You can run a marathon and feel like you’ve conquered the world.
You can run an ultra and realize the world is bigger, wilder, and tougher than you ever imagined.
This isn’t just “a little longer than 26.2.” Ultras are a different animal—part survival test, part eating contest, part mental war you fight in the dark with sore feet and a stubborn heart.
You’ll walk when it’s smart, run when it’s possible, and hurt the entire time. And you’ll love it.
In a road race, the clock is your enemy.
In an ultra, it’s your partner—you just need to keep moving until you run out of it.
There’s no hiding from the terrain, the weather, or the doubts.
But with the right training, gear, fueling, and mindset, you’ll not only finish—you’ll own the trail.
This guide? It’s the ultramarathon blueprint. Everything from your first 50K to your first 100-miler, with the gear, fueling, and mental grit it takes to go the distance.
Table of Contents
- What Makes Ultras Different
- Time on Feet > Pace
- Terrain, Sleep, Weather: Triple Threat
- Walking as a Weapon
- Aid Stations & Ultra Community
- Breaking Down Ultra Distances
- 50K: The Sneaky Teacher
- 100K: The Pain Trap
- Stage Races: Fatigue on Repeat
- Timed Ultras: Loops & Mind Games
- Trail-Specific Training & Survival Skills
- Quad-Proofing for Downhills
- Vert Grinding for Climbs
- Weather Adaptation
- Navigation Basics
- Gear Weight & Pack Strategy
- From Marathoner to Ultrarunner: Mindset Shifts
- Effort Over Pace
- Walking Without Ego
- Mental Resilience Toolbox
- Building Your Ultra Base
- Base Mileage Goals by Distance
- Hiking as Training
- Back-to-Back Long Runs
- Avoiding Volume Traps & Injury
- Fueling & Gut Training
- Calories & Carbs per Hour
- Aid Station Strategies
- Handling Taste Fatigue
- Plan B (and C) Fuels
- Hydration & Electrolytes
- Avoiding Dehydration & Hyponatremia
- Sweat Testing
- Hot vs Cold Weather Hydration Strategies
- Training Plans by Distance
- 50K
- 50M / 100K
- 100M
- Taper Strategies
- Key Workouts for Ultra Success
- Long Runs & Back-to-Backs
- Speedwork for Ultras
- Overnight Training Runs
- Gear for Ultra Trail Running
- Shoes for Terrain
- Packs, Poles & Headlamps
- Drop Bags Done Right
- Layering & Weather Gear
- Race-Day Gear Rules
What Makes Ultras Different
Let’s be clear: ultras aren’t just longer marathons—they’re a whole different beast.
In a road marathon, you’re glued to your splits, obsessed with shaving 10 seconds off your pace.
In ultras? Toss that mindset out. Success is about staying upright and moving. For hours. Sometimes days.
It’s not about speed. It’s about staying in the game.
You’ll walk hills—on purpose. Even front runners do it. You’ll shuffle flats, stumble downhills, maybe curse every root and rock.
That’s not failure. That’s strategy.
You learn quick that conserving energy is the name of the game, and walking isn’t weakness—it’s survival.
In road races, walking feels like giving up.
In ultras, it’s a power move. You’re in it for the long haul, not the highlight reel.
You’re not racing your last 5K split—you’re racing your ability to keep going when everything else says “Stop.”
Terrain, Sleep, Weather: Pain from All Angles
You ever go from sunburn to frostbite in the same race? Ultra runners have.
In a road marathon, the course is flat-ish, the weather’s a factor, but not the villain.
In trail ultras, everything is the villain. The ground fights you—roots, rocks, switchbacks that never end. You bake under exposed ridges at noon, then freeze your butt off on a mountain at 2 a.m.
Take Western States 100. You can roast in 100°F canyon heat by day and then shiver with hypothermia by night.
The course wants to break you.
The sleep deprivation? That’s real too.
After 20+ hours awake and moving, your brain starts doing weird things.
One study said about a third of runners in multi-day events hallucinate. Trust me, I’ve seen it, and it wasn’t’ “there”.
It’s not just your legs. It’s your feet swelling until your shoes feel two sizes too small.
Your shoulders ache from your hydration pack.
Your stomach? Probably staging a rebellion.
Blisters, chafing, sunburn, nausea—ultras aren’t about avoiding pain.
They’re about learning to run with it.
I’m drawing a really dark picture of ultra racing, but bear with me…there’s is light down the tunnel.
Breaking Down Ultra Distances (a.k.a. Where Pain Gets Creative)
Let’s get one thing straight: not all ultras are cut from the same cloth.
A 50K ain’t just “a little longer than a marathon,” and a 100K isn’t just a pit stop on the way to 100 miles.
Every distance brings its own flavor of hell — and sometimes it’s the middle ones that mess with your head the most.
The 50K Trap: “Only” 5 More Miles… Until It Breaks You
On paper, 50K sounds chill — just 5 more miles than a marathon.
How bad could it be? Here’s the trap: a lot of runners come in with marathon brain, thinking they’ll just hold their usual pace a bit longer.
But those extra miles? They hit different.
By mile 26, you’re usually hanging on for dear life, and then boom — you’ve still got 5 more miles of hills, mud, and trail tantrums.
On my first 50K race (Bromo desert race), I hit a pain I didn’t even know existed at mile 19. I couldn’t even walk up the hills. – and most the course was hilly.
Why? Because many 50Ks are on trails with serious elevation. They’re slower. They demand more patience.
And if you don’t respect the terrain — if you treat it like “marathon-plus” — you’ll learn humility real quick in the last 90 minutes.
Why 100K Hurts in All the Wrong Ways
Here’s a truth bomb that throws a wrench into the ultra logic: some runners say the 100K is worse than 100 miles.
Yeah, I said it.
How can 62 miles suck more than 100?
One word: pace.
In a 100 miler, you know it’s going to be a death march at some point.
So you settle into a slow grind early. But 100K? It’s short enough that people push harder. They think, “I can race this.” And that mindset wrecks people.
You hit mile 40 thinking you’ve got this, and then suddenly your legs are junk and your brain is asking, “Why didn’t we slow the hell down earlier?”
Let me break it down for you in simple words: Running a flat 100K in under 8 hours hurts way more than pounding a 100 miler in 30.
That’s the truth. One’s intensity; the other’s endurance.
Plus, 100K is a weird mind game. You might finish near sunrise, sick and shattered, and think, “I still would’ve had 40 miles left in a 100-miler.
What the hell?”
You go through the dark night of the soul, but don’t get the full glory of 100 miles. It’s a mental trap — not long enough to slow down, not short enough to stay sharp.
Stage Races: Fatigue Stacked on Fatigue
Think ultras are rough? Try doing them back-to-back-to-back on trashed legs.
Stage races — like Marathon des Sables (6 days through the Sahara) or multi-day 200 milers — are their own beast.
You run a ton each day, then wake up and do it again.
And again.
And again.
There’s no “recover fully and bounce back” here. You’re constantly just a little more wrecked than the day before.
That hot spot on your heel from day 1? Now it’s a deep, oozing blister by day 4.
Those sore quads? Now they feel like meat tenderized by a mallet. You’re chasing recovery that never comes.
Research even backs this up: multi-day ultras cause more long-term muscle damage than doing the same mileage in one go.
Why? Because the body never gets a full break. You’re layering damage on damage.
And mentally? It’s war. Every morning you drag yourself out of a warm sleeping bag, slide on crusty socks, and convince your brain that yes, we are doing this again today.
The upside? You get sleep. And camp camaraderie is real. Misery loves company, and swapping stories by the fire each night helps you forget how much your legs hate you.
Timed Ultras: Racing the Clock, Not the Course
Let’s talk about a different kind of sufferfest: timed races.
