Ultrarunning History

By Davy Crockett In May, thousands of hikers and ultrarunners make their pilgrimage to the Grand Canyon to hike or run across this amazing wonder of the world. I have been producing short videos for the new Grand Canyon History YouTube channel. I thought it would be interesting to also publish these as a podcast episode for you to listen to.  This is part two. The video versions of these shorts, of course, have many historic pictures to see. Please subscribe to that channel. Some of these shorts come from my best-selling book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. You can get my book on Amazon.

By Davy Crockett This weekend (mid May each year) the North Rim of the Grand Canyon opened for the season. Thousands of hikers and ultrarunners make their pilgrimage to the canyon to hike or run across this amazing wonder of the world. I have been producing short videos for the new Grand Canyon History YouTube channel. I thought it would be interesting to also publish these as a podcast episode for you to listen to. The video versions of these shorts of course have many historic pictures to see. Please subscribe to that channel. Some of these shorts come from my best-selling book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. You can get my book on Amazon.

By Davy Crockett For this episode of the Ultrarunning History Podcast, I included an edited down interview I did with the excellent Trail Runner Nation Podcast. We discussed my new book, Old Sport Campana: Ultrarunning's Most Popular and Amusing 19th Century Runner. Thanks to Scott and Don for having me on. To listen to the full interview, visit their podcast at trailrunnernation.com episode 726 entitled, "Ultrarunning's Past was Wilder than you Think." You can get my book on Amazon.

By Davy Crockett  This episode is a replay of the popular early episode 29, about the Tarahumara runners of Mexico. In recent years, the story of the amazing Tarahumara (Rarámuri) runners from Mexico exploded into international attention with the publication of Christopher McDougall's best-selling 2009 book, Born to Run. Runners everywhere in 2009 naively tossed their shoes aside for a while and wanted to run like these ancient native Americans from hidden high Sierra canyons in Chihuahua, Mexico. Many other runners left the marathon distance behind, sought to run ultramarathons, and dreamed about running the Leadville 100, which exploded with new entrants. Readers of Born to Run think that the Tarahumara Indians made their debut running in America in 1992. Born to Run features their 1994 race at Leadville, Colorado. It has been falsely claimed that this was the first time that this indigenous people showed up to run outside their native environs. This is not true. Yes, the Tarahumara competed in the U.S. in 1992, but it was not the first time that they displayed their running abilities in the United States. The Tarahumara competed in America more than six decades earlier when they made an even deeper impact on ultrarunning history. Read the entire article about the Tarahumara

By Davy Crockett In 1889, "Old Sport" Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1905) returned home to Bridgeport, Connecticut, after his four-month trip to California. His celebrity status had increased because of news stories across the country about how he beat up the unscrupulous race manager, Frank W. Hall (1860-1923). During his ten-year ultrarunning career thus far, he had competed in at least 42 races, including 24 six-day races. As he did each summer, Campana took time away from racing, but frequently made appearances at local sporting events, including foot races. New book! Old Sport Campana: Ultrarunning's Most Popular and Amusing 19th Century Runner. As I researched for these podcast episodes, I realized that I had enough content for an entire amusing and interesting book. This episode previews chapter eight of the book. To read the entire story of Old Sport, get my new book on Amazon. In July 1889, a policeman, George A. Parker (1853-1926), took a bet to walk from Hartford, Connecticut to New Haven, Connecticut and back, 72 miles in 26 hours. He walked with a young man, Fred Robertson. They finished at Dwight Mitchell's Saloon in 24.5 hours. “There was quite a crowd in the saloon awaiting the coming of the pedestrians. Conspicuous among them, both on account of his appearance and his senile garrulity, was Old Sport Campana. This old, broken-down warhorse wanted to bet he could cover the distance in sixteen hours. Then he took several turns up and down the long room to show his skill as a pedestrian.” He found no takers of his bet. Parker and Robertson received quite an ovation. Campana published a boxing challenge to the world. “I, Napoleon Campana, alias Old Sport, hereby challenge any man in the world 61 years of age, to fight to a finish, London prize ring rules, for the sum of $500 a side. If this challenge is not accepted, I claim for myself the title of champion of the world.” No one took up the wager, so he must have become the champion boxer of the world. He next issued a challenge to race any man over 60 years in a 100-mile race. Campana was actually 52 years old. It would not have been a fair race. It September 1889, Campana announced that he was in training for his “farewell race in America,” a six-day twelve-hours-per-day race to be held at the Polo Rink in New Haven, Connecticut. Would it really be the last race of his career? He was asked how he made a living. He replied, “I don't work for a living young feller.” He demanded $250 from the race manager, James L. Meenan, to start in the race but was refused. He left the rink in disgust. Alfred Elson Campana returned later as a spectator and sent a gift to his Connecticut rival, Alfred Elson (1836-1900), who was in the race and was the same age as Campana. It was a cabbage with $5 rolled inside it. “Elson declined to carry the cabbage around the rink, so Sport stuck it on the end of a board and dogged him around the track, holding the cabbage over Elson's head.” The Street Peddler In October 1889, Campana was hired to sell peanuts at the Danbury, Connecticut Far by Orin L. Bronson (1827-1909). Sales went very well. Bronson claimed that Campana skipped out of town with all the money and intended to have him arrested if he could find him. Campana went to Winstead, Connecticut, where he competed in a five-hour race and came in third with 19 miles. In December 1889, he was seen watching a ten-mile walking race in New Haven. Campana was a sly businessman where the saying “buyer beware,” really meant something. In early January 1890, he dropped into a Bridgeport saloon and exhibited his fruit. He made a sale for 50 lemons. “While he counted the fruit and placed it in a basket belonging to the purchaser, the old man kept up a rambling talk about his races in the past. He kept his tongue moving at a lively rate until he had counted out 50 lemons. He then received his money with a smile and a ‘God bless you, mister,

