Madeira Island Ultra Trail (MIUT) 115k

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The race start in Porto Moniz was electric. The clock approached midnight and the music was bumping, crowds lined the streets, and 1,000 nervous runners were piled up in the starting corral. Seems every race nowadays starts off quick, especially these European races with the opening miles on roads. A large group of us in the front made quick work of the first 1,000’ climb and descent. I had the pleasure of chatting with Rich Lockwood and Ben Dhiman before the front pack began to spread out. On the second climb, about 4,000’, Ben and I soon found ourselves leading the race. It was great chatting with him. Occasionally I ran alone off the front, sometimes it was Ben. My teammate Arthur Joyeux-Bouillon was right behind us. At the first aid, Fanal (mile 9), we all came through together. Madison stopped by to cheer and I shouted “love you!” into the darkness. 

I felt very relaxed in these opening miles. Pressing harder than was sustainable, but not feeling like I was overreaching very much. I continually found myself smiling into the light of my headlamp. I was simply having a delightful time. After Fanal, Arthur, Ben, and I ran together into the first descent. It was steep, wet, and slippery (what would be a common theme for the day). By the bottom of that 3,000’ descent, There were six of us (I think) running within a minute of each other. Then we began to climb.

Another 4,000’ climb. I settled in and enjoyed the steep climb learning every imaginable type of staircase that can exist. Ben, Miguel, and some others were just ahead of me. Arthur climbed a minute or so behind me. I felt very relaxed and didn’t worry about catching the group ahead of me. They were under a minute from me, and soon enough we were a train of four. We all swapped leads, and eventually I was in the front as the climb mellowed on the plateau to the mile 20 aid, Estanquinhos. At some point Ben and Miguel got in front of me and led the way into the aid station with a few minutes until me. I took my time there, swapping headlamp batteries and enjoying a brief moment with Madison. At this point it had been rainy for a while and dense fog crept in.

The next descent was a steep, rough dirt-road plunge into fog. My raincoat went on as the temps dropped and visibility seemingly disappeared. The fog was so dense you could barely make out the trail 10 feet in front of you, which made moving quickly quite challenging. I saw this as a benefit, as I didn’t want to hammer any downhills yet. The descent only got steeper and wetter as the rain came down quite hard. By the time I saw Madison at Encumeada (mile 30), I was feeling just ok (a bit of brain fog) and two other runners had caught me. Still, I was only 10 minutes from Ben and Miguel and was not worried. My body felt good. 

It wasn’t long before I started to get worried. I couldn’t catch up with the two in front of me once they passed me. I just felt…weird. I had been fueling at around 100g of carbs/hour (400cal/hr) up to this point with what felt like great hydration. And now I started to feel quite nauseous. I remained nauseous for the next 5 hours or so. My fueling slowed to a trickle, taking gels when I could but not nearly enough. My guess is I was eating 100-150 calories/hour, maybe less. The sun rose and I descended to the aid at mile 39, Curral das Freiras, where I would see Madison. I felt like trash. I descended SO SLOWLY. My quads were starting to feel fried. When I saw Madison, she later told me I looked ghost white. I was 10 minutes behind the two in front of me, and maybe 20-30 min off the lead. I was still in it. But I felt awful. 

I did what I could on the 4,000’ climb up to the course high point, Pico Ruivo. After maybe only 1,000’ of climbing, Anthony Costa passed me. I swear he was bouncing up the mountain and I was crawling. I felt horrific. I dragged myself, mind woozy, still nauseous, to the aid station at Casa do Pico Ruivo (mile 46).  I had climbed about 20,000’ by this point in the race. At that aid station, I had a sip of coke and felt instantly better. I ate a Naak bar and it sat great. I left with a bottle full of coke feeling fantastic. Well, mentally fantastic. My quads were still cooked.

How did that happen? I went from feeling absolutely horrible to feeling great. For the remainder of the race, I fueled at probably 80g carbs/hour, maybe more. I was right back on. When I finished the race, Madison pointed out that I may have been motion sick. My family gets terrible motion sickness, and I have had to stop skiing, stop surfing, and stop whitewater kayaking at times because it is so terrible. In hindsight, I think I was severely motion sick for about five hours during this race. Thinking back to other races, when the visibility is good and I am not under headlamp, I don’t have “stomach” problems. These only arise when at night or in the fog (and especially both). This is a thrilling revelation and explains many of the issues I had had in past races.

Anyway, I started pushing hard and told myself “hey you’re good just kick for the next 20 miles, it’s all downhill”. I tried that for a bit, but I became acutely aware of the sensation that my quads were being ripped off my femurs and split into thin strands. I love ultrarunning. I saw Madison at Chao da Lagoa (mile 52) and said I finally felt better, but I felt horrible. Mind good, body not so good. I figured I’d start kicking from 20 miles out and see if things turned around. I did not want to go down without a fight.

