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Temperatures were brutally low at this year’s running of the 300-mile competition, and one frostbitten competitor may lose his hands and feet. Is this just the price of playing a risky game, or does something need to change?

Roberto Zanda left the Carmacks checkpoint of the Montane Yukon Arctic Ultra just before noon on February 6. He was at least 150 miles into the 300-mile race—he’d already been slogging down a dogsled trail through the Yukon backcountry for more than five full days. Temperatures had plunged below minus 40 Fahrenheit on the first night out of Whitehorse, the small Yukon city where the race began; along the race course, temperatures consistently ranged from the minus 20s to the minus 40s.

In short, conditions were brutal. Of the eight racers who’d begun the 100-mile version of the variable-length event, just four had finished. Of the 21 who’d started the 300-miler, only the 60-year-old Zanda and two others remained. Most of the rest had scratched with frostbite or hypothermia.

When Zanda left the checkpoint, hosted in a village rec center, a race medic wrote on the event’s Facebook page that the racer had paused only for “a short rest and a big meal. He was looking very strong.”

Just over 24 hours later, Zanda was in a helicopter, being rushed to Whitehorse General Hospital with hypothermia and catastrophic frostbite, lucky to be alive. He now faces the likely amputation of both hands and both feet. What went wrong?

This was the 15th running of the Yukon Arctic Ultra, an annual race in which competitors choose their distance—marathon, 100 miles, 300 miles, or, every second year, 430 miles—and their mode of transportation: a fat bike, cross-country skis, or their own booted feet. Race organizer Robert Pollhammer, 44, who runs an online gear store in his native Germany, started the event in 2003 after being involved with Iditasport, a similar event on the Alaskan side of the border.

The Yukon race takes place on part of a trail built each year by the Canadian Rangers for the Yukon Quest, a 1,000-mile dogsled race, and it’s as much a feat of logistics as it is an athletic contest. It’s continuous, not a stage race; competitors are self-sufficient, carrying all their camping and survival gear, spare layers, food, and water in sleds they pull behind them. Temperatures are cold enough to kill, and it’s dark for roughly 14 hours every day. Nonetheless, eager ultra racers travel from around the world for the event, paying anywhere from $750 to $1,750 USD to enter (depending on when they register and the distance they’re attempting), plus the cost of flights, hotel, and gear. The total can easily add up to $5,000 or more.

The entrants tend to be experienced ultra and adventure racers; many athletes have already completed events like the Gobi March or the Marathon des Sables. Most competitors come from Europe, although this year’s race also saw entrants from South Africa and Hong Kong. The race organization offers a survival course a few days beforehand—a crash education in moisture management, layering, and cold-weather injuries. Generally speaking, the racers are accomplished athletes, but they may not have extensive experience with severe cold. The challenge lies in keeping themselves safe while moving through the Yukon’s remote, frigid backcountry.

The race is billed as “the world’s coldest and toughest ultra,” and there have been plenty of serious injuries before: flesh blackened by frostbite, frozen skin peeling off racers’ faces like wax, and bits of fingers and toes lost to amputation. But what happened to Zanda is by far the worst medical outcome yet, and it has shocked former racers, event organizers, and fans. It has also led to discussions and debates, often heated, about where a race organization’s responsibilities end and a racer’s personal assumption of risk begins.

As Zanda moved out of Carmacks, his Spot tracker showed him clipping along steadily at around three miles per hour. Between 3 p.m. and 9 p.m., his beacon’s transmissions became more erratic—but that’s fairly normal in the Yukon, where satellite signals can be weak or inconsistent. Between 9 and 10 p.m., the problem cleared up and the Spot began sending signals every few minutes.

The last blip came in at 10:08 p.m., at route mile 189.7, and then the device went into sleep mode. After a strong ten-hour, 25-mile push from Carmacks, Zanda appeared to have stopped to camp for the night.

