Welcome to my trip report from my recent FKT (Fastest Known Time) on the Long Trail in Vermont. My name is Will Peterson and I am a backpacker and ultramarathon runner. I grew up in western Maine and now live in Norwich, Vermont, where I go to medical school at Dartmouth College.

Leading up to this summer, over the last five years I have thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail, set the supported and unsupported FKTs on the New Hampshire 4,000 Footers, and set the unsupported FKT on the Long Trail. On August 28th, a group of 30 pacers, crew, and I went out with the goal of being the first to run the Long Trail in under four days. We were successful in reaching our goal, covering the 272 miles of the Long Trail in 3 days, 21 hours, and 9 minutes.

This report contains history about the Long Trail, my training and planning, a detailed play-by-play of the effort, and my reflections since finishing. It’s a long piece of writing, but I felt as though the length was necessary to attempt to do justice to all of the amazing people who made it happen. I assuredly fell short of that goal, and I apologize for that in advance. To all my pacers and crew, thank you so much for all you did on this effort. I hope you all enjoy reading.

Introduction

The Long Trail in Vermont runs 272 miles from the Massachusetts/Vermont border to the Vermont/Canadian border along the spine of the Green Mountains. With 67,000 feet of elevation gain, it traverses the largest mountains in Vermont, directly summiting or coming within 0.2 miles of summiting all five of Vermont’s 4,000-foot peaks. Along with towering mountains, you’ll find quiet dirt roads, pristine alpine lakes, and 70+ backcountry campsites and shelters.

Conceived in 1909 by James P. Taylor, the Long Trail was built by the Green Mountain Club (GMC) between 1910 and 1930. In the beginning, the GMC only had a few dozen members who painstakingly cut out the path through the wilderness. Today, the GMC has over 10,000 members, and they work to maintain the Long Trail along with the Green Mountain National Forest, the State of Vermont, the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, and private landowners.

The Long Trail is the oldest continuous long-distance footpath in the United States, and as such it has a rich history of hikes of all lengths and speeds.  The Long Trail also served as the inspiration for the Appalachian Trail; while helping with the construction of the Long Trail on Stratton Mountain in 1909, Benton MacKaye had his first ideas for what would ultimately become the Appalachian Trail, which would be completed in 1937, seven years after the completion of the Long Trail.

The obelisk marking the northern terminus of the Long Trail

The history of speed efforts on the Long Trail dates back to at least 1978, when Dr. Warren Doyle traversed the trail in 8 days, 13 hours, and 25 minutes. Since then, the Long Trail has become one of the most competitive and sought-after multi-day records.

David Horton was probably the first to take the Long Trail under five days back in 1999 when he hiked the trail in 4 days, 22 hours, and 54 minutes. 25% (5/20) of Barkley Marathon finishers have held records on the Long Trail (David Horton, Ted Keizer, Jonathan Basham, Travis Wildeboer, and John Kelly), as have Cocodona 250 winner Joe “Stringbean” McConaughy, queen of the northeast multi-day endurance scene Alyssa Godesky, and many other great multi-day athletes.

Ted “Cave Dog” Keizer set an incredible time of 4 days, 13 hours, and 15 minutes all the way back in 2004. That record on the Long Trail would only be lowered by about 90 minutes over the next 19 years.

That was until John Kelly came along in late June of 2023 and took over seven hours off the record, coming in at a blistering 4 days, 4 hours, and 25 minutes. John is an unbelievable athlete; he has many accomplishments to his name, but most notably, he is a three-time Barkley Marathon finisher. He’s also a super nice person who has been incredibly generous in sharing his knowledge with me.

Lead-Up

I’ve been thinking about how to go fast on the Long Trail every day for the better part of two years. In the fall of 2022, thoughts of the unsupported FKT (fastest known time) started creeping into my head. I would spend the next 10 or so months scouting and training for an unsupported speed attempt on the Long Trail, which I ultimately was able to execute in late July 2023 in 4 days, 11 hours, 35 minutes – a little over 12 hours faster than Stringbean’s virtually unsupported time and the second fastest time overall (second only to John Kelly’s supported record).

Despite insisting to my friends and family that I was done with multi-day ultramarathons after that, it didn’t take long for me to start wondering if I could compete with John Kelly’s supported record. I began poking around with the concept in a very non-serious manner – until Bill Tidd started the rock rolling downhill.

Bill Tidd is a 61-year-old ultra-running maniac. He set the New Hampshire 4,000 Footers FKT at the age of 60 and is generally incredible in the mountains. He has been my mentor and one of my closest friends in this sport for several years now. He also happens to be highly intelligent when it comes to math and data.

Bill has thousands of hours of heart rate data that he has compiled over the years, which he uses for various calculations and equations. One of these equations was a formula that predicts the penalty to your pace as a function of the percentage of your body weight that you’re carrying as gear. He sent me this formula around when I began playing around with the idea of a supported Long Trail attempt. Trusting Bill implicitly, I applied the formula to my unsupported FKT splits, and the formula predicted that if I changed no other logistics, I would come in at just under four days. 

