Power of Four
The Audi Power of Four Ski Mountaineering Race 2026 | Aspen, Colorado
What is typically a normal backyard training race for us felt a little different this year. Brenden’s seventh Power of Four. My fourth. Twenty-nine miles. Close to 13,000 feet of vert. Across our four backyard ski mountains. This year we raced it together for the first time instead of alongside our usual crew.
“It dawned on me that despite the spandex I once laughed at and the tiny skis, SkiMo is a community, or, more simply, a sport best enjoyed with friends.”
A quote I read before my first PO4, hit differently this year. We always look back on previous years and Brenden’s skiing has transformed over the years. Once in tall tees, hitting rails and jumps in the park did a complete 180 after an acl injury. The switch to lyrca and skinny skis was something comical, but now is the norm.
Snowmass → Buttermilk → Highlands → Ajax
The course came with a few surprises: fresh snow, course tweaks, and freezing early morning temps that bit hard from the start.
We kicked things off at Snowmass, skinning up Elk Camp, then skiing down Two Creeks and traversing over to Government. Up the Sugar Bowls. Down Buttermilk. A skate over to Highlands.
By the time we hit the long slog up Thunderbowl through the trees, I started to feel the day.
Halfway up Highlands, Brenden had a gear malfunction, a broken binding. In true backyard-race fashion, he strapped it together with a Voile strap and kept moving. No drama. Just simple problem solving when I asked “is it even worth it” knowing we can easily ski down, hop on the bus and head home to our doggo, and try again next year. He responded, “yes, it is.”
Somewhere in there we ran into Bryn and ended up chatting about trips and new bikes. It kept Brenden busy and honestly pulled me out of a low patch during that grind up Highlands.
To the boot pack.
Then came the boot pack up Highland Bowl, weaving around non-race hikers since the bowl wasn’t closed for the event. Controlled chaos. Powdery turns down Ozone that torched already tired quads. Congo which is normally an ice luge, was soft, fast-ish, and full of tree-dodging and skiers everywhere.
Final Push
Midnight Mine always feels personal.
Brenden, attempting to escape a chatty Kathy (me), threw on a tow strap and dragged me upward. I was deep in the struggle bus when two friends — Sofia and Jenna — came flying up behind us. A hug, a few words, and suddenly I had another gear. They set a strong pace all the way up that final climb toward Ajax.
At the last aid station, Ian handed us a Coca-Cola and a loud cheer. Just one more descent. Down Walsh’s. Across Jackpot. Onto the groomer. I was flying, not because I’m fast (I’m not), but because I was ready to take my boots off.
Surprise
We crossed the finish line to hugs, high-fives, and congratulations. Grabbed our drop bags. Changed clothes as fast as possible.
Troy from 520/Silver Peak Grille was flipping burgers for racers. We grabbed one and sat down to scroll through results, checking on friends and their times.
Then Brenden goes, “We got second co-ed.” I said, “You’re joking. You’re lying.” He turned his phone toward me. Second place co-ed.
We were just in time to shuffle over as they called the top teams and climb onto the podium.
I am not a “fast” person. I rarely — honestly, never — win anything. That water bottle trophy is going on a shelf.
Reflections
Twenty-nine miles. Nearly 13,000 feet. Four mountains we know by heart.
But this year reminded us that it’s not just about vert or splits or podiums. It’s about the friends you see on course. The hugs mid-climb. The broken bindings held together with straps. The coke at the last aid station. The burgers after. The shared suffering and things you learn along the way.
SkiMo really is best enjoyed with friends.
What a fun day in the backyard.
