Running Across America Week 2
Nipton, CA — Hurricane, UT
Day 8 | Nipton, CA to Jean, NV
Hello Nevada and goodbye creepy desert noises
A 20 minute drive to the start made it the longest one of trip so far. Last night, we went ahead to Primm, NV where we’d stay a second night. The longer drive was at least offset by not needing to pack up the room.
On the way over, I got myself mentally ready to handle the challenge of the day: 19 miles on a trail that went up a mountain and came down to the border on the back side. The kicker was that I wouldn’t have service or a crew stop anywhere on that section. After trekking through the desert for nearly a week already, my irrational fears had subsided a bit, but I was still nervous about snakes and wildlife.
Excelsior Mine Rd is barely used, and I saw just a couple other cars in the 7 miles I was there. Like much of the empty stretches of desert before, very little ambient noise existed besides the wind. At times, the surroundings were so quiet and vast, that any noise I made was quickly absorbed like sound in a recording studio.
A few miles in though, I began to notice an eerie sound that echoed every 10–15 minutes. The best I could describe it is like a low booming or rumbling sound that would start and then slowly fade out. On the first few occurrences, my hairs stood up as this discordant horror movie sound played. Certainly a little creepy while being all alone! After discounting an alien invasion, I tried searching for what could be making the noise. I knew mines were in the area, but also found the “singing” Kelso Sand Dunes were located 40 miles to the south. As sand particles shift on these dunes, their collective weight create a groaning sound.
I couldn’t find any videos with good audio for the Kelso Dunes, but someone else captured essentially what I heard at another sand dune also in California. Also in the gobi desert (low frequency speakers or headphones work best)
To handle the estimated 5 hours needed for the 19 mile, 1700ft elevation stretch of Powerline Rd, I packed an additional 1.2L of water (2.2L total), and 2–3 extra bars right before.
With power lines buzzing loudly on both sides and howling wind drowning out any other sound, my tiny figure made its way up the 7 mile ascent to 5,000 feet. The pressure of not knowing what I’d encounter on the trail and needing to get back down before supplies ran out, gave me an extra boost of adrenaline. With that rush, I ended up reaching the end an hour ahead of my estimate.
The adrenaline put me in a tunnel vision state, and I averaged well below 15min/mi as the only concern became to get up as quickly as possible. My eyes busily scanned the ground for snakes, what rocks looked the most stable, and what was coming up in front. This very deliberate approach was a pretty big contrast from most days where the focus was to conserve mental energy.
The road was decently wide in some places, but the surface was uneven and had large rocks in the first few miles going up. A little more technical that I’m used to, but overall a fun challenge. There were quite a few turns and rolling hills that often hid what was further up the trail. Towards the top, the surface smoothed out to just packed dirt and didn’t pose any trouble.
About a mile and half from the peak, I relaxed my pace a bit since I was ahead of schedule, and could continue to make up time on the 12 mile descent. This gave me time to grab photos of the surroundings and check out some abandoned junk that was nearby
I found an abandoned ATV and numerous piles of animal droppings. That made me a bit nervous since that meant there was wildlife in this area. A google search during a patch where I had service revealed mountain lions and bobcats lived in the desert… which was not reassuring 😅. Luckily I didn’t encounter any other animals since it was daytime, and the road seemed somewhat trafficked by off-road vehicles.
The peak was extremely windy, and this was the first time during the trip that I was at elevation. I couldn’t wait to get down and experience flying down some of the steeper sections. The descent was 2,500 feet over 10 miles where I averaged 9–10:30 min miles.
The view slightly below the peak was beautiful though: a valley had dark swathes of solar panels that looked like bodies of water, and a large whiteish area with 3 really bright metal towers. I saw the white area on the drive yesterday, and hoped to figure out what it was on the trail today. However, even up close I had no idea, but turns out it’s a massive solar generation facility. Over 100,000 movable mirrors on the ground work to concentrate sunlight at the 3 towers causing them to glow.
The CA and NV border was at the same place where the trail ended, so for the last few miles, I had extra motivation to keep pushing hard. That, and the fact I’d just run out of water despite trying to ration it 🙃. Christine met me a couple miles from the end and we made our way towards Primm’s skyline which featured colorful castle turrets and a roller coaster.
