Zion 100

another beautiful buckle

Here is a list of all the small things that I did wrong leading up to and during Ultra Adventures Zion 100, which hopefully I will learn from and not repeat:

• I was a couple of pounds heavier than I should have been.  I just got complacent in the weeks leading up to the race and splurged too much.
• I ate too much and too late the night before the race.  I had a nice mexican pizza in the late afternoon, but then I got greedy and made a heavy, high-calorie, dessert pizza late in the evening.  Damn Matt Gunn for providing glutenous pre-race food that I just can’t seem to resist.  I knew as I was eating that Nutella, banana, marshmallow pizza that it was not a good idea
• I started out too fast, trying to avoid being caught up in the conga line up Flying Monkey.
• I didn’t bother to slow down after making it up Flying Monkey.
• I ran just a bit too fast on the Guacamole loop because I was trying to keep up with a couple of other runners, and I was having so much fun.
• I didn’t use my ice-bandana to combat the heat.
• I pushed way too hard up the climb to Goosebump aid.
• From Goosebump to Grafton, I ran with someone who was going just a tad too fast for me.
• Despite my detailed spreadsheets, I didn’t bother to pack clothes in early enough drop bags, mistakenly assuring myself that I would be running faster than I did.
• LIGHTS - my first light was completely dead because it probably got switched on in the drop bag.  My second light faded after only 2 miles because I had not charged it in a while.  My third light was completely dead from having been turned on in the drop bag.
• My short “racing” shorts do not provide adequate protection from rubbing for ultras over 50K. 

One of the positives was that I had absolutely no foot issues.  Without any considerable sand, I didn't suffer from a single blister. 

I started Thursday with a quick morning hike into Taylor Creek on the west side of Zion National Park.  This was one of Matt’s Trifecta challenges that proved to be a beautiful side trip.  The trail followed the middle fork of the creek, ending at the Double Arch Alcove.

Double Arch Alcove

I had thought about heading into the main part of the park for another hike, but instead volunteered at race headquarters.  After filling up dozens of 5 gallon water jugs again, I think it’s become my niche, and I look forward to doing repeating it at the Grand Canyon.  I was also tasked with getting firewood (from a 19 year old gal and her much younger siblings (scary watching them operate the splitter)), and a whole bunch of ice (you should have seen the young gal’s face when I asked for 40 bags) (thanks to Kelly Agnew for the help with both).

ultra runners go through lots of water

The back of my Outback is quite comfortable for sleeping, but getting race-ready in there is a bit more difficult and time consuming.  I therefore had only a minute to spare before the countdown was on and we were off.

looking back at the line of headlamps heading up to Flying Monkey

Based on the pre-race briefing Thursday evening, I decided that I need to start out much farther up front than I would typically like, just so that I could miss the backed-up conga line that was predicted up Flying Monkey.

view from Flying Monkey

Runners spread out along the road leading up to the base of the climb and the kicked up dust filled our headlamp beams and our lungs.  The climb itself was not too bad.  It was a slow hike, but nothing out of the ordinary.  The “rope section” that I had heard about was less than 10’ up a slope of slickrock.  I just went straight up without touching the rope.  Near the top, a young boy was directing traffic.  We were to run past the intersection, check in at the aid station and come back to hit the loop.  I don’t know why, but it seemed rather confusing at the time, even though I couldn’t yet blame it on fatigue.

At the Flying Monkey AS, I was a little disturbed to find that there were no drop bags.  I grabbed a few M&M’s, refilled my water, and headed out on the loop, praying that the bags would be there when I returned.  My stashed snacks and Doritos would be missed, but most important was the only pair of sunglasses that I had packed.  The prospect of running all day in the blazing sun with unprotected eyes really worried me.

I ran pretty much alone for the entire loop.  I could see others up ahead or behind, but we were pretty spread out at this point.  I enjoyed the rising sun (and temperatures) while I tried to picture the poor primates that our military had flung off the side of the mesa in order to test ejection seats and parachutes before our soldiers had to rely on them.

return down Flying Monkey

Back to the aid station, I was greatly relieved to find my drop bag.  I downed a can of club soda and received a few smart-ass comments about the bag of Doritos that I stuffed into my shorts before heading back down the trail.  The descent was not steep enough to slow things down a bit, but nothing worrisome.  I once again avoided the rope and just did a slide/jump down that section.  Back onto the desert floor, I settled into a comfortable pace.  We crossed the road and a creek which would be fondly remembered later during the heat of the day.  We climbed up and over a ridge and then descended into the Dalton Was AS, which was rather lively as it was a convenient spot for family and crew.

