UTMB 2026: Has Trail Running Reached a New Edge?

Ben Dhiman at Transvulcania 2026

UTMB week has concluded once again.

Often described as the world championships of trail and mountain running, it remains the sport’s biggest stage. For elite athletes, it is the pinnacle. A race that demands years of discipline, dedication and unwavering commitment.

Of course, every runner on the start line faces the same mountains and the same distance. But at the front of the field, there is often far more at stake than a finish time. Careers, sponsorships, reputations and legacies can all be influenced by a single day in Chamonix.

The pressure is immense.

At the same time, the sport continues to evolve. Races are getting faster and faster. Training standards are rising. Recovery windows seem smaller. The margin between success and failure is increasingly narrow, and for those who aspire to a top-10 finish at the sport’s most competitive events, operating close to the edge is becoming a necessity rather than a choice.

It is a delicate tightrope to walk.

Every year, some of the sport’s biggest names fail to make the start line. Injury is nothing new. Katie Schide’s absence through long-term injury is one example. Others arrive hoping their final preparations will be enough, only to realise in the closing stages that the risk outweighs the reward. The withdrawals of Kilian Jornet, Jim Walmsley, Tom Evans and Ruth Croft significantly changed what may have been one of the strongest UTMB fields ever assembled.

Then there are the factors no training plan can fully control.

Illness swept through parts of UTMB week. Henriette Albon’s stomach issues before the start were one example, but as the races unfolded it became clear others were also walking a fine line between competing and recovering. Some started with hope and determination, only to discover very early that 2026 was simply not their year. Adriana Moser was one such example.

And then there is a different question altogether. Can athletes still have multiple peak performances in a single season?

Several elite runners arrived in Chamonix after already producing exceptional results elsewhere in 2026. Vincent Bouillard and Courtney Dauwalter had both raced and raced well earlier in the year. Yet UTMB, raced at unprecedented pace and intensity, may have represented one challenge too far. Not because they lacked ability, but because even the best athletes have limits.

The same thought applies to Francesco Puppi and Jennifer Lichter. Both have enjoyed remarkable seasons and both finished in the top five at the 2026 CCC. Outstanding performances by any measure.

But had they arrived completely fresh, fully recovered and without the physical and mental demands of Western States in their legs, would they have finished on the podium? Could they even have won?

The answer is impossible to know. Yet the question itself feels increasingly relevant.

From the outside, the life of a professional trail runner can seem ideal. Your passion becomes your profession. You travel the world. You compete in extraordinary places.

But when passion becomes a job, expectations inevitably follow. Results matter. Contracts matter. Visibility matters. The need to perform creates pressure.

Respected coach Paul Lind once said, “You can only take water from the well so many times.” It’s a simple statement, but perhaps one that resonates more strongly than ever.

At UTMB 2026, Ben Dhiman ran an astonishing time 18:16, and two other athletes also broke 19 hours. Yes, the course was adjusted, but the significance remains. Times once considered unimaginable are now becoming reality. Dhiman prepared for UTMB meticulously and in the process, ran Transvulcania and 90km Du Mont-Blanc as tune ups, he placed 5th and 2nd respectively, I wonder, was there disappointment at not winning both, or, more importantly, where they just stepping stones to the big W at the one that mattered?

Trail running is changing.

The image of ultra running as a relaxed community of dirtbags, hippies and adventurers still exists and, importantly, remains part of its soul. But at the elite level, the sport is becoming increasingly professional, increasingly competitive and increasingly unforgiving.

Miao Yao offers a fascinating glimpse into this evolution.

Earlier in 2026, she won CDH at HOKA Val d’Aran in 13:04:34 without using poles. Her reasoning was simple. She now views races around the 100-kilometre distance, CCC included, as fast-running events rather than traditional mountain ultras. To prepare, she focused accordingly. She even used Sierre-Zinal, a brutal 31-kilometre mountain race, as a speed-focused tune-up before CCC.

A former CCC champion herself, Miao went on to battle fellow former winners Toni McCann and Yngvild Kasperson for third place, later admitting it was a day of real struggle.

That, perhaps, says everything.

The barriers are moving.

Just as the four-minute mile, the two-hour marathon and now the sub-20-hour UTMB once seemed out of reach, the moment something is proven possible, expectations shift. Athletes adapt. Coaches adapt. Training adapts.

The new standard becomes the starting point.

So where does the sport go in 2027?

Many elite athletes have already responded by racing less. One or perhaps two major targets have become the model. Everything else is planned around arriving at those races healthy, fresh and fully prepared.

Yet exceptions still exist.

Rachel Entrekin’s 2026 season has been extraordinary. Victory at Coldwater Rumble 100, third place at Chianti behind Courtney Dauwalter and Yngvild Kasperson, outright victory at Cocodona 250, and then second place at UTMB.

It is difficult not to admire such achievements.

But it also raises another question.

Is it sustainable?

Rachel may be uniquely gifted. Some athletes appear capable of recovering and performing at levels others simply cannot match. Yet history repeatedly shows that athletes who burn brightest often do not burn longest.

That is not criticism. It is observation.

Perhaps the biggest story from UTMB 2026 is not who won, who lost or who withdrew.

Perhaps it is that the sport has reached another turning point.

The demands are higher than ever before. The competition is deeper than ever before. The rewards are greater than ever before.

But so too are the risks.

As trail running enters this new era, the question may no longer be how fast athletes can go.

Instead, the more important question might be this:

How long can they sustain it?

And in the pursuit of ever-faster times and ever-greater performances, what is the true cost of repeatedly going back to the well?

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DHIMAN THE DEMON – UTMB: The Benchmark Has Shifted

Image copyright UTMB

For years, UTMB has been the gravitational centre of trail running, the place where the sport’s limits are tested, stretched, and occasionally shattered. But every so often, a performance arrives that doesn’t just raise the bar; it rewrites the expectations of what is possible. Ben Dhiman’s 2026 victory is exactly that moment.

To understand the scale of his achievement, you have to rewind the clock.

The Sub‑20 Hour Question

Not long ago, the idea of breaking 20 hours at UTMB felt mythical. Pau Capell famously attempted it during the Covid era, running his solo “Breaking 20” project. It was bold, audacious, and – at the time – borderline unimaginable.

Then Jim Walmsley ran 19:37:43 on the full UTMB course.

Just like the two‑hour marathon barrier, once one athlete proves the impossible is possible, the entire landscape shifts. Suddenly, sub‑20 wasn’t a dream; it was a requirement. If you wanted to be in the top 10, you needed to be flirting with 19-hours X minutes.