By Davy Crockett After ten years of competing in ultra-distance races, Old Sport, Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), age 52, had never gone west of the Mississippi River. That was all about to change in 1889. Frank W. Hall (1860-1923), of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, had managed some very successful six-day races. He decided to take the sport out to California. It had been about four years since the west coast had hosted a race. Hall hired Campana to be in the race and paid for this train ticket to California. He left on February 6, 1889, riding the Cincinnati Express. He arrived a week later with fellow runners Frank Hart (1856-1908) and George Cartwright (1848-1928). They created a stir among west coast sportsmen who wanted to get a glimpse of the famous runners.   New book! Old Sport Campana: Ultrarunning's Most Popular and Amusing 19th Century Runner. As I researched for these podcast episodes, I realized that I had enough content for an entire amusing and interesting book. This episode previews chapter eight of the book. To read the entire story of Old Sport, get my new book on Amazon. Mechanic's Pavillion The workmen made finishing touches to the stands and booths at San Francisco's Mechanics Pavilion the day before the race. Sixty scorers would be needed to keep the tallies of the men, thirty on the sheets and thirty on the dials. The runners took some practice runs on the track. How would California react to Campana's unusual behavior? Years earlier, they had nearly run Steve Brodie (1861-1901), the young newsboy pedestrian from New York City, out of town because of his poor behavior during a race that shocked women. The San Francisco Chronicle introduced Campana to its readers. “Old Sport Campana is as original a character as one could wish to meet with.”  He was quoted, “I don't want sleep, but I must have music, and I can cover more distance when the band is playing ‘The Old Armchair' than at any time. That's my favorite tune, and Lord, it just makes me hustle around the track when I hear it. One time in New York, my shoestring got inside and was hurting me. I took the shoe off to fix it when the band started the tune, and up I went and traveled ten miles with one shoe on and the other off.” The Old Armchair British folksong is about a man who inherited only an old chair from his grandmother and was mocked by his siblings, who got some cash. And how they titter'd! how they chaff'd! How my brother and sister laugh'd. But later, after the chair broke, he discovered it included more than £2,000. When my brother heard of this, the fellow I confess, went nearly mad with rage, and tore his hair. But I only laugh'd at him, then said unto him, Jem, don't you wish you had the old armchair? The San Francisco Examiner added, “He is 61 years old (actually 52). Because of his many peculiarities, he has become the best-known man in his business. He never trains for a race, never eats meat and never sleeps while in a race, but remains on the track through the entire six days and nights. His sharp features and closely cropped beard give him a peculiar appearance.” The Start On Thursday, February 21, 1889, five hours before the start, hundreds of people waited outside the Pavilion, wanting to get in. “So great was the jam of a great crowd gathered at the entrance that the managers decided to throw open the doors two hours ahead of the advertised time. Then there was a frantic rush for the seats of vantage.” At 9:50 p.m., Hall appeared on the track, leading a long string of runners coming from their tents. “Nearly all wore colored shirts and caps and had their numbers either on their chests or backs.” The Hall Belt race began at 9:58 p.m. About 13,000 people were on hand for the start of the 31 runners. There was another running clown in the race, a man who went by “Oofty Goofty.” His real name was Leonard “Leon” Borchardt (1862-). In 1884,

By Davy Crockett By 1888, Old Sport Campana had competed in 35 ultra-distance races, and eight in 1888. He also competed in the most historic six-day race of the 19th century, held in November 1888 in Madison Square Garden. William M. O'Brien (1858-1891), was the race organizer. He partnered with Richard K. Fox (1846-1922), editor and publisher of the sporting publication, The Police Gazette, to offer the Fox Diamond Belt, valued at $2,500 to the winner. If someone beat James Albert's (1856-1912) world record of 621 miles, they would get a bonus of $1,000. The contestants needed to reach 525 miles in order to claim a share of the gate receipts. With an entrance fee of $50, about 125 runners applied for entry, but the race was limited to 40 starters, including Campana. The New York City press was favorable. “Old Sport Campana, whose increasing years seem to add new vigor to his constitution, will start. He will celebrate his 99th birthday on the track.” He was confident that he would reach 550 miles before he retired from the sport. Everyone wondered what new antics he would perform during this race. A bold prediction was made that George Littlewood (1859-1912), of England, would break the world record. “Probably no man alive today can beat Littlewood. He is a phenomenal pedestrian, and having a poor field to beat should win with ease.” New book! Old Sport Campana: Ultrarunning's Most Popular and Amusing 19th Century Runner. As I researched for these podcast episodes, I realized that I had enough content for an entire amusing and interesting book. This episode previews chapter six of the book. To read the entire story of Old Sport, get my new book on Amazon. The Start                 Madison Square Garden An hour before the start, Madison Square Garden was full, with 9,000 spectators, despite a howling blizzard that ripped through the city during the day. Thirty-six runners came to the starting line, led, as usual, by Campana, age 52. At 12:05 a.m. on November 26, 1888, Campana led the runners across the line. “Campana who has been likened to a fragment of time, broken off the far end of eternity, got a big start and made his bony shanks play like drumsticks for a lap. He passed under the wire first.” That first-place lap won him a bet with Police Captain Tom Reilly, who paid him a five-dollar silver certificate over the fence. “Campana is badly in need of a shave and looks rather more cadaverous than usual. He is in high spirits. He wears an American flag around his waist, an old pair of white gaiters, and a boutonniere of greasy silver certificates.” George Littlewood, of England, took the lead right away, completed the first mile in 5:02, and reached the future marathon mark in about 3:20. Through the first night, it became obvious why there were plans to have Madison Square Garden demolished and replaced. “The ring in the center of the garden looked as if it had been swept by a hurricane. Booths were overturned and the floor was flooded with melted snow, which had dropped through the crevices in the roof.” Littlewood, dressed in white drawers and an undershirt, with a red cloth around his neck and a toothpick in his mouth, reached 77.5 miles in twelve hours in front of about 700 people in the cold building. After twelve hours, Campana had covered 60 miles. Campana complained that the scorers were rigging the race against him. “He went on again, with a blue nose, red cheeks, and open mouth.” Littlewood was the first to reach 100 miles in 15:59:00. “He was roundly cheered and presented with a floral horseshoe. Campana became so worked up by the demonstration that he skipped around the track as he did in days of yore.” Sixteen of the runners reached 100 miles on the first day, earning them a refund of their entrance fee. Even Campana reached that mark. “His homely figure and good-natured smile have been seen on every sawdust track for years past.

By Davy Crockett By 1884, “Old Sport” Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), had gained national fame. He was being called "the clown of the walking matches." While he was never competitive enough to win a six-day race, event managers knew that he was a huge draw to bring spectators into a race. They paid him a salary to be in their races. At age 52, some called him "The living skeleton." Campana acted the part of a decrepit old man and said, “I am 62 years old and I haven't got a tooth in my head and only a few hairs on it, but I'm here for sport, and don't you forget it.” New book! Old Sport Campana: Ultrarunning's Most Popular and Amusing 19th Century Runner. As I researched for these podcast episodes, I realized that I had enough content for an entire amusing and interesting book. This episode previews chapter six of the book. To read the entire story of Old Sport, get my new book on Amazon. Another Retirement After May 1884, the number of six-day races declined. Those held until 1886 were more of a minor nature, and no races were held in Campana's favorite venue, Madison Square Garden. It was written, “Walking matches no longer fire the public heart to the violence of a volcano”. The lull was mostly caused by a long financial recession until mid-1885, which contributed to tightening money. Campana did not compete in another six-day race for nearly three years. He tried to enter the first major six-day roller skating race held in March 1885, in Madison Square Garden. “One of the familiar sights was the appearance of Old Sport Campana, the ancient rival of O'Leary, still wearing the peaked cap, red shirt and bandanna neckerchief, that made him the object of curiosity in days gone by.” He believed he could win the race, but the managers refused to let him enter, knowing about his clowning reputation. Campana's Fame Campana was now recognized nearly everywhere he went. One day, he showed up in Boston. “A number of people followed the ‘old hero' about town with no particular object in view, other than to see him. Finally, he went into one of the drug stores and purchased sixteen ounces of the tincture of Jamaica ginger, which he drank at once, on a bet. Everyone expected to see him drop dead, but ‘Sport' is not one of the dying kind. It took considerable water and a good deal of profanity to cool his mouth off.” Later in the month, Campana was in New York City, examining a bunch of bananas in the warehouse of a Greenwich dealer. Going by, was a well-dressed man, with three friends who went into Smith & McNell's hotel. Campana yelled out, “There goes John L. Sullivan and Patsy Sheppard (boxers).” That started a mob of nearly 500 men going to the windows of the hotel trying to get a glimpse of the famous athletes. Campana Seriously Injured At his hometown of Bridgeport, Connecticut, one day in June 1885, Campana was at a baseball game, cheering for Princeton instead of Bridgeport. He went too far, became abusive, and refused to leave. “The old man doesn't like the Bridgeport team worth a cent, and he kept on with his voice regardless of consequences. His brother, Policeman Alex Campana, was asked to quiet Sport and he did so, after a short parley with him, by whacking him three times on the head with his club. The pedestrian then walked off like a little lamb, bleeding. Some of the bystanders expressed indignation that the special officer clubbed his brother, but the majority thought that he got what he deserved.” He ended up in the hospital for weeks, sick, in critical condition, and without money or friends. In August 1885, after six weeks, he was discharged, became a ward of the city, and was expected to die at any moment. A month later, he had recovered and seemed to be like his old self. Campana the Peddler Campana succeeded in peddling a new product. He said, “There's no place like the New Milford fair. I went up there without a cent.

