About one year ago today I was thinking I was on to something great. I wasn’t.

Eleven months ago I was looking for a new job. I found several. One in particular was holding onto my heart, and despite the logistical pieces of it all, I hoped secretly it was the one that was going to come through. After the Patriots made a dramatic comeback to win the Superbowl, my wife and I boarded a plane to fly 3200 miles away to Bangor, Maine.

I know...how do you even say that city? We arrived in the morning in February to temperatures I didn’t even recognize. We grabbed our rental car and drove the hour drive to Mount Desert Island, the home of Acadia National Park. We crossed the anticlimatic bridge to the island and I scanned the horizon feverishly for every morsal of positivity I could find to hopefully convince my wife this was the right move. The job was already ours, it was just a matter of us saying “yes.” We met the hotel owner, the new President, saw the hotel, did the dinner deep dive and it even snowed. In three days we saw almost no other humans in the town of Bar Harbor. It was insanely cold, the hotel was closed and in full disarray, and 90% of the national park was closed for the winter and inaccessible. It was the hardest pitch imaginable.

In the airport in Bangor on the way back to Phoenix, I called the President of the company and told him we were taking the job. He jokes today he never thought we would say yes.

We came to Bar Harbor, Maine in early March. March 6th to be exact. And as it turns out, that was about the temperature too.

6.

It's not warm here. It's windy. It's brutally cold on some days. And not "oh you just came from the desert' cold. More the "even the Mainers are bundled up like they are going to the top of Everest, not the 12 ft to the grocery store entrance." In fact, most people seem to just leave their cars running in the parking lots of stores and go in and get what they need.

But now having seen some of the winter, spring, summer and now winter again, its clear life here is more about your attitude than about the temperature. From my office in the hotel I have this beautiful view of Agamnot Park right in town on the water. As soon as a spring day peaked through the clouds and it creeped above 55 degrees, people started coming out of the stores and seemingly nowhere, to just go sit in the grass and enjoy the beautiful afternoon. As the spring progressed, I found myself texting my wife that the afternoon was supposed to be really nice, lets go see a new part of the island.

And so we would. And as the summer progressed, we took every one of those opportunities that came our way. We weren’t moving this far away from our Arizona family to sit in our houses or sit in my office. We saw a ton of the island, visited the communities, went to events, tried a lot of restaurants and all the shops. We met a lot of people. I just started walking up to people and introducing myself as, “Hi, my name is Jeremy. I just moved here from Phoenix and don’t know anyone here.” That usually sparked at least a conversation about the weather. We had family and friends visit from all over the country, all summer and into the fall, which helped greatly as both excuses to try new places, but also not feel so far removed from everyone. The move to New England has allowed us to see so much more of our family that is in upstate NY and Vermont. Now a seven hour drive away versus 60. And because of that the kids have seen their grandmother 3 times these last 10 months instead of 3 times in five years. Its a big give and take with the move, and while there certainly is some major takes (my brother and his family in AZ, Jen’s parents and friends in AZ), the gives (my parents and sisters are in New England as well as dozens of others) are helping to offset it all.

I’d never stepped foot in Maine before I interviewed here in February. I was from Vermont and like any self respecting New Englander, you never went to another New England state because the assumption was always, “Well, I’m from Vermont, what does Maine have that Vermont doesn’t have?”

Turns out, quite a bit and its not even all that similar. The New England spirit is the same, a collective pride in self reliance, independence and general hardiness that even when not vocalized, it’s tangible in how people talk about just about anything. Coming to Bar Harbor there is an immediate and palpable spirit of community and an immense amount of pride that people hold for the town and the island (MDI for short) in general. We could live here for 30 more years and still not be considered “locals.” People are involved, they treat people with respect (expect on Facebook but that’s pretty normal) and you get a real sense of “it takes a village” now knowning many of the families here on the island. When you go to just about any family event, it’s not just the mom’s with the kids. Almost every event you’ll find both parents there for their kids. While you can certainly find that in Arizona if you look hard enough, the neighborhood feel was always something that was missing in my 16 years in AZ. Here, we know a significant portion of the community, and it seems, they know us. “Oh, you’re the family from Arizona?” There is a certain amount of charm to that, and while eventually I’m sure seeing someone we know every time we go somewhere will lose that small town charm, for now it’s quite reassuring and leaves us with a feeling of belonging. Even if we’re not quite sure yet we do.

A few observations about the island and Maine.