The climb out from the aid station was relatively gentle, on a dirt road and mostly runnable, except towards the end.  It topped out at the Guacamole AS, where I quickly went through my standard resupply routine.  I started out on the loop and hooked up with a couple of other runners as we enjoyed the views off the edge of the mesa.  Pretty soon, we were on the loop portion, which is a slickrock mountain biking trail.  I had an absolute blast on this section, though everyone around me and later on commented on how terrible it was.  Unfortunately, between enjoying myself and wanting to keep up with the other runners, I pushed myself just a bit too hard for this early in the day.

I made it back to Guacamole aid and refueled.resupplied yet again.  I had packed my ice bandana anticipating a hot day, but I stupidly decided to forego it since I was still feeling good.  I didn’t want to bother with the ice at each stop and I had the camera in my back pocket which would have gotten waterlogged from the melting ice.  The temperature was climbing, but it was still early and a mild breeze at the top belied the desert climate that was still waiting to entrap me.

At the aid station, I also ran into Jeff, who I had chased down in the first half of the Monument Valley 100 a month earlier.  I passed him at the descent as he stopped to catch up with friends.  The road back to Dalton made for pretty good running, though I felt for runners that were still making the climb.

Back at Dalton, it was even crazier than the first visit.  The road was lined with cars, crews, and cheering families.  The route led down the dirt road a short way, then along the main paved highway, until we turned off to the south.  We ran across the desert on another dirt road, heading towards the Goosebump climb.  I could see it up in the distance and was still feeling good, despite the rapidly rising temperatures and the unrelenting sun.  I pushed pretty hard up that climb.  Only 30 something miles in, there was no reason for such an effort.  I could feel the sun baking me as I struggled up the incredibly steep climb.  A short section of shade near the top brought some welcomed relief as I drained the last drops from my hand-held.

looking towards the climb up Goosebump

Topping out, the Goosebump AS was a hub of activity.  Not quite as crazy as Dalton, since it was still early, but lots going on.  Despite having studied the darn course map at length, I could not remember this section and relied on directions from the volunteers.  The station was split into two, going through one side on the way out and coming back through another tent on the return.  The trail was pretty easy to follow but at some point, I missed a turn and when I found the next course marker a minute later, I headed out in the wrong direction.  It was a section with a bit of a horseshoe bend but luckily I realized my error pretty quickly and only lost a couple of minutes.

Matt was there helping with the setup at Gooseberry point AS.  This guy is all over the course during the race.  Managing a 100 mile race has got to be so much more physically demanding than running it.  I headed out on the short out-and-back to a spectacular view point, punched my bib and came back to the aid station where I unhappily discovered that the return was 2.5 miles longer.  I still enjoyed the undulating slickrock, much like Guacamole.

looking back towards Gooseberry Point

As part of my arrogant approach to Zion, I chose to wear my “racing” shorts - shorter and lighter, making me feel faster.  Unfortunately these shorts seem to have a limit of about 50K.  By the time I got to Goosebump, I had goosebumps (uncomfortable ones) on the insides of my thighs.  Copious amounts of vaseline helped, but only temporarily.  I wound up re-applying multiple times throughout the day and night, resulting in a rather heavy, disgusting pair of shorts by the end.  It felt more like I was wearing diapers by the end, rather than the “racing” shorts I had hoped for.

slickrock trail between Goosebump and Gooseberry

On the return to Goosebump, I was caught by Jeff and we headed out for the next section together.  He wasn’t really pushing the pace, but it was just a touch faster than my fatiguing body should have been going.  About halfway to Grafton, I started falling back and was eventually walking the slightest of hills.  The excesses of the first half were finally catching up to me.  In addition to my deteriorating pace, my stomach was now becoming an issue, which meant I had to cut back on my fueling, furthering my downward spiral.

lots of blooming cacti

After a brief stop at Grafton, I continued on and was quite disappointed that the drop down to Cemetery was not all downhill.  There was some climbing involved and then the trail was so incredibly circuitous.  These little things seem significant when everything was falling apart.  And to almost make matter totally unbearable, I came extremely close to falling onto a cactus.

Near Grafton, I passed Rachael, Ethan, and a few other familiar faces.  I was still a bit grumpy and it showed through in the content and tone of my responses.  Someone pointed out that despite my “misfortunes” I was 10 miles ahead of them, only halfway through the race.  This was a cold slap of reality right across my face and took the took the wind out of my self-indulgent pity.  My attitude changed then and despite continuing mishaps, I tried to see the humor of the situation (especially with my lights).

Passing through Grafton the second time, I was welcomed with the most incredible cheese quesadillas.  This seems to be a recurring theme on my 100 milers, and a welcomed on at that.  With my stomach feeling a bit better, I knew I had to make up for lost time and refuel for the oncoming night.  I took a couple of extra large pieces, then a couple of more, and more - at least 8, pizza slice portions.  The full stomach slowed me down, but man were they great!

