Adventures in Onionism

Erratum

2026-07-02T00:54:48.393-04:00

I realized that Your Creek on the south side of the Divide yesterday is not in ANWR, hence the hunting cabin. The CalTopo baselayer I'm using the most doesn't show property delineations. ANWR is mostly north of the Divide.

First Full Day

2026-07-02T00:54:44.353-04:00

First full day. Took my time packing up. Phone GPS still wasn't working, but navigation is relatively easy in these huge valleys. I messed around with settings, and found some sort of location setting that uses nearby Bluetooth devices. My watch and InReach knew where they were--I don't know if that's what did it, but it worked. Hallelujah!

Went up to the first pass. The mosquitos were out but not terrible--didn't need to wear my headnet. Then skeeters went away and we got to the snow. I lost a trekking pole basket in one of the very first drifts I crossed. Only noticed it a few drifts later. I went back to look but it was hopeless.

Saw the heel straps from a pair of Crocs. I'm not the first person to hike here. Wonder how the croc person did on this terrain without sport-mode engaged!

The pass was steep, and slow, and my pack is much too heavy. The upper 500 feet or so had snow, but it was mostly avoidable by climbing up rock instead. I sent a pin and had a snack at the top. It took some wallowing to get through the snow on the other side, but it wasn't terrible.

Further down, the terrain was lovely. I took a break and read some Tale of Two Cities. Clouds rolled in and it started raining. I crossed a couple cold creeks and started climbing to the pass, but set up camp around 6pm at perhaps the last good campsite this side of the pass. There's an easy pass over the divide, but I'd like to stay south and keep going east on this side if possible.

Generally speaking, a great day. Tough climbing, good weather before bad, and a heavy pack, but I should be able to eat my way out of that problem. Pack felt less miserable by the end of the day, too, like I was getting used to the weight.

Start SNAFU

2026-07-02T00:54:43.549-04:00

Shuttle up the Dalton Highway wasn't bad, except for the one guy who would NOT stop talking. Loudly. Literally the entire time. C'mon man, let's just enjoy the views, OK? I put in earplugs and was able to nap a little bit but not much.

I was the last one to be dropped off. I'd turned off my phone all day to save battery. I turned it on to find exactly where I should be dropped off, and GPS wouldn't work. It still isn't.

I am too tired to adequately express how frustrating this is. I'll turn my phone off again to sleep now, and hope that it works tomorrow.

I can see the pass above me. There's a ton of snow. The low route I've been on is easy walking. Well, easy in that there's no brush to speak of. It's still a soggy tundra in the Brooks, so it's not easy generally. Just saying that if my main route is too high, there's plenty of lower stuff to do.

My pack is so heavy!

I am tired.

And we're off

2026-06-23T09:26:31.591-04:00

Three inches of snow left at the Atigun Pass measurement site this morning. Satellite imagery from the 21st definitely still has snow on my first pass at 5600 feet. Here we go!

(I mean, gnarly 12 hour shuttle ride first, but still...)

Fairbanks

2026-06-22T01:59:34.674-04:00

I'm in Fairbanks. I watched Sirāt on the airplane. Holy shit it's good. I'm at the hostel close to the airport. I've got 30 hours to buy cheese (I'm only vegetarian on trail), Fritos, a water bottle, camping fuel, bear spray, a pen, and a pad to sit on.

The snowpack reading is down to 6 inches!

Data Sources

2026-06-21T18:04:21.623-04:00

Woohoo, the snowpack measurement is down to 8".

Snowpack data:

https://www.weather.gov/aprfc/snow_depth

I used temp and precipitation data from the Alaska Climate Research Center to help me decide between June and August:

https://akclimate.org/data/air-temperature-normals/

I look at Sentinel-2 satellite imagery via a pro paid subscription to CalTopo.com: "Imagery from the Sentinel-2 satellite covers the entire earth from the same viewing angle every 5 days with a 10-m horizontal resolution. The date that the image was taken is displayed on the raw image, although you may have to zoom out a bit or pan around to find it. We license this layer and don’t know precisely when the next image in your area will be taken, but it is typically within 5 days."

Googling reveals that this is a group of EU satellites, and the data is free, so I'll have to figure out how cumbersome it is to download directly.

The FAA has a bunch of live cameras at airports: https://weathercams.faa.gov/map/-152.32484,67.53447,-151.13832,68.34012/cameraSite/14/details/camera

Alaska DOT has some road webcams:

https://511.alaska.gov/map#map-col-container

The one at Atigun Pass doesn't look too bad right now. Fingers crossed!

Alaska 2026

2026-06-21T12:26:39.883-04:00

After much deliberation I am headed back to Alaska. I am sad to miss Western States (Jim, Killian, and Zack running an hour from where I used to live? That will never happen again.) But it's probably better to have my own adventure than to spectate someone else's (even if I've admired them for ten-plus years, watching as the sport grew exponentially.)

I initially planned to go to Alaska last week, but there was a late snow storm that took the snowpack in the Brooks Range from below-average to above-record. It's mostly gone now (10" at Atigun Pass as of this morning) but ideally it would be *completely* gone. The data station at Atigun Pass is at 4750 feet or so. About 10% of my route is higher than that. I could stay lower by staying further south, but that is likely to be super brushy, gnarly bushwhacking.

I considered delaying to August, but August is typically rainier, has less daylight (everything has less daylight compared to the 24 hours of light now) and is colder. August would probably be fine, but it would have cost me a bit to change my flights, and I'm kind of sick of DC and work right now. (Can you sense that I was still waffling even until last night? It's a tough call. There's a lot going on.)

I'm flying to Fairbanks, then Tuesday morning I take the 12-hour long shuttle ride up the pipeline highway to the Brooks Range. I'll hike a loop to the East along the continental divide in ANWR, and catch the shuttle returning south Wednesday of the following week. That Friday I fly to Colorado for Hardrock #3.

I've had a nagging on-again-off-again injury in my left foot for a few months now. Maybe I'm silly but I expect backpacking will be easier on it than running.

No blog updates from the wilderness until I return to Fairbanks. Even if the weather sucks, I've got A Tale of Two Cities, John Muir's Travels in Alaska, a small flask of Amaro Averna, and a lot of Snickers bars.

Massanutten 100

2026-06-08T20:54:07.984-04:00

The second morning

Second Sunrise

Despite my having hated every minute of the Massanutten 100 the first time I ran it in 2019, I ran it again this May. The price and logistical ease made it too easy to sign up for. Plus it's put on by VHTRC and I'm starting to get to know more people in the club, so I knew I'd see friendly faces at aid stations. I enjoyed the first 50 miles, running them in 12 and a half hours. Then my feet got wet and completely macerated when my absurdly expensive shoes didn't dry out and it took me 20 hours of figuratively stepping on Legos barefoot to finish the second half. I took an hour and ten minutes off my 2019 team, but I wouldn't consider my time "good." I've got a better time in me, so I guess I'll be back again in a few years.

I'm off to the Brooks Range with Nano on Sunday. The snowpack at Atigun Pass isn't melting like I need it to, which is concerning. Here's hoping that 24 hours of sunlight does its job in the next week.

I'm Icing My Foot

2026-06-08T20:40:18.395-04:00

[I started writing this post two months ago am only finishing it now. My foot still hurts a little, but I'm still running.]

Greetings from the couch, dear reader. I have a sore throat, and I am a little worried that I have a stress fracture in my foot. I am icing it and wearing a boot, and I made an appointment with the podiatrist (but that's two months out, so I expect the situation will have changed by then.) How did this happen?

The short version is: I ran a lot.

The long version is: I ran Hashawha Hills 50K Feb 28 (see my previous blog entry), Elizabeth Furnace 50K March 14, Hone Quarry 40-miler March 28, and Gorge Waterfalls 100K April 11.

The full-length version is:

Elizabeth Furnace 50K was a nice VHTRC fatass. I got a ride out there with H & N. I started out at the very front--the instant I pulled up my shorts from a poop in the woods that happened to be in the direction of the course, people ran by me--I guess we're going! Obviously that didn't last long. I ran a decent amount of the race with H. She's faster than me on flats and moderate climbs, but slower than me on descents. The race finishes with a long rocky descent, so I finished ahead of her by a few minutes. I finished 13 minutes faster than last year.

Everyone else in VHTRC could tell you where this race is (Bird Knob? "Elizabeth Furnace," probably) but to me it's all just "the Massanuttens." Dumb and rocky, but it's a national forest not a national park, so that's where the events are. A nice day with friends.

Recovery was no big deal. I did 296 miles in February, and 366 in March (a bit of that was biking, so it's not a crazy jump.)

