White Rim in a Day and Transcendence
Ever since before April 17, I’ve had this gnawing thought in my mind about riding the White Rim Trail in a Day. I’ve been reading blogs, looking at Strava files, reading the profile and course on Trailforks, and working to understand how I would someday do this ride. I got a taste of the White Rim Trail on April 17, when I rode out and back in a 46 mile ride. I wasn’t yet ready at the time, and I didn’t know if I could ride my fat bike (my chosen steed for bikepacking), but that taste on April 17th definitely left me wanting to come back and ride the whole loop.
The White Rim Trail is a 99-mile loop in Canyonlands National Park on a backcountry jeep road with double track terrain that has various consistencies of sand, packed dirt, and slick rock. It gets its name from the White Rim Sandstone formation below the Island in the Sky mesa. The views are spectacular: With the snow-topped La Sal mountains off in the distance, the road itself traverses along the canyon’s edge, leading you to see the Colorado River and Green River valleys below, and viewing the walls and castles of red rock formations above and all around you. People ride this trail either in the Spring or Fall, before it gets dangerously hot in Moab. Many people bikepack this trail in 3–4 days with tour companies, supported by a vehicle with them, because there is NO water along the trail until you get to the Green River (and even there you’d have to traverse at least a little bit to get water, filter it, and then get back on the bike). But then, I’d read how there are these people who do the loop in a day, and the gnawing thoughts began. For someone like myself getting back into Ultradistance bicycling, riding the White Rim in a Day (WRIAD) presented itself as the perfect challenge.
Preparation. Preparation for the WRIAD consisted of physical and logistical preparation. Logistics started with bike choice. My options were my snow bike, a rigid titanium Why Cycles Fat Iron fat bike, and a full suspension, carbon fiber Turner Czar 29er mountain bike. This winter I had started riding this fat bike, and then one day when I took it to the dirt at Green Mountain, I discovered I could ride it on the dirt just as much as the snow, and it has been my steed of choice this spring. And for bikepacking it’s great. One thing I did not know what how it would ride on the slick rock, and also how it would feel on a 100-mile ride, so that’s where the training came in.
The bulk of my training this year so far has been dedicated zone 2 training. I’ve been obsessed with the podcast discussion by Inigo San Milan on Peter Attia’s The Drive podcast, where they talked about building fat-burning mitochondria in slow twitch muscle fibers to build a solid base of fitness, so I’ve been riding my Peloton bike indoors keeping my heart rate in the mid 130s (my MAF — Maximum Aerobic Function — is 133), I have been working on consistency and keeping it there. When I was in Florida without my bike, I ran super slow as well, targeting my Zone 2 rather than going for speed or time. It has been all about building mitochondria. Zone 2, zone 2, zone 2. And training at higher intensities, utilizing glycolytic energy pathways, when my real effort was going to be at an endurance pace, just didn’t make logical sense. I figured I should train the system I would be using, the system that uses free fatty acids as fuel for efforts that will last all day long. So I chose this training plan and went for it.
My first exposure to the White Rim Trail on April 17 helped me realize that yes, I could ride this bike on this terrain and enjoy it, and I also started to get used to the feeling of how to use my body and arms to absorb the bumps and such when riding a bike without suspension. A fat bike without shocks uses the tire pressure as shock absorption, but you still need to ride smart and look for lines, so you don’t get beat up and bounced around. To get more time on the bike I signed up for the 18 hours of Fruita race, and my goal was to ride 100 miles solo, and that was fantastic. I hit 109 miles. In 17 hours. For more about that race, check out my last blog post. I knew that if I got on the White Rim Trail and started in the morning, I could finish this by sunset (but just in case, I’d bring a headlight). With Fruita in the bank, I slept and recovered as best I could in the week leading up to my planned WRIAD.
