Section 1 – “A Polite Introduction… Before We Drop You” (4.9 miles | +598 ft./-1640 ft.)

We ease you in the only way we know how: straight into the woods and up something called Hink’s Delusion. That’s not a joke. It’s a warning.

You’ll claw your way toward the summit, pop out just long enough to question your life choices, and then—before you get comfortable—we point you downhill. And not just any downhill. This is Herman Steps into Blister Blaster, a 600-foot drop in under a mile that exists purely to introduce your quads to regret.

Somewhere in there, marathoners get a bonus trip up to the towers at Herman Point, because of course they do.

Eventually, the mountain gives you a brief truce: a flat stretch near the campground where you can shake out your legs and pretend you’re okay. That illusion won’t last. Conrad Ridge is waiting, and it leads you straight to your first aid station… where you’ll already be negotiating with yourself.

Section 2 – Hogback Has Opinions –  (3.6 miles | +657 ft. / -657 ft.)

You leave the aid station and head toward Bob’s Creek—a pristine Class A trout stream and, briefly, the most peaceful thing you’ll experience all day.

Don’t get used to it.

Hogback Ridge rises quickly, sharply, and without apology. It’s short, but it makes its point. At the top, you’re rewarded with a long descent toward the Lost Children monument—a quiet reminder that the Alleghenies have always been a little unforgiving.

Then it’s back to the aid station. Same place. Different version of you.

Section 3 – Crist Ridge: The Long Conversation – (3.39 miles | +718 ft. / -836 ft.)

Fuel up. Seriously.

This stretch doesn’t look intimidating on paper, but it drags you through everything the forest has—tight new growth, damp pine corridors, and towering hardwood canopy that feels like it’s watching.

You climb back toward the campground, cross over, and drop onto Crist Ridge—a trail that rolls, twists, and eventually commits to one of the fastest descents on the course.

It’s long. It’s runnable. And if you’re reckless, it will absolutely let you know.

Section 4 – “Dark and Deep” – (6.8 miles | +1893 ft. / -1199 ft.)

Now we start asking real questions.

You leave the aid station and head into Pavia Run, climb a ridge, drop into a hollow, then climb out of it again. And again. This section doesn’t just go up and down—it folds in on itself like the mountain is trying to confuse you.

You’ll hit stretches of smooth, runnable trail—Clickity Clack, we call it—just to remind you what running feels like before pointing you straight up Deep Hollow. Four hundred feet in less than half a mile. Short. Sharp. Personal.

At the top, we let you descend… because we’re not monsters. Just kidding—we are. That descent dumps you onto Sawmill Trail and eventually out into the open field at Raven Rest.

You’ll see the aid station. You’ll feel relief.

You shouldn’t.

Section 5 – “Beaver Dam Canyon (or ‘I’ll Nettle Do That Again’)”  (3.80 miles | +1433 feet / -687 ft.)

This is where things get honest.

The trail narrows. The footing gets mean. You’re side-hilling above rocks that demand your full attention. Then you drop—hard—into Beaver Dam Run.

And then you climb.

Nine hundred seventy-one feet in under a mile. Wet rocks. Slick biofilm. Water crossings that range from “refreshing” to “problematic.” It’s less running and more… negotiating with gravity.

At the top, you’re not done. You cross a road, climb again, and finally reach the Stone Pads—a rare moment of balance and rhythm before the trail smooths out along the summit.

You pass the overlook. You hit the road. You find the aid station.

You’ve earned this one. It won’t matter.

[Map and Elevation Profile Maps and Charts]

Section 6 – “Eurus Is Watching”  (2.05 miles | +891 ft. / -1190 ft.)

Back to civilization. Briefly.

You pass the lodge, catch a view, and then drop down ski slopes that feel almost fun—until you see it.

Eurus.

The East Wind. The wall. The thing people talk about in hushed tones. Four hundred feet of climbing at grades that range from unreasonable to offensive.

Eurus or ‘The East Wind’ is terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. It seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth.

You get up it. Somehow.

From there, it’s a blur of steep drops, sketchy lines, old logging roads, and climbs with names like “I Need a Sherpa!” that feel like they’re laughing at you.

Eventually, you reach Quitters Row.

It’s close to the finish.

It’s also where a lot of stories end.

Section 7 – “Final 10K Challenge: A Gift Wrapped in Barbed Wire” (3.52 miles | +104 feet / -1059 ft.)

You want runnable trail? Here it is.

Black Bear, Lost Porcupine, Tree-odge, Code Blue—flowy, twisting singletrack through ferns and hardwoods. It’s beautiful. It’s fast. It’s just technical enough to keep you honest.

Then comes the first half of Devil’s Hairpin.

Six hundred thirty feet down in under a mile. Wide enough to fly. Steep enough to punish mistakes. This is where bold moves happen—or bad ones.

At the bottom: aid station.

And then…

Final 10K – “Throat Punch”  (2.6miles | +1293 ft. / -339 ft.)

Every race has a signature climb.

This is ours.

Throat Punch goes straight up Spit Hollow and doesn’t pretend otherwise. It’s raw, direct, and deeply personal. By the top, you’re not thinking about pace or splits—you’re thinking about survival.

From there, you drop through the Needle Patch—tight, strange, almost surreal—before the mountain asks one last question:

The Soul Sucker Slopes.

A mile. Six hundred feet. Nothing fancy. Just a steady drain on whatever you have left.

At the top, we finally let you run. Not Fairway rolls you toward the finish, where the noise, the people, and the end of it all come back into focus.

You came here for a race.

What you get is a reckoning.