In 2025, Tom Evans pushed the frontier again, clocking 19:18:58 on an adjusted course. And right behind him, a certain Ben Dhiman arrived in Chamonix in 19:51:37, announcing himself as a future problem for anyone with podium ambitions.

2026: A Race Reshaped Before the Start

UTMB 2026 was chaotic before a single step was taken. Kilian Jornet withdrew. Jim Walmsley withdrew. Tom Evans withdrew. The race lost three titans in quick succession, but the field was still stacked – Vincent Bouillard on the back of a CR at Western States, Baptiste Chassagne, Hannes Namberger, and a dozen more capable of winning on their day.

But the absence of the usual giants did something subtle: it changed the psychology of the race. The script was no longer (kind of) predictable. The hierarchy was no longer fixed.

And into that vacuum stepped Ben Dhiman.

He didn’t hide. He didn’t hedge. He didn’t offer the usual “we’ll see how the legs feel.” He said he was here to win – not with arrogance, but with the calm certainty of someone who had gone away after 2025, studied the problem, and rebuilt himself. Word from his camp suggested he had increased his climbing volume by 30%, sharpening the one area he felt had cost him the win the previous year.

He was on a mission.

A Tactical Masterpiece

What unfolded over 18 hours was one of the most controlled, intelligent, and fearless performances UTMB has ever seen.

The Early Breakaway

Dhiman ran with the lead pack through the opening hours, but around La Balme he found himself alone after speedy transitions in the feed zone. Pushing alone he expected the race to catch up, they never did. By Les Chapieux he had already carved out a meaningful gap over Baptiste Chassagne.

This was not a reckless move. It was a calculated one.

The 90km Solo Time Trial

Once in front, Dhiman committed. For more than 90 kilometers, he ran alone — no pack, no drafting, no psychological shelter. Instead of letting the solitude eat at him, he used it as fuel, stretching the elastic bit by bit until it snapped.

Hammering the Descents

His biggest weapon? Downhill aggression. He attacked descents with intent, choosing specific sections to steal time. It was biomechanical efficiency married to bravery – a runner who trusted his legs, his preparation, and his instincts.

The Broken Pole

On Grand Col Ferret, disaster struck: a trekking pole snapped. Lesser athletes lose minutes; Dhiman lost none. He went “Gandalf style” with a single pole, kept his rhythm, and still produced an incredible split time from the summit to Champex-Lac — under two hours.

Crew Efficiency

Dhiman spent 9 minutes 23 seconds in aid stations, this is arguably one of the most impressive and key stats. Just like in Ironman, when transition is a sport in itself, Dhiman has looked at speedy no nonsense transitions as free time – incredible!

A Year-on-Year Transformation

His splits compared to 2025 tell the story better than any adjective, of course, one has to keep in mind the adjusted course, nonetheless, impressive reading.

  • Les Contamines:
    +3:53
  • Courmayeur:
    +31:26
  • Champex-Lac:
    +1:05:04
  • Vallorcine:
    +1:25:31
  • Finish:
    +1:35:08

This wasn’t a marginal gain. It was a reinvention.

And then came the number that will echo for years: 18:16.29

Not a course record – the route was adjusted – but even with conservative corrections, his performance sits somewhere in the 18:50 to 19:10 equivalent range. That is off-the-scale running.

Trailwithben on Instagram HERE provides a nice breakdown and analysis, he estimates the time to be 18:55

The Benchmark Has Shifted Again

Dhiman didn’t just win UTMB 2026. He has changed the sport and most certainly has changed the UTMB for future years.

The question “Can anyone break 20 hours?” is gone. The new reality is harsher, sharper, and more electrifying:

To win UTMB in 2026, you must run sub‑20. To contend for the podium, you needed to aim for 19:30. And in 2027, the frontier may be sub‑19.

That is wild progression – but it’s also the natural evolution of a sport where athletes learn from each other, build on each other, and chase the ghosts of performances that once seemed impossible.

Ben Dhiman has become one of those ghosts.

His 2026 run wasn’t just a victory. It is a statement, a recalibration, and a warning to every elite trail runner preparing for 2027. And notably, when asked by Dylan Bowman on Runfreetrail ‘Can you go faster?’ the answer had no pause, ‘yes!’ – Dhiman comments that running solo allows the pace to drop in the latter stages, had he had someone pushing him, there was more to give… And on that note, roll on UTMB 2027!

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OMM (Original Mountain Marathon) release FELL, TRAIL and ULTRA Shoes

OMM (Original Mountain Marathon) is a British mountain running and outdoor brand with roots dating back to 1968, when the original two-day mountain marathon race was established in the UK’s rugged uplands. Designed around the demands of self-sufficient mountain racing, OMM built its reputation on ultralight, highly protective equipment engineered for harsh weather and long distances. Since becoming an independent brand in 2004, OMM has developed a loyal following among fell runners, trail runners, ultramarathon athletes and fast-packers, and is particularly well known for its lightweight packs, technical waterproof apparel and innovative fabrics such as Kamleika and PointZero. While the brand enjoys near-cult status in the UK and strong popularity in markets including Japan, Scandinavia and parts of Europe, it remains a specialist name globally, prized by mountain athletes who prioritise performance, durability and minimal weight.

The Opportunity

On paper, footwear feels like a natural extension for OMM. The brand was born from mountain racing and has spent decades designing equipment for runners tackling some of the harshest terrain and weather in the world. That heritage gives OMM credibility that many newer running brands can only aspire to. By launching a three-shoe range covering Fell, Trail and Ultra, OMM is creating a more complete ecosystem for its core audience, allowing runners to pair footwear with the packs, apparel and waterproofs the brand is already known for. At a time when many trail shoes are becoming increasingly cushioned and generalized, OMM also has an opportunity to differentiate itself with products that reflect its roots in technical mountain running, lightweight performance and all-weather reliability.

The Challenge

The downside is that OMM is entering one of the most crowded and competitive categories in outdoor sports. Trail running footwear is dominated by established specialists such as Salomon, La Sportiva, Hoka, while brands such as NNormal, Altra and Scarpa continue to fight for market share. Unlike packs or waterproof jackets, where OMM already has a strong reputation, footwear requires years of biomechanical expertise, athlete testing and consumer trust. 

Among fell runners and mountain athletes, the most direct comparisons are likely to be drawn with inov-8 and VJ Sport – two brands that have spent decades refining footwear specifically for steep, technical and often wet terrain. inov-8 has long been synonymous with British fell running, while VJ has earned an almost cult-like reputation for its outsole technology, widely regarded as one of the benchmarks for grip on wet rock, slick roots and muddy mountain trails. For OMM, entering footwear means competing not only against established global brands, but against niche specialists whose credibility has been built shoe by shoe over many years. Given OMM’s own heritage in mountain racing, expectations will be high, and serious runners will inevitably judge the new Fell, Trail and Ultra models against the traction, precision and durability standards already set by Inov-8 and especially VJ – notably, both who have their own outsole!

