Running Raw

It’s time once again for the most challenging race in the New England Mountain Running Series – The Loon Mountain Race. This demanding 5.8 mile race climbs well over 3,000 vertical feet with sections reaching 45% in slope. The best of New England will be out in full force tomorrow morning to test themselves on the double black diamond ski trail aptly called “Upper Walking Boss”.

To see a video of the course click HERE

Somehow 2009 has managed to zoom to the halfway point in the calendar and I find myself firmly entrenched in my 41st year. The race that I’ve been training for since January is now finally staring me square in the face. The USA Mountain Running Championships and North American-Central American-Caribbean (NACAC) Mountain Running Championships are to take place tomorrow, June 28th at 9:00am at Mt. Cranmore in North Conway, NH. The best mountain runners in the Western Hemisphere will compete for top honors and national team status in this brutally relentless race.

Two years ago, while still living in Los Angeles, I flew back east to compete in this race for the first time. My training had been going very well in California and I thought I had a decent shot at the national team. Midway through the second lap of this three lap race I realized that I was in way over my head… WAY over my head! The grueling, steep uphills and the horrific downhills, took my quads on a one way trip to a land of pain and exhaustion that I had never before experienced. The final descent found me falling continuously as my legs would no longer support my weight. Beaten and bloody, I stumbled across the finish line in 29th place. I was humbled and defeated.

My goal of making the US Mountain Running Team has faded. The past eighteen months in Vermont have been very hard on me. It has been difficult to train and even more difficult to keep this project alive. Something, somewhere inside of me keeps it all moving somehow… albeit at a snail’s pace on many occasions. This past Winter and Spring would rate as the most difficult time I’ve experienced in my adult life… But a mountain in northern New Hampshire has been beckoning. The possibility of performing well and redeeming myself at Cranmore has kept me going.

The past six months have been a steady progression towards this race. Although my mileage has been the lowest that I’ve run since I began this project in 2006, the intensity has never been higher. Three times a week I’ve been pushing myself to the limit and beyond in hopes that I could do well in this race… Of course ‘doing well’ is a concept that has changed in recent years. I have never been more prepared for a mountain race and I’m hoping that this preparation will be enough to land me in the top 20 overall and top 5 masters. Considering what I have been through this past year, I would be very proud of either of those accomplishments.

Here is what one lap of the course looks like (we are doing two laps)

Elevation Profile (In Meters, not feet)

Two years ago, I had my first taste of New England mountain running at the Loon Mtn. race. I had been running for only 6 months at that point, and had somehow managed to move into the front pack of California’s mountain running scene. So naturally I thought I’d take a shot at making the US Mountain Running Team. I selected the Loon Mtn. Race because it was a qualifier for the US Team and I wouldn’t have to contend with the altitude of the Colorado qualifiers. It was also not far from my family’s home in Vermont. At first glance of the topo map, Loon appeared to be a rather small mountain compared to what I was used to running up in CA, so I thought I had this one in the bag. Well, the only bag that I had anything in was a barf bag. Loon crushed me with the weight of it’s infamously steep, never-ending climbs, as did the field of elite New England mountain runners. That’s when I realized two things – I was not nearly as fast as I had thought, AND New England has the toughest mountain runners in the United States. Two years after that brutal introduction, I was back to face the monster once again.

In the two years since, my running has improved by leaps and bounds. Going into this race, I was ranked 3rd overall in the USATF New England Mtn. Running Series, and ranked 1st in the Master’s division. The legendary Dave Dunham was coming hard on my heels only a point and a half behind. I would need to be within 30 seconds of Dave at the finish in order to hold on to my lead. There was only one problem – Dave’s specialty is LONG, GRUELING climbs that never seem to end.

I drove over to Lincoln, NH a day early to help the Race Director Paul Kirsch mark the course along with Dave D. The three of us had done an 8 mile run a few hours earlier and now had the task of hiking the 5.5 mile uphill course carrying flags. I was a little worried that I might be expending too much energy the day before the race, but Dave was the man to beat, and he was there with me step for step.

The course reminds me of the ‘bait and switch’ tactics of a sleazy electronics salesmen. It starts out with half a mile of relatively flat access road, which lures the faster and less experienced runners out to a fast start. The wiser competitors realize that the race is won on the last hill and not in the 1st half mile, so they ease into the pace. It’s not long before you are ascending a 20% slope (most roads over mountain passes are usually between 7% to 9% slope). The second tease arrives in the form of a 200m downhill around mile 2. Once again, the less experienced racers see this as an opportunity to speed up and make some ground on the runners ahead of them… the wise old runners see this as an opportunity to catch their breath, because they know what comes after this short respite – a mile and a half of constant uphill at 17 to 25% grades. This is where the men are separated from the boys.