We’re not talking 50Ks or 100-milers with a finish line waiting to hug you.
This is about chasing time, not distance—6-hour, 12-hour, 24-hour, even multi-day ultras where the goal is simple (and savage): run as far as you can before the clock hits zero.
No banner. No big finish chute. Just you and the seconds ticking away.
I’ll be real—this format messes with your head. You can’t DNF unless you completely stop, which sounds freeing, right?
But there’s a dark side: the urge to quit once you’ve hit a “good enough” number is brutal.
Because there’s no official end—you decide when it ends. The mind games? Next level.
And don’t get me started on the loops.
Most timed events are on short courses—think one-mile loops or even 400m tracks. Yeah, you read that right.
Top runners break the day into chunks. One hour at a time. Mini-goals. Crew check-ins. Reset the mind often. Almost like meditation with blisters.
Trail-Specific Beatdowns: Welcome to the Jungle
Take a seasoned road marathoner, put them on a gnarly mountain trail, and they’ll look like Bambi on ice.
Trail ultras don’t play nice. They come with a grab bag of chaos: rocks, roots, rain, mud, 5,000 ft climbs, mystery descents, and maybe a few hallucinations thrown in. It’s not just about going longer—it’s about running smarter, rougher, and more aware.
Lemme explain more…
Technical Terrain = Welcome to Muscle Confusion
On the road, you repeat the same motion over and over.
On trails? You’re side-stepping roots, leaping puddles, sliding on scree, and trying not to face-plant into a pinecone.
Your stabilizers—hips, glutes, ankles—go into overdrive.
Most roadies are sore in muscles they didn’t even know they had after a single trail run.
I’ve seen 2:45 marathoners humbled by a 50K with rocks and 6,000 feet of climbing.
Pure speed won’t save you if your ankles can’t handle cambered trail or your brain can’t handle 10 hours of constant focus.
Trails Demand Your Full Attention
One second of zoning out? Bam. You’re kissing dirt.
Technical trails force you to stay in the moment. Every step has to be deliberate.
That mental fatigue? It hits way before your legs give out.
That’s why trail runners train not just their bodies, but their footwork and reaction time.
Downhills Will Torch You
On the road, you cruise downhill. On trails, it’s breakdancing while trying not to die. If you go timid, you brake every step—and destroy your quads. Go too bold, and your risk of eating rock skyrockets. It’s a fine line.
Want to master descents? Practice. Develop that flow. Trail running isn’t just running—it’s trail skill, and it takes time to build.
Training for the Pain Cave
Let’s be real—trail ultras are a different beast. You’re not just jogging through the woods. You’re climbing thousands of feet, bombing down sketchy descents, dodging roots and rocks, sometimes in the middle of the night. Road PRs don’t matter out here. The trail doesn’t care about your 5K split—it wants to chew you up and spit you out.
But if you train smart and respect the mountains, you can learn to thrive out there. Here’s what it takes.
Vert Training & “Quad-Proofing” for the Downhills
Climbing is hard, sure—but it’s the downhills that’ll wreck you.
I’ve had races where I flew up the uphill portion only to get reduced to a stiff-legged shuffle on the way down.
Why? It’s those brutal eccentric contractions—your muscles lengthening while under load, especially in the quads.
That’s the kind of damage that turns your legs into “moldy jello” (actual coach quote I’ll never forget).
And it’s not just soreness. A review in the European Journal of Physiology showed that downhill running causes “severe lower limb tissue damage,” with blood markers of muscle breakdown spiking like crazy.
You don’t want to learn this the hard way at mile 42.
Here’s the fix: train for it. You’ve got to earn your downhill legs.
Do descents in training. S
tart with mild grades, then hit the steep stuff. Your quads will scream at first—but here’s the magic: your body adapts.
It’s called the “repeated bout effect,” and it means your legs get tougher the more they face that kind of load.
Mix in strength work too—hammer those quads, glutes, and calves.
Squats, lunges, step-downs. Trail runners aren’t just runners—we’re mountain athletes.
A few other tricks:
- Trekking poles help share the load on long descents (especially late in a race).
- Cushioned shoes or rockered soles can ease some of the impact.
- But at the end of the day? You’ve gotta build the calluses. Nothing replaces leg time on real descents.
Miss your vert training, and the trail will punish you for it.
Weather Mayhem: It’s Coming for You
One minute it’s foggy and chilly, the next you’re baking under the sun on an exposed ridge, then BOOM—hailstorm.
Welcome to the world of trail ultras.
Out here, weather is chaos, and it doesn’t care if you’re 20 miles from the nearest aid station.
I’ve started races in freezing rain and ended them dehydrated in 90°F canyon heat. Some events—like UTMB or Western States—are notorious for throwing every season at you in 24 hours.
It’s not about if the weather turns, it’s when.
Here’s is my golden rule for ultra survival: pack like your life depends on it—because sometimes, it does.
- Lightweight waterproof jacket? Always in the vest.
- Gloves, buff, dry socks? Do it.
- That extra layer you hope you won’t need? You probably will at 3 a.m. on some cold mountain pass.
Western States warns runners about “extremes of heat and cold” for good reason.
Hypothermia and heat stroke are very real. I’ve seen people wrapped in space blankets shivering their soul out at mile 70. Don’t be that guy. Gear up.
Getting Lost Sucks – Learn Navigation
Trail ultras don’t have neon arrows or cheering crowds every quarter mile.
You’re in the woods, and those tiny course flags? Easy to miss, especially in the dark or when your brain is mush at mile 45.
Learn to navigate.
- Practice reading course markings.
- Know how to use your GPS watch or a map.
- Always carry a headlamp—even if you think you’ll finish before dark. (Ask the guy who turned a 50K into a 90K survival hike in Canada when he got lost for 10 hours with no light.)
That story’s not an exaggeration. That runner got lucky. Don’t count on luck.
Bring a whistle, emergency layer, and the mindset that you are responsible for yourself out there. This is not a road race where medical is a few blocks away. You’ve got to be your own safety net.
I’ve written a guide on how to avoid getting lost on the trails. Check it out here.
Gear Weight: The Trail Tax
Unlike road races where you show up with shoes and good vibes, trail ultras mean carrying gear. And it adds up fast—pack, water, snacks, poles, jacket, first aid, etc. You’ll feel it in your shoulders, lower back, and stride.
Train with your gear. Wear your vest on long runs. Figure out where it rubs. Dial in where stuff goes. Water bottle bouncing off your ribs at mile 20 is not fun.
Drop bag tip: Think ahead. Pack by time of day, not just mileage.
- Expect to hit mile 50 around sunset? That’s where your headlamp goes.
- Climbing a monster hill after that? Poles go in that bag too.
- Changing shoes or socks? Plan it. Practice it. Label everything.
Every single item you plan to race with should be tested—hard—in training.
That includes your headlamp (can you change batteries with frozen fingers at 2 a.m.?) and your socks (blisters will eat your soul if you don’t get this right).
Nothing new on race day. Ever.
The Trail Don’t Care About Your VO2 Max
Here’s the truth a lot of roadies find out the hard way: running skill means jack if your ankles roll on the first rock, or you freeze up when you lose the trail.
Trail ultras are survival events. You need:
- Strong legs.
- Tough feet.
- Mental flexibility.
- A deep well of grit.
The fastest 10K runner might still DNF because they blew out their quads or melted down in the dark. The trail is the great equalizer. It rewards preparation, adaptability, and pain tolerance more than top-end speed.
Be smart. Be tough. Be ready.
From Marathoner to Ultrarunner: Here’s Your Wake-Up Call
So you’ve crushed a few marathons and now you’re eyeing the big leagues — 50Ks, 100Ks, maybe even a 100-miler.
