FKT Ruminations

I was recently walking down Green Mountain and thinking (vaguely, haphazardly, as on-the-trail thought processes are wont to be) about the concept of Fastest Known Times (FKTs).  Here in Boulder, they seem very natural, as much a part of the local mountain running culture and lore as La Sportivas and energy gels (how fast can you run up the front side of Green Mt?  Bear Peak from Cragmoor TH? SoBo Peak from South Mesa TH?).   Indeed, the as-far-as-anyone-can-tell pioneers--Peter Bakwin and Buzz Burrell--of the now codified term have been Boulder residents for way way way longer than I've even been alive and have been doing highly impressive things in the mountains for at least as long.  I'll leave the Googling up to you.

The master sprinting up Flattie3.

Upon examination, though, the FKT concept is a uniquely Boulderian manifestation.  First, although blessed with abundant open space and highly accessible local peaks and trails, the rules and regs here strictly forbid any kind of organized, competitive event on these lands.  I am not here to offer an opinion on these rules, but merely suggest that the inherent lack of races has, over time, instead led to an obsession with individuals communally tracking their best running/climbing times on obvious routes and lines.

Second, Boulder is a supremely active and outdoorsy place.  A lot of people here get excited about mountain sports (the Reel Rock Tour Premiere at the Boulder Theater last week yielded a line of people that stretched entirely around the block--hard to imagine that happening in any other city of this size in the country. Or maybe any other US city, period).  And when that happens, the alpha males (and females?) of this crowd inevitably start challenging each other and themselves to be better (faster, longer, stronger?) than they were yesterday.  Mix these two ingredients with the invention and proliferation of the Internet and you've created a whole 'nother method of quantifying a culture.

The do-it-yourself and vaguely subversive, underground nature of FKTs is the primary attraction for me.  FKTs tend to exist on routes where races aren't allowed (or the organization of one would be far too involved), but the line is so pure and obvious and hews to a certain geographical or mountain aesthetic (summit link-ups, circumnavigations in general and range traverses all come to mind) that it simply begs to be cleaned in a single, concerted push.  The satisfaction that comes from pushing oneself all-out to explore a personal limit is still there but the hoopla and expense of a race isn't, even if one prepares with as focused of a training regimen as he or she would for a race.  It's a very primal and largely unfettered way of being in the mountains and testing oneself.

Fell runners of the UK seem to have latched on to this concept decades ago with the establishment of the Bob Graham Round--a link-up of 42 peaks in less than 24 hours in the English Lake District.  Legendary fell runner Joss Naylor built on this concept by eventually stringing together 72 peaks (and 105mi/38,000' of vert!) in 23:20 in 1975.  The Round has never become a formal race but records are kept for the route and as with any FKT-style effort, the spirit of moving quickly on inspiring, gnarly terrain is at the core of these feats' appeal.

Joss Naylor

In the world of climbing, they're simply called speed records, not FKTs, and, beyond first ascents, they're the primary way that the sport has continued to push the boundaries of inspired movement in the mountains while mostly avoiding the forced and artificial atmosphere of, say, a bouldering comp on plastic holds.  Legendary speed records like that of (currently) Dean Potter and Sean Leary's team effort on El Capitan's Nose route or Dani Arnold (2:28) and Ueli Steck's (2:47) Eiger North Face times (Arnold used aid in some spots while Steck completely free-climbed his ascent) are both outstanding examples of individuals racing up two of the most historic and aesthetic lines in the world.

Arnold running up the Eiger.

For me, personally, I know a deeper connection is formed between myself and a place if I am closer to my zenith of physical effort.  This is a huge part of the appeal of an FKT---it offers a reason to go to some of the most beautiful places in the world, seek a compelling route and have a personally meaningful experience in the context of that landscape.

In a way, though, the ambiguity and individual nature of an FKT is a self-protecting part of the concept that keeps it from, hopefully, becoming too fraught with the egos and hype that can surround racing.  The term itself--fastest known time--is a way of hedging one's bets; we think this is the current best possible performance on this route, but of course, we don't really know as everyone sort of does their own thing, maybe there has been a faster unknown performance, etc., etc.  Placing one's athletic worth on the foundation of an FKT is inadvisable at best, most likely silly, and delusional at worst.  Such ambiguity should be a healthy reminder to focus on the experience and process of simply moving quickly and efficiently in nature--embodying that most primal of activities--and not worrying unduly about the end-goal result.

A quick example of when FKTs don't make sense:  Here in Boulder where there are no races allowed, FKTs exist almost organically, but in my original mountain running home-base of Colorado Springs, the notion of keeping track of such things becomes almost instantly comical, because races are allowed there.  The Barr Trail up Pikes Peak is maybe the most obvious line up and down almost any mountain in the country, but there is no need for an FKT on the mountain because Matt Carpenter has already laid down a ridiculously stout course record in the sanctioned race.  However, on the entirely aesthetic Mt. Rosa just to the south an equally obvious and pure line exists up its east face that climbs 5mi and 4000' to it's 11,500' summit cone.  If that peak existed in  Boulder it would be the most valued FKT in the area.

Mt. Rosa

Instead, being in COS, there are two things that make establishing an FKT for Rosa seem kinda pointless:
1) We could just organize a race up that peak!
2) It is (still!) hard to think of anyone in the area other than Matt who could/would hold such a record. (And by quite a large margin...this is a self-admittedly unfocused 47-year old who a month ago essentially jogged a 2:19 Pikes Peak Ascent--"I never wanted to feel my legs on the climb"--en route to winning the Pikes Peak Marathon yet again.)  Basically, when such an outlier of a giant in a sport exists in an area there's hardly any reason to keep records on such things--everyone already knows who the King Bee is.

Matt running to an excellent 2:11/3:36 on Pikes Peak, 2008. Photo: Buzz Burrell.

Nevertheless, in the future, I look forward to hopefully applying my mountain running abilities to a growing list of iconic lines and more personal projects, as to me, it feels like the most authentic mode of exploring my limits in the mountains.