race report

WausaUltra Limitless

Friday, May 1, 2026

Wausau, WI

Community

Arriving at the race has begun to feel like a reunion. The field is capped at less than 100 runners, and many return year after year. I’ve gotten to know and become friends with many of these other runners, and reconnecting with them before, during, and after the race has become just as valuable to me as the race itself.

This morning, before the race, I took a moment to talk with Mark in particular. If you’ve run against Mark, you know he likes to hang out at the back of the pack, a position that stresses me out. Despite knowing each other for several years, we hadn’t actually spent much time running together, so I took the opportunity to share a few words with him when it presented itself.

The sense of community around ultra is always touted as one of the things that sets it apart, but WausaUltra has taken this to the next level. The team of race directors creates a friendly, welcoming environment and goes to great efforts to get to know and support the runners. As runners, we feel that support and reciprocate it, not just to the race directors, but to our fellow competitors. I can honestly say that, as awesome as it would be to win this race someday, I would much rather continue to set group records for the race, like the most runners to reach the 100-mile mark, a feat we accomplished when I last ran in 2024 and did again this year in 2026.

My race reports will always be about my experience of a race; it’s the only viewpoint I can speak from. More than ever before, though, this race report aims to be about we, not me.

Loop 1 & 2

As we set off on the first loop, the only thing on my mind was finding my landmarks. When I ran this race before, I knew exactly where I should be at what time to ensure that I was still on pace to finish the loop fast enough to prepare for the next loop, but not so fast that I was jeopardizing my long-term strategy. With the new course, I would need to reestablish those landmarks.

I wanted to position myself in the middle of the pack, knowing that the lead runners would probably get caught up in the excitement and go out too fast, while the runners in the tail might be going a little slower than I am comfortable with. Somehow, as the race started, I ended up near the front, so I used the first open section of the course to fall back into place before I got caught in the lineup at the single-track section. Getting caught out of position here would make it difficult to stay at a pace I was comfortable with.

While the course did change, it still relied on many of the same trails, just strung together in different orders. I was able to pick similar landmarks to past races and just recalibrate the time I would be passing them. This is the most important part of my strategy for backyard races, so as much as I would like to say that early on, I allowed myself to enjoy the environment, I didn’t. There would be plenty of time to do that later; right now, my focus was on timing.

I finished Loop 1 in a time I was comfortable with and felt I could sustain long term, so Loop 2 was a double-check to make sure my landmarks were correct. I had set three in the first half of the loop to make sure I started out at the right pace, and set a last around the 3.5-mile mark to let myself know how much I might need to push to finish out the loop.

Day Loops

After feeling comfortable with my landmarks and strategy, I stepped back and allowed myself to take in the atmosphere, the day, the people. This is the point in the race where the loops blend, and, provided things go well, no one loop really stands out from the rest. Mentally and physically, I hit flow state, which also makes running fun.

I used these loops to catch up with old friends and make new ones. Earlier in the day, I often found myself grouped up with Kyle and Logan, both of whom I had originally met at WausaUltra in 2022. Catching up and joking with them made those early loops pass by with ease. Kyle and I always seem to find our way quickly into deeper conversations that I thoroughly enjoy. Kyle is also known for wearing what has become a signature Iowa Hawkeyes sweatshirt, which is notable later.

Somewhere in there, Logan brought up the harmonica player at Mines of Spain 100 in 2022. As many of us did at the time, he questioned whether this was a hallucination or not, but apparently, he was still questioning it. I laughed as we relived that experience, and I explained that the random harmonica in my new tattoo was because that moment stuck with me so much after the race.

When I stopped to tie my shoe during a loop, I found myself in a rare position behind Mark. Here’s something that I don’t think the people who only know him through social media get to see as much. Mark is a genuinely fun-loving, goofy guy. In the 10 minutes or so I spent behind him, I listened as he came up with the most outrageous new rules for the race, rules that would fit squarely into a Kurt Vonnegut story. As much as I enjoy seeing this side of Mark, I had to pass him at the next opportunity to get back to a pace I was comfortable with and calm my stress levels.

Matt is another runner that I’ve met through my years at this race, and we hit on my favorite topics, family and tattoos. Matt gave me insight into how becoming a father impacted his perspectives. Then he asked about the meaning behind my tattoos, and I got to share some of my life experiences and how they tied into my own family story.

I’ve gotten to know Hannah outside of running over the years through my wife. We’ve spent hours together at weddings, parties, and in ordinary life. But talking with somebody during a run has a way of very quickly moving past the surface level bull shit and zeroing in on who a person really is. Comparatively, I’ve spent much less time running with Hannah than I have in normal life, but I feel like the time I’ve spent running with her has given me so much more insight into who she is as a person, and I’m appreciative of that time.

The backyard format uniquely provided the opportunity to forge bonds with other runners. As much as somebody might want to win, the general sense of camaraderie is probably stronger. Nothing highlights that more than one point around midday. As a loop begins, I hear someone ask in front of me, “Where’s Kyle? Did we lose Kyle?” This was asked with genuine concern, and a host of other runners started turning around and trying to find Kyle, but his signature sweatshirt was nowhere to be found. The day was warming up a bit, and Kyle had simply shed his sweatshirt. When someone finally pointed him out, it felt like a weight had been lifted.

