The Boston Monkey

Just a few days after the Empire State Building Run-Up,  I traveled to Boston to “Race Up Boston Place”. I did this event a year ago and even though I had a great race, I forgot to swipe my timing chip and had to go back into the stairwell to swipe. Those few precious seconds cost me both the win and the course record, so I was coming into the race with a huge monkey on my back*. You can read about last years’ experience here.

*Actually, it felt like more like a baboon or a gibbon, but I’d have to consult a primatologist to be sure.

The day after Empire (i.e. Thursday) my lungs were still a bit raw but I felt energetic. I was still disappointed with my performance at Empire and I felt like hitting the gym hard to take out my frustration. Fortunately reason trumped emotion. Knowing I needed to save my energy for Boston, I kept my workout fairly light.

The day before the race, my lungs were nearly recovered and I spent my lunch hour in the office stairwell doing pacing intervals to prepare for the race. Although half of the ascents were done at close to race pace, they were short enough so that I wasn’t taxing my legs or lungs. After my pacing intervals, I knew I was ready to race.

That evening I headed to my friend Kurtis’ house in Worcester (a city just west of Boston) to crash overnight. I got a late start – having spent extra time after work to make a salad for dinner – so I arrived at Kurtis’ house later than I had planned (nearly 11:00 PM). We stayed up for another hour or so and I finally went to bed just after midnight. Although I should have given myself more time to sleep the night before a big race, I hadn’t seen Kurtis and Renee in nearly a year and wanted to chat and catch up.

I woke up around 6:20 AM and slipped out the door by 6:40. I got into Boston around 7:15 or so, but I missed the exit to get off I93. I was using the same map that I printed out last year to get to the race and wanted to get off at exit 24A… but the interstate exits seemed to skip from 23 to all the way to 26. By the time I finally got off the interstate I was completely lost. T minus 35 minutes.

The good news was that I brought along my portable GPS, but the bad news was that the GPS was on “low battery” and I didn’t have the USB adapter for my car charger*.

*I thought it was in the glove compartment of my car… but it was really sitting on top of my bookshelf at home.

I parked my car at a gas station and frantically entered the address into the GPS. T minus 30 minutes. It found the location easily enough, but it took several harrowing minutes for the GPS to connect to a satellite and give me directions. T minus 25 minutes. Finally the GPS showed me where to go and I followed the directions towards downtown. I got off the interstate again into a the messy web of Boston side streets. None of the street names looked familiar but I kept scanning the area for a familiar landmark. Finally I saw what I was looking for: One Boston Place! I found the parking garage I was supposed to use, but it was further down the wrong end of a one way street. T minus 20 minutes. Fortunately, I managed to go around the block and pick up the street again. I quickly parked my car in the garage. T minus 15 minutes.

As I ran over to the building memories of 2014 came back to haunt my mind. A year ago, I arrived fairly early, yet still managed to screw things up – forgetting my bib’s safety pins, getting locked in the wrong stairwell, etc. etc. But this year I was smarter… right?

I rushed into the building and headed to the lower level to get my #1 bib. Rather than mess around with gear check (on the 39^th floor) I decided to just leave my bag behind the check-in counter. It wasn’t the safest option, but it saved a few precious minutes – minutes I didn’t have. I quickly stripped off  my warm-ups (I was wearing my racing gear underneath) and changed into my racing shoes. After stuffing my bag behind the check-in counter, I headed to the men’s bathroom *.  T minus 10 minutes.

*’cause every ounce matters.

With less than 10 minutes remaining, I headed back upstairs. I began my warm-ups right on the staircase landing (a separate stairway – not the actual race course). I had just enough time to crank out two sets of burpees before I had to get in line. Two sets wasn’t optimal, but it had to be enough. With less than five minutes before the race, I made it to the front of the line. Count down aborted. Mission success.