By 1880, “Old Sport” Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), a fruit and nut peddler from Bridgeport, Connecticut, had established himself as an odd anomaly in the very popular spectator sport of six-day indoor races held in arenas in northeastern America. He had not yet won a race but would almost always stick it out to the end of the six days when usually 75% of the other runners would quit before the end. People would pay to come watch the races he was in, specifically to watch him run. Race directors would promise him a salary just to be in their races. No one ever could predict what unusual and amusing antics he would perform during a race. He seemed to never be formally training, but perhaps with all the miles he put in pushing his cart, he was able to regularly run more than 300 miles in a six-day race. Campana was unusually “unbalanced.” When some spectators mocked him, he would punch them in the face and then continue running. The crowds would roar with approval and the race management would do nothing. The New York Times wrote, “Napoleon Campana, better known to the world as ‘Old Sport,' is called the clown of the walking matches, and a race without ‘Old Sport' in it would be a novelty.” His eccentric nature was also seen in his personal life as a peddler in Bridgeport. His hot-headed nature would frequently end him up in jail. By 1880, his wife Jennie (Dalton) Campana had apparently left him again. He still loved her deeply and had her name tattooed on his leg. Even with the money he received at races, and with his national popularity, he appeared to be nearly destitute because he spent his earnings so quickly, likely on a lot of alcohol. O'Leary International Belt After being away from the sport for seven months, Campana, age 44, came back in January 1881 to compete in the O'Leary International Belt held in the American Institute Building, in New York City. The track was eight laps to the mile and 8.5 feet wide. It was constructed on top of the concrete floor. The track base was composed of three inches of clay and tan bark, laid over with sawdust, and surrounded by a sturdy picket fence to keep spectators off the track. Wooden huts of 10x5 feet were put up for each runner, furnished with a bed, washstand, small mirror, chair, and a gas stove. A large blackboard would be used to display the standings. Every seat within the building was filled by 10 p.m., two hours before the start, with about 5,000 people. A “sacred concert” was put on, with soothing music appropriate for Sunday. “Between the pieces of music, the sound of the busy hammers finishing the improvements in the building, the voices of sellers of programs about of the walkers, lager beer, peanuts, cakes, candies, cigars, and shooting galleries, try your weight, electric batteries, and a confused babel of thousands of voices filled the structure.” The building was lit with gas lights and warmed by steam and large stoves. The Start American Institute Hall When Campana came out to the start line on January 24, 1881, he received huge cheers as spectators recognized him. At 12:05 a.m., thirty-one starters, arranged in ten rows, were sent on their way with the word “Go” by Referee William Buckingham Curtis (1837-1900), of Wilkes' Spirit of Times. “With a bound, the men darted around the track, the new men mostly at the top of their speed, the more experienced and knowing ones at a steady jog.” Early on, Campana kept up with the frontrunners.  After twelve hours, he reached 56 miles, eight miles behind the leader. On the next day, a cheer went up from all over the building and then changed quickly to laughter. “Campana was seen wildly flourishing his arms over and around his head, He dashed forward at the top of his speed, passed John “Lepper” Hughes (1850-1921), the leader, and then subsided into a slow and limping crawl. Bald-head Campana, with his punch-like face turned more to one side than ever, kept up the struggle gamely.

By Davy Crockett In part one, “Old Sport” Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), of Bridgeport, Connecticut, a poor street vendor, and talented runner, wanted to become a professional pedestrian/ultrarunner. At age 42, he was viewed as very elderly, a strange anomaly on the track. It was said that it looked like he had been run through a threshing machine. “He looks like a physical wreck and every stranger expects to see him collapse momentarily. His shriveled, shrunken, crooked figure is one of the marvels of pedestrianism.” In early 1879, he had a poor reputation, and his integrity was questioned. But during the coming 15 months, as he ran more miles in races than anyone in the world, he would win over the hearts of the public. He would be called “perhaps one of the best-known athletes in the country.” He became a crowd favorite to watch in 1879 when the six-day race was the most popular spectator sporting event to watch in America. Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now twelve books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon, compiling podcast content and much more. Learn More. Despite the six-day race loss to Daniel O'Leary, in December 1878, Campana, now wealthy and newly married, sought to further profit from his newfound notoriety. He was now mentioned in newspapers every week across the country. Some of the press was negative, as word spread that his Bridgeport six-day world record run of 521 miles in November 1878 was a fraud. He stated that the accusations came from disgruntled men who wanted more money from him. The New York Sun looked deeply into the matter and concluded that “the fraud was inspired by a wish to make a big record, arouse public interest, and thereby bring in gate money.” The scheme had succeeded. What was the reaction to the bombshell news in Campana's hometown? “Bridgeport had freely given Campana their confidence and their backing. Now there is surprise that the community could have been sold so cheaply and completely. As a pedestrian, Campana is looked upon as a dead duck.”  Still, there were those who believed his effort was legitimate. A reporter from another newspaper, who witnessed the last day of that event and interviewed witnesses stated, “I gained a firm impression that the walk had been honestly conducted, and that Campana had really passed over the number of miles with which he was credited. No one whom I met in Bridgeport appeared to have any doubt about the matter.” He believed there was a conspiracy against Campana. (Author's note: Given that Campana never exceeded 521 miles in all his future 40+ six-day races that he competed in, I believe that the effort involved fraud and should be discounted. It is likely that Campana was naïve and wasn't involved in the fraud that was conducted by his backers.) Campana had a trial in late January for physically abusing his new young wife, Jennie A. (Dalton) Campana (1853-). She returned to her father's home and took her new wardrobe and $100. “In court he showed a big roll of bills and said that he was in the hands of men who had hired him for a year, and he couldn't walk anywhere without their permission.” He had argued with his wife when two other women came into their new house in Waterbury, Connecticut, who he didn't want there. He suspected that she had him arrested so she could strip the house of costly things while he was in jail. Despite this terrible incident, the two were reconciled and Jennie moved back to their home. On the Road Campana was not a “pedestrian dead duck.” His career was just beginning, with the help of his dominating backers. At that time, professional pedestrians were not kicked out of the sport for perceived fraud or misbehavior. First, he tried to issue challenges against other runners for large amounts of money. Those went without responses. Next, he went on the road to give running exhibitions. Boston Music Hall