At long last you can hear the cheers of the crowd as you crest the hill and burst out on top of the mountain… but wait, you have to climb TWO mountains in this race!! Unlike Mt. Washington, there is more than one hill. After you splash yourself with water and run by the eventual finish line you plummet quite severely down a 30% grade, dropping 100 feet in a matter of seconds. The downhill then becomes a more gradual 10% and continues for nearly half a mile. Again, the new runners will try to make ground here, thinking the bulk of the race is over. The course makes a very sharp right hand turn, the downhill abruptly ends and you are faced with the one of the most frightening sights you will ever see – A black diamond ski trail called “Upper Walking Boss”. This trail rises up like an impenetrable wall for half a mile in front of you. The average grade is 30%, but it reaches an impossibly steep slope of 45% in several sections. This is the point were all the hotshots in the beginning of the race end up as roadkill on the side of the trail (if that didn’t already happen on the first mountain ascent). While I was walking up this section of the trail as we marked the course I said to Paul and Dave, “I don’t think I can go up this hill any faster than I am right now”. They laughed, but they knew I wasn’t far from the truth.

When you do finally crest the top of the second peak on legs so wobbly that they can barely support your weight, you are greeted with half a mile of blisteringly steep downhill over grass, dirt, rocks, stream washes, and my favorite – water bars. Water bars help to divert rain water as it flows down the trail so as to prevent erosion. But when they are meeting your feet at 25 miles an hour they act like little bmx bike jumps, sending you flying into the air out of control hoping that you can land on your feet and avoid injury. That last downhill tears your quads to pieces, smashes your toes into the front of your shoes, blackens any remaining good toenails, and blisters the bottoms of your feet. But you are still not done. Remember that abrupt 100 foot drop after you crested the first peak? Well, it now stands between you and the finish line. Time to suck it up, pray that you can keep your breakfast down, and dig deep, deeper than you thought you could ever dig… the fans lining the course yell, “you’re almost there!!!”, and you wonder if the destination they are referring to is Hell. A few seconds later, you are done, literally done. But it won’t be long before you are looking out over the spectacular view with friends and fellow comrades sharing war stories of the toughest race you’ve ever done.

The men’s field looked like a who’s who of New England mountain running legends. There was Eric Blake, two time National mountain running champion (’06, ‘08), and two time winner of the Mount Washington Road Race (’06, ‘08) – Eric Morse, who holds mountain running course records all over the US, and who has been in the top 5 on Mt. Washington 10 times – Craig Fram, who has won Mt. Washington and been in the top 3 another 4 times – Kevin Tilton a two time member of the US Mtn. running team – Justin Fyffe who won the Cranmore Hill Climb a week earlier and who leads the New England Mtn. Running Series – Todd Callaghan who’s ranked 2nd in the N.E. Mtn. Series – Jim Johnson who finished a very close 3rd at Cranmore and who cranked a 1:10 in his first Mt. Washington appearance – David Herr, who finished 10th in the ‘07 US Mtn. Championships, and clinched the top Master’s spot – and let’s not forget 4 time Mt. Washington winner and 7 time US Mtn. Running Team member, Dave Dunham.

The torrential downpour at Cranmore the week before would have been a welcome addition at the start of the race, but instead we faced the blazing sun and 80 degree temps. A few of the wiser runners soaked themselves in the ice cold mountain waters of the Pemigewasset River before the start.

