, there was a girl from the women’s elite wave jogging directly between us and the finish line. At that moment, I knew I was totally fucked. She was on the left side so David slid over to pass her on the right side – effectively cutting off my passing lane AGAIN. We both passed the girl with David still slightly ahead. The finish line was only yards away and there was little I could do. We jostled for position but there wasn’t enough time or space to pass – especially on tired legs. We crossed the line with David literally a half a step ahead. After finishing, I sat down on an empty foot stool just beyond the finish line and looked down at my watch. It had just passed the 13 minute mark when I finally turned it off.

I sat there completely spent in the cold February air wondering what the heck happened to my race. I heard the announces call out Jason, Madeleine, Jamie Kate, and a few other climbers and when I had finally recovered enough to walk around again. Although I was upset at having a mediocre finishing time, I was happy the race was over. Racing up one of the most iconic buildings in the US and giving it your all is something to be proud of.

Jason, Josh, and I hung out on the deck for a few more minutes to admire the NYC skyline at night, but being a cold day in February wearing only shorts and tank tops, we soon headed downstairs to the 80th floor for the post-race award ceremony. It was nice to finally chat with the other climbers, change in to warmer clothes, and grab a bite to eat. A TV monitor displayed the times and there I learned that I was 12th overall and the 11th male athlete. I had missed my top ten spot by a fraction of a second - David Roeske and I were both given a time of 12:51. You can see the full results here*.

*You’ll notice that in the official results I’m actually listed one spot ahead of David with a time of 12:50. My chip time was likely faster than his because he started the race in the front row and I started at the back (meaning his timing chip would have started a second or two before mine). However, make no mistake… David crossed the finish line ahead of me.

"The Ghost" & "The Schenectady Express"

Several of us then headed downstairs the Restaurant/Bar on the ground floor. I met up with some of the other Tower Masters and had a long chat with Darren’s kids and a short chat with Napolean about implementing “age group” rankings for older athletes on TWA. It makes a lot of sense. Currently, to get points in the TWA, you need to be in the top 30. At a competitive race like Empire, the cutoff is really tough to make. In fact, without age group rankings, there is little incentive for older athletes to get a TWA license. As the “Athletes Representative” for TWA, I’ll have to bring up that point to the council.

Around 10:25 David Tromp and I had to head back to Penn Station to get the last train back to Albany. On the train we both had beer and chatted about the race, college days at Clarkson, and ski lessons (our kids are taking lessons at Maple Ski Ridge) before taking a well-deserved nap.

The train came in at 1:22 AM and a few minutes later, David and I said our goodbyes in the parking lot. The drive home was uneventful, but took a bit longer than usual because it had started to snow. When I arrived home, I quickly took a shower and went to bed. My body was tired, but my mind kept replaying the events of the race. Not only was I upset at about failing to pass at the end of the race, but more importantly, I couldn’t explain how my time was slower than last year. I finally fell asleep at 3:00 AM.

Race Grades:

Effort: A- ; I went out at a reasonable pace and kept it throughout the race. After floor 60 it was tough, but I kept going. My only criticism is that I didn’t pick up the pace when I crossed into the 70s. Although my lungs were burning, my legs still had power to give.

Strategy: B- ; My strategy “a steady pace wins the race” works well in time trials, but less so in a mass start since position can be critical. Passing is tough near the end of a race. Getting into the stairwell in 13th place didn’t help.

Technique: B- ; I climbed efficiently, but lost time on the landings.

Overall: B ; Honestly, I thought I had a good race up until I checked my watch and realized I was nearly a minute off of my goal. However, I put in a pretty good effort, so I can’t say I had a bad race. I'm just not pleased with my overall time.

Final Thoughts: I’m still having trouble understanding how I could be slower than last year by about 10 seconds and nearly a minute slower than my 12 minute goal time – considering I set my metronome at a faster pace. I’m still confused, but I know the clock didn’t lie. After considerable thought, here are some reasons why I went slower.