For the past few miles, I was continually calculating my pace vs. the onset of night.  What I was sure would be a daytime descent from Goosebump was clearly not going to happen.  It was going to be dicey to even make it back it back to Goosebump before dark.  Luckily, I had packed a small, emergency flashlight (at the last minute) in my Grafton drop bag.  I held it comfortingly in my hand as I steadily made my way back on the road.  I was feeling a bit better now, but definitely not 100%.  I tried to enjoy the sunset and be positive and supportive to the oncoming runners that trailed me by many miles.  Even though it had gotten completely dark, the road was wide and smooth so I didn’t bother to turn on the light, which was a good thing.  Upon entering Goosebump aid for the final time, I clicked on my light so that I could find my drop bag.  Nothing happened.  I clicked again and again.  Nothing.  I had tested it out at home so I can only guess that it must have inadvertently turned on in the drop bag and died.  No problem - I had one of my main lights at Goosebump, so I just laughed it off.

With my new, working light, I dropped off the rim and headed down the incredibly steep descent.  It wouldn’t have been much faster in the daytime as the full effort was involved in just staying upright.  The “trail” alternated between broken, jumbled rocks, and loose, dusty sand.  Fortunately for my burning quads, we hit the base sooner than expected and I was able to run again on the rolling jeep road.  Soon after I made the right turn towards Virgin, and only a couple of miles into this 8 mile section, I came to the horrific realization that the flashlight that normally lasts me 3+ hours was already dimming.  I hadn’t recharged this light before the race and had just assumed that it was full.

I knew that I couldn’t make it to Virgin before it gave out.  The sky was pretty clear, but the moon wouldn’t rise for many hours and my chances of staying on route purely by starlight were miniscule.  I had passed a couple of runners on the way down the slope, so I could wait for them, but I noticed a bobbing light far up ahead.  I decided to push on, fueled by desperation, to try and catch up to the next runner.  It was an odd game.  The dying battery forced me to run faster, yet the reduced light made it tougher.  I eventually caught up to the light and was surprised by how long it had taken me, given that it was a 100K’er who was now walking.  I asked to share his light and company.  He graciously agreed and I enjoyed the slowed pace, though the reduced effort made me shiver in the chill night.

I had a long sleeve shirt tied around my waist and was now quite glad to have it.  It wasn’t mine.  No, this was another element of my stupidity.  Despite my meticulously detailed spreadsheet, I was so sure I would make it to Virgin early enough, that I didn’t bother to pack so much as a T-shirt in my earlier drop bags.  This, despite the fact that I have so many stinking, technical race shirts that I give them away to friends and Goodwill, and still have piles in my closet.  Luckily, back at Goosebump, a lovely aid station volunteer looked horrified when I admitted that I had nothing but the shorts around my loins until Virgin, so she went to her car and gave me a nice shirt to borrow.  Other than the chill of leaving the fire at the aid station, it had been quite warm, especially with my efforts on the descent and then to chase the light, so I had kept running shirtless.  I was now quite glad to have this shirt, though I deserved to shiver through my stupidity.

After a while, another runner came upon us and I bid my helpful friend goodbye as I leached onto another host.  This guy was running pretty well, having conserved his strength early on (as I should have done).  It took a good effort to hang with him, but at least I was rested from the walking break.  As we followed the road, I could run by his side and make full use of his light.  Unfortunately, the route meandered a bit on and off some trails too.  These sections were quite difficult as my light was pretty dim by now and I had to really push to stay on his heels.

I was so incredibly thankful to arrive at Virgin Desert.  As we were going to visit this aid station 4 times, this was my main stash.  I quickly put on my own shirt, replenished snacks and took out my main light - the one with a freshly charged, high-capacity battery.  I clicked it on and was dismayed by the darkness emanating from the lens.  ^&&^$@!!!!!  Even though I had wrapped it in a shirt, the switch must have gotten pushed on and it was completely and utterly dead!  Was this a comedy of errors, or cosmic stupidity?  I cried.  I laughed.  I mostly cried.

I swapped out the one spare battery I had packed and was so relieved when the blinding light shone in my face.  In my fatigued and battered mind, I tried to do the complex time math.  I had only tested these batteries out for 5 hours.  I still had 23+ miles to run.  There was no way I could hold a 13 minute pace.  The moon would be out by then, but what the heck could I do by the light of a half moon in unfamiliar territory?  Of well, I would burn that bridge when I came to it.

