Anteolpe Canyon Ultras 50 Mile: Coach Karen’s Take
Last Saturday, I completed the Vacation Races Antelope Canyon 50 Mile Ultra Race in Page, Arizona. I’ve previously run 13 marathons, one 50K, and one 50 miler at the 2020 Run S’More 24 in Wisconsin’s Nashota Park. That race is described as this: “The course is a 3-mile loop through Nashotah Park. The trail is groomed with much of it lined with crushed wood chips. The vast majority of the course is through the woods and around the lake. There are some hills you will need to contend with.” This race… was not that. The Antelope Canyon 50 mile course includes miles and miles of trudging through deep sand, scrambling over slick rock, climbing in and out of tight canyons, and traversing the rims of some of the most beautifully high canyons in the United States. It wasn’t just a race, it was a true adventure!
THE EXPO
I went on this journey with close friends, Coach Amy, Matt, Megan, Dean, Stephen and Gwen. Upon arriving at the Expo, we were met with a warm welcome that included a cultural presentation by a Navajo Family. The race itself takes place on the Navajo Nation Reserve, so getting the blessing of the Navajo people as we were about to tread across their sacred land was important to all of us. Following several traditional dances, we heard from a speaker whose words would become my mantra during the last part of this race. “Every step,” she said, “is a prayer.”
START LINE TO ANTELOPE CANYON AID STATION PASS 1 (0.0 - 6.2 MILES)
We started bright and early with our headlamps blaring at 5:45 am. The first 6 miles took us through deep sand and our first scramble over slick rock. I’d never seen slick rock before this trip, let alone climbed up and over it. It was rather eye opening, a little paralyzing, but also super badass. We made it to the first aid station in plenty of time to avoid the Grim Reaper. I felt strong, the sand didn’t bother me and I was in a really good place mentally.
ANTELOPE CANYON AID STATION PASS 1 TO ANTELOPE CANYON AID STATION PASS 2 (6.2 - 11.8 MILES)
Next we headed out to the Upper Canyon, which we had taken a guided tour through just a day before. The sand was deep, the path was slightly uphill, and the wind was at our faces. But it was worth it to experience running through the flowing canyons formed in sandstone. Gorgeous! Coming out of the slot canyon, we headed back to the aid station, luckily with the wind at our backs and a slight decline to ease the deep sand running. Rain started to come, but was quickly snuffed out by sunshine and a brilliant rainbow overhead.
ANTELOPE CANYON AID STATION PASS 2 TO SLICKROCK AID STATION PASS 1 (11.8 - 17.8 MILES)
My body seemed to respond well to running in the sand. In fact, for me, it felt more comfortable than running on the rockier segments of the Nordic Trails in the Kettle Moraine. During training I made it a point to run the length of Bradford and Atwater Beaches as often as I could. This seemed to pay big dividends. I made it to the SlickRock Aid station feeling energized and without any need for additional food other than what was already in my pack.
SLICK ROCK AID STATION PASS 1 TO HORSESHOE AID STATION PASS 1 (17.8 - 20.3 MILES)
The Horseshoe Aid Station is the first that allows spectator access. I’d been looking forward to seeing my friend Ian, who had come up from his hometown of Flagstaff to act as our crew. He had already pulled our drop bags, and had us off to the Waterholes Station beating the final Grim Reaper with plenty of time to spare. We were moving fast and I was having an amazing time taking in sights I’ve never seen before and running with my friends.
HORSESHOE AID STATION PASS 1 TO WATERHOLES AID STATION (20.3 - 26.8 MILES)
This part of the course is where the “moving fast” part came to a halt. For 6.5 miles, we traversed slickrock on the Horseshoe Rim. The views were absolutely breathtaking, but it was a slow go climbing and descending over the rocks. There seemed to be no end in sight, and I wanted so badly to run again. Bring back the sand, please!
WATERHOLES AID STATION TO HORSESHOE AID STATION PASS 2 (26.8 - 32.2 MILES)
Having gotten through Horseshoe, I was ready to move. The Waterholes Aid Station gave me an opportunity to refill the bladder of my pack, and grab a few salty chips which were a nice contrast to the sweet fuel I had been consuming. Not long after leaving the aid station, we were at a standstill. This year’s course featured a 40-50 foot ladder that participants needed to descend to get to the canyon floor below. The waiting line for the ladder was significant, resulting in a half hour of standing still. The rain was falling and the wind was picking up, so muscles were definitely starting to stiffen. Finally, it was my turn to step onto the ladder. I refused to be afraid, and repeated aloud, “I’m a carpenter’s daughter,” the entire way down. I can only imagine what my dad was thinking as he looked down on me. (Most likely it was “Oh Morone!” or one of my personal favorites, “Jesus H. Christ!” I never knew what “H” stood for, but I will be sure to ask him when I see him again.) I digress….
“Finally,” I thought, “time to run again.” Not quite. The next mile took us through a narrow canyon that required 9 more ladder climbs. We would get to the top of ladders just to contort our bodies to climb up and onto rocks to complete the ascent. When I finally saw sand again, I was ecstatic. Even though the rain was really coming down at this point, it felt good to run.
