Almost Famous as a Local Runner

I was in line at the local hardware store about to pay for my propane tank refill when a man behind me said “Did you get your run in today?” I looked at him with a blank and stunned silence because I did not recognize him. He laughed and said, “I live on Florence Ave and see you running all the time.” Mystery solved because I run on that road almost every day though it was a bit unsettling to know that people are watching as you run past their house.

A few months later I was in the produce section of the supermarket looking at the apples when a man said to me “If you are in here who is running in town?” Once again, I had no idea who he was, and I never found out.

My running routine is very consistent. I run around my lake community as well as another local lake community, down main roads, and sometimes when training for an ultra, I add additional loops to my run. I run in all types of weather, from the hot humid days of summer to the frigid single digits of winter. In rain or snow. I like running in the elements and rarely use my treadmill. Because of this I am a regular sight in the neighborhood. I probably stand out a bit more because of my mop of gray hair.

Since most of my runs are done around the same time in the morning I see a lot of the same people on my run. Most of them are walking their dogs. We are all creatures of habit. For the most part, I do not know most of their names. We simply exchange a quick “Good Morning” and maybe a comment about the weather. My runs are familiar because of both the landscape and the people I see.

While I usually run around the neighborhood sometimes, I walk. One day after a tough marathon I decided to walk with my wife instead of running. While walking through parts of my usual running route, though for a shorter distance, we encountered familiar faces from my runs.  After the third person said, “What you’re not running?” My wife laughed and said “I can’t believe this. How many people do you know?” Another person, John, stopped his car and rolled down his window to say hi.

While I mostly run by people once in a while I will stop and chat with someone, especially if it is someone whose name I know. I frequently see my friend John, who is also a runner, at the school bus stop with his grandchildren. Sometimes I see my friend Dan and we run together for a short time.

Yet there are people who say, “Hi Ray” and I am a bit taken back because I have no idea what their name is. I don’t think that we have been introduced to each other. How do they know my name? Did we meet and I just don’t remember?

Many times, a car drives by me and the driver waves. Are they just being friendly or do I know them? I now wave at most of the cars. It is hard to see through a windshield if they are waving but I am getting pretty good at spotting the hand on the steering wheel rise up. I wave to all the mail carriers—and with one carrier in particular we share exaggerated smiles and waves.

A clue that how they know me is through the grapevine. A fellow runner once stopped me and said “I think you know my son Gray.” I told him my name. He then said “I told my son that I often see an older runner out there and he told me ‘that is Ray.’” I did know his son very well from the lake. I think Gray probably told him about me running the length of New Jersey. That makes me a little different than other runners.

I may stand out because frankly there really are not that many runners that I see on my runs especially on weekdays and bad weather days. Once on a really snowy day I was out there running and one of the people I always say hi to yelled out “Man nothing stops you!”  

I consistently cover 7-10 miles each morning, rarely repeating any part of my route except for less than a mile, usually in the opposite direction. So, if someone is commuting to work, I am a regular sight. If they are walking their dog, I am a regular sight. To the kids and parents at the various bus stops, I am a regular sight

Most people consider someone a neighbor if they live within a block or two of your home. I look at the regular people on my run as my neighbors. This even though they may be miles from my house and even in a different zip code.

Doing these runs for years in the community makes me feel more in tune with the neighborhood. I see the houses that are sold. Houses with additions being added.  Most people have a normal route they may drive through the neighborhood but I serpentine all around so I see the changes almost everywhere.

These runs make me feel connected to the community. After a run I often come home and in a conversation with my wife say, “I love where we live.” 

One time I was walking the neighborhood with my wife when a man waved and said hello. I waved back and said hi. My wife said, “Who was that?” I said, “I don’t know.” She said, “He said your name!” I had not heard that, but it wouldn’t have mattered because I had no idea what his name was. I laughingly told her that it is not always easy being almost famous.

Feeling the Aging Process in a Mall

Recently I walked into a department store in a mall and I felt ancient. It was not anything physical. At the age of 66 I regularly do ultra marathons and finish ahead of people half my age.  No, it was a “This is your life moment.” It was not about age-related changes in me—but changes in the world around me.

Getting old is a strange experience. It can sneak up on you.  One of the reasons I dove headfirst into running and fitness a few decades ago was my desire to try to stave off the inevitable by being active. I hope and believe that I will be active into my nineties and perhaps even running a race or two.

But there are no strategies to stave off the changes in everyday life that the passage of time brings. When I look back, I realize that our day-to-day existence has changed dramatically over the course of my life.  I also understand that to anyone under the age of 40, my childhood and early adulthood probably seem as ancient as the pilgrims.

It hits me at strange times. It can be an old classic song on the radio, or when I hear about the death of TV star who is a stranger to today’s young people. Once when I forgot my cellphone as I was driving to work. I wasn’t sure I would survive the day without it. Yet it occurred to me I have survived most of my life without one. How is it now that I am completely dependent on it?

More recently it hit me when I was walking in the Rockaway Mall.

As I went into JC Penney and later walked through the mall it hit me that I was old. It was not because of the clothing styles or the music that was playing. It was the lack of people, the shuttered storefronts and the limited merchandise in the stores that were open.  I was walking in a place that was dying. It was a relic of another age. Nothing about the mall shouted “this is the future” or this is a “happening” place.

Malls were where it was all happening when I was growing up. Teens piled in cars and buses to just go to the mall. If you needed to buy something you went to the mall. It had not only stores, but movie theaters, arcades and food courts. Who needed anything more? You ran into people you knew at the mall.  

I remember as a kid the talk about the construction of Willowbrook Mall was big news. All the surrounding communities were excited. It was as if we were no longer hick towns but cosmopolitan just because we had a mall. Our community status somehow rose with this one addition of a mall. Around this time, malls started popping up all across the state of New Jersey.

You see I remember when malls were the future. I was even part of that future, even if it was reluctantly. I was a recent college graduate and the only job that I could acquire was as a management trainee for Kinney Shoes at Willowbrook Mall in Wayne N.J. At the time it was one of the busiest malls in North Jersey. The stores were all stocked to the ceiling with merchandise. Finding a sales associate was easy, the trick was trying to avoid them as they swarmed all around. During the Christmas holiday the parking lot was full and you may have had to drive around for awhile to get a spot – or follow shoppers who were finished shopping and were walking to their cars to get a coveted parking spot.

If you had asked anyone back then about the future of malls and retail, you would probably hear that malls would just grow bigger and more numerous. In 1992 the Mall of America opened in Bloomington Minnesota–the biggest mall in the country.

Now finding a sales associate in a mall store takes a good eye and it is nearly as difficult to find a cashier. Paying for merchandise can be nearly impossible.  Merchandise is also very limited. The shopping experience is frustrating.  But I’ll say this: Parking is easy now.

I was there for the birth and heyday of retail malls. Now as I walked through the mall it felt like I was there for their death. It is like I have gone from visiting the maternity ward to visiting hospice care.  I am sure there are people much smarter than me trying to figure out what to do with these monuments to American consumerism.

The new monuments to American consumerism are the Amazon, Fed Ex, and UPS trucks that now roam neighborhood streets on a regular basis. I buy almost all my running gear online.  I joke that if my wife stops using Amazon I will tell people to unload their Amazon stock.