In the morning, as the sun rose, his tracker still hadn’t moved. The race crew wasn’t concerned yet—Zanda had taken a 12-hour rest once before during the race, as had some other athletes. At 9:32 a.m., Pollhammer posted on Facebook that two volunteer trail guides were headed out to check on him. “His Spot has not been sending for a long time now. Once we have news I will let you all know.”

The trail guides are the race’s safety net, patrolling hundreds of miles by snowmobile to check on the athletes and, when necessary, evacuate them from the course. They motored down the trail toward Zanda’s Spot location, but when they got there, in late morning, they found only the racer’s harness and sled, loaded with a tent and sleeping bag, a stove and fuel, and—crucially—the Spot device. Zanda was gone.

They called back to Pollhammer, who contacted the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and then they began searching the area, looking for some sign of where the racer might have left the packed trail and wandered into the forest. The Mounties were about to launch a search of their own when the call came in: Zanda had been found. A helicopter was dispatched and landed near him. The trail guides, advised by the incoming medical team, did what they could to care for Zanda while they waited. As Pollhammer put it in an email to me: “No time was lost.”

A few days later, Zanda spoke to a Canadian television reporter from his hospital room in Whitehorse. He wore a pale-green gown, and his hands were heavily bandaged, nearly up to his elbows. His feet and shins were the same. He said he’d left his sled behind to go look for help because his feet were freezing up. He and his family members have also told race organizers that Zanda had lost the trail and went in search of the next marker, leaving the sled behind while he scouted.

Hypothermia must have already had Zanda in its grip by then, muddying his mind and compromising his decisions. His sled was his lifeline, containing everything he needed to stay alive and the only tool he had to call for help. He wandered through the cold and dark all night while the sled sat on the trail, sending out a reassuring beacon to the world that all was well.

I competed in this year’s Yukon Arctic Ultra—my first attempt—and I didn’t last long. Twenty-two hours in, suffering from frostbite on three fingertips, I scratched from the event, one of four 100-mile racers who decided to quit.

I never met Zanda, though for all I know we could have been standing side-by-side at the start line. On the afternoon of day one, he left the first checkpoint 19 minutes ahead of me. That night, I passed by as he bivied on the side of the trail. A couple hours later, I put up my own tent, crawled inside, and was trying to change into dry clothes with my hands briefly exposed. That was long enough for frostbite to set in.

Early the next morning, Zanda and two other racers passed my tent. I heard them go by but didn’t call out. I was waiting until daylight to push the help button on my Spot. I’ve thought about those encounters a lot since I learned about what happened to Zanda. It’s impossible not to hear his story and ask: Could that have been me?

Easily. I knew when I signed up for the race that amputations, or even death, were among the potential consequences. At such low temperatures, exhausting yourself to the degree required to complete an ultramarathon is a good way to erase whatever thin margin of safety you’ve managed to create. But while some of my friends had concerns, I wasn’t really worried. That disconnect is what allows many of us to put ourselves in these situations.

Zanda wasn’t the only person hospitalized. Nick Griffiths, another 300-mile racer, scratched on day two. The frostbite on his left foot had become severe by the time he was whisked from the trail to a remote checkpoint for eventual evacuation to Whitehorse. Griffiths spent five days in the hospital, and he will eventually lose his big toe and two others next to it. (To preserve as much healthy tissue as possible, doctors will allow the toes to “self-amputate,” meaning that the dead tissue will simply fall off.) Losing the big toe, in particular, could have a serious impact on Griffiths’ future ability to walk, hike, and run.

“I’m hoping I’ll be all right,” he told me from his home in England, where he’s been reading up on athletes who’ve lost toes. “I’m not expecting to be able to go and do ultras or things like that, but there’s other challenges. It’s not ideal, but there’s no point jumping up and down about it. It’s done.”

