Mammoth Trailfest 2025: Suffering, Stillness, and the Spirit of DAMN DECAF.
What happens when you trade sea level for 11,000 feet, comfort for cramps, and certainty for suffering? You remember who you are.
Last week, we packed up and headed from Encinitas, CA, to Mammoth Lakes, CA, for the 2025 Mammoth Trailfest. My wife, Nikki, resident badass, took on the Dragon’s Back Ascent and the 26k Trail Run. As for me? I signed up for the 50k ultra of 32.5 brutal miles across Mammoth Mountain with nearly 7,000 feet of elevation gain. A real suffer-fest.
From the first step, it was clear: this wasn’t going to be easy. But that’s kind of the point.
These races aren’t about comfort or ease.
A Race Designed to Break You
This was the third annual Mammoth Trailfest and is the biggest 50k trail race in the U.S. Runners spend most of the race above 9,000 feet, climbing from 8,050 to 11,053 feet.
Just like life, the course is breathtaking and soul-crushingly difficult all at once…and that’s exactly why I chose it.
I trained. I prepared. But altitude doesn’t care. Five miles in, both legs locked up. Cramps that wouldn’t quit. Every attempt to run ended with pain. I was alone on the trail, alone in my head.
I was pissed. Frustrated. And then it hit me: this felt a lot like life lately. In the thick of it, building something from scratch. Waking up every day to uncertainty, struggle, and solitude. It’s painful. It’s heavy. And it can feel damn lonely.
That’s what this trail mirrored for me: the grind of trying to make something real in a world that doesn’t give handouts.
There were moments I wanted to quit. But I didn’t.
The Descent: When It Finally Clicked
So I trudged on, one ugly step at a time. By the summit at 18 miles, I was still furious, still hurting, still trapped in my own head. But when the descent started, something cracked open. The pain was still there. The cramps still gnawed at me. But the heaviness lifted. I felt light. I felt alive.
Suffering through the climb brought me to a place of peace.
Crossing the Line and Looking Up
My strategy to finish was simple: run 0.10 miles, walk 0.10 miles. Repeat. Push the run hard, walk like hell, don’t stop moving. It wasn’t pretty, but it got me across the line.
When it was over, I realized I was never really alone out there, just like I’m not really alone back home. I’m surrounded by people ready to help, to support, to lift me up when I can’t do it myself.
Lessons learned
Looking back, I should’ve spent more time running faster, climbing bigger hills, and hammering intervals with shorter rest breaks. Instead, I had spent most of my time logging long, slow miles; low to moderate intensity runs that built endurance but not grit.
Unfortunately, that didn’t prepare me for the kind of high-intensity pain served up by the altitude and elevation gain of Mammoth Mountain. When I crossed the finish line, I told Nikki I was done and I didn’t want to do this race again.
However, that thought was erased by the next morning, when I woke up determined: I’m going back in 2026 to do the Triple Crown: Dragon’s Back Ascent, 50k, and 26k.
But what stuck with me most was something my daughter asked a few days later:
“Why do you do stuff like this?”
My answer:
“I told her that life will always hand us challenges that are painful, difficult experiences that test us completely. We don’t get to skip them; we have to move through them, from start to middle, and end. These races teach us the arc of pain and suffering. They remind us that everything ends eventually and that we’re strong enough to make it through."
DAMN DECAF. Values In Motion
Mammoth Trailfest wasn’t just a race for me this year. It taught me that life and mountains aren’t so different. Both hurt. Both test you. Both force you to face yourself. And both reward you with connection, clarity, and the deep satisfaction of not quitting.
At the end of the day, Nikki and I shared a cup of DAMN DECAF. on the mountain. We laughed. We shared war stories. And in that moment, it all made sense again.
The pain fades. But the connection, grit, and growth? That sticks.
That’s what DAMN DECAF. is all about.
That’s what we’re here for.
Go hard.
Slow down.
Share the moment.
