2024 Cocodona 250: The Later Miles of an Epic Ultrarunning Journey

Welcome to the thrilling conclusion of my 2024 Cocodona 250 experience, an ultrarunning adventure that pushed my limits across rugged Arizona terrain. As an avid trailrunning enthusiast and ultrarunner, I’m excited to share the highs, lows, and everything in between from the latter half of this grueling 250-mile race. This article delves deep into the challenges faced, the strategies employed, and the unforgettable moments that defined the final miles, all while emphasizing the spirit of ultrarunning, trailrunning, and running that fuels such epic endeavors.

Embarking on this journey just three weeks after completing the Southern States 200 was admittedly ambitious, but with the unwavering support of my incredible crew and pacers, what seemed insurmountable became achievable. Whether you're a seasoned ultrarunner or a passionate trailrunner, the story of these later miles will resonate with the relentless pursuit of forward movement and the mental toughness required in endurance running.

Embracing the Challenge: From Mount Mingus to Jerome

At around 48 hours into the race, I found myself at the summit of Mount Mingus, having finally grabbed my first 30 minutes of sleep. With 108 miles behind me, the goal was to press on toward Jerome, a historic mining town that would serve as a pivotal checkpoint. My wife Ana, my most trusted and favorite pacer, joined me for the challenging descent down the mountain. Running — or more accurately, moving forward with purpose — was the name of the game. In a 200-mile race, it’s not about speed alone but about maintaining forward momentum, self-care, and the refusal to quit.

The morning greeted us with cooler temperatures, perfect for tackling the rough trail sections ahead. Despite the rocky terrain and numerous switchbacks, the stunning vistas rewarded every step. Having climbed this mountain in the pitch dark the previous night, I was thrilled to finally see the breathtaking views we had missed. Snow lingered on the north-facing slopes, a cool reminder of the mountain’s altitude and the varying conditions ultrarunners face.

Throughout this segment, Ana's enthusiasm was infectious. Pacing during the daytime was a new experience for her, and together we navigated the rolling rocks and switchbacks, sharing moments of awe at the natural beauty surrounding us. Even the small, unavoidable stops — like finding a spot to pee — became part of the rhythm of the race.

Maintaining Energy and Hydration in the Arizona Sun

By the 50-hour mark, the sun was rising, casting golden light on the trail. It was crucial to cover up, stay hydrated, and keep eating to maintain energy levels and avoid the brutal effects of the Arizona sun. Running uphill was out of the question; the focus was on steady forward progress. I managed to sneak in some jogging on smoother terrain, a welcome change of pace.

One of the most important lessons in ultrarunning is pacing yourself according to the terrain and conditions. Uphills demand patience and power hiking, while descents and flats offer opportunities to pick up the pace. The mental game involves knowing when to push and when to conserve energy.

Jerome: A Brief Oasis and Refueling Station

After a long leg covering 120 miles by just over 52 hours, we arrived in Jerome, a town rich with mining history and revitalized charm. The transition from rugged trail to town brought a sense of relief and accomplishment. Here, I refueled with breakfast tacos and vegan chicken nuggets, while Ana enjoyed a Beyond Burger and soda. Fueling properly at aid stations is a critical aspect of ultrarunning strategy, providing the nutrients and fluids necessary to sustain energy and morale.

Jerome served as a brief oasis before the next leg, an 8+ mile section that would take us through roads and more runnable trail with moderate vertical gain. I equipped myself with a buff filled with ice, hoping to keep cool for the first few miles of this hot afternoon stretch. Ana not only paced but also helped me navigate gates along the route — a small but essential task that kept the momentum going.

Despite some foot pain from the rocky descents, progress continued steadily. The heat intensified as the day wore on, but with hydration and pacing, we pushed through.

Solo Efforts and Mental Fortitude

Later, around the 57-hour mark, I entered the town of Troughcloakedale, Arizona, and returned to trail running. A warning from a trail angel about snakes added a layer of caution to the gully descent ahead. Slow, careful steps replaced any urge to speed up. Crossing a chilly river soaked my taped feet, a discomfort I anticipated but could not avoid.

Running opportunities were scarce during this segment, and when a runnable trail appeared, I seized the moment for a brief two-minute run. The solitude of solo running tested mental endurance, but it also offered a chance to focus inwardly and maintain steady forward progress despite fatigue and pain.

Endurance, Sleep Deprivation, and the Importance of Rest

By 58 hours and 134.5 miles, the race was taking its toll. While the initial legs of the day went well, the upcoming 17-mile stretch loomed large, and I faced it alone without a pacer. Pacers are more than just running partners; they provide social interaction, motivation, and a security blanket that eases the mental strain of ultrarunning.

Operating on roughly 30 minutes of sleep over 60 hours, the effects of sleep deprivation were undeniable. I dozed briefly while eating at an aid station but knew I needed more rest to sustain performance. At the Sedona 8 Station, exhaustion forced me to take a 20-minute nap, a short but necessary reset.

Power Naps and Nutrition: Key to Recovery on the Trail

Power naps, even as brief as 20 minutes, can provide critical restoration during multi-day ultrarunning events. Coupled with proper nutrition — like the breakfast burrito and cinnamon roll I enjoyed later — these breaks help stabilize energy levels and improve focus.

However, the 20-minute nap wasn’t enough to steady me fully. By the time I reached the Chappell Hill 8 Station, mental and physical exhaustion necessitated a longer, 90-minute sleep. This extended rest, combined with restaurant-quality food and hydration, revitalized me for the final push.

The Final Stretches: Teamwork and Determination

With renewed energy, I tackled the last legs of the race, supported by my amazing crew and pacers like Malcolm and Bubbles. Bubbles, aptly named because “if you can’t be fast, you’ve got to bring the fun,” was a spirited pacer helping complete the 125-mile finish segment of her own Cocodona journey.

As the miles clicked by, my crew provided unwavering support — from handing out food and drink to motivating me to keep moving during challenging moments. At the Bun’s Park aid station, after a 90-minute nap, I was ready to get back on course despite the fatigue and smoke-induced nosebleeds from the environment.

The camaraderie and encouragement from my crew and fellow runners were invaluable, reminding me that ultrarunning is as much about community as it is about individual grit.

Overcoming Adversity: Foot Pain and Environmental Challenges

One of the toughest challenges during the later miles was managing foot pain caused by rough terrain and prolonged exertion. The rocky descents and constant pounding took a toll, but with careful taping and pacing, I kept pushing forward.