In addition to training prep, I obsessed a bit (well a lot) about water. I heard that people should carry 5.5 L of water, and as I mentioned, I was uncertain as to whether I’d be able to reload. I carried 3 L on my back, and then added two Lezyne bottle cages to my bike and two bottle holders (Moosetracks) on my handlebars to enable me to carry 5.5 L. I also carried a filter system in case when I got to the Green River I needed to filter more water for my bottles. For food, I’d rely on Justin’s Nut Butters and these Beaded Brothers low glycemic bars. And Ultra Salt tablets with a couple shots of Pickle Juice.
There are a lot of great blogs out there that helped guide my prep. Shout out to Grizzly Adam and the BABS Outside Guide and YouTube video. I decided to do the route clockwise so that Green River would be toward the end of my ride (again in case I needed more water) rather than at the beginning. I also decided to start my ride at the Horsethief Trailhead area right at the top of the Mineral Canyon Road switchbacks, so that after that last mile of climbing I would be at my finish line.
I almost didn’t make it to the starting line. The day before the ride I rode at Navajo Rocks, a beautiful trail with slick rock, trails, and amazing vistas, but I had the most severe abdominal pain I’ve had in quite sometime. I had to get off and walk my bike several times, and cut my ride in half because of the discomfort. Running through my head I wondered what I had eaten to put myself in this predicament? It turns out it was likely an aspartame-containing diet soda I’d had on my drive, as I tried to stay awake and alert on the way to Moab. (Damn, George, really???) Well, I’d go back to the hotel, lay down, try to eat something, and see how I felt in the morning. I managed to drive Mineral Canyon Road to see what that part was like, found my parking spot, and then drove from there to the park to Schafer Trail Road just so I’d know the first 20 miles or so and what to expect the next day. The drive back to Moab from the park was so painful. I kept up hope that I’d be able to ride on Sunday. If not, I planned on Monday (which was my planned day for driving back) to be the day with a drive back at night (less than optimal as I don’t like night driving).
The day. When I woke up, I was feeling better. This was going to be my day. #LFG I was up before 5 AM, had some coffee. Prepared a bit in the hotel, and then set off on the drive to my starting line. I got there at about 6:40 AM and started my prep. There were these guys doing base jumping (now that is truly insane) with a couple guys who were their drivers, and the drivers were fascinated by my fat tires. “Is that motorized?” they asked. “No. It just has big wheels,” I answered.
We chatted a bit more, and one of them asked where I was going to ride, and then said,
“Wow, 100 miles. Why would you ride 100 miles on a heavy bike with big wheels like that?” he asked.
I answered, “Because I’m training for something even bigger.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m training for life,” I answered.
I started out on the road and then the paved road to the park to knock out those 20 miles that are not surrounded by the vistas. I figured those would be mentally really challenging after 80 miles of hard riding, so I wanted them out of the way first. Then I descended into the canyon on Shafer Trail Road, and onto White Rim Trail Road, and now there was no looking back. It literally took me 40 miles of the trail to get everyday life out of my head. I had closed all the loops in clinic at work, but I’ve been machinating lately over an idea for our nonprofit, Team PHenomenal Hope, and this was the time that my mind just decided to work on that over and over and over again. And then I went into this raw self-analysis, of things I had or hadn’t done in the past, and how I could change it in the future. I was getting “really raw and real” with myself, and you know, that was a good thing. As David Goggins says, “Unless you get really raw and real with yourself, nothing is ever going to change.” So there is a lot I took away from those first 40 miles of headspace. A LOT. Right effort. Good work. Let’s go.
Then, at about mile 40 I told myself, “The most important story is the one we tell ourselves,” quoting Jim Loehr, and then let all the rest of it all go. I was now in the moment and saw anew the amazing castles of rock and canyons around me. It was Sunday, and I was so moved that I sang out loud a hymn “Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise God all creatures here below. Praise God above Ye heavenly host. Creator, Christ and Holy Ghost.” And then immediately went into the theme from Jurassic Park. John Williams is my own version of a hymn to the beauty of what was around me. If you’ve been to Moab, you’d get it. It seems like dinosaurs belonged here. It’s otherworldly.