The stairwell was initially more crowded this year. In 2014 there were 9 climbers and this year we had 16. I definitely lost a few more seconds waiting to get into the stairwell. This year I started the race in 13th place, ahead of only Henry, Josh, & Dr. Thomas.
This year I jostled for position with Henry for the first 15 floors. Letting him pass on the inside also cost me a second or two. He stayed ahead for only 10 floors or so, and although I was able to march to the beat of my metronome while climbing, I’m sure I lost time on the turns (as I bumped up behind him).
After the race was over, Jason and I discussed how we climbed in the middle of the race. It turns out that I pulled ahead of him on the stairs, but then he’d catch up on the short run between flights. Apparently, I was bleeding time during these short runs. Even if I only bled a quarter second or so each floor, I probably lost a good 15 seconds over the course of the race (compared to Jason). Of course, the real question is how did I do this year compared with last year? That is a tough question, but I have a feeling I went slower this year. Looking back on my notes from last year, I climbed at a fairly easy pace and I was alone for the vast majority of the time. As such, I was able to pay more attention to my technique on the landings (in fact, I even described my technique in my blog). I’m guessing I lost maybe 15 - 20 seconds compared with last year, but made up some of that time with a faster climbing pace on the stairs.
This race has a substantial running component and I estimate there are about 3 minutes worth of running*. Assuming I can do the entire race in about 12:30 minutes (which I still think is possible) that means that nearly 25% of the race is on flat ground where my metronome never came into play. In addition, I’m definitely not a runner so I’m at a pretty significant disadvantage compared to the other athletes (most of which who are runners). I now suspect that my goal time of 12 minute was too optimistic. I have a feeling 12:15 would have made more sense.

I feel like a cop-out for saying this, but I don't think Empire is my kind of race. It is a long course, which requires a bit of running, and had a mass start. Basically, it plays to all my weaknesses. If I ever get invited back, I'll have to dial back my expectations to 12:30 or so.

Lessons Learned:

Start position matters. Being bottle-necked in the stairwell entry is a waste of time and energy.
Passing is very difficult at the end of a race. It is much better to be in front rather than behind. Strangely enough I was in this exact same position at the Sears (Willis) Tower back in November. Sears was a time trial so it didn’t quite matter as much, but the mass start at Empire is a whole different ballgame. David Roeske taught me a lesson I won’t soon forget – and I have to give him props for staying in front when it mattered most.
In a mass start, a metronome is useful, but don’t become a slave to the beat. Sometimes a quick surge to pass or create space is better than slowly jockeying for position over the course of several floors.
Don’t wait till the end of the race to pass. Make a strong move with at least 5 floors to go.

There (Vegas) and Back Again

2015-03-01T11:50:00.000-08:00

Vegas. Clown cars. Stairwells. USSCA Championship. It was an adventure.

For the past few weeks I’ve been steadily improving. Not only did I manage to drop a couple pounds, but I set several PBs in training. My confidence should have been sky high but it wasn’t. Two weeks before the race I pulled one of my quadriceps muscles on my left leg. I assumed it happened during one of my Friday “power hours” in the stairwell, but I only noticed it the following Monday during my leg blasting workout (lunges, squats, etc.). The muscle felt tight rather than sore, but I still managed to finish my work out successfully and gave it little thought. However at the end of the week, my leg still felt a bit off – despite setting another PB inside the stairwell. The following week, I toned down my leg blasting workout and then set another record on the Precor Stepper. Obviously the results were positive, but my leg felt strangely weak (in addition to the stiffness). In the days leading up to Strat I tapered of my workouts and kept my fingers crossed that the weakness would recede.

Friday rolled around and it was time to depart. I had a quick workout during lunch – forgoing my pacing exercises, instead doing 3 minute intervals on the elliptical machine followed by a sets of 20 pull-ups. It go the heart pumping without exacerbating my strained quad. After lunch I finished up a few tasks at work and then headed home for a brief rest and last minute packing check. I got to the airport around 4:45, headed through security, and went to my gate. There I learned my flight was delayed for a couple hours and I’d probably miss my connecting flight. They booked my on a different flight on Saturday morning, which would still get me into Vegas by during the afternoon. On the downside I had wasted a half day of vacation for nothing. But on the upside, I’d get to sleep in my own bed and still make it to Vegas on time. Not really a fair trade, but it still worked.

Hi Sue

I made it to Vegas the following day and took the 108 bus to the Stratosphere*. I met up with David Hanley and dropped my things off. Then we hooked up with a bunch of other fellow climbers at the ALA “before climb” party at the top of the tower. At the party I nabbed my #1 race bib and timing chip.

*The 108 North is one of the best and cheapest ways to get to the Stratosphere. It takes you right from Terminal 1 and drops you right at the north end of the Strat’s Casino. The bus stays off of the Strip so the ride only takes 20 minutes. It was the best $2 I spent the entire trip.

After hanging out with everyone, I had a quick dinner with the Ronks and then headed back to the room. I brushed my teeth and crawled into bed. I read for a few minutes and soon fell asleep. It was just past 8:30. I was tired and still on East Coast time.

The next morning, I awoke around 5:30. I read silently for a bit and then had a light breakfast (an orange and a couple small oatmeal bars). Soon David was up and we chatted for a bit before getting changed for the race.