Training for the Long Trail at MMD in the White Mountains. Photo by Chris Daily

The idea of a sub-4-day Long Trail was now tattooed on my brain. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Frequently bouncing ideas off Xander Keiter and Bill, I ran the numbers for probably a dozen different permutations with different sleep schedules and logistics, but they all said the same thing – sub-4 is possible.

I brought the idea to my parents Ann and Eric Peterson, and they were all in. They immediately expressed that they wanted to crew the entire effort from start to finish. This was the first of many shoes that needed to drop to make this effort what it was. It may have never gotten off the ground if it wasn’t for their enthusiasm and buy-in. Eric had crewed me in the past during my supported New Hampshire 4,000 Footers FKT, and they had both crewed me multiple times during backyard ultramarathons. These two are seasoned crewing veterans at this point, and I knew having them in my corner would be a huge advantage.

My parents Ann and Eric Peterson at the northern terminus

Several more pieces fell into place before I ever made my attempt public, the biggest of which were both Xander Keiter and Ed Clifford signing on to come out for the entire effort. Xander Keiter is one of my best friends since childhood and happens to be an incredible mountain runner (he holds the FKT on the 100 Mile Wilderness in Maine), and Ed Clifford is an unbelievable back-yard ultramarathon athlete who has won Bubba’s Backyard Ultra five times in a row (destroying me en route to three of those victories). 

Having this core group in place, I sat on it for a few more months before finally announcing my intentions on my Instagram in April. Generally, I don’t like to announce my efforts so far ahead of time (because I feel a lot of unnecessary pressure), but I knew that this time around I was going to need the help of many folks in the northeast trail running community to make this effort happen.

After posting I was inundated with dozens of messages, both from people I knew and people I’d never met, all of them eager to help as a pacer, crew, or both. I made a GroupMe for communication and a master spreadsheet so people could sign up to help in different sections. I was incredibly grateful for the enthusiasm and support that I was receiving from the local community, but I would be lying if I didn’t also admit that it majorly ratcheted up the pressure that I put on myself to get this thing right.

Training for this effort required a good deal of time management. I am a third-year medical student, and starting in April I have been on clinical rotations, which are notoriously time-consuming. My responsibility to my medical education always comes first for me.

Therefore, I had to be efficient with my time and discerning about what I committed to (mostly socially) outside of clinicals and studying. I had to say “no” to a lot of social opportunities with both friends and family over the last six months. It was difficult at times, but I had to get training volume whenever I could. Thankfully, my clinical rotations took me to some pretty cool running locations, such as Maine and San Francisco.

Training run in San Francisco with my friend Grace Palmer

I had approximately four weeks built into my schedule starting at the beginning of August where I could focus almost solely on training and executing the effort. This is where I employed my “get in shape to get in shape” method (trademark pending (not really)). I spent most of the year as if I was training to run a 100-miler. This was to create a base of fitness so that during this last block of free time, I could manage 10 days of extremely high volume to toughen up my muscles and tendons. As a former thru-hiker (Appalachian Trail 2019), I have always felt as though getting myself back into thru-hiker shape is the best way to excel at these multi-day efforts. The first nine days of the block, starting on August 7th, I hiked, ran, or backpacked around 225 miles with over 60,000 feet of elevation gain.

Finally, on the 10th day of the training, I went to a local ski resort that runs a chairlift in the summer and ran 20,000 feet of downhill in five hours (taking the chairlift up in between). This is a strategy that I got from Bill Tidd’s brother John Tidd, who is a prolific ultramarathon runner in his own right (multiple top 15 finishes at Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc and Tor Des Géants as well as the 60+ course record at Western States). It destroys the legs in the short term but makes them bulletproof on race day. For the next 12 days I laid low, tapered hard, and polished up the final logistics with my crew.

A couple of final pieces fell into place during the last 10 days pre-effort that proved to be massively important. First, Cal Hale and Annika Ringen reached out and expressed that they were available and excited to crew the entire effort. I had never met Cal or Annika, but I eagerly accepted the extra hands and, as you’ll read, they ended up playing extraordinarily large parts in this record. Lastly, I didn’t think I would have Bill Tidd present for any of the effort because he was running the Oregon Cascades 100 miler the weekend before and had a wedding on the west coast the following weekend. I tried to talk him out of this, but Bill insisted on flying back to be around for the first two days of the effort because he “just couldn’t miss it.” As it turns out, this decision by Bill may have saved the effort.

Everything fell into place. I was set to be paced and muled (aka the pacers carry all my gear except for one nutrition flask and my phone) for the entire effort, and I was going to have multiple pacers for all but about 18 miles. Mercifully, after many days of anxiously waiting and staring at the weather radars, August 28th rolled around. It was time to put theory into practice.