Amy came to town and we went to Harrisonburg for the weekend. We got an AirBnB right on the course of Hone Quarry 40-miler. The weather was absolutely perfect for running hard: 40's and sunny. I switched from pants to shorts around halfway. The course was gorgeous. Aside from there being literally no food at the finish line, it was really an excellent race. The trails there are very nice, especially compared to the "dumb and rocky" Massanuttens. With about four miles left, somebody caught up to me. Or rather, he tried to, and I said no. I started running sub 7-minute pace, my marathon PR pace. As we passed the AirBnB I yelled "hey Amy there's two miles left come pick me up!" and kept the pedal pinned to the floor. She drove past me and honked right as I cut through the final cow pasture to the church rec center field and finish line in 8:05, about 40 seconds in front of the next guy.

We drove home, I dropped off the rental car, and ran home. I ran a 99-mile training week. My left foot started hurting. Makes sense, given how I ran so hard at the end of the race on pavement, but not too concerning. It was time to taper for my big April race, Gorge Waterfalls 100K, anyway. I probably wouldn't have tapered much if I'd been feeling good, but it made sense to dial it back.

I ran 40 in the week after Hone Quarry, and then 17 in the week leading up to Gorge. I was really regretting my decision to fly to Portland the night before the race. I had a headache before I even headed to the airport. The flight was tiresome, but I slept a bit, and felt better by the time I got to my friend's house. I slept for maybe four hours, 10:30-3am, but to my pleasant surprise, I didn't feel terrible.

The race started smoothly. I took a wrong turn with some friends, but quickly resolved it. I got dropped by those friends. I fueled consistently, had a nice chat with a guy from Washington state, and finished just over 14 hours, which is my normal decent 100K time. So that's nice.

The trail goes behind waterfalls

I spent the next day walking around Portland. I got lunch with an old hiker friend and his partner. I did a sweat test at a bike shop which revealed that I am a salty sweater--the result was that I am a very salty sweater, so I should probably be taking in far more sodium when I'm running long races.

I got a little sick after the race, but not terribly so. It's now months later, I'm sorry, I don't remember much else. I think Gorge is an OK race. It's pretty, but it's not the prettiest thing in the Columbia River Gorge, and you run parallel to I-84 for the first 2/3 of the race, so it is way, way too loud for too long. It was a lot of fun to do it with several DC friends, and I got to see two Portland friends--that, and not the course--is was made it worth it to run.

Old PCT friend, Bridge of the Gods

Cold Winter

2026-03-08T21:07:00.001-04:00

Running has been hard this winter. The snowcrete storm at the end of January was followed by nine days with temps not getting above freezing. Trail running required traction devices so I got my screw shoes out of the closet, and eagerly scanned social media and run-group e-mails as we reported on trail conditions and road plowing updates. It reduced my mileage by maybe 20 miles one week and 10 another. Not that bad, but it took a lot of mental energy and reduced quality runs waiting to pass people on single-shovel width sidewalk paths and constantly scanning for ice.

I had plans to go run The Wild Oak Trail (Cold TWOT) President's Day Weekend, but the event was cancelled due to snow conditions. I also was stressed by almost getting off the wait list at the last minute for an event in Tennessee which I hadn't planned for. At the last minute since both of those were out, I decided to keep the rental car and dogsitter I had arranged and go to Shenandoah National Park and work on my #SNP500 miles.

I slept in the car at trailheads and got 100K total, mostly new-to-me trails in central and northern Shenandoah, including Big and Little Devil Stairs. I wore spikes about half of the first day, and carried them with me on days two and three but didn't need them, as the snow underfoot was nearly constant but not icy. It rained half of Sunday so I called it early. Conditions were mostly slow and crummy, but not terrible.

Filling in the #SNP500 map

It was a nice getaway, regardless of the weather, and a nice chance to get in miles.

My first race of the year ended up being Hashawha Hills 50K. It's a nice hilly course, but consistently muddy in February. I got a ride up with Heather, Mike, and Sue, and ended up running much of the first half with Heather. She dropped me at the halfway point aid station when I changed into dry shoes and socks.

The weather warmed up to a lovely 60 degrees, but after getting dropped I spent the second half barfing, and possibly getting more upset at the guy behind me's reaction than the barfing itself. "Woah, man! Are you OK?!" I'm probably being a jerk about this, but something like "You need a gel or salt pill?" would be a much more constructive comment. Pity is neither appreciated nor helpful. I'm vomiting (but also still running just as fast as you), how do you think I feel? Also, vomiting happens all the time in ultras. Again, I'm still running just as fast as you--ask if I need a gel (something specific), or give me the shaka/hang loose sign and say "yeah bro, way to keep moving!" and move on.

50K isn't that long, so I quit eating and drinking, kept moving, and I was almost done. I had a couple slow 15-minute miles, but got back to 12-or-faster that I knew would still manage to take some time off my 2019 time on the same course. I turned on some Pearl Jam and shed a few Eddie-endorphin-induced tears and went reasonably hard for the last few miles.

I finished in 5:53, which was nine and a half minutes faster than my 2019 race. Conditions may have been slightly muddier in 2019, but I'm very happy to be running even epsilon faster over age 40.

Sign of a Good Day

Being able to consistently fuel would be great, though. I took down gels consistently, but then perhaps too much liquid ("I'll just finish this bottle while I'm at the aid station") or too many aid station tater tots ("mmmm, salty!") and the liquid appeared to not actually go anywhere. I'm skeptical of the accuracy but I'm looking into sweat tests to see if knowing my sweat salinity level would help me keep my stomach in check (after just making due for 20 years.)

Up next is another 50K (Elizabeth Furnace), a 40-miler (Hone Quarry), and 100K (Gorge Waterfalls). Then the real hundos: Massanutten, Hardrock, and Wyoming Range.

P.S. It's spelled Hashawha (there's a third H) and pronounced like Joshua. Mike was right, I was wrong.

2025 Year of Running in Review

2026-01-01T13:14:00.001-05:00

How'd it go in 2025, running-wise?

Volume

As of noon on December 31st, I have run 3,061 miles. That's the most I've ever run in a year, so I feel pretty good about that. I got less vert than I did last year, and have still never cracked 450,000 feet in a year. You can see data from most of the past decade below. (2018 was low thanks to a long summer hike and 2020 had the pandemic, injury, and a long hike.)

2025 Races

At the end of 2024 I only planned out the first half of 2025: my buildup to Hardrock. Not much else in life went according to plan, but the races did:

March 8: Seneca Creek Greenway 50K

March 15: Elizabeth Furnace 50K
April 26: Lake Sonoma 50 Miler
May 9-10: Hellbender 100 Miler
July 11-12: Hardrock 100 Miler

I wasn't quite as fast at Hardrock as I was eight years ago, but I still had a good day.

In the second half of the year I ended up running two more races, where I slightly improved my times over previous results.

September 20-21: IMTUF 100 Miler

December 7: California International Marathon

So, all in all pretty good: my most mileage in a year, three hundreds, and a marathon PR.

What's on Tap for 2026?

Nano and I are hoping to go back to Alaska, and I got into Hardrock again, so those are the two headline items. I have to build up to Hardrock, but with Alaska I don't know how much PTO I'll have. I don't think I'll have enough to do the Hardrock-Ouray double. Will I even have enough to acclimate for Hardrock? Do oxygen deprivation tents work? "Yes, but with caveats" say Claude and ChatGPT.

Here's how the schedule is looking:

February 14: TWOT

February 28: Hashawa Hills 50K

March 14: Elizabeth Furnace 50K

April 11: Gorge Waterfalls 100K?

May 16: Massanutten 100?

June: Alaska

July: Hardrock

August: Wyoming Range 100?

September: Dark Divide 100?

February and March seem somewhat set TWOT 100 starts Friday morning, but I think I can just start Saturday morning instead since I'll have Monday off for Presidents Day and it's a fatass.

Much of the rest is up in the air. For April, I'm on the waitlist for Gorge Waterfalls, but that involves PTO and travel, and both the Cherry Blossom 10-miler (I'm fast already, why not break 65 minutes?) and the Istria 100-miler in Croatia (obviously even more PTO, but prettier) are the same weekend.

For May, Massanutten would be extremely easy to get to, and it's organized by my local run club, but I've done it before and did not like it. The course is so rocky and humid and slow that the whole second half my only thought was "I have to finish so I never have to come back." So should I do it again? Probably not. Should I go down to Georgia and run Cruel Jewel 100 that weekend instead? That could be just as, if not more, miserable. Is there anything else on the east coast in May or early June that's worth doing? (Laurel Highlands and Manitou's Revenge are too late in the year, they overlap with Alaska.)

Also, how am I going to train for mountainous races? I'm a little tired of the Rock Creek trails right now, and it's impossible to get consistent long climb or descents. (Repeats are of course possible but I don't think have the same effect.) I might need to buy a car so I can more easily get to Shenandoah on the weekends.

The second half of the year is totally open. I don't think any race besides Hardrock or Ouray truly requires acclimating to altitude (speaking for myself), so I should have enough PTO to fit in a couple additional races. But which ones? Will you be at any of the Hardrock qualifiers? (Not that I need a qualifier per se, it's just usually a decent signal of quality.) Suggestions/coordination welcome!