By Davy Crockett Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), of Bridgeport, Connecticut, known as "Old Sport," was recognized as the most popular and entertaining “clown” of ultrarunning. It was said of him, "Campana kicks up his heels and creates a laugh every few minutes." He was one of the most prolific six-day runners during the pedestrian era of the sport. All of his amazing ultrarunning accomplishments were made after he was 42 years old, and into his 60s. He competed in at least 40 six-day races and many other ultra-distance races, compiling more than 15,000 miles during races on small indoor, smokey tracks. He never won a six-day race, but because he was so popular, race directors would pay him just to last six days in their races. Admiring spectators would throw dollar bills down to him on the tracks during races. He didn't age well, lost his hair, had wrinkled skin from being outdoor so much, and people thought he was 10-15 years older than he really was. He never corrected them in their false assumption and wanted people to believe he was very old. While he was well-loved by the public, he wasn't a nice person. During races, when he would become annoyed, he would frequently punch competitors or spectators in the face. In his private life, he was arrested for assault and battery multiple times, including abusing his wife, and spent time in jails for being drunk. Read about the fascinating history of the more than 500 six-day races held from 1875 to 1909 in Davy Crockett's new definitive history in 1,200 pages. Get them on Amazon. Campana's Youth Campana was born in Petersburg, Virginia in 1836. His family came from France. When four years of age, he moved to New York City with his mother, his father having died in North Carolina of yellow fever. Shortly after his arrival in New York, his mother died, and he was cared for by the Metropolitan Fire Brigade. He first worked as a messenger boy, the first delivery boy for the New York Clipper in 1853, then became a hose-cart attaché, and finally a full-blown fireman, one of the “Fulton Market Boys.” On his left arm he had tattooed “Clinton Engine Co. 41, Old Stag.” He said he learned to run in the fire department and saved a great number of lives. “Like a young partridge, he tried to run as soon as he was hatched and has been running ever since.” He became very involved in athletics and received the nickname of “Young Sport.” His first race was with a man named Lee, in New York City for $10, for a half mile. He  next raced the champion of New England, Amos Saunders, of Brooklyn, in a five-mile race. "The day of the race arrived and found him in prime condition for the test of endurance and speed. He won the race in a canter." As a young man of about twenty years old, in 1856, Campana moved to Bridgeport, Connecticut. He became a peddler of nuts and fruit, and at other times operated a corner peanut stand. “He soon became known in Bridgeport as an expert and fearless volunteer fireman and did good service at several large fires. He was always a fast runner and was noted for his courage and promptness of action in time of danger.” He made a challenge to all New England runners in a five-mile race to win a belt. He won the race that took place in Providence, Rhode Island. Life Before an Ultrarunner In 1860, he lived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, again working as a fireman. He once challenged the entire fire department of the city to a half-mile race. The challenge was accepted, and he won in 2:30. He competed in several races up to ten miles and won many. He beat a noted runner, “Indian Smith” at ten miles, in 57:26. That year, he married Mary Jane (Dalton) Campana (1840-) and had a son Napoleon Campana (1861-1862) who died as a young child. In 1862, Campana enlisted in the Civil War, with the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry. He claimed that he fought at Gettysburg and lost a chase going after a confederate soldier who had been separated from his co...

Connie Gardner, from Akron Ohio, is the 25th person inducted into the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame, joining the Hall in 2024. From 2002 to 2012, she was a national champion twelve times at 50 miles, 100 kilometers, 100 miles, and 24 hours. She has finished at least 180 ultras, with more than 80% of them on trails, with nearly 100 wins, including three wins at the prestigious JFK 50 in Maryland. During her ultra career, she established 37 course or event records. She was a member of the U.S. National 100K Team and the U.S. National 24-Hour Team for many years, competing in many World Championships. With a busy family life and children, she didn't start running ultras until her late 30s, but dominated into her 50s. She was named the USA Track and Field (USATF) Ultrarunner of the Year in 2003 and 2012, and the USATF Masters Ultrarunner of the year in 2011. Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now eleven books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon, compiling podcast content and much more. Learn More. If you would like to order multiple books with a 30% discount, send me a message here. Constance “Connie” Margaret (John) Gardner (1963-), of Akron, Ohio, was born in Washington D.C. to Dr. James Edward A John (1933-2010) and Constance Brandon (Maxwell) John (1932-1999). Her father was an electrical engineer and president of Kettering University in Flint, Michigan. He worked with the National Academy of Sciences in Washington D.C. where Connie went to elementary school. Her ancestry on her father's side was from Cornwall, England, by way of Belgium and Canada. Her ancestry on her mother's side was Irish. Even as a child, she was always competitive, trying to reach for lofty goals. She explained, “My brothers and I were always trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, flying a kite, for three days, playing War for as many days as we could.” Each year, a field day was scheduled at her school. “I was terrible. They wouldn't put me in anything because I wasn't very fast. If you weren't good at anything else, they threw you into the distance run because nobody wanted to do it. So the first year I failed and then I started to train for it. I wanted to do it. I've always wanted to see that I could do.” She believed she was a good kid, but got in trouble often with her teachers and sometimes experienced the paddle. She would often run before school to help her focus. “All I needed to do was to run down to the river, watch the sun come up, run home, and go to school.” High School and College Years In high school, Connie competed on the girls' cross-country and track teams at Olentangy High School, in Lewis Center, Ohio. She won all-conference honors, running on the 4X800-meter relay. Her team finished runner-up at the state finals in 1980 and 1981. She said, "I was so focused on running, that my crowd in high school was just my cross country team, so I didn't get in any trouble.  I made sure we wouldn't botch up our chance to win state. At a young age, that kept me on a nice path." Connie attended Ohio State University and then The University of Massachusetts where she received a Bachelor of Science degree in sports management. While a freshman at age 17, she ran her first marathon at the 1981 Columbus Marathon and finished in 4:11:00. At UMass, she was on the eight-person rowing team for three years but continued running. She would run six miles to and from the boathouse. She ran a lot of 5Ks and 10Ks during the 1980s and a marathon in the fall and in the spring. In 1987, she married Robert Charles Gardner in Massachusetts. They would have two daughters, Abby and Gwen. Busy Life as a Mom Connie moved to Portland, Oregon, to attend graduate school. To earn money, she became a bicycle messenger. That unique job helped get her into top physical shape, and she started to run with running groups. As the groups noticed that she would not get t...