Environmental factors like smoke and dust added to the difficulty, causing breathing discomfort and nosebleeds. These elements tested my resilience but also highlighted the unpredictable nature of trailrunning in the outdoors.

Crossing the Finish Line: A Moment of Triumph

After 72 hours and 165 miles, I approached the final aid stations and the last stretch toward the finish line. The journey was a grind — every step earned through determination and the support of my crew. The last few miles were a mix of emotions: exhaustion, relief, pride, and a deep sense of accomplishment.

Crossing the finish line of the Cocodona 250 was more than just completing a race; it was the culmination of months of training, mental fortitude, and the relentless spirit of ultrarunning. The moment was emotional, a testament to the power of perseverance and community.

Celebrating with my crew and fellow runners, I reflected on the incredible journey. Without their incredible support and dedication, this feat wouldn’t have been possible. Taking on two 200+ mile races in such close succession was undoubtedly one of my biggest challenges, but also one of the most rewarding.

Lessons Learned and Reflections on Ultrarunning

Every ultrarunning event teaches new lessons — about pacing, nutrition, rest, and mental toughness. This race reinforced the importance of:

• Maintaining forward movement, no matter how slow, as the key to finishing
• Listening to your body and adjusting effort based on terrain and conditions
• Utilizing pacers and crew as vital sources of motivation and logistical support
• Prioritizing sleep and nutrition to sustain performance over multiple days
• Embracing the adventure and unpredictability of trailrunning

Ultrarunning is not just a physical challenge but a profound mental and emotional journey. The Cocodona 250, with its stunning landscapes, tough terrain, and vibrant community, embodies everything that makes trailrunning and ultrarunning so compelling.

Final Thoughts: The Spirit of Ultrarunning, Trailrunning, and Running

The later miles of the 2024 Cocodona 250 were a testament to the resilience, dedication, and passion that define ultrarunning, trailrunning, and running. Each step forward was a victory — over fatigue, pain, and doubt. The support of my crew and pacers transformed the impossible into the achievable.

For anyone chasing ultrarunning dreams, remember it’s about the journey as much as the destination. Keep moving forward, embrace the challenges, and never underestimate the power of community. Whether you’re tackling your first 50k or your sixth 250-mile race, the spirit of ultrarunning lives in every step.

Thank you for joining me on this adventure. If you’re inspired to explore the world of ultrarunning and trailrunning, lace up your shoes and take that first step — the miles will follow.

For more stories and insights into ultrarunning and trailrunning, explore my other adventures and keep pushing your limits. The trails are calling.

@ULTRAKRAUT

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2024 COCODONA 250 | An Epic Journey of Ultrarunning, Trailrunning, and Running the Early Miles

Embarking on the grueling 2024 Cocodona 250 was an adventure that tested every ounce of physical and mental endurance. This ultrarunning event, spanning 250 miles from Black Canyon City to Flagstaff, Arizona, is a true testament to the spirit of trailrunning and running at the highest level. As someone who has participated in multiple 200-mile races and beyond, this race presented unique challenges and unforgettable moments. With a seasoned crew by my side, including my wife and close friends, the journey was as much about camaraderie and support as it was about pushing my limits.

Preparing for the Cocodona 250: The Build-Up to the Race

Last year, I covered the Cocodona 250 live on YouTube, watching runners tackle the vast and varied Arizona terrain. When registration opened for the 2024 race with a small discount, I didn’t hesitate to sign up. The timing was perfect—it lined up closely with my birthday, making this race my ultimate birthday present to myself. What followed was a 24-hour drive across eight states in my camper van, arriving in Arizona ready to take on one of the most challenging ultrarunning events on the calendar.

The Cocodona 250 is a point-to-point race that weaves through the high desert and mountainous regions of Northern Arizona. The race starts in Black Canyon City and finishes in Flagstaff, covering some of the most demanding trails, including Mount Mingus and Mount Elden, known for their steep ascents and technical terrain. The first 38 miles alone include nearly 10,000 feet of climbing and little shade, a daunting prospect especially under the desert sun.

Coming off the inaugural Southern States 200 just three weeks earlier, I was fortunate to have my wife crewing for me again. Additionally, my trusted crew chief Jay Hagan, who has supported me through previous 200-mile races, and Tobias Sørensen, who had paced me before, joined for this event. My local friend Malcolm Davenport, new to ultrarunning crewing and pacing, also came along, making this a well-rounded, experienced team. Their presence was a crucial part of my strategy, ensuring I had no excuses and the best support possible.

Race Day: The Early Miles and Initial Challenges

Race morning was filled with a mix of nerves and anticipation. After final checks, including ensuring I could carry the mandatory 4 liters of water and receiving my SPOT tracker, we were ready to get underway. The race had a slight 10-minute delay, but soon the first miles began unfolding beneath the rising sun.

The initial section, often called the Crocs of the race, stretched over 26 miles with minimal shade and massive elevation gain. It was a test of patience and pacing. I focused on conserving energy, managing hydration, and protecting myself from the sun by pulling up my hood. The trail here was beautiful but relentless, demanding steady progress.

At the first aid station around mile 25, I ensured I loaded up with more than the required 4 liters of water—carrying 6 liters in total to prepare for the long hike ahead. This section was essentially a marathon hike with significant elevation, and I was determined to reach the crew at mile 35 feeling as strong as possible.

Managing the Heat and Nutrition

Throughout the early stages, the heat was a constant adversary. Despite the relatively pleasant temperatures early on, the sun’s intensity was always looming. I battled hot spots under the balls of my feet and struggled to balance my electrolytes and nutrition, which is always a fine line in ultrarunning. The challenge was not just physical but mental—to keep moving forward slowly enough to avoid overheating but steadily enough to make progress.

Frozen grapes at one of the water stops were a refreshing treat and a reminder of the small joys along the way. The terrain shifted from desert basins to greener patches, signaling the start of the big climbs ahead. The trail was technical, with rocks and boulders that required careful navigation, adding to the physical toll on my feet and legs.

Mid-Race Struggles and the Mental Battle

By the 7-hour mark, the race was starting to take its toll. Hot spots on my feet worsened, and I was beginning to feel the effects of overheating. Whenever a breeze came, I experienced chills—a classic sign of heat exhaustion. I slowed my pace, focusing on hydration and nutrition, and stopped to tape my feet in hopes of reducing the friction and pain that was slowing me down.

