How 250 miles in the Arizona backcountry broke me...and put me back together
A Race Report from the 2024 Cocodona 250
It’s 3 AM, I’m alone, somewhere in the Bradshaw mountains of Arizona and I’ve just thrown up for the fourth time. I’m exhausted and miles from anywhere. The situation is dire but this would mark the start of one of the best experiences of my life. Welcome to the Cocodona 250!
What is the Cocodona 250?
“Cocodona” is a 250-mile point-to-point ultramarathon (footrace) from Black Canyon City to Flagstaff in Arizona, climbing about 40,000’ elevation and descending 36,000’ as it winds through the backcountry. The terrain is a mixture of mountains and desert ranging in elevation and generally “technical” meaning lots of rocks. Runners are allowed crew and pacers along the route but I would be running unsupported/solo.
Some Context for Road Runners
An Ultramarathon is any foot race longer than 26 miles. A regular marathon is a smooth, manicured road, and usually flat as a board. E.g. “Heartbreak Hill” in the Boston Marathon is notorious for stealing souls but the reality is it’s an 89’ rise over half a mile! Ultras are…different.
Most ultras are on trails over uneven terrain with roots, branches, stones, rocks, dry river beds, water crossings, and rolling hills. Depending on the distance and terrain your pace can vary from 12-14mins a mile (considered very, very fast) to 1 hour per mile or more. I’ve done a bunch of 100+ mile distances, including iconic races like Moab 240 and Leadville 100 and they all hit different but NOTHING I’ve experienced compared to Cocodona.
Race Prep
I would be running solo, with no crew or pacers (support runners). In some ways, solo is a disadvantage but for the type of experience I was looking for it was perfect.
Sunday May 5th I had a 3 AM ET wake time, 6 AM ET flight, and arrived in Phoenix 9:30 AM PST. From there I made my way to the race start line and dropped all my stuff off around noon. The race was just setting up. I spent a few hours sleeping and then left my motel (not hotel) at 2:30 AM PST Monday 6th morning. There was a bit of a delay getting SPOT devices assigned and a lot of standing around but by 5:10AM we were off and running.
Let’s Goooo!!!
We filed out of Black Canyon into the backcountry in a long conga line through the hills. The trail was beautiful. We ran silently, observed by massive saguaro cacti; ancient sentinels granting us access to the sacred lands of the old West. I breathed the dry air and stayed present as the sun rose. The worries and stresses of the 21st century fell away and our adventure had begun.
From the start line the trail wound into the first aid at Cottonwood (mile 7.5): The day would be hot (90-100F) and the trail would be steep so we had a mandatory 4 liters of water as the minimum carry. I drank what I could, loaded everything up and left Cottonwood with a liter to spare (5L or 11 lbs of water). My pack at this point was about 22 lbs, more than I’ve carried in any race ever. This would be a huge factor in the miles ahead.
Getting Punched in the Face
Over the next 12 hours, we climbed +9,518’ gain and -4,856’ descent on the route to Lane Mountain. This was an absolute kick in the teeth. It was hot (90F+). It was rocky, uneven, and overgrown and it never seemed to end. I got behind in electrolytes, hydration, and nutrition and before long became nauseous. My clothes developed a white line of salt throughout my gear and it was an easy guess that I was dehydrated.
By late afternoon my pace was slowed to a crawl and I eventually threw up. The miles wound on and the sun was unrelenting and…I threw up again. I tried to reset with salt tabs and that only made matters worse. By the time I reached Lane Mountain (mile 32), I had thrown up 3 times and looked like death warmed up. The medic at Lane sought me out and quizzed me. I got the feeling that if I hung around she would cut me from the race, so I slammed some broth, got out of there, and started the trek to Crown King.
Don’t Panic!
This first section was a punch in the face. I felt like I’d jumped in the deep part of the ocean and my body was going into shock. Despite the initial assault, my mind was steady and I knew if I just hung in there my body would bounce back. It was going to suck but it’d get there. I was still in control and could make it happen. I pressed on and arrived in Crown King (mile 37) pretty late about 3 hours before the cutoff.
At Crown I tried some food, took care of some basics, and picked up my puffy coat.
I left Crown King with a new friend (Wes) and we hiked into the night. The trails were freezing cold at this point. Daytime temps had been in the 90Fs but nighttime in the Bradshaw mountains was cold. Probably 40Fs. I had to push the pace just to keep warm and soon lost Wes and found myself running solo through the mountains. I reached Arrastra Creek (52miles) after a hard push and was ready for a rest but there wasn’t much there, just a fire, some broth and other shivering runners so I didn’t stay long.
