Run-Shuffle-Hike: Grand Canyon 2019

Well, it’s been about 8 months since I’ve forced myself to sit down and write a blog. To the three people who actually read this thing, one of them being my future self, here’s what’s been going on… 

Work

I became an unofficial Texas resident. Not really, but I spent a significant amount of time on a refinery in Texas between March and October. 114 of 223 days, but who’s counting? In order to avoid writing a novel and complaining, I’m going to list the first 20 words/phrases that come to mind. Heat. Humidity. So much sweat. Foundations. Inspector. Integrity. Delay. Broken machinery. Contractor. Arguments. Stop shaving? Pick-up trucks. Freezie pops. Treadmill. Water. Gatorade. Pretzels. Reading. Hotel points. Stay positive. 

Between the rotations in Texas and office work in Kansas City, I raced in two events. 

Pikes Peak Marathon

Start of Pikes Peak. First and last mile were on road.

Pikes Peak happened towards the end of August. For this race in Colorado Springs, CO, people of questionable sanity run 13 miles from Manitou Springs up to the summit of Pikes Peak (a Colorado 14’er). Over the course of the run, you climb approximately 7,000ft up the mountain. Then you turn around and destroy your legs running 13 miles back down. The event was epic. The task of running up a mountain seems relatively straight forward until you’re standing in Manitou Springs and you see how far/high you actually have to go. I’d been looking forward to the run since signing up in January. My main goal for the race was to get through it and enjoy the views and the challenge. My Achilles had started bothering me again back in May and never really healed so I honestly just managed the pain and my expectations. Since wrapping up my time in Texas, I’ve been more focused on healing and strengthening the area and would really like to get back to Pikes Peak for either the Ascent or Marathon in 2020. TBD. 

Chicago Marathon

In October, I ran in my first Marathon Major at the Chicago Marathon. I signed up for Chicago in the fall of 2018 with a few friends from work. I hadn’t been to Chicago in about 15 years and I appreciated the ease of mass transit. The race itself was incredible. It was hard to wrap my mind around an event with 50,000 people running. Somehow, logistics for the weekend were incredibly well organized. The 26-mile route was a great way to see the city. There crowds of people cheering and the experience has made want to partake in some of the other big-city marathons. I thoroughly enjoyed running through the various neighborhoods and experiencing the cultures along the course. Chinatown went all out with a gong and multi-person dragon costume. After Chicago, I flew directly to Texas to finish what turned out be my last field rotation for this current project. 

Rim 2 Rim 2 Rim

Towards the end of October, Matt Malone (a friend I know from my time on Team EMJ) threw out the idea of running Rim 2 Rim 2 Rim in the Grand Canyon. Rim 2 Rim 2 Rim is not an official event, but more of a bucket-list running route for runners who “enjoy” long distances, trails, lots of climbing, and beautiful views. For the traditional route, runners start at one of two trailheads on the south rim, descend into the Grand Canyon, run across the canyon, climb up the north rim of the canyon, then turn around and reverse the route. For most people, “running” alternates between running, shuffling, and power hiking depending on fitness, experience, ground slope, elapsed time, motivation, and hydration and hanger levels. The route we chose ended up being around 44 miles and included about 11,000ft of elevation gain. Running Rim 2 Rim 2 Rim was on my radar for a few years in the future, but when the opportunity came to run it in just a few weeks, I said I was in and booked my flights. 

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/2870117694

Matt had previously run R2R2R a few years ago with an extremely impressive split. This time around he was looking for some company and wanted to take things a little slower (thankfully). Our group of five guys probably set a record for the least amount of communication before an event like this. 200 words tops. Somehow, everyone made it to the Airbnb in Flagstaff and we had a 30 minute discussion for our plan of attack the next morning before going to bed around 10pm. 

The crew

After an hour-ish drive, we parked about 0.8 miles from the trailhead to guarantee our vehicles wouldn’t get towed. We started down South Kaibab trail a little after 6am. The full moon provided a surprising amount of light and the high 30s temperature was perfect. The South Kaibab into the canyon is around 7 miles long and descends about 5,000ft. Within a few minutes on the notoriously steep trail, the temperature had risen, and my quads were already protesting. We luckily timed our start to miss the mules who descend into the canyon every morning carrying water and supplies to the small huts at Phantom Ranch. 