FELL8mm lugs4mm drop19.5/23.5 cushioning

TRAIL4mm lugs6mm drop21/27 cushioning

ULTRA4mm lugs8mm drop22/30 cushioning

One potential weakness of OMM’s footwear strategy is its decision to rely on Vibram outsoles rather than developing a proprietary rubber compound and tread system. While Vibram is one of the most respected names in mountain footwear and appears on countless premium trail and hiking shoes, it is not unique to OMM. In contrast, both Inov-8 and VJ have invested heavily in developing their own outsole technologies, giving them a clear point of distinction in a highly competitive market. For VJ in particular, exceptional grip on wet rock has become a defining part of the brand’s identity #bestgripontheplanet – while inov-8’s outsole designs are closely associated with British fell running and soft-ground performance.

This raises an obvious question for OMM: why should a runner choose an OMM shoe if the outsole technology is essentially shared with dozens of competing brands? For a niche company entering an already crowded category, proprietary technology can be a powerful way to stand out and build long-term loyalty. By opting for Vibram, OMM gains instant credibility and proven performance, but potentially sacrifices a degree of uniqueness. Ultimately, the success of the Fell, Trail and Ultra models may depend on whether runners see the overall package – fit, ride, upper design and mountain-running heritage as compelling enough to outweigh the lack of a distinctive outsole story.

More to the Vibram story

However, there is more to this story… OMM use a sole unit that is unique to the OMM shoe. Vibram, along with athlete Gediminas Grinius, developed over 1000’s of km’s a sole unit – cushioning and outsole – designed to be the perfect combination – VIBRAM SOLESYSTEM. Commercially though, it was unviable until OMM saw this and eventually turned the concept to reality. With specifically developed traction lugs, a wave shape, specific descent lugs, contour lugs and a Vibram midsole with MetaFlex – OMM believe they have the USP to stand out. 

There is a clear logic to the OMM approach:

*Fell shoe has less cushioning, 19.5-23.5mm and 4mm drop. The Fell shoe comes in a regular fit and whopping 8mm lugs to grip in mud and soft-ground. 

*Trail shoe sits in the middle ground with a 6mm drop and 21-27mm cushioning. The Trail and Ultra shoes both have 4mm lugs but come in two widths – regular and regular+

*Ultra shoe has 8mm drop for more comfort over longer distances and more cushioning with 22-30mm. The Ultra shoes both have 4mm lugs but come in two widths – regular and regular+

OMM may well be late to the shoe game but they are covering the bases to ensure that they have a product for all.

The Fell is arguably the most obvious shoe for the typical mountain marathon runner. But, the option of Trail and Ultra acknowledges the ever changing demands and needs of their audience. 

Reviews to follow.

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TRANSVULCANIA 2026 – A RECORD BREAKING EDITION

The days before the 2026 edition of Transvulcania felt eerily familiar. Wet streets in Los Llanos. Low clouds wrapping themselves around the ridgelines above El Paso. Moisture hanging heavy in the pine forest. Conversations in cafés and hotel lobbies kept drifting back to the same thought: please not again.

After the severe weather that disrupted the 2025 race, there was a quiet anxiety around La Palma in the build-up to this year’s event. Transvulcania is already one of the most demanding ultras in the world when conditions are good. When the island turns hostile, it becomes something else entirely.

But sometime during the night before the start, the mountain changed its mind.

Race morning arrived cool, calm, and almost impossibly perfect for running. The clouds remained, softening the exposure and keeping temperatures under control. Light rain fell in sections of the course, enough to settle the dust and compact the volcanic terrain without turning the trails heavy. Then, later in the day, the sun appeared just enough to illuminate the island’s dramatic ridges and descents without ever becoming oppressive.

What followed was extraordinary.

On a course as iconic and historically difficult as Transvulcania, improvements in winning times have been marginal. The 2026 edition changed that. They forced you to stop, rewind the race in your mind, and ask what exactly happened on this mountain.

Part of the answer was written into the terrain itself. The volcanic sand that usually defines sections of Transvulcania can often feel like running through ash, loose, decomposed, energy-draining. This year, after days of moisture, much of it had compacted making for considerably faster progress. Athletes were finding traction where they normally lose it. Climbs became more efficient. Descents became faster and more confident. Across an ultra-distance race, where every micro-adjustment compounds over hours, the effect was enormous and this is without doubt where a percentage the course record pace came from.

But conditions alone do not explain the magnitude of what happened.

Trail running has evolved at breathtaking speed over the last few years, and this edition felt like the clearest demonstration yet of just how professional the sport has become. Today’s elite athletes arrive with race plans built from meticulous course analysis, power data, nutrition precision, altitude blocks, recovery protocols, sleep tracking, and sports science that would have seemed excessive not long ago. Shoes are faster. Fueling is smarter. Preparation is more specific. Nothing is left to chance anymore.

And perhaps most importantly, the depth of talent is exploding.

Before race week, much of the attention was placed on the Kenyan athletes and the possibility of records in the Vertical and Uphill races. They dominated the VK and Half with superb performances of speed, agility and technical prowess. Records in the marathon also fell. Pre-race, while reviewing the Ultra field, one thing became impossible to ignore: the density at the front – twenty men capable of producing what, in previous years, would have been considered a top-ten all-time performance on this course. That changes everything about how a race unfolds.

No one can afford patience anymore.

Running conservatively no longer guarantees a podium, or even relevance. Athletes who, only a few years ago, would have comfortably placed inside the top five are now finishing much further down despite running historically fast times. The level has risen so dramatically that simply surviving the course is no longer enough. To compete at the front now requires relentless pressure from the opening climb.

And that pressure was visible everywhere.

Women’s Race

The women’s race embodied that intensity perfectly. A stacked field featuring Blandine L’Hirondel, Lucy Bartholomew, Ekaterina Mityaeva and returning two-time champion Emelie Forsberg exploded from the opening kilometers. Blandine took control on the climb from the start to Los Canarios and then onward toward Deseadas and beyond. Yet the race never settled. Lucy refused to let the gap grow, eventually catching Blandine at Roque de los Muchachos after 50 kilometers and very briefly taking the lead. The Frenchwoman responded brilliantly on the descent, with what must of been a masterclass performance, reclaiming the lead before Tazacorte and ultimately storming to victory in 7:43:47 — an astonishing 19 minutes faster than the previous course record by Ruth Croft. Lucy also finished well inside the old mark in 7:49:26 after one of the finest races of her career, incredible as she openly admits, she is terrible downhill… Emelie completed one of the stories of the weekend by returning to the Transvulcania podium in third.

