Kilian Jornet has never been one to chase comfort in the mountains. But in his latest essay, published Monday, the four-time UTMB champion turned his attention to something far from the peaks, aid stations, and how they’ve evolved into what he sees as a growing point of inequity in trail running.
“When I ran my first long trail races,” Jornet wrote, “support was simple. You carried what you needed… It was basic, and the same for nearly everyone.”
Today, however, things look very different.
Top-level ultras have become increasingly professionalized, and in some events, the aid station has morphed into a Formula 1 pit stop, complete with crews handing off pre-cooled drinks, swapping out shoes, and even prepping inflatable ice baths.
For some athletes, this kind of infrastructure is the new normal. For others, especially those without sponsors or support budgets, it’s out of reach.
The discrepancy isn’t just about optics, Jornet argues. It’s about fairness.
At events like Western States 100, crew access is generous, with support allowed at multiple points on course and pacers permitted after mile 62.
Meanwhile, European races like UTMB have already implemented stricter rules: crews are only allowed at specific aid stations, only one person can assist the athlete, and the list of permitted aid is clearly defined.
The goal is to level the playing field, not eliminate support, but reduce the performance gap between those who can afford a full-time crew and those who can’t.
In his piece, Jornet doesn’t name names, but describes two contrasting scenarios: one elite athlete meticulously optimizing every stop, backed by a well-drilled team, another showing up solo, making decisions on the fly.
Both are playing within the rules, but only one has the tools to truly compete. “The difference in support is no longer a small detail,” he writes, “It’s becoming one of the biggest performance factors in modern ultra-trail racing.”
The problem, he says, isn’t that some athletes are doing more, it’s that the system increasingly rewards those who can afford to.
This is hardly a new concern, but coming from Jornet, arguably the most influential voice in trail running, it carries weight.
The aid station debate echoes broader questions that the sport has faced in recent years: Has trail running outgrown its roots in self-sufficiency and wilderness? Is it still a sport where amateurs and pros share the same start line and face the same challenges? Or is it evolving into something that favors the well-funded and well-staffed?
Jornet insists he’s not against support in general. “It’s great to have family, friends, or a crew cheering for you,” he writes. “It brings connection to an otherwise lonely effort.” And in multi-hour or multi-day events, the ability to access familiar nutrition or a fresh pair of socks can be essential. But he draws the line when support becomes a proxy for privilege.
Critics have made similar points before. In a 2023 interview with Trail Runner Magazine, U.S. ultrarunner Clare Gallagher warned that excessive crewing “raises the bar for entry” and risks turning the sport into “an arms race.”
Others have noted that ultra-trail events are increasingly split between those who treat them like survival tests and those who treat them like orchestrated performances — complete with logistics teams, pacer rotations, and live telemetry.
Jornet isn’t calling for a return to the Wild West of trail running. Instead, he’s advocating for regulation: a consistent rulebook across major races, clear limits on what crews can provide, and a focus on keeping things equitable for athletes regardless of budget.
“We are bringing more and more aid year after year,” he writes, “and making the gap with the athletes that can’t have assistance bigger and bigger.”
The question isn’t whether aid should exist, it’s whether, left unchecked, it will redefine what it means to compete in the mountains.
“If the rules keep being open,” Jornet writes, “to get back to a much ‘fair for all’ competition will be more complicated.”
His final thought lands like a challenge, not just to athletes, but to race organizers, sponsors, and fans: “Do we want a sport where to perform we need bigger budgets, bigger teams… or do we want a sport where all runners are provided with the same opportunities, and where management of the humans we are in face of the challenges of the natural spaces and conditions are still part of the journey?”
For now, there’s no clear answer. But if trail running wants to preserve the magic that drew so many to the mountains in the first place, it may be time to take a closer look at what’s waiting at the next aid station.
