The Vermont Long Trail - Unsupported FKT Attempt 2026

Last summer, after completing the Direttissima, I immediately was looking for the next challenge and what was calling to me. It was Will Peterson’s record that I was chasing, along with my own self-fulfilling challenge of whether I could chop a day off my previous time with my accumulated knowledge and experience in the White Mountains. At a ripe age of 44, the clock is ticking for such adventures in a competitive landscape, and what pointed me to the Direttissima in the first place is what sent my mind to the Vermont Long Trail within weeks of finishing.

Will had done the same; he sought out a more competitive multi-day route in the same style. The Long Trail is incredibly similar in difficulty to the Direttissima, so it only made sense. It also saw more attempts and had an objectively stouter record. In recent years I’ve made a point to seek out these premier routes, whether it’s an FKT or race course - the idea is the same: get perspective in both time and terrain. I’ve done this with both the UTMB and Hardrock courses, fastpacking the routes in three days so I have an understanding of what athletes are experiencing at these events. The Long Trail had my attention, especially after joining Hilary for a day the following September. Now it was seeded in my mind that this would be my next challenge: attempting the route unsupported and challenging Will’s record, established in 2023.

With this goal in place, I went through the winter purely backcountry skiing, with a little nordic skiing sprinkled in. I didn’t run a step until April, and once May hit, I started formal training, similar to last year, since that had worked for the Direttissima. It was a mix of weighted hiking, trail running, and three scouting trips on the Long Trail. My goal was to see the entire route and familiarize myself with the trail to make my effort as efficient as possible. I started with 2 x 3-day trips with my full pack. This was something I wish I had done for the Direttissima, and it would expose any weakness in my kit or my body. Those overnights were excellent training, and of course issues did arise - dialing in my gear, getting comfortable with my sleep setup, getting my upper body conditioned for heavy pole use, and learning the trail.

Now that the training was complete, and all of 15 miles of the trail scouted, I felt ready to find a window to make my push. June and July were off the table since my training started so late; I was searching for cooler weather without sacrificing too much daylight. I chatted with Charlie Loprestie (our local meteorologist) about a long-term forecast showing excellent weather (highs in the low 70s) with a possible rain event in the middle of a 5-day window. The rain was an obvious concern, but it’s nearly impossible to find 5 bone-dry days on the LT. I could always stay in a shelter if needed, and as long as the rainfall amount stayed under 0.5”, I was confident that I could control this one important variable for my effort. I locked in on Saturday, August 15th, as my start date from the Northern Terminus.

I made some last-minute revisions to my packlist, got my food bagged and organized, and was ready to go well before the send date. This helped reduce anxiety, and I slept rather well the week leading in. I opted for an 8:30am start that would afford me extra sleep at the expense of daylight. Hilary drove me to the trailhead and carried my ~29lb pack up to the monument marking the start of the LT. She wished me luck as I launched southbound, and I was off, “racing” at a 3mph clip that I would get accustomed to.

Day 1: Northern Terminus to Lamoille River Valley: 48.3mi, 15,000’ [strava link]

The goal for the first day was to be as efficient as possible. This meant minimal stoppage for water, food, or rest. I was intimidated by Will’s splits, and I didn’t feel completely recovered from my training block, so I went by feel and had a split chart to check in on - but it was just that, a reference point as to how I was moving with a full pack. Jay Peak was my first real check-in on splits, and I was already 20 minutes up. I grabbed water from the summit building and kept rolling. There was a group of people up there who knew what I was up to and cheered me on. This was a great way to start the first 10 miles, and I cruised the descent feeling like I had started off strong. In my scouting missions, Will had been stronger on the climbs and I had been stronger on the descents. Still very much in the honeymoon period, I continued to click off sub-20-minute miles and shuffled all the flat sections. This strategy continued to put time in the bank. My next water fill-up was on the climb to Belvidere. I was climbing okay but really felt like I continued to make good time on the descents and flats. Ascending using my poles felt great, providing relief to my quads, and I hoped to be through Devil’s Gulch before dark. With the big climbs for Day 1 behind me, I had confidence on the next section, which includes Butternut and Laraway. Both were fine, and as I descended Laraway, I stopped to get out my headlamp. The day was finally catching up with me (38+ miles in), and I started to think how nice laying down for my first night would feel. Night miles were a struggle, but I was still riding the Day 1 high, and once I passed Roundtop shelter nearly 2.5 hours up on my splits, I was stoked that I could bank 3 full hours of sleep that night. I crossed the Lamoille River and found a flat spot to lay out my bivy. I set my phone timer for 3 hours and tried to shut the mind off and sleep, which I was mostly able to do. A couple of notes from Day 1: I averaged 3mph with only 30 minutes of stoppage time. The trails were very dry and the water sources were solid. The weather was cool but still humid. I didn’t have to make any gear adjustments, and I ate most of my Day 1 food bag.