HORSESHOE AID STATION PASS 2 TO SLICKROCK AID STATION PASS 2 (32.2 - 34.7 MILES)
When you run with someone long enough, they get to know a lot about you. Especially your fears. Ian greeted me back at the Horseshoe Aid Station with a poster that nightmares are made of. No wonder I pulled out of this station as quickly as I pulled in. The next segment was a quick except for a long incline on wet sand. As I pulled into the Slickrock Aid Station for the second time, knowing I “only” had 15 miles left, I felt proud of my body, strong willed, and ready to finish the race out.
SLICKROCK AID STATION PASS 2 TO PAGE RIM AID STATION (34.7 - 38.3 MILES)
The path to Page Rim was quite rainy and cold. It was during this segment that I crossed paths with Stephen, our very speed friend. He politely offered me his dry shirt but I declined thinking I would be okay until I saw Ian again at the next station. I was wrong.
PAGE RIM AID STATION TO POWELL AID STATION (38.3 - 43.5 MILES)
The Aid Station sat atop the rim, where it was insanely windy, rainy and brutally cold. I was soaked to the bone and was having trouble taking in fuel. It’s hard to chew when your jaw is clenched tight against the cold. Ian gave me one of his own (dry) pullovers and Amy and I quickly departed because we needed to get the blood flow going. She knew that the upcoming portion of the course was considered to be the most “runnable” segment so we thought if we got moving we would warm up, and regain some speed. This didn’t come to be. The path proved to be a 5 mile slog through pools of clay mud. My shoes were soaked through, and the mud was so thick I could no longer feel the ground beneath my feet. It was frightening to be up so high without good footing. At one point sleet started to fall. This is where I legitimately started to wonder if the race would get called, or if I was just not strong enough to carry on. A thought that made me feel unsettled.
POWELL AID STATION TO FINISH LINE (43.5 TO 50.6 MILES)
Amy and I were greeted at the Powell Aid Station by Ian and Matt, who once again took wet clothes off our backs and draped heavier, dry shirts and coats over us. Ian was concerned I was becoming hypothermic. I was shaking pretty violently but I didn’t want to stop. The aid station was so muddy you couldn’t access the food tents, which was okay because the thought of eating made me nauseous. We started to leave for our final segment. Amy wondered out loud if we should keep going… would it be safe to do so? I had the same thought, but neither of us wanted to give up. That was the first time tears started stinging my eyes. Earlier in the day we were cruising so quickly it was exciting to think we would finish before sundown. Now we were shaking, soaked, and donning our headlamps once again. This is where my world got really dark… literally and figuratively.
The footing was astoundingly bad. My headlamp was not bright enough and soon started to die. I was now relying on the light that Amy’s lamp was projecting to see where I was going. We were on the rim, I was sliding everywhere, couldn’t feel my feet, and couldn’t see. It was the first time in my life I have truly been afraid for my safety. I was terrified that I would fall and nobody would be able to see me. And boy did I fall. Twice. Hard. After I got up the second time I started repeating “Every step is a prayer.”
With just a few miles left, we finally made it back to sand. Megan, Dean, Amy and I were now together and, afraid we wouldn’t reach the finish line by the declared cut off time, we had to run. I still couldn’t see, and at this point the falls had stripped me of my confidence. But we ran. We ran through the rain and wind, covered in mud, with no end in sight.
Finally! We rounded a corner near the finish line and could hear “Jump Around” blaring from speakers. Quite fitting for a bunch of Wisconsinites! As the four of us crossed the line, the announcer declared, “MILWAUKEE IS IN THE HOUSE!” Everyone was really happy, excited and proud of themselves, appropriately so!
THE FINISH LINE
I felt vulnerable for needing to rely on someone else’s equipment, for falling multiple times, for feeling that I would still be up on that rim if I were left to my own devices. It was a feeling I couldn’t shake for a little while, and the tears came. They continued to come as I talked to my husband, brother, mom and sister on the phone (who, by the way, were scared to death for me because I was unable to reach them for most of the race). No matter how many times my friends told me how proud I should be, I couldn’t “get” there mentally immediately following our successful finish.
REFLECTING
We left Page, Arizona two days after the race, fittingly in a rain shower. It was a once in a lifetime trip with good friends, striking views and challenges I didn’t expect. After I got back to the flat lands of Milwaukee, I got much needed sleep and a clearer head. I have an immense sense of gratitude for the experience. I am grateful for every person that helped me along the way, from the aid station volunteers, to my running partners, and especially to Ian and Matt for doing everything in their power to keep us alive.
There were about 400 runners registered for the 50 mile race in Antelope, and nearly one-third didn’t finish or did so after the cutoff time. I know how hard they worked and how their expectations, much like mine, must have been so high. I feel deeply for them and extend them my congratulations for fighting as hard and as long as they could in unimaginable conditions.
Looking back, I’m proud of myself for fighting to the end, and with time I’m gaining a huge sense of accomplishment. Antelope Canyon challenged me in ways I’ve never been before, and reminded me of my inner strength. Now onto recovery before I set my sights on the next race… my tenth and final Chicago Marathon as part of the American Cancer Society’s Team DetermiNation!
One last note to my family, especially my mom and husband. I promise to never scare you like that again! At least not in 2023.
MY GEAR
MY FUEL
For fueling, I ate every 30 minutes alternating between one serving of chews, and either half of a Skratch bar or a whole Singer waffle. This ensured I was getting at least 210 calories every hour, not counting the calories in my hydration mix.
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