Podcast about the history of ultrarunning. An ultramarathon is a running race of 50K (31 miles) or more, up to 3,100 miles. This extreme running sport came into existence during the late 1800s.
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By Davy Crockett
Marcy Schwam (1953-) from Massachusetts, was an ultrarunning pioneer in the 1970s and early 1980s, during an era when some people still believed long-distance running was harmful to women. She won about 30 ultramarathons and set at least six world records at all ultra-distances from 50 km to six-days. She was the third person inducted into the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame.
She was bold, brazen, with an impressive “get-out-of-my-way” attitude and racing style. She would take command of a race and preferred to lead rather than follow. This courageous attitude also helped to break through the stigma held against women runners of the time. She dared to be the only woman in a race. She inspired many other women to get into the sport and reach high.
Schwam trained hard and raced hard. She always knew what she was doing. Ultrarunning historian, Nick Marshall, observed, “She set lofty goals for herself and she was gutsy enough to go after them with wild abandon. She might soar, or she might crash, but either way it was going to be a maximum effort.” She thoroughly enjoyed competitive racing, where limits were explored and tested often.
Bronx, New York
Marcy Schwam was born in 1953, in New York City. Her parents, Stanley Schwam (1924-) and Irma (Weisberg) Schwam (1928), were both long-time residents of the City. Stanley worked in the women’s undergarment industry for 57 years. During the 1950s, the family lived in the Bronx but later moved to Valhalla in the suburbs.
Schwam's ancestry was Polish. Her grandparents and her father were Jewish immigrants who came to the United States from Poland during the early 1900s before World War II. They worked hard and successfully supported and raised their families in the big city.
Early Years
At the early age of five, Schwam started to take up tennis and dreamed of becoming a professional tennis player. Her father commented, “Marcy never walked anywhere. She was in constant motion all the time. She was also very competitive. If she lost at Monopoly as a kid, she wouldn’t talk to you for a week.”
In high school, she was very athletic and played basketball, softball, volleyball, field hockey and even lacrosse. She did some running, but it was just a way to stay fit for tennis. To her, there was nothing else in the world that counted except playing tennis.
From 1971 to 1975, Schwam attended Indiana University of Pennsylvania (IUP) where she eventually received a bachelor's degree in Health and Physical Education. (Later she also worked on a master’s degree in Exercise Physiology at Adelphi University and San Francisco State). At IUP, She became a member of the tennis team, excelled, and became ranked number one in the state.
First Running Races
Schwam started running some races in 1972 at the age of 21. She explained, “As a sophomore in college in 1972, I ran a 3-mile race in Pittsburgh. I was on the tennis team and a friend on the cross-country team talked me into it. I was running to and from tennis practice and someone dared me to run the Boston Marathon.”
Start of 1973 Boston Marathon
In 1972, the Boston Marathon opened their race to women for the first time. Schwam entered the next year in 1973, a true pioneer women’s distance runner. The Boston Athletic Association sent entrants blue or pink entrant postcards depending on their gender and sent her a blue card with the name Marc. Apparently, they just couldn’t get used to the fact that women were running marathons. It took effort getting that corrected at check-in. She was one of only 12 women to run, finished in 4:50, and said, “I really wanted to prove that women could do these types of things. There was such a stigma about women and long-distance running that needed to be proven false and I took that upon myself to do.”
Competitive Tennis
1973 Tennis Team. Marcy Schwam center kneeling
But tennis was still Schwam's main sport. In college,
By Davy Crockett
Sandra "Sandy" Jean (Mackey) Kiddy (1936-2018) of Rancho Mirage, California was the first woman to be inducted into the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame. She paved the way for women in ultrarunning setting many of the early world and American ultrarunning records. She was born in Grand Rapids Michigan to Robert B. Mackey (1909-1983) and Marjorie Rosita Montez (1911-1993), Her father's ancestry was from Ireland, and her mother's ancestry was from Mexico.
Sandy and went to Ottawa Hills High School, in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she was a member of the Girls' Athletic Association. She had never been very athletic in her youth. She then went to Valparaiso University, where she earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Biology and Zoology.