Respect. But listen close: if you bring your marathon brain into an ultra, it’ll chew you up and spit you out by mile 30.
Ultras are a different beast. It’s not just about stretching your long run.
It’s about retraining your head, your legs, and maybe most importantly, your ego.
Let’s rewire your mindset.
Why Marathon Pace Will Wreck You in an Ultra
Marathoners are pace-obsessed.
I get it.
You spend months chasing that perfect split — tempo at X:XX, intervals at Y:YY, long runs at MP+20 seconds.
That kind of structure works great when you’re running on smooth pavement for 26.2 miles.
But in ultras? Throw it out.
Trail ultras laugh at your pace charts. Your mile splits will swing like a yo-yo — one minute you’re cruising an 8-minute downhill, the next you’re crawling a 20-minute uphill that feels like death.
If you’re locked into marathon pacing, you’ll crash hard and early.
Ultra veterans — and smart coaches — say it straight: train by effort, not pace. Use RPE or heart rate. Trust your gut, your breath, your legs. Not your Garmin.
And stop avoiding slow running. I’ve coached plenty of fast marathoners who felt “wrong” running at 12:00/mile on trails.
Newsflash: that’s normal in ultras. And necessary. Slower doesn’t mean weaker — it means smarter. It means you’re playing the long game.
Want to prep for ultras? Add this to your playbook:
- Practice walking (yeah, we’ll talk more about that).
- Do long, slow runs — like, glacial slow.
- Stop checking your splits and start listening to your body.
This ain’t a speed test. It’s an endurance war.
Building Your Base for Ultra
Let’s talk about the long game. Whether you’re coming from the 10K world, marathons, or you’re brand-new to endurance running, here’s what you need to know:
You can’t fake your way through an ultra.
Not a 50K.
Definitely not a 100-miler.
You need a base. A real one.
We’re talking 3 to 6 months of steady, mostly easy running—before you even start your official training plan.
This is where you build the engine. No shortcuts.
This phase is less about speed and more about consistency.
It’s the slow grind that strengthens your tendons, builds aerobic capacity, and teaches your body how to burn fat efficiently. This is what lets you finish the race later.
Ballpark Weekly Mileage Goals:
- Training for a 50K? Work up to a consistent ~30 miles/week.
- 50-miler? Around ~40 miles/week.
- 100-miler? ~50–70 miles/week during peak base-building.
And before you panic: these aren’t strict rules.
Every runner’s different. I’ve coached ultra runners who peaked at 45 miles/week and still finished the course unscathed—because they trained smart, rested well, and didn’t get greedy with the numbers.
During base phase:
- Focus on frequency: 5–6 runs/week if possible.
- Prioritize time on feet over pace.
- Consider two-a-days (doubles) to boost volume without hammering one long run.
- Mix in hiking if you’re training for hilly terrain. Hiking builds strength and endurance without the impact.
This base phase builds your “chassis”—the structural strength that will carry you through the hellish miles later on.
Hike Like Your Race Depends on It
Let me give it to you straight: hiking isn’t just something you do when you’re too tired to run—it’s your ultra training cheat code.
If you’re eyeing a trail ultra, you better start respecting the hike.
I’m talking long, sweaty, leg-burning climbs where your glutes scream and your calves wake up to the reality of vertical gain. That’s not “wasted” time—it’s money in the endurance bank.
Here’s why hiking works really well:
- Low-impact strength builder: Power hiking hits your hips, glutes, and calves hard—but without the pounding of a long run. You’re still grinding, just smarter.
- High aerobic payoff: Push the pace on an incline and your heart rate climbs fast. It’s like stealth cardio.
- It’s race-specific: Newsflash—you’re gonna hike in an ultra. A lot. Training for that is just common sense.
In other words: Hiking is more sustainable than running, and it builds the same kind of fitness—just with less damage.
Long Hikes Count (Seriously)
You don’t need to run 30 miles to build base. A 4-hour mountain hike with a pack? That’ll make you tougher than any treadmill session. It’s not just physical—it trains your head to stay locked in when hours tick by and the trail doesn’t care how tired you are.
Even some of the Euro elites—Kilian freakin’ Jornet included—do hiking-only sessions. If it’s good enough for Kilian, it’s good enough for us.
The Math Adds Up
If you can take your hiking pace from 20 minutes per mile to 15–16 minutes per mile on steep grades, you could save hours on race day.
HOURS.
And the best part? Hiking adds variety. It saves your joints, toughens your feet, and breaks the running-only grind that wrecks so many bodies during base season.
So don’t just “fit in” hikes—schedule them.
Do vert hikes.
Do treadmill incline walks. Do hill rucks with a pack. Treat them like gold.
That power-hiking beast flying past runners late in the race? That can be you.
Back-to-Backs
Alright, now we’re getting into the juicy stuff: back-to-back long runs—aka the most misunderstood weapon in the ultrarunning world.
These are the cornerstone of smart base training.
Instead of trying to blast through a single 30-mile death march on the weekend (and spend the next week limping), you break it up: long run Saturday, another long-ish one Sunday.
Why They Work
- They simulate race fatigue without breaking your body in one go.
- They train your mind to push through when you’re running on fumes.
- They let you stack volume realistically for folks with 9-to-5 jobs.
Let’s say you’re prepping for a 50-miler.
Instead of a 35-mile grind that wrecks your legs and family weekend, you hit 20 miles Saturday and 15 Sunday.
You still bank 35—but smarter, safer, and with way better recovery.
Don’t Screw This Up
Biggest mistake? Going too hard on day one and trashing yourself for day two.
👉 The goal isn’t pace—it’s time on feet. Easy miles, steady grind.
Start small in base phase: maybe 10 + 10 or 2 hours + 2 hours. Later, when your engine’s stronger, yeah—you might go for 20 + 25. But only if your body and life can handle it.
Elite coaches suggest that for 100K or 100-mile races, you don’t need one giant long run.
A pair of runs that total slightly more than your race distance spread across two days is enough to supercharge endurance without wrecking your joints.
Pro Tips for Back-to-Back Mastery
- Don’t do them every weekend—these are special weapons, not your default. Use ‘em in build phases.
- Recover hard afterward. You’re putting stress on your system, and that needs to be respected.
- Midweek miles matter less—shift your big runs to weekends if that’s what your schedule allows.
And yeah, it’s a confidence boost like no other.
If you can run 20 miles on Sunday after 25 on Saturday? You’re ready for race day.
You already know how it feels to run on tired legs—and you didn’t quit.
Volume Traps & Injury: Don’t Let Ego Write Checks Your Body Can’t Cash
Here’s the thing no one tells you when you’re ramping up for ultras: enthusiasm is sneaky-dangerous.
It can push you to double your mileage in a month, chase your buddy’s 80-mile week on Strava, or tack on “just a few more” long run miles when you’re already fried.
That’s how people end up with busted IT bands, stress fractures, and months of bitter DNS regret.
Let me say it loud for the runners in the back: more isn’t always better.
And just because elites can survive 100-mile weeks doesn’t mean you should try to match them.
Most of us have full-time jobs, families, and—let’s be honest—not the genes of a mountain goat. Trying to copy pro training with an amateur lifestyle is a fast track to burnout.
Here’s another one of my golden rules: It’s way better to show up a little undertrained than broken.
Find Your Volume Ceiling—Then Respect It
Want to train smart? Figure out your personal mileage ceiling—that invisible line where your body stops bouncing back.
How do you know where it is? Watch for red flags:
- You’re always sore, even after rest days.
- You’re sleeping like crap.
- Your morning heart rate is creeping up.
- You’re dreading runs you used to enjoy.