California International Marathon

2025-12-30T15:32:00.002-05:00

Pre-Race

My final race of the year was Sacramento's California International Marathon. I'd run it twice before: once in grad school on little training when I had a goal to run a marathon every year but didn't much care about my time (I've since upped that goal to a 100-miler), and in 2021 when I trained for it fairly seriously and set a PR of 2:59:18.

The West has two types of marathon courses: hilly ones and downhill ones, and then there's CIM, which is mostly flat. There's slight rollers through 15 miles or so, but the biggest is probably 30-40 feet at most, so you can still run any mile with a hill at roughly the same pace, and there's a net drop of ~350 feet.

Anyway, it's a really good course to run fast: so much so that I believe it produces the largest number of Olympic Trials Qualifiers and Boston Qualifiers of any race. That means the race is relatively crowded at the front. Here are the percentages of finishers who ran in under 3:00:00 at a few marathons in 2025. Is there another race (other than the Olympic Trials) where such a large percentage of people run so fast? I'm not aware of one.

NYC: 2,374/58,973 (4%)

CIM: 1,423/8,181 (17%)

Oakland: 22/980 (2%)

Chicago: 4,069/54,326 (7%)

Grandma's: 519/7,555 (7%)

This is partly a self-fulfilling prophecy, since people know it's a fast race, faster people choose to run it, and I assume most people believe (like I do) that it's easier to run in a pack (as long as it's not too packed) than alone. (Side note: collecting data on the whole distribution of a bunch of marathons' times would be a fun little project. Has anyone already done that?)

Anyway, that's partly why I wanted to run it again. Of course, Reno and Sacramento are close, so it's an opportunity to see my partner and friends. I flew to Reno, spent a day on an unexpected house project, and then drove to Sacramento with a stop in Auburn for the Western States 100 lottery. They randomly select three spots to runners in the lottery who are present in person, so in addition to a nice chance to see runner friends, showing up marginally improves your chance of getting in. I didn't get selected for Western States, but as I walking away and about to part ways from M & Y, a friend texted me congratulations on getting into Hardrock! So I'll be running in the San Juans in the opposite direction next year. (More on that in a future post.)

Pre-Race Expo

We stayed with friends in Fair Oaks, CA, closer to the start than any of the bus collection points, so Amy just dropped me off at an intersection near the start, allowing me to sleep in a little later. (The website and all official race information correctly states that you cannot drive to the start, but you can drive here, the intersection of Greenback Ln and Folsom-Auburn Rd, then walk the 1.25-1.5 miles up the closed-for-the-race Folsom-Auburn Rd to the start. Folsom-Auburn Rd doesn't have sidewalks so it wouldn't be that fun or safe walking it with normal traffic, but it was closed for the race so it was fine.)

The Gun Goes Off

After the customary being cold waiting in the port-a-potty line, I joined the 2:50-3:05 corral. I was happy to see a 2:55 pace group. It was a pleasant surprise to see a pace group that fast--I thought 3:00 would be the fastest--but it makes sense since 2:55 is now the Boston qualifying time for young men. Right before the start the announcer read out the names of the pace group leaders, and one of the 2:55ers was Tim Tollefson, a well known pro ultrarunner who I'd just seen helping run the Western States lottery the day before. Right after the race started I ran over to him and introduced myself (I got into Hardrock yesterday!), thanked him for pacesetting, and figured I'd try and stay a minute or two ahead of his pace for as long as I could.

The start went well. I crossed the start about a minute after the gun, and could immediately go my pace without having to spend extra energy dodging folks. I ran 6:39s for the first 5K, then 6:36s from 5K-10K, then 6:43s from 10K-15K, then 6:41s from 15K-20K, and 1:27:11 overall for the first half. Pretty much exactly where I wanted to be, on track for a 2:55 race. I was ahead of the 2:55 pace group for several miles, but close enough that I could always hear people cheering for them. Tim Tollefson grew up nearby, so people know him, plus it's the first pace group and the BQ group, and they've got a sign, and it's nice to hear pretty much anything specific from spectators along the route.

I held steady with 6:43s from half through 25K. I was in front of the 2:55 group by a few seconds, then behind, then ahead. Then around mile 15-16 grabbing and eating a gel didn't go so well, and I ran my first 6:50-or-slower mile. The 2:55 pace group sped away.

25K to 30K with 6:51s.

I ran the next mile on pace, but immediately repeated a 6:50, then 7:01, then 7:08. Dammit! I'm losing it! Nearly 30 seconds per mile! How long till the 3:00 pace group passes me? I can't let that happen! Come on, come on, come on, keep it together!

30K to 35K with 7:14s.

The bridge over the American River, literally the only non-strip mall landmark on the course. I put in headphones hoping the tunes could save me. I ran by Amy cheering me on. I was dying. People were passing me.

35K to 40K with 7:11s.

So close. The 3:00 group hadn't passed me yet. Finally, we're almost there.

Let's go, finish strong, you can still set a PR!

40K to the Finish (42K) with 6:47s, for a finish time of 2:58:48, a PR by 30 seconds, and my third time breaking three hours!

(Pretty cool splits data and visualizations from myrace.ai. My Strava activity here.)

Instantly I was cold, and in a lot of pain. I rendezvoused with Amy, M & Y, and congratulated another Berkeley econ PhD (he was faster by 4 minutes!) I limped to lunch, then we drove home to Reno.

All in all, a good race. Of course I would have loved to be more consistent and finish with the 2:55 group, but I can't be that disappointed with a PR at age 46. If I'd just hung with the 2:55 pace group from the start could I have hung on to them longer? Maybe, but when I was right in there with them it felt a little claustrophobic and I might have had to spend energy avoiding getting tangled up with other runners.

I enjoyed training. I put in the speed work, consistently doing 800 and mile repeats on my lunch break, and getting consistent volume by running to and from work. Relative to training for a mountainous hundred, marathon training is easy because it takes so much less time--my weekend long runs take 2.5 hours instead of three times that.

I'm sure I'll be back, though I don't know when. It's not a pretty course, but it's fast, and that's probably what matters most with a road course--if I want scenery I'll run trails.

Gear, Fueling, Boring Notes for the Future

I started the race with a head buff that I ditched a couple miles in. I took off my arm sleeves after a few miles, but tucked them into my waistband and put them back on towards the end. (The fog never lifted and the race stayed cold and pretty close to ideal racing conditions.) I ran the race in my old Nike Vaporfly Next% 2's, which now have 103 miles on them, and probably one or two more races left. I did most of my training in Asics Novablast 5, which have a delightfully bouncy foam for daily training. I wore Patagonia Strider Pro shorts, which did OK at holding my gels, but after the race I had chafing on my lower back from the drawstring bouncing and chafing. Thankfully my brain didn't even report this to me until after the race, but perhaps in the future I should try to train with gels in my shorts to simulate race conditions. (I did all my long training runs with a vest to carry water, gels, and my phone.) I had a little upper thigh chafing, so I'm intrigued by the possibility of a 1/2 length tights to avoid that (but ones that somehow also carry the gels?) Lastly I think it helped a lot to train with the gels I used on race day, but I didn't train wolfing them down while running a 6:40 pace. When I'm stopped at a stoplight, I can carefully roll the gel up like a tube of toothpaste getting every last drop, then unroll and reroll it a second time for the true last drop. Doing that at race pace is another matter entirely. I probably only got 1/2 to 2/3 of the contents of each gel out, and had to supplement with the race-provided gels.

None of that is a huge deal, but it might add up to a few seconds next time.

IMTUF 10 Years Later

2025-10-18T23:46:00.003-04:00

I've long said I don't like repeating races (Western States and Hardrock aside) but I decided to do IMTUF again this year. I ran it in 2015 as part of my 400-mile Onion Slam [race report].

2015 was a fire year, so the course was significantly different than the standard at the time. The start was further north at Bugdorf Hot Springs, but the new "Super Course" starts at the sound end at Jug Mountain Ranch, which makes staying at a Bay Area friend's cabin nearby much easier, and made it nice for Amy to come along and make a weekend of it, and meant I'd only seen something like 40% of the course before.

2015 v 2025 course

I trained pretty well, maxing out at two 90+ mile weeks (90+ running, 120+ if you include biking) three and four weeks before the race. I tapered and was well-rested for the race. My goal was 30 hours, compared to 31:46 in 2015. To my pleasant surprise, my friend Zak from Washington state called me the day before the race and let me know he was running too. Nano and a few of his SoCal friends were running too, so I hoped to run into him as well.

The pre-race meeting was "mandatory" but short and sweet, and Jeremy was quite enthusiastic about his race, so I didn't mind it. I got a little worried because the forecast had migrated into the hot category, and I packed more for cold. Partly due to the forecast and partly from my mind always doing a delayed updating that includes my previous trip, and my recent Minnesota trip was unusually cold. I asked everyone I could think of if they had a spare pair of arm sleeves, which I loved at Hardrock, but foolishly left out of my bag for Idaho. I couldn't find a pair so I hoped that my sun hoodie would accomplish the same thing.