In 1962, she married Frederick "Fred" Kiddy, born in Sheffield, England, who became a bank manager. They married in Las Vegas, Nevada, while driving across the country to California. Once in Los Angeles, Sandy worked first at Caltech and then for Microbics at Beckman Instruments, where she patented a number of reagent laboratory tests.
Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now eleven books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon Learn More
Early Running
In 1970, Kiddy at age 30, and Fred, age 34, started to jog to lose weight, running about two miles a day. Fred used to run in his young days while in the service in Germany. After moving to Palm Springs in 1974, she started running with a more serious group of runners who ran 15 mile-runs. She recalled, "I don't remember how long it took us, but we were very excited to have done it. We just sat on the sofa looking at each other, because we were too stiff and sore to move. From that point on, we knew that, that was what we wanted to do."
Eventually, her group got her interested in road racing. Her first race was in 1976 at the age of 40. She ran a couple short races where she broke course records. She next tackled the marathon because the shorter races seemed like a sprint. In her race registrations, she went by "Sandra" because people kept mistaking her name, "Sandy" as belonging to a man. "Three months after that first long run, I tried a marathon. I broke 3:30, which was quite thrilling. I found I didn't like the shorter races much, too much like a sprint, so we stuck primarily to the marathons, doing five or six a year."
Kiddy almost always won among the runners age 40 and over, even including the men. In March 1978, she and Fred wrote into their local newspaper about a 10K with 700 runners that ran down Main Street in Palm Springs. "That your paper gave this event no coverage whatsoever is unforgivable and prompts the question as to what you consider newsworthy. May the curse of Pheidippides be on your circulation."
Marathon Domination
Fred Kiddy, in 1978
Kiddy started running multiple marathons a year. Her first of many wins came in 1978 at Lompro Record-Valley of Flowers Marathon with 3:02:36, running with Fred. She and Fred trained together and frequently ran together in the races. In 1978, she won the National Masters Marathon with 2:56:45. Fred finished in 2:47. In 1979, she won the Orange County Marathon in 2:58, a new course record. She said, "The course went along a bike path along the Santa Ana River. There were 20-plus bridges you had to go up and under. I was in pretty good shape, but the bridges took their toll." In June 1979, Sandy got her picture in Sports Illustrated, in Faces in the Crowd.
Not only was she winning marathons, but her competitive nature was also in the cards. Her name was in the newspaper many times doing well in Bridge tournaments.
First Ultra
Sandy Kiddy in 1979, after winning a 10.4 mile race in 1:06:03.
Kiddy at age 42, burst on the scene of ultras when she ran in the Southern Pacific AAU 50K at Camarillo, California in 1979. She won and set a world record of 3:37:08,
153: The 3rd Astley Belt Six-Day Race (1879)
Épisode 153
samedi 2 mars 2024 • Durée 40:40
By Davy Crockett
This is the story of the ultramarathon that was the most impactful of all races in the history of the sport. This race was witnessed by tens of thousands of people in Madison Square Garden and followed by millions in long daily newspaper story updates. It received so much attention that it sparked an ultrarunning frenzy on multiple continents and captured the imagination of millions of people who came to realize the humans can run hundreds of miles and not die. This is the story of the 3rd Astley Belt race, held March 10th through 15th, 1879 in New York City.
Make sure you get my new book on Amazon, The Six-Day Race Part One: When Ultrarunners were Called Pedestrians (1875-1879). You will read stories that have never been retold before. For the next few episodes of this podcast, we will return to the late 1800s as I research for part 2 of the six-day race history, and uncover amazing stories that have been missed by other pedestrian historians.
By the end of 1878, at least 44 six-day races had been held in America and Great Britain since P.T. Barnum started it all with the first race in 1875. Daniel O’Leary of Chicago was still the undefeated world champion with ten six-day race wins. He was a very wealthy man, winning nearly one million dollars in today’s value during 1878.
