Hannah Otto Attempts Fastest Known Time on the White Rim

Hannah Otto took on one of Southern Utah’s toughest trails, the White Rim, a grueling 100 miles of sand, heat, and unforgiving desert terrain. While many riders spread the adventure over several days, Hannah set out to conquer it in a single push, with her sights locked on the women’s Fastest Known Time (FKT). Unlike a traditional race, her battle wasn’t against other riders but against the clock, the course, and the elements. We caught up with Hannah to learn what it takes to face a challenge of this magnitude, check out the full story in the video below.
   
 

Words by Hannah Otto– 
 
The night before the White Rim FKT I sat on the edge of the bed in the Airbnb looking at all of my notes, nutrition, and equipment laid out in front of me. I looked up at Clayton and said, “I’m not sure if I’m ready.” 
 
He responded, “We’ve been planning this for 3 years. How could you possibly not be ready?” 
 
I sat there uncomfortably for a few moments wrestling with the feeling inside of me. If I was ready then what was it that I was feeling. 
 
“I just wish it was easier,” I said having thought that I figured it out. 
 
“No you don’t,” he emphatically said. “You do this because it’s hard.” 

He was right. I wanted it to be hard. That’s what drew me to the challenge in the first place. The emotion I was feeling was my body reacting to the challenge ahead. You see, when you know something is going to be really, really hard, your body begins to prepare for it.  
 
I had watched the leaderboards change, monitored conditions, and even pre-rode the course earlier that year in March. And now, it was time.  
 
One of the challenges of pursuing an FKT is that, unlike a race, everyone who attempts it, does not have the same conditions. Temperatures, terrain, winds, crowds, and more, can all directly impact your time and drastically change from one day, week, or month to the next.  
 
 

As I stood at the start of the White Rim FKT, my heart was pounding, I was so nervous that my hands were numb. No start gun, no timing mats, just the silent hours of the sun rising. 
 
“Ok. Here I go.” 
 
I pushed off and accelerated into the distance. It’s almost funny how anti-climactic it is, while in my head it feels like the entire world stands still as I think, “This is it. This is the moment we’ve been preparing for.” 
 
I hone in on my pedal stroke. I feel each and every one, my foot stomping on the pedal. “Faster, faster.” The pain set in almost immediately, but I greeted it with a smile, that’s how I knew I would knock on my limits today. When I hit the top range of my power targets, I settled in. The hours flew by. 
 

 
When I reached the halfway mark, I had about 8 minutes on the record, but my body was whining. It was scary to feel so much suffering and to know how much further I had to go. I started to sort through my list of things I could do to ease the pain. Fluids. In an effort to ration the 3 liters I had that would need to last me the entire 6.5 hours, I had barely drank any in the darker, cooler hours of the morning. I couldn’t afford to just down a bunch, but I began to take a small sip every 5 minutes for the next hour. I felt my body reach equilibrium again. We were still on pace.  
 
Over the course of the next few hours, I held my 8-minute lead, but the time didn’t really seem to move. I was holding steady on the pace, but I’m also aware of how quickly 8 minutes can dissolve during efforts like this.  
 

 
The tension in my body was immense, and despite my heavy and labored breathing, I almost felt like I was holding my breath. The hardest part of the effort loomed ahead. On one hand when you reach the giant Shafer climb you know you’re almost done, on the other hand, it’s the hardest part of the entire effort and it comes when you’re hurting the most.  
 
As I powered up Shafer, I had two sips of water left. I took one at the bottom and saved the other for the summit. As I climbed, I cherished every tiny shadow of shade from the canyon walls as I melted and felt my mouth go dry. There was no holding back now. This was all out.  
 

  
I faced a head wind as I rounded the top and I took my last sip of water. The wind was forcing extra effort into the pedals, but I tried to thank it for cooling down my now boiling body. Every muscle hurt as I counted down the miles to the finish. My head was becoming foggy, my thought patterns no longer clear, my eyes glazed over, my legs and arms shakey. When I crossed the finish line, I planned to sit immediately to experience the relief I had been dreaming of, but when I moved to dismount my bike, my legs buckled and couldn’t unclip. I fell to the ground and laid there. We did it. We did it. We did it.  
 
My final time 6:36:51. We beat the FKT by about 15 minutes. 
 
 
  
The next day we returned to the White Rim. We had a few photos we still needed to get and a few shots we needed to pick up. As I got into position to take the photos, I was absolutely blown away. The sand was inches thick. I could barely ride it. I looked at the crew and asked if the sand was like this yesterday. To which they responded with an astounded “Yes.” And a mostly joking, “Do you just black out during these FKTs?” 
 
I think I might. I hadn’t even noticed the sand the day before. It didn’t serve me. I was so focused on what I could control that I had no bandwidth to acknowledge the things in my way.  
 
Be braver than you’ve ever been, because you’re stronger than you even know.  
 

 
"The SCOTT Spark RC was the perfect bike to tackle the White Rim in record time. The Spark perfectly married light and agile to absolutely float up Shafer while gliding over all of the rocky, chundery, sandy terrain on the rim."