How a blown winter race season turned into my best climb on Shasta — and what it proved about the power of a smart, consistent training plan.

Part Two: Turning It Around

Once my skimo race season was clearly a wash, I knew I needed a new target. Something big enough to keep me disciplined, and a chance to put my own system — the Alpine Adaptation Method — to the test on myself.

The goal I chose was simple: beat my old PR on Mount Shasta’s south side via Avalanche Gulch.

Back in 2008, at age 30, I pushed myself to the limit and topped out in 3 hours and 48 minutes. I remember being so wasted at the summit that I had to wrap up in a down jacket and nap before I could walk down.

That effort came after nearly a full guiding season on Shasta. I had already spent dozens of nights at high camps, with countless days climbing and working on the upper mountain. My blood was surely thick with red blood cells from all of that time at altitude, but my fitness was mostly accidental — a byproduct of guiding rather than the result of structured training. My only “extras” were the occasional road ride or low-elevation hike.

Now at 47, I had two big advantages: decades of climbing efficiency and the training wisdom I’ve gained from coaching dozens of athletes. But I also had two big limitations: I was older, and I spent far less time on Shasta. More of my hours are at a desk, writing workouts and managing TrainingPeaks plans for my athletes. In many ways, I was in the same boat as them — balancing real-life responsibilities with limited time to train.

Was it even possible to follow a structured plan and climb Shasta in close to 4 hours? I wanted to find out.

The Training Plan

In February, I applied my own 16-week Shasta Summit Training Plan — the embodiment of the Alpine Adaptation Method — to my calendar and adjusted it according to my training availability and my actual fitness at the time.

Base Phase: I retested my aerobic threshold, logged mostly easy ski tours focusing on a large volume of vertical gain, and hit two strength sessions per week.
Build Phase: I swapped in lower-body muscular endurance, added steep ski tours with zone 3 intensity, did lots of very easy zone 1 volume to balance the intensity, and pivoted so that all strength work would support sport-specific needs.
Specific Phase: I focused almost entirely on steep, weighted ski tours, long guiding days, and targeted high-intensity efforts. Guiding on Shasta doubled as perfect training: heavy packs, steep ascents, and the grind of living in the mountain environment.

One highlight of my specific training block came in April: I hauled a heavy overnight pack to Hidden Valley, then climbed and skied Shastina plus another lap the same day — gaining about 7,000 vertical feet. The next day, fatigued but focused, I summited Shasta for the 228th time. That weekend sharpened the edge I’d need for my upcoming guiding work and my PR attempt.

With this big block of specific training behind me, all I needed to do was stay healthy while guiding and maintain enough training volume to stay fit and reduce fatigue between trips and long workouts.

The Attempt

I set my climb for May 22, with a short window on either side in case weather was a factor. Unlike years ago, I was not acclimated and had only spent a few days and nights on the mountain. I didn’t concern myself with the altitude. Instead, I trusted what I know works: efficient movement, strong aerobic fitness, and deliberate breathing.

This time, I carried lightweight race gear: Scarpa Alien boots, Hagan Ultra 79 skis, minimal avy kit, BD race axe, and race crampons. The plan was to start easy, keep my HR between 120–150 bpm, and save my strongest pushes for Misery Hill and the summit plateau.

Early on, I felt strong and was moving well. As I passed other climbers below treeline, a few tried racing me to prevent me from getting ahead, so my heart rate got a little high as I accelerated around them. By the time I reached 8,000’, I was alone and back in control of my pace and effort.

At 9,500’ the terrain steepens, so I fixed ski crampons to my bindings. Skis are faster than boots on firm snow because they glide and give the feet a flat platform, making each stride more efficient. The crampons helped maintain purchase and confidence on the frozen surface.

At 11,500’, the mountain steepens further and the terrain is more exposed. It was time to transition from skinning with ski crampons to boot cramponing. That’s when I ran into trouble. My crampons — brand new, ultralight, and untested at altitude — kept popping off. I stopped multiple times to fix them, losing precious minutes. Each time, I had to pull off my gloves, readjust the Dyneema spreader bar, buckle the crampon back on, and regain momentum. I kept the timer on my watch going during each of these stops.

The routine almost broke me. I was sure I wouldn’t reach the top anywhere near 4 hours. Still, I kept my head. I stuck to my plan, moved efficiently, and never let frustration unravel the effort.

Eventually, when the terrain eased, I picked up my crampons and carried them in my hands, racing up Misery Hill and the summit pinnacle.

At the summit, I hit “lap” on my watch and saw the time: 4:08. This was my 230th climb to the summit of Shasta.

Not a new PR. But absolutely my best climb yet.

The Takeaway

This climb wasn’t about the number on my watch. It was about proving that the Alpine Adaptation Method works — for me, and for anyone willing to commit a few hours a week to smart, consistent training.

I moved efficiently, trusted the system, managed setbacks, and felt strong where it mattered most. That’s exactly what I want for my athletes: the confidence that their training will carry them through, no matter the conditions.

Next spring, I’ll be back to chase that old PR. But for now, I’m shifting my focus to helping others do the same — taking training seriously this fall so we can have our strongest winter and biggest spring yet.