Getting Loopy on Long Runs
Plus, why I won't participate in UTMB events
Welcome back and thank you for being here! If you decide to skip this week’s story, please scroll down to read the commentary in this post’s second half.
Hello again, killer root, I said to the tree root that arcs over the Jud Wiebe trail above Telluride. I nicknamed it “killer root” on my third of six times crossing because it looks like a trap designed to catch a passerby’s foot.
The root—which I barely noticed on the first passing—became a landmark and developed a personality in my imagination, as if it played a meaningful role in this route’s drama. Same with two big fallen trees that crossed the trail, which I dubbed Smoothie and Spiky for their surfaces.
Last Saturday, I ran and hiked six laps of this classic 3.4-mile trail on the sunny northside of Telluride. Each lap rises about 1200 feet, to a high point around 10,000 feet. The big uphill climb, combined with undulations along the route, means that six laps total more than 8000 feet of vertical gain and 20 miles.
You might wonder, why? Why cover a beaten path repeatedly—isn’t that the antithesis of adventure? I had a lot of time to ponder those questions and, in the process, to consider the benefits and journeying aspects of lap routes.
I was out there with a loosely organized group, which I wrote about last year, “The Type 2 Fun of a Winter Fat-Ass Run.” This same group inspired me to do the Wiebe laps again. But mainly, I did it because I find long-distance lap routes—be they repeat loops or repeat out-and-backs—surprisingly, perversely satisfying (below, I’ll provide a list of favorites).
When I think of laps, I generally think of a track or a swimming pool. We go round and round the track, or back and forth in the pool, always returning to where we started. It’s a methodical act of exercise and discipline, never wandering out of the lane, never exploring somewhere new. Thoughts wander inside the head, but the body follows a familiar and repetitive route.
Journeys, by contrast, tend to be point-to-point outings that start at one place and end at a destination, or sometimes they are a single big loop that ends where it began (a trip around the world being an extreme example). Journeys imply exploration and discovery of the unfamiliar—an odyssey filled with events and adventure, or perhaps a pilgrimage like the Camino de Santiago with a special, spiritual end point. Each route segment is new and unique.
Given the differences, can laps ever count as a journey? Yes, perhaps they can, I decided while running and hiking those laps on Saturday.
A lap route prompts you to notice details you miss on your first go-around, and thus it becomes a process of discovery. The two times I ran a 24-hour ultra at San Francisco’s Crissy Field—repeating the 1.1-mile rectangular route enough times to accumulate 115 miles at both events—I challenged myself to notice something different on each lap.
I discovered the landscape changes in subtle ways during the day and night, due to the movement of the sun, the movement of people and critters, and other dynamic forces. The area was alive and transforming as I ran around it, something I never before appreciated, just as our bodies are alive and transforming every hour. In this way, each repetitive lap took on unique qualities, if only I noticed them. I felt more immersed and connected to the landscape on those laps than I ever do when running through a place just once.
On the fourth lap of the Jud Wiebe trail, I realized that in spite of all my laps this day and in the past, I still couldn’t say for sure how many benches sat along the way; they all blurred in my mind. Therefore, on the next lap, I counted and studied the four benches and thus got to know them. One memorializes a man named Tom Slocum; one provides a lookout over a plaque for Jud Wiebe; one pays homage to Neil Armstrong; and one, backless, humbly sits with no name. I named it “Rusty” for its rusted legs.
While completing the laps and challenging myself to go one more, I also journeyed in my mind. I let myself stop noticing the surroundings for a bit so that I could space out, as if on autopilot, and let my imagination wander. On lap routes, thankfully, you don’t have to worry about getting lost.
I also invented challenges with my pacing. Lap routes allow you to compare one lap with the others. Could I go a minute faster on this segment? Could I finish the final fatiguing lap within 10 minutes of the time the first fresh lap took?
Some readers may wonder, if I’m a fan of laps, why haven’t I done a “backyard ultra” format with the last-person-standing challenge? Big Dog’s Backyard Ultra and others like it require participants to run a 4ish-mile lap in an hour and then restart together at the top of the hour. That means you could run a 10-minute/mile pace, finish in 40 minutes, and have 20 minutes to rest before the next lap starts. Or you could mostly hike at a 15-minute/mile pace and start the next lap with no break. All that matters is you restart each lap with the group and keep going until you’re the last person standing. Harvey Lewis won last month’s championship backyard ultra with a record-breaking 108 hours and 450 miles (!!!).
