Red Rock Country

Since Mike and I signed up for the Antelope Canyon Ultras 50 miler and 55k (more on that here), we (I) decided we should spend a few days doing a bit of exploring northern Arizona. We flew into Las Vegas to spend a day visiting family and eating delicious Mexican food. I have a huge weakness for tacos. Mom lent us her Mustang so we could cruise the desert in style.

The race was held in the stunningly scenic landscape of Page, AZ. The town itself is not super memorable, but the surrounding vistas are incredible in every direction. I booked us tours of the famous upper and lower Antelope Canyons. They are slot canyons which you really have to experience to fully appreciate. They're different, one being wider at the bottom and narrow at the top, the other being more V shaped. Upper Antelope was the canyon Mike ran through on the race. Since it wasn't part of my course, and would likely be very dark for his, we used the time to take a bazillion photos of the dynamic, flowing tunnel. It was way cool! The guide told us that in a flash flood, it only takes 6 minutes to completely fill with water. There's literally nowhere to go. YIKES! It was REALLY hard to sort through pictures of this trip to find my favorites.

After the tour, we tried to visit the Horseshoe Bend trail, but the parking lot is closed. So there's a shuttle on a 15 minute rotation... sounded like it would take too long. We drove up to a short loop called Hanging Gardens which is right by the Glen Canyon Dam. It was a fast walk through the desert to a cool formation that had enough shade to protect a wall of ferns from the brutal Arizona sun. Once again, it was absolutely gorgeous everywhere I looked.


From that little "hike" we drove to Lower Antelope Canyon. The canyons aren't actually attached. They're a few miles apart, but no one was clever enough to come up with two names. This second canyon was incredible. The light was on point; there were ladders to climb on. It was MUCH less crowded than the upper canyon. Our guide was like all of the Navajos I met down in Arizona: polite, shy and very nice. But, again, the pictures do more than words can.

I guess I really didn't talk about the weather, it was mid-50s with a polar wind that cut right through our clothes and laughed at our thin Hawaii blood. I was beyond nervous for the run the next day. Elevation, cold wind, dry air and thirty-four miles??! EEP! Luckily the wind settled to a nice off-and-on breeze by race day. I decided the race deserved to be its own post. So, let's just skip that day and talk about the rest of our AZ activities.

The morning after the race, I decided we had to explore a place called The New Wave before heading to the Grand Canyon. The Wave is a way cool sandstone formation that is next to impossible to get permits for. They only issue 15 per day. I put in for the lottery for three different days and was unsuccessful. The New Wave supposedly looks the same (I disagree), but is open access. Anyway, this place is a cool formation surrounded by the area's characteristic red sand. We did some wandering around, followed a path that loops the formation, and played with the drone for a few minutes. My knees were very stiff, but I was able to do some exploring. Mike seemed to be fine, but was definitely grumpy that I wanted him to move his legs. I'm an abusive wife like that.

We entered Grand Canyon National Park through the east entrance. We were heading to the hotel to meet Mom and Wayne, but decided a short detour for a peek at the canyon and a bathroom break were definitely in order. The canyon is almost unfathomable. It is so vast and impressive that my brain can't actually comprehend it. It appears to look flat, like a poster. I was immediately resentful that my knees weren't pulling their weight so that I could go hiking. They reminded me with mean little twinges that it was MY idea to force them to run through sand for nine hours. Touche, knees.

On the way out of the park to our hotel and rendezvous point, we had a five minute delay due to elk all over the road. Way cool! After a late lunch or early dinner, the four of us headed back into the park to do all of the east side lookouts. Each one has a different close view with changing colors of rock. It's absolutely awe-inspiring.

We woke before dawn to try to catch a sunrise at the Visitor Center. It was cloudy and not particularly spectacular, but enjoyable nonetheless. I mean, ignoring the fact that it was 30 degrees out and my toes wanted to fall off. No big deal. When did I turn into such a wimp? I'm a big fan of my tropical island lately.

