Pacing at Rio del Lago 100M - November 1, 2025

 Prelude

At 615 a.m. I'm standing on the sidewalk across from the Lake Natoma Inn waiting for Emaad to run by. For him it is about mile 6.5 of the Rio del Lago 100 Mile Endurance Run (RDL) which began at 5 a.m.  I could have been running the associated 50K with him, but decided that $200 was too much to pay for a race that would be mostly on bike trails.  Instead I've volunteered to pace him the last 31 miles of his race, which means I'll get to run 50K for free, and mostly on trails.  It's a win-win for me, and a win for him, as he will have a pacer when he is most in need of encouragement.

Right on schedule, he comes by at 6:18. I run a couple of hundred yards with him, bid him good luck and go back to bed.

A few hours later, about 9 a.m. his wife Saira and I drive to meet him at Beals Point (mile 21.7) which is also the start/finish of the race. The first part of the race is a loop on mostly flat, wide trails, paved and dirt, that go south and then back north to Beals Point before heading north to the Sierra foothills.

He arrives about 9:30 a.m. and changes from road shoes to trail shoes, drops his light that was necessary for the 5 a.m. start, and drinks a coffee beverage.  He's in good shape and is about 18 minutes ahead of his ultrapacer,com 29- hour pace card.  That is his target and a full hour ahead of the 30-hour cutoff. He has started to develop blisters, but that is not unusual for him.  He makes a couple of other adjustments and bids us good-bye.

Saira and I head off for a day of sight-seeing in Sacramento, visiting Old Town Sacramento (a surprising number of candy stores, even for a tourist area), looking at the Delta King riverboat, now a restaurant and hotel, and spending a couple of hours visiting the California State Railroad Museum. We return to Folsom, and after having dinner, I try to get some rest and sleep, as my pacing duties are coming up.

Slowing Down

RDL provides real-time tracking at many of the aid stations and we can see Emaad's progress is steady. At Granite Beach (mile 26.6) and about a mile short of where the hills begin, he is 15 minutes ahead of his 29-hour schedule. He keeps the 15 minute cushion through Rattlesnake Bar (mile 36). By Overlook (mile 45.5) he has given some back, but is still 8 minutes ahead of the pace card.

But things start to slow down after that as the day, and the course, start to erode the cushion. At No Hands Bridge (mile 49.3 and essentially the halfway point), Emaad is 12 minutes over his 29 hour pace. The ten mile stretch to the next aid station at Auburn Lakes Trail (mile 59.8) puts him 18 minutes behind his pace card, but he is still 42 minutes ahead of the 30-hour cut-off.

I'll be meeting him at the next aid station at Cool Fire Station (mile 69.5).

Game face.

Showtime

About 11:30 p.m. Saira and I leave the inn for the aid station.  The road is a two-lane winding mountain road into the foothills. Saira is driving and is clearly not enjoying the task.  At one point we spot a pair of deer standing of the opposite side of the road, which does nothing to make the drive more enjoyable.

Arriving at the aid station about midnight, we park and Saira get out to await Emaad.   Runners come and go into the aid station. She has various things on the list of things he wanted her to bring: a coffee drink, Ensure, socks and shoes. The temperature is in the 50s, so I stay in the car to stay warm - and to stay off my feet.

He arrives at 12:38 a.m. He is 29 minutes behind the 29 hour pace card, but still 31 minutes ahead of the 30 hour cut-off. He is a bit tired and his blisters are bothering him.

No Hands Bridge

We head out and run, or mostly walk in the company of several other runners and their pacers.  This portion of the course is mostly a long downhill.  About mile 71 the trail parallels CA49 and we can occasionally see headlights of cars on the winding two-lane road below. It isn't seeing the cars that starts working on my mind; it is the steep slope between the trail and the road.  I begin to fret that a misstep and I'm rolling down that incline. And since it is night, the only thing one sees is the circle of trail in front of oneself illuminated by one's headlamp. In the dark, a foot or two to the right, is the unseen abyss - at least to my imagination.

In about a mile we reach No Hands Bridge, a former railroad bridge over the North Fork of the American River. The trail is wide, smooth and, since it is on an old railroad right of way, straight with a gentle grade. 

In less than a mile we reach the No Hands Bride aid station (mile 72.6).  Emaad has been going for 21:03 and is now 56 minutes behind his 29 hour goal pace.  In other words, he only has a 4 minute cushion to make the 30 hour cutoff. It is going to be hard, but the closer we get, the better off we are.

Ticks. I hate ticks.

Overlook

Now we start the section with the last major climb of the course.  It is just over 4 miles to the next aid station, but it involves a mostly steady 700 feet of climb. Initially it is a gentle uphill.  I spot a pair of women ahead.  One is standing on the trail. The other is squatting at the side.  I get ready to ask if she is okay but realize that isn't why she is there.  My eyes and light promptly swing back to the trail.  We will see her in the same pose a bit later. That's trail runners for you.

At one point I'm ahead of Emaad.  I stop and wait.  Then I become concerned that he is ahead of me. A quandary - wait or go on?  Another runner and his pacer come along.  I ask them if they had seen him and they assure me that he is still behind and coming.  He had stopped to make an equipment adjustment. I resolve that as his pacer, I need to keep him in sight at all times.

Before we get to the aid station I manage to trip and fall, scraping my right knee.  We were walking, so it wasn't a hard fall, but I'm wearing shorts and draw blood.

When we reach the Overlook AS (mile 76.8) one of the aid station workers gets out the first aid kit and wipes down the knee with some alcohol wipes.  

Time keeps slipping away. Emaad has been going for 22:42, which is 62 minutes behind the 29 hour pace, or more critically, two minutes behind the 30 hour cutoff.  He is going to have to make up that time over the next 24 miles.

Trail gully.

Rattlesnake Bar

The next aid station Rattlesnake Bar, is almost ten miles further on.  Fortunately, it is going to be downhill, and according to the course map, once we get there we are finished with both long climbs and descents.