The next section was daunting - a 9-mile unrelenting climb 2,700’ up to Camp Kipa. I knew there was no point shivering at Arrastra so as soon as I’d chugged some broth I headed out solo. The night was as cold as iron. I knew it was only going to get colder so I settled into a weak shuffle in an effort to stay warm.
You Have Time…in a 250 mile race to fully die and come back to life.
Somewhere along this trail, I threw up for the fourth time. This was the entire contents of my stomach and pretty scary. I hadn’t lost my composure but I was starting to get concerned that my body was shutting down. If I got into trouble here my race was basically done but moreover, I could end up in hospital.
At this point I was pretty much at the mercy of my body. Things were out of control and it would’ve been easy to freak out but I focused on staying present and moving through the course. I could still see a narrow path forward but this was a reminder - in no way was I in charge out here. The trail demands respect.
I remember being alone in the forest that first night, flowing through the mountains with the cold and the doubt. The path took on an almost ghostly feel. I felt the trees around me and the loose trail ahead and a deep connection to my father. So much of my life is about control and managing outcomes but this was a time to let go.
Whatever happened, whatever the universe’s plan, I would allow it to pass through me but I was not going to quit.
I reached Camp Kipa (62miles) shortly after dawn broke over the ridge, an epic display, and decided to get some rest. I was about 4 hours from cutoffs at this point and Camp was pretty desolate. I lay on my back on the ground with my feet elevated on a chair and fell asleep in that position for 45mins. I woke, grabbed some food, and moved out of camp, alone.
From here I reached Camp Wamatochick (69miles) and then down into Whisky Row (78 miles) and as the afternoon wore on the Arizona sun played its part. This section was HOT and by the time I reached the aid station, I’d been dreaming of air conditioning and a bit of sleep. I was still carrying about 3L of water, god knows why as I wasn’t able to drink it.
A Bed at Whisky
The Whisky Aid station is next to a hotel and at this point, you’re allowed to go off course so I took full advantage. I booked into the hotel ($160) and slept in an actual bed for 2 hours. It was amazing. And hard to leave. I awoke in the same position as I’d laid down in and got back on the road with 4 slices of pizza in my hand. I still wasn’t sure if the food would stay down but I needed calories so I slammed it back and hoped for the best. My body answered; I was done throwing up.
This next section wrapped around town and out into the Granite Dells (pictured above). They are beautiful to behold but TERRIBLE for foot travel. Giant boulders with tiny white blazes that are impossible to find, especially in the dark. GPS doesn’t really work there either. I somehow navigated these in the dark by headlamp and after an age I climbed out and got on the road to Iron King. Here I met Natalie and her pacer Lourdes. We shared some miles and they entertained me with tales of their derpy heeler dog. I was glad of the company.
From Iron King (mile 90.9) through Fain Ranch (96.1) and up to Mingus Mountain Camp (mile 108)) we had about 11miles through flat fields which I thought would be great but there was no trail. Just a GPS route cut through miles of little cacti and thistles with barely any markings. The path had been well marked with flags during the day but the cows in the field had eaten them all so this made navigation by GPS the only option. Despite navigating pretty well I still stabbed my feet a bunch with cacti and had to stop and pull spines out. This was painful. Welcome to ultra racing!
An Insignificant Milestone
In this section, we crossed the 100-mile mark. For most folks 100 miles would be a major milestone but we weren’t even halfway and I barely looked up when I passed the little marker. I was grateful for the progress but it didn’t register as a celebration.
I arrived at Camp Mingus (108.5) after a long climb in the early morning of Wednesday and had already decided to get some sleep there. To put things in perspective it had taken almost 48 hours to cover 108 miles. By contrast, I’ve run 101 miles in 22 hours under different conditions. Cocodona was not screwing around.
Note to future runners, Mingus is a GREAT place to catch some sleep. They have a dedicated building and it’s relatively cool and quiet. I ate what I could, did some foot maintenance, and bedded down for a welcomed 90 minutes of sleep. I awoke before the alarm went off in the EXACT same position I’d closed my eyes in. Thank you Mingus. It was time to move.
Leaving Camp I was blessed with the incredible view down into Jerome. We were at about 8000’ of elevation here and you can see all the way into across the Verde Valley to the red rock walls of Sedona and the peaks of Flagstaff beyond. Some of the most spectacular of the course.
The climb down into Jerome is…not nothing. In the Moab 240 there is a short but treacherous climb called '“Jacobs Ladder” that brings you from the canyon rim down into the desert plane itself. It’s super sketchy and you need eyes and ears open but it lasts about 20 minutes.
