Last Skier Standing
February 2026
Brian Burke photo
The only person who doesn’t get to find their limit at Last Skier Standing is the finisher. The winner.
The format of the event means it ends when that person is the only one remaining. In 2022, I found myself there—satisfied with my win of 65 hours, unsatisfied with my ultimate goal of finding my limit.
So after a nice hiatus from the event, I went back for my second and final time with a clear goal: either ski for 100+ hours, or win. I hoped to do both.
In order to attempt the 100-hour goal, it would require others to reach at least 99 hours. I recruited a small group of previous record-holders, learned that they were all up for the 100-lap challenge, and got to work training.
Well, not really, since Utah was amid its worst winter on record, and skiing was all but impossible. I busied myself with pre-production of a film about the attempt, creating a climate fundraiser for my participation in the event, and being nervous.
Arctic winds gusted relentlessly for the entirely of the event, starting on Friday morning. People dropped simply from the ongoing discomfort of sub-zero temperatures punctuated by constant wind, pushing the windchill, reportedly, beyond -30F.
I hit a low somewhere around 6 hours and expected to quit that first day. With the most incredibly support system I could ever imagine, I somehow skied for two more full days. I would call Katie and simply say “talk" while I was skinning uphill, and she would entertain me for the entirety of a lap. On the ground at Black Mountain of Maine, Torey Brooks, Christian Eaton, and a cadre of other folks somehow knew EXACTLY what to do and say to keep me moving forward. My 39-minute laps turned into 45, then 54, then 58-minute laps, leaving me almost no time to rest and prepare for the next lap. At one point, I didn’t sit down for eight hours, as I was cutting it too close with my insanely slow laps, and my crew of amazing friends would show up at the start/finish line to put my skins on, shove a bite of food in my mouth, and send me off again. Meanwhile, the other participants were often getting 15+ minutes of sleep with each lap.
In the timewarp that is Last Skier Standing, I somehow found myself in final three skiers. My toes were absolutely miserable and my morale was exceedingly low. As self-aware as I was, I couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Eventually, on lap 63, I fell asleep on my poles one too many times, and timed out. I knew where I had to be at a certain point of the course in order to finish before the end of the hour, and I wasn’t there. I tucked tail, turned around, and skied to my finish.
The most delightful part of the event was watching my new friend Bri demolish the women’s record, outlast me and my outlandish ambitions, and serve as the “assist” to 2-time winner and unbelievable athlete, Lukas.
Thanks to Fischer Skis for introducing me to the event—of which they are the primary sponsor—and for getting me to it. Thanks to Christian Eaton, Torey Brooks, and Colby Decker for knowing exactly what to say and when to say it. Thanks to Andrew Drummond and Monte Rufus McIndoe for agreeing to allow us to attempt 100 hours without batting an eye, and for putting on a wonderful event among my favorite ski community in the world. And thanks to the participants, volunteers, and crew for letting me drop into their scene and welcoming me with open arms.