
Green Corn Moon 2026: Play That Sad Music, RD
A rematch at Great Seal that turned on a lost headlamp bag, a race director with a banjo, and a thunderstorm that set the woods on fire.
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A rematch at Great Seal that turned on a lost headlamp bag, a race director with a banjo, and a thunderstorm that set the woods on fire.

Second place coed at the Teton Ogre, decided by twenty minutes on a tied score. The whole race turned on one call an hour in: drop the bikes and go north.

Zenith, solo. A strong start, a gamble on the hard 30-point checkpoints, and a southwest corner of greenbrier that turned my legs into a tattoo of nonsense.

KC and I went back to Kentucky for revenge. Fern - fresh off a week of strep and one expertly negotiated school skip - came too, and raced all five hours without a single complaint.

A two-day rogaine in the West Virginia mountains - a navigation race I got lost driving TO, and two hours of fighting with my wife on Valentine's Day. Somehow, a love story.

KC's shingles arrived suspiciously close to crampon season, so I argued with Kentucky gravity solo. Twice. My butt softened the landing.
Eight of thirty-three controls, one DNF, and a phone call I'd like back. Red River Gorge won this round.