Fitness : How I Did It : It’s an Uphill Battle as She Prepares for an Ascent in the Sierra

Today’s column is the first of two parts about how Kim Pflieger, a Los Angeles television writer and producer, trained for an ascent of Mt. Whitney, the highest U.S. peak outside Alaska.

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As I plant my foot down on the 99th step, I desperately need to catch my breath. I take huge gulps of air in an attempt to slow down my racing heart. I need to find my rhythm because I have 68 more grueling steps to climb before I reach the top of these tedious stairs.

Looking down, I see a blur of sneakers in all shapes and sizes whiz by my immobile pair of hiking boots, which feel like 50-pound shackles anchoring my every move. And let’s not forget my backpack laden with 2 gallons of water. I have the grace and fluidity of Quasimodo in his first aerobics class. Pausing for a moment, I try to muster the energy to pick up my feet, only to hear my gasps of air blend in with a choir of other adrenaline-pumping stair-steppers. Our breathless sounds fill the air. I am not alone but am part of a cardio-building, stair-climbing ballet, and the symphony of sounds emanates from every one of our aching bodies.

I’m in my seventh week of an eight-week training program that’s preparing me for a 22-mile, 14-hour marathon hike to Mt. Whitney’s majestic 14,497-foot summit in the High Sierra. Fourteen hours! I’m exhausted after an hour of climbing these stairs!

“This is not going to be your typical day hike,” were the first words I heard from coach and trainer John Waszak. About three out of every five people who attempt the summit don’t make it, because of altitude sickness, exhaustion, bad weather conditions or a combination of all three. John is taking me and four fellow hikers-in-training on this arduous trek to the highest point in the lower 48 states. My commitment? To train my body and mind as if I were running a marathon and prepare for the rapid change in elevation that can either make or break the success of my climb.

John’s program is structured so that we work out together three times a week, alternating between an intense cardio workout on the Santa Monica stairs at the end of 4th Street and a brutal visit to what I affectionately call “the Sahara” in Manhattan Beach. “The Sahara” is an intimidating five-story sand dune that looks as imposing as it is to climb. For every step you take, you slip back three feet. I was like Marcel Marceau performing his mime routine of being pushed by the wind, moving but going nowhere.

On the stairs I get a tremendous cardio and lower-body workout, but traversing the sand dune I get so much more. For me the sand dune is the most difficult and most challenging aspect of our training. Every Saturday morning when I arrive at 8, I am amazed at how many people have already started their day and are climbing up this mountain of sand. From a distance, they look like busy ants dressed in colorful workout attire.

As I make my ascent to the dune ridge, I often feel as if I’m starring in a Fellini-inspired “Beach Blanket Bingo”; people are passing me carrying surfboards, running backward, rolling down the sand, or, like me, slipping and sliding their way to the top. Another reason I’m attracted to this wall of sand is where it takes me mentally: I need to venture deep inside to find a place of reserve to carry me up this strenuous hill--it’s my mock Whitney summit.

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I was first lured to the Sierra two years ago by my boyfriend at that time. He was an adept hiker, gourmet camping chef and a geologist at heart. I was an eager student ready to learn from the master since this was my first backpacking trip. My biggest challenge was coming to terms with my physical limitations. Sure, I went on a couple of day hikes in the Santa Monica Mountains, but that doesn’t compare to trekking above the tree line at altitudes well over 10,000 feet.

As we reached 12,000 feet, I was hit hard with altitude sickness. I was lightheaded at first and then came a thunderbolt of pain. The pounding in my head became so bad that I could barely lift my head off the ground. Although the pain subsided over time, I never fully recovered until I came down the mountain. My greatest fear is that I will experience these debilitating symptoms again and not be able to summit Whitney.

While on that ill-fated first hike in the Sierra, I eyed Mt. Whitney from a distance. Sometimes she’s hard to view, often hidden by other peaks. But when you do get a glimpse, she is impressive, quietly standing alone. I remember thinking, how would I possibly make it to a summit of 14,000 feet-plus when I could barely keep it together at 12,000? That’s when I heard her whisper my name, and I knew I’d be back.

She must have whispered a few other names too because here I am happily huffing and puffing alongside four other wannabe summit achievers. Each of us has our reasons for spending this summer pounding the relentless stairs and crawling up the laborious sand dune. I’m inspired by my teammate Richard’s perseverance. He hiked Whitney with John last summer but grew too weary to make it to the summit. I watch him in training as he takes each step and see in his eyes that he’s still on the mountain.

Sandrine is as exotic as her name. While I struggle with taking the stairs two steps at a time, she glides by me like a swift gazelle. Her mission is to use the hike up Whitney as training for her next big adventure, climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro this winter. I have no doubt she’ll do well. Filling out our five-piece band of adventurers are Sasha and Tara, who work together. They are seeking a workout that gets them out of the gym and into nature.

I’ve never been the type of person who works out on a regular basis. I struggle with pushing through the pain that most people find exhilarating. I usually stop before my muscles start to hurt, so working out with these athletic troubadours and John has been a good experience for me. They push me to go further than I normally would. There’s a sense of camaraderie as we support and praise each other’s successes. This bond will serve us well on the mountain, where we summit as individuals, but persevere as a team.

Every adventure has new challenges. I know I’ll be facing a few next week on the mountain, some expected, some not. However, I do know that because of the culmination of eight weeks of group training, combined with John’s patience, vision and strenuous regimen, I feel more prepared than before to meet my fears head on. I’m ready to find out what I’m made of. I feel a higher calling. Whitney, here I come!

Next week: the climb.

How Did You Do It?

Do you have a story about how you lost weight and kept the pounds off? Or a story about how you learned to mountain climb or in-line skate, trained for a half-marathon or discovered a unique way of keeping fit, dealing with a nagging ailment or persevering with a fitness regimen despite some obstacles?

If so, we’d like to hear from you. Tell us your story in a 500-word essay listing what worked in terms of diet, exercise and encouragement, as well as any emotional and physical changes.

For weight-loss stories, send us full-body color photos of yourself, before and after. For other types of stories, send a color photo of yourself doing the activity you’re writing about.

Send essay and photos to How I Did It, Health, Los Angeles Times, Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles, CA 90053. Include daytime and evening phone numbers. Submissions cannot be returned. And, please, no phone calls.

In addition to publication, winners will receive a Los Angeles Times Health section gym bag, a Sparkletts hot-cold travel mug, T-shirt and coupons for free water products, courtesy of McKesson Water Products Co.