Once everyone had warmed up, caffeineated, and had sandwiches for the road, we headed back to the park and jumped on the red shuttle to see all of the lookouts to the west. It was really beautiful. The skies cleared to that deep, rich blue that really pops against the reds, oranges, and tans of the desert. We stopped at almost every stop, but I was pretty glad when we were done. My knees were making sure I didn't forget abusing them two days past. My favorite stop was the Abyss, and I am still unsure if that's because of the name or the scenery. 50/50 shot there.

Aside from not having time or ability to hike, I really enjoyed visiting the Grand Canyon and now want to add three more items to my bucket list: backpacking to the bottom, doing a rafting trip down the Colorado, and visiting the North Rim.

Running the Antelope Canyon Ultras 55k

Remember back in June 2016 when I ran the Seattle Rock 'N Roll marathon and said I would probably never do another? Yeah, I lied. Let's go back to last summer. I was slaving away making dinner and Mike was lounging on the couch eating bon bons and scrolling through Facebook. He abruptly sat up exclaiming, "We should do this!! Watch this video!" Three minutes later we were on the Vacation Races website checking out the Antelope Canyon Ultras courses and distances. I told him, "You can run the 50 miler if you want to, but I only want to run the half, at most." Since I was occupied and the race hadn't actually opened for registration, we left it alone for a few weeks. During that time, I somehow lost my mind when I decided I didn't want to miss running through a slot canyon. I was still decidedly not at all interested in running 50 miles, much less the shorter 55k (34 miles) option. So, of course, Mike signed up for the 50 miler and I signed up for the 55k, thinking to myself that I could drop down to the half marathon option if I didn't feel ready when the time came.

October hit and I decided I should actually start running regularly. I did short to medium length runs up until January when we were finally back from traveling. I swear I was off island almost the entirety of October, November, and December. After that, I started working toward 30 mile weeks. I hate running when I have to run. I like to run when it's an adventure. Running a trail instead of hiking it is fantastic. Jogging through the lapping waves and deep sand at the beach is totally my jam. Running on a treadmill or plodding along down the road for hours... eff that. Anyway, no one gives a crap about the training. Let's talk about the race.

First, I did not drop to the half-marathon distance. I probably should have, but my pride said no, and my sense of adventure yelled HELL NO! So, here we went. We woke up at 4:30 AM to have Mike at the start line in time for a 5:45 take off. It was 38 degrees and pitch black out. We bundled up in our warm clothes and headed out. Dawn was just beginning to touch the mountains while we listened to a Navajo prayer and the fog horn set the 50 miler athletes running through the desert with headlamps bobbing. I cheered on the subsequent 100 miler runners on their start a few minutes later. My race started at 7:00. I needed to find a way to stay warm until then. As it turned out, the cedar and mud hut called a hocum behind the start line had a cheery fire in a 55 gallon drum with a chimney inside. It was nice and warm with benches. I hung out in there until 6:57 when I walked out the door to the start line ten feet away. Winning!

The race started in the opposite direction as the previous two groups as we weren't doing the actual Antelope Canyon run. Yes, yes, I know. How can it be the Antelope Canyon Ultras if I didn't run the canyon? I don't know. They could have called the event the Horseshoe Bend Ultras or the Lake Powell Ultras, but nope. They went with Antelope Canyon because those elite distance crazy people ran through it (in the dark). I'm not jealous anyway . Anyway, my clearly superior course went across the desert on a sandy road to the beautiful Glen Canyon. The trail, which was really just a bunch of strategically placed pink and disco silver ribbons, followed the rim of the canyon with incredible views of Horseshoe Bend of the Colorado River for about five miles. We climbed up and up and up over the slick rock and sandstone. I had to stop a bunch of times, not because I was tired, but because the view was so amazing I felt like I would be missing something important by continuing. I guess at this point it is prudent to mention that the elevation in Page, AZ is 4000 to 4300 feet. I live at sea level. So, I definitely had a small disadvantage here. I spent the first two hours of the race running by myself, but any time there was somewhere amazing to stop and take pictures, I did, and others did. We all marveled at the views, commiserated about the sand, complained about whatever was hurting at the moment, or talked about life. After playing leapfrog with the same people for miles. I'd chat for a few minutes before one of us pulled ahead. I ran with an artist from Charleston and an east coaster on vacation with her family for 2.5 miles on a long stretch of sandy road through a field. I met two young female engineers (Whoop!) on another stretch.

