MIUT 2026.
Writing this one on the plane back home for my boy Finn Melanson who told me my blog is his favorite piece of writing in the sport. Finn, I hope you mean that and don’t say it to everyone in an attempt to get them to write more.
Not to state the obvious, but the problem with not racing a lot in a year is you don’t race a lot so every race feels like a high-stakes moment to perform at your very best. I suppose that is not really a problem and you should race at your best lining up, but it takes a lot of things (in fact, everything) to go right these days to really show your potential. That’s a tall order and I have so much respect for everyone who seemingly can show up every single time and knock it out of the park. If you actually talk to them though, I bet they would say a lot went wrong and it wasn’t perfect even though they it might have looked like it.
I felt very ready to have a best day for me at MIUT, and I think I raced like it. I felt focused, confident, and the most fit I felt in a couple years, maybe ever. Obviously things didn’t come together in the end and actually no one is to blame but myself. Although mad at myself, I do feel very at peace with all of it because it’s all low-hanging fruit to solve the next time around. The bummer part is that is already one X on the board in a year with not many opportunities laid out for myself, but these days I’d rather show up very fit with minimal interruptions to training than show up often.
I will say, racing in the mountains, racing in the mountains in Europe, it all feels like a very different sport. A lot of what I learned, worked to get better at, and ultimately excelled at through competing at runnable, fast US races doesn’t really seem to apply and I feel like I’m at square one here. When you’re doing this professionally, it feels pretty dumb to voluntarily opt to be a beginner again when you know there is a proven avenue in the sport for you that you could be successful in, make money, and make sponsors happy with podiums.
Sure I think about it, and yes I definitely have self-doubt I can be good at this type of racing without any actual results to prove it - the best being 9th at UTMB last year. It doesn’t discourage me though. This is something I genuinely really want to be good at, and believe I have the skills to be good at with enough reps and specificity. In fact, fast trail running in the US is actually hard to believe I’m any good at. I definitely don’t have elite speed or a ridiculous threshold. Never did. I never broke 35 in the 10k, 16 in the 5k, 4:35 in the mile, etc.
I do spend a lot of time in the mountains and can go all fucking day though. I know this is the type of racing I should be better at and where I can really see my potential. It will just take some time to get used to. I mean it took almost 6 years after my first 100k to finally win a Golden Ticket race and 4 tries at States to really race it and podium. I hope I can develop a little quicker than that given I’m 30 now and it’d be nice to have some results coming in to still make me feel like a competent pro, but if not whatever. When I really think about it, winning UTMB at 35 would still be pretty fucking sick. I believe I can get there quicker though, and for some reason other people do too. I’ll take it.
Ultrarunning is running at the end of the day though. Whoever fatigues the least from the early pace throughout the day wins. But what makes our sport unique is that every single race is different so preparation requires specificity towards the demands of the course and environment. With the right intention, there is no reason the former road/track runner can’t do UTMB well, and the lifetime mountaineer can’t win Western States. The best in our sport prove that they can win both. It just takes time and focus.
I have a lot of very important takeaways from MIUT I will get into, but the real win here is remembering what it feels like to be confident in a race and confident in my preparation. It’s very empowering lining up knowing you’re super fit. I’m not really sure why but I did not feel that way at all last year, which ultimately made me dread racing. I remember every race week I wished I had an extra day to prepare before the race. As if that extra day would flip how my legs felt or calm down my mind a little more. Really no amount of days would’ve made me feel better.. I was just so nervous to fail and didn’t believe in myself or my prep.
Race week this time around felt different. I couldn’t wait to start. I was super antsy and curious about what the legs had in them. 2024 in Olympic Valley I remember feeling the same in the days leading up to States. My legs were buzzing to do something big and I was so over visualizing how the day would pan out. I just wanted to run.
MIUT definitely turned into a rollercoaster of emotions for me, which is never a good thing racing in my opinion. It was eventful and I’ll never forget it, but I do think you need to be a soulless robotic vessel in a race to stay engaged from start to finish and execute well. I will break the race down into the following sections:
Porto Moniz to Fanal (KM 0 - 12)
Fanal to Chaoa dos Louros (KM 12 - 44)
Chaoa dos Louros to Pico Ruivo (KM 44 - 69)
Pico Ruivo to Machico (KM 69 - 115)
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Porto Moniz to Fanal (KM 0 - 12)
I was definitely most nervous for the start of this race. After previewing it, I knew this steep road start would be fast. I was worried of losing the group and missing the train but also worried about running into threshold. I guess my solution was to go to the front and set the pace myself because that’s what I did. My heart rate stayed control and the legs had the right pop up the climb. I thought about it a bit and realized this kind of stuff would be my relative strength compared to the rest of the field so might as well use it. I had been doing most of intervals in training on steeper, non-technical road and fire road so I felt right at home.
I lead the first 10k through steep roads and steps and into the jungle-like hiking climb up to the enchanted forest or whatever it’s called. It all felt very controlled and I felt quite competent hiking too since Vincent was running the climb to keep up with me. Everything was feeling great and stuck to drinking 1L per hour as well and sipping on my gel flask.
