Ultra X Nevada, and how it changed the RD (Part 1)

Alright. Ultra X Nevada's launch last week - where do I start? I'll write one of my more boring "lessons learned and how to improve as an RD" posts later on, but right now is the time for pure heart.

I will share only one photo for now - the rest can and should be found by following Ultra X on your social media platform of choice as the photos and video are absolutely spectacular and put my modest phone camera eye to shame.

This event was a few imaginary superlatives I told myself as the race approached - The most complicated race launch in North America, the most complicated small race in the same, the most audacious concept ever to take place on trails in such a populated area, etc etc.

Whether or not any of these are true, I don't know.

What I do know is, this was the most spectacular experience that I have been at the core of creating of my professional career, topping the previous record holder, the Rochester Indie Music Fests of 2009-2010.

When Mark Topham Sam Heward Jamie Sparks and team approached me in January of 2023, I imagine one of the first things I said to them was "You know I'm not an Ultra RD, right?" But I was and remain positively stricken at the magic and vision of what they have created, and told them that I WAS passionate about showcasing what makes people and places special and would love to find them a home here in America - with their support and the support of amazing passionate locals in the Trail community like Ryan Cooper, we would figure it out.

What ensued was a wild storm of 18 months - an informal graduate seminar in Land Management, a Hurricane washing out and forcing changes to our course, more reading of contracts and permits and insurance than I ever care to do. And thankfully, of a lot looking at, mapping, and running on amazing trails. An ongoing teaser was photos captioned "What am I doing, and why is it tax deductible?" Totally awesome and a terrifying dream to combine what I love in my free time, and what I am good at (which luckily I also generally love).

In the end, we had a most spectacular 2 weeks full of staff and volunteers from Britain, what I lovingly call "the most overqualified race medical team in history" led by Dr. Jess Patterson from Temple University and with spectacular doctors from all over the country, and a few great US friends that I've picked up in my years in the industry.

I would love to say that my obsessive (go ahead Brits, roll your eyes) detail made everything perfect. But of course, it didn't. There were hiccups and lessons learned - some of which I may some day generalize without much detail for posterity - but the team rallied to solve every problem and every day we came together around the campfire and thought about what to do better the next. On the whole I was incredibly stressed, but as the week went on had the least stress-per-hour I could imagine. So to say, I slept well in my tent every night looking out at the stars and excited for the next day. By Friday, we were a well-oiled machine and I sat in Red Rock on the sat phone and WhatsApp without a real care or worry in the world. And I'm glad, because the view was spectacular.

And besides staff I have to mention - mind-blowing scenery and over 40 great participants from around the world. (more on that later).

But first along with it, building this race brought my own re-awakening - I've fallen into hustling all over the country for the last few years, and with it while the money was good (and necessary Post-COVID), I was getting positively burnt out, never healing from Achilles/ankle problems, watching my weight slowly creep up as hiking was passionate but sporadic, etc.

1 year out from the event , after working the Run Course at Kona my mind and body were burnt out and broken as I forced myself to climb Mauna Kea (High point #41) and the Kelso Ridge to Torreys Peak to end the season. I stood on top of Torrey's and thought about where I would be one year from there, and who I wanted to be.

Ultimately, I trimmed back my schedule - I focused on the clients whose work made me happiest, and becoming a better race director and person. I fixed up my Achilles, started running again.. have lost since winter almost 30lb, and am in almost every way happier and healthier than I was 12 months ago.

And I stood a healthier and happier person next to these 40-odd participants in the Nevada desert and a year and a half of inspiration came to life to fuel me through the race in a way that no road race out of several hundred ever has.

Daniel from South Africa, always with a smile on his face.

Jessica from the US, who sprained an ankle (and sat on cactus after), rested up and bounced back to finish the rest of the race.

At least half a dozen Europeans from several countries who made an effort to chat me up and keep in touch across the week.

And last but not least, of course, Harry Hunter, 76 years young, who by 10 years was the oldest, and by far the most inspiring character (and I do mean 'character', you know if you've met him how spectacular he is), of the week.

I can become jaded with the view in the mountains, but I hope I may never be jaded by their character and resolve, and may it never stop changing me, whatever the next year will bring. Nor with the sense of community and togetherness I found and saw within the confines of our little camp in the big desert. Nor with the feeling of a long shower after all of it was done.

Pictured: Harry, heading off into the desert on the final leg. I met him at the far side and he told me in quite colorful terms how his stomach was feeling.