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268 Miles Spent Breaking Open My Head and Perceived Limits on the Pennine Way

Dr. Ryan Verchota

Updated: Feb 6

TL/DR: I went to the UK for the third time in three years. This year, I raced the Full Spine: 268 miles with a 168-hour cutoff. I battled deeper than I ever have, hallucinated like crazy, was inspired to the max, and by an act of God and the love and support of others, was able to finish this monstrous challenge. Below is the brain dump of my experience.

Round 3 Back to the UK in January.

The Spine Race is in a league of its own when it comes to ultra-endurance racing. While it’s physically demanding, the real challenge lies between the ears. It’s a mental grind, and one I couldn’t have completed without help along the journey.

  • In 2023, I DNF’d the Challenger North (55 miles) and dropped out at Dufton.

  • In 2024, I finished the 160-mile Challenger North, working with two other Americans, Al and Ed. Unfortunately, Al dropped at Hornystead Farms (mile 115 or so). Ed and I went on to an emotional finish, bonding along the way with only minimal scuffles. It was epic. Finishing the Challenger North left me satisfied and feeling accomplished, and I initially thought I had no more questions left to answer on the Pennine Way. But three days after finishing, a feeling from within told me I had more to give and experience.

2025 – I registered and, fortunately, was fast enough on the keyboard to secure a spot for the Full Spine. 268 miles from Edale to Kirk Yetholm—the entire Pennine Way. A massive task and massive effort required. This year, my training was different. There was less running volume and more strength training and climbing/hiking with a 30-50 lb weight vest. As a business owner, husband, father of three, and soccer coach, I had to truly reframe my idea of training. The devil on my shoulder kept whispering that I hadn’t trained enough and that this was a selfish task at a time when I should be selfless and focus on my family. But the angel on my shoulder reminded me that being a father, husband, small business owner, and soccer coach while still training was a superpower—it gives me an edge. I chose to believe the angel. Time on feet and managing life stressors = training that benefits me for the Spine.


Nerves Set In 3-4 Weeks Before Departure.

Did I train enough? Was I ready? How would Jesi hold down the fort while I was across the Atlantic for two weeks? I needed to trust the process, trust my experience over the past two years, and allow others to support me along this journey.


I Formulated My WHY Organically This Year.

Before I dive into this year, here’s a brief recap of my WHYs over the past two years:

  • 2023 WHY: To walk steps on the beautiful Pennine Way to honor my late father and take the steps he was unable to. I lost my father to cancer in 2021, and this attempt was part of my therapy to make sense of it all. My journey ended prematurely with a DNF in Dufton. Four miles before my DNF, I looked into the sky and heard my father’s voice: "You don’t have to do this for me. Go and be with your family.” And so I did. In hindsight, I realized my WHY was fabricated in my head—it was very large and emotional but not entirely authentic.

  • 2024 WHY: To challenge myself and see how powerful my mind and body were—what they could endure. This was a fun WHY. It allowed me to explore the depths of my mind and body during hours of sleep deprivation and grueling miles. The successful completion of the Challenger North was largely due to my American friends, Al and Ed, and some sage advice from good friend, ultrarunner, and coach Katie O’Connor. She told me, “Don’t quit at aid stations. Don’t quit unless you’ve had sleep, food, and caffeine, and kept moving for 45 minutes. After those things, then you can quit.” This proved invaluable. I wanted to quit several times, but sticking to those rules gave me the clarity to push forward.

  • 2025 FULL SPINE WHY: To inspire my family, friends, and clients to do hard things. Adversity helps you grow. Spending more time outside your comfort zone makes you a better, more resilient, and relaxed version of yourself. Spending time in the pain cave requires self-belief—if you believe in yourself, you can make the unimaginable a reality.


Preparations Before Leaving Included:

  • Rehab and treatment from my team at Optimal Performance. It’s great to have co-workers who know how to fix muscle, tendon, and joint issues! Shamless Plug -- If you’re in the Chicagoland area, check out our team at www.opmovement.com—they’re the best in the biz!

  • Popped over to Dr. Jeff Baker, my good friend and podiatrist in Chicago, to get my feet prepped for the damage they were about to endure. Highly recommended if you need podiatry care in Chicago.

  • The EDGE Athlete lounge community that inspires me daily with all of thier feats! I spent many morning hours on the stair climber and time in recovery boots.

  • Great conversations with the amazing athletes I treat daily. My clinic is different because I take the time to develop meaningful relationships with the people I treat. They inspire me to do big things, and I hope to return that inspiration.

  • A session on Tuesday, 1/7, with my mental performance coach, Matt Lee. Matt suggested a visualization/meditation/alter ego session that proved extremely valuable. Honestly, without that one 45-minute session, I don’t think I would have completed the race.

 



 

During our session, we created an alter ego I could rely on during tough times: a large buffalo with long brown hair and strong posture—an animal capable of enduring any and all elements that came its way. After creating the image in my mind, I googled winter buffalo and an image of a Musk Ox popped up which was similar to my mental image. Buffalo/Bison/Musk Ox, it didnt matter to me as the visualization activity had been imprinted in my mind. This image stayed with me through the darkest moments of my journey. When things got difficult, cold, and daunting, I would become one with the buffalo and channel its resilience. Matt took me through a meditation exercise in which the race began with sunshine, happiness, energy and good mood and then became dark, cold and unrelenting. We envisioned me harnessing the energy of my "spirit animal." It evoked some serious emotion but also a sense of calm. Afterward, I rushed downstairs to tell Jesi all about it before heading out to coach soccer. Matt couldn't have predicted the race any better. 2025 started with a climb above the clouds with a gorgeous sunrise. What came after was darkness. Then light again... Then dark. Matt is the best in the biz and if you are looking to gain a competetive edge, he is the guy that can help you sort out the 6 inches between your ears.

 


 

My Journey –

 



Isla (3) waiting by my bags

Right before hopping into the Uber, a gift from my family arrived. My wife, Jesi, is incredibly thoughtful. After hearing about my mental performance conversation, she ordered me a bracelet to carry with me and embody the alter ego I created.

             

 

Leaving Jesi, Leo, Miles, and Isla on January 9th was deeply emotional. To cope with the physical distance I wore a friendship bracelet on my left wrist gifted by my children. A buffalo spirit bracelet on my right wrist to signify resilience and I had Jesi with me in my heart.



I shed a lot of tears in the Uber on the way to O’Hare. This time felt even harder than last year. I called Jesi after getting through security, and she shared the same sentiment. My family cried as I left. Especially my 7-year-old son, Miles. He has such a large heart and is one of the most empathetic people that I know. Instead of playing with friends at school on my day of departure, he spent his Thursday recess making an award for me: a drawing of mountains, naming it "The Robert Award." Fun fact: My legal name is Robert Ryan, and Miles’ legal name is Robert Miles. We share a nice connection, both going by our middle names.


