For decades, VJ Sport has built its reputation around one thing: grip. Born in the forests of Finland and forged through the demanding world of orienteering, the brand has become synonymous with shoes capable of handling some of the toughest and slipperiest terrain imaginable. With the FZN Aerofly, however, VJ takes a slightly different approach, entering the rapidly growing “door-to-trail” category with a shoe designed to seamlessly connect road, gravel, and trail running.
First Impressions
The Aerofly immediately brings back memories of the VJ Ultra 3, but it also feels surprisingly similar to a road-running shoe. The design philosophy is clear from the first run: create a highly comfortable, versatile shoe that performs equally well on asphalt, gravel roads, hard-packed trails, and mixed-surface adventures.
The upper features VJ’s Multizone Engineered Mesh, delivering excellent breathability while maintaining a secure and supportive fit. Combined with the brand’s proven Fitlock system,
The shoe wraps confidently around the midfoot, providing stability without feeling restrictive. I have siad this many times before, and I will say it again, Fitlock really does give the best foothold!
The heel is well cushioned and supportive, contributing significantly to the shoe’s long-distance comfort and there are no irritation points – early MAXx2 and Ultra 3 had this.
The toe box is generously sized, allowing the toes to spread naturally during longer runs, while reinforced protection around the front of the shoe guards against accidental encounters with rocks and roots.
Ride and Performance
VJ’s SuperFOAMance™ midsole – a nitrogen-infused foam delivers a highly cushioned yet energetic ride that feels remarkably smooth and lively underfoot. This has appeared in the MAXx2 and the Ultra 3 and it has been a game changer.
Aerofly isn’t designed as a race-day weapon or interval specialist, that role belongs to the more performance-focused sister shoe, the VJ Fuzion Tempo. However, despite its comfort-oriented design, the Aerofly never feels sluggish, the opposite. The foam provides excellent energy return, making it enjoyable on everything from easy recovery runs to steady long-distance efforts – even great when walking!
Enough softness to absorb impact during long runs and still responsiveness to keep transitions smooth and efficient. It could easily be a road shoe.
Rock Plate Done Right
Beneath the SuperFOAMance layer sits a full-length rock plate, a feature typically reserved for more rugged trail shoes.
Its implementation here is particularly effective because it achieves three important goals:
Protects the foot from sharp stones and trail debris
Improves stability by reducing excessive midfoot torsion
Creates smoother transitions across uneven surfaces
VJ has integrated the plate in a way that complements the soft midsole, unlike some rock plates that make a shoe feel stiff or harsh, protection without sacrificing flexibility or comfort.
Outsole and Grip
VJ’s legendary reputation is built largely on its Superior Contact outsole and butyl rubber compound, often regarded as among the best trail-running grips available.
Instead of butyl rubber, VJ uses a lighter and significantly more durable Lightrubber outsole with dense 3 mm lugs. This choice reflects the shoe’s hybrid nature and while the outsole performs very well on asphalt, gravel, hard-packed trails, grass, and dry terrain the compromise becomes noticeable in wet and highly technical conditions.
During mixed-surface adventures, the Aerofly feels confident and predictable, on slick rocks and wet technical trail, the grip is not what one would expect from a typical VJ shoe – they feel much more like a Vibram.
Real-World Versatility
Whether running on city pavement, gravel roads, sandy beaches, forest paths, or moderate technical trails, the shoe feels at home. It excels in exactly the type of running many athletes actually do on a daily basis – start from the front door, covering a few kilometers of road, transitioning onto gravel or forest trails, and returning home via pavement. For runners living in urban environments who need to connect road miles with trail miles, the Aerofly may be one of the most practical options in VJ’s lineup.
Aerofly prioritizes comfort, cushioning, and versatility over outright technical performance.
Specifications
Weight: 256 g (EU 42)
Stack Height: 38 mm / 30 mm
Drop: 8 mm
Lug Depth: 3 mm
Pros
Highly breathable upper
Excellent midfoot lockdown
Nitrogen-infused SuperFOAMance™ midsole
Strong energy return
Full-length rock plate
Stable platform
Lightweight construction
Secure fit with gusseted tongue
Removable insole
Outstanding versatility across mixed terrain
Cons
Grip falls short of VJ’s best trail-specific outsoles
Less confidence on wet rocks and slippery technical terrain
Verdict
The VJ FZN Aerofly successfully bridges the gap between road and trail running. It combines road-shoe comfort with trail-shoe protection, creating a highly versatile package that excels on mixed terrain.
