Why I Run Ultramarathons

People often ask me why I run ultramarathons. I usually give a short answer, something like, “Because I enjoy it and it keeps me out of trouble.” But there’s more to it.

The truth is, there isn’t one single reason. It’s a combination of things that somehow coexist: struggle and simplicity, suffering and peace, solitude and community. All of it makes sense to me in a way that’s hard to explain outside the experience. But I’ll try anyway.

I Like the Training

Most people think the race is the goal. For me, it’s the process. The early mornings, the miles before work, the quiet gym sessions when nobody’s watching. Progress shows up in small ways, whether it’s running a hill I used to hike, easily lifting a weight that used to feel heavy, or recovering faster than I used to. Training teaches patience and discipline. It’s slow, repetitive, and unglamorous. But it’s where I get better and build my confidence. Every single time I show up.

I Like the Challenge

Ultramarathons don’t hand out finishes; they make you earn every step of them. You can train perfectly, have your nutrition dialed, your mindset rock-solid, and still find yourself sitting in a chair at mile 70, wondering how it all fell apart. That uncertainty is part of what makes them so addictive.

It’s not just a physical test. The miles wear you down until it’s no longer about your legs, but what’s left between your ears. When your body’s screaming to stop and you keep moving anyway, that’s when you find out who you really are.

Finishing an ultra isn’t guaranteed, and that’s exactly why it matters. Anyone can sign up. Not everyone crosses the line. And when you do, it’s because you fought for it. Step by step, thought by thought.

I Like the Perspective

Running hundreds of miles a year teaches me gratitude in ways comfort never could. After hours of pain, sweat, discomfort, and delirium, I come back to normal life and appreciate things differently. Luxuries like hot food, dry clothes, and a warm bed are appreciated as the gifts and blessings that they are. That contrast keeps me grounded. It reminds me how fragile and fortunate life can be. It’s easy to lose that perspective without a regular reset. Ultramarathons are my reset button.

I Like the Solitude

I get to spend hours alone in the woods with no meetings, no phone calls, no notifications. I put my phone on airplane mode and do my best to be present in the experience. That’s when I am met with the thoughts, memories, ideas, and whatever’s left when the noise fades. It’s not always peaceful. Sometimes it’s dark and uncomfortable, but it’s all clanging around in there, needing some attention and some proper sorting. That kind of mental space is rare in everyday life, and I’ve come to crave it. Running long distances gives my mind the same thing it gives my body: exploration and endurance.

I Like the Simplicity

Eat. Drink. Move forward. That’s it.

Ultramarathons strip you down to Maslow’s lowest level of needs, and while you wouldn’t want to live there permanently, I think it’s important that you spend a little time there. There aren’t many places in life where everyone’s rowing in the same direction, chasing the same goal—to finish. Everyone’s reduced to the same essentials, relying on the same few things to get through. Complexity requires energy and wastes time. There’s no room for complexity in an ultra. It’s very primal, and that’s to be expected and cherished.

I Like the Community

The ultrarunning world is full of interesting, beautiful people. People who will hand you a cup of broth at 3 a.m. and tell you you’re doing great, even if you’re limping toward a DNF. People who show up to volunteer for 24+ hours straight so others can chase goals that don’t make sense to anyone else. It’s one of the few places in life where complete strangers will do everything they can to help you succeed. That’s rare. And it keeps me coming back.

I Like the Example It Sets

My wife and daughter see it all. The early alarms, the time sacrificed, the sore legs, the finish-line tears. They see what dedication looks like, and what failure looks like, too. I hope they see that both are okay. That chasing something hard is worth it, even if it doesn’t always end the way you want. If it inspires them to work hard, be disciplined, and not fear failure, then these races have been worth every mile.

I Like the Buckles

Of all my possessions, those belt buckles mean the most. They don’t care who you know, how much money you have, or where you’re from. They only care if you showed up, put in the work, and didn’t quit. Each one tells a story—not about talent or luck, but about effort and perseverance. They’re reminders that I’ve done something that once felt impossible.

And that I can do it again.

Photo courtesy of Ruben Felix Visuals.