Some ultras chase headlines. The SLU 250 invites you to quietly disappear. Held over five days in Switzerland, this 250k event is self-supported and invitation-only with a refreshingly low profile. No sponsors. No swag bags. Just a small group of runners carrying everything on their backs and meeting the land, and themselves, on its terms.
I hadn’t planned to run it but another race fell through, and suddenly this one appeared, quietly, like a trailhead you didn’t expect. Race entrants don’t register with a credit card; each runner sends a short profile in hopes they’re the kind of runner Marco Jaeggi, the race director, is looking for.
We met in Murten, a medieval lakeside town where the pace of life is slow and the pre-race buffet is homemade, courtesy of Marco’s wife and father-in-law. The warmth of that welcome says everything. This wasn’t a race built to impress—it was built to connect.
Stage one was under 30k, but with 20 pounds of gear on your back, every step felt magnified. We passed through vineyards and villages before reaching a lakeside campsite. There was no wifi, just a cold lake to wash in and stars to sleep under. That night, we shared trail food, compared our gear and laughed hard. This was likely the last time any of our legs felt fresh.
The midweek stages were steady: there were two days of 44k through farmlands and forest paths, where a wind off Lake Biel kept things interesting. Pace groups formed, reshuffled and reformed, and conversations came and went, often replaced by comfortable silence. One runner got lost and added six unexpected kilometers, but still made it back with a smile.
Then came Thursday: the distance was 82k, including an 8k climb with 1,000 feet of gain. We started before dawn, with our headlamps bobbing through sleeping towns. The route passed Creux du Van, a massive natural amphitheater that stopped us all in our tracks. Even after hours on our feet, we stood in awe.
Later in the stage, I found myself chasing my tentmate, who was leading the race, through cobbled streets at kilometer 70. It was neither smart nor sustainable, but it made for a finish I’ll never forget.
Friday’s final 48k brought heat, hills and a finish line made up of family, friends and curious locals. There were no medals dangling from lanyards at the end, just handmade trophies and hugs beneath a medieval clock tower. The Swiss and German anthems were played by trombone, naturally.
The SLU 250 isn’t a bucket list event, and it’s not about bragging rights or race day photos. It’s something runners carry with them long after their feet have healed and life returns to normal.
If you happen to get the invite—take it. But don’t expect comfort. Expect connection, effort and a reminder of why you run in the first place.