The 2026 Black Hills 100 Race Report - Mindset Changes Everything
After a disappointing and unfulfilling experience at the High Lonesome 100 last year, I knew I needed a change in my mindset. I went into HiLo with big outcome goals - I wanted to break 24 hours, come in top 10, and have a breakthrough mountain ultra performance. What I got instead was a knee injury in training, my slowest 100 mile finish of my entire running career, and a bruised and battered ego. After HiLo, I struggled to run at all, much less race, and ended up dropping out of the remaining races for my 2025 season due to a nagging knee issue. Fast forward a couple of months and an MRI later, and I was cleared to run. The MRI results revealed I was lucky. I didn't have major damage, just some minor thinning of my meniscus that had caused swelling, and a Baker's Cyst that had resulted in severe instability that plagued my prior season. The doc said I could return to running carefully and gradually, and to focus on strength exercises that promoted knee stability. I followed that advice and by the beginning of January was back to running up to 10 miles at a time.
I first visited the Black Hills as an enthusiastic 10 year old. I found the landscape to be awe inspiring (I'd never been to the mountains before), and the "wild west" character of the towns captured my young imagination. There is a rugged and romantic character to the hills that feels very unique to the area. To those who have never been, they often don't realize how much western South Dakota differs from most of the state. After you cross the Missouri River in Chamberlain, the gentle hills begin to give way to features that begin to resemble the mountains and hills of the western United States. Shortly after driving through Rapid City, South Dakota's second biggest city, you are surrounded by mountains that range from 5000 to 7000 feet - rivaling many of the peaks in neighboring Colorado and Wyoming.
I first learned about the Black Hills 100 early on in my ultrarunning career, but it hadn't ever made the top of my list. With the fear of the knee injury returning or severely impacting training, I felt like a big trip to the high mountains of Colorado or New Hampshire was not a good idea. It felt like the perfect time to jump into Black Hills and see what the hype was all about.
Training, led by Coach David Nogle at PRG, was good, but far from perfect (by no fault of David's). As my Kids (Emi, 6 and Killian, 8) have gotten older, I've had to say goodbye to the days of big miles in the double stroller and uptempo hikes with a kid on my back, which had been a core part of my training for years. Instead, I focused on early morning miles, sneaking in training in the middle of workdays, frequently interrupted treadmill miles, and negotiating for precious weekend time in order to get long runs in. Nevertheless, I managed to average roughly 70 miles per week for 12 or so weeks of the lead up, but with less time on trail and overall volume than I've been able to get in the past.
Lead up races proved to me that the fitness was there. I managed to have good "training runs" at the Zumbro 34 mile and Superior Spring 50k races, and knew I could at least be confident in completing the distance and having an enjoyable race at BH100. Leading up to the event, I began to think about what would make me proud of this race. First, I wanted to run with "joy and gratitude" and immerse myself in the experience of racing 105 miles in a beautiful place. Second, I wanted to run with "grace" - this was a term and concept that I heard from a client of mine, and it really nicely summarizes the character of the runner and human I want to be. Running with "grace" means being calm and collected, being present and mindful, being a problem solver, replacing negative thoughts with productive ones, and showing up as a positive light for my crew and pacers, for the volunteers, and for the other runners on the course.
The Wednesday before the race, my Crew Chief, Andrew, and I hit the road from Minneapolis to Lead, SD, where I had rented a small house for the crew. Lead is a super cool mining town right next to the tourist hotspot of Deadwood, SD. It has a much more relaxed and progressive feel than Deadwood, and is literally built into the mountains. Our rental home, owned and hosted by a small family in Lead, was a perfect place to stay prior to the race. The day before the race we did some light hiking in Spearfish, and we picked up my race packet before settling down for the last sleep prior to the race.
