Running News Daily

It’s a perfectly normal question to ask someone, I just wasn’t the right person to ask. I had been chugging up the trail at about mile 22 or so of the race, trying to push myself but also pace myself, and in my own head because I’d only seen three or four people in the last 45 minutes or so. The guy was hiking downhill, getting out before the Saturday heat really warmed things up, and I had made a little room as I passed him hiking the other direction, trying to get up Tiger Mountain for the last time. We’d said hello, and then he asked,

“How far to the Section Line Trail?”

I rounded the switchback and confidently said, “Oh, I don’t know,” and he seemed a little surprised that I didn’t know, pausing for a second with a somewhat quizzical look on his face. So I added, “This is my first time here,” hoping that would help him understand. It was true, kind of. If I’d felt like I had more time to stop and chat, I might have added a few more bits of information:

> I am participating in an ultramarathon trail race called the Tiger Claw 50K > I have never set foot on this mountain before today, May 13th, 2023 > This is my third trip to the summit of West Tiger #2, and finally, > Hey man, I’m just following these pink flags till I see people with pitchers of electrolyte drink and trays of Oreos standing under an EZ-up at the top. I’m not paying attention to the trail names, the distances, or the intersections, I’m barely looking at the scenery. My goals today are:

a) Survive this race despite the 88-degree temperature and 70 percent humidity and b) Produce urine that isn’t the color of a No Passing Zone sign by midnight tonight

I hope that man found his way and is not still out there looking for the Section Line Trail.

Another question someone asked me, the day before the Tiger Claw: “Why did you pick that race? Isn’t it just kind of a local thing?”

I got really out of shape in 2022—spinal disc injury, new baby, sleep deprivation from helping take care of a new baby, and another back/hip injury. I was starting to wonder if at 43, I was hitting some sort of downhill slope in life. I turned 44 this winter, and was determined. Not to return to any sort of athletic glory, no, but to avoid going to the emergency room again after herniating a disc while picking up a dog because I sit on my ass 40 hours a week, and inside my regular-sized middle-aged man body is a smaller man who loves to eat emotionally and is also super fucking lazy.

So I started looking on UltraSignup for 2023 races near western Montana, and thought

Three summits of West Tiger #2 (elevation 2,757 feet), returning to the High Point Trailhead (elevation 527) each time. For a total of “nearly 9,000 feet of elevation gain,” per the Tiger Claw website. If you are looking for a fast, flat race to help you get your PR for the 50K distance, the Tiger Claw is not it.

This, I was afraid, would call for drastic measures: I was going to have to learn to do something I have always been terrible at doing: drink a responsible amount of fluids. This was almost too much to ask, I thought. Maybe I should bail. DNS: Did Not Start. Reason: Not good at drinking water.

The White Loop was the steepest. Ethan’s final email to participants the previous day had said the Pink Loop would stay in the shade into the afternoon. I had decided to go White (steepest, least fun) first, Yellow (longest, most meandering) second, and Pink (afternoon shade). I chugged down a 17-ounce water bottle in the final minutes before the start and stuffed it in my vest.

The first 4.6 miles wound around in the forest with a couple ups and downs, gradually climbing a few hundred feet to get us to the lower aid station, where we’d split up into our respective loops and go on our way. I had put a small drop bag at the lower aid station, as we’d all return here after each of our three ascents and descents of West Tiger 2. I packed my drop mag pretty minimally because after I finished my final lap, I planned to stuff whatever was left of it into my vest for the final three miles to the finish line, so I didn’t have to drive back to get it after the race.

I filled one water bottle at the aid station and ran on, splitting off to do the White Loop, 2.8 miles, 2,800 feet of climbing to the upper aid station/turnaround. I had no ambitions to do a fast first lap, but ran some of the less-steep sections and hiked the rest. Less than a mile into the White Loop, I was alone in the forest, so I pulled over to pee. Just as I was finishing, Krissy Moehl, who is a very famous ultrarunner, hiked past a few feet away, which is sort of an awkward moment to introduce yourself, but I did it anyway, because we have a mutual friend, and then we ended up hiking together for the rest of the ascent. This is not to say that I am as fast as a person who won the UTMB in 2003 and 2009; more like Krissy was not in a hurry on the race course.

With a couple other guys, we jogged a few short sections of the trail, but mostly hiked at a good clip to the upper aid station, arriving at about 1 hour and 45 minutes. I got my water bottles refilled and started heading down. The top of West Tiger 2 had been logged a few years back, and the good news was we could see Mt. Rainier, Mt. Baker, the buildings of downtown Seattle, and the Puget Sound. The bad news was there was no shade at the top, and it was already sunny and warm at 8:45 a.m.