The first part is on a not-very-steep downhill paved park road.  I urge him to run as this is a section on which we have a good change to make up some of those two minutes, and he responds favorably.  We don't need to sprint, only move quickly. And we do. At one point we come to an intersection with another park road. We see no ribbons indicating which way to go. We look and then wait for other runners to come along to indicate the proper direction. 

After three miles of downhill on the paved road we come to the Cardiac water station (mile 80). It is unmanned, but there are large water coolers.  I fill my hydration pack while Emaad goes on.  I quickly catch up to him and in about a half mile the pavement ends and we are back on single track.

The trail is near the river and generally without any significant up and down. But it is dark and there are rocks and roots that require one's attention to stay upright.  Around mile 84 we pass over the Newcastle Powerhouse, a small hydroelectric generating plant.

In about a mile and a half we try to figure out how we are going to cross a moderate stream of water. Emaad doesn't seem to recall this area on his outbound journey earlier, and as we search around a runner on the trail above yells at us that we have gone off the trail.  We bushwack a bit uphill are regain the Pioneer Express Trail. I now have checked both boxes of my "it isn't a trail run unless you get lost or fall down" adage.

When we get to Rattlesnake Bar aid station (mile 86.2), Emaad heads to the medical tent to have his feed attended to, and I go to get his drop bag so he can change socks and have a coffee drink.  The medics put moleskin on the blister on the bottom of a foot but refuse to lance the blister, citing the risk of infection.  They urge him not to linger as the cutoff is approaching. 

We hustle out, but things are beginning to get ominous. His time is 25:29 for Rattlesnake Bar, which is only six minutes ahead of the 30-hour pace. And that pace does not take into account any time spent at aid stations.

Dawn is coming.

Horseshoe Bar

But we are still moving and the next aid station is only 2.6 miles ahead.

In places the trail is deeply eroded with straight, ditch-like gullies.  At one point I straddle one, then start to slip and try to jump to the other side.  I stumble and stay upright, but my hydration bladder flies out of my pack, as I had not looped it in when I refilled it. I have to stop, remove my pack, and reinsert the bladder.  Perhaps while doing this I drop my reusable cup (RDL is a cupless race) as later in the day I no longer have it.

Gradually the sky starts to lighten. Rosy fingered dawn is with us.  Folsom Lake is no wine-dark sea but Emaad's journey, like that of all the RDL entrants is on an Odyssey of his own.  Saira plays the part of Penelope, awaiting the return of the hero, not to Ithaca, but to the finish line. I am Polites, true friend and crew member.

Rosy fingered dawn over not so wine dark Folsom Lake.

Homeric thoughts stowed away, we continue. Approaching the Horseshoe Bar AS, (mile 88.8) we overtake a runner limping badly.  It is likely that his journey is coming to an end.  At the aid station, I use the portapotty, then take off my long sleeved shirt and tie it around my waist.

And we move on.

Granite Beach

All through the night we shared the trail with other runners and their pacers.  But gradually we see fewer and fewer, as some go ahead, and some disappear behind, likely dropping out. Now, it is just the two of us.

On the Meat Grinder.

Emaad asks how are we doing. I equivocate, knowing that we are falling further and further behind pace, but on the other hand, recognizing that we are still moving. Every step now is one less later.

The race does not allow poles. He picks up a rather thick branch to use.  After a mile or two he discards it as too heavy.  I find a thinner one and give it to him.  It serves for awhile and then breaks.

While there is not much in the way of elevation change the course has roll to it, and rocks and roots.  This is the Meat Grinder section (there is a sign that identifies it) and given his blistered feet, aching quads and general tiredness, running is out of the question.

At a couple of places I have to offer him a hand so that he can step down. In other places he uses rocks of the side of the trail for support. 

Finally he sits on a rock for a bit of a break.  When he says that the crevasse on the other side of the trail looks like a good place to nap, I tell him we need to go on.

He didn't refill his flasks at the aid station and has run out of water.  I refill one with water from my pack.

I text Saira, "He beat." She asks what is is estimate finishing time. I respond that "there's a 40% chance he quits at Granite Beach." I'm being optimistic, but keep it to myself.  Like Penelope, she retains hope that her Odesseus will make it. "He's stubboran and wants to finish," she replies.  She asks his likely finishing time.  I reply with "between 11 and 12."  I don't say that the cutoff is 11.

Out of the Meat Grinder the course get flatter, the trail wider and the surface smoother.  No matter.  He can no longer run.

Two women wearing red shirts catch up with us.  They are the Safety Sweepers.  Their presence confirms that Emaad is the last runner on the course.  We chat with them, but because they are the sweepers, they never step in front of us.

Approaching Granite Beach
accompanied by the Safety Sweepers.
(Photo by S. Burki)

Emaad finally announces that he will drop at Granite Beach. I let Saira know so that she can meet us there.  Based on the pace card I'm carrying and the mileage measured by my Garmin I keep texting her a countdown of our distance to the aid station.  I'm off and it begins to annoy me that we are not there yet.  Finally the sweepers point out a lifeguard station in the distance and tell us that is where the aid station is.

When we get there, Saira awaits. The volunteers have started to close down the aid station. But they still offer us solid refreshments as well as things to drink. Emaad walks to the timing mat, crosses it and announces he is officially dropping. His time is 29:40.

By the Numbers

There are 197 official finishers and four unofficial (over 30 hour) finishers. There were 88 DNFs, but only two others besides Emaad made it to Granite Beach. Only about 61 percent of those who started finished.  Later, he recognizes that he had underestimated the difficulty of the course with its 12,000 feet of climb and descent. And the deceptively easy, flat and fast (he ran a 50K PR) at the beginning.

For me, I went 26.7 miles in 9:55, an average pace of 22:15. My Garmin logged 4368 feet of total ascent and 5427 feet of total descent.  Of course, I hadn't run 69.5 miles previous.