After 26+ miles for the day, and nearly 300 miles in total, California was finally complete!
Once the excitement of reaching a new state wore off and I was restocked on supplies, it was time to cut through Primm and continue on a trail next to the interstate for 7 miles. Primm is actually tiny, and basically consists of 3 casino along with gas stations and fast food chains. It was designed as a stopover for those driving to Vegas, or a last chance to gamble before entering California. It seems to be in decline, however, as most of the attractions were closed.
I was mentally tired at this point, but there was still some ways to go until the finish. This next trail was super narrow, and I was back to running on a wedged surface which made my IT band hurt. It felt much longer to complete this section, but I got through it by reminding myself that every step I took would be one that I’d never have to take again on this run.
Finally, the underpass which led to S Las Vegas Blvd came into view. The new road marked the end of trails for the near future! I’d follow this boulevard all the way up to Vegas the next day. The road surface was poorly maintained out here, but I didn’t care as the harder tarmac provided a much more responsive feel.
I didn’t quite reach the original goal of 39 miles for the day, but I gave myself another 30 minutes to try and get as far as possible. Like the night before, Christine drove alongside and we goofed around at the same time!
Day 8 stats: 36.62 miles, 2411 ft elevation https://www.strava.com/activities/8655486289/overview
Day 9 | Jean to North Las Vegas
Vegas (sucks) Baby!
The day began a couple miles outside of Jean which is now little more than a road-side stop. There used to be a few casinos here, but they’ll soon all be gone. Terrible’s (shown above) was the last remaining location, but it’s soon to be replaced with an industrial park. On the way out of this parking lot, I saw my first roadrunner, which I had no idea were so little (certainly not coyote sized)!
Continuing down the road, it was mostly quiet since I-15 ran parallel. Before Vegas, there were some small landmarks that I used as milestones for the day. The first one was Seven Magic Mountains, located around 9 miles in where I also had a crew stop.
The art display involves 7 pillars made of painted boulders that were stacked on top of one another. The installation was a little ways off the road so I didn’t have time to go check it out inside. However, the parking lot looked packed and there was a crowd at the base of the sculptures. It was spring break, and the day was shaping up to be a hot one.
After the first stop, it was a steady downhill all the way to the end of day! Having music (first time with headphones in a week) and knowing that Vegas would be in reach later in the day, gave me a boost that continued until a few miles south of The Strip. Soon, I was running about 2 mins per mile faster than usual and feeling like I’d reached a point in adaptation that would allow me to become stronger with each day.
This ended up being mostly false; how strong I felt on most days was totally up to chance, but there were a handful of days during the trip where I was really able to push the pace the entire time.
Nothing too exciting occurred while getting to the next aid stop, although there was a sizable shoulder between the train tracks and road where I jammed out to music without worrying about cars coming up from behind. I was looking towards the horizon hoping to catch the first glimpse of The Strip’s skyline, which finally happened around mile 19. At this point, all the casinos were still elusively far, with the ‘Welcome to Vegas’ sign still 8 miles away.
A couple miles from where the boulevard turns into a straightaway, I saw a racetrack that allows people to drive supercars, the dark shape of M’s Resort & Casino, and the addition of a lot of billboards advertising stuff to do.
South Las Vegas was a bit of a pain to navigate. On top of waiting for stoplights at super wide intersections, the sidewalk would keep dissappearing on the right side of the road. A lot of new suburbs are being built south of The Strip, so sidewalks exist only where one chunk of houses are… and then go away when between new developments. I saw this pattern across every suburb I ran through, and it never made any sense.
Instead of crossing back and forth on the road to wherever there was a sidewalk, I just ran on this strangely placed median in the middle of the road.
A few more miles of hustling past strip malls and casinos, the ‘Welcome to Vegas’ sign came into view. For the past 8 and a half days, Las Vegas had been a guiding force that got me through the desert and acted as the first major milestone city en route to NYC. To get to this point, I’d covered 300+ miles, and essentially completed the “solo” version of The Speed Project.
For this first section of the Transcon, I was so excited to reach Vegas that I forgot just how much I disliked The Strip from previous vacations 🙃.