While it won’t replace a dedicated mountain or technical trail shoe, that’s not its purpose. Instead, the Aerofly delivers exceptional comfort, reliable protection, and enough traction to tackle most surfaces runners encounter in everyday training.
Outside of very technical and wet terrain, the Aerofly comes across as a highly versatile, comfort-focused hybrid that stays true to VJ’s performance heritage while appealing to a much broader audience of runners.
Trail running has always been built on community. Volunteers stand at the heart of the sport, helping races function while creating the atmosphere that makes them special. But as many events have grown into large commercial enterprises, an uncomfortable question emerges: when a race generates significant revenue, should it still rely on unpaid labour? I’m not sure there is a simple answer. The reality sits somewhere between community spirit and business economics, and that’s what makes the debate worth having.
Trail and ultra running likes to present itself as a community before it presents itself as a business. That distinction matters, because the entire volunteer model in mountain racing depends on it.
Volunteering at races is noble and organic: people giving back to a sport they love. Aid stations staffed by local clubs, marshals standing in freezing rain at 3am, finish-line crews catching exhausted runners after 100 miles. The imagery is powerful. It reinforces the idea that trail running is somehow different from mainstream commercial sport.
But modern trail racing, – especially at the highest level – is no longer purely community-driven. Many major events are highly profitable commercial enterprises with corporate sponsors, media deals, merchandise, qualification systems, tourism partnerships and global brand expansion.
And that raises an uncomfortable question: If races are businesses, why are so many of the workers unpaid?
Take Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc as the clearest example. UTMB is no longer simply a mountain race organised by local enthusiasts. It is a global endurance brand. UTMB race week, the organization requires approximately 2,000 to 2,500 volunteers to ensure the successful operation of the event. In addition, there are UTMB World Series races across continents, partnerships with major corporations, streaming productions, premium entry fees, lotteries, travel packages and extensive merchandising. The infrastructure resembles a professional sporting enterprise. UTMB generate an estimated €30 million in revenue!
Yet the operational backbone of the event still depends heavily on volunteers. Without them, many races simply would not function financially.
That is the core reality that the sport rarely confronts directly.
A large ultra race requires enormous manpower: registration, bib collection, checkpoints, course marking, sweeping, medical support coordination, parking, logistics, finish-line support, drop bag management, transport and clean-up. Paying market wages for every role would radically alter race economics. Entry fees would rise sharply or profit margins would shrink.
Volunteers effectively subsidise the event.
The interesting part is not that volunteers exist. Volunteers are everywhere in society. The interesting part is that volunteering remains culturally unquestioned even when races become commercially sophisticated businesses.
In most industries, this model would feel absurd.
Imagine a privately owned bank. The owner hires executives, accountants and security staff, but then asks enthusiasts of banking to work unpaid at the cash desks because they “love finance” and want to “be part of the atmosphere.” Society would reject that instantly. The same would apply to airlines, supermarkets or hotels. Once an operation becomes commercial, labour is expected to be compensated.
So why do races escape?
Partly because sport occupies a strange middle ground between commerce and culture.
People volunteer at races not purely as workers but as participants in an identity. They often feel emotionally invested in the event, the region, the community or the sport itself. Volunteering becomes social capital. It offers belonging, prestige, access and meaning. In trail running especially, there is a strong ethic of reciprocity: “someone helped me, so I should help others.”
Key points are to support the outdoor community, maybe secure a guaranteed entry into future event, and enjoy the social atmosphere.
Volunteers, typically, are ultrarunners or hikers themselves, they want to support their friends, community, cheer, and pay forward the help they received during their own races.
Volunteers can earn discounted entries, priority for future events or a bonus compensation on apparel/ merchandise.
There is a huge social benefit, friendship and community.
Free t-shirts, hat, and/ot other merchandise and more often than not, free food and drink
Eiger Ultra Trail by UTMB (as an example) clearly state the offer via their website:
A successful Eiger Ultra Trail event relies heavily on the help of volunteers. Volunteers have the unique opportunity to actively participate in this international event, to experience the race up close as it unfolds and to be on-hand for support when 4000 competitors from 80 nations attempt to conquer the 101km, 250km, 51km, 35km, 16km or Trail Surprise at the foot of the Eiger.