The race kicked off on Friday morning in Sturgis, with the starting gun going off at 10am. The cool weather of the last couple of days had given way to temps in the 80s on the start line, and without a cloud in the sky. From the gun two lead packs formed, both going far too fast for the beginning of a 100 mile race. I let the excitement take hold and I ran along with the top 10 or so runners as we exited the parking lot and headed onto a short paved path section. As we jumped on the bike path towards the trails, a pronghorn took off about 50 feet in front of the lead pack at a blistering pace - I joked to the runners next to me that "the pronghorn was for sure going to win the race!"
We got on the Centennial Trail as we entered mile two and headed towards the hills to the south of Sturgis. To my surprise, the pack didn't slow much, and I decided to drop back and be a bit more conservative. I wound up running with a local athlete named John. John shared with me the aggressive plan he and some of the other faster runners from the area had for the race - which involved going out at a sub 20 hour pace to the halfway point at Silver City, and then "holding on" for the rest of the race in hopes of a sub-24 hour finish. The plan sounded a bit crazy to me, but they knew the course much better than I did, and I thought it wouldn't hurt to hang with them for a bit - thinking they'd for sure be rethinking their plan within a few miles as the heat continued to build. I was wrong. Around mile 10 I started to let runners pass me, recognizing that the pace was simply not sustainable. My heart rate was way too high, trending 10-15 bpm above where I'm comfortable in a 100-miler, and I could feel my legs beginning to feel fatigue - an eerie feeling with nearly 90 miles still to run.
As I approached the Elk Creek Aid Station around mile 19, I knew I was in trouble. My stomach was starting to revolt, my legs felt like jelly and were bordering on cramping, and I knew I was in for a day of hurt if I didn't turn things around quickly. At Elk Creek aid, Andrew helped me with a bottle swap, got me some gels and I was on my way. I was way ahead of my A goal 25 hour pace, and I knew I had the space to slow things down and recoup on the next section. With the heat, it wasn't really even optional to do anything else. I descended downhill toward Elk Creek slowly, running flats and downhills, and powerhiking even small uphills. While I was hard to watch runners continue to pass, I knew that running 100s isn't a game of sheet speed, it's one of consistency and patience. I told myself at this point, "I'm a closer" and to just aid for the controlled effort and consistency that will allow me to finish the race strong.
I knew that in addition to the pace, my gut was not doing well with my original mixtures of 900 calories of Tailwind per 500ml bottle. At the remote Crooked Tree aid station, I began using the on-course mix of Tailwind that was mixed at 2/3 the strength. Within an hour my gut began to feel better and I began to find a rhythm. While it wasn't fast, I was climbing with intention, running most of the flats and downhills and picking off some of the runners who had passed me in the miles prior. We ran through the Dalton Lake Aid Station and to the town of Nemo.
At Nemo, I addressed another problem. I had two hotspots on each foot that were giving me trouble. I had started the race in my current favorite trail shoe, the ACG Pegasus. I had tested these up to 50k in training without issue, but the heat and hydration issues early likely caused some swelling in my feet that led to hot spots on my big toes and heels. I had brought a much more accommodating shoe, the Mount to Coast H1, for this exact scenario. I cleaned my feet with a baby wipe, lanced the small blisters, and put on a fresh pair of socks before lacing up. While going through this intricate process as quicly as possible, I had my first real run in with a runner who was VERY hyper, and almost presented as intoxicated - although she seemed to be running very strong and with technical prowess. She excitedly asked me about what I was doing, about my plan for the race, about what I'd eaten on course, and began telling me about her plan to get to the halfway point and wear PJ's with her pacer through the night. It was clear she was hoping to leave with me from the aid station to have some company. For a tired runner with a mission (me), she was a little too much and I was happy when she decided to leave the aid station ahead of me. What I didn't know is that she would end up playing a strange but impactful role in my race - more on that later.