The ride itself was physically challenging. For miles I was alone out there, just me and my thoughts and various songs on my mental soundtrack (now that the ruminations were over), and as I rode I focused on pacing myself and conserving my water. And every time I took a drink of water, I relished it. I literally relished it. It was the best thing I’d ever drank because I knew how life-sustaining it was for me especially in that moment on that day in that place. I’d see dirt bikes from time to time, or mountain bike or jeep tour groups, but most of the time it was just the trail, my bike, and me. This vast space, knocking out one mile at a time. I anticipated the tough climbs, and they came — Murphy’s Hogback and Hardscrabble were so steep that by those points in my ride I did a little push bike. It was okay though. My goal was to keep my heart rate in a manageable range and finish the journey. When I found shade (more of it on the 2nd half of the ride), I’d avail myself of that to take some food, lube the chain, reapply sunscreen, take a picture maybe, and then go again. I was on the clock to finish by sundown, so there was little time for just sitting. Plus it was frigging hot.
At about mile 65 I was out of the water on my back (3 L done), and now refilling from my water bottles on the bike (2.5 L to go). I took the bottles off the frame and put the water into my Camelbak. I talked to another cyclist recovering at the top of Murphy’s Hogback, and some of the jeep drivers that came by. There were like 3 at once, a rush hour of sorts. And then off again, when I was out of water in my backpack I’d be down to 48 oz left. Conserve, PG. Only 35 miles but — did I mention this yet — now it was frigging hot.
As I passed a group doing a 3-day supported mountain bike camping trek, they asked how I was on water. I gave them my honest self-assessment and said, I should be okay. And then they offered to fill one of my bottles to make sure. Wow. I asked twice if they’d have enough for their group. And yes, they said, and filled one of my bottles with cold orange Gatorade. I was going to save this for the final mile climb out of the canyon. Thank you, trail angels. Now I could drink my water a little less miserly (and with that noticed my heart rate came down a notch). Hydration is good (I had not had to pee since about 9 hours ago, and wouldn’t have to until I got back to the hotel. Thank you, kidneys.)
The last 20 miles of the ride was more sand (the fat tires LOVE the sand) and dirt road and less rock, so it was smoother and faster. I made up some time. It also took me from up high on the ridge down to the road right next to the Green River. Exquisite. I thought this was the Garden of Eden, right here, this green space with lush grasses and trees around the Green River amidst the towering red rock canyons.
I stopped to eat one more Justin’s Nut Butter to give myself a little fuel for the final climb, and when I hit the Mineral Canyon switchbacks, the sun was distant in the sky, but I wouldn’t need my light after all. I rode and walked a bit on the steep portion, and rode again to get up this road. I was pretty much spent by this time, but my goal was to finish. And after 12 hours and 30 minutes I completed the 99.78 mile loop.
On to the next. So now that it’s done, surprisingly I’m feeling great. I was a little sore the next day when I hiked up to the Delicate Arch at sunrise, but nothing too severe. My keister was a little sore, but not as bad as I’d expect for not having put in so many ultra rides just yet. And today I got on the Peloton and did a Zone 2 endurance ride and felt, well, normal, and I saw evidence, I think, that there are a few more mitochondria in the bank, with higher sustained power and lower heart rate. I attribute this to the level of effort on that day (Zone 2, fat oxidation, baby) and to fueling (no sugar until the Gatorade of the final climb) with a lot of my own fat utilization for energy. And so now it’s on to the next. This wasn’t the end. There is always another ride or race (and a big one coming up in the summer), and like I said, I’m training for life.
It’s always a struggle to partition one’s efforts. My goal this week is not to sit back or check out mentally, take a few days of mental victory laps, but to get right back at work and work hard. I came to some raw and real conclusions in the desert, so now it’s time to be accountable and keep getting after it.
It’s amazing how a 99-mile ride in the desert is so much more than a 99-mile ride in the desert. I think for those of us who do these things, that these journeys help us get to a new place, physically and mentally, and perhaps find moments of transcendence. Transcendence beyond regular life, moments where we see things from a different plane, and moments when we realize we are capable of more than we imagine. I’m thankful for my health, my bike and the chance to ride the WRIAD. Now it’s on to the next. In the words of David Goggins, keep getting after it.