But here is a strange paradox. I never particularly liked working or shopping in a mall. While I love my online shopping, I am also very nostalgic about the fate of shopping malls. It is as if part of my childhood and young adulthood has been erased. Maybe it is always just sad when any institution comes to an end.

I think that is why I am wistful about the death of the major retailers and the mall. There are things that you just take for granted and think that they will last forever. You are confident about what the future will hold in some areas. Yet there is no K-Mart, Toys ‘R’ Us, Kinney Shoes, or Thom McAn, while Macy’s is just a shell of what it used to be. Sears, once the largest retailer in the U.S., has fewer than 10 stores left.  As Yogi Berra once said, “The future ain’t what it used to be.”

While I am somewhat sentimental about shopping malls, I am less wistful about landline phones. And I know that world would make today’s teens scream. But that is a story for another blog.

Lesson of the Legends – Part 3 -The Power of the Group and Other People

In sports like football and basketball there is something called the home field or home court advantage. Basically, having a home crowd rooting for the home team usually helps them perform even better and can affect the visiting team’s performance negatively. The power of the crowd is so strong that the oddsmakers in Las Vegas usually measure its worth in pro football games at around 3 points. Think about that. Even though someone is not on the field they can impact someone else’s performance.

What is even more surprising is that at an event like A Race For The Ages (ARFTA) the other runners can also impact the performance of each other and crews can not only impact their runner but other runners as well. I know this is true because it affected my performance.

There are several ways I know this. First is that the ultra-running community is an extremely supportive community. As you are running or walking along the course everyone is so positive and always urging each other on. Even other runner’s crews will cheer you on. Every time I ran by Tom’s daughter Sarah (see previous blog) she cheered me on. It’s a little thing but it lifts your spirits. Ultra-running is just as much a mental exercise as a physical one, so being positive helps a lot. There will be times that you want to quit and a little pick-me-up from a fellow runner or crew member helps.

Second, tied in with the need for positivity is the need to have confidence in yourself. Believing you have the ability to accomplish something is a necessity to achieving it. Yet confidence is something that is sometimes fragile when faced with a major challenge. On this race I knew I could finish more than 100 miles, but I was not sure how far after that I could go. Although I had never really done anything like that before, I did know that I was doing pretty well on this race. Yet I had no idea where I would place. A few of the other runners took notice of my pace and hours on the course and they would say to me “You are really crushing it!” or something to that effect. It’s amazing how when others recognize your effort that motivates you to keep going. It helps build up your confidence when others think that you can accomplish something.

Third, when you are with a group of people all trying their best and pushing themselves to their limits, it has a contagious impact. There was a woman name Rosie who was 71 and was just a few laps behind me who just kept going. She was probably hurting a bit and was hunched to one side as she slowly covered the course. She could have quit the race at any time, but she just kept moving.

On the last night of the race I was going into the wee hours and it seemed like there were fewer runners out on the course. But I kept pushing until I could not keep my eyes open. I went to take a short nap but really conked out and slept over five hours, which was much longer than I planned. When I awoke the sun was up and I saw many runners circumventing the course. They had apparently taken their nap earlier than me and for a shorter length. I then realized that if they were pushing that hard, I had no excuse not to push myself to the very last second. Which I did. My goal the previous day was 150 miles, but I ended up doing 160 miles. Basically, that last 10 miles was motivated by the other runners.

It is not often in today’s sometimes divisive world that you can go to a place where you know that you will be supported by all others. Even complete strangers. Where you will see people giving it their all. Where some people are attempting to do something, they have never done before.  All this is accomplished with a sense of joy in the air, even when some are suffering.

There were numerous times in this race that I thought about stopping. Yet it seemed so wrong. There was a sign on the course that said it best: “Your competition is the little voice in your head that wants you to quit.” The race was not about beating the other runners as much as it was about doing your best. Doing your best rarely involves quitting.

Maybe the most important lesson on this race, as in most ultra-marathons, is that our actions not only impact us but those around us. I am sure that many of those runners were unaware that their effort motivated me and made me push harder. This is a lesson beyond ultrarunning. Our positivity and effort can affect others. And if that is true our negativity can also affect others. Which one do you want to spread?

 

 

Lesson of the Legends – Part 2 -The Allure of the Buckle and 100 Miles

We all have goals that seem to be out of reach. But if we suspend our disbelief for a minute and let ourselves dream, we somehow believe that they are within reach.

Such is allure of the traditional buckle that is given out for running 100 miles. It seems crazy to run or even walk 100 miles, but it is possible since others have done it before. Yet as you age those traditional cutoff times loom as very large obstacles. Yet at A Race For The Ages (ARFTA) that obstacle is much smaller since you have as many hours as you are years old, so your dream seems much more reachable. But you still must accomplish it.

This is the story of two men who had never done 100 miles but wanted that buckle. They had different reasons but were both focused. Jim was 69 and from Kentucky and Tom was 75 and from North Carolina.

Right before the oldest runner Don took off there were a few of us hanging around the starting line talking to the race director and volunteers. I nonchalantly asked the veterans about a place to eat since I was not starting until tomorrow night. One of the other runners, who was also early was Jim. He was early because he mistakenly thought he was starting on Thursday, but he was starting on Friday. We all laughed. I had asked advice to the race crew about possible places to eat since I had 24 hours before I started. Jim was also interested in that answer. They suggested a few places, but I was not intrigued by any of them.

I searched online and came across a brewpub called Common John. Their menu looked intriguing and it was close to the race site. As I walked in it looked like a great place to hang out. As I walked up to the bartender to see if I sat myself or how the service worked, I saw Jim sitting at the bar.  So, I asked if I could join him. We sat and shared an early dinner and two beers. We had a great time getting to know each other over some good beer. Jim was from Kentucky and was determined to get a buckle. He was also an Army veteran. He was a few years older than me. Since neither of us knew anyone, it was great to share stories.

The next morning, I was walking the course well before my start time so I was familiar with it. I heard my name called from some cars and camps set alongside course. It was Jim. He showed me his setup, and we chatted with a few other runners from Mississippi. We decided to have lunch together at the same pub before we started our race. We had a great lunch again, although this time no beer. We had a great conversation, and he told me his experience with the VOL State run which covers 314 miles through the state of Tennessee. He did not finish that race. He had to drop out, which I believe fueled his desire for a 100-mile buckle even more.

Jim was 69 so he had a three-hour head start on me. I filmed his start of the race and sent it to him as a souvenir. He returned the favor and videotaped my start.

Jim’s strategy was to power walk the course since he had so much time to get his 100 miles. Mine was to both run and walk and sleep as little as possible to get as many miles as I could. I wanted more than 100 miles. So that meant most of the time we were separated but every time we saw each other we gave an update. The second night when I was fighting sleep deprivation and was actually weaving a bit when I was running, he told me “Ray you are all over the place.” Which I was and I soon took a nap after hitting the 100-mile mark.

I kept cheering Jim on every time we saw each other. I could hear it in his voice his excitement when he was getting closer. Even though he was in pain he was happy.  It is the excitement one gets when one is close to achieving an almost impossible goal.

Unfortunately, I did not see him get his buckle. I was napping at the time. I was pretty bummed out that I didn’t see it or Jim again. After he achieved the milestone, I knew he was going to sleep and then would drive home to Kentucky. It was weird not seeing him as I kept running. I missed him. We really hit it off.

