Western States

Running the Western States 100: My 2025 Ultra Adventure

June 28th 2025

The canyons baked under the brutal mid morning sun and every step felt like a battle. My knee throbbed with each footfall, a reminder of how unforgiving this race could be. Sweat poured down my face as I struggled through the heat and relentless descent after Devils Thumb aid station, there was no shade at all, just charred remains of burnt tree stumps. I was questioning whether I could really finish this legendary 100 mile race.
But here I was, miles from the start line, chasing a dream years in the making.

My ultra running journey began in 2013 with humble 5K and 10K races, but one audiobook: “Born to Run” ignited a fire inside me. Inspired by legends like Scott Jurek, I spent years chasing this elusive race, and finally, in 2025, I stood at the start line, ready to run the Western States 100.

Let’s start at the beginning. Back in 2013, I started running. I entered a few smaller races: 5 km, 10 km, and a half marathon. By the end of the year, I began training for my first marathon in 2014. During that training, I had an iPod Shuffle loaded with an audiobook recommended to me “Born to Run”. It helped me get through the miles and introduced me to Scott Jurek, who had won this insane 100 mile race seven years in a row.
From there, I went down a rabbit hole. I read Jurek’s book Eat & Run, binge watched every Western States 100 video I could find and became obsessed. In 2015, I applied for and entered my first mountain ultramarathon, a 100 km race through the Alps which was also a Western States qualifier. I completed it in 2016.

Since then, I’ve applied to Western States every year but two, totalling seven lottery entries with 64 tickets across nine years. In 2019, I had a DNF in my qualifier, and in 2020 the race was cancelled due to Covid, so these two years I skipped the lottery.

The 5 AM Launch: A Shotgun Blast Into the Unknown
At 4:40am, the air was thick with quiet emotion. Olympic Valley still slept under the night sky, but the buzz was electric. Unlike other crowded starts, we weren’t packed in like cattle, runners and crews mingled freely, soaking in the moment. Then, at exactly 5am, a deafening shotgun blast shattered the silence, and we started our journey forward.

I aimed to reach the top of the Escarpment within an hour, a steady pace Meredith had advised. The climb was familiar from a recent recce with my crew Vicky, Zara, Derek and Gav and I carried the voices of ultra legends Scott Jurek, Gordy Ainsleigh, and Shannon Weil in my ears: “Ease into it. Don’t push too hard.”

Surprisingly, I passed Jamil Coury, who was being filmed on the climb. Reaching the top, the cheers exploded around me, a roar that caught me off guard. This was a support like no other race I’d done before. It was louder and more passionate than even UTMB. Teary eyed, I saw Sally McRae there who cheered us into the high country, calming my nerves and fuelling my excitement. I hit the top right on schedule, already fuelled with 60 grams of carbs and feeling great.

Part 1: The High Country

Olympic Valley to Dusty Corners: Mile 0 to 38

The race was truly underway. After cresting the Escarpment a 2,500 feet climb, I turned to catch my first sunrise over Lake Tahoe. A breathtaking hue of pinks and golds stretching toward Nevada. The 100-mile journey ahead seemed endless, but I chose not to dwell on that. Instead, I soaked in the beauty of the Granite Chief Wilderness. The trail flowed beneath my feet with a familiar rhythm, slightly technical but fun to move on.

I found myself listening to what sounded like a podcast behind me: two runners chatting for over an hour. Occasionally, I added an “Ohhhh” here and there as the story got exciting. My pace felt easy, but my body was working hard to fight the altitude. I backed off and relaxed, reminding myself this was a long day.

Lyon Ridge and Red Star Ridge aid stations offered early glimpses of the incredible volunteer spirit. They were enthusiastic, helpful, and filled my bottles with ice water, so cold it almost stung my hand. From Red Star Ridge to Duncan Canyon, the trails remained stunning, and I felt a growing sense of gratitude. This wasn’t luck; I had earned my place here, and I was privileged to be on such a legendary course. The words of gratitude and privileged stuck with me for the entire race.

At Dusty Corners, mile 24.4, my crew greeted me like a lifeline. Seeing Vicky, Zara, Derek, and Gav was a huge boost. They quickly refilled my bottles and pack, handed me a full ice bandana, and shoved ice down my arm sleeves. The icy shock was almost painful, worse than the bandana because it touched bare skin. I handed over my phone to Vicky; usually, I love checking it and taking photos, but I didn’t want to risk it getting wet and having additional distractions.