Men’s Race

Damien Humbert set a ferocious early pace, but the race soon evolved into an all-out battle between David Sinclair, Petter Engdahl, Ben Dhiman, Andreas Reiterer, and Nadir Maguet across the volcanic spine of La Palma. David and Petter traded control high in the mountains after El Pilar, Petter stronger on the climbs, David faster on the descents. Reaching Roque de los Muchachos almost stride for stride, David unleashed a devastating descent toward Tazacorte that finally broke Petter, no doubt mindful of the final sting in the tail, the climb from Tazacorte Puerto to the finish that almost certainly would suit Petter. David reached Los Llanos in 6:32:24, smashing the long-standing course record by an astonishing 20 minutes in what he later called, ‘the race of his life!’ Behind him, Petter, and Nadir also finished well under the previous record, while an incredible six men broke Luís Alberto Hernando’s legendary mark that had stood for over a decade. Petter went on to say at the finish, ‘He (David) was just so fast on the descent, I couldn’t keep up.’

That is often how records truly fall, not through perfect pacing alone, but through confrontation. Through athletes refusing to let rivals settle into comfort. Through races that demand risk instead of caution. Blandine L’Hirondel was already under record pace, yet Lucy Bartholomew stayed close enough deep into the race to force another level from her. Petter Engdahl tried to stay attached to David Sinclair, pushing the pace high enough that Sinclair himself had to keep squeezing every possible second from the course to finally break away. It created the kind of racing that transforms performances from impressive into historic. Every athlete elevated the others.

And then there was another story woven beautifully into the weekend. Ten years after her victories on this island, two-time champion Emelie Forsberg returned to Transvulcania once again. But this time the story was different. No longer the young athlete who dominated these volcanic trails a decade ago, she arrived as a wife, a mother of three children, and still managed to stand on the podium once more. In a weekend obsessed with speed, records, and the future of the sport, her performance carried something equally powerful – perspective. A reminder that greatness in trail running is not only measured in minutes and records, but also in longevity, resilience, and the ability to return to the same mountain years later and still belong among the very best.

The 2026 Transvulcania was not simply a fast edition blessed by good weather. It felt like a glimpse into the future of trail running, deeper, more professional, more aggressive, and faster than anything we have seen before.

And for those lucky enough to witness it unfold across the volcanic spine of La Palma, it was unforgettable.

Four races, eight records, men and women triumphant on the iconic trails of La Palma, what does the future hold? With the 2027 race date already set for Transvulcania, anticipation is already high.

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MDS LEGENDARY – The Long Stage Dilemma

There is a quiet but important question emerging in the wake of the 40th edition of the MDS Legendary. It is not really about numbers, though numbers have triggered it. It is about identity.

For the first time, the The Legendary introduced a 100-kilometer stage, stretching the total distance to around 270 kilometers. On paper, it feels like a natural evolution. In an era where ultrarunning continues to expand its limits, 100 kilometers carries a certain symbolic weight. It is round, definitive, and globally understood. To say you ran 100 kilometres in a single stage across the Sahara Desert resonates in a way that 82 or 86 kilometres never quite does. The number alone tells a story.

And yet, those who experienced it know that numbers rarely tell the whole story.

This particular 100-kilometer stage was, by design or necessity, more runnable. The terrain was flatter, rockier, less technical. There were fewer dunes to swallow momentum, fewer jagged ridges to force careful foot placement, fewer of those long, grinding climbs. It was a different kind of test. Not easier, necessarily, but different in character. More continuous. More rhythmic. Perhaps, for some, more honest in its simplicity.

The long stage of MDS Legendary has always been the soul of the race. It is where the MDS reveals what it truly is. In previous editions, that revelation came not just from distance, but from terrain. Runners would find themselves deep in dune fields. They would climb djebels. Cross stark, exposed and unforgiving ridges. Landmarks like Djebel El Otfal were not just features on a map; they became physical and mental thresholds.

Previously, the long day has hovered closer to 80 kilometers. Shorter on paper, perhaps, but rarely in experience. Difficulty was layered, not linear. Progress was negotiated, not simply measured.

So what happens when the balance shifts?

A 100-kilometre stage invites a different kind of effort. It rewards efficiency, pacing, and the ability to keep moving. It aligns, in many ways, with the broader evolution of ultrarunning, where speed over long distances has become a defining metric. There is a purity to that. But the desert and stage racing is different, very different. 

But the desert has never been about fairness.

The Sahara Desert is indifferent to rhythm. It breaks it. The desert messes with the mind as much as stride. Its difficulty has always been irregular. That unpredictability is not an obstacle to the race; it is the race. Remove too much of it, and something subtle begins to change. The experience becomes more controlled, more measurable. 

This is not to suggest that the 100-kilometer stage lacks merit, the opposite. For many runners, it represents a clear and compelling challenge. It simplifies the narrative: one stage, one hundred kilometres, one continuous effort across an immense landscape. From a PR and communication point of view, MDS Legendary 40th edition was defined by a 100km stage.

And yet, one wonders what is remembered more vividly.

Is it the satisfaction of reaching a numerical milestone, or the fragmented, almost surreal memories of moving through varied and hostile terrain? The slow, grinding ascent of a ridge at dusk. The disorientation of a night crossing through dunes that all look the same. The way the body adapts not just to distance, but to constant change.

Perhaps the real question is not whether 100 kilometers is too long, or 80 kilometres too short.

It is whether distance alone should define the hardest day of the race.

There is a compelling argument that the future of MDS Legendary does not need to choose so rigidly. Ideally, the distance of the long stage should or could be defined by the terrain and route – dunes could return, not as a token gesture but as a meaningful section, a djebel could once again stand as a decisive moment within the stage. Should ebb and flow, forcing runners to constantly adapt rather than settle into a single rhythm?

Such an approach would blur the distinction between distance and difficulty, bringing them back into conversation with one another.

Because in the end, the enduring appeal of The Legendary has never been rooted solely in how far it goes. It lies in how it feels while you are out there, somewhere between checkpoints, when the landscape dictates terms and the idea of “running” becomes something much more complex.

The introduction of a 100-kilometer stage has opened a new chapter for the MDS. Whether that chapter continues, or gives way to something less obvious but more nuanced, is not merely a question of logistics. It is a question of philosophy.

