Author Gary Dudney

At last, I found a race held in the shadow of the COVID-19 lockdown, and there was no series of ominous email warnings followed by a reluctant cancellation notice. The Loco Challenge race series held in parts of the Lassen National Forest on June 6 in north central California.

Fort Ord Trail runs take place in Monterey, California, on the first weekend of February each year. It’s just a short drive south from San Francisco and runners can choose from a 100K, 50K, 25K or 10K, or run your ultra and let the rest of the family run the shorter distances.

Runners love Pinhoti. It seemed like everybody I talked to at packet pickup was either returning to run this race in Alabama because they couldn’t get enough of it or they were out to avenge a DNF. Pinhoti is like a flame in the night – drawing in moths, but also, ready to burn them into oblivion.

Runners experience a wonderland of rugged forest, waterfalls, natural arches, streams and river while tackling this demanding 100-mile tour of the Big South Fork National River and Recreation Area that begins in southern Kentucky and drops into Tennessee.

Burning River has always been a race with a heart of irony. The race celebrates health, strength, vitality, natural beauty and of course, the Cuyahoga River. Yet 50 years ago, the actual events that led to the Cuyahoga earning the name “burning river” were tragic and ugly.

The format at Forbidden Forest is not the usual 100-mile race with a 30-hour cutoff. It’s a no-one-DNFs 30-hour run with the win going to whomever runs the farthest, and special buckles for everyone that manages 45 laps of the 2.23 mile loop, or 100.35 miles. Consequently, the race was a mix of runners with widely varying goals and dreams.

Only in its third year, race directors Valerie Abradi and Mindy Slovinsky have put together an ultra event with an old-school feeling and lots of down home charm that will simultaneously delight and challenge you. Riverlands is a great up-and-coming destination race. Put it on your calendar before the word gets out.

At 66 years old, could I still go the distance? Was 2019 going to continue my bad luck from 2018? Could I still notch a 100-mile finish as a spanking-new granddad and add Florida to my long list of states where I’d run a 100-mile race?

In its second year, the No Business 100 Mile Trail Ultra race course spills over the lower Kentucky border into Tennessee and provides the same amazing natural wonders and scenery of the Great Smoky Mountains, but, as Race Director Bryan Gajus points out, without the long lines.

At the start of the Uwharrie 100, you depart Wood Run Trail Head and are swallowed up immediately by a thick, dark, mysterious forest. Underfoot are protruding rocks and a snake pit of tangled roots, all camouflaged by a layering of dead leaves. The 20.5 mile trail, which follows a figure eight route, will prove to be an almost unbroken minefield of trip hazards.

A gentle “angelic” loop around the valley floor gives you a chance to adjust to the altitude, enjoy the pine forest and valley meadows, and picturesque mountain cabins and ski chalets. The “fire” comes when you begin the 18.5-mile out and back over the top of the ski resort and down the other side, topping out at about 11,000 feet where you feel like the sun is microwaving your exposed skin.

Just fully completed in 2016, the 68 mile long Backbone Trail in the Santa Monica Mountains of Southern California’s Golden coast has been designated a National Recreational Trail and offers a unique and stunning venue for the Coyote Backbone Trail Ultras.

The race’s name, “Burning River,” is of course ironic, harkening back to the numerous times the Cuyahoga River, once one of America’s most polluted waterways, actually caught on fire.

“Kettle Moraine.” The name is striking, weird, mysterious. But it turns out understanding the name helps you appreciate the awesome beauty and the mighty geology behind this classic Wisconsin 100 mile endurance run.

Ride the Wind is a desert race through and through with cactus, kangaroo mice, wadis, coyotes, painted rocks, lizards, one hundred percent exposure, and a UV index that could strip paint off the space shuttle. Even the cactus was dying out there.

I could see the plank was tilted. I could see the slip marks in the black mud on the end of the board. I could see the footprints next to the plank where other runners had stepped to avoid the danger. I was telling myself, “Don’t put your foot on the board.” But I put my foot there anyway…