On Friday September 5, 2025, I ran the Dark Divide 100 in Randle, WA in it’s fifth year. It’s a beautiful, remote, and wild 100 miler in the grand Cascadian tradition. I finished in 39:20:59.

Pre-race

I was originally signed up for the Plain 100, another Washington 100, as it was a Hardrock qualifier, and it was one of the first 100 milers I ever heard about (from a Trail Runner article I can’t find right now due to the paywall). Plain is very cool, and very hard. It’s a 100 miler with a single aid station and no markings. But, Plain was affected by a bad fire season in Washington. We got an email from the race director in July saying that the likelihood of the event being permitted was low.

At the same time, I was out at High Lonesome talking with my good friend and Volunteer Director of High Lonesome, David Fox, who was talking about this wild race out in Washington he was running. Also, Dark Divide was named a new Hardrock qualifier, taking over for Plain in future years as Washington’s Hardrock qualifier. After considering my options, I decided to sign up for Dark Divide 100. The weekend was slightly better for me; it was still hard; and it was more likely to happen.

I encouraged my friend Kevin Smith (Assistant Comms Director at High Lonesome), who was also signed up for Plain, to switch to DD100. After he pulled the trigger, I did too.

As it happens, Plain 100 was cancelled due to fires. Rainshadow Running gave everyone 25% off to sign up for Teanaway 100 (another great Cascade 100), which another of my friends opted for. But, unfortunately, a fire broke out on that course at the last minute and it was cancelled the day before DD100 started. I heard it from the race directors themselves, who were at DD100. So I guess I made the “right” choice, although fires can’t really be predicted with any certainty. We just play the luck of the draw.

Coming into the race, I felt pretty good. I had shrugged off a DNF at Telluride Mountain Run 24 miler due to a bad stomach and lack of altitude training. I was still confident in my ability to complete a hard 100. I was tired from a long year of running (season started in February, and here we are 7+ months later). But, I thought of DD100 as a victory lap on a great year. Just time to go out and experience the wild Cascades.

Check-in was the most laid back I’ve ever seen. I checked my own name off of the list and picked up my bib from the pile. The aid station supplies were being apportioned next to check in on the day before the race. The race director was 40 minutes late to the pre-race meeting. This caused a lot of grumblings from the runners. When the RD, Sean, got there, he was visibly flustered. Clearly setup was not going well. He spoke about course marking vandalism they had already experienced during marking. He also alluded to other things being wrong in the week leading up to the race. He spoke for about an hour. At times, I was quite frustrated at the lateness of the hour. I wanted to go back to my AirBnB and eat and sleep. But, I was also endeared to Sean. He’s open and honest. And he just wants to share this place, the Dark Divide Roadless area with all of us.

After the pre race meeting concluded, I reset my emotions. Can’t be going into this race frustrated. I’ve done that once before (at Silverton Ultra Dirty), and the emotions came back to help cause a DNF. 40 minutes shouldn’t make the difference between a finish and a DNF. I’m stronger than that. I’m sure the race will be excellent. We headed back to the AirBnB; Miranda made some dinner; I prepped my gear. And I went to bed around 8:30pm.

Race

Mile 1 - 25: The First Dark Divide Traverse

Start time was 5:00am. I was awake at 2. I rested in anxiety until 3. Time to just get up. Gear was all prepped. Eric Lee (who was staying in our AirBnB and running the 100K) got up at 3:15 to wish me luck. So sweet! We got to the start line at 4:30am. There was no check-in. No mandatory map/gpx check. Said hi to Kevin and David (and David’s wife Lauren Fox) and Dave Scheibel (another friend from HiLo). And said hi to my new friend Troy Meadows (host of the Midpacker Podcast!), who I had met yesterday at the pre-race meeting.

A quick note from the RD, and we were off! The first few miles were a nice loop from Cispus Learning center up to a waterfall. I kept the pace quite easy. Kevin was a couple people behind me, and Troy was right behind. David was a few people back. Troy’s a talker, and I wasn’t sure what mood I’d be in. Did I want to be alone? Did I want company? I didn’t have much choice during the first 3 mile loop as we were quite bunched.