For the next 5.9 miles to Robinson Flat, I saw only one other runner. The trail felt strangely empty so early on, but still flowy and familiar. When I arrived at Robinson Flat, the atmosphere was electric. A third emotional moment for me. Without my crew there, I expected a simple checkpoint, but volunteers went above and beyond. One lady helped me while I emptied loose stones from my shoes, refilled my bottles, packed my ice bandana, and even led me to an ice cold shower spray. The shock of the freezing water was brutal but revitalising.

As the heat ramped up at Miller’s Defeat, I told myself, “This is warm, but the Canyons can’t be hotter.” Famous last words.

Part 2 – The Canyons aka the furnace

Dusty Corners to Michigan Bluff: Mile 38 to 55

The Canyons hit literally like a furnace. I started feeling good, but the heat was merciless. We descended from 5,000 feet, so I expected it to get easier, but it was far from it. At Last Chance aid station, a long haired volunteer offered encouragement, while others gave advice about the brutal climb ahead to Devil’s Thumb, including a tip to cool off in the creek just past the bottom before the climb back up.

The 4.5 miles to Devil’s Thumb was a punishing rollercoaster: 1,800 feet down, then nearly as much climbing back up, right in the hottest part of the day. I blistered my right foot crossing the creek, feeling the sharp pop with every painful step. Despite the pain, I passed runners resting on the trail to motor my way up the aid station to get it checked out.

At Devil’s Thumb, three volunteers helped me patch my foot. One recognised me from Pokémon Go and YouTube, while another wore a trucker hat joking about the “spa treatment” I was getting. Meredith had told me to grab a popsicle here, and I was so glad I did, sweet cold relief. I swapped socks, ate salt & vinegar crisps and salted potatoes, then walked out with my popsicle, motivated by the signs lining the exit.

The descent to El Dorado Creek was scorching, no shade, no breeze, just dry, burning air and blackened trees from past forest fires. My right knee flared with an old familiar IT band pain, but I pushed on, limping and jogging into the aid station where I emptied more stones from my shoes. My Nnormal Tomir 1s were great but the lack of gaiters meant constant dust and stones inside.

The thermometer read 84°F (28.8°C) in the shade at the aid station, and as I left, Tim Twietmeyer shared advice about the climb to Michigan Bluff. The climb was shaded, and walking with Patrick from the US, I told him my life story. We never stopped. I was buzzing to see my crew again: swap shoes to keep the stones out and put the furnace section behind me.

Part 3 – Bear Country!

Michigan Bluff to Foresthill: Mile 55 to 62

I iced up again for the eighth time, feeling a sharp shock as the cold slid down my arm sleeves. Moving well and feeling strong, I had switched to Hoka Tecton X3 shoes with built in gaiters, finally stone proof for the remaining 44.5 miles!

I warned my crew about my knee and planned to take paracetamol at Foresthill. The run down was painful but manageable. I was aware of how hard the race was, yet grateful and privileged to be here, overall I was in a solid headspace.

This section was full of surprises. I spotted what looked like bear droppings and suddenly felt scared, my ears tuned to every sound expecting to see or hear one. I slowed to keep another runner in sight, never wanting to be alone in what I considered Bear Country. Turned out I wasn’t wrong in my feelings as the top Brit Fi Pascall had reported seeing a bear I found out later.

Arriving at Foresthill, the atmosphere was electric. I ran past the BUFF tent, and the volunteers cheered me on, reminding me of the Root Beer float they’ll have for us at the end (a small but thoughtful touch of joy). I met my crew, changed into ‘night gear’, grabbed my head torch, and set off with Gav as my pacer, ready for the long descent ahead. My night gear consisted of a fresh top, fresh hat, removal of arm sleeves, ice bandana, 3rd handheld bottle and added in a headtorch with spare batteries.

Part 4 – Cal Street

Foresthill to Rucky Chucky: Mile 62 to 78

Leaving Foresthill gave me a boost. I finally learned how Debbie and Colin, the other Scottish runners were doing, news I hadn’t heard all day having handed my phone to Vicky at Mile 24.. Tim Olsen, a two-time Western States winner, gave me a nod and a cheer as I set off, small but meaningful encouragement.

Soon, we spotted a man standing by the trail, dressed in full camo with huge dreadlocks. For a moment, I wondered if I was hallucinating, but Gav confirmed he was real. The man warned us a mountain lion had been spotted in the area just 30 minutes earlier. The news sent a shiver through me, the wild felt even more raw and real, but I was glad Gav was with me – There felt like safety in number(?)