The “Robert Award”



  

 

Special mention to one of my dear friends Curt Hansman.  She is an avid marathoner still racing in her 70’s and also a professor of Asian Arts.  She sent me and Ed with luck charms in the form of a Japanese coin.




I made my way to Manchester via Dublin—a smooth flight with a quick Guinness at the airport. I sent my Irish friend Allan a pic to make him jealous as he currently lives in the US and misses his homeland. Yes, the Guinness tastes better in Ireland!


My Guinness and Allan's response to the photo

                 

After a quick 30-minute flight from Dublin, I arrived in Manchester on January 10th. My best mate Rob picked me up, and we drove to Castleton, where I stayed with Ed at the cottage before the race start on Sunday, January 12th. Getting into Castleton was gorgeous.  The view driving in as we traversed through Hope Valley was stunning as the sun set.  We then arrived at the Cottage to meet Ed.



 

 
Pre Race Moments –

Went to the George for a proper pint and a steak pie.  Off to sleep but first….some admin to charge up my gear: (Something you will hear me refer to multiple times throughout my trek was the admin work that needed to be done at each checkpoint)




Saturday AM – Good nights sleep but nerves are high as kit check is today.  Hike in the AM, full English breakfast though I didn't eat the black pudding!




Ed and I met a few locals and thier dogs and chatted about the Spine Race. They were stoked to hear that we flew all the way over for this and they became dot watchers for us both. Shoutout to Jane, Paul, and Ernie (the big brown dog). Saturday afternoon—Tim (a Spine finisher and current volunteer at CP5 Bellingham) picked us up to drive to kit check, along with Belgian racer Raf. The kit check was super stressful as they meticulously go over your equipment. It took about two hours to pass kit check/race briefing.


Passed kit check!  #257 ready to roll.
Passed kit check!  #257 ready to roll.

We ran into a friend of a friend – Ramon.  Another American (or Spaniard) depending on who he wants to be that day! Ramon is friends with a few of our friends in Chicago and we had texted for several months leading up to the race but finally met in person. Following kit check and race briefing, Tim was kind enough and drove us back to the cottage in Castleton for the last supper @ the George.  I enjoyed a Ribeye and a pint and shared some great conversation with Ed, Raf, Tim and Lizzie.  We all laughed at Rafs soulless grin seen in the photo below. Apparently he doesn't smile for pictures! After the last supper, I couldn’t sleep at all.  Finally got to bed around 2:45am and up at 4:45.  Not the start that I wanted but this race was going to be full of challenges and this was only one of them.  I was able to re-frame my mind to the positive. The lack of sleep pre-race meant that I will be super tired by the time I arrive to Hebden bridge (CP1 -46 miles). 




2025 Winter SPINE Race Start (Sunday January 12th, 8:00am Start Time)

Tim scooped up Ed, Raf, and me. A side note on Raf: this was his third attempt at the Full Spine. He was pulled at Hut 2, just 7 miles from the finish, during his first attempt, and also retired at Bellingham (mile 225) on his second attempt.


Ed and I walked in to the center in Edale, got our trackers fixed on us, and chatted with some other racers while anxiously awaiting the 8am start. Northern England had been hit with a ton of snow a week before the race, and the weather had stayed below freezing at the start. It was a snowy, foggy morning as we began. Ed and I had trained together over the past few years and had also raced together in 2023 until I dropped out, and again in 2024 for the entirety of the race. We work well together and help each other through tough times. Strength in numbers is key for an event of this magnitude.

 

  



 

Ed and I beginning the climb up Kinder Scout

The mood was happy, though my body was aching a bit more than I had hoped for just 5-10 miles in. I kept my head in good spirits, climbed above the clouds, and was rewarded with one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve ever seen. It reaffirmed my belief that if you do hard things, there’s always beauty waiting for you if you choose to see it.

  




And after the beautiful sunrise… hard times again

After some tough miles with Ed through Torside and Standedge, we encountered some rather wet areas and found ourselves submerged in water. Ed mentioned that his feet were soaked and that he’d made the wrong footwear choice. We were about 20 miles from CP1, but he kept pushing on, knowing that waterproof socks and different shoes were a must going forward. We finally reached the M62 crossing and the famous Nicky’s Food Bar—literally a shipping container turned food stop that stays open 24 hours a day for all Spiners passing through. Ed is also a bit of a legend there, as they have a framed photo of him from Crossfell in 2023.

   




Apologies for the poor quality photo!


Nicky’s gave both Ed and I a boost, and we continued on in good spirits. The next several miles were relatively flat and fast, and we assembled a good crew out of Nicky's. Kirstie, Michael (a lad from Newcastle), Ed, myself, and a few others worked together, with Kirstie leading the way. She’s a native of Hebden Bridge and educated me about the history of the surrounding area and the industry that once occupied the space. Ed and I raced the North Challenge with her husband, Iain, last year. If you’re beginning to notice, this race draws people back to the Pennines year after year to race, volunteer, support, and more. If you’ve been a part of the race, you truly understand the term “Spine Family.”


Ed and I had planned to reach CP1 at Hebden Bridge in 15 hours, but we were over 3 hours behind schedule. We picked up the pace, and I moved ahead a bit to arrive in Hebden and get some extra rest, as I hadn’t slept well the night before. I finally arrived in Hebden 17 hours and 42 minutes into the race. This was a bit nerve-wracking, as the cutoff to arrive at CP1 was 20 hours, and the cutoff to exit was 22 hours. I ate some food, handled some admin, and then went to sleep. Just as I was heading to sleep, Ed arrived. We agreed that we would leave CP1 around 4am, which would give us a 2-hour cushion before the cutoff. Fortunately I passed out for 1:45 with how tired I was.  Woke up, had a quick bite, quick coffee and waited for Ed.


From Setbacks to Struggles: Pushing Through the Pain

I started filming a recap of the day for our followers to let them know that I was waiting for Ed to get up. I flipped my phone out of airplane mode to update our WhatsApp group with this video, and then I saw a message come through that broke my heart. Ed was dropping out of the race. I was gutted and immediately sent him a private text. He woke up and came down to speak with me. Initially, I was going to play my part to inspire him to keep going, but his face said it all. His poor footwear choices had really trashed his feet. He tried to dry them out to no avail, and there was no way he was going to be able to complete 67 miles to the next CP. My race plans had completely been altered in one day. Ed and I had a moment. We hugged it out, some tears were shed, and at that moment, I put it in my head that I was going to grind on and do this for the both of us.



I waited around the CP until Michael had woken up and asked if he wanted to head out and work together. He agreed but had some footcare to take care of. I waited, and we finally left CP1 around 5 am, only 1 hour before cutoff.


The Grind Begins

Stress was pretty high, as we were already near the back of the pack and just barely skirting cutoff. We worked through the darkness and into another day. This experience was much different than the North Challenge, where Ed and I were way in front of cutoffs and had time to really take it in. This experience was more of a grind. As the sun rose, so did the temperature, and the great melt began. The next 12-13 hours proved to be the most pivotal in the race. Snowbank after snowbank, sinking in multiple bogs, smashing my knees on rocks, ripping my pants, and having a consistent nosebleed. Not to mention the Spine cough in full force.