My takeaway here is that I like setting pace. I like not thinking about what is happening in front of me. It keeps me much more calm and focused on my own effort. The lead group was all right there behind me and ended up blowing by me at the aid station while I took my time to fill up my bottles.
Fanal to Chaoa dos Louros (KM 12 - 44)
It took a couple miles on rolling terrain to catch back up to the front group, but all very relaxed without much pushing. I felt good descending the steep, wet, technical stairs and caught up to Tyler who was in 2nd. He was descending very well so I stuck to his feet while we chatted away, built a gap on the rest of the group, and proceeded to hunt down Vincent in 1st through the night. We both agreed that this was the highlight of the race for both of us. It really felt effortless working together - he lead the descent, I lead the climb and all at a conversational pace. We eventually caught Vincent a third of the way up the climb to Estanquinhos and felt like we were just building the gap bigger and bigger.
I was starting to notice I really wasn’t sweating as much as I thought I would be. It had been so humid the week leading up to the race I figured I would be sweating a similar rate as those runs. The weekend prior I noticed I was getting cramps even from drinking 2 bottles per hour, so I figured my sweat rate and sodium loss was a little higher than that. I decided to add 200mg sodium in all my flasks to compensate for that but I don’t think my taste buds were used to what that would be like. My hands were also starting to swell a bit which was a tell tale sign I might have been overdoing it. Between my gels and bottles I was taking in about 1100mg sodium per hour. For reference, my concentration from testing sits close to 1200mg/L. I assumed at the very least I would be sweating 1L an hour in the humid yet cool, overnight conditions, but I just don’t think that was the case.
In any case, you shouldn’t really be replacing sodium 1:1 anyway since you have stores. Rookie mistake bro. This ultimately lead to 2 things through the night on the descent down from Estanquinhos - some stomach bloating that felt like early-onset nausea, and palette fatigue from the taste profile over the over-sodiumed bottles. Putting anything in my mouth induced the nausea chills I’m way too familiar with now and I was really not willing to go down that road again.
Tyler and I were still hammering away together on the descent, although a little quieter at this point. Once we started climbing up to Chaoa dos Louros, it became clear I was running a little low on energy from barely eating the previous hour so I started to get dropped. I came into the aid station about 30 seconds back from Tyler determined to catch back up and work together since I heard a group not too far behind on the climb. I knew I had to get back to drinking so I washed out my drink mix bottles with just water, but I stubbornly chose not to eat anything at that aid.
When I look back at the race, I think if I made that decision to try some solid, bland food there it could have all been different. My stomach felt fine, it was all just sweet profiles that were near impossible to get down. I didn’t know this at the time though and I was worried any food at all would turn it all upside down.
Chaoa dos Louros to Pico Ruivo (Mile 27 - 45)
I left in a rush hoping to maintain 2nd and not get caught but as the climb got steeper and steeper it was clear I was really truly bonking. Like so classically low-glucose out-of-body bonking. In the dark too, I think I was actually very close to having those hallucinations I mentioned wanting to experience. I was definitely getting visuals and felt like a ghost out there at times. It wasn’t long before Aurelian and Gautier caught me in the last half of the climb. Aurelian hit me with a “this is just like Western States , huh Rod” as he signposted me. I couldn’t help but laugh. I’m a total fish out of water out here but I kind of love it.
I can’t tell you the last time that has happened to me in a race. Usually it’s the opposite - eating too much - but to be underfueled like that, it felt like the young version of me going out for long runs without any nutrition. In a way, it filled the cup and brought the spirit of this sport I was so intrigued by back for me. That out of body experience is so unique and fun to experience, just ideally not in a race.
It did get to the point that it was actually pretty dangerous. Topping out the climb as the sky was starting to lighten, I completely lost my depth perception and was not able to take some steps correctly on some of the more exposed terrain. I forced a tiny bit of gel at a time, and even though it gave me the chills once touching my taste buds, it seemed to sit in my stomach just fine. This is when I realized I could turn it around, I just needed new, non-sweet taste profiles.
Every lick of gel was nectar from the gods, and even the smallest amount would bring me back to life for 5 minutes at a time. So many bonks and resurrections on this descent back to crew. I ultimately dropped back to 7th place here but I knew if I could eat at aid, I would move back up. Podium felt like a stretch but top 5 felt very doable. We say it all the time, but it hits way harder experiencing it first hand - you can’t have a low in a high-competition race anymore and expect to get on the podium, let alone win. You really need banger, perfect days which is so much to ask for. But it does make it that much sweeter when it happens.
The bright side in all of this is that I was not blown up. The legs were there despite the hot early pace. I knew I had the fitness and I knew if I could get back to sustained fueling I could catch back up to people after the final climb when it got runnable. I was already thinking about what I would say back to Aurelian when I signposted him back: “Just like Western States bud!”