I showed up to the grassy area under the welcome sign sweaty and out of breath from sprinting the past half mile. A sizable crowd gathered under the sign, and busloads more people were waiting in a line to grab a photo. I squeezed past some tourists, grabbed a quick video off to the side, and was outta there. Did I mention the whole area stunk because it’s right across the street from an airport where jets and helicopters blasted the area with exhaust?
Continuing on, my feelings of accomplishment at having covered over 1/10 of the country quickly faded as The Strip’s smoke and mirrors failed to impress me. I’d been to Vegas twice before, and I remember the magical feeling being absent on the second visit. Overall, I think the casinos look better at night as I kept thinking that’s it? at a bunch of them.
Continuing further down The Strip, I became increasingly more irritated at the egregious pedestrian design. A ton of time was wasted being corralled up and down skywalks because some dolts couldn’t just make a crosswalk across an ordinary intersection (they literally build walls/fences at certain intersections). It’s purposely built like a maze near casinos to force people to go in. At a construction site across from the Bellagio, I was stranded trying to figure out how to cross the road without needing to run through an entire hotel. The correct staircase was intentionally disguised.
After an hour and a half of weaving through spring breakers, I was finally free of The Strip. Downtown Las Vegas had far less tourists, and seemed like a completely independent city of its own. Definitely a bit weird to think about, since The Strip gets all the attention. I suppose it’s similar to how NYC is more than just Manhattan! Here, I saw a bunch of motels and, of course, places to get married.
Continuing north from Vegas, the surroundings started to turn into low density sprawl as I entered North Las Vegas. It looked similar to LA with how many parking lots, warehouses, and low-rise apartments there were. The sun was starting to set, but I still had to get a few more miles down as The Strip set me back.
At one point, a man in a wheelchair called out to me as I passed him on the sidewalk. He asked if I could help wheel him “over there” as he gestured to a spot ahead of us. A bit conflicted, I agreed as the back of his hoodie read: If you can be anything, be kind. After a minute or so, I got suspicious because he wouldn’t really specify where. I was reminded of when I offered to help someone in NYC who was also vague about where they wanted to go. He ended up leading me to a store to buy him $20 cigarettes, which I refused. I finally managed to get the man to clarify that he wanted to go to a bus stop, and about 5 minutes later we arrived. He shook my hand, and I continued on for about another mile until the end.
That night, we stayed at a really large RV park, which was a first for me. It was a sight to see so many trailers, and to discover they had huge bathrooms, nice showers, laundry, and a pool.
Day 9 Stats: 37.22 mi, 710 ft elevation https://strava.com/activities/8689010019
Day 10 | North Las Vegas to US-93:
Yell in frustration & throw rocks
Unsurprisingly, the Air Force holds morning exercises quite early in the morning. Christine and I were woken up an hour earlier than usual with the rumbling and roar of fighter jets streaking by. Today would end up being the first time I’d experience the razor edge of “feeling good” and its relationship with quality sleep. I felt drowsy and lightheaded upon getting up, and would have a hard time controlling my emotions on the road.
At the start, I sat in the car trying to will myself to open the door. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place since my mind just wanted to hide, but a constant pressure came from knowing I’d eventually have to get out and begin running.
After 5 or 6 miles in gloomy and super gusty weather, I ran by Nellis AF base where jets screamed by in different formations. My poor eardrums did not appreciate that. Interestingly, as I got close to the end of the base, a line of cars started to head off in different directions. I caught a glimpse of a guy driving a mustang towards Vegas and I assumed he was a pilot on break or something.
The wind continued to blow large clouds of sand onto the road for the next few miles. On top of that, I was also passed by many unmarked blue dump trucks. The smell from their draft was awful, and I guessed they carried septic waste.
Things got hard over the next 10 miles as both the weather and my mood deteriorated. The landscape was dark gray and desolate with nothing except some industrial plants off to the side. It started to rain during this stretch, and I experienced getting buffeted and splashed by the drafts of 18 wheelers for the first time. Most of the traffic on this highway were large trucks that served the factories, and I’d get pushed forwards/backwards depending on which direction the trucks were heading. Their drafts were stronger because wind was already blowing, and I felt like a rag doll being tossed around.