A Connection in Struggle

Throughout this journey from Hebden onwards, Michael had dropped back a bit, but I had caught up with Nik and a couple of others. I could feel Nik’s energy from half a mile away. He was smiling, laughing, and sinking into the snow and bog just as I was. We just shook our heads at moments in disbelief at how soul-sucking this day was. Trudging through ankle-deep water and muddy bogs with only brief reprieve from the wetness. We had a brief section on a road where Nik and I talked a bit about life, his sobriety, and his connection to endurance sports. This kept the spirits just above water. We trudged on slowly and finally dropped down into what we thought was Lothersdale, where a Tri Club sets up a quick outdoor CP with some food, coffee, tea, snacks and Spine Safety Team checks in on runners. We couldn’t find the club, and Nik radioed HQ asking where it was. We weren’t in Lothersdale, but instead in Cowling. 3 more miles to Lothersdale.         

 

 



 

We sat on a wall for a few minutes in disbelief. The mood was low, pain was coming on and all I wanted was a small break.  We slowly passed through a couple of farms and finally descended into Lothersdale.  I sat in a chair next to Nik.   A few others were waiting in some folding chairs with emergency blankets wrapped around them, a telltale sign that their race was over.  The SST officials @ Tri Club mentioned that over 60 people had already dropped.  This was around 40% of participants that had called it quits in under 36 hours of the race.


A Tough Decision and a Heartfelt Goodbye to Nik

As we sat there, Nik’s head wasn’t in a great spot, and mine wasn’t far behind. Nik said that he was in pain and that he couldn’t really use his left leg. I urged him to continue on with me. He called his wife, his coach, and they both urged him to work on to Malham CP 1.5 and make a decision there. He contemplated, tried to stand up, and immediately fell back in his chair. Nik decided to call it quits. With everyone else dropping at this point, I pondered dropping myself. If I dropped here, I would’ve been happy with the effort and grind that I put in. I sent a message to my WhatsApp crew to let them know how shattered I was. Comment after comment came through telling me to carry on. Jesi messaged me separately to inform me of how many people were in my corner rooting for me and believing in me. I decided to stop getting too comfortable and to continue on. The sun was setting, and it was a ways to CP1.5 Malham Tarn. Only one other racer, Phil, left with me out of Lothersdale. Phil and I trekked up Pinhaw Beacon, a mere 20 minutes from Lothersdale, and he turned to me to ask – "Should we do this?" I knew what he meant and immediately said YES without hesitation. If I was unsure, we would’ve both convinced ourselves to turn back to Lothersdale and call it a day. It has been my experience that going into the second night is really tough on the mind. Just knowing that you’re going into the darkness again plays big tricks on you.




The Power of Conversation and Companionship

Phil and I managed to work together on our way up Low Hill and Park Hill and made our way into Thornton. We had some good chats about life, family, and more. He was an inspiration to me as he was in his mid-sixties, had just sold his insurance company, and was “working lite,” but also mentioned that he didn’t feel his body had much more time to do such epic things. Phil and I worked really well together, but around 4-5 hours into our journey, navigation became challenging for the both of us. We missed a bridge, missed a road, and traversed the wrong way a few times. This ate up around 20-30 minutes due to our mishaps. We finally ended up on the right trajectory and began descending into Gargrave around 9 or 10 pm. I remember the timing because we heard from other racers that Gargrave has a general store that closes at 10 that a bunch of racers stop at to refuel. As we began to enter Gargrave, Phil said that he needed 30-40 minutes to gather himself and decide if he was going to continue. This was another very pivotal moment in my race. I was still racing the cutoffs and wanted to power through and give it my all. I told Phil that I was going to continue on and would wait for him to regroup if he promised to go on as well, but unfortunately, he couldn’t give me that promise. We said our goodbyes, and I trekked on for my first completely solo adventure of the Spine Race.



Unexpected Motivation and a Boost of Confidence

Popping through Gargrave, I heard someone yelling my name and looked up. It was my mate Rob! He decided to drive around an hour from his home just to pop through and say hello and tell me how strong I looked. I didn’t really realize at that moment how much this meant to me. I felt like shit, was tired, scared to be solo, but he assured me that this was the true test and was what I needed to grow and be out of my comfort zone. We chatted for 4-5 minutes, and I carried on with some pep in my step. At the same time, I came across Spine Safety team member Joe in and asked him, honestly, if he thought I could actually get to the finish. His response: “Hmm, it’s going to be really tight, to be honest.” It was misting and raining, and I spent the next few hours traversing along the River Aire on my way towards Malham. After hearing that I may be going too slow, I began to move at a good clip because I ended up passing a few people who were bivvyed out. I got to the base of Malham Tarn and came across the Spine Safety Team again. Jon, one of the safety team members, said, “Duude, you are cooking, man. Keep it up.” I was feeling good in solitude, and some growth truly happened. It was crazy to think that I was alone, sleep-deprived, in the middle of the night, in another country.


The Struggles of Malham Tarn and a Critical Moment

I climbed up Malham Tarn and was getting quite fatigued. Steady climbing slowly became 4-5 steps up followed by some heavy breathing and stopping for rest. After getting to the top of the Tarn, I pulled out my phone that I was mainly using for GPS and realized that I had somehow deleted the route from my map. FUCK… I tried navigating by any footsteps that I saw, but that only got me so far. I took off my bag, sat on a rock, and pulled out the handheld GPS. I spent the next 45 minutes navigating with the handheld through the rain. I was soaked, mood was dark, and I was again ready to throw in the towel, but I was almost to CP 1.5 @ Malham Tarn. Upon approaching the 30-minute CP, I thought of ways that I was going to tell them that I was spent and dropping. I walked into the CP at 1:45 am, sat in a chair in a rather foul mood, and was served some tea and given hot water for my firepot dehydrated meal. There were 3 other racers in the CP getting ready to leave. The Spine Safety Team had recently made a diversion 20 minutes prior and had to update me on the new route. This diversion would take us around Fountains Fell and Pen-y-ghent. The safety team was only allowing us to leave in groups due to the possibility of getting lost.



In strolls another racer. Liam. Liam came in with a huge smile, large personality, and joke after joke. He had the safety team laughing. He and the Malham safety team and medics somehow changed my mood from quitting to continuing. Liam and I set out together out of Malham. Without crossing paths with Liam, I would’ve surely dropped the race. The diversion cut off some impassable areas of the route, but it surely wasn’t easy. For the next 5 hours, we trekked together, Liam mostly led the way, and we just walked through snow and water. The melt was continuing, and the diverted route had us wading through rushing water on the roads, sometimes up to 10-15 inches. It was like walking upstream in a river. Liam and I were both exhausted when we got to Horton. Horton is a spot that many racers stop at to get a bit of kip in the public toilets. We agreed to get around 20-30 minutes there. I went into one toilet, and Liam into another. The toilet that I went in had a racer sitting on the toilet, head in hands, coughing, shaking, sleeping all at the same time. I checked in to see if he was okay, and he nodded. I let him be and laid on the ground of the toilet, pack as my pillow, and legs up the wall. Quick alarm set for 20 minutes. This was an odd sleep as I woke myself up 3-4 times over the 20 minutes from sighing loudly on my exhales. I quickly got up, put my gloves under the hand dryer to warm them a bit, and carried on, stepping outside to meet Liam.


