In the following article, trail runner Sarah Barber shares her experience at the 2023 USATF Half Marathon Trail Championships in Moab, Utah, on November 4. Barber finished 16th among the women winning her age group with a time of 2:01:19.
I had a lot of reasons to want to go to Moab, Utah, on the first weekend of November. For starters, a gloomy mass of monsoonal moisture had moved into Boise, promising a relentless drizzle for the entire weekend. The forecast in Moab advertised clear skies and warmer temps. Also, my good friend and across-the-street neighbor, Becca, was craving a road trip to give us hours of uninterrupted conversation and catching up. Plus, Moab’s progressive hippie outdoor culture and its unique geographical features just make it a fun escape.
But, my number one reason? Moab was hosting the USATF Half Marathon Trail Championships.
The appeal
Having discovered endurance sports later in life, I’m a sucker for masters racing—and the bigger the stage, the more appealing the event is to me. As a master, I’ve raced national championships in almost every variation, from 10,000 meters on the track to the up-down mountain trail race to club cross-country. But so far in 2023, I had missed out on every USATF Championship either because of the timing or because of the distance from my hometown. Most of the event venues were east of the Mississippi this year.
The beauty that is Moab.
But Moab! Moab is only an 8ish-hour drive from Boise, so this event had been on my calendar for months. I also had the advantage of course familiarity, having raced the USTAF Trail Marathon Championships when it was held there in 2020. The truth is that my memory of the course evoked a mixed reaction of fear and dread that was almost visceral. The scenery might be awe-inspiring, but I couldn’t tell you much about that—I had been so focused on trying to stay upright on the ruggedly technical terrain that there was no opportunity to enjoy the view. I knew how
The motivation
Partially motivated by my lust for age-group podiums, and mostly motivated by my desire to be a better trail runner, I’ve worked on my technical skills. I was ready to have another go at the Moab route. I knew I could expect a mix of singletrack and “jeep road” that I found unsuitable for any motorized vehicle—even a jeep. I could count on rock ledges and hair-raisingly sheer edges, deep sand, and an elevation profile that lent itself to zero rhythm at all. Perfect.
Moab Trail Marathon race director Danelle Ballengee gives pre-race instructions.
The race was exceptionally well-organized, from packet pickup to start line logistics to timely results. Race Director Danelle Ballengee has over a decade of practice with this event, and she’s got it dialed. Even though the shuttle got me to the start line earlier than necessary, there were campfires to augment the warmth of my puffy jacket and wool hat that would later be stashed in a drop bag.
The minutes ticked down quickly while I indulged my recent obsession with trail running shoes. I studied people’s feet and wondered which shoe was the perfect weapon for such a variable course. Was there enough sand to warrant kicks specifically designed for soft surfaces? Would bigger lugs equate to surer-footedness on loose rock? These musings turned out to be a bad idea, as it led to second-guessing my own shoe selection which, apart from going barefoot, was my only option.
Festivities at the start line included a four-piece band.
The start line
Compared to the marathon start in 2020 which was at the tail end of the first pandemic year, this field seemed massive and deeply talented. Here I was, shoulder-to-shoulder with some of the fastest humans in the country, all vying for a late-season national title. Ravenous for victory, the open racers launched off the start line at a fast clip. Clearly, they anticipated the potential bottleneck when the course transitioned from dirt road to sandy wash sixty seconds later.
Swept along by their collective energy, my first few miles went by quickly even though it was entirely uphill. Between eyeballing the ground in front of me, scanning for the pink flags that marked the route, and imploring my legs and lungs to push hard, the cognitive load of the race immediately felt hefty. I should have enjoyed the relative ease of the subsequent rolling downhill because the Hunter Canyon Rim section that followed was an exercise in exposure therapy.
One of the final climbs on the Moab Half Marathon course.
The thrill of the course
Due to a chronic fear of heights, I’m not a fan of standing on the edge of cliffs, much less running along them. One misstep, and the thrill turns into a bill…a hospital bill, that is. Many thanks to the patient and generous volunteers staged at a particularly ominous passage where they spotted us runners, offering strong hands and encouragement as we navigated a vertical rock face to get back on the trail.
A mile of dirt road marked the beginning of the final quarter of the race. Although some will disagree with me, I welcomed the chance to lean into another uphill effort, gulp another GU, and let my mind wander for an instant. Of course, my mind wandered right to: Are we there yet??
Before I knew it, I was back in ankle-deep sand that coated a mostly dry creek bed. It was almost like one of those nightmares where you’re running at threshold pace and gasping for air, but you’re moving in slow motion with the monsters closing in quickly from behind. That visual carried me to the finish line where I was greeted by a crowd so enthusiastic that I had to question their authenticity. But they were real. And they were happy. And so was I, now that I was finished with one of my most demanding runs in recent memory!
Gold medal performance
Utterly satisfied with my own performance, I was also amazed at how fast the winners ran, setting new course records for both women and men. Two women over 40 ran faster than me, and one of them went a lot faster (I mean, A LOT faster). But thanks to USATF’s merciful 5-year age groupings, I managed to walk (or stagger) away with a national champ medal.
Barber with her medal and championship patch.
My friend, Becca, is a trail runner motivated by pure love of the sport rather than race results, so she had chosen to run the full marathon that was offered in conjunction with the half (read Becca’s race story here). As all runners know, the experience of a race does not have a linear correlation with the distance. At 26.2 miles, her marathon was much more than just twice my half-marathon; that meant more than double the exertion, the intensity, and the emotion. When she finished, we hugged silently for a long time. We knew we had 8 hours in the car to debrief on the way home.
Thoughtful reflection
In the end, I was full of questions. Would the national championships be held here again? If so, would I race again? Would Becca want to join me again? And which shoe was the perfect choice for this course? That last question has an easy answer: there isn’t one. There’s only the perfect attitude: one that embraces different terrain and different conditions, one that takes advantage of every chance to maximize strengths and minimize weaknesses, and one that revels in the power of human endurance and perseverance. Without that, why run?
Editor’s note: Complete results from the USATF Half Marathon Trail Championships can be found here.
