A flare-up in the middle of a high-mileage training block got me thinking, again, about the difference between working through an injury and toughing it out, at every race distance.

Too many of us base our worth as runners on how we stack up against everyone else. That's a game you cannot win. The real race is internal, and it's the only one worth running.

The In Yan Teopa Trail Race is named after a rock with a hole worn straight through it. The more I sit with what that name means, the more it feels like the whole point of showing up.

There's a stretch of every long run where everything just works, and then, almost out of nowhere, the weather turns. Here's the case for why those low miles might be the best part of the run, if you're willing to jump in the puddle.

A 2-mile loop doesn't sound like much. But at hour twelve of a 24-hour race in 86-degree heat, each one becomes a negotiation — and the only way through is the people who show up.

When I was a kid, my dad took me to tractor pulls. I didn't know it then, but I was watching the perfect metaphor for what happens to every endurance runner somewhere in the back half of a very long race.

It came to me somewhere in the middle of a long run. Not a flash of inspiration. Just a quiet thought that settled in and stayed: choose to run.

There's a moment in every training cycle that nobody talks about enough. The race is registered, the plan is printed, the first few weeks go well. And then you wake up one morning and realize the start line is still months away and the motivation that carried you through week one has quietly left the building.

Nearly 230 runners crossed the finish line at Willow River State Park last Saturday, and every single one of them had help getting there. A look back at a great day on the trails, and a thank you to everyone who made it possible.

I was ten miles in when I found myself back near the parking lot. Not finished. Just close enough to see my car. I took the turn away from it — and the feeling I carried home had nothing to do with miles logged.

Seven days. That's what's left between you and the start line at Willow River State Park. The hard work is done. Here's how to use the time you have left.

Fourteen days from right now, someone is going to cross the finish line at Willow River State Park and it's going to mean something to them. If you've had a registration tab open and keep putting off the decision — or if you want to be part of race day without running it — this one's for you.

I have been asking myself a question lately on the long runs. Not out loud. Just the kind of question that settles in somewhere around mile eight when the legs are heavy and the morning is still dark, and there is nobody around to hear the answer. Why am I doing this? I am training for the Superior 100, and somewhere in the middle of it all, I am still working out what that means.

There is a moment every April when winter finally loosens its grip and you realize you have been waiting for this longer than you admitted. The legs are a little stiff, the fitness is somewhere in between, but the motivation is back. And the best way to shake off the rust is to sign up for something and let the deadline do its work. Here in the upper Midwest, early spring hands us some of the finest trail running opportunities in the region. All you have to do is show up.

There is a version of this that happens to almost every runner at some point. You miss a run, and the guilt shows up right behind it, making that missed workout feel like a debt you need to pay back fast. That is where things tend to go sideways — and where most training setbacks actually begin.

When you toe the start line, you are probably thinking about your pacing, the weather, whether you ate enough that morning. I am thinking about whether that trail junction marker is still standing after last night's wind. That is not a complaint. It is just the truth about what race directing actually looks like — and why I would not trade it for anything.

Earlier this week someone texted me asking if it would be embarrassing to walk the hills during a trail race. The short answer? Not at all. In fact, outside of the top runners, walking the climbs is often the smartest way to move through a trail race. Trail running is less about speed and more about steady effort, patience, and enjoying the experience along the way.

If you’re new to ultras, the term “drop bag” might sound intimidating. It’s not. It’s simply a bag of personal supplies waiting for you later in the race. At Willow, you won’t see it until you finish the first 10-mile loop. At Icebox, you may see it every lap. The key isn’t packing everything you own. It’s thinking ahead to what mile 10 or hour six version of you might appreciate.