Rim to Rim to Rim

Two years ago I visited the Grand Canyon for the first time. When I stepped out on the rim for the first time that January morning, I was blown to speechlessness; I had never seen anything like it. There was nothing in the world I knew that I could measure this place against. 277 miles long, 18 miles across, 5,000 feet deep, 3 billion years old — enormous numbers still falling short of capturing its magnitude. What do they mean to a tiny human like myself? I doubt I will ever discover the words to really describe how I feel about this place, because I do not think they exist.

But the Grand Canyon does exist, and so do I. And the Grand Canyon is crossed by trails; and I have legs that walk. And that poses an intriguing challenge: to cross the Grand Canyon by foot, twice, back and forth in one day. If there were a way to express my awe and admiration for this place and to experience its beauty in its fullest, I knew this was it.

After two years, the opportunity finally came. And as soon as it came, it was threatened by injury: since mid-February I was nursing a stress injury of my left knee (pes anserine bursitis). For a moment it felt like this might not happen, but thanks to a helping hand from some awesome physical therapists, I was able to get back on trail and continue my rehab and training. By March 12, when we drove up to the Canyon from Flagstaff, I knew I was ready. We had dinner, took some melatonin, and hit the hay by 6pm.

At 3:30am the next day we awoke in the 20° freezing night, wolfed down a quick breakfast, and headed to the South Kaibab Trailhead. By 5am we were warmed up and heading down. The sky turned pale and sunrise broke as we neared the river, and by 7:30 the hike was in full swing as we headed up the North Kaibab Trail toward the North Rim.

Unfortunately Katie’s hike was cut short by injury, as her meniscus forced her to turn around at mile 13. Armed with energy gels, fig bars, and electrolyte mix and without any pain in my knee, I powered onward alone on the long journey up the North Rim.

In the last mile leading to the halfway point at the rim, I began to experience muscle cramps. The North Rim, covered in feet of snow, was closed, and I was now 22 miles from the nearest road, only halfway into my journey and already experiencing cramps. A part of me was worried, but then I remembered this was why I came, part of the magical allure of the Canyon: once the committing move has been made (reaching the North Rim), there is no bailing; the only way out is back down and across the way you came. I had a quick lunch, hydrated, and set off back through the snow, ready for whatever torture awaited me on the final ascent. Without risk, there is no reward.

Hours later, just after 8pm, I surfaced in the dark at the Bright Angel Trailhead on the South Rim to Katie’s congratulations. After 15 hours, over 43 miles, and 11,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, I finished what I set out to do, accomplishing a great personal dream. The last few miles in the dark and snow were tough, as my muscles weakened and the cramps loomed near, but I powered through, trying my best to hold a steady 3 mph pace. In the end it was enough, but really I guess it had to be. There was no choice; hiking down is optional, but hiking up is mandatory — such is the way in the Canyon.

So it is with life as well sometimes. Limits are reimagined constantly. Sometimes we don’t realize what we’re really capable of until we have no choice but to perform. The drive to live is the most powerful force in this world, and when you are backed into a corner, forced to sink or swim, you will swim. I thought a lot in these 15 hours of Coach Horyn, whose life embodied this message of broken limits and endless possibilities. I imagined him in the last mile, standing as he did at the final turn of the track, shouting deafeningly for me to “MOOOOVE!” To run or to walk — to continue onward — is the ultimate act of defiance: defiance by the human spirit of the forces that would stay it.

I have a lot of thoughts about this day and this experience, but they are mostly immaterial, just strong feelings of awe and wonder. I’m not sure what the takeaway is besides that we are capable of a lot more than we sell ourselves for. Or maybe there is no concrete message; maybe the Canyon is just awesome, and humans are awesome too. Either way, I am grateful to enjoy places like this with the people I love.

© 2022 Ilyas Taraki