For a remote 100-mile race with a 48-hour cut-off that could expose you to extreme weather conditions, you want the right gear. The Hardrock 100 takes runners above 14,000 feet, and the weather in the Rocky Mountains is unpredictable.

Don’t see affiliate links? That’s because I’m not getting paid for recommendations. These items worked for me during the race, but keep in mind that everyone has personal gear preferences. 

1. The Least Sexy Hat for Maximum Sun Protection

There are some great-looking running caps out there, but I went with something distinctly unsexy.

It was sold to me as the ideal fishing hat. The Glacier Glove hat is khaki, with long flaps covering the back of the neck and sides of the face, plus an extra-long bill. I am not into fishing, but it works just as well as a running hat. It protects well against UV rays at altitude, and because of the chin strap, it does not fly off in a gust.

2. A Jacket for Lightweight Rain Protection

Super light but very effective, I found the waterproof Alpine Houdini Jacket the best rain jacket I have ever tried. It folds into one of its own pockets, making it no bigger than my hand.

This jacket kept me completely dry for hours of rain without overheating. I carried it for the entire race. It was far more effective and much lighter than the thicker Gore-Tex jacket I used to run with, which always started to leak after a few hours. 

3. The Lightest Windbreaker 

Patagonia also makes a super-light windbreaker, the Houdini jacket, which is not waterproof but keeps you warm at early-morning race starts or on a mountain top or pass when it is windy. It folds up tiny. 

Together with the rain jacket, it provides a surprising amount of warmth for very little weight. I have used them in both Leadville and Hardrock and love them. Pricey, yes, but I have had both jackets for several years, use them frequently, and they have held up well. For me, they have been a worthwhile investment.

4. The Top Question: Merino over Technical Shirts

I do not like technical running shirts for ultras. They start to smell quickly, and I chafe more easily in them.

Instead, I run in super-thin merino wool shirts, always long-sleeve and snug-fitting. They are usually sold as base layers. I have been running in them for over ten years. I keep the sleeves down when starting on a cold morning and push them up when it gets warmer.

Merino does not stink, even after 48 hours on the trail, and I do not chafe in it either. I also carry a second, slightly looser but still thin merino shirt for layering if it gets cold. They are light and fold up very small.

5. Midweight Merino Hoodie for Temperature Drops

I also carried a midweight merino hoodie. I have been wearing the same midweight Icebreaker merino hoodie for nine years on hikes, races, and training runs when cold is expected. It is a bit frayed at the sleeves now, but it still works perfectly. The hood helps preserve warmth at night.

If I am exhausted and moving through a very cold night, layering a merino base layer and a looser merino shirt with a midweight merino hoodie, then the windbreaker and/or rain jacket keeps me warm no matter the weather or temperature. They all fit over each other, too.

If good weather is expected during the day, I keep it in a drop bag for the night section. But mountain weather can change quickly, so I often keep the midweight jacket tied around my hips.

6. Protect Against Blisters with Toe Socks

I left fresh pairs of socks at various aid stations. I always run in toe socks, as they help prevent blisters for me. My favorites are the Injinji Trail Midweight Mini Crew because they are thicker than standard running socks and last much longer. I have not had a single hole in them, even after years of use.

At Hardrock, I also left a thick pair of long ski socks at aid stations for overnight sections. I pulled them on over my toe socks at night, and they worked beautifully. When I was cold, I pulled them up over my calves. Even though my feet were often wet from river crossings, they were never cold.

7. Trail Running Shoes With Grip

Shoes are completely personal, but you need ones with serious traction for snow, slippery mud, and loose scree.

For me, Salomon fits best, and I ran the entire 100 miles in the same pair of Salomon Fellraisers. I buy my shoes slightly larger to accommodate swollen feet, and went with men’s size 11. I had other shoes in drop bags, but found the Fellraisers worked the whole way.

Waterproof shoes are not useful in this race. With so many river crossings, water will get in anyway. Waterproof materials only prevent evaporation, keeping your feet wet for longer.

8. Do You Need Microspikes for the Hardrock 100? 

Some say you need them on Virginius Pass. Some say you do not.

I was very grateful to have Kahtoola microspikes in my Ouray drop bag and use them for Virginius. After more than 24 hours of climbing and descending, my legs were wobbly, and I did not want to risk having to climb that pass twice in case I slipped. 

Most runners do it without spikes, but the stability they gave me removed all concern. I had gone up Virginius during course marking and found it difficult to get traction on the snow wall, so I was happy to carry them from Ouray to Telluride.

9. Gaiters to Keep the Gravel Out

Small rocks and sticks can get into your shoes and cause blisters. Stopping to remove them costs time and breaks rhythm. Gaiters eliminate the hassle. I find the colorful Dirty Girl gaiters both fun and effective.

10. The Right Pants to Warm Below the Waist

I still ran the Hardrock 100 in long compression tights. Combined with knee-high ski socks, I needed nothing else to stay warm at night, even when my legs were constantly wet from river crossings. They were never cold.

I run in 2XU tights. Compression helps reduce pain for me. If you tend to overheat, you may prefer shorts with long pants as backup.

I also carried super-light rain pants in case of extreme weather, but I never had to use them. They gave me peace of mind, though, and because they weigh almost nothing, I did not mind carrying them.

After meeting Pam Reed on Virginius Pass during course marking and bonding over how easily we get cold, she recommended the Outdoor Research Helium pants. She has used them for Hardrock because they are ultra-light and easy to put on and take off. 

11. Do Not Skip the Anti-Chafing Stuff

Do not start the Hardrock 100 without plenty of anti-chafing lube all over you. Roll in it if you must. I am a big fan of Bodyglide. I keep extra in my drop bags just in case. In addition to the usual areas, I apply it to my feet. Not just once, but morning and evening for two days before a big race.