When the gun went off, so did the lead pack, and I wasn’t in it. I knew the level of competition that was in the race and I was well aware that I was outclassed by many in attendance. My plan was to run my own race and start out conservatively… and I stuck to it. The first few miles were uneventful. I was feeling strong and in great position. Ahead in the distance I could see Eric Blake, Craig Fram, Eric Morse, and Justin Fyffe battling for the top spot. I was glad I was not in that fight. At mile 3 I began to tire on the first of the monster climbs, so I backed off the pace a bit. This gave Dave Dunham the opportunity he needed to reel me in… and that he did. He went by me quickly, putting as much time as he could on me and hoping to discourage an attempt to stay with him. It worked. My heart rate was high, and I knew that this climb went on for another mile without a break, so I kept my current pace and watched Dave slowly pull away. I reached the summit of South Loon Mtn. feeling strong and confident. Paul Kirsch informed me that Dave was only 30 seconds ahead of me, but with the worst climbing yet to come, there was little chance that I would catch him. This was Dave’s kind of race. As we marked the course the day before, Dave had told me that he was going to run the last hill in it’s entirety. I didn’t think that was possible, but he informed me that he had done just that the year prior. The screaming 1/2 mile downhill from the top of South Loon to the base of “Upper Walking Boss” allowed me to make up some ground on Dave. As I turned the corner to face the beast, I could see the all the runners in front of me. With the exception of Eric Blake who put the hammer down and ran away from the field, everyone looked rather close. That’s the trick of this last hill. Someone can be 100 feet in front of you, but that translates to 40 seconds of climbing time. A runner 100 meters in front of you is nearly two minutes ahead. I looked up to see Dave running well and making ground on much better runners (well, better on every course but this one). Most of the other racers were power walking, so I took this opportunity to make up some ground by running as much as I could. I made it a third of the way up the hill before my legs begged me to stop and start my hunched over wobbly legged version of a power walk. That was enough running for me to gain significant ground on a few of the runners in front of me. I got even lower and extended the length of each stride on my power walk. Half way up the hill I could see that Dave was no longer running, but he was moving steadily ahead of me. I shifted my focus to David Herr and Jim Johnson in front of me. In all of our meetings I have never beaten either of them, and I was very surprised when I passed both of them two-thirds of the way up. They had gone out too hard and were paying the price. Next in my line of sight was Kevin Tilton and Craig Fram. Again, both runners have easily defeated me in every race up until this point, but I was determined to tackle this hill as best I could and leave nothing left when it was done. Holding down the vomit in my throat as I crested the summit, I quickened the pace. Craig was only a few feet in front of me, and Kevin was no more than 20 meters. The brutally steep downhill that followed would be quite dangerous at full speed on exhausted legs, but I knew that’s where I could make my move. So I did. I flew by Craig in mid air as I pressed off a water bar in the trail. In the next death defying 700 meters I would put a minute and 30 seconds on him. Kevin Tilton took the same reckless approach that I did and held me off to the finish. I had run one hell of a race. Finishing 7th, in a field of superstars was beyond my expectations. I knew that I had slipped from my top spot in the Master’s division and moved into 4th overall behind Dave Dunham, but I didn’t care. Dave had a phenomenal race, and totally outperformed me. He is truly a king of the mountains.

When it was all said and done, several of the toughest men ever to run up a mountain were laid to waste. Spirits and bodies were broken… and best efforts were just not good enough. A mountain like that changes you forever… it takes a part of you… it steals your courage and hides it somewhere on “upper walking boss” in a patch of wild strawberries and indian paint brushes… taunting you and waiting for you to come back and try to reclaim it next year.

But there are also those indomitable New England spirits that thrive on such an extreme challenge and only dig deeper when the mountain throws it’s very best at them. They are heroes in my book. The same type of damn yankees that didn’t back down from a fight when this country was born 232 years ago, even when the odds were stacked against them.

To see a Video of the race, Click HERE

To see a Video of the Course, Click HERE

“Everyone should have people that inspire them. For some people it’s world leaders, for others it’s baseball, basketball or football players. For me, it’s elite mountain runners.”
- Paul Kirsch (Race Director)

Last week’s race at Mt. Washington left me reeling in more ways than one. Not only did it turn the tables on my pre-race eating strategy, but it shattered my confidence as a mountain runner – AND it was filmed on national television. The stress of everything coming to a head at once was more than I could handle. The Food Network show, the constant growth of Running Raw, the training, and the twice weekly races had taken their toll on me. Tuesday was hot, humid, rainy and gloomy. It was not a day for new beginnings, it was a day that left me with some very troubling questions – Should I quit? Should I terminate the Running Raw Project? Should I stop running? Should I run and hide? It’s hard to have a healthy perspective when you feel like your world has been turned upside down. It was impossible for me to see that I had just finished shooting a prime-time (8pm Saturday night) national television show on a network that saw raw food as a four letter word and wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. It was impossible for me to see that I was still ranked as the number 1 master’s mountain runner in the New England Mountain Running Series, and it was impossible to see that most people that follow this project don’t care if I win, they are just amazed that I’m doing it at all. Two days before the Cranmore race my friends and family finally convinced me to give it one more try, to make some adjustments, to continue the experiment.

