Nonetheless, I exceeded this stretch goal and comfortably eclipsed the prior record. The first thing out of my mouth following the event was, “That wasn’t nearly as hard as I expected. All the hard training has really paid off.” Although I had doubts going in of my fitness and hit a few bumps just 30% through, everything came together better than imagined. People often say a marathon doesn’t start until mile 20. When I hit repeat 48, only 2/3 of the way through, I had the confidence to be aggressive. I was conscientious to remain controlled since I still had 5 ½ hours to go and being overly aggressive would only result in a kamikaze crash and burn. I figured that I was feeling better than usual since all my other monster training sessions took place during my highest training volume weeks where the goal was to push my body to fatigue. And unlike those days, I wouldn’t be putting in another session the next day (or even that night).
Metered effort
Around halfway through, I discovered I had slowed by a minute on the descents, the easy part! I made a conscious effort to be aggressive on the downhills, utilizing my poles to stay upright and I was able to shave off 15-30 seconds. My poles weren’t only useful on the uphill, but they saved my quads and knees on the descents while keeping me upright. There were several times I would have fell had I not had the extra points on contact.
I kept track of laps by using my husband’s old Timex watch. I had an “Oh no!” moment was when I instinctively hit the lap button when I reached the turnaround at the bottom of lap 55, then hit it again. I spent the entirety of the climb thinking what I should do. I didn’t trust myself to recall to adjust all the laps (even subtracting two was getting to be challenging math for me). I needed to count my laps since I didn’t have a device that could accurately log and display the elevation gain while recording.
Everesting requires a Strava file and my phone was my primary recording device; however, it is not possible to see the elevation gain on the mobile app. My backup, my husband’s Garmin for his bike, displayed the total climb but was underreporting the climb and distance by about 40%. The obvious choice to track the climb would be my smartwatch, but unfortunately its battery life had taken a hit over the winter, only lasting five hours during workouts. So my smartwatch was stowed in my cooler for the final hours in case my phone died.
About 12 hours in, I did the math and if I averaged 17 minutes per repeat I’d stay on track to hit the American record. Based on my experience, I needed to maintain as much cushion as possible since any stops to pee, address blisters, or other stops would eat up my cushion. Towards the ends of my previous workouts, I was often averaging 16-17 minutes per a repeat. I also knew once it would get dark that I would hemorrhage more time. As night fell, the temperatures dipped. Under the glow of my headlamp I occasionally saw my breath and frequently saw snot and spit droplets spewing.
As I progressed, I double and triple checked my math (and asked others to verify!). Since the American women’s record was within grasp, I did not want it to slip through my fingers. I expected the amount of data to take several minutes to upload on Strava but I didn’t have enough cushion to sit and wait. If I had miscalculated (on my other long sessions I had miscounted 3 of the 4 times) or my data record was 1% lower than expected, I’d need to complete one more repeat. Therefore, I’d need to descend while it uploaded. I held my poles in one hand unable to use them for balance in the dark while I held my phone in the other. My descents had only taken five minutes, so I expected to be at the bottom and trudge all the way back up by the time it uploaded. I was only 1/3 of the way down when the number read 29,258 feet. I shouted with elation. The temperature hovered one degree above freezing, so I didn’t have the luxury of basking in my accomplishment since I knew my body temperature would plumet.