Leaving Nemo, the sun gave way to clouds as a thunderstorm began to build. I was climbing up to one of the high points of the course known as Pilot Knob, and just before reaching the summit, the thunderstorm hit in full force. The conditions on the rocky logging road eroded as it was demolished by heavy rain and hail. Lighting lit up the sky in all directions, and it felt like we were in the exact cloud it was coming from. I took a few moments in spots to wait out lighting, playing frogger from one low point to the next to avoid being exposed in areas where lightning was likely to strike. It was by no means safe, but it was not the first time I'd been in a similar situation and I was doing the right thing - getting my butt off the mountain as quickly as I could and down to the next aid station. After ~20 minutes of precipitation my shoes were no longer providing any grip at all and the downhill was becoming a slip and slide. I took a bad fall at one point, bruising my hip, but was able to get up and continue running - knowing as long as I kept moving it was unlikely to swell too much.
After what felt like forever, the storm began to ease up just as I approached the Pilot Knob aid station. As I ran into the aid station I saw my pacers, Jeremy and David, who'd driven down the same day and arrived just minutes earlier. We took shelter under a canopy tent, where I put on my headlamp and waistlight for the night ahead. As I was doing this, the girl from the prior aid station began to excitedly drill me with questions, just inches from my face, as I was bent over adjusting my shoes and headlamp - seemingly even more hyper and intoxicated than she'd been at the prior aid station. It was clear again, she was hoping to leave with me for company. I mostly deflected her commentary to my crew (thanks, guys) and just as I was about to leave she piggybacked on another runner and began to leave the aid station. At that moment, I had one thought - "I do not want to end up running with her in the next section." That meant one of two things needed to happen. Either I needed to wait at the aid station to open up a gap, or I needed to make a sprint exit to get ahead of her and her new friend. I chose the later and sprinted out of the aid station, passing them just as they were jumping on the singletrack trail. I put music on for the first time and opened up my legs, laying down the fastest miles I had all race to widen the gap. The final bit of sunlight of the day, masked by clouds and storms in every direction produced the perfect backdrop for some of my favorite miles of the race.
After what felt like the biggest and steepest downhill of the race we got into Silver City, the halfway point of the race. Andrew again was a rockstar crew chief and got me in and out in minutes, this time with pacer David Nogle in tow. David's energy was a welcome change and inspired some solid miles as we climbed back up toward the Centennial Trail. After crossing under a highway and over a cow-gate, we managed to miss a very poorly marked turn, adding about a mile to the section off course before getting back on track and reaching the Pilot Knob aid station for a second time. We were told at the aid station that runners were reporting that the next two sections were incredibly muddy and slow. I knew from being on the section overnight that this section would be a bear with the mud, but after hours more of light rain, it was far worse than I'd anticipated.
For the next 15 miles, David and I exercised our patience and "earned our dopamine." The miles were incredibly slow - with the slowest being a 37 minute mile as we climbed out of Nemo on the mud laden logging roads. The claylike ground of the Black Hills does not make for watery mud like we have in most of MN, but instead thick claylike mud that sticks to your shoes in a thick layer like I'd never seen before, your feet both sliding and sinking into it as you attempt to move forward at a snail's pace. During this section I began to lose hope of a strong finish time, and relegated my race goals to just a goal of "survive and finish."
David did an awesome job of helping keep me motivated to continue moving forward as best we could, and after what felt like an eternity, we finally reached the Dalton Lake Aid Station at mile 74. I felt some relief, as I knew the next section was primarily single track that would likely be less of an issue in the mud than the logging roads had been. I downed some noodle soup and broth, adjusted my shoes and re-lanced a blister, and took off with my second pacer, Jeremy. I had been looking forward to sharing miles with Jeremy in this race for months. Jeremy and I have been friends and running buddies since 2014, when I hired him as a Trainer at 3CLICK Fitness. We trained for and raced our first 100 milers together, shared countless early morning miles, and share a unique sense of humor that always ensures a good time. With the demands of work, growing families, and a 50 mile distance between his home in Hudson and mine in Golden Valley. This race was an opportunity to share some miles in a beautiful place, get caught up on life, our families, our shared interest in philosophy, and getting older, with plenty of jokes and humorous banter mixed in. It delivered on just that and was one of my favorite parts of the experience.