I slipped into a quiet rage, using it as a shield against everything being thrown my way. Frustration turned into fuel as I focused on just one emotion, refusing to let the circumstances find any cracks in my resolve. Over and over, the wind would gust and push me to the side while big trucks rumbled past kicking a spray of mist in their wake. Between flashes of annoyance, I‘d remind myself the only thing I could do was to keep moving and roll with the punches.
I thought about Nedd Brockmann a lot today. He ran across Australia in 2022, and endured some incredibly gnarly injuries. Nothing could keep him down, and I felt a bond of some sort as he’s just a year older than me.
I wrote earlier that I “felt like a rag doll”, but that was an exaggeration I told myself in the moment. Sure, the weather wasn’t ideal and there was traffic, but I wasn’t constantly getting pummeled by wind and rain in reality. That’s just the way things felt like in that headspace. When doing something that’s hard, I’ll sometimes make the activity seem bigger than it actually is to justify complaining about it. Unfortunately this creates a loop where it feels good to indulge in self-pity, but also inflates the challenge with more obstacles than it inherently has.
The true difficulty level of a challenge isn’t how objectively hard it is, it’s how hard we consciously or subconsciously decide to make it.
Around 20 miles in, I turned onto US-93 for a big detour that would take a day and a half in order to get to Moapa, NV. The rain subsided for the most part, but there’d be occasional showers and low fog that covered the tops of mountains nearby. The first few miles of this highway were a slow climb, with a view of a mountain in front that would come in and out of view.
A few miles later, the rain finally stopped and I took off my rain jacket’s hood. All of a sudden, it was like someone hit the mute button. For the past few hours, there’d been a constant rustling sound as the jacket moved around, and the sudden quietness felt a bit surreal. I did a quick 360 to appreciate the silence and take in the large valley that was off to my left
I was in a pretty good flow state from miles 20 to 30, but after 30 it became hard to focus again. It just felt really hard to imagine being on the road for over another hour while the mileage count ticked up ever so slowly. I dealt with this challenge a lot even on good days, but it was consistently a hurdle on days where I didn’t sleep well. I got through the next few miles by, as cheesy as it sounds, imagining that David Goggins was running next to me while shouting motivational stuff.
Christine ran me in the last mile or so as the sky began to clear and there was a bit of a sunset. I remember being grateful that there was at least an easy end to the day after the difficulties earlier. The most important thing was to just show up and get it done no matter how I felt in the moment.
We camped on BLM land for the first time that night right off the side of the highway. It was super convenient, but a bit creepy for me when it got dark out. We were eating dinner, and got spooked when some random person pulled in nearby and started doing target practice on some metal cans in the dark.
Day 10 Stats: 35.23 mi, 1886 ft elevation, https://www.strava.com/activities/8693599615
Day 11 | US-93 to Moapa
Extra sleep and the shortest commute of the entire run made for a smooth start to the day. With the great weather as well, it was one of the first times I’d experience how a “good” day usually always followed a “bad” day.
Unfortunately, just a few miles down the road, a driver nearly clipped me and inspired my rant series on IG stories about awful drivers. At that moment, I was running in the paved shoulder admiring the view of the road stretching into the horizon. All of a sudden, I hear a car gun its engine and as I look back, this white blur zooms past in the lane right next to me. As I turned, my eyes saw movement, but my brain didn’t quite process what was happening until a second later. Luckily, my body instinctively drifted away from the road when I turned.
On highways with just a dotted median line, passing other cars is a frequent occurrence. It was an incredibly scary thing to deal with in Utah, Arizona, and Pennsylvania. Unfortunately, 90% of the time, assholes would always choose to overtake the slower car while right next to me. I was certain it was intentional as the other 10% of the time, drivers safely did it further behind me, or waited until they’d passed me already.
Luckily, the rest of the day was much better, although I spent the rest of the time on this highway being paranoid and constantly checking backwards for cars. Down the road, I looked back and saw an 18 wheeler changing into the oncoming lane to overtake a van. Wild stuff.
The weather started off clear and the landscape looked amazing with jagged rock formations on both sides of the road. Slowly, it got cloudier and cloudier as some thunderstorm clouds rolled in. Later in the afternoon, I had a fun time trying to outrun a storm.