The night was coming, and with head torches on, Gav and I tackled the long 16 mile descent down Cal Street. The forest was alive with crickets and frogs, their sounds filling the cool night air. Running through the dark wilderness felt surreal.

We found a steady rhythm, with Gav setting the pace. I took two paracetamol to ease my knee pain and avoid the dreaded ultra death march, the slow, painful shuffle that can kill your momentum. Thankfully, the paracetamol worked, and I was able to run the descents despite the discomfort.

The night trail was both beautiful and eerie. I tapped each WS TRAIL post as a small victory marker on this long journey. The three aid stations along the way: Cal 1, Cal 2, and Cal 3 were lively and full of energy. Volunteers were welcoming, reminding me why these races feel like family reunions as much as a competition.

I enjoyed chatting with some volunteers. One was fascinated by my tattoos and asked their stories, while others joked about my race number, 101, linking it to 101 Dalmatians. I showed them my Pongo tattoo, and the lighthearted moments helped lift my spirits.

Despite this, I worried about the next challenge: the Rucky Chucky river crossing. My feet had been sore after getting them wet earlier before Devil’s Thumb, and the thought of cold, wet feet so late in the race made me anxious.

When we reached Rucky Chucky, my crew Vicky, Zara, and Derek were waiting. I took a quick portaloo break, then sat down to enjoy some cheese on toast from the aid station. My pack was refilled, and after a brief exchange, I swapped pacers: Gav out, Derek in ready for the next section.

Part 5 – Wet feet and wet balls

Rucky Chucky to Pointed Rocks: Mile 78 to 94

We started by walking down there huge stone steps down to the river. My knee twinged with each step, those steps felt huge, and my knee wasn’t happy! Then came the infamous river crossing. It was wide and powerful, with a rope stretched across and about ten volunteers standing in the cold water, ready to help. No life vests, but honestly, they had it covered.

Holding the rope tight with both hands, I stepped in first, Derek close behind. It was pitch black just past midnight, but the volunteers guided us expertly, with green glow sticks beneath the water marking safe footing. I was warned it’d reach chest height in the middle. It was a shock going “balls deep” but it was thrilling, even fun, with the volunteers cracking jokes and keeping spirits high. I wasn’t scared, just exhilarated to be in such an iconic race moment.

Climbing out was steep enough to warrant having a rope on the trail to use, but I avoided it as I didn’t want dirty hands. Once up, we pushed strongly to Green Gate (mile 80), breezing past the aid station without stopping. Derek started out a little quick, but we settled in, passing people and sharing stories, including tossing around a couple of Finnish words I knew when we passed a Finnish runner (“Kiitos” and “Perkele” for those interested).

The running community’s friendliness shone through, whether passing or being passed, everyone was supportive. Auburn Lake Trails aid station came and went smoothly. At Quarry Trails (mile 90), I had a surprise… I recognised Hal Koerner, a two-time Western States champ I’d met before (Picture above). We swapped stories and a photo before I fist bumped Scott Jurek, seven-time champ, and headed out into the dark, wondering when the sun would finally appear.

Crossing Highway 49 as dawn approached, we checked the spot where Jim had taken a wrong turn in a previous year, but the route was flawless. I never got lost once, the signage was top notch. After 16 miles with Derek, I switched pacers again, Vicky was ready to bring me home. We kept passing people, keeping the motivation high.

Part 6 – Second sunrise

Pointed Rocks to Auburn: Mile 94 to 100

I moved quickly through the Pointed Rocks aid station, knowing there were only about 10 kilometers left to the finish. I’d just changed my headtorch batteries a couple of hours before, but now the sky was brightening enough to leave it behind. The dawn light was a welcome relief after so many hours of darkness. I dropped all my rubbish and grabbed just one 90g carb gel. I figured that would be enough energy for the final stretch, which I expected to take around an hour and a half.

Running through the fields around Pointed Rocks was a beautiful change of scenery. The area was lush and green, with wide open views stretching out under the fresh morning sky. It helped distract me from the dull ache in my knee, which had started to worsen near the end of Derek’s section. I popped a couple more paracetamol to keep the pain at bay. Talking with Vicky about our days and the race so far made the miles go by pretty fast and lifted my mood.