I ran as hard as I could down to Porto da Cruz (mile 63), but managed to drop back some 40 minutes from the person in front of me. It was bad. I was passed in the final aid station and tried so hard to catch back up, but my legs had nothing. So I ran in 6th, desperate not to slip any further back in the field. Only when I was two miles from the finish did my legs find another gear. I looked back to see someone charging towards me, and my body went nuts. I gave it everything I had and was soon running 6 min pace (granted it was downhill) and hammering with everything in me. I held off MIUT veteran Luis Fernandez by a mere 15 seconds. My god did he make that one hurt a bit extra. Crossing the line and collapsing in the shade felt so, so good.

This island is magnificent. Traversing it was absolutely spectacular. The race organization was amazing, the volunteers incredible, and the whole energy of the race just rocked. The love of everyone involved in this race for the race was palpable. They’ve created something really special here. Thank you so much to everyone involved! And a HUGE thank you to Madison for crewing me all night long on her birthday. You are the best!! I have a feeling I might be back here.

A Walk in the Bob

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A Walk in the Bob

I think at this point it’s become a bit of a tradition for Madison and I to go on a post-hard running effort backpacking in the Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex. Last year, we went on a three-day, 67-mile trip around the Chinese Wall. This year we had four days, and figured we would do a more “chill” itinerary. We were looking forward to fewer miles and some easier hiking. As seems to happen with most things we do, “chill” did not really happen. But we tried, at least for a second.



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Teton Crest Trail FKT

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Teton Crest Trail FKT

Back in May, I started to write out a list of summer adventure ideas. This list remains pinned – by a brilliantly colored unicorn pin – to a small corkboard by my bed. Most of the ideas on this list were mountain ranges I wanted to visit or peaks I wanted to run. But with races all cancelled, a few of these ideas were for hard, race-like efforts in the mountains. I’ve stared at that scrap of paper with the words “Teton Crest Trail FKT” for months now. Seven years ago, I backpacked the Teton Crest Trail while living in Ashton, ID spending a summer doing trout research. The trail stretches from Teton Pass 40 miles north to the base of Paintbrush Canyon in Grand Teton National Park. From my walk a few years back, I have fond memories of fields of wildflowers, sweeping views, and gorgeous singletrack. The Teton Crest Trail is such a stunning trail, I wanted to see how efficiently I could move along it. With that, at 6:30am on Thursday, July 30th, I started running from the Phillips Pass Trailhead.

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update on how i like to make myself tired

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update on how i like to make myself tired

This summer has been spent prancing along miles upon miles of ridgelines, scree fields, talus slopes, and craggy peaks. The pain and hardwork is forgotten amidst the laughter, smiles, and whoops of glee. Sometimes I think of this as “training.” But even with little to no objectives in the immediate future, I still found myself doing it. I keep sweating, bleeding, sitting alone around a fire, sleeping in my car, and having the fucking time of my life. Sometimes it sucks. But usually I feel so freaking alive that it scares me. I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier. It’s wild. The dance clubs are closed, but the party rages on.

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Yellowstone 50 Solstice Fun Run

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Yellowstone 50 Solstice Fun Run

The two times Gabe Joyes and I have run together, it’s involved bear spray, bivy sacks, and copious amounts of snacks. While we have used our bivy sacks 50% of the time, we have yet to spray a charging bear with glorified pepper spray. That’s a win if you ask me! A few weeks ago, Gabe reached out about doing a big solstice run through Yellowstone National Park. Knowing the kind of fun Gabe likes to get up to, I needed no convincing.

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River Surfing is the New Skiing (right?)

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River Surfing is the New Skiing (right?)

When the snow starts flying, it seems most mountain runners in the Rocky Mountain west swap out shoes for skis and take to the mountains for some uphill and downhill exertion. That makes sense. But the problem is, I don’t ski. It was late December, snow swirled around me, and instead of standing on a mountain strapped into skis, I stood soaking wet on a submerged rock at the edge of a river with a surfboard tucked under my arm. My friends shouted a few whoops of joy as the snow intensified and I couldn’t help but crack a big smile.

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Bandera 100k: The Battle of Jeff and his Expeller-Pressed Legs

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Bandera 100k: The Battle of Jeff and his Expeller-Pressed Legs

My day racing the Bandera 100k can be broken down into the following three parts:

  1. The first 7 miles where I ran intermittently with other humans

  2. The next 20 miles where I realized I’d been describing the route as “circuitous” for weeks, but wildly mispronouncing it

  3. The final 33 miles when I kept trying to figure out how “expeller pressed olive oil” is made. I wasn’t sure what that really meant, but I was, and remain, fully convinced my legs were “expeller pressed”

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