Moab 240 Pacing - A long walk in the desert
It’s taken me forever to write about this because Moab and everything that came with it was super hard for me. It fell conveniently a few days before my 24th birthday. For me birthdays are the only holiday I celebrate. I hate Christmas the most and the rest are just another day off work. But I digress. My favorite holiday was fast and approaching and I wanted to start my 24th year out right. And most of all I wanted to spend it with the people that I cared the most about! I made a fabulous plan to get a few days with my running family, a few days with my climbing friends, and a few days flying my paraglider. All I needed was my partner to icing the cake. But that was the heart breaking part. He didn’t want to go. He thought the drive was too long. He didn't understand why it even mattered to me. Ironically just weeks later he drove all the way to Moab for another woman. This is why I can finally write about this because I am no longer sad. So lets begin, I was on the road alone to enjoy my birthday the best I could.
My first night on the road in the van didn’t go as planned. I got woken in the middle of the night by the cops and ended up just driving all 12 hrs pretty much straight to Moab. When I arrived in the morning the race had already started and I missed Karen by a few hours. That was okay though because I planned to pace her for half of the race which would turn out to be 120 miles worth of pacing. Her husband Phil was excited to adopt Lopi as his new buddy and I settled in the truck for the next 5 days of pacing. I was looking forward to being out of cell service.
Phil and I spent most of the day hanging out at Hamburger Rock in Indian Creek waiting for Karen to show up. She showed up a little after sunset looking great and we made a plan, ate some food at the aid station, and kept on moving. The plan was that Phil would be able to make it to the next aid station and she would be able to sleep and get her stuff together there. As things would go… nothing ever went as planned at the Moab 240. We spent the next 12 miles catching up after a year or so of not seeing each other. I think the last time we ran together was when I paced her at the Western States. Spirits were still high as we came into the next aid station. But that is when everything changed. “Where’s Phil!?” I remember Karen asking. I ran up and down the campground looking and looking but I couldn’t seem to find him. I was certain the truck would be able to make the drive but I also had never driven a enormous camper. He’s not here I repeated. He must be at the road.
That’s when her friend Derek showed up and informed us that the truck wasn’t able to make the drive. A few swear words from Karen but there was nothing we could do. The truck was at least a 5mile detour off of the course. I reassured Karen that everything would be okay and we would just eat the aid station food and sleep in the sleeping tent and it would be fine. She sent Derek back to the truck to get a change of clothes and few other things and then she headed off for the sleeping tent. I stayed by the campfire tired, but not destroyed, I tried to catch a few moments of sleep sitting up right in a chair by the fire wrapped in a barely warm wool blanket. Needless to say it was a rough night for all of us. We had about 40 more miles till we would see the truck again which would mean another full day of walking. Karen said the sleeping tent was cold and was lacking blankets not to mention loud. She didn’t sleep. The icing on the cake for that aid station was they had minimal volunteers and seemed to be out of all of there food already. Derek saved the day with a few things to make the next 40 miles a little more comfy and Karen and I hit the trail just before sunrise.
The next section went on forever. We were both in a bad mood from the night before, and I wasn’t feeling talkative from a heavy heart and the overwhelming loneliness that a cold night in a chair shivering will do. We turned on a few podcasts for this section just to pass the time without feeling obligated to talk. And finally the aid station showed up. This aid station lifted our spirits like none other. The volunteers were loud and hilarious. I fed off of there energy and they even gave Karen a shoulder massage and made me a heart shaped pancake with peanut butter. I didn’t want to leave! As we jogged out of the aid station we knew this next section was going to be a death march. We finally had a bit of uphill but it was over 20 miles long. I knew we would see the sunset before we got to the next check point. But spirits were finally high and I was able to chat a bit here and there. Spirits didn’t stay high for long though. The course crossed the river maybe 10 times. It would go over it and then back over it two steps later. It wasn’t fun. And finally about half way we had to call it. Karen laid down on a rock in the shade and I laid down in the middle of the warm trail. Thinking I’d just lay down while she napped I lost consciousness immediately. 15 minutes later I woke in a panic. Woah how long was I out what’s going on I felt confused. Karen was still on the rock so I felt a sense of relief as I took some drugs, ate some food, and sat up off the trail. A few seconds later a runner came up the trail. Karen got up and we chatted. Then it seemed everyone showed up. My friend Scott was there with the camera and maybe another group of 4 runners passed us. It was the first time we had seen people all day. That motivated Karen to get moving and we started off again.
