From Worn Soles to World Stage: Taking on the Trail Run World Champs

“I didn’t think I’d find someone else out here whose shoes looked worse than mine,” said the runner next to me, grinning. Looking down, I could see my big toe poking through a sizable hole at the top of my trail running shoes. The seams were failing around the sides, and the color scheme, once a bright sunset palette of reds and oranges, had faded to something more reminiscent of rust and mud. I had worn them down traversing Maine’s mountain roads and singletrack across several hundred miles of dense old-growth and rugged coastline. Now, I would be putting those shoes (and myself) to the test along the undulating dirt trails of the Carrabassett Valley. 

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I had learned about the XTERRA Trail Run World Champs event two weeks prior and eagerly signed up for the Sugarloaf Half Marathon, a qualifier for the World Championship the following year. What initially drew me to take part was the opportunity to race alongside elite athletes on world-class trails, or at least have the chance to stand alongside them at the starting line. Standing on that starting line, seeing the World Champs competitors ready to go, suddenly I wanted more. 

Right then, I set my sights on a top six slot in my age group (30-34), which would secure me a spot at next year’s World Championship race. Between me and that spot stood an immediate 750M climb up Sugarloaf, Maine’s iconic ski mountain, followed by a rapid, quad-busting descent back into the valley. This was Maine, after all. The trails would be steep, with little consideration for the kinds of switchbacks and steady grades more common in the western U.S.

“Ten Seconds!” I heard.

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I gave my legs one last shakeout and took my ready stance. The gun went off. Almost immediately, I propelled up loose singletrack, jockeying for a position as runners lost steam and others gained ground. The clamor of the starting line was quickly subsumed by the steady footfalls of runners, their measured breathing, and the deepness of the woods. We were departing from that other world—one full of appointments, traffic, and early morning alarms—for one constructed out of our breath and perseverance. We emerged from the trees onto the open slopes of the mountain, and still, the trail wound up and up. My stride slowed to a march. I had been determined to run the whole way up but judging by the line of marchers in front of me, I wasn’t the only one facing my limitations. 

Topping out at the summit of Sugarloaf sometime later offered only a brief respite, enough time to take in the surrounding wilderness (some of Maine’s 18 million acres of woodland, part of the largest, nearly intact temperate forest in North America) with a single sweep of the head, before plunging over a jumble of granite and down the other side. 

“We emerged from the trees onto the open slopes of the mountain, and still the trail wound up and up.”

The remaining rollercoaster of speedy double and single-track left me gasping for air as I dug deep to keep my train on the tracks. The lugnuts were coming loose and the wheels were about to fly off. I hadn’t prepared for this. But with less than 5K to go, I held the throttle forward. 

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The treads on my shoes–what remained of them–hit the pavement. I hammered over one more hill, bounded past cheering crowds, and crossed that merciful finish line. I had finished 1st in my age group and 3rd overall in the amateur division, earning my qualifying spot. I would be back, but next time it would be to compete for the purse prize in the XTERRA Trail Run World Championship.

I was elated as I headed home from the post-race festivities and celebratory atmosphere that day, but a part of me felt as though I had gotten away with something. My training until then had been casual, even lackadaisical. I needed to prove (to myself, anyway) that my win was more than beginner’s luck. 

“I needed to prove (to myself, anyway) that my win was more than beginner’s luck.”

So, rather than defend my Half Marathon title the following year, I opted to transfer up to the Full Marathon, a privilege offered to the top three finishers in each age group. If I wanted to remain competitive at the full marathon distance against world-class athletes, I would need to take my training seriously. I hired a coach and got to work. The trails had always been my refuge. Now, they would be a platform to test my growing ambition.

I headed out for a long run on a gloomy day in early August. Heavy rain that morning finally broke the summer heat, and I felt a sense of relief as I whisked along a burbling stream, my feet squelching in the mud. The XTERRA Trail Run World Championship is less than a month away, and training was a great excuse to get out and enjoy the coolness of the woods. 

A remoteness is found in the mountain trails of Maine, a feeling of stepping back in time. Swaths of northern Maine hosts the only remaining dark sky preserves in the Northeast. The sense of adventure is palpable. I first discovered this region in 2018, while thru-hiking the 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail from Maine to Georgia. As I tramped through moose country, I was in awe of the landscape unfolding all around me. I would return, I promised myself, as I headed south. I kept that promise. Years later, Maine is my home. 

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I’ve had my share of wildlife encounters on the trail. I’ve been stalked by owls swooping in the night, sent frightened black bears dashing through the brush, and stumbled upon a hulking, indomitable figure of a moose. That day in August, however, it was just me and nature’s smaller woodland creatures. Squirrels scurried underfoot as I made my way up a meandering trail that eventually deposited me onto an outcropping of rock. Looking out over the sea of treetops, I was struck with an immense wave of gratitude.

"As I tramped through moose country, I found myself in awe of the landscape unfolding all around me."

We run to test ourselves on the trails, but also just to be on the trails. I feel fortunate to have found a place that hasn’t let go of its wilderness, where a humble trailhead can still deliver you deep into mossy woodlands or up over the peaks of an ancient mountain range.

XTERRA will host its second Trail Run World Championship at Sugarloaf, Maine this September. Athletes from around the world will once again descend upon this ski and mountain biking haven, declaring it a key destination on the trail running circuit. Just short of a year since I set my sights on qualifying for the event, that promise I made myself has now come to fruition as, this time, I will be standing shoulder to shoulder with all those elite athletes, ready to battle out for the World Championship title.

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For three days, Sugarloaf Resort will come alive with the buzz of race preparations, expos, and live music, all surrounding a slate of world-class race events. But don’t let the energy at the start line fool you. The serenity of the woods exists just beyond the clamor of the crowds, and you’ll find it soon after the gun goes off.