The RUT VK 2025

Passing and being passed but always trying hard

In September of 2024 my dear friend and climbing partner, Scott Backes, visited us in Montana. His trip coincided with Blair racing the RUT VK so, of course, we went to be her cheer squad at the highest point where spectators are allowed, right before the terrain steepens. To get there we had to hike a bit and damn, for a fleeting few minutes it was like the old days; he and I with our heads down, charging uphill at the limit of what our hearts could take. In that regard it wasn't quite like those old days—20 bpm lower than our peak—but I sure felt our spirits aligned.

Blair came through the mid-station where we waited moving WAY faster than we had to get up there. She was flying and it was truly inspiring. I said as much to Scott then declared that I would do the race the following year, excitedly saying it to him for the accountability. I figured it would be a good test for my ankle, three-and-a-half years after its fusing, to see if it could actually be as good as the surgeon promised. Besides, a foot race uphill with descent by cable car is about the most perfect layout I could imagine for my current condition. It was also one year—practically a lifetime—in the future so whatever my fitness level in that moment, I had time to improve it.

I set a calendar alarm for the registration as the race often sells out quickly. It pinged, I registered, and suddenly I was even more committed. My frequent hikes with Easton in the summer of 2024 helped build back a modest aerobic base and I knew that if I kept it up over the winter and spring, I could add some intensity and a little specificity and it would be good.

The VK starts at the Big Sky base area (7,534') and finishes on the summit of Lone Peak (11,166'). The whole course is uphill and gains 3,600' +/- of elevation in 2.8 miles. Male winners cross the line in 46-47 minutes in a dry year while the women's winning times are in the 53-54 minute range. Some years it snows and the times are correspondingly slower for the full course, or faster because it has been cut short. It's a high altitude mountain event and things can go sideways in a hurry when the weather is bad so the organizers err on the side of caution if conditions are uncertain.

In August 2025 Blair and I had the chance to rehearse the course as part of a "fun run" put on by the race organization. I had hiked the course once in 2021 (carrying a couple of cameras), which chewed through the last cartilage in my left hip so my memory of the day wasn't a sweet one, apart from seeing Blair do her thing and then hiking down with her, Mike Wolfe and Luke Nelson. Those were some good conversations. Anyway, we hiked the "fun run" and I tried hard and it still took a while to get up there. Blair pushed me but not too much, and she believed in me, talked me through it, and I learned firsthand why she is such a good pacer for a runner who is deep into a 100-mile (or longer) race, especially at night. I wasn't thrilled by how my body felt but figured things would be different, and better on the day. Besides, my identity was not invested in performance, not tied to the outcome like it was in the old days, so I was free to do and be whoever I felt like on race day. It was liberating.

Easton was injured so I didn't have a hiking buddy. I told myself the time I took off was in solidarity; I couldn't go without him but maybe it was laziness, and also perhaps both. I did the last 5-6 workouts on a treadmill. The one in our home gym can be inclined up to 40% although I did most of my sessions at 31% for the longer intervals (400-500' elevation gain), and 37% for the shorter, faster ones (100' elevation gain). Some days it took the right music to get me through a session, which made me reminisce about how dependent, and furiously into, crafting the perfect soundtrack I used to be. When I'm out with Easton these days I prefer the soundtrack of nature, the wind and calm, blow-down crackling underfoot, the wildlife, and his crazy, genetic sight hound intensity. I save the music for when I really need it.

Music wasn't necessary on race day. Well, I did curate for my warm-up on the treadmill before we drove to the start line; a little Rachid Taha, the remix of an old Ministry track, and some tasty synth pop off the new Night Drive E.P. Once we reached the starting area, signed in, and pinned the number on my vest the noise around me quieted until it was just Blair and I talking, her expressing her belief in the solidity of my replaced parts, my heart and lungs, and my will. And I knew it would go well. She started her charge up the course to be there when I reached the mid-station, and Meesh took over. She did the 50k in 2022 (among other trail races) and has supported Blair every time she's raced. I felt loved and supported in the good hands of these two best friends.

The course was shortened this year due to construction on the summit of Lone Peak but only by 3/10ths of a mile and 600 vertical feet. When the elk bugle sounded I shuffled out, allowed the crowd to disperse a bit, and then tried to find my pace. Just like the rest of life we are easily affected by what's going on around us and only constant self-interrogation can decipher whether we are going our pace or theirs. A friend taught me that during a time trial I should continually ask, "Am I going hard?" If the answer is yes then I keep doing what I am doing. If the answer is no it's a cue to press harder. So that's what I did, passing and being passed, but always trying hard. And 1:06.24 later I stopped going up.

Terrain at the finish line was still steep, and it was crowded so I turned and cruised quickly down the short (800') descent. My feet and legs knew what to do without conscious thought, the many, many years of rushing down talus were a memory but also ingrained. I let my body loose and felt like I was floating, free of expectation, feeling the welcome of a deep blue sky, with my former identity floating around me but not binding me. All I wanted to do at that point was to find Blair and Meesh who I knew would be near the drop bags. I couldn't wait to tell them what a blast I had, to thank them, and ride the lift down to scarf a Yeti Dog in Trav's honor.

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