We offer our Volunteers:
An unforgettable experience in a breathtaking mountain landscape
An attractive Volunteer Shirt (male and female fit available)
Free gondola or train ride from Grindelwald to the race courses
Refreshments during volunteer service (lunchbag, hot meals from Friday)
Free accommodation at youth hostel (shared room) if volunteering early morning or late evening and if the assignment cannot be reached in time by public transport.
Personal expenses of CHF 30.00 per Person, or CHF 60.00 from 20h service
Volunteer gift
If you are supporter of a competitor and volunteering for us you get a free transport ticket to the race courses.We’re happy to welcome volunteers from the age of 13 – 70. A good physical condition is necessary.
Race organisations understand this extremely well.
The language surrounding volunteers is carefully framed around family, passion and community spirit. Volunteers are celebrated publicly, thanked emotionally and woven into the mythology of the sport. This is genuine – many volunteers truly enjoy the experience – but it also masks an economic truth: their labour has real financial value.
That value is substantial.
A major ultra may require hundreds, if not thousands of volunteer hours. If those hours were compensated at standard labour rates, the event budget would look entirely different. Volunteers are not merely helping. They are replacing paid staffing costs.
Other sectors do use unpaid labour, but usually with controversy attached.
Media companies rely on unpaid internships. Fashion and film industries often offer people to work “for exposure.” Tech startups use open-source contributors whose free work later supports billion-dollar valuations. Universities depend heavily on unpaid academic labour. Charities and grassroots sports clubs naturally rely on volunteers because they are non-profit or resource-constrained.
The key distinction is this: society tends to become more critical when unpaid labour supports private profit rather than public benefit.
That is where trail running becomes ethically complicated.
A local village race organised by a community association is one thing. Few participants object to volunteers there because the event itself may barely break even and any surplus returns to local causes.
A global race brand charging premium prices while still depending on unpaid operational labour is different.
And yet it remains normalised because trail running inherited its culture from grassroots mountain events long before the sport commercialised. The volunteer ethos survived the transition from community gathering to international business model.
There is also a practical reality: many races genuinely could not exist in their current form if every role became salaried. Mountain races are logistically extreme. Remote terrain, long durations and unpredictable weather create staffing demands unlike those of conventional road races or stadium sports. The economics are difficult even before considering environmental permits, safety systems, insurance and medical infrastructure.
And this brings in the point of paid staff. The primary organizers, logistics leads, and business owners who plan the event year-round are paid along with specialized crews such as media, medical teams, mountain safety, technical contractors and so on.
At some point, the question becomes philosophical rather than logistical: When does a community event become a corporation wearing community clothing?
The discomfort around this subject often comes from the fact that both realities coexist simultaneously. Trail races are still authentic communal experiences for many people. Volunteers often derive real satisfaction and pride from contributing. The emotional value is genuine.
Yet it is also true that this culture enables profitable enterprises to operate with labour models that would appear unacceptable almost anywhere else.
The sport rarely interrogates that contradiction because everyone benefits in some way. Runners get lower fees than fully commercial staffing would require. Volunteers gain belonging and access. Race brands preserve their community image while controlling costs.
The arrangement works.
Until someone asks whether it should.
What are your thoughts on the volunteer model? Do you foresee a change in the future – not at the grass-roots, non-profitable level – but are the larger, corporate and very obvious businesses level where profit and high profits are very visible.
Whether this model can survive unchanged at the corporate end of the sport remains to be seen. I do not know the answer, but it is a question we should not stop asking.
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!
FELL – 8mm lugs – 4mm drop –19.5/23.5 cushioning
TRAIL – 4mm lugs – 6mm drop – 21/27 cushioning
ULTRA – 4mm lugs – 8mm drop – 22/30 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.
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.
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.
The 2026 and 40th edition of MDS Legendary concluded with the iconic Merzouga Dunes after a 270km, 6-stage journey over 7-days.
Mohammed El Morabity taking over the reigns of his elder brother, Rachid, and winning the edition in superb way, with final stage victory too.
For the women, Maryline Nakache won every stage and cemented her name in MDS history with an incredible fast time and an overall placing of 13th overall.
Many words can be written about this incredible journey through the Sahara. Mohamed ran an incredible pace, the fastest in history, covering the 270km’s in 20:47:39.
Contrast this with the last place finisher, Hiu Tung Tilda Wong who completed the journey in 85:44:26.
From first to last, 1350 finishers – each now a LEGEND and each a unique story in the 40-year history of this incredible stage race.