Around 7:15 I left the room and headed toward the start line to chat with a few other climbers. No sense being nervous alone.

Around 7:25 I taped up my fingers* and headed to the gym to start getting warmed up. I ran into Michael, Josh, Maggie, and Sproule who were already warming up. I did a quick active warm-up and then spent 6 minutes on the Precor Stepper. Just like at home. Before leaving, I chatted with Sproule who was slowly pedaling on the recumbent bike.

*The stairwell has a rectangular cross-section which gives me blisters. Rather than wear gloves (which I hate) I use athletic tape to help prevent them from occurring.

“So Sproule… why are you in Vegas? I figure you are either 1) Chasing points or 2) Looking to set the course record… or perhaps both?”

“Hey, I’m just here to race! I’ve been out for so long I have no idea what to expect.”

So says the 4^th place finisher at Empire. Enigmatic as always.

We wished each other luck and I headed to the starting area to change into my racing shoes and check in my bag. After a couple rounds of burpees, I made my way to the starting queue.

The starting 5 was pretty much lined up the way I expected our finish order to be: Sproule, Me, Oz, Jason, Josh, and Dr. Thomas.

Here was my take on the podium contenders. I figured Sproule pretty much had the race in the bag, unless he had a poor race and either Oz or myself pulled a rabbit out of the hat. I figured I’d be favored to secure the 2^nd spot, but I knew that Oz was in fantastic shape and 2^nd place wasn’t assured. The truth is that when Oz is at his best, I can’t compete with him in a tall climb (like Sears), so in a medium height climb like the Stratosphere we were gonna be rolling the dice Vegas style. The dark horse of the race was likely Jason. He was looking to finally break onto the podium; Ever since Sears a couple years ago he’s been hot on my trail…. and I knew sooner or later my luck would run out. Fortunately, I didn’t think it would happen today. Jason had just competed (and won) a race in Minneapolis the day before, so I assumed he wouldn’t be climbing at 100%.

While waiting in line, I did a final set of burpees. Then, a few minutes before 8:00 AM, the organizers marched inside the building up a few flights of stairs to the starting line (the entrance to the core’s main stairwell). We were all pretty nervous, so we just chatted with one another as we waited for the official start.

Several minutes ticked by and we were still waiting. It was already well past 8:00 AM when we found out that one of the volunteers (emergency crew perhaps?) had hit their head and needed to be taken out of the stairwell. Meanwhile, I was no longer properly warmed up, so I did a set of burpees in the hallway to keep my heart-rate up and my body warm. It must have been a pretty serious injury because by the time we finally started the race (maybe 30 minute late?) I had already completed 3 rounds of burpees.

Finally the organizers got the “all clear” message and it was time to get the race started. Everyone wished each other luck (again) and the race was on. Sproule entered the stairwell as I turned on my metronome and got my stopwatch ready. I followed him in 30 seconds later.

I’ve done this race a couple of times before, although both times I wasn’t happy about my performance. In 2013, I went out too conservatively (at 90 BPM) and played catch up during the latter half of the race, finishing with a time of 7:57. In 2014, I went out a little too fast (at 97 BPM) and ended up slowing down during the 2^nd part of the race, finishing with a time of 7:56. This year I was in better shape so I decided to give 97 BPM another shot. With luck, I figured I might be able to break 7:45. At worst, I figured I’d still be able to break the 8:00 mark.

I hit the stairwell running but quickly settled into my 97 BPM pace as I climbed up the 2^nd flight of steps. The pace felt easy and I tried to stay relaxed. I focused on keeping one step on the landings and keeping up to the beat of my metronome.

Time slipped by and within a couple minutes the pace was beginning to get difficult. I scanned the stairwell for location markers* and I was somewhere in the 300s. I kept on climbing and soon I was in the mid-400s, which is the approximate half way point. I glanced down at my watch when I got into the upper 300s (probably 370s, but I’m not sure) and I was right around 3:50. I was pleased, because I knew I was pacing myself just under my goal time of 7:45.

*I didn’t memorize Stan’s chart of the Stratosphere, but basically the “tower core” section doesn’t have any true floors. Instead, there are various position markers given in vertical feet. When you get about 800 feet up, you enter the occupied levels: floors 101 through 108 which uses a more traditional stairwell.

As I crossed into the 500s I was really starting to feel it. I still had some energy left in the tank, but I wasn’t sure I could last another 3-4 minutes. I double stepped a couple of the landings, but I fought back and single stepped the next few*. Last year I had already given up by this point and I was determined not to succumb this time around.