Have you ever gotten to know someone through someone else? That is how I got to know Tom from North Carolina. He was a quiet man who was trying to do 100-miles for the first time at age 75.  His daughter Sarah was crewing him and she was just a delight. She knew almost nothing about ultra running. She was there for her dad. Yet Sarah soon was a popular person on the course. She started by making soap bubbles as the runners came by.  Later on, she got ice pops and gave them to the runners as they passed. Later she got some chalk and drew a hopscotch on the course along with some fun sayings. She said her father may do this again next year and I encouraged her to join him and just walk. She was thinking about it.

What I learned from Sarah was that her father was a runner but had never done 100 miles.  He was determined to do it. The last few years of his life had been as a caregiver for his wife, Sarah’s mother. She had suffered from Alzheimer’s and sometimes the only running he could do was running circles in his yard.

Tom was pushing himself, but he took a break to watch a college football game. He was using his 75-hours wisely.  Tom and I would wave to each other on the course.  I told Sarah to tell me when her father was on his last mile, and I would walk it with him. Which I did. Actually, the last mile and a half.

It was while I was walking with him that Tom filled in the gaps of Sarah’s version. His version was that it was very difficult emotionally to be a caregiver for an Alzheimer’s patient. A woman that he had known for almost of all of his life was not there. He said when someone has cancer the remaining time is a time to discuss a shared love. With his wife she did not want closeness or to be touched. I could tell it pained him. It was then that he said that he was doing this run to raise money for Alzheimer’s research. He had raised $10,000 and that was what was pushing him. It wasn’t the buckle but the cause. He was also very upset that the government was cutting funding for medical research. I could tell this was personal for him. I also know that working for a cause that he believed in helped motivate him to push through the pain and discomfort.

I had wondered why he ran in his yard when Sarah mentioned it but I did not ask her. Somewhere in our conversation he said he put his wife on the porch, and he could then get in his running in the yard and also keep an eye on her. He was seventy-five but had been an avid runner his whole life. He had run 5ks, 10ks, half-marathons, marathons, and even a 50k. 100 miles was the only one left and ARFTA had generous time limits, and he could do it without worrying about a cut-off time.

I could tell the race was not easy on his body. So, I was not surprised when he said that he was losing a toenail which I have done numerous times. He was in pain but determined. Then he said that he would never do this again. I must admit I was disappointed. I was hoping that he would come back again with Sarah and that she would join him. I really liked them.

When we got to the finish line for his one-hundredth mile Sarah was there to greet him and we snapped a few pictures of them together.

It is funny walking that last mile and a half with him I really got to know him. I could not stop though I had more ground to cover and continued on my race which seemed much less important than his. When I was done with my race, I texted Sarah and found his charity and made a donation.

A Race For The Ages – Lessons Learned -Part 1

When American sporting events feature “legends” it is usually to undertake some ceremonial gesture –like throwing out the first pitch of a baseball game or flipping the coin at a football game.

But at A Race For The Ages the participation of legends is far from ceremonial. It is central to the event.

A Race for the Ages is a different race than I usually run. Held in Manchester, Tennessee, it is open to runners aged 10-110. Runners ages 41 and older are permitted a number of hours equal to their age to accumulate as many miles as possible.  Those 40 years and below compete in the last 40 hours of the race. The winner is the runner with the most miles accumulated by the finish.

So, the oldest runners start the race before all the others and have the course to themselves. Usually at a race I am among the oldest in the field but at the ripe old age of 66 I was actually one of the younger runners! My bib number was 80 which meant that there were 79 runners who were older than me and only 58 or so who were younger. I laughed when one of the other runners called me “kid.” I couldn’t recall the last time that had happened.

So, I had 66 hours to see how far I could run/walk a zig-sagging mile loop.  I was joined by runners with a wealth of experience—and a lot of different stories to share.  But there were common themes in all their stories—determination, the need to push yourself and the importance of being yourself.

In this blog, and in the next two blogs, I have the pleasure of sharing the inspirational stories I watched unfold over the course of those 66 hours.

Lesson of the Legends – Be the Best You can Be

The two oldest runners in the field were a 93-year-old named Don and an 88-year-old named Karsten. They were very good ultra-runners in their heyday but now for ultras they are regulated to races like this which give them plenty of time to cover some ground. The standard cutoff time is 30 hours for most 100-mile races, though it can be higher if the terrain is very difficult. That is not something that 88- or 93-year-olds are typically capable of. Yet it was obvious that both Don and Karsten still wanted to push themselves.

It was about 1 a.m. on Sunday morning, and I was pushing myself to get my 100 miles as early as possible. So for the last few hours I had been was with other runners trudging through the course. By this time, I recognized most of the runners but there was one who stood out to me.  It was Karsten who, at 88, was the second oldest runner in the race. I met him at the start of the race, just before the oldest runner—Don—was about to take off. He noticed my Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim shirt and asked how long it took me to complete that run. I replied that it took me 17 hours he said he did it in six and a half. I suspected that his time was for rim-to-rim but I did not argue. Who argues with a legend?

Now, however, we were running the course, and I saw him a couple of times sitting at a park bench. Pretty much the only place you could sit and rest on the course with the exception of your own camp. I wondered if it is hard to keep going when in the past you would be closer to the lead not just pushing yourself to get what you can. Still, I was so impressed that past 1 a.m. he was still out there pushing himself to his limits. No, his participation was not ceremonial, he was competing.

Don, who was the oldest runner, was the same way. He was the first runner out, sporting a t-shirt that said “By Endurance – We Conquer.” It was a great motto for this race. Yet like Karsten he was out there running in the fierce sun and heat. Slowly but steadily moving. I always cheered him on when I passed him as did most of the other runners. I remember once when I passed him while I was running, he said “It looked like he was standing still” as I went by him.

What really impressed me about Don was that in the last minutes of the race he was still there competing. With about 30 minutes to go he did not stop but decided to do one more mile. It would be close, but he was going to push himself. He was the first runner out 93 hours ago and the last runner on the course.

Both Don and Karsten inspired all the other runners. They were not competing for victory but to be the best that they could be. That’s a lesson we should all take to heart.

Moving Forward in a Race and in Life When the Wheels Fall Off

We all have times in our lives when, despite all our preparations and effort, things fall apart. You come face-to-face with your own limitations. We confront the fact that the goal we set for ourselves may not be met.

This recently happened to me at a 12-hour race. It is almost always inevitable that in an ultra-marathon, something will go wrong. It is guaranteed that it will happen in your life. It is how we move on from those moments that define us. Here is a look at what happened.

It was an extremely hot and humid day at the SquatchySurprise 12-Hour Trail Race. I am not great running in heat. This was a hot humid day in the mid to upper eighties.  The sweat had soaked my shorts and t-shirt. I was dripping sweat, but I was not the only one. As other runners passed me, they glistened. They too had sweat-soaked shorts and tops. I thought I was doing okay.  I ran at a slightly slower pace to conserve my energy in the heat and I was careful to consume water and electrolytes. Yet as I came back from my loop after completing 30 miles, I was feeling a bit hungry but also queasy at the same time.