Despite the low point in the race coming earlier than expected, I reminded myself that ultrarunning is about putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how tough it gets. The sheer distance and the unforgiving terrain meant that there was no room for error or giving up.

Water Shortages and Resourcefulness

One unexpected challenge was a water shortage at a water stop caused by the theft of 25-gallon drums, which forced water rations to be cut dramatically. I resorted to using my filter bottle to refill from a stagnant creek, algae and all. It was a reminder that ultrarunning often requires adapting to unpredictable circumstances and making the best of whatever resources are available.

Reaching Lane Mountain and Crown King: A Crucial Reset

After nearly 11 hours and 33 miles, I arrived at the Lane Mountain aid station, a critical stop to refuel and regroup. The crew was ready with food, drinks, and much-needed encouragement. This station was a chance to put my feet up, eat proper food, and prepare mentally for the next big section.

The trail from Lane Mountain to Crown King was a mix of climbing and descending, with stunning views that reminded me why I love trailrunning despite the challenges. The Crown King aid station marked the first time I would see my crew since the early morning, a huge morale boost.

Nightfall and Technical Terrain

As the day turned to night, the race entered a more technical phase. The terrain became rockier and more demanding, requiring careful foot placement and concentration. Nighttime running added an extra layer of difficulty, with bugs and cooler temperatures to contend with.

Despite the fatigue and the physical pain, I pushed on, knowing that the race was far from over. The support from the crew and fellow runners was invaluable during this stage, providing both practical aid and emotional encouragement.

Prescott and Whiskey Row: Midpoint Milestones

After 27 hours and 72 miles, I made it to Whiskey Row in Prescott, a lively spot and a key checkpoint on the course. Here, I planned to take a short nap and get off my feet to recover. Sleep deprivation is one of the harshest realities of ultrarunning, and I was already feeling the effects of poor rest before and during the race.

Despite the exhaustion, the flat terrain leading into Prescott offered a brief respite from the relentless climbing. The crew had everything ready to help me refuel and prepare for the next stages.

Pacing with Malcolm and Tackling Mount Mingus

Malcolm took over pacing duties for a 50k stretch after Prescott, a great help as we tackled more varied terrain. The plan was to climb Mount Mingus later in the afternoon to avoid the worst heat of the day, a strategic decision to manage energy and minimize damage to my feet.

The approach to Mount Mingus was technical and demanding, with loose rocks and steep ascents that threatened to worsen the hot spots on my feet. I was ready to face this monster climb with determination, knowing the race would be decided by how well I managed this section.

Conquering the Biggest Climb and Final Thoughts

At nearly 40 hours into the race, we reached the last aid station before Mount Mingus. I took some time to change into fresh clothes, eat burgers, and mentally prepare for the biggest challenge of the day. The climb up Mingus was both physically brutal and mentally taxing, especially with my battered feet.

The technical nature of the ascent demanded focus and careful footwork. Thankfully, the crew's support and the pacing partnership with Malcolm helped me push through. As the young kids say, the "drip" (gear and outfit) was on point, keeping me comfortable and ready for the final push.

Why Do We Do This?

"Why am I doing these things? They're just painful," I joked with my crew. But the truth is, the pain is part of the journey. The juice is always worth the squeeze when it comes to these types of endurance events.

Ultrarunning, trailrunning, and running long distances like the Cocodona 250 are about pushing beyond limits, embracing discomfort, and finding joy in the struggle. Every painful step, every blister taped, every ounce of hydration consumed is a step toward an unforgettable experience.

Final Words

The early miles of the 2024 Cocodona 250 were a rollercoaster of highs and lows. From the blistering desert heat and technical climbs to the camaraderie of an experienced crew and the beauty of Arizona's landscapes, this race was a profound test of endurance and willpower.

For anyone passionate about ultrarunning, trailrunning, or running in general, events like this offer a unique blend of challenge and reward. They remind us that success is often about persistence, preparation, and the connections we build along the way.

As I continue this journey, I am grateful for the support of my crew, the lessons learned, and the opportunity to share this adventure. Stay tuned for the next chapters of this epic race, where the story continues from the summit of Mount Mingus to the finish line in Flagstaff.

Until then, keep running and embracing the trails—because every step counts.

@ULTRAKRAUT

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SOUTHERN STATES 200 | An Inaugural Adventure

Embarking on a 200-mile endurance run is a monumental challenge that tests every ounce of physical stamina and mental grit. The Southern States 200, a brand-new point-to-point race, promises an epic journey through the rugged landscapes of Georgia and Alabama. Starting just outside Dalton, Georgia, this race follows the scenic Pinhoti Trail all the way to the summit of Mount Cheaha—the highest point in Alabama. Over nearly 30,000 feet of elevation gain, runners face a mix of single-track trails, jeep roads, forest service roads, and even some paved sections.

As someone who’s tackled multiple 200-mile races, I can confidently say that the Southern States 200 delivers on excitement, challenge, and adventure. In this article, I’ll take you through my experience—from the nerve-wracking start to the euphoric finish—sharing insights, lessons learned, and the incredible community spirit that defines this race.

Setting the Stage: Race Morning and Preparation

The morning of the race arrived early—6:30 a.m. shuttle pick-up time—and I found myself buzzing with anticipation and nerves. The Southern States 200 is unique in that it’s a point-to-point race, so logistics are a big part of the preparation. I left the support van at the finish line, trusting my amazing crew to shuttle it back and forth as needed.

My wife Ana was my primary crew for the first 40 miles, and the rest of the support team would join me around Mile 39. Knowing that I would have dedicated help for the early miles was a huge relief, but it also meant I had to be fully prepared to handle the solitude and self-sufficiency of the initial stretch.

At race check-in, the process was smooth and professional. I picked up my race gear, including long and short sleeve shirts, and completed the mandatory medical checks. The race organizers provided clear instructions about safety equipment, including whistles, headlamps, hydration systems, and even an app to track progress. The attention to detail in the preparation phase set a positive tone for the entire event.

The First 40 Miles: Navigating the Pinhoti Trail

When the race started at noon, we quickly hit the Pinhoti Trail, a beautiful but challenging route that would be our companion for most of the race. The first 16 miles involved a lot of up and down ridge running on single-track trails, offering stunning views but also requiring careful pacing and energy management.