*for those of you who aren’t stair climbers, this warrants an explanation. To save time, it is best to place a single foot on the landing, pivot 180 degrees on the ball of your foot, and continue climbing the next flight of stairs. If you place both feet on the landing, it means you just wasted a half second or so (basically taking a one-step mini break).

In the 600s I was fighting a losing battle with the turns. I started double stepping the landings pretty regularly, although I managed to hold on to the beat while climbing. When I got into the upper 600s I was nearly at my limit. My brain was basically in the “off” position although a single coherent thought crossed my mind “Hey – at least the flights are pretty long!*”

*Translation: Thankfully the stairwell doesn’t have very many (slow) turns.

At this point I was begging the markers to accelerate through the 700s, but alas they were still plodding along at a leisurely pace. I knew I had only a couple more minutes to go, so I kept up the brutal pace.

Suddenly I crossed through the fire door into the occupied section of the tower. This is the only tricky section of the climb because the fire door brings you to an intersection where you can go either left or right. It isn’t clearly marked and even if you *know* you are supposed to turn right, it is still pretty tricky because your brain doesn’t always remember things when it is oxygen deprived. Better climbers than I have screwed up this intersection and I didn’t want to be the next victim. My brain screamed “turn right” and thankfully I turned right.

The fire door took me by surprise and it honestly took me a couple of flights to convince myself that I was indeed inside the occupied section which is the essentially the home stretch of the race. I was supposed to be accelerating up these final few flights but I was pretty much in a daze. I tripped on the next floor but caught myself before I fell. I wanted to sprint, but my body had a different idea. I climbed a few more flights and tripped again, barely managing to stay upright. Yep. Sprinting wasn’t gonna happen*. “Just keep climbing” I silently told myself.

*I may have tripped a 3^rd time too, but I honestly can’t recall.

I remember hitting floor 107. I knew there was only one floor left to go, but it took me a moment to actually believe it. My body was shutting down but I managed to haul myself up the last couple flights. I crossed over the finish line, glanced at my watch (about 7:51) walked a few steps, turned off my watch (7:54) and collapsed to the ground.

I was in rough shape. As lay prostrate on the floor waiting for my heart-rate to come down, I was in so much physical pain that my mind was a complete blank. After about a minute or so, I crawled to one of the recovery chairs and put my legs up*. I barely even noticed that Oz had crawled next to me and he did the same thing. After a couple minutes Oz was able to get back up, but I needed a couple more minutes to catch my breath. Believe it or not, I was actually in worse shape than Oz who is well known for his post race collapses. At some point we discussed our times. Oz clocked himself in at 7:54, which was only a few seconds slower than my unofficial time of 7:51. Although I had a slight advantage, the race was too close to call - it is pretty common for self-timed results to differ from the official chip times by a few seconds.

*I’m not sure it really helps, but that’s what Mr. Paradis, our cross country coach, had us do after practice back in High School.

Finally I dragged myself off of the floor and grabbed a glass of orange juice and a banana. I was still tired, but my senses were coming back. I sat down next to Mark Trahanovsky and Sproule and I closed my eyes to listen to their conversation – I didn’t have enough energy to chat, although it was pretty clear that Sproule had won the race by a good 30 seconds. They left after a few minutes (Mark offered to drive Sproule to the airport) so I sat there alone eating my banana. Normally, eating a banana takes only a few seconds, but I had to eat this one slowly. My stomach was having trouble tolerating solid food. When I finished, I lay down on the couch to rest a few more minutes. I was still pretty in pretty bad shape.

After what seemed like an eternity, I was finally ready to join the rest of humanity. After chatting with a few of my fellow climbers, we gathered for one big team photo and then headed back down to get ready for our first US Stair Climbing Association (USSCA) meeting.

I took a quick shower, ate a granola bar, and headed to Madeleine’s room for the meeting. I was running late, but so was everyone else.

The meeting was pretty quick. Suffice it to say, I’ll be serving as the interim President until we become incorporated as an official non-for profit, and our first order of business is getting incorporated. I have a feeling it is going to take a lot of work – and I’m not sure I’m the best person to get things done, but I think I can at least get the organization formally recognized before the end of the year. That will have to suffice for now. We quickly finished the USSCA kickoff meeting and headed to the award ceremony.

Looking at the published results, I had officially took 2^nd place, just a few seconds ahead of Oz. More importantly, I was less than 30 seconds behind Sproule – which was one of my unofficial goals for the race. Rounding out the top five were Jason and Josh respectively in yet another tight race. The biggest upset (in my opinion) was Jeff taking 6^th overall, edging out Dr. Thomas by single digits. On the women’s slide, I finally got the chance to meet the winner, Stephanie Hucko, as well as 3^rd place Kacie Cleveland. You can see the full results here.