Swag: Pacer bib.

Water Gap 50K - September 27, 2025

 Fear of Forest Animals

We are in the woods, on single track on a trail on the side of a hill, with some undergrowth on either side.  I hear, more that see, something rustle the leaves on the left.  I alert, stop and look intently. 

"What is it?," Beth asks.

A closer look and I exhale.

"Grey tree bear," I say.

It's a squirrel. But for a second it was something more, the result of an event hours earlier.

Pre-race brief. Note the bear-proof trash receptacles.

At the Start

"How come he gets an elite bib number?" I jokingly complain as Emaad and I check in at the start of the Water Gap 50K.  He gets 5, I get 24. There are two reasons. First, bibs are assigned in alphabetical order and he is a B and I am an S by surname. Second, there are only 21 entrants in the race, so everyone gets a low bib number. There is also a 25K with 33 entrants, but because of when the events start, and the out and back nature of the course,  I won't see any of them during the races.

The small size of the race and its location at Smithfield Beach in Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area, means we part about 50 feet from the start finish line.  A few minutes before the 8 a.m. start time the race director gives a briefing, telling us of the aid stations and facilities available of the course. He reminds us to get a race poker chip at the unmanned turn-around and notes that there may not be enough for everyone.

Emaad and Beth early on.

We walk over to the start line, he says go, and we are off.  In order to assure that we go a full 50K, we run a long loop around the parking lot before getting on the McDade Recreational Trail. (The trail is named for Rep. Joseph M. McDade, a Republican who represented the area and was instrumental in establishing the Recreation Area.)  A couple of hundred yards into the race Emaad and I are comfortably settled at the back of the pack, i.e., there is no one behind us.  But we are close to one runner and we settle in to running with her.

New Friend

Our paces match and we start chatting with her, because that's what trail runners, at least those of us at the back of the pack, do. Making new friends and making the miles pass easily.

Emaad and I about mile 4.

Beth tells us that this is her first 50K. She is a bit apprehensive about it, but we assure her that it won't be a problem for her. Only later does she reveal that she did a nine-day hike around Mont Blanc and a multi-day hike in the Dolomites.

The first four miles are on a fairly wide flat trail past corn fields and through woods. There are a couple of short bridges across some streams and shallow ravines. It's easy running without the necessity of scanning the trail in front for rocks and roots.

Then the trail bends left and heads uphill. we stop and Beth takes Emaad and my photo.  Emaad takes off and Beth and I are left to go on our own. 

For nearly the next seven hours Beth will be subjected to having to listen to my running anecdotes, including some of my greatest hits, including "then leave me alone to run in my own personal hell," "it's a Mojave rattler," "pursued by a stampede," "chocolate-covered bacon," and many more. Browse this blog for more memorable stories of mine! (Or not. There are so many cute cat videos (none from me) awaiting you.)

We arrive at the Jag Road aid station (mile 4.5, elapsed time, 0:49) and Beth gets to see one of the reasons that trial running is better than road running - the AS food.  All the usual ultra food is there, cookies, candy, fruit, soda and more.  I spot a portable grill on the side and ask if there will be grilled cheese on the return. I'm promised pierogies.

Small bridge to cross

Bear!

Up and over the ridge we go, thru woods. The course flattens out again and suddenly Beth stops.

"A bear just crossed the trail," she exclaims. 

I stop too. "Where?" I don't see anything.

"From the right to the left. It was a black bear. As long as there isn't a cub around we will be okay," she replies. "We have to make noise," she explains clapping her hands and raising her voice.

I follow her lead, clapping and yelling nonsense.

I tell the old joke about not having to outrun the bear, just the person you are with.

When we get to the Bushkill Access AS (mile 8.5, ET 1:40) we relate the bear encounter.  The volunteers are unsurprised.  The bears frequent the park for the corn and soybeans growing in the fields we pass. The reason for the bear-proof trash receptacles is now very clear.

Stretch!

Crossing Bushkill Creek. (mile 6.5/24)

At one point Beth stops and stretches her arms straight over her head. She takes a deep breathe, then exhales sharply.  I ask if everything is alright.  She says it is a way to force your diaphragm down to relieve side stiches.  This is a useful thing to learn.

Off Course?

Leaving the AS, we both detour to use the permanent facilities at the parking lot at the Bushkill Access, something that technically is off the official course.  The AS volunteers assure us that it is not any shorter than the course, as it runs parallel to the trail and is alright to do so. 

Although the course is well-flagged, Beth nearly goes astray a couple of times. Calling her back I tell her "It's not a trail race unless you get lost or fall down." On the way back she is more experienced and doesn't miss any flagging.

Sun burns thru the early fog.

What's Said on the Trail Stays on the Trail

There is something about trail running that allows people to discuss with strangers topics that might otherwise be considered private. Not just trail-related medical or bodily-related matters, but personal matters.  But personal issues get revealed too.  

I recall trail running with a pair of friends who spent most of a couple of hours of running discussing (disparaging, in point of fact) their spouses.  Both marriages would end in divorce. Their vitriol was so strong that it was clear that the marriages were doomed.

Beth and I discuss many things (none as serious as that memorable run) that I doubt would have been talked about had we met at a cocktail party.  On the other hand, we are together for seven hours, not a half hour.

Turnaround with race poker chips.

Before we reach the Eshback Access aid station (mile 12.5, ET 2:37) we see her husband, Eric, coming toward us.  I sense a photo-op, and we stop and use Beth's phone to get a picture of the two of them together.  There may have been a kiss caught on camera too. 

To the Turnaround

After a bit we see Emaad coming toward us.  We exchange greetings, and proceed.

We discuss what to do if there are no chips left when we reach the turnaround, but there is no need - there are 6-8 chips still available. We each take one and head back.

We catch up to Eric R. who is walking.  His back is bothering him and he plans to drop at the Eshback AS.  When we get there on our return (mile 18.1, ET 4:01) we tell them about him and that we are the last runners on the course.