Despite the warmth creeping in earlier than expected, I stayed mindful about hydration, knowing that this was a critical factor for endurance running. I made a rookie mistake early on by not refilling my water bottles at a creek, which left me running low on fluids within the first 12 miles. That experience taught me the importance of proactive hydration—something I adjusted for the rest of the race.

The terrain was a mix of pine needle-covered trails, shady sections under the trees, and some jeep roads. The beauty of the scenery was a welcome distraction from the physical toll. Around the 19-mile mark, I started to feel the cumulative effects of running but was still in good spirits.

Challenges with Heat and Hydration

Heat quickly became my arch-nemesis. Temperatures climbed into the 80s, and the sun beating down on blacktop sections made the heat feel even more oppressive. I found myself walking more during the hottest parts of the day, trying to conserve energy and avoid heat exhaustion. Even with ample electrolytes, swelling became an issue, prompting me to switch to water-only hydration temporarily to rebalance my system.

One of the toughest stretches was a 16-mile section on blacktop with no shade, where a wrong turn added an extra mile. Walking the entire time in that heat was grueling, and it really tested my mental fortitude. Thankfully, the kindness of strangers and the support of my crew provided much-needed encouragement.

Mid-Race: The Long Haul and Night Running

As the race progressed into the night and the second day, fatigue set in deeply. By 23 and a half hours in, I was battling foot issues—blisters and hot spots—that threatened to end my race prematurely. Luckily, the medical staff at the aid stations was phenomenal. I spent time taping my feet and applying moleskin, which allowed me to keep moving forward.

Adding Jeff as a pacer for 50 miles was a game-changer. Having company on the trail, especially during the long, dark stretches, made a huge difference mentally and physically. Pacing in such extreme endurance events is about more than just speed; it’s about motivation, companionship, and shared determination.

Managing Sleep Deprivation and Mental Fatigue

Sleep deprivation became one of the biggest challenges of the Southern States 200. With nearly 70 hours of racing behind me, my brain refused to shut off when I needed rest most. I experimented with short naps at aid stations and “trail naps” on the go, but quality sleep was elusive.

The mental battle was constant. There were moments of doubt and frustration, especially when my pace slowed and the miles seemed endless. The support from my crew, particularly Ana, who kept me fueled and motivated, was critical to pushing through these lows.

Final Stretch: Climbing Mount Cheaha and the Finish Line

After nearly 50 hours on the course, I reached the biggest climb of the race—the ascent to Mount Cheaha. This section was a mix of East Coast ridge running, with wide ridgelines and breathtaking views. Despite the physical exhaustion, the breeze and cooler temperatures provided some relief.

The climb was tough but steady. I reminded myself to keep a comfortable pace and stay hydrated, knowing that the finish line was within reach. The last 9 miles involved undulating terrain with some significant ups and downs, but the thought of crossing the finish line kept me moving.

At 78 hours and 48 minutes, I crossed the finish line atop Mount Cheaha. The sense of accomplishment was overwhelming—this inaugural Southern States 200 had tested me in every way imaginable, but I had made it. Ice-cold drinks, cheers from volunteers, and the embrace of my crew made the moment unforgettable.

Lessons Learned from the Southern States 200

• Hydration is Paramount: Early mistakes with water management underscored how critical it is to stay ahead of dehydration, especially in hot weather.
• Proper Foot Care Can Save Your Race: Blisters and foot pain are inevitable, but prompt treatment at aid stations can keep you moving.
• Sleep Deprivation is a Major Factor: Managing mental fatigue and finding ways to rest—even briefly—can be the difference between finishing and dropping out.
• Support Crew and Pacers are Essential: The encouragement and practical help from my wife and team made this journey possible.
• Be Prepared for Heat: The Southern States 200 can be deceptively hot, with exposed sections that radiate heat. Adjust your pace and hydration accordingly.
• Stay Mentally Flexible: There will be highs and lows, good hours and bad hours. Accepting this rollercoaster helps maintain focus and motivation.

The Community and Organization Behind the Race

The Southern States 200 is more than just a race; it’s a community celebration of endurance and adventure. The race organizers did a stellar job ensuring aid stations were well-stocked with food, hydration options, and medical support. At every stop, volunteers greeted runners with smiles, encouragement, and practical help.

One memorable moment was the aid station at Cave Spring, where a foot doctor was on hand, and the shade and cooked pasta felt like a small oasis after miles of sun and heat. The camaraderie among runners, crew, and volunteers created a supportive atmosphere that carried me through the toughest moments.

Why the Southern States 200 is a Must-Run Ultra

Having run five 200-mile races, I can say the Southern States 200 stands out as a truly special event. It offers the perfect blend of challenge and beauty, from the rolling ridges of the Pinhoti Trail to the dramatic summit of Mount Cheaha. The point-to-point format adds a sense of journey and adventure that looped races just can’t match.

This race has all the ingredients to become a classic in the ultra community. I wouldn’t be surprised if it quickly moves to a lottery system due to demand. The course is tough but fair, the elevation gain substantial but manageable, and the support exceptional.

Final Thoughts

The Southern States 200 pushed me to my limits and beyond. It was a test of endurance, resilience, and spirit. But it was also an adventure filled with breathtaking scenery, incredible people, and moments of pure joy. I couldn’t have done it without the unwavering support of my crew and pacers, or the dedicated volunteers who kept the race running smoothly.

If you’re considering a 200-mile race, the Southern States 200 should be at the top of your list. It’s not just a race—it’s a journey through some of the most beautiful and challenging terrain the Southeast has to offer. And when you cross that finish line, every step, every hardship, every moment of doubt is worth it.

Thank you to everyone who made this inaugural event possible. I look forward to returning, hopefully with even better preparation, and experiencing the Southern States 200 all over again.

BIGHORN 100 | Getting Wild in Wyoming: A Journey into Ultrarunning, Trailrunning, and Running

Hey fellow ultrarunning enthusiasts! Join me on an unforgettable adventure as I take on the legendary BIGHORN 100, a race that has been on my bucket list for over a decade. This epic trailrunning event in Wyoming is not just a race; it’s a test of endurance, spirit, and love for the mountains. I’m Ultra Kraut Running, and I’m excited to share my journey tackling this grueling 100-mile mountain race on tired legs but with an eager heart.