Heading down South Kaibab

Sunrise going down South Kaibab

The views were incredible from 5 minutes in. The moonlight and progressing sunrise allowed us to see our surroundings. One positive to not starting at 4am was that we could see the views while we were still excited and mentally engaged (8-10 hrs later would be another story). While the trail was plenty wide, the drop-offs were very steep. This was my first time to the Grand Canyon and the shear size of the ditch was impressive. The geology gradually changed as we descended, and the temperature continued to climb. We stopped a few times on the descent to take in the views, but after a little more than an hour, we reached the suspension bridge over the Colorado River. 

Crossing the Colorado River

All five of us regrouped and the smarter people in our group (not me) topped off their water. As we continued on across the canyon, Matt and I ran together up the gradual slope. Running up the canyon was wild. There was a small stream going down the center with 20-30ft floodplains full of vegetation on either side. The trail crossed back and forth over the river using a number of small bridges but otherwise hugged one wall of the canyon. The footing was good and the only obstacles that really made us alter our strides were small rock walls (maybe 1-1.5 feet high) that were set up across the trail what felt like every 50 feet to help prevent erosion. At this point in the day, it was easy enough to hop over them, but I knew five hours from now, they would feel much higher and faceplanting would be a serious concern. Matt and I remarked on the views, played with his GoPro, and generally ran together for the 11 miles of slow incline. The weather was ideal; mid to high 50’s with no wind. We crossed paths several times with other groups of runners and hikers all out enjoying their day. 

Running up the canyon

Eventually we reached the base of the climb up the north rim which was not nearly as steep as South Kaibab. We’d already gained a significant amount of elevation running across the canyon. The 2-3% feels flat while your running, but over 11 miles, the incline adds up. The real climb up the north rim was about five miles. We agreed to try and “run” (more like shuffle) for short bursts of distance then walk when the trail became too steep. On several occasions throughout the climb, the trail doubled back and provided a view of where we’d come from. The views were beautiful looking back down the canyon at the switchbacks we’d just climbed. Then we remembered we still weren’t yet half-way done... 

About two miles from the top of the north rim I realized I was going to run out of water. To start the day, I’d naively filled my hydration bladder with a little over 1 liter of water and had another 500ml of electrolytes in a soft bottle. My thought process was that I didn’t want to descend with more weight than necessary (because that was really going to save my quads), and I thought I could make it all the way across the canyon before needing to refill. Though Matt had been very clear that water at the north rim was turned off at this time of the year, I skipped the opportunities to fill up along the way. Though running out of water was inevitable, I wasn’t too worried. I’d been in similar situations before and knew I could deal with being uncomfortable for two-ish hours. I reminded myself to stay calm, manage my effort, and rehydrate once the opportunity arose. We climbed our way from the exposed canyon wall through the forest and topped out at the north rim. During the climb, the temperature had gone back down, closer to 45-50 degrees. Once at the top, Matt and I took in some food and chilled out for about 10 minutes. I had a handful of pretzels, a bar, and finished off my water. Admittedly, it was risky to not leave any room for error by saving a sip, but I knew the trail back to water was all downhill. That and I wanted to fully swallow my food. 

Looking back from the North Rim

We re-packed our bags and headed back down the north rim. After a couple miles, we ran into Corey, Dillon, and Eric. They were in good spirits and doing well but moving a little slower than they wanted. They provided some encouraging information that water was only 3-4 more miles away. Matt had run out of water, too. This stretch from the north rim to the small creek crossing with a water spigot was likely the most challenging part in the day for me. The section included miles 22-27, the sun was completely out, and, because we were back in the canyon, the temperature had risen. I’ve had some scary triathlon and training experiences in the past where I didn’t drink enough fluids and started losing coordination and mental processing power. During most races, I know I can keep the effort level high because if something happens, there are enough people around who can drag me off the course, elevate my legs, give me some ice, and stick an IV in me. On the other hand, if something were to happen in the canyon, help would take much longer and there are far fewer resources. Safe to say, Matt and I were relieved once we reached the spigot. I guzzled 2 liters of water and ate more pretzels. I also topped off my hydration bladder and pulled out my sandwich bag of electrolyte mix to refill my soft bottle. Matt pounded water as well and we agreed we felt like new men. If there’s one thing endurance sports and long days of exercising teaches you, it’s how to be in tune with your body and what it needs. After several years, I’m more aware of those feelings and have also learned that on long days you have enough time to get back on track if you fall behind on water, salt, or calories. 