I plopped down in the chair that I had set up at my own personal aid station. I had a cooler full of various drinks, and a bin for additional gear to help me through the race.  On the lawn there were canopies and many other chairs and coolers, plus friends and family members of runners who would greet the runners and be their crew. Young kids were also running around playing games. It was basically a picnic with sweaty and dirty runners popping in and out.

I quickly went for a protein drink and some electrolytes. I then had some fresh fruit and some soda. I didn’t take too much of anything but I knew that I needed to stay hydrated and get some calories. I still had almost six hours left. Plenty of time to reach my goal of more than 40 miles. Then all of a suddenly my stomach revolted. I shot out of my chair and threw up a couple of times.  It shook me to my core. I berated myself for immediately drinking and eating when I felt a bit queasy coming in. I just sat there in my chair trying to regain my composure.  I looked around to see if anyone among the crowd had witnessed my low point. I didn’t see anyone staring. Then just a couple of minutes later my stomach revolted again, and I threw up a couple of times. I felt awful.

I sat in my chair contemplating my future in this run, Should I just stop now? No, I thought to myself. I haven’t even done a 50K. I glanced up across the clearing and saw a woman with a distraught look on her face. It gave me some validation that this was a rough day. I took solace that I was not the only one suffering. It wasn’t my proudest moment to be happy someone else was suffering.

I wanted to quit the race, but I would have felt like a failure. I was about ten or eleven miles from my goal of at least 40 miles. I still had plenty of time, but I was also suffering from the heat. As I sat there suffering, I knew that I had to change my approach. I took off my shirt and only wore my hydration vest. I also took my bandana and filled it with ice and wrapped it around my neck. I would take this next loop slowly and then reexamine my condition at that time. Hey, I thought to myself I have been miserable before and overcome it. Heck, I climbed out of the Grand Canyon just a few months prior and I was in bad shape then.

The first ¾ of a mile was a steep climb so I walked that part but once over that climb I began to run slowly. With no shirt and the ice around my neck I felt much better. The ice had completely melted by the time I finished my loop. I now had only six miles left to get to forty miles so I decided to go for it. I really ate very little but figured once again that I had climbed out of the Grand Canyon on an empty stomach. That was a more difficult climb. I could do it again.

On my last loop I knew that I had plenty of time to get over 40 miles. I was really beat and  somewhat surprised that I would finish 41 miles. I was so close to quitting and doubting my ability. Yet the decision to change my strategy really paid off.  Yet while I was happy with the results my body still was not happy at all.

When I got home, I was planning on eating some food and drinking a celebratory beer. However, I had no desire for food or beer. I kept drinking ginger ale with plenty of ice. My body needed to recover from the heat and my exertion. It needed rest.

It is funny. I always think that ultra races have so many life lessons about overcoming obstacles, planning, and determination. And they do. Yet in my recent race experience I hit a major obstacle, had self-doubt, and needed to figure a way to move ahead.

Well before I was an ultra-runner, I was a young man with a young family.  The position I had at work was eliminated. My reaction was pretty much the same as on the run. I sat down and felt sorry for myself for a short time then worked on a plan to move ahead professionally. Maybe all those down moments in life made me a natural born ultra-runner.

There are striking parallels between life and ultrarunning, yet there is a difference. At least for me. In life I always seemed a bit surprised and shaken when things go wrong, whether it is at work or my personal life. I am not prepared. In ultra-running I am usually not surprised when things go wrong. In fact, I try to anticipate what can go wrong and even prepare for it.

While expecting things to go wrong does not always make it easier to finish a run to its completion it does make it possible. There is one trick I have honed to get me through tough ultra marathons. I used it in this past race when I remembered my toughness in the Grand Canyon run. That is drawing strength from past successes and believing in yourself. Knowing that you had overcome a major obstacle before gives you confidence that you can do it again. That is why I like difficult challenges even at work. Once you have even a little success at a difficult chore it builds your confidence. The key word here is that the challenge needs to be difficult. You do not build confidence by doing easy things.

Not everyone is an ultra-runner. Yet when things go wrong in life, it helps to have the mindset of an ultra-runner. It’s okay to feel sorry for yourself and even berate yourself. But only for a short time. The next step is to figure out how to move forward. Think of past achievements and have confidence in yourself. We are all capable of more than we think.

Tears Shed for the Grand Canyon

Every time I see a news report of a natural disaster—whether it is a hurricane, flood, or fire—my heart breaks for the victims.

That is because I can relate, even in a small way. My parent’s home was once flooded, and while we did not lose everything, it took a lot to pick up all the pieces and start again. There is the agony of throwing out items that hold a lot of memories. When I see the a natural disaster, I almost always make a donation to an area relief fund. These places are far away from my home—places like Hawaii, Texas, and California.  I’ve never visited the sites of most of these disasters. But the Dragon Bravo Fire at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon is different. That blaze, which started after a lightning strike on July 4 and continues to burn as I am writing write this blog, is more personal.

Less than three months before that fire, I completed running the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim-to-rim. I experienced on foot the South Rim and the North Rim. I traveled the canyon trails, crossed the Colorado River and ran along Bright Angel Creek. I stopped at the man-made locations such as Phantom Ranch, Cottonwood Campground, and Manzanita rest area.

There are few places on this earth that are more magical and special than the Grand Canyon. The pictures of the canyon are awe-inspiring. People travel long distances to just peer over the South Rim. Yet, as my experience revealed to me, that magnificent view is just a small part of the grandeur of the Grand Canyon.

Luckily in this fire no lives have been lost. It has also been confined mostly to the North Rim, an area that is much quieter than the famous South Rim. The South Rim is still open and bustling. The news coverage has been scant, maybe because it is in a more remote part of the park. On the east coast where I live when I mention the fire almost no one even knows about it. It is however the largest forest fire in the United States this year. Yet for me and others with Grand Canyon experiences that are similar to mine, this fire hits home.

This was not just a fire in a faraway place, it was a personal memory of a special and magical place—a memory of an adventure. In some ways, it was a solo journey that was a shared memory I had with strangers. Before the run I had read about other runners and hikers’ experience doing rim-to-rim-to-rim. I got great advice from a Facebook group which helped tremendously. I commented on others’ dream of exploring the Grand Canyon. While I had not seen the lodge on the North Rim I felt a connection to it. For most of us who have accomplished this feat, it was not done on a whim. It took a great deal of planning and preparation.

Those who now dream of a similar Grand Canyon adventure have had to put that dream on hold. I see their posts as they wonder when they can once again pursue their dream. Since the fire is still raging there is no way to know what the timeframe is to reopen the North Rim. My guess is that their dreams will be deferred much longer than they anticipate. We do not know what the short- and long-term effects of the fire will be.

I saw someone post that they had planned to do this run to celebrate a milestone birthday and were now seeking something else, but they wanted it to be as epic as the Grand Canyon. Good luck, I thought. That is a very high bar.  In this beautiful country I know that there are some epic runs but there is something special about the rim-to-rim-to-rim.

One of the lessons I have learned in life is that if you have something that you really want to do, do it now. Don’t wait. There are no guarantees in life. That was why I decided to do it as soon as I could. But I admit when I was thinking that life holds no guarantees, I was contemplating the human element. I could never even imagine that the Grand Canyon might not be open.

