UTMB 2025.
Ultrarunning was never about winning big races or becoming a pro for me up until the last couple years. Before then, it was always about doing something I wasn’t sure I could do. It was about self-discovery and taking on challenges that sounded impossible. I loved the idea of reaching a point where I thought I physically could go any further, and then still making it through. Those were the moments that mattered. Not winning Golden Tickets, not landing on the podium at Western States or UTMB. Those things come as a result of the overall curiosity around racing the distance. At a certain point, when you know you can go the distance, you want to see how fast you can do it, and sometimes if you are lucky enough and all other factors play in your favor, that will have you elbow to elbow competing for the win.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot this is what has always driven me. Somewhere along the way, I became obsessed with the results on paper and nothing else mattered. I don’t blame myself for losing touch. It feels good to get attention all of sudden. It feels good when people believe in you being the fastest person on the start line. It all feels like the decade+ of hard work and sacrifice was all worth it. Why would you not want to keep feeling good by continuing to be at top?
While I don’t blame myself for feeling the validation and wanting more of it, I do blame myself for thinking I could all of a sudden skip a bunch of steps just because I had a couple good races. The sport takes time. Winning takes time. I won once on the big stage. I then got second once on the biggest stage. Big deal. I don’t think that really means anything. I, and I think a lot of people, took that to mean that I should be on the podium at every race I line up at, which is just insane. Sure, I had great days and proved that I have what it takes, but I think a lot of luck and favorable circumstance went into those days too, which actually rarely happens. What I thought I learned from those good experiences are misleading. What I really learned can only be seen when I look at the bad experiences that followed after.
What I know and truly believe now is that I’m not special and that there are a lot of runners just like me out there. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t win, and that doesn’t mean that they can’t win either. I think that there are people in this sport that are special generational talents and can win any race under any conditions. I am not one of those people and I am not trying to be. I am someone who under the right conditions, with enough meticulous attention to detail, with perfect execution, and just a bit of luck around who shows up and how they execute, has the chance to win some of the biggest races in the world. I can only do what I can. I think it will be rare that it does work out for me, but once in a while the stars can align and it will happen and it will be freaking awesome.
I guess the point is, none of that is the point. Or at least it’s not my point. It might be other peoples’ points for me but I’m done caring about that. This year’s UTMB was so special for me, not because of any result, but because it restored my love for the game and the reason why I keep showing up and racing. The goal will always be to put myself in a good position to compete for the win, but if my game is off early and it’s not happening, that doesn’t change anything. I am still there to find out if I have what it takes to get it done and how fast I can do it. The primary battle will always be against myself.
This year’s UTMB wasn’t just about the race for me either. I arrived in Chamonix in mid-July, definitely still upset about States. I felt like I had no confidence in my ability to compete again and overall felt a loss in my identity. I know that racing shouldn’t be a part of my identity, but let’s be real… it is. I don’t think I need to lean into it that much and wear it on my sleeve like a douche, but it’s very present. More or less, my entire life is planned around races and while I don’t think I need to put any unnecessary added pressure on myself because of that, I think it’s ok to be self-aware that this much more than just a hobby, passion, or job. It is who I am… so when I felt a doubt around my ability to compete at a high level again, it definitely took me for an existential trip. But then throughout my time in the Alps, I started running with my peers who seemed to really not give a shit and saw me exactly the same as before. In fact, some people even just assumed I did well and congratulated me. Turns out not everyone watches the entire livestream nor even check the results. Guess what, you’re not that important.
I owe a lot of the quick mental turnaround and renewed confidence in myself to my friends and teammates who I deeply look up to. Their energy and conversation throughout those 7 weeks this summer took me out of a very sad and dark place. I don’t think I would’ve bounced back so quickly if it were back home in Mammoth training this summer… both because I would have been mostly training solo feeling bad about myself and because this place and the California bubble in general just reminds me so much of Western States. It’s hard to escape and I needed to leave it.
All of that to say, I came into UTMB feeling happier than I have in honestly as long as I can remember, which is just so crazy considering how sad I was two months prior. Throughout the summer, I allowed myself to look within, allowed myself to have fun and open up to others. train hard and believe my best day is right around the corner, and be excited for whatever outcome were to unfold during the race. I feel lucky because I could have very easily have been in an entirely different headspace driven by anger. Arguably, that could be a helpful mindset to have as well during a race but I’m not sure I actually believe that. Not in a race like UTMB where the competition is primarily against yourself and pushing through inevitable low moments of suffering through the night. I think you need a deep belief in yourself in those moments that starts with love and respect. You can’t fight yourself in those moments or you will lose down the road.