Evening Loops

I was feeling awesome! The day loops had passed easily, and I felt as fresh as I did at the start of the race. I had no idea what time it was or how many miles we had run; I was just ready to keep clicking away loops. But as evening approached, some hesitation slipped into the back of my mind. My night vision is horrible, which means night running has caused me issues in the past. The new course had some changes that made me think night loops would be a little bit easier for me, but I am never more than one wrong step away from a race-ending fall.

Runners were told that we would need our lights for the next loop. Though daylight had not yet given up, it would be dark by the end of the loop, and so I went out a bit quicker to try and make use of what little light remained.

The strategy worked. As I hit the open section around the halfway point, I backed off my pace a little to try to even out the extra energy I'd exerted. I was able to coast back into the start finish from there.

As I set out on the next loop, the first one in full darkness, my eyes began to get tired, and my vision got blurry. Under my headlamp, everything had the pixelated look of an early 2000’s computer game. This was not a promising start. On top of that, it was clear to me that my headlamp was beginning to die. I still had more than enough juice to get me through this loop, or would have on any other day at least, but this was not a normal day.

I focused on the ground immediately in front of my feet and made it through the technical sections of the course through sheer force of will. When I got to the more open and grassy sections of the course, I closed my eyes for 10–15 seconds at a time while I ran to give them a break. I knew I would finish the loop, but I needed to figure out how to address this issue.

When I got back to the start/finish, I got a new headlamp, took in some caffeine, and closed my eyes for a short rest. And before I knew it, I was on the start line for the next loop. As we reached the first single-track section, my vision was even worse than before. I literally couldn’t see anything, and honestly, I was a bit scared.

When I packed headlamps, I turned them all on to make sure they worked, but I didn’t check battery levels. I had plenty of spares and extra batteries on top of that, so I figured I would be fine. But apparently, the new headlamp I just grabbed had batteries that were even more dead than the ones in the headlamp I just traded in. I had a spare in my pack, but I needed to reach a point on the course where I could fish it out, and I couldn’t risk leaving the pack of runners in case the batteries on the spare were also almost dead.

Then along came Greg. Greg and I had spent several hours chatting during the day, but now he wasn’t a companion; he was a savior. He was using a waist light, which had much more power than the typical headlamps. I fell into his hip pocket. Between the overcast from his waist light and the little light I got from my headlamp, I could see just enough to get through. I ran behind him in a state of semi-hypnosis until we finally reached an open section where I could grab my spare headlamp. Thankfully, this one had full strength, and I was able to trudge ahead. I don’t think Greg knows this, but he might be the only reason I made it through that loop.

As I continued, I fell into step with Adam. Adam is part of a huge group that comes every year from Colorado. I had known Adam at a very surface level but had never really gotten the opportunity to chat with him. The conversation I struck up with him was enough to help me get through the remainder of this nightmare loop.

Despite being in such a low spot here, quitting never crossed my mind. The most important thing to know about ultra is that it’s temperamental and moody; it can turn on a dime. I know that lows come, but they are temporary. If you can navigate them, eventually the highs follow. Assuming my vision didn’t get worse, and honestly, it couldn’t get much worse, I just had to try to weather the storm. The rest of me felt good, and my mind was still okay, so my only goal was to start the next loop. At the close of the loop, I got more caffeine, more rest, and grabbed another spare headlamp, this time with fresh new batteries.

Night Loops

I had the best night's running of my life. Whether the caffeine finally kicked in or my body just decided to cooperate after figuring out I wasn’t going to quit, I was feeling great! It was starting to get cold with night lows anticipated to be in the low 30’s. That, coupled with the 65 or so miles we had already run, made my legs stiffen a bit, but it was minor, and my headspace made it easy to push through.

As we went through the night loops, I took advantage of my rare position and tried to be a help to other runners that might be experiencing a low. I tried to carry conversations and just be a presence to help them move forward. It was also interesting to have enough clarity to watch individuals enter and come out of low spots, just as I had done less than an hour before.

During the night loops, I found myself in step with Kevin fairly often, another runner I have known tangentially. I took the opportunity to know him better, which helped the night loops pass by. I don’t know whether he was conscious of it or not, but Kevin made several passing comments during the night that just reinforced how good I was feeling. Meanwhile, the sun was starting to come back up, and my spirits were as high as ever.

Day 2

My goal for the race had been to go farther than I had before, but I didn’t have a specific time or mileage in mind. In 2024, I tapped out after 100 miles, so I saw 104 miles as the bare minimum. Based on how I was feeling, though, I thought I could smash that.

Into the morning, I got to know Jordan a little bit. I had never met Jordan before, and he was new to the race. While we had conversed briefly the previous day and into the night, we really got to talking in the morning hours of day 2.  I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much of the content of this conversation because we had been running for what was closing in on 24 hours, and my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, but he definitely helped me pass the time enjoyably.

