SEWARD -- The directions for how to get up and down Mount Marathon are the same as those long given to performers trying to reach Carnegie Hall: Practice, practice, practice.
"You're crazy if you don't," said Fred Moore, who holds the record for the most consecutive race finishes with 45 successful transits of the course since 1970.
Moore, a retired carpenter from Seward, said he goes up the 3,022-foot mountain a couple of times each week.
"I know the mountain pretty well I think," he said.
Participants in the annual July 4 race are strongly advised to go up and down the mountain at least once before toeing the starting line, but having been on Mount Marathon doesn't necessarily make one an expert. The trail can be extremely dangerous, and racers have been severely injured. In the 2012 race, two racers were seriously hurt after falling off wet cliffs and another was declared dead after he disappeared on the mountain without a trace.
That's why members of the Alaska Mountain Runners and the Mount Marathon race committee in 2013 launched a guided pre-race safety course on the mountain for anyone wanting expert advice on how to safely make it on and off the treacherous slopes. The 3-mile race begins and ends on city streets, but the majority of it is spent climbing up and scrambling down the mountain.
"There's inherent hazards in this race," said Matias Saari, an eight-time finisher and the 2009 men's champion who organizes the safety tour.
On June 20, Saari was joined by five other race veterans at the base of the mountain. Surrounded by 28 very attentive participants, the group was there for guided trips up and down the lower third of the mountain, which is where most of the hazards lie. Along with Saari and Moore were Clint McCool, John Browne, Christie Haupert and Sam Young. All are highly experienced mountain runners -- Young is a three-time champion, McCool (16 finishes) and Browne (11) are longtime veterans, and Haupert finished 16th in the women's race last year.
Saari told the participants -- a mix of rookies and veterans who all signed a waiver to join the free tours -- the deceptively simple reason they were all there.
"The purpose is to show how to safely get onto and off the mountain," he said.
While that sounds pretty basic, there's a heck of a lot more to it.
The race trail up Mount Marathon often shocks people who have never been on it. Unlike many Alaska trails, there is no set route up or down the steep slopes. Instead, racers must choose between a variety of different ways, each with its own set of advantages and disadvantages.
After breaking the participants into small groups, each of the six veteran racers led the way up the hill. Some elected to take the "cliffs" route, while others went up "the roots." Moore took his group up a trail known as "Vernon Falls," which climbs through a steep wooded area. The route didn't get its name from a waterfall, but for an unfortunate stumble that injured a local hiker one winter.
"It's where Gordy Vernon fell," Moore said.
Aside from the macabre name, Moore said the route is actually one of the easiest ways up the lower section of the mountain. It's not the quickest way, but it's often not as crowded as other lines.
"It's not as fast, but with the crowd missing, you might break even," he said.
After winding through the route, Moore's group arrived at "Squirrel's Inn," which is located about a quarter of the way up the mountain. From that point on, the trail leads almost straight to the top once it clears the tree line.
Other groups were shown how to get up "the cliffs," a more dangerous but quicker route. One of the most important things to remember on the cliffs, Young said, is for racers to use the utmost concentration.
"The key is don't lose your focus," he said.
Racers were also given a tour of the "roots" trail, which sends people up a steep, winding section of exposed tree limbs and roots. Climbing through the section is a popular way to get onto the mountain on race day and has the advantage of no falling rocks. But it's also very crowded.
"People are going to be coming up here like a herd of rats," Moore said.
Coming down the mountain is more troublesome than going up. In the notorious 2012 race, racers Matt Kenney and Penny Assman fell while descending. Assman spent five days in the hospital, while Kenney nearly died from a traumatic brain injury that left him with a lengthy scar across his scalp and a long road to recovery.
Young, who is pictured on a trailside sign showing the best way to get down, said the key to descending the lower part of the mountain is concentration.
"If someone's hollering or a rock goes shooting by you, you really have to be present in what you're doing," he said.
There aren't any easy ways down -- racers are forced to choose between cliffs, a waterfall or a switchback trail that can be slow, slippery or both.
When it rains, racers must be even more hyper-cognizant of their surroundings. Moore said the slippery rocks present on the way down are a minefield.
"On this mountain, never trust a wet rock," he said.
The racers also gave tips for descending the rocky shale scree (loose rock) that covers about two-thirds of the trail down the mountain. The race veterans pointed out that many runners elect to wear ankle braces and duct tape over their shoes to prevent injury and rocks getting in their shoes.
Each of the participants was given a chance to run down a scree slope to get a feel for the unique style of running, which McCool said is more akin to falling than running.
"We call the downhill just a controlled fall," he said.
McCool gave runners a tip that works both going up and coming down: Don't obsess about speed. Instead, focus on finding efficient ways to minimize falls and accidents.
"A straight line is great," he said. "Solid footing is even better."
After spending about two hours scouting myriad ways to get through the lower mountain, course participants said they emerged with a better understanding of the risks and rewards of the various routes.
"I feel a lot more confident," said race rookie Danielle Weber, who drove from Palmer for the event.
Mary Hensel said she's planning to run her 15th race July 4, but the 77-year-old said there is always something new to learn about the mountain.
"I think this is tremendous," said Hensel, who spent most of the day listening to Moore's sage advice. "I wish I could have Fred with me on race day."
Hensel last ran in 2012, an experience that nearly turned her off the race for good.
"I've chickened out a few times, especially since 2012," she said. "I really did not want to do this again."
Along with the injuries to Kenney and Assman, that race also claimed racer Michael LeMaitre, who was last spotted shortly before reaching the summit and was never seen again. In the wake of those incidents, there was a new emphasis on safety, including the pre-race seminar. Saari said the event is one way for people to gain confidence.
"The more prepared you are, the better off you'll be and the safer it is for everyone," he said.
Haupert said that's extremely important on race day, when second-guessing or insecurity about a route can lead to trouble.
"You really need to have that confidence on race day," she said.
Despite the risks, the allure of the mountain remains strong for those who enter, which is why Hensel said she answered the mountain's seductive call again this summer.
"It's an addiction," she said.
The feeling of accomplishment after completing the race is why hundreds of people take the risk each Independence Day, she said.
"You feel so good when it's over," she said. "You've accomplished something."
Saari said he and the other volunteers who share their knowledge just want to make sure everyone returns to the cheering crowds in downtown Seward in one piece.
"It's all about safety," he said.
CORRECTION: This story has been corrected from its original print version, which misstated Moore's record for the most consecutive finishes.
Reach reporter Matt Tunseth at 257-4335 or mtunseth@alaskadispatch.com