I put on my red bracelet (the color coded loops really made it simple), gulped down three cups of spicy ramen, and headed out on the first loop.  This loop, the shortest of the three, was all single-track, but included quite a bit of little up-and-downs.  The trail cut across the side of “rivulets” coming down from higher ground, creating a continuous roller-coaster of dips and hills, only a few feet high.  Though the elevation gain from these was not great, they prohibited any kind of rhythm or steady pace.  I’m betting that these would have been a blast on a mountain bike, but not so much while running at night.

I was glad to return to Virgin Desert.  More spicy ramen, a white bracelet (which glowed faintly), and I headed out for the second loop.  The second loop was longer than the first, but much of the same terrain, including the annoying roller-coaster rivulets.

Back to Virgin Desert again, I traded my white bracelet for a blue one, downed more ramen and soda, and headed out on the final, longest loop.  I started out with another runner, but he dropped me pretty quickly.  Shortly after the blue loop broke off of the yellow route (for the 100K), there was a trail intersection with no race markings.  It took me about 2 minutes to figure out the correct way and find the next marker.  This was the first and only route marking issue that I experienced the entire time.  The trail now seemed to follow the top of a vertical ravine of unknown depth.  It must have been around 2:00 AM at this point, because a faint orange glow developed in the east and soon the half moon rose above the distant hills.  It never gave off enough usable light, but the company that it provided on this remote section was invaluable.  I purposely avoided checking the mileage on my Garmin but when Virgin Desert came into view from the top of a rise, I knew it was too good to be true.  As I suspected, the trail turned in the opposite direction and the welcoming lights quickly dropped out of view.  I felt totally alone out here and I’m glad I had recovered (at least mentally) and didn’t have any further equipment or physical issues or I might have just laid down and waited for the sun to rise.

At the 6:00 AM start, after a good night’s sleep, fully fueled and hydrated, pumped up on the adrenaline of the glorious day to come, 45 degrees was invigorating on my shirtless torso.  22 hours later, physically and mentally fatigued, disenchanted by my lackluster performance and confounded by my cumulative stupidity, 45 degrees was practically hypothermia inducing, even with a long sleeved shirt, hat, hooded jacket, and gloves.  I shivered uncontrollably as I left Virgin Desert for the final time, running on fumes, and the smell of the barn - the dim light at the end of the long tunnel, the finish line.

Not long after leaving Virgin Desert, I looked back to see a headlamp following less than a quarter mile behind.  It was still a ways to the finish, but I didn’t want my mediocre performance to be deteriorated further by being passed so close to the end.  I was feeling better now and the terrain was quite runnable, so I kicked it up a notch.  Soon, the light was lost even though I could see a good ways back.

I eventually made it back onto the main paved road and took advantage of the flat, paved surface to maintain a good pace.  I didn’t bother to look at my Garmin until I was on the edge of Virgin and then I realized that I had a shot at breaking 23 hours, so I really hit the gas.  I sprinted at a sub 9 minute pace (yes, that is considered a fast sprint at the end of 100 miles), finishing in 22:59:04.  Alas, as a final indignation, my Garmin and the official race clock were off by one minute, so UltraSignup shows me at 23:00:04 :-(   boo hoo.  But at least I beat their prediction by finishing 22nd instead of 23rd.

Matt and all of his crew put on yet another incredible race.  I don’t know if Zion was really any tougher than Antelope or Monument Valley.  I certainly had a tougher time, but that might have been the cumulative effect of all of the mistakes I made.  It’s not quite as scenic as the other two races, but those are pretty high standards to measure up to.  I did like not having to run through much sand.  The energy of the larger crowds and more runners was also nice and the start/finish area in the town park was better for hanging out.  The course was very well marked, the single track sections were fun, and I had a blast on the slickrock, though I seemed to be the only one.  All in all, an awesome race that is well worth running.

Grand Canyon is next.  Who's going to join me?

Garmin File

Spreadsheet of predicted and actual times

Monument Valley 100

Let me start by stating unequivocally, that Ultra Adventures’ Monument Valley is the must-do, bucket-list race for every ultra runner out there.  Yes, there’s lots of SAND to put up with, but you simply will not find another race with this kind of non-stop scenery.  The kind of scenery that’s been used in countless movies.  Add to that a nice dose of Navajo culture and a most caring race director.  What more could you possibly ask for in a race experience?

I am so incredibly lucky and thankful to be an Ultra Adventures ambassador and be able to take part in these amazing races.

Monument Valley was my 3rd 100 of the year and only 3 weeks after the Antelope Canyon 100 that tore my feet up with all the sand.  Ultra Signup had me ranked at 3rd male and 6th overall - my highest ever ranking.  Given that I’ve always beat their ranking (if not their predicted time), I figured I had a pretty good chance at another podium finish and, if I played my cards right, perhaps even my first ever win.  I tried my best not to get too cocky.  Anything can happen in the course of 100 miles, and any of the other runners could have been under-ranked.