I lined up this year with a curiosity for those moments. While you can’t be prepared for what you don’t known, you can be prepared to experience the unknown. I was prepared and I was excited. I didn’t have some “bulletproof” plan that was scientifically proven to work. I just had belief that I was going to hit some real low moments and I have the tools to get myself out of them. The fluidity of that plan actually provided me with the least stress I’ve felt in a long time before an ultra.
Ultimately, what I’m most proud of from this day is also what I’m most disappointed about. I noticed early I was struggling to keep up with the early pace set by the leaders on the climbs, most likely from not feeling totally recovered from States. Instead of forcing it and digging myself into a hole, I let the group go and ran my own pace just like I told myself I would. A few gear mishaps, falls in the rain, and waves of sleepiness, put me back a bit further than I wanted to be by Courmayeur, but ultimately I was able to move up all day, squeeze everything out of myself, and finish 9th. Top 10 here is something to be proud of although I can’t help but think what I could have done if I raced a bit earlier and stuck with the group. What I’ve decided is that I’m done coming to this race compromised. The most competitive hundred in the world deserves to have my whole focus. I’m proud of how far I’ve come with the cards I’ve lined up with but something tells me I can do better. Race recap divided into 4 sections below.
Chamonix to Les Contamines (Mile 0 - Mile 21)
Les Contamines to Courmayeur (Mile 21 - Mile 52)
Courmayeur to Champex-Lac (Mile 52 - Mile 80)
Champex-Lac to Chamonix (Mile 80 - Mile 108)
Section 1: Chamonix to Les Contamines (Mile 0 - 21)
I really never gave myself a chance by never being in the mix early - a mistake I first set out to correct about a year and a half ago after Black Canyon (read my first blog for more details). Ironically, this is exactly what I told myself to do and I wonder if that was just from fear or a lack in confidence in myself after WSER. Either way, I stuck to my plan which was to not feel like I was racing until after what I consider to be the halfway point - Grand Col Ferret. I suppose I’m more upset that I just couldn’t hang onto the front group pace up Col de Voza in the first place without feeling like I was racing. I doubt a lot of guys up there were working that hard (although I’m sure some did) but they were easily climbing away from me. My legs, calves especially, felt cooked despite feeling mostly ok in training. My guess would be that fatigue was the Western States effort in me and a result of jumping immediately back into training. Things might feel fine in training, but sustained race pace is different. I think I’ve disrespected the WSER/UTMB double for a while now but I’m really starting to understand why it’s difficult to compete at the front for both. Sure you can do both decently, but competing to win takes a lot more out of you both physically and mentally.
Bad legs forced me way back in the beginning, maybe into the mid-30s, and doing the last mile of Col de Voza with Courtney - a cool experience to share with the GOAT but not where I imagined myself being. To make it worse, my frozen hands at the top of the climb made it impossible to close and fold one of my poles. I was stopped for close to two minutes at the top of the climb until I eventually gave up and accepted I would be running with 125cm fixed poles in my hands all night and day. Luckily Stephen Kersh (my best friend from blog number 2) caught up to me on the descent to St. Gervais and offered to help get them unstuck. He was successful, but at this point I was way back, maybe around 50th place. By now in my head I had lost hope of being able to win, but I still believed a top 5 was in the cards.
Section 2: Les Contamines to Courmayeur (Mile 21 - 52)
I made up places to Les Contamines and then caught Ludo just before Notre Dame de la Gorge. I felt like I was in a good place sticking with him, but up the climb to Bonhomme I experienced the same calf fatigue and decided to let the guys who put the power in ‘power hiker’ go. I hit a real low patch as it got cold up the climb but woke up a bit as I rolled up on Hayden at the summit, leading me to believe the front couldn’t be that far ahead.
This was a descent I would’ve loved to push but struggled with the same pole issue as before. I yo-yo’d between fast surges down to chase the headlamps in front of me, and easing up to try to fold down my pole. I was definitely bridging but then my headlamp strap loosened and began to bounce all over the place. Between managing the pole and the headlamp with cold hands, I finally ate shit in the mud and took a minute to get up. And that really seemed to be the story of the first half of the race for me… just as I would start to feel good and get momentum, something would happen that would cost me time and all the effort it took to bridge to a group - pole malfunction, headlamp strap breaking, watch saving in the middle of the activity, needing to poop and dealing with subsequent itchy butthole chafe, tripping and falling, gloves ripping from said trip and fall, headlamp dying, putting on jacket right before a gear check and then having to take it off again to get my pack off - all the way to Lac Combal.
I experienced my biggest low up Col de Seigne, as I’m sure many people did. Despite feeling amazing for the couple miles of douche grade out of the Les Chapieux aid station, the rest of the climb turned out to be a total death march. Rain started coming down hard and sideways from the winds. As I would turn into it and be forced to close my eyes I became extremely sleepy. Frozen hands made it difficult to locate my caffeine gel flask so it took some time to turn the sleep demons around. I think I got passed by 5-10 people up the climb and was sent back to 40th place or so.
