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.