By Davy Crockett Stu Mittleman was the sixth person to be inducted into the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame. During the 1980s, while a college professor from New York, he became the greatest multi-day runner in the country who won national championships running 100 miles, but ran much further than that in other races. During that period, no other American ultrarunner, male for female, exhibited national class excellence at such a wide range of ultra racing distances. He brought ultrarunning into the national spotlight as he appeared on national television shows and became the national spokesman for Gatorade. Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now eleven books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon, compiling podcast content and much more. Learn More. If you would like to order multiple books with a 30% discount, send me a message here. Stuart “Stu” M Mittleman was born in New York City in 1951 to Irving Jacob Mittleman (1924-2009) and Selma R (Mitzner) Mittleman (1929-2023). His Mittleman grandparents were Jewish Russian immigrants who came to America in 1913. When he was in high school in Dumont, New Jersey in the late 1960s, he was on the track team and ran the mile in 4:39 mile, the half mile in 2:01. He was better at wrestling in which he lettered and was a district champion. At the University of Connecticut, he continued wrestling for one season but switched to long-distance swimming and weightlifting. At Colgate University, he was on the dean's list and earned his bachelor's degree in liberal arts. He earned his master's degree at the University of Connecticut. He was a heavy smoker during school, going through two packs of cigarettes per day. During the early ‘70s, he became disillusioned with the state of the country during the Vietnam War era and spent time on the West Coast, where he took up running again “for his head.” But while skiing in 1975, he had a terrible fall, tore his ACL and damaged cartilage. He had knee surgery and could not run for five months. When he could run again, he did it for relaxation and to find a quiet time for himself. Becomes a Marathon Runner In 1977, he ran up Flagstaff Mountain in Boulder, Colorado and fell in love with running. He went into a running store and asked how he could sign up for the Boston Marathon, three months away. They told him he needed to qualify, so he ran Mission Bay Marathon in San Diego with a qualifying time of 2:46. Early into his dream race at Boston, he was running in a drainage ditch in efforts to pass runners and twisted his ankle terribly. Disappointed, but determined, he tied ice around his swollen ankle and vowed not to drop out of the race. He finished in 4:03. He returned to Boston the next year and finished in 2:31:11. After finishing the New York City marathon six months later in 2:33:00, he couldn't understand why he couldn't run any faster, even though he was never tired at the end of his races. “I just started thinking, why did I have to stop? I wondered how much longer I could have run." This thought made him turn to “the longer stuff. First Ultramarathon Mittleman was 5' 8” and about 140 pounds. As a graduate student in sports psychology at Columbia University, Mittleman ran his first ultra in 1978, running 6:11 in the Metropolitan 50 in Central Park, New York. That year the race was poorly organized, and the front-runner went off course, but he placed 8th with 6:13. “I ended up sprinting the last 10 miles and I was hooked.” He liked ultras better than marathons because they were less competitive and they had a friendlier atmosphere. The 1979 Unisphere 100 With that elite performance, he qualified to enter the 1979 Unisphere 100, held at Flushing Meadows in Queens, New York, on a 2.27-mile loop road course around Meadow Lake. This 100-miler was first held in 1978, won by Park Barner in 13:57:36. In 1979,

By Davy Crockett  During the first half of the 1980s, Bernd Heinrich, of Vermont, was the fastest ultrarunner in America. In 2007, he was the fifth person to be inducted into the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame. Today, few know of him and his amazing running records and accomplishments. He was unique from most other ultrarunners of his time in that rather than competing in many races, he was very selective in his race choices. When he ran, he had specific goals to win or set records, with laser focused training for these few specific events. Using this approach, he was able to win and set several American records. Heinrich appeared suddenly on the ultrarunning scene, setting a record in his very first ultra, and he quickly rose to the top of the sport. He was named “Ultrarunner of the Year” three of the first four years of Ultrarunning Magazine's existence. He had a quiet nature and never sought for the running spotlight, but eventually was one of the few to be inducted in the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame. As a boy, Heinrich grew up living deep in a forest in war-torn Germany. In his life priorities, running was secondary to his true love, observing, researching, teaching and writing about nature. During his intense running years, he was able to find a balance to become a world-renowned expert in his professional naturalist career, studying birds, bees, and other animals and insects. Ultrarunning historian, Nick Marshall wrote about Heinrich in 1984, “Often runners don't know much about the backgrounds of individuals whose athletic accomplishments may be very familiar to them, so it is quite nice to see one of our sport's star gain recognition as a successful pioneer in a totally unrelated field.” Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now eleven books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon, compiling podcast content and much more. Learn More. If you would like to order multiple books with a 30% discount, send me a message here. Childhood in Germany Forest in The Hahnheide Bernd Heinrich was born in Bad Polzin, Poland in 1940 to Gerd Heinrich (1898-1984) and Hildegarde Maria (Burovna) Heinrich (1917-2012). His father became an internationally known research biologist and a German pilot during World War I. Near the end of World War II, he and his family fled their large farm near Gdansk to escape advancing Russian troops in 1944 and crossed what would be the future border for East Germany. Henrich recalled, “The times were not easy. The biggest problem was filling our bellies. Papa decided that the best chance of finding food would be in the forest. We came across a large reserve called “the Hahnheide,” and within it a small empty hut used before the war by a nature club from Hamburg. The forester in charge gave us permission to move in. We lived deep in the forest for five years. We had no work and hardly ever any money.” They survived by foraging for nuts, berries, mushrooms, and hunting small rodents and ducks. This experience began his love for nature and was “a rare mix of survival and enchantment.” Mushrooms in The Hahnheide Heinrich recalled, “We were totally immersed in nature. Like most animals, our major concern was finding food. I didn't like picking berries because I had to move so slowly, from bush to bush. I much preferred picking mushrooms when I could run at will through the damp forest, feeling the soft green moss under my bare feet.” Young Heinrich collected beetles and birds' eggs for his family's food supply. He became obsessed with the creatures around him. “I had no playmates and never owned a toy. Yet I didn't feel deprived. Who needs toys after having seen caterpillars from up close and knowing they can turn into moths?” Heinrich became fascinated with bugs and insects. When he was nine, he drew a birthday card for his father and on the back; he wrote that he had collected 447 beetles of 135 species.

By Davy Crockett Sue Ellen Trapp was one of the elite women pioneer ultrarunners who burst into the sport in the 1970s. She was the fourth person to be inducted into The American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame. She quickly achieved world and American records and showed how fast and how far women could run. With a busy life including her dental practice and family, she rose to the top of the sport twice, after an eight-year ultrarunning retirement, setting world and American records in her 40s and 50s. Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now eleven books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon, compiling podcast content and much more. Learn More. If you would like to order multiple books with a 30% discount, send me a message here. Sue Ellen (Hamilton) Trapp (1946-), of Fort Myers, Florida was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. Her parents were Robert Roy Hamilton (1908-1971), a tool and die maker, and Marie Blanche (Festner) Hamilton (1910-1999). She had a brother, Ross Hamilton (1942-2014) of Chicago. Her ancestors were from Pennsylvania, Germany, Austria, and Denmark. Sue Ellen and Kristina In the late 1960s, Sue Ellen went to dental school and married Ronald Edward Trapp (1943-), of Minnesota, who was also a dentist and entered the navy in 1969. He had been a cross-country runner in college. In 1971, Ron was stationed in San Francisco, California, as Sue Ellen was finishing dental school at the University of Illinois Dental School in Chicago. She gave birth to her daughter Kristina Trapp (1971-)  in April while in California, and then graduated from dental school in June. Ron and Sue Ellen training in 1975 Trapp said that she thought the baby weight would melt off, but it never did, so she took up competitive tennis and swimming, with some running to help her get into shape. Her first road race came in 1971, San Francisco's 12 km Bay to Breakers. She said, “I thought I'd just try it, and it was awful.” Later that year, the family moved to Lehigh Acres, Florida, a suburb of Fort Myers. She and Ron set up a dental practice together and Ron took up running and tennis, too. Results of her tennis tournaments would appear in the paper and starting in 1975, she was doing well in running races, too. In 1975, Sue Ellen ran her first marathon at Gainesville, Florida, with 4:04, but gained speed quickly. She placed second in the 1976 AAU Marathon Championships in Crowley, Louisiana, with 3:10:32. The two of them won husband/wife division of that championship. That marathon finish qualified her to run the Boston Marathon by 20 minutes. Trapp won the 1975 and 1976 Melbourne Marathon, in a course record with 3:40:18 and 3:09:46. In 1976, the Trapps started the Rotary 5-miler for Lehigh Acres runners before there was even the Fort Myers Track Club. That race became a 5K and lasted for more than 40 years. Trapp was one of the very early women to run the Boston Marathon. She finished in 1977 with 3:52:33. She would run that prestigious marathon for several years and brought her time down to 3:00:42 in 1979. First Ultra Florida Space Coast 50 km After stacking up many wins during 1978 of distances from 5 miles to the half marathon, it was time for Trapp to try an ultramarathon. Her first ultra, held on December 30, 1978, was an unusual one. She ran with a field of 54 runners in the Florida Space Coast 50 km, thought to be the world's longest beach run. At age 32, she was the first woman finisher and the tenth overall, with a time of 4:09:42. That impressive time on such a rough surface, ranked her 5th in the world for the 50 km distance. 1979-1981 – World and American Records Lydi Pallares running the 100K In February 1979, Trapp went to run a road 100K in Miami, Florida, with a massive field of 88 runners. It was also the Road Runners Club of America (RRCA) National Championship. They ran a 3.3-mile loop in a park 19 times.