15 miles in, I reached Coyote Springs which was devoid of anything except this sign and a golf course. Here, I turned off of US-93 onto a much quieter state highway and continued towards Moapa. I-15 continued there after Vegas, but since no side roads existed, I had to make this detour north and then southeast.
Just before the second crew stop, I ran out of water and food, but was in an area with no service. The plan was to meet Christine every 10 miles or so, but there was often some variation to that depending on where she could pull off. So, with no supplies, and no way of knowing how far away Christine was, I had to make a decision on how far to keep going.
First, I made sure to get every drop of water from my bottles, while remaining calm. I figured I’d give myself 15 minutes before reassessing the situation and deciding if I’d have to use my Inreach. In that time, a truck passed me going in the same direction, and then came back around a few minutes later. I was tempted to ask if they’d seen the van, but didn’t end up asking. Thankfully, about a mile later, I saw the van and we decided on frequent “leapfrogging” in future areas without service.
Following the second stop, two different storm clouds approached. One was directly overhead and passing diagonally, while the second one was much larger and to my left. It looked like the one in front had a bit of rain, but overall was pretty harmless. The other storm seemed more ominous and had already covered the area where I was an hour ago in darkness.
Unsure whether there’d be lightning, Christine stayed close in case I’d need to jump into the car. Luckily though, I managed to stay ahead of the storm for the rest of the day, and it moved laterally instead of any closer to us. Still, it was really cool to see a split in how the sky and landscape looked! To my right, it was bright and sunny, while on the left a lightning storm was already raging.
Past this, the landscape became really beautiful. The road had small rolling hills, gentle curves, and Moapa Valley was spread out below when I reached 26 miles for the day. What really stood out were the swathes of green that dotted large areas of the valley. Having been in the desert for over a week, it was quite surprising to see something other than pale sand and prickly brushes!
Inside the valley, ranch style houses made up a suburb which featured tons of vegetation and what looked like palm tree farms. It definitely felt like I stumbled upon an oasis! Horses grazed outside some of the houses, while dogs barked inside fences at others.
The rest of the way was a gentle downhill and I enjoyed taking into the views as it approached golden hour. To my left and behind, the storm cloud was still there as it shrouded the tops of some mountains. An additional cloud hung over the landscape and a curtain of mist extended below it. Apparently that’s what rain looks like from a distance, which I’ve never experienced. Incredibly cool! More mountains lay in front along with mesas.
At one point, I sprung a nosebleed (happened a few times in the desert actually). Luckily I carried extra TP in my vest for “roadside relief”, and plugged the leak. Unfortunately, I probably looked like a lunatic while running with my head tilted way back as I passed a house with a bunch of kids playing in the front.
At the end of the day, we drove past a segment of the next day’s route, and I realized I’d messed up. Before setting foot in the desert, the assumption was the landscape would be completely flat, so I could just run in the sand next to the interstate. In the car though, I looked over and saw that numerous deep canyons cut across the landscape. With some being over 100 ft deep, there was no way I’d be able to run across.
That night, it was a scramble to try and find an alternate route. The trail options either didn’t show up on any trail app besides Google Maps (never trustworthy on its own for off-roading), or only appeared in satellite view. In the end, it was already past 11pm, and I dejectedly went to bed without a plan besides driving the 5 mile stretch.
Day 11 stats: 35.3 mi, 971 ft elevation https://www.strava.com/activities/8699297573
Day 12 | Moapa to Mesquite
Knowledge forged from trials
I went to bed exhausted, and one blink of an eye later, it was time to get up.
Last night, I was upset at needing to drive because it felt like cheating the distance. If I’d planned better, I might’ve figured out a way to go on foot. However, this was still very early in the Transcon, and I hadn’t realized I cared more about just going the distance and overcoming obstacles (including stuff not going to plan), than running every inch.
This bothered me overnight, and sleep felt like it lasted only a second. Going to bed late cut into our regular 8 hours, but we also lost another hour to daylight savings too! This whole time, we thought the time change would happen tonight instead 😂. Obviously, I woke up very groggy, and a mental battle was in store for the day.