With 1435 starters, only 85 DNF’d (did not finish) which equates to just 5.92% – an incredible statistic for the longest edition in the race history, a testament to the commitment of each participant and also the organisation. Of the 1350 finishers, 341 were women, 25%.
The last day, on paper, a relatively easy 23km’s, particularly after what came before. The kick in the tail, of course, was the Merzouga Dunes and extremely strong winds and sand storms that made conditions especially tough.
Mohamed and Ludovic Pommeret battled the last stage and Mohamed sealed victory with a sprint, 1:36:37 to 1:36:46. Not far behind was MDS Legendary legend and 11 time champion, Rachid El Morabity 1:42:41.
Maryline crossed the line in 2:06:22 and behind, Magdalena Boulet, once again finding incredible form in the latter stages of the race sealed 2nd in 2:11:14.
Aziza El Amrany, obviously in pain, battled to the line for 3rd in 2:18:30, ultimately no doubt disappointed that she was unable to battle for the overall victory in the 2026 edition, however, her tenacity really did shine.
As always, the race is about the human stories – the highs, the lows, the mental game to finish. From sore blistered feet to damaged muscles, the story to become a Legend is a special one. And the words of Roosevelt are apt.
It’s not the critic who counts, not the man or woman who points out how the strong man or woman stumbled, or when the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man or woman who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends him or herself in a worth cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at the worst if he or she fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his or her place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.
This quote personifies the MDS spirit. One has to be in the arena, fighting to achieve glory and yes, some may not achieve their goal, but they had the bravery to at least try.
To conclude the journey, participants will celebrate on Ouarzazate with a gala dinner, awards ceremony a party that will go into the night and then the next day onward travel.
MDS Legendary is always special, the 2026 edition? Very special.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Marathon des Sables: What a Week in the Desert Really Looks Like
The Marathon des Sables has always been legendary. In 2026, it becomes something even more special.
This edition marks the 40th anniversary of the race. Four decades of runners crossing the Sahara under their own power. Forty years of stories, struggle, and unforgettable moments. To honour that history, the 2026 race will be longer, tougher, and designed to celebrate everything the event has become.
As we move through March, I’m sharing a short series of weekly articles to help sharpen your preparation. This is the third of four. The goal is simple: remove uncertainty.
When you arrive in the desert, you should know what to expect.
For many runners, especially first-timers, the unknowns can feel overwhelming. What happens when you arrive in Morocco?
How does the bivouac work?
What does a typical day look like?
And how do the logistics of such a remote race actually function?
Let’s walk through it together.
The Evolution of the Race
The Marathon des Sables has changed over the years, and many of those changes focus on reducing environmental impact.
Past participants will notice significant differences. Charter planes have been removed. More transport now happens overland. The race increasingly relies on local staff and local produce. Media presence has been reduced. A storage centre in Morocco limits the need for shipping equipment every year. Transport trucks have been reduced, and power-saving measures are everywhere, including solar energy.
Water management has also evolved. In the past, runners received 1.5-litre bottles. Today, the race distributes 5-litre bottles, dramatically reducing plastic use during the event.
Behind the scenes is a large support structure dedicated to safety.
• Around 120 medical staff, known as the Orange Jackets, monitor runner safety 24 hours a day.
• The Blue Jackets focus on runner relations. They are present in the bivouac, on the course, and at checkpoints. If you have a question or concern, they are your first point of contact.
Out on the course, SSV vehicles provide rapid access across the route and carry medical professionals for immediate response. In addition, there are 12 support 4×4 vehicles and a unique system of 40 camel patrol teams. These local teams monitor specific zones and report any issues quickly.
Add to that 20 medical patrol staff on the course and another 25 blue and orange jacket team members, and you begin to see how carefully the race is supported despite its remote setting.
Arriving in Morocco
Your journey begins in Ouarzazate, the meeting point for the race.
Plan to arrive at least one day early. This gives you time to settle in and avoids unnecessary stress before the adventure begins. Hotels are your responsibility to book.
The organisation provides free transfers from Marrakech to Ouarzazate, usually departing from the airport and a designated hotel. Always check official timings before travelling.
Photo by Ian Corless
On Day 1, buses depart from Ouarzazate for the first bivouac. The journey takes roughly six hours across spectacular desert landscapes. A lunch pack is provided, but it’s wise to bring extra snacks and drinks.
When you arrive at the bivouac, you’ll be assigned a tent number. Remember you are self-sufficient in regard to food, water is provided. For the moment, you still have access to your luggage. The following day, after administrative checks, you will deposit that luggage and begin the self-sufficient part of the race.