Corn field approaching Eshback Access AS

Onward

We go on past the corn fields and soybean fields on our way to the Bushkill Access AS (mile 22.4, ET 5:11). Beth uses the facilities while I sit and wait at the aid station.

Off we go, now mostly in the woods, and soon begin climbing. 

It isn't long before we encounter the gray tree bear. I hadn't realized just how much the primitive part of my brain fears meeting the bear. Perhaps I feared it even more not having seen it.

Welcome to the Dark Side

Since this is Beth's first ultra after four marathons, I feel a ceremony is in order.  I pick up a stick and we take turns carrying it.  When her watch says we have gone 26.2 miles I put it on the ground, borrow her phone and have her run over it while I get a picture. "Welcome to the Dark Side," I congratulate her.

Soybean field.

Last Push

Arriving at the final aid station (mile 26.5, ET 6:23) Beth is not feeling well. We both take seats while she regroups.  I eat a cheese pierogi and drink a cola.  An aid station worker offers to run in with us but Beth has revived and declines the offer.

We go off and soon Alex from the Bushkill Access AS catches up with us.  He's sweeping the course and picking up the pink trail flags.  More conversation ensues.

Beth's stomach is troubling her.  Alex and I suggest that vomiting might help (I've been down that road) but although she tries nothing comes up.

Soon we can see the finish, but must run around the parking lot. Beth perks up and takes off. She finishes a minute ahead of me and reunites with husband Eric and a friend who ran the 25K.

She finishes in an official 7:29.  Emaad kept up his pace all day and finishes in 6:20. I'm recorded as 7:30 (my watch said 7:29:05) and DFL. I'm 20 of 20, 15 of 15 males and 1 of 1 in my age group. I'm the oldest finisher by 12 years.

Swag: Shirt, token, bib, parking permit, mug.

Finger Lakes 50s 25K - July 5, 2025

 Short is Good

Having done the Finger Lakes 50s 50K in 2023 (report here), 2022 (report here), and 2007, I don't feel the need to see more than one loop of the 16.5 mile course.  It isn't easy, and frankly, I'm not as young as I used to be. (That's extraordinarily trite, as no one alive is as young as they used to be a second ago.) Ok, I'm a lot older than almost everyone else in the event.

Vintage shirt

Sometimes You Are Not What You Think You Are

I'm wearing my vintage 2007 FL50s shirt which garners lots of comments and  inquiries - except from one runner who recognizes it.  We are running together on the early part of the course.  He looks older than me and he is. James is 76 and tells me he has run all five versions of the FL50s course going back to the 1998 50-miler.  After a bit I go on ahead.  Later in the day I see him at the finish. He dropped out about mid-way and made it back to the finish to hang out.  His dropping allows me the honor (?) of being the oldest finisher.

An Overactive Mind

Walking to the start of the 25K, I fall in with Race Director Adam. After being assured that there will be separate AG awards for the 70+ category we talk about possible fun awards. I suggest a few.  But I have the rest of the day to consider the question, and so I do, the result of which is that my mind is raging torrent of rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives. Several days later I send him an email enumerating several of the ideas. Some may be easy to calculate, others too bothersome:

• DFL
• Oldest FL50s shirt
• Fastest virgin (someone who has never run a 25K/50K/50M before)
• Oldest finisher
• Youngest finisher
• Grizzled veteran (finisher who has run most FL50s)
• Top of the hour finishers (runners who finish at the top of the hour, e.g., 4:00, 5:00, etc. Person closest to the top wins, i.e., 5:00:04 beats 5:00:17, 4:59:59 is too early to qualify.)
• Fate-tempter (fastest person wearing the race shirt on race day)  
• Awards for 5-, 10-, etc. year finishers. 

I suggest that awards be made of Finger Lakes Forest shale or wood.

Along Burnt Hill Trail, about mile 1.5.

I'm using trekking poles as part of the course can be rocky and rooty, and in some places, steep.  While the poles can slow me down on flat parts of the course, I'm not in a hurry, so losing some time is a fair trade-off for stability insurance on more challenging parts of the course.

The weather is warm but not overly so and there is no precipitation.  The course is mostly dry, although some rain in the preceding days have left some mud puddles, one of which nearly sucks a shoe off.

The course is generally downhill to the Morgue Aid Station (mile 3.5) at the end of the course's route on the unpaved Mark Smith Road. It then turns right onto the Gorge Trail, and switches between the Interlocken and South Slope Trail. Paying attention to the course markings through here is important as the course doubles back on itself at one point.

South Burnt Hill Pond (mile 5)

We visit the South Beach AS twice, outbound at mile 4.7 and inbound at mile 7.5. As usual, the volunteers at the aid stations are friendly and accommodating.

The view to the western side of Seneca Lake

From there it is about 3 miles up the Interlocken Trail. Crossing the pasture north of Mathews Road provides scenic views of the west side on Seneca Lake, and a rare chance to get a cell phone signal. 

Day Lilies by the Backbone Trail

A turn onto the Ravine Trail to the Library AS (mile 10.4) at Burnt Hill Road. (No books at the library, near as I could ascertain.)Then down the short, but very steep trail, followed by an up to unshaded Picnic Area Road.  It is a short stretch, but uphill and, for me, never pleasant. A left puts the course on the generally straight, due north and uphill Backbone Trail for another two miles to the Outback AS (mile 13.7).

Don't Let the Cows Out Get You

The aid station workers point out that the cows have come up the pasture to near the trail through the pasture.  That's neat I think, as we have not seen any in the earlier pastures. A 50K runner laps me at the aid station and goes on.  

I open the gate and head across. The herd seems to take an interest in me that it hadn't in the previous runner.  I'm not a farm guy but even my dim knowledge of farm animals recognizes that the very large animal in the middle is no cow - he is a bull. And the animals around him are not cows. They may be heifers for him to impregnate, or . . . I dunno, but they don't have udders, so not cows.

