Behind the Rocks 50k!

The Behind the Rocks 50k Ultra is an incredible race through the slick-rock canyons to the south of Moab, Utah that follows jeep roads and single track across a varied and stunning landscape. It might not be the easiest 50k for someone to jump into for their first time, but there's plenty of scenery to distract you from the pain, and long cutoffs that make it attainable even for a slow mover like me.

I'm not really sure what possessed me to run a 50k trail race 13 months into my life of running. There was no real training plan, 3 colds that took me out during my training for a combined 5-6 weeks, and a few bumps in the road due to weather and other planned activities this winter. I was in the position of being out on a course I likely had little business being out on. I'd put in time and effort, but it was decidedly less than I should have. But I did it, and I finished with plenty of time to spare.

We arrived the night before and camped out by the starting line. It was cold. Not bone chilling, not like the blizzard I'd run 8 miles through in January, or the many icy cold night runs I had done in Colorado during the winter, but it was in the mid 30s through the night and still was by morning. I didn't quite know what to bring on the course and over-prepared a bit, though I don't totally regret it. At least not more than I regretted not having trained better. Starting with a shell and a few layers felt good though, and I was glad to have the shell in case of rain later in the day. Though none came, plenty seemed like it was threatening to.

The sun had not yet come up by the first mile in, and was hiding behind the clouds for the next few hours. It was welcome not to bake in it all day, as it seemed like we would later on. I kept an easy pace, trying to hit the first aid station without having felt like I'd gone much of any distance. 6 miles and feeling fresh was a welcome start to things. The scenery was already great, and it would only improve. The course climbs up and drops around Balcony Arch, an alcove in a large sandstone rock formation on the south end of the Behind the Rocks area. The trail around it was sandy, which while easy on the knees, reminded me of running in the snow. Not the easiest surface to move efficiently in.

Balcony Arch

Stream Crossing 

The course climbed out of the first aid station a bit before dropping into the top section of Hunters Canyon, which much of the race followed. It had rained recently and so there was plenty of water to run around and over, though I was able to keep my feet dry. There were small pools and streams running throughout the canyon, which I kept stopping to take pictures of. I also stopped around mile 10 to sit down and re-apply some anti-chafe to my feet and some sunscreen as well. Things still felt easy in Hunters Canyon though that would change as the day went on.

The creek in the bottom of the canyon

The next few miles lead me along out of the bottom of the canyon and to it's rim, as it continued to drop, the jeep road turned to single track that meandered between bands of large cliffs. The views were stunning the entire way. I knew that I'd been dropping in elevation the entire time too and that soon I'd have to climb back out, which I wasn't looking forward to.

All the while, most of the field was finally heading back past me towards the finish, and I've never been in an event where so many people were so encouraging. I couldn't have kept track of how many people said something like "good job!" or "you're doing great!". The gestures were small, but they were many, and it always helped. It felt like it wasn't a competition at all. It was all of us, versus ourselves, and the course, and that was it. Sure, getting 1st, or top 10 is it's own thing, but ultimately, the challenge is to finish in the best way you can, even if that just means finishing, period. 

Looking down into the canyon

Singletrack between the cliff bands of the canyon

The climb down into the bottom of the canyon was fun as well. It was the most technical section of the course that required a few scrambling moves to get through. I was using poles at this point, which I had to toss up ahead of me a couple of times so I could use my hands to get up some rocks. None of it was too hard, but it set the tone for the rest of the race. From now on, my ass was going to be kicked soundly into oblivion.

walking along ledges while descending into the canyon

looking back up the route after the halfway aid station. 

You can usually tell how I am doing by how many photos I am taking. When I feel fresh, I am eager to pull out my camera. When I am not--I don't. The climb that ensued out of Hunters Canyon was brutal and long, and I was stuck doing it around solar noon. The scenery was no less incredible, but this was when my race really turned into an ultra. I was doing OK, walking and jogging up the climb till where we split to the west on the return loop around mile 20. This was the furthest I'd ever run, and would hold plenty of elevation gain and pain. I was a bit behind on hydration after the first long stretch between aids and was also playing a bit of catch up, and this stretch was 9 miles between aid stations as well. It was not going to be pleasant. I did a bit of swearing, finally listened to some music to get myself moving, and plodded along up the climb in the mid-day sun. The sky was also nearly full of clouds, and yet minus about 5 minutes of shade, I was stuck in the sun the entire time. Not sure how that works out, but I guess mother nature is just a sadist or something. 