That’s your body throwing a red flag. It’s not weakness—it’s biofeedback. For some, 60 miles a week is fine.
Others start unraveling at 40. And guess what? That’s okay.
Ultra training is individual.
The base phase isn’t a pissing contest—it’s about building a foundation that won’t collapse the moment you hit race pace.
The Other Trap: Skipping Recovery
Another classic mistake? Skipping rest like it’s optional.
Spoiler: that’s when you actually get stronger.
Every 3–4 weeks, cut back your volume 20–30%. Let your body absorb all the stress you’ve stacked up.
These “cutback weeks” are where the magic happens.
And if you’re older, injury-prone, or just tired of pounding pavement every day, cross-training is your best friend.
Hop on the bike, swim some laps, row a bit.
You’ll still boost your aerobic engine—without wrecking your joints.
Masters runners: You’re not 22 anymore. I say that with love. Back in the day, maybe you handled 70-mile weeks on pure stubbornness. Now? Smart beats stubborn.
Also—don’t ignore little pains. That tight ankle or cranky knee?
If you keep stacking miles on it, it’ll blow up. Stretch. Strengthen. Get it looked at early. Protect the machine.
Ultra Running is Full-Body Work
Here’s something that sneaks up on folks coming from the marathon world: ultras beat up your whole system.
Not just your lungs or your quads—but ligaments, tendons, stabilizers, joints.
Running 5 hours over rocky terrain isn’t just cardio—it’s a test of your body’s durability. And that stuff—Achilles, knees, hip flexors—takes way longer to adapt than your heart and lungs. Just because you feel “cardio strong” doesn’t mean your body’s ready for that extra 15 miles.
Think long term. I’m talking multi-year development. Some of the strongest ultrarunners I know built up slowly over 2–3 years. And now? They’re unbreakable.
Trust me: There’s no prize for finishing an 80-mile week and skipping the race due to injury.
Consistency beats mileage. Always.
Hill Training: Build Those Mountain Legs
If your race has climbs, your training better have climbs. Hill work isn’t optional—it’s how you build real strength, grit, and climbing power.
let me show you how:
- Hill repeats: Pick a steep climb. Power-hike up for 5–10 minutes. Jog down. Repeat till your legs whimper. This builds that uphill hiking engine you’ll need when running isn’t efficient.
- Uphill tempos: Hard, steady effort uphill. Like a 30-minute grind up a ski slope. Brutal, but it builds aerobic capacity and mental steel.
- Hiking intervals: One of my favorites. On a long hill, go 2 minutes hard hike, 1 minute run, and repeat. Teaches you how to switch gears and keep moving efficiently on rolling terrain.
But wait David, I don’t have any hills where I live.ù
No problem. Time to get creative:
- Treadmills with incline.
- Stair machines.
- Parking garages. Yes, seriously.
Downhill work has its place too. Controlled descents at a steady pace condition your legs for the pounding. But go easy—downhill speed work is where overuse injuries love to hide.
Tired-Leg Running: Train the Mind, Not the Ego
Not every run in your plan will feel fresh. In fact, a lot of them shouldn’t.
Fatigue runs are where the real ultra mental reps happen.
I talked about back-to-backs, but this also includes:
- Short recovery runs the day after a big session.
- Two-a-days (one run AM, one PM).
- Midweek slogs where you’re running on fumes.
These aren’t junk miles—they’re gold.
You’re teaching your legs to move through the fog.
You’re teaching your brain that pain isn’t the boss.
You’re developing the ability to dissociate from discomfort and lock into rhythm.
But this is where runners get cocky and screw it up.
Fueling for Ultras
Ultras?
They’re not just long races — they’re moving buffets with timing chips.
That old joke about ultramarathons being glorified eating contests?
There’s real truth there. If you don’t eat right, your legs don’t matter.
Your training doesn’t matter.
You’ll be curled up at mile 70 with a sloshing gut and no gas in the tank.
I’ve seen it happen — strong runners, shredded quads, but zero calories left upstairs. Lights out.
You simply can’t out-run an empty fuel tank. Not in a race where hours stretch into double digits.
You have to feed the machine — early, often, and smart. Let’s break down how to do that without puking your guts out at mile 90.
Golden Rule: Eat Early, Eat Often
Here’s the truth bomb: if you wait until you’re starving or bonking, it’s already too late. Your brain and gut slow down together, and once you’re in the hole, digging out takes forever — if you can even recover at all.
That’s why the mantra is always: “Eat early, eat often.” Start fueling within the first 30–60 minutes, even if you feel fresh.
Especially then. Don’t trust your hunger cues — they go haywire during long efforts. And as you might already know, exercise suppresses hunger so if you wait to feel hungry, you’re already behind.
Pro move: Set a watch alarm every 30 minutes. When it beeps, you fuel. No debate. Gels, drink mix, banana bites — whatever your gut likes, get it in.
Aiming for 200–300 calories per hour is pretty standard. That’s about 40–60g of carbs, give or take.
Some elites can handle up to 90g/hr, but don’t force it. Work your way up. Most folks can start with one gel every 30–45 min. That’s about 100 cal, 25g of carbs. Add in sips of drink mix and maybe a snack, and you’re in the zone.
When Things Go South, Improvise Like a Pro
Look, not everything you planned will work. That’s why I tell runners to always have a Plan B… and a Plan C. Hell, have a backup for your backup.
If X food doesn’t sit right? Go with Y.
Can’t do gels? Drink calories.
Sweet stuff make you gag? Salt that potato like a truck stop fry basket.
Some runners even do a small bit of fat or protein later in the race — peanut butter, a bite of cheese — only if they know their stomach can handle it. (Test this in training — or regret it later.)
🛑 But be careful with caffeine. Coke and Mountain Dew can help, but too much can give you the jitters — or worse, a rebound crash. Use it like a weapon.
Small sips, late in the race when your brain’s going foggy.
Hydration & Electrolytes: Terrain, Sweat, and Survival
Listen up—hydration isn’t just about guzzling water.
It’s about balance.
And when the heat’s on or the trail’s long, getting it wrong can wreck your race faster than bad pacing.
I’ve seen it all—runners cramping like they’re doing the worm on the side of the trail, others nauseous and foggy-headed because they overdrank and flushed out all their sodium.
One of my training buddies kept drinking water like it was his job. By mile 40, he was slurring his words and stumbling.
Classic hyponatremia—he diluted his blood sodium so bad he couldn’t function. Scary stuff.
Now here’s what you need to know:
In hot or humid races:
- You sweat more.
- You lose more salt.
- You need more fluids and more electrolytes.
Salt tabs, electrolyte drink mixes, sports drinks—use them. A common ballpark is one electrolyte tab or salt capsule per hour if you’re sweating buckets. But don’t just follow a rule—watch your body.
In cold weather:
You might not feel thirsty.
You might not sweat much.
But don’t fall into the trap of overdrinking just because you “think you should.”
That’s where people screw up in cooler races—chugging water when they’re not sweating much, then ending up bloated and low on sodium.
Even the Western States folks warn against this: “Don’t drink at every aid station just because it’s there.” Sip when you’re thirsty. Balance it with electrolytes.
Sweat-Test Yourself
Do this during training: Weigh yourself before and after a 1-hour run in the same kind of conditions you’ll race in.
Every pound lost = ~16 oz of water.
That gives you a baseline of how much you need per hour.
Example: You drop 2 pounds on a hot run? You probably need 30–32 oz/hour on race day in similar heat.
If your sweat rate is high, aim to replace about 75% of that per hour—not all.
Why? Because food gives you some water too (like watermelon, soups, etc.), and your body produces metabolic water when burning fuel.
The goal isn’t to replace 100%. It’s to stay in the sweet spot—not dehydrated, not sloshing like a waterbed.