Pre-Race

It rained hard as Ann, Eric, Xander and I drove in the van from Norwich, Vermont to the northern terminus. The forecast called for showers in the morning, so we were hopeful that it would pass. We didn’t talk much about the upcoming effort; we mostly kept things lighthearted, and occasionally someone would remark about the beauty of the Vermont countryside.

I was quite nervous on this drive. Dozens of people had carved time out of their week to come support this effort. My parents had rented a tricked-out camper van, and Bill Tidd had flown across the country. I didn’t want to let anyone down, and that pressure weighed on me.

The rain began to let up as we arrived at Journey’s End Road. A few minutes later, other cars began to roll in. I had a great crew seeing me off at the start, consisting of Ann, Eric, Xander, Bill, Ed, Annika, Cal, and Annika’s dog Polly. When I refer to the “7 main crew,” I’m referring to this group (minus Bill, who contributed massively in other ways). Those six people (plus Polly) were the ones who were out on trail with me for the entire effort from start to finish.

We made our way up the Journey’s End Trail to the northern terminus (which marks the border between Vermont and Canada) at around 9:45 a.m. At this point the rain had stopped completely, and it was windy, cloudy, and cool.

Xander Kieter and I wait for the clock to strike 10 a.m. at the northern terminus

First 24 Hours – 10 a.m. 8/28 to 10 a.m. 8/29

Northern Terminus to Taylor Lodge – 72.4 miles, 22,700 feet of vertical gain

10:00 a.m. finally rolled around, and Xander and I headed out together heading south. Almost immediately the nerves (mostly) went away. We were here, and we had planned this thing to death. All there was left to do was execute the plan.

Xander and I were quick but measured on this 11.4-mile section over Jay Peak. Although the rain had stopped, we still got soaked because the trail is quite overgrown near the northern terminus, and the plants covering the trail were still holding quite a bit of water.

We chatted on this section about strategy and pacing. John Kelly went out incredibly fast at the start of his FKT. I wasn’t convinced that it was in my best interest to try to match him out of the gate, but I was quite confident that I could make up the time later in the effort. As a result, the plan was for me to be around 2.5 hours behind John at mile 85, and then be significantly faster the rest of the way. Going out behind record pace was taking a risk, to be sure, but I trusted my training and Bill’s formula.

We reached the first resupply slightly ahead of schedule. I swapped Xander out for Bill, got a couple of things from my lovely crew, and kept on rolling. Starting the effort by being paced by Bill and Xander (which were the only two sections where I had only one pacer) calmed my nerves greatly. These two guys know me better than anyone when it comes to moving through the mountains, and running with them was like putting on a comfortable glove.

From left to right: Xander Keiter, Bill Tidd, and Cal Hale

Bill and I made quick work of the next seven miles over to Hazen’s Notch, where we picked up Ed Clifford as a second pacer. Ed was upset at himself because he struggled a bit through this first pacing section, but it was mostly due to inadequate traction on his shoes. Once Ed got that figured out, he was a fantastic pacer throughout and an amazing presence. At Eden Crossing we swapped out Ed for Joffrey Peters, a fellow Upper Valley resident and incredibly strong trail runner.

Things started going sideways as we worked our way up out of Eden Crossing. I became nauseous on the climbs and eventually started vomiting. Vomiting helped the nausea somewhat, but I continued to get nauseous any time I took in Infinit, which is a total nutrition powder that I mix into my water, and I slowly began to get behind on nutrition. Infinit has worked incredibly well for me in the past, but my stomach disagreed with it at this moment, especially on the climbs. Had this continued, it easily could have derailed the effort. Bill Tidd suggested that I try drinking his Maurten drink mix on the uphills and Infinit on the flats and downs. I trusted Bill’s judgment, and in no time, I was back to normal with a new nutrition strategy.

Ashlee Korsberg showing off the van setup

Bill finally relinquished his pacing duties at Codding Hollow Road – I’ll point out that he paced and muled me for over 30 miles just three days after finishing the Oregon Cascades 100-miler. At Codding Hollow Joffrey and I picked up Cal, who was originally planning to mostly crew but was thrown into the pacing fires and, as you will read, performed incredibly. Though I was still somewhat nauseous, Joffrey and Cal were able to drag me through the first part of the night to the van at VT Rt. 15. Despite my stomach problems, we arrived at the van 15 minutes ahead of schedule.

The plan was to get 90 minutes of sleep on night one. I hopped into the van and attempted to sleep, but it was entirely fruitless. My hips were throbbing, and I was not yet tired enough to fall asleep despite the pain. I had prepared the crew for this possibility and ensured that my pacers for the next section were there early and ready to go. After 30 minutes of not sleeping, I got back up and continued onwards through the night.

The next section over Whiteface and Madonna Peak is some of the most difficult terrain on the Long Trail. Luckily, I had Xander, Mead Binhammer, and Cara Baskin to skillfully guide me through the early morning hours. We made our way across the rugged ridgeline and over to Sterling Pond, where we got an incredible sunrise.