As I came to the realization that this fire had destroyed all the buildings on the North Rim and even entered the canyon itself, my heart sank. I looked at my photos of the canyon that I had run. I watched the videos I have—particularly the ones at the North Rim and the North Kaibab Trail. It was a wonderful and awe-inspiring adventure that I hope others can one day replicate.

I know that as I ran the canyon on my way back, I thought of returning and going slower and exploring it even more over a few days. To the vast majority of visitors the views of the South Rim are the Grand Canyon, to others, like me, that is not true.  You cannot separate out the sections of the canyon. The inner canyon trails, the North Rim, Bright Angel Creek, and the Colorado River are all intertwined. You may not see them from the top of the South Rim, but they are just as important, even though they draw fewer visitors.

When I had finished my Grand Canyon run my friend Ed said to me “Ray you are in a very select group. The number who do that is very small.” I pooh-poohed that because I reasoned that people do it every day. Now, for the foreseeable future, they can’t. But Mother Nature will rebound and I am sure that people will once again traverse the Grand Canyon.

I know that the news coverage of the Dragon Bravo Fire has not been in our face, probably because there was less damage to man-made buildings. Yet to me the damage runs deeper because it has destroyed a beautiful natural landscape.

To those tourists who walk the South Rim, the Grand Canyon is magnificent and awe inspiring, though the experience is almost only two-dimensional. For those of us who traversed the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim-to-rim the canyon awakens all your senses and is spiritual. Spiritual losses affect you deeply. I don’t think I am alone with this pain.

Someday the Grand Canyon will rebound. When it does, I recommend that you make the effort to traverse it. As we have seen so dramatically, there are no guarantees in life.

 

 

 

Channeling Your Inner Mae West When Choosing a Run

 Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.

—Mae West

Most people do not associate Mae West with running, especially ultra running.  The famous vaudeville sex symbol and queen of the double entendre was before my time and I doubt she ever ran a mile in her entire life.  Yet I and many other ultra runners live by her well known quote above. We just replace the word “evils” with “runs” and we have our mantra.

Ultra runners by nature are restless souls. They start off by just running road races or short trail races. Then they finish a marathon and wonder what else there is? Yes, I have races that I do on a regular basis but there is something attractive about a race in a different location or a unique challenge.

So, when I look at my year of running I know that there will always be a few races I bookmark but all of a sudden, I have this urge for a tough and unique challenge. I know that I am not the only crazy runner out there which I will get to in a minute. First let me explain this year’s runs. I have two races I was determined to do. They are two totally different kinds of runs, but they fulfilled my Mae West urge.

The first was running the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim.  That came about because my wife and I were planning on seeing friends in Arizona sometime in April. I knew that Arizona has great trail races, so I began to search races in which to include in my trip. Somehow, I stumbled upon people who run the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim. Before long I was obsessed with the idea and started watching YouTube videos and reading as many articles as I could on the endeavor. 

Yet I knew that high from the Grand Canyon run would not last and I would need something else to fixate on.  So, at the same time as I was scheduling the Grand Canyon run I registered for A Race for the Ages (ARFTA[JB1] ). They couldn’t be two more different races. The Grand Canyon was a self-supported run. It had extreme climbs and descents with widely vary temperatures. (Sadly, after I had written this blog a major forest fire raged through the North Rim and this run is not possible now.)  It was completely on trails. ARFTA is a short mile loop on pavement, and you get as many hours to run it as you are old so I will have 66 hours. Most of the runners will be in their 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. There is food provided and really no elevation to speak of. I was so excited for both adventures. They would each test me in different ways. They also met the Mae West test – something different.

Now I don’t want you to think that I am the only crazy runner who does this. My friend Dave flew to England to do a race in which he ran up and down a mountain for 24 hours. More recently he entered a 48-hour race in Poland because he thought it sounded great. My friend Anthony became obsessed with running the Cocodona 250, which is a grueling 250 mile trek throughout Arizona.

Those runs make mine seem rather tame in comparison. I am limited by work obligations to certain times of the year to take time off for a run, although including them in a vacation has helped. My wife thinks it is the opposite, that I pick a run and then convince her we should go on a vacation there. Which is absolutely true.

It is really not our fault. Yes, we are attracted to these running adventures. But we are also victims of social media algorithms. The social media sites know we are the Mae Wests of running. We are helplessly lured into trying a new run on a regular basis. They show up on our feeds. YouTube videos of races we heard about vaguely but now come to life as someone else describes their running adventure.

Yet I can’t completely blame social media. We each feed each other’s addiction. I met my friend Miriam at an ultra-marathon and realized that she had authored a book about her life and running called Come What May: I Want to Run. I read it and it led me to entering A Race for the Ages.

While I am really looking forward to ARFTA and a couple of races after that there is something that is gnawing at me. I have no new races or runs planned for 2026. I am doing research on various races and thinking up interesting challenges on my own but have not settled on anything. There is an empty feeling without a new challenge out there.  I know that it is out there. I just have to find it.

It is hard to describe this restlessness about ultra running to nonrunners. Even close friends and family members do not understand our need to find a different race or run and a challenge. They think it is a crazy obsession. It is tough that the only person who I know would understand our obsession is Mae West.

 

 

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 [JB1]Ray- I don’t think you need to put this race title in boldface- you haven’t bold-faced the other titles---  I am going to “unbold” it in subsequent mentions-- you might want to do the same here.

Crewing for a Fragile Yet Tough 97-Year-Old Mother

As my sister and I toured the assisted living facility, we realized it had almost everything that my mother could need. Even so, I was not happy about it.

My mind flashed back to when I worked in a nursing home one summer. Although I worked on outdoor maintenance and cleanup, I was often inside and could observe the residents. It was a job my mother had helped me get, since she worked there as a nurse. It was a traumatic experience for an 18-year-old that is still with me. I remember telling my mother that when I get old, I never want to go to a facility like that! Why I expected my mother to have a say in that decision I have no idea. Although I sensed she understood. Yet here I was facing a decision along with my siblings on what was best for my 97-year-old mom.

My mother had taken a bad fall and broken her elbow, but the hospital and rehab stay had dimmed her memory and mental agility. Before the fall she lived by herself and while we had someone stop by every day, she was very independent. She was not a normal 97-year-old. She was feisty and up on what was going on. Now however she was weaker, meek, and was showing signs of confusion at times. It’s as if the fall and subsequent stay in medical facilities had not only injured her physically but had affected her mental facilities. The question was what was temporary and what was permanent.

My two brothers, my sister, and I immediately organized and made sure she had one of us visit her every day. We became her crew team. In ultra marathons like 100-mile runs, even elite athletes have crews. They are friends and family who wait for the runner at various points along the course providing physical and nutritional care, but their most important role is the emotional support keeping them going and sometimes even pushing them a little. I know on my 100-mile run I needed them. I was running in bad condition longing for my crew. On one race it is the only thing that got me through to the end.

In my mother’s case the crew is running to her. She is locked in one place. She was in a rehab facility with the same view. All the days are the same. There is no Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, just days. They are all the same. As she said to me “If it wasn’t for the news channel on the TV I wouldn’t have any clue what day it was.” It is a mind-numbing existence but a necessary one for her to heal her body. The staff was very attentive to her physical and medical needs but only the crew could give her an anchor to her memory.