Electrolytes = More Than Just Salt
Sodium is the big dog—it keeps nerves firing, helps fluid absorption, and wards off nausea.
But potassium and magnesium matter too, especially for cramp prevention.
You don’t need a chemistry set—just eat smart and use balanced hydration. Sports drinks, bananas, broth, pretzels… they all help.
A study showed that ultrarunners who kept sodium balanced had less GI distress. Makes sense—blood sodium helps keep your gut moving and keeps you from getting that nasty “slosh and bloat” combo.
Check your pee:
- Light yellow = good
- Dark yellow = drink more
- Clear like tap water + peeing every 30 min? Ease off the water. Add salt.
Ultra Training Plans by Distance
Alright, let’s cut the fluff.
Training for ultras ain’t magic—it’s mileage, sweat, and time on feet. And yeah, the training plan for a 50K won’t look the same as a 100-miler. Duh. But the bones of the beast stay the same: build gradually, don’t get hurt, and make your long runs count.
The longer the race, the bigger the build. But here’s the kicker—not everyone needs to run 100+ kilometers a week. If your body can’t bounce back from that kind of volume, guess what? It’s not helping. Running isn’t just about stacking miles—it’s about stacking smart miles.
How Long Should You Train?
You’ll need time to build that engine. If you’ve already got a base, you can be race-ready for a 50K with 12-16 weeks of focused training. For a 100-miler? That’s often a 20-24 week haul, on top of years of base-building.
Mileage Goals (The “Realistic” Edition)
Let’s talk numbers—because I’ve coached folks who obsess over weekly mileage like it’s a scoreboard. Here’s a rough guide that lines up with what a lot of experienced coaches (and real-world finishers) go by:
- 50K: Minimum peak ~30 miles/week to finish. Want to feel strong? Get to 50+ miles/week.
- 50M/100K: Bare minimum 40 miles/week. Solid performance kicks in around 60+.
- 100M: You can survive on 50 miles/week if you’re smart about your training. Want to go big? Some do 70–80, even 100+ at peak. But careful—more isn’t always better. Plenty of strong 100-mile finishers hang in the 50–70 range.
One of my athletes once tried to hit 120 miles/week like the elites. He ended up hitting the orthopedic table instead. Lesson? Don’t let your ego write checks your recovery can’t cash.
Don’t Skip the Climbing
If your ultra has vertical gain (spoiler: it probably does), your training better reflect that. There’s a simple rule of thumb I love: over one week, hit at least as much vert as your race has total.
- Got a 50K with 5,000 feet of climbing? Try to build up to a week with 5,000+ ft.
- Training for something gnarly like Hardrock (33,000 ft over 100 miles)? That’s trickier unless you live in the mountains—but you can simulate it with a few “vert-heavy” weeks or a DIY training camp.
Long Run Realities
This is where people get nervous: how long should your long runs be?
- 50K: A single 20-22 miler (or 3-4 hours) is usually enough. Heck, some folks do a 26-30 mile run to mimic race day. But I tell runners—spend time on trails and practice fueling more than obsessing over distance. A 50K is just a marathon with dirt and snacks.
- 50M/100K: Back-to-back long runs shine here. Example: a Saturday 30 miler, then Sunday 15-20. Or toss in a 50K race as a tune-up 4-6 weeks out. That’ll humble you fast—but it builds serious grit.
- 100M: Now we’re talking crazy-town. Some do a single 40+ miler. Others go time-based—like an 8-hour effort, then another long one the next day. My take? A 50-60 mile long effort (usually in a race setting) can be a confidence booster—but it’ll beat you up. Do it right or don’t do it at all.
One runner I coached did a 50K/20-mile weekend block. Said it was the hardest training weekend of his life—but come race day, he was ready for that 3 a.m. suffering.
Taper Smart—Don’t Blow It
Don’t screw this part up.
A well-timed taper can boost your race performance by 3–6%, according to studies in the Journal of Strength & Conditioning Research. That’s free speed. You just have to not be a bonehead and overtrain.
- For a 50K: A 7–10 day taper usually works.
- For a 100M: Take 2–3 weeks to cut volume ~50%, keep a little intensity, and rest like it’s your job.
Remember: you don’t get stronger during the race—you get stronger during recovery. Don’t ignore the taper just because you “feel great.”
Key Workouts: It Ain’t Just About Going Long
Look, just because ultras are long and “slow” doesn’t mean you get to skip the hard stuff.
If you wanna last for hours out there—and finish strong, not crawling—then you need to train smart.
Every solid ultra plan I’ve seen (and coached through) includes a few non-negotiables: long runs to build that diesel engine, hills to make your legs bulletproof, and yep—speedwork.
I know, it sounds weird. Why run fast for a slow race? Because boosting your VO2 max and running economy means you can cruise at a faster pace while still feeling chill.
Trust me, that pays off big time when you’re grinding at mile 40.
When I was training for my first 50K, it looked a lot like marathon prep—but with more dirt and way more hills.
I’d hit a weekly tempo run (say, 5 to 8 miles at a steady but tough effort) and mix in intervals like 6×1 mile at a hard pace.
You gotta keep those legs snappy.
But for the long beasts—100K or 100-milers—you don’t need all-out speed.
You shift into what I call “grind gear”: longer tempo chunks or “cruise intervals” tucked right inside your long runs.
Like 3×20 minutes at a strong effort during a 3-hour run. You’re learning to push when you’re already tired. That’s gold.
And if you’re aiming at a 100-miler? Welcome to the world of overnight runs.
That’s right—some of us hit the trail at 10 p.m. just to simulate race conditions.
You gotta get your body (and mind) used to running when it’s dark and your brain’s begging for bed.
I’ve had athletes tape headlamps to hats, forget snacks, get lost—it’s all part of the process.
Customize for Real Life (Not Instagram)
Forget what you see pros doing online. You don’t need to run 75+ miles a week unless your body—and life—can handle it. If you’ve got a demanding job, kids, and you’re barely sleeping? That’s stress, and it counts toward your training load too.
I’ve coached runners who finished 100-milers on 40–50 miles per week, sprinkled with smart workouts, strength training, and a few monster weekends. One guy even podiumed at UTMB averaging just 42 miles a week. Outlier? Sure. But proof you don’t need to break yourself chasing someone else’s volume.
Training plans aren’t commandments. They’re suggestions. Listen to your body. If you’re toast, take a rest day. Swap in cycling or swimming if you need less impact.
There’s this line I love: “If you can’t recover from it, it doesn’t matter if it’s in the training plan.” Boom.
Gear for Ultra Trail Running (The No-Nonsense Version)
Look, you don’t need a closet full of high-tech toys to finish an ultra. But some gear? Non-negotiable. It’s not about looking like a catalog model. It’s about not getting wrecked out there.
In a 10K, you can show up in a pair of beat-up shoes and a cotton tee and survive. But in a 100K through the mountains? That same attitude might earn you a DNF, or worse. So let’s break down the gear that actually matters—shoes, packs, poles, headlamps, drop bags, and clothing.
And no, you don’t need the newest carbon-plated super shoes or $300 vests. What you need is gear you’ve tested, gear you trust. Race day is not the time for experiments. That’s how you end up limping home with shredded feet and a busted ego.
Shoes: Grip, Cushion, and the Right Fit
Shoes are make-or-break. I’ve seen runners soar and others drop—all because of what they had on their feet.
For gnarly, technical trails—think roots, rocks, vertical gains—you want something with serious traction and protection. We’re talking aggressive lugs, solid fit, and a rock plate or thick sole that keeps your feet from feeling like they’ve been tenderized with a hammer. I’ve used La Sportiva Bushidos and Salomon Speedcross for stuff like that—great grip, but yeah, they’re not plush.