The Long Road Ahead

The next section out of Horton was a 13-ish mile jaunt along Cam High Road. Footing was pretty good here, but the constant rollers over and over again were soul-sucking. Talking with Liam during this section, he informed me that pulling up the live tracking, there was a black "trophy of death." This signified the rate of the slowest-ever finisher of the Spine Race: 167 hours and 48 minutes, which was just shy of the 168-hour cutoff. He also said that we were tracking several miles behind the trophy of death, but that we had somehow pulled several miles in front of it! This gave me some hope that I could actually finish the race.


Liam was originally from Killarney, Ireland, but lives with his family in Northumberland. He works as a textile manager for Montane, one of the major sponsors of the Spine Race, and grew up as a “hill walker.” This was a term that I hadn’t heard of in the States, but learning about it was very appealing to me and also helped me make sense of how the lad could move at such a good pace on climbs while making it look effortless. For Liam, he spent much of his weekends as a youth meeting with friends and recceing big climbs while having good conversation and exercise. He also stated that his best friends to this day are people that he spent time with hill walking. Liam has a true connection to nature, as do I. We were a great match and worked really well together.

 




A Fresh Start and Support in Hawes

Cam High continued on, and the sun began to rise. Hope had been restored in my mind. We were making good time, and moods were high. As we descended from Cam High and into Hawes, it was a bit windy up high, but we worked through the wind and grey and into some sunshine and warmth as we entered Hawes.

As we got into Hawes, Ed was waiting there to greet us. It was so nice seeing him and feeling his support. He popped out the camera to film us a bit, as I hadn’t had much chance to update anyone over the past 30 hours because my phone got wet, died, and wouldn’t let me charge. Liam and I both strolled into Hawes with smiles on our faces.




Arrival at Hawes CP2

We arrived in Hawes CP2 at 1:45 pm on Tuesday. One of the volunteers took my phone and used an air can to blow out the moisture, which finally allowed me to charge it.

I had a few hours of kip at Hawes, did some admin to get my gear together, and at this point, I contemplated continuing with waterproof socks. My feet were a bit waterlogged, and the entire soles were white. I wasn’t sure if my feet got wet or if the socks kept moisture in. Either way, the 2-ish hours of sleep allowed the feet to dry out, and I put on the waterproofs again, knowing that the next section was very boggy.

 

Leaving Hawes and Heading Up Great Shunner Fell

Liam and I left Hawes around 6 pm and began the trek up Great Shunner Fell. This was the start of the Spine Challenger North, so I felt good knowing that I had seen this section of the course before. However, it was going to be much more challenging with 100-plus miles under my belt already.

Trekking up Great Shunner Fell was rather peaceful. There was certainly some work to do, and my heart rate got up a bit as it’s around a 7-mile climb. Out of nowhere, my first of many hallucinations began.



 

Hallucinations and Connection to Nature

The clouds in the photo ascended into the sky and formed a ring, similar to what you may see on the top of a volcano. The clouds began to pulse in and out, billowing upon each other in a big circular ring. The long grasses in front of me started to dance and go in and out of focus. This was a controlled hallucination, as I consciously knew that my mind was fatigued and playing tricks on me. At the same time, I felt a profound connection and “oneness” to nature during these visual episodes.



 

The Descent Into Thwaite and the Terrifying Ridgeline

We descended off of Shunner Fell and into Thwaite. This part of the course is my least favorite, especially at night. Coming out of Thwaite, we ascended up a ridgeline around Kisdon, a few hundred feet off the ground. The trail is less than 24 inches wide with a drastically steep drop-off to the right. One wrong step and it could mean a critical injury or death. I kept telling myself, “Don’t look right, don’t look right,” but my focus on not looking right had me feeling like I kept falling right. It was terrifying. This section seemed like an eternity, but in reality, it was probably less than 40 minutes and I had really sweaty palms for all of it.


Meeting Dave and Collin

Liam and I met up with Dave and Collin in this area. Dave was quite the personality. He’s from Scotland and primarily an ultra-cyclist. In his day job, he’s a deep-sea diver on oil rigs! He heard about this race and how hard it was and decided to give it a try! This race brings out some truly interesting people and great conversation. Collin constantly had out his maps to navigate which was cool and old school compared to most of us using tech to find the way.


Rest and Refueling in Keld

We worked together around Kisdon and descended into Keld, where there is a village house that stays open for Spine racers to rest, get some crisps or a flapjack, and put money in the honesty box for whatever you snag. Liam decided to grab a quick 30-minute sleep here. I felt some rubbing in my shoes, so I popped them off and saw some blisters forming. I popped them with a hypodermic needle and put on some fleecy web and tape while getting some sage advice from Kristie Law, who happened to arrive in Keld right behind us. Liam and I left after 30 minutes, while some of the others got around 3-4 hours of rest in Keld.



 

We marched on another 3-4 miles to Tan Hill Inn.  Below is my state state pre-kip @ Tan Hill. This spot is famous as the highest pub in England.  It’s considered an unofficial checkpoint as you can stay as long as needed.  We grabbed some soup and bread, a coffee and I went for a quick 15 min kip and told Liam to wake me.  Liam tried, he poked me, shook me, poked my ribs but I didn’t budge.  He let me sleep for another 15 before he was able to wake me.  Liam said that if he didn’t know me and what I was doing, he would’ve called EMS immediately.




Leaving Tan Hill and Tackling the Bog

Liam and I left Tan Hill around 4 am, heading straight into bog, more bog, and even more bog. Liam looked at me and said, "It’s time to work," and work we did. The next 4-5 hours before sunrise were filled with grinds and grinds—no talking, just one foot in front of the other. I summoned my Bison/Musk Ox spirit to guide me through the bog and over the moors.


Hallucinations in the Sunrise and Questioning Reality

As the sun rose, Liam started moving at a faster pace and was about ¼ mile ahead of me. The sun hit the tall grasses, and hallucinations began. The orange and red grasses began to dance in full, vibrant colors. "Strawberry Fields Forever" by The Beatles started playing over and over in my mind. I took a picture of the moment, but the photo didn’t capture nearly the vibrancy I saw.



I saw those grasses as burnt orange and red, and they were dancing!
I saw those grasses as burnt orange and red, and they were dancing!


At this moment, I began to wonder if Liam was real or just a guardian angel created by my mind to guide me onward. I also considered that maybe I wasn't even in the UK and maybe experiencing a dream or even that this was all a simulation. Crazy thoughts—and even crazier when I caught up with him to tell him about my hallucinatory experience. He had a laugh and said, “You’re getting a bit of zen, kid... well done.”

