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Walking up the Summit for the 25th time

By Jim Downey jdowney@heraldstandard.Com 4 min read
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Albert Einstein supposedly quipped, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

Now, I say supposedly because, after extensive research (two minutes) on the internet, Einstein apparently did not say the aforementioned quote, but itĢƵ been attributed to the genius for so long, itĢƵ assumed to be true.

But, I digress.

The 38th annual running of the Mt. Summit Challenge (serving runners, walkers and everyone in between since 1983, save last yearĢƵ cancellation due to the pandemic) commenced around 9 a.m. in downtown Hopwood on a cold, wet, foggy, spring (huh?) morning.

Now, unless you happened to be out and about early Sunday morning, I’m talking scary movie, London/San Francisco-type fog. I’d estimate visibility in the last couple miles was less than a city block.

ConnellsvilleĢƵ Jesse Irwin, the menĢƵ running champ, said, in a way, the fog wasn’t so bad. And, I agreed.

“The fog was cool,” said Irwin. “Sometimes itĢƵ good not to see whatĢƵ going on, especially with this one.”

The race marked the 25th time I ascended Interstate 40 after I was excitedly talked into doing so by my comrade-in-arms, Jamie Brooks, way back in the 1990s.

Seemed like a good idea way back then. I was younger, not pulling on gravity as much and doing more training as opposed to just putting in time exercising.

So, for whatever reason, we went back for a second time. My times have varied over the three decades, although I was pleasantly pleased with my finish (third male) and time (sub-47 minutes).

But, touching back on EinsteinĢƵ not-said words, the physical and mental toll hasn’t changed over the years, although thereĢƵ always the thought maybe it won’t be so bad this year.

The Summit is different for me than other traditional road races in that most walks or runs the lungs go and then drag my legs down with them. Because of the severe elevation, generally my legs take the brunt of the rise and take the lungs with them.

And, you know, that happened the fifth time I walked the course, and the 10th time I walked the course, and the 15th time I walked the course, etc. (See aforementioned quote.)

Another thing I was hoping would change was this would finally be the year when one of the wonderful young Uniontown runners who man the water stop would accept my plea to touch off and finish the race in my stead. Lots of water, smiles and encouragement, but, alas, no takers.

I started lying to myself with about two miles to go, the worst part of the 3.5-mile course. The body, a bit sleep deprived cause I guess thatĢƵ what happens when you get old (I’ve been told), would’ve been happy to shut down at that point. And, my brain was inclined to agree with the legs.

But, athletic motivation (i.e., stupidity) won the argument. ThatĢƵ when the lying started. “Hey, only 1.75 miles to go. … Look, only 1½ miles left. … You made the lookout, only a half mile left!”

I even pulled out a trick I used when I paced my nephew Jason Lohr (who, when he was in college left me in his dust to win the walk, along with a couple top-3 walking finishes), walking orange pylon to the next pylon. Fortunately, with all the fog, the next pylon was all I could see anyway.

The close of the course is tantalizingly evil because the finish line is in full view in the final half mile of the trip. But, with all the fog, I’m talking pea soup fog, the finish line actually snuck up on me. Yay!

I could see the flashing lights of the state trooper cruiser, but I thought he was just protecting the inner lane for the runners and walkers. I was so pleasantly surprise when my brain sorted out that was the finish line!

I have another weather anomaly for western Pennsylvania. Temperature at race time was in the mid-40s or so, but the humidity was 99 percent. I had a July sweat going on a late April day.

I am reminded why so many hundreds of folks are willing to put themselves through this annually by something I overheard a few years ago. I was making the turn off the exit toward the ascent when I passed a couple ladies.

“Why are we doing this, again,” one of the ladies asked her friend.

“For the adventure,” was the friendĢƵ reply.

Congratulations to all those who enjoyed the adventure.

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