And for some reason they take an interest in me and start to follow.  Having four legs to my two, and being younger and fitter than I, they are quickly overtaking me. "Great," I think, "I'm about to be killed by a stampede." Since this is 2025 I do what any person in that situation would do - I take out my phone and try to get a video of them coming after me.  But I hit the photo button rather than the video button and since I'm blindly trying to get a shot behind me while I watch the footing ahead, all I get is a blurr picture of legs. 

Critters purse me. Bull does not.

Before I reach the gate on the far side they begin to lose interest in me.  One or two watch when I close it to make sure it is closed.   In a hundred yards or so a trail biker comes toward me and I warn him of what is ahead.

Foster Pond (mile 15.5)

Now it is just a matter of pushing on the mix of boardwalks, rooty trails and smooth trails to the finish.  Glancing at my watch I think I have a chance of finishing under five hours, but I miss by eight seconds.

The finish line workers give me the finisher's towel, soaked in cold water to cool off.  I collect my ceramic cup AG award and get an Athletic non-alcoholic beer before walking to the very dust car to head home. 

Results

I finish in 5:00:08, good for 97 of 105 overall, 42 of 44 males and 1 of 1 in my age group.  I'm six years older than the next oldest finisher in the 25K. (In fairness a 75YO finishes the 50K at a pace faster than my 25K pace.)

Swag: Towel, shirt, glass (purchased), AG ceramic mug, bib.

AG award.

Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim - May 31, 2025

In the Grand Canyon - May 31, 2025

Return to the Grand Canyon

Two years ago I planned to go rim-to-rim (R2R) in the Grand Canyon but a severe winter damaged the trans-canyon pipeline and North Kaibab trail necessitating scrapping those plans.  We went rim-to-river (South Kaibab Trail-Phantom Ranch-Bright Angel Trail) but my desire to go R2R remained.

Because of the difficulties in getting accommodations at the Grand Canyon, especially on the North Rim, planning must begin early.  When I learn in May 2024 that Cathy plans to put together a R2R effort in May or June 2025 with her East Valley Runners group, I express interest. Getting the welcome to join, planning begins.

I invite daughter Hilary and friend Jennifer and both agree to the adventure. Hilary sees it as a chance to do something special with me (perhaps the last of epic adventures).  Jennifer has not been to the Grand Canyon and as she was planning to go to Bryce and Zion with her friend, this is an opportunity to make it even better.

My wife Sandy is also coming along, and has agreed to be a sherpa and drive the four hours and 220 from the south rim to the north rim.

Planning

My initial plan is to go from the North Rim down North Kaibab Trail and cross the silver bridge to go up Bright Angel Trail on Sunday, . This has several advantages. The North Rim is 1000 feet higher than the South Rim, so it will be 5000 feet of descent followed by 4000 feet of ascent. Second, Bright Angel Trail has four places to access water.

Cathy and some of her folks are considering going south to north to south rim-to-rim-to-rim on May 31 - June 1 with an overnight on the North Rim, so we will be able to join them for their return.

Lodging accomodations can be difficult to acquire, especially on the North Rim, so I make a variety of reservations for both the North and South Rim months in advance.  They require payment of a night's lodging in advance but are fully refundable up to about 72 hours in advance of arrival.  At one time I may have had as many as five or six rooms reserved on various dates, just in case.

No Plan Survives First Contact with the Enemy

And the just in case is justified.  In early 2025, the National Park Serivce announces that due to construction of the trans-canyon waterline, the silver bridge and the River Trail are scheduled to be closed when we are there.  There are three alternatives for a R2R.  

The first is to go South Kaibab trail to North Kaibab trail, reversing the direction we planned on and adding 1000 of elevation gain.  The second is to go in the opposite direction, but that means the last seven miles up South Kaibab will be in the sun and with no access to water.  The third is to go North Kaibab, then three miles up South Kaibab to Tonto Trail, four relatively flat miles to Bright Angel Trail, and then four miles up Bright Angel to the South Rim.  It's longer, but it does provide access to water.

A discussion with Cathy settles it: we will go South Kaibab to North Kaibab on Saturday, May 31.

Panic

On May 19 NPS puts out a press release about a 74-year old experienced hiker who died a half mile from the North Rim while doing a R2R on May 15.  This strikes me hard, as that description fits me. And the temperature that day at Phantom Ranch, at the bottom of the canyon, had a high of only 75 degrees.

I'm rattled. Temperature forecasts for Phantom Ranch are for very high 90s and every day are revised upwards. I want to do R2R but I also don't want to appear in an NPS press release.

The week before our scheduled crossing I start emailing Cathy of my concerns. Half joking, I write ""If I  die in the canyon I prefer that my body be removed slung over the back of a mule rather than lifted out by helicopter." Her response is a bit of tough love: "Do us all a favor and don't keel over, please." I respond that "I'll try to remain upright and moving for[ward] under my own power." 

But I can't get it out of my head. On Wednesday, May 28, I write another email apologizing "for sounding like a whiny baby" but spewing out my concerns as the temperature forecast is now for 108 degrees at Phantom Ranch. Wisely, she ignores me.

We fly to Las Vegas on May 29.  I confide my concerns to Hilary and suggest that maybe I should simply do South Kaibab to Tonto Trail and then up Bright Angel and back to the South Rim while she goes rim-to-rim. I am told in no uncertain terms that she had come out to do rim-to-rim with me and that I was going to do it.

Preparation

On Friday, May 30, we drive from Las Vegas to the South Rim, with a stop in Williams for lunch and then another stop to buy last minute snacks, supplies and breakfast food for the next morning.

We check into Maswik Lodge, and head over to El Tovar to have dinner with Cathy, her husband (and sherpa) Jim and with Tracey, who is also going R2R.  Cathy provides additional reassurance for me, and after dinner we view the Grand Canyon and then go back to our rooms to prepare for our 5 a.m. start.