Pacer hand-off at Barnes Camp. From left to right: Bill Tidd, Mead Binhammer, Gordon Miller, Ann Peterson, and Cara Baskin

After motoring down to Barnes Camp and getting a quick resupply from the crew, we swapped out Xander and Cara for Gordon Miller and Carter Tracy. Mead continued with us until the end of the Mansfield ridgeline, at which point Carter, Gordon and I dropped off the northern side of Mansfield and descended the tricky ladders to the trail intersection for Taylor Lodge, where Ed, Cal, Annika, and Polly were waiting for us with a resupply. We came across this resupply at right around 10:00 a.m., marking the end of “day one.”

Carter Tracy, Mead Binhammer, and I making our way up Mount Mansfield. Photo by Gordon Miller.

Second 24 Hours

Taylor Lodge to Middlebury Gap – 63.3 miles, 17,100 feet of vertical gain

At the 24-hour mark I was approximately 100 minutes behind John Kelly’s record pace. However, I was about 90 minutes ahead of my plan, and I knew I needed to trust the plan.

At this point, over 70 miles and 24 hours into the effort, things started to settle into a nice groove. The next 60 miles or so would be some of the most fun I had on the effort. Gordon, Carter and I made great time up and over Bolton and then enjoyed the long, gradual downhill to the Winooski River. Here I met up with Maia Buckingham and my girlfriend Ashlee Korsberg, and we enjoyed three flat, easy miles (some of the only of their kind on the Long Trail).

After these miles we met back up with the crew at the base of Camel’s Hump. With 4,200 feet to gain, Camel’s Hump is the largest continuous climb on the Long Trail. Maia continued with me for part of the climb, and Ashlee joined the crew for a large chunk of the rest of the effort. We picked up Matt Cymanski and Andy Johnstone to take me over the range to Appalachian Gap. Andy, Matt, and Maia were great company and are incredibly strong pacers. Matt, Andy, and I had a good deal of fun on this traverse, even as the sun fell on night two. We arrived at the van at Appalachian Gap (mile 107) well ahead of pace at around 9:30 p.m.

Matt Cymanski and I descending off of Camel’s Hump. Photo by Andy Johnstone

This time I was tired enough that I was able to sleep despite the continued pain in my hips. I planned a non-negotiable three hours of sleep on nights two and three, and so exactly what we did. After three hours of restless yet remarkably restorative sleep, the crew woke me up and quickly got me moving around 1:00 a.m. A new day had started, August 30th, which happened to be my 26th birthday. The crew sang me “Happy Birthday” as I disappeared up the slopes of Mount Ellen with my new pacers, Rowan Kamman and Jack Buffington.

Spirits were high and we made our way quickly across Mount Ellen and Abraham, which marked the beginning of the end of the notoriously difficult northern section of the Long Trail. On our way down to Lincoln Gap from Mount Abraham, Jack and I chatted with Rowan about this section of trail, which is near and dear to Rowan as he maintains it. It was interesting to get the perspective of someone who knows a section of trail so intimately, and it made for great comedic fodder for Jack and me to constantly complain about every stick in the trail.

Rowan Kamman and I making our way over the ridge. Photo by Jack Buffington

At Lincoln Gap we traded out Jack for Xander (who, if you’re keeping track at home, is now on his third pacing shift). Xander, Rowan and I soldiered on as the sun rose early in the section. Somewhere along the line on this section I began to have pain in my right quad. It felt like a mild strain, but I don’t remember an inciting event. The pain gradually worsened, especially on the downhills, to the point where the downhills were too painful to run.

We arrived at Middlebury Gap on pace, but worry was setting in about my quad. Middlebury Gap is around the halfway point of the Long Trail, and I dreaded the idea of pushing another 135 miles with the pain I was experiencing. Nonetheless, it was around 10:00 a.m. when we rolled into the gap, marking 48 hours elapsed and the end of “day two.” By now we had made up a great deal of time against John Kelly’s record and had slightly taken the lead, but there were still many, many miles to go.

Third 24 Hours

Middlebury Gap to Baker Peak – 67.8 miles, 15,000 feet of vertical gain

Buckle up – a lot happens in these 24 hours.

The crew could tell that I was worried about my quad. Annika Ringen jumped into action and offered me her knee brace, which I accepted before heading out of the gap with Ed Clifford and Cal Hale. Rowan originally planned to pace all the way to Brandon Gap but had to cut things short because of a cut on his knee he sustained on a fall on Breadloaf Mountain.

We worked our way over the Middlebury Snowbowl and on towards Brandon Gap. The knee brace seemed to help marginally, but I still found myself slowing down on the downhills due to the pain. Cal ran ahead as we got close to Brandon Gap, (I had my pacers run ahead with about 0.25 miles left to go in each section, that way they could get whatever was needed from the crew and be ready to roll once I arrived), and on the descent he took a head-first fall into a patch of bushes as Xander recorded on his cellphone. He came out mostly unscathed and it was a funny moment that we happened to catch on camera. The video is on my day three recap on my Instagram (@_will.peterson), if you want to see it.