On smoother, faster terrain, or mixed surfaces? You’ll want something lighter, a bit more flexible. Think Saucony Peregrine or Nike Terra Kiger. They ride closer to a road shoe, so you can actually open up your stride a bit. Some courses have road sections too—nothing wrong with rocking a hybrid shoe if you’re confident in the grip.
Big tip: size up. A half or full size bigger than your usual. Your feet are gonna swell like balloons after 30 miles. That snug fit you loved at mile 10? Might turn into a medieval torture device by mile 80.
Pro move? Keep a backup pair that’s a half-size up in your drop bag. Add some extra cushion if you can. I’ve seen plenty of folks change shoes at Foresthill (62 miles into Western States) because their feet were trashed from the earlier miles. I’ve done the same—it’s like getting a second wind, but for your toes.
And always, always test the shoes with the socks you’ll race in. Seams + long miles = blisters from hell. Stickier rubber if you’ve got wet rocks or mud, smoother outsoles for dry terrain. And unless you’re flying, carbon-plated trail shoes are probably overkill for rugged trails.
Moral of the story? Run long in your race shoes before race day. If they pass the test, they’re in. If not, ditch ’em.
What about you—what shoes have been your go-to? Ever had a blowout mid-race?
Packs, Poles & Headlamps: Your Ultra Survival Kit
This ain’t a 5K. You’re gonna need to carry stuff.
Most of us rock a hydration vest or pack for anything longer than a marathon, especially on remote trails.
The key is snug fit—zero bounce—and pockets you can actually reach on the move.
Load it up during training runs. Jacket, first aid, food, water… the works.
If it rubs your shoulders raw at mile 15, fix it now, not mid-race.
Now, trekking poles—absolute game-changer for serious climbs.
Most European ultras? Everyone’s using them. They give your legs a break and help you stay upright when the trail turns sketchy.
But don’t wing it. If you haven’t trained with poles, they’ll just piss you off.
Learn how to stash and deploy them smoothly.
I keep mine in a drop bag for late-stage climbs when my legs are toast. If you’ve got steep ascents early on, consider starting with them—but know it means you’ll be using your upper body too. It’s a trade-off.
Headlamps. Don’t screw this up.
If your race goes into the dark (or starts before sunrise), you need a solid, bright headlamp.
Not your kid’s camping light.
Many races require a minimum lumen rating (200+). I’ve got a Petzl that I trust with my life—but I always pack spare batteries. Cold weather drains them fast.
Some swear by using two lights—head and waist. That combo helps with depth perception by throwing shadows that show the dips and bumps better. Worth trying in training.
Here’s a mistake I’ll never repeat: showed up to a night race once with “fresh” batteries… that died 40 minutes in. I was blind in the middle of a forest. Had to use my phone to show me around then heavy rain started pouring.
Nightmare scenario.
Don’t be that guy. Double-check your light. Always bring a backup.
Drop Bags: Pack Like Your Race Depends on It (Because It Does)
Let’s get one thing straight—drop bags aren’t just “nice to have.”
Done right, they’re your secret weapon. Think of them as your personal pit stops.
It’s like having your own mini aid station stashed out there, full of exactly what you need when things go sideways. And trust me, in ultras? Things will go sideways.
Now, I’ve seen runners get saved by a single pair of dry socks—or crash and burn because they didn’t pack an extra gel when the aid station ran out of the good stuff. So here’s what I always tell folks I coach (and what I’ve lived myself):
Pack for when you’ll need stuff, not just where.
That bag at mile 75? That’s not just another checkpoint.
That’s likely where you’re hurting, cold, and half convinced this race is a dumb idea. That’s when you want your comfort foods, blister kit, a caffeine jolt, and maybe a note to yourself that says “You’ve trained for this. Let’s go.”
I’m talking real-deal survival mode: extra headlamp or batteries (because darkness hits harder than you think), meds like salt tabs or ginger chews (been there, barfed that), and always—ALWAYS—a pair of socks.
Even if you don’t swap ’em, just knowing they’re there is like mental armor. I’ve had runners hobble in with trench-foot toes, change socks, and leave that aid station like they just got new legs.
Layering for Ultras
Ultras don’t play fair. You might start sweating in the sun, and six hours later be frozen on a mountain pass wondering how you got there.
That’s why layering isn’t just smart—it’s survival.
At the bare minimum, carry an ultralight windproof layer. Even a cheap plastic poncho weighs nothing and can save your race when things go south.
Add a real rain jacket—especially if your ultra’s in the mountains. Those “water-resistant” jackets some brands love to sell? Might as well wear tissue paper.
You want taped seams and something that’s actually been in the rain.
Test it. Don’t just read reviews—wear it on a rainy run and see if it holds up.
Same goes for your legs.
Cold rain? Pull on tights or waterproof pants.
Even a trash bag skirt with a neck hole can buy you time in a storm. No shame—just smart.
Gloves and a beanie? Always in my kit. I’ve had more races turn around just by warming my fingers and ears than any caffeine ever could. And if it’s hot? Flip the script—sun hat, UV shades, maybe arm sleeves you can soak in creek water to cool down.
Bottom line? You’re out there a long time, moving slow, burning through calories and body heat.
Temps at 3 a.m. feel 20 degrees colder because your body’s toast. Don’t be the runner shivering and sobbing under a Mylar blanket. Dress smart from the start.
Gear Wisdom: Run With What You Know
You ever see that runner at the start line decked out in brand-new gear from head to toe? Yeah, that’s the one you’ll probably pass later, blistered and pissed off because their fancy vest chafed them raw.
I don’t care if your jacket cost $300 or $30—if you haven’t tested it, it’s a liability.
At Leadville one year, a guy picked up a brand-new high-lumen headlamp at the expo, used it for the first time during the race… and it failed.
He was stumbling in the dark until someone handed him a backup. Guess what? His trusty old one was still at home.
I’ve seen it all. Carbon poles breaking. $250 shoes that never saw a trail before race day.
Runners too distracted by their new GPS toy to remember to eat. Don’t be that runner.
Test everything in training. Your vest should feel like a second skin. Your shoes should have mud on them. Your nutrition? Know exactly how it hits your gut at mile 50, not just what the packet says.
Race Day Systems: Don’t Let Logistics Wreck Your Race
Here’s the truth—when you’re out there grinding through an ultra, it’s not just your legs doing the work.
It’s your brain, your crew, your prep, your whole dang system.
In a 10K, you might not even blink at the aid table.
But in a 100-miler? You’ll spend real time at aid stations, fiddling with gear, managing food, switching socks, and maybe crying into a banana.
If you don’t have your race-day systems dialed, you’ll leak minutes like a busted hydration bladder.
Worse—you’ll unravel.
Lemme break it down for you so you know exactly what to do:
Aid Stations: Enter Like a Ninja, Exit Like You Stole Something
Picture this: You’ve been on your feet for 5 hours.
You roll into an aid station and it feels like Christmas—cheering volunteers, salty snacks, maybe even your crew waving like lunatics.
But this is where a lot of runners screw up.
Veterans have a phrase: “Beware the chair.” Because once your butt hits it, you might not get up. Time disappears.
The fix? Have a freaking plan.
About 5–10 minutes before you hit the station, start talking to yourself—out loud if you need to: “Refill both bottles. Grab three gels. Two salt caps. Banana chunk. Headlamp from drop bag.”
I found that proper planning keeps things smooth. So please think a checklist. Burn it into your brain. Some runners even count the number of tasks. That way, when you get there, it’s in and out.
If you’ve got a crew, treat them like your pit team. Tell them ahead of time what to hand you, what to swap, what to say. The best runner-crew duos can flip an aid stop in under a minute if nothing’s broken.
