Zach Miller had to get to Western States the hard way, which feels about right.
Canyons was the last Golden Ticket race of the season. One more door. One more chance to earn his way into Olympic Valley, not by resume, not by reputation, but by racing his way in.
Miller finished second.
Ticket secured.
That would be a great story if Zach Miller were 27, rising, and just arriving. He is not. He is 37, and half the sport has a Zach Miller story by now. JFK. Lake Sonoma. The cruise ship. The Casio watch. The North Face 50. Chamonix. Barr Camp. The bus. Hardrock.
Now Western States is days away, and it does not feel like just another start line.
I know this may not be the standard Borderlands comparison, but I love the UFC. More specifically, I love Justin Gaethje.
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For nearly a decade, Gaethje has been my favorite fighter. There is a running joke with my friends that Justin and I are basically close friends. It started because I am friends with his wrestling coach; our daughters did gymnastics together for years. I may have exaggerated the connection. It stuck.
Two weeks ago, my son and I watched Gaethje fight Ilia Topuria from our front porch. I had finally mounted the TV outside for the summer, so there we were in the Colorado evening watching cage fights like a perfectly normal family.
It was a ridiculous setup for a ridiculous fight. The UFC on the White House lawn. Gaethje at 37. Topuria undefeated, younger, and already being treated like the future of the sport. And still, after everything Gaethje had already done, the one thing missing from his career was sitting right there.
Undisputed champion.
He had been interim champion. He had held the BMF belt. He had given the sport more violence and entertainment than it probably deserved from one person. But the real belt had always stayed just out of reach.
Then he got the kind of night old fighters are not supposed to get. Not a lucky shot. Not a weird judging decision. Not some sentimental farewell gift. He beat the guy. By the end, Topuria’s face was literally unrecognizable.
Gaethje left with the missing piece.
That was where my mind went with Zach Miller.
The late-career shape feels familiar. A beloved athlete. A changing sport. A younger field. A resume that already earned respect. One more chance to make the ending louder.
Gaethje’s path was clear: one more title fight, one belt left to win.
Zach’s version of the story isn’t so linear. Nobody hands you an undisputed belt in Auburn. But Western States is still the room. He had to fight his way back into it, and now the door is open.
Western States is Still the Room
The room has changed since he first started kicking doors open.
Zach knows that. He is not pretending science ruined everything. He has written about the tension between the old canvas and the new spreadsheet, and he is honest enough to see both sides. But there is still something in him that belongs to the “I don’t know, let’s see” era. The part where you race Bootlegger, get cooked, wonder if maybe you are not that good at ultras, then win JFK two weeks later.
That version of Zach is why people still care.
In recent interviews, he does not sound like someone trying to sell a comeback tour. He sounds like a guy trying to locate himself in a sport that has kept moving. Is he still a 50-mile guy? Is he more of a hundred-mile guy now? Is the future UTMB, Western States, some giant project, or all of the above if the body and calendar cooperate?
Those are honest questions at 37.
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They are also dangerous questions, because the competitive piece has clearly not left him. Zach skipped the Hardrock lottery, and it bothered him. He talked about sitting there with the registration filled out, staring at the button until the lottery closed. Then he decided to chase different things.
Canyons was one of those things.
Western States is now the thing.
I am not going to pretend he is the obvious favorite. This men’s field is too fast for nostalgia. Jim Walmsley is there. Kilian is there. Adam Peterman is there. Hayden Hawks is there. A bunch of other guys would love nothing more than to turn the old guard into a nice story by Foresthill.
Zach Miller Still Treats Every Race Like a Fight
But Zach Miller is not interesting because he is old. He is interesting because he still races like the fight is personal.
At Hardrock, when the day went bad, he still wanted to know where the guys ahead of him were. At Worlds, he still wanted Adam Peterman. Even in a workout in Bend, he joked about not wanting someone to beat him. That part is not gone. Maybe it never goes.
So when Zach stands in Olympic Valley this weekend, I will not be thinking about a farewell lap. I will be thinking about Canyons, and the fact that he had to earn his way here one more time. I will be thinking about Gaethje on our porch, finally getting the kind of late-career shot every fighter wants and almost none of them get.
Maybe Zach Miller has another chapter after this. Probably he does. Big projects, UTMB, whatever strange thing he decides is worth chasing next.
But Western States is here now.
The door opened.
He got the ticket.
Now he gets the fight.
Photo by Gianina Lindsey