At Brandon Gap the crew gave me a quad sleeve that they bought in between sections. I left Brandon Gap with Cal and Dylan Schulte. Dylan signed up for over 30 miles of pacing and was committed to getting me through the section of trail that I had found most mentally challenging on my unsupported FKT the year earlier.

Me fiddling with various braces and sleeves at a resupply

The section of trail from Brandon Gap to Route 4 has always been a challenge for me for a few reasons. I find the terrain monotonous and boring. Without many major landmarks, it’s difficult for me to tell if I’m making progress. Additionally, the end of the effort still seems so incredibly far away; I’m already 145 miles in, and now I have to run 21 boring miles just to have the privilege of still having 105 miles left to go once I reach Route 4.

There were some good developments on this segment, however. For whatever reason, the pain in my quad began to go away. I have no explanation for how or why this happened, but over the course of a few miles my quad pain disappeared and never returned for the rest of the effort.

In any case, Dylan and Cal paced valiantly and got me to the David Logan Shelter Spur where Cal peeled off and we picked up Maia Buckingham for her second pacing shift. I don’t know Maia super well, but I’ve run with her several times at Bubba’s Backyard Ultramarathon, and having her out there felt like having a welcome familiar face (plus she’s an animal in the mountains).

Somewhere along the line during this section, I made a boneheaded mistake that could have been catastrophic. We came upon a large, downed tree. Nothing special or out of the ordinary. For whatever reason, I tried to hop over the tree in a more athletic manner than I should have at mile ~155.

I undershot, my left foot slipped on the log, and my whole body weight came down on my left knee on top of the log. I could tell that I hit it quite hard, and it was painful at first, but the pain seemed to subside, and we kept moving. As we went along, I noticed my left knee swelling up, and to me it looked significantly larger than my right. It continued to be painful but not limitingly so. 

We connected with the Appalachian Trail at the Maine Junction and motored our way down to Route 4. I sat down to change my socks and shoes, which my crew had ready and waiting. This stop was one of my lowest mental points of the entire effort. I felt like I’d been working incredibly hard to hang onto the paces, and I still had over 100 miles left to go. The more I thought about it, the more overwhelmed I was at the idea of continuing this for another 105 miles. I remember my dad and Scott Benerofe reminding me to focus just on the next checkpoint. “Just get over Killington” became the mantra for the next section.

It was what I needed to hear. It’s hard to explain, but throughout this effort my crew seemed to be insanely cognizant of what I needed at any given time, even if I didn’t know what I needed. My mom always seemed to be in tune with how I was doing. I know that there was incredible communication going on between the pacers and the crew behind the scenes; perhaps that had something to do with it.

Me wanting to quit at Route 4

Scott, Dylan and I headed up Killington as the sun set. We made great time, and my mentality began to reset a bit as we crossed the mark of having 100 miles to go. As we made our way into double-digit miles remaining, the prospect of finishing the trail began to feel more reasonable. We motored down the descent and made it to Clement Shelter Road a little bit before 11:00 p.m., where I hopped into the van for another three hours of sleep.

Although I remember the wake-to-run transition being smooth, my crew tells me I was difficult to get up and out the door at around 2:00 a.m. Regardless, I was out the door on time and continued with Scott Benerofe and Holly O’Hara. Scott is attentive and very experienced as a pacer, and Holly is an awesome athlete and classmate from medical school. We made good time over to VT Route 103, where we picked up Will Morris, a young gun who goes to Bates and proved to be yet another valuable pacing addition. Holly had originally planned to stop here, but she decided to continue with us for another section and was a welcome addition.

Post sleep on night three – getting ready to head out with Holly O’Hara and Scott Benerofe

The terrain through these sections has some steep ups and downs but nothing massive to write home about. The sun rose as we pressed on, and eventually we made our way over to VT Route 140 where Holly and Scott stopped, and I continued with Will and Patrick Couchot.

Throughout the first few hours of this day I’d been perseverating on my swollen knee, which was stiff and achy but not exquisitely painful. Luckily for me, Patrick, who I’d never met before, happened to be a sports medicine physician. After talking it through with him, we decided that I was likely dealing with some amount of pre-patellar bursitis due to the fall I’d taken. He reassured me that it wasn’t a reason to stop and that there wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it during the effort.

This conversation did a great deal to calm my fears, and we continued to roll over the comparatively easy southern Vermont terrain (which still averages well over 200 feet of vertical per mile), through the Rock Garden, and down to USFS 10. Here Will tagged out and Patrick and I continued onwards with Marcello Cesario and Chris Connell.

Chris is a fellow that I’d talked to a bit over social media but never met in person, and Marcello was brand new to me (plus, he drove up from Philadelphia to be a part of this effort). The three of them were super strong and had great banter as we made our way southbound. At this point I wasn’t contributing much to the conversation, but having them behind me was like having an entertaining podcast.