All the racing was taking a toll on O’Leary, and he had frequent thoughts about retiring. However, he still had obligations as the holder of the Astley Belt and the title of Champion of the World. If he could defend the Astley Belt one more time, three wins in a row, by rule, he could keep the belt. A Third Astley Belt Race was in the early planning to be held sometime during the summer of 1879. In January, he went to Arkansas to rest at the famous hot springs with its six bathhouses and 24 hotels.
Little did he know that the Third Astley Belt Race would be one of the most impactful spectator events in New York City's 19th century history witnessed by more than 80,000 people. It impacted ten of thousands of workers' productivity for a week and even distracted brokers on Wall Street away from their ticker tapes. The major New York City newspapers included more than a full page of details every day that revealed the most comprehensive details ever of a 19th century six-day race. Because of its historic importance, this race will be presented in two articles/episodes.
Read the details of the Third Astley Belt Race here:
Part One
Part Two
You can also read the details of the race here: The Six-Day Race Part One: When Ultrarunners were Called Pedestrians (1875-1879).
63: The 100-miler: Part 10 (1968-1969) Walton-on-Thames 100
Épisode 63
lundi 5 octobre 2020 • Durée 32:12
By Davy Crockett
During the late 1960s, 100-mile races started to make a comeback both in England and in the United States. Walking 100 miles in under 24 hours became popular in Europe and similar events also started to be held in America, featuring a legendary lumberjack walker from Montana.
Racing 100 miles also rose from the ashes. A long-forgotten indoor 24-hour race started up in Los Angeles California where western ultrarunners strived to reach 100 miles on a tiny track, up seven stories, in the busy downtown metropolis.
But the most significant 100-mile race of the decade was held in 1969, at Walton-on-Thames in Surrey, England. The race featured many of the greatest ultrarunners of the world at that time who were interested in trying to run 100 miles. It was a fitting way to finish out the 1960s and news of the event would help spawn many other 100-milers in the 1970s. In America it re-opened the sport to distances longer than 50 miles.
Race-Walking 100 miles
In England during the 1960s, popularity for walking 100 miles using race-walking rules, grew and 145 walkers became British “Centurions” for the first time. In 1911 the Surrey Walking Club established the Brotherhood of Centurions to honor those who walked 100 miles in 24-hours or less. (See episode 58). Many walkers from the Netherlands started to participate as the 1960s walking craze spread across Europe. The Dutch founded their own Centurion club in 1966.
Huw Neilson, age 44 of Welwyn Garden City, England, an aircraft worker, was a member of the Woodford Green Athletic Club. He was a very experienced walker who became a centurion back in 1948. In 1955 he walked London to Brighton and back (about 104 miles), establishing the fastest time on the course since the race was reestablished after World War II, with a time of 18:26:27.
On October 15, 1960, Neilson beat the all-time world 100-mile walking record, walking around a 440-meter track at Walton-on-Thames. He reached 100 miles in 17:18:50. He then continued on, and in 24 hours reached an amazing 131 miles, breaking a world record that had existed for 52 years. His records are still held to the present-day.
Larry O’Neil – America’s Walking Champion
Lawrence “Larry” Ernest O’Neil (1907-1981) of Kalispell, Montana, was a lumber industry executive, or “lumberjack.” At a youth he moved from Montana to Pomona, California and attended college in Clairmont. He dabbled in baseball, basketball, swimming and track, but never advanced beyond the level of junior varsity. He was only 120 pounds and was afflicted by tonsillitis which was believed at the time to cause a weakened heart, requiring him to get permission to participate in sports.
After graduation from college in 1928, with a degree in economics, O’Neil joined his father’s lumber business in Kalispell and then founded the Forest Products Company, a retail lumber yard in Kalispell. He began training to be a marathon runner, hoping to run at Boston in 1932. However, he injured his Achilles tendon at work and that finished his serious running career. But with his arduous outdoor life in Montana, he stayed very physically fit.