I’m not sure I could muster the same acceptance if I were in Griffiths’ position, let alone Zanda’s. Understandably, the Italian racer’s friends and family are extremely upset. In the days after his rescue, the race’s Facebook page filled up with furious comments from people demanding to know how this could have happened, why Zanda wasn’t checked on sooner, why the race hadn’t been canceled entirely when the weather refused to relent. Zanda’s wife, Giovanna, wrote, in Italian, “It’s been too many hours before you decided to verify what happened. He didn’t die by miracle.” His brother, Paolo, posted, “Why they promise you safety when they do not care about you?” To which Pollhammer replied, “Nobody promises safety.”

That much is certain. The waiver I signed when I filed my registration paperwork last summer listed the risks I was assuming as including but not limited to “dehydration, hypothermia, frostbite, collision with pedestrians, vehicles, and other racers and fixed or moving objects, sliding down hills, overturning of ice-rocks, falling through thin ice, avalanche, dangers arising from other surface hazards, equipment failure, inadequate safety equipment, weather conditions, animals, the possibility of serious physical and/or mental trauma and injury, including death.”

Still, even as we sign our lives away, participating in an organized race may provide us with an illusion of safety in a way that an independent backcountry trek might not. If so, I suppose it becomes our job to tear down that illusion and make clear-eyed choices about the risks. That’s easier said than done, of course.

Throughout the aftermath of this year’s race, Pollhammer has remained calm as he answered his critics, walking the fine line of showing empathy for Zanda and his family while making it clear that he believes the error was the racer’s. Initially he seemed shaken, unsure about running the event again next year, but he has since announced the 2019 dates. I asked Pollhammer if, with the benefit of hindsight, he would do anything differently. He said that the rules and safety procedures evolve almost every year, and next year will likely be no different. But there are limits to what he can do, no matter how much he tweaks his protocols

“We can increase the list of mandatory gear, make people carry a sat phone, warn athletes even more so than we do now,” Pollhammer said. “We can do many things. However, we won’t be able to make sure people don’t get hypothermic and start making mistakes when they are out there. It they don’t act, or if they act too late, it will always mean trouble. I wish I could take that away from them, but it is impossible.”

Or as Nick Griffiths put it, “I can’t blame anybody for it—it was my own fault.”

As for Zanda, he told the CBC that he’ll be back out racing again—on prosthetics, if need be.

Most Olympic marathoners spend their youth focused on running. They join track clubs, compete in national championships, and pursue the sport from an early age.

Julia Mayer’s journey was very different.

Today, Mayer is Austria’s marathon record holder, a multiple national record holder on the roads, and an Olympian. Yet for much of her athletic life, running was not her primary sport.

For 16 years, she played soccer.

Then she discovered something that would change her life.

“I noticed that I was really fast in the fun runs and that it was really, really fun,” Mayer said when reflecting on her transition from soccer to distance running.

What began as curiosity quickly became a passion. She eventually made the bold decision to leave soccer behind and focus entirely on running. It was a move that surprised many people around her, but Mayer believed she had found her true athletic calling.

The decision proved to be the right one.

Within a few years, Mayer developed into one of Europe’s top marathon runners. Her steady improvement carried her from local races to the international stage, where she began rewriting Austria’s record books.

She now holds Austrian records in the marathon, half marathon, and road 10K. Her marathon best of 2:26:08 established her as the fastest female marathoner in Austrian history. Her performances in the half marathon and 10K have further cemented her place among the country’s all-time great distance runners.

Her rise culminated with qualification for the 2024 Olympic Games in Paris.

Competing in the Olympic marathon represented the realization of a dream. On one of the most challenging marathon courses ever used for the Olympics, Mayer ran courageously against the strongest field in the world and finished 55th in her Olympic debut.

Behind the scenes, success has come through extraordinary dedication. During marathon preparation, Mayer trains twice a day and covers approximately 200 kilometers, or 124 miles, each week. The workload demands discipline, patience, and a deep commitment to continuous improvement. 

What makes her story especially inspiring is not simply the records or the Olympic appearance.

It is the fact that she found her greatest talent later than many elite runners.

In a sport where athletes are often identified at a young age, Mayer’s journey serves as a reminder that potential does not always reveal itself early. Sometimes it takes years of experience, a willingness to try something new, and the courage to follow a different path. 

