Chasing Boston, the Trail Runner's Way

It's been a while since I've sat down to write a blog.

After Canyons, I had a decision to make. Do I keep chasing bigger trail races, or do I circle back to something that has been sitting unfinished in the back of my mind for years?

I've decided to throw my hat back into the ring and chase a Boston Qualifier.

The last time I tried didn't end the way I'd hoped. For a long time, I wasn't sure I'd ever want to go back. The disappointment stayed with me longer than I expected, but time has a funny way of changing perspective. Somewhere along the way, the sting faded and the excitement returned.

I'm ready to give Boston another shot.

There is just one small complication.

I'm training with a Morton's neuroma in my left foot.

Heavy road mileage isn't something my foot appreciates these days, so this marathon build looks a little different than most. Instead of pounding pavement every weekend, I'm leaning into what I know best, trail running. I'll still be doing speed work and enough road running to prepare for race day, but my long endurance training will mostly happen on the trails where my foot stays much happier.

At first glance, it might seem like an odd way to train for a road marathon, but every race on my calendar has a purpose. Each one is teaching me something that I hope will help me earn a Boston Qualifier in September.

Summer Solstice

The first stop was Happy Trails' Summer Solstice.

The concept is simple. Run a 3.7 km loop from sunrise to sunset with four friends and see how many loops you can complete.

For me, this race served two purposes.

First, heat acclimation.

Second, speed.

Every loop became a pacing exercise. In previous years I'd settle into the 20 minute range and stay there. This year every single loop came in under 20 minutes, most between 17 and 20 minutes.

The course isn't flat, but it isn't mountainous either. There are enough hills to keep you honest while still allowing you to work on consistent pacing.

More importantly, it confirmed something I'd been working hard on.

My leg turnover was back.

Since deciding to chase Boston, most of my workouts have focused on speed and cadence rather than endless mileage. Sessions like 90 seconds hard, 90 seconds easy, one minute hard and two minutes easy, or two minutes hard and one minute easy have all been designed to retrain a stride that had slowly adapted to ultra trail running.

Trail running teaches you to shorten your stride and conserve energy.

Marathons reward efficient turnover and running through your stride.

Those workouts are slowly teaching my body how to do that again.

Leaving Summer Solstice, I felt something I hadn't felt in a while.

Confidence.

Tally in the Valley

Race number two was another Happy Trails event, Tally in the Valley.

This one is six hours on a 7 km loop.

The goal was simple.

Run 54 km.

Instead, I surprised myself and finished with 56 km.

Like every ultra, it wasn't perfect. I had to recalibrate my nutrition midway through the race and make some adjustments on the fly. It wasn't exactly the race I had imagined, but that's racing. Once I solved the nutrition puzzle, I was able to finish strong and even put together another solid loop to close out the day.

What made this race valuable wasn't just the distance.

It was proving that I could still run efficiently for six hours without aggravating my foot.

Trail pace isn't road pace, but endurance is endurance.

Running 56 km comfortably gives me confidence that 42.2 km on the road is well within reach if I continue building fitness while respecting my foot.

Devil's Key

Next up is Devil's Key.

This race is 33 km and definitely leans more toward climbing than speed.

The first half demands respect.

The second half rewards runners who still have legs.

That's exactly where my focus will be.

Whenever the trail allows, I'll be practicing marathon form. Higher cadence, efficient turnover, and treating runnable sections like they're stretches of road instead of trail.

There's another bonus.

A good friend will be racing too.

He's an exceptional climber, so I fully expect him to disappear on the hills.

But once we reach the runnable sections...

I'll be hunting like a shark.

If I can maintain marathon effort through the final 16 km of Devil's Key, then combine that with one solid 35 or 36 km road run, I'll know my Boston build is exactly where it needs to be.

Why This Year Matters

If I'm being honest, qualifying for Boston this year is about so much more than earning another qualifying time.

Last winter, I lost a dear friend, Dick Wilkes.

Dick wasn't just a coach. He was a mentor, a cheerleader, and someone who genuinely believed I was capable of more than I believed myself. He had an incredible way of pushing people beyond what they thought was possible, not through pressure, but through belief.

Over the years, Dick and I talked about Boston more times than I can count. He knew how much that race meant to me and how badly I wanted to get there.

This year, I'm not just chasing a qualifying time for myself.

I'm chasing it for him, too.

When I stand on the start line at Georgina, I'll be wearing one of Dick's race shirts. It will be a reminder that when things get hard, whether it's my legs, my foot, or the little voice in my head telling me to slow down, I can keep going.

He taught me that our limits are often much farther away than we think.

If all goes according to plan, this will be my 13th, or maybe even 14th, attempt to qualify for Boston. Honestly, I've lost count.

Some people might look at that number and think it's a sign to move on.

I look at it differently.

Every attempt has taught me something.

Every attempt has brought me closer.

This year feels different.

Not because the goal has changed, but because the reason behind it has become even more meaningful.

Georgina Marathon

Everything points toward one race.

The Georgina Marathon.

It's an out and back half marathon completed twice.

Flat.

Simple.

Maybe even a little boring.

But sometimes boring is exactly what you want when chasing a Boston Qualifier.

There are no massive climbs, no technical descents, and no trail variables to manage.

Just steady running.

This race also happens to be my last opportunity to qualify before the next Boston registration window opens.

This year's qualifying standard for my age group is 3 hours and 45 minutes.

My goals are simple.

Goal 1: Qualify for Boston.

Goal 2: Run 3 hours and 35 minutes or faster.

Goal 3: Finish knowing I gave absolutely everything I had.

If Boston comes with it, amazing.

If it doesn't, I'll know I left nothing out on that course.

Then It's Time to Fill My Cup Again

Once Georgina is behind me, it's time to head back to the trails.

Not because I have to.

Because they fill my cup.

I'll be lining up at races simply because they make me happy.

The first is The Hustle, formerly Run for the Toad.

I've always loved this race. It's one of those events that reminds me why I fell in love with trail running in the first place. The community, the trails, the laughter at the start line, the conversations out on course, it's everything I love about this sport wrapped into one weekend.

Then comes Frostbite.

If you've ever wondered what Summer Solstice would feel like in the complete opposite season, this is it.

The same 3.7 km loop.

The same challenge of seeing how many laps you can complete.

Except this time, instead of battling the summer heat, we'll be running through winter.

It sounds slightly ridiculous.

Which probably explains why I'm so excited about it.

Those races aren't about chasing qualifying times or personal bests.

They're about remembering that running should be fun.

They're about filling my soul before I turn my attention to the next big adventure.

Training for my first 100 miler.

I'll be sharing race reports throughout the season, along with the gear I'm testing, what's's working, what isn't, and what it's like trying to train around a Morton's neuroma without completely losing my mind.

Whether this season ends with a Boston Qualifier or not, I already know one thing.

Every kilometer has a purpose.

Every race has taught me something.

And every finish line reminds me just how lucky I am to keep doing something I love.

Here's to the season ahead.

I can't wait to see where the trails, and eventually the roads, take me.