There are no brands on the island besides a Circle K, one Subway and a Hannaford grocery store. Well, I actually consider that a positive. Especially the lack of a Starbucks.
There is literally ZERO traffic. The human wall of traffic in the summer is a bit much at times, but generally, it’s a breeze getting anywhere.
There is literally ZERO crime. Well, maybe not zero, but it’s pretty close. Some locals think it’s a gang riddled spot that requires National Guardsmen to be ordered in because some pumpkins were smashed on Cottage Street, but that’s small town life. It’s basically The Sandlot in the summer here. Or Gilmore Girls. Totally looks like Gilmore Girls. Not that I watch that show...
There is literally ZERO chance you’ll get a pizza delivered to our house 6 miles from Bar Harbor. Better stock up, NO delivery available.
There is not a single Taco Bell on the island. It’s a “treat” to go to Ellsworth and even that’s a KFC combo. Which we all know is not the same as a real Taco Bell.
There are no Mexican restaurants worth spending a dollar at here on the island or in a 50 mile vicinity. And that’s a brutal adjustment. In fact, I haven’t met a single Mexican since I got here. Which helps explain the challenges.
Oil is wicked expensive to heat your house and since winter is not December 21st until March 21st as that stupid calendar tries to trick you with, it’s a bit more than the wickedly expensive AC bill was in Arizona. But the winter here is just as long as the summer in AZ, so that’s pretty much a wash.
Maine has an excise tax for your vehicles along with your registration. If you own a newer vehicle, its going to hit you for around a grand to register it. Our property taxes are 33% more than in Phoenix. So that’s also not particularly fun.

But you know what is?

We live in one of the most beautiful places on planet earth. Literally and without an ounce of sarcasm or exaggeration. We were so fortunate to find a great home right in the middle of the island and in the town of Bar Harbor. I have a 10 minute commute to work, and am able to take Dean to school each day as it’s a couple blocks from the hotel. When he is older, he could literally just walk through town to the hotel after school. Our home has much more space and land than we had in Phoenix. We have a huge backyard and a forest to explore. Our first day we moved in a deer (later named Blueberry until we realized there are a billion deer here and it was a different deer every day...) stood in our lawn eating the grass. A flock of the same wild turkeys come by every morning and we have cardinals, bluebirds and all kinds of wildlife constantly in our yards. It’s incredibly peaceful and relaxing just being home.

Acadia National Park is all around us and where I run 99% of the time. It’s a wide open national park with access (trail head parking lots) in dozens and dozens of places. You just drive down the road, grab a parking spot and start from a new place. There are over 120 miles of trails over 20 some mountains carved out between inlets and sounds of the Atlantic ocean, and deep, clear lakes and ponds. You climb a 40% grade granite cliff and are granted access to a 360 degree view of the island and the park all around you. It’s remarkable and as the seasons progress, every mile is new all over again. Not once has it gotten old, and not once have I tired of any of the miles. It’s an incredible place to live and for that, I’m happy to pay the premium in taxes for the privledge to live in this community.

There are a million other incredible reasons why living here in Maine has been a positive change. None of which totally cancel out the challeges that come with leaving behind my brother, his wife Jeanine and their three awesome kids that our kids were so close with. Jen’s parents now don’t get to see their daughter and grandkids when they want and that’s difficult for everyone involved. We miss our Arizona friends greatly, and because of them we return to them in our minds in these blistering cold days in Maine or the month where it just decided to rain every day. For now though, we’re at least enjoying Maine and what it has to offer. The kids LOVE Maine, and have met so many great kids here they have become fast friends with. Dean has quite possibly the greatest Kindergarten teacher ever in Ms. Pickers, he absolutely loves going to school and for that we can only be grateful. If the school wasn’t so amazing in Bar Harbor, our entire feeling of Maine would be so much different.

It's easy to be lost sometimes. Buried amidst a world of high speed activity, stress filled lifestyles and the ever climbing necessity of improvement, being lost is sometimes natural.  

We go from one thing to the next.  Thanksgiving to Christmas.  Spring Break to Summer Break.  Empty checking account to pay day.  Starving to bloated.  Happy to sad.  Every day brings a new day and with that new challenges, new changes, and new views of what needs to happen.  

For nearly two years it's been a non-stop whirlwind of change.  Married.  Honeymoon.  Rented a house.  Said rental went into foreclosure.  Auction owners tried to evict us.  I extorted them for payment to break our lease.  We get pregnant.  We buy new house.  Start a new website with John Vaupel & Jay Danek.  (www.trailrunningclub.com.) We have baby.  We prepare for Mogollon Monster 100.  We direct Mogollon Monster 100.  We still have baby.  Still have house.  Still working all the time.  And apparently I still have a blog.  

Yet the Monster has come and gone.  And the void that remains leaves me lost in what to do next.  Immediately I volunteer to motivate and train our hotel staff to run the P.F. Chang's Half Marathon, something I'm passionate about but realistically didn't have time for.  When I should be putting a hold on my ambitions to focus on traditional household husband things like siding, lawn care, organizing shelving, etc. I'm out signing myself up for more time consuming projects.  Yet I can't help myself.  I don't have ADD but I cannot just sit around.  As great as that can feel sometimes.  