Matt and I stripped off our tights and headed back out onto the trail. We had about 11 miles of slight downhill back through the canyon. We both anticipated that climb out would likely include a lot of power hiking because we’d be 38 miles in and the climb was very steep. With that in mind, we both pushed hard to make the most of the remaining terrain we could run. With my fluids topped off, I felt fantastic. My legs were feeling the fatigue, and those mini rock walls were extremely antagonizing, but I kept turning my feet over. By the time we made it to the base of the climb, I’d gone through all my water, again. We topped fluids off, ate another snack, then began the climb back up the south rim. 

In my head, I thought two hours to cover six miles was reasonable. We started chipping away at the distance. Within 10 minutes, we looked back and were already amazed by how far we’d climbed above the river. Matt and I both had good energy left but running up South Kaibab wasn’t going to happen. We passed the time talking and commenting on the sights. After an hour, we came across a few sections of trail we could shuffle. About two miles from the rim, we reached a false summit where a lot of people had hiked down to and gathered for photo ops. Matt and I regrouped for the final push. 

I soaked up this feeling of fatigue. Rarely do we appreciate all the work it took to get to that level before finishing. We’re too impatient and want it all to be over. How many hours did it take to get to that feeling at mile 90 of the gravel century? It takes people 8 hours (or more!) to get to that feeling of 22 miles into an Ironman marathon. We were 8 hours into our R2R2R journey, and we still had 2 miles to go. With time, I’ve tried to recognize the fact that we don’t get to do these epic long-ass days every weekend and that it sometimes takes 8 hours of non-stopping moving to get those levels of pain and emotion. These feelings are addicting, and I was loving it. 

We pushed on and eventually forced ourselves to jog the last few steps up to the south rim. After a few pictures at the rim, we headed to the car. The south rim was much busier than when we’d started, and we got a number of concerned stares from people sitting on the shuttle bus watching us hobble up the road. Someone with a walker probably could have made faster progress… 

Thankful for these legs for carrying me

The entire run/shuffle/hike took us about 8.5 hours. We were pleased with our effort. While we agreed we could have gone faster, we knew the next few days of recovery would be much shorter because we didn’t go too deep. On our way back to the AirBnb, we stopped at a general store where I found some stunning postcards and got myself sports drink, a coke, and some chocolate milk. After cleaning up, Yelp directed us to a Mexican restaurant in downtown Flagstaff which we promptly followed up with ice cream. After a few hours, we heard from Cory that they’d made it safely out of the canyon. Their day had been longer than anticipated but they’d finished and had a great time. 

My legs were understandably wrecked for two days after the Grand Canyon, but I forced myself to do some easy riding and swimming to keep blood flowing. The hardest parts of that first week was getting out of bed when I seriously was worried about falling over on the way to the bathroom. 

One thing I’ve understood more this year is that waiting for perfect circumstances doesn’t necessarily guarantee things will pan out. Sometimes the best trips, friendships, and memories come from taking the first step and figuring out the rest as you go. Getting to share the highs and lows of any experience with a few other people makes all the difference. Another reason why sports are great. 

With the occurrence of Thanksgiving this past weekend, I hope everyone had a great holiday and I’m thankful to have friends that push and inspire me. Stay in touch and let me know if you have any epic exercising/adventuring/exploring planned. 

Thanks for reading and have a great day. 

Moab Red Hot 55k 2019

You know that feeling of happiness when you come home to your dog?
You open the door, and there they are, excitement and joy emanating in 20 different ways. They jump up and down, tail wagging so hard their body wriggles back and forth. They spin in circles, run laps around the room, and bring offerings of chewed up and drooled on stuffed animals. And the smile, so big they sneeze repeatedly until you provide adequate attention. That dog is like me when I finally get back to the mountains. Except with less sneezing. And I don’t have a tail to wag. 

