Red Mountain 55k, March 4, 2023

I’ve had a good amount of time to absorb my experience at the Red Mountain 55k on March 4, 2023, my fifth completed ultramarathon, third race in Utah, and first 55k.

I have yet to find an unremarkable place in the state, St. George stands as one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen so far, and if a solid challenge in top-tier natural splendor is a priority, any distance at Red Mountain is more than worth the time, money, and emotional/physical/mental price tags.

I first came to St. George in May 2022 to work at the IRONMAN World Championships, and when some new local friends told me about the race, it was a given that if I had the resources to do so, I would come back to this beautiful place to take on the 55k distance.

The stars aligned, and Red Mountain would be my fourth race of 2023, following a gorgeous death slog I turned in at the Avalon 50-miler on January 7th, a performance I was not happy with, though I was very proud of pushing through some truly agonizing bouts of fatigue and soreness to a successful completion.

I flipped this experience over completely with shorter races I took on soon after, catching 3rd overall and a division win at the Hollywood Sign 14k on January 29th, then 13th overall and a 37:32 chip time at Firecracker 10k on February 19th, a course with over 600 feet of gain, and loads of sharp runners that brought me within 1:08 of my PR at the distance.

With the confidence that came with these last two races, I knew close to none of the same skill sets would apply for what Red Mountain would bring at go-time.

Still, the mindset that comes with feeling sharp and strong will translate to anything really, inside or outside of running.

So, I returned to St. George excited to dive into a day that would see me take on 4,434 feet of vert spread over 34.53 miles, resulting in one of my favorite running experiences I’ve had, racing or otherwise.

My friend Rich gave me notes on the course, as did a couple of YouTube videos from past participants. Curveballs love to find us before any race, and mine came in the way of some unfortunate food poisoning the Friday before race day.

I haven’t been that sick in over a decade, and seriously wondered if I’d make the trip to Utah. I’m tremendously thankful to have bounced back well, but definitely had a deficit of calories and energy I went out of my way to replenish before the day of the race.

I took a hard taper and didn’t run until taking on an easy and short piece of heaven around the local Paradise Loop segment, a tremendous little spot that, again, I can’t recommend highly enough.

Paradise wasn’t far at all from my friend Craig’s house, which he generously invited me to stay at for free lodging, a gift I was very thankful to receive. I was doubly grateful to share the race with my friends Laz and Fabio, this sport gives plenty in the way of positive and valuable company, and the same goes for all the organizers, volunteers, and fellow runners who shared race day with me.   

As predicted, the adventure started with temperatures in the 20s, which I prepared for, but it’s rare that I’ve been more enthusiastic about starting a run.

The anticipation was definitely shared among everyone gathered for the start. The final countdown was very welcome, went quickly, and then we were off.

Stunning from stride one, watching the morning rise up over St. George surrounded by runners on trail made for one of my favorite starts to any day I’ve had. Radiant and rich with all kinds of shifts in texture and elevation, the course gave me a range of colors and demands that I will always hold close.

Canyons echoed geese bleating to each other, multiplying their calls in a way that invited myself and other runners to yawp and howl to each other across the trails.

Even at the most grueling moments, when I had a home stretch of about five miles that rose over 600 feet while rolling with merciless double hits of fatigue and my right meniscus swelling, I still got to take it in beside a gorge cut through red rock by a river hundreds of feet below me, backdropped by far-off peaks covered in snow.

For me, things get easier with these kinds of backdrops.

But, back to the beginning: as many races go, the start was frustrating. My adductors and knee started signaling annoyance on the endurable side of pain, and I was irritated at having to stop to shed outer layers once I got into a groove, a petty thing I should be used to at this point, but so it went.

Instead of dwelling on the speed bumps, I drafted off all the wonderful energy my fellow runners brought to the day, kept my focus on the uneven terrain, and stayed in the zone.

This is exactly what I want in a race, which was also bolstered by an aid-station and course setup akin to the “Born to Run” format: a central aid station from which green, blue, purple, and red loops budded into their own respective demands on mileage and vert gain, before an orange segment pointed back to the finish line.

This approach divvies out the amount of work in front of a runner in a digestible format, which I appreciated, especially when conditions went from tough to rough to potentially DNF-worthy.

For the most part my body held up well, then felt even stronger, to the point where I felt amazing throughout the first two-thirds of the race.

This was helped in no small way by being framed in astounding views of yellow boulders rising overhead, pervasive red dirt underfoot, and snow-capped mountain ranges, all as technical terrain became the rule on the red loop, which demanded my attention at every step.

Completing mile 30 after finishing the red loop found me elated. Most of the pictures I’m sharing with this post came from this section, and back at the aid station I got to talking with one of the volunteers about how it was one of my favorite segments ever.

“Are you being sarcastic?” she asked.

I was taken aback by the question, and quickly underlined how I genuinely loved every part of what I’d just done.

She was glad to hear it, and said that some people had come through complaining about how difficult the red loop was for them.

This was disappointing to hear.

“If you can go through all that and not appreciate the beauty and challenges that came with something you signed up for, knowingly, then that’s on your parents,” I said.

The volunteer, first aid folks on hand, and I shared a good laugh.

I restocked on gels, and away I went, onto the orange and last segment of the course.

Energy expenditure and this troublesome meniscus issue sank their teeth into me at this point, deeply. My trekking poles came out (always worth bringing along) and I slugged out the remainder at a pace close to a crawl but, most importantly, determined to not stop.

Plenty of runners came my way and shared positive vibes to see me through to the end, which I am oh so grateful for.

I made it through with a chip time of 8:07, clapped high-5s with a few runners, and bee-lined for the closest barbecue spot to inhale all the carbs and protein I could get my hands on.

D.U.B.’s Barbecue & Catering got my number and marked a huge win, if this is your kind of meal check it out, and extra shoutout to the staff for giving me a bag full of ice for my knee.

In probably the cutest reaction I’ve gotten after a race, some kids came up to me in the restaurant and wanted to know what I did to need the ice.

I definitely let them know I was all right, this is just part of my sport sometimes, and that I appreciated the concern. It was maybe the first time they’ve heard of trail running at all, and I hope I didn’t give them too scary of an intro to this world, and instead showed them a guy who sent it all on a Saturday.

Oddly, part of me wanted to run immediately after the race, which to me spoke to a need to hit back hard after a strike. Naturally, after putting in a day like this, my more logical wires were a little crossed, and I took off two days from any physical activity before starting workouts, then slowly began my new training block for Canyons 100k on April 29th.

I could’ve done better at Red Mountain, but this is the nature of sport, and after all the challenges I was given, I’m taking the day as a big win for my endurance game.

One of the biggest takeaways I have is that I really don’t know anything about running ultras. Any subsection of running is notorious for eluding predictability, regardless of whether one feels like they’re in top shape or under-prepared, and this seems to be especially true for ultras, in my experience.

I do know that I love what I’m lucky to have and get to approach in this realm, am blessed with the best supporters and privileges I could ask for, and that I’m at my best when I emphasize patience, fun, and grit in my continuing journey of finding out how I can grow in this space.

I would love to come back someday, but there are so many races in the world, and I’d love to stack more Utah events with Bryce, Zion, and more calling my name in this truly exceptional state.

Huge thanks and hugs again to all my friends, family, teammates, and fellow runners who make the whole running community the wellspring of joy and growth that it is, stay up and happy trails, everybody!