



Deet deet deet…deeeeeet

I’m climbing steadily up the mountain to the tune of my heartbeat thumping against my temples. My eyes are carefully inspecting the ground I walk on to make sure my footing is okay. I can’t see the faces of those around me. Nobody is talking, but our actions collectively speak in unison to our determination. I look up…

Deet deet deet…deeeeeet

I’m distracted for a moment, what just happened? Suddenly I’m at the dropbox area, and I cannot find my dropbox. Did I forget to make a dropbox?! Frantically I ask others for water and other goods, none of whom are responding to me. It’s suddenly night time when I look up at the sky. Time is going by too fast…

Deet deet deet…deeeeeet

It’s suddenly day time. I’m sitting atop one of the many false peaks of Killington, looking upon the mountain’s splendor with my wife sitting next to me. Had I finished the race? Have I been out here for an entire day? Where is my medal?! I got my medal, didn’t I? I swear I-

Deet deet deet…deeee- *tap*

The time on my phone’s buzzing alarm clock displays 0400. My eyes open suddenly to the rustling of those around me in the Killington Grand Lodge. My dream still fresh in my mind, I do a mental re-check to ensure that this day is actually the day I have spent three years in preparation for. I playfully recite the same starting line countdown that I've been reciting over the last year to the UltraBeast Facebook group, “0 days, 2 hours remaining”. This was it. My day had come! With the last detailed vestiges of my dream fading away I tried to eat what my rumbling, nerve-ridden stomach could keep down. I got sick the day before, effectively negating any nutritional advantage I tried to give myself in the weeks prior. I knew this was going to be an issue later on… Heidi Williams (a fellow regiment elite) and I were the only ones in our hotel that were attempting the UltraBeast this morning. We did one last re-check of our gear, put on our team tattoos and set out for the car to head over to our starting line.

I had walked around certain parts of the spectator-sanctioned course areas the day before. I wish I hadn't done that. It was clear that this year’s course was monumentally harder than the course that denied me of my medal last year. Those demons that I had foolishly thought to have believed defeated had made tiny but nagging attempts at crushing my resolve throughout the year leading up to this moment. Sitting in the passenger seat as the car slowly grinds uphill to the starting line; I silently looked up at the mountain peaks that started to materialize in the light of the rising sun. The sky’s fiery orange hue appropriately marked the intensity of the day that was to come as I walked to the starting corral. Right as I arrived I found Andrew Pragel, my UB training partner of the last six months. He and I vigorously trained with only this event on our minds through endless stair stepping, incline treadmills, lunges and so much more. This was his first attempt at this course, and so the subtle emotions he may or may not have been aware of showing were all too familiar to me – nervousness, excitement, and even fear. You see, fear is what drove us to this event. A true champion will not hide from this emotion, nor does he deny it. As Joe DeSena says, run towards that which you fear. I wasn’t as fearful this year as I was in the last, though. That fear was diluted with the impatience and eagerness brought forth from a year-long break between Ultrabeasts. As we gathered into the starting corral the reality of those words awoke with the rising sun, now bleeding through the line of mountains in the distance as if nature itself was inviting us to challenge it.