R2R

My immediate reaction post-adventure was, I never want to enter the canyon again. The next day, feeling mostly normal and without enough soreness, I thought more that there is unfinished business in the canyon and started looking for flights back. And now, a few days afterward, I don’t feel the need to ever go back, but I would not be afraid of entering the canyon and trying for R2R2R again. The Arizona desert outside the canyon is beautiful and definitely something I want to return to.

We stayed in Flagstaff the night before, following nearly 12 hours of travel from Boston with one little shakeout walk near Sedona. My legs actually felt really good, and I was overall feeling pretty great with the altitude too (about 8000 feet). After battling a cold for two weeks, I finally felt less congested in the dryness. I also was very nervous but felt well-prepared. We had done lots of reading, talked to the park rangers, watched numerous videos (including this one of Jim Walmsley and this one by Billy Yang) to get a sense of the trails, planned fueling strategy, heat trained, and packed meticulously.

We went to bed around 8p and woke up around 2a to drive to the canyon and start around 4:45a. I must at this point acknowledge the true team it took to even get this far. Six of us embarked on this adventure, four to run (Dan, Greg, Kevin, and me) and two to support (Jenny and Makinde). They drove us safely to and from the trailhead and hung out at the canyon all day waiting and on the alert to hear from us, they did the advocacy to rangers when they heard I was sick, they brought us pizza for post-run food, and so much more. They were truly life lines, and I cannot thank them enough!

It was very difficult to find parking and almost as difficult to find the Bright Angel trailhead (at the South Rim), but we did and were on the way down by 4:50 (after a group photo). The stars were out in full force. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that many stars. There was darkness below. This was my favorite view of the entire experience. It felt like we were just descending into darkness. Steeply under us was a trickle of moving lights, headlamps from canyon-goers who started descending earlier. The run down was fun and not nearly as long as I thought it’d feel, but we were descending for about 90 minutes. There were lots of ledges/steps/hurdles and I thanked all the stadium stairs I’d done to prepare. Time felt irrelevant. I saw a bat flit up from under us. As the sun peaked up, the tips of the canyon lit up like candle flames. Dan took a little tumble and broke his headlamp on the rocks. We descended Devil’s Corkscrew and the view opened up to the Colorado River. The river was underwhelmingly small. It’s amazing that it carved the canyon. I suppose with flooding it would be scarily wide. There was a beautiful section along the river with red rock towering on our right and the dull green water rushing on our left. I was so excited to run back along this edge later. We quickly came upon the suspension bridge and crossed to Phantom Ranch where we refilled our bladders with various electrolyte powders. At this point Dan also realized his Tailwind spilled in his pack and was unusable. This is certainly a peril of packing powder. We moved on into “The Box” and left the river behind for a creek between two canyon walls, a mini canyon in a canyon. The boys ran up ahead a bit, but I made sure to monitor effort and keep the max around 6/10. It was still shaded here, but in the rest of Arizona the sun had already come up. Now the upper half of the canyon was sparkling red and glittering sand-colored. This section was slightly uphill and I was excited to come back later for the downhill despite the heat in the forecast. 

I caught the rest of the crew at the next water stop, Cottonwood Campground. I filled with max water/Skratch since this was supposed to last me to the top at the North Rim. We started up again, and I felt pretty good but definitely needed to monitor my effort more as I tried to take in a few extra carbs before the steep part came. Greg and Dan ran ahead—we’d meet them at the top. Kevin was dragging a bit and said he was nauseous, so we stopped to troubleshoot at Manzanita a mile later. This was truly the last stop for water before the North Rim. At this point I started feeling a bit anxious and lightheaded, which I attributed to being worried about Kevin’s nausea, which was silly because it happens all the time. The two of us got going again and stayed together. Greg and Dan were probably 10 minutes up ahead by now. 