Dem SLC mountains

A few weeks ago I traveled west to the mountains in Utah to run in the Moab Red Hot 55k trail race. I flew from KC to Salt Lake City, spent a night there, and met up with my parents. Ernie and his girlfriend, Emily, live in Salt Lake City joined the party the next day and we all drove the 3.5 hours to Moab. 

The parents know how to stock the freezer!

Moab is incredible. The landscapes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The mountains are big and don’t have many trees. One of the reasons for wanting to do the Red Hot 55k was that I wanted to explore Moab. I could write an entire blog about the national parks we saw on this trip, but I’d be covering a very small percentage of what the area has to offer. Instead, I’ll focus this blog on the race and throw in some of our exploring pictures from completely different days. Another reason I wanted to run the Red Hot 55k was because of the competition. The race attracts high level runners and provides a stimulating course. 

The day of the race we awoke to a few inches of snow. The night before, the weather app had shown a 40% chance of snow. I was slightly disappointed because I had been looking forward to running fast and I knew the snow would make traction more difficult. Especially on the “slickrock” the course was known for. But all I could do was roll with it. As I’ve taken more laps around the sun, I’ve accepted weather as something out of my control. Everyone racing has to deal with the same conditions. 

I added a few base layers before heading to the start line to get my run on. I truly love snow and it made for beautiful scenery. All the runners congregated on a gravel road, at the base of a few large hills we’d soon run up. After a quick national anthem and count down, we were off. 

Immediately, a group of guys tough enough to wear shorts in 30 degree weather separated themselves. I recognized a few well-known runners in the group. Also, the fact that they were fast/tough/proud/dumb enough to wear shorts in snow led me to believe this was “the fast group”. I wanted to be like them. But with manpris. 

Strava link here 

I burned a match and caught up with the back of the pack making us a group of 6. The first mile or so went by quickly. A few of the guys knew each other and chatted casually. We took turns slipping and stumbling in the snow. I made my way to the back of the group to watch where their feet lost traction so I knew not to step in the same spot. While racing, I prefer to not look at my pace/watch because I want to feed off those around me, and overthinking sucks. However, being in a fast and competitive group like this was new territory for me in a 4+ hour running race. After a mile or so, I glanced at my pace. We were cruising mid to low 6 min miles. I knew I was in decent shape, but running sub 6:30 miles in the beginning of a 34 mile race was asking for a lot of myself. As soon as I started to see the pace dip below 6 min/miles on some slight downhill and flat sections, I knew I needed to slow down. The small layer of snow was not holding these guys back. 

I gradually let a gap open and began running my own race. Since there wasn’t anyone near me from behind, I was quickly in “No Man’s Land”. 

Near mile five I began a long climb that eventually led me to the highest point on the course around mile 10. I felt good running uphill. The steepness and snow felt manageable. I slowed up at a few intersections because I needed a moment to find the footprints in the snow from the group of five in front of me. After a decent amount of climbing, I made it to the slickrock. I took my time, knowing there were many miles ahead and perhaps the sun would melt the thin layer of ice covering the slickrock. I was little glad to be on my own so no one could see me daintily stepping around ice patches in my manpris. 

The slickrock terrain was a completely new experience. The area was open, and oftentimes it was challenging to see where the trail went. Unlike a trail in the woods where a path is eroded, everything looked to be worn the same. To guide runners, short sections of pink ribbon had been tied around bushes or tree limbs every 100 feet or so. Though it felt frustratingly slow, I made steady progress along the climb up to the highest point following flashes of pink and footprints in the snow. Again, like the weather, the necessary route-finding was out of my control and everyone encountered the same situation. In my head I knew it would have been much easier to find my way with sureness if I’d been able to keep “the fast group” in sight or had some experience with the route. 

After gaining a small amount of confidence on the slickrock, I refocused on moving forward with purpose. My competitive mindset was still in control. It was a long race and I thought I could find a rhythm heading downhill from the highest point and maybe catch a few people fading in the second half. As I began descending, I was treated with one of the most epic sights I’ve experienced while running. As the trail momentarily transitioned from slickrock to dirt, no more than 15 feet to the right of where we ran was a massive drop off. We were running on the edge of a canyon. 

