Diesel Fuel

Photo credit: Howie Stern

Years ago, when I was living in Boston and running with my New England tribe of trail runners within our Trail Animals Running Club (TARC), someone gave me the trail name “Diesel” after a long winter run in the deep snow at our favorite haunt, the Blue Hills in Milton, MA. I guess my relentless trudging up hill after hill in the snowpack earned me the handle. It stuck, and decades later has proven to be prophetic as now, at age 61, about all I can do is churn, grind and pull across the terrain!

Now, after 30 years of ultrarunning and 100+ races, I’ve turned my attention to “what comes next?” for an old choo-choo train like me. Heck, I’m lucky as a leprechaun to still be able to run. My best guesstimate is I’ve got over 60,000 miles of dirt under my feet since I began trail running in 1988. And my eyes have spied some of the most remarkable scenery Ma Nature has to offer. One lucky Irishman am I.

Well I’ve landed in the world of mountain running – which I’ll distinguish from “ultrarunning” – by the distance traveled, terrain encountered and degree of self-reliance required.

I plan to share my journey and experiences, lessons learned and mistakes made – here in this space from time-to-time, in the hope that you, dear reader, will benefit in some small way; be it a chuckle, “ah-ha” or useful tip.

Topics will range from training, sleep, food and fueling, gear galore, head games, planning, reconnaissance, community, chafing and shear, self-reliance, crew, acclimatization, music and audiobook recommendations, foot care, travel tips, packing, drop bags, race selection, links to resources, safety, dumb things to avoid, tips from the trails and whatever seems interesting or useful. I promise to follow my lifelong guiding principle: KISS (Keep It Simple Stupid!).

Chugga, chugga, Whoo, Whoo!


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