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 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. Marcy'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, Marcy 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, Marcy 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 Marcy 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. Marcy 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 Marcy's main sport. In college, she dominated playing both singles and doubles. In 1974, the 14-member team that she captained went undefeat...

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 ten books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon Learn More Early Running In 1970, Sandy 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." Sandy 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 Sandy 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. Sandy 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,

By Davy Crockett  50 years ago, on August 3-4, 1974, Gordy Ainsleigh accomplished his legendary run on the Western States Trail in the California Sierra. It became the most famous run in modern ultrarunning history. Initially, it went unnoticed in the sport until several years later, when, with some genius marketing, it became the icon for running 100 miles in the mountains, the symbol for Western States 100, founded in 1977 by Wendell Robie. With Ainsleigh as the icon, Western States inspired thousands to also try running 100 miles in the mountains on trails. Let's celebrate this historic run's 50th anniversary. History Note: You were probably told Ainsleigh was the first to do this, but he was actually the 8th to cover the Western States Trail on foot during the Tevis Cup horse ride. Others were awarded the "first finishers on foot trophy" two years earlier, in 1972. Also, the sport of trail ultrarunning was not invented in 1974. It had existed for more than 100 years. There were at least eight trail ultras held worldwide in 1974, including a trail 100-miler in England. Previous to 1974, more than 1,200 people had run 100 miles in under 24 hours in races on roads, tracks, and trails, including some women. Learn about the rich and long history of the 100-miler. There are no three books that cover this history through 1979. Learn More The Early Years Harry Gordon Ainsleigh, from Meadow Vista, California, was born in Auburn, California in 1947. He grew up going by the name of Harry. He was the son of Frank Leroy Ainsleigh (1926-2007) who served in the Korea and Vietnam wars, in the Air Force. Frank and Bertha Gunhild (Areson) Ainsleigh (1918-2004) married while Frank was very young. The marriage didn't work out, and they filed for divorce one month before Gordy was born. He was then raised by his mother (a nurse) and his Norwegian-born grandmother, Bertha Fidjeland Areson (1894-1984), who was also divorced. Frank Ainsleigh left the home, quickly remarried, and eventually settled in Florida where he raced stock cars and worked in a Sheriff's office as maintenance supervisor over patrol cars. Bertha Ainsleigh remarried in 1952, when Gordy was five, to Walter Scheffel of Weimar, California. He was employed at a sanatorium. But Gordy's family life continued to be in an uproar. They divorced less than a year later. Nevada City Gordy Ainsleigh spent his childhood years in Nevada City, California, about 30 miles north of Auburn. (This is the same town that seven decades earlier put on a 27-hour race in December 1882, won by Charles Harriman (1853-1919) with 117 miles.) Ainsleigh recalled his first long run as a child. "One day when I was in second grade. I came out on the playground with a bag lunch that Grandma had packed for me, and I just couldn't see anybody who would have lunch with me. I panicked. And I just felt like I couldn't breathe. And I just dropped my lunch, and I ran home for lunch." On another day, he missed the bus for school and didn't want to admit to his mother that he again missed it, so he just ran several miles to the school. He explained, "I came in a little late. The teacher knew where I lived. She asked, 'Why are you late?" I said, 'I missed the bus, so I ran to school." She was so impressed that she didn't punish him. By the age of fourteen, Ainsleigh started to get into trouble with the law, so his mother decided it was time to move out of town, back to the country. They moved back closer to Auburn, to a small farm near the hilly rural community of Meadow Vista. In junior high school, his gym teacher treated P.E. like a military boot camp with lots of pushups. He recalled, "I'd goof off and he'd make me run. I made sure I wore a real pained expression whenever he could see me. Actually, I was having a good time."  Living on a farm, he grew up among livestock animals, and in 1964 was given an award at a country fair for a sheep. High School, College,

By Davy Crockett For most elite ultrarunner, as they reach their mid-40s, their competitive years are mostly behind them. But for Ted Corbitt, his best years were still ahead of him, as he would become a national champion and set multiple American ultrarunning records. Read/Listen to Part 1 and Part 2 of Corbitt's amazing history as he became "The Father of American Ultrarunning." Perhaps Corbitt's most notable achievements in the sport of long-distance running was his groundbreaking work in course measurements. He said, “My initiating the accurate course measurement program in the USA is easily the most important thing that I did in the long-distance running scene.” He understood that “for the sport long-distance running to gain legitimacy, a system was needed to verify performances, records, and ensure that courses were consistently measured in the correct manner.” Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now ten books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon Learn More Course Measurement Standards Obtaining accurate measurements for courses had been important for over 150 years. During the 19th century pedestrian era of ultrarunning, indoor tracks varied in length depending on the size of the arena. Professional surveyors and engineers were employed to measure the tracks down to the inch. This was important in six-day races as runners would circle the tracks thousands of times and massive wagers were made on how far runners would go. Mistakes were made at times. In October 1879, a couple weeks after the Fifth Astley Belt race held in Madison Square Garden, won by Charles Rowell (1852-1909) of England with 530 miles, the track was remeasured for another race and was discovered to be several feet short per lap which meant that Rowell actually instead covered 524 miles. The controversy resulted in a lawsuit because the error affected the distribution of enormous winnings earned by the runners. After that debacle, race managers were much more careful about certifying their tracks. In the 20th century, ultrarunning returned to road courses. With the introduction of the automobile, odometers were typically used. But those devices were rarely calibrated accurately as auto manufacturers liked to have them register more miles than actually traveled. Off-road course measurement was even more difficult. In 1959, a five-mile cross country course was used in the Bronx, New York. A careful remeasurement after the race discovered that the course was short by 490 yards. Another important example: As the famed Western States Trail was used by the horse endurance race, The Tevis Cup, in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, and for the early years of the Western States 100 foot race, it later was discovered in the 1980s the course was not even close to 100 miles, it was no more than 89 miles, more than 10% short. It wasn't initially a 100-mile race. John Jewell As Corbitt went to England in the early 1960s to compete in London to Brighton, he became acquainted with John Jewell (1912-2001), a founding member of the Road Runners Club in England. In 1961, Jewell wrote a paper describing the process of road race course measurement in England. He refined a method of using calibrated bicycle wheels for measurement. Jewell measured the London to Brighton course that Corbitt competed on. Corbitt was convinced that a method of accurate course measurement was needed for America's long-distance races. He pointed out, “The U.S. has sent marathoners and walkers to the Olympic Games who thought they were in a certain time range, but who in reality were several minutes slower on full length courses. This is unnecessary since it is possible to measure courses accurately." He exported many of Jewell's ideas, did his own research, and published a historic 29-page booklet in 1964, “Measuring Road Running Courses.” He evaluated all the typical methods of measuring courses and concluded t...

