What I Learned Running 171-Miles Across The Desert

Key Takeaways

• True strength is not about being unbreakable. It is about what happens when you break and keep moving forward.

• The Grand to Grand Ultra may be “self-supported,” but nobody finishes alone. The support of a community can pull out strength you did not know you had.

• We are all running our own race, and the people beside us often determine how far we can go.

• At EVO, our goal is to be that support system for you.

The Grand-to-Grand Ultra

Imagine standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon with a pack strapped to your back carrying everything you will need for the next seven days.

Ahead of you lies 171-miles of desert.

There are no crews, no comforts, and no shortcuts. Just you, your gear, and a finish line more than a week away at the Grand Staircase in Utah.

The days stretch into the 90s under a burning sun and the nights drop into the 40s. There's thunderstorms, hail, and flooded trails. The terrain shifts from ankle-deep sand, to cactus fields, to slick climbs, to descents that shred your legs. Mud, rocks, wind, cold, and heat all take their turn. The desert gives you everything it has.

This is the Grand to Grand Ultra.

One of the hardest stage races in the world.

Seven days.

Self-supported.

Only two-thirds of the people who start it will ever see the finish.

I have stood on that starting line twice.

The first time, in 2022, I failed.

The second time, I finished.

But the lesson I carried out of the desert was not about mileage, pace, or toughness. It was about strength, and how I had been defining it all wrong.

My First Attempt

In 2022, I believed I was ready. I had trained, packed, and convinced myself I could do it. But when I hit the long stage of more than 50 miles through sand and over mountains, I crumbled. My body failed me. My mind failed me.

The trust is that I was not physically, mentally, or emotionally prepared.

I walked away from that race with a DNF.

A three-letter reminder that I had not reached my limit. I had only reached the limit of my preparation.

That reality stayed with me.

It stung.

Coming Back Different

This year I came back to the desert. Three years of training were behind me. Three years of preparation. Countless miles. Long days on the trails. Gear dialed in. Fueling strategies tested and retested.

But no matter how much you prepare, this race is designed to find your weaknesses.

It is not just the running.

It is everything around the running.

On the very first night, before the race even began, my air mattress popped. For the next four nights I lay on rocks, branches, and uneven dirt with people snoring all around me. I barely slept. My food melted together in the heat and became hard to choke down after long days. I fought through cactus fields, stumbled across dunes that felt endless, clawed up steep climbs, and braced myself on pounding descents. I was soaked by thunderstorms, pelted by hail, and chilled by freezing nights.

The desert breaks you not only with miles but with sleep deprivation, poor food, extreme swings of weather, and the constant voice in your head that says, “Just give up. You've gone far enough. Everyone will be proud of how far you've gone... even if you don't make it to the finish.”

The Breaking Point

On the long stage, about 15 to 18 hours in, trekking through endless sand under the stars, I finally hit that wall again. My legs were shot. My eyes were heavy. My mind was screaming at me to stop.

Then another racer looked at me and said something I will never forget: “You are not done until it is done. Go eat a hot meal, shut your eyes, and when you wake up you can decide. No one can pick you up until the morning anyway”

So I did.

I ate.

I slept.

And when I woke up, I still wanted to quit.

The Power of Support

But this time, I was not alone.

When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by volunteers who had been waiting for me. For 30 minutes they nudged me, encouraged me, and reminded me that I had more left inside. They told me that if I quit, I would regret it. They believed in me when I did not believe in myself.

Then another racer put his arm around me and said, “We are going to finish this together.”

Something shifted in me in that moment.

I didn't suddenly feel strong.

I didn't suddenly feel capable of finishing.

But I did feel like I could take the next step.

Not all the way to the finish line, but at least to the next aid station six miles away.

So I got up.

I stumbled forward into the sand.

The Longest Night

As the night dragged on, I drifted in and out of sleep while still walking. My body was shutting down. My gear dug into my shoulders. The sand swallowed my feet. Every step was work.

But when the sun rose, so did my spirit. The desert lit up around me. I looked at the faces of the people who had pulled me through that night, and I realized I could not let them down.

I could not let myself down.

Step by step, aid station by aid station, I kept going. Hours later, after more than 25 hours on the course, I crossed the finish line of the long stage. I broke down in tears. Not because I had conquered the race, but because I knew how close I had been to giving up.

I knew how much I had wanted to stop.

And yet, I was able to keep going more than I thought.

The Lesson

The biggest lesson I learned from the Grand to Grand is that strength is not about being unbreakable.

It is about what happens when you do break.

I thought finishing would prove I was tough enough to do it on my own.

But the truth is, I finished because I was not on my own. I finished because I had people around me who wanted me to succeed as much as I did, and they helped me find the part of me that was still alive when I thought I was done.

They say this race is self-supported. And in one sense, that is true. You carry your own food, your own gear, and the things you need to survive the week. But nobody truly finishes this race alone. Most of the people who cross that finish line are supported by the community — the volunteers, the racers, the strangers who turn into family out there in the desert.

We lifted each other up and borrowed strength from eachother aat different points throughout the race.

That is what got me through.

That is not weakness.

That is the truest version of strength.

Your Race

Most people will never run across the desert for 171 miles.

But all of us are running our own race.

Maybe it is getting out of pain, building strength, losing weight, or simply sticking with a routine long enough to see results.

Different race, same breaking point.

And at some point, you will hit that wall. You will hear that voice that says, “That is it. I am done.”

That is why this lesson matters for you. Because you do not need to be unbreakable. You just need to surround yourself with people who will be there when you break, who want your success as much as you do, and who will help you keep going when you think you cannot.

That is the support we want to be for you at EVO.

To stand beside you in those moments. To pull out the strength you cannot find on your own. To remind you that there is always more in you than you think.

Your race may look different than mine.

But you do not have to run it alone.

If you are ready to take that next step, we are ready to help you.

Book a Discovery Call to start your race.