One Thing Moving: Why Evan and Nova Raced 75 Miles Together
An absolute missile. Sleek, fast, and happy all the time.
Nova is a seven-year-old Hungarian Vizsla, accounting for 90% of Evan Birch’s training miles. When they are harnessed in and moving together through the mountains, they aren’t a man and a dog anymore. They are one single element moving in perfect sync.
After conquering multiple 200 and 300-mile ultramarathons solo, Evan decided it was time for a unique challenge: the Orcas Island 100-miler, featuring over 8,000 meters of elevation gain.
The goal wasn’t driven by ego or a podium finish. It was about testing an unbreakable bond.
The Rock in the Dark
For Evan, Nova has always been much more than a training partner. Following two decades in emergency dispatch services, Evan was diagnosed with PTSD, depression, and anxiety. It was a heavy, defining struggle—one that eventually forced him to vulnerably admit out loud: I am not okay.
Through the darkest seasons of recovery, Nova was his constant. She was the anchor through the sadness, the big runs, and the days when running felt impossible.
When the race turned brutal on the third loop—shrouded in a thick, mentally draining mountain fog—that partnership faced its ultimate test.
A Hidden Limit
As the clock ticked down at the final checkpoints, the math became unforgiving. Prioritizing Nova’s rest, hydration, and health over pure speed ultimately ran the clock out.
They missed the cutoff at mile 75.
“I was the weak link in this partnership this time around,” Evan admits, looking at Nova, who was still raring to go. “The energy she had constantly leading at the front is a testament to her. Perhaps we’re not supposed to know what her limit is.”
Instead of a defeat, the final 8 kilometers to the finish line became a victory lap. Two partners hiking through the woods, deeply tired, but completely fulfilled.
Salt, Pepper, and Gray Paws
Nova is getting older. The salt and pepper beard under her chin and her graying paws are quiet reminders of a finite window of time.
Missing a race cutoff doesn’t change the magnitude of their story. Eventually, every great trail dog becomes a couch dog, but for Evan, that milestone isn’t a tragedy—it just means more time to spend with the soul that saved him.
The running will continue, but it will look different. Because in the end, the finish line never really mattered.