In line I met Paul Curley, stair climbing veteran and official timer of the ALA, as well as my new friend Chris Price, an Australian who I had recently met at the Empire State Building Run-Up. Also in line I met the racer with the #2 bib - Adam Celleme - a local racer who I knew by reputation. He has done this race several times and owns a PB of 4:31 (set in 2010). Assuming he was still in good shape, I knew it would be a close race*.

*To put things into perspective, 4:31 is an impressive time. Last year’s winner came in at 4:25, beating me in a tight (albeit mistake prone) race. Few people on the circuit today could go faster.

Having barely made it to the race on time, I had very little time to think about my race strategy, let alone preview the stairwell. Fortunately, the day before the race, I re-read last year’s blog so I more or less knew what to expect. With 30 seconds before the start, I set my metronome to 121 beats per minute which worked well last year. If I could keep up that pace, that would put my on track to hit 4:20 or so, which would handily break the Javier’s record of 4:23 set back in 2010.

As the seconds ticked by I reviewed one last thing in my head: Don’t forget to swipe my chip.

The clock passed 8:00 AM and I ran into the stairwell.

The 121 pace was tough, but maintainable. My mind wasn’t really into the climb – I was still stressed out about nearly missing the race – but I had my metronome to push me through the first 10 floors while I climbed on autopilot. As the floors passed by, I noticed that my movement was turning on the auto-lights. Every couple floors or so, it would become kind of dark, but with a sudden click, the stairwell would become illuminated once again.

By the mid-teens I was finally in the zone. My heart rate was peaking and I could really feel the strain of the pace. I surprised a couple of the race volunteers who were chatting idly on one of the landings. Once they saw me, they moved out of  my way – and quickly scurried back to their assigned stations. By this point I could no longer hear Adam behind me, although I could still hear the volunteers cheering for him down below.

I knew the midpoint of the race was somewhere between the 18^th floor and 19^th. I checked my watch as I approached the 19^th floor. It was something like 2:07 or maybe 2:10? I don’t really recall – my brain being oxygen deprived  at that moment – but I do remember being fairly pleased. I climbed into the 20s still going strong.

The pace was becoming tough as I climbed out of the 20s. Suddenly (floor 28 to be exact) the stairwell switch from right hand turns to left hand turns. It totally broke my rhythm – almost like somebody sucker punching me in the gut and knocking the wind from my lungs. It took a couple floors to get back into the groove.

The 30s were brutal. I could barely hold on to the pace and gripped both rails at once for dear life. When I hit the 36^th floor it felt like someone had taken a hot poker and branded my lungs. I began counting down each individual flight – not just the floors – in order to cope. In the back of my mind I knew I was supposed to kick it up a notch and finish strong, but I couldn’t will my body to go any faster. My legs were ready, but my heart and lungs were at their limit. By the 40^th floor I had nothing left to give, but I knew it was almost over. I climbed the final few flights (all four of them) and the finish line was in site. I held out my right hand and swiped my chip. I made sure not to forget this time around*.

*It also helps that the timing mats were marked with a huge red “X”.

X Marks the Spot

After swiping my chip, I quickly turned off my stopwatch. It said 4:24 and I was fairly confident that I had at least tied the building record of 4:23. I may have been a second or two off from last year’s unofficial pace – but by finally taking the record, I had thrown off a huge monkey off my back.

I sat down in a chair, leaning forward with my forearms on my legs to try and recover. Although I didn’t see Adam finish (as I was too tired to lift my head) I could hear him cross the finish line. He wasn’t too far behind so I knew it was a close race – although I suspected I had pulled far enough ahead to take the win. Next came some of the usual suspects – Paul and Chris although I wasn’t sure in which order.

After a couple minutes I finally had enough energy to sit up straight and talk. I was finally able to chat with the other racers and hear their thoughts about the race. Adam pretty much secured the #2 spot, but apparently Paul and Chris battled it out for 3^rd. From what I gather, Paul started 10 seconds ahead of Chris, but Chris managed to catch up and pass. Later on in the race, Paul took the lead again… but did he manage to take back all 10 seconds? It was too close to call. We’d have to wait until the final standings were posted.

