Last Person Standing

The Wrath of Krampus: Last Person Standing
On a cold December night, deep in the foothills of Yucaipa, the bell will toll…
And Krampus will be watching.
This is no ordinary ultramarathon. This is a test of obedience, endurance, and will. A race where the rules are simple—but the consequences are absolute.

Each hour, on the hour, runners must complete a 4.167 mile loop of unforgiving terrain before the bell rings again. When it does, all who remain must return to the start… and face the next lap.
Finish the loop before the hour ends… or be cast aside
Miss the bell… and you’re claimed by the night
Choose to quit… and Krampus takes note
The strong may last through the early hours.
The stubborn will survive the long night.
But only one will endure the wrath.
As the race stretches into darkness, the festive glow fades into something more primal. Headlamps flicker like distant embers, footsteps grow heavy, and the cheerful sound of the bell becomes something far more haunting.
At basecamp, warmth, firelight, and whispers of encouragement await—but comfort is fleeting. Each lap pulls you deeper into Krampus’ domain.
This isn’t about pace.
This isn’t about distance.
This is about defiance.
Because in the end…
Quitters are naughty. Winners are nice.
And Krampus always gets what he’s owed.

The Wrath Of Krampus Poem

’Twas the Night of Krampus

’Twas the night of Krampus, when all through the course,
Not a runner was resting, of course not—of course.
The loops had been measured with merciless care,
In hopes that pure grit soon would fill the cold air.

The runners were pacing, legs heavy with dread,
While visions of quitting crept into each head.
With headlamps askew and resolve hanging thin,
They whispered, “One more lap… just one more, then.”

When out on the trail there arose such a sound,
A scraping of hooves as darkness came round.
Away to the switchbacks I shuffled with fright,
To see what emerged in the pale moonlight.

The glow of red eyes and the clank of a chain,
Revealed Krampus himself—here to judge joy and pain.
He sneered at the weak and the voices that plead,
For this was a race where resolve is decreed.

“Now QUITTERS are naughty,” he roared with a grin,
“They bargain with comfort, they fold from within.
They whine about blisters, the cold, and the night—
To the coal sack with them! They’re done with this fight.”

“But WINNERS are nice,” he growled low and slow,
“They suffer, they grind, they refuse to say no.
They stand when they’re broken, they rise when they fall,
Last person still moving—that’s winning it all.”

Lap after lap as the hours dragged on,
The trail claimed the tired, one by one they were gone.
The bell tolled its judgment, the drops came in waves,
As Krampus took notes of the strong and the brave.

At last one stood tall as the sun cracked the sky,
With mud on their legs and fire in their eye.
Krampus laughed loud as he vanished from sight,
“Remember,” he echoed, “true winners endure the night.”

So if you toe the line where the dark meets the ice,
Know quitting is naughty… but winning is nice.

Route

4.167 Mile Loop
https://www.strava.com/routes/3460063262584715636

Event's current local time: 8:58 PM PT