The Zion Traverse 2025 - Miles of Beauty, Brotherhood, and My Breaking Point

2 weeks ago, I had the privilege of running through one of America’s most beautiful national parks with five good buddies — Patrick, Sam, Russell, Colby, and Parker. For nearly a year, we had been planning and training for the Rim to Rim to Rim run in the Grand Canyon. But due to wildfires, we pivoted to Plan B- Zion National Park. As with any endurance challenge (and honestly, as with life) you have to be ready to adapt to and overcome the day’s challenges. This was the first of many we would face on this adventure. 

On November 7th, we pulled into the Lee Pass trailhead in the dark of early morning, carrying that familiar mix of nerves and excitement that precedes an absurdly big day. Headlamps flicked on, packs tightened, and at 6:00 a.m. we stepped onto the trail to begin the Zion Traverse: 40 miles, 5,500 feet of climbing, and a whole lot of unknowns between sunrise and whenever we would eventually stumble into The Grotto. 

Miles 0–14: 

The early miles felt almost effortless. It was the kind of running where conversation flows easily. The sunrise painted the red rock in colors words struggle to describe. God’s creation was on full display, a constant reminder of His creativity and power. We were awestruck and felt grateful to be there. The group was tight, joking, settling into a rhythm, and having fun.

We hit our first crew rally point at Hop Valley (mile 14) feeling surprisingly strong considering the deep sand and dozens of water crossings we faced in the first segment. Our crew captain, Ken, had a makeshift aid station laid out like he’d been prepping for a military operation: gear organized, nutrition ready, encouragement in all the ways we needed. Spirits were high. Bodies felt good. The day felt wide open. After about 30 minutes, we were back on the trail. 

Miles 14–22:

Sometime around mile 17, things started to turn for me. It began with that creeping nausea, subtle but unmistakable, and a growing sense of GI distress. My mistake? Trying to scarf down a turkey and cheese sandwich right out of the aid station. Note to self: solid food and bumpy miles of running are not my friend.

It was early, much too early, to be feeling that way. I was worried and every ultrarunner knows that once the stomach goes south, the rest of the day becomes an ugly battle. We weren’t even halfway yet.

Still, we pushed on to West Rim trailhead (mile 22), where Ken met us again. I tried to reset, take in what I could, and regrouped mentally. By the end of the stop, I was feeling good again. With a renewed confidence that the task ahead was within reach, we set out for the longest stretch of the day.

 Miles 22–36:

These middle miles were the peak of the day. The views over Zion Canyon were unreal. The weather was perfect. Everyone felt strong. Morale soared. We found our stride, and for a stretch it felt like we were unstoppable.

But I knew deep down that I hadn’t taken in enough fluids or calories. I was hoping I could outrun the consequences until we were safely out of the canyon. Boy was I wrong.

As the sun set, we reached the final descent. That’s when the switch flipped. My stomach revolted once again. Nausea returned. Dehydration set in. My lightheadedness increased as daylight disappeared, and our team descended into the darkness of Zion Canyon guided only by our headlamps.

By mile 36, my body was done. I got sick, emptying whatever was left and taking any remaining comfort with it. My tank was empty. The temperature dropped. The trail seemed longer with each step.

Yet even in that moment, the beauty of the place didn’t go away. The sun had dipped behind the canyon rim, and the silence of darkness and being in the middle of nowhere was surreal as we continued our descent. It was simultaneously one of the most stunning and most brutal moments of the entire day.

Miles 36–40:

Four miles with 3,000 feet of descent doesn’t sound like much until you’re depleted, dehydrated, shivering, and running on fumes. These last miles weren’t about heroics or adrenaline. They were about stubborn, consistent forward motion. One step at a time.

Like the body of Christ showing up for a brother or sister in their struggle, this is where the beauty of running with friends is displayed. When one person’s struggles, the rest have the opportunity to step up. 

And they did.

Sam and Colby prayed aloud as we moved forward—simple, steady prayers asking for strength, protection, and endurance. Patrick stayed close to my side and communicated with Ken via radio, updating him on the situation. Russell and Parker ran ahead, ensuring we stayed on the right trail and moved efficiently toward the bottom.

Everyone leaned in with exactly what they had. No complaining. No frustration. Just brothers stepping in where I needed them.

Together, we moved as a unit toward The Grotto until we finally hit the bottom safely.

The Finish line:

After 11 hours of moving time and 14.5 hours total on the trail, we stepped off at The Grotto. Exhausted. Salt-stained. Humbled. Grateful. Welcomed by the relief of seeing Ken and the team van. We made it to the finish line. 

The fun didn’t stop there though. As a crew, we decided to make a pit stop at the local ER to get me an IV.  6 liters of fluids and a few slices of pizza later, I was revived. Crawling into bed that night felt like the real finish line.

Final Thoughts:

The Zion Traverse knocked me down both physically and mentally. I didn’t run the day I imagined and I certainly didn’t want to be the one holding my team back. At the same time God taught me things I didn’t expect to learn out there. 

A sunrise start at Lee Pass. Two well-timed aid stations with a legendary crew captain. A team of six guys who refused to leave a brother behind. A canyon descent lit by headlamps and stubborn will. And four miles that reminded me what physical, mental and spiritual endurance often looks like.

This wasn’t a comfortable adventure, but it was unforgettable. Not simply because of the unique challenges I faced, but because of the guys I conquered them with. 

And through it all, God reminded me of this: strength isn’t proven in the moments when everything goes right. It’s revealed in the moments when nothing does – yet you choose to keep moving forward anyway.

Keep pressing on!

For His Glory.