I believe this is why I completed the Bear 100, Leadville 100, and Australia’s C2K 150 Mile without a single blister. I did blister at Hardrock, but I did not feel them during the race and only noticed them in the shower afterward. I had multiple layers of burst blisters on my feet, with two toes looking like they had fused together. I guess it could have been worse? I’ll spare you further details, but swear it worked for all my other ultras. 

12. A Running Vest to Carry Just Enough 

I ran Hardrock in the Ultimate Direction AK 2.0 Race Vest, which is no longer available.

It is small with limited pockets, but it was enough. I use the front holders for gear rather than water. I do not like the Ultimate Direction bladders because they tend to leak. A leaking bladder is not what you need at Hardrock.

I used a two-liter Platypus bladder. It is divided into two chambers, which distribute weight more evenly and reduce sloshing. It is also sturdier in my experience. I carried a handheld bottle for Coke or ginger beer from aid stations.

I kept a larger, pre-packed vest at Ouray in case I wanted more space for spikes. Having ready-packed vests at aid stations saves time if you do not have a crew, which I didn’t. You can switch and keep moving.

In the end, though, I preferred the comfort of the AK 2.0 race vest and used it the whole way.

13. Hiking Poles: Take Two

If you use poles at Hardrock, take two.

I used one at Leadville and liked having one hand free. But Hardrock is a different beast. Using only one pole threw off my gait. When I often forgot to switch which hand I used the pole with, it led to an overuse injury in one leg. I could not run or walk pain-free for nearly three months afterward. The final 20 miles were agony and required painkillers to get through.

If you bring poles, bring two and make sure they are light. I use Black Diamond aluminum poles. Carbon is lighter but more expensive, and I do not use poles often enough to justify the cost.

14. Ziploc Bags to Eat on the Move

I love Ziploc bags for eating on the go. Instead of lingering at aid stations, I fill a bag with food while a volunteer refills my water, and then head out again. Many of my stops were only two or three minutes.

The food may get mixed together, but when you are 50 miles into Hardrock, peach pie mixed with pretzels tastes fantastic.

15. Do Not Forget Gloves

It gets cold. Very cold. At night or during the day.

I keep a super light pair with me at all times and thicker ones in drop bags for nighttime.

16. A Bright Running Skirt

I love the Rypwear running skirts. I wear them at every race, not only because the colors cheer me up but because the shorts underneath have two pockets that are perfect for snacks. One pocket also fits a smartphone, though for safety, I carry my phone in a zippered belt pouch.

Lastly, the race organizers will provide a list of required emergency gear. Take it seriously, even if it adds weight. No personal best is worth risking your safety.

Pictures from several days of course marking the Hardrock 100 Mile Endurance Run in the Rocky Mountains, Colorado.

The photos show sections of Green Mountain/Buffalo Boy Ridge, Handies Peak, Oh! Point to Ouray, the climb to Virginius Pass, Grant-Swamp Pass and Island Lake.

Hardrock is held every year in July, starting from the town of Silverton. The average elevation of the course is 11,000 feet, and runners ascent and descent some 66,000 feet in total. The maximum time allowed to complete the race is 48 hours.

The race is only officially done when a finisher kisses the Hardrock, a rock with the picture of a mountain ram.

As I stepped out of the bus on the town’s wide main road, lined by old-time Saloons, I could hardly breathe. I had flown in from sea level Australia, and Leadville at over 10,000 feet (3,000 meters) altitude knocked the air right out of me as I dragged my suitcase to the Leadville Hostel on 7th Street. 

Learn more about the Leadville 100 and how to prepare for it from race director Josh Colley (Interview Aug. ’16):

A usually rather sleepy place with a population of some 2,700 people, Leadville is hub of activity leading up to the 100 Mile MTB and footrace in August each year. Cyclists with limited leave from work are frantically trying to acclimatize in just a few days. Runners are doing speed training, checking their GPS watches and chatting with their coaches online.

Others are in Leadville to do altitude training for other races. You might even run into celebrity athletes like Rob Krar. The popular hangout, City on a Hill Coffee & Espresso, is always packed.

I had done what I could in the months leading up to the Leadville 100 and saw little point in training hard in the last two weeks. The first three days I rested up and drank a lot of fluids, and then started hiking to help my body get used to the altitude.  

A great resource for hiking routes in the area is www.14ers.com.

First up was Mosquito Pass, followed by Mt. Massive at 4,400 m and finally, some five days before the race, four connected peaks in one long day – the Mt. Democrat, Bross, Lincoln and Cameron route. Five of us from the hostel started out long before sunrise and only just made the last peak before ominous rumbling and a blackening sky chased us off the mountain as one of the usual afternoon thunderstorms moved in. None of us wanted to get stuck in lightening above tree line.

Quietly I prayed to the weather gods for clear skies on race day. Hunkering down below tree line for an hour or two as a storm passes overhead can cost you your finish at Leadville. 

At the hostel, packed with endurance athletes, we discussed splits. I cannot run a race when I think of having to do 100 Miles in one go. But if I break it into many little goals, my mind can handle it. 

However, guessing expected completion times for an unfamiliar course is hard. How would I know how long a particular uphill section will take me? While researching online, I hit gold – a website called climbers.net  combines past finisher times, averages them out and calculates likely splits depending on the overall target time you enter.

I printed and laminated three versions – the unlikely super awesome splits if I found energy I never knew I had, the likely medium splits I was aiming at, and the risky last ass splits that should get me across the finish line just before cut-off.

Then on the night before the race, I popped two sleeping pills and headed to bed at 6pm. A lack of sleep before a big race can affect the mind in unpredictable ways. Before my first 100 miler, the Bear, I had been so nervous that I only slept one hour the night before. On the second race day after some 30 hours on my feet without sleep or rest, I kept thinking about frog liver pâté and desperately wanted to know whether my pacer had ever ridden on a deer. I had learned from that.

Leadville Hostel owner Cathy Hacking put on a huge breakfast from 2 am and the hostel was bustling with activity as nervous runners frantically searched for misplaced items while their supporters tried to soothe them with calm voices. I for the heck of it couldn’t find my favorite socks. Somebody else thought his shoes had been stolen. All turned up in the end. 