With a slight breeze and temps in the 30’s, I was shivering at the pre-dawn start.  I could have stayed in my warm car for a bit longer, but Matt arranged for a Navajo prayer ceremony by Larry and his daughter and I did not want to miss it.  This was quite a different start than your typical race, blaring rock music with an obnoxious announcer trying to get everyone fired up.

After all the runners sprinkled a pinch of ground corn into the morning breeze, we were off.

The first leg of the course, heading to the Mystery Valley AS was probably the most “boring”.  The word “boring” is in quotes because it’s meant as a comparison to the rest of the day.  The views would have been an incredible highlight for any other race, yet they paled in comparison to what was yet to come.  We headed south, mainly down a SANDY road as the 35 or so runners settled into their pace.  A couple of guys went out pretty fast and I wound up about a third of the way down in the pack.  I stopped to take a few pictures and checked back repeatedly, but unfortunately the sunrise was blocked by distant clouds.  Starting out in a long-sleeved shirt and gloves, I was still chilled until we arrived at Mystery Valley.  The sun was breaking through and after a quick re-supply, I left the shirt with my drop bag.

The next leg to Weatherhill Mesa AS started to get a bit more interesting, though still mostly on loose SAND.  We wound in and out of a few canyons that featured amazing arches and ancient ruins.  I ran a bit in this section with Eric (from New York ) and Ken (from Tennessee).  I had worked with Eric the previous day in filling up sandbags to anchor the tents back at base camp.

At Weatherhill, I had packed an extra bottle in my drop bag since the out-and-back section to the top of the mesa was supposed to be 9 miles.  The sun was out and the temperature was climbing, but at the last moment, I decided to forgo the extra bottle so I could keep a free hand for taking pictures.  I’m glad I did, as the single bottle was just enough and my camera was out almost the entire time.

Leaving the aid station, we went up the sandy wash for just a bit and then got right into the climb up a gnarly slickrock trail.  I passed a few runners on the way up, though I was in no real hurry this early in the race.  I still stopped frequently to take pictures and tried to snap a shot of all the other runners also.  The views from the top were magnificent and the sun was still low enough to bathe the rocks in a soft, warm light.  Once at the “top”, we ran close to the edge of the mesa and I darted off to the side a few times to take shots overlooking the valley.

I was really looking forward to the downhill return and enjoyed the bit of effortless speed.  I didn’t overdo it though and still took time to stop whenever I came across an uphill runner to take their photo.  Most came out well and I’ve posted them in my FB album.  This out-and-back lollipop was also a nice opportunity to see other runner friends like Guy and Rachael.  I found that the whole course was conducive to this, without being overly repetitive.

Back at the Mitchell AS, I took a minute to empty the SAND out of my shoes, restocked snacks and took off.  The return to Mystery Valley AS wasn’t quite the same as the trip out.  This provided for a bit of variety as well as an opportunity to see some different ruins.  I came across Matt by one of these and welcomed his encouraging words.  Just after, I came upon Matthew Van Horn with his drone.  He was bringing it in for a landing as I ran by and I voiced my disappointment, so he lifted off again and followed me for a good bit.  Unfortunately, this section was slow, loose SAND and didn’t make for the best running, but I’m hoping to see some cool aerial footage.  Being in the spotlight, I worked extra hard and ran faster even in the SAND so I could look good for the camera.  I was actually relieved when the drone turned back as I could slow down and relax again.

Just before coming back into the Mystery Valley AS, I passed another runner and when inquiring at the AS, I was told that I was now in 2nd place and number 1 was 18 minutes ahead.  This was quite a pleasant surprise, less than 30 miles in, but from here, back to the Start/Finish, I slowed a bit.  The sun and the drone induced sprint were catching up to me and despite the open terrain, I couldn’t see the lead runner but I tried not to let it bother me too much.

I figured I was losing time in this section, but by the time I got to the Start/Finish, I had apparently cut the lead down to 12 minutes.  That was a very pleasant surprise and between the good news, and the energy of all the spectators and volunteers, I headed down Valley Drive rather upbeat.  I’m sure the big fat cookie that I snagged at the AS helped also.

Luckily the car traffic on the road was pretty light so the dust that the cars were kicking up wasn’t a problem.  I also was able to pick out the lead runner’s tracks on the dusty road and noticed that my stride was consistently longer than his.  Unless he was short and/or had a very quick cadence, this meant that I was moving faster than him and continuing to shorten his lead. And just before coming into the Hogan AS for the first time, I ran across Jeff Kasal , the first place runner by about 8 minutes.  I had managed to cut his lead by another 4 minutes in less than 4 miles.

