I wanted the lemonade: a rim 2 rim 2 rim adventure

2020 brought some interesting changes throughout everyone’s lives. Positive or negative, the entire year was incredibly disruptive. For myself, it brought about forced isolation (not great for an extravert), inability to access gyms, and a stop to any social recreational activities. So, like every other sane person in that time, I decided to take up running ultra marathons. In 2021, one year into my ultra marathon experience, I dove deep into type 2 fun and lost my soul in the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

Quick Stats:

According to Fastest Known Time the Rim to Rim to Rim (R2R2R) route is done on the North and South Kaibab Trails. Total distance is 44 miles and total elevation gain is 10,500 ft. The current fastest known time is held by Jim Walmsley and is 5 hours 55 minutes and 20 seconds. My attempt would not be gunning for the fastest known time, in fact it would take me roughly 3 times as long. I also completed an alternative option by ending my route at Bright Angel Trailhead. Total distance of 43 miles and 12,000 feet of vertical gain.

There is a lot to unpack from this experience and it has taken me over 2 years to even begin to write out the story. What I look back on as the greatest achievement is getting deep into the pain cave and coming out the other side.

Tyler walking through Buckskin Gulch.

The week started out poorly. A highly anticipated trip to the southwestern United States where I was going to explore Buckskin Gulch, Paria Canyon and punctuated by completing R2R2R, was left in doubt by a nagging injury. This was supposed to be my first 100-mile week… spoiler- it didn’t happen. I bailed on Paria Canyon and opted to relax at Harpers Ferry while my running partner, Willie McBride, made the 50-mile trip through. I wanted R2R2R, that’s what I came here for, and damnit I was going to finish it. I didn’t play hooky from a whole week of grad school to not get this thing done. The disappointment of missing out on an epic slot canyon fueled my desire and anticipation as we made the 4ish hour drive from Haper’s Ferry through Flagstaff and on to the South Rim.

Standing on top of Bright Angel Trail on the afternoon prior to our planned start, overlooking the extensive canyon, it was hard to imagine having to drop 5,000 feet into it and then climb out twice. I felt excited, anxious, unsure, and terrified. I had no idea how the next day would go, and doubts swirled.

“How was my leg?”

“How would I handle the heat?”

“Was the elevation going to be a problem?”

“Would the water sources be on?”

It was hard to come to terms with the fact that I had no control over these variables. My prep period had passed now it was time to go for it.

The plan was simple. Take the shuttle to South Kaibab at 5:00am and descend to the Colorado River. We would make it to the north rim and back to Phantom Ranch in the early afternoon, in time for some lemonade and then within 14 hours, be back at the South Rim for dinner. The day started out great, the descent was fast, passing mule trains and following a line of runners down the Canyon. We made it across the suspension bridge in what seemed like no time. We Stopped for a snack at Phantom Ranch and to refill our water. Having been to the Grand Canyon 3 times but never to the bottom, it was special to see a different perspective. We took some time to enjoy the views prior to starting what would be the crux of the run.

South rim while descending South Kaibab Trail.

After a long descent into the canyon, you reach a long, slightly uphill, section across to the North Rim Climb. This section has no shade, little water, and was 85-90 degrees. The sun exposure and heat were not a condition I was prepared for after the wet Pacific Northwest winter. 9-ish miles of gradual incline took an eternity. Adding insult to the conditions, my IT band was flaring up, forcing a hiking pace instead of a run. This posed a problem because it meant more time was elapsing and I was not sure that I had enough food. Either way, at this point I was committed. Get to the bottom of the climb to the North Rim and enjoy the red rock on the way.

Reaching the climb to the North Rim is almost a relief. Flat, hot terrain is exchanged for grueling, steep climbing. The relief is from reassurance that you are making forward progress. The climb is 5 miles with 3900 feet of elevation gain…Cake. I have done that numerous times up Dog Mountain and Mt. Defiance (Columbia River Gorge). Wrong… I have not done it at 8,000 feet of elevation. The trail is also disorienting, with steep drop offs and narrow single track, forced me to pay attention to my feet in order to prevent vertigo.  This climb is also where two new problems arose- cramping and shortness of breath.

Climbing up the North Rim.

Cramping is tough because it is a hard hole to dig out of. The body needs time to absorb water and salt. Time is not something we had. My slow pace, from a nagging IT band, had put us behind schedule. Each step my quads locked up, but there was no break until the North Rim Trail Head. Compounding this problem, I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. My progress was painfully slow, stopping at each switchback just to get more oxygen. I was worried. Questions spiraled; “Did I fuck this up?” Have I put Willie and I in a position we couldn’t recover from? I cannot step without cramping and I cannot breathe. When we finally made it to the trailhead, I remembered there was no way to bail out. The North Rim Road is closed in April. My fears about my condition were shoved deep down, we had to descend and go back. If I could walk, no one was going to come and get me. I put a goal in my head to make it to Phantom Ranch, 14 miles, get lemonade and everything will be better.

The descent was slow but uneventful. It was midafternoon and hot. I did not run a single step. I knew Willie was frustrated, and I couldn’t blame him. I, however, was giving it everything I had to make it back to Bright Angel Trailhead. We made it to Phantom Ranch, dehydrated, and in low spirits. All I wanted was lemonade. Crushingly, the ranch was closed. I was too slow. Deflated, I decided to take 15 minutes to re-group.  I had 8 miles left and it was going to be slow. In my mind I had already set a personal best for the longest day on trail, what was 8 more miles. This last 8 miles is where I saw the most growth. The whole thing sucked. It was getting dark, and all I could do was follow the headlamp line up the canyon wall. Each visible light taunted me with the idea of having to climb up that high. I took some pride in that this would be my first long effort through darkness. My motivation was getting to the next water source at Havasupai Gardens.

Crossing the Colorado River for the Second Time.

We got to the campground and all I could think about was how nice it would be to sleep in the ranger cabin. Knowing that would not be taken kindly, I shoved the last of my food into my mouth and moved on. My body temperature was starting to drop, and I needed to get out of this canyon. One step in front of the other I had to get up the last heinous section of switchbacks, 4 miles to go. Like the north rim, it was hard to breathe. I sat at each switchback, checking my GPS map hoping for some visible progress, but none came. The fact that I couldn’t see the top due to the darkness only added to my frustration. I was unable to set a visible goal, I just had to keep moving forward in my own bubble of light.

Without any warning or fanfare, we were done. I touched the trailhead sign 17 hours later and my goal was accomplished. Everything else about it could have been seen as a failure. 4 hours slower than we had hoped and not a stellar physical performance by any means. I celebrated the only way I could that night, boiling a hot bowl of Ramen and falling asleep. I slept well knowing I had crossed the bridge of type 2 fun and came back. Confident that I could set an objective and accomplish it, maybe not how I dreamed it, but I could get it done.  The rest of that night I would rest, but all I could think about was, “what’s next?”.