Liam was real, thank God.


A Series of Farm Climbs and Neville, the Trail Angel

The next section consisted of a series of farm climbs through mud and bog but was rather uneventful for me. We arrived at the spot of a trail angel named Neville right before our last climb into Middleton. Neville was asleep in his car on the side of the road with a barn door open and two chairs set up. We had a seat, had some tea, and listened to what he had to say. He had been sleeping in his car for three days, waiting for each Spine racer to come through and serve up tea and "bits and bobs." He wouldn’t take any money and only wanted to be out there putting a smile on people’s faces. He was purely a “giver” doing this out of the kindness of his heart. It’s trail angels like Neville that make a race like this so special.




Climbing Into Middleton

After our tea, we had one last climb up a moor and then dropped down into Middleton. This was where the CP was in 2023, but in 2024, they moved it 7 miles up the Pennine Way to Langdon Beck. After getting to Middleton, we were both pretty tired and grinded out the next 3.5 hours without talking much. This was probably the only point in the course where Liam wasn’t smiling and laughing. I gave him some space and pulled ahead.

I began filming a daily recap for our crew but was interrupted by some hikers and dot watchers who had come out to say hello and let us know they’d been tracking us for the past few days. Liam caught up, and his phone was blasting Metallica to pump him up.


A Cosmic Connection with Jesi

While Liam listened to Metallica, I was listening to Fred again... a UK DJ and producer who has been one of my top artists over the past two years. His music hits my emotions hard. When I played some Fred, unbeknownst to me, Jesi was having a Fred again dance party with our family and telling the WhatsApp crew to give it a listen. Jesi and I share a cosmic synchronicity, which makes sense because we are soulmates.


Last year during the Challenger North, we were both staring at the full moon—me in the Cheviots and her in Chicago—thinking of each other at the exact moment. Jesi and I have a special connection that transcends space and time. Throughout all of the struggle, she was there with me and in my heart.


Arriving at Langdon Beck CP3

Liam and I arrived at Langdon Beck CP3 at 4:30 pm on Wednesday, just shy of 3.5 days into the race. We were both super tired and ready for some sleep. At this point, I was starting to believe I could actually finish the race. I made a commitment to myself that I wasn’t going to quit, and that my race would end in one of two ways: either finishing in Kirk Yetholm or getting pulled off the course for missing a cutoff or for medical reasons.


Refueling and Recharging at Langdon Beck

Rolling into Langdon Beck is neon sign that reads "Teesdale Tandoori" and they take pride in serving up some amazing chicken curry. They even have a trip advisor account and merch! I had two servings, took off my socks to find that my feet were getting worse, aired them out for 30 minutes, dried them, powdered them up, and got 2 hours of sleep in the bunk. After a bit more admin, re-taping, and popping some blisters, I was ready to head out. At this point, I concluded that the waterproof socks were keeping too much moisture in, so I ditched them and continued on with just wool socks.


Leaving Langdon Beck and the Diversion

We left Langdon Beck around 8:30–9 pm. There was a diversion in place that took us around Cauldron's Snout, a waterfall considered very dangerous due to the water and slippery rocks. We passed this with ease. The sky was perfect, and the stars were abundant. These were some special moments, and the pictures don’t do any justice to what we saw with the naked eye.       



 

Into Dufton and a Quick Stop for Fuel

This section breezed by, and we made it into Dufton (where I dropped in 2023) around 2:15 in the morning. We stopped at the Post Box Pantry for a full English breakfast and a Coke. The bags under my eyes are real @ post box.





Quick Nap at CP 3.5 Dufton

We shot into CP 3.5 Dufton for a quick 22-minute nap. It’s a 30-minute CP, and they are very strict about time limits. We told the CP manager to wake us up. I laid on one side, and Liam laid on the other, right under the radiator for some extra warmth. That 22 minutes passed in the snap of a finger.


Ascent to Cross Fell and A Beautiful Sunrise

We left Dufton and began our ascent to the highest point on the course—Cross Fell. Before reaching Cross Fell, there’s Cosca Hill, Green Fell, Knock Fell, Great Dunn Fell, Little Dunn Fell, and finally, Cross Fell. This section is a straight climb, but this year was much different than last. Last year, it was a blizzard with whiteout conditions, but this year, the wind was tame, and there was virtually no snow to be seen.


Photo of Cross Fell 2024
Photo of Cross Fell 2024

Photo of Cross Fell 2025
Photo of Cross Fell 2025

Liam and I planned this one perfectly! What an epic sunrise at the highest point of the course. This was truly magical and one of my top moments of the race. Liam agreed, and we sat there for a moment, enjoying the beauty of the sunrise—an atypical Cross Fell experience. The mood was great as the skies were clear and the sun was rising. This was my 4th sunrise on the course, and over the course of the race, the sun always gave me hope to crack on.



 


Descent to Greg's Hut

Crack on we did, and we made our way a few miles down the back side of Cross Fell and into Greg’s Hut, a bothy staffed by John Bamber and his crew. There’s a small warming room, and John and his team serve up noodles on his handmade stove. With the weather being much warmer this year, the reprieve wasn’t as needed as in 2024, but it was still a lovely spot for some caffeine and noodles.

 

Liam and I spent a good 30 minutes there. 15 minutes of which, I somehow fell asleep in the chair with coffee in hand. When I was woken up, I somehow hadn’t spilled a drop.




Descent into Garrigill and Angel Annie

We carried on the 7-8 mile descent into Garrigill, mostly on jeep roads, which was a nice break for the feet after the challenging underfooting of the past few days. Garrigill is the location of a trail angel, “Angel Annie.” Ed, Al, and I couldn’t find her house last year, but this year, we were welcomed into her home. She opens it up 24 hours a day for the entire race and serves biscuits, bread, soup, and tea.




She’s an expat from Brazil, married to a UK citizen. She’s pure spitfire and kept hassling me about how stupid we were as Americans for electing Trump. I had no energy to get into politics with her, so instead, I gave her a hug and told her I was here to get AWAY from the constant scroll and grind. We had a laugh, and she told me she’d be waiting for me at the finish line.


Garrigill to Alston

The 4 miles from Garrigill to Alston were pretty nice—flat terrain with a bunch of styles and walls to go over. Liam had pulled ahead, so I spent this time solo. At this point, I began to feel some pain along the front of my left shin, and it was getting sore to plantar flex my toes. I arrived in Alston just before dusk.


Alston is a very special checkpoint. The lasagna there is unreal, and I helped myself to 3 servings of it. I popped off my boots and socks, had a water bath, and realized that sleep deprivation was kicking in hard. I was sorting through admin (charging, sock change, kit change, resupply, etc.) and kept forgetting what I was doing. I decided to get a couple of hours of rest and resume the admin after my brain had a moment to recharge.