I picked up speed on the downhill, thanked some people at an aid station, guessed (correctly) which way the course went at another intersection, and generally kept turning my legs over. My stomach had a few moments where it felt unsettled so I slowed and appreciated the views. The landscape was truly spectacular. I was completely surrounded by open space with big mountains off in the distance. For as far as I could see there was no signs of civilization. I loved it. Miles 18-21 the course climbed again on fire roads before reaching more slickrock. With a rough understanding of the course profile, I knew I needed to push for three or four more miles of climbing before I’d, theoretically, get an extended descent to the finish. 

The sun had thawed out the thin layer of snow and ice by the time I reach more slickrock. For this, I was thankful. Unfortunately, I was once again regularly stalled trying to discern which direction the course went. The only experience I was drawing on was my previous navigation “successes” about 15 miles earlier. I knew to look for pink ribbons as well as runners doing the 33k distance who should be becoming visible to me as well. Eventually, I caught up to a runner who had been in the front group of six and we were able to make decent progress together. In general, we’d reach a large, open section of slickrock, lose the trail, spin in a circle a few times, spread out, walk to the left, walk to the right, recite the ABC’s backwards (kidding), then one of us would say “over here” and off we’d trot. As much as I wanted to keep running, as the terrain was runnable, a number of times I went the wrong direction only to be called back towards the correct trail. We were about two and a half hours into the race, I was low on energy, and was getting irritated because it felt like I wasn’t making steady progress towards the finish. After having to come to an extended complete stop a few times, I realized that “competing” was no longer a priority. A fast time and racing people would have to take a rear seat. I shifted my outlook to appreciate the opportunity I had by simply taking in the views and experience. 

I took my time at an aid station by chugging some water and taking in extra calories to get my head back in the game. Still running with the other guy from “the fast group”, we started catching some runners who were doing the 33k. (They had started later and were doing an abbreviated course which included the last 15ish miles of ours.) This provided some relief because every now and then we were able to sight a few figures in the distance to speed up our route-finding. Many of the slickrock sections had painted, white dashes that served as a beacon in these moments of confusion. Still, there were sometimes large gaps between the dashed lines, or I’d overrun a turn and miss one, inevitably coming to a complete stop before backtracking after not seeing a line for a minute. This added mental strain was not something I had expected, but it made the event feel more like an adventure and complete experience. Problem solving on the go naturally happens in endurance events, and this was just another challenge.

Eventually, I made it to the marathon distance. I was looking forward to the fire road and being able to “zone out” my navigating brain while I descended. But there was more slickrock in store. Three or four miles more. The course took us over several slickrock sections that included a number of short but very steep climbs. Knowing that I had another hour or so of running, I took my time at anaid station, pounding two cups of Coke and some M&Ms. I knew the Coke’s sugar and caffeine would help give me one last push before I reached the fireroads. Moab is well known for off-roading and this course was a Jeep’s Disneyland. We encountered number of Jeeps out having the time of their lives, no Coke necessary. 

I gradually caught up to more of the 33k runners and we all headed towards the finish together. I soaked up the last three miles on the fireroad as I saw a paved road off in the distance for the first time in 3+ hours. A few spectators had hiked in a little ways from the finish and provided some much appreciated encouragement. A few steep switchbacks later, I ran my way across the finish line. 

Overall, this race was a blast. I can’t emphasize the beauty of the location and course enough. I would love to return at some point in the future to run it again, hopefully without snow. If nothing else, I need more time to explore. 

In the days around the race, we explored Arches, Canyonlands, and Dead Horse National Parks. All the parks were beautiful, unique, and much larger than I was anticipating. The pictures do not do this place justice. 

Massive thank you to my parents for supporting me on the weekend and tolerating a slightly sketchy hiking route we insisted on in Canyonlands National Park. 

I have a few races I’m excited around the August – October timeline but for the next few months I plan to focus on work and gaining more field experience. I gain a lot of satisfaction my work as an engineer and appreciate the balance it provides my life.

Some very cool petroglyphs (rock art) we saw after the race 

More Canyonlands

An arch forming in Canyonlands NP

Dead Horse Nat'l Park - One of the most famous views

Thanks for reading and have a great day!