Reaching Keith in Nuns Valley was a huge relief. I knew what I needed too, so it was a relatively quick stop. We swapped mix in the bottles for just water and I ate some potatoes and bread that brought me straight back to life. The mistake here was not taking some bread to go though as I made it about 2/3 up the climb to Pico Ruivo before bonking again and being unable to take in my gels. Forced sipping brought me to the aid station at the top of the climb where I loaded up on bread squares and cheese cubes. I laughed thinking about how much work I put into my nutrition the past few years to not be resorted to doing stuff like this, but at least it worked. The energy came back, the legs felt relatively fresh, and I was motivated to roll the last 35k to the finish.
Pico Ruivo to Machico (Mile 45 - 71)
And then the heartbreak. It’s hard to even sit and remember the details here. I get mad at myself every time I do. The course was well-marked, I really don’t know how I missed this turn. Also what are the odds the trail I took was part of another race that weekend (either the 80k or 56k). That is why I kept going. My watched beeped at me telling me I was going the wrong, but the trail was marked with the exact same orange flags as the rest of the course. Tommy mentioned at the start line that the final GPX was updated that night and sent out so I figured I just had the previous version GPX downloaded and the course was updated to go this way.
I remember being so laser-focused on catching someone on this stretch until my phone started ringing 3k down the trail from the intersection, which I almost didn’t answer. It was in my belt thought so I at least took it out to see who it was - Keith. When he told me I was going the wrong way I denied it and said I’m following flags. Equally confused, he asked me if Tommy had passed me then because he made it to aid station. I said I haven’t been passed and that’s when I swallowed the reality pill.
Wow I was angry. To overcome so many punches and still feel in the race, to now knowing I was probably an hour behind was inexplicably crushing. To make it even worse, I had a steep climb back up to the missed turn that had me walking, feeling helpless and sorry for myself. Of course I thought about dropping. What was the point at the end of the day. It felt like 5th place was my bare minimum for a successful day and that clearly was not going to happen. I think if it were a more local race, I probably would have dropped. But I talked myself into sticking in it since I’m all the way out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and I have nothing better to do anyways.
I finally made it to the crewed aid station and Keith told me about 10 people ran by since my predicted time. That was tough to hear. This day had so many emotional swings that it was really hard to motivate to push hard. I still went and ran what felt like an honest effort to the end, picking off 7 people in the final 18 miles but it was one of the more unsatisfying finishes I ever had.
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I mentioned earlier doing these races make me feel like a total beginner again. Between the nutritional issues, fueling with aid station snacks, and the wrong turn, that statement could not feel more true. Nothing I could do about the wrong turn so I’m pretty done talking about that and just accepting that is what happened and I will die before I make one again, but I want to dive into the nutrition piece a little more.
Two years ago, around this time of year even (post-Canyons) I felt like a master in nutrition and feel like I got that reputation around the block too. Of course, everything I learned at the time was from Vic so I felt like a bit of an imposter, but I did feel like I had a very informed, physiology-based understanding of my fueling needs.
>I did sweat tests
>I weighed myself before and after runs in different conditions calculating fluid loss
>I found products that sat well with my stomach and pushing carb totals with them
>I even matched fucking blood osmolality
I’m realizing what worked well for me then doesn’t now. What I’m trying to figure out is if my gut has changed, if I completely bombed it that year eating so much sugar, or if these style mountain races warrant a different strategy.
In rolling-style terrain races, like Canyons and Western States, I think you can more or less get away with fueling at a consistent rate throughout the whole race and expect to be burning a similar amount of energy the entire time. You also have crew so often so it becomes very easy to carry your nutrition from aid station to aid station and not have to think about when or how much to eat. It’s simple, you just finish what is in the vest by the time you see your people.
With long climbs, long descents, technical terrain that slows you down, different temperatures and humidities on higher altitude ridge-tops vs valleys, I just don’t think that is the case in these mountain races and I need to figure out my needs from square one. Add in evening start times, night running, and caffeine-intake and it really is its own calculus that doesn’t follow any of the guidelines of fueling runnable races.
I know my fitness is there to compete, I know my skillset is made for this stuff too, but I’m just going to be brutally honest with myself and you all and say I don’t have a single thing figured out in the nutrition category for these types of races. I have some homework to do and some professionals to speak with.
My goal heading into UTMB is to project the course to an absolute T. I am going to have a fueling plan catered to every climb, every descent, every flat section and memorize it like a playbook. If MIUT taught me anything it is that there is no coming back from a low moment. Not if you want to win. And I do. I really do.
Here is what I know that can still apply:
> My sodium concentration. I am a salty sweater.
> My carb v fat consumption at certain flat paces, with GAP conversions.
> My palette has become more sensitive to high quantities of sweet stuff.
> I can run well on solid foods.
> I need to minimize drink mixes in my hydration.
It is ok to be a beginner again. That just means low-hanging fruit to capitalize on. Honestly it is exciting. Two years ago, I identified a similar issue in a different context and had my biggest breakthrough ever in just months. The key is to let go of the ego and go on that never-ending quest to be better. Onwards!
2026 Madeira Island Ultra Trail - 11th Place, 14:24:27