After a steep, but short, climb, we started descending. I tested my descent legs. They felt good… quick and accurate, with balance. Troy paired up with me. We joked a bit. At the bottom, we ran past the start and both of us used the bathroom. Kevin passed us there. We got out and decided to pair up. The next section was 4 miles of road. I don’t run roads well. And I don’t know the wild adventure awaiting us out there. So I decided to keep it nice and chill. I walked (strongly) up the slightly uphill road, with some jogs when it leveled out. Troy mentioned that he would normally run a road like this. I was pretty confident in my walk. With many many hours ahead of us, I wanted to be conservative.

Pretty soon, we hit the turnoff onto the trail up Toungue mountain. Let the rutted trails start! Just like most long trails in Washington, Dark Divide’s trails are mostly maintained by motor bikers. This means theyre rutted, dusty, and if you’re unlucky, full of loose baby head rocks. Not great running surface. It’s easier on skinnier leg runners and those with strong balance muscles and core, because both help you run one foot directly in front of the other. The wider your legs, the harder it is. Well, if you know me, you know I’m not blessed with thigh gap. I have good sized thighs, and I struggle with keeping balance while running on a balance beam (which is basically what running in these ruts feels like).

The first trail wasn’t actually that bad. Turns out there’s not much motor bike traffic on this side of the Roadless area. I led the 4000ft climb up Toungue. I was joined by Troy, but also Jen and Michael. Jen (Jenifer Rishel) is the race director of a few races down near Mt Shasta. I didn’t speak much to Michael as we were separated in the group. And having Troy between you and another person generally means you don’t get much of the other person (lol). I was monitoring my effort level, and it felt a little hard for this point in the race. So I pulled off a few hundred feet below the summit, ate a gel, and took the back. The three took a small wrong turn at a small saddle before correcting. I caught back up to Troy and Jen at the top. It was breathtaking.

After catching our breath and taking a few pictures, Troy and I headed down. Jen and Michael took off ahead. Katy (of Rainshadow Running) was right behind us. I said hi on my way down. Saw David a few minutes back of her. Jogged it on down to the first aid station at Juniper Ridge, mile 11. Refilled bottles, said hi to Lauren. Miranda didn’t make it up here. I wanted her to enjoy herself, so the plan was for her to come to two aid stations (miles 25 and 72), then pace from right back here at Juniper Ridge, mile 91.

With Toungue down, it was onto the climb to Juniper. Troy and I paired up again. We chatted about all sorts of things. Our podcasts, our lives, our relationships. The time passed quickly. Soon, I was climbing the last pitch up Juniper. It was so cool. Then we traversed down and back up to Sunrise Peak. There was some confusion about the route here. One sign on the way down said “right turn,” but the course was straight ahead. I think the sign was just for the 100K runners, but it confused some people, including Jen and Jessie. I told them they were wrong and needed to reclimb a switchback or else they’ll go way out of the way. They didn’t believe me. Oh well. We summited Sunrise it was awesome. A nice little scramble at the top.

We descended, taking the correct route down. A volunteer was coming up from the aid station on this trail to correct the signage. This trail was the most rutted all day! Straight down at a good 15% grade, no turns at all, 12-18 inches wide in the rut, with 2-3 ft high walls. I was using my poles to keep myself from falling into the brush on either side. I just kept going and eventually it ended. I saw Jen and Jessie run past the trail intersection from the wrong way. Looks like they found their way, even if it cost them some time. I followed them down into the aid station, Sunrise.

Jen said I was right about the trail. I think I take my navigation memory and confidence for granted. Not everyone trusts (or can trust) their route knowledge so much. In this case, it saved me a mile. Troy, Jen, Jessie, and I all refueled. The heat of the day was getting to everyone. It wasn’t very sunny, but was quite humid (at least for me; though probably not for Troy who lives in Asheville). I felt dehydrated for sure. I drank a couple bottles of water, refilled with Gnarly. I wish it was broth time already, but alas no.

The last section until mile 25 was 6 downhill road miles. As usual, I always run these slower than my peers, so they all made it to mile 25 before me, but that’s ok. Miranda was there when I rolled up. So was Dave Scheibel. “What are you doing here?” He just shrugged. “It wasn’t my day.” Fair. That’s one down. Dave said I sounded hoarse, which was a sign of dehydration. No shit Dick Tracy. I drank a lot in that aid. I stuck around for 20 minutes filling up on food and refilling my bag from the drop bag. I packed up 2 liters. The next section would take me a while…

Mile 26 - 51: The Wilderness Crossing

The next 26 miles had one water filter point around 12 miles in and one minimal aid station at 16 miles in. This is the crux of the race. Given I was planning on running Plain 100, which requires 66 miles of travel without aid, I was pretty sure I was ready, but still taking this section seriously. Troy and I climbed out on the “Dark Meadow Trail.” Around 7 miles in, Troy decided to use the restroom facilities of the Cascades, and I left him behind.