From this point forward, the desert becomes your home.
Life in the Bivouac
Bivouac life is simple. Very simple.
There are no showers and no power. You live under traditional desert tents with seven other runners. It can feel crowded when everyone is organising gear, so respect each other’s space and keep things tidy.
There are a few practical rules that quickly become important:
• Toilets are installed throughout the bivouac and at checkpoints.
• Some toilets are designated women-only or mixed-use, and it’s important to respect those arrangements.
• Biodegradable hygiene bags are provided and waste is separated into organic and sanitary bins.
Phones are strongly discouraged in camp. The bivouac is meant to be a place for rest, conversation, and disconnection. If you need to make an emergency call, move away from camp out of respect for others.
There is also an IP phone available for emergency calls, costing €2 per minute.
Another change from previous years is the removal of the email message system. This reinforces the race’s self-sufficient spirit and saves thousands of sheets of paper that were previously used to print messages.
Instead, runners can use Emotion Boxes to record short video messages that are sent to loved ones. You need to designate before the race who these messages will be sent to.
At the centre of camp sits the Info Tent, where Blue Jackets are always present. This is where you:
• collect your daily water
• ask questions
• check rankings
• access medical support if needed
Additional facilities include women’s changing cabins and sanitary products available both in the bivouac and at checkpoints.
A few other important bivouac rules:
• Never light a fire within 50 cm of tents
• Do not walk barefoot
• Drop empty water bottles at designated recycling points
• On bivouac move days, return containers to the Info Tent
It may sound strict, but these rules keep the camp safe, clean, and functioning smoothly.
You will go through administrative, technical, and medical checks, while the MDS shop opens nearby. At the shop you can purchase WAA apparel, fire bricks and any other last-minute things you may have forgotten or need.
Each runner receives one 5-litre bottle of mineral water, which must last until the first checkpoint of the race.
Before heading to the checks, prepare the required documents:
• Passport
• Completed technical control form
• Medical certificate
• Resting electrocardiogram (ECG)
During the admin process you will:
1. Deposit your luggage (it will later be returned to you in Ouarzazate).
2. Present your documents and mandatory equipment.
3. Have your race pack weighed.
4. Undergo medical verification.
5. Receive your GPS beacon.
6. Submit your technical control form and receive two race bibs.
If you need to discard a personal item listed on your form later, you must inform the organisation or risk a penalty.
Later in the day:
• 4:30 PM – Stage briefing
Photo by Ian Corless
• 6:00 PM – 40th anniversary photo session
The race is now very real.
A Typical Day in the Desert
Every stage day follows a similar rhythm. Wake up will typically be around 0400 to 0500.
Breakfast is self-sufficient, using the food you’ve carried with you.
Stage tart times vary, but be prepared and ready for 05:30. If temperatures are high, the start may move earlier. Plan for at least 90 minutes of preparation before the start.
Thirty minutes before the stage begins, you must be ready. The race starts on time and no one is held back.
Out on the course, each checkpoint typically between 8-10km’s provides:
• water distribution
• medical presence
• toilets and hygiene supplies
At the finish line, you receive a 5-litre bottle of water, which must last until the first checkpoint the following day. To clarify, you need to drink, cook dinner, wash (if you can spare the water), make breakfast and fill bottles ready to last to CP1 all from the 5ltr bottle.
Each evening the Info Tent and medical clinic are open.
Safety in the Desert
Despite the race’s self-sufficient nature, medical support is extensive. Assistance is available before, during, and after every stage. However, runners are expected to understand basic foot care, which is essential during multi-day desert racing.
For more serious problems, the Dokever medical team takes over.
If you must withdraw from the race, you must notify the organisation. In emergencies, medical evacuation will occur. For non-emergency withdrawals, transport will be arranged back to Ouarzazate, but hotel and food costs will be your responsibility.
At night during a stage, headlamps are mandatory.
Navigation and Desert Conditions
The course is marked clearly and all checkpoints are mandatory. Cutting across the course is forbidden.
Compass headings in the road book are provided as guidance if visibility becomes poor. Know how to use a compass and take a bearing!
Sandstorms
If a sandstorm arrives:
• protect your eyes – you need good glasses and ideally goggles
• cover your nose and mouth typically with a Buff or similar
• stay close to other runners
Photo by Ian Corless
If visibility drops, stop moving and immediately remove compass and take a bearing for the direction of travel. When conditions improve you can move again relying on the compass bearing to ensure you are going in the correct direction.
