Running the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim

I'm not really into the blow-by-blow trip reports so much, but I guess if I'm ever going to do it, it's for this one.

I guess a good way to start this is to set out exactly what it means to do a double crossing of the Grand Canyon. Very simply, it means starting at one rim of the canyon, running down into it, running up and out the opposite rim, then running back down into it, and, finally, running up and out the rim that you started. In my case, that meant starting at the south rim of the canyon, running down the South Kaibab trail, crossing over the Colorado River, hopping on the North Kaibab trail, following that up to the north rim of the canyon, then doing it all in reverse.

What does that mean in numbers? It means running just shy of 42 miles and climbing a bit more than 10,700 feet.

At 6:20AM on Saturday, October 22, I set out with five other crazy runners -- Shad, Brett, Shane, Casey, and Mike -- to tackle this, well, very grand canyon. We parked about a half mile from the North Kaibab trailhead and started off at a brisk trot to warm up. It was about 30 degrees when we started, so I was donning a long-sleeved shirt and a Buff under my hat.

Since it was still pretty dark, when we hit the trailhead we didn't spend much time hanging around trying to see the sights and instead got right to business. The trail was steep -- which was to be expected since the North Kaibab trail drops down from roughly 7,000 feet to 2,400 feet -- but right from the get-go I knew that my quads were about to take a serious beating.

It seemed like I'd hardly blinked and we were at Skeleton Point, the scarily-named point that the folks at the National Park suggest day hikers don't try to go beyond. The downhill made for relatively easy running, but the abuse on the legs was constant and because of rocks on the trail, erosion-preventing logs, and the ever-present danger of death by 3,000-foot plunge, it was tough to get too much of a rhythm going.

Early union break.

Of course while I was busy trying to keep myself from plummeting to an untimely end, the sun was rising and and revealing the unbelievable grandeur of the Grand Canyon. And boy was it grand. We took a couple of short stops on the way down to keep the group together and take opportunities for a few pictures. Awe inspiring doesn't nearly do justice to the views that we were treated to on the way down.

In another heartbeat we were at the Colorado River and crossing over the Black Bridge. Although we had a pretty good pace going, we stopped to walk over the bridge and enjoy the views of the river.

Me at the Black Bridge

The Colorado River

Brett getting ill on the Black Bridge

I wasn't watching the time closely, but it wasn't much more than an hour by the time we had covered the 7.4 miles to Phantom Ranch. Phantom Ranch is a campground area in the bottom of the canyon that has a restaurant, campsites, and lodge- and dorm-style accommodations. Because you're, well, in the bottom of the Grand Canyon, everything that goes into and out of Phantom Ranch does so via mule trains (oh yeah, I forgot to mention above that we had to dodge mule poop all the way down the South Kaibab trail). Maybe most importantly, Phantom Ranch was our first water stop.

Yum, snacks...

The trail flattens out after Phantom Ranch as it runs along Bright Angel Creek and the running got easier -- and faster. The scenery continued to be spectacular, with the creek roaring along beside us and the canyon walls rising up all around, but now we were able to settle into a nice, comfortable 9-minute-or-so pace. As we made our way further along, and the sun continued to rise, we lost what shade we had left and the temperature started to rise. Of course, being late October, the eventual high for the day was somewhere around 85 -- not much of a peak for somebody that's been training in the Las Vegas heat all summer.

By the time we hit Ribbon Falls we had already gained around 1,300 feed from the Bright Angel campground (shortly before Phantom Ranch) and were still feeling good and at a good trot. A little over a mile later, we hit the Cottonwood campground and stopped just briefly to refill water bottles. We continued on and made our next stopover at Roaring Springs -- another 1,200 feet up and about two miles further from Cottonwood. At this point we had already started mixing hiking into our running to make the most of our energy.

At Roaring Springs still looking happy...

Snacks!!!!

I'm not exactly sure how to describe the rest of the trip up to the north rim except to say that it was a slog. The distance covered was less than five miles, but it was another 3,000 feet up from Roaring Springs. We made a brief stopover at the Supai Tunnel because the water was still turned on there and we took a few breaks for photo ops (the views were... um... well.... amazing), but mostly it was just putting one foot in front of the other as quickly as possible.

By the time we reached the north rim there were just five of us (Brett decided to break off earlier and do a slightly shorter route), but everyone was in pretty good shape. The same couldn't necessarily be said for some of the other folks that we met on the other side. Along the route we'd seen a fair number of other runners, some who looked like they were going to toast the trail with no problem and some others that looked like they may have gotten in over their heads. Up on the north rim, there were at least a few people that seemed to be questioning whether a single crossing might not have been the better choice.

But no matter, we had ground to cover.