I missed the conversation. We had been chatting for the past 11 hours. I put in a podcast as I dipped into the Quartz Creek Trail. Despite the “No Motor Vehicles” sign on the trail, there were clear signs of motor bike use. Oh well. It was steep and loose. I tried to run it well, but with enough braking to not fall off the mountain. A tendon on the top of my left foot started to hurt a lot. Every descent, it would scream. I tightened my shoes. I loosened them. Nothing seemed to help it. I thought: Would this cause a DNF? I guess that’s up to me. I can’t quit now. I’m literally in the middle of a Roadless area. The only person who can save me now is me. How bad does it hurt? Not that bad really. Let’s try ignoring it. And so, I ignored it. Eventually the descent ended, and the climb began anew. By the time I was descending again, the pain was quite reduced. Just one of those passing pains.

My water was getting pretty low. I was down to half a bottle. I started rationing. When would this stream to filter from show up? I saw some water trickling down a rock. Is this the spring? I guess it’s better than nothing. I walked over and got my filter bottle out. A black snake with a white stripe slithered out from under the wet rock. Probably a garter, but ick! I tried to fill from the drips, but after a few minutes, I only had 100 mL. I might die from dehydration out here, but moving was better than sitting still. I drank it in one gulp and set off. Around the corner was a real stream and I filled 1500 mL, drinking 500mL immediately. It didn’t get me out of the dehydration hole, but it helped.

Out here alone, I was able to think. I started to consider why I’m out here. What motivates me to move, to finish. My only answer is: to have fun. Also, I really appreciate Miranda for attending this race. It’s been a long and tiring year for us. After running High Lonesome 100 and Tour du Mont Blanc in less than 3 weeks, she is just as tired or more than me. Her execution at HiLo was so amazing. I’m still in awe of it. There, I found my mantra: “Channel Miranda Energy.” If I can be just as happy as she was during HiLo, I’ll have tons of fun. Now, I’m not generally as happy as her. I tend to bring the quieter suffering energy to the party, but I’m gonna try for this race.

I kept moving. My water supply dwindled again. Finally, I reached the turnoff to the out-and-back to the minimal aid station, Snagtooth. A runner had made the reverse turn just in front of me. The first person I’d seen in hours. I descended down and down. I saw a few strong runners coming up and encouraged them. As I got towards the bottom, I passed a limping Jessie. She said she’d torn her achilles. Oof. Getting out from Snagtooth was going to be difficult. I kept going and made it to the minimal aid.

Snagtooth was manned by two SAR team members who had biked up the road from a landslide 3 miles down. Kevin was there. I guess I’d caught up to him a bit. I drank lots of water. I sat and talked to the aid station team. I described my situation, being dehydrated and alone. The younger member of the SAR team said to me, “You look the worst of anyone I’ve seen out here.” I laughed heartily and told him that’s not what you’re supposed to say. You’ve got to say “You look great!” He then mentioned that he wasn’t sure I should continue. At this point, I knew he was probably pretty inexperienced with ultras. I was stern: “I may be dehydrated and a little worse for wear, but I assure you, I am well within my capabilities. You’re not stopping me here.” I then tried to describe to him what to look for that’s dangerous: inability to move, inability to eat, inability to drink, peeing blood. Those are probably the 4 things you should look for as an aid station medic. Me, I was drinking a lot, eating well, and just a bit sweaty, pale and complaining. Nothing to worry about. I told them about Jessie wanting to quit from here. They were a bit flabberghasted that anyone would want to quit here. I think they ended up having to evac at least 4 people from there, so they should have a better plan for it in the future. Eventually, I headed back up. It was night now. Headlamps on.