By Davy Crockett After Ted Corbitt's disappointing 1952 Olympic marathon, he was determined to continue running. (Read Part One). His key takeaway was that he had to elevate his performance by running more often and covering greater distances. But as he continued to push his training, he experienced a series of chronic muscle strains for the next year. Corbitt was focused on the marathon distance and continued to finish high each year at Boston. He believed that success would require training every day, reaching at least 100 miles per week. His perseverance finally paid off in January 1954, when he emerged victorious in a marathon held in Philadelphia, completing it in 2:36:08. He won again, at the 1954 Yonkers Marathon, considered the national championship, with a time of 2:46:13. He had proven that his 1952 Olympic selection was justified. In 1955, he made the team for the Pan American team in Mexico City but was cut from the team became of lack of funds. It bothered him that some newspapers listed him as a non-finisher in the race. He never started it. Throughout his long running career, he never had a "did not finish (DNF)." Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now ten books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon Learn More The 1956 Olympics were to be held in Melbourne, Australia, during the month of December, which caused alterations to everyone's training calendars. With the goal of making the Olympic team again, he surpassed 5,000 miles in 1956. If the Olympics had been held during the northern hemisphere summer, he would have made the team. But after a six-place finish at the Yonkers Marathon, held during the fall, he fell to the alternate place for the team. Corbitt was obviously very disappointed that he missed being on the '56 team by just one man. He recalled, “It was like being in mourning.” Still, he never contemplated quitting running. In May 1956, he set the American record for a marathon on the track with 2:42:25 in Philadelphia, and became the U.S. National Champion at 30 kilometers, repeating in 1957. Corbitt's future involvement in ultrarunning would take root with the London to Brighton race held in England. London To Brighton Ultra-distance races essentially disappeared during the World War II era. In the late 1950s, the modern era of American ultrarunning gave birth. This was largely because of the efforts of the Road Runner Club of America (RRCA) established in 1958, and also because of the efforts of Corbitt. England took the lead in the 1950s to reestablish ultras, and specifically the 50-miler. The London to Brighton 52-miler began as an official running race in 1951 with 47 starters. It had been a standard point-to-point challenge for both walkers and runners since the first running race held in 1897. Heel and Toe walking races were held for many years on the route during the first half of the twentieth century. In 1951, the London to Brighton running race was established by Ernest Herbert Neville (1883-1972) and the Surbiton Town Sports Club. It would eventually be considered the de facto world championship 50-mile race for several decades. The Road Runners Club (RRC) In England, the Road Runners Club (RRC) was founded in 1952 by Neville to help promote London to Brighton and to encourage more long-distance running. “The aim of the RRC is to bring together all those interested in long distance running, to stimulate interest in our great sport, to serve as a forum for all enthusiasts, and to further the interests of road runners everywhere.” By 1953, London to Brighton got the attention of leading long distances runners from other areas of the world, especially among ultrarunners in South Africa who had been running the Comrades Marathon (54 miles). London to Brighton became the race that the best ultrarunners in the world wanted to compete in. The RRC was an amazing success and the number of road races in ...

By Davy Crockett Ted Corbitt, from New York City, has been called “The Father of American Ultrarunning.” Today, most ultrarunners have not even heard his name and do not understand what he did for the sport that we enjoy today. Ultrarunning has existed for more the 200 years, but with the Great Depression and World War II, it went on a long hiatus in America. Because of Corbitt's efforts, running past the marathon distance took root in the New York Ciry area, starting in the late 1950s. Not only was he a world-class runner, but he became a talented administrator, coach, and race director that made huge contributions toward innovations to the sport that we take for granted today. All ultrarunners need to take time to learn who this man was and not let the memory of him fade. He was the first person to be inducted into the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame. Because of his significance to the sport, this will be a multi-part article/episode. Visit TedCorbitt.com to learn far more about this amazing athlete and man. Also, you can read his official biography by John Chodes: Corbitt: The Story of Ted Corbitt, Long Distance Runner. Theodore “Ted” Corbitt (1919-2007) was born in Dunbarton, Barnwell, South Carolina, to John Henry Corbitt (1894-1974) and Alma Bing (1895-2003). Dunbarton was a railroad stop town with agriculture as the main focus. His father, John, was a cotton and corn farmer and part-time preacher. Ted's Grandfather, Ezekiel Bing Corbitt's ancestors from the Corbitt and Bing lines were enslaved in South Carolina for many generations. His grandfather, Deacon Zeek Bing (1855-1938) was born into slavery, also in Barnwell County. In 1860, there were at least 17,000 slaves in the county. Most of them had ancestry from Angola, Africa. Children on the cotton plantations started to work by about the age of five and by 10-12 years old did hard adult work. When freedom came after the Civil War, the hard work as freedmen to survive in South Carolina did not go away. Ted Corbitt was the oldest child in his family. He later had two sisters, Bernice (Corbitt) Buggs (1926-2006) and Louise Estelle (Corbitt) Fairbanks (1927-2022) and a brother, Elijah Corbitt (1928-1999). As a youth, Corbitt worked hard on the family farm, which eventually grew to 160 acres. At times, he would pick more than 100 pounds of cotton in a day. He had to walk or run a total of four miles each day to get to and from his school, using the narrow, dusty roads and trails. His grandfather, Henry Corbitt (1873-) lived nearby. Grandpa Corbitt had good running and jumping abilities as a youth, and he inspired Corbitt with stories of his athletic adventures. The Bings, who were his mother's relatives, enjoyed greater financial success, and his mother's ambition encouraged him to succeed academically and attend college. In 1929, Corbitt's family relocated to Cincinnati, Ohio, when he was around nine years old, due to the challenges of farming in South Carolina. During the Great Depression, they lived in the West End, which was the center of Cincinnati's black community. The neighborhood was reminiscent of a slum, with a high concentration of inexpensive housing covering a 35-block area. It was the home to 70% of the city's black community. Times were very hard. His father worked as a pick and shovel laborer. They lived at 1027 Richmond Street, which is now a freeway (I-75). Corbitt encountered athletics after arriving in Cincinnati. In junior high, he entered a 60-yard dash and won. As he got bigger and stronger, he became faster. At Woodward High School, he joined the track team. Compared to other high schools in Cincinnati, the school on Sycamore Street had the most inadequate facilities, including the absence of a sports field. Tarzan Brown It was not until his final year of high school that he really excelled in the 880-yard run. He finished fourth in the city championship. During his high school years,