I need to be involved in something.  

I need goals.  

I need ambitions.  

To fill a part of that void I signed up for two races the day after the Monster finished.  The Cave Creek Thriller 30K and the Zane Grey 50M a ways off in April 2013.  I haven't run hardly a lick since my son Dean was born but now with the race behind us (for now) I should have more time...  My training "program" the last three months consisted of a 30 mile training run on the Mogollon Monster 100 course on a Saturday.  

Rest for 6 days.  

Repeat on a different section the following week.  I would run 20-30 mile long runs every weekend for 8 of the 10 weekends of August/September in preparing for this race in both training runs and course marking.  Some went well...others were miserable death marches.  

Yet somehow, towards the end of the summer, leading right up to the race I started to feel stronger. Not strong, but stronger.  Last Tuesday I covered 16 miles on the Highline Trail for course marking for the race and on the return trip I pushed the pace, hammered the hills and came back into Washington Park feeling great.  I drove up to the top of the Rim and ran another two miles along the General Crook Trail marking it along the way and somewhere on the way back, as the sun was coming down, still slightly poking through the tall Ponderosa's I felt like I was cruising down the trail on a bike.  Nearly 7,500 feet up, it felt like sea level and I was off.  It was  short distance but a big boost to my confidence.  Running hasn't felt that "easy" in a long time.  

So the race is over.  Planning for next year is ongoing and constant. Ideas flood into my mind in an ever rotating display of improvements and projects.  Never submitting to mediocrity, my aspirations always at least reach for something greater.  That will never change but leaves me pulled in another direction, a constant tidal pull bringing me back out to sea every few hours, every few days.  As welcome a distraction as unwelcome.  Focus on one thing, one specific goal has become very challenging with so many aspects of the race I'd like to change while also focusing on work, family, and training (not in that order necessarily...)

With the race over though it does allows me to focus on running again.  My son is three months old now, bigger and stronger and stroller ready.  We can train together and focus on the Zane Grey 50M in April and get back to running with Jay Danek.  I've missed our reckless descents down Bell Pass at breakneck speeds and the much faster pace Jay trains at than I would running solo.  His big ambitions, goals and training regimin rub off on me and I need to get back to that.

I have big plans for Zane Grey, my favorite race to hate in all of running.  Yet ultimately...my favorite race.  My brother distinctly remembers my putrid attitude following my horrible experience back in 2011 where I suffered through a death march the final 17 miles.  All of which were self imposed through my own stupidity, poor planning and newly found arrogance.

This time around though, I'm smarter, I'll be stronger, and I feel like that's my home turf now.  I've run the Highline so much now in preparation for the Mogollon Monster I know so many of the in's and out's of the trail. I know it's a whore of a trail.  An unrelenting beast waiting to eat up the first runner that succumbs to the heat, elevation, exposure, manzanita, or those few rocks out there.  The last time I was arrogant.  I had been running 50K's like they were 5k's.  The 50M was a near regular event for me, at least once a month.  I had run a wickedly hard and vicious Superstition Wilderness 50M the month before and felt that Zane Grey was just a stop at the ice cream shop in comparison (incidently, during that delusional Superstitions run the first seeds of the idea for the Mogollon Monster we laid).  

I made a cardinal Ultrarunning sin.  I did not respect the distance.  

Zane Grey is one of the toughest 50 milers in the country.  I don't care which one you compare it to.  There may be "harder" ones but there is no debate that this is towards the top of the list.  Nobody leaves the Highline saying, "That was easy."  Nobody.  Most leave in a near crippled state saying, "I'm never coming back."  

Which any Zane Grey veteran likely say's in their head, "See you next year."

I'm not overlooking the distance this year.  I'm focusing on this race and this race only.  I'm not going to go out and do all these fat ass random runs through the desert.  My off course adventures that end up eating up every ounce of my energy.  I'm training for speed, stregnth and endurance.  I'm not just looking for an improvement over 2011.  I want to knock several hours off it.

I want to go sub 10 hours.  

At Zane Grey.  

I know.  Ridiculous right?  

Anyone just ultrastalking me can look at my past results and will be wondering, "How in the world are YOU going to run sub 10 hours at Zane Grey??!"  

It's 2:24 better than I ever have run there.  Ever.  I have zero statistical data to back up that kind of time.  My fastest "official" 50K on there is 4:54.  I barely ran 10 hours on a flat,loop course.  

BUT...I know what I can do.  I know what I'm capable of.  I know I've never even gotten close to pushing boundaries on speed or training.  I've always skirted by with just enough training to keep it from being a full on death march. I ran Cascade Crest 100 last year topping out at a 52 mile week. I get by because I'm a strong hiker and I can run downhill.  I've always been weak on the flats and actual "running", as ironic as it sounds, and that is what has kept me plateaued, just off the cuff and from taking that leap to the next level. 