The race was scheduled to start at 6 with a generous wait-until-the-porta-potty-line-is-done exact start, so I got my two morning poops in for a good start to the day. I saw Zak right before the start, and again pretty soon after. I wasn't exactly killing it, but he let me go ahead, even though he's generally faster than me. I figured I'd see him again.

The race starts off climbing a dirt road, and didn't become a conga line as it switched to singletrack (it's not a very large race). Jughandle Mountain is the first climb, and there's a nice talus section at the top that requires slowing down a bit to jump/step/climb from rock to rock with great views over a sheer drop-off on one side. The first aid station is after descending back down to the shore of Louie Lake, with great views back up to the peak.

Louie Lake

Then another and another aid station, and I remembered that, oh, yeah, 10 miles is far apart between aid stations. Thankfully I told myself from the beginning of the race that this was a high altitude eating contest. At first I was trying to keep a running tally of all the calories I was taking in, but that quickly became too complicated since I was only guessing about how many calories were in a bottle of sports drink from the aid stations, and I couldn't remember whether I counted the bottle when I started drinking it or when I finished it. So instead I just turned on my watch timer and told it to beep every 25 minutes, and I would take a gel or eat every time it went off.

The RD did a good job telling us what fuel would be on the course in advance, so I bought some in advance and trained with it. It is very simple, no flavor, 2:1 glucose to fructose. Somehow it tastes fruity to me (fructose, duh). Not exciting, but I'm fine with it. I also brought a bunch of Never Seconds (very similar) and a few Maurtens that I had left from Hardrock. I got over the dead slug consistency of Maurtens and actually like them (and wish I'd grabbed more from HR since I'm not going to pay $4 per gel for them myself.) Carbs Fuel's drink mix ratio is slightly different (1:0.8) but mostly what matters to me is that most aid stations made it reasonably strongly concentrated, the way I like it.

The second descent around mile 29 was a nice runnable switchbacking road. When I started it I was soon bunched up with three other runners. The road was dusty, so I sped up to go in front and avoid choking on their dust. I also love a good runnable descent, and I wasn't going super fast (9-10 minute miles) but I felt in my quads that I was going to regret it. I knew it, but it was fun, and I didn't want to stop or slow down, and I didn't want to be behind the three runners near me. And unfortunately I was right. By the time that downhill was done, my quads were cooked and descending was slow and painful the rest of the race. I could still climb, so that's what I had to rely on.

After this aid station was a runnable dirt road, and the only bad part was that it was getting hot. So I now had to test my sun hoody for cooling, by taking it off and dumping it fully in a nice cold creek. It was annoying and slow to take off my pack, hat, and sunglasses as well, but it was even more annoying that as I was doing this, a female runner said to me "You don't mind if I pee right here do you?" and proceeded to squat and pee directly into the creek, 10 feet downstream from me. I said neither "What the fuck is wrong with you?" nor "Uh, yes, I do mind, pee 100 feet from water like everyone else," but I thought them both.

Hearing about ultra-runners who attempt to run the AT or PCT I'm often amazed how ill-prepared (or wimpy) they are in bad weather or just what they don't know about camping that seems obvious to me since I backpacked before doing ultras. You pee 100 feet from water and you poop 200 feet from water. I'm not at all saying that needs to be strict, or I myself always follow that. Some runners pee in the trail, sometimes while running. So we're loosey goosey about it. But I've never heard of anyone choosing to squat in the creek while someone else is basically dunking themselves in it. Was the sudden urge to pee at the sound of rushing water uncontrollable? Was she a Colorado River rafter and used to being told to pee in the river since it stinks up small beaches if done on land (the solution to pollution is dilution)? People are weird and/or uninformed.

So I puzzled over that for the next while, as my sun hoody eventually dried out and the day heated up. There's a nice packed-in-by-goats aid station at mile 36, I dunked the hoody again, and Zak caught up to me. We did the next section to North Crestline at mile 47 together, and he made me laugh a few times--he has a humorous way of saying something to the effect of "yeah you didn't exactly hide your opinion on that subject matter, Garret" that recalls some hyperbolic strongly opinionated statement I made about any number of mundane topics. That helped make the hot section faster and more fun.

Fun with goats

He didn't need to stay long at the North Crestline aid station though, and I needed at least another minute. It was a gently descending, if rocky, dirt road descent out of there, and I was having trouble with it. It's a perfectly runnable section if you're in good shape, so I guessed I probably wouldn't see Zak again, and I didn't. After the road stretch is a mile and a half of the "Terrible Terrence" Trail, which isn't much of a trail, but a steep descent that was tough on my quads. I tripped and ate it once at the bottom when you're paralleling the North Fork of the Payette River. Then there's a bit of road to Upper Payette Lake and mile 55. I'd gotten to 50 miles in 13 hours and a bit, which is I was happy with. The problem is always the second half.

Along Crestline

I don't remember mile 55 to 70, but I assume they happened. Leaving the Snowslide aid station at mile 70 I knew would be a brutal climb--that was one of the few things I remembered from 2015--just an unrelenting switchback-free, loose dirt and anklebreaker gully of a climb. 1,800' in 2 miles. At least the climb wasn't sharply painful, as the descent was. Not quite as steep, but brushy, narrow, uneven, and not fun on the quads. Eventually I connected back to trail we'd been on earlier in the race for a short out and back to the only repeated aid station (mile 20 and 82). I might have hit them at a low moment (it was 4 or 5 in the morning after all) but I didn't feel like I got the emotional boost or hot food I was hoping for, so I moved on to the last climb. I had seven consecutive miles slower than 20 minutes/mile. Two of those were the aid station and a poop, but I wasn't setting land speed records when I was moving either.

It started to get light, and on the final climb up to 8,000 feet I switched from podcasts to the latest SA Cosby thriller novel, King of Ashes. It was plenty thrilling and easy to follow in my mindless state, but I don't think I'll bother listening to any more of his books--none of the characters ever have to seriously deal with consequences of their morally questionable actions. It's just "for the family" like it's a Fast & Furious movie and the "good" guys always win. Thrilling but too stupid.

The descent was fine but long. There was one short section where we veered off a road that looked like it continued down, but instead we had to climb. There was a sign that said something like "Turn left and GO UP. Yes, up! Use your anger as FUEL!!" which I sincerely appreciated, because sarcasm, anger, and making it blindingly obvious which way the course goes is indeed the best way to deal with a climb in the last few miles of a race that really does seem unnecessary, but probably is unavoidable for whatever property ownership/trail maintenance/other reason.

Clouds rolling in after sunrise

The final miles were mostly downhill to get us back to Jug Mountain Ranch, and I ran them at just under 15-minute pace. Not astounding, but I got it done, in 29:14. 40th place out of 121 finishers. I guess I'm happy with that. My only goal was to go under 30 hours, and I did it. But it's hard to be completely satisfied with such large positive splits. Such is the hedonic treadmill of life and running.

Summary:

Overall this was a great race. The course was very well marked. Basically perfectly marked. Flags before and after turns, arrows (and distances!) at key junctions, and a few sarcastic comments at the stupidest points so it was clear that yes, this really was the right way (sorry, not sorry). The trail is rough, and perhaps a bit brushy, but logged out well. Most importantly, it's beautiful, with some great alpine terrain.

When people ask me what are the best (i.e. most scenic and well-organized) 100s they can get into without lotteries, I have long said IMTUF and Bighorn, and I recently added Crazy. I feel even more strongly about that after doing IMTUF again.

Fueling:

I fueled well, eating a gel or taking caffeine or a salt tab or something nearly every 25 minutes when my watch went off. I gagged a couple-few times, but I didn't let that scare me off continuing to eat. Maybe next time I'll see if I can increase the frequency to every 20 minutes.

Gear:

I wore a brand new pair of La Sportiva Prodigio Pro shoes. I took a risk on them, having tried them on but never really run in them before race day. Risky, but I had a change of shoes in my mile 20/80 drop bag if I needed them. (I didn't.) I'd say they're almost as good as everyone says they are, and there's a reason nobody seems to be able to keep them in stock. The built-in gaiter is probably mostly good enough by itself, but I ran with a pair of gaiters over them anyway, probably overkill. I used my ancient Peter Bakwin 2.0 UD pack as usual. The aid stations mostly did not have ice so my insulated bottles were not really accomplishing much, but it worked. The aid stations are often 10-12 miles apart, so I was needed the full capacity of my two 21-ounces bottles. A wet sun hoody works to cool off in the heat, but light-colored arm sleeves are much better since you don't have to strip down so much to dunk them.

Summer is Over

2025-09-28T23:11:00.002-04:00

I just returned from an overnight trip to Shenandoah National Park. I'm slowly working away at all 500 miles of official trail in the park, as I did in Joshua Tree. It's something to do, I guess. The dogs are allowed to come with me, so that's nice, but I don't think George's hips are up for it.

Long Green Tunnel, just beginning to turn red

Margo happy at the one sunny spot

The trip to the Boundary Waters was fun. I prefer mountains, but a canoe is a nice change of pace, and I could definitely see Amy and I spending a month or more in a boat sometime if the opportunity ever arises. It would have been better if I were more confident in my chanterelle identification, since they were all over the place.