At the top, I also had the opportunity to meet someone who reads my blog other than friends & family. Thanks Nick – you really made my day.

After recapping our individual races, Chris and I headed back downstairs to retrieve our bags. We stopped at the 39^th floor to get Chris’s stuff and get a post-race snack (I had an ice cream bar). Then we went down to the check-in table to get mine.

Just as I was getting my bag, I ran into another person who reads my blog. You read that right. There are *multiple* people that read my blog! Just to prove it, here is a photo.

 

I'm not short. Daryl is just tall.

Daryl – a reader of my blog – came all the way from Canada to do this race. He is a fire fighter is climbing stairs to train for the fire fighter games. He chose the right venue since this Boston is one of the most competitive fire fighter climbs on the East Coast.

After parting ways with Daryl, Chris and I went back to the 39^th floor to snap a few photos and gather some post-race goodies*.

*read: another ice cream bar.

WCL & SCA

Chris and I then headed back downstairs to check out our official race times:

I took 1^st place with a time of 4:23 – officially tying the record.

Adam took 2^nd with a time of 4:28 – becoming just the 5^th person ever go sub 4:30.

Chris managed to hold off Paul for 3^rd place with a time of 4:58.

Paul came in 4^th with a time of 5:03, putting guys half his age to shame.

You can see the full results here.

After checking our times, Chris and I headed to the post-race party at Scholar’s Boston Bistro to grab a drink. Unfortunately, both of us had to hit the road before the start of the awards ceremony, but we had a chance to hang out for nearly an hour and discuss our favorite subject: Climbing stairs!

Chris is one of the founding members of Stair Climbing Australia (SCA) – an organization devoted to promoting stair climbing in the land down under. Although SCA mainly covers the Australian climbing circuit, it has a lot of useful training tips for stair climbing. In fact, I got the idea for my “Training Time” posts from one of Chris’ posts on the SCA website (check out the site here). I’m glad I finally had a chance to meet Chris in person after reading so many of his articles on the SCA website.

At 11:00 AM, it was time to get back on the road. After parting ways with Chris, I headed back to my friend Kurtis’s house to unwind. After Empire and Boston, I was pretty much drained so it was a real treat to hang out with one of my oldest friends. Plus, I got to eat whatever I wanted (pizza, nachos, etc.) and play one of my favorite board games: Twilight Imperium (think Risk… but in space).

Don't mess with my fleet.

Race Grades:

Effort: A- ; I lost focus near the end of the race and could have pushed harder… but it would’ve been tough. I was a puddle of oatmeal (steel cut – not quick oats) when I crossed the finish line.

Strategy: A ; My game plan of “stick with what worked last year” paid off.

Technique: A- ; Solid… but I have to learn how to take the turns faster.

Overall: A- ; Fitness wise, I think I’m slightly better this year, so I was hoping to break 4:20. Although I felt strong and fully recovered from the Empire State Building Run-up, I can’t help but wonder if racing so soon after Empire (on 2.5 days rest) might have depleted some of my energy reserves. In addition, last year I put together one of my best races ever (before screwing up my timing chip). So all things considered, I still had a pretty good race this go around.

Final Thoughts:

I may have been slightly slower this year (unofficially) it was a great feeling to finally get both the win and the course record. I waited a whole year to go for the win and the record. Getting that monkey off my back was good feeling*.

*No copyright infringement intended.

This building is virtually identical to the Albany Corning Tower and it is worth comparing how I felt after this race with how I felt in Albany back in 2013. This time, my legs felt pretty good after the race, but it took  a few minutes to catch my breath (i.e. stop feeling like I’m at death’s door) and another few minutes to start feeling human again. However two years ago in Albany, my legs were the limiting factor. Although my lungs hurt and I coughed up phlegm for a few days afterward, it was the pain in the legs which I remember most vividly - the sensation that someone had replaced all the blood in my legs with liquid fire. I believe the difference has been all the leg strengthening exercises I’ve done in conjunction with all the stair well sprints over the last two years; I feel stronger in the gym and the results in the stairwell confirm it. Now my weakest link (for races 40 stories & above) is clearly my aerobic/anaerobic capacity.