Pre-race nerves have always been a problem for me, and they begin the day before the race. It is very rare that I get a good night’s sleep the night before an event. Knowing this, I have purposefully eaten a light meal early in the evening on race night. The following morning I would continue with light fare (fruit) and hope that I could avoid nausea in the race. My fueling strategy was based not on my knowledge of diet and performance, but on fear and nerves. This has been working great in my tower races and in 5k races where the events don’t last long enough for one to run out of fuel, but for longer races and especially for mountain races where the physical stress endured per minute is far greater than running on flat ground, my fueling strategy was a recipe for disaster.

Saturday night I ate as much as I could till 10pm – fruit and sprouted whole grains. I awoke 6am Sunday morning and continued with fruit and sprouted whole grains – MUCH more than I have ever eaten before a race – perhaps 4 times as much. An hour before the event started, I still felt full, but this was all part of the experiment.

In 2007, mountain running legend Dave Dunham stated that the Cranmore Hill Climb was the toughest race he’s ever done. That’s no small statement considering that Dave has done nearly 100 mountain races around the world and been on the US Mtn. Running Team 7 times. The name of this race is somewhat of a misnomer, as it’s hardly a “hill” climb. Running up 1,100 vertical feet in 1 3/4 miles on dirt access roads and black diamond ski slopes, then running at break-neck speed down the other side AND then repeating the course one more time on wobbly legs just doesn’t invoke the image of a “hill” in my mind. A hill is something that you drive over on the way to Grandma’s house. This is by all definitions, a mountain, and the only thing that was consistently climbing throughout the race was my heart rate. It climbed to new heights as I struggled to keep the pace up the 30% incline of the black diamond ski slope that loomed like an impenetrable wall for the last 1/4 mile of the ascent. It climbed still higher as I began the tortoruous descent on exhausted wet noodle legs. The fear of being completely out of control and moving at speeds in excess of 20 miles an hour through rocks, roots, wet grass and mud is intense. You are nothing more than a puppet to gravity’s will. There is no choice but to surrender your body to the momentum of the mountain and hope that you don’t fall.

In M. Night Shyamalan’s film “Unbreakable“, a diabolical character by the name of Mr. Glass engineers disasters on planes, trains and buildings, hoping that some one special person will rise unharmed from the ashes. A hero, or better yet, a super hero. After competing twice now at the Cranmore Hill Climb, I have to wonder if race director Paul Kirsch has a similar (but less evil) intent – to create “killer” courses, and to make legends of those that conquer them with ease…. to push people beyond their limits in hope that a hero will rise.

When the race was over, that hero would be Justin Fyffe from Dummerston, VT, who dismissed the beast 1:41 faster than runner up and hometown favorite Kevin Tilton, of North Conway, NH. Jim Johnson turned in another heroic performance, finishing in 3rd place only 4 seconds behind Kevin and after badly spraining his ankle at the top the of the last descent. After the race he offered this – “I ran in some pain, but I just had to suck it up”. I too have come to admire and greatly respect elite mountain runners. They are a different breed. They don’t shy away from an extreme challenge or from hardship, they run headfirst straight into it, fight their best fight and come out smiling on the other end. What would the world be like if everyone took this approach?

For me it was also a day to shine. My new fueling experiment had worked and I had plenty of gas in my tank to duke it out with top master’s runner Dave Dunham to the finish. We drove each other hard on the monster climbs, with Dave leaving me beaten and drooling a few meters behind him on the second ascent. But I put it all on the table for the final descent and beat him to the finish line. Oddly enough it was a combination of the most pain and the most fun I’ve had in a race. As the New England Mountain Running Series comes down to it’s final 2 races, Dave and I are neck and neck for the top master’s spot, with me edging him by just a point and a half. In the overall series I’ve managed to move into the number 3 spot, with Dave again just a point and a half back in 4th. The last two races are going to be really exciting.

To see a Video of the race, Click HERE

For the last twelve months my training has been focused on one goal; doing well at the Mount Washington Road Race. This year, the 7.6 mile race, climbing Mt. Washington’s Auto Road to the 6,288 foot summit, was serving as the National Mtn. Running Championships. The top 4 finishers in the race would make the US Mtn. Running Team and travel to Switzerland for the World Trophy Race.