You won’t find me at this format of a lap race, however, because I mentally need a predetermined end point, whether it’s 24 hours or, as was the case last Saturday, six laps. Having the end goal in mind motivates me and allows me to budget my pace and energy to do the best I can for that set time or distance. I also don’t like the idea of having to stop and then restart at the top of the hour; I’d rather go at my own flow and take breaks when it feels right.
If lap races intrigue you, these are some I recommend:
Quad Dipsea: Always the Saturday following Thanksgiving, it’s four laps on the iconic 7.1-mile Dipsea Trail in the Marin Headlands. I’m proud that the first time I raced it in 2016, I got the award for the most evenly paced splits. I wasn’t very fast, but I was consistent!
Coastal Trail Runs’ New Year’s One Day on new year’s eve or SF Half Day in July. This used to be the Crissy Field 24-hour event I did twice. Sadly, the new year’s event has moved to San Jose, and the summer event at Crissy Field has been shortened to a half day, because the Golden Gate National Recreation Area no longer allows overnight events. (Rumor has it this permitting restriction is related to Dean Karnazes’s coyote confabulation during a 2022 nighttime ultra in the Headlands, but that’s another story; I tried contacting the GGNRA permitting powers-that-be to ask about it but couldn’t get through to a real person.)
Running Up for Air series of events in CO, UT, MT. These wintertime races with 6-, 12-, and 24-hour divisions feature repeat laps up and down a snowy mountain to raise money and awareness for better air quality (they take place where an inversion area traps pollution, so runners break through the crust of bad air while summiting). I’m registered for the 12-hour event again on Grandeur Peak near Salt Lake City on the first weekend in February!
Some of Aravaipa Running’s events feature repeat loops, most notably the Javelina Jundred 100M/100K featuring laps of approx. 20 miles. I have not run Javelina, but I ran Aravaipa’s Coldwater Rumble, which featured five 20-mile loops in the desert. They’ve changed it a bit—it’s now two 60K loops plus a 40K loop—but it’s still nice and loopy.
Mad Moose’s Canyonlands Ultra that I wrote about last week repeats a marathon-length loop (note: they are dropping the 100M distance for 2024; it will top out at 100K).
If you’ve run a lap route for a long run or an ultra, what’s your favorite and why? Are there any other good lap races here in Colorado? Please comment below.
Why I won’t run or volunteer for UTMB races
I’ve been stewing over the UTMB-Ironman announcement on October 26 that UTMB is launching a new race in Whistler, BC, “coincidentally” taking place near the same September date, and covering much of the same route, as the former Whistler Alpine Meadows ultra directed by Gary Robbins, a well-known and well-liked longtime ultrarunner with stellar credentials. There’s an unproven but widespread perception that UTMB and Vail Resorts colluded to stonewall and squeeze out Gary by making the permitting and other requirements for his race onerous, ultimately to give UTMB access to create a new race in Whistler under their brand. This news set off an outcry far and wide in the sport, and I too chimed in on my Instagram stories.
I’d like to explain why I don’t support UTMB. But first, let’s keep this in context: In this time of war and violence, we should realize what a privilege it is to be able to care about these maneuvers on the business side of our beloved sport.
As I scrolled Instagram to see posts about this kerfuffle and listened to podcasts about it, I kept thinking about my friend Stephanie Case, an accomplished ultrarunner and human rights lawyer who’s in Gaza working for the UN. While we’re posting about UTMB or the Hardrock lottery or sharing scenic photos of our runs, she is posting about international rules of war and sharing dispatches from her boss at the UN about the thousands of civilians killed and the humanitarian crisis. Hopefully, the act of running continues to be a force for peace, as we saw at the NYC Marathon last weekend, where instead of “us vs. them” we witnessed a massive “we.”