Kalispell, Montana
In 1964 he attended a National AAU meet held in Kalispell, Montana. It included a 3,000-meter walking race. O’Neil came to watch. He explained, “I looked at the track and field program and saw this 3,000-meter walking event. I didn’t know what it was, but I figured it would be the easiest event of the meet. About that time, there was an announcement over the loudspeaker that two walkers had dropped out.” Walkers were recruited from the stands and O’Neil, age 57, hustled over to enter on a dare. He did well, finishing 4th out of 10 walkers. O’Neil remembered, “I’m sure my form back then might have been declared illegal today. Some judges must have been wearing dark glasses to allow us to finish.” O’Neil discovered that walking long distances were his forte a started seriously competing ...
62: The 100-miler: Part 9 (1966-1968) First Death Valley 100 Milers
Épisode 62
samedi 19 septembre 2020 • Durée 33:04
By Davy Crockett
For the first time, Death Valley became a harsh target location for athletes that are now long-forgotten to prove they could overcome suffering and cover 100 miles during intense summer heat. These attempts received national attention and also frustrated Death Valley Monument rangers. But they would lay the foundational idea of what eventually became the Badwater Ultramarathon.
During the 1960s, formal 100-mile races took a backseat to the shorter ultrarunning distances that were starting to draw talented runners into the sport from marathon running. The 50-mile distance was on ultrarunning centerstage as London to Brighton emerged as the premier world ultrarunning race along with Comrades Marathon, competed in South Africa.
In New York City, Ted Corbitt started to organize ultradistance races with an eye to qualify runners for London to Brighton. In 1967 the first American 50-mile National Championship was held in Poughkeepsie, New York. Ultrarunning was growing again.
In America, a 50-mile craze took place by the general public in 1963 due to comments made by President John F. Kennedy (see episode 4) and some bold individuals proved they could do a double: 100 miles.
100-mile races were waiting to the wings to being competed seriously again. However, the 100-mile distance on foot fascinated the general public, especially men in the military. Many people in all walks of life found ways during the 1960s to achieve it.
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100 Miles Across Death Valley
Missing and forgotten in the famed Badwater Ultramarathon history are the earliest 1960s attempts to go more than 100 miles in Death Valley during the hottest part of the summer. These brutal hikes received intense national attention at the time and certainly planted ideas that progressed to the formal race established two decades later.
Death Valley is in eastern California contains the point of lowest elevation in North America at 282 feet below sea level. The Average daily high temperature in July is 116 degrees F.
Jean Pierre Marquant’s 1966 Death Valley 100-miler
Jean Pierre Marquant was an ex-paratrooper from Nice, France. He went to the United States in early 1965 and hitchhiked around the country. In 1966, Marquant, age 28, set off to walk across Death Valley in the heat of July. Officials thought he was the first person to deliberately attempt a crossing of Death Valley in the summer.
Marquant had experience. He earlier spent 103 days hiking over 1,000 miles of Algerian desert. He said, “It was desert country, but of course not nearly as hot and dry as Death Valley.” He spent five days before his start conditioning himself to the heat, taking short walks near the national monument headquarters. Marquant’s extremely difficult route was not along the paved roads. He planned to make a huge circular route that include scaling 9,000-foot Wildrose Peak and 11,000-foot Telescope Peak along the way. He left a map with the rangers outlining his route and gave estimates for arrival at various places in the valley.
Officials said, “Because of the extreme heat, a ground search party will not be sent to look for Marquant if he should fail to turn up at a checkpoint. The only help we can offer is to place a call to Edwards or George Air Force bases and request a helicopter fly the area to try to spot him. We admire Marquant’s courage. We have serious doubts he will succeed.”
Marquant knew the dangers, “It is a challenge. The sun is so hot it scorches every part of the body. You become dehydrated and your strength is sapped. But because it is a challenge and no one has ever made a long hike in such heat, I relish the opportunity.
61: The 100-miler: Part 8 (1950-1960) Wally Hayward and Ron Hopcroft
Épisode 61
lundi 7 septembre 2020 • Durée 30:27
By Davy Crockett
100-mile attempts mostly ceased across the world during the 1940s due to World War II. By 1946 some isolated 100-mile attempts reemerged, including a walking event in England where seven athletes accomplished the distance in less than 24-hours. Rex Whitlock of Great Britain walked the 100-mile Bath Road course in an amazing 17:44:40 in 1952.
