One loop. 4.167 miles. Every hour, on the bell. On October 24, 125 runners answered it at Waters Farm. Thirty seven hours later, Dr. Frank was the last one standing.
Thirty seven hours after the first bell, he was the only one left in the pasture. 154 miles, one loop at a time.
When it was over we pulled the branding iron out of the fire and handed it to him. He burned the Dead Last cow into two rounds of wood. One went home with him. The other he signed, and it hangs as the first name on our champions board.
Then he took the iron home too. Next year there's a new iron, a new fire, and room on the board for one more name.
The first Dead Last Ultra, from the first bell to the last headlamp. Photographed by Joe Desrosiers.
The gate, the bell, and a field of people who had no idea how long the day would be.
Loop after loop through the woods and across the pasture, under the best leaves New England had to give.
Whatever time is left on the clock is yours. Eat, sit, lie down, laugh about it, get up.
The light went gold, the dust came up off the farm road, and the herd kept coming.
Headlamps on. Every hour the bell still rang, and every hour fewer of them came back through the gate.
Every photo here is by Joe Desrosiers. The full gallery has hundreds more, with prints and downloads.
Find Yourself in the Full GalleryA backyard ultra strips running down to its rawest form. No splits to chase. No pace to hold. Just one loop, every hour, on the bell, until everyone but you has been put out to pasture.
Every race has its own language. Ours comes from the land it's run on.
Year One sold out at 125 runners. When the 2027 date and registration go live, the list hears it first.