As the sun continued to rise, the temperature began to warm again, and for the first time, I realized that the cold weather probably had a little more impact than I had believed. The field still had a strong pack of runners. Excitement continued to build as we inched closer to the 100-mile mark.

I think some of us got caught up in that excitement, though. While I had consistently finished loops around 54 minutes all race, my pace started to creep up. I was coming in quicker, but I noticed that, relative to the other runners, I was still around the same place in the pack. I finished Loop 22 and Loop 23 in under 52 minutes each. Running a loop 2 minutes quicker might not sound like a big change until you realize that it equates to roughly 30 seconds per mile, which is a huge shift in pace, especially 90+ miles into a race. But we carried on.

We started on loop 24. Finishing this loop would put us at the 100-mile mark, and we were heading out with the largest pack the race had ever had at this point, 13 runners. I got teary-eyed as we walked out of the start corral, thinking about the accomplishment that WE were about to achieve. And 52 minutes later, I was sitting back in my chair getting myself ready to push farther than I ever had by starting Loop 25.

As I set out on loop 25, I was still feeling great. Quitting had briefly passed through my mind at several points earlier in the race, but now the only thoughts in my head were: How much farther can I go? I can easily finish this loop. Then what’s one more? And if I can get to 108, 112 is right there. Honestly, I don’t think I can get much more than 125, but I think I can get there. 25 more miles doesn’t even sound like a lot at this point.

The most important thing to know about ultra is that it’s temperamental and moody; it can turn on a dime. I know that highs come, but they are temporary. If you can navigate them, eventually the lows follow. That’s exactly what happened. As I approached the halfway point, the most runnable section of the entire course, I blew up and lost the ability to run at all. Any motion approaching a trot left my quads screaming. The cold weather overnight and fast loops late in the race were finally demanding repayment of the debt I had accumulated.

I had hit the halfway point soon enough that I could essentially walk the remainder of the course and still finish the loop on time, but what would this mean after that? I tried to put this thought out of my mind and just focused on walking as fast as I could. As other runners came to pass me, each one of them had something encouraging to say.

I came to the final long downhill. I could see the start/finish area. And that's when I realized my race was over. I would make it back in time, but I would have maybe 2 minutes before loop 26 started. This would be enough for a quick bite to eat and to restock on any essentials, but it wasn’t enough time to rest and try to massage out my legs, which is what I really needed to keep going. I had more than enough energy to walk loop 26, but that wouldn’t have let me finish it on time.

As I crossed the start/finish line to close out Loop 25, I signaled to Emma that I was done. Like a good crew chief, Emma immediately told me that I wasn’t done and that I was going back out. She had seen me run strong all through the race, and I hadn’t given her any indications so far that I was even on the brink of quitting. She thought this was just a little hill that I needed to be pushed over. I am incredibly thankful to her for that. That’s the kind of tough love that crew needs to give runners. But I was dealing with a physical block at this point, not a mental one, and no amount of tough love was going to fix that.

Many of the remaining runners were in the corral, getting ready for loop 26 to begin, when I rang the bell to signal that I was dropping out of the race. Tears began to flow, and I was immediately embraced by Mark, who had nothing but kind words for me. Other runners alternatively embraced me or shook my hand, congratulating me on making it this far. Then I turned around and saw Jordan, who wrapped me in a huge hug with tears rolling down his cheeks as well. Once again, I wish I remembered the words we exchanged, but we were both so overcome with emotion at this point that my memory isn’t clear. He rang the bell immediately after me.

Carnage

Loop 25 took its toll on most of the field. 11 runners started Loop 25. All but 3 dropped after completing Loop 25 or failed to finish Loop 26 in time. Was it the cold overnight, the fast loops leading into the end, the adrenaline dump after finally passing the 100-mile mark, the mental barrier of watching so many of the remaining runners fall off all at once? The most likely explanation is probably a combination of all that, coupled with sleep deprivation, fatigue, and more. I watched this all unfold and made an effort to show the same love and support I received to every other runner who dropped. It pained me to see my friends, new and old, end their races as much as it pained me to make the decision for myself.

My race was done, and it felt bittersweet. I could have made better decisions, particularly regarding my pacing. If I had done that, maybe I could have gone further. I knew I wouldn’t have finished Loop 26 in time, but should I have set out and started it even if I was going to have to walk the whole thing and time out? Could just walking have helped me loosen up and eventually start running again? These are the kinds of thoughts that enter your mind immediately after you call it quits in a backyard-style race.

On the flip side, I had set a new PR. I gave everything I had. I had been part of the largest group of 100-mile finishers. I had gotten to spend countless hours in conversation with people that I truly cared about. And how often do we get an opportunity to do that? The answer, once a year. WausaUltra, thank you for continuing to provide us with this incredible opportunity. I have more to give, and I value this community too much. I will be back!

Proud Member of:

Bigger Than The Trail

Ornery Mule Trail Team

Shoes: Altra – Lone Peak 9

Wearables: Garmin - Forerunner 955, Oura Ring

Nutrition: ATH, Epic Provisions, Clif Bar, Honey Stinger, Huel, Maple Syrup, Apple Sauce

Recovery: ATH, FitAid, Freeze Sleeves