Baking in the mid-day sun. Clouds everywhere, save for a large open bit of sky above the course.

The third aid station was at mile 25.5 or so. Hearing I had 7.5 miles left was rough, but encouraging at the same time. I knew I could move 7.5 miles. I also knew there wasn't much of a choice but to finish at this point. I had enough time remaining to walk slowly and get it done, but I was looking to hit 10 hours, and I knew that the sooner I finished, the sooner I could stop adding to the pain I was in. At this point I was exhausted and depleted. Most of the 3500ft was behind me though, with only one major climb ahead. I knew I would finish, it was just a matter of when and in what condition. 

The last 10 miles of the race in total are sort of why I don't really think that the "wall" analogy is really apropos. I've done a number of sufferfest activities, so at least pain and pushing through it weren't foreign concepts to me, but if there is a wall to hit, I probably hit about 5 of them in those last few miles. To me, it's more like a staircase of pain. You roll through points of fatigue and depletion that feel impossibly horrific, and then 15, 20, 30 minutes later you're jogging along, hurting, but not feeling defeated. At points I was euphoric as well, the right song playing in my ears as I moved alone in the desert while taking in the scenery was it's own high unique to itself. Yeah, it hurt, but pain is pain. This was pain I chose, a challenge I put before myself, and the autonomy in that was a reward unto itself. The walls along the route were mine to climb, and up the staircase I went, and each time the pain spiked, it was worse, but each time I pushed through it, and carried on. This is no special ability really either. You can push your body to do a lot, and push it much, much further than you think you can. I was categorically done at mile 22. My legs were basically gone, my body was angry, but I kept going, and if there's anything that I would want people to take away is that whatever physical challenge you face, you can push through it. Pain is pain. It is a signal, not an directive. At times the signal is important. You obviously don't want to injure yourself, but once a race, an adventure, or even your every day workout, starts to hurt, that's really when you're just getting started with it. You have far more left in the tank than you'd imagine. If my overweight, still not in the best shape booty can truck 3500 ft out of a desert canyon in the mid-day sun, 15+ miles into a race, then you can do that difficult thing you're not sure you can do, whatever it is!

the La Sal mountains and a familiar formation on the horizon

I am getting off track. So back to it. By the time I was on the final hill, rounding the west side of Balcony and Picture Frame Arch, I was in a lot of pain. There have only been a few times my legs have hurt as much. Once was hiking around Devil's Lake in Wisconsin in skate shoes as a very chubby teenager, which left my ankles in so much pain I could barely move, another was a ~14 mile day I did with ski gear on my back to ski high snow in the cascades in September where I ran out of water many miles from the car. I'm not sure which was worse. But it felt bad none the less. I was barely able to shuffle my feet to jog, but I did when I could, and walked when I couldn't. By the time I was around the arches, I was within a 5k of the finish. I jogged a bit more, walked, and then on the final little stretch up the hill to the finish, I ran it in, which somehow hurt less than walking had. Maybe I was just focused on being done, I'm not sure why.

I finished in 10:03, just over the 10hr mark, which was a bit better than I had expected to do. Sure, it was more of a speed hike than a true run for me, but it was a huge step. I never thought that in my entire life I would run more than a mile. Up till age 29 I'd told myself "Running is stupid, and I wont do it. It just hurts too much and I can't anyway." But I guess being frustrated with being out of shape and feeling hopelessly so a year ago was motivation enough, with some encouragement from some friends, to kick me into doing this. 

None of this has been easy. Not from day one. This 50k was my first, and was a big life milestone for me. I want to get out and do one again, do it better, and see what I can improve on. Maybe I'll go further. Given enough time and training, I think I could. But that is yet to be seen. I know I could make this a more comfortable experience with better training too, not that a 32+ mile race ever could be truly comfortable. But I think I'll be back on a 50k course again, or looking at similar efforts for FKT routes. 

Behind the Rocks was a really amazing experience, and I would do it again. Being that it's only a couple days after and I am still sore probably is a sure sign that I will return to the desert for more punishment. Maybe next time, it'll be to try the 50 Mile.