Also, I admit that I don’t know the details of this controversy. I don’t know if UTMB or Vail Resorts is the main bad guy or if Gary Robbins screwed up or what (though I am inclined to believe Gary’s version of events). You can glean the details yourself about what went down and who said what; I recommend these sources: Dylan Bowman’s interview with Gary Robbins, iRunFar’s article, Trail Runner’s article, and the first segment of this Trailhead podcast with Corrine Malcom and Buzz Burrell.
Ultimately, however, the details don’t matter that much to me because the fact is, the UTMB-Ironman partnership is creating a monopoly in the sport of mountain/ultra/trail-running events and is changing the landscape, size, economics, and culture of the events we can run, and this alarms me. That’s what I’m here to explain.
Friends don’t let friends run UTMB
I had the chance to run a few special ultras that used to be independent but were bought by UTMB. I loved running the Tarawera 100K, Speedgoat 50K, and Canyons 100K (I ran the shorter race at Canyons but supported coaching clients at the 100K). Each event used to reflect the personality and energy of its race directors—Paul Charteris, Karl Meltzer, and Chaz Sheya. When UTMB acquired these events, however, they became bigger, more professional, and reflected the UTMB brand with their website, their giant blue arches, and the whole ecosystem that UTMB-Ironman has carefully created. They became homogenized and less personal while funneling runners and their dollars toward other UTMB events (more on that below).
This year, UTMB-Ironman took over the Grindstone 100, which attracted a larger number of participants and necessitated a new start/finish area and modified route to accommodate the bigger field. My friend Sophie Speidel, who ran Grindstone in 2008 and ’09 and paced it for the past 10 years, was there to pace her friend Steve Combs, and both she and Steve said the event’s “vibe” had changed under the new ownership.
“There was no awards breakfast as in the old Grindstone era, which was a lovely celebration of the weekend,” Sophie said. “Instead, the Ironman folks started breaking down the finish as soon as the last runner came in at 6:00, and by 8:00 nothing was left. It was depressing.”
Added Steve, “The closer I got to race day and then at check-in the day before, the almost robotic, ‘next-in-line-please’ mentality was clearly apparent.”
Putting aside UTMB’s franchise-corporate vibe, the real problem I have with the series’ growth and their partnership with Ironman is the system they’ve created to incentivize runners to spend a ton of money on entry fees and global travel to run UTMB races, to fulfill the prerequisite for entering UTMB’s sought-after marquee events in July in Chamonix.
If runners yearn to get to UTMB Mont Blanc (the 100-miler or one of the shorter events UTMB produces that week), then they’re going to budget their travel money, race entry fees, paid time off, and the energy to race well for the UTMB-qualifying events and for the big event in Chamonix. They’ll stop signing up to race the independent races that have always been the foundation of our sport’s culture and community. As participation drops, independent race directors will feel additional pressure to partner with UTMB and get their event under the UTMB umbrella.
UTMB-Ironman is doing the same thing with running events as Ironman did with triathlon events, to build hype and rake in money from athletes striving to get to the championship Ironman event in Kona. As described in this article, Ironman bought up a bunch of independent tris and then killed them off when they weren’t profitable enough. “One of the biggest growing pains of our sport will be consolidation under big brands—and what this means for the grassroots ‘soul’ that once defined it,” states the article, writing about triathlon but foreshadowing what will happen to our sport.
The race I wrote about last week is operated by a mom-and-pop outfit. Denise and Justin Ricks, and their two adult-aged kids, run Mad Moose Events, which puts on trail races of sub-ultra and ultra distances around Colorado and Utah. UTMB approached them with interest in buying their most popular event, the Dead Horse Ultra in Moab.
Kudos to Denise, who told me, “Our family discussed and agreed that we’d never sell to them. We built this so we could work together and be together; we weren’t interested in working for them at all. We like our events the way they are, and we are not interested in their model of doing things. We love the culture of our laid-back events and the community that has formed as a result.”
UTMB turned around and bought the Desert Rats Trail Festival in Fruita—in competition with Mad Moose’s events in that region of Colorado—so now runners may be tempted to sign up for the Desert Rats event to earn UTMB “stones” (qualifiers to enter UTMB’s bigger events) instead of, not in addition to, registering for the Mad Moose races.
