that's one way to show forty who's boss
Wednesday, September 1
Early morning fog lifting off Hyalite Lake. Photo by Erik Petersen.
Think of all the stereotypical ways a man might deal with turning 40 (dare I call that number, "mid life"?).
When Shawn turned 40 last September, I asked him how he wanted to make peace with that crossing. I threw him a party, but that wasn't enough. He said he wanted to do "something big."
Okaaaay. Maybe a trip to Vegas? A getaway with buddies perhaps, no questions asked?
I remember when my dad turned 40. My mom threw him a big bash and hired a belly dancer to serenade him. But she didn't stop there. She also rented a hot tub on wheels, which was parked in our driveway for swimsuit-optional friends to take a dip. I grew up in a predominantly Mormon Salt Lake City suburb. A belly dancer? Hot tub on wheels? Liquored adults? At 18 I was both fascinated and a little mortified.
But really, given my upbringing, I was ready to concede to a bit of "adults behaving questionably" to mark Shawn's 40th.
So what was that something big?
"I want to run to Yellowstone," Shawn replied.
Come again?
"I want to start at our house and get to Yellowstone National Park under my own manpower in one day," he clarified.
Well, that sounded dumb. Yellowstone is like AN HOUR DRIVE to the closest boundary. And there are some big mountains between here and there. Wouldn't he perhaps just like to see something naked for that "something big," and call it good?
Well no, actually.
So I went along with his plan, thinking it would probably never happen. He had until September 15 to pull it off before turning 41.
Last weekend, he went for it.
Shawn nearing the Grotto Falls parking lot, up Hyalite Canyon. Photo by Erik Petersen.
He woke at 5:30 a.m., ate some toast, and got on his road bike. He pedaled for two hours to the top of Hyalite, a nearby canyon. Then our friend Eric and I drove there to meet him with water and snacks, and he and Eric spent the next six hours running up and down mountains along a route called the Devil's Backbone, covering 25 miles.
Erik and Shawn, starting their 25-mile run in the early morning.
I was to drive and then hike up to the ridgeline at the end of the 25 miles, meeting them there with a hefty backpack full of sandwiches, clothes and more water.
Of all the dumb ideas...
When I got in the car again it was pounding rain, and lightning lit up the sky. I dreaded the three-mile hike to meet them, but was glad the remainder of the journey would likely be called off.
When I reached the pass where we were to meet it was cold, foggy and drizzly. I waited until bodies emerged from the fog. They were fine, a bit tired, but happy to see me. In fact, happy enough that there was no mention of abandoning the trip.
Photo by Erik Petersen
So we pounded some calories, gave Eric the heavy backpack to head down to the car with, and Shawn and I began running towards the remainder of his goal, which I WAS TOLD was approximately 16 miles away.
Soon, it resumed pouring. Lightning sliced the sky. The rain turned slushy. I wore a raincoat, but my pants, not rainproof, hung like a sloppy, wet tent over my legs. We struggled for traction on the muddy uphills, and I fought to keep my feet beneath me sliding downhill. Bear poop littered the trail, and Shawn chattered on about who knows what until I told him to zip it. I was too stressed out to listen, even if the noise kept bears informed of our presence. When the lightning continued, we split up, lest one of us was struck and the other needed to run for help.
Strange as it might sound, I wasn't having fun.
"All this just for you!" I said at one point, flinging my arms to the heavens.
About five hours into the hike/run, I started doing some math as I encountered trail signs. The 16-mile trek was going to be more like about 22 before we were done. It was 7 p.m., and my legs were finished. Still, I was awesome and didn’t sit on the trail and cry.
Wait. Is this story about me, or him?
Whatever.
We made it to the end, and here’s how it all added up for Shawn: It was a 65-mile journey from our house to Yellowstone National Park, accomplished in one day. He spent two hours on a bike, then 12 hours running with just a 20 minute eating break, and two fabulous friends to accompany him.
An epic way to cross over to 40.
END NOTE: NEVER run 22 miles with someone who just covered 65. You won’t get any attention for it.