I know sitting with my mother I could see her struggle to remember her fall. She was frustrated that she couldn’t remember. She was also fighting the tedium. I could see my feisty mom battling everything. We would take her outside on a patio if the weather was nice but that was just a short reprieve. It was not just my mother feeling the tedium. Even for me it was becoming monotonous and mind-numbing. She would ask me how long she had been here, and a few weeks in, I couldn’t remember.

The decision before us did not have many options that were appealing.  Yet we needed to make a decision. We ended up not going to the assisted living facility but instead had a recommended aide come live with her in her condo. Our belief was that while we could be her anchor in a strange facility, she needed a familiar setting that felt like home to help her. This would help her emotionally and mentally. We wanted our feisty mom back.

When we told my mother she would be leaving the rehab facility she was relieved and seemed to perk up.  She seemed to be coming out of her fog. Once I said to her that she seemed better. She then said to me something that illuminated up all those internal battles I could see her fighting. She said “I was afraid that this was the way it was going to end.” Meaning in that rehab facility. This was the first time I had ever heard my mother worry about dying and how it might happen.

We were all nervous when we brought her back home. She seemed okay with her aide, and we could tell she was happy to be home with her crew. Her crew can’t, however, be a 24/7 crew because we all have work and family obligations of our own. Hence the aide. Through those first two weeks we will still be checking in with her almost daily.

As I checked in with her on the first few days, I could see that she was sleeping and eating better. She also was more relaxed and happier. Yet it is still early. Unlike an ultra-marathon with a set time and distance that the crew must work, my mother’s fall now means the crew has a lifetime duty.

My mother is very lucky to have this crew. The crew is also very lucky to have each other. It is hard to be a caregiver. Often the bulk of the duties fall on one person, and it can be very taxing on a person’s own mental health.

My mother is tough and feisty and was a very independent woman. She was a bread winner when women in her generation were not. I do not think that it is a mere coincidence that all her sons married strong independent women and her daughter is strong and independent. Yet no matter how strong and independent you are we all need others. Her memory has been affected enough so that she cannot take care of herself. Being surrounded by caring people is so important. Having a good crew can make all the difference in the world.

 

 

Eight Life Lessons Learned Running the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim

Ten days after I completed running the Grand Canyon rim2rim2rim I was back home in New Jersey and at the starting line for a 50k trail run. It was probably not the smartest decision I ever made but it was good to be back on forest trails. I overheard two runners talking about previous trail races and one said “I learned a lesson on that race.” The other one responded, “there are lessons on every race.” I wholeheartedly agree with that statement.

My rim2rim2rim run in the Grand Canyon was not a race but a run. The lessons, however, are ingrained more deeply in my soul than the Colorado River is in the canyon. Some of these lessons are ones I have learned before but this run reinforced them. Others are completely new. Here they are in no particular order.

1.       Do Hard Things – We live in a society that spends its time trying to find the easiest way to do something. Drive-up windows for a cup of coffee. Remote controls for our TVs. I mean now we don’t even have to get up to turn on the lights or put on music. “Siri or Alexa” will do it for us. Yet I never felt more alive than when I was dead tired after finishing the rim2rim2rim. The next day I relived some of the difficult and beautiful parts of the run in my mind. This experience was what they call Type 2 Fun. Something that seems almost miserable at the time but when you look back on it, the memory is a positive and happy one. Hard things are Type 2 fun. The accomplishment was not a virtual one but a personal one. When you accomplish something that pushed you to your limits it makes other difficult challenges seem possible. It will also change your mindset and make you believe in yourself more.

2.       It’s Okay to Feel Insignificant – As I was running down, across, and up the canyon, there were throngs of tourists at the top of the south rim taking selfies and photos with the Grand Canyon as a spectacular backdrop. It isn’t one of the Seven Wonders of the World for nothing. While they were up there frolicking, they were completely unaware that there were people like me who were struggling on the canyon trails. They couldn’t even see us or even most of the bottom. As for me, those people were not of my concern. I could not even see them.  Whether we were at the top or the bottom of the canyon we seemed insignificant. However, I would stop often in take in the spectacle of the sun rising and setting on the canyon walls. It is hard not to be in awe of Mother Nature wherever you are in the canyon. If you ever wanted proof of a higher being, I cannot think of a more convincing piece of evidence than the Grand Canyon.

3.       Do Your Homework – Yes, I said do hard things, but it is best to be prepared to do them. That means not only training but knowing what you are asking yourself to do. For this run, I read numerous articles and watched more YouTube videos than I can count to see what the experience would entail. I even watched or read accounts of people who failed because they made a mistake. That way I could learn from their mistake. There was a Facebook group just for this challenge which I found very useful.  However, I was shocked at some of the questions that were posted. If the poster had done even a modicum of research, they would have known the answer. You need to be prepared for when things go wrong and not just depend on your guts to get you through. I may be daring but I am not reckless. It’s a good life lesson.

4.      All Miles are not Created Equal – No matter how you measure it, a mile is 5,280 feet. It is the same all over the world. Yet they are not all the same, not even close. Just about a month before undertaking the Grand Canyon run, I ran the same distance with a good amount of elevation over 8,200 feet (compared to the 11,600 of the canyon) in about 11 ½ hours.  So, I estimated that with the extra elevation and stops for picture-taking it should be 14 maybe 15 hours. But it was almost 17 ½ hours—a six-hour time difference from my earlier run.  I still really don’t know how to completely account for the difference, but my past experience was not a good indicator of future performance. While I was running slower than usual, in my head I kept thinking I would get back to my normal pace, which was a fallacy. I should have known better. A mile is not a mile. The terrain, climate, and environment determine the difficulty just as much, if not more, than the distance. This is a lesson not just for runners but for everyone. We judge things by one factor or definition when things are not nearly as black and white as they seem.

5.       Confidence Built on Reality not Fantasy, is Powerful – A sincere belief in yourself is so powerful. I have found that I can do some things that I would have thought may be beyond my capacity because of my confidence. Yet that confidence is built on a strong sense of self awareness. You must be honest with yourself about your abilities and know what is possible and what is not. On this run there were times when my confidence was tested but I fell back on past successes to fuel me. I had been through hard times before and succeeded and would do it again.

 

People often say you can accomplish anything if you put your mind to it. While I have accomplished many long distances in my running career, I did not just do it by will alone. I needed to prepare myself for these things. There are things that are possible and things that are impossible for all individuals. Yet there is a gap between the two where you are not sure if they are possible or not unless you try. That is the sweet spot where if you push yourself and prepare correctly you can accomplish more than you think. That preparation and past successes build confidence to expand your limits. I have watched many people who challenged themselves on runs but did not have confidence in their ability and failed. I have also had people who mistake bravado for real confidence and failed because that is all they thought they needed.

