I’m working at a specialty running store this summer, so I spend most of my days talking about, well, running. While customers are trying on shoes, I’ll ask them about the races they’re training for. Usually, they’ll respond with a local 10k or half marathon, or tell me that they just need something comfortable for walking. But if they ask what kind of running I do and I say the word “ultramarathon,” their expressions change. “Wow, I could never do that,” some will say, “that’s insane.”
There’s a common misconception, I think, that as the distance gets longer, the race gets more intense and competitive. In some ways, this belief may be justified. Think of your local 5k. There might be a few fast-looking guys and gals on the start line in singlets and short shorts, looking to defend their Turkey Trot title or make the front page of the sports section in the town newspaper. But the majority of the field is more laid back—parents pushing strollers, kids in oversized t-shirts who push to the front then walk after a quarter mile, people in costumes. In a marathon, though, the vibe on the starting line is much different. There are more singlets and short shorts. There probably aren’t any kids or strollers (but kudos to them if there are!) People are dialed in. It’s only rational to assume that ultrarunning brings even more of that—more intensity, more seriousness, fewer smiles, and certainly no laughter.
This couldn’t be further from the truth.
Winning a homemade pie at a local 50k!
Last May, I ran an ultramarathon in Augusta, New Jersey. The race involved completing as many 1-mile loops as you could in a given number of hours (I was in the 12-hour category). It was a pretty famous event—world records had been set there, and people traveled from around the world to compete. But the whole race felt more like a party than anything else. Sometime in the late morning, I noticed a leg in the middle of the course. Seriously, a leg—like the one from A Christmas Story. And we were supposed to run with it. You didn’t have to, of course, but basically the race directors put a chip-timed bib on the leg and tried to convince people to take it with them for a lap. In the end, I think the leg ended up with over 100 miles.
I also ran a race a few weeks ago where you could carry a 20+ pound watermelon for a lap (1.9 miles on a trail). And people did. Many people.
This is the general vibe of an ultramarathon. Most races are really chill, fun, and relaxed. The same runners vying for the win are the ones who hang out for hours afterwards drinking beer and cheering on every finisher. Some people walk every step, and they’re just as celebrated as the one in first place. It’s a given that just about every race will have aid stations stocked with soda, cookies, sandwiches, and an array of candy (I had the best mac and cheese ever during the New Jersey race). The vibe here is just different.
Earlier this year, I ran the Boston Marathon, a race of over 30,000, and did not meet one new person. The general prerace vibe in wave 1 was tense, not unlike other road or track races I’ve run where everyone is deep in their own head before the gun goes off (myself included). On the other hand, I have run ultras with 50 people and come away from the event feeling like I made 50 new friends. I don’t want to criticize the road running community in any way—it’s pretty great, and I’ve met some awesome people—but once you’ve experienced an ultrarunning event, it’s hard not to be hooked.
How can you do anything but laugh when this is the race course?!
This isn’t to say that ultramarathons are easy. That too couldn’t be further from the truth. You will never be so sore, so tired, yet so elated than at the end of an ultra (and the next day!) But these distances and races are not inaccessible or overly intimidating. Most events are more like parties than anything—parties with tons of food, weird costumes, and delirious-with-exhaustion people who are among the kindest you’ll ever meet. So, to the ones who think that ultras are reserved for the most intense, tough, and athletic of the bunch, think again. And don’t let the distance scare you…too much.
