I was done.

Running the Sleepy Hollow Mountain Race in Vermont. Photo by Joe Viger Photography.

Exhausted, dehydrated, out of water, I was flat on my back in the grass next to the trail. James and I were within a mile of the hut where we’d reserved bunks for the night. I could see the hut from my shaded place in the grass, about 800 meters above us.

Steep switchbacks zig-zagged their way up to the hut, but I knew I couldn’t get there. I hadn’t put in the necessary work to prepare for such a rigorous hike, a journey that had already taken us countless miles over multiple ridgelines. I’d given my then-29-year-old self way too much credit for thinking I was fit. I’d been wrong, and now I was paying for it. Continue Reading

I rang in my 36^th birthday in 2016 by spending just shy of nine hours – 8:52 to be exact – running, hiking, climbing, and cursing at the trails of the Blue Hills Reservation while running the “Don’t Run Boston” 50K.

Runners scrambling up on the DRB course.

As luck would have it, 362 days later I was back at the Blue Hills to close out my 36^th year running DRB again. Based on how the schedule worked out, it gave me a unique opportunity to bookend my year with the same race and, in a sense, use it as a measuring stick for comparing where my fitness, trail strength, and mental toughness were to start and finish my year. Suffice to say, I think I’ve aged pretty well, and surrounded myself with good company in the process. Some of that quality camaraderie played a huge role in the successful run of 2017. Continue Reading

January through March were all about laying the foundation for 2017. I banked more than 500 miles during that span and logged my first-ever 200-mile month.

Now it’s April, and racing season starts this weekend. A glance beyond Saturday can feel a bit overwhelming, however. Continue Reading

Plenty has changed since I first started running the trails in the summer of 2010. For one thing, all of those ultrarunners who I thought were crazy … well, I’m one of them now, and have been for more than five years.

The bigger change has come in terms of mileage – daily, weekly, and monthly. I was still working as a sportswriter when I first started running trails, and that left me with about one evening per week that I could get to the trails to run. The 4.5-mile Wednesday Night Beginner’s Run at Shawnee Mission Park in Kansas City was my only weekly run for most of a year before I started adding in a few miles on the weekend. I might have a 10-mile week if I was lucky, and that seemed like a lot back then. Continue Reading

My lungs burned and the springy feeling in my legs turned to lead as I pushed up the winding, rock- and root-strewn hill toward Wright’s Tower on a chilly but humid Saturday morning at the Middlesex Fells Reservation. Upon reaching the top, I trotted past the tower to the outcropping of rocks that serve as a lookout point toward the skyline of downtown Boston seven miles away.

I run the trails here often, and this is a regular stopping point to catch my breath, clear my head, or sit and think for a little while before heading on my way for more miles in the woods.

I gazed toward the city and saw clouds rolling through quickly. They would clear soon, the forecast said; it was supposed to be a beautiful day in Boston. I knew the city would be buzzing with energy soon. The Boston Women’s March for America – a sister event to the Women’s March on Washington in the nation’s capital – was scheduled to begin at 11 a.m. I knew a few friends who would be marching in Washington, D.C., and others who planned to be at Boston Common. Continue Reading

The miles seemed important as they piled up. I was certain I’d surpassed 1,300 miles for 2016, but upon reviewing the graphic below, it’s clear I fell a bit shy: 1,295 miles – still not too shabby. Continue Reading

Vermont in the fall is a truly spectacular place and time to be a trail-runner, especially when weather conditions are perfect.

I’ve certainly been blessed with ideal conditions during my two trips to the Vermont 50 – for the 50-mile race in 2015 and the 50K race this year on Sunday, Sept. 25. Not every year of the Vermont 50 is flawless – in fact, I’ve been told by many that it is notorious for challenging weather, be it extreme heat like in 2014, or heavy rain the year prior. In 2015, however, the course was dry, the skies were sunny, and temperatures ranged from 32 degrees at the start to the upper 60s by late afternoon. This year was even more fabulous, with temperatures ranging from the upper 30s to upper 50s, dry ground, and sunny skies that allowed the fall foliage to explode in color all around us.

As a guy who grew up in Kansas – a place known for its picturesque fall colors – Vermont makes me feel like I’m back in the heartland this time of year, except, of course, for the mountains. Continue Reading

FORKSVILLE, Pa. – The howl of cheering voices and clatter of cowbells in the distance echoed off the hemlock and hardwoods, joining the patter of raindrops and squishing of footsteps in the mud as the only sounds in the forest on this damp, dark night.

The finish line was less than a mile away; within earshot, it felt tantalizingly close. I’d be there soon, if I could just navigate this final windy descent.

About 20 minutest before the start, with Alex. Photo by Tania Lezak.

“Chris! Be careful!” implored Alex, my girlfriend and pacer, who followed 20 feet behind me, watching as I slipped and stumbled along the muddy, rocky trail. The beam from my Black Diamond headlamp cut through a dense fog, revealing that the singletrack had eroded into half-track, with barely six inches of width available for foot placement. I grabbed trees to my left for support as the ground to my right crumbled and disappeared down the hillside.

I was running on fumes; drunk on Gatorade and exhaustion. This was the final – and most harrowing – battle with a course that had proven to be every bit the beast that I anticipated when I signed up back in January. I wanted to take on a race unlike any I’d ever attempted, with a course that would test me mentally and physically every step of the way and dare me to quit. I wanted to stare failure in the eye and see if I would blink. Continue Reading

It’s been nearly six years since I went for my first trail run, and it’s amazing to think back on what the sport has done to improve my overall health and happiness, as well as to help me feel younger as the years have gone by.