When I woke up from the rest, I still felt the pain in my left shin, and it was a bit swollen. I popped 3 blisters, taped up my feet again, and headed out.




Climbing Toward Slaggyford

The next several hours of the course, out of Alston, I was not looking forward to. It’s a steady climb through bog, mud, and fields on the way to Slaggyford. Liam, Dave, Colin, and I had reunited were working as a little group. Liam kept the positive vibe, Dave added some humor, and Colin contributed his navigation skills and logic. I don’t feel like I added too much to the group at this stage, but I did force them to stop and take in the beautiful lenticular cloud formation!



Shin Pain and the Crew’s Support

My shin began to hurt a bit more, but I carried on, not wanting to be a downer to this awesome crew. We worked through the night, had a cameo appearance from some of Liam’s friends who chatted with us on the trail for a couple of hours, and carried on our way to Greenhead.


Trail Angel: Rasta Ralph

Prior to Greenhead, our crew had split up and Liam, myself and Dave Brown came across another trail angel, “Rasta Ralph.” The Pennine Way travels right through his property, and you know when you’re there—around 20 cars are displaced across his lawn, and empty Stella cans are strewn about. He popped outside with a Stella in hand, a joint in his mouth, and a headlamp on. He served us some chicken thighs. I was hesitant due to sanitation concerns, but ultimately ate the chicken... and didn’t get ill!


Sidenote - Dave Brown won the hearts of the Spine Family as I found out at a later date. He was interviewd by the media team about his reasons for being out there and emotions started flowing. He was racing in honor of his late friend that was the victim of a climbing accident. They had dreamt of doing the Spine together and he was out there in honor of his friend Tom. I highly recommend watching the daily recaps of Spine Race 2025 on YouTube. The production is fantastic and truly shows how special this event is.


Below: Photo of Rasta Ralph serving chicken




Greenhead: Bivvying for the First Time

At this point, our crew had spaced out a bit on the descent into Greenhead. Greenhead is known for its public toilet rest stop and being at the base of Hadrian’s Wall. I was super tired when I got to Greenhead, and with no space in the toilets, I decided to bivvy out for the first time ever. Temps were in the low 20s F, and sleeping outside wasn’t the best idea, but I went for it. Originally, I planned for 3 hours, but I woke up after 1:45 freezing and shivering. The little bit of rest did me good, but getting my cold and wet gear back on after the sleep was terrible. Nothing worse than being cold and having to throw on wet clothing and continue.




Solo Trek Toward Hadrian’s Wall

I carried on solo as Liam was taking a bit of time to get sorted. My shin was getting worse, and I told Liam I’d see him soon when he caught up. I was in for another treat: Sunrise #5 on Hadrian’s Wall. This is a beautiful section of rollers along the wall. Truly epic to see during the day, but also quite nice to walk along as the sun was rising.


Start of Hadrian’s Wall – Dean, Andrew, James in the Distance



Liam’s Catch-Up and Inspiration

Liam eventually caught up and passed me. During that time, some other friends of his popped onto the course to say hi. We all had a chat for a moment, and it gave me some inspiration. At some point, halfway along Hadrian’s Wall, we crossed a road where a Spine photographer was setting up. He captured some nice moments of Liam and I.



Photo of our shoes – a challenging pose for us to get our feet that close!




Liam powered on during the last climbs of Hadrian’s Wall. By this point in the race, Liam and I had worked together so well for the past 3 days. The ripple had reached Chicago and Northumberland! I found out that Jesi and Liam’s wife Chantelle had connected up and formed a supportive relationship, helping to support us two lads.


My gut told me over the past 30 hours that Liam was moving much faster than me, and I didn’t want to hold him back. We had a nice talk, and I told him to get on and do his own race. He was hesitant and wanted to make sure that I was good. I promised him that I would finish.


The Grinder: Hornystead Farms

Coming off of Hadrian’s was an absolute grinder, from what I remembered last year. Last year, it was dark, and the 7-8 miles to Hornystead Farms took an eternity. I was angry, got off track, and made it to the unofficial CP in shattered form. This was the point in 2024 when Al had decided to retire, and I spent 45 minutes pleading with him to continue. But Al is a smart and experienced racer, and he took ample time to make his final decision. This year, the experience was a bit different. Sleep deprivation was worse, but it was daylight, and the time seemed to move a bit faster getting to the farm.


Liam was gone, but Colin came through and shared some miles with me. We had some good chats, and it helped to ease the struggle. On the way to Hornystead, I came across Andrew, Dean, and James, who were perched up on some tree trunks having a coffee. They made me one real quick, and I had a quick laugh with them before carrying on. Thanks for the boost lads!


Hornystead Farm: A Warm Welcome

Hornystead Farm is an unofficial CP that came to be when Helen, a trail angel and owner of the farm, began to see Spine racers pass her home several years ago. She couldn’t believe that they had come from Edale and insisted that they should stop in for a hot cup of tea and some soup. Fast forward to today, and her farm has become a staple of the Spine Race course. She has multiple barns to sit and rest in.

Helen served me some soup and tea, along with homemade lemon cake. Before leaving, she pulled out her logbook of racers who had come through her farm over the years. She searched and found my name from 2024 and notched me in for 2025. Thank you, Helen, for all your generosity!


Colin and I rolled into Hornystead together, but he stopped for 15 minutes. I stayed for 25 minutes to have a bit more time connecting with Helen. I left Helen around 3:30 PM to make the next 5-mile trek toward Bellingham CP5. Most of this section is road with two pretty large fields to climb. One of them was called Shitlington Crags. Surprisingly, I only felt moderately like shit after 215 miles or so. I moved fast-ish on the roads, moved okay on the climbs, but quite slow on the descents as my left shin was barking at me hard.

 



 

Descending Into Bellingham

I finally descended into Bellingham just after dusk. I wasn’t overly tired, so I had a moment and took a warm foot bath. The medics helped pop and tape some blisters for me. I ate 3-4 bowls of soup and talked with Tim (the same Tim that took me to kit check and drove me to the start on race morning.) It was so great to see a familiar face and he took such great care of me at the CP. I left Bellingham around 6 or 7 PM on Friday night.

Photo Below: Tim and I. Thanks, you legend!




Cracking On: Solo Journey to Byrness

After asking Tim if he thought it was a good idea to crack on without sleeping, he said, "Go for it mate, you look good." I trusted him and carried on for a solo journey: 15 miles to CP5.5, Byrness. Coming out of Bellingham is a nice little climb up White Hill. I missed a turn here and tracked 0.5 miles off course before I realized the mistake. I traced back on course, made the climb, traversed around some ridge lines, and crossed some ridiculous bogs. Eventually, I caught up with Emily and Mike. Emily was the last female on the course positioned to finish, and Mike was her partner.