Day 2: Lamoille River Valley to Montclair Glen Lodge: 48.5mi, 17,000’ [Strava Link]

I woke up to my alarm and immediately got up and packed up my camp. The day would start off with a gradual climb to the infamous Whiteface climb, one of the most technical climbs on the entire route. In contrast to the previous day, I was no longer feeling fresh, and the climb was as I remembered it. The one thing I had in my favor was that the temps were cool; however, I started to experience some lower calf twinges on this climb, and my mind spiraled. I tried changing my gait, but they continued on the climb over to Madonna. I slowed down and thought of ways to mitigate the issue, stopping a few times to massage it and hope it would subside. As the temps warmed, my calf relaxed and I could focus on the incremental goals for the day. Mansfield was my next objective, and I did a major reset along the stream at the beginning of the trail. I took on my water, made a protein smoothie, and washed my body off. I had a hard time on this climb on my recon, and while it’s not overly steep or technical, I was tired and needed to keep a steady pace. At this point, I started hiking in my underwear as my wet shorts had become a nuisance - you have to do whatever you can to keep the chafe at bay. At the summit of Mansfield I ran into more friends, and it turned out that it was the Mozo Double Up race that morning. I was late and only saw three runners, but all the volunteers cheered me on, and I cruised across the ridge and descended towards the crux of the day - the stretch from Mansfield to Bolton is slow, and the weather had turned swampy and humid. I had to lay down for a dirt nap as well, and I forgot about a couple of PUDs in there that caught me off guard. These mental lows were inevitable, but I was able to pop out of them and remind myself I was still moving well and it was only Day 2. Stay present and focus on the small goals. Finally, I summited Bolton, and I knew the next section would be easier. I had run this with Austin Black and shuffled what I could on the long descent to the Winooski River. I called Hilary to hear about her Swan Song FKT, and I was a little checked out on the day. With Camel’s Hump looming, I still had so much more work to do. I crossed the river, ticked off a little bit of road before dipping into the field section that I had skipped on my recon. I was annoyed by this section, wading through itchy grass, ducking electric fences, and crossing a stream in the heat of the late day. When I arrived at the Camel’s Hump trailhead, I had a short section of trail to my planned water resupply. I took some extra time here to reset before the biggest climb of the LT. It was going to be a long night to get up and over this mountain, especially with rain forecasted and darkness approaching. I was maybe halfway up the climb before it started to lightly rain. I really do like this trail, just not at the end of a long day. I got my headlamp out and navigated wet slabs and choppy benched-out sections of Bamforth Ridge. The light rain continued, and as I approached the summit, I dug into my pack to put on my rain jacket. A cloud sat on the summit, making navigation challenging; looking for blazes and cairns, I slowly made my way over and slowly down the slick rock descent. It was frustrating to be moving so slowly, but I knew the shelter was close, and I kept moving. I arrived at the shelter sometime after 11pm. The next shelter was out of the question, and I knocked on the door to have the two guests let me in, and I got in the loft and, in cramped fashion, laid out my sleep kit. It was midnight by the time I was situated, and I fell asleep to the pitter-patter of rain and wind.

