That's how the announcement read for UltraRunning Magazine's new Race Series announced via email this morning. In action from May, 2015 to April, 2016, the new Race Series includes all North American ultras (50k, 50, 100k, 100m) using their compiled race results and costs nothing to enter. In fact, if you've run a North American ultra since May, you are already in the results!
The new Race Series uses a "complex formula" to determine your overall score, then breaks that down into one of seven regions as well as age groups for each gender. They say prizes will be offered for all 146 categories, with overall winners getting a ticket to the 2016 Western States 100 Endurance Run.
The "complex formula" includes a number of factors for determining your score for each ultra, such as Finishing Time, Race Distance, Gender, Place, Strength of Field, and Size of Race. At first glance, it has a bias for frequency of races (particularly longer ones), but that feels like the UR Mag vibe to me. The focus on North America provides another bias, and one that will likely handicap some of our best runners who often choose peak races overseas. But when you do see the top ranks for each region, I see a lot of names I know are hard core.
Take a look...and you in there? What do you think of the scoring system and results?
Pretty fascinating. Hats off to UltraRunning Magazine for leveraging their knowledge to try something new!
Yesterday, I had the great pleasure of joining 22,300+ runners for the 90th annual Comrades Marathon in Durban, South Africa, known as the oldest and largest ultramarathon in the world. This was a "bucket list" race for sure, if anything just to see what it's like when this many people go 87km (55 miles), and visit a country on the other side of the globe known for its hospitality to runners. The experience did not disappoint!
"The Comrades", as it is called here, has a deep history with the growth of South Africa. It was started in 1921 as a dedication to South Africa's World War I veterans to "celebrate mankind's spirit over adversity", and has been run almost every year since, helping unify a country through a second world war, the race struggles of apartheid, and build an enduring legacy that spans generations. I had a chance to chat with Comrades legend and 9-time winner Bruce Fordyce, who has completed over 20 Comrades, and he emphasized that even in this sport-loving country, Comrades is as big as it gets. Bruce would know - he's traveled the world to win races on every major continent, and his 50-mile world record of 4:50:21 set in 1983 still stands today.
(Chatting with Comrades legend and WR holder Bruce Fordyce, who is hilariously funny)
(Map for the "up year")
This was an "up year" (it alternates directions each year), meaning we would run from the coastal town of Durban inland to Pietermaritzburg. I chose to stay in Durban, a charming coastal city known as a tourist hot spot. South Africa is quite approachable as a destination, with english spoken fluently, a delicious mix of local and English-influenced food (curry!), affordable activities such as safaris and water parks, surfing and paddle boarding in the Indian Ocean, and a graciousness in the smiles and kindness of the people here that makes it easy to relax. I particularly enjoyed the gospel-like tribal music of the Zulu (and other tribes) that seduced my hips into swaying at every corner. A random stroll through town would feel modern in one block, completely third world in the next, all with plenty of welcomes for visiting.
(Slothie, the stuffed animal who miraculously sneaks into my luggage for every trip,
hangs out over North Beach in Durban)
(My wife texting me about our 4-year-old Quinn...
hmmm, I think I know how Slothie is getting into my suitcase)
(The Indian Ocean is pleasant...perfect for a surf!)
(The local art is fantastic!)
Come race morning, I walked to the start with dozens of others, navigating the Saturday night vampires rolling out of the clubs and betting halls. The race bibs were so well marked (number of previous runs, country, name, etc.), you could quickly strike up a conversation. It astounded me to see so many of the special "green numbers", which noted runners who had 10+ finishes. Some runners even had 20 (double green), 30 (triple green), and 40+ finishes...it was like a country of Tim Twietmeyers! Over 11,000 runners now have a green number, which is simply astounding.
(Sporting a patch jacket)
(Not sure which is more impressive...the double green number, or that at age 55 Marius still makes the "A" Corral)
(Locals take their permanent green numbers VERY seriously!)
