I ran the 2025 Copper Kings 100 in Butte, Montana. And man, what a day. It was everything I could’ve asked for in a hard mountain race: rugged, long, scenic, and just stubborn in the best way.
It’s a course that doesn’t look too wild on paper. But don’t be fooled. Those climbs are longer than they seem, and the rocks… yeah, they don’t quit.
Starting Off – From Pavement to Trail (Miles 0–25)
The race kicks off at 4 a.m. near the Berkley Pit Mine near the heart of Butte, Montana. I only had about four hours of sleep under me, but hey, we were going to get it done. The first 12 miles take you through town on pavement and dirt roads, down through the south end of Butte. Honestly, this might be a weird stat – no porta-potties for a majority of the first 12 miles in town. Unless you run inside the town pump. So make sure you do your business at the start line. Mental note for next year.
At the Highland Trailhead (mile 12), you finally hit your first aid station, and it was a welcome stop. Grabbed some food, got rid of the coffee, and got ready to actually start climbing.
From there, the trail climbs quickly. It’s an ATV track, and you get pushed into power-hike mode pretty fast. I passed several people on that climb, and the trail rolls along, eventually getting to single-track before your next stop around mile 25. Just steady work. Quiet, beautiful morning. It’s the part of the race where you get a feel for what’s ahead and settle in.
Sarah, my crew for the day and a local ultrarunner herself, met me at the 25-mile mark. She jokes that she invited herself to crew, and I’m so glad she did. I shed a layer, restocked, got fluids down, and reset the mindset for what was going to be the hottest part of the day. I knew the next crew access wouldn’t be until mile 46, so the goal was simple: move steady and take care of business through the next 21 miles.
Feeling the Heat – Pipestone to Homestake (Miles 25–46)
Between miles 25 and 35, things rolled decently. But just before the Pipestone aid station, I hit a long downhill section and got a little carried away. Up to that point, I had done a solid job of keeping my heart rate steady, in what I call my “all-day effort.” But that downhill came at a cost. I started to feel the early twinges of nausea, just as the heat was settling in.
At Pipestone, I knew I had to get in front of things. I sat down, drank a full Gatorade, chased it with water, some pickle juice, and an uncrustable. Then it was back out and straight into another climb. The heat wasn’t unbearable, but with the sun right overhead and that steady gain, it was enough to wear on you.
By the time I got to Homestake Pass at mile 46, I had worked through the nausea and was starting to feel solid again. This station’s a big one right off I-90 and buzzing with energy. I got in, sat down, and loaded up on quesadillas, flavored water, and all the good stuff. The highlight was this 79-cent bottle of cherry-limeade carbonated water from Safeway. Absolutely hit the spot. Changed my socks and shirt, put on a long-sleeved sunshirt for the evening, and took a moment to breathe. I probably should’ve taped my heels right then. Hindsight, right?
Into the Wild – The Big Climb and Lady of the Rockies (Miles 46–76)
Leaving Homestake, you’ve got a 12-mile section with 3,000 feet of climbing ahead. And that’s just the start of a 30-mile stretch with just one aid station in the middle. This is where things get serious. You’re going into the night, hitting the high point on the course at over 8,400 feet, and climbing a total of 5,200 feet over the next several hours.
My Ultraspire Legacy race vest worked perfect for the amount of gear and fuel I needed to carry for this race. I pulled out my poles and got to work. Kept a steady effort. Nothing elite, but never stopped moving. It was the right call. The climb up to the Lady of the Rockies is slow and steady, but the final .3 miles? Brutal. Several hundred feet of gain in what feels like near-vertical trail. Bushwhacking, basically.
The aid station at the top was a godsend. Hot food, good people. I ate everything. Hash browns, bacon, pierogies, quesadillas, peanut butter, Coke, Gatorade. I didn’t linger too long, but I left full and ready for evening miles.
From there to mile 76 is another solid effort. You’re looking at nearly 17.5 miles of rocky, rugged Continental Divide Trail with another 2,300 feet of climbing. I crested the course high point right at sunset and got lucky with light for that section, which was great because I didn’t want to end up eating rocks. By 10 p.m., I had my Ultraspire waist light on and was working downhill into the night.
Mile 76 – Nez Perce and Reset
I rolled into Nez Perce around 12:30 a.m. It was a little behind what I’d hoped, but still within my goal window and those downhill rocks had worn me out. My legs were pretty cooked, probably not helped by running a 50-miler the weekend before (don’t recommend it).
Sarah was there, ready to crew again. I finally sat down to deal with the blisters I’d been ignoring since mile 46. Taped my heels, ate potatoes and broth by the campfire, and reset for the final stretch. Spent about 15 minutes there, which felt just right. A person could easily set up camp here and take a nap. From here, Sarah would pace me the final 24 miles.
Overnight Grind – Konda Trailhead to Mile 90
The next 4.5 miles were road, starting as dirt and turning to chip seal. And man, that headwind was cold. Really glad I had packed my vest and windbreaker. We didn’t run much here, just kept moving forward.
At the Konda trailhead, we were back on trail. You finally depart the CDT. It’s a cross-country skiing area with gravel and old roads, and it climbs about 1,600 feet over eight miles. Not steep overall, but just enough to test your patience. Especially at 2 a.m. There were a couple of steep climbs that earned some moaning and groaning, but we made solid time.
We rolled into the mile 90 aid station just after sunrise. I was cold, tired, but still moving. Sat down for some hash browns and bacon, and soaked in the morning light before setting out on the last stretch. At this point, I was on a mission to finish.
The Final Miles – Gravel, Pavement, and a Butte-iful Finish
This 10-mile stretch begins as gravel road with some rolling and small climbs. Then you hit a descent into town, back on pavement for the final 5 miles. You come up above the open pit mines, and the sun is finally warming up again. I didn’t have much run left in me, but I could still fast hike with intention.
Here’s the kicker. You see the finish line off to your left… and then the course turns right. Wes (the RD) clearly wanted to showcase Uptown Butte. So we looped around to the Montana Tech campus, down West Park Street, right through the farmers market. People were cheering. Someone asked, “Is there a race today?” I grunted something about starting at 4 a.m. yesterday. Thankfully, Sarah had the energy to explain, and they cheered us on. I wasn’t stopping to chat at this point.
We rounded the last turn toward the finish and, of course, right there on the last block were four cop cars with lights flashing. Actual traffic stop. One officer had his gun drawn. Not the finish line drama I was expecting. Thankfully, I was aware enough for the split second to give them space and crossed the road early, then made our way across the real finish line as we watch the drug dog do its thing.
Copper Kings 100 Final Stats and Reflections
- Time: 28 hours, 20 minutes
- Place: 22nd overall
- Climbing: 15,800 feet (according to my Coros)
- Distance: 100 miles
This was the longest I’ve ever been on my feet by three hours. And I couldn’t be prouder of how I handled it. The race was well-supported, the course was incredible, and the community vibe was top-notch. Big thanks to Sarah for crewing and pacing.
It’s a deceivingly tough course. The rocks, the remoteness, and those late-night climbs all stack up. But if you want a true mountain ultra, Butte, Montana delivers.
Already eyeing 2026 with fresh legs. But first it’s time to rest up and get ready for the Beaverhead 100K in a few weeks.