The former soccer player who once chased a ball across a field is now chasing history on the roads of Europe.

And according to those closest to her, her best performances may still be ahead.

For runners of every age and ability, Julia Mayer’s story delivers a powerful lesson: it is never too late to discover what you are capable of.

From soccer player to Olympian, her journey proves that remarkable achievements can begin when least expected.

Megan Keith produced the performance of her career in Oslo on Thursday night, shattering one of Scotland’s longest-standing distance running records and cementing her place among Britain’s greatest female 3000m runners.

The 24-year-old clocked a sensational 8:28.35 over 3000m, breaking the Scottish outdoor record that had stood for nearly four decades. In doing so, Keith eclipsed the previous mark of 8:29.02, set by Scottish legend Yvonne Murray back in 1988, ending a record reign that had lasted 38 years.

Keith’s breakthrough run was more than just a national record. The performance also propelled her to third on the UK outdoor all-time list, placing her behind only two of Britain’s most celebrated distance runners — Paula Radcliffe, who leads the rankings with 8:22.20, and Laura Weightman, whose 8:26.07 remains the second-fastest outdoor mark by a British woman.

The significance of Keith’s achievement is amplified by the calibre of athletes she now joins in the record books. For decades, Murray’s mark stood as one of Scottish athletics’ most untouchable records, surviving generations of elite competitors. Keith has now succeeded where many outstanding runners have fallen short, announcing herself as one of the leading distance talents in British athletics.

Her time also compares favourably with the best performances produced indoors. Olympic medallist Laura Muir ran 8:26.41 indoors in Karlsruhe in 2017, underlining just how exceptional Keith’s outdoor effort in Oslo truly was.

The run continues a remarkable rise for the Scottish star, whose progression over recent seasons has transformed her from a promising prospect into a genuine force on the international stage. Running with confidence and composure against elite competition, Keith demonstrated both the speed and endurance required to challenge the very best in Europe and beyond.

With the World Championship season gathering momentum, Keith’s record-breaking display sends a powerful message. Not only has she etched her name into Scottish athletics history, but she has also established herself as a serious contender in one of the sport’s most competitive events.

In Oslo, Megan Keith did far more than break a record. She ended a 38-year wait, climbed into the upper echelon of British distance running, and delivered a performance that may prove to be a defining moment in her career.

British middle-distance talent Phoebe Gill took another significant step forward in her return to top form, producing a determined victory over 800 metres at the Meeting de Marseille in France on Wednesday.

Competing in challenging, wind-affected conditions, the 19-year-old demonstrated both resilience and composure as she held off a late charge from Switzerland's Veronica Vancardo to secure the win in 2:00.81. Vancardo finished just three hundredths of a second behind in 2:00.84, underlining the fiercely contested nature of the race.

While the margin of victory was narrow, the result represented another encouraging milestone for Gill as she continues to rebuild momentum following her injury setback. The young Briton showed impressive race awareness and strength in the closing stages, maintaining her advantage despite the difficult conditions that made fast running a challenge throughout the evening.

The Marseille triumph adds to a growing body of evidence that Gill is steadily progressing toward her best form. Earlier in her comeback campaign, she clocked 2:01.50 for 800m in Bydgoszcz before demonstrating her versatility with a strong 4:05.53 performance over 1500 metres at the BMC Grand Prix meeting in Trafford.

Those performances have highlighted not only her improving fitness but also her ability to compete across multiple distances as she carefully builds her season. The Marseille victory now provides further confirmation that the European junior star is moving in the right direction.

Gill emerged as one of Britain's most exciting middle-distance prospects through a series of breakthrough performances as a teenager, earning widespread recognition for her fearless racing style and remarkable maturity. Injury temporarily interrupted that upward trajectory, but her recent results suggest she is steadily rediscovering the form that made her one of the sport's brightest young talents.

With each race, the signs of progress become increasingly evident. Winning in difficult conditions and under pressure from a quality field is often a stronger indicator than a fast time alone, and Gill's latest success demonstrated exactly those qualities.