We moved consistently, but not quickly through the Crooked Tree, Elk Creek and Bulldog aid stations. The heat of day two was beginning to build and it was rumored that day two was going to be well into the 90s. My goal was to continue moving fast enough that I didn't see the worst of the forecasted heat, but my feet were swollen and painful, and I struggled to muster up anything faster than my "ultra shuffle" pace through about mile 90.
Around mile 90 we got passed by Chad and Scott - two clients of mine at Performance Running Gym who were running the Black Hills 30k race that shared the same course. Scott was using this race as a training run for his upcoming Superior 100, and had struggled in the prior weeks to do a nasty respiratory infection. I decided I could pick up the pace for a few minutes to catch up with them and without hesitation or a second thought, I doubled my pace in order to keep up and see how they were doing. After about a half mile of conversation with them, it occurred to me that it didn't feel that bad to run fast - in fact, it maybe felt a little better than shuffling through the miles as I had been in the prior miles. While I did let them go for Jeremy and I to take a short pee break, we jumped right back into the same pace we had set with them, and I started to pass other 100 mile runners as we descended down the flowy mountain climb.
As we hit the bottom of the mountain and looked across the wide open prairie section leading toward the final aid station, I saw upwards of a dozen runners - some of whom I knew were 100 miler runners. I picked up my pace further and passed another several of them before we ran into a small tunnel that passed under I-90. As we exited the tunnel, Jeremy let me know he was not going to be able to keep up what had become a faster and faster pace over the section, and that he'd texted David to ask if he could jump back in to pace me from the final aid station to the finish. The slight disappointment of losing his company quickly gave way to the motivation of knowing I was running strong and had the chance to break well into the top 10 if I kept the pedal on the gas. As we ran into the aid station and quickly swapped my bottles and swapped pacers, I passed Chad and Scott with a last fist bump and a smile. It was hot, I was tired, but I had legs and energy - this was going to a strong finish. I was going to fulfill my goal of "being a closer."
David and I left the final aid station towards the final 7.5 section of foothill climbs and descents into Sturgis. We passed runner after runner, although many were in the 50 mile, 50k and 30k distances - still the sense that I was doing well kept me motivated. At the aid station, they had estimated that I had already broken into the top ten, and I was motivated to see if I could catch a few more runners to improve my placing. As we descended the final downhill towards the mile of paved bike path before the finish, I passed several other runners, opening up my stride and setting a strong pace into the final stretch. My legs screamed at me to slow to a walk or stop - but I ignored their calls and continued to maintain pace. I ran into the finish with everything I had, throwing my poles into the grass before collapsing and laying onto my back after crossing the line. It was the strongest finish I've ever had in a 100 mile race, and I felt pride in fulfilling my goals for the day as I laid on my back looking up at the bright sun and blue sky.
106 miles, 17,000 ft of climb, 6th place of 58 finishers (with 72 DNF's, 44% finish rate).
This race was amazing for so many reasons, but one of them is the people that helped to make it a reality. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my Crew Chief, Andrew, pacers David and Jeremy, and my Wife for her support in training and in preparation for this race.
My biggest takeaway from this race was on the mental front. The right mindset and process goals can dramatically change and improve the experience of running. I set the goals of running with joy and gratitude, operating with grace, and "being a closer," and those goals kept me running strong even when time and placing goals felt like they were out the window.
This race was amazing for so many reasons, but one of them is the people that helped to make it a reality. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my Crew Chief, Andrew, pacers David and Jeremy, and my Wife for her support in training and in preparation for this race.
My biggest takeaway from this race was on the mental front. The right mindset and process goals can dramatically change and improve the experience of running. I set the goals of running with joy and gratitude, operating with grace, and "being a closer," and those goals kept me running strong even when time and placing goals felt like they were out the window.
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