Ultrarunning, at other distances, also came to life again in South Africa when the Comrades Marathon (55 miles) was held again in 1946 and the Pieter Korkie 50 km was established in Germiston. In England, the London to Brighton running race (52 miles) was established in 1951, using the famed road used by walking and biking events for decades earlier. Ultrarunning was reawakening.
During the prewar decades, hundreds of successful 100-mile attempts and events were held. Would the 100-miler truly come back in the modern era of ultrarunning?
World War II formally concluded, but conflicts continued across the world. During the aftermath of the war, with evolving superpowers, the changing world map, and the resulting Cold War, it made it a difficult time for ultrarunning to emerge widely. But the running sport has always been resilient.
Korean War 100-mile Marches
During the Korean War, 100-mile death marches took place. In July 1950, Burdett Eggen, age 18 from North Hollywood, California experienced his first and only day of combat. He was with 1,800 men who were told to take three hills but were ambushed near Hadong. Only 125 survived including Eggen who played dead but discovered and captured.
After being held in a church that then was bombed and strafed, the surviving prisoners were taken to a prisoner of war camp in Seoul. But after a month, Eggen and others were forced to march 100 miles to Pyongyang to stay ahead of advancing U.S. troops. Eggen said, “During the march they fed us things like dog biscuits. We didn’t have much water, but the biscuits had to be soaked before you could eat them But pretty soon even the biscuits ran out, and we had nothing to eat except what we could steal along the way.”
They were divided up into groups of 50 and those in the last group, the weakest would get shot when they fell out. “Everybody tried to help his buddies, half carrying the weaker ones along.” At the finish of their 100-miler they were taken further by train and stopping near a tunnel. Most of Eggen’s group of 30 were massacred there and he was shot in the leg and again played dead. Six survived, went into the woods and later were found and rescued by American airborne troops.
Great Escape 100-miler
In 1950, at Monroe, Louisiana, two boys age 15 and 16, escaped from the Louisiana Training Institute and walked 100 miles in two days to Shreveport on railroad tracks. Both were eventually found at the home of one of their mothers and taken into custody by the police. “State troopers investigating the case said the boys had blisters as big as your fist on both feet.”
Cotton Picker 100
During November 1951, about 100 migrant Mexican workers quit their cotton-picking jobs in west Tennessee and started a 100-miler. The men had been brought from Mexico to work on a plantation owned by Terry Jamison. He said they just “walked out” of their contract. The Mexicans had quit their job because of bad food and pay.
As of November 22, 1951, forty-nine of them had finished the 100 miles, arriving in Memphis Tennessee, footsore and frightened, complaining bitterly their working conditions to Angel Cano, the Mexican consul. The feet of most of the finishers were badly blistered. They were given government-paid lodging and food in a local hotel. Fifty-one other men were still on the road walking. It was reported that others had been thrown in to jail when they tried to leave Tiptonville, Tennessee. A Sheriff admitted to jailing about 20 of the 100-miler entrants. The group was eventually provided transportation back to their homeland.
60: The 100-miler: Part 7 (1930-1950) Wartime 100-Milers
Épisode 60
vendredi 14 août 2020 • Durée 30:27
By Davy Crockett
After decades of 100-mile races, matches and successful finishes in less than 24 hours before 1930, the Great Depression turned ultrarunners’ attention to more important matters – surviving. Opportunities to earn a living as a professional runner dried up as public interest waned. Memories of past accomplishments and records faded. Occasionally the newspapers would pull out of their dusty archives a story about Edward Payson Weston’s walking wonders which was treated as “believe it or not” oddities, rather than something that others could accomplish.
But the spark of running or walking 100 miles on foot still smoldered during the next two decades despite the severe difficulties of the Depression and World War II. Isolated 100-mile accomplishments took place to remind the public what the human body could do, but 100 miles was still considered to be very far and out of reach by all but freakish athletes.
