Cocodona 250: A Pacer's Perspective (2022)

To think that I could “pace” my friend Tony for 100 miles at the 2022 Cocodona 250 was a ludicrous idea, but that’s what I volunteered to do.

After learning about his commitment to running this race, I quickly decided to offer to help out in any way that I could. And after letting my wife Christa know that I’d be heading to Arizona in May to help Tony, we decided to turn this into a multi-month family road trip.

So much excitement and so much planning.

We traveled through many states, ultimately landing in Williams, Arizona, on May 1st. Tony would be starting his race in Prescott, Arizona, on Monday, May 2nd, and I would eventually be linking up with him in Sedona on Wednesday, May 4th. The goal was for me to pace Tony from Sedona to the finish in Flagstaff, roughly 106 miles in total.

On Wednesday, after lunch in Sedona with Christa, she dropped me off at the aid station where I would await Tony’s arrival. He was running with another guy, Eduardo, and he had notified me that they would be a bit later than expected.

I sat at the aid station filled with excitement for roughly 4 hours until Tony and Eduardo got there. I think this inevitably impacted Tony’s performance more than we initially expected. When they arrived, Tony knew I had been waiting a while and didn’t want to keep me sitting there any longer, despite his visible exhaustion. He told me he’d take just a 30-minute rest, and then we’d get going. I should have told him to rest longer, but I didn’t understand how sleep-deprived he was at that moment. Tony and Eduardo both took a 30-minute nap, and when I went in to make sure they were getting up, I saw Eduardo standing in the hallway with a bloody nose. He looked a bit disoriented and told us he would rest for a little longer. In hindsight, he made a great decision. Tony and I committed to getting back out on the trail, and we said our goodbyes to Eduardo (for now).

There was a gear check to get out of the Sedona aid station to ensure we had the proper attire and supplies to get us through the cold night ahead—the temperature swings in the Arizona desert are unreal. The race volunteers cheered us out of the aid station, and I finally stepped onto the Cocodona course, ready to get my homie to the finish line.

The first few miles were slow going, but we knew we had to climb Casner Canyon shortly, so we took our time—or so I thought. I didn’t realize how wrecked Tony was until he told me he’d need a quick 15-minute trail nap. At this moment, I knew he should have slept longer in Sedona, but it was too late, and I was confident he’d come out better on the other side of the nap. He awoke, and soon we were summitting Casner Canyon. The climb was rough, and unfortunately, the darkness concealed the picturesque views of the desert below. Tony struggled a bit and negotiated another quick trail nap after a notable creek crossing.

I sat there while he slept, cold, wrapping my head around the struggle that the remainder of these early morning hours would be, hoping that I could find a way to keep my friend on pace for his goal finish. I woke him up, and we moved slowly through the night, climbing gravel roads and doing our best to stay positive.

Soon it was Thursday morning, the sun came up, and we reached the Schnebly aid station. We ate pancakes, drank a bunch of instant coffee, and quickly lifted our spirits. We knew we had lost some time overnight, so we began doing some trail math. Tony wanted to finish by noon on Friday (and I had a cutoff of 4 pm on Friday), which gave us roughly 30 hours. We had around 90 miles left to go, so we reasoned 3 miles per hour until noon on Friday.

Our speed picked up.

Before long, we were at the next aid station at Munds Park, and we were crushing some solid food and consuming as many fluids as we could. Getting calories in and hydrating were our main objectives at this time. The sun was high up in the sky, and we could tell.

We left Munds for an out-and-back section that was quite awful. We were exposed and succumbing to the heat, getting frustrated with the nature of the section, and inevitably we both ran out of water with about 2 miles to go until we were back at Munds. Our attitudes were suffering until we saw Eduardo and a few other familiar faces at the aid station. They had just gotten to Munds, about to make their way to the hellish out-and-back we had just completed, and we all took advantage of the opportunity to chill out for a few minutes and talk through some of the experiences we had all been going through.

Time passed, and we all had to get moving, so we headed our separate ways. Tony and I made our way into town from Munds, but we would quickly find ourselves back on trail, further away from civilization. The sun was setting, the air was getting cooler, and in a matter of minutes, it was night again.

This night was a different experience altogether. After two days of no sleep, a full day of running in the desert, and the reality of 50 or so miles remaining ahead of us, I was beginning to lose sight of why I was there and the ability to meet my objective. I quickly became less of a pacer and more of a “struggling runner.”

We spent what felt like an absurd amount of time circling in the dark woods on the trails between Munds Park and Kelly Canyon aid stations, trying to navigate with a group of other runners and their pacers. It seemed that we were going in circles, but we were going the only way possible. Tony began saying things like the Kelly Canyon aid station was a scavenger hunt and was questioning the validity of the course markings. It was then that I realized just how confused he was becoming from the sleep deprivation and how difficult this night would become. I was having trouble formulating my words to Tony due to my exhaustion, and I felt it frustrating me. I commented to him about how I felt myself getting tripped up, and I immediately regretted admitting that. I could tell his confidence in my ability to guide or pace would be in question from that point on.