I remembered seeing Emily at Bellingham, both of her feet completely taped up! I said hello and told them they were a power couple, both doing this epic 268 miles together. Wow. Mike was in good spirits helping Emily along, but she was moving slow. Both of her feet were entirely covered in blisters. I cracked on and spent 3-4 hours grinding with my head down. There were a few sections with Flagstones, which helped a bunch to keep on the correct route; however, some of the Flagstones were submerged in water and displaced. I came very close to wrecking my ankle between two stones but luckily avoided a severe sprain as I fell in.


Climbing and Hallucinations: Into Byrness

After the Flagstone section, there was a super steep100 plus foot climb with challenging footing up onto a bridle trail before the 7-mile descent into Byrness. I remember this section quite well from last year, where I had some sort of emotional breakthrough.


In 2024, 6 miles out of Byrness, the sun was out, the sky was clear, and I began uncontrollably sobbing. I’ve never been afraid of my own emotions, but I hadn’t experienced a cry like this before. I was shedding some deep stuff, feeling oneness and a sense of belonging to nature. I remember trying to articulate this experience to Ed, and he nodded, telling me to feel the feels. I did, and that moment was the true high of my 2024 experience. The rest of my race felt like a victory lap that year.


This year, the trek into Byrness was a different experience. Once on the bridle trail, I was hit with extreme fatigue like I’ve never experienced before. Hallucinations began. My posture was slumped over, and my head was staring at the trail beneath. I started seeing faces everywhere along the trail and in rock formations. The prevailing face was a neutral one that animated into a frown, staring right at me. Frowns, and more frowns. Then I saw skulls, and skulls, and crossbones. The number 3 started appearing everywhere. I couldn’t make sense of what it all meant quite yet.


As I trekked on, my visual focus started getting blurry, and I was trekking down a street with houses on both sides as if I was in a village. But when I looked up to see the houses, none were there, and I was still on the bridle trail. My peripheral vision saw the houses, but my central vision confirmed they didn’t exist. The hallucinations lasted 45 minutes to an hour. Then, I finally got onto a road.


At this point, still slumped with bad posture, the hallucinations stopped but I fell asleep while walking on a few occasions, only waking when my snoring startled me. I had no idea I could actually be sleeping while moving forward. It was a surreal experience. I can only imagine what it looked like if someone filmed me at this moment. I was swaying side to side and couldn't keep a straight line.


Kielder Forest and the Pine Trees

The road lasted forever, and finally, I arrived at Kielder Forest, which meant I was close to the Byrness CP. Going through the forest at 3 or 4 AM, I came across a downed pine tree on the trail. I was able to step over the tree and carry on. A few minutes later, I came across a second downed pine, which had fallen onto some other trees and hovered 3-4 feet off the ground. I tried to squat underneath the tree, but my quads were shot, and I couldn’t squat low enough without the top of my pack getting caught on the trunk.


I finally got down onto hands and knees and crawled underneath. After noting the two downed trees, I suddenly remembered the number 3, the skulls, and the frowns and felt they were a premonition of a third pine tree that was going to fall on me and ultimately be my demise. I hiked the next mile or so thinking that I had no speed or reaction to get out of the way of a falling tree and was just plain frightened.


Byrness CP: A Quick Stop and Recharge

30 minutes later, I finally made it out of the forest and on my way into Byrness. Byrness 30-minute CP was one of my favorite spots from last year. I was introduced to minced tatties (minced beef and potatoes) and Iron Bru soda. Both were delicious and common in Scotland. I strolled into the CP, barely able to keep my eyes open and struggling to focus. I found myself closing one eye to see more clearly out of the other. I sat in a chair, got my water filled, and had two servings of minced tatties and a coffee. They were out of Iron Bru.

30 minutes went by in a flash, and I was kicked out, barely able to walk.


St. Francis Church: A Brief Kip Before the Cheviots

Half a mile up the road is St. Francis Church. The church was built in the 1700s and is open 24 hours a day for prayer and contemplation. Spine racers typically stop here for a kip before taking on the Cheviots.




Early Morning at St. Francis Church

I hobbled into the church around 4-4:30 am on Saturday morning. Five to six other racers were sleeping there as well. I found a pew to camp out under, laid out my sleeping bag, blew up my mat, and placed my bag at the foot end so I could elevate my left leg, which was swelling due to the compounded injury to my tibialis anterior. I set my alarm for 7:30 am in an effort to get going just as the sun was rising, so I could conquer as much of the Cheviots as possible in the daylight.


I woke up before my alarm around 7:15 am and had to pee so unbelievably bad. With no toilet in the church, I stumbled outside and trekked just off the lot in an attempt to keep in good standing with the Lord and finally relieve myself. I went back inside the church, packed my belongings, and asked for some blessings to finish this thing. Before heading out, I popped into the WhatsApp thread and saw a message from Ed: “Hey Ryan, this isn’t Leadville. There is no last ass over the pass award. Say goodbye to the Church and Jesus and get your fucking ass over the Cheviots.”

I had a good laugh, as I know Ed well, and it was his way of showing love and support. I also felt a slight bit of sadness, knowing he was being such a great sport and friend, even though he was thoroughly disappointed not to be there with me to finish the race. I moved on, knowing all too well that I was embracing the struggle for the both of us.


The Ascent and First Encounter with Spine Media

I began the initial ascent up the Cheviots feeling alright. It was a different experience this year, as there was no snow and the wind was tame—quite the opposite of 2024. I trekked along at a good pace for the first 3-4 hours and caught up with Zac. We shared some miles, talking about our families back home. I moved ahead and ran into Spine Media for the first time on the course!


Last year, Ed, Al, and I were featured in several videos from the Challenger North, and we had fans along the way. I got interviewed while moving and explained my WHY. I wanted to inspire my family and friends back home to do hard things and believe in themselves. Saying it out loud was emotional. I was also asked about Spine Mail, a new feature this year, where dot watchers could click on your dot and write messages of inspiration. I didn’t know about this feature until 160 miles into the race, when Liam told me about it. I didn’t think many people would comment on my dot, but when I checked, there were hundreds of messages from friends, family, clients, and random dot watchers. Every message was filled with love, positivity, and inspiration and even some humor. I checked it a few times when I needed a boost to keep going, and it worked.


After the interview (you can see it at the 3-minute mark here), I carried on and saw Hut 1 in the distance. There was a slight downhill and I was in good spirits, so I gave a slight jog. Twenty steps in, I felt a slosh in the pinky toe of my right foot where I had built up a pretty big blister a couple of days prior. The jog became a walk, and I got into the hut.



Blister Drama at Hut 1

 

I took off my right shoe, and the blister had poked its way through all the fleecy web and kinesiotape. There was a medic and some Spine safety team members in the hut, so I asked for guidance on whether I should pop it, re-tape it, or leave it. The medic tried to pop it without removing the bandages for fear of ripping skin or my toenail off, but ultimately, it was best to take off the tape carefully and re-bandage it.