We reached Baker Peak (mile 204) at 10:00 a.m., marking 72 hours elapsed and the end of “day three.” By now we were nearly three hours ahead of John Kelly’s record pace, and I began to turn my mental attention to finishing in less than four days. However, sub-four days was not close to a given: it would take a huge push, I was beginning to struggle to stay awake, and there was soon to be rain rolling in.

Last 21 Hours 9 Minutes

Baker Peak to Southern Terminus – 67.2 miles, 13,500 feet of vertical gain

Marcello, Chris, Patrick and I continued to make our way past Griffiths Lake and over Peru Peak. We were making good time, but I started getting sleepy on the climbs. I think getting sleepy on the climbs is due to there being a decreased need for the brain to be focusing on the technical terrain, therefore perhaps it feels as though it can try to “rest.”

There were times on my unsupported FKT where I struggled to stay awake during the day, and on that effort the solution was a quick dirt nap. Because of this experience, in my mind that was what needed to happen, and I wasn’t particularly worried about it.

This wasn’t the case for my crew. Recalling the moment with my crew after the effort, I apparently looked like complete garbage when I rolled into Mad Tom Notch. In one video on Xander’s phone, I do look relatively unsteady on my feet. I remember telling them that I needed to sleep for seven minutes (I’m not sure why I picked this number – perhaps I thought 10 minutes was too much time and five minutes was not long enough to fall asleep). There was apparently some worry at the time about whether I would make it. Rain was scheduled to come in later in the day, and I still had a full night that I needed to press through.

The crew working through the night – photo by Philip Carcia

Seven minutes after I hopped in the van, Xander and Eric opened the van door and woke me up. I felt much more alert, and apparently that was obvious in my demeanor. I cruised out of Mad Tom Notch with Marcello, Chris, and new Chris (Chris Welker, a fellow graduate student at Dartmouth who I’d never met in person).

The four of us climbed up and over Bromley and down to VT Rt. 11/30. As we neared the parking lot, I was pleasantly surprised to see Philip Carcia taking photos and hyping me up. Truthfully, it was slightly bizarre to see Philip outside of the White Mountains (as he’s synonymous with the Whites in many people’s eyes), but I was so incredibly glad to have him and his energy.

After leaving this road crossing, there are really only two more viable resupply points in the last 54 miles. These sections were going to be critical because I needed my pacers to be able to manage me for long stretches if things went wrong. This was far from a thought in my mind at this point; my pacers up until now had been unbelievably strong without exception, and I didn’t see that changing.

I left VT Rt. 11/30 with Katie Rhodes and Chris X2. Katie is someone who I already knew was strong from Bubba’s Backyard Ultra and her unsupported FKT on the Adirondack 46, but she spends most of her time in the Adirondacks (which I’ve never been to), so I’d never been in the mountains with her. As we made our way through this 17-mile stretch, I got to learn a bit about her guiding and her youth education in the Adirondacks (however much I retained), and she may have planted the seed for some future adventures in that area of the Northeast.

It started to sprinkle as we were climbing Stratton Mountain, and that sprinkle turned into a full-on downpour as we summited. Much like the end of my unsupported FKT, the rain felt good in the short term and allowed me to run things that I wasn’t necessarily running before. In the back of my mind, though, I was concerned. The forecasts throughout the week had been variable, some showing passing showers and others showing over an inch of rain. The rain was helpful in the short term, but I had doubts about how my feet would hold up if I needed to run through heavy rain and standing water for the last 50 miles.

We made our way down to Kelley Stand Road, where I was scheduled to sleep for 100 minutes. It seemed foolish to me to sleep for that long when the end was a mere 37 miles away, but I also felt like I should bank some sleep going into the last night. If nothing else, I wanted to avoid a scenario where it’s both raining and I’m struggling to stay awake (not an ideal situation for a dirt nap). The crew told me that the rain was in fact passing, and that the worst of it was supposed to be gone in about 45 minutes. That made the decision easy – “let’s sleep for 45 minutes and then keep on going.” My mom helped me quickly grab what I needed to sleep, and I crawled into the van.

My dad Eric Peterson dries my feet in between sections on night #4 while I try to stay awake – photo by Philip Carcia

45 minutes later, as if on cue, the rain tailed off as I poked my head out of the van. We quickly got ready, and I was off with Xander, Philip Carcia, Jack Buffington (back for pacing shift #2), and newcomer Matt Walsh. The only new pacer was Matt, who I’d never met, but he quickly proved to be plenty strong and was an incredible addition for this section.

These four guys had the task of shepherding me through the longest section of the effort (23 miles), almost all during the darkness of the 4th night. I consider this section the crux of any southbound supported Long Trail attempt. A lot can go wrong in 23 miles, especially when you’re almost 240 miles in, and there aren’t many great bailout routes in this section. The only good option is to get through it.