A spokesperson for UTMB-Ironman argued the point in the Trail Runner article that “there’s room for everyone” and it’s beneficial that runners have more choices of races to run, but I don’t buy that. This is how a monopoly builds, and the choice, diversity, and affordability disappear when the smaller players fail or get gobbled by the big player.
Unlike many of my runner friends, UTMB Mont Blanc is not on my dream list. I am not yearning to make the pilgrimage in July to Chamonix, because of the cost of travel and because I’d rather run a less-crowded race. I’m not a competitive sponsored runner who “needs” to prove myself at the big event. Therefore, it’s easier for me to say “screw UTMB,” but I understand that for many, racing UTMB Mont Blanc is the ultrarunning dream-equivalent of running the Boston Marathon. To them I say, please consider an alternative. Run a non-UTMB race in the Alps, or run around Mont Blanc independently. At least, call on UTMB-Ironman to eliminate their relatively new “stones” system and allow non-UTMB races as qualifiers to their lottery.
Us average runners can boycott UTMB events and support smaller independent ones if we want to keep mountain/ultra/trail running grassroots, diverse, community-oriented, and more affordable while also reducing the carbon footprint of traveling to races. But we have limited influence. Here’s what I’d like to see from the big influencers:
Top runners, take a stand! It would be amazing if Jim Walmsley, Courtney Dauwalter, and other elite sponsored runners said, “no more UTMB” and also pushed back against their sponsors’ pressure to compete at these events. After the UTMB Whistler news broke, Walmsley cryptically titled his Strava run, “So what do we race next year then?” This was widely interpreted as a dig against UTMB. In my view, that’s a pretty weak statement, Jim. Please say loud and clear that you’re done with UTMB, and encourage others to follow your lead.
Western States Endurance Run, please get out of bed with UTMB! The WSER professes to be independent with its own board of directors, its own website, and its own branding, but the fact is, it’s part of the UTMB World Series. RD Craig Thornley and Board, how about backing out of your partnership and publicly stating that UTMB-Ironman’s business model is bad for the long-term health and culture of the sport?
Western States and Hardrock, please follow High Lonesome 100’s example and drop UTMB events as qualifiers. Your lotteries already are beyond overly full, creating a snowball’s-chance-in-hell for the vast majority applicants. UTMB’s large European races (sadly, like European ultras in general) are overwhelmingly male—of UTMB Mont Blanc’s 1789 finishers in 2022, 8 percent were female—thus the huge influx of UTMB finishers entering Hardrock’s and States’ lotteries perpetuates those races’ gender imbalance. You can attract an international field—and hopefully calm the exponential growth of applicants to your lottery—by selecting smaller non-UTMB races from around the globe as qualifiers.
So there you have my more-than-two-cents on the controversy sparked by UTMB launching their Whistler race. Gary Robbins’ Coast Mountain Trail Running plans to start a BC trail race in direct competition with UTMB Whistler next September. You can vote with your entry fees and volunteering hours which you’d rather support.
As longtime ultrarunner and former WSER course record holder Ellie Greenwood put it in her October 26 Instagram post: “I get it, UTMB in Chamonix looks cool and you need to get ‘stones’ from one of ‘their’ races to enter. But please consider if you really want to run UTMB so much that you condone this sort of behavior. … YOU SIGN UP FOR RACES, YOU GET TO CHOOSE IN WHAT DIRECTION YOU WANT OUR SPORT TO GO. Let’s not be bullied by UTMB—they are not guiding our ship, WE the runners are. Money talks, and I will not be spending a dime or any of my time with UTMB. I encourage you to think about where your money and your time will go.”
Bravo, Ellie! I won’t be spending a dime or any of my time on UTMB, either.
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So, as an ambassador for a company that makes lights, belts, and vests I will share this...last week someone w/in our nonpublic FB group (who was less familiar with ultra distances on trails) coincidentally found the new UT Whistler race and wanted feedback regarding it as a introductory race for his indoctrination into the sport. He must have felt like Icarus getting too close to the sun. Those of us in the know were eager to be supportive and helpful to encourage his interest in ultras, but we shared with robust assuredness , this destination race was not the way to go! And though it was not contentious, I think he got the message as he was looking at alternatives. Enough on that...but... people looking at this sport right now, without any background need some mentorship to navigate some of this. I say this not to be pedantic, but more to underscore why the fate of the sport requires some forbearance and open dialog to shed light on why UTMB should be put on notice. It is a watershed moment. Sara, as always, you are deftly sharing asides that are helpful and keen. It is aided by opinions (that we all have, and should share dispassionately) that come from personal and professional sensibilities. Much like Megan Hicks has reported on IRUNFAR.