As the summer season gathers pace, the Marseille victory offers another confidence boost for the British teenager, whose return continues to gain momentum. If her recent progression is any indication, Gill could soon find herself back among the leading names on the European middle-distance circuit. 

The NCAA Track and Field Championships delivered a moment few could have predicted as Ja’Kobe Tharp produced one of the most astonishing performances in the history of sprint hurdling, rewriting the record books in spectacular fashion.

Competing in the opening round of the men’s 110-meter hurdles, the Auburn star stunned the athletics world by clocking an incredible 12.75 seconds, becoming the first athlete ever to break the 12.80-second barrier. In doing so, he eclipsed the long-standing world record of 12.80 set by Aries Merritt in 2012, a mark that had stood as one of the sport’s most revered achievements for more than a decade.

What makes Tharp’s breakthrough even more remarkable is the scale of his improvement. Entering the championships, the defending NCAA and U.S. champion had recorded a season-best of 13.05 seconds. Yet under the brightest spotlight, he unleashed a performance that exceeded every expectation, slicing an extraordinary 0.26 seconds from his personal best in a race that instantly became one of the greatest ever run.

The achievement sent shockwaves throughout the track and field community. While Tharp arrived in Eugene as one of the leading contenders for the NCAA title, few envisioned a performance capable of redefining the limits of the event. Instead, the American hurdler delivered a race for the ages, combining flawless technique, explosive speed, and impeccable rhythm from the first hurdle to the finish line.

The historic run not only secured his place in athletics history but also transformed the outlook of the championship. With the world record now in his possession, Tharp advances to the final as the overwhelming favorite, carrying momentum that could make an already unforgettable weekend even more extraordinary.

For years, the 12.80 barrier appeared untouchable. On a stunning day at the NCAA Championships, Ja’Kobe Tharp proved otherwise, producing the kind of performance that reminds fans why sport remains so unpredictable. In a matter of seconds, he turned a routine qualifying round into a landmark moment that will be remembered for generations.

The world record no one saw coming is now a reality—and Ja’Kobe Tharp is the man who changed history.

A new chapter in middle-distance running may have begun in Oslo after American teenager Cooper Lutkenhaus produced one of the most remarkable performances of the season, narrowly defeating reigning Olympic champion Emmanuel Wanyonyi in a thrilling men's 800m contest at the Diamond League meeting.

The 17-year-old sensation shocked a world-class field by crossing the finish line first in a race that came down to the smallest of margins. After an intense battle over the final metres, Lutkenhaus held off Wanyonyi by just one hundredth of a second, producing a dramatic finish that left the packed stadium in disbelief.

From the opening lap, the pace was relentless as the leading contenders positioned themselves for a fierce showdown. As the athletes entered the home straight, Wanyonyi appeared poised to unleash his trademark finishing kick. However, Lutkenhaus refused to be intimidated, matching the Olympic champion stride for stride before producing a perfectly timed lean at the line to secure a historic victory.

The result marks a breakthrough moment for the young American, who continues to establish himself as one of the brightest talents in global athletics. Defeating an Olympic champion at a Diamond League event is a feat many athletes spend entire careers pursuing, yet Lutkenhaus achieved it before reaching adulthood.

For Wanyonyi, the narrow defeat does little to diminish his status as one of the world's premier 800m runners. The Kenyan once again demonstrated his exceptional class and competitiveness, pushing the race to a world-class standard and forcing his young rival to deliver the performance of a lifetime.

Beyond the result itself, the race offered a glimpse into what could become one of the sport's most exciting rivalries in the years ahead. With established stars and emerging talents now pushing each other to new heights, the men's 800m continues to evolve into one of athletics' most captivating events.

On a memorable night in Oslo, the spotlight belonged to Cooper Lutkenhaus. At just 17 years old, he stood toe-to-toe with an Olympic champion and emerged victorious, announcing himself to the athletics world in spectacular fashion.