Kevlar canoes make this way easier than I remembered

Caught & Released

The trip to Western States and Hardrock back in June/July was obviously the highlight of my summer, but I just finished my third and likely final 100-miler of the year last weekend: IMTUF. I first ran it in 2015 as part of the Onion Slam (Tahoe 200, IMTUF 100, and the Bear 100 on consecutive weekends). Repeating it was definitely worth it--I'll write a full race report next time--it's just overshadowed by everything going on, work definitely included. (Ask me in person sometime. Let's just say I'm always open to new and exciting opportunities.)

I've got one quick desert weekend coming up, and then I'm running CIM in December. I'm looking forward to running less, but faster; hopefully that actually pans out.

I read Frémont: Explorer for a Restless Nation by Ferol Egan, Watership Down, by Richard Adams, and Lonesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry. I don't count audiobooks as reading; I read these, and I liked the feel of the musty old mass market paperbacks in my hands. I liked the writing as well.

Taking Amy to see a movie made me realize how absurdly expensive movie theaters are, so I joined the local chain's unlimited subscription plan and watched a lot of bad movies at marginal cost of zero dollars, only the time that I can never recover. I disliked Americana, Honey Don't, and The Long Walk, thought Weapons was OK but not great, and really liked Eden.

BWCA Day 5: Exit

2025-09-12T11:02:00.001-04:00

We woke up at 6:00 and started packing in a light rain. I made quick oatmeal and coffee and we were off by 7:30 or so. We were half a mile from the big portage from Vera to Ensign. We went straight in and made quick work of it. Something about Ensign Lake was different. I cast a line in, MFS said maybe let it get deep and just trawl it behind the boat, and pretty much instantly I had a Walleye in the boat. It was surely the biggest fish I ever caught, though maybe I caught a big rainbow trout on the Madison in Montana when I spent a day at a friend's cabin outside Yellowstone. To Joe's dismay, I threw the fish back and it eagerly swam away. We had plenty of food left and were only a few miles from our exit pickup. A few minutes later I cast again, or rather, tried to cast and accidentally plopped the line in the water a foot from the canoe. Oh well, let it play out. Then a few seconds later a northern pike was in the boat. I squeezed it to keep it still and it barfed up its lunch, it bit me, and I put it back in the water. It took some swishing to revive it, but I think it made it home OK.

An hour or two more paddling, two infinitesimal portages, and we met our tow guy, who was there early but clearly happy to hang out and read his book while we cooked lunch at a nearby campsite. Eventually we swung by, and we motorboated back to the launch.

Back to the outfitters to scrub the black off the griddle and return the gear, back to A's uncle's for lovely meals, jumps in the cold lake and sits in the sauna, and a couple short jogs on country roads. Then the scenic drive along Lake Superior shoreline back to Duluth, and we flew our separate ways.

Overall a great trip. It's not a mountain adventure, but for a trip with friends of different ages and experience, it was great. Lends credence to my notion that someday Amy and I could paddle the Yukon and both have fun. I'm just disappointed we didn't name our boats: Fannie and Freddie? Or to keep all the boat names female, Fannie and Ginnie. (We all could be said to work in the fair housing realm.)

BWCAW Night 4: Vera Lake

2025-09-09T19:05:00.001-04:00

Woke up early and got out of camp around 7:45 when the water was still glassy. Did a series of several short portages, then one half-miler (180 or 200 "rods" an absurd unit of measure) that took the guys a while. We moved on to Vera Lake and took a break for a late lunch before attempting the next long portage, except that the clouds were really building and looked bad. So we stayed out and withing minutes it was pouring rain. I got my tent up east, then got wet trying to set up the group tarp. Three of us sat under it counting the sight/sound gap for the lightning. Mostly 4-6 seconds, a couple less than one, not that fun. The rain kept coming, so I eventually went to bed early with nothing but hot chocolate for dinner. Too wet, not worth it. The storm put on a good show, and I read a few more chapters of Lonesome Dove.

BWCAW Night 3: Zero Day

2025-09-07T22:02:00.000-04:00

We camped in the same place as yesterday. I took a canoe out early on the glassy lake and tried a little fishing. I didn't get any bites, maybe one nibble at most and then the sun went behind clouds and it got too cold, so I didn't have to confront too many vegan ethical contradictions. I read a bunch of Lonesome Dove, climbed a hill behind the campsite and didn't get cell reception, and am 80% sure I found chanterelles, but I never find them in DC so I can't identify them 100%. Besides, I already have dehydrated chicken of the woods and shitake with me so I'm set on mushrooms. A nice day off. No rain to speak of, but not super warm. Big day ahead of us tomorrow so we can be where we need to be for the takeout by 1pm the day after. Our packs are significantly lighter having eaten a bunch of the food.

Night 2: South Arm Knife Lake

2025-09-06T22:27:00.000-04:00

Slept for 11 hours. Made a multi-course breakfast, then broke camp and paddled around knife lake all day. Went onto Robbins Island where apparently the last person lived in the Wilderness after being grandfathered in, but didn't see any evidence of cabins, but might have found chanterelles. Went to Thunder Point, an ever-so-slightly higher than everything else promontory that actually had decent views and cell reception for lunch. Looked around for a native quarry and may or may not have found it. Did one extremely short portage, then looked at campsites before settling on the third. Large enough for four tents, and sheltered from the wind. It actually has great sunset views. It also has rodents.

A good day that went by quickly. Mostly decent weather but it did rain on us at least twice. We're using this camp as a base camp for tomorrow.

Night 1: Knife Lake

2025-09-05T22:20:00.000-04:00

We went back to the outfitters and they put the canoes on a boat on a trailer. We caravaned to Moose Lake, and then us and our canoes caught a 25hp lift to the far side, into the wilderness on a permitted motor route to the edge of the first portage.

Maybe five portages, a lunch break, some rain, and we set up camp.

The motor ride caused a little anxiety, because damn it was cold. Do I have enough clothing?

But then we started paddling, and it was a little choppy but not bad. I've paddled a kayak in small craft advisory weather in the SF Bay and nearly barfed; this is nothing. And the effort warms you up. The first group we passed in the other direction warmed my heart because damn they are carrying to much gear and we are probably fine. The heavy skillet and the skillet grabber tool are stupid, and the pots are steel, not aluminum, and definitely not titanium, and the bear hang system is an absurdly heavy way to create a bear piñata, but it all basically fits into four giant bags, so we each only have to make one gear trip and then one canoe trip. The canoes are kevlar, they're not that heavy.

We set up camp around 3:30 or 4. I sipped from my flask, read a few pages of Lonesome Dove, built a smokey wet fire, the guys ate steak, and I ate beans with dehydrated tomatoes, shitake, and chicken of the woods mushrooms.

Crap weather but a good day.

Boundary Waters

2025-09-05T22:07:00.000-04:00

I'm headed to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness! I've wanted to go for a long time, but of course I end up doing adventures on foot almost exclusively. But I've always had the notion that being stuck in a boat together would be the best way for people of different skill levels to have an adventure together. I'll paddle, you can just sit there; I don't care. I have never really tested this theory, but I jumped at the chance when MFS said he was putting together a guys trip as part of his sabbatical. Well, "jumped" in quotes perhaps. If I'd planned a trip myself, I'd start with 20 miles a day as the floor. I expected normies would do half that, but the proposed itinerary was about a quarter. So, after a little bit of talking, pointing out the default speed on paddleplanner.com, and confirming that nightly planned camping locations are not fixed by permit (only entry and exit point), I said yes. I packed booze and a 900 page novel (Lonesome Dove), and here we are.

Flew to Minneapolis, then Duluth. Got sandwiches, extra food, and a last minute pair of gum boots, because it's 45 or 50 degrees and rainy so my normal "just get your shoes wet who cares" doesn't seem like the wisest strategy. The air is so moist the cold cuts right through you. I wish I'd brought my soft shell pants, and I think this extra insulation layer and soft shell jacket I brought for the flight home are going with me on the trip instead.

Drove to Ely, met the outfitter, and got our supplies. I don't love the gear. Lots of shit I wouldn't be caught dead carrying on my own, but hopefully it won't be terrible split four ways. Spent the night at AP's uncle's house. They made us a delicious dinner and my sit in their sauna was the only time I felt warm all day.

Second Hardrock, Same as the First.

2025-07-22T10:09:00.002-04:00

Just a little bit hotter and a little bit worse!

I finished my second Hardrock last week. It was a fun experience. I ran 1 hour 47 minutes slower than my 2017 time (in the same counter-clockwise direction) but it was a million degrees hotter, the course is two miles longer, and I took an additional 1.6-mile wrong turn. I placed essentially the same: 35th this time, 36th last time. I feel like I normally finish as the median runner, but when the going gets very tough, I do relatively better. I think the easiest explanation might just be that elevation wrecks some really good runners and I barely notice it up to 13,000 feet. Thanks, genetics. Or, when a race is high enough and steep enough that almost everyone is hiking, I'm a relatively fast hiker with better endurance. Regardless, it worked out reasonably well for me again.