ESBRU 2014

Editor's Note: Originally written in 2014, this post has been sitting on my desk for nearly a year for a few reasons. First, I didn't have a particularly strong performance. Second, I was fighting off a virus that nearly ruined my season (which started with the Boston/ESBRU combo) and I wanted to forget about the whole thing. The final reason is I'm just lazy at keeping my blog current.

With the 2015 edition of the race right around the corner, I felt it was time to dust off this post and finally publish it. 

And my expectations for Tomorrow's race? I'm healthy, in great shape, and nervous. I'm likely going under 12 minutes.

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ESBRU is done!

What a difference a few days makes. Even though I had a pretty mediocre performance at Empire, I still had more fun at this race than I did in Boston*.

*In Boston, I unofficially broke the course record. However, I couldn’t find the timing chip mat and lost 5+ seconds. My mishap cost me both the race and the official course record. It was a tough pill to swallow, but a good lesson learned.

I was full of nerves in the days leading up to the race, and sick to boot. I pushed myself pretty hard in Boston and I picked up a case of “climber’s cough”. To make matters worse, my immune system took a hit and I also picked up a cold; a runny nose on Sunday turned into congestion & wooziness on Monday. I kept Tuesday’s workout (the day before the race) short and easy to make sure I was fresh for Wednesday’s race. I only did 8 climbs at race pace in my 6-story office building. Although most of my strength seemed to be back, the top end of my lungs still hurt, making climbing somewhat uncomfortable.

Tuesday night was particularly stressful because not only were my lungs still sore, but a snow storm was coming in. I thought about leaving for NYC that evening to make sure I would make it to the race, but opted to stay home instead. I hoped that a good night’s sleep would help me recover.

When I awoke Wednesday morning, there was about 12 inches of snow on the ground and it was still snowing. School was cancelled so I had to work from home that morning. This was actually kind of nice because it meant I’d save a good hour’s worth of driving (round trip) which meant I had some extra time to relax and prepare for the race.

Around noon I stopped working, but I didn’t get on the road for at least another half an hour. Even though I parked my car as close to the road as possible, the snow was so deep it took me a good 30 minutes to clean my car and shovel a path to the road.

The roads were horrible and it was still snowing. I nearly had an accident on my way to the bus station after I slid through a red light. Fortunately there weren’t very many cars on the road and I had enough time to get my car back under control before running into the cross traffic.

I arrived safely at the Albany Greyhound station, but to my dismay it was closed because of the storm. I dreaded the thought of driving all the way to NYC in the storm, but luckily the train station was just across the Hudson River in Rensselaer. I hopped back into my car and drove over the Dunn Memorial bridge. Miraculously the trains were still running and I booked passage to Port Authority, NYC.

The train ride was smooth and we arrived in NYC without incident. Since I still had several hours to kill before the race, we took the family over to Rockefeller Plaza to visit the LEGOLAND toy store and take in another iconic building*.

*I placed third at the Rock back in 2012. It is also the place where I met Sproule’s friend Tim Donahue.

We arrived at the Empire State Building around 7:00 PM. The first thing I did was ask permission to measure the stairs. It took a few minutes to get through security and another few minutes to talk them into unlocking the stairwell door, but finally they allowed me to see the first flight of steps. With an elevation gain of 1050 feet and 1576 steps, you’d expect the stairs to be 8 inches tall… but you’d be wrong*. The steps at the Empire State Building are just over 7 inches tall!

*Time and time again, the published step count and elevation for stair climbing races are incorrect. Just ask Stan. It is no different at Empire. Although I only had a chance to measure a limited sample of steps, I’m positive that the steps are less than 8 inches tall because I climbed steadily at 88 BPM using my metronome. Had these steps been 8 inches, I would have either broken 11 minutes or had a heart attack.

