Rim to Rim to Rim Trip Report
I love reading trip reports, but anytime I sit down to start writing about my own running, I’m bored before I begin. But really, how can running for 48 miles across the Grand Canyon and back be boring? It certainly wasn’t boring as I went, and the last several days have possibly been the most fun I’ve had in years. Take four vaccinated good friends, an ability and willingness to get up crazy early, and you have a fun adventure on your hands.
The whole shebang! Just down, through up, and back…
We arrived at the Grand Canyon on Wednesday night after a 14-hour day of travel, which aside from being terribly long, still boggles my mind that you can completely transform surroundings in such short order. We gave ourselves an extra day of cushion to run in the best weather, which ended up working perfectly: the best day to run would be Friday, giving us a day to get the travel out of our bodies and mentally wrap our heads around what we would do. Though I love the desert and have spent a lot of time in southern Utah, I’d never been to the Grand Canyon. I first heard about people running it in 2005 as a green ultrarunner expanding and reframing what I thought possible and it’s been on my list ever since. Perseverance pays off and now, in many ways a lifetime later, everything aligned to make it happen. We spent a relaxing Friday buying last minute junk food, packing and repacking our packs, shaking out our legs on the rim trail, and going to bed early for the stark wake-up time to follow.
A few people decided to start at four to give themselves extra time, while Liz and I took a few extra ZZ’s. She left a tiny bit before I headed out just after five. I wore a headlamp to start, but really could have left it, or better yet, given it to my friend Dani who didn’t have a headlamp and left with the early group. After a few minutes, I thought about taking it off, but since I had it, felt I should use it as much as I could. Same went for the long-sleeved shirt and wind jacket, that I was afraid would not be enough warmth: almost immediately after leaving the rim I was warm and knew I wouldn’t need them.
Looking up the Bright Angel trail after descending.
As anyone who knows me is aware, I love downhill running and it was such a treat to start off with a nine-plus mile descent as the sun rose above the horizon, lighting up the rim behind me. I caught up to Liz right before the river crossing, and the next several miles were a blissful blur, as I ran up the gradual trail to Phantom Ranch. Spring in the desert is simply magical, and this was no exception. It wasn’t yet hot, and everything was lush and vibrant with life. The prickly pear cacti showed off their bright pink flowers, the creek was flowing, and the contrast of emerald trees against red dirt and canyon walls was striking. I felt much better running in this section than even the downhill, and it was energizing catching up with friends to hear how their run was going so far. I stopped at Manzanita camp to refill water and take a breather and just before I left everyone showed up. We left together and began the steeper ascent to the North Rim. The scenery changed, though I’m not sure how to describe it. It was becoming hotter, but Dani and I passed the endless climb hiking and chatting, which in hindsight seemed so lovely, already forgetting the fatigue setting into our legs. We all took another break at the top, along with many other runners, hikers, and backpackers.
Half-way done! Photo by Leia Hansen
As much as I enjoyed the break, I also knew we had a long way to go, so I headed back down the trail. By now it felt quite hot and I could feel the 24 miles we’d already gone. None of my food sounded appealing, which I knew wasn’t a good sign; I’d already eaten my Spring energy gels (my new favorite), most of my PB and J, and some of my chips, but all the sugary stuff I had left sounded terrible. I knew this was a bad sign, as there was a long way back. I put on an audio book (thanks, Michelle Obama) and tried not to think about the upcoming miles, hoping I could convince myself that my chews or cookies would be appetizing. I also started feeling a blister, and overall, just felt blah. Liz passed me having a great time and though I tried following, I quickly went back to my pace to conserve energy to hopefully get my stomach back on track. Eventually I made it to Manzanita again, saw Liz as she finished her pitstop and danced down the trail, and decided to wait for the group again. I casually got ready, ate something (who knows what), and when they still weren’t there, decided to be on my way since I knew the next section would be a slow one.
It wasn’t until I started “running” from there that I realized how good I’d felt up until then. The gradual uphill that felt awesome on the way up, just felt hard going back down (is that how other people feel on downhills?!). It was a long ten miles of running and walking to get back to Phantom Ranch, as every time I started running, I felt like I had to pee. Uh oh. That must be dehydration. Luckily I got to Phantom just before Liz was leaving and she kindly got me a lemonade. If you ever go do this run, you must (must) plan everything around being able to get lemonade at Phantom Ranch. The lemonade has ice. It was heaven. She also gave me the remainder of her chips, which I promptly devoured. After exhausting any reasons to stay at Phantom and gathering myself up to leave, Leia arrived-great! I could see how everyone was doing and procrastinate leaving! Steph came shortly after and I realized if I didn’t leave then, I never would. After a few more minutes, I moseyed out of there, with 7.5 miles left to go: no problem! That sounded totally reasonable.
It was still quite hot, but I had a podcast on (coincidentally or not, the On Coaching podcast, about sports psychology-maybe not the best choice 10 plus hours into a self-supported run in the desert), and I tried thinking of different routes I knew that were 7.5 miles with 5,000 ft. of climbing to mimic my current scenario. What came to mind were steep trails that take me far longer to go up than I like to admit so I quickly decided not to think about that and instead enjoy the views and keep moving. That worked for a while and I thoroughly enjoyed the podcast, as I usually do, having many aha moments that I’m curious to think more about. I started another podcast when that was done (Work, Play, Love, which I also like), but for some reason, it didn’t make the trail go any faster. Looking at my watch I had about two miles left, which seemed doable until I saw a sign that said 3.5 miles. I almost cried-that extra 1.5 put me over the edge. Steph was just a switchback behind me. so I stopped to wait for her. She didn’t come, so I slowly (ever, ever so slowly) started moving again and when she caught up informed me that she had the same reaction to the sign and had to have a little break. We stopped for more snacks and resumed the trail. We both were in our own little worlds but having a friend leading the way felt like a comforting pull up the trail.
By now the sun was going down and while I hoped I would be finished by then, the blood orange sunset over the canyon was stunning. The wind picked up as we crested the last bit to the top of the rim, finishing the day as it began, with little me in the vast expanse of our amazing world. Earth day was the day prior, but spending all day moving through the landscape certainly felt like a great way to feel minuscule in this massive wonder was just what I needed.
There were several times I questioned why I did this, but more often, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for everything. It sounds so cliche, but maybe that just happens as you get older. When I first came to the desert in college for spring breaks and later, a semester backpacking field course, I was a completely different person. I didn't yet trail run, and if you’d told me what my life would be like in 20 years (wow, that is a while) I wouldn’t believe you. Sharing this experience with good friends, all of whom are also professionals, moms, and all around rad women, was a highlight of a rough year and I can’t wait for the next adventure.