It was fun to see Katrin at Hogan with all of her student volunteers.  Having an experienced ultra runner as an aid station captain is awesome.  She kept me informed, was incredibly supportive and encouraging, and very efficient in helping me to move through and out repeatedly.

I was a bit concerned about the course around the Hogan AS.  We were to visit a total of 6 times, running a short loop and a long loop clockwise, an out-and-back to Mitchell Mesa, then the long loop and short loop counter-clockwise.  This was difficult enough to follow on the map, but actually doing it in practice, at night, with many miles on the mind and body was downright intimidating.  While you couldn’t afford to be totally brain-dead, the system that was put in place was extremely effective and I personally had a pretty easy time with it.  Great job done by Matt and his crew in making a potentially difficult situation into a non-issue.

It was tempting to chase after Jeff, and being in second place so early in a race and with only an 8 minute deficit was an unfamiliar position to be in, but I held back and took my time.  It wound up taking me the next 12 miles to finally catch up to him - non-stop photo opportunities kept slowing me down.

The short, 4.5 mile, North Window loop was first.  Out of Hogan, we headed back on Valley Drive for a couple of hundred yards then off on a cross country section.  The initial climb off the road was a bit harsh as the clay had been torn up by cattle then hardened, creating a very uneven surface.  After the short climb, we ran across fields of sage brush and before turning off towards the mesa edge, came upon a Native American woman tending a table of goods.  Though there was access here via a dead-end dirt road, it was a very remote location and I can’t imagine more than a handful of vehicles coming out even on a busy day. I waved, yelled out a greeting, and continued on my way.  About a third of the way around, we crossed another dirt road which was part of the longer Arches loop.  I thought the crossing was pretty straight forward, but apparently some runners had a hard time figuring it out.  The sun was high and hot, but the scenery was still spectacular so I kept the camera out most of the time.

Back at Hogan again, I tended to my feet.  I emptied out the sand, smeared copious amounts of vaseline on my toes and put on a fresh pair of socks.  I grabbed a second hand-held bottle and then set out on the Arches loop, which started on a dirt road.  Again, I could see Jeff’s footprints and I was still running with a slightly longer stride, especially on the downhills.  Back onto a trail and then out into a parking area where a few tourist cars were gathered.  The course led through a gate marked “No Trespassing”.  I love it when we get to go where others can’t.  The route lead down a very rough road and across a small creek that I was easily able to jump.  As I started climbing up the other side, I looked off to my right and for the first time noticed these giant sand dunes.  Sure, we had been running through lots of sand all day, but these were barren dunes like a picturesque desert.  And up on top were a group of horseback riders, with sandstone monoliths in the background.  The pictures don’t do the scene justice.

After snapping a few pics, I continued on along a SAND road, crossed the creek again and the road turned into tire tracks on the dunes.  I hated the SAND, but loved the diversity.  I soon came up on three free-roaming horses that skirted around me as my camera clicked away.  Being able to see for some distance again, I scanned the horizon and spotted Jeff far ahead on the dunes.  I could have caught up to him sooner, but I just couldn’t stop taking pictures.

Nearing the south end of the loop, I came off the dunes, around a sandstone cliff, and was faced with the first arch.  Click, click, run a few hundred feet, and there’s another one.  More pictures and then back onto the SAND road.  The very south end of the loop was in a bit of a canyon, shaded enough that there was a field of snow tempting me to jump in.  I didn’t.  The course took a sharp, almost U-turn to the right, past another arch, click, click.

I could now see Jeff off in the distance again, checked my watch as he ran by a boulder, and timed the difference.  It was a bit over 4 minutes, but confusing because there was a short out-and-back to yet another arch, made almost inaccessible by a large pool of water.

I was now gaining ground rapidly, and checking the diminishing time gap periodically.  Soon enough, I finally caught Jeff with only a couple of miles to go before another stop by the Hogan AS.  He asked if I wanted to pass, but he was running at a good pace and I settled in with him, enjoying the companionship that I hadn’t had since early morning.  We chatted a good bit and came into Hogan together.

Though the sun was getting lower, I was making great time and somehow convinced myself that it was only 9 miles up to Mitchell Mesa and back.  Therefore, I took a small gamble and headed off with no shirt and no light, figuring that I could make it back before dark settled in and the temperatures dropped.

I called out to Jeff as I headed out of the aid station and he followed only seconds back, but as we headed up a gently sloped road, he fell further behind.  I was feeling pretty good and running a decent pace, though not pushing it.  As I got closer to the water only aid station at the bottom of Mitchell Mesa, I started questioning the distance, trying to remember the map and my stupid spreadsheet.  Now I was convinced that this section was 12 miles.  Holy crap, an extra 3 miles would make it almost impossible to get back before dark.  As I started up what looked like a vertical wall up the side of Mitchell Mesa, my mind was busy recalculating every few minutes.  Could I make it?