Perhaps the answer does not lie in fixing the distance at all. Perhaps the long stage should remain fluid, shaped not by a number, but by intent. Its success measured not in kilometers, but in the quality of the challenge it delivers. A truly great long stage is one that is beautiful, demanding, and just uncertain enough to unsettle even the most prepared runner—one that tests the body, certainly, but leaves its deeper mark on the mind.

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COUNTDOWN TO MDS LEGENDARY 2026 – ISSUE FOUR

This is it. Two weeks to go.

This edition marks the 40th anniversary of the MDS Legendary. Four decades of runners crossing the Sahara under their own power. As we move through March, I’m sharing a short series of weekly articles to help sharpen your preparation. This is the fourth of four.

Issue one HERE

Issue two HERE

Issue three HERE

Photo by Ian Corless

By now, the nerves are real. Anticipation is building. And yes, stress might be creeping in too. That’s normal. You’re about to take on one of the toughest endurance races on the planet. But here’s the truth: the hard work is already done.

Now, the focus shifts.

Ease Back to Move Forward

It’s tempting to squeeze in one last long run. Don’t.

At this stage, there’s nothing to gain and everything to lose. Fatigue and injury are the only likely outcomes. Instead, keep sessions short and purposeful. Stay loose. Stay sharp. This is taper time. Think of it as recharging your battery so you arrive on the start line fresh, not drained.

Prepare for the Heat

If you can, use these final days to adapt to the heat. It doesn’t need to be perfect, but every little bit helps.

Hot yoga, saunas, hot baths, even treadmill sessions with extra layers can all make a difference. If you have access to a heat chamber, even better. The Sahara is unforgiving, and any adaptation you build now will pay off when it matters most.

Plan Everything, Then Simplify

Now is the time to get meticulous.

Lay everything out. Build a spreadsheet if that helps. Go item by item through your kit. Ask yourself what you truly need.

Weight matters. Every gram counts when it’s on your back for multiple days. Strip out the luxuries. Be ruthless. The goal is to go as light as possible without compromising safety or performance.

The same applies to food. Check your calories. Repack if needed. Remove excess packaging. Make sure what you carry is efficient, practical, and something you can actually eat under stress.

Get the Admin Right

Details matter here.

Medical certificates must be correct and meet all race requirements, especially your ECG. Don’t assume, double-check.

Photo by Ian Corless

Your passport needs to be valid. It sounds obvious, but it catches people out every year. Confirm your travel documents, bookings, and transfers. Know your plan from departure to arrival.

The goal is simple: remove every possible source of stress before you leave.

Travel Smart

Wear your race kit when you travel. That includes your shoes and gaiters.

Your race pack should go as carry-on, with all essential gear inside. The only items that should go in checked luggage are those that have to, like a knife or trekking poles.

If checked luggage gets delayed, you’ll still be able to race. That’s the mindset.

Protect Your Health

This part might feel extreme, but it’s important.

Avoid unnecessary contact with others. A cold or virus now could undo months of work. Skip handshakes, hugs, and shared food or drinks. A simple “Namaste” with hands together works just fine.

You’ve come too far to risk it.

Be Smart Before the Start

When you arrive in Morocco, keep things simple.

Avoid salads or anything that might carry risk. Stick to well-cooked, straightforward meals. This isn’t the time to experiment with local cuisine.

Bring your own food for travel and the days before the race. Remember, you’re self-sufficient even before the start. Having familiar food and drink helps you stay relaxed and in control.

Use the Bivouac to Your Advantage

Before admin, your luggage stays with you in the bivouac. Use this.

Bring spares. Extra layers. Small options that allow you to adjust based on real conditions. The desert can surprise you, and this is your chance to fine-tune your setup before committing fully.

Be Ready

Have a clear plan for admin. Know what’s required. Be organized.

Then shift your focus forward.

Stage 1 is coming.

Photo by Ian Corless

Trust the Process

You’ve done the training. You’ve made the sacrifices. You’ve earned your place on that start line.

Now it’s about arriving calm, prepared, and ready to embrace what’s ahead.

Because this isn’t just a race.

It’s a journey. An experience that will stay with you long after the dust has settled.

Take a breath. Stay focused. And get ready for the adventure of a lifetime.

Photo by Ian Corless

MDS WEBSITE HERE

MDS Tour and MDS Clubs for 2026

Join the MDS Clubs on HEYLO HERE.

The MDS Tour starts in January and moves from location to location, Register HERE

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The Price of Trust: Rethinking How We Enter Races

For years, entering a race has felt simple. You find an event, sign up, pay the fee, and start training. The idea that anything might go wrong rarely enters your mind, certainly from a business point of view. Of course, you may have a change of personal circumstances, an injury for example – but, the race not happening, that is rarely a consideration. Advance payments have been part of the fabric of the sport for so long that most people barely register them as a risk.

But when something disrupts that pattern, even once, it has a way of shifting how we think. For the majority, these moments feel less like a crisis and more like a quiet recalibration. A warning sign! It’s not a collapse of trust – but more a subtle change in thinking. However, if you are a runner who has made payments and lost everything – trust will be eroded and this has a huge impact in forward thinking.

In the past, Covid an exception, most runners didn’t question where their money sat after they entered a race. It was understood, implicitly, that the event would take place and that the organiser would manage whatever sat behind the scenes. The mechanics of cash flow, margins, and risk were invisible. What mattered was the start line.

Now, that invisibility has thinned a little.

It’s unlikely that large numbers of runners will suddenly start combing through company filings or attempting to assess balance sheets and viability of a company. That level of scrutiny belongs to a minority. But something more gentle may well take hold:

  • A hesitation before committing far in advance. 
  • A second glance at unusually heavy discounts. 
  • A quiet preference for organisers with a long, steady track record. 
  • But, as recent events have shown, established and track record is not a guarantee.
  • Trust will still exist, but it may become more selective.

For runners, there are also a few simple ways to reduce exposure without losing the ability to plan ahead. Insurance is the most obvious, particularly for higher-cost or international events, where cancellation cover can soften the financial hit if something goes wrong. Paying by credit card rather than debit can offer an extra layer of protection too, especially in the UK where consumer protections may allow you to reclaim funds in certain situations. Beyond that, a more risk-aware approach can help. 

Hotels, travel and logistics will almost certainly be looked at with more scrutiny and less commitment. For example, using specific websites that allow booking of hotels and/ or travel where cancellations, with no impact, can be made almost days before being needed.

We may well be looking at a substantial shift in thinking, and this will impact on event organizers.