One of the other runners in the group remarked to me on the way back that it seemed like I was taking decidedly fewer pictures on the return trip -- which was absolutely true. Trust me, you can't get sick of the views that you have in the canyon, but at the same time you've captured a lot of them already and -- at least for me -- it was the pounding that my legs took coming down the north rim that really woke me up to how much was left.

By the time we'd covered the worst of the pounding descent (with a brief stop at the Supai Tunnel and a slightly longer stop at Roaring Springs), I was really happy to be done with the toughest downhills of the day. In fact, by that point I was thinking that the cliche "It's all downhill from here" has it way, way, way wrong. I'd rather it just be all flat.

About five miles or so from Phantom Ranch, one of the group stopped to relieve himself and I'd realized that I hadn't peed the entire day. Mind you, this is nearly 30 miles and eight-plus hours or so into the trip. Big deal? Could be, so I made myself pee. Dark. Not encouraging as it suggested dehydration. That was a little weird since I didn't feel particularly thirsty, nor did I have any trouble spitting. In any case, I downed the water I had left in my bottle (I still had some in my pack bladder as well) and figured I'd deal with the situation when we got to Phantom.

If there was a stretch of the run I remember as being particularly enjoyable, it was the rest of the way back to Phantom. My legs felt fresh, the trail was flat, and I was logging eight- and nine-minute miles easily. If there was a stretch of the run that seemed absolutely interminable, it was the rest of the way back to Phantom. Particularly since I had re-hydration on the mind, that five miles seemed to go on, and on, and on, and on.

I finally did get to Phantom and immediately set about downing a liter and a half of water. It seemed too late -- I was unbelievably nauseous and felt like my face was turning green. I filled up my water bottle once more and found the rest of the crew enjoying a break in the Phantom Ranch restaurant (two were enjoying beers!). I got a lemonade to go with the water, but no dice -- I felt like my entire stomach wanted to turn itself inside out. I and one other member of the group -- who was battling dehydration -- stayed behind when the rest of the group headed out. Better to deal with the problem now rather than stupidly try to tackle the final seven miles and 5,000 feet back up to the south rim feeling like crap.

Mike and I, *post* Phantom Ranch stopover, on the way back up.

Then I recalled that it was roughly the same feeling as I had at the end of the Golden Hills Marathon and that I had attributed that to too little salt replacement. My plan for the run had been to take one salt cap per hour. I figured that, combined with the Cytomax that I was mixing in my bottle, would be plenty of electrolytes. But I didn't exactly stick to that plan. It was hour nine of the run and I had only been through six of the salt caps and two of the three Cytomax mixes. So I immediately popped a cap and mixed the final Cytomax pack. Within minutes, I felt like a new man. Amazing. I filled my pack bladder all the way up (Phantom was the last water stop before the finish) and we headed out.

There were definitely some run-able sections between Phantom Ranch and the toughest of the south rim climbing, but I did very little running and instead settled into hike mode. I kept a pretty slow, steady pace for a while, but started to pick it up when I started to get concerned about hydration again. The queasiness returned and I started questioning whether it really was a salt issue. I popped another salt cap and guzzled down what remained of the Cytomax. Stomachache gone.

Sunset

At this point I felt pretty sure that I had a beat on what was causing my problem, but nonetheless, it was late in the day, my body was beat up, and the sun was setting, so I put my head down and mustered as much of a marching pace as I could. Along the way I passed a few other runners closing out their own R2R2R journeys, including one that was puking his guts up and looked like he was going to have a real tough time finishing out. (I stopped to offer salt, food, water, etc., but he refused all... Turns out one of our other runners ahead of me had already given him some salt tabs and I'm pretty sure that everyone that passed him was offering whatever they had on them). I also smoked a whole bunch of hikers.

Dang it's dark...

By the time I had reached the point that I thought marked 2.5 miles left, I came to a very soul-crushing sign that informed me there were 3.5 miles and 1,300 feet of climbing left to go. I marked the distance on my Garmin -- which was cutting in and out of reception -- and trudged on.

The south rim is far steeper than the north rim and the Kaibab Trail is a much steeper grade than the Bright Angel Trail (which most hikers go for). That, combined with an already long day, meant that as I went on, the trail seemed to steepen drastically as I went. By the time I reached the final set of switchbacks ascending to the rim, the scene was Seussian in my head, with the trial basically going straight up into the heavens, bending all over the place in wild angles. But on I went.

I looked down at my watch... Still another half mile or so left... And then... Wait... There are Shad and Shane sitting there with chips and beers.

Shad: "Great job dude, you're done!"
Me: "What?"
Shane: "You're done!"
Me: "No way, you're messing with me."
Shad: "We've got chips and beer, does it look like we're messing with you?"
Me: [speechless... big fist pump]

Feeling like there needed to be some massive punctuation mark on the day's work, I proceeded to walk back over to the canyon rim and scream "Konichiwa bitches!" over the side. Don't ask me why -- it just felt right.

Final time: 12 hours, 19 minutes.

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