Part way up, I came across three park rangers on their way down.  I asked them the distance to the turnaround and their assessment was good news - shorter than 12 miles, but I just couldn’t trust their distances.  So I motored on up, vowing that I wouldn’t end up having my hypothermic body rescued by them in the dark.  I periodically looked back down and couldn’t believe what I had climbed up.  The “trail” consisted of pretty steep switchbacks, littered with rocks - small ones, big ones.  Finally, up on top, I could run again, but of course, I had to make multiple stops for pictures.  The sun was quite low and the light was perfect.  Even the threat of hypothermia couldn’t keep me from capturing the views.

I made my way to the turnaround, used the hole punch to mark my bib, screamed down towards the Finish line in the valley below, took yet more pictures and headed back, constantly recalculating the remaining time and distance.  Just before the descent, I came across Jeff on his way up.  I tried to push on the descent from the mesa also, but the rocks and boulders required careful tap-dancing.

Back at Hogan, I dropped off my camera, picked up a flashlight, shirt, and second bottle and headed out on my second Arches loop.  It didn’t get dark until I got to the first arch and I really enjoyed the reversed loop as I got to see other runners pretty often, even with such a small field.  Most of them were running in pairs or small groups, which was probably a smart idea for both route finding and camaraderie.  Having run the loops in the daytime made a big difference as I knew pretty well where to go and what to expect.  I ‘m sure it was more difficult for the later runners who were running it for the first time now in the dark.  Finding their way would be more challenging and they missed out on some incredible sights.

My only challenge was hydration.  Soon after leaving Hogan, I realized that the volunteers had put Hammer Heed in one of my bottles.  God that stuff is vile.  Luckily the other bottle had water in it.  I had to drink some of the Heed and quickly wash it down with water as a single bottle wasn’t going to be enough.  I was especially happy to get back to Hogan and fill up on cold cola and hot soup.

Off onto the North Window loop.  The night sky was amazing.  So full of stars.  I didn’t get to see any more runners on this loop, but I was still running well and enjoying the cool temperatures.

On my previous visit to Hogan, I asked Katrin to track how far behind Jeff was.  Last time I saw him was on top of Mitchell Mesa and he was only about 15 minutes back.  To my surprise, when I returned to Hogan for the last time, Katrin told me that Jeff had not even come in yet, giving me more than a one hour lead.  With more than 20 miles to go, I knew the race wasn’t over yet, but it sure felt good to have such a comfy lead.  As it turned out, Jeff dropped out at some point.  What a shame - he was running so strong in the first half.

I left Hogan for the last time and headed back onto Valley Drive for a bit.  The route turned off onto a wide wash.  The running here wasn’t too bad as the recent moisture made the ground quite firm.  Markings were a little sparse, but I didn’t worry as there was no getting lost within the wash.  As soon as I’d get a little nervous, a reflective marker would appear in the distance.  After a few miles, clear signs and markers guided me out of the wash and to the left, then down into another, smaller wash.  Shortly after popping out of this second wash is where my troubles started.

I was following a reasonably marked, though rather faint trail just above the wash when the markings disappeared.  I searched around for a bit after a couple of hundred yards and decided to turn back before I got really lost.  This area felt so incredibly remote, even though I could see lights many miles off in the distance.  I got back to the last flag, looked around and convinced myself that there was a faint trail going straight ahead, the way I had just gone.  So off I went in the same direction again.  This time I went a bit farther and then started to wander from side to side but still couldn’t find any more flags.  I got a bit lost and panicked slightly.  I was hoping I was close to the East Mitten AS so I called out a bunch of times but got no response.  As it turned out, I was still 1 ½ to 2 miles away.

I eventually made my way back to the last flag, took a deep breath and started searching again.  Wahoo!  This time I saw some flagging off to the right that was blown flat against a bush.  What a relief.  I moved along now but I had really lost my momentum, along with a good 15 minutes or so.  This next section to the aid station was a bit tough.  It was cross country, and I had a hard time finding the markers.  It just felt like they weren’t in a straight line.  Offset by just a bit so that I would have to stop at each marker, look around, find the next one and then run to it.

I was thrilled to reach the East Mitten AS.  The guy and gal there recognized me from Antelope Canyon and I let them know about my problems over the previous section.  I appreciated that they took me seriously though I am curious if I was the only one that had issues.

After a quick refueling (cola and awesome grilled cheese sandwiches), I set off towards Brigham’s Tomb.  I didn’t have any issues with the markings here but the terrain turned kind of ugly in sections.  There were stretches of loose, deep SAND, some sections that felt like powdered clay (softer and deeper than the SAND), and some sections through a wash that had sticky, clayey mud.  I was not having a very good time.