South Kaibab Trailhead - Me, Jennifer, Hilary

At 4 a.m. Hilary calls. She is at the car and ready to put her suitcase in it.  I had hoped for an additional 15 minutes of sleep, but that is not to be.  I pack my suitcase, put it in the car and bid goodbye to Sandy, who will have to drive the 210 miles from the South Rim to the North Rim.

Heading Down

We meet up with Cathy and her East Valley Runners crew and Jennifer with her companion at the wheel for the drive to the drop-off near the South Kaibab trailhead (mile 0, 7260 feet elevation, 5:07 a.m.).  The weather is temperate, unlike two years ago when it was cool starting out.  I take that as a bad omen of heat to come. Tracey helps me figure out how to get my heartrate to display on my Garmin.  After everyone has a chance to use the facilities, adjust their poles and gear we head down at 5:07 a.m.

The East Valley folks are quickly gone - we see them disappearing down the switchbacks as Hilary, Jennifer and I start down.  I've determined to just hike it rather than do any running at all.  Hilary hugs the wall-side of the trail for the first five minutes until she gets comfortable knowing that she isn't about to plunge over the other side of the trail. 

Jennifer and Hilary with O'Neill Butte ahead

In less than a mile we arrive at Ooh-ah Point (mile 0.9, 6660 feet, 5:30 a.m.) 800 feet lower than the rim. The sun is rising and we take pictures before resuming our descent.

As we descend, Jennifer, an avid gardener, uses an app on her phone to identify plants along the trail.

Jennifer IDs plants on South Kaibab

My rim-to-river experience two years ago has taught me that poles are as important, maybe even more so, on the way down than on the way up, and I am using from the first step. Nevertheless, I get a bit wobbly on the way down.  It isn't a problem when I'm moving, but when I stop I sway and on a couple of occasions, slowly and gently wind up sitting on the ground or leaning against a rock wall.

Hilary has lost whatever fear she initially had, and tends to go ahead and then wait for Jennifer and I to catch up. I obsess over my heart rate, and check it frequently to make sure it stays below 150 bpm.

We chat with a couple on the way up. They have been progressing slowly, aware that South Kaibab offers no shade and no water.

Mule train headed up South Kaibab

By the time we get to the Tipoff (mile 4.6, 4015 feet, 8:20 a.m.) the day has become hot and we sit in the shelter there, being alert to the aggressive squirrels who are more than willing to try to sneak a swipe at packs in hopes of grabbing someone's food or snacks.

Hilary heads off ahead of us and we see her gradually pulling away.  We won't see her again until Phantom Ranch.

Jennifer and I enjoy our views of the Colorado, green and far below as we trek along in no hurry.  A mule train of nine mules and two wranglers passes us headed up. 

Not too far from the last switchbacks to the Black Bridge, we come across a woman sitting with her two young adult daughters.  They are headed up, but the woman is not feeling particularly well and the day is going to get hotter on an exposed trail with no water for either drinking or cooling off.  We discuss her options with them - go slowly, rest wherever there is shade, wait at the Tipoff shelter until the day cools down. Maybe then take Tonto Trail to Havasupai Gardens. Longer overall, but less strenuous and gets one to water. Or turnaround and go back to Phantom Ranch. No one wants a helicopter ride out of the canyon. Choose poorly and your health or life may be the price 

Sitting in the tunnel to the Black Bridge

Finally we reach the tunnel to the Black Bridge and head across.  Midway I say "How y'all doin'," to  four men heading in the opposite direction. "You from Louisiana?," they ask.

I'm not but they are, and are on a raft trip down the canyon which has put in at the beach.  We chat with them for several minutes and then proceed to the north side of the canyon.  I walk on while Jennifer takes time to view the remains of Native American structures along the river.  I pass a ranger by a misting station warning hikers of the dangers of heading up South Kaibab (it's now about 11 a.m.) and checking to be sure they are prepared with sufficient water.

Phantom Ranch

We reach Phantom Ranch (mile 7.5, 2460 feet, 10:40 a.m.) where Hilary greets us. She had caught up with Cathy and her friends, but by the time we arrive, they are long gone. We go inside, get lemonade, and sit to cool off and have a snack.  I keep glancing at my heart rate, but it stubbornly refuses to drop below 100 bpm (my normal resting pulse is about 60-62).  We mail our pre-addressed, pre-stamped, and for me, pre-written, postcards so they can be carried out by mule.  We top up our fluids, wet ourselves down, and start up North Kaibab Trail - during the time of day (10 a.m. - 4 p.m.) the Park Service recommends that one not hike. Especially on a day when the high at Phantom Ranch will hit 107.

But we think we are prepared so we go.

Leaving Phantom Ranch

The Box to Cottonwood Campground

The hike through the narrow canyon known as the Box isn't strenuous in itself in that it only gains abut 1300 feet of elevation over the 7.2 miles from Phantom Ranch to Ribbon Falls.  But the narrow part of the canyon reflects and retains heat as you follow the course of Bright Angel Creek.  We take opportunities to sit in the shade on the way. Hilary remarks on the remaining posts of the Trans-Canyon Telephone line that follow our path.

After a bit the canyon widens out and we are hiking a shade-less trail.  We spy water on the trail and realize that the Transcanyon pipeline, which runs under the trail is leaking. It is an opportunity to wet ourselves down with the cold water, a process made easier by Jennifer's foresight of bringing a couple of the empty lemonade cups from Phantom Ranch.  A little bit further there is a small streamlet crossing the trail and we repeat the opportunity to wet down.

When we arrive at the intersection of the path to Ribbon Falls, (mile 13) Jennifer and Hilary defer to me whether to continue on or take the detour.  As much as I'd like to I decide that we are pretty far behind time and should press on, so we stay on North Kaibab Trail and go up Asinine Hill (probably called that because choosing to go that way rather than to Ribbon Falls is an asinine decision).  In hindsight, it's a decision that I regret.

