Rob krar biography

“I was afraid to leave him. He didn’t tell me, ‘I’m thinking about killing myself.’ But I didn’t want to leave him alone during a several-week patch.”

Christina Bauer sits with her hands clasped, and her posture is perfect. She’s worked all day in an office advising community-college students. It’s a job she never expected to love, but back when she was in college and having a hard time, she took a semester off to do Outward Bound, the outdoor-leadership program for youths. She learned how to read a map and navigate without trails, how to find water and leave no trace. There was something about doing hard stuff outside that changed how she saw herself. At first she thought she’d seek out a career in policy and protect the wild places she loved, but then she worked at a camp doing conflict resolution with troubled kids, and that was it. She’s been a counselor, in some capacity, her entire adult life.

She was the first person Rob Krar told. About going in the hole.

Krar is sitting next to his wife, and his shoulders are hunched forward. In the red metal chair around the small met

The Contradiction of Rob Krar

In the summer of 2013, a then-36-year-old night pharmacist from Hamilton, Ontario, entered the Western States Endurance Run, one of the world’s most competitive 100-mile races. It would be the farthest he’d ever run—by 50 miles.

If he finished, the race would take him and the 276 other participants on a scrambling tour of the California high country. From the start at Squaw Valley, the runners would arc west through the Sierra Nevada, climbing some 18,000 total feet and descending 23,000 feet more, all the way into the town of Auburn on the outskirts of Sacramento. For the majority of the field, the most sought-after prize is a belt buckle earned for finishing in 24 hours.

Barely 15 hours after the athletes disappeared into the mountains, the pharmacist, Rob Krar, came running into view outside the finish at the Placer High School track. He had second place firmly in hand, a mere 4 minutes and 38 seconds—the ultramarathoning equivalent of a photo finish—behind two-time champ Timothy Olson.

“I have no idea where those 15 hours went,” Krar says.

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