Leading up to the Wasatch 100, I was anything but excited about this race. My body felt broken, and the start of this race was less than three weeks (19 days) after I crossed the finish line at Leadville. The general fatigue combined with hamstring soreness had me wondering how I would perform on the multiple, steep mountain climbs.

The abbreviated timeframe that the Grand Slam of Ultramarathon requires – 90 days from start to finish to complete the four, separate 100-mile runs through the mountains – is not reasonable. But, I knew the deal when I signed up… That didn’t change the fact, in the days before the race, I was questioning my life choices. I didn’t want to do the final race. In fact, I was depressed about it.

Despite dreading the race, the people pacing and crewing me were a highlight. Jason Shehane, who I had previously run the Leadville 100 two times and Desert Rats with, along with my friend Chris Wheeler, John Harrison (son), and Catherine (spouse).

I was thankful to get a fairly good night’s sleep leading into race morning. On race morning, I ate some oatmeal and bacon, drank some cold brew, and did a Maurten Bicarb. I knew that if I could get some calories in along with protecting the gut that I would be in better shape later that day. I was anxious, but I always am when I have to run 100 miles.

Jason wasn’t new to this and as fully aware that he was about to have a really long day crewing and pacing and decided to get some sleep while the rest of us headed over to the start line for a 5:00 am start. At the start, I looked around for Tarrance, Phil, or Matt (other Grand Slammers), but didn’t see any of them. It wasn’t long after I lined up, before the race started.

The first 3 miles were rolling hills, but then it got steep and fast. To make matters worse, someone stirred up a HUGE yellow jackets nest while we were on the steep section and there was nowhere to go. Being trapped between drop-offs and people in the Congo line meant I would take over 15 stings before escaping.

One of my teammates would have kidney issues due to this, but thankfully my side effects were limited to pain, swelling, and an increased pulse from the sheer amount of stings and poison. Before long, we made it to the top of that first steep climb. It had been the equivalent climb to a 5K that starts at the bottom of the Grand Canyon and finishes at the top. That climb combined with the yellow jackets and thin mountain air, had left me out of breath. We still had 93+ miles to go and I could see the beautiful Wasatch Mountain range in front of me. That is where I would be spending the next 24+ hours running on steep trails.

From here the trail continued uphill at a reasonable gradient for about a mile and then hit a downhill gradient that would last for a few miles and the views were fantastic! The sun had risen, the pain from the stings was subsiding, and thing were looking good. At 16.6 miles there was a great aid station (Bountiful) and I had a drop bag. I replenished supplies and then tackled the next four or so miles of technical trails.

Then, before I knew it, I was at the Sessions Lift (20.9 mile) aid station. I knew from reviewing the times and course ahead of time, this next section was going to be tough – really tough. Straight out of the aid station, we had a long, steep climb that wouldn’t stop. There was no relief at the top though-I was fully exposed to the noon sun and running up and down along the ridge line. The vegetation looked dried out and that’s how my mouth felt. I would have to start rationing my water before I descended into the Big Mountain Pass aid station with my crew due to the heat. Finally, I could hear and see that aid station far below me. What a relief.

The Big Mountain Pass aid station was my first big milestone. Not only would I get to see my crew for the first time, I would also get a pacer (Jason) here. We took 10-15 minutes to regroup. I was behind on nutrition and hydration and had the beginnings of major blisters. While the temptation is to rush through a stop like this, a few minutes now can save hours or major pain later.

During that section with Jason, he knew exactly what to say. He pushed me to keep rehydrating and eat continuously. Hilariously, at one point we got separated as a runner that looked like me had passed him. We ran a mile or two separated, but then reconnected. The combination of being past peak afternoon heat and having the company of Jason was reinvigorating and this section passed quickly. I was excited to get back to the crew at Lamb’s Underpass (47.5 miles) where I would pick up Chris, but it was a bit depressing to realize the easiest half still wasn’t even done and the sun was already nearing sunset…

Chris would pace me out of Lamb’s Underpass and he was amazing. He knew what to say at the right time. He entertained both my hallucinations as well as my crazy thoughts of the moment. We were making steady progress, but the relentless hills and the high altitude were taking a toll. It was getting difficult to hold down calories and I was operating in a deficient state.

Coming out of that aid station, I began throwing up violently. All of the calories and liquids I had tried to put down had escaped my gut. Now, I knew I was behind on nourishment and would have to dig deep to keep going. Even though I could still taste vomit in my mouth, I forced another Maurtens gel down and then another. Without calories I would fail.

From here, Chris and I had a significant climb out of that aid station and back into the pitch black. This next section would last hours and try our patience. My gut wasn’t cooperating so I was either on the verge of vomiting or throwing up. Slam another gel. The course was beautiful – it was pitch black and we were weaving through the mountains with countless stars above us. I was broken, but there was not an option other than forward!

At Brighton Lodge, I made a conscious choice to not go inside. This ski lodge is known as one of the best aid stations in all of ultrarunning complete with real bathrooms, hot foods, and even beds to lie down on. I didn’t want to tempt myself with comfort. Instead, I sat down in the parking lot and addressed my feet. The blisters were bad, the worst I have ever had. I also tried to force myself to take on calories even though I had thrown up a few times on the previous section – the remaining 30 mountain miles were going to place high demands on the body and fuel was required even if my body wanted to reject it.

The second section that Jason paced me for was absolutely soul-crushing. It was continual climbing and at a point the body just wanted to give out. On that climb, Coach Scott (in Europe) gave Jason a call to let me know that if I was going to finish with the lowest Grand Slam time, I needed to push harder. This was a bit frustrating since I was giving it everything I had.

The only thing slower pace-wise than the huge climb out of Brighton was the technical decent on the other side. The downhill sections were so steep, you had to slow down to 20+ minute pace use trekking poles to prevent falling off the mountain or wiping out. Once we got to some runnable sections, I started pushing the pace to the extent possible and I am still proud of those efforts. I emptied my buck and more on some of those sections.

The race rules don’t allow under 18 years old to pace other than the last eight or so miles. By this point, John Harrison was ready to go! I picked him up at ‘Top of the Wall’ and then we continued through some weird winding canyon trails that were kind of overgrown. The best way to describe this initial section was cow pasture (with cows!) meets the desert. After a few miles, we past an aid station and then exited the fields onto a gravel road. This section would take me the majority of the way back in.

The gravel road would have a long steady climb to it as we worked our way parallel to a beautiful lake. Since I had little knowledge of the course, I didn’t know where it would end and was concerned about wrong turns – I didn’t want to do anything that would add any extra steps at this point!

Finally, after 100 miles, the finish line was in sight! I picked up the pace a bit and finished at 13-minute pace, which felt like I was sprinting. As I crossed the finish line, the announcer recognized me as the first Grand Slammer to finish in 2025 and the winner (lowest overall time) of 2025. The emotion I felt the strongest was relief. I was relieved that it was done. Relief that I could quit running on my blistered feet that were in a TON of pain. Relieved that I had not fallen short of my expectations for myself.

I was the first finisher of the 2025 Grand Slam of Ultramarathoners and had the lowest overall time for the four races of the entire group competing, which is the equivalent of winning the Grand Slam overall. It was done. It’s time to head home.

Already, on the car ride back to the house, I started thinking about the next race. What would I do now?

No finish lines.