We arrive at Cottonwood Campground (mile 14.5) at about 4 p.m.  No hurry for us, we sit, drink, nibble a snack or a gel, and use the facilities. The volunteer there talks with someone leading a hiking group about someone in his group who is having problem. The volunteer suggests that perhaps the person should sit out the night on the porch of the ranger station.

Sign at Manzanita

 Cottonwood to Manzanita

We leave Cottonwood and continue on.  Clouds start to drift across the sky and we root for them to block the sun.  Finally some do, and we get relief from the rays of the sun. We gain another 600 feet of elevation in the 1.5 miles to Manzanita (mile 16). Jennifer goes and soaks in Bright Angel Creek.  Hilary and I wet down from the water spigot. All of us top up our water, as this is the last opportunity to do so (the water at Supai Tunnel is off.)

Manzanita to the North Rim

Now the climbing begins.  Manzanita is at 4600 feet but the North Rim trailhead is 8240 feet.  We will have to climb 3640 feet over the next 5.4 miles.  In comparison, we have ascended only 2120 feet since leaving the Colorado River 8.6 miles ago. 

Fortunately the altitude, the clouds and the shadows from the lateness of the day - 5 p.m. is approaching, are all contributing to a cooler temperature. I notice that my heart rate drops nearly 10 bpm once we were out of the sun.

North Kaibab past Manzanita Rest

The sight of water gushing out of Roaring Springs on the other side of the creek is remarkable.  That is the water source for the North and South Rim developments and Phantom Ranch. 

But we are slowing down.  Jennifer starts to feel a bit ill from an infection she picked up on the flight west.  I'm feeling tired and developing cramps.  Hilary has to deal with the two of us slogging along and calling for increasingly more rest stops.

Looking back to the Redwall Bridge

We get to the Redwall Bridge (mile 18.5, 6000 feet, about 6:45 p.m) and stop and chat with an older couple.  They are headed up and ask us to tell the person who is meeting them that they are fine.

As we go along we try to see if we can get cell reception to tell our families of our progress. Occasionally Jennifer can receive messages, but sending is a failure.  I had made dinner reservations for 8 p.m. at the Grand Canyon Lodge but it is clear that we will not be making it.

We pass thru Supai Tunnel (mile 19.5, 6800 feet, 7:30 p.m.). Another hiker points out some Steller's jays. Upward we go as the light starts to fade.

Here a decision I made days ago come back to haunt me.  I knew from my rim-to-river two years ago that I would not need a headlamp at the start.  I figured that we would easily be done in 13 hours, or by 6 p.m., so there was no need to bring lights.  Now that faulty decision was coming to haunt us.

Fortunately Jennifer had a flashlight and Hilary had a light too. If need be, I could use the light on my phone. But staying with Jennifer, I can navigate with her light.

After Supai Tunnel Hilary pushes on while Jennifer and I continue up the steep switchbacks.  We see a light above and surmise that it is Hilary waiting for us at the Coconino Overlook. That proves correct when we get there (mile 20.5, 7730 feet, 8:16 p.m.).

More switchbacks follow for the final ascent, but that also means I sit down again to rest.  Hilary, who is a bit ahead, comes back, and says we need to keep going as it is getting dark and colder.  I tell her that a rest is more important to me.  Having been held back by my pace and believing I didn't do enough core and strength training, while at the same time nagging her about her lack of trail and time-on-feet training, she expresses her frustration.  At the top of her lungs. In salty language. Then she turns around and heads up the trail at a pace fueled by frustration and anger.

Jennifer and I get to our feet and continue our slow pace upward.  The sight of aspens perks me up, as Cathy had told us they only grow above 8000 feet, and when they are sighted, you are close to done.

We meet someone headed down to meet another hiker, and then Jennifer's companion appears to greet her.

North Rim

I top out and stop my watch by the iconic North Kaibab Trailhead sign (mile 22.2, 8241 feet, 8:45 p.m.). It's dark and it takes a couple of minutes to locate the rental car driven 210 miles from the South Rim to meet us. Hilary is in the car with Sandy, waiting for my arrival.

We have missed our dinner reservations at the Lodge, but we get pizza and beer in the adjacent Saloon just before it closes.

The view from Grand Canyon Lodge

Epilogue

We have breakfast in the Grand Canyon Lodge the next morning and admire the view of the canyon from the lodge's porch.  Jennifer and her companion head to Page to visit the slot canyons.  Hilary get a ride to Phoenix Airport with one of the East Valley Runners. Sandy and I leave around noon to head to Bluff UT, the Valley of the Gods, Four Corners and Santa Fe.

About 6 p.m. on June 1 the power fails on the North Rim and the facilities are closed for several days.

Lightning ignites the Dragon Bravo Fire on July 4. By the time it is finished it has burned 145,504 acres. It becomes the seventh largest wildfire in Arizona history, and on July 13 it destroyed the Grand Canyon Lodge and many other structures on the North Rim. It burned down North Kaibab Trail to Supai Tunnel. One fiefighter died of a heart attack. As I write this (September 22) it is unknown when the North Rim or the North Kaibab Trail will reopen.

Dirty German 50K - May 10, 2025

Emaad and Leigh Ann at the start

A non-linear collection of vignettes from Uberendurance Sports Dirty German 50K in Philadelphia. The course was dry and the weather pretty well perfect, albeit a bit warm.  I was able to keep up with Emaad and Leigh Ann for a few miles before their youth and enthusiasm took them away.

Dislocated Shoulder

About mile 19 (about 3 miles into the second of the two 16-mile loops) I come upon a pair of runners.  One is walking very slowly and is clearly in a lot of pain and holding one arm with the other.  I ask if there is anything I can do for him but he replies that he has dislocated his shoulder from a fall. I offer sympathy and ibuprofen. He accepts the former and declines the latter and I go on.