Why the BIGHORN 100? A Dream Race and a State Challenge

The BIGHORN 100 is no ordinary race. Nestled in the remote wilderness of Wyoming, it’s a classic mountain ultramarathon that draws runners year after year. For me, this race was a natural pick when I set out on a personal challenge to complete a 100+ mile race in every U.S. state. Wyoming had eluded me so far, and the BIGHORN 100 checked all the right boxes: a tough course, breathtaking scenery, and a reputation as both a Western States 100 and Hardrock 100 qualifier.

This would be my fourth 100+ mile event in just eight weeks — a crazy stretch for any runner — but the excitement of finally toeing the line outweighed the fatigue in my legs and feet. I was ready to dive headfirst into this wild Wyoming adventure.

Race Day Morning: The Calm Before the Storm

Packet pickup was buzzing with excitement, and the local community's spirit was palpable. Volunteers and race staff were incredible, making sure everything was set for the big day. The race started at 9:00 a.m. on Friday, and as I stood at the start line counting down, the reality of the challenge ahead hit me.

“10, 9, 8, 7…” and we were off into the wild Wyoming mountains! The first few miles were a mix of adrenaline and awe as I soaked in the stunning vistas and prepared mentally for the miles to come.

Early Miles: Climbing, Sipping, and Savoring the Scenery

Within the first hour, I was about 4.25 miles in, already climbing one of the three major ascents. The terrain was demanding, but the views from the top were worth every step. I kept my breathing controlled and focused on pacing myself. I passed two aid stations quickly, but the next one was a bit of a mystery in terms of distance, so I committed to eating and drinking early and often.

The sun was rising, and the forecast promised a hot day. Sweat was pouring, but there was a breeze that helped cool me down. The landscape was spectacular — wildflowers, endless mountain horizons, and the quiet hum of nature accompanying my steps.

Mid-Race Challenges: Heat, Hydration, and Foot Troubles

By the two-hour mark, I was approaching seven miles, feeling the burn of the climbs and the increasing heat. I was sweating buckets but grateful it wasn’t raining. The dry Wyoming air was harsh, and I realized I needed to adjust my hydration strategy. I was carrying nutrition-infused water but realized I needed plain water to balance electrolytes properly.

At about 8.5 miles, I hit the Upper Sheep Creek aid station. I refilled, took care to eat, and prepared for the next five miles where I would have access to my drop bags. The heat was climbing, but the beauty of the course kept me motivated.

Three hours in, I had covered just over 10 miles. The terrain was a mix of gradual inclines and beautiful trail running sections. I made a conscious decision not to run the inclines to preserve energy for the latter half of the race. My motto was simple: keep moving and enjoy the experience, even when the going got tough.

By five hours, I had reached 19 miles but was struggling with the heat. My hydration was off, and I decided to carry more plain water going forward. The key was to stay conservative and listen to my body. This ultrarunning journey was as much about strategy as it was about raw endurance.

Six hours in, I was at 21.5 miles, moving slowly but steadily. I was cautious with electrolytes, realizing I had overdone it earlier. The sun was still up, and I hoped this careful approach would pay off as the race progressed.

Foot Care: The Unsung Battle of Ultrarunning

Seven hours into the race and nearing 25 miles, the course was beautiful but tough. My feet were giving me serious trouble with blisters and hot spots. I debated whether to reapply Desitin, tape my feet, or just tough it out. The terrain ahead included a 16-mile muddy stretch, which complicated my decision. Fresh socks and lots of lubrication seemed like the best plan at the next aid station.

Thankfully, the weather shifted. Clouds covered the sun, temperatures dropped, and some downhill sections helped ease the effort. I soaked in the wildflowers and vistas — moments like these remind you why ultrarunning is so addictive.

Weather Woes: Drizzle, Thunder, and Rain Gear

As the race progressed, light drizzle began, followed by regular thunder. I was grateful to have a rain jacket at the next aid station, ready to face whatever the Wyoming mountains threw at me. I packed a windbreaker too, just in case the drizzle turned into a downpour.

Layering became crucial, with plans to switch between short and long sleeves depending on temperature swings. This attention to detail is vital in ultrarunning, where weather can change rapidly and impact performance.

Halfway Point: Refueling, Reassessing, and Pressing On

At nearly 30 miles, I arrived at a major aid station with drop bags. I took the time to clean and dry my feet, changed socks, and reapplied copious amounts of Desitin. I resisted changing shoes because the muddy 20-mile section ahead would just soak fresh shoes. Instead, I opted for fresh socks and thorough foot care to prevent worsening blisters.

Leaving the aid station, I faced an 18-mile climb. I hoped to reach the top in six hours, aiming for a midnight arrival at the next station. My goal was to maintain a steady pace, conserve energy, and manage nutrition carefully. I taped the balls of my feet and looped my toes with Desitin, preparing for the rough terrain ahead.

Grinding Through the Long Climb: Mental and Physical Persistence

The climb was relentless, a mix of ups and downs that tested every ounce of mental toughness. I kept reminding myself that making up time on the return leg would be tough, so the focus was simply forward progress. With steady pacing, I pushed through the fatigue, knowing that every step brought me closer to the finish.

By the 10-hour mark, I had covered 33 miles. Hydration and nutrition were still top priorities, and I experimented with different hydration bottles to keep calories and water balanced. I moved conservatively, avoiding the temptation to push too hard and risk bonking.

Nightfall and Fatigue: The Toughest Hours

As darkness fell, updates became less frequent. I was moving slower than hoped but still moving. The terrain and fatigue made every mile a battle, and foot pain persisted. I found myself contemplating whether to change shoes and socks again at the next aid station or to just keep going with what I had. The decision weighed heavily, as changing gear could cost precious time but might help prevent further injury.

At 38.5 miles, I was 30 minutes behind my planned pace at the aid station, but I reminded myself that finishing was the ultimate goal. The course was stunning, but the physical toll was undeniable. Every step was a testament to perseverance.

Final Push: Fighting for the Buckle

At 57 miles, around the 19.5-hour mark, I was battling for every minute to earn that coveted Big Horn buckle. The race had become a fight against time, my body, and the clock. Feet were blistered and sore, but I seriously considered leaving them alone and just moving forward. Two more opportunities awaited me to change socks and shoes, and I planned to take advantage of those if I could.

Crossing 60 miles after nearly 21 hours, I felt a small surge of relief but knew the final 40 miles would be just as challenging. The mental game was as fierce as the physical one. I was determined to keep moving, no matter what.

