"Every mile I go will raise funds for UBL which in turn helps preserve our most vital creatures. For the first time, the stakes go beyond me, because for the first time, I’m running to make a difference."

Julian’s goal is to raise $100 for every mile completed as he takes part in the Notchview Ultra, where he hopes to complete 180 miles over 72 hours. This is Julian’s 3rd multiday ultra-distance race. The event kicks-off on July 12th at noon, completing a 1.9-mile loop as many times as possible. With live tracking, supporters will be able to follow his path to success! UBL will share updates throughout the three-day race as well as monthly leading up to the event.

I first learned about Urban Bee Lab (UBL) as a beekeeper for The Best Bees Company, as we are partnered with them and share a common commitment to improving global pollinator health, however, my passion for pollinators is something that has been a part of my whole life. Being the son of farmers, my family depends on pollinators for their livelihood. For multiple generations, my family has farmed hundreds of acres in NJ, and while the crop has changed over the years from tomatoes and corn to pumpkins and grapes (well and honestly everything in between), none of it would be possible without pollinators. This is why I believe in UBL’s mission, not just because of how important pollinators have been in my life but also because of how necessary they are for the food we eat every day. We must do everything in our power to advocate for their protection. I am excited about the accountability and gravitas that will now be attached to running in this event. This time I’m running for a cause, and I have no excuses not to do my best.

The Ultra Running Backstory
My earliest impression of ultrarunning was thinking, “Why on earth would someone ever want to do such a miserable thing?” I wasn't a runner in school and I certainly wasn't an athlete but I always had a desire to push myself in the face of adversity. In 2016 I hiked the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. I went into it utterly and hopelessly underprepared. As I set out for my six-month hiking adventure, I recall being told, “See you next week” – disheartening to say the least. For six months I persevered through tremendous trial and error, injuries, mud, blood, sweat, and tears yet somehow I finished the trail. I told myself atop the summit of Mt. Katahdin that I would never hike again. Fast forward a few months and one of my dear trail friends extends an offer to hike the Camino de Santiago across Spain. How could I say no to a trail reunion? This time, things were a lot easier, so much so that we hardly met anyone as our miles were not what others were doing, but I didn’t mind. It felt good to hike from sunrise to sunset for the first time. On the Appalachian Trail, I seldom hiked more than 20 miles while on the Camino, marathons became fairly common.

After the Camino, I became hooked on long-distance hiking. From 2016-2021 I spent a significant amount of time on trails, ultimately covering over 10,000 miles. Often we would challenge ourselves with 30 or 40-mile days over snow-capped mountains and across scorched desert valleys. And while I could hike all day, I still never cared for running.

In the Spring of 2021, I was hiking the Arizona Trail when I heard from another hiker that she was going to try a running/hiking challenge that I had never heard of: Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim on the Grand Canyon. Consisting of 48 miles and 22,000 feet of elevation change, her goal was to beat her old time of 18 hours. As the day of her attempt came I followed her progress where she finished with an impressive 16 hours. I thought to myself “I think I can beat that”, so I set out for R2R2R. Leaving before dawn, I set out down the canyon for the Colorado River. The thrill of the journey ahead was tangible. Down the trails I went, speed hiking, but certainly not running. I was getting passed by many runners along the way. In due time I came to the North Rim and a 6,000’ climb stared me in the face, but I’m a hiker; I love ups! Turns out most others do not, as I cruised up the North Rim, I passed by just about every runner who came by me earlier in the day. Interesting, if I can catch runners on the ups hiking, maybe – just maybe – if I jog downs and flats I can manage to do semi-decent over long enough distance. This thought stuck with me for the rest of the day, powering me through the miles ahead. A little after sunset I reached the top of the South Rim and checked my stopwatch: 14:30:27. I was proud of my efforts but more importantly something sparked in me. From that day I could push harder, I could go longer, heck I might even be able to run a little, and while I was always content to challenge myself, now I wanted to test myself against others. I wanted to compete in ultramarathons. Slow though I am, I have to thank my thru-hiking background for enabling me to build a strong enough endurance foundation to even attempt to compete in such a niche sport.

"The Trail Provides"
Stepping out of my comfort zone and following my path has been the most rewarding part of my life. If I never hiked the Appalachian Trail, I wouldn't have met the person who led me to Spain. If I didn't go to Spain, I wouldn't have met the people who let me go to Scotland. If I didn’t go to Scotland I wouldn't have stayed at a dumpy bed-bug hostel where I met Sara. If I hadn't met Sara I wouldn't be engaged right now, nor would I be living here in Boston, which certainly means I wouldn't have had the opportunity to run for this great cause. In the thru-hiking community, we have a saying “The trail provides”, and it sure has for me.

The Best and the Worst of Ultra Running
Ultra running is a rollercoaster, full of ups and downs. One minute you can feel unstoppable, the next crying your heart out in despair. It's an emotional journey that is simultaneously and paradoxically the best and worst of times. At my lowest, I curse myself for doing one yet can still celebrate my grit when I realize I’m out here getting it done with some of the best athletes I have ever met.

The ultra-running community is so encouraging and supportive, but in longer races, you often find yourself alone and scared in the dark. For me, these long lonely nights are the worst. Usually not on the first night, but by the second night sleep deprivation begins to set in, and the mind starts to play tricks. It begins with glimpses of movement in the shadows, seeing and hearing things in the trees. This will make anyone a little paranoid and can eventually turn into full-blown hallucinations. I once mistook a tree for a giant baby in a pulpit, the mind is a strange thing.

Spooky as the night can be it is always followed by dawn. The gradual shift to light and the dull warming of a pastel sky foretell the inevitable sunrise to follow. A new day and the resolve that coincides with surviving a frightful evening is one of the best feelings you can have, the definition of a sigh of relief.

Being able to celebrate the small victories and not be overwhelmed by the setbacks is my recipe for success. Ultras always present new and unique challenges that can be mental, physical, or even existential. Knowing how to tackle these predicaments at their first sign is a skill that has taken me years to develop, and I have a long road ahead to master them. End of the day I may not be the best runner out there, but I’m beyond happy just to be out there.

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Going the Distance for Pollinators

72 Hours, 180 Miles

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