At 4 am we were finally toeing the start line in the cold morning air – 100 miles with more than 15,000 feet in total elevation gain were ahead of us. Just about anything could happen in the next 30 hours, and only half of us would make it back here in time. I hoped I would be one of them.

The sky was still dark, a drone was whirring overhead. I knew I needed to go out faster than usual to make the 22k to May Queen in 2h20 in line with my splits and, more importantly, to make the first 100k by quarter past eight that night. The 100k mark is Twin Lakes inbound on this out-and-back course, and I’d been told repeatedly that runners who get to the lakes after nightfall don’t tend to finish. 

The next moment, the countdown started and we were off, a sea of bright lights in the dark as crowds of people cheered us on. Then the voices ebbed away, subsiding in the distance, and all that was left was the sound of feet hitting the dirt road leading out of Leadville. This was it, too late to change my mind, the only way was forward now.

Reaching Turquoise Lake, the darkness slowly changed to light as we ran along the water’s edge on single track, over roots and bouncy forest floor. It was magical, this time of the morning, with strips of color stretching over the dawning sky above calm and deep blue waters. Listening to my own breath and the soft, rhythmical drumming of countless feet, I felt like I was part of an ancient tribe, moving in wordless unison, celebrating life in its purest form. 

Adrenalin and excitement made running easy and I reached May Queen in good time. I had arrived in Leadville without crew or pacers, but had found supporters among the wonderful people who gather year after year in this mountain town. Retired pharmacist Michael Hester, who spends every summer in Leadville, had agreed to crew me and I had also found three pacers to share the entire inbound half of the course. Big smiles greeted us as we dropped our now useless headlamps to save on weight and filled up on water.

The next goal was Outward Bound, with the big climb up Sugarloaf Pass at 11,000 feet in between. After rooty forest trails, we came up a long, paved road that slowly snaked its way up the mountainside. Rather than running and spending too much energy too early, I power walked at a steady pace.

On the other side was a steep, wide dirt track beneath power lines, hence the name. The section must be hell when muddy and slippery, and I thanked the weather gods for firm ground. But as I jogged into Outward Bound, I realized that this leg had still taken me 15 minutes longer than planned. I had to make up time. 

By the time I reached Twin Lakes I was all wrapped up in my own race and only focused on getting in and out as quickly as possible. 

With Hope Pass towering ahead of me, I was glad that nothing but blue skies greeted me ahead. I wouldn’t be fried by lightening at the top, or miss my cut-off cowering below treeline.

All I had to do now was climb up to 3,850 m after 40 miles of going hard. My legs were tired and it would only get worse. The trail up Hope Pass is brutal. Leading up through through thick forest, you can never gauge when it will end, and every hope gets dashed by yet another steep section.

But there was no time for rest or catching my breath. I was only just keeping up with my medium splits. Falling behind could endanger my finish. Spending months of training, money on airfares, gear and entry fees, and then running a very long way only to miss a cutoff and being pulled is the last thing I was willing to endure. I ignored the exhaustion and pushed on, pumping all the air into my lungs that I could.

As the trees got sparser and finally made way for a green meadow, I saw what I had been looking forward to for weeks – the famous llamas.  These animals are long-term supporters of the Leadville 100 race, together with Vicky Foster and many other wonderful volunteers. Every year they carry water and food for over a thousand runners and pacers up this otherwise inaccessible pass. Leisurely, they now grazed on the lush grass, eyeing each struggling runner with renewed interest. 

I didn’t have much time to enjoy the sight. I was more than 10 minutes behind my splits and had to work on my downhill running skills heading toward Winfield, the 50 mile turnaround point. Fortunately I love downhill sections. Sliding on rubble and jumping over rocks on the steep trail leading down into the valley, I made up a decent bit of time. I even came running into Windfield aid station slightly ahead of my target, completing the first 50 miles in just under 12 hours.

Jen Kraxner, the best pacer you could ever wish for, was waiting at Winfield, shouldering my pack as well as her own to make the return climb easier for me. Leadville is one of the few races that allows muling i.e. for pacers to carry their runner’s running vests. 

I had met Jen and her husband Joe at the hostel. Both are past finishers of the Leadman/Leadwoman challenge. This superhuman feat involves the completion of all races in the Leadville series in one summer: the marathon, the 50 mile Silver Rush running or MTB race, then the 100 Mile MTB race, followed by a 10k run right the next day and finally the 100 Mile footrace less than a week later.

Jen and Joe had done the MTB 100 miler on a tandem mountain bike and finished the 100 Mile trail run hand in hand. They have been coming to Leadville summer after summer for many years, racing, supporting and soaking up the mountain air. There are no better two people out there to help you with your first Leadville 100.

Joe had even lent me a small portable charger to make the battery of my Garmin watch last for the entire distance. The little charger was tucked into my running vest, and a cable fed through the sleeve of my shirt to connect it to my watch with a clip. Now Jen was to help me over the hardest climb in this race.

I had been pumped arriving at Winfield, but those 50 miles in my legs started to show as soon as we began climbing again. The second time going up Hope Pass was far more agonizing that the first climb.

Jen made me march up that mountain, waving food at me on a regular basis, and told me how great I was doing even though I felt like I was going to collapse toward the top. Her ceaseless encouragement and the camaraderie among all the runners, whether they were still on the downhill toward Windfield or coming up again like me, gave me the energy I needed.

No face flew past without a “good job”, “great work”, or “well done” being exchanged. There were smiles everywhere. And then there were the views. Seeing those majestic mountains stretch out to the horizon puts pain into perspective. I couldn’t help but feel awed and utterly fortunate to be part of it all. I was doing Leadville!

As we reached Hopeless aid station the second time, more than 15 minutes behind schedule, Jen ran ahead to get me soup while I sat down to eat and look at llamas. After some food in my stomach and faced with another long downhill to make up time I started running again. It hurt, but I needed to get to Twin Lakes before nightfall. I was wedded to the idea that if I could just get there by 20:15, I would finish.