Training

I've been telling myself since last October that I should hire a coach to write a training plan for me, or at least write a plan myself. I never got around to it. What I did manage to do is, once I was selected in the lottery in December, look at my 2017 race calendar and say, OK, let's do something similar: frequent races ramping up in distance. So I did two 50Ks, a 50-miler, and 100-miler in March to May. I managed to run 220 to 340 miles every month this year, plus some bike commuting. So volume-wise I was probably doing well.

Acclimation & Pre-Race

After fan-boying at Western States at the end of June, I flew to Montrose, Colorado on July 1. I rented a small SUV, and the seats folded down flat, so that's all I needed. I camped one night up South Mineral, then a few nights up Cunningham, a few nights at a condo in Purgatory, one night with friends in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park to check that box, and the night before the race in Silverton. I also went to Mesa Verde to check that box. I ran 70 miles with 26,000' vert the week before (not of) the race. In my Washington, DC training it's hard to get more than 8,000' in a week--that requires travel to a race or renting a car and getting out to the Shenandoah, so the Colorado week was a significant step up, but I don't think I overdid it.

Pre-race zen on the Gunnison River

Cliff Palace, Mesa Verde NP

In Colorado I got it in my head to summit a 13er a day, so I did six 13ers (Whitehead, Rhoda x2, South Hayden, Little Giant x2, not quite North Twilight), but no 14ers, which I now think was a mistake. There's a non-trivial difference between 13,000 feet and 14,000 feet for me, so I definitely should have gotten up into that zone to prepare.

Summit of Little Giant Peak

Part of me was saying that I was happy to just be on the starting line while still being employed, since 23% of my division was fired, and I had to move away from my partner in Reno back to DC. Of course I would have also loved to have beaten my previous time, or my original goal of 3 mph (my default speed for many a long-distance backpacking trip.)

The Race

After weird high-elevation dreams for a couple nights at our Purgatory condo, I slept the night before the race in the temporary campground in Silverton. My crew had early dinner together in the park, and then before sunset serious haze started rolling in from forest fires. Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP was evacuated and closed for a fire on the south rim, where I'd just camped the week prior.

At race start, the air was pretty foul, though apparently below AQI 150 in Silverton (though 200+ in Ouray). I woke at 5:00AM, moved the car right next to the start line, and checked in for the third and final time. It was cold, so I put on arm sleeves that I had lying around, and sat in the car until just a few minutes before the start.

I got in the corral, and realized I was separated from Ludo (the returning champion) by one person, so pretty close to the front. Oh well, let's go with it. The race started, and a historic fire truck, belching quite noticeably smelly exhaust, led us the mile through town across the bridge to the ski hill and the first trail. (Can we not run behind this cute but exhaust-spewing historic vehicle in the future? The forest fires made the air bad enough; why make it worse?)

I jogged the flatter parts of the climb up Little Giant, and didn't get passed by anyone except when I stopped to tighten my shoe laces. Looking back to Silverton, the air was disgustingly dirty, and I was more than a little concerned about running 100 miles in thin, dirty air.

Dirty Air in the Morning

I rolled into Cunningham aid station (9.3), grabbed a gel or two, filled my bottles, dropped my trash, and kept moving. I stopped at the latrine and was frustrated that I had to wait 10 seconds for it to open up. (Ten whole seconds!) Then on the climb out I looked at my 2017 splits that I'd saved to my phone and realized that somehow I was already ten minutes behind. OK, we'll just run smarter this time. We won't have two 30+ minute aid station stops, and we won't die on the climb out of Telluride. My 2017 first half was amazing--ahead of 3mph pace, more of a 30-hour pace.

I spent much of the next 5-10 miles running with Mike Wardian, a fellow DC-area runner, except he's elite and runs fast 5Ks and marathons. He got ahead of me when I took a short wrong turn (shortly after you first see the Maggie's tent (15.4) way down below you, you have to stay alert to go over a shoulder to the right. Luckily another guy was making the same mistake and people behind us saw us going wrong and yelled at us.) I eventually got ahead of Mike by a few minutes and didn't see him for a while.

It started warming up, and I was ecstatic to have my arm sleeves, which I dunked in almost every creek crossing, along with my hat, which I let run down my back. The cooling effect was delightful; I basically credit these sleeves with saving my race, since it was miserably hot out there. The temperature was probably only in the high 70's (maybe mid-80's in Ouray) but there was no cloud cover--no monsoon season buildup. I'd noticed this for a few days prior to the race--I'd finish a training run/hike and from 3-6pm instead of ducking from lightning you'd just be wincing in the glaring sun. At that elevation, when there's no cloud cover, the sun is intense.

I ran into Sherman aid station (29.8) about a half hour slower than 2017, but about a mile was added to the course somewhere around the Pole Creek aid station (20.4), my arm sleeves were keeping me cool, the aid station folks got a lot of food in me with minimal conversation required, and I was ready to rock. They iced me up with my ice bandana, sprayed me down with sunblock, and told me I'd be on an exposed section for a few miles. Exposed means road, right? Right?!

That's what I was thinking as I kept a great pace out of the aid station, over the bridge, past a confidence marker flag, and to the road junction, with no flags. Where the hell are the flags? Oh crap, that flag wasn't a confidence marker, it marked the turn. I confirmed it with GPS on my phone, and ran the ~0.8 miles back to the turn. Dammit. 1.6 or 1.7 bonus miles of hot exposed road running.

I got to Burrows aid station (34.0) four places back from where I'd left Sherman, and 20+ minutes slower than my 2017 split for the section. Everyone at the aid station gave me a wildly different number, from 30-35 miles, of how far along in the race that aid station was supposed to be. (34.0 says the race manual.) Then I left my poles there and had to go back and get them, so I didn't exactly start the section up Handies with aplomb. I felt good passing a couple people early on, but closer to the top, they, and a few other people caught back up to me. There was finally some cloud cover, but no real risk of storm, as all the clouds were off in a direction we weren't headed. There were some dogs at the very summit who did exactly what I wanted--they started licking all the salt off my face as soon as I knelt down to say hello. But other than that one instant of joy, I continued to struggle, barely getting a gel or two down, and getting passed again on the short climb out of American Basin, and not really descending as well as I normally would on the way to Animas Forks (44.6). This section might be a half mile longer than in 2017, but it took me a half hour longer and I was passed by 5 people, the most of any section on the course.

Handies looking towards American Basin

Yuch jumped in to pace me and we made quick work of the road climb. I only had to say "ENOUGH!" once to remind him that we weren't supposed to be talking about politics since I was on vacation. We did this section about 15 minutes faster than 2017. At Engineer (50.6) I had the lovey surprise of rolling in, asking "What've you got that's hot and vegan?" only to have the answer be "Is that the Onion?!" and getting a hug from a thru-hiker friend from Salt Lake who's apparently been the aid station captain for the last three years. She's great and I could have chatted with her for a long time, but the aid station is a pack-in with limited supplies, on a downhill section just before the longest, funnest, most runnable downhill on the entire course (Ouray Bear Creek), so I left and passed 6 people as I yelled out the count of the switchbacks (13! Thirteen slick slate switchbacks!)

The pointless ups and downs section from the highway crossing to the north end of Ouray (58.6) felt less interminable than 2017. I spent about the same amount of time in the aid station, and felt like I made good time up Camp Bird Mine Road to Governors aid station (66.2). We ran the runnable sections, passed a couple people, and got passed by one. It got a little cold and windy, but it was more important to keep moving than to put on a jacket--anything I put on quickly got too warm. I spent a few too many minutes in Governors and moved on to Krogers (69.8). This was the first climb I really had to stop and deliberately breathe, sat down for a minute, and got super annoyed at the pacer who passed and asked four "can we do anything to help?" questions before just leaving me the hell alone for a minute. There was much less snow at the top than there was before, so Strava says I did the very top faster than 2017, but otherwise the section took me 20 minutes longer than before.

We didn't exactly crush it down to Telluride (74.7); I remember thinking the road was annoyingly unrunnable. Just a little too steep to be fun in my current condition. And then near the bottom Mike Wardian came by at 9 minutes a mile (according to his Strava--it felt a lot faster than that) and all he had time to say was "Left!" to let us know he's passing. 30 seconds his later his pacer blew by about just as fast.

I ditched my headlamps just before Telluride aid station and deliberately took my time. I used the toilet, ate some noodles, gagged down a cola-flavored Gu liquid energy (terrible flavor, never again. Strongly dislike.) I tried to eat, but mostly I sat there getting cold and starting to shiver, so after too long, I moved out. Yuch swapped out for Jenny, and we started up the Telluride Bear Creek climb. I passed one or two people shortly out of the aid station, but I didn't really feel like I was crushing it, and I definitely had to stop and lean on my poles to catch my breath, especially near the top. Coming down Oscar's towards Chapman (84.4) was as annoying a boulder field as ever, and now that the sun was fully up it was getting hot again. There's no water until the very bottom just before the aid station, and the aid station was hot and had no ice (I thought it was somewhat driveable, if not by crew, so I was expecting some) so that was a bummer. I stayed a few minutes too long, and slowly moved on through the hot forest towards Grant-Swamp. I didn't mind the scree climb but I wasn't a fan of the false summits.