Day 3: Montclair Glen Lodge to Brandon Gap: 48 miles, 16,000’ [Strava Link]

I woke up before my alarm, probably several times, anxious to get started on the next section. The weather was fine; it hadn’t rained as much as I thought it might, but it seemed as though the rain had pushed back to later in the morning. I was in a mindfog as I navigated the climb up Ethan Allen and the perpetual sidehill to Burnt Rock Mountain. The trails weren’t flooded, but the rock was slick and slowed things down. I struggled to find a rhythm and sat on a log to regroup. I looked down at my feet - “not dead yet,” I said to myself. I let out a scream to wake myself up and continued south. My next landmark was App Gap, and I had squandered my 1.5-hour lead and was now off my splits by 30 minutes. Not a big deal, but it reflected how tough Day 2 had been for me. I really enjoyed the rest of the day. I resupplied my water at Stark’s Nest (and also forgot my poles there, wasting several minutes - it was bound to happen at some point). I overheard some thru-hikers talking about their plans and how casual their day was going to be. I thought about how insane these days must sound to them. The trail was now wet, and my shoes, which had been wet since Camel’s Hump, continued to be soaked. I made it to Lincoln Gap now an hour behind, but the weather was flipping and the trails seemed drier here. I was dreading the Breadloaf Wilderness section, but it was rather enjoyable. When I arrived at the Cooley Glen shelter, I went 0.2 off trail for water from the spring, and then dried my feet out and did a sock change, thinking if I ever wanted to make it through this trail, I had to manage my feet. I also made a point to eat and deal with some chafing. Onward. I was feeling the afternoon sleepiness and laid down for another micro nap. It was smooth sailing to the next shelter, Emily Proctor, and it was shortly after here I crossed paths with Cody Taylor, who was doing an LT yo-yo, on his way back north. I stopped him for a photo and was stoked on his effort, knowing what he was going through, and harnessed some positive energy to keep me going. Right after I saw him, a second storm rolled in. This was more significant than the earlier one, and almost instantly the trails became streams. I didn’t care though - it felt amazing. The body chafe washed away, and the cool air with mostly downhill trail seemed easy to jog through, and for the first time my pack started to feel lighter. I made it to Middlebury Gap roughly 1:30 behind pace, which was great considering the footcare break I had taken at Cooley. What light there was started to fade as I powered up Middlebury Snowbowl, and when I hit the trail past the ski area, it was flowing like a stream. I remembered this section being roughly 10 miles, so I was winding down my effort for the day. In the night I thought I was making up time on my splits, but I had bled more time, likely because of the saturated trails. I finally made it off the aptly named Mt. Horrid peak and descended to Brandon Gap, a full two hours behind my goal pace. At this point, I needed to take care of my feet, and if I was stopping for 20 minutes, I might as well roll out my sleep kit. I hiked up the trail for fifteen minutes and found a flat spot by a footbridge and decided to call it for the day. I got in my bivy and started shivering as raindrops sporadically blew off the maple canopy. The stars were out, but the wetness seemed to continue, and I shut my mind off and eventually fell asleep.

Day 4: Brandon Gap to Clarendon Gorge: 37 miles, 7,400’ [Strava Link]