David's Trail Endurance Run

For the past five years I’ve had a birthday tradition.

It started out tame. Swim 10,000 yards one year, ride 25 x 1 min HARD the next…essentially, do a “large” workout that somehow involves the number of the age I am turning. I quickly realized my addictive personality made me want to “one-up” the previous year's workout…every year. To save my 40-year-old future self a trip to the hospital, I’ve come to peace with doing a workout or event that will simply make my inevitable aging more memorable. 

Snacks on snacks

Last week I turned 27. To celebrate, I drove four and a half hours south to Mountain Home, Arkansas to run in a 50k trail running race. (David's Trail Endurance Run) Arkansas was new to me and I was a little scared when the navigation included several gravel roads! 

I successfully maneuvered myself over the dirt roads and arrived Friday afternoon with plenty of time. The "scenic" hotel I’d found sat overlooking a lake and was about a five minute drive to Rocking Chair Resort where the event would start and finish. After checking in, I scoped out the course via my preferred touring method: running. I was pumped. The trails were hilly and much more “technical” than I’d foreseen (aka you needed to watch where you put your feet, so you don't face-plant). There were roots, rocks, and small stream crossings. With the precipitation and colder weather predicted to roll in, the race was sure to be challenging but memorable! 

Race Morning

Saturday morning I woke up around 5am and set about making PB & banana toast. And, of course, coffee. Shout out to Mom and Dad for the bomb coffee thermos that doubles as a french press! After checking my phone’s weather app, I stepped outside and confirmed, it was raining…and 37 degrees! Fantastic. I then proceeded to act like a teenage girl getting dressed for school by changing my wardrobe no less than 8 times. Tights or no tights? Jacket or no jacket? Will my head get too hot in this hat? It’s a minor miracle I made it to Rocking Chair at 730am. The weather called for the rain to stick around for a couple more hours before turning to snow. 

Day before trail pictures

No more than 30 questionably sane individuals congregated under a tent near the start line. We huddled like penguins to stave off being wet for a few extra minutes before the race began. The race director quickly queued up and projected a recording of “the Asian girl singing the national anthem”. (I highly recommend watching 7-year-old Malea belt out the tune.) Not sure if it was from the rain and cold or the epic national anthem performance, but I shivered! Then we were off. 

Overall Course Map

 The 50k course began with a 7k (4.5 miles) loop which took us approximately back to the starting point. After the short loop, we would head away from Rocking Chair Resort for a 27ish mile out and back section. Jake, one of race directors, had informed me the 7k loop was the most technical part of the course. 

Another guy and I, Jeff, quickly split from the main group and began running together. I think we both wanted to warm up! After a few minutes of running, I began to relax and enjoy the twisting and turning of the trail. Jeff and I talked a bit. He was preparing for Black Canyons 100k and using this race as a stepping stone. Jeff and a few friends had driven eight hours from Texas! I volunteered that I'd had the great privilege of working  in Texas for 12 hour days in the sauna that July is. Jeff empathized and, thus, we had connected. Nevertheless, we were running a similar pace and it was very enjoyable to have company!

With the addition of the rain, I ran cautiously to avoid wiping out. While the surrounding trees provided decent shelter from the rain and wind, my clothes gradually became damp then soaked. A number of creek crossings early on ensured my feet would get to experience a similar level of moisture. I occasionally checked my watch and started taking in gels after about 30 minutes. Jeff and I soon looped back to the starting area, waved “hello”, thanked a few brave volunteers, and started out on the longer out and back section of the course. 

The trail widened a bit which allowed Jeff and I to mimic two animals naively sauntering towards Noah's Ark. While the short, punchy hills remained, the surface lacked the rocks and roots and instead included some soppy, wet moss. Coming into the Panther Bay aid station around mile 9, I’d stopped to pee and trailed Jeff by about a minute. In and out of the aid station, we ran across a highway bridge. Up ahead, Jeff ran on the left side of the road; separated from the cars by a line of bright, orange cones. Out on the bridge, there were no trees to shelter us and Mother Nature let us know we were exposed. The wind gusted and made the rain feel like pellets hitting my face. Talk about a birthday treat! I could see Jeff up ahead and ran hard to close the gap between us. By the end of the pavement, we were back running together. 