The descent into Jerome was Moab on steroids. Long miles of single track, rocky and at times VERY exposed. One slip and it could easily be game over, especially if you’re solo like me. I took my time, focused on hydrating, and scrambled down as best I could.
Everybody Struggles
After endless switchbacks, I got to some double-track which was safer but just as rocky. Here I met another runner Brandon and we blew through the trail chatting like old friends and sharing stories of what drove us to these types of events.
Life’s a funny thing but everyone is struggling and there is a shared suffering in the ultra world that never fails to bring people together. I so enjoyed the conversation with Brandon and after endless rocks, we finally broke out into a road and I shuffled on down into the town of Jerome. Thank you Brandon!
Halfway time for Bonus Miles!
The Jerome Aid (mile 125) is near an old copper processing facility. Aid station volunteers were amazing and were blasting some horrendously offensive trap-house music! The vibe here was surreal! By far the sexiest aid station on the route. Thank you Jerome aid workers! You made it memorable.
Leaving Jerome I picked up a STACK of watermelon that was giving me life. I munched on it for about half a mile down the road until I realized I’d left my poles back at the aid station. Doh! About-face and back I went. These are called “bonus miles”.
I had already made some friends at the aid station and when I saw the same people twice these gracious folks offered to go grab my poles whilst I rested. I sat with the rest of their crew who were supporting their runner Davey - bib #205. Mine was #204 which made us Bib Brothers. That crew (from Connecticut) was so fun and we traded impressions of David Goggins whilst waiting for my poles. Stay Hard!!!!
On the way out of Jerome, I linked up with Jackie and Walt. These guys were amazing and we quickly fell into a great conversation. They made the miles fly by. We made our first legit water crossing on the course together just as the sun was setting (I think this was the Verde River). We took off shoes and socks and the water felt AMAZING so we paused for 5-10minutes sitting on the bank in the twilight and enjoyed it.
From there we reached Dead Horse (mile 134) and refueled. I was starting to feel a slight bit more human by now. Food was staying down and more importantly, water was also staying down. That had been my focus since the previous day and I knew if things kept going I’d be able to continue the race. I was less confident about the cut-offs but we’d made some time on the road into Dead Horse. After about 30mins we decided to head out and I took the lead and set the pace. It was here I came across a mean-looking scorpion, a good reminder of the dangers on these trails.
After some time the trail trended uphill and I was in the zone so without realizing it I lost the string of runners behind me, including Walt, Jackie, and Brandon. I figured they’d catch up when I stopped but sadly they never did. The trail wound up and over countless hills and the night was black as pitch.
“Where Do You Sleep?”
I could sense the red rocks of Sedona out on the horizon and this section would’ve been incredible to pass through in the daytime. As it was I was struggling to stay awake and took two 10min trail naps. People ask me “Where do you sleep on an ultra” and the answer is “Anywhere you want”. The stops were a chance to turn off my headlamp, let my eyes get accustomed to the dark, and stare up at the night sky. I was cold but I didn’t care, I just lay there on the trail, staring up at the endless black stars, and was thankful.
Back Running Again
Somewhere along this trail, I panicked - I was too close to the cutoffs. The reality was I was fine but my hazy brain and trail math told me otherwise so after traversing 130 miles I forced myself back running. I passed a bunch of runners and their pacers along the last few miles into Deer Pass (mile 147). The aid station was pretty desolate. Everyone was shivering and freezing. I sat down for about 10 minutes for no reason at all and then stood right back up again and headed out. I knew I had to keep moving or risk hypothermia.
The trail out of Deer was pretty runnable but I had nothing left. Lack of calories and sleep were catching up to me and I again had to pause for a dirt nap. A runner and her pacer (Katerina and Jeff I think) passed me and I latched onto them. They were moving at a good clip and I zeroed my gaze in on Jeff’s heels. Without the mental pressure of navigating I just had to move my body and I felt like I had a chance to keep up. I followed them until about 2 miles out of Sedona when they pulled over. I pressed on and eventually, I reached the Red Rock High School water station down into Sedona just as the sun was cresting the rocks. Incredible.
Next came some beautiful single-track trails that wound around town and up to the ridge right above Sedona. This was pretty exposed which meant some amazing views. It was dawn and I was surrounded by the Red Rocks, physically exhausted but mentally in thrall by the landscape. I sat for 10 minutes as the sun rose against Cathedral Rock. The stillness of the desert and the peace of that moment will be with me for a long time.
After what seemed like an age I arrived at the Sedona-Posse Grounds Aid Station (mile 161.4) and it was again time for some sleep. After about an hour I started gathering myself up and again bumped into Walt and Jackie. They were just about settling down and I hoped we would see each other again.