Anyway, openly sharing on the processes, ethics,, etc, on the overtures UTMB and Vail collaborated on are worthy of some ink. Firstly, most opinions I have encountered have been disciplined. From my campfire, what I see, are people that care deeply about the sport, its future, and are attempting to find clarity to sustain growth. Most place a priority to do as much as we can to not compromise RDs organizing small venues at a grass root levels and bandwagon that same amt. of support for larger scale entities like J Coury's events that (now are bi-coastal) have more media rich coverage. Even when you take in account a bias most of us have to a well-known and highly regarded source like Gary Robbins (I just know him from Barkley and a few on air interviews w/Ginger Runner a while back) the discussion is not malice based. It is warranted though and it is in response to the disproportioned resources Ironman can bring to bear. It is a meta-view on issues that are critical. Like everyone that pricked up their ears once this story dropped, I wanted to get some balanced reporting first on the Whistler fallout, esp. since I see growth as good. I know how sponsorships help the athletes I like to follow (and elites that are my friends are part of my bias, frankly). I am on the side of boycotting UTMB all said, but that is fluid and not deeply embedded...there are opportunities for this to be a teachable moment to reform what is going on and speak out in the interim to get the rudder re-set ultimately. Until then, UTMB is a pariah and fair game to get shunned. It would be unprecedented for major players and businesses to get involved though. I dont think the elites have much they can do, it's a thin sampling of folks. Consumers have more power to post up and defend the opposition. And that starts with letting the companies that profit from it know. The races are easy to find, as are open trails any day of the week, so that is a bit of a diluted impact. That said, and let's be honest, if you have a pair of Hokas, Altra, or Salomons in your closet (or whatever floats your boat) and profit from advancements in the quality of the product well, that is a matter of health and safety. Real difficult "ask" to put some pressure and impact on an industry that depends on volume of sales keep running on them to gain traction on this UTMB issue. And trail running is a niche, so it is a quandary concurrent to a tenuous juggling act (esp. post pandemic) to keep legacy races intact and sustain them. Yikes.
It complicates the goal I hear most speaking out on, espousing and searching out a way forward to bring people together. And doing so locally and at destination events that build a consensus where ultra and subultra trail running is your why! So important and empowering. It binds us. But it will take time and some tone deaf events like Whistler to fix our sights on long term growth hopefully not at the expense of more RDs like Gary. This is too long winded...sorry. I have a lot on my mind outside of this too...election forecasts for next year (WTF), looking for bright spots etc. friends experiencing setbacks in more profound life events...it blunts issues like this but I care about running. It is my constant polestar so I wont hesitate to support anyone that is part of the grand pursuit of lacing shoes to shake it out. No qualifications needed to put some thought into something that elevates us so I am forever on the SLS team eager to hear or read on this subject w/o reservation. True, the need to be self critical and be aware of global problems is a priority, well-stated, and I am totally onboard. But your readers know the quality of your character and it is never in doubt. Best of the best. But, as I tend to bury the point more than 6 feet under, in closing, events that celebrate and unify us should inspire us to share since that is what enriches us. The reciprocal effect of it is this, it is what will sustain us in the long run...and now, Mark is out of O2....gasp! And I am not proofing this so if I hit send and I biffed on the grammar, my bad...
Loved this post. I ran a looping 100 this year as it was “convenient” after a “adventurous” mountain 100 DNF. Surprisingly, I enjoyed the loops. Like you mentioned the different times of day spiced it up and in the end I still ran into bears, felt challenged and had hallucinations which kept it interesting.
Next up for me is a non UTMB race in Europe which uses ITRA points, a system that UTMB ditched. I am fortunate as the UTMB CCC that I ran in 2020 was the last year before the Ironman conglomerate took over. There are plenty of beautiful alternate mountain races in Europe and the rest of the world.