Is this even real?

Jenny at Grant-Swamp

The view is of course incredible, and I love the descent, but I didn't quite destroy it like in 2017. I was happy to see all the day-hikers on that section who cheered us on, but it was hot, and the Kamm Traverse section before KT aid station (91.0) was exposed, overgrown, and fairly miserable. I was happy to stand in Porcupine Creek for a minute, but the climb out was exposed and not shaded despite being below treeline. I was glad that other runners told me the climb was split into three chunks, so that it didn't come as a complete surprise (despite having done it in 2017). I also ran part of the climb as my last training run, just getting to the point where I thought I'd gotten past the false summits and knew where the real summit was.

This absolutely isn't the top

Nope! Once you get to the top of the second section, there's a huge open grassy plateau before you, and you see the trail contouring across it, ostensibly towards a low shoulder and a very easy pass. Then you get there, and the trail goes left, over to another grassy mountain, and then literally straight up it on no trail, route perfectly perpendicular to the contour lines on your map for another 600 vertical feet. JFC. I forgot about this part. Once you get up there you can eventually see why you don't go over the low pass you were looking at a while ago (sheer cliffs in the Lime Creek drainage), though looking at a map there definitely is a trail over it down to the Colorado Trail and Molas Pass.

Finally we dropped down to Putnam aid station (96.6), where for some reason my complaining about flat no-ice SodaStream-made Ginger Ale made the whole aid station laugh and ask for my blunt opinions about the appropriate level of carbonation in soda and concentration in Tailwind energy drink. Some hiker came along and told me to get moving, so I did.

Down the rock section, where I was passed by a fast Japanese runner who fist-bumped me and said "arigato" and then was gone so fast I had to ask Jenny if that had actually happened or I was seeing things. (I was definitely seeing things; I was very sleepy-tired, my pattern recognition system was making all sorts of incorrect guesses, and I was experiencing a lot of new things as deja vu). We crossed the river and the highway, passed one more runner, and as I was beginning the final descent to the finish line I noticed I had a couple minutes before a nice round number (36:30) so I ran hard.

I finished in 36:29, and then promptly puked and started coughing. Everyone told me the red stuff was watermelon and not blood, and that's what I choose to believe as well.

Finish

Thanks to pacers Jenny and Yuch and friend-since-3rd-grade crew chief MFS, always ready with a Star Trek or Simpsons season 4 reference!

Splits Chart

The race keeps a good history of splits, and you can click the people + peers tab to see where I passed/was passed.

2017 , 2025

2017					2025
Split	Mile	Elapsed Time	Segment Time	In Aid	Split	Mile	Elapsed Time	Segment Time	In Aid
Start	0	00:00	--:--	--	Start	0	00:00	--:--	--
Cunningham In / Out	9.3	02:18 / 02:19	2h18m / 1m	1m	Cunningham In / Out	9.3	02:29 / 02:29	2h29m / 0m	0m
Maggie In / Out	15.4	04:21 / 04:23	2h02m / 2m	2m	Maggie In / Out	15.4	04:33 / 04:35	2h03m / 2m	2m
Pole Creek In / Out	19.7	05:26 / 05:29	1h03m / 3m	3m	Pole Creek In / Out	20.4	05:55 / 05:58	1h19m / 3m	3m
Sherman In / Out	28.8	07:51 / 08:04	2h22m / 13m	13m	Sherman In / Out	29.8	08:18 / 08:25	2h20m / 7m	7m
Burrows In / Out	32.6	08:55 / 09:01	51m / 6m	6m	Burrows In / Out	34	09:41 / 09:47	1h15m / 5m	5m
Grouse In / Out	42.2	12:22 / 12:49	3h21m / 27m	27m	Animas Forks In / Out	44.6	13:45 / 13:59	3h58m / 13m	13m
Engineer In / Out	48.7	14:57 / 15:07	2h08m / 10m	10m	Engineer In / Out	50.6	15:55 / 16:01	1h55m / 6m	6m
Ouray In / Out	56.6	16:54 / 17:12	1h47m / 18m	18m	Ouray In / Out	58.6	17:49 / 18:06	1h48m / 17m	17m
Governor In / Out	64.5	19:35 / 19:46	2h23m / 11m	11m	Governor In / Out	66.2	20:27 / 20:41	2h20m / 14m	14m
Kroger In / Out	67.8	21:12 / 21:20	1h26m / 8m	8m	Kroger In / Out	69.8	22:32 / 22:39	1h50m / 6m	6m
Telluride In / Out	72.8	22:48 / 23:02	1h28m / 14m	14m	Telluride In / Out	74.7	23:58 / 24:31	1h19m / 33m	33m
Chapman In / Out	82.1	27:21 / 27:55	4h19m / 34m	34m	Chapman In / Out	84.4	28:34 / 28:53	4h02m / 18m	18m
Kamm Traverse In / Out	89.1	30:12 / 30:18	2h17m / 6m	6m	Kamm Traverse In / Out	91	31:56 / 32:06	3h03m / 9m	9m
Putnam In / Out	94.7	33:08 / 33:12	2h50m / 4m	4m	Putnam In / Out	96.6	34:51 / 34:58	2h44m / 7m	7m
Finish	100.5	34:42:24	01h29m56s	2h37m	Finish	102.5	36:29:12	01h31m12s	2h25m

Nutrition

I heard someone on a podcast describe the race as a high altitude eating contest, and it's so true. (Unfortunately I only heard the episode after the race--c'mon DBo, get that RSS feed up sooner!) I didn't vomit during the race, but maybe as the saying goes, if you've never missed a flight, you've spent too much time at the airport. That is, I should have eaten more, but it really became such a chore. I did gag on my second or third gel (I made it 17 whole miles before gagging), but I never puked. The on-course Maurten gels have the consistency of a dead snail, but the Never Seconds and lemon flavor of the Gu Liquid Energy gel that I had plenty of actually went down fairly easily the whole time. I should have taken more.

The berry flavor of the Never Second has 40mg of caffeine, and I probably ate 6-7 caffeinated gels during the race, but for whatever reason, their cumulative effect never seemed to give me a noticeable boost, unlike when I take a 200mg caffeine pill (which I was carrying and should have just taken in addition when I was getting sleepy.)

I should have eaten more potatoes, but half the time I tried them they weren't adequately cooked. There was supposedly a lot of pumpkin pie out there too, though I didn't get offered it often (maybe many of them aren't vegan?)

Anyway, the race shared details of what each aid station was going to have; I definitely should have read that list beforehand.

Gear

I've run in my trusty Ultimate Direction Peter Bakwin pack for the last 14 years, and it still works, but it's definitely falling apart. I searched for a new pack that could hold hard bottles (which have wide mouths and can thus hold ice, and can be insulated to keep that ice colder longer) but nobody seems to make them anymore. I ordered the UltrAspire Momentum 2.0 and gave it a try but every arm swing rubs the tips of the bottles so I returned it. Literally the only other pack I've seen that can accommodate wide-mouth bottles is the Orange Mud, which doesn't have a lot of carrying capacity. Maybe I'll try and it combine it with a waist belt.

My shoes were nearing the end of life before the race, and I struggled to find a replacement. I've worn La Sportiva Karacal since at least 2022, going through 8 or 9 pairs and never getting a blister. Apparently I'm the only person who liked them though, as they were discontinued. The sizing was truly ridiculous, inconsistent with even other Sportivas, so I wore a full size larger than anything I've ever worn before.

I thought I'd splurge on a super shoe for the race. Sportiva Prodigio Pro were sold out everywhere, so I tried some Speedlands (the Cocodona) but it gave me the same weird side-bottom heel tic-tac sized blister that Speedgoats do. I ended up with a pair of Hoka Tecton X 3, but they run large so I was slipping around inside them. I really liked having them on the climb up Camp Bird Mine road, but was not happy with the slippage on cambered downhills. I bought them direct from Hoka.com, so they have a generous return policy; we'll see if I like a size 9.5 better. I also got a pair of Nike Zegama 2 and really like them, I don't know why I didn't just wear them in the race.

Getting There

Don't try and carry sports drink powders in your carry-on baggage.

Room for Improvement

I still think the race lottery is whack. They made the massive improvement of adjusting the number of women runners equal to their proportion of lottery entrants, but the formula still grants higher odds to people who have run the race many times before. There's a lot of talk about "the Hardrock family," but any family that deliberately lets older siblings come back for a 17th serving before the younger kids gets anything is messed up. "Hey, you've already had 16 servings, well done being born sooner, you deserve more!" Run it once or twice in each direction, and then make room for someone else. (I'm totally satisfied with the counter-clockwise direction.)