*Stephanie is originally from Australia. Go figure.

Later we headed to Randy’s house for his annual “Scale the Strat BBQ". By that point my energy had mostly returned, and I was feeling almost normal again, although I still had a slight headache left over from the race. The food was great and the companionship even better.

Where are we?

After the BBQ, a bunch of us (12 to be exact) climbed into David’s minivan and headed back to the Strat (watch the video here). We decided to spend the rest of the day exploring the various casinos on the Strip… intent on finding all the hidden staircases Vegas had to offer and climb them. The coolest set of stairs we found was at the [*]. The complex is shaped like a [*] and we found one staircase that follows the inner sidewall – snaking itself around to hug the side of the building. Because of the angle, you could see the entire staircase all at once. We were like kids in a candy shop.

*Deleted by admin to protect identity of the building. No sense in having the casino find out about our little escapade. I don’t want them to close the stairwell to the public and ruin the fun for future climbers. Contact me for details if you ever find yourself in Vegas and want to see the stairwell for yourself.

After dinner at the casino, it finally time to head back home. “Z” gave me a ride to the airport around 11:00 PM and while checking in, I learned my flight was cancelled! I’d have to stay another 24 hours in Vegas… and miss another day of work. I took the 108 bus back to the Stat and asked a friend to let me crash at their place overnight. It was nearly 2:00 AM by the time I go to bed.

The next morning I was running on fumes. I was tired, but I didn’t have a good night’s rest (since I was still stuck on East Coast time).

I gave Michael a call before checkout and found out he was also at the Strat, literally two doors down the hallway! I closed my phone and chatted with him in the hallway to discuss plans for the day.

I hung out with Michael and Ariel for the rest of the day. We hit the Mob Museum in downtown Las Vegas. It is an excellent museum and well worth the $20 cover charge to get in. My only complaint is that the topic is depressing: Illegal business & murder. Thoroughly interesting, but also pretty morbid.

After dropping Ariel off at the airport, we went out to eat with Steve, his dad (who lives in Vegas) and one of his buddies from New York. Holsteins - best burger on the strip.

Michael dropped me off at the airport after dinner and I hopped on a plane back to the East Coast. I got maybe a couple hours of sleep on the plane so I was running on fumes by this point. When the flight landed in Philly, I found out my flight to Albany was cancelled. I was pissed. I accidentally walked out of the terminal trying to find the help desk* so I ended up going to ticketing and then spending another 30 minutes getting back through security. I was scheduled to get on the next flight, but it was completely full and I was put on standby (after all, there was an entire plane of people that was stuck in the airport). The lady at the terminal help desk told me there was less than a 50% chance I’d be able to leave Philly that day because of a bit of bad weather coming in later that afternoon.

*Hard to believe I’d miss the big red exit only sign… but my brain wasn’t functioning clearly.

“Fuck it, I’m renting a car” I thought to myself and walked out of the airport.

I met up with another stranded passenger and offered to give her a ride back to Albany. It turned out she was a friend of an old co-worker so at least we had something in common to talk about during the 4 hour drive. I drove and she navigated. I finally got back to Albany in the mid-afternoon and after taking a quick shower, I took a long much needed nap.

Moral of the story: Vegas is awesome, but getting there & back sucks eggs.

Race Grades:

Effort: A+ ; Looking back, I honestly didn’t think I put that much effort into the race up until 600s, but the clearly the aftermath of the race tells a different story; the only race where it took longer to recover was at the US Bank Tower in 2012. Maintaining the pace through the 700s and the final 7 floors clearly took a lot out of me. For my own sake, I hope that never happens again.

Strategy: B+ ; “A steady pace wins the race” really fits the Stratosphere. 97 BPM was a decent pace for this building, but it was slightly too fast for my present condition. A slower pace would have worked better overall. Say 95 BPM? Maybe even 94 BPM?

Technique: A- ; I climbed efficiently, but lost time on the landings during the latter half of the race, mainly because I was so doggone tired. Fortunately, the relatively long flights (with fewer landings) mitigates some of this. I definitely used the rails to haul myself up the building and I have a blister to prove it – even with all the athletic tape (right ring finger, on the “fat” part closer to the pinkie side).

Overall: A ; This is a solid A. In my current condition (or at least my condition on race day) I’m probably capable of a 7:40 in this building with the right pacing. But who knows? Back in 2013, I climbed in 7:57 and had plenty of energy to spare in the latter half of the race because went out pretty slow (at 90 BPM). After the race, I thought I was capable of a 7:30… and I know I’m in better condition today.