The 2.2-mile route back down to the lower aid station, which we’d all do a total of three times during the race, was steep and technical for about a half-mile, and then just steep. I made myself drink two 17-ounce bottles of fluid as I ran downhill, and made a mental note to do this each time I ran the descent. I had drunk two bottles on the way up, and my shirt was completely drenched in sweat, front and back, by the time we hit the summit.

At the lower aid station, I grabbed my drop bag, stuffed a couple packages of Clif Bloks into my sweat-soaked vest, filled up three water bottles, and started jogging back up the trail, looking for the turnoff for the Yellow Loop—5.5 miles, 3,000 feet of elevation gain.

The Tiger Claw is sort of a multiple-loop race, in that you run multiple loops, and pass through the same checkpoint (the lower aid station) at the end of each loop—but that checkpoint is still three miles from where you parked your car at the start/finish, so maybe it’s less tempting. (you could call someone and ask them to pick you up at the aid station, though, since it’s about 150 feet from a parking lot that’s only a mile from I-90)

But I was definitely not thinking, “Man, I hate loops, I can’t believe I have to come back to this aid station two more times”—I was thinking, “Jesus it’s hot already.”

I was alone for most of the loop, running when possible, hiking the steeper parts, and chugging water and Skratch electrolyte drink. About two-thirds of the way up, Krissy Moehl passed me, and we chatted for a few minutes. Through the forest, I had been forcing myself to chug water—three 17-ounce bottles by the time I got to the top of the climb. Mileage-wise, I was past the halfway mark by my second summit of West Tiger 2, and had drunk 7 bottles of liquid, or about 119 ounces.

With only the Pink Loop to go, I only had 2,700 feet of elevation gain to climb. I could feel a slight dehydration headache forming, but maybe if I kept forcing water down I’d be able to keep it at bay. At the Upper Aid Station, I refilled two bottles and drank both of them as I navigated the downhill.

If you look a map of the course with all three loops on a map, you could see why they called it the Tiger Claw:

A solid mile and a half from the upper aid station, I started to hear a dog howling. Or some animal. I kept plugging away, slowly passing a couple other runners, every once in a while scanning the trees above my head for the top of the ridge, the end of my final climb. Eventually, I ran out of trees, hitting the north edge where the trees had been clear cut. I went from hints of sun to full-blast afternoon white heat as I chugged up the trail, finally seeing the howling dog, which turned out to not be a dog at all, just a really psyched volunteer wooing so loudly and so often that I thought there was no chance he’d have his voice tomorrow. I thanked him and walked to the aid station, got my water bottles refilled, grabbed a handful of potato chips and a couple Oreos, and headed down.

On each of my three descents of the trails to the lower aid station, I was elated to not be climbing. I was also reminded that there was, also today, a race called the Tiger Claw Double, a 50-mile version of this same race I was doing, but with THREE EXTRA LAPS to the summit of West Tiger 2. As I ran downhill, I’d pass by a 50-mile racer heading uphill, and I’d say something like “Good job,” but what I was thinking was, “Look, I am a person of questionable judgment and intelligence, who is spending their Saturday doing a steep-ass 50K race with almost 9,000 feet of climbing in 88-degree heat and 70 percent humidity, but you, Runner, are a FUCKING MANIAC. I salute you. Also I’m really glad I didn’t sign up for that race instead.”

At this point, midway through my final descent, the hot spots on the instep sides of my big toes had turned into full-on blisters, and my toenails were sick of the cumulative effects of being pushed backwards by my shoes every one of the thousands of downhill steps so far.

My strides had shortened, and I wasn’t grunting or wincing with pain every step, but I definitely wasn’t smiling. I glanced down at my watch to check my pace, just out of curiosity: 12-minute miles. I was pretty ready to be done.

I hit the lower aid station, grabbed my drop bag, shoved it into the back pocket of my vest, and started jogging down the road in full sun. Every piece of fabric on my body was soaked through with sweat, including the inside of my vest and the outsides of my shoes.

The route meandered through a short section of forest, and the final three-quarters of a mile was a wide, paved, shaded multi-use path. I started running faster, because on flat ground, my blisters didn’t hurt, and I was ready to get it over with. And I think I remembered them saying something about pizza at the finish line.