After lengthy talks with the producers of the Food Network show, they decided to shoot the Mt. Washington race as the big finale to the show. Their romantic vision included me winning the race and being crowned National Champion. Despite my best efforts to inform them that I was in NO such shape, and that I was hoping for a top 15 performance, they would counter with “stop being so modest”, or “don’t sell yourself short”. Needless to say, the pressure for me to perform was HIGH.

To keep the production of the show within budget, they wanted to group much of the filming into one weekend. This action packed adventure was to include filming me training in Central Park Friday morning, a lecture in NYC on Friday night (my first talk in New York, and we had 9 days to find a place and fill it with people – thanks Tera and Guy Goldmeer), filming on my family’s farm in Vermont on Saturday morning, a five hour drive to New Hampshire Saturday afternoon, then up at 6am Sunday morning to begin filming for the race… oh, and then I had to run up a mountain 6,288 feet high.

By the time I got to New Hampshire I was run ragged. My nerves were shot, so I had a small salad for dinner, thinking that it would help me to sleep better with less food in my stomach. Upon waking Sunday morning, I dragged myself out of bed at 6am and had a small smoothie. I hadn’t slept much and my stomach was in knots.

The camera crew attracted quite a lot of attention as I walked around the registration tent and said hello to other racers that I knew. There were pointed fingers, whispers, and the usual comments about the “raw food guy” as I passed. Many people had seen my video of last year’s race online, and quite a few had even browsed around my site. The race director, Bob Teschek had given permission to the camera crew to film the race, and he had spilled the beans to many of the participants that they might be on TV. A few people that I knew only as acquaintances, greeted me like old friends in front of the cameras, offering hugs and well wishes. It was all quite unsettling.

Dave Dunham invited me to do a warmup with the Central Mass. Striders, 45 minutes before the start, but we were in the middle of filming, so I declined. I was hoping that we’d be done in a minute so I could get a good warmup. Before I knew it, there were only 10 minutes remaining till the start and I was still blabbing away on camera.

I hurried to the start line and worked my way into position near the front. The cameraman approached me and told me to get on the front line. I informed him that I didn’t plan to start that fast and was going to let the rabbits get out quickly. He told me that it will look much better on camera if I’m in the front line. So I worked my way up and took position. A few of the other racers shot me looks. Yeah, yeah… not only I am the freaky raw food guy, but now I think I’m somebody special.

The race director approached the crowd to give us our instructions, which were quite sparse. “Relax, there is only one hill”, he said and the crowd laughed. Next he informed us that we were to begin at the sound of the cannon. I thought nothing of it. Then moments later a CANNON went off and I jumped backwards instead of forward. I think I might have let out a little squeak at the same time, which was caught on the mic wired to my chest. As it turns out, the cameraman was standing right next to the cannon when it went off and he jumped farther than I did… I can’t wait to see that footage.

With Dave Dunham as my pacer, I set off to a comfortable pace. We were about 30 seconds behind the lead pack at the mile and feeling comfortable, but I was going quite a bit faster than I had intended. This race is not won in the first few miles, but in the last few, where it feels like the whole World is crashing down on you. My goal time for the race was an hour and nine minutes, which was an average pace of 9 minute miles. We were under 8 minutes for the first mile, which was too fast. All the guys I had hoped to be close to in the race were either right in front of or right behind me, so I kept the pace. Mile 2 was an 8:16, still too fast. When I hit mile 3, something didn’t feel right. I couldn’t place the feeling, but I knew that something was wrong. At the half way point, I had slowed down, hoping to regain my strength, but it didn’t work. Mile 4 was even slower than 3. Thirteen people passed me. I slowed down even more, hoping for a second wind in the later stages of the race. Mile 5 took forever. My legs were extremely weak, and I was becoming light headed and nauseous. Over 25 people had passed me. Mile 6 had me seriously considering dropping out of the race. I could barely move my legs. I was now walking 50% of the time, and my run looked more like a shuffle. 40 more people passed. My head was swimming as I worked toward my seventh mile. The pain in my legs was so severe that I could barely take 5 steps without needing to stop. It was difficult to focus my eyes, and my mind’s eye didn’t feel like it was attached to my body anymore. I was floating. There were points where I’d stop and just stand in the middle of the road, not knowing how I was going to take another step. Mile 7 clicked by like a dream. A bad dream. Spectators were beginning to appear along the road. There was only six tenths of a mile to go. To me that seemed like a thousand miles. I honestly didn’t think I could make it. Then I remembered something. I was being filmed. This race was going to be on national TV.