Finally, the Kelly Canyon aid station appeared before us, and I felt gratitude rush through me. We were finally out of the woods (for now) and sitting by a fire, enjoying the warmth. We filled up on more instant coffee, chicken nuggets, ramen (I think?), soda, and other treats I can no longer remember. Tony still insisted that Kelly Canyon was a scavenger hunt, but he seemed ready to roll aside from that, so we didn’t hang for too long.

We were rushing through the cold night, making our way down big gravel roads that seemed to be surrounded by farmland or expansive desert—not sure. We were heading to the Fort Tuthill aid station. I remember this being a relatively easy stretch, but both Tony and I were deteriorating mentally, and the thought of sleep seemed so enticing. We had a big decision to make when we got to Fort Tuthill—would we sleep or push through to daylight and keep it moving.

Upon arriving at Fort Tuthill, we were impressed by the layout and offerings at the aid station. It was a big gymnasium-like room with private rooms off to the side filled with cots for sleeping. They had spaghetti and meatballs, among other things, but I just remember downing a plate and drinking some more coffee. We kicked off our shoes and changed out some of our gear. Tony began encouraging me to grab a 20-minute rest to get ready for the big push to the finish we’d soon be embarking on. It didn’t take much for him to convince me, but I should have forced him to do the same. He didn’t get any rest at the aid station, but we both got fed, warmed up, and filled with caffeine. And the 20 minutes of sleep was a game changer for me.

We left Fort Tuthill as the sun was beginning to rise, and I could tell Tony was struggling, but I wanted so badly to help him stay on track with his goal as best I could and thought that pushing the pace and being overly determined would force him to do the same. The reality was that he had over 220 miles on his legs and very little sleep over the past 4 days—there’s only so much the body can do in that state. We were going to Walnut Canyon aid station, and I had to stop multiple times to let Tony catch up. He started to apologize, and that’s when I realized that my strategy was backfiring, and we really should be taking our time. The sun was getting hotter, and the distance to the aid station seemed to go on forever.

Walnut Canyon was a quick stop, as Tony told me he was ready to fuel up and push to the finish. We still had roughly 13 miles to go before Mount Elden, and then we had to summit Mount Elden and make our way into town for the finish—another 8 miles. The 21 miles that stood before us seemed more than doable at that moment, so we both agreed to give it our best shot and go for the finish.

Tony put some hip-hop on his phone, and we started running some solid miles on our way to Mount Elden. I was in the zone, hoping that he was too. In my mind, we were so close, and although we were pacing behind his goal of a noon finish, I was convinced we’d still make it before my 4 pm cutoff. As the sight of Mount Elden continued to grow in our line of sight, so did the heat and my thirst. We were weaving around the trails at the base of Elden when Tony’s delirium peaked. We began disagreeing about how to best get to Elden, and he couldn’t trust my judgment at this point. We wound up getting split up, and we were struggling to find each other because Tony was off-course and lost. I was running out of water, and my cell phone was at 2% battery. I kept trying to call Tony and find him, but I also needed to notify my wife that plans were changing rapidly and I’d soon need to end my participation in the event. Tony told me he found his way back on the trail with the help of the race organization (they saw his GPS tracker off-course and called him to notify him and guide him back to safety). Once I confirmed Tony would be ok, I told him to continue and crush the finish. Then, I called Christa and asked her to pick me up from the nearest gas station.

Mount Elden as we were approaching it.

I was a bit troubled and upset while waiting for Christa to get me. Probably because I had just run 100 miles in roughly 40 hours with hardly any sleep while trying to help my friend finish his first 250 miler, and I didn’t get to cross the finish line with him as I had planned. But also a little bit because I was mad at myself. I was mad for letting my weakness show, creating some doubt in Tony’s mind about my ability to handle the task at hand, and making some amateur mistakes regarding guiding an exhausted and sleep-deprived runner. However, when you are also an exhausted and sleep-deprived runner, it’s unrealistic to expect yourself to handle the patience and nuance that a good pacer must handle.

Tony and I would tell you that we both made some mistakes out there and learned some valuable lessons about running and life. I’ll likely follow this blog up with some of the life lessons I gained at Cocodona. But, I will share this with you: pacing someone for 100 miles straight is a dumb idea. Dumb, but interesting and awesome.

Christa and Callie got me back to our camper, and after a shower and some chili, I was out cold for a solid 12 hours of sleep. When I awoke, I was hardly sore and amazed like usual at the body’s ability to adapt and recover after these strenuous efforts.

Tony would finish his race that morning in a total time of 4 days, 20 hours, and 22 minutes. After all that he had been through, I couldn’t believe that he managed to stay out there for another night and morning and still crossed the finish line in relatively good shape. I was impressed by his grit and determination and honored to have been a part of it.

What an incredibly difficult and awesome adventure.

I think I’ll stick to 100 milers…