Matt, on his way up... Photo by David Bitton

The night time laps brought on something I was not expecting, terrible asthma. Since I have asthma it wasn't a complete shock, but I never suffered from it like this. The super cold air and the previous 12 hours working hard nonstop were a recipe for some messed up lungs. I don't think I've ever felt that constricted during a race. At one point I thought for sure I was about to pass out because of lack of oxygen and wheezing. No matter what I tried I could not fix this problem on my own. Deep inhales lead to coughing fits and phlegm as did quick exhales, like the type done during a snot rocket. Skiing in the dark, alone, lacking the oxygen to think straight my mind wondered to thoughts of being attacked by some sort of creature. “Maybe a mountain lion could jump from the woods and take me out. I wouldn't be able to fight, I'm not strong enough right now,” I thought. I was feeling so bad that I welcomed the idea of a velociraptor taking me so that I wouldn't have to worry about breathing anymore. I started asking Mike every lap for a new asthma medicine: first Albuterol, then the Advair, and lastly the Clarinex. None of them worked great but I think the combination allowed me to avoid the E.R.

At some point in the dead of the night Greg Hill and the posse of elites that follow him passed me. Bryan Wickenhauser, being the main chaser at this point yells, “What the f#$% Matt, can he keep this up?” Wickenhauser was starting to look a bit exhausted after 10 hours of chasing the best ski mountaineer on the planet. He was certainly giving the announcer something to talk about. I guess everyone had thought Greg Hill would just run away from the pack and not be challenged at all on his way to the world record. Wickenhauser had other ideas. I think one of the last things he said to me was, “things are going to start getting strange,” I knew what he meant. At some point in most endurance events, at least if you are working as hard as Wickenhauser was, you get this strange haze and your brain wanders to strange thoughts. Bryan put up a good show but succumbed to his stomach after about 12 hours of racing. He told me later “I over did it on the eating and my stomach just couldn't process the calories and shut down, I puked. At that point I couldn't keep my body warm and the race was over.” It sucked to see him drop, but Jimmy Faust took up the chase in Wickenhauser's absence.

The nighttime laps meant very cold temperatures, so we really had to keep an eye on my frostbitten toe. I was moving along at a good maintainable pace, slowly plodding up the slope with rhymed breathing. My pace had slowed considerably to about an even hour per lap. I had just finished Lap 17 (26,350 feet) when I realized the foot warmers just weren't doing their job and my toes were cold. At 3:30 AM I skied in from a lap and Mike and I went right into the lodge to assess the situation. At first I figured I could put my down jacket on and go right back out. Then I thought I should warm up a bit first. Then as my thought process progressed, I figured it wouldn't hurt to look at the toe just to be safe. That was when my race ended. The black spot on my right toe had gotten darker and larger. My frostbite had gotten worse. At first I thought to myself, “I'll take an hour or two break, warm up and get back out there.” All I was concerned with was the three laps I needed to reach my goal of 30,000 feet of climbing. Shoot by that time I had changed my goal and was now aiming for at least 35,000 feet, I had the time.

I was so close and I had seven hours of race left. “This would be easy,” I remember thinking before entering the lodge. As I lay down to warm up, the reality of the situation hit me. Keeping my toe was more important than 30,000 or 35,000 feet. I knew if I made the frostbite any worse I'd have to answer to my mom and Tina. And as usual they would be right and I might be toeless. And so my race ended seven hours and a few thousand feet shy of the plan, in eighth place. I was pleasantly surprised to see that even sitting out seven hours of the race no one behind me had enough gas to pass me, and so I finished in eighth place when all was said and done. It was a great race and a great challenge. I have to thank Mike Bitton for the amazing support, Mike Marolt for the courage to put this race on, Granny Gear Productions for their help and the Sunlight Mountain for the great venue. Next year I'll shoot for around 40,000 feet and no frostbite.

Congratulations to Greg Hill and Jimmy Faust who broke the world record with 50,000 feet climbed in 24 hours. You can see the results here.