Once we had waded through Lake Creek, Jen ran ahead again to get my drop bag ready. Everything was laid out as I came into the aid station right on time. A big group from the hostel was there, cheering and helping out. I was so glad to see them all. With that much help, changing out of my wet shoes and putting on warmer night gear took no time at all.

My new pacer Juliette Schmidt was ready to go, so off we went back into the forest, for the long hours through the night. Reflective trail markets flashed ahead, and the rustling of small animals making their way through the undergrowth accompanied us. The air was fresh now and a little damp, as the shine of our headlamps led us through the woods. 

Juliette was planning to run the Leadville 100 next year and wanted to get experience on the course. She had been volunteering for the race when another hostel guest matched us up.  

Having someone to share the journey with cheered me up a great deal, but I had been on my feet for some 17 hours now and physical exhaustion was threatening to settle in. Even my stomach was tired and eating wasn’t easy.  I sucked on hard candy and TUMS when my body no longer wanted the calories I needed. We walked some, and ran some, and walked some and ran some.

Energy levels rose and fell, but overall we were moving well. At Half Pipe I was 10 minutes ahead of schedule, and by the time we reached Outward Bound, I was half an hour faster than my medium splits. Even so late in the night, a big group from the hostel was waiting for us, cheering, updating how the other hostel runners were doing, and sharing hugs and smiles. 

Now came the climb up Powerline and I remembered another runner’s advice: It’s much longer than you think – beware the false summits. So I kept my head down, didn’t look for any summits in the dark and just marched on until music and flashy lights greeted us at the unofficial aid station at the top.

I had been told this aid station offered hard liquor and a naked guy. Wondering how the naked guy would survive the freezing cold at night and admiring is dedication, I had been looking forward to meeting him. No naked guy could be found, though, so I only filled up water and marched on, leaving Juliette to investigate the situation more closely and catch up with me later.

I started running again on the downhill, and by the time we arrived in May Queen at quarter past four in the morning, I was still more than half an hour ahead of my splits.

There was a problem though. My next pacer, Megan Finnesy, couldn’t be found. Jen Kraxner had recruited Megan for me, badgering her until she agreed to pace me from May Queen to the finish. But now she wasn’t there and I didn’t want to lose precious time waiting. 

Juliette had to go, so I set out on my own. Had I been sick or disorientated this would have been bad, but I felt alert. I was awake and had been warm all night under my various layers of merino wool. I was good to go.

As I left the aid station I even felt a sudden boost of energy and started running on the flat toward the lake, overtaking Chris Calimano and his pacer.

Chris is a very nice and very accomplished athlete who completed the 4 Deserts series in one year. The series involves running 250k each in the Sahara in Namibia, Gobi in China, Atacama in Chile and in Antarctica. Overtaking him made me feel pretty good and I had no desire to relinquish this hard-won lead over someone who is a much better athlete than me.

Of course, unlike me, Chris was actually doing Leadman and had completed the 100 Mile bike race just a week earlier. But I was ready to take every confidence boost I could get and “chased” further ahead into the forest along the lake.

I was going fast! 

Then a young man came lightly jogging up behind me, easily catching up. What bastard runner was this, looking so fresh at close to Mile 90??

He turned out to be a volunteer kindly offering to pace me after learning that Megan hadn’t shown. May Queen aid station staff had been alerted that I didn’t have a pacer and sent someone after me to help.

Together we continued when, suddenly, we heard rustling ahead and saw someone running towards us through the woods. It was Megan! After realizing she had missed me at May Queen, Megan had driven around the lake to catch me from the other side.

Now I had two pacers, which can get you disqualified, so one had to go.  

Too tired for decisions I let them sort it out amongst each other, and ultimately headed on with Megan. As the sky turned from dark to light for the second time during my Leadville 100, I could hardly believe the experiences that lay behind. All this time felt more like a dream that may have spanned weeks rather than just a bit more than a day.

Around me I recognized the same path I had run so easily the day before. Now the going was slow and my legs were stiff and wobbly, but every step also brought excitement. This was the final stretch, the final leg before the finish. I was going to finish Leadville!

Already years ago, I had read about this race in Born to Run, marveled at Ann Trason’s course record, the mind-blowing achievements of the Tarahumaras, and soaked up the stories and legends spun around the Race Across the Sky.

After winning the lottery, I had spent endless hours pushing myself, training in difficult terrain, doing sprint sessions on hills, still always fretting that it wouldn’t be enough. And here I was, just a few last miles from the finish, feeling indescribably happy.

Leadville. I couldn’t believe I had nearly made it.

One more hill, a few more steps, and ahead was the Leadville 100 finish line. As we drew close at eight o’clock in the morning, I ran the last meters uphill and made it in 28:03 as the 165^th finisher out of some 650 starters. As usual for this high altitude event, only about half of us finished that year. 

There were hugs from my wonderful pacers and new friends from the hostel, and a finisher medal, necklace and red rose from race founders Ken Chlouber and Merilee Maupin.

For a while I sat and cheered on the other finishers, including Chris, who wasn’t far behind and successfully completed his Leadman challenge. I drank some hot chocolate, but was unable to eat. Walking was also out of the question, so some lovely hostel buddies picked me up by car and brought me back.

I couldn’t eat all day. Sitting with Chris at the finisher’s ceremony, we were laughing at our nauseousness, hoping we wouldn’t suddenly puke when receiving our treasured belt buckles. Luckily, both of us managed to hang on to our stomach contents, and by evening food started to look good again.

After dinner we all rested up on the giant couch in front of the TV, eating ice cream out of the tub, and dozed off happily spoon in hand.