I jumped into the "A" Corral, my unacclimated body already dripping in sweat. In retrospect, if I'm going to fly 22 hours, it's probably best to give myself 3-4 days before the race to be at least a little prepared. Some of my fellow runners had hats, gloves, and makeshift garbage bag vests to stay warm...wha?!? Good perspective! There were a few costumed runners, but most of the field (96% from South Africa) represented their local running clubs with striped and cheetah-print pride. This race was clearly the pinnacle event of the year.
(No big deal...just me and 22,300 runners out for a 87km jog)
(Here we go! Photo courtesy of News24)
Lots of them asked me what my goal was, and I let them know I was just going to take it out comfortably and see where I end up. On a good day, I might qualify for a "silver medal" (6 hr-7:30hr finish), but likely would be shooting for the "Bill Rowan" (7:30-9hr), or perhaps casually bringing in a "bronze" (9-11hr) or "Vic Clapham" (11-12hr). One thing for sure is I better get there before the final cut off - this race is known for their aggressive "closing of the gate" at exactly 12 hours. We sang the South African national anthem at full lungs, the fantastic "Shosholoza" Ndebele song that would run through my head for the next four hours, and heard Chariots of Fire as the course lit up with digital fire. One loud "ca-caw" and the final gun...Comrades had begun!
(Pietermaritzburg, here we come!)
As we charged through the city and took over the highway, I immediately noted some very different things about these runners. First, there were ZERO headphones. Second, not a lot of selfie photo action...in fact, I was mocked a bit any time I pulled out the camera. Costumes were everywhere, and the tribal-inspired traditional outfits were particularly enjoyed by the crowds. The strides of my fellow runners were long and easy, which I guess shouldn't be a surprise when racing in Africa, and the conversations were all in local dialects such as Zulu, Swazi, and Sotho. Nontheless, I could pick out the inflections of encouragement and a fair amount of teasing and joking.
(Awesome Zulu outfit)
(The male string top singlet is quite popular down here)
The distance markers were in reverse, telling you how far to go rather than how far you had gone, so "60km to go" wasn't exactly inspiring. But I was glad to find the hills were all runnable - challenging compared to your normal road race, but nothing compared to a trail ultra. The hot African sun peaked over the hill just as we hit the downside of Cowie's Hill (20km in), and I was running just under an 8 min/mile pace.
(Party time!)
(Even cheerers are excited for their first Comrades)
The "green number" runners graciously offered advice and let me know what was coming up. One of them explained to me that once you get a green number, you can keep that number for life, and even pass it on to your kids. Wow! What a great incentive to lure in the next generation. It turned out be one of the many genius marketing aspects to this race, including the time-based medals named after founding runners, the "back to back medal" (extra medal for finishing an up and down together...rope you in for a second trip!), the caps that had the map on the underside of the visor (thus being the default headwear on race day), the encouragement of the running clubs to set up and provide assistance on the course, and the iron-on badges that many had turned into great jackets. No surprise attendance at Comrades has doubled in the last ten years.
(The back of the pack tackles the hills, photo courtesy of News24)
I hit the halfway point at Drummond (44km, mile 27) in 3:36:10, just a minute under the pace for a "silver medal" finish. I was still feeling comfortable, much in thanks to the well-stocked aid stations every couple of miles that had plenty of water and snacks. The water is brilliantly handed out in recyclable 150ml bags that were easy to bite into and either drink or spray, and I wondered why we hadn't seen this in the States yet. I was doing more spraying at this point as the African sun started to bear down on us and push the temperature into the high 70's. It was hot (not "Africa hot" though, ha, ha), but many of the locals were happy it was so cool.
(Water in a bag!)
(Out in the countryside)
As we got out into the countryside, we alternated between long stretches of lonely road, and huge parties put on by local vendors and towns. Local school kids showed up in uniform, and church-goers cheered in their Sunday best. Everyone had a "braai" rolling (the local BBQ), and it smelled awesome. As Bruce told me, "since you have a number on, you're a hero today...you can grab a beer or burger from anyone...tomorrow you'll get punched in the face for trying that."
