Midlife Crisis in the Grand Canyon

“Stop thinking about it and just GO” – me to my brain at 4:15am

I recently turned 40 but instead of buying a Porsche and dying my hair I decided to run across the Grand Canyon twice.  This pointless endeavor is known as the Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim and is on the bucket list of many ultra-runners.

Pitch black, freezing cold and a billion stars

Starting on the South rim in the frozen desert night I turned on my lights and commenced the 5,000 foot descent to the Colorado River.  I chose the shorter, steeper mule route instead of the hiker friendly tourist trail.  Dodging puddles of mule pee for 2 hours made for a stomach-churning start to my journey.  I made it to the bottom of the Canyon and crossed the river, luckily avoiding a wile coyote attack half way down.

Where we’re going we don’t need roads

Running along the canyon floor as the warm sun slowly rose was amazing.  I could finally see the spectacular terrain and my hands started to thaw.  Most floors I know are flat but the Grand Canyon floor gains significant elevation Northbound.  Trying to run on 3 hours of sleep and on a critical caffeine deficit proved fruitless so I opted instead for a fast hike.

Hammer time for the hamstrings

Reaching the North wall of the canyon I knew it was going to hurt but this was only my first major ascent of the day.  Luckily living in North Vancouver provides significant opportunities to climb and descend steep mountain trails.  After 2 hours of slogging up canon switchbacks I reached the North rim.  Normal people celebrate their accomplishment then take the shuttle bus back to the other side.  Instead I ate my lunch in the snow then dropped back onto the icy trail to retrace my steps. 

Run Forest Run

My goals for the day were to avoid critical injury, finish before dark and have legs to run the second half.  This third objective meant being able to run the 10km switchback descent plus the 10km canyon floor.  Surprisingly I had both the energy and enthusiasm to pull this off, hopping over snakes, chasing deer and splashing through creeks.

Arizona death march

After 10 hours I crossed the Colorado River and started my ascent back up the South wall. 

My brain:  “I should be able to cover 10km and 5,000 feet of ascent in 2 hours.”

My legs and stomach:  “You’re crazy.  Now it’s time to punish you for putting us through this.”

Every step hurt, my water bottles were empty and the temperature dropped back down to freezing.  My GPS watch tormented me by mocking both my distance to go and my tortoise pace (25 minute miles!).  After 12 hours and 45 minutes I crested the South rim in the daylight and collapsed at the trail head.  Whether this was a celebration of turning 40 or self-inflicted torture I made it, enjoyed almost every step and didn’t get eaten by a mountain lion. 

Running to Nowhere

Following Black Canyon 100k on Feb 13^th I took 2 week off, no running, no hiking and barely any walking.  Every muscle from the neck down hurt and punished me for the almost 16 hours of desert canyon running.  By early March I was ready to resume mountain trail running but having already completed my only “A” race for the year I didn’t feel motivated to enter any other events. 

The 20 weeks of training leading up to Black Canyon were great but in hindsight were rigid and severely limited fun, social and unplanned “just for the heck of it” runs.  The post-race months of March and April have consisted of many shorter mountain runs on steep, technical bone-jarring terrain.  Instead of sticking with my known routes I’ve had the opportunity to explore the other mountains of the North Shore including Fromme and Cypress in addition to every inch of Seymour.

For the past 2 months I’ve been averaging 5 runs a week but only about an hour each in duration.  Instead of a nice calm warm up run from my house to the mountains I’ve been driving to the trail head, starting with a 1,500 foot redline ascent, then screaming down the most technical descents possible.  This is my anti-training.... no warm up or cool down, no heart rate training, no periodization, no micro/macro cycles, and no easy days.  I love every minute of it! 

And best of all I’ve been able to run and hike with Darien without being too tired from over-training.  A week in Hawaii provided the perfect opportunity to hike and run coastal trails and lush mountainous canyons.  Back in North Vancouver Darien and I are getting close to finishing the full 48km Baden Powell trail traversing the 4 North shore mountains.  I’ve never had this much fun running to nowhere!  

16 hours in Black Canyon – Lessons learned from my first 100km ultramarathon

“It hurts up to a point then it doesn’t get any worse.” – Ann Trason, ultra running legend

Prepare for anything

In my life I’ve never been the smartest, fastest or anything “est”.  However I have embraced a maniacal level of pre-race planning for ultra-running.  Since Black Canyon was my first 100k I took preparedness to a new level.  I was ready for the heat, hills, rocks and the desert, and I have the belt buckle to prove it!

Pulling cactus spikes at night out of my leg was not part of my plan but luckily that was only a minor detour.  And kudos to the wonderful volunteer who loaned me her headlamp when my drop bag didn’t show up – Darien was right, I should have carried it in my pack!  Lesson learned.

Whack a mole

Remember whack a mole?  So many good memories from Chuck E Cheese.  Well, ultra running is a lot like that, and the difference between finishing a race and DNFing (did not finish) is how well one whacks problems:  nutrition, GI issues, dehydration, electrolyte loss, cramping, blisters, chafing, etc.

At Black Canyon I whacked every mole except one.  The blister mole definitely whacked me.  I ran the final 40km of the race with blisters worsening by the step.  Just like Homer Simpson I planned to hide under a pile of coats and hoped that everything worked out.  In hindsight I should have dealt with the blisters proactively, lesson learned for next time. 

Be mindful of your thoughts young Jedi

Running down desert mountain switchbacks on loose rocks requires an immense amount of concentration.  Anything less than 100% focus means sliding off a cliff, severely twisting an ankle or running into a cactus.  When running on road I listen to music, however, while on trails I keep all focus on running.  Since moving to North Vancouver mindful running has helped me avoid bear attacks, invasive species burial sites, and certain death from plummeting off mountains. 

I would have enjoyed listening to Pantera or Slipknot during Black Canyon, however I knew this would ensure my demise.  Whenever my mind wandered I inevitably slipped on loose gravel or tripped on a boulder.  I’m shocked I didn’t wipe out as there was so much carnage, bloodied knees and severe road rash on many runners.

Relentless forward progress

In any endurance race athletes will experience highs and lows.  The lows can be crippling and it’s easy to consider dropping out of the race.  A commitment to relentless forward progress is the only thing that keep us moving towards the finish line.  At the Black Canyon km 94 aid station there was a raging fire, warm soup, hot chocolate and inviting chairs.  I thankfully realized that sitting down at that point in the race was a very bad idea. 

What Dreams May Come?

By finishing Black Canyon I earned entry into the 2017 Western States 100 mile lottery.  After running my first marathon in 2004 I swore I’d never run another.  And at multiple times during Black Canyon 100k I promised myself I would never run 100 miles.  However if I get into Western States I will definitely run this legendary 100 mile event. 

Right now I don’t feel motivated to take on another 20-week training block of 115 km running weeks with 6,000+ feet of mountain vertical.  I need to ski with Christina and the kids, drink vast amounts of craft beer and divert my energy to everything else in life other than running.  I know the mountains will pull me back in but until then I’m going to let the blisters heal and not be a runner for a while.