I jogged under the finish arch, gave Ethan a very soggy, gross hug, took my finisher medal, and felt the relief of No More Exercising Today slowly roll over me. Mark Griffith, who had been out on the course taking photos all day and working as hard as the racers, directed me to the pizza and cold beverages, and I asked him if he was able to take care of himself at all in the heat. He said he eventually was able to rehydrate at the upper aid station, but at one point, the sweat was just rolling down his head into his eyes. “My eyebrows stopped working,” he said. And I thought, Same, man. I had drunk approximately 225 ounces of water and Skratch electrolyte drink in 7 hours and 39 minutes, and I still felt like a piece of beef jerky that had been left out in the sun for a week.

It had been hot, for sure, but I finished, and as I sat down with a can of sparkling water, it seemed like I had a good chance of surviving the day. I thought a little bit about my friend’s question as to how I decided to sign up for the Tiger Claw, since it was kind of a local race on a local mountain. I am not sure if I could draw a flow chart of how I, and maybe other runners too, decide to run whichever races we run. I don’t know, it sounded fun? It sounded not fun? I heard good things about it? It was close to where I live, or close to some place I wanted to travel to, or it was flat, or it was steep, or whatever.

As far as I know, ultramarathon races basically work like this:

I had assumed that Ethan and Kim could put on a pretty good race because they do other things well, and I am not in the business of reviewing races, but I have to say, I was right. It was fun. Although parts of it were not fun.

Fortunately, there’s plenty of steep terrain very close to where I live. Unfortunately, lots of that steep terrain was still covered in snow and ice until the first week of April. But, I have microspikes, and enough of it melted out in time for me to get in some steep uphills. I did laps on Mt. Sentinel, sort of our local Tiger Mountain, with a ~2,000-foot climb via several different trails. At one point, I wondered: “Am I spending too much time on really steep terrain? What if the course is more gradual, or rolling?”

(Answer below)

I honestly hadn’t given it any thought until he asked. I had just focused on the big numbers: 31 miles, 8,000-something feet of elevation gain. But now I was thinking about it. And it did sound kind of nice to run the loops in whatever order they would be least crowded. But how would I know?

Ethiopia’s Fotyеn Tesfay Haylu delivered one of the most remarkable women’s half-marathon performances ever seen on American soil on Sunday, powering to a commanding victory at the 2026 Buenos Aires Half Marathon in Argentina in 1:03:57.

Running with exceptional confidence and strength, Tesfay took control of the race and produced a superb solo performance to rewrite the event record. Her breathtaking run also carried historic significance, as she became the first woman to break the 64-minute barrier for the half marathon in the Americas, producing what is being celebrated as the fastest women’s half-marathon performance ever recorded on the continent.

The Ethiopian star was in a class of her own, crossing the finish line more than a minute clear of Turkey’s Nevin Can, who finished second in 1:05:06. Another Turkish athlete, Selin Can, completed the podium in third place with 1:05:11, as the leading trio all produced strong performances on the fast streets of Buenos Aires.

Kenya also featured prominently in the top positions, with Irene Jepchumba Kimais taking fourth in 1:06:04, followed by Sheila Chepkirui in fifth with 1:06:13. Magaret Akidor Ngathike finished sixth in 1:06:46, while fellow Kenyan Deborah Samum claimed seventh place in 1:08:32.

Brazil’s Nubia de Oliveira Silva was eighth in 1:11:13, while Argentina’s Sofia Luna and Dahyana Juarez rounded out the top 10 with times of 1:11:21 and 1:11:28, respectively.

Top 10 Women – 2026 Buenos Aires Half Marathon

1. Fotyеn Tesfay Haylu (Ethiopia) – 1:03:57

2. Nevin Can (Turkey) – 1:05:06

3. Selin Can (Turkey) – 1:05:11

4. Irene Jepchumba Kimais (Kenya) – 1:06:04

5. Sheila Chepkirui (Kenya) – 1:06:13

6. Magaret Akidor Ngathike (Kenya) – 1:06:46

7. Deborah Samum (Kenya) – 1:08:32

8. Nubia de Oliveira Silva (Brazil) – 1:11:13

9. Sofia Luna (Argentina) – 1:11:21

10. Dahyana Juarez (Argentina) – 1:11:28

For Tesfay, it was far more than a race victory. Her 1:03:57 performance was a statement of extraordinary quality, combining speed, endurance and remarkable solo running to produce a landmark result in Buenos Aires. In a race that will be remembered for years to come, the Ethiopian did not simply win—she redefined what was thought possible for women’s half-marathon running in the Americas.