6.       Great Solo Achievements are a Team Effort – I am very proud of my rim2rim2rim accomplishment and know that many people cannot even think of attempting such a feat especially at the age of 65. Yet I know that while all the steps I took were under my own power, others helped me finish this successfully. Most notably my wife and our friends Ed and Sue. They got up at 3:30 a.m. and drove me to the trailhead which saved me a mile of running. It also made it easier to just focus on my run and not how to find the trail from the hotel. Most importantly, at the end of my run, they saved me even more. They met me after 9 p.m. and had refreshments for me and drove me to our hotel room, which really hastened my recovery. Yet there were others who also helped me. Just reading and watching videos of total strangers’ experiences helped me prepare for this journey. I know that the American ethos is that of rugged individualism, but we all need others whether we like to admit it or not. My journey was solo but on the second half of the journey when I interacted with other runners, it lifted my spirit. It was uplifting to talk to others and motivated me. I had spent almost eight hours in silence during the first leg of the run and was struggling, yet those interactions with other people helped me push myself.

7.       Be in the Moment – When my wife would ask about the rim2rim2rim she often referred to it as a race. I would admonish her and say it was a “run” not a “race”. A race is a competition; this was not a competition. This was not just about running, this was about taking in the Grand Canyon and experiencing all it had to offer. I would stop often to take in the views.  This was a magnificent run not because of the distance but because of the location and grandeur of the Grand Canyon. Yes, I wanted to get this done as quickly as I could, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, so it was important to notice the colors of the canyon walls changing. Despite this, when I was heading back my run felt more like a race because time was running out. I had to force myself to stop pushing and take in the views of the sunsetting over the canyon. Later when it was dark I turned off my headlamp and took in the stars of a dark sky. I was in complete darkness with the exception of the stars. I was not scared of the dark but enjoying being in the moment.

8.       There is More in the Tank When You Have No Other Option – After all my grueling races I know my body very well. So, as I sat at the bottom of the canyon by the banks of the Colorado River, I knew I had nothing left in the tank. I was not only done, but what lay before me was the toughest climb of the day. I wanted to stop and if this was a race I would have. This wasn’t a race, this was a journey. I was at my journey’s end. Except that it couldn’t end there. Not unless I wanted to curl up and sleep on the ground. My only option was to hike the six miles straight up and out. As I started up, I was a bit nervous because I felt I may not be capable of what lay before me. Yet even I was surprised by how the mind can take over and make you do more than you think. It wasn’t easy but I made it out. I even ran (albeit very slowly) the last half mile on the road. I had read and know it to be true they say the mind quits before the body.  My mind didn’t let my body quit.

This run was a journey that challenged and changed me. As those two runners noted there are lessons to learn on every trail run.

The Last Grueling Leg of my Grand Canyon Challenge

I was at the last water station, the Phantom Boat Beach, just a short walk from the Black Bridge which led to the South Kaibab Trail. The last but also hardest leg of my rim to rim to rim, Grand Canyon run. I had already run 37 miles. I was exhausted and if this was an ultra-marathon race like a 12-hour race I would have ended my run happy with my effort. Yet I had no choice but to hike out. Running this climb was impossible for me. I was out of options.

I needed to refill my water bladders. Then I was going to eat some snacks to get some calories before the six miles of steep climb some of which would be in the dark. After drinking some water, I took out some gels to get me some energy and electrolytes. I then planned to take out some energy bars. A great plan that my stomach was not in on. I barely got some of the gel in when I immediately threw up. I immediately knew I could not eat and would need to really push myself maybe harder than I ever had before to finish. I am sure that I looked as bad as I felt.

As I was putting on my running vest, I heard a man’s voice “Excuse me excuse” in a German accent. I looked over and saw a family of four. “Hi” I replied.  With a surprised tone in his voice, he asked “Are you just starting your hike to the rim?” I looked over at his family and could tell that I was an object of intrigue to them. Who would be starting a climb like that so late? (It was after 5 p.m.) “Yes” He responded “How long will it take you?” I then said “I am doing the Grand Canyon from the South Rim to the North and back up the south in one day. It will take me over 16 hours.” We then chatted a bit they were from Germany and were just as in awe of the canyon as was I. Not sure why but that friendly conversation motivated me, and I knew I had to go into “badass” mode.

I crossed the Black Bridge and took a long look at the Colorado River, knowing it may be the last time that I will be this close to it. The six mile hike out of the canyon is extremely steep. I just kept moving slowly but steadily. I did, however, have to stop and get my breath back. While I had plenty of water, I knew that I would be going through it fast on this climb.

At this point, I was not a joyous runner like before, snapping pictures and taking videos.  I was more in survival mode now. Despite that survival mode I did often stop and take in the views as it kept changing with the setting sun. The canyon has a way of making you stop and take in Mother Nature. I also messaged my wife through my Garmin InReach that it would take a while to get out.

A couple of miles into my climb I passed a young couple with heavy backpacks resting along the trail. I was surprised that I would see someone else. I thought I was the only one who would be on the trail this late. We exchanged greetings. I was hoping that they were on their way down because with those packs and the look of exhaustion on their faces it would be near impossible to get out. A little later I passed a father and a son hiking up the trail. The son seemed to be college age and was walking ahead of his father than waiting for him. We exchanged admiration of the views as the sun was setting. The father asked me “Are  you going to the rim?” which to me was a stupid question. There was no other option on this trail unless you were going to curl up and sleep on it. I almost gave a wiseass remark but reframed and said yes. I was worried about them because they were dressed for a short hike and seemed in over their head.

The wind began to really pick up for the last three miles which were in the dark. I had to take off my hat because it was about to blow off several times and I grabbed it just in time. I thought of putting on a long sleeve shirt or jacket, but I really was not cold because I was working so hard. With darkness and only guided by my headlamp it was a slog up the canyon. The wind was still howling, and it even blew the tips of my trekking poles. This sometimes meant that they did not land where I wanted them to.  I had never been in such strong winds on a run or hike before. I thought of that father and son and hoped that they had headlamps. I followed the trail up and up. Occasionally seeing a spider or other bug. I was startled when a rat scurried two feet in front of me.

I stopped often to rest and when I did, I would turn off my headlamp and look at the stars. I also glanced down the trail to see if I could see the lights of that father and son. Yet it was just total blackness.

I tried to message my wife that I was a short distance from the trailhead, but my phone had died. I would call her when I got to the trailhead. Less than a mile from the top I met two women who were just starting their rim2rim2rim. A strange time I thought since it was after 9PM. They would spend most of their time in the canyon in the dark. Then again maybe their return would be easier. Though you will miss a great amount of the grandeur of the canyon.

When I got to the South Kaibab Trailhead, I took a wrong turn and headed to where the mules are kept. I eventually found the parking lot and took out my phone to call my wife when the phone rang, and it was her. I told her I was at the top and would meet them where she and our friend Ed had dropped me off about a half mile from the trailhead. (Private cars could not drive to this trailhead.) I started walking the road but then broke into a jog.

I got to the end of the road before them and just waited. I was out of water and was craving a Gatorade. I messaged them that I wanted that. Luckily when they arrived they had a Gatorade for me. I looked like hell and felt even worse. I was tired. When we got back to our hotel room they tried to take care of me. I am sure that my friends Ed and Sue were stunned to see how awful I looked. My wife has seen me come home a mess many times after  grueling ultra-marathons but this was a new sight for them. My wife presented me with a finisher medal for the run. She knows how much I love my run bling.

Even though my stomach was empty, I could not eat. All I did was down liquids—Gatorade, lemonade, orange juice and a beer.  Then I took a shower and went to bed.

I have run 100 miles, 50 miles, ultras in snow, rain, and in the mud. Yet this run may have been the hardest run I ever did. That last climb tested me because I had nothing left in the tank but still went on. It is amazing how much you can accomplish when you have no other option.