We quickly dipped back into the shelter of the trees after crossing the bridge. The subtle beauty of the Midwest trails was not lost to me. Off to the left, where the trees were thinner, I could see the water we'd just run across. The steep hills had faded to become much more rolling terrain. We ran across a few smaller county roads, occasionally crossing paths with Jake who was cheering from his car! After 30 more minutes, maybe about two hours into the race, the rain turned to snow. I guess the weather app got that part right! To me, running in snow makes everything seem peaceful, and I was loving it. 

I was feeling good and started upping my effort. I could hear Jeff behind me at certain points but footfalls gradually faded. I refilled my bottles at an aid station and pressed on. The last five miles to the far turnaround where challenging. I still felt strong, but some of the footing was far from ideal. With all the rain, and now snow, there were numerous sections of trail that had standing water. My feet were already wet, so, I ran straight through the puddles. 

Elevation profile from Strava

On my way out to the turnaround, I came to a complete stop three times. The first time I stopped was when I came to an old trolley track that was sloping downhill and suspended a few feet off the ground. I have the opposite of "mad hops" so I took my time crossing over the tracks. The second time I stopped was for crossing a small ravine. The ravine had a 10 to 15 foot drop on either side. Very steep rocks on either side were made extra slippery with the addition of the rain and snow. Several ropes with knots in them had been tied to trees on each side to help us descend and ascend the ravine. As elegant as I am, I somehow ended up with mud on my face. The third time I came to a complete stop was when I was adjusting one of my gloves and decided to eat dirt. For the most part, I was able to brake my fall with my hands. Bonus points because instead of nailing some rocks, I fell into a large puddle. After making sure I hadn’t done any serious damage, I wrung out my soaked gloves and carried on. 

The only hoop I will EVER dunk on...

The last two and a half miles to the turnaround (located at about mile 17) included two very large, very steep climbs. Thankfully, the course at this point was on dirt roads where traction was still decent. I was able to slowly granny jog my way up and over the hills. I reached the far turn around, told Jake the last section had been cruel, grabbed a few M&M’s, and trudged back up the climbs.

The snow had started to pick up and I noticed my hands were getting cold whenever I took my gloves off to eat. Even though I was thoroughly enjoying my birthday celebration, a number of miles along the section back to the trolley crossing started testing my nerves. I hadn’t noticed it as much on the way out, but a large section of the trail was off-camber and angled down towards the water. The footing was OK, but the running felt very awkward! 

I saw Jeff and a number of other runners on my way back and we all encouraged each other. Lots of people were bundled up in their rain gear like Eskimos! Eventually, I was running back across the bridge. It was epic. The snow had picked up and was being whipped up and over the bridge by the wind. It looked like I was running through a tunnel of snow. 

Driving back after the race through the snow tunnel!

 Across the bridge and back at the last aid station, I had about 5 miles left. I slammed a chocolate flavored gel and got on my way. The short, steep hills were back. But this time, everything looked different because the ground and trees were covered in snow. The white fluff was coming down so hard I struggled to keep it out of my eyes. I grinded my way up the muddy slopes and encouraged other runners. My uphill pace had significantly slowed but I refused to walk because I knew how close I was to finishing. Finally, after I’d started getting a little worried I’d missed a turn, I turned right and was back on the dirt road to the resort. Four-plus hours running, on trails, in a blizzard, what a great way to celebrate 27. 

I didn’t wait around long after finishing as the conditions were worsening and not many people were outside “hanging out”. I snapped a few terrible selfies, clambered into my car, and headed back to the hotel to regain circulation.

Terrible post-race selfie #1

Thank you to Paul and Jake for organizing this fantastic race. If you're looking for a challenging, beautiful, and environmentally friendly race in the Midwest, put this on your schedule!

Up next for me is another trail race in Utah! I'm excited to be heading to to Moab and Arches Nat'l park to run the Moab Red Hot 55k February 16th. I'll be out there with my family and looking to do some exploring and hiking after the race. So, if anyone knows of some wheelchair friendly hikes we could go on...let me know!

Thanks for reading and have a great day!

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