October 28, 2008
Karen L.

I just got back from a week in southeast Utah. This landscape is shaped by water, and defined mostly by its absence. Utah’s desert, spires, arches, and canyons are beautiful. Stark. Weird. Stunning.

First we (my partner, Tony, and I) were in Moab, where I ran a half-marathon. The race route ran along a beautiful red rock canyon of the Colorado river, then opened up to where the runners could see various stone monuments. The La Sal mountains stood in the distance. The run was difficult, of course, but the scenery was a welcome distraction. Since I’m wearing a running belt with my glucose meter and various snacks in it, I also carry my own water in a race. I figure it gives me the advantage of not having to stop by the aid stations.

After the race, I sat in Colorado River with some running friends to ease the muscle soreness in our legs. Even at this time of year, the Colorado is a freezing cold river, and I had to coax myself to stay in it all of about 8 minutes. It was easier to sit in the hot tub after that J.

From Moab, Tony and I headed to other parts west and south. The towns here are few and far between, and the desert landscape sometimes harsh and unforgiving. And then, around a bend in the road, or the trail, or the wash, there will be a magical place – a slot in the canyon wall, or an opening with monuments and spires, or arches and mushrooms made of stone. The basic geologic explanation: sedimentation, uplift, erosion. Water is a major factor in two of those.

We hiked in six slot canyons, the walls sculpted by rushing torrents of water. The narrowest section we entered was about a foot across. Here, you walk sideways and do not wear a backpack, and you make sure that there’s no chance of rain before you enter. There were difficult parts to upclimb and downclimb, and I had to practice my stemming skills, where my feet were on one wall and my hands behind me on the other as I went up an obstacle. Sometimes I needed help. Once, Tony held me above his head and pinned to the rock wall as in some kind of weird ice skater lift. Thankfully, there was nobody else in that canyon to get photographic evidence; I prefer to imagine that we were as graceful as Olympians, and in any case I made it to the next ledge.

Since my race and our trip is over, my focus for the foreseeable future will also be water: this time, it’s chlorinated. Swimming is a new sport for me, and I need to practice this more than running and biking to come up to speed. Like the slot canyons, this is unfamiliar territory to me right now, but I hope swimming becomes to me unlike southeastern Utah: mundane, comfortable, ordinary. Wet.