I set my alarm for 3:30am; this would get me back on trail and hopefully just 1.5 hours behind. I put my feet back in my wet shoes, rolled up my bivy, and got back on trail. I was in positive spirits this morning, knowing that I was now on easier terrain - the climbs weren’t as punchy or technical, and the trail now offers fast and flowy sections that are extremely runnable. I couldn’t shake the tiredness though, and laid down twice before sunrise. I was also getting frustrated with my Garmin charger that didn’t want to connect to my watch. The little things fester, and I found myself wasting time left and right trying to get my gear to cooperate. When the sun finally broke through the trees at 6:30am, I was awake and now had my goal of getting to Maine Junction, where I would reset and take care of my feet. It was 18 miles since starting the morning, and my feet were still waterlogged. This was the moment where I knew I was in trouble; my wrinkled feet were in pain, and I applied foot powder and ate food while I let them dry. I had a mile descent down to Rt 4, then the climb up Killington. I couldn’t keep bleeding time with these footcare stops, so I hoped this would be it. At Rt 4 I was cheered on by a couple handing out trail magic; I said thank you but had to keep going - no drinks or trash drops, unfortunately. I decided to burn a few matches up Killington to see if I could make up time, and I was able to put 15 minutes back in the bank, only to spend 30 minutes drying my feet out once again. I pulled up on a tent platform, and in the sun was able to get my feet back to a good place. Unfortunately, the damage was done. I had spoken with Hilary to let her know how my day was going and texted a few other people, including Will. I hit another mental low descending off Killington - how was I going to go another 90+ miles on these feet? I was fixated on time and not being able to move as fast as I’d like. After Killington the trail is very easy, and I felt like my 3mph pace was crawling. I stopped at a stream and took a dip and looked at my feet. There were some visible blisters but nothing major; the trench foot had mostly cleared up, and my shoes were pretty dry at this point. There was a disconnect between my mind and body - both were negative. Usually one can cover for the other - if you’re still moving, your mood will find a way to be positive; if your body hurts, your mind can will it to keep going, make deals like just get to the next shelter or road crossing. Neither wanted to continue, and analyzing the morning I experienced with all the stops and the nearly 30 hours I had left, I couldn’t comprehend going any further. I called Hilary to let her know I was done, my mind had let go, and my body instantly went into recovery mode. Things started to hurt that had yet to bother me. My right anterior tib tendon started creaking, my right knee was aching, and of course my feet were in a ton of pain. There was no coming back from this, and I tapped out as soon as I hit the parking lot. Hilary’s parents were there to pick me up, and in the moment I felt good about my choice to stop. I could barely walk to their car. But it wasn’t until the following day, when I was checking the time, thinking about how I would be at mile X on the trail, that it really hit me that I wasn’t able to get it done - which doesn’t sit well. I said to myself that I was content with my effort and wouldn’t need to come back, but that’s just not possible. I need to give myself one more effort, then I can be content. I’ll always wonder why I couldn’t get the LT done, and next summer I can push my effort to July, start my training in March, and work on strength all winter. As good as my training was, I can always do better, so once I recover, LT 2027 training begins…

Things that went well:

I knew what I was getting myself into. Having done the Direttissima twice, and two 3-day scout missions on the LT, nothing caught me by surprise. Learning the trail is an immense help.

FarOut App - having experience with the app is critical. I was able to see what was coming up on the fly if I had forgotten (shelters, water sources, road crossings, climbs). Such a great resource to have on the trail.

Poles - I felt really good with my poles and upper body strength. Often if you don’t train enough with poles, it’s easy to get tendonitis.

AI Pace Sheet - I was able to load in Will's GPX files and Claude made a really nice table with splits. This would have been a pain to make on my own.

Desitin (diaper rash cream) is great for chafing.

Things I need to work on:

Night hiking. It’s a part of the process, but I just don’t love it. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable - I’ve done plenty of night missions - it’s just hard to keep the momentum going.

Nutrition. While I was happy with what I brought, I need to lean more on drinking my nutrition, because when the temps heat up or I’m working hard, chewing just gets tiring and difficult.

Charging: I should have charged up my gear at the end of Day 3; the rain made that a no-go.

Part of my stopping was that I wasn’t as familiar with the upcoming trail section - I had done it at night and had a difficult time visualizing it. It sounds minor but was one more thing that my mind couldn’t deal with.

A wide-mouth bottle - something easier to pour nutrition into that doesn’t require a funnel. I’ll probably sacrifice grams for something like a Gatorade bottle.

Things that I missed or failed on:

Mindset - lows are inevitable, but I never let myself dig out of the last one. Who knows how my body would have held up, but I can’t help but be disappointed I didn’t work on just making it to the next road crossing/landmark strategy. I was just over 3 hours off pace and would have liked to push further. Troubleshooting is all part of the game, and I think getting 20 miles further would have answered many questions.