Ethiopia’s Yomif Kejelcha produced one of the most extraordinary performances in road racing history on the streets of Buenos Aires, Argentina, reclaiming the half marathon world record with a sensational 56:51 performance at the 2026 Buenos Aires Half Marathon.

The former world record-holder delivered a breathtaking exhibition of speed and endurance to take 29 seconds off the previous pending mark of 57:20, set by Uganda’s Jacob Kiplimo and takes a huge chunk from his own former official world record. Kejelcha's new performance is pending the standard ratification procedures, but if officially ratified, it will return the world record to the Ethiopian star and mark another remarkable chapter in the evolution of the event. 

Kejelcha's achievement is particularly significant because the 57-minute barrier had already been broken before. Jacob Kiplimo had previously run under 57 minutes, clocking 56:42 that was not ratified demonstrating that the once-unthinkable barrier was possible. Kejelcha, however, has become the second man to run under 57-minute barrier who now returns to the top of the all-time rankings with another historic performance in Buenos Aires.

The Ethiopian's race was remarkable not only for the final time but also for the way he built his performance. He covered the opening five kilometres in 13:44 before reaching 10km in 27:18. Rather than slowing, Kejelcha accelerated through the middle stages, passing 15km in 40:39 and 20km in 54:02 as he continued to push the limits of elite road racing.

By the time he reached the finish line, Kejelcha had completed the race at an extraordinary average pace of approximately 2:42 per kilometre, producing one of the most astonishing sustained efforts ever witnessed in distance running. His stunning run sent a powerful message to the athletics world and further strengthened his status as one of the most formidable distance runners of his generation.

Behind the record-breaking champion, Ethiopia completed a dominant clean sweep of the men's podium. Tadese Worku Gebresilase claimed second place in 59:18, while Bereket Nega Batebo secured third in 1:00:17, giving Ethiopia a memorable one-two-three finish in the Argentine capital.

Kenya’s Jonathan Kipkoech Kamosong finished fourth in 1:00:20, followed by compatriot Simon Maywa in fifth with 1:00:55. Argentina’s Ignacio Erario gave the home supporters plenty to celebrate with an impressive sixth-place finish in 1:00:57, breaking the one-hour barrier in front of an enthusiastic local crowd.

Dillon Kipyeko of Kenya finished seventh in 1:01:07, with Robert Kiprop Koech eighth in 1:02:01. Mexico’s Julio Ortiz Ponce took ninth place in 1:03:17, while Colombia’s Jimmy Gómez completed the top 10 in 1:03:34.

The Buenos Aires Half Marathon will now take its place in the history books as the scene of a truly extraordinary breakthrough. For Kejelcha, this was more than just another victory. It was a spectacular return to the top, reclaiming a world record he had previously held and once again rewriting the limits of the half marathon.

The 56:51 performance remains pending ratification, but Yomif Kejelcha's run has already delivered one of the defining moments in the history of road racing.

Kenya delivered another commanding display of distance-running excellence at the Antrim Coast Half Marathon, with Isaia Lasoi leading a memorable Kenyan clean sweep of the men's podium in a race packed with world-class performances.

Lasoi emerged victorious after a thrilling battle at the front, crossing the finish line in a superb 58:26 setting a new course record. His winning performance underlined his strength and speed over the half-marathon distance, but he was made to work all the way by fellow Kenyan Daniel Mateiko, who finished just three seconds behind in 58:29 after an electrifying duel for the title.

The contest between the two leaders produced one of the standout moments of the race, with both athletes pushing deep into elite territory as they fought for victory. In the end, Lasoi found just enough to secure the win, while Mateiko's narrow defeat highlighted the remarkable depth and quality of Kenya's leading distance runners.

Vincent Kipkorir completed the Kenyan sweep, taking third place in 1:00:38 to ensure that all three places on the podium belonged to Kenyan athletes. Samwel Chebolei added further Kenyan strength to the results, finishing fourth in 1:01:01, while Amos Langat was also among the leading finishers.

The international field featured several prominent names. Australia's Jimmy Whelan produced a strong run, while Ethiopia's Yismaw Dillu featured among the front group. American marathon star Galen Rupp also delivered a notable performance, clocking 1:01:29 in another competitive outing for the experienced distance runner. Former world-class track and road athlete Edward Cheserek was also among the top finishers.

Lasoi's 58:26 victory, however, was the defining performance of the day. Together with Mateiko and Kipkorir, he gave Kenya a perfect podium and another emphatic reminder of the country's extraordinary strength in elite road running.