The trails remained flowy, though there were some gentle ups and downs, nothing too harsh, but enough to keep my attention. Fatigue was setting in and I was getting a bit sick of constantly sipping my 500mg electrolyte drinks. Even the taste of water was becoming a little tiresome, but I knew I had to keep hydrating.

Vicky ran just ahead and I kept close, following her footsteps like I’d done for the last seven hours with my pacers. It felt great to be moving steadily, especially after the knee pain earlier. Passing runners who were struggling gave me a boost, it felt like a real comeback. Between Foresthill and this point, I’d passed 40 people, which kept my motivation strong. I was so ready to “get that buckle” and finish strong.

Ahead, a huge metal bridge came into view. At first, we both said “Fu*k” quietly, thinking it meant a massive climb ahead to reach No Hands Bridge, one of the race’s most iconic landmarks. But thankfully, I remembered it was a descent down to No Hands Bridge, not a climb. That memory was a small but important victory, it saved me from extra stress.

As we rounded the corner, No Hands Bridge appeared, tucked behind some trees. Crossing it was magical, I felt a rush of excitement and joy. We were alone on the bridge, so we took a moment to snap photos and videos, laughing and soaking in the moment. That bridge is legendary, and being there felt like a dream come true.

Then came the final climb, steep switchbacks that seemed to go on forever, or at least it felt that way at mile 99. I kept pushing, reminding myself this was the last big effort. At the top was Robie Point aid station, where volunteers cheered enthusiastically. I didn’t linger, I only had about a mile left and enough water to keep going.

Derek and Zara waited at the aid station to pace me through the last stretch. I’d hoped to run the entire way, but the uphill on the road just past the aid station was tougher than I expected. Still, I ran every step. Passing houses with spectators cheering from their lawns, I even thought I spotted Tim Twietmayer sitting in a lawn chair. Cresting the hill, I knew the final climb was done, and the remaining route was a gradual downhill. I breathed a silent thank fuck.

Gav appeared from the other direction, ready to run me into the finish with Derek, Zara and Vicky, who had stayed with me for the last 10k. Outside one house, a spectator handed me a small Robie Point flag, which I waved proudly. Just as I neared the track, the camera lady ran alongside me for the live stream, capturing those final moments.

Part 7 – Finish

As I entered the track, a wave of emotion hit me again, this was the fourth time during the race. It was everything I’d imagined after years of reading and watching stories about Western States. This moment was iconic, triumphant, and deeply personal. Vicky and my crew moved to the side to find a spot by the finish arch, while I took my final victory lap alone.

I ran slowly and savoured every step on this track. There was no one immediately ahead or behind me, so I had space to take it all in. Crossing the last corner and seeing the finish line was overwhelming in the best possible way. It felt almost surreal, like the culmination of so many hours, days, months and years of preparation. It was a moment I knew I’d never forget.

Crossing the finish line, I was instantly handed a medal and embraced by Magda Boulet, a former Western States champion. Then Vicky wrapped me in a hug. The rush of joy and relief was incredible, everything felt worth it. My crew gathered around to congratulate me, sharing hugs and smiles. Though I was done, I still had a rush of energy.

James from Precision Fuel & Hydration came over to chat. He’d been eager to see me finish and hear how the nutrition plan had gone. I told him how well everything had worked, no stomach issues, and I’d felt strong throughout the race. The warmth of the morning sun was just starting to hit the track, and the atmosphere was calm but full of that post race excitement.

After a while, we moved over to the tents. I wanted to get my personalised wood carving, a beautiful keepsake that felt like the perfect reward for all the effort. Then it was time for some real food. Pancakes and bacon were calling my name, and they hit the spot better than anything else could. I also caught up again with the Buff team for another interview, where we reminisced about root beer floats from earlier. They generously gave me and my crew some to enjoy.

About 15 minutes later, tired but still buzzing with energy, I picked up my newly engraved plaque. It was a wonderful reminder of the journey I’d just completed. We headed back to the hotel, I was feeling proud and content.

The race was over. The dream had been realised. And though I was exhausted, I knew I’d carry this experience with me forever.

Part 8 – Post race.

Back at the hotel, I had a shower. It was painful, to say the least. I had chafed a little but knew about it and used my Body Glide often to help ease the pain during the race. My two big toes were a mess; they were also the sorest for the next seven days. I’d kicked so many stones during the latter half of the race that both had raised nail beds with blood blisters underneath them. The pressure was quite a lot to handle.