As I climbed, I saw 9 runners on the short out and back. Lots of people within an hour of me. Jessie was still adamant about quitting. Troy was there, but he was looking very bad. Apparently, he had been throwing up and not eating. He sat down in the middle of the trail when I saw him. I talked with him for a few minutes. What’s a new friend worth in a race? At least a few minutes. I encouraged him to not quit at Snagtooth. Maybe take a nap. Recover. He would go on to take my advice, sleep for an hour at Snagtooth, be able to eat again. But when he headed out for the next aid, his stomach issues would return and he would barely limp into mile 51 with 15 minutes to spare on the cutoff and decide to DNF.

After a flurry of runner flybys, I was back alone. One more big climb before the descent to Wright Meadow aid at mile 51. I put in the podcasts, had the headlamp on bright, and ran on into the night. I was deep in the woods, alone. The trees were giant and numerous. The moon rose ahead of me. I caught glimpses of it’s fullness in between the trees. It was a beautiful night.

Finally, I strolled into Wright Meadow aid, an oasis of light among the trees. From leaving Dark Creek AS to getting to Wright Meadow AS took me 10:16, almost 2 hours longer than the first 25 miles. And my aid times were getting longer and longer. That’s ok though. There’s a 48 hour cutoff on this race, and all I need is a finish. Halfway done. Time to recover for the second half.

Wright Meadow AS was run by James Varner, head of Rainshadow Running. It was the best aid station the whole race! James cooked up hot dogs and ramen and potatoes. We had a fire and blankets. Lots of people were hanging out. It was a good time. We had all just spent 10+ hours alone. It was good to be with people. I had a lot of gear to change. I switched out of my sweat-soaked shirt, changed socks, and inspected my feet. I left the cold weather gear. It wasn’t going to get chilly, much less cold. Eventually, I headed out, forgetting my poles and bottle. I remembered quickly and went back for them. Kevin was leaving then too, so I waited for him.

Mile 52 - 72: Giant Trees along the Lewis River

Kevin and I ran together for 5 minutes on the nice super rutted and loose downhill. I could’ve run faster, but I’ve never shared race miles with Kevin before, and it was good to chat and see how his day was unfolding. He was faster than me over under 50 miles, but clearly I was doing a little better at this point. He wasn’t enjoying the rutted and dusty trails very much, but otherwise, he was doing well. I left him before long and turned on some music. It was time to run.

I ran down to the Lewis River, and then back up to the Lewis River AS (which is a few hundred feet above the Lewis River for what it’s worth). I got some potatoes and broth and a water refill. I got to chat with the RD Sean for a second. Jen and her pacer came in a minute before I left.

I headed out back down the road, back to the river. The turns here were a little tricky, but the route was clear on my watch. Later I would learn people had trouble with it. The Lewis River trail and Quartz Creek trail were rolling 50-100ft hills on the side of a ravine, with the creek/river flowing below. The trees were as giant as I’d ever seen, wider than a human is tall. They stretched up into the abyssal night.

I was getting tired. I’d taken two caffeine pills in the night, but sleepiness was getting to me. I decided to give in. I found a small flatish patch after a short climb. I laid on my pack as a pillow, with my phone set to a 10 minute timer. After 5 minutes, I saw lights coming my way. Jen, her pacer, and Kevin came up. I hadn’t slept, but didn’t want to keep sleeping. So I got up. Kevin laid down right where I had been, and I passed Jen shortly after that.

Eventually the rollers gave way to a steep straight up climb. This tore into my lung capacity, but I pressed on. After a tough climb, the summit road appeared and soon, the aid station. At the aid, I met Jeff. He was reeling from a difficult last section where he traveled 4 extra miles after falling and losing his glasses and getting lost. Hearing his story, I thought he was done for sure! But, he just walked out of the aid, headlamp on and glasses missing. A woman and her pacer came roaring into the aid station. This was Lauren, who was very high energy for the rest of the race. Anytime I’d see her, she’d be like “FUCK YEAH.” She left before me. I gathered myself and headed up to mile 72.

The climb eased after the aid, much more graded and easier to move on. I climbed well as the sun rose. I was passed by a fast moving runner. I wondered who had saved such good legs to run uphill at mile 70? Turns out it was the 100K. Eric Lee passed me next in 2nd. A third runner close on his heels. They were heading back up from the short out and back into the aid station.

I got to see Miranda once more. But this time, I was pretty late. She had arrived at 4:30am after a 2 hour drive. I arrived at 10am… only 5.5 hours later. I didn’t really know what my time would be and neither did she. The tracking at the race was quite poor, as they didn’t track times into/out of aid stations, only whether the runner had got there. And it wasn’t posted only, but only at the start line. We were supposed to GPS tracking, but it didn’t end up happening.

