Man vs Horse Race Entry Giveaway

man vs horse
Think you could you outrun a horse? Here’s your chance to find out!

Throw your name in for a free entry to the Man vs Horse race in Inyokern, CA on October 11, 2014.

Choose from a 10 mile, marathon, or 50K distance (no horses in the 50K).

Participants will be rewarded with an ice cold beverage of their choice; made on-site and served in a Man vs Horse souvenir pint glass. Choose from an Indian Wells Brewing Co micro-brewed beer, locally crafted Rocket Fizz soda, or delicious spring water from local artesian wells.

Participants will also receive lunch after the race and a custom t-shirt. All finishers will be adorned with a custom crafted finishers medal to commemorate their experience.

The trail consists primarily of fire roads and Jeep trails.

For the marathon distance, 1st through 3rd in each age/gender division will receive a buckle and all finishers will receive finishers medals.

Dogs are welcome in the 10 miler and will be provided with aid.

Runners: Your time stops when you cross the finish line.
Riders: Your time stops when your horses pulse rate is 60 bpm at the finish line.

Learn more:



Race Website:


For a free entry, leave a comment below answering the following question:

What was one of your lowest or most difficult points in a race that you are proud to have overcome?

For additional entries, share this post on Facebook, Twitter, your blog, or anywhere else online. Each additional share = one extra entry. For example, if you comment below as well as share on Facebook and Twitter, that’s 3 entries. Remember to mention where you shared in the comments below.

The winner will be chosen at random on July 1st and contacted directly.

Good luck!

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18 responses

  1. The lowest point for me in a race was the last 10 miles of the Last Annual VOL state 500k when I was so delirious I was wandering around the final mountain chasing trees and mailboxes thinking they were people. With less than hour left of a 314 mile run I finally gathered my senses and sprinted the last 3 miles to finish my first multi-day foot race with only 50 minutes to spare.

  2. The lowest point for me was during the Boston Marathon or should I say after the marathon, only to find out that I could have gotten a ride with Rosie Ruiz for a win!

  3. My lowest point was about mile 48 of the Bishop High Sierra 100k. At that point you have a decision to make, turn right and go downhill 2 miles and finish as a 50 miler, or turn left uphill/downhill and all around hill for another 12 miles.

    It’s a hard decision to make!

    I turned left.

  4. The lowest point ever for me in a race was during a 10 miler at one of the OC trail run series races. It happened to be the day after my brother’s wedding, and I know I was still drunk for the first 5 miles because it felt to easy and I was flying. Eventually my hangover kicked in, and I ended up walking/puking the last 4 miles. At least I finished!

  5. My lowest point in a race was my one and only DNF when I dropped from the Bryce 100 at mile 74. It wasn’t my lowest point because I didn’t finish. It was my lowest point because my parents were there to crew me for the first time, and I kept thinking about how they wouldn’t get to see their son cross the finish line that night. It was devastating to me, and the lowest I’ve ever felt.

    As I was shivering uncontrollably while they put me into my Jeep, I kept apologizing over and over again. But they said it was ridiculous. They were incredibly proud of me either way. And, plus, this way they didn’t have to stay up all night. That made me laugh, and even though I was tired and disappointed and the race was over, I started to feel better.

  6. Not making the cutoff time at Zane Grey. I’ve never felt so low as I did that moment, but I know I’ll be back next year

  7. The lowest point for me was when I was running my first 100 at Chimera 100 and I got to the bottom of Indian Truck Trail only to realize I had to go all the way back up and had another 17ish miles to go after that. I broke down and started crying. Actually I was alternating between crying and drinking chocolate milk. Cry for a few seconds, take a swig, cry some more. I ended up finishing though, and I attribute it to the crying. You know what they say… “Tears are simply bitch particles egressing your body via your eye holes to escape the massive amount of testosterone surging through your body.”
    At least I’m pretty sure that’s what they say.
    Or something like that.
    I mean I’m SURE someone has said that at some point…

  8. Managed to get the flu the night before a race but decided to run despite my fever and aching body. I ran my personal record in the 5k that day

  9. The lowest point was mile 23 at a San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll in 2012, when I had an intense knee pain that made me wobble along for sometime, and then I saw an older man who was delirious and yelling about not being able to make it, so I teamed up with another runner and we accompanied this older man for the next three miles, crossing the finish line together. The knee pain was there, but somehow it was diminished. The older man’s family was there to greet him, and mine was running late so they missed my crossing the finish line, but the satisfaction of seeing the reunion at the end of the run made it all worth it.

  10. I had gotten pretty heat sick during a 50k, and had suffered about 8 miles of crying, throwing up, and trail napping in the fetal position in the high-noon shade of a scrub brush. My husband showed up at the aid station and said he had my drop bag, and had the car, and he was ready to take me home. (Possibly it was the devil disguised as my husband; I still have my suspicions). I’m still proud of the way I sucked in my tears, put a handful of ice down my sports bra, and said: “I want my fucking medal!”