Gruber’s “softies”
During the World War II years, 100-mile races ceased, but some solo endurance efforts were sparked due to comments made by Brigadier General, Edmund L. “Snitz” Gruber (1879-1941) who stated that American youth were “soft.” Gruber was the author and composer of the song “The Caissons Go Rolling Along.” In January 1941, speaking before a church’s men’s club in Kansas City, Missouri, he said, “Our men have been living too soft a life.” He stated that the military draft had revealed an astonishing weakness in the physical, vocational, and moral qualities of youth. He claimed that one out of every two youths were rejected because of physical fitness. Gruber died five months later during a game of bridge at the age of 61.
Gruber’s comments cause a bit of an uproar and debate across America. Newspaper commentary included, “We know of no way to prove the general is in error and of no way to prove that he is right.” But young men across the country found a way to provide some anecdotal proof that Gruber was wrong.
A week before Gruber’s brash statement, Ted Morton, age 19, a former high school track star from Kansas City, was being denied a job as a clearing house messenger because the company’s president didn’t think he had the physical stamina for the work. He stated, “The lad looked rundown to me.” Miffed over this rejection and mad about General Gruber’s comments, Morton started a crusade to prove his doubters wrong.
Morton first ran 34 miles in 13:29 with a moving time of 7:30 as proof. A $10 wager also pushed him along. He ran in alternating hours, resting an hour in between. His inspiring accomplishment was performed on a 400-yard high school track. The day after he said, “I feel fine today. Got up and went to church too. I hope the general hears about this.”
The general did hear about it. Gruber wrote a letter of congratulations to the youth stating that he hoped the performance “would inspire other young men to watch their health and keep themselves in good physical condition.” Morton was soon hired by the army as messenger for a commanding officer and made daily walks and runs of 8-15 miles to deliver messages.
Morton continued to try to prove Gruber wrong, even after his death. In July 1941, he organized a 50-mile race in Kansas City that included six former track stars. The race was billed as “an attempt to prove that American youth is adequately fit to defend their country.” Representatives from the AAU even came to watch along with thousands of spectators. A six-mile course was used in Swope Park and the young men were required to rest for fifteen minutes every two hours.
“The oldest contestant, Milton Graham, a 30-year-old truck driver, gave out at the end of eight miles, complaining a football knee was troubling him. As the sun climbed and the mileage passed 20 miles, there was little running going on. Ted Morton collapsed three times on his fourth 6-mile lap, but he recovered sufficiently from severe leg cramps to finish second,
59: The 100-miler – Part 6 (1927-1934) Arthur Newton
Épisode 59
lundi 27 juillet 2020 • Durée 32:00
By Davy Crockett
In the 1920s one of the greatest British ultrarunner ever appeared, who made a serious impact on the forgotten 100-mile ultrarunning history before World War II. He was Arthur Newton of England, South Africa, and Rhodesia was a rare ultrarunning talent who had world-class ability in nearly all the ultrarunning distances from 50 km to 24-hours. Newton learned most of his serious running on a farm in remote Africa and was bold enough to step onto the world stage and beat everyone. His dominance in the early years of South Africa’s Comrades Marathon (54 miles) helped the race get off the ground to become the oldest and largest ultramarathon in the world.
But Arthur Newton’s best distance was 100 miles. With few 100-mile races to compete in during the 1920s, he resorted to participating in highly monitored solo events to prove that a farmer from Africa was the best in the world, and he was. His 100-mile experience will be shared, but also a good portion of his life story needs to be explained to understand the man, the ultrarunner, one of the greatest, Arthur Newton.
Early life
Bedford School
Arthur Francis Hamilton Newton (1883-1959) was born in Axbridge, Somerset, England. His father, Henry, was at first a civil engineer and then went into religions ministry and served as a clerk in the Church of England. The family moved to Brighton, England when Arthur was two years old. At age seven he started to live in boarding schools fulltime, first at Lady Matron School, and then as a teenager at Bedford School, a school for boys. He finished up in a private school in Banham, England. During his school years, he was active in soccer, cricket and tennis but never had any particular interest in running.
