2025 Beast Of The East 100
This past weekend, the race I had been training for all year was finally here: Beast of the East 2025. Arriving at the race, the vibe was electric—the music was jamming, and runners were greeted by the incredible staff at Dirty Wolf Racing.
My goal was simple: no matter what, finish my first 100 miler. I had worked relentlessly all year—training, managing nutrition, running preparation races, spending countless hours in the gym, heading out for 3 a.m. runs, and chasing James Bragg and others on the trails to try to get faster.
On race day, I felt ready, strong, and grateful to be there. The race started at 8 a.m. with an impressive climb right out of the gate. I had built a plan in ultraPacer, and my goal was to work smart and steady—to avoid burning out early. For most of the race, my pace stayed right on target.
Around mile 25, I began to feel discomfort in my right hamstring. I stretched at aid stations to ease it and kept moving. At mile 53, when I picked up my first pacer, James Bragg, we tried using a massager, but it didn’t help. Heading back out, we experimented with running to adjust my gait, and that provided some relief. From miles 53 to 68, I ran the downs and flats to stay on pace for the cutoff.
Image courtesy of Ruben Felix Visuals.
At mile 68, I picked up my next pacer, Steve Owens, and we continued with a run-walk strategy. My leg was on fire. I focused on moving from aid station to aid station, one step at a time.
As I headed into the end of lap three, I knew I had to maintain a 22-minute-per-mile pace to finish. After clearing Rock Top, I ran hard all the way back down to Crowders Ridge at the start/finish line. I gave my wife a kiss and immediately headed back out onto the course. I pushed up the intense climb to Rock Top again and struggled across the rocks. By then, my leg felt so hot it was difficult to put it down.
After clearing Rock Top, we headed toward Wolf’s Den, where I had hoped to run the descent. I tried several times to run, only to find the pain unbearable—my leg dragging behind me. I began scrambling for a solution. As I did the math in my head and considered the remaining climbs and descents, the realization that I might not finish finally hit me, and I was devastated.
Through it all, my pacer, Steve, showed incredible resolve, empathy, and support. When I reached Wolf’s Den, I had a difficult decision to make. After my team saw my hamstring and the swelling in my calf, my race ended at 86 miles.
The first 24 hours after the race were deeply emotional. I felt sadness and disappointment. I felt the physical pain of the injury. I also felt envy—but alongside that, immense admiration and love for my friends who finished their races.
There are so many lessons the trail continues to teach me. Through reflection and processing this experience, I’ve come to a few important truths. This race did not begin on December 13 at 8 a.m.—it began a year ago, when I committed to the journey. And the impact of this race on my life is not measured by whether or not I hold a buckle in my hand.
What has truly impacted my life is the overwhelming love and support from my running community—my trail family. The shared experiences, the friendships forged, and the countless miles spent training and racing together. The Trail Fox Team that showed up on race day, sacrificing their time and energy to support me through so many miles.
Most of all, I am grateful for my wife—my best friend, my biggest cheerleader. Sharing this journey as husband and wife, encouraging each other, holding one another accountable, staying disciplined, and reminding each other to find joy and gratitude along the way has meant everything to me. I love you, Kristine Calverley.
My hashtag is #nevergiveup, and I won’t. To quit would dishonor myself and all those who have loved and supported me throughout this incredible journey.
The plan now is to heal, recover, learn why my hamstring failed, train smarter, and develop better climbing techniques as I prepare for Eastern States 100 in August 2026.
The lessons from the trail are here to make us stronger, braver—and sometimes to humble us when pride gets the best of us.
Thank you to everyone who has been part of this epic journey. You have truly touched my life, and I am deeply grateful.
Image courtesy of Ruben Felix Visuals.