At the same time, the reality for organizers hasn’t changed. If anything, it has become more exposed. Events are expensive to stage, and most of those costs arrive early. Permits, insurance, equipment, staffing, logistics. Long before a runner crosses a start line, much of the financial commitment has already been made.

Advance entry fees are not a convenience – they are, in many cases, the mechanism that makes the event possible at all. So, what is going to happen if the runner changes the approach to booking and commitment.

That creates a delicate balance. Runners want certainty – we love to secure a place, plan ahead and formulate a plan. Organizers need commitment. If one side begins to hesitate, even slightly, the effects ripple outward. 

  • Cash flow tightens. 
  • Planning becomes less predictable. 
  • Decisions get pushed later. 

In a system that often works twelve months ahead, even small delays in confidence can create friction.

There is a risk, at least in the short term, of instability. Not dramatic or immediate, but enough to be felt. Smaller events and newer organisers are likely to feel it most. 

Yet there is another side to this. This could be turned into a positive.

Moments like this can prompt a more sustainable way of operating. Organisers may become more cautious about expansion, more disciplined in managing costs, and more focused on building financial resilience rather than chasing rapid growth. 

Runners, in turn, may make more deliberate choices about where and when they commit their money. A slightly more informed participant base, paired with more transparent and measured organizers, could strengthen the ecosystem over time.

But there is something worth preserving too.

Endurance sport has always run, in part, on goodwill. There is an unspoken agreement between organiser and participant. You trust that the event will be there. They trust that you will commit early enough to help make it happen. Strip that away entirely, and something important is lost.

The likely outcome sits somewhere in between. Not a collapse of confidence, but a tempering of it. People may pause, think, and choose a little more carefully. 

Organizers may work harder to earn that early commitment.

Advance payments will still happen. 

Races will still fill. 

Plans will still be made months, even years, in advance.

But perhaps with a slightly clearer understanding, on both sides, of what sits beneath the surface.

Screenshot

And then, just like that, overnight, A cancellation of Tenerife Bluetrail by UTMB – this brings a different kind of reality into focus. Here, there’s no financial mismanagement or organisational failure to question. It’s simply the fact that some things sit beyond anyone’s control. Safety has to come first. But the impact is still real. 

Travel has happened, runner’s are in hotels, months of training has been shaped around a single date, and then, overnight, it’s gone.

Nature hits, this comes under Force Majeure – is a contractual clause freeing parties from liability when extraordinary, uncontrollable events, such as natural disasters, wars, or pandemics, make fulfilling obligations impossible – situations like this may well add another layer to how people think about committing to events in the future. 

This is not a loss of trust in organizers but a growing awareness that even well-run races carry external risks that are sometimes beyond everyone’s control. 

In that sense, this situation doesn’t contradict the earlier discussion, it deepens it. The question is no longer just “can this event go ahead?” but also “what happens if it can’t, for reasons no one can control?” 

Will this nudge runners toward a more flexible approach? Not out of fear, but out of a clearer understanding that certainty, in endurance sport as in nature, has always been a little fragile.

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OUREA EVENTS CEASE TRADING – A SAD DAY

The news that Ourea Events has ceased trading lands heavily on the UK mountain and ultra running community. For many of us, this isn’t just the loss of an event company. It feels like the closing of a chapter in the story of British mountain running.

Shane Ohly and his team didn’t just organise races. They shaped a culture.

At a time when the UK ultra scene was still finding its feet, Ourea created events that felt raw, adventurous, and deeply connected to the mountains. These were not simply races measured by split times and finish lines. They were journeys that asked something of you: navigation, resilience, judgement, and a willingness to be uncomfortable for long stretches of time.

The Dragons Back Race set the tone. For many runners it was their first taste of a true multi-day mountain expedition disguised as a race. Self-navigation with map and compass across the spine of Wales made it feel less like a sporting event and more like an adventure in the purest sense.

From there came a string of events that helped define a generation of UK mountain runners. The Great Lakeland 3 Day, Dark Mountains, the ROC Mountain Marathon and more. Each had its own character, but they all carried the same spirit: serious mountains, thoughtful course design, and an expectation that runners would meet the terrain on its terms.

Like many others, I was lucky enough to experience several of these events firsthand. I was there for the first Cape Wrath Ultra. I experienced the return of the Dragons Back. And the moment I’m perhaps most proud of was helping create the Glencoe Skyline as part of Skyrunning UK. That event in particular showed just how far the UK mountain running scene had evolved. Technical, spectacular, and unapologetically demanding, it placed Scottish ridgelines onto the world skyrunning map. We brought the world’s best to Scotland – Kilian Jornet, Emelie Forsberg, Katie Schide, Jasmin Paris, Jon Albon, Marco Degasperi, Henrietta Albon, Tove Alexanderson, Laura Orgue, Hillary Gerardi and the list goes on…. A who’s who of the mountain running world.

So the collapse of Ourea feels deeply personal to many of us.

But it also raises bigger questions.

The last few years have been brutal for independent race organisers. Covid wiped out entire seasons and left financial scars that many companies never fully recovered from. Brexit complicated logistics, staffing, and international participation. Costs across the board have risen sharply.

At the same time, the global trail running landscape has changed. The rise and dominance of UTMB has reshaped the market, pulling attention, sponsorship, and runners toward a global series model. For smaller, independent organisers, competing in that environment is incredibly difficult.

Ourea may have technically survived Covid and Brexit, but survival does not mean recovery. The damage done during those years can take a long time to surface, and sometimes the final collapse comes long after the initial shock.

Right now, the most immediate concern is for runners who have paid entry fees for 2026 events. Hopefully many will be protected through credit or debit card payments and able to recover funds through Section 75 or chargeback claims. But even if that is resolved, the bigger uncertainty remains.

What happens now?

What happens to the UK mountain running scene without one of its most creative organisers?

And what happens to the races themselves?

Events like the Dragons Back, Cape Wrath Ultra, and Glencoe Skyline are more than entries on a calendar. They have become part of the identity of British mountain running. They hold stories, ambitions, and personal milestones for thousands of runners.

In some ways, races are like mountain routes. They can outlive the people who first established them.

So perhaps the real question is whether these events can find new custodians. Whether another organiser can pick up the threads and carry them forward without losing what made them special in the first place. That balance between professionalism and wildness is fragile, and it was something Ourea managed remarkably well.

For now, though, it is simply a moment to pause and recognize what was built.

Many of the most memorable mountain running experiences in the UK over the past decade trace back to the vision and work of Shane Ohly and the Ourea team. They created races that pushed boundaries, respected the mountains, and inspired a generation of runners to go further than they thought possible.

Whatever happens next for these events, that legacy will remain.