Cutoff Stress: The Ultimate Test of Nerves

As the race approached its final stages, the stress of cutoff times became very real. At 64 miles, I was faced with a tough decision: change shoes and socks, tape my feet, or just keep going. The clock was ticking, and every minute counted. I was only 2.5 miles from a major aid station, and the pressure was intense.

By 70 miles, with 30 miles left, I had about 10 hours to finish — it sounded easy on paper but was anything but. The struggle was real, and the warm weather was unforgiving. Yet, I kept pushing forward, step by step.

Final Climb and Gravel Road to the Finish

At 73 miles, the climb to the next cutoff aid station was daunting. I had about 45 minutes to make it, and the trail seemed to stretch endlessly. It wasn’t just about making the cutoff anymore; it was about having enough time to cover the remaining miles before the cutoff closed.

After a quick turnaround at the aid station, fueled by coke and food, I faced the final 5-mile stretch on gravel road leading into Dayton, Wyoming. The finish line was in sight, but my body was spent.

Crossing the Finish Line: Exhaustion Meets Triumph

With just one mile to go, I was running on sheer willpower. The closest I had ever been to a cutoff in any race, the stress was unlike anything I’d experienced before. But I was confident I would finish. This race hurt like no other, but the sense of accomplishment was overwhelming.

Crossing the finish line in Dayton, Wyoming, I earned my Big Horn buckle — a symbol of grit, endurance, and the wild spirit of ultrarunning. It was a day of highs and lows, of epic views and tough decisions, and a reminder of why I love this sport.

Reflections on the BIGHORN 100 Experience

The BIGHORN 100 is a race that tests every aspect of a runner: physical stamina, mental toughness, strategic thinking, and adaptability. It’s a course that demands respect and rewards those who prepare well and stay resilient.

For those who love ultrarunning, trailrunning, and running in general, this race is a bucket list item not to be missed. The community support, the wild Wyoming landscape, and the challenge itself create an unforgettable experience.

While the race pushed me to my limits, it also reminded me of the joy that comes from pushing boundaries and embracing the unknown. Every step was a story, every mile a lesson, and every finish line a victory.

Final Thoughts and Encouragement

If you’re considering taking on the BIGHORN 100 or any ultramarathon, here are a few tips from my experience:

• Hydrate wisely: Balance electrolytes and plain water to avoid imbalances.
• Foot care is crucial: Prepare for blisters and hot spots with lubrication and timely sock changes.
• Adapt to weather: Pack layers and rain gear; mountain weather can change fast.
• Stay mentally strong: Focus on steady progress, not speed. Enjoy the scenery.
• Listen to your body: Adjust nutrition and pace to what your body needs.

Ultrarunning is a journey filled with challenges and rewards. Whether you’re a seasoned veteran or new to the sport, every race teaches you something new. The BIGHORN 100 was no exception, and I’m grateful for every moment of it.

Thanks for reading this detailed account of my BIGHORN 100 adventure. If you want to see more ultrarunning, trailrunning, and running stories, stay tuned for more from Ultra Kraut Running!

@ULTRAKRAUT

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268 Mile Winter Spine Race | Britain's Most Brutal Ultrarunning Challenge

As an ultrarunner with a passion for pushing limits in trailrunning, I recently embarked on one of the most demanding events in the UK: the Montane Winter Spine Race. This race covers an astounding 268 miles along the Pennine Way National Trail, stretching from Edale in England all the way to Kirk Yetholm in Scotland. Known as Britain’s most brutal ultrarunning race, the Winter Spine tests every ounce of endurance, gear, and mental toughness a runner can muster.

Having completed the summer edition of the Spine Race 18 months earlier, I was eager to tackle the winter version and experience the starkly different conditions it offers. The winter race is a self-supported ultramarathon, meaning runners must carry all essential gear and survive independently between checkpoints spaced 12 to 24 hours apart. This article chronicles my journey preparing for and racing in the 2025 Winter Spine Race, sharing insights into gear choices, race conditions, challenges, and the incredible landscapes that make this event unforgettable.

Preparing for Britain's Most Gear-Intensive Ultrarunning Race

Securing a coveted starting spot in the Winter Spine Race is a feat in itself. Once I locked in my place, preparation began immediately. The winter edition is notorious for its demanding mandatory gear list, which is designed to ensure runners’ safety in the harshest conditions Great Britain can throw at you. Months of research, testing, and investment went into selecting the right equipment, especially footwear and clothing layers suitable for extreme cold, snow, ice, and wind.

Despite all the preparation, packing remained a challenge. The sheer volume of gear needed was overwhelming, and with unexpected winter storms hitting the southeastern United States, I had to leave a day early for the UK. This last-minute scramble left little time to second-guess packing decisions, but it also provided an unexpected bonus: an extra day to relax and recover before the race.

The Spine Race demands runners be fully self-sufficient. This means no external support, and limited access to checkpoints where you can resupply or rest. The race organizers enforce an extensive mandatory gear check the day before the race, ensuring every participant carries essentials like waterproof clothing, navigation tools, emergency bivvy sacks, and adequate food and water supplies.

Understanding this, I knew the race was as much a test of gear and planning as it was of physical endurance. The gear you choose can be the difference between finishing and facing a forced withdrawal.

Mandatory Gear and Self-Sufficiency

• Heavy-duty waterproof jacket and pants
• Multiple insulating layers for thermoregulation
• Waterproof gloves and headwear
• GPS tracker and navigation equipment
• Emergency bivvy and survival gear
• Footwear suitable for snow, ice, and stream crossings
• Food and hydration for long stretches without aid stations
• Spikes and traction devices for icy terrain

After the gear check, a rolling mandatory pre-race briefing took place, where runners received last-minute route updates and reminders about race rules. This briefing was crucial, especially since the Winter Spine Race often requires course changes due to unpredictable winter weather.

Race Day: The Start of an Epic Ultrarunning Journey

Race morning finally arrived, and with it, a mix of excitement and nerves. After dropping off my drop bags and getting fitted with the mandatory GPS tracker, I made my way to the start line, ready to tackle the 268-mile challenge ahead.

The countdown began, and with a roar of applause and anticipation, we were off. My goal was to earn the full set of Spine Race medals—having completed the summer race in 2023, I was determined to conquer the winter edition in 2025 as well.

Early Challenges and Weather Conditions

Within just 30 minutes, I realized the race would be far from easy. Despite the chilly appearance of the terrain, I was sweating profusely beneath my base layers. The steep climb ahead meant I had to quickly adjust my clothing to regulate my temperature—shedding my puffy jacket and opting for a lighter windbreaker to stay comfortable during the ascent.

