Issue 004:
Before my phone could reach its alarm, I stirred awake to roll over and check the time. The cell phone screen burst brightly 3:08 AM to my heavy and unprepared eyes. My bladder was bullying me to get up earlier than expect, forcing me to abandon my cozy truck bed camper. The night sky was proving to be in my favor, providing a pleasant coolness that was nothing short of ideal. Where was I exactly? I was near Aspen in a large parking lot. Why was I there? To meet up with six other runners who had all met via social media and spontaneously agreed to gather only a few days before with the same goal in mind, to hike the Maroon Bells Four Pass Loop in one day. Generally considered a challenging 4.8/5 route, people typically spend two nights and three days to complete the route as they backpack, camp, and hike. This is roughly 26 miles from start to finish with about 8,500+ feet of elevation gained throughout the trek.
The parking lot was littered with cars and as time got closer to four in the morning, headlamps started to click on and wave around as each of the other runners woke. As for our crew, us seven strangers now gathered in a circle together introducing each other, laughing and bonding as we shared our stories, ate breakfast and then comically crammed ourselves into one car and drive to the trail.
This is a special mentality that only a sport like trail running can bring about. How many others would motivate people to drive three hours, sleep in their car, wake up at four in the morning and hike a marathons distance with enough vertical ascent to scale the worlds tallest building in Dubai, Burj Khalifa, more than three times in a day? We are a strange blend of self-motivated, awe-inspired thrill-seekers, nature lovers, and world travelers with a competitive spirit.
Once at the trailhead, everyone made their peace on the porcelain thrown and shot back some coffee before setting sail. Behind our backs, the sun started to shine as much as our spirited conversations. Whether it be the striking nature that surrounded us or the buzz of the mountain high, the high altitude and stunning scenery seemed to supercharge our conversations, forging instant bonds. These are the kind of adventures that separate the wannabes from the doers, just diving headfirst into the unknown.
High-fives echoed through the alpine air as our crew effortlessly knocked out four miles to Buckskin Pass, a daunting 12,460-foot summit. Mother Nature couldn't have scripted a better day. Cool breezes and wispy clouds provided the ideal conditions for peak performance. With a picturesque backdrop of grazing deer and vibrant wildflowers, it was clear this adventure was shaping up to be a great day!
Dropping in on the backside of the first pass, we were greeted by single track that unfurled in sweeping, high-speed fun. After descending 1,700 feet, we hit Snowmass Lake at the eight-mile mark. This alpine gem, a crystalline oasis surrounded by emerald pines and granite spires, was a tempting pit stop. But with the clock ticking and the sun threatening to break through the cloud cover, we pressed on, ascending to the next daunting Trail Rider Pass at 12,420 feet.
Halfway through, the mountain began to test our limits. Once once cohesive pack started to scatter into smaller, more specialized paces. Some gassed it to the summit with their eyes fixed on the prize. Others, savoring the scenery, opting for a more leisurely pace. But make no mistake, quitting wasn’t an option. While some powered up the incline, the burn in my calves was a stark reminder of the mountain's dominance. Yet, our crew remained united, regrouping at every checkpoint to share stories, restock, and recover. From wipeouts to unexpected bee attacks, the day was packed with action, but the grins on everyone's faces said it all - we were loving life.
A spectator, clearly struck by the absurdity of our group jogging at altitude, let loose a hearty, “You’re fucking nuts in the best way possible!” And he was right.
On paper, a mere two miles divided Frigid Air Pass from the summit of West Maroon. But at 12,408 feet, every stride was a battle against gravity, fatigue, and the relentless mountain. Our bodies were screaming for solid food, a cry that energy gels and bars couldn’t silence. The pack spread wider as legs either found a second wind or hit the wall. As for me, I was firmly in the latter camp. Thankfully, the mountains took pity on us around mile 17, gifting a cooling drizzle that was refreshing.
It’s all downhill from here! With every agonizing stride, the finish remaining miles crept closer. Miles turned into a blur of pain and determination. We were on the brink, delirious and stumbling over our conversations as much as our footsteps. The scenery was a distant memory, replaced by the burning ache in our feet and legs. This was no longer a walk in the park – it was a battle of wills. As the parking lot appeared, I unleashed a primal surge of power. Collapsing in ecstasy, I claimed my hard-earned accomplishment. The crew stumbled in, each face carrying the same look of disbelief. Mission accomplished! After a smelly and disheveled ride back, we devoured Texas BBQ like starved wolves. -CB