And for those of us who stood on start lines in Wales, the Lakes, the Highlands, or deep in the night at Dark Mountains, the memories will always be there.

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The Coastal Challenge Costa Rica 2026 – Stage 1

Stage 1 of the 2026 The Coastal Challenge Costa Rica set the tone in the way it always does. It reminded everyone, very quickly, that Costa Rica plays by its own rules.

The day began long before sunrise. At 02:30, alarms cut through the darkness as runners gathered for a 03:30 departure, quiet conversations, nervous energy. There is something uniquely disorienting about starting a race day in the middle of the night, especially when the real work will not begin for several more hours. The long drive to the coast and Quepos was filled with anticipation and the kind of silence that comes when athletes are saving energy and thoughts for later.

By the time the start line finally came into view, just after 08:00, the sun was already making its presence known. The heat and humidity were not waiting for anyone. They never do. Stage 1 has a reputation, and once again it lived up to it. Starting late in the morning is always a challenge here. Bodies are not yet adapted, pacing plans are optimistic, and the Costa Rican climate is unforgiving if respect is not shown early.

From the beach start, the course wasted no time in revealing its character. Soft sand gave way to gravel roads, then into dense rainforest where the air felt heavier with every step. Climbs were sharp and relentless, descents technical and punishing on tired legs, and water crossings offered brief moments of relief before the heat closed in again. This was not a gentle introduction. This was pure Costa Rica.

In the Expedition race, Ramon Rosello took control early and never let it slip. He dictated the pace with confidence, moving smoothly through the terrain while others struggled to find rhythm. By the latter stages of the course, he had opened a substantial gap, finishing in a commanding 3:57:03. Behind him, Jon Shield fought hard in the conditions, crossing the line in 4:14:02. It was a clear statement from Rosello on a day where patience and experience mattered as much as speed.

Attention had been on Erick Aguirro going into the stage, with many expecting him to lead the day. However, a lingering injury told its own story. Though still competitive, Aguirro was unable to respond when the pace lifted, eventually finishing fourth behind Jesus Cerdas. On a course like this, even the smallest physical issue is magnified. Stage 1 has a way of exposing weaknesses, and there is little room to hide when the heat begins to bite.

In the women’s Expedition race, Denise Zelaya delivered a strong and controlled performance. She handled the conditions well, maintaining focus and discipline as others faded, to cross the line in 4:47:47. Janina Beck followed in 5:19:25, digging deep through the final kilometres as the accumulated fatigue of the day took hold. Both athletes showed the importance of measured pacing on a stage where ambition can quickly turn into survival.

The Adventure race brought its own drama and determination. Toni Clark led the women with a time of 4:29:41, showing resilience and strength across the varied terrain. For the men, Sammy Francis topped the standings in 3:45:28, navigating the course with efficiency and confidence. Across both races, the story was the same. Those who respected the day were rewarded. Those who did not paid for it.

Stage 1 is always tough, but it is especially brutal because the runners are not yet adapted to the environment. The heat punishes fast starts. The humidity steals energy quietly and persistently. Even seasoned athletes find themselves recalibrating expectations within the first hour. This year was no different. Faces at the finish told the story clearly. Relief, exhaustion, and a newfound respect for what lies ahead.

Costa Rica is at the heart of this race, not just as a location, but as a character in its own right. The diversity of the landscape is extraordinary. One moment you are running along the coastline with the Pacific at your side, the next you are climbing through thick jungle where the sounds of wildlife surround you. The beauty is undeniable, but it comes with a cost. Every climb, every descent, every humid kilometre demands something in return.

As runners made their way into Rafiki Lodge, recovery became the immediate focus. Cooling down, rehydrating, and reflecting on lessons learned. Many arrived with sore legs and humbled minds. Stage 1 has a habit of reshaping race strategies, and this year it was no exception. There was a shared understanding among competitors that the race had truly begun.

Tomorrow brings Stage 2, and with it, a much earlier start for the Expedition runners. Those early hours promise more comfortable conditions, at least by Costa Rican standards. The heat will still come, but later. For now, the priority is rest, refuelling, and preparation. The Coastal Challenge is not won on the first day, but it can certainly be lost.

Stage 1 from Quepos to Rafiki Lodge delivered everything it promised. Heat, humidity, challenge, and beauty in equal measure. It reminded everyone why this race is so highly regarded, and why Costa Rica demands respect. The journey has only just begun, and already it has left its mark.

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The Coastal Challenge Costa Rica : A 2026 Perspective on One of the World’s Toughest Stage Races

Photo by Ian Corless

Stage racing has a way of exposing everything. Fitness, patience, preparation, and mindset all get tested, not just by distance, but by what happens between the stages. Terrain is only part of the story. How you recover, rehydrate, eat, sleep, and reset day after day matters just as much.

Photo by Ian Corless

Back in 2016, comparisons between The Coastal Challenge and Marathon des Sables were unavoidable. A decade on, those comparisons still come up, but the conversation has matured. These races now stand on their own terms.

Marathon des Sables strips runners back to survival basics: self-sufficiency, rationed water, shared bivouacs, and total responsibility for your own race. That’s its identity, and it’s why it remains iconic.

The Coastal Challenge is different. It’s not self-sufficient, but that doesn’t make it easier. In many ways, it’s more demanding. The Costa Rican rainforest, the coastline, the heat, the humidity, and the relentless terrain combine into something that feels far less predictable and far less forgiving.

What The Coastal Challenge Looks Like Today

The race remains a point-to-point journey across Costa Rica’s wild south-west, traditionally running from Quepos to Drake Bay, followed by a final loop stage in and around Corcovado National Park.

The format has remained consistent: six days, six stages, each with its own character. Distances and elevation are substantial, especially when you factor in heat, humidity, and terrain. There are some changes to the route and now, in 2026, I consider the route to be more challenging, especially with a longer stage 6.

Download the 2026 TCC Road Book HERE

Expedition Category

• Stage 1: 33km 1115m+

• Stage 2: 41km 1706m+

• Stage 3: 47.5km 1754m+ Long day

• Stage 4: 37.7km 2613m+ Most vertical

• Stage 5 41km 1685m+

• Stage 6: 35.9km 858m+

Total distance 236.1km’s with 9731m+

Gladly, there is an ADVENTURE category and while stage 1 and stage 2 are almost the same, the distances for stages 2, 3, 4 and 5 are notably shorter:

  • Stage 2: 16.8km 280m+
  • Stage 3: 15.2km 200m+
  • Stage 4: 12.5km 552m+
  • Stage 5: 23km 1117m+

Total distance 136.4km’s 3901m+

None of these numbers tell the full story. Beach running, river crossings, jungle trails, fire roads, steep climbs, and long descents all feature. Every day feels different. Every day asks something new.

