Searching the limits of the body and mind, one step at a time. Running into darkness to find the light.

Rob Krar, Endurance Athlete

There have been records, wins, trophies, and accolades—and while all those perks are hard earned, I have gained more than victories from my athletic pursuits. Competing at the highest levels of ultrarunning has offered much more—a platform for activism, an avenue to understand and grapple with depression, opportunity to connect with my life partner, and a chance to build a community.

My hometown of Hamilton, Ontario, lent the perfect setting to embark on a life of adventure. Growing up canoeing and cross-country skiing with my family in the Dundas Valley, an appreciation for nature, conservation, and land protection took an early hold. Eager to keep up with my older brother and father, a competitive streak began to reveal itself and there weren’t many sports I wasn’t willing to try.

Eventually my father entered the local Around the Bay 30K road race and by middle school I’d watched him compete in the Boston Marathon. I was struck by the experience, though it wouldn’t be until later in life that I’d discover my own path toward competitive running. In the meantime, I relished dabbling in less mainstream activities. Badminton? Water polo? Little-known-fact: I was a member of both teams in high school, although I ultimately found my greatest success during my teen years in triathlon, twice representing Canada at the World Championships.

When I moved on to Butler University I focused on cross country and middle distance events including the 800M and 1500M, all while completing my studies in the Doctor of Pharmacy program. After graduating in 2002, I thought I was done with running—and in all the obvious ways, I was. I took a position in Phoenix, Arizona, as a pharmacist on the graveyard shift, working from 9 p.m. to 8 a.m. seven days on and seven days off—a demanding schedule I held for the next 13 years.

Unhappy in the sprawling hot, desert city, I took a new job in Flagstaff, Arizona, in 2006. Planning to study for my Canadian board exams and move back to the homeland, I’d run very little since 2001. But the community in the high-altitude, mountain oasis tugged me back in. Training with intensity—perhaps too much of it—by 2007 and after running the Boston Marathon, injuries began to hamper my goals. They didn’t, however, stop me from entering the Transrockies Run in 2009, which turned out to be both a fortunate and unfortunate decision.

It was at the 120-mile, six-day stage race, that I ran my body into the ground, barely able to cross the finish line on the final stage. Although I ended up on the sidelines for some time, the universe hadn’t completely conspired against me as it was during that race that I met my future wife, Christina Bauer. Soon after I returned home I was diagnosed with Haglund’s deformity on both of my heels, requiring surgery and two years away from running. In the meantime, Christina and I had plenty of time to fall in love and get to know each other through our many shared outdoor passions—camping, hiking, climbing, fly fishing, and ski mountaineering. But there was no running…and it didn’t seem like there ever would be again.

Living in Flagstaff, however, doesn’t allow many people to ever completely step away from the sport and I recognized that running provided a sense of peace and a way to cope with ongoing struggles with depression. I entered the 2011 Moab 33K on a whim after spending most of the winter ski mountaineering up the local slopes of Arizona Snowbowl. I unexpectedly won. Several other wins quickly followed and finally I realized my place was on the trails—and the longer the distance, the better.

Before I knew it I found myself running ultras. I earned my way into the 2013 Western States Endurance Run by winning the Leona Divide 50M. I set the then Fastest Known Time for the double and single crossings of the Grand Canyon, placed second in my debut at the 100-mile distance at States, and launched a career in ultrarunning. My other proudest moments include winning Western States twice, and competing and winning three 100-mile races in the span of 11 weeks in 2014—Western States, Leadville, and Run Rabbit Run. I am also incredibly honored that I was twice voted the men’s Ultra Runner of the Year, in 2013 and 2014.

I feel so fortunate that my success has provided opportunities beyond competition. Most meaningfully I have been able to speak out on mental health, and hope that sharing my experiences in dealing with depression helps to take away some of the stigma associated with it. I strive to speak honestly about how running has, in some instances, helped ease my struggles, and with equal honesty share about the dark days when it’s impossible to get myself out the door.

My partnership with Christina, a fierce outdoor woman and talented athlete in her own right, has provided balance, stability, love, and teamwork. We joined with the Sierra Club in 2015 to advocate for the Greater Grand Canyon Heritage National Monument, which if it had been declared would have protected the land we cherish most from uranium mining and logging, among other threats; and we will continue to advocate for the protection of public lands in the future.

It is also Christina’s influence that has allowed me to flourish in other competitive endurance sports, including ski mountaineering. After competing in Canada and the US the last three winters, 2017 provided the opportunity to once again represent my country, this time at the Ski Mountaineering World Championships high in the Italian Dolomites. To cap off the season I raced with a North Face teammate Mike Foote at the iconic four day Pierra Menta stage race in the French Alps.

Christina and I have recently started opening our home to aspiring ultrarunners from around the world by offering multiple camps in Flagstaff throughout the year. New friendships have flourished and a community of ultrarunners has connected on many levels beyond running. The camaraderie and support borne on the trails is a happy result of welcoming a range of ages and abilities into the sport, and we cherish our newfound community.

Ultimately, becoming a successful endurance athlete only matters as much as it can be leveraged for good in the community and for the causes closest to my heart. I hope my performances can serve as inspiration for others to make positive changes in their lives. I will continue to seek opportunities to share my experiences and expertise through training and racing, coaching, camps, speaking, and continuing the important dialogue around mental health issues.