  11. My lowest point during a run was during my first 100k. With 15 miles to, my ankle which had been causing trouble for a couple hours had finally reached a crescendo of pain. I had to walk/limp the last 15 miles but I was determined to finish.

  12. For me it was my failed attempt at the Grand Slam in 2010. At Leadville I had to give everything I had the whole way. Nearing the end at the Fish Hatchery I was completely wretched, but I dragged myself out and climbed the next hill and forced myself to run to make the finish in time. Yet that wasn’t the proudest moment. It came later when I finally quit at the last aid station at the last race of the Slam…mile 94 at Wasatch. In ultras, especially 100’s, I always feel a separation of mind, body and spirit. I suffered dreadfully at Wasatch, and was more disappointed than I’d ever been in my life, and still am. But mind/body ego was washed away, spirit came forth pure and clear, full of peace and love. The pain turned into a gift.

  13. My lowest point came during my failed attempt at the 2010 Grand Slam. I had to give everything I had at Leadville. At the Fish Hatchery I was completely wretched, but I somehow dragged my self over the last hill and forced myself to run it in and make the cutoff at the finish. But my Real moment came when I finally quit at the last aid station of the last race of the Slam. When I run ultras, especially 100 milers, I always enjoy a separation of mind, body and spirit. I suffered terribly at Wasatch, and I couldn’t face the fear of racing the final cutoff. I came to a point where the ego mind/body washed away. I was left with pure, clear, loving spirit. The disappointment still hurts and if I could have a do-over I’d finish…but I’m left with a gift I will be grateful for the rest of my life.

  14. My lowest point in a race was at Bighorn 100. I got to the 85 mile aid station having not eaten for a while due to gastro issues, and in a hypothermic state. It was then that I suffered a massive bonk that left me destitute of energy for the rest of it, and that I never was really able to recover from.
    It took everything I had to continue to push myself, somehow pound the last downhill and slowly jog/walk.and repeat all the way to the finish. Those are the moments of truth which remain etched in your memory.

  15. At the Tahoe Rim Trail 50 Miler, which was my second 50 miler in my second year of running Ultras. I started puking at mile 14, climbing a big sand hill in the rising heat. It was in the high 90s that day and I do NOT do well in the heat. At the top of the hill was this sign:

    Feeling like crap, but I signed up for this race because 1) It looked like a tough but awesome mountain race and who wouldn’t want to run a race with a view of Lake Tahoe all day and 2) They had this real cool medal which had this awesome coin in the middle of it, the same one they put on the 100M buckle, and I really really wanted that medal. I’d been building for this race since January, so I thought about all that work I had put in training in the mountains and that cool medal and I went right. The day was tough, the heat slowed me to a crawl, I had to eat Tums with every salt pill and gel just to try and keep them down. At mile 30, you hit a climb up from the bottom of the ski resort, which climbs the green run for a mile and then goes straight up a black diamond ski run … in the sun … with no shade anywhere. I charge up it with determination and 100′ from the top I get a double quad cramp, full quad, both legs, just stuck there screaming and swearing with no angle I could possibly move on that steep slope that would take pressure off my legs and stop the cramps. Eventually the cramps ease up enough to finish the climb. More puking. More tums. More climbs. More puking. I finally get to the top of the final hill climb at Snow Valley Peak with great joy, knowing it is “all downhill” from here with 7 miles and change to go. I figure if I don’t eat, I won’t puke and charged out of the station and down the hill. I am feeling good for once and push the pace and pass 15-20 people. Then head spins and dry heaves and I am stuck on the side of the trail, dry heaving and unable to move. Most of the people I passed pass me back. I finally stop dry heaving and feel OK enough to move and find that all that the effort of dry heaving had actually given me an adrenalin rush and I am feeling good again! So off I charge again, fastest pace of the race. Let’s get this damn thing over with and get that medal! I pass the people that had passed me back and keep passing people, charging away. It gets dark and I turn on the head lamp for the last couple miles and focus on hunting down the bobbing head lamps in the distance. I fly by them in the dark, one by one, until VOILA!: finish line! I stagger across the finish line, head spinning, stomach so pissed off I couldn’t eat a real meal for 2 days or enjoy any of the post race beer I had stocked in my hotel room, and feet beat up from 50 miles of rough mountain terrain. AND … the medal had been replaced by this real cool plaque! Now the plague is nice and looks real nice on the wall, but all I could think of at that moment, after all the pain and suffering I went through for that medal that I had so fixated in my head over the past 50 miles and in all the training I had put in leading up to the race was: WHERE’S MY DAMN MEDAL????! I sat there totally stunned in a chair, unable to move or eat, and so deeply depressed that after all I had been through, I didn’t even get my medal. Seems silly now, but man, was that a low point at that moment. Aren’t Ultras fun?! :-)

  16. My lowest point would have to be when my spirits are so down I walk majority of the race untillI hear people not only cheering for me, but chanting my name.

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