NOTE: It is possible to move from EXPEDITION to ADVENTURE during the race, however, you will not receive a medal.

Is TCC Harder Than Marathon des Sables?

Photo by Ian Corless

The honest answer is still: yes and no.

Where TCC Is Easier

• You are not self-sufficient. You carry only essentials during the stage.

• Aid stations provide water and basic food.

• Your main kit bag is transported daily.

• You sleep in your own tent.

• Food is provided morning, post-stage, and evening.

• Camps are often in stunning locations, sometimes with cold drinks available.

• You have space to recover properly each night.

• The long day is shorter in distance than MDS.

Where TCC Is Harder

©iancorless

• The terrain is relentlessly varied and often technical.

• Elevation gain and loss are constant and cumulative.

• Fire roads punish tired legs.

• Beach running is deceptively draining, both physically and mentally.

• Heat is relentless.

• Humidity regularly sits above 75%.

• Your feet are wet every single day.

• The long day may be “only” 47 km, but add 1754 m+ of vertical, technical trails, and jungle heat, and it becomes one of the hardest stages you’ll ever run.

This race doesn’t grind you down with deprivation. It wears you down with exposure.

Packing for Success in a Modern TCC

Because your kit is transported daily, you can afford to be comfortable. Waterproof storage remains essential. While the race still recommends Action Packer-style boxes, they’re awkward for international travel. Most experienced runners now opt for a robust waterproof duffel or roll-top bag, with internal dry bags for organisation.

You’re racing in a rainforest. Rain is not hypothetical.

Bring 6–8 full run kits. The system is simple and still works best:

• Run in one kit.

• Finish, shower, change.

• Sleep in the next day’s run kit.

Breathable fabrics are essential. Shoulder coverage matters more than people expect. Sun exposure combined with sweat and salt can destroy skin over six days. Hats are non-negotiable. Neck coverage is smart. Minimal strappy tops often look appealing but lead to brutal sunburn patterns.

Camp life is relaxing and simple, make sure you bring a sleeping mat and ideally a silk liner, a sleeping bag is not needed BUT it can get chilly around 2am to 5am. Additional camp clothing can be a nice break from run kit – for women thi scan be a loose dress, the the men, shorts and T. Flip flops or similar are essential.

Make sure you bring a plate, knife, fork and spoon and also a cup for drinks.

Shoes and Foot Care: The Deciding Factor

If runners fail at TCC, it’s usually due to feet or hydration.

Your feet will be wet every day. Rivers, streams, mud, ocean crossings. Add technical terrain, rocks, roots, and sand, and your feet take a beating.

Bring at least two pairs of trail shoes, ideally three. Some runners include a half-size-up “emergency pair” for swelling later in the race.

Forget blanket advice about sizing up. Shoes that are too big allow movement. Movement causes friction. Friction causes blisters. You need roughly a thumbnail’s space in front of the big toe, no more. Fit matters more than brand.

Your shoes must:

• Drain water efficiently

• Dry quickly

• Handle rock, mud, sand, and wet roots

• Match your gait, cushioning preference, and drop

Trail shoes are mandatory. Breathability is critical.

Socks matter just as much. A fresh pair every day is essential. Toe socks have proven exceptionally effective for many runners in these conditions.

Shoe recommendation is impossible, we are all unique, however, VJ Sport offer the best grip in the harsh terrain of Costa Rica – take a look at the VJ Ultra 3 HERE

What to Carry During the Stage

Photo by Ian Corless

Compared to many stage races, your on-course kit is minimal.

A lightweight vest-style pack works best. Many runners now carry a bladder plus two bottles. Aid stations can be far apart, and dehydration happens fast.

Carry:

• First aid basics

• Whistle

• Phone (waterproofed)

• Cash

• Sunscreen

• Purification tablets (just in case) or a water filter.

• Personal nutrition

• Poles (optional, but useful)

If you use poles, they must fold, stow quickly, and be second nature to deploy. Practice with them before the race.

Heat, Hydration, and Survival

It’s hot. Always.

©iancorless

You’ll sweat within minutes of starting and continue all day. Hydration is constant, not reactive. Drink regularly, not just when thirsty. Electrolytes are personal. Know what works for you before arriving.

Never pass water without topping up.

Photo by Ian Corless

Use the environment to your advantage. Rivers, streams, and pools are not obstacles, they are survival tools. Submerge fully whenever possible. Two or three minutes can reset your entire system.

Photo by Ian Corless

Run in shade. Walk in sun. Cover your head and shoulders. Pour water over yourself often.

Practical Race Wisdom

• Day 1 starts fast and later than other days. Most people go out too hard. Many drop out here.

• From Day 2 onward, you start at sunrise. Use the cooler hours wisely.

• This is a technical race. Train for climbing and descending.

• Everyone walks. Learn to do it efficiently.

• The course is well marked, but fatigue makes mistakes easy. If you haven’t seen a marker in five minutes, stop and check. Use the GPX files on a watch.

• Wildlife surrounds you. You’ll hear far more than you’ll see.

• After each stage: shoes off, feet checked, flip-flops on immediately.

• Eat, hydrate, nap, elevate legs.

• Camps are social, but your tent is your reset space.

A Note for Female Runners

Photo by Ian Corless

Practical comfort matters.

Light, non-run clothing for evenings makes a big difference. Sundresses or loose cotton work well. Flip-flops are essential, including for showers.

A two-piece swimsuit is useful for river or ocean bathing.

Sleep in run kit.

Don’t economise on sunscreen. Carry anti-chafe cream and reapply regularly. High humidity changes everything.

Avoid skorts. They hold water and add friction. Single-layer shorts or breathable tights work better.

Hair conditioner is not optional. Sachets pack well and don’t leak.

Leave rings at home. Swelling is real.

Waterproof zip-locks for cash and toilet paper are worth their weight.

Phones must be properly waterproofed or left behind for river-heavy sections.

Final Thoughts

The Coastal Challenge doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what it is: a hard, beautiful, immersive journey through one of the most demanding environments you’ll ever race in. It will challenge you. It will frustrate you. It will humble you. And if you arrive prepared, it will reward you in ways few races can.

Photo by Ian Corless

Look up. Take it in. Accept the discomfort. Prepare well for heat, humidity, technical terrain, and recovery. Get your head right before you arrive. If you do that, the race doesn’t just become manageable. It becomes unforgettable.

Entries for The Coastal Challenge are HERE

Photo by Ian Corless

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