A lot of negative self talk came into my head at this time. I wondered why I was out there and I couldn’t believe I was about to be someone who dropped out of WSER and UTMB in the same summer. It was a constant battle with myself to get to the top, one that was often won with three simple words to myself: “Be strong, Rod”. Shit was jet fuel. Short-lived, but it got me to the top as snow accumulated underneath us. I’ve never been one for mantras but I guess I’ve never tried either. It was important to remember I was just being a soft little bitch and I had a lot more to give. Things turned around even more for me descending to Lac Combal when I caught up to Francois, again believing that the front could not be that far if he’s right here in front of me.
Section 3: Courmayeur to Champex-Lac (Mile 52 - 80)
I felt super strong descending down to Courmayeur and came into the aid station in 25th place, 20’ off the lead. Spirits were high seeing Corrine despite only hanging out for 5 minutes. I had my best legs ever all the way to Grand Col Ferret where I picked up another 10 places and moved into 15th, sipping Red Bull in a flask along the way. I climbed strong to Bertone, remembering how sleepy I have been here in years past, and ran the entire balcony trail to Arnouvaz, continuing to climb strong into Switzerland.
Nothing much of note from La Fouly to Champex-Lac. I stayed steady, clicked off some sub 8 miles, and continued to take in caffeine as much as I could.
Section 4: Champex-Lac to the Finish (Mile 80 - 108)
I was able to keep pushing to Trient and eventually came in at 10th place. Looking at the pace, I wasn’t doing anything special despite feeling good, others were just fading. Based on updates I was getting I felt like I had a shot at continuing to move up all the way to 7th but I hit my first low in nearly 50 miles up Tseppes and down into Vallorcine. I got my first sensations of nausea all day, likely from overdoing it on caffeine, and was not able to fuel much to rest of the way to the finish. Broth kept me alive at the Vallorcine aid station, but the legs were pretty cooked, especially descending.
Jiaju Zhao came into the Vallorcine aid station right before me and left about a minute in front of me. I was back into 10th but I quickly caught him within the first mile of leaving to Col de Montets. He proved to have a lot of fight in him though as he really never gave up trying to catch me. I was also getting updates that Shen was fading in front of me, so despite feeling like absolute ass-death I was motivated by keeping my 9th place and potentially getting 8th.
I ran into a lot of friends climbing up to Flegere that really kept me alive and going, running much more of the climb than I thought I had in me. Descending down into Chamonix was the most painful thing I’ve ever done but I looked back a few times and I noticed more and more random people hopping on my train each time. I got sent a video of me running down after the race and there must have been close to 10 people I’ve never met in my life running with me down the grade cheering me on. I don’t remember it at all but I’ll also remember it forever.
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I can be satisfied with a 9th place finish in a brutal year like that. At the end of the day, it is improvement. I’ve finished 22nd and 17th in the past. Progress is progress and as I mentioned earlier, I can’t just skip a bunch of steps and expect to be at the top just because I had a couple of exceptional races. I am not anywhere near the talent level of others and that is ok. I just need time and reps, which are what have gotten me this far in the first place. I think I needed a solid, well-executed UTMB under my belt before I feel like I can just go send it. Now I know the tools it takes to do able to do it. If I look at my WSER progress-arc, it’s similar. In 2023 I had a steady, smart, no-drama experience where I moved my way through the field into M11 before deciding I was ready to send it in 2024. Maybe next year is the year for me at UTMB too.
If anything, I leave Chamonix this year understanding that I am probably one of the more experienced people in the mountains and that being fresh could be the key to unlocking what I am capable of around the loop. I was once arrogantly obsessed with figuring out the WSER/UTMB podium double, which I now find hilarious because I haven’t even come close to podiuming at UTMB yet and now understand the kind of fitness, precise preparation, and freshness is required to compete up there. Why don’t we secure the podium at UTMB first, then try to think about the double-podium as an exciting challenge?
I’ll end this wordy reflection with something from the beginning of my time in the Alps this summer. Around the end of July, I had the privilege of giving a lecture (via Zoom) to the high school cross country runners at Humboldt Distance Running camp - a summer running camp I attended every year with my high school cross country team that dramatically influenced me to be the endurance athlete / borderline addict I am today. In a Q and A I was asked, “What is one thing you know today that you wish you knew in high school?” My response was: “Racing is not a test, it is only an opportunity.”
There are only things to be gained from going out and pushing yourself to the limit, nothing lost. You are not on display to be judged or graded. No matter the outcome, you only inspire. I know this now, but I’m ready to start believing it.
2025 UTMB - Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc - 9th Place, 21:18:24