After a quick 4mi trek to Glendale, I hopped in the van to reach a truck stop where I could get on Old US-91. Old 91 runs to the right of I-15, but it’s separated by a fence from the interstate. Like in the Mojave, I-15 has a large buffer area between the road and a fence for keeping wildlife out. I ran along that for a bit trying to find a gap in the fence that I could duck through.
When there didn’t seem to be one, I had to balance on a barbed wire and jump over the fence top while trying not to cut myself. Luckily I was fine, and found the trail that was Old 91. The path was mostly flat, although some sections dipped down and came back up. The mini canyon above was off to my right at one of the dips.
Other than some people on ATV’s I encountered early on, the road was nice and quiet (except for a peeing cow…). The path was walled by tall bushes in places which reminded of Hell’s Tunnel along the Keys100 course.
Lack of sleep made this section one of the challenging parts of the day. With the latest start time yet at 10 AM, a part of me irrationally believed I can probably still finish around 5 if I just run faster and stay disciplined every mile. Shaving off an hour is totally doable. Starting and finishing later felt like I was failing in some way. In my mind, there was an expectation that Transcon runners had to be up early and ready to go. Beginning later in the day just seemed less respectable. I sometimes feel this in normal training too, and it’s a result of associating getting up super early with self worth when I picked up running.
Despite not realistically being able to shave much time off, my brain still wanted to maintain faster splits. In the few miles I ran faster than 12 min pace, I felt a little boost. However, most miles were slower especially as the temperature rose. It felt like I had only enough mental energy to hustle one or two miles before defaulting back to a more autopilot effort. Also, factors like retying shoes and stopping to take photos required going faster to make up for the stopped time.
Luckily Christine and Moose came out a few miles from the next aid stop and got me out of my head. Apparently, they’d hiked up a big climb that I could also see on my elevation map. I’d been confused all morning because the landscape looked like it was going up instead of down.
Right where the road turns in the photo above, it’s the edge of a massive canyon that’s completely hidden unless you’re right next to it. The view was gorgeous with mesas rising up from the floor and the mountains I’d been looking at forming a backdrop. The rocks here were also a bright shade of orangish red.
The descent was around 500ft over 2 miles, which was surprisingly long. I was out of water at this point, and cold fruit cups and coconut water at the van felt so good.
Following the canyon, I ran by the Virgin River and a ghost town that has rumors of someone chasing tourists with a shotgun and rotweillers. I knew the river would be outside of St George where I’d reach in a couple days, but didn’t expect it down here. The water looked super muddy, and the wind carried a very strong smell of wet dirt.
The remaining 10 miles of the day were difficult once again mentally. The road leading into Mesquite had miles and miles of “bunny hills”, which taunted me with never ending ups and downs. It was extremely hot and I must’ve smelled terrible because gnats from the river would not leave me alone.
On top of external factors, a war was raging inside my head. Everyday was a new battle that had to be endured and won. I was less than 2 weeks in, and the monumental scale of the entire journey was becoming clear. It was unfathomable to imagine surviving a day like today 76 more times. I just didn’t want to do this anymore. These thoughts met an unwavering resolve, however. In some deep-rooted section of my brain, the desire to see this through and never quit remained steadfast. No matter how awful I felt, I knew I’d never allow myself to stop. These two forces made it feel like my brain was tearing itself apart at times.
Eventually though, I made it to Mesquite. Today was a testament to no matter how difficult the running is, as long as you keep moving, the destination will always come at some point. That’s the true definition of “endurance sport”. I’d never thought too hard about the term, and just figured it referred to going far. However, it’s really more like going far as a result of the sheer ability to withstand any form of physical or mental challenges over an extended period of time. Endurance during the Transcon didn’t just mean running 35 miles a day, that was relatively easy, it also meant surviving the ‘round the clock stress everyday for 3 months straight.
Later that night, I imagined what it would feel like to quit. 12 days was a decent amount of time, but not enough to make an impact. I knew if I quit then, I’d go home and it would feel like nothing had happened. I vowed to hang on at least until the run had left a “mark” on me.
My parents were also urging me to take a rest day, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. First, I just wouldn’t be able to relax much, and second, it was the overall length of the trip that weighed upon me. 88 days just seemed far too long, and a rest day would merely push the end further away. I was trapped in a pressure cooker and the only escape was to finish as quickly as I could.