These four did admirably. Philip, Matt, and Jack stayed right on my tail and didn’t allow me to slow down while Xander hopped in front of me and set the pace. Usually I like to be in front and set the pace, but I wanted Xander to challenge me.

I was annoyed with them (especially Xander) for big chunks of this section up and over Glastenbury Mountain. I felt like I was working hard, and they kept prodding me to go faster and run more. In retrospect, they did exactly what I needed them to do. It sprinkled rain off and on throughout this section. Nothing to get too worried about, but enough to get wet.

Finally, we made our way down to the last resupply – Woodford Hollow. My mom and dad helped get my feet dry and change my shoes, and then I was off on the last 14-mile section with Ed Clifford, Scott Benerofe, and Philip Carcia. At this point we had almost seven hours left to get this section done to finish in under four days. I knew it was going to happen, so the mantra then became, “make life hard for the next person that comes for this record.”

Making our way into Woodford Hollow – photo by Michael Tidd

We pushed hard through the early morning hours, up the last couple of big climbs, and through the wet vegetation overlying the trail. At one point I heard a loud SMACK behind me. Philip, Scott, and I turned around to see that Ed had slipped and taken a full-body fall into a pit of mud. He was fine and we got a good laugh out of it.

Once light began to hit the sky, I decided it was time to empty the tank. After conferring with Scott, I dropped my headlamp, waist lamp, and running belt, and I took off. At some point along the way, Scott and I dropped Philip and Ed. A couple miles out from the border we ran into Xander, Matt, Cal, and Jack, who had run in from the southern terminus.

We ran hard for the last few miles. It probably wasn’t incredibly impressive, but for me, at that point in the effort, on that terrain, I felt like I was sprinting. At 7:09 a.m. on September 1st, 3 days, 21 hours, and 9 minutes after we left the Canadian border, we arrived at the sign marking the border with Massachusetts and the southern terminus of the Long Trail – tank empty.

Sprint to the finish followed by Xander Keiter, Scott Benerofe, Cal Hale, Matt Walsh, and Jack Buffington – photo by Michael Tidd

Empty Tank – photo by Michael Tidd

Post Effort

My whole crew hiked the four miles into the terminus, but they weren’t prepared for us to come in that quickly. Apparently, my dad thought that it was the pacers sprinting back to tell them that something had gone wrong, and he didn’t recognize that it was me until I crossed the line (and almost collapsed in the mud). Luckily, Michael Tidd (son of Bill Tidd) had hiked with them and was prepared, and he captured some amazing photos from the last few meters. Ashlee was the only one who managed to whip out her phone and grab a quick six-second video of the finish.

Emotional ending with my dad — photo by Michael Tidd

I hugged my dad and my mom and immediately started crying. Usually, I’m pretty calm at the end of big efforts and it takes a while for me to process my emotions. I’m not sure what made this ending more emotional than past efforts. I think I experienced more physical pain on this effort than in the past. Additionally, I was pushing quite hard the entire time, I think harder than any past effort, and perhaps I was just relieved that it was over. I think it’s more likely the community, all the people who made this effort possible, and the fact that I got to finish the effort with 10 people present who were so instrumental to what we were able to accomplish.

After taking a bunch of photos with the southern terminus sign, we slowly made the four-mile hike out of the woods. Once we reached the road, we hung out and just enjoyed the moment. I struggled to stay awake while my pacers and crew got gear together, exchanged stories, and enjoyed the fact that we were no longer on the clock.

The crew who came out to the end enjoy a moment of rest – photo by Ann Peterson

Everyone was wiped. My main crew barely slept more than I did. My mom and dad spent every hour for almost four days figuring out how to keep me moving. Xander put down almost 80 miles as a pacer on top of everything he did for me as part of the crew. Ed, already possessing incredible running and endurance abilities, learned crewing and mountain running on the fly and was essential to the success of the effort. Cal and Annika, being the most knowledgeable crew in terms of roads, were instrumental in guiding the caravan from point to point during the second half of the effort.

Reflections

One reflection that I’ve had frequently since finishing the trail is how unbelievably lucky I got. As you’ve now read, my crew and I planned this effort meticulously, but ultimately there are factors outside of my control that had to go right for this effort to go so well. For example, I had never met 13 out of my 26 pacers before this effort. I trusted that the community of people who signed up would be strong, knowledgeable team players, and that was the case without exception.

Another factor is the weather. I picked the start date of August 28th several months in advance because of my schedule and because of the need to lock in pacers/crew far in advance. Our weather window was not perfect, but it was about as good a four-day window as we could have hoped for in Vermont, given the date was chosen blindly months in advance.