The NYRR had a special area for the invitational and MMRF waves and I grabbed a spot in the corner to begin final preparations. While I changed and repacked my bags, I saw a few familiar faces – people I knew personally or climbers who I knew by reputation. In fact, I had a chance to finally one of the fastest climbers in the world: Darren Wilson from Australia. In the waiting room I also learned that the finish line had been moved to the top of the 86^th floor rather than out on the observation deck. The bad weather made it too dangerous to run outside.

Nearly 25 minutes before the race, they started lining up the different waves, which was odd, because NYRR’s email strictly forbade us to arrive earlier than 30 minutes before the race. Thank goodness I ignored their instructions and arrived early so I had enough time to get ready. The other oddity was that they forbade us to bring our water bottles (presumably due to the enhanced security at the building).

A few minutes later, they allowed my wave (the men’s invitational) to start warming up while the women’s invitational waited at the start line. The hallway was pretty hot and after I completed a few rounds of burpees, my face was getting flushed and my mouth was getting dry. Without a water bottle in sight, I asked one of the guards the location of the nearest bathroom (which I figured would have a sink) and he told me there weren’t any, but I could try the Starbucks at the corner of the building. The door to the Starbucks was locked, but miraculously I saw a familiar face staring at me through the glass doorway. It was Bruce Yang! I did my best mime impression to indicate I was thirsty and needed some water. Fortunately Bruce had an extra bottle of water and motioned that he’d meet me in the hallway. He then walked out of Starbucks and walked back into the building near the cordoned off hallway. He reached over to give me a full water bottle as I shook his other hand to thank him. Triumphantly, I took a few sips. After saying goodbye to Bruce, I passed the bottle around to my fellow racers as we watched the women’s invitational take off. Now it was our turn to toe the line.

My strategy was pretty simple; keep a conservative pace until the 50^th floor and then speed up if I felt up to it. Although my lungs felt better than they did yesterday, I wasn’t sure I was at 100%. Plus, pushing myself too hard (like I did in Boston) would be a recipe for getting a full blown lung infection. As much as I wanted to go under 12:00, I wasn’t in the right condition or mind set. I figured that 12:30 was still achievable, but I’d still be happy if I broke 13:00.

Looking at the invitational field, I knew I would be pulling up the rear. My closest competitors would be David Tromp and Henry Wigglesworth, but I didn’t plan on keeping up with either of them this year. Not only was I not feeling great, but they both were veterans of this race*. Honestly, I didn’t know how to pace myself in this building, especially on the upper floors when you had to do a bit of running to get to each staircase.

*Although I did this race back in 2012, it was a terrible experience. Even though I knew what pace I used throughout the race, the circumstances were completely different. I was in the lottery time-trial and the stairwell was choked full of people. I ended up passing at least 100 people which both slowed me down and made me tired. It was so exhausted, that I ended up walking on the upper levels. Correspondingly, only a fraction of my first experience could be applied to today’s race.

You may think I was selling myself short and giving up before the race had even begun. Perhaps that is true, but at that moment it felt right. It was also somewhat liberating since I no longer felt any pressure to perform well. Setting the bar low would ensure I’d finish the race, even if my lungs started to hurt again. Plus it would give me the opportunity to measure my pace in a clear stairwell. I might not feel very competitive this year, but the knowledge I’d gain would set me up for success next year.

I set my metronome to 87 BPM. This was probably the pace I should of used in 2012 and I figured it would be a relatively easy pace for me to keep. In fact, if the steps were indeed only 7 inches tall throughout the course, I would probably need to pick up the pace during the 2^nd half in order to finish under 13 minutes.

As soon as the NYRR finished announcing the men’s invitational, the official sounded the horn in one of the most cordial starts in the ESBRU history*. I started off behind the favorites, beating only Henry Wigglesworth through the stairwell doorway. I immediately started marching to the beat of my metronome as all the other climbers pulled away and jockeyed for position. By the 5^th floor, everyone else – including Henry – were already out of sight. I bit back the urge to follow since I knew their pace was unsustainable, secretly hoping I’d reign in a few people later on in the climb.

