Welcome to the recap of the Grand to Grand Ultra 2024! It was a brutal yet interesting experience—171 miles through the desert from the Grand Canyon to the Grand Staircase Escalante. Six stages over seven days. And spoiler alert: I came in second place. But it wasn’t easy. Let's dive into how it all unfolded.
The Lead-Up
Going into the race, I didn’t quite know what to expect. I had just DNF’d at the Wasatch 100 and had barely glanced at the race's details—typical Jeff style. I packed more like it was a fastpacking trip and didn't fully understand that we'd need to carry all our food for the entire race. I knew we had to, but I didn't put a good amount of thought into what food I would want on days 5 and 6 or how much the food I was carrying weighed.
I had a light Sea to Summit sleeping quilt and a foam sleeping pad, which ended up working okay. Some people had their sleeping pads pop, so I dodged a bullet there. But with everything packed, I took the long drive down to southern Utah, stopping at an army surplus store to buy the required American Flag Patch on the way.
When I arrived in Kanab, Utah, the race started with a gear check. I was using the new Hyperlite Aero 28L pack, and while it was lightweight, it was probably a little bigger than I needed. I definitely wasn’t fully prepared in terms of gear or even knowing what the terrain would be like.
But hey, sometimes the best adventures happen when you dive in headfirst.
Stage 1: A Hard Start
The first stage was a 50K, and I learned quickly that I had packed a bit too much food and my gear was too heavy. I had nearly 2 pounds in lights alone. My pack weighed in at around 19 pounds, which, for a race like this, is heavier than you'd want. The day started off smooth on dirt roads, and I felt good chasing down the lead runner, Merile, but the weight of the pack started to catch up with me. The pace was running, about 9-minute miles, continually for the first 20 miles, and the heavy pack was rough. Then came the off-trail portion.
The cross-country sections, full of cacti and tough-to-spot markers, threw me off. I'm colorblind, and those pink markers blended right into the landscape. I ended up losing around 20 minutes looking for markers, but I finished by walking it in, in second place—about an hour behind Merile, who had done the race before, started off fast, and never looked back.
Stage 2: Settling In
Day 2 brought more cross-country sections and even hotter temps. It hit around 91°F, and we started when the day had already heated up, making for a long, hot slog. I ran with two guys, Matt and Michael, and we tried to keep a good pace despite the sand and the heat. Over the first steep hill climb, we separated a bit, and then at mile 15, Michel and I were together, and we unfortunately took a wrong turn and lost a lot of time. It was a bonus couple of miles spent searching for the camouflage pink ribbons. At this point, I was having a pretty low moment, thinking about bailing and quitting the entire race. The route crossed the Arizona Trail and I considered just turning off onto it and creating my own adventure.
When I say low, I mean pretty darn low, but my stubbornness kicked in, and I kept going. After a long, hot day, we walked into camp at a solid pace but totally wiped out. I am not good in the heat.
The Long Stage: 53 Miles of Heat and Sand
Stage 3 was the crux of the race—a 53-mile stage that would go late into the night. This is where I thrive, at least I usually do well at night when the temperatures are more moderate. But, all strategy and hope went astray when they announced the runners would start in two waves, one at 8 am and the other not starting until 10 am. I was in the later wave and not too excited about having to bear the heat of the day from the first step. I spent those two bonus hours waiting around and eating as much food as I could. It was the only strategy within my control to make my pack weight lighter.
The day started off hot and flat on the sandy roads of southern Utah. But around the halfway point, we crossed a creek and decided to cool off with the running water. It was heaven! From there, Michel, Matt, and I charged off into the night and slogged through sand dunes, the kind of sand where your feet sink deep with every step. The ups were steep, literal sand dunes, but we were able to follow the reflective lights of the route until we couldn't. They all but disappeared, and we were soon walking in circles, looking for the route. And when we eventually found the markers, we couldn't figure out which way we needed to go. Backward or forwards, we didn't know which was which. But, after a team huddle, we were back on track and moving well. We wrapped up the barefoot crossing of the sand dunes, did a quick cross-country section, and closed it out, charging up a deep, sandy road under the stars.
We finished the stage at 2 a.m., completely spent.
Rest Day, Then More Miles
The day after the long stage was a rest day for most, but with all the downtime, it was hard not to overthink everything. I weighed my food to make sure I wouldn't face any penalties and ended up chatting with other racers from around the world. Meeting people from different countries and hearing their stories helped distract from the aches and pains of the previous stages.
The next day, we had a runnable marathon on packed dirt, and I focused on keeping a steady pace. It was hot, but I was finally getting into a groove and letting the experience wash over me. I was comfortably in second place at this point, so my goal became enjoying the journey rather than focusing solely on the finish.
Final Marathon: Running on Empty
By the time we hit the final full marathon stage, my body was starting to break down. I had been under-fueled for days, and my legs were shot from all the flat, runnable miles—something I hadn’t trained enough for in the mountains of Montana. But I powered through. The final day loomed: just 8 miles to the finish line.
On the last day, we started late again, and I had nothing left in the tank—barely any calories, just enough to get me to the end. I ran behind Merile for most of the day, keeping him in sight but knowing there was no way I was going to catch him. I crossed the finish line completely spent but proud, locking in second place.
Post-Race: Flying High
After the race, there was an epic awards banquet with steak, salmon, and a DJ—totally unexpected for a race like this. But the real highlight came the next morning when I got to fly a plane. One of the race volunteers invited me and my friend Derek to take a ride in his Cessna. And guess what? I got to fly it, even lining it up for the landing strip! It was the perfect way to wrap up an insane adventure.
Takeaways
The Grand to Grand Ultra was brutal, humbling, and exhilarating all at once. I learned a ton about managing pack weight, food, and gear. If I do another stage race, I’ll definitely be more prepared with specialized gear and a better strategy for fueling.