One of the first major landmarks was the infamous Jacob’s Ladder. I vividly remembered this climb from the summer race, but the winter landscape was completely transformed. Snow and ice blanketed the trail, and the views above the valley clouds were nothing short of breathtaking.

As the sun rose, the beauty of the frost-covered hills and misty valleys was a stark contrast to the brutal physical demands of the race. Moments like these make the pain and exhaustion worthwhile, reminding us why ultrarunning and trailrunning are such addictive pursuits.

Slow Progress Through Snow and Ice

By the 1 hour 40 minute mark, I had covered just 6 miles. The pace was slow, but this was expected given the heavy gear and challenging terrain. Snow and ice forced careful foot placement, and every step required concentration to avoid slips and falls.

The landscape was vastly different from the summer race—quiet, white, and surreal. As we descended into the clouds, visibility dropped, but the ethereal surroundings made each mile feel like an adventure into another world.

Support from Mountain Rescue Teams

After nearly 3 hours and 10 miles, we reached a road crossing known as Snake Pass. Here, the Mountain Rescue Team (MRT) was directing traffic and offering much-needed water. This small kindness was a morale booster and a reminder of the community supporting us despite the race’s self-supported nature.

Grabbing a bottle and refilling my water supplies, I prepared for the next stretch through the tundra-like environment. The terrain felt otherworldly, as if transported to a different planet, underscoring the unique challenges of ultrarunning in such remote conditions.

Gear Insights: Footwear and Traction in Winter Ultrarunning

Four hours in and nearly 14 miles covered, the weather started to get colder at higher altitudes. I pulled up my hood and continued the delicate balancing act of thermoregulation to avoid overheating or chilling.

One of the biggest challenges in winter ultrarunning is keeping feet dry and warm. I experimented with several types of waterproof Gore-Tex running ankle boots from brands like La Sportiva and Salomon, but ultimately returned to my trusted pair of Olympus shoes. To combat cold feet, I layered Injinji liner socks under DexShell waterproof compression knee-high socks. This combination aimed to keep my feet dry despite creek crossings and snow, although the cold sometimes made it hard to tell if they were truly dry inside.

For traction, I wore Yaktrax Pro, which are excellent for snow and ice but less effective on bare valley terrain. I kept them on in anticipation of climbing back into snowy mountain sections. Additionally, I carried microspikes required for hard ice, as mandated by race rules.

Enduring Pain and the Harsh Realities of Ultrarunning

By 7 hours and 22.5 miles into the race, I began to face serious physical challenges. A lingering heel injury flared up, causing sharp pain and threatening my ability to continue. This was not the usual blister discomfort but something deeper and more debilitating.

Despite the pain, I pushed onward, hoping to reach the next checkpoint 21 miles away. The decision to keep moving without resorting to painkillers on day one was difficult but necessary to preserve my ability to race safely.

At around 27 miles, a wrong turn added an extra mile to my route, compounding exhaustion and frustration. My legs felt utterly spent, and progress slowed to a crawl. Yet, the stunning winter landscapes continued to provide a backdrop of awe-inspiring beauty.

Making the Tough Call

At approximately 30 miles in, I faced the painful reality that my race was likely over. The heel injury persisted, and new pain emerged in the bottom of my right foot. Despite running 100 miles just weeks earlier without issues, this injury was relentless.

Reaching the medical and Mountain Rescue checkpoint was still three miles away, but I knew I had to listen to my body. The decision to withdraw was heartbreaking, especially after months of preparation and anticipation. However, ultrarunning is as much about knowing when to stop as it is about pushing through.

Conclusion: The Spirit of the Winter Spine Race

The 268 mile Winter Spine Race is unquestionably one of the most grueling ultrarunning challenges in the world. It demands meticulous preparation, exceptional gear, and a mental toughness that few possess. While my 2025 race was cut short by injury, the experience reinforced why this race is revered among ultrarunners and trailrunning enthusiasts alike.

From the stunning sunrises above the clouds to the bone-chilling cold and snow-covered terrain, the Winter Spine offers a unique blend of beauty and brutality. It is a race that pushes runners to their limits—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

For those passionate about ultrarunning and trailrunning, the Spine Race represents the pinnacle of endurance racing in the UK. Whether summer or winter, it promises an unforgettable adventure and a test of true grit.

I am already planning my return to complete the full winter route, better prepared and eager to conquer this epic ultramarathon in its entirety. Until then, I encourage fellow runners to chase their own challenges with courage, respect for the elements, and an unwavering spirit.

@ULTRAKRAUT

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CRUEL JEWEL 50 | Most Brutal 50 Miler in the East

For ultrarunners, every race offers a unique challenge, but few can claim the sheer toughness and relentless terrain of the Cruel Jewel 50 miler. Having run this beast multiple times, I’m here to share my experience tackling arguably the hardest 50-mile race on the East Coast, a race that’s as beautiful as it is brutal. This isn’t just a run; it’s a test of endurance, grit, and mental toughness.

Introduction to the Cruel Jewel 50

Held annually in Blue Ridge, Georgia, the Cruel Jewel ultramarathon has been a magnet for over 300 runners each year for the past 13 years. The race offers two main distances: the 100 miler and the 50 miler. The 50 miler, which I ran for the third time, is actually closer to 58 miles in length, packing in a staggering 16,000 feet of vertical gain. This race is more than just a long run — it’s a mountain climb, a mud slog, and a mental marathon all rolled into one.

The course is notorious for its rugged terrain, utilizing sections of the Duncan Ridge and Benton MacKaye Trails. What makes these trails so challenging is the absence of switchbacks; instead, they take you straight up or straight down steep, technical trails. This section is affectionately called the “Dragon’s Spine” for good reason. If you glance at the elevation profile, you'll quickly understand why this race earned the name “Cruel Jewel.”

Race Day Conditions: Thunderstorms and Humidity

The day started with a dramatic thunderstorm that rumbled just minutes before the 8:00 a.m. start. Thunder and lightning delayed the beginning, but the rain left the trails slick and muddy, especially in the first half of the race. This wasn’t just a test of speed but also of balance and trail savvy. The humidity was next-level oppressive, making every step heavier and every breath more labored.