Pre and post-race meetings were too long. The MC-ing really needs to be tighter and respectful of everyone's time. The awards ceremony should start after only 30-40 minutes of breakfast, not nearly 90 minutes so people don't end up baking in the noonday sun.

There are supposed to be pay public showers at Anesi park in Silverton. It was out of tokens or the entire building was locked the times I checked.

Aid stations were great, but the sweet potatoes were not cooked through (basically crunchy) at multiple aid stations, making them inedible. For all that talk of pumpkin pie, I didn't actually see it at that many aid stations.

I have to keep eating. I can't stop eating because I'm scared I'll puke.

A condo is not worth it, and the cheap ones in Purgatory are further away then you're going to want to drive, and the Durango side of the range isn't as pretty to look at. Just camp in the the race campground and mooch a shower from a friend, it'll be fine.

Stay hydrated in the afternoons. If you wait until the headache sets in, it'll be late and you'll end up having to wake up a half dozen times to pee in the night.

Do more of the course itself in your acclimation. You'll be glad you know exactly how far you have left on any given climb. And don't worry about spoiling the surprise of the scenery, you're probably not going to be in the state to enjoy it 100% during the race, so enjoy it the week before.

The End

After the awards ceremony and lunch with a friend on Sunday morning, I was walking back to my car and saw Zach Miller sitting on the stoop of his bus outside the school gym. "Are you Zach Miller and is this your bus?"

Him and his wife gave me a popsicle.

Very much a bus, not a van

Purgatory

2025-07-07T11:53:00.003-04:00

After camping in Black Canyon, I took the Tomichi route to the bottom of the canyon. Under a mile, with ~1,900 feet of vertical, all scree. Kinda stupid, but I had a moment of peace at the river, and the climb out was a nice workout, as expected.

Gunnison River

I was in and out in under two hours, drove the rest of the south rim, and then headed back through Montrose, Ouray, and Silverton to Cunningham Gulch to camp. I climbed Little Giant to get my daily 13er, and enjoyed a campfire with friends.

Saturday I climbed Little Giant again and made a loop out of it down to Silver Lake, out the south of that basin over a pass, then around and up Deer Park Creek between Whitehead and Rhoda peaks, down to Highland Mary Lakes and back to the campsite. I summited Rhoda peak again--I think I already did it my first day in Cunningham Gulch, but the 5 or 6 maps I have of the area are all inconsistent about which peaks are named and which trails still exist. The loop was only 12 miles but had 5,500' gain, and ended up being mostly off trail, with some pushing through dense brush and private property avoidance in Deer Park Creek basin.

The view from Rhoda

Silver Lake

Yesterday we packed up to leave Cunningham, since the condo reservation I made in Purgatory was starting. I gave a CT hiker a ride to the trail, and stopped for a run from Andrews Lake to the Twilight Peak group. I attempted North Twilight but stopped about 200' shy of the summit because the class 3 scree across steep chutes and repeated false summits were annoying and I mostly wanted to be running. It was pretty and it would have been fine, but I would have preferred to be with a buddy or wearing long pants. I jumped in Crater Lake on my way back as penance.

Nice campsite overlooking Crater Lake

NE ridge of N Twilight Peak

I drove down the other side to Purgatory and relaxed at the condo. One of my pacers got sick and cancelled her flight, and another isn't coming to the condo until the day before the race, so it's way more space than we need, in case anyone else out there wants a place to sleep, shower, or do laundry before the race.

I think I'll actually start tapering now. I'd like to explore the final climb of the race since I think knowing what's coming might make it less miserable when I'm 31 to 38 hours into the race. Other than that, I'll be trying to relax.

Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP

2025-07-03T23:33:00.000-04:00

Camped with two friends (both of whom have partners named Amy) in Black Canyon NP. I've been by here at least two other times but never came in because I always had a dog with me. (I should've driven in--views from the road are great.) Anyway I'm here now and have a permit to do one of the wilderness routes down to the river tomorrow.

I ran up Richmond Pass to Hayden Peak this morning and ran into none other than Karl Speedgoat Meltzer on the trail. (I felt much less bad when I realized it was him who was gaining on me!) I also did a few miles on Bear Creek outside Ouray (great views!)

Yesterday I did 13 miles out the end of Cunningham Gulch and climbed Whitehead Peak.

I've spent time dealing with race prep stuff that isn't exactly fun, and some bills and stuff online from the coffee shop that's mildly stressful, but I've done two 13ers and I'm really quite tired in a good way. It's gorgeous out here and I've met some nice fellow runners.

Western States 2025

2025-07-02T00:07:00.001-04:00

I had a great time watching the Western States 2025 this past weekend. I woke up at 3am to drive up to Olympic Village, where I got some free pre-race coffee before hiking up the escarpment with Nano. We saw a few acquaintances at the top and continued just over the bump to maybe be the furthest along spectators.

The runners came by, David Roche in the lead, and GOAT Kilian Jornet the only elite smiling. Then I recognized a few friends, and then somebody recognized *me*, which was crazy since I wasn't the one wearing a bib with my name on it.

"Garret Christensen! I'm an [X] graduate, we went to undergrad together."

"Uhh... Stalk me on Strava!"

"I already tried that!"

All as he was running by. I was able to figure out his name from his bib and the race roster, but it doesn't ring a bell and we haven't yet communicated to figure out what classes we had together.

Nano and I ran a nice look with the Granite Chief Trail, and then drove over to Michigan Bluff, which was already blazing hot. We ran down to El Dorado Creek (mile 53) and hung out for a few minutes in the cool water, and left to go back up just as Caleb Olson and Chris Meyers came in #1 and #2. Several minutes later as we were climbing up, Kilian passed us, and we eagerly cheered him on. He cracked a joke and seemed like he was in control, if not the lead.

Nano and I climbed back to Michigan Bluff as the top 10 men passed us, and we drove back to Foresthill (mile 62). I saw Yuch and Jan who were there to pace Megan. The leaders came by, top 3 in the same order. Just as David Roche struggled back into Foresthill in the wrong direction to drop, I drove to Driver's Flat to go to the river. But the shuttles weren't quick, so I wasn't going to make it to the river (mile 78) to see the elites cross, so I drove way down to Cool to Pointed Rocks aid station (mile 94). There I caught 1, 2, and 3, all in the same order as before. Kilian ended up very nearly closing the gap on #2 but not quite.

It was scorching hot all day, and I'd run 20 miles with 5,000' vert, but my volunteer shift at Foresthill was just beginning. (I was already late.) And unbeknownst to me my volunteer job involved running! We welcomed runners and pacers in the chute, kept crew on the outside, and helped them get what they needed (or just wished them well if they had crew and didn't need anything).

Because I'd gone all the way to Pointed Rocks I didn't get to see my 24-hour pace friends come through Foresthill but I did see friends from Reno and DC who finished in the golden hour (and just a few minutes apart). It was fun to try and give them a boost.

I couldn't stay awake any longer, so I left around 11pm. Somehow I thought I was going to drive home but that was obviously a dumb idea, so I pulled over and slept after probably 15 minutes or less driving. I hadn't brought anything to sleep in or on, but I just laid the driver's seat back and was out like a light. Slept better than I can ever remember in a tiny sedan unable to lie down or straighten my legs.

All in all, a great day seeing so many friends, getting in some good miles and vert, suffering in the heat, and cheering on some of the greatest runners in the world.

If I do it again next year (Kilian, come again! How poetic would it be for you to finish 3rd, then 1st the next year, and then go 3 and 1 again 15 years later?!) I'd want to spend a few minutes less at Foresthill for the elites in order to go catch them again at the river, which I can only imagine is a more interesting place to watch than Pointed Rocks, and would be less driving (but either a bumpy shuttle or a dusty run down the road). And I'd pack my sleeping pad so I could sleep comfortably in the car after volunteering till the very end of the Foresthill aid station.

Shenandoah Wilderness

2025-06-21T21:40:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting in a rocking chair next to the dogs on the front porch of a cabin in the Shenandoah Wilderness in Shenandoah National Park, enjoying the fireflies. I heard a whippoorwill a few minutes ago and realized I didn't bring earplugs, so we'll see if the night turns out magical or sleepless.

After seemingly endless rain the past few weeks, the sun finally came out today. Juneteenth (Thursday) I road my bike out the W&OD to my hometown to go to the pool with a friend from junior high. I got a flat but still got 20 miles in.

Today was hot but either it was less bad in the mountains or I'm getting used to it. I need mileage and more importantly massive vertical for Hardrock in 3 weeks, so I rented a car for the third straight weekend. It's stressful arranging the logistics with the dogs and work, but it feels good when I get good and tired. Did about 18 miles and 4,000 feet of vert today, hope for steeper tomorrow.

The dogs and I had probably two dozen ticks on us today, and when the cabin maintainer said there were venomous snakes in and around the cabin, they were not kidding. It's curled up under a rock next to the front porch. Luckily not the one anyone chose to use as a step, but yikes.