Day 12 stats: 34.26 mi, 951 ft of elevation https://www.strava.com/activities/8705480897
Day 13 | Mesquite, NV to Washington CO, UT
The paradox of non-striving
After a much needed long night of sleep, I was noticeably better at taking obstacles at face value instead of amplifying them in my mind. Good thing too, because today’s route had an extremely hot 18 mile climb with the most elevation gain for the entire trip.
Mesquite, NV is just a bit over a mile away from the border with Arizona, so pretty quickly after starting, the Arizona welcome sign next to the interstate came into view. I’d continue through a tiny section of the upper left corner of the state before crossing into Utah 17 miles later. First double state crossing!
Nothing notable occurred during the first 10 miles, other than it was slow going in part due to some pinky toe discomfort. I thought my feet were swelling, and switched to a pair of shoes that were wider, but weren’t as enjoyable because of the extra weight. With 2500 miles still to go, it was imperative to deal with anything that hurt early on. It turned out to be just a corner of my toenail that I didn’t trim 😅.
With 3500+ ft of climbing today, I could feel an internal shift towards making sure it was a sustainable effort. The number alone wasn’t that scary, but it carried some significance by being more than any climb in the Rockies or Appalachians.
Physically, I didn’t do anything differently, the approach was to just run it as normal and assess if I was more sore the next day. Mentally, however, sustainability involved letting myself be okay with going slower and finishing later. An additional hour when crossing into Utah would be lost today too. Not attaching an outcome to the day allowed the expectations about pace and finish time I struggled with yesterday to remain a low simmer instead of a boil.
That’s not to say the climb was easy, I just didn’t make it any harder than it already was 😅
With a very monotonous landscape along the highway, it felt like I moving in place for much of the 18 miles. This was the only road for many miles, with the only interesting feature being a subtle bend right before the Utah border. It stretched on for so long that the outline disappeared, and I had no luck trying to see where along the mountain it went up.
Sometime in the afternoon, I was getting really frustrated at how the mountain in front seemed no bigger. Only the sun’s position had changed. Looking backwards, I was actually surprised to see a good distance covered, but despair came from looking forward again and wondering how much longer I’d have to endure. From this, I discovered that it was actually quite therapeutic to just air out my frustrations by saying out loud everything that sucked.
Although it’d felt like I’d been climbing for a very long time, my splits showed that I was making pretty decent time actually. It was a surprise to see that my pace was faster than perceived speed, despite no longer actively striving for speed. This realization highlighted how consciously worrying about pace was just a distraction that disguised itself as working hard. When focusing on just running and accepting whatever number came up for each mile, it felt like I was giving up. The sudden absence of not needing to worry about pace left a feeling of needing to do more.
And thus is the paradox of non-striving. By exerting less effort and control, I gave my mind and body the space it needed to do its thing. Basically I just remembering to get out of my own way!.
28 miles into the day and many sips of cold coconut water + fruit cups later, the climb was finally over. The “summit” was quite disappointing; tall hills and peaks rose up on the sides and blocked the view I was hoping for. Highways are convenient in that they have a grade limit so climbs will never be that steep, but they also typically choose the lowest point to pass through.
A little bit down the descent, however, some snow-capped mountains came into view with red rock formations at their base. This is also when I entered into the Shivwits band of Pauite’s Reservation. This was a relatively small reservation at around 5 sq miles, so I didn’t know about it beforehand. The general advice for crossers is to route around native land because visitors are usually frowned upon. The Navajo Nation tends to be an exception to this rule.
A sense of gravity accompanied being on native land, and I felt the need to tread more carefully. It’s similar to being in a museum where you’re careful not to touch or break anything. Normally, I didn’t think twice about running off to the side of the road, but here I tried to stay as close as I could. Likewise with relieving myself… the highway’s state property so no one cares 😛.
At the end of the day, I ended next to a valley and it seemed like it was the first major change of scenery! I’d left the Mojave for a landscape that was still sandy, but now covered in more types of flora and red rock formations. These features would accompany me for much of Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico until the Rockies.
We stayed the night at an RV park nearby at Gunlock State Park. The space was beautiful at sunset with it’s lake and mountain view. At night, it was dark enough at night that I saw the milky way for the first time in my life!!
