Crazy Bob's Bair Gutsman

The Oldest Mountain Race in Utah

Conquer Thyself

"The first and greatest victory is to conquer thyself." - Plato

"Do not even consider running this race, the OLDEST UTAH MOUNTAIN RACE and one of the truly ugly experiences in the annuals of mountain running, unless you either have a signature from a qualified sponsor or you know Martial Thirsk, Arne Hultquist, Eric Jensen, one of the Iverson Family, another wacko who has actually done the race, Doug from Glen's Tires, or Crazy Bob himself, when he lived (or maybe you've talked with him since that evil night he died, in which case you don't have to pay a registration fee, in which case we owe you)." 

"Consider this: snakes, no water, a king-hell curmudgeon for a race director, heat and a view that has no parallel after you make it past the truly infamous DEATH ROW. Yes, this is the race that no one has yet been able to run since 4,000 verticle feet in the first four miles and the total 11-13 miles depending on the way you live your life is laden with rocks, creeks, floods, DEVASTATION, moral turpitude, and at the end of your trial and tribulations, a watermelon or two, and a few canteloupes. Nothing more. No deals. No dancing girls. No coke machines on the trails. No mile markers. Nothing but blood, sweat and rattlesnakes. A dynamite t-shirt if you pre-register. If you're looking for something, this isn't the race for you. If you've already got it, then welcome."


Good luck.  

You'll need it.

There's no trail.  

It's a bushwack into the jaws of death.