Durban, South Africa
After graduation in 1901, at the age of 18, he thought he would become a teacher. His father instead wanted him to be a clerk and sent him to South Africa to join two older brothers who were living in Durban. He tried the clerk career for a couple years but it was not for him, so he began teaching in the province of Natal. He played the piano, was an avid reader, and loved riding motorcycles. But he also was a regular smoker living a rather sedentary life. He explained, “I sacrificed the exercise necessary to a young man in order to dive deeper into metaphysics and allied subjects. Common sense soon came to the rescue and I knew I should be able to make a better job of my mental work if I made certain of a healthy physique. So I started a daily walk, whether I liked it or not.”
The running teacher in South Africa
Drakensberg Mountains
Newton began walking to his work and progressed to jogging distances up to six miles. “Sometimes people would stare quizzically at the eccentric Englishman running down the road.” He became bothered by these reactions and so moved his exercise during the early hours when few people were out. He began very fit and demonstrated his abilities to the schoolboys he was teaching. He once organized a 300-mile round trip to the Drakensberg mountain range that involved bike riding and hiking.
Howick
Newton’s first running race took place when he was age 24 in February 1908. It was a 11-mile “Go as you please” race in the small rural town of Howick. The town was the site of a sad British internment camp where many women and children died a few years earlier during the Anglo-Boer War. He was one of eight runners who took part and he finished in fourth place with a time of about 90 minutes. He soon started to win some races. On a long excursion to the mountains he ran out of cigarettes and was convinced by a friend to start using a pipe instead.
In 1909 his father found him a job as a tea planter in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) where the family had previously lived when his father was working as a civil engineer. So he returned to England. By the time he arrived, the opportunity was gone and at age 26, he was without permanent work.
58: The 100-miler – Part 5 (1902-1926) London to Brighton and Back
Épisode 58
mercredi 8 juillet 2020 • Durée 32:29
By Davy Crockett
For at least 150 years, running or walking 100 miles within 24 hours has been an impressive feat sought after by thousands.
Part 4 of this 100-miler series covered the history of 100-mile races held in America in the early 1900s before World War I. But during this period, there were 100-mile races held in other places around the world, especially in England. During the early 1900s a remarkable shift occurred. In the late 1800s, America was the home for ultra-distance walking competitions. But as pedestrian competitions fell out of favor and outlawed in the U.S., ultrawalking ceased for a time. The shift went back to the old country and 100-mile amateur walking competitions eventually became very popular in England.
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London to Brighton
More than 100 years ago, there are a few venues and courses that had a significant impact on the history of ultrarunning, 100-mile races, and endurance sports in general. These include Madison Square Garden in New York City, Agricultural Hall in London, and above them all, the London to Brighton route (52+ miles) in England.
For many decades, whether on foot, on bike, on horse, or in an automobile, the road to Brighton was the place to race, including 100 miles on foot. Eventually many ultrarunning legends would complete on the Brighton Road including Don Ritchie, Cavin Woodward, Ted Corbitt, Eleanor Robinson, Sandra Kiddy, Donna Hudson, Alastair Wood, Bruce Fordyce. Park Barner, Stu Mittleman, Jim King, Ruth Anderson, and Frank Bozanich. London to Brighton was traditionally a one-way race of 52-55 miles, but in the first half of 20th century, it was also used to compete 100 miles by walking or running a double London to Brighton.
Brighton Road
Brighton Aquarium
In the mid-1800s, the seafront affluent resort city of Brighton became very popular as the railroad was built from London about 52 miles away. Prior to that, people came by horse coaches that made the trip multiple times per day with ever-increasing speed.
Brighton was a city of the upper class and featured an Aquarium which opened in 1872. It included marine exhibits, a 100,000-gallon tank, sea lions, an octopus, and a distinctive clock tower and gateway. It was also the site for organ recitals, concerts, lectures, and exhibitions. Day trips to Brighton became popular and railroad speed records were boasted about for the route.