Finishing my Leadville 100 race, video by Joe Kraxner:

Leadville 100 quick facts  (latest information on the race website):

Course records:
Matt Carpenter 15:42:59 (2005)
Ann Trason 18:06:24 (1994)

Course type: Out and back

Cut-off: 30 hours

Elevation gain: 15,600 feet (4,800 meters)

Highest point: 12,600 feet (3,850 m)

Surface: Mostly forest trails, dirt roads and short stretches of asphalt

Did you do the Ultra-Trail Australia this year and are wondering how the champions manage to run all those stairs even late in the race? Perhaps you need an Ultra Trail Australia training plan.

Lithuanian elite runner Andrius Ramonas, who has been living in New Zealand for the past year and a half, is a sports and exercise medicine physician who is currently doing his PhD in Auckland. He has won and set course records for the Ultra-Trail Australia 50k, and the The Hillary 80k and Tarawera 50k races in New Zealand.

Andrius has frequently placed in the top ten in many other ultras and came 5^th this year at the Ultra-Trail Australia 100k. His best marathon time was 02:32 in London in 2009. Here he shares how he prepared for running in the Blue Mountains where the UTA 100k distance features accumulated climbs of over 4,500 metres and many, many stairs.

What is your Ultra Trail Australia Training Plan?

The UTA is not that technically difficult, it’s really runnable and has the specific element of stairs. What I did to prepare was that last month, I changed from doing lots of off-road and complicated trail running to more road running and even introduced track running sessions just to increase my speed and improve my stride.

I also concentrated more on core stability and gluteus muscle strength as well as leg muscles to avoid excessive fatigue on those stairs.

Racing in the lead pack usually means you don’t have that time to tackle those stairs slowly, sometimes you really have to push hard, and if you have good running biomechanics and core stability, sometimes you can even when you’re really tired run those stairs.

As I remember from last year, I was still able to run the Furber stairs at the end of the race. As we saw today, two runners were just 20 seconds apart, meaning they were fighting on those stairs. So if you can run them, you have a huge advantage.

I also looked at my gear, because the list of mandatory gear is really extensive, so making good choices makes gear more lightweight and compact. Sometimes it’s easy to stick to the same items, but there are a lot of new things coming out on the market.

With a race that has to many stairs, do you have to train on stairs or are there another ways you can prepare?

That’s an individual choice I think. One way of training for stairs is to think about what elements in your body support running uphill and up stairs.

If you think about it, it’s core stability, it’s glute muscle strength, and nice running biomechanics. If you focus on those elements it’s possible to avoid excessive training on stairs. You can use just some resistance exercises and weights to strengthen those muscles.

Which exercises were part of your Ultra Trail Australia Training Plan?

If I think about glute muscles, there are a few standard exercises that bodybuilders do, like squats, and single-leg squats which could be done using a box where you step up. That focuses also on core stability.

I also do exercises with weights, such as a hip thrust where I do a bridge lying on the ground with elevated shoulders so that there is greater range of motion when I push up my hips. I use really heavy weights for that, because the idea is to not just build pure endurance but power and strength.

What is your nutrition strategy?

I still base my race nutrition on carbs, but what I did in recent years is that I reduced my carb consumption due to gastrointestinal symptoms. With that reduction I haven’t been getting that problem.

I like energy gels for carbs, because it’s easy to know the amount of sugar you are getting. Sometimes in longer races, I prefer some solid food, which is usually just banana and raisins.

I like to be simple and not think too much about other food choices, so I just stick to my plan. If the race was much longer, I would probably mix in some savoury foods, but in races up to 10 hours, I usually just stick with sugar.

Also, I am careful not to overload too much in the days ahead of the race. It’s really easy to underestimate how much athletes eat, especially in the last week when the training load is much lower and it’s very easy to gain fat. So I just try to be sensible and not eat complicated foods and only eat what I’ve tried before.

***

So if you are registered and need an Ultra Trail Australia training plan, integrate some of Andrius Ramonas’ ideas, and book your accommodation in Katoomba or Leura early – it gets full in the mountains in May!

On a point-to-point course, the 60, 85 and 100k distances take ultramarathon runners into some of the country’s most stunning scenery, through lush rainforests and along four tranquil lakes, past clear streams and gushing waterfalls. The field has become highly competitive in recent years, and attracted over 400 international runners from 38 countries in February 2016. Since Dylan Bowman’s spectacular win in 2015, the number of competitors from the USA doubled to 45.

This year, however, conditions were the most difficult in the race’s history. Parts of the course, which is usually considered fast, were turned into slippery slides by all-day rain, and more people than ever dropped down to the 60k distance. Elite runners also struggled. “It was a very tough day,” said Colorado’s Jason Schlarb. “There were places where I had to take caution. I think it slowed everybody down a bit.” Schlarb also had a collision with a log in the first 10k, bruising his left quad. “It’s not the most painful race I’ve ever had, but I’ve never had to deal with feeling poorly so early on and carrying through.”

At 103k, the course was also longer than usual. Schlarb still finished a strong sixth in 9:16:48, coming in first among the USA runners. Overall winner Jonas Buud, from Sweden, set a blistering speed on a difficult day, finishing in 8:00:53, while New Zealand’s Fiona Hayvice took out the women’s title at 10:34:26. “The times were really impressive, especially with the extra kilometers from last year’s course,” Schlarb said.

Fellow American ultramarathon runner Michael Wardian finished 15 minutes after Schlarb, in seventh place. “The top field was awesome. Jonas was the guy to beat and none of us did that. He was definitely pushing the pace early on,” Wardian said. Making it to the first aid station in second place, the 41-year-old Virginian hit a low later on and temporarily dropped out of the top 10, desperate for some calories. He finally found some CLIF Bloks on the trail – accidentally lost by New Zealand’s Vajin Armstrong, who finished fifth. “They were really good. I totally ate his leftovers. I’m not very particular to where the calories come from,” Wardian laughed.

Not making it onto the podium this year just gives him motivation to come back next year. “I love this course; I think it gives you a lot of different terrains. It forces you to challenge yourself, running fast on technical trail, getting over the roots and rocks,” Wardian observed. “Most of all, it’s the organization and volunteers and people that make it just insanely cool.”