We went maybe half an hour uphill and Kevin seemed to be feeling better, but I was feeling really lightheaded and just “off”. So we pulled over in the shade and I sat down for a little. I drank a bunch of Skratch and cooled off thinking maybe I was just dehydrated or hot though I was pretty sure I was neither. We started moving again, but I just kept feeling worse and worse, just anxious, lightheaded, and even cold. So we stopped again. I drank more, and I got really cold, goosebumps, shaking. It was scary and out of control. We moved into the sun for me to try to warm up a bit but it didn’t help. We probably sat by the side of the trail for an hour before trying to start again. The lightheadedness, anxiety, and cold almost immediately hit harder and we had to stop like ten steps later. This time we stopped for probably two hours, and I was getting really worried. I generally take pride in how well I understand and listen to my body but in this situation it felt like things were totally out of my understanding. I was frustrated that I had no idea what was going on—there was no way I was dehydrated, no way I was bonking (had been averaging 75 grams carbs/hour), no way I was overheating… I just had no idea what was happening! And on top of it all, I’m a doctor! Greg and Dan were ahead and had the satellite radio. I hate asking other people for help but I have never felt that desperate before so we asked some people who passed us to message them and our other friends who were at the South Rim. Three more trail angels stopped to help and give us some water and solid food. Their support felt like a life saver. In retrospect, we were never farther than a mile or two from an emergency phone and water. At the time it felt like an insurmountable distance, and I was way too scared of passing out to let Kevin leave me there alone. 

I’ve never really been claustrophobic. Sure, I prefer open spaces, but I’m not afraid of closed spaces…at least not the ones found in day-to-day life. But in the feverish moment it felt like the canyon walls were closing in on us. It felt like there was no way out. I’ve never felt so helpless. I felt like I knew what it meant to find my “limit.” I could not move a step further. Funnily enough though, lingering in the back of my mind, I was sure as heck curious why physiologically that was the case. 

I had some more gel and (what now seems obvious but at the time required thinking) took some Tylenol that we’d brought. Finally, I started feeling warmer (the cold was extremely disconcerting to me given it was 90 and sunny by now). We got going and I found that my legs felt good, I could warm up, and the lightheadedness was leaving. This time we powered all the way to the next water stop, Supai Tunnel. We filled some water but also wanted to make it quickly to the top to try to catch the 2pm shuttle back to the South Rim. The trail turned wooded as we neared the top. I was feeling way better and wanted to keep going, but I was also really scared of what had happened earlier and getting stuck in the canyon, so Kevin easily convinced me this was not a good idea. All of a sudden the trail ended and we were at the top, it was 2:15, and someone was yelling “anyone else for the shuttle?” It turned out they had 2 spots left. We literally ran and jumped in it. We were so lucky! Shout out to the TransCanyon shuttle driver Alex who kept his cool and got us quickly and safely from North to South Rim. That ride was its own adventure full of more chills and anxiety, and all I have to say is that the trail running community is the best (shoutout to Boulder runners Jesse and Ashish (I think they were part of Rocky Mountain Runners)). By the end of the (5 hour!) drive, I was generally feeling better but we made a pit stop by the ER so I could get some vitals and reassurance (I’d taken Tylenol again by this time and am pretty sure I was just sick with a fever, perhaps an exacerbation from the cold I’d been battling the two weeks before or even a new one coming on!). All was good and we met the others back at the hotel to watch them waddle down the hallway and hear about their R2R2R journey.

I don’t have many more or deeper things to say about this. Our preparation was right. I am proud of stopping when we did. Stubbornness is good, but ultimately it wouldn’t have been safe or healthy to be in the heat of the canyon later in the day with a fever whether or not it had been masked by Tylenol. I’m really disappointed I didn’t do what I’d set out to do and prepared for so well. My immediate reaction is to book a flight and go try again. But when I think about it more, I got the canyon experience and am not sure I need it again. It was pretty, but it was a bit crowded for my liking (hypocritical of me to complain about, I know) and the best views really were from the top or halfway up.

Notes for next time I’m doing something unsupported:

• Even if it’s hot, pack a space blanket
• Bring your own mini satellite radio
• Bring Tylenol and don’t forget you have it
• Differential for things going wrong: metabolic (hypoglycemia), electrolyte (hyper/hypo-natremia, dehydration), heat- or cold-related (heat exhaustion, heat stroke, hypothermia), kidney (rhabdomyolysis, medication-induced kidney injury), infection