Of course, there are times where the sport makes me feel considerably older, too. That’s a temporary side effect that comes with running trail ultramarathons that deliver a prolonged beating to the body during a period of numerous hours on varying terrain. Sore muscles, a stiff back and achy knees all come with the territory.

I experienced both sides of that equation on Sunday when I celebrated my 36^th birthday by running the Trail Animals Running Club’s “Don’t Run Boston” 50K at the Blue Hills Reservation in Milton, Mass. I began the day with my legs feeling youthful, fresh and strong, bolstered by a few 20-mile runs during the past month and consistent weekly mileage in the 40s. I ended the day with sore calves and hamstrings, cranky knees, a stiff body, and a depleted system after almost 33 miles and nearly nine hours on the trail.

Young and old at the same time.

DRB was the perfect way to spend my birthday. I’m often at my happiest when playing on the trails in the woods, and DRB allowed for a full day of such activity. Alex and I ran the full race together, made wrong turns together, compared the map and course directions together, and crossed the finish line side-by-side. We got to experience most of the trails in the Blue Hills Reservation, some that we’d run before, but most which we had not. We got a feel for all the Blue Hills has to offer, from the wide, gravelly, rolling sections that accommodate running at a steady clip, to the steep, rocky climbs and descents along the rugged Skyline Trail that force you to hike and sometimes scramble.

Miles in the Blue Hills are hard-earned and rewarding, and there were plenty of them on Sunday. By going off-course a few times, we ended up running 32.85 miles and amassing 6,024 feet of vertical gain, according to my Garmin 910XT.

DRB marked my 13^th ultramarathon finish, eighth 50K, and first ultra in Massachusetts. It also served as what will be my longest training day in preparation for the Worlds End 100K on May 21 in Forksville, Penn. That race, measuring 63.8 miles with 12,000 feet of vertical gain, will be the longest and toughest that I’ve ever taken on, and DRB proved to be a worthy test run.

DRB also served as ignition for my appetite. I felt ravenous by the end of the run, so Alex and I cleaned up and headed to one of my favorite restaurants, Mike’s in Davis Square, for a birthday dinner. I had a large calzone, she had a few slices of pizza, and we each enjoyed a large mug of Sam Adams’ special-edition 26.2 Brew – a light ale brewed annually in celebration of the Boston Marathon.

Perhaps it was an ironic choice, drinking the marathon’s signature brew after running “Don’t Run Boston,” but it hit the spot. Besides, a day later it would be the Boston Marathoners’ time to shine. My slightly-older legs needed a day off.

The saying “you get what you pay for” oftentimes rings true, be it for a race entry fee, hotel room, or purchase from a store.

The Merrimack River Trail Race 10-miler proved to be an exception.

At just $10, the entry fee was enough to entice me to sign up back in February. The event experience Saturday in Andover, Mass., was worth so much more than the bargain price.

Ten bucks bought entry into the race, aid station support, post-race grub, and a fun run. On top of all of that, the ten bucks bought a whole lot of joy.

From the moment we arrived at the Wyndham Hotel’s back parking lot (site of the start/finish), to the drive home, the day was filled with nearly constant laughter. That’s a tribute to Race Director Steve Peterson, a man whose combination of volume, humor, and enthusiasm had myself—and just about everybody else—laughing throughout packet pick-up, the pre-race briefing, and the post-race awards, followed by a truly epic raffle.

Steve provided a constant pre-race countdown by shouting updates at obscure timing moments (THIRTY-TWO MINUTES!!! TWENTY-NINE MINUTES!!! People on the highway, you have FIVE MINUTES!!!). He had everyone chuckling with his instructions, including “do NOT get hurt!” and “if you don’t see the flags marking the course, then you are NOT on the course.” There also was the ceremonial raising of the T-shirts (the starting line is marked by a clothesline displaying 25 years worth of race shirts), the centerpiece being this year’s 25^th anniversary “Silvah Rivah” shirt.

Post-race, he presented winners with baked goods, commemorative “Silvah Rivah” gloves, and allowed them to choose a prize from a table full of leftover shirts from other races. The grand finale was the raffle, which consisted of about 25 items where each lucky participant whose number was drawn had to choose between two options (for example, pickles vs. toilet paper, or Rice-a-Roni variety pack vs. Twizzlers and Yoohoo).

The comedy show lasted all morning, save for during the actual running – which was plenty enjoyable in its own right.

The out-and-back course offered a nice variety of terrain with fast, non-technical running during the first and last three miles and some steep, challenging climbs and descents during the middle four miles. It was also fun to see the front-runners battling for position while crossing paths as they headed inbound, as well as being able to offer encouragement to other outbound runners once I hit the turnaround.

My race went well. I hadn’t planned to push the pace, but I got a little carried away during the first three miles and negative-split each one before the hills kicked in and I was slowed by the climbs and the two-way traffic. After clearing the hills on the way back, I again was able to push the pace and averaged about a 7:30 mile over the final two miles through to the finish line.

My official time was 1:21:41, good for a personal-best time at the distance.

After taking a few minutes to catch my breath, it was great to relax with friends and enjoy a solid half-hour of laughs courtesy of Steve’s awards ceremony and raffle before heading home with a smile on my face.

I’ve been running trails for almost six years and have raced in seven other states as well as in Canada. The Merrimack River Trail Race was my first trail race in Massachusetts, and it was a joyful event in all aspects. For just $10, I got my money’s worth and a whole lot more.