Aid stations were stocked with fruit, sandwiches, pizza, salty snacks and energy foods. In accessible places, spectators braved the rain for hours to cheer on runners, while dozens of signs along the way featured song lyrics, poetry, uplifting mantras or just “Run, you dirty animals.” Ahead of the Star Wars-themed aid station ultramarathon runners were treated to Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader lookalikes dramatically battling it out with light sabers.

Despite having become a big and international race with 1250 competitors, the Tarawera hasn’t lost the warm and familiar feel of a small race. Organizer Paul Charteris and race director Tim Day waited out until well after midnight to give even the last finishers a big hug and their wood-carved medals.

There were very few female runners from the USA this year – so that has to change. New Zealand is a long way away, but the Tarawera offers more than a race. There are many free and purchasable cultural experiences in the program, from a traditional Maori welcome, scenic boat cruise and special Maori dinner, to a run through a geyser field. February is also within the best travel time for the country. One of the world’s most beautiful one-day hikes, the Tongariro Crossing, through active volcanic landscape and past The Lord of the Rings’ Mount Doom, is just a bus ride away.

Accommodation in Rotorua ranges from basic accommodations to luxury hotels and resorts, and the town has its own airport. It’s also easy to book a four-hour bus ride with InterCity from Auckland for around USD 25. Air New Zealand has direct flights to Auckland from Houston, Los Angeles, San Francisco and Vancouver. And for anyone who was worried – that distinct smell lingers only in the city, and not on the trails.

This article was published in UltraRunning Magazine on April 19, 2016.

“No peein’ off the porch” is the sign that greets me as I wait on Craig Thornley’s deck.

He is in the kitchen to make tea and one of his cats is keeping an eye on me from under a wooden bench. What do Western States runners get up to on their race director’s porch?

Once he joins me with two mugs, he tells me it was just one guy, but he was a repeat offender. Some house rules might be inevitable, given how full his and his wife Laurie’s house can get come June.  The location is no accident – the race director lives just a mile from the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run finish line.

Listen to the full interview with Western States Race Director Craig Thornley:

This week, thousands of runners around the world enter the lottery in the hope of scoring a spot in this iconic race from Squaw Valley to Auburn, California. Numbers are capped at less than 400 runners, due to permits.

The organizers want to balance being an elite event that grants some top athletes automatic entry with being inclusive by giving also slower runners who have managed to qualify a chance to participate. Either way, those chances are slim and stand at less than 5% at first try. The most consecutive years you qualify and enter, the better the odds.

WS has come a long way in four decades. Originally a 100-mile race for horses called the Tevis Cup, a man called Gordy Ainsleigh one day decided to run it, and finished in under 24 hours.

“He obviously had something in his head that not too many of us were, at least, able to show that we had it. So he decides to run,” Craig Thornlesays.

After that first finish in 1974, the race doctor thought it was a once-in-a-lifetime feat that no one would ever duplicate.

“It was just so far out there to think of running in these kind of temperatures and this terrain, the canyons are just not very friendly, and he just started this crazy sport. It wasn’t that he started ultrarunning, but it was covering 100 miles in this type of terrain, ” Craig says.

By now, thousands have finished WS and many thousands more want to run it.

The training weekends, such as the Memorial weekend I took part in, are one way to see much of the course without winning the race lottery. Anyone can take part, and volunteers often include highly accomplished runners with a long WS history, such as Tim Twietmeyer or Ann Trason.

Craig sees runners off in the morning and greet everyone with a big smile and some hugs at the finish line each day.

The race director has grown up with this race. When Craig was a teenager, it found him in the form of an exhausted runner tumbling out of the woodwork as he and his brother were out camping.

The runner wanted to know where the aid station was. The brothers had no idea what he was talking about, but they never forgot the look in his eyes.

“Not blank, but there’s definitely a whole lot going on and we just knew that we have to experience whatever they are experiencing. You could read a lot into those eyes,” Craig said.

After working the Dusty Corners aid station for 10 years, Craig ran the race for the first time in 2001 and finished, a feat he has pulled of seven times since, always in under 24 hours.

Finishing in one day earns runners a highly sought-after silver belt buckle. These buckles are custom-made from sterling silver and valued at USD 355 – nearly the race entry fee.

The belt buckles are another legacy from the Tevis Cup, originally meant for riders. The makers from Comstock Heritage aren’t runners themselves, but have a lot of appreciation for what the buckle means to people.

“They are totally engaged, they are excited that they get to make the buckle that so many people want to earn.”

“It’s not just that it’s a 355 dollar buckle, but it’s what that buckle represents, that whole effort, commitment, not just on race day alone but getting to the race and preparing, and all the sacrifices. It’s symbolic of so much more than just a finishing time.” Watch how the buckle is made.

It’s not the first race Craig Thornley has been directing, but it’s certainly one on a completely new scale. His professional background is in IT, but on the side he’d already set up the Waldo 100k Trail Run in Oregon.

“I started developing Waldo and it became a really well-respected race, it was a national championship,” he says.

“I got to implement my ideas of what I think a race should be like, treating every runner equally, first class service at aid stations where the volunteers are very knowledgeable. […] I got to use it as kind of a playground, as a learning tool.”

Added to his race organizing experience, Craig was also a national sky patroller for years, and stewarded 16 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail. So when the WS role came up, he had no trouble getting an interview. He did have trouble getting TO the interview, though.

Having committed to helping champion runner and friend Meghan Arbogast race the day before, he’d booked the earliest morning flight to make it in time.

It ended up being an epic day of flight delays, missed connection flights, rebookings, and finally a way-too-helpful rental car assistant hell-bent on selling him everything he didn’t need, ultimately leaving him chasing down the highway with no time to lose.

And then there was the problem of not usually using deodorant. We all know what happens when you’re under a lot of stress and there’s no deodorant around. Not good.