Experiencing the Grand Canyon

When I took up running shortly after turning 50, one of my goals was to get in shape for when I was 75. I used to say that I did not want to drive to a scenic spot on the top of a mountain but hike to it. Take it from me, the view from the mountain top is better if you get there by using your own two feet rather than a car.

As I was walking around the south rim of the Grand Canyon there were throngs of people taking in the awesome views. It was spectacular. They were taking photos of each other using the Grand Canyon as a backdrop to make their photos even more impressive.

I, however, wanted more. I wanted to experience the canyon, not just look at it from the top. So, at the age of 65 I decided to run the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim (Also referred to as rim2rim2rim) a distance of over 43 miles. I had trained for this run and felt confident but knew that it would not be easy at all. Yet the anticipation and anxiety that I described in a previous blog was gone when I got out of my friend Ed’s car at 3:55 a.m. and ran down the road about half a mile to the South Kaibab trailhead. It was a cold night, but I knew I could remove my jacket and go in a t-shirt once I reached the bottom. I have never been on this trail and had only read about it. Yet I was excited to head into the dark with only my headlamp showing me where to go. Even though I was going downhill my pace was slower than usual. It was dark and that made me slow down to make sure I did not fall. Plus, it was a difficult path to run. I found that the downhill steps on the trail were at unusual distances apart, so my gait was slower than normal. I usually am very good at the downhills but this time I found my pace slower.

Even when the sun began to rise, I did not quicken the pace. Part of that was because I was taking pictures and videos with my cell phone. For some reason the GoPro camera was not working. I was annoyed because I had counted on that for most of my videos. Even without taking pictures I would stop and take in the views. The coloring of the canyon walls kept changing as the sun rose.

After crossing the famed Black Bridge over the Colorado River, I headed towards Phantom Ranch. I had read so much about Phantom Ranch that somehow in my head I pictured it to be a rather modern facility. But I found they were comfortable cabins but rather rustic. It was not to be confused with the celebrated and elegant El Tovar hotel at the top of the south rim. I filled my one water flask that I had used on the way down, took off my jacket and ate a snack. I was disappointed in my time; I was running about 30 minutes behind what I anticipated.  I hoped I could pick up the pace on the rather flat stretch ahead of me along Bright Angel Creek.

I loved this section of the run. The roar of rushing water from the creek accompanied me for the next six miles or so. I also ran through what they call the “box” which is a section where the canyon narrows and it is basically the Bright Angel Creek, the North Kaibab Trail, and the canyon walls. While I was warned about the heat in the “box,” I found it shady, cool and very pleasant. Even though it was enjoyable my pace was still lagging behind my normal trail pace. I was not sure why. I had been very sick the week before so maybe I was not at 100%.  I also had lingering symptoms of the cold, including a stuffy head that required me to stop and blow my nose several times.

I really liked the North Kaibab Trail. The “box” was pleasant and hearing the creek flow was lovely. Then the trail opened up and the walls of the canyon were farther apart and it was a different run. But I still was running slower than usual. I arrived at Cottonwood campground before 9 a.m. and was hoping that I could refill my water flask, but the water was off. I had read that it was off but hoped that by some miracle they had turned it on and forgot to post it. It was a nice campground although the lack of water made it very rustic. The signs said “be quiet” which I obeyed. Then again there was no one to talk to. I headed to Manzanita where I knew that there would be water. While I had plenty of water at the moment, I was going through it fast.

It was a steady but not steep climb to Manzanita. Again after reading about it I expected something larger because of its importance to runners and hikers. It is a vital stop because it has water and port-a-potties. It also had a picnic table. I had passed a few hikers along the way but no runners. I was beginning to suspect I was the last rim2rim2rim runner that day.  This would be my last water stop until I returned on my way back so it was about six miles of a steep climb to the North Kaibab Trailhead at the north rim of the Grand Canyon. The north rim was closed for the season and the water was turned off at the top so I would have to make my water last. I had more than two liters of water, so I thought I would be okay.

The climb up to the top of the north rim was difficult. Not only was it steep but there were sections in which the trail was only about four or five feet wide and there was a cliff drop on one side that kept me from looking out across the canyon walls. The top of the North Rim is over 8,000 feet of elevation so my climb was about 6,000 feet. I was definitely struggling. I was also going through my water at an alarming rate. I was contemplating turning back about a mile from the rim to save time because I could see that it was going to take me 8 hours to get to the rim, which meant probably at least a nine-hour timeframe to return.

I, however, did make it to the north rim and rested a bit. There was some snow on the north rim which was why it is not open until May 15^th. As I was sitting two runners appeared also doing the rim2rim2rim. They were from Texas and Virginia. We talked a bit and I found that they had left at 5:30 a.m. so they were moving faster than I. I had limited water but enough to get back to Manzanita if I was smart. I did have the option of running a mile to a ranger station and then returning. But adding the mileage and time was not appealing to me. Plus going downhill, I probably would not be exerting as much energy as going uphill.

I said goodbye to my fellow rim2rim2rim runners and headed back down the North Kaibab trail. As I headed down the trail, I quickly came upon two runners a short distance from the rim and a little while later two more runners. So there were seven of us rim2rim2rim runners. I was the only solo. It was obvious to me that very few do this journey solo.

I enjoyed the run down to Manzanita. I felt fairly strong and took in the views and took some videos. I also encountered a man who I passed on the way up who was hiking the Arizona Trail from Mexico to Utah. We encouraged each other on our own separate journeys. I was also passed as I suspected by four of the rim2rim2rim runners. The other two runners never passed me.

When I came into Manzanita all four were there taking a break. I quickly used the bathroom facilities and filled my water bladders. I had another long leg without access to water and it would be sunnier and hotter on my way to Phantom Ranch. As we chatted, we all realized that this run was taking us longer than we anticipated. I had anticipated 14-15 hours but would end up over 17 hours.

I was the first to leave Manzanita because I knew that it would take me a lot longer than the four younger runners. As I left I said “I will see you later when you pass me.”  Both sets of runners did pass me a few miles down the trail. I also was hoping that I could get to Phantom Ranch before 4 p.m. so that I could grab their world-famous lemonade and a snack before my last big push up the South Kaibab Trail. It would be a long shot, but it gave me a goal to push myself harder. It ended up being a mistake. I was starving and should have eaten more at Manzanita instead of pushing myself.

I soon realized that Phantom Ranch before 4 p.m. was a dream. I was now both physically and emotionally spent. Despite my fatigue and being a bit despondent about my time I enjoyed the moments of shade in the “box.” As I entered Phantom Ranch, I was very tired. That big push to get there had drained me. I tried to see if I could find a snack but to no avail.

I was contemplating my options. I had my credit card with me. Maybe I could see if there was a cabin available and get a good meal and sleep and head out early in the morning. No, I thought I needed to finish this. So, what if it takes me until the wee hours of the night. I headed to the water station for the last but most difficult leg of the journey.

I was fully experiencing the Grand Canyon –not only its beauty and awe but its difficulties and harshness. Sometimes those qualities of beauty, awe, harshness and difficulty all coexist in one place.

Next Blog The Last Grueling Leg Out of the Canyon