(Phew! Those km's left are starting to get small)
As we approached Camperdown (70km, mile 43), the afternoon heat started to take its toll and created a long line of walkers. I soon realized that most weren't exhuasted, they were just being smart about heat management. I was not doing this, and quickly paid the price. I vomited on the sideline, dizzy with heat, and it wasn't until some locals helped me fill my handkerchief with ice that I could get rolling again. Mile 40 clocked in at 16 minutes....and just like that, the silver medal was out of contention. That's okay, I now had lots of buffer and could relax knowing the ice radiator on the back of my neck was doing the trick.
(Enthusiastic cheerleaders)
(Getting his groove on)
(Welcome to the Nedbank Green Mile!)
(Volunteers are superheroes, literally in this case)
As I cruised along at a more casual 9 min/mile, I wondered how my fellow US athletes were doing. Sage Canaday and Max King were both here, two of our fastest, so perhaps one could make the Top 10. I sent good vibes to Dave Mackey, now having his leg painfully rebuilt from a fall in the Colorado mountains, who would do anything to take a single step right now (yet still had time to wish me well). I also thought of my great uncle, 92-year-old Ray Morris, a 16-time Dipsea runner in the 80's whom I recently reconnected with after 33 years, who wanted me to text him during the race in his last days of surviving pancreatic cancer. To those who cannot run today, this day is also for you. It is a celebration of running!
The last steep climb at Polly Shortts (83km, mile 51) brought almost everyone to a walking pace, and I would soon learn even the winner of the Women's race had done the same. I cruised through the last few miles and entered the finish area, a tailgate-meets-stadium filled with thousands of races supporters and team tents. Incredible! I hit the finish line in 8:08:25, good enough for 840th place, and received a hearty thank you from the race directors for coming to their race. "You international runners are a big part of what makes this race great...we hope to see you next year so you can pick up that back-to-back medal". I was thinking about the next Comrades before I even got my first beverage from the first one...genius!
(Through the green gate, onto the field)
(Last lap!)
(There's that finish!)
I soon retired to the tent for international runners to grab a beer and cheer on fellow finishers. The vibe was amazing at the finish, particularly when a time deadline for a medal would come within the final seconds, and hundreds of well-paced runners sprint around the final oval as the crowd goes wild. Members of all clubs would stand at their feet and scream, hollering and stamping the side boards with their hands, and the crowds got bigger with every hour. It was so much fun! With 16,584 runners finding the finish, Comrades boasts an outstanding 74% finish rate. Apparently more than half the finishers come in during the final hour...that has got to be a cheer heard around the world.
(Here comes the sub-9 hour pack!)
Check out the cheering in this video of the winning finish to get a feel for it:
I learned from the other finishers that the 90th Comrades had been a historic day for South Africa, winning both the mens and women's division for the first time in 23 years. Gift Kehele (5:38:35) was the overall winner, after placing third last year, much to the excitement of his older brother who won the race in 2001. Caroline Wostmann (6:12:22) was a favorite after winning Two Oceans this year, and led by a large margin over the Russian twins who have dominated this race for years. Ellie Greenwood, the 2014 Women's champion finished a respectable 6th (6:44:03).
(Gift Kehele wins...)
(...and gets a hug from his big brother)
(Caroline Wostmann cruises in for the win)
Sage Canaday (6:03:47) took 15th overall and was the fastest US male finisher, and Max King finished 52nd (6:33:48) as the second American. Guess who was 3rd? Me! Holy crap, I just podium'd with Sage and Max. I am humble-bragging that for the rest of my life.
(Hey, look...I podiumed with Sage Canaday and Max King for fastest American! I'm so framing this...)
As I headed back to Durban on the bus, chatting with Australian ultrarunner Amelia Griffith, I felt completely transformed. I always enjoy the adventure of traveling to new race destinations, but Comrades had simply blown my mind. It was like...actually, it was exactly like... finding out there was a place on the other side of the world that holds the true roots of your sport, with a community of tens of thousands who welcome you with open arms and a strong, generous spirit. The tagline for Comrades - "Bamba Iqhaza!" - means "be a part of it" and I am so glad I did! Add this race to your bucket list, my friends, and you will not be disappointed.
(Shwag!)
