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Josh Nichols looking good at the 11-mile mark.
GATEWAY, Colo. — Somewhere around mile 9 or 10, I began to figure out why there were only 40 of us at the start of the race that morning.
This was one hard race.
To run the Sky Mesa Pass Trail Marathon hosted by Gateway Canyons Resort, you were either very hardcore — as many of the people, most of whom were quite a ways in front of me, were. Or you were a bit naive. You can dump me in that second category.
And while this race was technically classified as a “run,” I hadn’t done much running for the past two miles — and had no intention of running for the next two.
From about mile 8 to mile 11.5, you go from about 6,000 feet to 8,500 feet above sea level, climbing your way out of the gorgeous Sinbad Valley about 10 miles south of Gateway. I didn’t put my hands down on the ground in front of me to make my way up the steep incline, but I could have. As is the case when climbing peaks, it took everything I had near the top to just put one foot in front of the other — let alone run. I could have crawled, and to think that when I hit mile 11.5, I only had about 15 more miles to go before the finish line.
“What in the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks am I doing here?” I asked myself.
Then I remembered:
Still high from running the Canyonlands Half Marathon in Moab about two months ago and shaving 10 minutes off my time from the previous year, I went to Coloradorunner.com and picked out a marathon to tackle.
I picked the Sky Mesa Pass Trail Marathon because it made sense at the time.
The race was about two months out, which was enough time for me to get my mileage up. I love the Gateway area and will look for any excuse I can to spend a day down there, and last but not least, it was a trail marathon. I’d been in a mood to get off the concrete and hit the trails.
Mentally, I was ready to run my first marathon.
The thing was, by picking the Sky Mesa Pass Marathon, I was picking what is probably one of the most difficult marathons to do in Colorado.
So you know I’m not just whining, here are a couple of numbers to back up my claim that provide some perspective:
• The race has a total elevation gain of 4,000 feet, and a total elevation loss of 4,000 feet. (The Rimrock Run through Colorado National Monument, considered an absolute bear in the running world, has 1,710 feet of elevation change)
• Local running legend Bernie Boettcher holds the course record at the Sky Mesa Pass Trail Marathon with a 3:41:42, which is well over an hour more than the time it usually takes for runners of his caliber to tear through a typical marathon. And I repeat, 3:41:42 is the RECORD.
So I’ve established that I could have picked an easier first marathon, but my intention in writing this column isn’t to focus on the pain.
There’s too much positive to talk about.
Back to the killer climb. While I was making my way up it, I hiked with a couple of fellow racers (who would later smoke me on the downhill).
We would occasionally take a break from huffing our way up the incline to peek over our shoulders and soak up the scenery.
We started exchanging pleasantries about the breathtaking view when one of the runners, a woman from the Front Range, started gushing about western Colorado — Grand Junction in particular.
She raved about the beautiful downtown and the Art on the Corner. She even commented on how she thought the people in the community, in general, were an attractive bunch.
Even though I don’t think she knew I lived in Grand Junction when she made the comment, I allowed that one to go to my head. She said Grand Junction people are attractive, and I live in Grand Junction, right?
So ... a stranger saying I’m attractive (even if it was done accidentally and indirectly), gushing about the downtown in which I live, and going on about the landscape within an hour’s drive of the front door was a simple reminder that life really is pretty good, and it gave me the giddyup I needed to trudge my way to 8,500 feet.
That motivation was in addition to an occasional hoop, holler or “Way to go!” from the person about a hundred yards behind me — local runner Kelli Kessell (who would also later smoke me on the downhill).
Things got a lot better when the climbing ended as we cruised through meadows and forests of Ponderosa Pines and Aspen trees in the Manti La Sal National Forest. But after about an hour, the descent began and it started to get hot as I made my way back into the desert.
About the time I was imagining myself as a dried-up piece of beef jerky shriveled up dead on the side of the trail, I came around a corner and got my first glimpse that day of the La Salle mountains in the distances.
The site almost knocked me over (or it could have been the rock I tripped over as I gawked at the beauty).
Our maker did a heck of a job with those snow-capped peaks, all by their lonesome, sticking out of the heart of red rock desert country.
Then around another corner, I saw the first indication that I might actually get through the race without search and rescue having to come find me at nightfall. It was The Palisade sticking up above the town of Gateway. I knew that rock hovered above my destination, and one step at a time, I willed my way toward it.
And I made it.
I don’t see a need to get into how long it actually took me to get there.
Let’s just say it was slow enough that I think a few runners lounging in the shade had already had time to shower, change clothes, check their e-mail, do a load of laundry, and eat lunch by the time I got in.
But it was fast enough that there were still burgers and brats hot on the grill when I hit the finish line at Gateway Canyons Resort.
I walked away with two main observations from that race last Saturday.
One is that no matter how many events I cover or participate in, I continue to marvel at the level of endurance and athletic ability of some people. I didn’t crawl off the couch to run this race. I’ve been running a lot. But the fact is some people are simply on another level — and I’m more amazed by it than I am humbled.
My second observation was that the landscape around Gateway, simply put, is in a class of its own.
I’d just spent a day on trails that only a tiny percentage of the population will ever be on, in an area that might be one of the few remaining “secrets” in this amazing country.
Just another reminder that there are a lot of special places to be discovered in this area in which we live — and you don’t have to kill yourself on a 26.35-mile trail run to discover a lot of them.
The Gateway Canyons Sky Mesa Pass Trail Marathon was a small, intimate race. But it was handled like it was a large-scale race by staff at Gateway Canyons Resort, which in a sense, almost made it the ideal race.
Best of all, I got a cool T-shirt.
Even if it means the risk of ending up a dried-piece of beef jerky laying on a rock and a week of aching legs — I’m a sucker for a cool T-shirt.
