Life in a Day: Crewing and Pacing a Top Ten Finisher at the 2026 Western States Endurance Run
by GRP trail runner Mead Binhammer
Emerging from the long, final switchback of the Robie Point Climb, where I grow afraid that Canyon has fully emptied the tank, we hear familiar voices ahead. “Go Canyon!” “Yes we Can-yon!”, they cheer raucously. The crew is here, and we’re ready to bring our racer home to the finish line at the Auburn HS track, which for one day each year magically becomes the center of the ultrarunning universe.
From personal alarm clock to belt gel-and-flask-stuffers, we’ve covered various minor roles over the course of the day. We’ve also traveled from Olympic Valley to Auburn, though unlike Canyon, we’ve relied mostly on the internal combustion engine to accomplish such a journey. As we take the first steps on pavement since crossing Highway 49, we share looks of admiration and appreciation; we got him to Auburn.
The crew accompanies Canyon from Robie Point to the finish, a time-honored Western States tradition.
This June, I had the honor and privilege to join GRP athlete Canyon Woodward’s crew for the 2026 Western States Endurance Run, a 100-mile race starting in Olympic Valley, California that crosses high elevation peaks, blazing hot canyons, the Middle Fork of the American River, and the Sierra foothills before ending at a high school track in Auburn, CA. For those who aren’t acquainted, it’s a notoriously difficult race to get into, requiring participants to either run a qualifying race and enter a lottery, which can take several to many years (if you’re lucky), or win a Golden Ticket at a select few extremely competitive ultramarathons by placing in the top 2, or 3, athletes in your division.
Our crew was a ragtag bunch: Canyon’s family, his partner, college friends, Patagonia running teammates, a childhood friend, and me, a GRP teammate. We had coalesced over the preceding days to determine our roles, discuss logistics, and rehearse our crew transitions – which we now could routinely execute in about 15-30 seconds. Along with Canyon’s brother, Forest, I would also be joining Canyon for a section of the course as a pacer. Forest would take him from Forest Hill, at mile 62, to the Rucky Chucky River Crossing at mile 78, and I would accompany him across the river and on to the finish at - you guessed it - mile 100.
This was the second time I’d crewed and paced for Canyon in an ultra, the first being at Black Canyon 100k in Arizona, where Canyon got his second golden ticket (which automatically rolled down to the next runner, since he already had one in his back pocket). Pacing the outspoken “no pacers for elite fields” athlete has its contradictions, but in Canyon’s typical understated, nonchalant manner, it felt more like joining for a long run – though this time on the iconic Western States course.
The crew’s day started at 4AM, on the road from Lake Tahoe. With many sections of the Western States trail remarkably difficult to access, elite runners use an “A Crew” and a “B Crew” to make sure they get their necessary aid at each of the crew-able stops along the way. As a member of B Crew, I would travel to the south of the Western States course, along dusty, windy roads to Duncan Canyon and Dusty Corners aid stations before heading to Foresthill and the Rucky Chucky River Crossing.
While Canyon was screaming over the Escarpment and chasing a huge pack of leaders – all under course record pace – through the high country, we were jockeying for position at Duncan Canyon, the first crewed aid station of the day. Just over twenty miles into the race, this was our first opportunity to see how Canyon was doing, give him some encouragement, and put our rehearsal into practice. Our job would be easier at this crew point, as the weather was still cool, and we wouldn’t need to provide ice and a water dousing to cool our runner off. We buzzed with anticipation as the first runners came through the aid station. Canyon entered in 20th, but in high spirits, and after a seconds-long whirlwind of gels, soft flasks, and a bit of cheering, he was back on the singletrack, flowing downhill towards Crew A at Michigan Bluff, who would repeat this charade. With our successful first crew stop behind us, we high fived, jogged back to the van, and began the journey to Dusty Corners, where we would replicate this exact stop, now with a bucket of water for dousing and an ice bandana for the road.
At Foresthill, our third stop of the day, the intensity escalates. Thousands of spectators mill about, watching the live stream, nervously chatting, and waiting for the lead runners to make their way down Foresthill Road. Our A and B crews came together at this aid station, assembling a SuperCrew to give Canyon the aid and energy he needed at this crucial 100k checkpoint. Crew members can accompany their runner from the top of Bath Road about a mile away (so long as no aid is passed while on the run), so I met Canyon there, and navigated the throngs of onlookers to our crew tent at the far end of the designated aid zone. Another in-and-out transition and Canyon and his brother, Forest, left in eighth position on their way down Cal Street to the river.
Chasing Canyon through the chaos of Foresthill (photo credit: Peter Maksimow)
Two hours later, Canyon and Forest entered the Rucky Chucky Aid Station, and the code words were spoken aloud. Canyon was battling a bout of nausea and had thrown up several times on the trail in the last section. After 75 miles in the growing heat, it was certainly understandable. Climbing up the hill from the Middle Fork of the American River, we settled into a steady rhythm on the two miles to Green Gate. Unbeknownst to us, Crew A had already shared the news, and Crew B was ready with ginger ale upon our arrival. A sip of soda, and a tornado of ice, water, flasks, and gels, and we were back on the trail, just two climbs remaining before the Auburn track.
I settled in behind Canyon as we cruised along the single track, high above the American River. Seventh place was several minutes ahead of us, at this point, and word from the crew was that 9th place was over 20 minutes behind. The nausea had mostly subsided at this point, but gels were not exactly enticing either. Consistent, unrelenting forward progress was the name of the game. Our conversations ranged from race tactics and crew stories to a plan B for nutrition (hint: soda) in the last 20 miles, to silence, and even a discussion of Hayduke Lives as we gained a second wind and ran every step of the Pointed Rocks climb. The heat of the day began to dissipate as the late afternoon sun cascaded through the savannah-like meadows, and the refreshing call of spotted towhees began to ring through the shade of the understory. Several times, I found myself grinning behind an undoubtedly suffering Canyon as we made our way through the hills outside Auburn; “how blessed am I, running alongside M8 at Western States, a race and a day I could have only dreamed of?”
Through the Auburn savannah.
The final hour of the race passed in a whirlwind. We were seconds back, and gaining on 7th position for a while, thanks to a herculean effort by Canyon on the approach to the final climb. When they pulled away from us – a resurgence of the day’s nausea to blame – we settled in to enjoy the ride to the finish line. The crew re-assembled and jogged together with Canyon through the onlookers lining the streets of Auburn, sharing laughs, high fives, and encouragement. As we entered the track, we peeled off, letting Canyon run his last 300 meters alone, and rushed over to witness the finish. Unity, in that moment, was exceptional. We had assembled from across the country to help a dear friend on a special day, each in our own way. And here we were, rounding out the day together, watching our racer complete an exceptional top ten performance in the fastest year of one of the most competitive hundred-mile races in the world.
Quite a bit is written about what a crew can give to a runner, but particularly in this case, I want to highlight what the runner gives back. A chance to assemble and create new friendships. Experiencing the unique energy of Western States race day. Bearing witness to resilience in the flesh – a runner who stays committed to the grind and, through a day of inevitable ups and downs, just won’t quit. Deep, deep pride. And for the pacer, a chance to run in a race that might otherwise be unattainable. A day in June that many ultrarunners dream about, there’s nothing more special than accompanying a friend on their unforgettable journey to Auburn.