Feeling emaciated, cracked lips, aching thighs, calves and feet, I strained to place one shoe further than six inches ahead of the other. We were making good time as we weaved in and out of the red canyons of Southern Utah, but around mile marker 42 I fell apart. Nausea had set in along side a sense of breathlessness I had yet to experience in my years of mountain adventures. Moderately deep breaths sent my queasiness into overdrive, and I slowed to a halt. Too sick to jog, walk, or even bend over.
Bryce Canyon Ultramarathon
Ellen and I recently attempted our first 50 mile ultramarathon. The Bryce Canyon Ultramarathon took place on June 18th just outside of Bryce Canyon National Park. For those of you unfamiliar with Bryce it is in southern Utah and famous for red rock hoodoos that stand at attention along the curvature of the canyon walls.
We initially signed up for the race while living in Durango, Colorado, at 6,500 feet. Soon after completing our registration, life happened and we took traveling jobs on the central coast of California, at sea level. Literally, at sea level – we walk the dogs on the beach twice a day. The Bryce Canyon ultramarathon happens to fluctuate between 7,500 and 9,500 feet of elevation.
Being in southern Utah, Bryce Canyon, despite the altitude, gets very hot in the summer. Race day temperatures were predicted to soar into the nineties. Where we live on the coast has an average high temperature in the summer of 69 degrees. This could get interesting…
The starting gun went off at 6 AM. Temps in the mid 40’s and the first flickers of daylight peeking through the trees made for easy miles in the early stages of the race. Ellen and I had decided to run together as the effects of altitude on our unacclimated red blood cells was more pronounced than we had initially anticipated. But nonetheless we moved smoothly through the red canyon walls and along piney ridges.
Take care of yourself first because two dead bodies are harder to transport than one.
As the midway point of the race was upon us, so was the mid-day sun. By noon we were 30 miles in and already starting to hurt. During the first 20 miles there were four stocked aid stations, the final 30 miles would have only 2. But with temperatures in the 90’s we continued on.
Leaving the aid station around mile 32 and we headed up a steep knife of a ridge overlooking an enormous set of hoodoos below. Once safely to the other side we began picking our way down the loose and rocky hillside when we came across a runner headed towards us. In the heat and confusion (and exhaustion) he had taken a wrong turn and run nearly 2.5 miles in the wrong direction. Having once been running with the lead female he was now firmly nestled in with us mid-packers. Angry, frustrated, depressed, and slightly demoralized, our new running mate, Chris from Little Rock (most people seem to go by locale vs last name), joined us for a few miles before fading into the long line of runners behind.
It was not until the 35 mile mark when I realized that my single hand held water bottle was sorely insufficient. While I have completed countless long runs and even two ultramarathons with simply a hand held bottle, none of them had been at this altitude WHILE at this temperature. Out of water by mile 38 I would steal a sip of Ellen’s prior to the final aid station at mile 41.
Walking out of the last aid station we were feeling strong but tired. Mentally running a systems check as we went. Chapped lips, headache, sore from the waist down for me, and some blistered feet and leg soreness for Ellen. But overall we were kicking butt!
Finally having to lay down under a tree, I passed out.
The final 9 miles of the race include a 1,000ft climb split between miles 42 and 44, followed by a rolling rocky stretch of single track all of the way into the finish. Being the stronger climber I ambled my way up the first three switchbacks of the final big climb, waiting for Ellen at an overlook of the canyon we had been running through for the last couple of hours. Suddenly, within the twenty steps up the next pitch I was flattened by the one-two combo of fatigue and nausea unlike anything I had ever experienced. Slightly delirious from exhaustion and panicked I racked my brain for what could be happening to me. Dehydration? Altitude sickness? Sour stomach? All were possibilities but none of them had any quick remedy that could keep me moving at a respectable pace.
I downed my remaining water and part of Ellen’s as a look of concern came over her face. At the pace I was reduced to we would take hours to get to safety and would both be out of water for nearly the entirety of the remaining seven mile journey.
Inching my way up the mountainside we come across a grizzly old man taking a rest on a nearby boulder, chit-chatting with every runner that came past. A 67 year old ultra-runner who has been running ultramarathons for nearly 30 years, Billy was making his third attempt at finishing the 100 mile race in as many years. Unlucky in the past two years, he finished them both but was outside of the 36 hour cutoff and given a DNF instead.
Taking unusual concern in my situation Billy quickly diagnosed my symptoms as altitude sickness. Despite my protesting, after all I have made a habit of going from sea level to the tops of some pretty high mountains, while generally out hiking/running my altitude adapted friends, he insisted that altitude sickness was the problem. In fact, he had experienced it as well, only once, despite likewise being well acquainted with high altitude endeavors. Recommending I drink more than my fill, regardless of it inducing a bout of barfing or not, he poured me a full bottle of his own water and told me to rest, even lie down, and then make my way to lower altitude as soon as I could.
For those of you unaware of trail etiquette, desert hiking is different than hiking elsewhere. Sharing water is a huge no-no. Take care of yourself first because two dead bodies are harder to transport than one. Not only were we in a semi-arid mountain desert, but it was scorching hot, and Billy was 93 miles into a 100 mile race when he gave me a few sips of his remaining personal supply.
Finally having to lay down under a tree, I passed out. Ellen says it was only for ten minutes and I was just asleep, but that was the fastest falling asleep Ive ever done in my life! Dragging me off of the ground she eventually helped me to my feet and we trudged onward.
Slowly I began to feel improvement. Physically still the pits, my spirit brightened and I was able to crack a few jokes about the situation and speak in full sentences as opposed to the moans I had been so recently reduced to. Within another ten minutes we were back hiking at nearly normal speed and we were making ground on folks up ahead. Before we knew it we were jogging. Eventually passing Billy, he let out a cheerful “Whoop!” as we cruised by during a smooth and flowing downhill section.
Seven arduous and painstaking miles later we finished! 11 hours and 42 minutes after starting, we had crossed 50 miles of gnarly trails and ascended nearly 10,000 vertical feet! We did it!
At the finish line of an ultramarathon runners all gather to cheer on other finishers and swap stories from the trail. Runners that have leap-frogged each other all day share phone numbers (or twitter handles) to keep in contact with the new friend they have just made.
As we mingled in the crowd a growing cheer began to get more and more noticeable, finally overtaking the whole gathering. One of the 100 mile runners was rounding the bend before the final push into the finish line. With an awkward side to side shuffle and a Quasimodo-like hunch in his back, Billy came across the line.
Glancing at the clock it read: 35:59:40
Twenty seconds to spare!
My Strava data for this race can be found here.
Call for comments: Do you have any adventure heroes? We would love to hear about them!
Written by: Stephen Stockhausen
*** “So this one time…” is a series of random stories that have popped up along our travels. Often wildlife related, these are a few of our favorite tales to share with family and friends.***