Heading out of Sedona I filled my hat and my hood with pure ice and this was a game-changer. The ice kept my core temps down in the heat of the day and meant I was able to move smoothly through some of the most brutally hot sections on the course.
The trail finally led down into Casner Canyon where Howie Stern and Mischa were waiting to snap a pic as we crossed the river at Oak Creek.
I left the river with no clue what was ahead but if I’d known how tough it would get I might’ve stayed a bit longer. The next section was a prolonged overgrown climb over 7 miles straight up out of the canyon. Looking back every few minutes onto the red rock monoliths of Sedona as the desert landscape slowly gives way to Ponderosa Pines. Sublime but Punishing. I reached the top of the climb hoping for a full aid station but sadly it was water-only and completely deserted.
There is no Plan B
From here I wound on to Schnebly Hill (mile 178) and I did some mental math; cut-offs were way too close for comfort so I resolved to get moving ASAP. I’d been frustrated that running had been so hard. We were were at altitude but it shouldn’t have been that tough so I decided it was time to shed weight. I dumped the 3 liters of extra water I’d been carrying. Pouring that out felt like a one-way door, there was no going back, no Plan-B. I figured worst-case I’d make it to the next aid. Shortly after that I started shuffling, then jogging, then running.
“I Don’t Understand It Either”
Within a few miles, I had dialed it up to running 10-11mins pace and it felt amazing. This section was a lot of downhill into Munds and I saw no reason why I wouldn’t run the entire distance. Pretty soon I was passing people. We were 180+miles into the race and people were understandably dead on their feet but I was moving. I passed a runner with her pacer and she yelled “You are hauling ASS!!!” to which I replied “I know! I don’t understand it either!”
I arrived in Munds (190 miles) and it was buzzing with activity. I had moved through the field and caught up to a LOT of runners so I tried another 45mins of sleep here and then got back on the road. By now it was well into the night and we were heading into the Coconino Plateau (around 7,000’) - the temperature had dropped significantly. I estimated it around 35F. I could see my breath and as soon as I stopped running I felt a bitter chill sink into my bones.
The reality of how people die of exposure struck me and again the Trail demanded respect. I’m out here solo. In shorts!!! If you see a sleeping runner the etiquette is to leave them be so if I fall asleep other runners will think I’m fine…but I might not wake up! I decided to keep moving at all costs. Since I didn’t have crew I was packing minimal and had no leg covering. Forward movement and generating body heat would be critical.
After running a bunch more I came upon some incredible ladies from the Navajo Nation. They had a great energy, gracious and welcoming and we traded stories of growing up and our respective cultures. The Long Walk/Trail of Tears in their history and the displacement of the Irish by Oliver Cromwell: “To Hell or To Connacht”. They talked about their relationship with the land and I shared some of Ireland’s pagan beliefs and how ancient Celts worshipped the earth goddess Danu. How cool to see the parallels in our cultures despite thousands of miles and years in the difference. I felt fortunate to share these miles as we wound on toward Kelly Canyon and mile 200.
Leaving Kelly I was at around 7,000’ elevation and it was still freezing cold. The day before there’d been a controlled forestry burn and the air was thick with smoke. Visibility was less than 10’ and it was difficult at times to breathe or even stay on the road! I linked up with Mike (pictured below) and his pacer Andrew whom I’d met at Fain and we pushed on to Fort Tuthill. Andrew couldn’t understand how I didn’t have any pants and only a single pair of shoes for this thing. Solo Bolo baby!!!
I left Mike and Andrew on the road and arrived at Fort Tuthill (mile 209) where I lay down for my final 45min nap and it was here that something incredible happened.
A Visit from my Trail Guardian Angel
I was laying on the cold ground of a big concrete building - just a typical nap, actually pretty upmarket compared to the trail. After a solid 45mins my alarm went off.
I awoke to find someone had wrapped a warm blanket around my legs as I was asleep! I was so dead I never noticed. After asking around I discovered my “trail angel” who’d cared for me - a gift from a blessed lady I’d chatted with only briefly upon entering the aid station. She’d noticed I had no crew, no pants, and no nothing! and had taken it upon herself to find a blanket and lay it on me! I couldn’t have been more touched. I never did get her name but I am forever grateful. Thank You!!!
*** UPDATE *** - Through the wonders of the Interwebs I have since learned my angel’s name is Dori Smith Troutman. A beautiful caring spirit who went out of her way with a random act of kindness that left a huge lasting impression. THANK YOU Dori!!!