With regards to terrain, a lot is made about the east coast having “hills” compared to other places such as the west coast. Sometimes it’s also alleged that the competition out here is less stiff because the mileage per day is lower. I have some data to show why this is foolish. As I stated at the beginning, a lot of incredible athletes have set records on the Long Trail, and incidentally, many of these people have set records on other trails around the world, so we have something to compare to. Most of these trails are longer than the Long Trail and at higher elevation, so you would expect that the mileage per day would be higher on the Long Trail vs. these other trails.

Jeff Garmire averaged 45 miles every 24 hours on his unsupported Long Trail FKT. On the unsupported Colorado Trail and self-supported Arizona trail he averaged 7 more miles per day (52), despite these trails being far longer than the Long Trail. He averaged 73.5 miles every 24 hours on the John Muir Trail, which is a bit shorter than the Long Trail, but higher elevation and much closer in distance than the others.

Joe McConaughy averaged 54 miles per day on the Long Trail. He averaged just 4 miles per day fewer on the Pacific Crest Trail (50), despite the PCT being almost 10 times as long. He averaged 62 miles per day on the Arizona Trail and 73 miles per day on the John Muir Trail.

Josh Perry averaged 42 miles every 24 hours on the Long Trail. On the Arizona Trail he averaged 56 and on the PCT he averaged 47.5 miles every 24 hours.

Finally, John Kelly averaged 64.5 miles every 24 hours on the Long Trail. He averaged about the same on Wainwrights, despite that trail being about 80 miles longer. He also averaged an absolutely insane 108 miles every 24 hours on the Pennine Way.

What are we to make of these numbers? Perhaps you could convince yourself that all of those amazing athletes happened to massively underperform on the Long Trail compared to their other efforts, but I think that’s far less likely than the more obvious answer – the northeast has some of the most technical and difficult terrain in the world. The craziest part is that, overall, the Long Trail isn’t even the most difficult terrain in the northeast. That honor belongs to the White Mountains and Adirondacks, which are on a whole different level.

On a different note, I’ve been thinking about the utility of technology during these efforts. Some technology, such as my master spreadsheet and the Garmin inReach Mini that I borrowed from Bill Tidd, were undeniably beneficial to my time.

My Garmin Enduro 2 smartwatch may have helped or may have hurt, and I’m not sure which. It consistently undershot the mileage compared to the guidebooks. Because all my planned paces were based on guidebook mileage, the watch made it look like my pace was significantly worse than it was.

On almost every section for the entire effort, I went through the cycle of feeling like I was doing terribly and then inevitably coming into the resupply point ahead of schedule. Perhaps feeling as though I was behind the pace motivated me to push harder, but I also feel like it put me in a bad headspace many times throughout the effort. Maybe I need to be more disciplined and look at my watch less.

At the end of the effort – photo by Jack Buffington

One question I’ve gotten since finishing the Long Trail is, “where’s the time on this record?” – aka, where can someone save time and go faster? I’ve done a good deal of thinking about how one can go fast on the Long Trail, and I don’t want to give it all away. Part of the fun is for the next people to figure that out for themselves (or at least reach out to me and then I’ll happily dump my thoughts on you). I will say that the time is not in the logistics. There was no time wasted on this effort due to the crew, pacers, or me carrying too much. When someone beats this time, it will be because they run faster, sleep less, or both.

I will also say that of the three current fastest times on the Long Trail, (my supported FKT, John Kelly’s supported FKT, and my unsupported FKT), there are elements of each that shine above the others. If you break the trail down roughly into quarters, John’s record is fastest in the first quarter, my supported record is fastest in the second and third quarters, and somehow my 2023 unsupported FKT is the fastest in the last quarter. I don’t know what lightning I caught in what bottle to finish so strong last year, but the numbers are the numbers. Perhaps the strategy is to combine the best aspects of those three efforts…perhaps not. That is for future athletes to discover.

I want to point out that every single person associated with this effort lives in the northeast. Additionally, to my knowledge, there wasn’t a single “professional athlete” associated with this effort (myself included, obviously). As I recover and reflect, those facts make this effort even more special to me. This wasn’t a professional operation; it was a bunch of skilled, strong, smart, passionate locals who love the Long Trail and who came together to be the first to take the Long Trail under four days.

The crew unwinding at the end of the effort while I struggle to keep my eyes open in the trunk of the white car

I could not have scripted a better ending to my story of speed efforts on the Long Trail. I have been thinking about how to go fast on this trail every day for almost two years. I’m immensely proud of what we were able to accomplish over those 93 hours, and I feel content with leaving the Long Trail in the rearview mirror.

Records are meant to be broken, and mine will be no different. Maybe I will still hold both the supported and unsupported records in five years, or maybe I will hold neither in a year’s time. I don’t think that’s the point of these records. Each record builds off what came before it.

We couldn’t have done what we did without John Kelly setting the bar incredibly high, and the next person will build off our data and what we were able to accomplish. Ultimately, as time passes, the experiences and memories are the only things that will endure. All 30 people (and Polly) who were a part of this record provided me with memories that I will always hold dear, and for that I am forever grateful.

Last photo with the sign at the southern terminus