I didn’t get any sleep here because I was still absolutely buzzing from the whole experience. We drove back to the track for Golden Hour to see the final finishers, including Colin Anderson, also from Glasgow. It was amazing to see these final finishers, the grit and determination!

The Buckle Ceremony was good but I hadn’t realised it started an hour and a half after the cut off, so I was fighting back the urge to sleep in the hot tent. After I collected my buckle, I went to chat with the Precision guys again; James and Brad, got a few photos from their photographer, said my goodbyes, and headed back to the hotel for a much needed rest and Taco Bell.

Final thoughts

Crossing that finish line was the culmination of years of hard work, dedication, and incredible support. None of this would have been possible without my amazing crew: my wife Vicky, Derek, Gav, and Zara whose unwavering encouragement kept me going through every mile. I also want to give a huge thanks to Precision Fuel & Hydration for keeping me fuelled, my running coach Ally Beaven for shaping my training, my nutrition coach Meredith Terranova for perfecting my race day strategy, and my physio Gordon Stevenson for keeping me moving strong. This journey was truly a team effort, and I’m deeply grateful to each and every one of them.

Race swag

The race swag was next level, matching the epic scale of the event itself. Right from the start, we got a Hoka duffle bag, comfy Hoka sliders, Goodr sunglasses, a fan, UltraSignup socks, a program and magazine, some Squirrel’s nut butter, GU gels, and a stunning wooden plaque. Finishing the race brought more rewards: a medal, a snazzy button down shirt, and, of course, the iconic engraved belt buckle with your name on the back, an ultra runner’s holy grail.

Kit
My kit choice mostly worked well. I opted for two pairs of shoes: the Nnormal Tomir 1 for the first 55 miles, then switched to the Hoka Tecton X3 for the last 45 miles of fast, flowing descents. Looking back, I’d skip the Nnormal and stick with the Hokas for the whole race. The built in gaiter would have saved me the hassle of constantly taking them off to empty out stones.

For sun protection, I wore a white bucket hat and white arm sleeves during the day, swapping two Precision Fuel & Hydration ice bandanas with my crew throughout the race. These ice bandanas are brilliant, they have a special neck pouch for ice, which cools way better than just draping ice down your back in a traditional ice bandana.

My Montane shorts stayed on all day; they have three pockets, perfect for stashing rubbish and small essentials. I started with a The North Face IKB top and switched to a Precision Fuel & Hydration shirt at Foresthill.

Sock changes were key: I began with Injinji socks, changed to basic Inov8 socks at Devil’s Thumb, and back to Injinji at Michigan Bluff when I changed shoes.

My pack was a Salomon 5L, carrying mainly nutrition, two soft flasks, one handheld bottle, toilet paper, Body Glide, a tiny first aid kit, and a route card with distances.

Nutrition

My nutrition was spot on throughout the race, following almost exactly what Meredith had planned for me. The majority of my fuel came from Precision Fuel & Hydration products, supplemented by real food options at aid stations. When I ran low on gels between aid stations, I mostly relied on GU Stroopwafels to keep me going. My main aid station food staples were salty potatoes and cups of coke, along with smaller items like watermelon, bacon, and toast.

Electrolytes & Fluids

  • 29 x PH500 tablets across 14.5 litres (14,500 ml)
  • 40 x 250 mg Electrolyte Capsules (10,000 mg sodium total)
  • 4 litres plain water (mostly during the night)
  • Additional drinks:
    • 12 cups of Coke (12 x 150 ml = 1,800 ml)
    • 500 ml Iced Tea
    • 500 ml Irn Bru
  • Total fluid intake: approximately 21.3 litres (21,300 ml)

Fuel

  • 14 x PF 90g Gels (1,260g carbs)
  • 2 x PF60 Chews (120g carbs)
  • 1 x 500ml bottle of 60g carb and 500mg sodium mix (Carb & Electrolyte)
  • Additional real food:
    • 7 x Kellogs Squares (147g carbs)
    • 5 x GU Stroopwafels (110g carbs)
    • ~400g boiled salted potatoes (72g carbs)
  • Total carbs: approximately 1,719g

Stats

  • Total sodium intake: ~29,000 mg across ~21.3 litres
  • Average sodium concentration: ~1,362 mg/l
  • Total carbs: 1,719g over 25 hours 52 minutes (~25.87 hours)
  • Average carb intake: ~66.4g carbs per hour (including all fuel and food)