Despite the challenging weather, the race atmosphere was electric. The camaraderie among runners and volunteers made it feel like a family reunion. Every aid station was staffed by familiar faces, and as I pushed forward, I kept running into friends and fellow ultrarunners battling the same course — some fresh-legged 50 milers, others with 50-80 miles already on their legs from the 100 miler out-and-back.

The Course Breakdown: Climbing, Descending, and The Dragon’s Spine

From the start, the Cruel Jewel wastes no time in testing your climbing legs. The first major climb is up Kusa Bald, a long, steady ascent that took me nearly two hours to conquer. It’s grueling but rewarding, because once you reach the top, a steep descent awaits, followed by the infamous Duncan Ridge Trail.

The Duncan Ridge Trail is where the real fun begins — relentless ups and downs without a single switchback. The terrain is technical and unforgiving, forcing you to constantly adjust your footing on rocky, rooty, and sometimes muddy paths. This section is exhausting and mentally draining, but it’s also stunningly beautiful, with mountain views stretching as far as the eye can see.

After battling the spine, the course shifts onto the Benton MacKaye Trail. This section continues to challenge with steep climbs and descents, but the scenery and trail quality offer a slight reprieve. Still, the heat and humidity took their toll, and I found myself walking parts where I would have preferred to run, overheated and trying to manage my nutrition and hydration carefully.

Nutrition and Hydration Strategy

Nutrition is always a challenge in ultras, and the Cruel Jewel’s heat and humidity make it even harder. I found myself drinking copious amounts of fluids — two bottles between aid stations spaced about 4-6 miles apart — but eating solid food was tougher. Gels didn’t appeal in the heat, so I leaned heavily on electrolyte drinks and, surprisingly, Coca-Cola, which provided a much-needed sugar and caffeine boost when my energy dipped.

I took salt tablets every hour and tried to maintain a steady intake of calories, averaging around 200 calories per hour. The aid stations were lifesavers, offering everything from gels to gummy bears to cold sodas, but the heat made the thought of eating less than appealing at times. The key was to keep moving forward, one aid station at a time, and adjust my intake as needed.

Race Progression: The Mental Battle

By the halfway mark, around 24 miles in, the race had already taken its toll. The humidity was relentless, and the climbs felt steeper. I was moving slower than I had hoped but reminded myself this was a training run and that the goal was to finish strong and learn from the experience. The course’s brutal elevation changes and technical footing forced a constant mental reset.

One of the highlights was the community on the trail. Passing and being passed by runners who were deep into their 100-mile journey was inspiring and humbling. I met some incredible people, including a legend who had finished the Coca-Cola 250 and was still out there battling this race. Their determination pushed me to keep going despite feeling beat up.

Dealing with Physical Challenges

My feet were sore, and I was battling the heat and humidity, but the beauty of the course helped keep my spirits up. The mountain views, the sound of the river, and the support from volunteers and fellow runners created an atmosphere that made suffering somewhat bearable. I also had to battle persistent horse flies, which seemed more annoying than anything else, but they added to the mental challenge of staying focused.

The Final Push: Darkness and the Finish Line

As the day wore on and the sun began to set, I found myself climbing again before a long, steep descent to the final aid station. The last miles were a mix of fatigue, pain, and determination. My watch showed I had been running for over 17 hours, and while my pace slowed, my resolve remained strong.

The last few miles were a test of willpower. My feet were beat up, and my body was exhausted, but the finish line was close. The support from volunteers and the cheers of fellow runners gave me the final boost I needed to cross the line and earn my 164th ultramarathon finish.

Reflection: Why the Cruel Jewel is Truly a “Cruel Jewel”

The Cruel Jewel 50 miler is not for the faint of heart. Its combination of distance, elevation gain, technical terrain, heat, and humidity make it one of the most demanding ultras in the Southeast. But with that cruelty comes a unique beauty — the stunning mountain landscapes, the tight-knit running community, and the satisfaction of conquering a course that pushes every runner to their limits.

For me, this race is a hometown event, even though Blue Ridge is more than three hours away. It’s like returning to a familiar challenge, much like running the Mountain Mist 50K in my actual hometown. The race HQ at Camp Morganton, with its rustic camping and bunk facilities, creates a perfect ultrarunning environment.

Will I be back next year? I’m not sure yet. The memory of the pain and the heat lingers, but so does the joy of finishing and the camaraderie of the trail family. The Cruel Jewel has a way of sticking with you — a brutal test wrapped in natural beauty, a jewel that’s tough to forget.

Key Takeaways for Future Runners

• Prepare for extreme elevation gain: With nearly 16,000 feet of vertical, training on hills and technical terrain is essential.
• Hydration is critical: The heat and humidity will drain you. Plan to drink consistently and carry enough fluids.
• Nutrition matters: Be ready to adapt your nutrition strategy. Gels might not always be appealing; have alternatives like electrolyte drinks and solid foods.
• Respect the terrain: The Dragon’s Spine section is relentless. Technical trail skills and cautious footing are important.
• Embrace the community: The aid stations and fellow runners provide vital support. Lean on them when the going gets tough.

Final Thoughts

The Cruel Jewel 50 miler is more than just a race; it’s an epic adventure through some of the most challenging and beautiful trails in the Southeast. It demands physical toughness, mental grit, and a deep love for the trail. If you’re looking for a race that will push your limits and reward you with unforgettable experiences, the Cruel Jewel should be on your bucket list.

For those considering this race, remember: it’s called the “Cruel Jewel” for a reason. But if you come prepared, stay focused, and soak in the scenery and community, you’ll find it’s a jewel worth chasing — even if it’s a little cruel along the way.

Made with VideoToBlog using CRUEL JEWEL 50 | Most Brutal 50 Miler in the East

Gear List - 2023 Tor des Geants 330

The 2023 Tor des Geants 330 was the second massive adventure of the year and my biggest challenge ever. After completing the Spine Race a couple of months earlier and both the Moab 240 and Tahoe 200 the previous year, I had already accumulated all of the year I would need. It was jsut a matter of deciding which pieces to take along for the adventure, both as part of my mandatory kit in my pack as well as in my drop bag. The drop bag would follow us runners along and meet us at each life base. It was a vital part of the race as it would be the only source of gear and any special nutritional supplies we would have access to during the event.

Below is a list of my gear choices for the event and where and how I chose to carry it. My order of priority and importance remained unchanged from previous events: Functionality > Comfort > Lightweight. Cost wasn't a factor as I did not need to purchase any new gear this time around.