The nap revitalized us. We were finally moving good again. Karen powered up the uphill with the sun quickly vanishing. It was maybe another 3 miles to the aid station and I was hopeful we wouldn’t be in the dark for super long. As we walked up the last little climb to the aid station the sun finally fully disappeared and we pulled our headlamps out. Mine was quickly loosing strength so I was prepared to march it out in the dark if need be. But next thing we knew the aid station appeared. The plan was that Karen would do the next two sections alone and then I would pick her up for the next night time. Karen fell asleep in the camper and I curled up with Lopi in the back of the truck cab. It was one of the coldest nights of my life. Dipping down to 12 degrees. Training for winter ultras I kept telling myself.
I was relieved to have the next few sections off. I was exhausted and just needed some time to get feeling good again. At this point we had been out of cell service for a few days and I felt the much needed time away was helping me heal. Karen styled through the next sections but her feet were already absolutely destroyed. Finally through the 100 mile mark she was nearly half way done. I picked her up in the middle of the night as we started the last big climb up and over the La Sal mountains. It was cold but not nearly as cold as the night before and I was finally feeling normal again. I told story after story after story. The miles went by quickly as we laughed and talked about everything and anything. I got cell service here and there and we chatted with her friends back in Calgary as we marched on. This was the best section of the entire course. Beautiful single track twisting through the mountains overlooking the desert far below. As the sunset once again we rolled into the last aid station to another epic. The truck wasn’t there. Phil wasn’t there. Karen sat beside the heating lamp repeating. No you don’t understand this isn’t like Phil. Phil should be here. My friends Willy and Kate were cooking food and I got one of my best meals of the race. I went back to Karen to make a plan. It’s okay I repeated I’ll just do the next section with you. Don’t worry it’ll be okay. Then came a big black lab tackling me to the ground. Lopi I screamed. Phil was there but had parked a bit away. Not realizing we would come in so soon. Karen got the sleep she needed and her friend Derek decided to take her the next section.
When she finally arrived at the 200 mile mark she was looking and feeling great… other than her feet of course. She only had two sections left and all the time in the world to do them. She didn’t mind walking alone during the day time so she headed off on the next section alone with the plan for me to take her the final section into the finish. I was excited. It was finally coming together. All the time on the trail everything was finally happening. She arrived at the last aid station in good spirits. Our friends from the Bridgerjacks aid station were there and we had a big party of good food and massage trains. My heart was so full and happy I couldn’t wait to get moving. Karen and I started the final section and I may have had a few tears in my eyes. The last section flew by. We went from beautiful single track trails up and over to wild jeep trails to finally a road that never ended to the finish. But just after sunset we blasted through the finish. Karen having traversed 240 miles of sandy roads in the past 4 and a half days. It was a strange feeling for me. 120 miles on my legs. I was dirty and tired. Karen went back to the camper to get clean and ready for bed while I chatted a bit with friends at the finish. My friend Amanda showed up that night and we made plans to climb the next day. Karen headed back to Canada and I said my good byes to my Canadian family.
The next portion of my trip was good times with good friends. Climbing and flying my paraglider avoiding at all the cost the inevitable feelings of having to go back to California and face the overwhelming loneliness and sadness that had clouded my life. And that is why this report has come 2 months late. It’s because I have been feverishly running away from Truckee trying at all costs to avoid the inevitable feelings that needed to be felt. But I think I've felt them now and I know I will continue to feel them. But hopefully now with a layer of positivity for the future.