If you stray from the course, the organisation will receive an alert from your GPS beacon and locate you.
If You Become Lost
It is highly unlikely that you become lost at MDS, however, it is possible to stray of course and feel disorientated. If you cannot see course markings for ten minutes:
1. Stop and assess your position.
2. Climb a small rise if possible to scan the horizon.
3. Backtrack for up to ten minutes if necessary.
Remember, you have a tracker, so, MDS organisation will know where you are and will be able to find you – do not panic.
As a last resort, activate the SOS function on your GPS beacon.
Distress signals can also be made using whistle blasts or torch flashes at night
To alert SOS with a whistle, the internationally recognized distress signal is three short, sharp blasts, followed by a pause, and then repeated. While the full Morse code for SOS is three short, three long, and three short blasts, the simplified “three blasts” method is more commonly used in disaster preparedness to call for help.
To alert SOS with a torch, flash the light in a repeating pattern of three short flashes, three long flashes, and three short flashes.
Medical Requirements
All runners declare medical information during registration.
During race checks, you must present:
• an original medical certificate
• a resting ECG
Photo by Ian Corless
Failure to provide these documents results in disqualification, though emergency testing may be available on site for a €200 fee.
Medical staff specialise in sports and tropical medicine and operate throughout the race.
They also have the authority to withdraw any runner deemed medically unfit to continue.
The Stages
The 2026 race covers approximately 270 kilometres +/- across the Sahara. Total elevation gain will be around 2500m +/-
Confirmed distances will be in the road book, anticipate the following +/- km’s.
Stages include:
• Stage 1: 37 km
• Stage 2: 41 km
• Stage 3: 29 km
• Stage 4: 100 km (You have two days to complete this stage.)
• Stage 5: 42 km
• Stage 6: 21 km
Photo by Ian Corless
To complete the race properly, runners must carry enough food to provide at least 14,000 calories. Remember, this is the minimum, you may well need more than this, so, balance calorie requirement and weight carefully.
The runner is self-sufficient and must carry ALL they need for the whole race, water the only exception.
After Each Stage
Once you reach the bivouac again, recovery begins immediately. You will receive a 5ltr water allocation which must last to CP1 the next day. Stage 4 an exception due to the rest day where extra water will be allocated.
Photo by Ian Corless
Start with a recovery drink before preparing food.
Important – take off your shoes and socks right away. Let your feet breathe and inspect them carefully while you are waiting for water to boil or, you are waiting for a meal to hydrate.
Eat a meal within 1-hour of finishing the stage.
Changing into clean or warmer clothing can make a huge difference. It allows running gear to dry and gives a mental reset for the next day. However, you also need to balance weight – keep ‘extras’ to an absolute minimum.
Sleep and rest is another priority. A sleeping mat helps enormously for rest, relaxation and sleep comfort. Your sleeping bag must be light but warm enough for desert nights. We are all different, so know what you need.
Be meticulous with your gear. Eight runners share each tent, and it can quickly become cluttered. Keep your bag packed and store items immediately after using them. Desert winds or sudden sandstorms can easily carry equipment away, especially lightweight items like sleeping mats.
Photo by Ian Corless
A Buff around your neck is invaluable. It lets you cover your nose, mouth, eyes, and ears quickly when conditions change.
Many tent groups also create a simple cooking area using stones and small branches for fire. Often the first runner back begins preparing the cooking area for everyone else.
Over time, these small routines become part of the experience.
And the bivouac itself becomes something special.
You will share the tent with people from all over the world. You will go through highs and lows together. Some moments will be difficult. Others unforgettable.
Many runners say the friendships formed here last a lifetime.
That is the spirit of Marathon des Sables.
After the Finish on Stage 6
Cross the finish line of the final stage and you will receive your medal, water allocation, and a packed lunch.
Photo by Ian Corless
Then you board a bus back to Ouarzazate. Buses leave as soon as they are full, so, no need to hang around and wait for ages.
The bus will take you to your specific hotel and your luggage will be waiting at your hotel.
What comes next is simple but glorious:
a shower…
then another shower…
and maybe one more.
Clean clothes.
A real bed.
A proper meal.
The following day is free to relax and explore. Remember the MDS shop! Later in the afternoon there is a dinner, awards ceremony, and celebration party.
Photo by Ian Corless
After that, the journey home begins.
But the memories of the desert tend to stay with you far longer.
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.
IAN CORLESS 