Dankie, South Africa and the great volunteers and organizers of the Comrades. Congratulations runners and clubs! I hope to see you again soon.
Last Sunday, I had the pleasure of joining 30,000+ runners for the annual bacchanal known as the Bay to Breakers 12k in San Francisco, CA. This crazy parade of costumes, nakedness, and drunken debauchery is also a world-class elite event, and I look forward to it every year. My 8-year-old Sophie opted out this time (horses and vaulting took priority), so it was just me, the camera, and a course lined with free beer on both sides. It felt more tame than previous years, but was still a hoot!
(29,980 official runners take over San Francisco)
(Wow, it's cold outside!)
(Me and Ape Hashbury!)
(Bird's eye view of the start)
(Wow!)
I arrived with breakfast beer in hand, and was greeted with smiles from the Ethiopian elites warming up in the Seeded Corral. Geez, these guys are hard at work and I'm just goofing around! I recognized a few trail runners as well, including Brett Rivers and the now-famous buns of Bob Hearn. Always strange to recognize a fellow runner by his thong!
(Bob, good to see you again)
(Brett and SFRC represent!)
After a dazzling national anthem by a 13-year-old, we heard the gun and took to the streets. Normally I'm driving in gridlock around 3rd and Mission, but today, we were flying along at a 6 min/mile pace. Part of that was just to stay warm, given our 55 degree day with a slight breeze. Naked runners freezing to the left, costumed runners boiling to the right...everyone was finding their groove.
(And we're off!)
(Wouldn't mind running in this centipede if the outfit worked for me)
(Wonder Women!)
(The elites up front)
Hayes Hill (mile 3) was calm compared to previous years, but I realized this was likely because we were in the first 1,000 runners. The locals probably haven't even woken up yet for the party that starts in an hour or so, and is known to dump 17 tons of trash in four hours. I took a quick break with the salmon (who run the race in reverse), who were waiting for the pace to calm down enough to begin their spawn.
(Now we're talking!)
(The salmon wait for just the right moment...)
(All hail THE PIMP!)
(Respect...he seriously committed to that costume!)
(Hayes Hill, out of control)
I stopped for another beer on Fell Street, happy to be the first runner to kick off one of the many neighborhood parties on this stretch. There were plenty of volunteers handing out water, and for good reason - this was quite a spectacle! I bet it's the most entertaining volunteer gig one can find.
(Jesus loves high fives)
(Fell St, right behind the centurions)
(Best volunteer gig ever!)
(Neighbors probably not so stoked to see this)
(And then there is this)
Our trip through Golden Gate Park (mile 5) had bands every half mile or so, featuring everything from God-preaching folk music, DJ's with roller dancers, to 60's psychedelic, and even a swing band. We leaned into the hill, dropping the pace to 5:45 min/mile, and of course, with me burping the whole way.
(Church of 8 Wheels get their groove on)
(Worked out all year for that outfit!)
(Groovy Judy back again)
(Swing time!)
(Oh yeah, still have some running to do)
(Giant Oompah Loompahs!)
(Finish and start freezing!)
I crossed the finish line in 54:11 for 815th place, laughing at my Strava map that showed beer-mile like intervals of 6 min/miles between beverages. My brother-in-law Brian Drue just happened to find me at the finish (also checking his Strava), and we toasted a beer to his 13th consecutive finish! I asked about his kids, but they were busy spray-painting his garage that was scheduled to be demo'd the next day. Yeah, I probably would have gone for that too.
(Checking our Strava!)
(New sponsor Little Debbie's puts out Twinkies and Cup Cakes to go with your beer...not exactly the healthiest finish line, but there you go)
(World record one-armed conga line!)
(Ha! Wouldn't that be fun? Kids tag up the garage before it's demo'd)
I vaped some hops at the Langunitas Brewing booth (tasty, but no, you don't get drunk) and grabbed some Twinkies before joining the World Record attempts at "longest one-armed conga line" and "most people jumping rope on their left leg". Although the B2B isn't the insanity it used to be, it still has it's crazy quirks. Glad I made it one more time!