*Search for “ESBRU Start” on YouTube. Some years had dozens if not hundreds of people per wave, which meant the start was complete chaos.

Men's Invitational Heat. I'm in the 2nd row.

It was pretty lonely in the stairwell and I didn’t like being the very last one – especially by such a large margin. I wasn’t in the race mentally, but physically I was coping quite well. My lungs weren’t hurting and the pace felt pretty relaxed. By the time I hit the upper teens, I increased my metronome to 88 BPM, not daring to go any higher this early in the race. From experience I knew that the first part of a race always feels easy; it usually isn’t until the midway point when the pain really starts to kick in.

Around floor 21 or so the stairwell pattern changed. Instead of 180 degree landings between each floor, each floor had a single flight of stairs*. To get to each new flight, you had to run several paces across the landing. The pictures below show this section of the race course. Photos courtesy James Harris (photographer) and Tomas Celko (pictured).

* Technically there are two flights each floor, not one continuous flight. You will notice from the 2^nd picture the stairs begin with a short quarter turn right followed by a short flight of three steps which ends on a small landing. After another quarter turn, there is a single long flight of stairs up to the next level.

Eventually I got used to this new pattern. My technique went something like this:

1. Finish the prior flight of stairs. Grab the rail to help accelerate around the turn.
2. Run across the landing (it is too short for a full sprint).
3. At the base of the next flight, grab the railing as best as possible to help turn the corner.
4. Use the momentum gained during the run to carry your body up the first short flight of steps and around the landing.
5. Decelerate back to normal climbing speed on the long flight of stairs - letting gravity do the work.
6. Climb the remainder of the flight. Repeat.

Soon I hit floor 30. The stairwell was very quiet. Besides the sounds of my breathing and footsteps, the only other sounds were coming from occasional volunteer. I remember hearing one of them announce “Here comes the last climber!” Most likely he was speaking into a radio to help the NYRR keep track of the race, but it still made me feel lousy. No one likes to be in last place.

A few floors later, I could faintly hear another climber up ahead.  Soon I confirmed I was gaining on the racer with the #4 bib. He was actually the only climber I didn’t know by reputation. When I saw him walking on the landings rather than running, I knew he was in trouble. I’ve been there before! I finally passed him on in the upper 30s and continued my vertical march.

I passed floor #44 imagining I only had the Albany Corning Tower left to climb*. I was nearly half way (time wise) up to the 86^th floor but I didn’t bother looking at my watch. Without a stairwell map it is pointless to try and guess time splits. The floor numbers kept creeping up and soon enough I was in the 50s still climbing smoothly. I approached the 60s only slightly more fatigued.

*David Tromp told me that is what he always thinks when he passes the 44^th floor a couple years ago and it has stuck ever since.

I met James Harris on the 66^th floor. He wasn’t racing this event – he was taking pictures*. I said hello as he took a couple shots. Physically I was feeling pretty good at this point. My heart rate had maxed out but the pain level was tolerable and my lungs were holding up. I accelerated for a few floors but then settled back into my regular pace**. I was still climbing by myself (albeit no longer in last place) and I didn’t have the willpower to go any faster.

*His wife Cindy has won the ESBRU multiple times and is a bit of a celebrity in the stair climbing world.

**That is one downside of using a metronome. Once you set a certain pace it is hard to deviate.

I passed into the lower 70s and risked a glance at my watch; It was already past 10 minutes!* I didn’t really have a clue if I was on track to break 13 minutes, but I did know one thing; the top racers were already finishing and here I was pussy footing around nearly 15 floors below. Something in my brain snapped and I shifted into high gear. It was probably too late to make much of a difference, but I had to do something.

* Maybe my watch said 10:17? Or maybe10: 43? I don’t really remember.