Day 13 stats: 32.27 mi, 3668ft elevation https://www.strava.com/activities/8710444341
Day 14 | Washington CO — Hurricane
1/6 of the way!
Today marked the end of the second week. In theory, surviving for this long meant I had what it took to reach NYC, according to Jason. At a quick glance, it might seem silly to base the remaining 10 weeks on just the first 14 days, but that’s more or less how ultrarunning works! As the distance for a race or multi-day effort increases, the longest runs in training typically don’t increase beyond a certain point. While training for my last 100, I never went beyond 28 miles for a long run. Instead, I stacked big days back to back to teach my body to handle fatigue.
The same concept applied here. Two weeks certainly wasn’t enough time to fully adjust yet, but at least there was a sense of the rhythm that was necessary to get through each day. Being able to power through the first 2 weeks was a pretty good indicator of if an individual can continue to do so for the rest of the way.
The opening miles of the day were on a pretty big downhill, continuing from 3800ft down to St George which was around 2600ft. Right as I started, another runner came up in the opposite direction. He had long hair and carried a pole with red cloth tied to it. We exchanged nods as we passed and continued on our separate journeys. It’s likely he was a native member of the Shivwits band.
Towards the eastern edge of the reservation, a bike lane on the side of the highway provided a really wide shoulder. It was a nice surprise to see cycling infrastructure built in this area. After turning north to reach Ivins, UT, I followed a bike trail down to St George before joining another trail that followed the Virgin River. Ivins seemed to be a suburb with lots of new construction, and it was great to see non-car infrastructure being incorporated!
En route to downtown St George, there were a lot of rock formations/buttes and ample access to conservation areas with hiking trails. I ran along a main road for a few miles, passing by some residential communities and a huge golf course under construction. I’m not really sure what I expected to find in St George, but the downtown was really just a standard suburb with one commercial street featuring hotels and businesses. The residential areas before downtown looked a lot cooler with their red clay construction and terraced landscaping.
Coming from New York, every time I hear of a place deemed to be a city, I imagine something a lot bigger. However, in Utah, as long as a place has 100 residents, it can be called a city. In East Coast terms, St George is just a large town with really good access to the outdoors and beautiful views (when it’s not raining).
A few miles outside of the downtown area, I joined the Virgin River Trail which wound for 7 miles past commercial areas, houses, parks, and between large mesas. Except for the last couple miles, most of the trail was just like any ordinary bike trail: flat and not all too exciting. While trails were always nice to take and get off the road, it was always a challenge to stay motivated when all the stimulation from the road is sudden gone.
I thought I’d struggle with having nothing to think about on the road, but for much of the time, there was always something in the moment that needed my attention. Where the landscape was beautiful, I’d marvel at that, and when there was nothing around, I’d always be focused on watching the cars that were coming at me. Here, there was no stimulation from the environment or from cars, and I couldn’t even use my phone once per mile as a reward because of the rain 😅.
Luckily, towards the end, the trail wound around the base of various mesas whose cliffs had cool patterns and smaller formations that jutted out.
After the trail, I found myself in a more rural area within a valley. There was a lot of empty space broken up by occasional housing communities that were being constructed. A couple miles later, pavement gave way to dirt, which was slick from the rain. It was fun slipping with each step and trying to run in shoes that were three times heavier from the mud.
After an initial climb, I got to see the river and surrounding areas for the first time. Further up the hill, a jeep came barreling down drifting through corners. Just as fun for me to see, but nowhere near so for Christine, was when she tried to drive our 25' foot van up the same hill and got stuck in place. I got hit with karma for laughing though as I discovered the toilet paper in my vest had gotten soaked through during a certain “squat break”.
Luckily she made it up after 10 minutes of sliding back and forth (so she says), and from there it was pretty straightforward til the end.
The rest of the dirt road was a bit spooky with the low fog and overall remoteness of the surroundings. At one point, I even passed a large orchard with black trees. At this point, I was starting to get cold from my wet shorts sticking to my legs, but I managed to power through the home stretch.
In the motel afterwards, hot water had never so good after I kicked off my cold damp clothes and defrosted in the shower.
Day 14 stats: 36.39 mi, 1299ft elevation https://www.strava.com/activities/8716036504
