While COVID continued to rage, I got an email about a brand new race from Vacation Races: The Zion at Night Half Marathon.

What an intriguing idea! An actual race … in the middle of a pandemic … on trails … at night. The people at Vacation Races threw together this race so quickly, they knew in advance they’d have to mail the medals out later. But they took lots of precautions:

• Following all social distancing and local pandemic guidelines.
• Socially distant packet pickup.
• Chip start and finish, starting no more than 50 runners at a time, every hour.
• No congregating at the start or finish.
• No awards ceremonies.

Everything else was cancelled, so I figured, why not?

I registered, and the time slot I got was Friday evening at midnight. I looked at local accommodations in Virgin, Utah, and the best I could find was a tent site at an RV park about a quarter mile from the starting line.

So as you probably know, the national park events put on by Vacation Races aren’t actually in the parks—by they’re nearby. One of the draws is that you get to run in terrain that’s similar to what you’ll see in the national parks. Zion at Night would be in the dark, but the event was planned to coincide with the full moon. Going into the race, I was excited by the prospect of running the desert trails just outside of Zion National Park, seeing the whole vista lit up by the moon. Little did I know … that wasn’t going to happen.

Getting Ready to Race

On my way to Virgin, I stopped in Hurricane and spent a few hours vising with my cousin. As we talked, the wind was thrashing the trees across the street from her house—a preview of things to dome. It was almost full dark by the time I got to the RV park. I set up my tent and unrolled my sleeping bag, then walked the quarter mile to where the race was set up. The wind was still blowing hard as the sun set, and the whole sky was overcast. Even then, I knew there wasn’t much chance of seeing the moon that night.

I got my bag and bib and checked in. Then I walked back to my tent to rest. There were a few other runners camping near me, and we chatted awhile about running, COVID, and cancelled races. It was great to hang out with other runners, even if we did have to keep our distance.

The race people were really careful to keep people socially distant at the start and the finish. I showed up a little early and moved to the lawn of the Fairfield Inn to chill until it was my turn to start. I was amazed at the number of people who were running Zion at Night as their first half marathon—or their first race! As it turned out, lots of people had turned to running as something to do during the pandemic.

Zion at Night – Uphill

Midnight came, and my wave got a the green light to go. I let the bulk of them go ahead, waiting about five minutes before I crossed the starting line. I wore a headlamp as well as my waist lamp from UltrAspire. For the first few miles, the wind was fierce and from the side. Some people I’d spoken to had been scared to be setting off on a trail run in the dark, but I do it all the time on training runs.

The course starts off west along the highway, heading towards ZNP. I was feeling really good, so I found myself holding a pretty good pace, passing people literally left and right. A few runners recognized me by my bright red kilt. I waved and kept going.

After about two miles, we turned south onto a dirt road. After another meandering mile, the road transitioned to single-track trail, where we began a five-mile climb to the high point of the course. Some of this climb winds along cliffs, with a steep drop to the Virgin River below. It was a little nerve-wracking running in the dark, dancing around rocks and roots and slower runners, all the while being acutely aware that just a few feet to the right is a 100-foot tumble down to the river.

To make things even more interesting, every once in a while the wind would really pick up and the blowing dust would make it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

Zion at Night — Downhill

The storm whipped itself to a crescendo as I crested the summit. Foolishly, I hadn’t brought a buff, so I pulled my shirt up to cover my mouth and nose. I kept up my pace as well as I could, head down against the wind. At one point, I almost ran into another runner because visibility was so terrible.

I was carrying my own water, so I didn’t pay much attention to the unattended aid stations. And good thing, too, because at least one of them had been destroyed by the wind. I passed a giant barrel lying on its side, all its water spilled out over the trail. I felt bad for the people who were expecting to have that water during their run.

Around mile nine or ten, the wind quieted, though the sky was still completely overcast. By the point, I could see the lights of Virgin below. I was still passing people every few minutes. The downhill was easier, the trail more sand than rocks. I really started to enjoy myself.

The final downhill stretch got much rockier, so I had to slow my pace a bit. At one point, I had to squeeze past a couple who were walking the course, casual as can be. They asked me as I passed, “What time did you start?” I answered: “Midnight.” I heard the man behind me say, “Wow, we’re f**king slow!” I was pretty sure at that point I was going to finish in under two hours, which was my main goal for the race.

The Finish Line

The final mile or so was on dirt roads, and the running was easy. As I approached the finish line, I could see the course was a little short. So I ran past the finish line amenities and did a loop around the parking lot until my Garmin said 13.1. Because that’s what runners do, right?

I convinced somebody to take a photo of me; I was feeling great, though a bit sandblasted. My Garmin said my time was 1:58:58, but my official chip time was 1:57:15. My hope was that I could place in or even win my age group. In the end, it turned out I placed fifth overall in the Masters category, so I ended up getting an overall medal. Sweet!