In 2005, just one week before her 61st birthday, Gunhild Swanson set the 60-and-older female record for Western States with a time of 25:40. Without a doubt, her husband Jack wanted to pace her for a portion of the prestigious race, but he had recently been diagnosed with leukemia. This was her second Western States, and her fifth 100-miler.
Running 100 miles is a crazy sport. You can train and plan for months and feel like everything is lining up perfectly, but things very rarely play out the way you imagine. This was exactly what happened to me this year at Western States. I had a great spring of training and racing, I wasn’t
This article originally appeared in the September 1997 issue of UltraRunning Magazine I woke as the adopted theme music of the Comrades Marathon, from “Chariots of Fire, ” penetrated my hotel room. The music rocked the sleepy town of Pietermaritzburg from the City Hall building located on Commercial Way. I was a mere two blocks
Why is my first ultra story any different from the next newbie’s story? It was a double newbie scenario; I sweated through the inaugural race, which skirted through jungle hill tribes of northern Thailand, a region never before touched by any organized, international venue.
I recently signed up for a local 10k race. It will be my first ever. Now I’m thinking about doing either a 50-mile, 100k or a 100-mile ultra. Most folks would probably do a half marathon first, then a full marathon and so on until they finally hit their first ultra. But with money being tight, I can only afford one or two races per year.
Running consistently, logging at least a moderate number of miles, and including high-intensity sessions each week—all part of a balanced running schedule—are difficult enough to incorporate into one’s daily life when it is filled with just the basics: work, family, friends, and one’s countless other obligations. The task of maintaining a fruitful training regime becomes