1 Dream, 10 Years: Tim’s Western States Journey

After nearly a decade of determination, thousands of training miles, and nine lottery attempts, Tim Gorichanaz—a professor at Drexel University and GOREWEAR athlete—finally earned a coveted spot in the legendary Western States Endurance Run. Held annually in California, this 100-mile ultramarathon is one of the world’s oldest and most iconic, with over 18,000 feet of climbing. Originally a horse endurance race, it now draws top ultrarunners from around the world.

Tim’s journey to the start line wasn’t easy. After an ankle injury in late 2024, he spent months cross-training and rehabbing, uncertain if he’d make it. But on June 29, 2025, after years of chasing this goal, he crossed the finish line in Auburn in 29 hours, 22 minutes and 57 seconds.

We sat down with Tim post-race to hear how the experience lived up to a decade of dreaming—and what it taught him along the way.

After eight years of waiting, what was it like to finally stand on the Western States start line? Did it feel surreal, grounding, or something in between?

Finally being at the starting line, I felt calm and collected - not really nervous, just ready. It was definitely a grounding experience, having anticipated this for so long. I was excited to see what the day would bring.

During the race itself, was there a moment that hit you hardest—either emotionally or physically?

There were physical challenges all along—lots of climbing and descents, and being at elevation. What hit me hardest was after finishing a section called Devil’s Thumb, where you climb 2,000 feet in about a mile, then descend even more. After that, my legs were wrecked, and every climb and descent got harder and harder.

Emotionally, the toughest moment was around mile 95, when I realized I would be able to finish within the cutoffs. I had been cutting it close at times and had to fight hard to keep my pace up. I was worried I’d DNF—after waiting so long, having loved ones out there, and getting so far into the course. But once I knew I had a comfortable margin, I felt a release. My eyes welled up. I still had a few tough miles to go, but at that point, they felt more celebratory than stressful.

Did the experience match what you imagined over the years, or did it reveal something you hadn’t expected?

What struck me most was feeling firsthand the reverence that the ultrarunning community has for this race. There’s energy and excitement all night long. The volunteers are experienced and helpful—I got a few carwash-style sponge baths in the heat, and one volunteer gave me papaya extract and antacids for the nausea I was experiencing.

Physically, it was definitely harder than I expected. The trail wasn’t as technical as ours out East, but the combination of altitude for the first 40 miles, then the heat, and the relentless climbs and descents—it all adds up. Even after the major climbs were over, the small ones started feeling big.

Was there a part of the course that became unexpectedly meaningful to you while running it?

One of the things I love about ultrarunning is getting to experience places far from civilization, so of course I loved seeing the escarpment, the canyons and more. What surprised me was how much I loved running through Auburn in the final mile, and then hitting the track for the last few hundred yards. I had about an hour before the cutoff to finish that mile, so I knew I could do it even if things went wrong. I couldn’t really run at all anymore, but I was all smiles and tears.

There was still a lot of climbing left in that final stretch, which was kind of funny. My pacer and I joked that maybe the high school in Auburn was called Hilltop High and we just hadn’t noticed. Spectators were lining the streets – some even sprayed us with misters and hoses. Eventually we made it. And then when I hit the track, my muscles loosened up just enough for a strong finish. The energy of people cheering the whole way, and finally, finally being there—that part was surreal. I get choked up just thinking about it.

What did it feel like to cross the finish line, knowing what it took to get there?

Mostly I was just grateful. Grateful, relieved and proud.

Who did you think of when you crossed that line?

Honestly, the first person I thought of was my pacer, Carter. I turned to see where he was. He’s a friend I met during my last 100-mile race—we ended up running most of that race together and finishing in under 24 hours. I honestly couldn’t have finished Western States without him. He was my brain when mine was toast. He somehow knew just when to push me to keep up my pace and when to ease off.

After that, I was excited to see my family, who were all there to watch me finish. They’ve been with me not just for the long day, but through all the years of training and races that came before.

After all the years of chasing this goal, how do you think it changed you—not just as a runner, but as a person?

This was my 12th 100-mile finish, and running all those races has taught me so much. I am calmer, more flexible, more hopeful and confident—not just in running, but in life. Running teaches you acceptance for whatever life brings, and gratitude when things go well. It’s about enjoying the journey and not being too attached to the outcome. These might sound like clichés, but ultrarunning makes you feel them in your bones. It’s a different kind of knowledge.

Has Western States redefined what success in running means to you?

Western States is a fascinating race because it brings together the fastest of the fast and the everyman runner like me. That’s part of what makes it special—it shows us there are multiple paths to success. Whether it’s hitting an ambitious time goal, executing your heat management plan, or just having fun out there, success isn’t just about finishing time. There are so many ways to define it.

What comes next? After chasing this dream for so long, is there a sense of peace—or is a new goal already forming?

Of course I’d love to run it again, but it’s okay if that takes a few more years. Everyone who qualifies and wants to should get the chance to run Western States. Next time, I’d love to go sub-24, with a stronger training season and the knowledge of the course I have now. That’s one thing I love about ultrarunning—the tinkering and experimentation.

In the nearer term, I’m planning to explore fastpacking and the 200-mile distance. I’m also looking forward to some of the more grassroots 100-milers that aren’t Western States qualifiers. And... there’s also that Leadville lottery I keep entering.

If you could go back and speak to yourself during one of those eight years of waiting, what would you say now?

It will all be worth it!