The Final Push
I left Tuthill with a spring in my step, it was a really cold morning, we could see our breath and without running I would’ve ended up shivering. I was also concerned about the climb up to 9,000’ at Elden Crest - people had been warning me of the cold and that I’d need pants or some kind of cold weather gear so I resolved to make it up there and back down before the sun went down. That meant busting out some miles so after 209miles and four days on the road I was back running 11 and 12-minute pace.
Then the Wheels Fell Off
Somewhere before Walnut Creek(mile 227) my right quad cramped HARD and I had to pull over. With about 3 miles to the aid station I was reduced to a limp. I tried all sorts of things to work out the cramp but nothing worked and I hobbled into the aid station a broken husk.
At Walnut Creek I drank probably a pint of pickle juice and ate a ton. Things improved but this would be the end of running. I was frustrated as for the past day I’d been gaining tons of places in the overall standing and felt great. I felt good enough to run but my leg was just not happy. I would find out later that my quad had not just cramped but had a low-grade tear and that would be the only real lasting injury from the race.
I sat down on the way towards Elden Crest and refueled but in my exhausted state I forgot to zip up my pack. This was a potentially dangerous mistake as my headlamp and a bunch of essential gear fell out and was lost! I moved on down the trail oblivious and eventually caught up with two new friends, Shannon and her pacer Erica. I didn’t know it then but they would end up saving my race.
Unsupported but with Unending Support
I explained to Erica/Shannon that my quad was busted and could I latch on to them to share some of the miles? They graciously agreed. After a short while Shannon noticed that my pack was open and after checking I realized that I’d lost my headlamp. This would’ve been a disaster but Shannon had a spare and without hesitation offered it to me which of course I accepted and we pressed on. I was in no shape to move past them and so we shared the miles up to Elden Crest.
I say I ran this race un-supported since I didn’t have crew or pacers but if you’ve read this far you already know I got so much support from other racers, from Aravaipa, from volunteers and Aid Stations, and from the course itself. This experience met me at every turn and provided for me throughout. Shannon and Erica are the perfect examples, the perfect people right when I needed them. Without bumping into them at that point in the race there is no chance I could’ve finished.
Elden to Flagstaff (mile 250).
Elden Crest is an insane vertical climb of 2,000’ over just 2 miles. Straight up in the air! It’s 3 points of contact in many places but somehow this climb suited my busted quad. I was able to keep my right leg straight and use my left leg exclusively to lift my body up over the rocks and Shannon and Erica were again so gracious that they let me set the pace for this section. After a long afternoon, we reached the lookout tower at 9,000’ with about 45mins of daylight left and it felt AMAZING.
From here we had one more aid station where I enjoyed some incredible tri-tip steak and a beer. What race has Steak and Beer at the aid stations??? It felt amazing. With this last insane climb done, we had 10 miles remaining down into the finish line in Flagstaff at mile 250. The sheer enormity of the race hit me. I had been broken down in the first couple of days, emptied out, humbled, and then slowly replenished.
With the descent from Elden Crest, the weight of the challenge began to lift from my shoulders. We hit the finish line at about 10:30 PM and I cannot put into words the feeling. If there is a state of oneness, a state of absolute balance and flow, a state of peace that we can find in this life, even for the briefest moment, this was it.
Last month I wrote about Accountability - what it is, why it’s important, and some tricks I used to force myself into it. I hope this closes the loop on that post. My accountability to you all but more importantly to myself. I could not quit this thing. It was never an option.
I also need to drop a huge thank you and shout out to all my “virtual” support system - to my family, friends and colleagues who sent texts, notes, slacks and messages throughout the race. Who tracked me day and night for 4.5 days and who cheered me on from thousands of miles away, you guys are the best. It really made a huge difference. Thank you all.
I hope this illustrates not just the physical but the mental and dare I say it spiritual journey this adventure represented for me. I’ve only captured a small fraction of the full adventure here, there is much more I could say and a lot happened on the trail. By sharing a little of the story I hope it will encourage you to get out there and assault your own impossible goal.
I was drawn to Cocodona because it was beyond my known limits. It called out to me and at the same time, it scared me. I was genuinely not sure if I could finish it. Now that it’s done I’m good…for now.
Thanks for reading. I hope you find your own challenge out there. It doesn’t have to be an ultra race or even a physical thing at all. Just something that scares you. Don’t let fear hold you back from your goals. Accept it and move through it.
Let the trail provide what you need and the journey might just change your life.
This is an incredible undertaking and I felt like I was there reading your story! Congratulations!
And I thought your Leadville tale was epic. Wow.