My problem has always been that I could hinge back on the "I don't really train excuse" for my less than stellar times at races.  It's always been a side joke with my running friends but ultimately it's just an excuse.  I'm capable, I can make the time, I just have to put the work in.  

So I will.

And when it comes down to the line, come April, on the Highline, I'll really see where that takes me.  

And if sub 10 hours doesn't happen at Zane Grey...well look for me at the finish line.  I'll still make it there.  It just might not be as pretty.  

The Monster has officially consumed me.  

Consumed everything around me.

Now just a little over three weeks away its down to the wire on planning this monstrosity.  What started as a pipe dream over some maps almost two years ago has nearly become the dream.

A one hundred mile wilderness run through some of Arizona's most beautiful terrain was the goal from the start.  I had a ton of help from local ultrarunner Jeff Jones on designing the course and creating one that is both challenging and logistically possible with the unique challenges that comes with a 2,000 ft. escarpment between aid stations.  I sparked the idea on the tail end of our Superstitions Wilderness 50 Mile adventure and Jeff took off with it like a kid in a candy store.  My original idea to create a hundred in Arizona where people would come, run and leave with a whole new idea of the state, showing that it was more than "just a desert."  It started Jeff off in a tirade of ideas that resulted in nearly 500 emails over the next year.

What we came up with amazes me with each long run spent on the course.  Weekend after weekend, I've driven the 100 miles from my house at 4am to arrive at the trailhead to run the course.  Mile after mile I fall more in love with the area, the terrain and every God forsaken rock that hits the bottom of my sole.  I've run some sections of the course a half dozen times this summer alone, others just a few times, but in all, I've traversed that Rim as much as anyone probably has at this point and now just a few weeks away...I can't wait to see what everyone has to say about it.

The challenging thing about directing a race is not fully grasping what it is that is "hard" for other people.  Every race bills itself as a certain adjective leaning one way or another.  "Hardest", "Toughest", "Fastest" something or other.  Even the Zane Grey 50M race this race shares part of the course with has for years been called, "Toughest 50 Miler" which for many has been a debatable, none wishing to debate fresh off a ZG finish.  This race, the Monster, will likely be one of the toughest endurance feats many of the entrants will have taken on at this point.  I know this because of what I have experienced on other courses, what others have when running this course and how revered the Zane Grey course is in general.  It's going to be hard.  Really hard.

But what is "hard?"  Hard to me is the Lean Horse 100.  Running a flat surface 50 miles, then turning around and running it back?!  That is a hell of a lot of running. Keys 100?  Indiana 100?  Javalina 100?  I've paced the last couple years at Javalina Jundred for 30+ miles and while it's probably the most FUN race atmosphere and an event I look forward to each year...I'm extremely hesitant to ever run it myself.  Because I feel it's extremely hard not having a major climb plopped somewhere in there or having to repeat the same thing over and over again.  Across the Years this past year I hit 50 miles and quit out of sheer boredom.  Terrible I know and something I'm probably going to go back and rectify but that day, running loops...I just couldn't get myself into a groove and really enjoy it.  It was one of the hardest 50 miles I've done and I didn't climb 12 feet...

So how will everyone feel about the Mogollon Monster 100?  I have compared a lot of hundreds trying to determine how it will be met once the first race is completed.  I've spent countless hours on the internet reading all 88+ other hundreds websites, maps, elevation profiles, crew access, past times, cutoffs, etc. There's only about a dozen races with more elevation gain or outright by the numbers is "harder."  Of course there are the Hardrocks, Wasatch races with the climbing but also taking into account the average elevation of each mile, terrain, technical nature, weather and all the other factors that makes a race difficult and challenging some are tougher than others for different reasons.  I feel this race has them all to put it in a class that will challenge even the most seasoned ultrarunner.  That wasn't the goal in designing the race any more was the extra 6 miles some kind of masochistic attempt at one upping anyone.  It's just the way it panned out that way.  

So after hundreds of hours of planning, hundreds and hundreds of miles on the course, and over eighteen months of constant planning we're almost there.  The buckles are in the mail, supplies filling my garage, volunteers committing and contingencies being finalized.  Planning a hundred mile race was a dream, an incredibly ambitious one I'm finding out, but one that I'm determined to see through successfully.  Runners are coming from all over the country, pacers and crews with them.  We'll all be in Pine, Arizona come Friday morning and I'll be there standing up among them for the briefing.  A moment I can't believe is almost here, a weekend of determination, stubborness and drive coupled with beautiful, surreal & majestic.  I can't wait to be on the other side of the finish line to see each of the runners  come through successfully.  To be able to shake their hands, congratulate them and hand them the infamous belt buckle that all non-runners feel is so insignificant.  

106 miles.

20,000 feet of climbing.

One hell of a challenge completed.  

You won't find a more rewarding experience anywhere.