“The interview of my life and I smell so bad!” he laughs.

He was driving so fast that he made up enough minutes to storm into a petrol station and get some deodorant, and – smelling beautifully – got the job.

So now that he’s held the position for three years, where does he want to take the race?

“I definitely want to see us involved in the international scene. We are already making contributions by being involved in Ultra-Trail World Tour and the International Trail Running Association. I want to see the race continue to be relevant on the competitive scene in the world, attracting the top 100-mile runners of the world,” Craig Thornley says.

Craig is conscious of the fact that WS has less than 400 runners each year, while races like the UTMB series have thousands.

He believes the event’s relevance could decline if they don’t stay on top of things, cooperating with and learning from other races around the world.

“I want to make sure we continue to lead the sport and have the best practices in everything.”

The race also wants to continue evolving its medical research. Changes include moving away from overusing IVs to combat hyponatremia (abnormally low blood sodium levels), as it has been found that the risks often outweigh the benefits of this practice, and most runners will recover without infusions, Craig says.

“When we do get a case of hyponatremia we know now that we can give people hypertonic saline, which is three times the normal saline of your body. If you’re not hyponatremic it won’t hurt you, and if you are, it will help you equalise sodium in your blood, in your body, much faster.”

Continuing to attract the best of the sport is important, but WS also continues to be committed to welcoming runners from all walks of life and making sure everyone is treated equally special on race day.

“Every person who comes to WS, whether you are 30 hours or whether you are 14 hours, has an experience that will be unmatched. It will be a memorable day of your life, you will not forget your experience at WS.”

This year, the last finisher was 70-year old Gunhild Swanson, who made it with seconds to spare before the 30-hour cut-off, becoming the oldest woman to ever have finished Western States.

She ran the last mile accompanied by family, friends and overall winner Rob Krar, who cheered her on wearing flip flops after having finished his own race in 14:48:59 – a beautiful show of how much camaraderie there is in the sport.

A woman who only runs after taking precautions against anything from rattle snakes to serial killers has not only run dozens of iconic ultramarathons but also Badwater, a 135 mile race through America’s Death Valley.

Tammy Massie, a mathematical statistician who earned her Ph.D. in biostatistics, handles fear by preparing for the unknown.

Wearing mostly pink on the trails, with a few flowers and stuffed toys mixed in, I met Tammy as she ran with brightly colored snake-proof gators on a 90 °F day. Yes, she said, they were a bit hot, but better than getting bitten by a rattlesnake.

Tammy also carried pepper spray to deter the potential wayward cougar, and an emergency beacon so that her husband could find her body if she falls off a cliff.

It wasn’t rattle snakes or cougars that finally took her apart during a race though. It was something nobody can control or take precautions against, and it was devastating. Her mother became terminally ill.

Tammy tried to cope through sport, but finally, in the middle of the Vermont 100 Mile ultramarathon, she had enough and broke down. Sitting on a log, all she could do was sob. She was done.

Her mother used to be her cross-country coach and they had bonded over her races. She used to cheer for Tammy at the finish line, but during this race she was in hospital and Tammy didn’t know how to deal with the certainty of losing her.

Recalling all those years together made the tears flow faster, and she couldn’t care less about the time ticking by. She knew she was about to miss the next cut-off and it was irrelevant.

But suddenly, it was exactly this bond, these memories of shared experiences, that shook her up.

“I harnessed my inner self and said, you know what, my mum wouldn’t want me to be sobbing, she’d want me to be out there finishing the race and making her proud.”

She picked herself up and ran for hours to the finish, beating every cut-off along the way.

“I think running helped me. It was a little bit grounding,” she said about training in the months that followed.

“With ultrarunning there is that part of you where you learn what you’re made of, how strong you are, and what adversarial things you can handle and face.”

Running was an opportunity to reminisce about her mother and honor their connection.

What helped during the darker moments was a sense of gratitude, she said.

“What I find helpful is to appreciate the views, appreciate the journey, appreciate the other runners on the course.”

“If you appreciate everything you see, you see the flowers, you see the sunrise, the stars, it really makes it all worthwhile.”

In addition to having done about twenty 100 milers, Tammy has also completed the notorious Badwater race from the lowest point in the continent to, in the old days, Mt. Whitney, although the last big climb is no longer included.

The race is held during the hottest time of the year in July.

“The year I did it, it was about 125 °F, that’s about 50 °C during the hot part of the day.”

Runners diligently stick to the white side strip of the road to avoid the even worse temperatures on the asphalt. Despite the unbearable conditions and many moments of doubt, Tammy persisted and ultimately beat the clock to the finish, after 47 and a half hours on her melting feet.

“You never know what you can do until you put one step in front of the other or go out and set some goal and try to do your hardest,” she said.

“Physical possessions people can steal or destroy or you can lose, but not this sense of accomplishment, that pride.”

Tammy considers running ultra events a privilege because just a few decades ago, women weren’t even allowed to participate in marathons. And whenever she finds herself in a place where doubts threaten to overwhelm her, she remembers all the people who have believed in her throughout her life. People like her mum, her family, her friends.

“If they believed in me, I should believe in myself.”

Want to get into ultra running but don’t know how to fit it around your kids? Get inspired to become an ultra marathon parent from a mom and personal trainer who has run some of the world’s toughest 100 milers. Your kids might actually love you for what you do.

Ana Braga-Levaggi’s family knows the drill. Getting up at an ungodly hour, watching her disappear into the darkness and then spending the next 30 hours making sure she doesn’t die.

Ana has run some of America’s toughest 100 milers, including Leadville, Wasatch and Western States. These runs aren’t stage races. Runners have to keep moving day and night through harsh terrain, with cut-offs between 30 and 36 hours, depending on the event. Like many others, she is an ultra marathon parent who fits her training around her family.

Born in Brazil, the 55-year old has lived in California’s Mill Valley for 30 years and discovered a love for ultrarunning after the birth of her children.