In the upper 70s or lower 80s I passed my friend Madeleine (who was in the women’s invitational) and a few moments later I passed another girl. Even though Madeleine was in last place, I was happy she was making it a competitive race. I on the other hand didn’t even show up to the fight. Ashamed with myself, I bolted up the few remaining flights and passed the finish line. I stopped my stop watch just as it passed 12:33.

Winded, I looked for a place to rest as a volunteer grabbed me a cup of water. The last ten floors were really draining, but compared to Boston, I felt pretty good. I was fairly pleased with my time, which would have been in the lower 12:40s had we been able to run across the observation deck to the normal finish line. Although I was a little upset with myself for not picking up the pace sooner in the race, I still managed to come close to my goal. Plus I set new PR by a margin of about 1:15. I was definitely pleased.

After the race we headed down to the post-race buffet and award ceremony. I think it was on the 80^th floor? It was nice to chat with the other racers at the buffet and congratulate all the podium finishers. I got a chance to look at the time sheet and I was surprised to learn I was only 6 seconds behind Henry Wigglesworth. After the first couple floors I never even saw him in the stairwell. I must have made up a significant amount of time near the end of the race, which meant my slow and steady strategy nearly paid off. You can see the full results here.

The best climbers live in Albany!

The only sour moment came during the announcement of the podium finishers on the men’s side. I was pretty upset when the NYRR announcer commented “Yet again, no American male sits on the podium.” Although true, it was the way he said it that really set me off. The tone of his voice sounded like he thought the American racers were 2^nd rate. What an asshole. After flipping him the bird, I yelled out “Hey, why don’t you try it?”

This point deserves a bit more commentary. If you follow Stair Climbing, you would quickly realize that the sport is dominated by the Europeans and Australians on the men’s side. We have many good climbers in the US, but there are far more athletes abroad who compete at a high level. To make matters worse, very few top Americans race at Empire because of the logistics. The race is in the middle of the week and this year the acceptance notices didn’t go out until 4 weeks prior to the event. This makes booking tickets & hotel accommodations difficult for those Americans living further West. In fact, you’ll see from the results sheet that the top Americans all hail from the East Coast.

After the awards ceremony, David and I headed back down to the bag check area to get changed. Next on the agenda was the brewery for a few post-race drinks! I spent the next hour or so with my friends and family talking about the race and meeting other climbers. All to soon it was time to leave; we had a bus to catch back to Albany.

Final Thoughts:

Effort: D/B- ; I didn’t push myself very hard (D). However, I just recovered from Boston, so I purposefully went out slow. That said, I should have picked up the pace around floor 45 rather than wait until the mid-70s. As such, I’m giving myself a B-.

Strategy: C+/B+ ; My pace was definitely too conservative (C+), but considering I had just recovered, I get some points back (B+). I can’t give myself an A because I failed to increase my pace during the 2^nd half of the race.

Technique: B+ ; The stairwell takes a bit of getting used to, but I finally feel comfortable with it. With practice, I think an A is possible.

Overall: C/B ; Because I didn’t push myself hard enough, I give myself a C. I purposefully held back because I wasn’t at 100%, so I’m giving myself a few points back (B).

Lessons Learned:

·         As a race, I did pretty mediocre, but as a practice session it was extremely valuable. Now I know what to expect and can make the proper adjustments.

·         If I had to do this race again today, I’d set my pace at 92 BPM and see how I felt at the 45^th floor. I feel fairly confident that I could break 12 minutes.

·         My lungs barely had time to recover after Boston. If I do the Boston/Empire combo again, I can’t afford to get sick. If I didn’t have unfinished business inside the stairwell at One Boston Place, I’d contemplate skipping the race next year.

·         Because of Empire’s unique shape (i.e. broad landings & long single flights) it is more sound proof than your typical stairwell. You can be within a floor of someone and not even notice. Don’t assume you are significantly behind or ahead of your fellow racers.

·         Screw Greyhound! The train is far more reliable in bad weather.