An unusual race in an unusual place. Monument Valley is an American highlight, with huge red sandstone formations that look like imposters standing up in isolation among the red earth canyons and low bushes of the high desert. Time now to brush up on geology. There are mesas, buttes and needles. The bases, like pedestals, look crumbly but the upper parts are solid rock. This area has featured in many movies, mainly Westerns, and this is where Forrest Gump decided to stop running. I thought the race was in Utah but we were running in both Arizona and Utah on Navajo tribal lands, using several trails that can normally only be used in the company of a Navajo guide, and climbing to the top of a mesa on a trail that is only used once a year during this race.
The main challenges of the race were going to be the almost constant running on sandy surfaces, fortunately damped down a little for us by recent snowfall, and the steep climb to the top of Mitchell Mesa starting late in the race at Mile 23. The snow had come and gone apart from a few traces on the rock faces but it had left plenty of mud, some very slippery. There were many Native Americans, male and female, in the races and a handful of other foreigners.
It’s been a long time since I slept so close to the start line of a race (2011 at Mt Sneffels marathon I think) and it was great to walk there in a couple of minutes. Again I had been unsure how to dress because I didn’t think it would be really cold, and I had overdressed last weekend, but rain was forecast and I knew the morning would start out cold. I had thought I should wear knee socks and my new gaiters to prevent too much sand getting into my shoes, so I accompanied these with shorts and T-shirt, wrapped my rain jacket around my waist and wore arm warmers and gloves. I didn’t take my hydration vest as there would be frequent aid stations.
After a flag raising ceremony with a Native American and an American, and a prayer by a local, we were on our way. We ran towards and the between the pair of buttes called the Mittens (East and West) because they look like giant mittens. We also passed other rocks and undulated in a big loop, crossing dry gullies and passing a lot of prickly bushes before returning near the start. It was mostly single track and I settled into a position fairly near the back, or at least I thought that was where I was. It was overcast and I was certainly warm enough in just a T-shirt.
I wasn’t feeling amazingly strong but I guess that was due to the altitude, as we were up at about 2000 metres. You don’t realise it when you aren’t conscious of climbing. The car had done all that work.
The aid stations were fairly basic and most people weren’t stopping at the early ones as they had their own supplies. I made an effort to drink because the dry air would be more dehydrating than my thirst would indicate. Later on they had some hot food, including quesadillas which got me very excited until I ate one and discovered it was filled with that nasty processed cheese.
After our 13 mile loop we headed out in the other direction, running through the area that I could see from my hotel room. At first we were on the tourist road through the valley, a dirt road, and I ran several miles with a guy from Montana. It was a long downhill, fun except that we would be returning later on this same road. One consolation was that the downhill was into the wind, which had picked up.
We detoured off this road to run around a tall mesa, a muddy trail which felt very remote. In the distance we could see parts of the park where tourists can only go with a guide, mainly long mesas and some natural arches. We returned to the road and passed a tall needle, and arrived at the Three Sisters aid station. The Three Sisters are a set of needle formations intended to resemble a nun and two protégées rather than three siblings.
From here we embarked on our jaunt towards and up Mitchell Mesa. The access trail seemed very long to me, a gradual uphill with no end in sight and definitely the most nondescript part of the race route. The lead runners were already returning. It was about three miles to the start of the real climb and I was looking forward to it even though I had been told it would be hard. I had a cup of water at the base.
The climb was awesome. We were sort of inside the mesa, on the inside of its curve, and it was other worldly. The trail was sandy and rocky, becoming increasingly rocky, and very narrow. I passed a few people and was able to run some of the less steep parts. I felt a lot better than I had felt on the access trail. When we got to the top I thought we were done, but we had about twenty minutes of running to the far end of the mesa through low scrub. It was absolutely freezing on top (someone later said it was twelve degrees F but I think that must be an exaggeration). The best views came at our turnaround where we could see all those unique monuments. The marshals at the turnaround had a little fire going and some runners lingered to take photos. I was more concerned about the impending rain.
At 12.57pm I muttered (joking) to another runner that the rain had been forecast to start at 1pm so clearly rain is unreliable. At 1.10pm it started raining. It was only sprinkly at first and I barely noticed it. I knocked my shin on a rock and it was surprisingly painful.
By the time I reached the base again and started on the access trail the rain was coming down harder. I didn’t want to put my jacket on because I thought I might get too warm and I set myself the goal of reaching the Three Sisters aid station before putting it on. But I didn’t make it; the rain became heavier and I felt quite cold. This return on the access trail also seemed very long, but I also realised I must be dehydrated from only having one cup of water in ten miles. Along here I realised that I was not near the back of the field at all as runners heading for the mesa were still coming.
When I got to the aid station there were lots of people huddled under a dripping tarp. The ground was a quagmire. I didn’t linger, I just had two cups of drink and grabbed some sour worms and Oreos and headed off. Again I don’t think I had been eating enough but I just can’t seem to get my nutrition sorted. Although several women had passed me on the descent from the mesa I left them all behind at this aid station. It wasn’t deliberate, I was cold and wanted to keep moving.
I had promised myself that I could walk intermittently from here the last three miles to the finish, especially as it would be mostly uphill. But in the end I ran virtually all the way. I was nonplussed to see no other runners ahead or behind me, until I spotted someone a long way ahead. I shortened the gap but failed to close it completely. The road was a sea of mud. I was trying to break seven hours again but it was appearing increasingly unlikely. Before the race I had thought this would be an eight hour race, based on prior results, but near the end I sensed it should be faster than that.
When the hotel came into view I was relieved as I knew I was almost done, but there were tortuous hairpin bends to negotiate before the finish line. Luckily I made my goal, finishing in 6:47, all the sweeter because I measured the race at 54 kilometres.
I had won my age group which earned me a pottery vase and a $100 voucher for the hotel gift shop. I was ninth female overall. They had hot food at the finish line so I carried some Navajo stew and flat bread back to my room. The finish line area was a washout and not pleasant to hang around. It was hard carrying the bowl of stew, cup of coffee and my vase, and then I had difficulty opening my door with such cold hands. After a hot shower I felt normal again and the stew was absolutely delicious.
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