“After I had my second daughter in 1999, I thought I needed to get in shape. By then I’d just run two marathons and thought, okay, lets take it to the next level.”

Her first 50k race was a fabulous experience. “I walked the uphills and I ran the downhills and flats and I finished the race, so I was totally hooked.”

These days, 50k races are mere training runs to prepare for 100 milers. She has finished eight. To Ana, the right mental attitude is just as important as physical training when it comes to earning her 100 mile finisher buckles.

“Try to get into every single station with a smile,” she says.  “You are here because you want it. If you’re going through a bad patch, you can always think it’s going to pass, and you’re going to get through and you’re going to be just fine.”

A high pain threshold helps too. Ana had both of her children without anesthesia. Agony is something she expects and, unless she’s injured, doesn’t spend time worrying about it.

“It’s just pain,” she says.  “It’s going to go away when I stop and feel better.”

Her calorie intake is meticulous and she sticks to 200 calories an hour, even counting the number of biscuits she carries to ensure her intake is adequate. She has even sewn extra pockets onto her skort (a cross between shorts and a skirt) to store food and gear.

But sometimes, the digestive system doesn’t take kindly to endless hours of intense exercise and runners can have trouble keeping solids down.

This was a particular problem at the Wasatch Front 100 Mile Endurance Run across Utah’s Wasatch mountain range and which advertises itself as “100 miles of heaven and hell”. Cumulative elevation gain is nearly 25,763 feet and much of the race is at altitude – the highest point is over 10,480 feet.

“At Wasatch, my stomach shut down at night and I couldn’t eat anything, but food is what keeps you going in an ultra, so if you can’t eat, you can’t move forward.”

Gels kept her energized – no less than 48 of them. If you have never tried an energy gel, count yourself lucky, because the idea of downing nearly 50 of these slimy sugar portions would probably make you gag. But disgusting or not, those gels got her to the finish – with seven minutes to spare.

Ana’s training leading up to a 100 mile run usually includes spinning and weight training in addition to 100 miles of running a week. Working as a fitness trainer makes finding the time easier – she can do some of her training with her clients.

Even much of her spare time is about sports. Ana helps youths foster a positive body image and understand the benefits of an active lifestyle as a volunteer coach for 4^th grade through 8^th grade. You can also find her manning aid stations at various races.

“It’s wonderful to give back to the community. If I’m not running a race and I’m available, why not come and help.”

Her husband Chris, a keen biker, is very supportive of her passion.

“My husband is very involved and hands on, whether he paces me or in giving me what I need.”

And her daughters don’t know it any other way – they time her breaks during races and encourage her on. It sounds like a tiring job, but they’ve found a lot of inspiration in their mother’s achievements.

Her younger daughter Annika also loves to run, doing well in cross-country and track. Her older daughter Bella is a freshman in college – and she recently wrote an essay about growing up with an ultra marathon parent. It’s a special tribute, and as Ana starts reading, she has trouble holding back the tears.

Some rewards come in the form of finisher buckles, others in the love and appreciation of family.

***

Essay by Bella Levaggi, Ana’s daughter

Describe the world you come from – for example, you family, community or school – and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations

The world I come from is bleary-eyed, mud-splattered, and tastes like Gatorade. It’s thirty-hour periods of intense stress, unfamiliar states, and five hours naps in a Volkswagen camper van parked next to a trail. It’s the life of an Ultra Runner’s daughter.

If you’re unfamiliar with the term, Ultra Runners are uniquely inspirational basket cases who enjoy running one hundred mile footraces. They put themselves through excruciating blisters, dehydration, and fatigue… only to come out smiling.

My mom joined this cult of crazies when I was seven. She’s appointed my dad, sister, and me to spearhead her crew teams, and has dragged us across the West, all in the pursuit of adventure. But you know what they say about adventure: it’s pure horror enjoyed from the comfort of retrospect.

The starting gun always goes off at four in the morning, and the next thirty hours are gruelling for everyone. Obviously, my mom gets it the worst, with the actual running, but crewing for her comes with its own stresses.

It’s my responsibility to keep my mom on schedule when she stops at various checkpoints scattered along the racecourses. I’ve become an expert at proclaiming the time and then obnoxiously prodding my exhausted mother up out of her camping chair once her allocated period of rest spills into overtime.

On paper, the job sounds easy, but in reality it’s a handful of heart-thumping minutes of crushing responsibility that carries the weight of eternity.

If I mess up, my mom runs the risk of falling behind and suffering a disqualification. What heightens the intensity and reward of these races is that they require us to band around our runner in a rightly oiled machine of energy and focus.

Amidst the blood, sweat, and Power Bars, though, there’s something satisfying about the end, when the four of us huddle within the medical tent. Ultra running brings us together at an epic level where my perception of my mom transcends from “personal chauffeur/macaroni maker” into hero.

The interesting thing about the word “crazy” is that it can denote insanity or passion. What my mom does is imbued with a dose of both. I grew up reading stories about people who are just like her. So it’s with her courage that I write my often condemnatory columns about social problems in my school newspaper.

It’s with her zeal that I spent hours interning for a publishing agency in the hopes of cracking the code to discover the qualities of a strong editor. And it’s her spirit – and the knowledge that I contribute to its preservation – that pushes me to pursue my passions, even when they seem a hundred miles out of reach.

In the little French town of Chamonix at the base of Mt. Blanc, New Zealand-born Stuart Mills is getting ready to run the Ultra-Trail du Mont Blanc – a distance of 168 kilometers with positive elevation of more than 9,600 meters.

Now a principle lecturer at the University of Brighton’s School of Sport and Service Management in the UK, Stuart has won an impressive number of ultra trail runs.

Only last year, he placed first at the Montane Lakeland 100 miles with a time of 22:17:50, beating his previous first place result in 2010 by nearly two hours.

But the UTMB is one race of a kind and preparing for it takes more then physical fitness, it takes serious mental training.

Find out more about Stuart on his blog.