No crew? Still no excuse to linger. Walk in with purpose. Hit your targets—water, drop bag, fuel—and bounce. Don’t stand there scanning the snack buffet like you’re at a wedding. Know ahead: “I’m grabbing fruit and chips,” and that’s it.
Crew & Pacer Chaos: Plan It or Pay the Price
If your race allows pacers (most 100-milers do), they’re not just moral support—they’re your second brain when yours turns to oatmeal.
Same with your crew. They’re not there to hold your hand—they’re there to keep your race on track.
Set it up ahead of time: Who’s meeting you where? What gear are they handing you? What time windows are they expecting you?
I’ve seen top crews roll in with laminated cards or spreadsheets that list every aid station and exactly what their runner needs. That’s not overkill—it’s smart.
No signal? Yeah, that happens. So have a backup plan. What if you arrive before your pacer? Do you wait? Keep going? Make that call before race day.
When you roll into a station, yell what you need before you even stop. “New socks! Refill! More salt tabs!” That gives your crew time to prep instead of fumbling. I’ve used color-coded bags—boom, just hand me the red one and I’m off.
And don’t let your crew waste time either. It’s not a social visit. Tell them to keep it tight. Your crew should be like a NASCAR team—one swaps bottles, one hands you food, one checks your brain.
Drop Bags by Time, Not Just Distance
Here’s something I learned the hard way in my first 100-miler: don’t just think in miles—think in moments.
When will you hit that aid station? Morning? Night? Midday heat? That’s how you decide what to stash in your drop bag.
If a bag’s at Mile 70 but you’re hitting it at 2 a.m., pack for the cold. Jacket, gloves, beanie, even a mini Red Bull or caffeine gel can be game changers. I once tossed a can of coffee into a night bag—best call I made all race.
On the flip side, if your next drop is midafternoon and it’s blazing out there, load it with a hat, sunscreen, extra fluids, salt tabs. Run smart.
And if you’re anything like me, you slow down late. That’s normal.
So, stash extra snacks in those later bags—just in case aid stations run dry or you roll in after hours.
In 200-milers or 24+ hour events, you might even plan to sleep.
Yep, real naps. Some races even require you to lie down if you’re hallucinating. So maybe toss a bivy sack or a space blanket into one of your late-stage bags. Pro tip: bring a tiny alarm or tell your pacer to wake you in 20 minutes.
Dirt naps (5-15 mins) can bring you back to life—I’ve seen it firsthand.
Real-Time Problem Solving: Don’t Let the Small Stuff Break You
Let’s get one thing straight—something will go wrong. Doesn’t matter how dialed in your training is.
You’ll chafe, blister, puke, or drop a water bottle in a porta-potty (don’t ask).
The key isn’t to be perfect—it’s to fix stuff fast and keep moving.
Got a hot spot forming? Stop. Tape it. Change your socks. Don’t wait till it’s a full-blown blister from hell. Chafing? Hit the Vaseline—every aid station’s got it. Ask. They won’t judge. We’ve all lubed up in weird places.
Stomach going sideways? Been there. Slow down, walk a bit, sip broth, chew a ginger candy or Tums. Crackers can help too. And yeah, sometimes you gotta hit the bushes.
Always carry TP in a Ziplock. Trust me—it’s a race saver.
Gear fails too. Headlamp dies? Stick with someone till the next station or whip out that mini backup you smartly taped to your pack. Shoe blowing out mid-race? Duct tape is your new best friend. I wrap a few feet around my trekking poles or bottle. MacGyver mode.
Know the Medical Risks (Especially in Self-Supported Races)
Some ultras—especially out in the mountains or deep desert—don’t mess around. You’re hours from help. That’s why they make you carry a foil blanket, whistle, and a tiny ER kit. They’re not being dramatic.
The Western States 100 literally warns that runners “may be subjected to extremes of heat and cold, risk of hypothermia, hyperthermia, dehydration, hyponatremia, disorientation…” Yeah—basically, your body can go haywire out there.
You have to know the signs.
- Heat stroke? Stop sweating, can’t think straight? You need shade. Now. Dump water on yourself. Get out of the sun.
- Hyponatremia? Headache, hands puffing up like mittens, or brain fog? Ease up on plain water. You need salt—caps, broth, something. And maybe hold off fluids a bit until you level out.
- Dehydration? Dizzy, no pee, heart’s thumping like a drum solo? Get fluids—slow and steady. Don’t chug. And yeah, an IV at the medical tent might help… but usually means you’re out of the race.
- Hypothermia? Shivering? Hands like ice blocks? Feeling… strangely chill about it all? That’s a warning sign. Put on gear. Keep moving to build heat. Get to the aid station, grab something warm.
Disoriented? Stop. Sit. Get your bearings. This is how “I got a little lost” turns into a search party.
Carry the damn whistle. Blow it three times if you’re in trouble. It could save your butt.
Bottom line: Don’t risk your life for a finisher’s medal. Push through discomfort? Sure. Push into legit danger? Don’t be a hero. Be alive to tell the story.
That said, if you prep smart, listen to your body, and know when to ask for help—chances are, you’ll be just fine.
Embrace the Chaos – Solve the Problems
Here’s my favorite truth about ultras: They’re not if something goes wrong. They’re what do you do when it does.
This changes everything. Now every blister, wrong turn, bonk, and stomach revolt becomes a puzzle to solve. You’re no longer “failing”—you’re figuring it out.
Instead of “I screwed up,” it becomes, “This happened… so I did this… and kept going.” You become a damn MacGyver with your gear, snacks, and stubbornness.
I once lost a bottle mid-race—just vanished. Refilled from a mountain stream and kept going. Another time, I teamed up with a random runner when I got spooked by rustling in the woods (don’t judge—we’ve all thought mountain lions were stalking us).
The most satisfying races? Not the perfect ones. It’s the ugly, gritty ones you finished anyway. You earn those finishes with grit, not luck.
So yeah—things will go sideways. That’s the whole point. Adapt. Problem solve. Stay in the game.
Because at the end of the day, you and the trail are co-creating the story. And some of the best chapters are written when things go off script.
Recovery After an Ultra
You crossed that finish line. You’re done, right?
Wrong.
Your legs might’ve stopped running, but your body is still screaming behind the scenes.
Muscles shredded. Glycogen tanked. Hormones out of whack. And your brain? Probably still somewhere out on the trail.
Recovery isn’t just something you should do after an ultra—it’s the last phase of your race.
And if you skip it or screw it up, don’t be surprised when injury or burnout knocks on your door a week later.
The “Bounce-Back” Window: 7 to 21 Days (Give or Take)
Here’s a loose rule: one day of recovery for every 10K raced. Some folks say a day per mile. Which sounds bonkers for a 50K (31 days off?), but let’s be real—most runners feel semi-human again within 10–14 days after a 50K or 50-miler.
For a 100-miler, give it closer to three weeks.
That said, recovery isn’t a fixed number.
I’ve seen elite 50K runners toe the line again seven days later (I’m not one of them).
And I’ve coached newer runners who needed a full month before they even looked at their running shoes again.
If you’re a regular runner like me and not living off beet juice and massage guns, take at least one solid week off.
No workouts. Just move gently—walk, stretch, spin the bike. That first week should be all about TLC, not “bouncing back.”
Research backs this up: studies show muscle damage markers, inflammation, and hormonal chaos can linger for over a week. Some folks feel off emotionally too—like you trained for something big, hit the goal, and now feel…meh. That’s normal. It’s called post-race blues. You’re not broken, you’re just human.
So yeah—sleep a ton, eat real food (not just cookies), and hydrate like your life depends on it. Because it kinda does.