She was in good spirits about it, but tired. I was feeling the weight of the day. I admitted to having thoughts of not continuing. But they weren’t strong enough to consider quitting. Just thoughts. Everyone has thoughts. I knew what was ahead of me. I still had two difficult sections left. I kinda wished this was the end, but I accepted that it wasn’t.

After a nice long break, I headed back out.

Mile 73 - 100: The Second Dark Divide Traverse

As I climbed back to the trail, I saw Kevin, now 15-30 minutes behind me, depending on his aid station stops. It was nice to see my friend. We exchanged some nice words and went our separate ways.

I expected the next 10 miles to take me 3-4 hours. I was tired of podcasts. I was tired of glancing at my watch every minute. I needed to find some peace in my mind. I decided to not look at the watch for the time or route, unless I really needed a route suggestion. My goal was to get meditative. Let the time pass that way.

Sleepiness returned, this time around 11am. It took a while to find a good spot to lie down. I found a small patch and laid down again. Another 10m timer set. A runner ran past me. It must be a 100K runner because I could hear their running footfalls. I’m not opening my eyes for a 100Ker. I opened my eyes suddenly and realized I had actually achieved sleep. It was brief, probably less than a minute, but it was sleep. I looked at my phone. 5 minutes had passed. Good enough for me. I got up and felt 1000% better. I started running.

I was back on the Dark Divide, the main ridge of the area, connecting all the peaks we summited. But this time, it was Saturday, a weekend. Remember how I said all these trails were built by motorbikers? Well, on Saturday, they use the trails. I didn’t see a single non-race-affiliated trail user all day Friday. But on Saturday, I had at least 25 encounters with motorbikers. Only one (1) was courteous enough to not blow dust and exhaust into my face. To them, I was an obstacle that didn’t belong on their trails. They became one more obstacle to overcome for me. I got out of their way when they’d come screaming up and down the trails, covering my mouth when they’d blitz by. And I’d continue my slow march upward or my choppy descent.

The big summit on this section was Jumbo peak, which looks like a regular mountain with a giant square rock hat on top. It’s actually quite impressive in it’s width and prominance. We circled it and started the climb, but apparently, it requires some devious bushwhacking to actually summit, so the race just required you get to a sign and turn around. The sign just set “Futility” on it. I knew that’s the RD’s way of saying, “Turn around.” But, I also knew that other people wouldn’t assume that. I was right.

I reached the next aid only 2.5 hours after leaving the last, far faster than I had expected. The meditative running was working. I was moving well. The sun was out though, and it was starting to heat up. Jeff was at Sunrise AS, recovering after a tough couple of sections. I encouraged him. We only had one more hard section, then it’s all downhill road to the finish. I made sure Jeff knew where the correct route was (this was the same spot where Jen and Jessie had taken a wrong turn on the way out) We were about to leave together, but he stayed behind for some reason. I guess he still couldn’t see that well, lol. Stephanie, who was staying with David and running the 100K, left the aid before us.

As I left to climb back up the last stupid out and back, I was passed by half the 100K field, Joseph (a strong-looking dude with an Ironman tattoo who’d been yoyoing around me for the whole race), and Kevin. Both Joseph and Kevin looked worse for wear. I gave them some encouragement, and continued.

The climb up to the shoulder of Sunrise peak was arduous and hot. I was going from shady spot to shady spot. The sun was out, and it was cooking me. Finally, I got to the top and was able to jog the descent. One last climb to go. It was more shaded and I took it well, but I was slowing down now. Not as efficient as I was even a few miles ago. But, I pressed on. Eventually, the climb was complete and it was all downhill to the finish.

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten how rocky the trails were near the top of Juniper Ridge. Dusty and rutted motorbike trails are one thing, but rocky ones are a whole different story. They are the worst. They caused me much dismay at the end of 2022’s Teanaway Country 100. I’m a more experience runner now. I wasn’t going to let these difficult trails break me like they did a few years ago. It was just another obstacle to overcome. I moved as well as I could, giving myself grace for walking when I needed to.

I came upon the photographer Tin and we had a nice conversation. You can see some film he got of me running in his little reel. At the time of writing, I haven’t seen any photos come out. I’ll update the post with them when they do.