The road to Brighton was measured from the Big Ben clock tower north of Westminister Bridge in London to the Aquarium in Brighton. The clock tower was completed in 1859 and at the time was the largest and most accurate four-facing striking and chiming clock in the world. The tower stands 315 feet and is found on the north end of the Palace of Westminster. London to Brighton ran across River Thames on Westminster Bridge which was originally completed in 1750, and replaced in 1862, the oldest bridge still crossing the Thames.
The original course went through the towns of Croydon, Redhill, Horley, Crawley, and Cuckfield. Over the years the route competed increased in distance somewhat with the creation of modern roads and more towns to go through.
Early Cycling London to Brighton
John Mayhall
Participants in the new sport of cycling started to ride along the route. This would soon prompt runners and walkers to also give it a try.
As early as 1869. John Mayall Jr. was the first person to reach Brighton from London by velocipede.
57: The 100-miler – Part 4 (1900-1919) 100-Mile Records Fall
Épisode 57
mercredi 24 juin 2020 • Durée 31:25
By Davy Crockett
Many of today’s ultrarunners think that ultrarunning was invented during their lifetime. An article appeared in April 2020 Ultrarunning Magazine that stated falsely, “the format that most of us know as ‘ultrarunning’ today (trail and road races, typically 50k to 100 miles) is barely 50 years old.” Such statements are ignorant of the rich history of the past and the ultrarunners who paved the way, running ultradistances on dirt roads and trails for more than two centuries.
In April 2020, Runners World published an article proclaiming falsely that the first 100-mile ultra was held in 1974. This is part 4 of a rich 100-miler history. More than 1,000 ultrarunners finished 100 miles in less than 24 hours before 1974. If you missed the other parts, you can start with Part 1.
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Ultarunning and the 100-miler face extinction
Madison Square Garden II
During the late 1800s, and the early 1900's for about 30 years, 100-milers and Pedestrian six-day races were held indoors, when they were a unique spectator and gambling sport until about 1908. In 1889 the home of Pedestrianism, the original Hippodrome, Madison Square Garden was demolished. It had become a “patched-up, grimy, drafty, combustible old shell.” A new Madison Square Garden arena was constructed on the site and opened its doors to the golden era of multi-day bicycle races.
1900 Bike race in Madison Square Garden
In the early 1900's, as local laws in America were more widely passed outlawing multi-day running and bike races, indoor 100-milers ceased and the 100-miler faced the threat of extinction again. In the former heart of 19th century ultrarunning, New York City, it was written, “These protracted tests of physical endurance serve no good purpose. They prove nothing beyond the fact that some men can force themselves to harmful exertion even when every fiber of their physical being is in active revolt.”
But a flicker of life still remained in America. Starting in 1905 the 100-miler reemerged into the outdoors on the dirt roads in Illinois, thanks to some legendary marathon runners from Chicago who sought to attain the 100-mile distance.
The 1906 mountain trail 100-miler
However, there was a place in the world where ultra-distance running never took a vacation. Running 100 miles or more was ingrained into the culture of the Tarahumara, a civilization of about 30,000 people who seemingly were untouched by the modern world. They lived in Mexico, in the northern portion of the Mexican Sierra Madres.
In the early 1900s, American railroad contractors, who were building a mining railroad to the Tarahumara village of Bocoyna, were spellbound with the running exploits of the people who lived in the canyons. The workers amused themselves by wagering large sums of money on long-distance running races.
William Deming Hornaday
A historic 1906 race was held from Bocoyna to Minaca and back, about 110 miles on “exceedingly rough” trails over the mountains. William Demming Hornaday (1868-1942), an American journalist, and the publicity director for the National Railways of Mexico, was there to watch this race and reported that the Americans collected a purse of $100 for the winner.
“Great interest was manifested in the race, for the sum offered was quite a fortune to the members of the tribe. A council of war was immediately held by the chiefs, and two of the fastest runners were selected to do battle for the prize. The pair were also subjected to a close inspection by the Americans, who wagered large sums on the result.”
On the day of this historic mountain trail ultramarathon, the two Tarahumara set off running through the rugged mountains. “The runners set out from Bocoyna first at a slow swinging gait. As they went along, they warmed to their work and the pace was quickened.
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