While performing what felt like minor surgery on my foot, Stuart (Spine Safety) filmed the procedure while laughing and posting it on socials. Mark (Spine Safety) fed me endless biscuits and coffee and mentioned that he remembered me from the Spine Media videos last year. We stood out as Americans due to our openness, exuberance, and attitude. He said he didn’t really understand it at first, but as he watched each successive video, he grew an affinity toward us as did a bunch of the other followers of the race. It was a cool moment. After my toe got fixed up and I smashed 30 biscuits and 2 coffees, I cracked on. Mark looked at me and said, “I’ll see you in Kirk Yetholm, mate!”


The Trek to Hut 2

The trek from Hut 1 to Hut 2 is around 9 miles, and it was taking most runners 5-6 hours. I continued with Zac and Chris, and we piggybacked each other numerous times. My blister wasn’t giving me much trouble, but my left shin was swollen and getting more painful with every step. At times, I felt a searing pain as if the muscle was being pulled off my tibia. I honestly questioned ending the race when I got to Hut 2. My brain kept saying, “You pretty much did the whole race; you don’t need to do the last bit for a medal.” It seemed convincing, but something inside kept me going paired with all of the people rooting for me. I finally arrived at the conclusion that I could quit, be in pain, and be disappointed—or I could continue, be in pain, and finish the race.


The last 3 miles to Hut 2 included a climb up Windy Gyle, followed by a climb up part of "The Cheviot." I made my way over Windy Gyle as the sun was setting and then climbed the Cheviot. It got dark, extreme fog and mist rolled in, and I started trekking through snow. I was solo and couldn’t see 3 feet in front of me. I was a bit scared, not wanting to make a wrong step or get lost. I phoned in to SpineHQ and let them know the conditions were dangerous and that I wasn’t sure if other racers behind me should go through it. HQ replied, “Thanks for letting us know, but it’s just fog, and we don’t plan to divert anyone.” I took it as a nice way of saying "Man the fuck up and continue on."

I continued, terrified, just wanting to get out of the fog and into Hut 2. As I descended off the Cheviot, the fog lifted, and I saw Hut 2 in the distance. The descent down was hard on my left shin, and I started going down sideways with my right leg leading. The snow turned to mud, and I managed to fall on my ass 3-4 times due to the footing.


Final Push to the Finish Line

I arrived at Hut 2 and had a moment. Chris and Zac were there, and we had some tea and chats with the Spine team. Just 7 miles left to the finish: One climb up “The Schill,” and then it was all downhill from there. Before leaving the hut, I checked my phone, and it was blowing up with messages. Hundreds of messages on WhatsApp, plus private messages from a few. Special shout-out to Britney Romero, who sent me a message from Hut 2 last year to inspire me to keep going. She sent the same message this year and reminded me of the communication from 2024. Everybody was geeking out, just wanting to see my dot keep moving from Hut 2, knowing I was going to finish.


I left Hut 2 with severe leg pain and continued on with Chris and Zac. Zac pulled ahead quickly, and Chris hung with me until the top of the Schill. He had similar leg pain but was in much better shape than me. I told him to go on ahead, as I was going to be descending super slow. The Spine team at Hut 2 said it would take around 3-3:30 hours to get from Hut 2 to the finish. I knew I’d be slower, but I was okay with it. I had done some epic things, had some great miles with a bunch of people, but ultimately raced much of it in solitude. It was hard, but I learned so much about my mental strength and fortitude. I felt it was fitting to endure the final struggle alone.


Each step was right foot forward, sideways, with a straight left leg. My leg was useless, and every step hurt. Some steps were painful enough to feel tightening in my gut and tears were pushed from my eyes. It took me nearly 4 hours to go 5 miles—a true death march. Finally, I reached the road. The last 2 miles to the finish were on the road, so the footing was easier, and the descent was done. Still, I couldn’t fully load my left leg. Each time my left foot hit the ground, I pushed hard with both poles to ease the weight. I walked a mile on the road in 30 minutes and heard my name being yelled. It was Ed and his girlfriend JoAnna! It was so unbelievably good to see Ed and meet JoAnna for the first time. Ed walked with me and told me how happy he was for me. I gave him a big hug and told him I wished he was there with me the whole time. I cried a bit inside, knowing the pain he was going through after dropping out. We carried on for the last mile, talking, just as we did during the 2024 North finish which made me forget for a moment that I had spent so many days without him.


There was one last sneaky climb up a road and into Kirk Yetholm. For Chicago Marathoners it feels like Mt. Roosevelt on steroids. From Hut 2 to Kirk Yetholm, I think it took me over 5 hours. I tried really hard not to limp as I crossed under the arches, and the cameras filmed everything. I strolled across the line at 11:41 pm on Saturday night. 159 hours and 41 minutes on just 11.5 hours of sleep, 8 hours before the cutoff. Angel Annie from Garrigill was waiting for me and ran up to give me a hug. She tried to take me to the bar for a drink—haha.




Arrival and  a Kiss at the Border Hotel

Iain and Kirstie Law were waiting to give me a hug, and Mark Collins from Hut 1 was there as well. I was in awe at the love and commitment from this community to stay out there and watch me cross the line. Annie kept trying to pull me to the bar, but the Spine team had to fulfill their obligations and escort me into the Border Hotel. But first, I had to kiss the wall for the second year in a row. This one required every ounce of my soul to reach.




Inside the Border Hotel

Afterwards, I was escorted into the Border Hotel. Colin came over and got me a pint immediately. I sat, soaked my feet in warm water, had a pint, some more minced and tatties, and slowly began taking off all my wet and muddy outer layers. I finished the pint quickly, and then Mark Collins (from Hut 1) came over to me and brought me a pint of Tyneside blond ale while having one for himself. He sat so close to me, grabbed both of my hands, looked me in the eyes, and said, "You did it, mate. You did it, mate. You did it, mate." He didn’t break eye contact, and I didn’t either. I began to feel the emotion and how much this meant to me and to him. He told me that I am part of the family. I understood exactly what it meant to be part of the Spine Family after coming here over the past three years. This one just meant more and it took every ounce of my being to prevail. It was by far the deepest mental grind that I have ever been through.


Spine Mail and Messages

A medal was around my neck, and a certificate was next to me. But most importantly, a printout of all the Spine Mail support messages that I had received was printed on a receipt. It was almost 10 feet long.


Mark began to read off some messages to me and who they were from. After each message, he looked at me and told me how much I inspired others and how much I was loved. After 4-5 messages, he packed them up and told me to keep these. When I was ready to reflect, I should take a look. Mark and I had a very special moment, and I felt an even deeper connection to the Spine Family.




A Call from Home

My first call after finishing the race was from my 9-year-old, Leo! He called from his Apple Watch to let me know how proud he was that I finished. I called and spoke with Jesi and found out how much she had been doing to support from home—keeping people updated via socials, updating our WhatsApp group, and more. On this race, I was merely the dot, the vessel, doing some really hard work, but the effort for me to get this done was much bigger than myself. The nucleus of the support stemmed from my family, and most importantly Jesi, who held down the fort in Chicago, took care of all three kids as a solo parent for two weeks, ran our business, and still supported me.