Stephanie came past me for the second time. I was like, “how did I get in front of you?” She had to climb those peaks I climbed on my first DD traverse, so I had gotten ahead of her on those. She ran past me and Tin. I decided to kick it up a notch and started running the downhill pretty well.

The aid station was in sight. I was excited. I made my only real mistake of the whole race right here. I saw Miranda. I waved her to me. I kept running. I ran right past the aid station. I was out of water, but that didn’t matter. It’s all road downhill to the finish. I can make it, right? Turns out no.

Miranda joined me and we ran for a few hundred yards before I needed a break. I realized I had made a big mistake. I had no water. Miranda gave me one of her bottles. We can just consider that basically crewing (i.e. not muling), since we were so close to the aid station. I tried to hold a run on the road. But, as we’ve discussed much, I’m not much of a road runner, even dirt road downhill (at mile 90+). My feet were quite painful at this point. I kept trying to get into the pain cave/well/dark hole, but couldn’t withstand it. I just didn’t care if my finish was 38:45 or 39:30. It was inevitable at this point. I realized I still had at least 2 hours on my feet.

My emotions kept running high. I was spiraling thinking about 2 hours left. Back at Teanaway Country, I had broken down with just 4 miles to go. I worried I was about to break down again. I decided to calm my nerves. I told Miranda that we were walking, no more running spurts for a mile (we made it 0.6 miles before I ran again). I needed to calm myself. I turned on some music aloud. I sang along with it. Some highlights:

  • Mr. Brightside by The Killers (“It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this!?”)
  • Finer Things by Post Malone (“I got a 10-point blonde in the shotgun seat”)
  • CHARGE DEM HOES A FEE by Playboi Carti (“CHARGE DEM HOES A FEE”)

I felt so much better singing aloud with Miranda. And I looked at my watch, less than 6 miles to go! I was going at a 3.5mph clip walking. That’s fine! No need to go any faster. We reached the bottom of the hill and ran a quarter mile. We reached the road to the campground and ran all the way.

I was ready to finish. I had earned it. I traversed the Wilderness 3 ways. I had slept on a trail nap for the first time. I had become friends with someone new and met great people. I had encouraged those around me. I smiled as often as I could. I channeled Miranda energy. I had wished it was over multiple times. I had bravely headed out into the wilderness multiple times. It was time.

I ran into the campground and didn’t see any flags. I ran around on the road. About halfway around, I realized I was supposed to have cut through. But oh well. It’ll be over soon. I ran around to the back of the finish line and curled into it, stopping once I was on the antennas to detect my chip. It was over. 39:20:59. No finish photo.

I was congratulated by Sean and Troy. I sat down. A bit wobbly, but not too bad. Troy gave me a lemonade and a beer. What a mensch. Sean gave me my buckle and finisher hoodie.

Jeff rolled in 3 minutes behind me, having run the road 45 minutes faster (which meant I ran the mountains 45 minutes faster, so /shrug). I waited an hour for Kevin to finish. I went to shower and bed.

Conclusions

What a wild epic ride! I think it’d be easy to point out all the difficulties of this race as “bad” things and rate it poorly. But, I choose to think of this as a beautiful epic challenge, with difficult footing and gnarly climbs. The race organization has some growing pains to get through if they want to continue to grow as a Hardrock qualifier, and I’m happy to provide my consulting as Communications and Runner Tracking Director of High Lonesome 100.

I’ll have a follow up post about my “Random Slam,” my running of 4 100K-200K races this year: Trans Grancanaria Classica, Utah 115, NeverSummer 100K, and Dark Divide 100. But for now, just know I’m proud of myself and ready for a break.

The stats:

  • 100ish miles
  • 26K+ Vertical Feet
  • 39.4 hours
  • 100s of trees wider than I could hug
  • 25+ times getting dusted by motor bikers
  • 10+ times wondering why am I so hot in Washington of all places?
  • ~7000 of the 12,000 calories I brought in Maurten Gel 160s, Precision Chews, and Gnarley Orange Drank Fuel2O mix consumed
  • 6 cups of hot broth consumed
  • 0 poles broken
  • Shoes used: Speedland GS:TAM with 500+ miles and resoled with Vibram Zegalite
  • 0 nipples chafed (thanks to some Leukotape)
  • 5 minor blisters on my feet
  • 7th official 100-mile buckle earned