I made it to the intersection to turn off to the out-and-back section to the Brigham AS and turned right.  I hadn’t realized just how long this section was (maybe a mile or so) and kept expecting to come up on the aid station.  I finally saw a fire and tent in the distance.  The trail wound around a bit, crossed a small drainage, and dumped me out into a paddock with a few horses and at least a dozen barking dogs.  The dogs were friendly enough, some were playful puppies, but I couldn’t see the aid station anymore and there were no further markings.  I doubled back a bit to the last marker, looked around carefully and then walked straight through all the animals again.  The aid station was hidden beyond a bend.  The Navajo men that were running the station were very friendly and quite surprised that I had a hard time finding it.

I didn’t stay long, grabbed some food, more cola, warmed quickly by the campfire and took off, anxious to finish off the night.  I made it back to the junction just fine, followed the drainage for a bit, then the trail pretty much contoured on the side of a hill for a while.  This was an actual trail, but very faint as the ground was mostly hard.  The flagging could have been a bit more frequent.  I was back to the look for flagging, run to it, look for the next flagging, repeat, routine.  My body was probably capable of running faster at this point but I was still paranoid about getting lost again.

The route eventually dropped down and then went straight up the side of a very steep and loose SAND dune.  The trail was pretty easy to pick out now, but the going was slow.  Part way up, I turned around to see the moon peeking up through the Stagecoach formation before it was lost in the clouds.  That was a pretty magical site.

I slowly made my way up to the top of the dunes and then along the ridge for a while.  The footprints were easy to follow and now there were plenty of flags also.  The moon reappeared from behind the clouds as I saw the Big Indian AS up ahead.  I jokingly yelled out for them to wake up.  A gal was actually sleeping inside by the heater, but Turd’l was outside waiting for me.  I had some more cola and some kind of food, but I don’t remember what.  I rushed out, wanting to finish.

Glancing down at my Garmin, I knew I would make it somewhere under 22 hours, but I pushed as much as I could for a strong finish.  I could smell the barn.  The trail seemed to go along through more of the typical desert terrain, between seas of sage.  Eventually, it led out onto narrow ridges of gravelly sandstone.  Luckily, the side were steep, but not dangerous, as I misjudged a sharp turn and slid a little ways off the side.  This section dumped me out onto a dirt road through some kind of an empty camping area.  Not far from the finish, I was now pushing myself to run it out.  It was a bit surreal as there were short light poles set on motion sensors that would individually flick on as I ran by.  Soon enough, I crossed the turn-off for Valley Drive and headed for the finish.  There was a runway of green Christmas lights making the right U-turn under the finish arch and I was done.

Leaning over to catch my breath from the finish “sprint”, I looked around and saw no one.  4:40 AM and not a single person was around.  Within a minute, Matt came running around the corner to congratulate me.  Then, a few others started popping out.  Lights came on, and I walked over to warm myself by one of the fires.  I then went to the car, got a towel and some clean clothes and hit the shower on the poop-mobile.  Matt got it going for me and boy did the hot water feel nice.  Unfortunately, as I took my socks off, I saw a disgustingly large blister on one of my toes that the toenail was now floating on top of - thank you, SAND.

After towelling off and stopping by the fire for a few more minutes, I headed off to the car for a couple of hours of sleep.  I think the 55K’ers were starting just as I woke up to a clear, chilly morning.  It was nice to be able to cheer them off, as well as the 25K’ers.

Pretty soon, I was interviewed by Roberta from the Navajo Nation Division of Natural Resources, ate some fresh fry bread and hopped back in the car for the long drive back home.

What a totally awesome experience.  Matt kept going on and on about how this race was even more amazing than Antelope Canyon and I didn’t quite believe him, but sure enough, he was right.  Antelope had some amazing sights, separated by a bunch of somewhat ho-hum desert.  Monument Valley was non-stop scenery.  I held back and only took about 250 pictures in the span of about 12 hours.  The terrain was quite diverse and the abundant SAND made it much tougher than the 6,500’ of elevation gain would suggest.

The only two things that could make this race any better are to; 1) get rid of all the SAND, 2) run it on a full moon.  Obviously the SAND is just par for the course in this part of the country.  It wouldn’t be a desert without all the SAND.  As far as the full moon - if this was UA’s only race, I would really push to reschedule it, but with 7 events in these incredible locations, trying to shift everything around and schedule the races around the lunar cycle would be impossible.

As I mentioned at the start, this is absolutely the must-do, bucket-list race!  Prepare yourself for the SAND and enjoy the most incredible scenery that mother earth has to offer.

Slideshow Video

Garmin File

Predicted and actual splits