March in Moab doesn’t whisper that spring is coming. It throws open the desert door and says, Prove it.
Cold air at the start. Heat by midday. Wind that cuts one minute and disappears the next. The kind of conditions that don’t care how your winter went — only whether you kept showing up anyway.
This year, I’ll be lining up at the Behind the Rocks Ultra, and it’s more than just another race. It’s the final opportunity to complete the Triple Crown of Moab — three winter trail races across some of the most rugged terrain in the desert.
No pressure, right?
The Crown Jewel — and the Last Chance
The Triple Crown of Moab isn’t about easy miles. It’s about consistency through winter, grit through unpredictable conditions, and the willingness to stack big efforts when most runners are in offseason mode.
Behind the Rocks is the anchor. The closer. The moment where the question becomes:
Did the winter miles hold up?
By March, fatigue from earlier races lingers. Training has been happening in the dark, the cold, or on treadmills. Motivation has had to be manufactured more than found.
Finishing this race doesn’t just complete a series — it confirms that you carried momentum across an entire season when it would have been easier to back off.
Why This Race Feels So “Fed Diabetic Runner”
Winter training as a diabetic endurance athlete is a constant experiment.
Blood sugar reacts differently to cold than heat.
Long runs require planning layers and fuel at the same time.
Missed sleep, stress, or illness can throw everything off.
Some days the numbers cooperate. Some days they absolutely do not.
And yet, the miles still happen.
Behind the Rocks feels personal because it represents survival through all of that — not perfect training, just persistent training.
It’s proof that progress doesn’t require ideal conditions.
Moab’s Quiet, Wild Backcountry
This race doesn’t take place in the postcard areas crowded with tourists. It lives out in the wilderness study area south of town — a rugged maze of slickrock domes, sandy washes, jeep tracks, and wide-open desert that feels almost prehistoric in its silence.
Out here, there’s no hiding from the terrain.
You climb rock faces that look runnable from a distance but burn your calves instantly.
You shuffle through sand that drains energy faster than any hill.
You crest ridges only to see miles of desert still waiting.
It’s not flashy. It’s honest.
And honesty is what makes ultras meaningful.
Racing With Diabetes in Remote Terrain
Desert ultras are complicated enough. Add diabetes, and they become a full strategic operation.
Aid stations are far apart.
Cell service is unreliable.
Temperature swings affect insulin sensitivity.
Effort spikes can crash blood sugar unexpectedly.
Everything you need has to be planned, carried, or anticipated.
But there’s also something empowering about managing all of that while still moving forward. Every checkpoint passed isn’t just physical progress — it’s logistical victory too.
It’s not about ignoring the condition. It’s about out-planning it.
Pace Is Irrelevant, Effort Is Everything
Moab slickrock is the great equalizer.
GPS pace means nothing when terrain changes every few minutes. You might feel strong one mile and humbled the next. Running becomes a conversation with the landscape instead of a number on a watch.
And somewhere in that unpredictability, something shifts.
You stop chasing splits.
You start chasing steady forward motion.
You remember why you fell in love with trail running in the first place.
What Finishing Would Mean
Crossing the line at Behind the Rocks wouldn’t just be finishing a race. It would mean completing the Triple Crown of Moab — a full winter of choosing hard things on purpose.
It would mean:
✔️ Showing up when motivation was low
✔️ Training through cold, darkness, and chaos
✔️ Managing diabetes mile after mile
✔️ Trusting that consistency compounds
Not perfection. Not flawless execution. Just stubborn forward progress.
Winter Miles Cash In Here
Every treadmill run.
Every icy Wyoming morning.
Every strength session when running wasn’t possible.
Every time it would have been easier to stay home.
All of it shows up on this start line.
And when the course gets quiet — when fatigue hits and doubts creep in — those ordinary training days become the foundation that keeps you moving.
Showing Up Anyway
Being The Fed Diabetic Runner has never been about chasing podiums. It’s about chasing possibility. About refusing to let a chronic condition shrink the size of your goals.
Behind the Rocks is the kind of race that asks one simple question:
How badly do you want to keep becoming stronger?
Not faster. Not tougher. Stronger — physically, mentally, emotionally.
Desert Dawn, Final Test
Soon I’ll be standing in the cold pre-dawn air with a headlamp, surrounded by runners who also chose the hard route through winter. The sky will lighten, the red rock will glow, and the miles will stretch ahead like a promise.
Somewhere out there lies the finish line — and the completion of the Triple Crown.
But more importantly, somewhere out there is another reminder:
You don’t need perfect conditions to do meaningful things.
You don’t need a perfect body to chase big goals.
You just need the willingness to keep showing up.
March can’t come soon enough.
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