DNF next to someone’s name on a result sheet usually signifies Did Not Finish. But America was watching and if there was going to be any DNF next to my name it was going to stand for Did Not Fail.

I somehow managed to turn my wobbly walk into a hurried hobble. Somewhere in this dream state, my name was being called. Over and over again it rang out “go tim!”. It took me a while to realize that a man was standing on the side of the road cheering for me. I stared at him as I slowly moved by, I wasn’t sure who he was until I was about 5 feet away. My brain suddenly awoke to the realization that this was Sean, one of my friends and former students. I wondered what he was doing there as I stumbled past. The next four tenths of a mile are a blank. I became conscious again on a very steep section lined with screaming people. Someone had spanked me in the butt as they went by. It was another friend and former student of mine Mike. He said “come on Tim!” and tried to pull me along. I looked up and realized that I was only 50 meters away from the finish line. I could see the camera ahead filming me. I was embarrassed, mortified, defeated. I dragged myself as quickly as possible to the finish line where I collapsed into the arms of two EMT’s who had seen me coming and jumped into action. They kept asking me questions, like “What’s your name?”, over and over again. Then they injected me with glucose. My eyes rolled back into my head and I collapsed into their arms. The camera caught it all, and there was nothing I could do about it. I looked like a fool. A shining example to America that raw food does NOT work for extreme athletic endeavor. At least that’s what I thought they would be thinking when editing the story. It turns out that I had a pretty serious case of hypoglycemia. I had not eaten enough the day before or morning of. I had made a fatal error.

The next day, while preparing a huge raw feast for my family and friends (also to be filmed), the producers of the show told me not to worry about the disastrous results of the day before, they said it will make a great ending for “act II” of the show. Let’s just hope that the hero in this story can rise up in act III.

I went back to New Hampshire one more time to take on the country’s toughest mountain runners in the national championships at Mt. Cranmore in North Conway, NH. Unlike the Mt. Washington road race which was entirely uphill, this race featured extreme uphill and downhill sections. We ran 3K from the base lodge of the Mt. Cranmore resort to the top of the mountain on an easy ski trail, and then 1.6K back down the mountain on a super steep black diamond ski trail – 3 TIMES!

Learning from my experiences on Mt. Washington, I developed a new strategy – start slowly and find someone to pace with. I picked Dave Dunham as my target pacer. Dave has a knack for starting very slowly and smoothly and then working his way through the pack for the rest of the race. I know I could count on Dave to get me into top position later in the race based on his impressive resume: He is a seven-time member of the US mountain team. He won a silver medal at the world mtn. running championships. He’s the former American record holder at 50K. He qualified for the Olympic trials (marathon) in 1992 and 2000, and has PR’s of 14:08 for 5K and 29:17 for 10K.

The gun went off and I stuck to my plan – I stayed right behind Dave until the top of the first 3K uphill. When I reached the top, I was in 20th place and felt fantastic. Everyone was being extremely cautious on the very steep and dangerous downhill section – including Dave Dunham – So I let it rip. Over the 1.6K downhill, I passed 10 people and moved solidly into 10th place at the end of the first lap. For the rest of the story, you’ll have to watch the video.

Click HERE to see video part I.

Click HERE to see video part II.

Click HERE to read Dave Dunham’s post race report (scroll halfway down the page)

The 47th running of the Mount Washington Road Race drew 1000 of the toughest athletes from around the world. Mountain runners, marathoners, triathletes and cyclists come to test themselves on the highest peak in the northeastern United States. A mountain that has a reputation for being one of the deadliest in North America, and for having the world’s worst weather.

The men’s race was won by New Zealander Jonathan Wyatt, the 5 time world champion, Olympic marathoner and course record holder. On the women’s side, Olympic marathoner Anna Pichrtova of the Czech Republic claimed her 6th straight victory on the mountain, only months after being in a crippling car accident that nearly ended her elite running career.

I definitely knew who my daddy was when I completed the mother of all mountain races. The time and place that I had hoped for may have eluded me, but nonetheless, I left with the result I wanted – To have a powerful experience, race my hardest, and spread the raw word to the best of my ability. Next year I will be better prepared.

Click HERE to see the video.

Click HERE to see an interview with the race winner Jonathan Wyatt – The greatest mountain runner in history.

Seven months after I started running, I decided that I would try to make the US Mountain Running Team. A little too ambitious? Perhaps, but you’ve got to dream big. Who’s afraid of a 3,000′ climb?

Click HERE to watch the video.