What Happens in Vegas might be something to share! Red Rock Canyon Marathon
With its 2700 feet of elevation gain over two long sustained climbs, I knew that the Red Rock Canyon Marathon was not going to be one of my faster races. Plus, the course is out-and-back, which I generally shun preferring non-repeating loops instead. The field is small, and when it comes to road marathons I prefer larger events so I can tap into the runner and spectator energy around me. So with all that said, I excitingly signed up for this race. I was hooked on its jaw-dropping beautiful scenery—one of the most scenic marathons I’ve run.
If you’ve been following my running pursuits you know that I’m not interested in easy. I’m interested in challenging myself—and seeing what I’m capable of doing. Throughout my life I’ve found that I’m truly living when I’m pushing my limits and living in the moment. You also know that when I set out to run a marathon or ultra in all 50 states, I wasn’t interested in doing any of the big corporate hype races. I prefer races that capture the essence of a place without the bells and whistles.
I love exploring Nevada, but have no interest in the Vegas Strip and its excesses. The Red Rock Canyon Marathon is staged in a national conservation area preserving a stunning Mojave landscape of imposing mountains, wide desert washes and steep rock walls radiating a kaleidoscope of colors. And this natural marvel is just a half hour west from the Strip offering a nice contrast between wild Nevada and wild Vegas!
At the start–cool morning
Ultra-trail running is my true love. I prefer natural tread to pavement. This race with its natural surroundings and challenging hills would be like running an ultra—except for the road part. Interestingly, many of the participants that I met at the race who were also pursuing being full-fledged 50 staters were also ultra-runners who preferred trails. This marathon seemed to attract that type of runner—and hence a more mellow laidback less competitive atmosphere than your typical road marathon. My strategy running this race would be like running an ultra—walk the steep hills, enjoy the scenery and concentrate more on finishing than on my time.
The biggest psychological barrier I had to doing this race was wondering if I was recovered from me recent injury. Last year was a banner year for me having successfully completed two marathons, two 50Ks, three 50 milers, one 3-day staged ultra, and my first 100 mile race. Come mid-November my right calf started giving me pain—more than likely a light muscle tear. It was enough to sideline me for weeks as I worked on recovering and strengthening it. It meant weeks without running giving me a little anxiety. This race would be my first race (other than a 5K on New Year’s Day) in two months and I was worried about not being fully recovered. I had hiked for several days before the race including up challenging Turtlehead Mountain in the Red Rocks NCA. My calf seemed to be holding up.
Race morning was chilly—in the 40s with light sprinkles. Southern Nevada’s weather is quite different in the winter. Running in this area in summer with temps surpassing 100F and no shade is a death wish. The temperature hovered in the 50s, partly cloudy with a small breeze making it ideal for a marathon. Off we went at 6:45 am (sunrise). Overcast skies blunted any dramatic daybreak, but as the clouds dissipated, rays of sun danced on the red rocks of this canyon setting it on fire.
Running through the desert is magical. Hemmed in on three sides by a wall of mountains, the terrain before me and to the east was wide open space. Clusters of Joshua trees here at their northeastern limit dotted the lower elevation. Chollas, creosote bushes and sage covered the higher ground. The Vegas sprawl to the east could be seen from the higher elevations along the course. This area is home to the endangered desert tortoise, and signs throughout remind you to watch for them and respect them (they were pretty much hibernating on race day). A combination of holding back because I was fearful of aggravating my old injury and having two long sustained climbs (and a few minor ones) had me running like a tortoise!
At around mile seven I encountered the half marathoners running the opposite direction trudging up the steepest part of the course (we would be doing it on the return). As I encouraged them with “nice jobs,” I was dreading my turn to run that stretch. But when it came time to hit the hardest part of the course I ended up meeting Ben, a fellow Washingtonian. We ran together for 10 miles fully engaged in conversation.
Ben’s a pastor from Colfax on the Palouse—so we talked agriculture. No potatoes grown there, but plenty of wheat and lentils. We did talk about Washington potatoes too of course (my Team Potato shirt is a great conversation starter). And we talked history—and the topics you aren’t supposed to talk about—politics and religion! It was a fantastic conversation and it kept our minds off of the return grind.
Striking Calico Hills with Turtlehead Mountain rising behind them.
We crossed the finish line in just over 5 hours and for both of us it was our slowest marathon time ever. But we were both recovering from an injury or inactivity and this was one hard course. We were content with our results. Only 67 runners finished overall, a small field indeed for a marathon and especially for one just outside of a large city. But it was easy to bond with fellow runners and the course was gorgeous.
To my relief, my calf appeared to have held up. That was a assuring. After a nap I did a 3 mile flat recovery walk on the paved Las Vegas Wash Trail—and then it was time to celebrate with a trip to Inn-N-out burgers with my usual post marathon meal there—a double double, French fires, and chocolate shake. Granted not the healthiest but still a great recovery meal. And while French Fries aren’t the healthiest (but sure are the tastiest) way to eat potatoes, potatoes are great for recovery with their vitamin E and potassium.
I learned that Inn-N-Out gets some of its potatoes from Nevada. I had no idea potatoes can grow here. But up in northern Nevada in Humboldt County about 10,000 or so acres are dedicated to potato production. And up until 2013 the largest potato hydrator in the country was located at Nevada’s Winnemucca Farms. Overall however, potato production in the Silver State is small. Washington, the second largest grower of potatoes in the country has more than 160,000 acres dedicated to spud production and boasts the highest yield per acre.
The following morning I felt great and spent the day with the family visiting the fascinating Springs Reserve and Museums. The day after, our last in Vegas, was spent back at Red Rock Canyon hiking. I just can’t get enough of viewing the canyon’s Calico Hills with their stunning composition of brilliant red and white sandstone. And I’d like to say that while this race happened right outside of Vegas, I have no problems letting the word get out about it.
Big Thanks to the Washington State Potato Commission for sponsoring me. I’m proud to be a member of
Team Potato and to showcase the nutritional value and performance enhancement of potatoes as I train for my second 100 mile run—and continue to run a marathon or ultra-marathon in all 50 states! Nevada make state number 12. I’ve got many miles and place yet to go—and lots of potatoes to consume to power me along the way.