Reach Josh Nichols at editor@gjfreepress.com.
This was one hard race.
To run the Sky Mesa Pass Trail Marathon hosted by Gateway Canyons Resort, you were either very hardcore — as many of the people, most of whom were quite a ways in front of me, were. Or you were a bit naive. You can dump me in that second category.
And while this race was technically classified as a “run,” I hadn’t done much running for the past two miles — and had no intention of running for the next two.
From about mile 8 to mile 11.5, you go from about 6,000 feet to 8,500 feet above sea level, climbing your way out of the gorgeous Sinbad Valley about 10 miles south of Gateway. I didn’t put my hands down on the ground in front of me to make my way up the steep incline, but I could have. As is the case when climbing peaks, it took everything I had near the top to just put one foot in front of the other — let alone run. I could have crawled, and to think that when I hit mile 11.5, I only had about 15 more miles to go before the finish line.
“What in the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks am I doing here?” I asked myself.
Then I remembered:
Still high from running the Canyonlands Half Marathon in Moab about two months ago and shaving 10 minutes off my time from the previous year, I went to Coloradorunner.com and picked out a marathon to tackle.
I picked the Sky Mesa Pass Trail Marathon because it made sense at the time.
The race was about two months out, which was enough time for me to get my mileage up. I love the Gateway area and will look for any excuse I can to spend a day down there, and last but not least, it was a trail marathon. I’d been in a mood to get off the concrete and hit the trails.
Mentally, I was ready to run my first marathon.
The thing was, by picking the Sky Mesa Pass Marathon, I was picking what is probably one of the most difficult marathons to do in Colorado.
So you know I’m not just whining, here are a couple of numbers to back up my claim that provide some perspective:
• The race has a total elevation gain of 4,000 feet, and a total elevation loss of 4,000 feet. (The Rimrock Run through Colorado National Monument, considered an absolute bear in the running world, has 1,710 feet of elevation change)
• Local running legend Bernie Boettcher holds the course record at the Sky Mesa Pass Trail Marathon with a 3:41:42, which is well over an hour more than the time it usually takes for runners of his caliber to tear through a typical marathon. And I repeat, 3:41:42 is the RECORD.
So I’ve established that I could have picked an easier first marathon, but my intention in writing this column isn’t to focus on the pain.
There’s too much positive to talk about.
Back to the killer climb. While I was making my way up it, I hiked with a couple of fellow racers (who would later smoke me on the downhill).
We would occasionally take a break from huffing our way up the incline to peek over our shoulders and soak up the scenery.
We started exchanging pleasantries about the breathtaking view when one of the runners, a woman from the Front Range, started gushing about western Colorado — Grand Junction in particular.
She raved about the beautiful downtown and the Art on the Corner. She even commented on how she thought the people in the community, in general, were an attractive bunch.
Even though I don’t think she knew I lived in Grand Junction when she made the comment, I allowed that one to go to my head. She said Grand Junction people are attractive, and I live in Grand Junction, right?
So ... a stranger saying I’m attractive (even if it was done accidentally and indirectly), gushing about the downtown in which I live, and going on about the landscape within an hour’s drive of the front door was a simple reminder that life really is pretty good, and it gave me the giddyup I needed to trudge my way to 8,500 feet.
That motivation was in addition to an occasional hoop, holler or “Way to go!” from the person about a hundred yards behind me — local runner Kelli Kessell (who would also later smoke me on the downhill).
Things got a lot better when the climbing ended as we cruised through meadows and forests of Ponderosa Pines and Aspen trees in the Manti La Sal National Forest. But after about an hour, the descent began and it started to get hot as I made my way back into the desert.
About the time I was imagining myself as a dried-up piece of beef jerky shriveled up dead on the side of the trail, I came around a corner and got my first glimpse that day of the La Salle mountains in the distances.
The site almost knocked me over (or it could have been the rock I tripped over as I gawked at the beauty).
Our maker did a heck of a job with those snow-capped peaks, all by their lonesome, sticking out of the heart of red rock desert country.
Then around another corner, I saw the first indication that I might actually get through the race without search and rescue having to come find me at nightfall. It was The Palisade sticking up above the town of Gateway. I knew that rock hovered above my destination, and one step at a time, I willed my way toward it.
And I made it.
I don’t see a need to get into how long it actually took me to get there.
Let’s just say it was slow enough that I think a few runners lounging in the shade had already had time to shower, change clothes, check their e-mail, do a load of laundry, and eat lunch by the time I got in.
But it was fast enough that there were still burgers and brats hot on the grill when I hit the finish line at Gateway Canyons Resort.
I walked away with two main observations from that race last Saturday.
One is that no matter how many events I cover or participate in, I continue to marvel at the level of endurance and athletic ability of some people. I didn’t crawl off the couch to run this race. I’ve been running a lot. But the fact is some people are simply on another level — and I’m more amazed by it than I am humbled.
My second observation was that the landscape around Gateway, simply put, is in a class of its own.
I’d just spent a day on trails that only a tiny percentage of the population will ever be on, in an area that might be one of the few remaining “secrets” in this amazing country.
Just another reminder that there are a lot of special places to be discovered in this area in which we live — and you don’t have to kill yourself on a 26.35-mile trail run to discover a lot of them.
The Gateway Canyons Sky Mesa Pass Trail Marathon was a small, intimate race. But it was handled like it was a large-scale race by staff at Gateway Canyons Resort, which in a sense, almost made it the ideal race.
Best of all, I got a cool T-shirt.
Even if it means the risk of ending up a dried-piece of beef jerky laying on a rock and a week of aching legs — I’m a sucker for a cool T-shirt.
Reach Josh Nichols at editor@gjfreepress.com.