After the beautiful river and canyon views, the trail cut back across the highway (all two lanes of it) and dropped into Waterholes Slot Canyon. This was probably my favorite part of the trip for the sheer adventure of it. The descent requires both hands and some rock scrambling. The canyon itself is beautiful, winding red sandstone formations. It was beautiful and I loved it. The pictures don't do it justice and neither can my descriptions.

Climbing back out, we ran for miles through loose sand and slick rock, back past the start line to the Page Rim Trail. This is a ten mile loop around the city of Page with panoramic views of Lake Powell. It's a nice hard, packed trail, which seemed like a real gift after 20 miles of loose sand. If you've never run in loose sand, lucky you. It is HARD work. By this time, my knees were hurting any time I went downhill. So, I won't pretend I ran this loop. I did, however, keep up with almost everyone I had been with since the beginning by alternating a slow jog with a power walk. I feel good about that.

On the rim trail when I was really hurting, I slowed to talk to a man I'd been passing back and forth with for an hour. We walked together for a half hour or so. He had sore feet, I had hurt knees. He told me about his fiance and their hiking adventures as well as his ultra marathon ambitions. He found me at the finish line and told me I'd really helped him get through the last few miles. I had thought the same. I left him at Mile 31 and did some jogging. By Mile 32 I was super done and ended up next to a man from Phoenix who had found running, lost over eighty pounds and was prepping for his second half-Ironman. His story was so feel-good that it kept me smiling for the last two miles.

As I ran through three to four inch deep sand toward the finish line, I couldn't help but grin. I was finishing something I never would have believed I could do. I was tired, but not completely spent. My knees were the limiting factor, not my endurance. I jogged across the finish line with a huge smile and shakas in the air as the announcer said, "Aloha, Kelsey from Hawaii! Welcome back!" What an emotional experience. There was never a point I thought I wouldn't finish the race. Each segment had its own feel. I felt exhilarated at the start; free and inspired on the mesa at Horseshoe Bend; adventurous through the slot canyon; sore and slightly resentful as I ran past my car; overwhelmed climbing the hill to the Rim Trail; resigned on the trail, but still in awe of the view; then relieved, grateful, and joyous at the finish. I ran THIRTY FOUR miles on an extremely challenging course. My finish time was 9:05:40, which was about an hour more than my optimistic guess.

This post is clearly all about me, me, me! But, I should probably mention Mike as well. If I have to... Mike's 50 miler was equally painful to my 55k. He had tweaked his knee at work the day we flew out of Hawaii. We were both worried about it holding up. By Mile 32, he had decided to drop out, but was told he would get a 55k finisher award if he went to the next aid station. So, he ran there. At that aid station, they told him just to run to the finish since it was less than two more miles. All said and told, he completed 37 miles on an even more challenging course than mine. That is 2.33 miles shy of a marathon and a half in a single day. He's still pissed that he didn't finish the 50, but it wasn't worth permanent injury. Whether he ran 50 miles or 37, I'm incredibly proud of him.

It's been just over a week and we're both doing pretty well. Mike ran a few fast miles by the end of the week and I went on two 30-mile bike rides. My right knee hurts going down stairs or walking too far. I also have some pretty awkward tan lines on my calves from my capris and around my neck. Otherwise, we came out of the experience with smiles, photos and fond memories.