If you’re itching for a run after a week? Start with a short, easy shuffle. No speedwork, no hill repeats, and absolutely no long runs yet. For 100-milers, most coaches will yell at you if you touch anything strenuous for at least two weeks. Listen to your body and your resting heart rate. If climbing stairs still feels like Everest, you’re not ready yet.
Try the “hop test”: if you can hop on one foot without pain or soreness, you might be ready to jog.
Oh—and don’t be shocked if you catch a cold. Your immune system takes a hit after ultras. So steer clear of sick coworkers and pack your meals with fruits and veggies. Vitamin C isn’t a gimmick after a 100-miler—it’s armor.
Sleep, Protein, and Hydration
Let’s talk basics. You don’t need fancy supplements or recovery boots. You need these three pillars locked in:
Sleep: The Real Performance Enhancer
This is where your body does the real rebuilding. But after a race, you might feel jacked up on stress hormones—adrenaline, cortisol, all that stuff that kept you moving through the pain cave. It might mess with your sleep for a few nights.
Been there. Post-race insomnia is real. Strange dreams, restlessness, night sweats—I’ve seen it all.
Set up your sleep like you set up your aid station:
- Dark room
- Cool air
- No phone
- Maybe a magnesium supplement to calm your nerves
Lost sleep during an overnight race? You can’t fix that with one night in bed. Plan for extra hours all week. And yeah—don’t be a hero. Take a day off work if you can.
Protein & Real Food
Some runners crush a burger at the finish line. Others can’t keep down a single bite for hours. Either is normal. But once your stomach is back online, you’ve got work to do.
You need protein—about 1.2 to 1.7 grams per kilo of bodyweight per day while recovering. That’s like 20–30 grams of protein per meal for most of us. Mix in some anti-inflammatory foods too:
- Fish, nuts (omega-3s)
- Berries, greens, turmeric
- Basically, stuff your grandma would approve of
Don’t slash calories because “the race is over.” Your body is literally rebuilding torn muscle. It needs fuel.
That said, don’t go on a junk food rampage either.
A donut or beer to celebrate is fine.
But heavy sugar and alcohol right after can jack up inflammation and delay healing.
You might be dehydrated, your kidneys are working overtime, and you’re likely still on NSAIDs—don’t stack booze on top of that. Wait a day or two before partying.
Hydration: More Than Just Water
You lost a ton of fluid out there—maybe pounds of it. Even if you drank like a camel mid-race, you’re likely still in the hole.
Check your pee. Pale yellow = good. Dark like tea? Keep drinking.
- Use electrolyte drinks for at least a day
- Eat salty foods
- Replenish minerals: magnesium, potassium, etc.
Bananas, leafy greens, electrolyte tabs—all good options.
Had brown pee during the race? That could’ve been rhabdo (muscle breakdown spilling into your kidneys). Hydrate like it’s your job and maybe see a doc. Skip the Tylenol, skip the IPA.
Oh, and some people get a little puffy post-race—swollen feet, hands, or ankles. That’s your body juggling water retention and inflammation. It usually goes away in a few days.
The “Ultra Blues” Are Real (And You’re Not Broken)
Alright, let’s get something straight: just because you crossed that finish line doesn’t mean you’re gonna be riding high forever. In fact, don’t be surprised if, a few days after your race, you feel a little… off. Maybe even downright low.
We call this the post-ultra blues. And yeah, it’s real. I’ve felt it. Almost every ultra-runner I know has too.
You pour months—sometimes years—into one massive goal. Then boom, it’s over. Suddenly there’s a void. No more long runs to anchor your week. No next big milestone staring you down.
It’s like your brain’s been firing on all cylinders—endorphins, dopamine, adrenaline—and then someone pulls the plug.
Cortisol levels, which were sky-high during your training and race, can swing the other way. You feel tired, cranky, maybe even a little hollow.
Sound familiar? Good. That means you’re human.
I’ve had athletes hit a finish line with tears of joy, then text me three days later wondering why they feel low and unmotivated.
That crash? Totally normal. Not a personal failing. It’s biology. It’s emotion. It’s the rollercoaster we all ride after chasing something big.
So what can you do?
- Celebrate properly. Don’t skip this. Reflect on what you just pulled off. Write a race report. Or just journal about it. Even if the race sucked or didn’t go to plan, process it. You earned that right.
- Talk it out. Share your story with other runners. Post it, vent it, laugh about the sh*t show that was mile 87. Trust me, you’ll find a crowd that gets it.
- Move, but don’t train. A chill walk, some yoga, or a short nature hike can lift your mood. But don’t you dare start chasing pace or mileage just yet.
- Reconnect with life. Remember hobbies? Family? Friends? Dive into those. You’ve probably put a lot on hold—now’s the time to lean into the rest of your world.
- Don’t chase another race… yet. I know the temptation. But signing up for another ultra just to fill the post-race hole can backfire. Give your body and brain time to breathe.
Sometimes there’s more going on under the hood—your hormones might still be rebalancing.
Guys might notice dips in testosterone, women sometimes see shifts in their cycle.
This stuff takes a few weeks to even out. And if the low mood sticks around for more than a few weeks? Talk to someone. A doc, a counselor, whatever works. No shame in that game.
When To Train Again (And When To Chill The Hell Out)
Let me tell you the biggest lie in running: “I feel fine, so I’m ready.”
Nah. Just because your quads aren’t screaming doesn’t mean your body’s 100%.
Your muscles may bounce back in days. Your connective tissue—tendons, ligaments, bone—needs a hell of a lot longer. And your brain?
Might still be stuck between “What just happened?” and “Do I ever want to run again?”
So here’s how to know you’re not ready:
- You’re still sore
- Your sleep is wrecked
- Your resting heart rate is up
- You feel zero motivation to lace up (and you’re usually all about it)
On the flip side, you might be ready when:
- You wake up feeling rested
- Your body feels solid, not sluggish
- The thought of a run actually excites you a little
Even then—ease back in. Try a 20-minute jog, not a 15-miler. Test the waters, don’t cannonball into them.
There’s an old-school saying: “It takes as long to recover as you spent training.”
Might be a stretch, but the idea is sound. If you trained hard for 4 months, give yourself a solid month to ramp down. Chill. Breathe. Let your fire re-ignite naturally.
Jason Koop—legendary ultra coach—says you’re ready to train when you’re excited to train. That hits hard. If the idea of hill repeats makes you gag, it’s probably not time yet.
Also: rushing it means you’re flirting with injury. I’ve seen it too many times—runners jump back in, body’s still fragile, boom: stress fracture, tendon flare-up, total burnout.
Embrace the Off-Season (Yes, Even You Type-A Runners)
This part is hard for the overachievers: do less. Better yet, do nothing for a bit.
You’ve earned an off-season. And I mean that literally. Sleep in. Hit the trails with no GPS. Grab a beer and skip the early alarm. Do stuff for fun.
Be a human again.
Run when you want. Skip it when you don’t. Maybe bike, hike, hit the gym, or just chill. If you feel that itch creeping back—the one that says “let’s plan the next cycle”—great. That’s when you know it’s time to get serious again.
Want a checkpoint? Book a massage a week post-race. It’s like telling your body, “You made it, now let’s reset.”
Rest Is Training
Let me leave you with this: recovery is not the absence of training—it’s where your training sinks in and becomes strength.
If you skip recovery, all you’re doing is digging deeper into fatigue. It’s like stacking bricks on a foundation that hasn’t cured yet. Eventually, it cracks.
Think long-term. Think years of healthy running—not just one race. And remember: the same discipline you used to hit your workouts? Use it now to rest.
You earned this pause. Own it.
Final reminder: Would you rather take a few restful weeks now—or be forced into months off from injury later?