The Antrim Coast Half Marathon once again provided a fast, competitive stage for some of the world's finest distance runners, but when the decisive moments arrived, it was Kenya that owned the podium.

One of the most iconic milestones in the history of ultramarathon running is drawing closer, with entries for the historic 100th edition of the Comrades Marathon set to open on Tuesday, 25 August 2026.

The Comrades Marathon Association has officially announced a detailed entry process for the 2027 race, which will unfold in three stages and give runners around the world the opportunity to secure their place in what promises to be one of the most significant editions ever held of The Ultimate Human Race.

The announcement followed the official launch of the 2027 Comrades Marathon on Wednesday, 19 August, when the centenary campaign, “The Greatest Story Ever Run,” was unveiled alongside a special logo created exclusively for the landmark 100th edition.

The launch also revealed several major highlights for the Centenary Race. The historic event will take place on Sunday, 13 June 2027, and will be a Down Run, with 28,000 places available. The entry process will include a ballot, while the race will offer a record R8.919 million in prize money. Organisers have also set an ambitious goal of raising R10 million for the Amabeadibeadi charities, adding an important charitable dimension to the centenary celebrations. One of the defining moments of the launch was the unveiling of the special Centenary mark, created to commemorate this extraordinary milestone in the history of the race.

The entry process begins on 25 August at 10:00 a.m. SAST, when entries open for Green Number runners, Yellow Number runners and Amabeadibeadi charity entrants.

The next phase follows on 2 September at 10:00 a.m. SAST, when entries open for Comrades Marathon Association members. This window will remain open for 72 hours or until the available entry allocation is filled, with places offered on a strictly first-come, first-served basis.

For general entrants, the process will move to a ballot system. General entries open on 9 September at 10:00 a.m. SAST, with runners able to enter the ballot until it closes on 22 September at 4:30 p.m. SAST. The ballot draw is then scheduled to take place on 23 September.

Several other crucial dates will shape the road to the historic race. The substitution period will run from 15 to 31 March 2027, while 3 May 2027 is the final deadline for runners to submit their qualifying performances, seeding information and other required entry details.

To qualify for the 2027 Comrades Marathon, runners must complete a 42.2km marathon in under five hours between 15 June 2026 and 3 May 2027.

The journey will finally culminate on Sunday, 13 June 2027, when thousands of runners are expected to line up for the historic 100th edition of the Comrades Marathon.

The 2027 race will represent a remarkable moment for the legendary South African ultramarathon. For more than a century, the Comrades Marathon has captured the imagination of runners and spectators with its extraordinary test of endurance, determination and human spirit. Its centenary edition will celebrate the generations of athletes who have faced its demanding roads, conquered its challenges and helped build one of the world's most respected endurance events.

For runners dreaming of becoming part of this historic occasion, the road to Comrades 2027 is now clearly marked. From the opening of entries in August 2026 to race day in June 2027, every deadline will matter.

The Greatest Story Ever Run is preparing for its most historic chapter yet.

American sprint standout Sam Blaskowski is taking steps toward an international future with Poland after uncovering a powerful connection to his family's ancestral homeland.

The 23-year-old sprinter, who has established himself as one of the fastest Americans of his generation with a personal best of 9.89 seconds in the 100 metres, has begun the process of obtaining Polish citizenship with the aim of eventually representing Poland in international competition.

Blaskowski's connection to the country traces back through his great-grandparents, Franciszek and Julian Błaszkowski, who emigrated from Poland to the United States in 1905. Their journey more than a century ago has now opened an unexpected new chapter for their descendant, whose athletic ambitions could soon carry the Błaszkowski name back onto the international stage under Polish colours.

The sprinter has already received support from the Polish Athletics Association as he works through the citizenship and eligibility process. Should his transfer of allegiance be completed, Blaskowski could become a significant addition to Poland's sprint programme.

His credentials certainly make the prospect an exciting one. In addition to his sub-10-second speed over 100 metres, Blaskowski owns a personal best of 19.93 seconds in the 200 metres, demonstrating the kind of versatility that could prove valuable both individually and in Poland's 4x100m relay squad.

For Blaskowski, however, the move is about more than simply changing national colours. It represents an opportunity to reconnect with his family's heritage while pursuing his ambitions at the highest level of the sport.

With his sights set on becoming part of Poland's international sprint team and competing for relay medals, Blaskowski's journey from discovering his Polish roots to potentially representing the country of his ancestors could become one of the most fascinating allegiance stories in world athletics.

A century after Franciszek and Julian Błaszkowski left Poland for America, their family's story may now be coming full circle—this time at full sprint.