In a short while I spot someone heading in the opposite direction.  He says he is looking for a runner who was reported to be injured and I give him an estimate of how far he has to go. Next is a woman, also headed that way.  She is the runners wife and I provide an update of how far she has to go.  Finally, Race Director Stephan is spotted headed to render assistance.  Later I hear that an ambulance met the runner at where the course comes out at Krewstown Road to render first aid and transport him to a medical facility.

Gravity never takes a holiday.

View from the course.

How Fast Do You Run is the Wrong Question

Someplace around mile 22, on a flat stretch of trail parallel to Pennypack Creek, I overtake Rich, who is walking.  I slow down, greet him, and we begin to converse.  This is his second attempt at an ultra, and I assure him that he won't have any problem finishing this one.  We talk about the difference between trail and road running and I present my six reasons why trail running is better:

• 

  Enjoying the day.

  no mile markers
• softer surfaces
• no repetitive running motion
• better scenery
• better aid station food
• nicer people

He agrees and notes that people often ask him the wrong question: how fast does he run?  Running trails, or ultras, is not about speed.  Except for the elites or the very fast runners, speed is irrelevant. Most of us are out to enjoy the day. We are here to enjoy the journey, not to hurry to the destination.  One may have a finishing time goal in mind, but I don't know of anyone who translates that into a pace.

Ultras are not time trials.

Training tips - stop it! We are trail runners.

Around mile 12, still on the first loop, there are several runners in a group.  One, more experienced than the others, is expounding about training for ultras.  It is painful to hear.  He is laying out elaborate training regimes involving long and short runs, fartleks, speed work, lactate thresholds and more from the dismal world of road runners.

Finally I've had enough of the kill-joy.

"For God's sake! Stop!," I say. "We are trail runners. Unless you seek a podium finish, take all that training bunk and go run on roads.  Train for trail running by running on trails. Run short or long, but keep enjoying the trails you run on.  And if you run enough trail races, each one is the training for the next one.  Enjoy the day!"

Follow the ribbons.

Follow Ribbons, not Runners

The course is very well marked, but it isn't a trail race unless you fall down or get lost. Fortunately, I select the latter.

About ten miles in the wooded, single-track trail has several runners in evident confusion.  They have come out onto a city street that paralells the park, but there are no ribbons on the street, only a traffic cone about 30 yards away. One of the runners reports having gone to the cone, but not seeing a ribbon or trail.  So we do what is recommended - find the last ribbon seen on the course.  It is only about five yards back and it hangs over a fallen log. Looking from there we see that the trail makes a sharp left and we are soon back on our way.

More Than Just an Aid Station Volunteer

At the aid station at mile 24, I linger to chat with one of the aid station workers, Jim Blandford. I saw him there the first loop taking pictures, but now we have time to chat.  He recognizes my Bull Run Run 50 shirt (he is wearing a BRR hat that I have) and we trade BRR stories. He notes that he is doing Massanutten Mountain 100 the following week and I tell my well-worn story of pacing cousin Peter there.  He tells me how the course has that portion of the course has changed since then.

Thoreau's Hut in Pennypack Park

I refill my hydration pack while we talk, grab some cookies, thank him for volunteering and wish him good luck the following week.

Jim is a prime example of what sets ultrarunners apart, for he is not just any ultrarunner.  He will be third at Massanutten the next week, nearly six hours faster than the next person in his age group. It's his third third place finish at MMT, to accompany a first place finish.  In the past 16 years he has never finished lower than seventh at BRR, including three firsts and three seconds.  He has twelve victories in the past 14 years in other ultras.  He is an elite runner, yet here he was dishing out aid to those of us at the far back of the pack. 

This is what makes ultrarunning different. (See bullet point six.)

Bacon and grilled cheese sandwiches

The four aid stations on the course (and the one at the start/finish) are well stocked with the usual ultrarun selections of cookies, potato chips, gels, water and electrolyte solutions.  But each of them is also equipped with a portable grill and are providing runners with grilled cheese sandwiches. But wait - there is more! Freshly grilled, hot bacon!  Many ultras will have grilled cheese, or quesadillas at an aid station, but at all of them?!? Oh, the joy.

This is what makes makes ultrarunning different. (See bullet point five.)

Trail next to Pennypack Creek

Trash Pick-up

As I run (In an ultra "run" means move forward, whatever the pace, including walking. It may also mean stopping to take pictures, admire the scenery or get food at an aid station.) I occasionally spot wrappers on the ground.  Some are clearly from runners who may have tried to put them in their pockets but missed, or had them fall out. (The latter has happened to me.)  I stop to pick one or two up, and it gradually becomes an obsession - not to pick up every bit of litter, as there are the random beer cans, carryout containers and other detritus, but only those that may have come from runners, like gel packs or the little tear-off tabs from gel packs.  It is a bit of OCD behavior, but I gradually can't stop, because it IS OCD behavior.  And I want to leave the park as clean as when the race began. 

Water splash at aid station

The temperatures are rising in the afternoon late in the second loop, and at the third aid station I cup my hands and have the volunteer pour water into the, which I splash on my face to cool off.  It feels good and refreshing.

At the final aid station I repeat the request but as I bring my hands upward the water flies out and more of it winds up splashing the unsuspecting volunteer than me. "If I knew what you were going to do, I would have jumped back," she says good naturedly. "I'll try again," I reply, "but try to have better aim."

First, Last and Only

Rich pulls away from me after we leave the aid station at mile 24 to finish in 8:15. Emaad hangs with Leigh Ann until about mile 22 and then tells her to go on, and she finishes in 7:37; he is 12 minutes behind.

Age group award

I finish in 8:27:14, good for 155 of 177 overall, 97 of 108 males, and first in my age group. Also last in my age group, as I'm the only one in it.  But it is good enough to win a Wetterhaus trophy for the finish.

Swag: Sweatshirt, hat, medal, bib, AG Wetterhaus