By Davy Crockett The Astley Belt was the most sought-after trophy in ultrarunning or pedestrianism. This race series was recognized as the undisputed international six-day championship of the world. The international six-day race series was established in 1878 by Sir John Astley, a wealthy sportsman and member of the British parliament. Daniel O'Leary won the first two races and then lost the coveted belt to Charles Rowell of England at the Third Astley Belt held in Madison Square Garden during early 1879. Rowell received several challenges for the belt and, by rule, needed to defend the belt again in 1879 and eventually was scheduled in June. Making challenges to the belt was costly, requiring a deposit of £100, which today would be the same as depositing nearly $20,000. So, you needed to be very wealthy or must have wealthy backers who wanted to see you enter so they could wager on you. The first ultrarunner to make a formal challenge was American, John Ennis, was one of the first to enter. Runner Spotlight - John Ennis John T. Ennis (1842-1929), was a carpenter from Chicago, Illinois. He was born in Richmond Harbor, Longford, Ireland, emigrated to America while young, and served in the Civil War for Illinois. He had been competing in walking since 1868. He beat O'Leary in a handicapped race, early in October 1875, walking 90-miles before O'Leary could reach 100-miles. Additionally, he excelled as an endurance ice-skater. In 1876, he skated for 150 miles in 18:43. Ennis was a veteran of several six-day races, but he usually came up short due to stomach problems. Many in Chicago had turned against him. “Is it not about time that this man should end his nonsensical talk? He has made more failures than any known pedestrian in this country.” His pre-race bio included: “John Ennis of Chicago, a remarkable, but unlucky pedestrian, who on several occasions, with victory almost in his grasp, has been forced to leave the track through sickness.” In 1878, Ennis finally started to taste success. He won a six-day race in Buffalo, New York, but only reached 347 miles. Then he finally had good success walking six days in September 1878, again at Buffalo. He won with 422 miles. The next month, he went to England and raced against Rowell and others in the First English Astley Belt Race where he finished 5th with 410 miles. He finished second in the Third Astley Belt race with 475 miles, winning a fortune of $11,038 ($340,000 value today). He was 5'8” and weight 156 pounds. Before the Race Ennis sailed for England on the steamer City of Berlin, on April 20, 1879, to get a full month of training in England before the race. He said, “I never felt better in my life than now.” During the voyage, he planned to walk up and down the decks to keep himself from getting rusty. He would train at the London Athletic Club at Lillie Bridge, Fulham. He said, “The whole of England is against me, I know, and I shall exert myself to perform the greatest feat in my life, and if possible, to bring the Astley Belt back to the United States.” His wife and three children sailed with him, and they arrived in London on May 5th. Get my new book on Amazon The race was postponed for two weeks until June 16th. The defending champion, Rowell, had to pull out of the race because of an abscess on his heel. During some of his final training, the heel was punctured by a peg or small stone that had to be extracted. “Unfortunately, the chief interest in the present competition is lost, owing to the fact of Rowell having at the last moment, broken down.” This was the first time that the Astley Belt holder would not compete to defend the belt. There were four starters, John Ennis, of Chicago, Edward Payson Weston, of Connecticut (but had been in England for three and a half years), Richard “Dick” Harding, of Blackwall, London, and Henry “Blower” Brown, of Fulham, England, holder of the English Astley Belt,

By Davy Crockett During April 1879, the same month that the new American Championship Belt race was held in New York City, the second English Astley Belt race, for the “Championship of England,” was put on April 21-26, 1879, at the Agricultural Hall in Islington, London, England. While the Americans were putting up mediocre times and distances, still focusing mostly on walking during their six-day races, the Brits would run fast in this race and break 13 ultra-distance world records, proving that they were now the best in the sport. It truly was a mind-blowing race for the time. Sir John Astley In October 1878, Sir John Dugdale Astley (1828-1894), a member of Parliament, created an “English Astley Belt,” or “Championship Belt of England” six-day race series, which had to be competed for in England. It had bothered him that his original “Astley Belt” series had gone to America for its second and third races, so he created an English Astley Belt series. The First English Astley Belt was won by William “Corkey” Gentleman, a vendor of cat food, with a world record 521 miles (see part one, chapter 17). For the second edition of the race in this series, four entrants put up the required £100, including the defending belt holder, William “Corkey” Gentleman (1833-), of Bethnal Green, England. Others were, “Henry “Blower” Brown (1843-1900) of Fulham, England, George Hazael (1845-1911), of London, England, and Edward Payson Weston (1839-1929), the pioneer American six-day pedestrian, who had been in England since 1875. The best six-day finishes to date for each of the entrants were: Corkey – 521, Brown – 506, Hazael – 403, and Weston – 510. In England, just as in America, critics against six-day races were becoming vocal. In Nottingham, it was written, “We are to have another of those ‘wobbling' contests, of which so many have been inflicted upon us lately. The cure of this disease rests with the public is they abstain from paying the entrance money and stay away from these useless six days' ‘wobbles.'”  At least eighteen six-day races had been held in England so far, during the past three years. The Start Agricultural Hall The number of people who came out to witness the early morning start of the English Astley Belt Six-Day Race in the Agricultural Hall was impressive. “One would had almost thought that the public interest in this sport would have by this time been on the wane, if not entirely exhausted, but judging from the number of persons who witnessed the start, it does not seem to have abated in the least.” The race would be scheduled for less than 144 hours (six days), 141.5 hours. A little before 1 a.m., on April 21, 1879, the four runners were led to the starting line. Astley gave them some words of caution about fair play. Weston, always the showman, started in “a dark blue cloak with black trunks and scarlet stockings.” He looked bigger and more muscular than anyone could remember. As soon as Astley signaled, the three Englishmen sprinted away, while Weston casually walked, removing his cloak on the second lap to reveal his famous white frilled shirt. The track was measured to be eight laps to a mile. Runner Spotlight – George Hazael George Hazael (1845-1911), of London, England, was an experienced champion ten-mile walker who had been competing since 1870. He was also a true runner and ran the mile in 4:20:15. In 1877, he broke the 20-mile world record with 1:57:27. He started competing at the ultra-long distances in 1877, winning a 30-mile race in London. His first six-day race was in February 1878, at Pomona Gardens, Manchester, England, where he won with 239 miles. In March 1878, Hazel competed in the First Astley Belt Race but quit early with only 50 miles. In April 1878, he broke the 100-mile world record in Agricultural Hall, in London, England, with a time of 17:03:06. He also held the 100-mile walking world record with 18:08:20. In July 1878,

By Davy Crockett New book on Barkley history The Barkley Marathons course (thought to be roughly 130 miles and about 63,000 feet of elevation gain) at Frozen Head State Park was the brain child of Gary Cantrell (Lazarus Lake) and Karl Henn (Rawdawg). The idea for the race was inspired upon hearing about the 1977 escape of James Earl Ray, the assassin of Martin Luther King Jr., from nearby Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary. The first year of the Barkley was 1986. Prior to 2024, only 17 men had finished the entire rugged course within 60 miles, and no women had ever finished. That would change this year. Let's let Jared Beasley tell the story in his article: Barkley 2024: A Bit Traumatic and Wonderful in Ultrarunning Magazine. Subscribe or renew your subscription to Ultrarunning Magazine with a 25% discount which support Ultrarunning History. Use this form. The Barkley 2024 was predictable: after three finishers last year, no one was expected to make it to the fifth loop. The course would be toughened up. But what unfolded was something altogether different and soon we were dealing with a rash of firsts, tattoos, a Rusty Spoon, a photo gone round the world and an Italian painting from 1603. By 4 a.m. on Friday morning, almost 48 hours after the race began, Jasmin Paris was sitting in a camping chair in a small pool of light near a metal gate attached to a stone pillar. This gate has come to embody the most challenging test in ultrarunning. It's a test that Paris has been battling for years. Items litter the ground in front of her: an empty Coke bottle, a half-full Coke bottle, a gallon of Minute Maid and a pint of oat milk. Read the rest of Jared Beasley's article here. Learn about the early history of the Barkley Marathons Barkley Marathons - The Birth Barkley Marathons - First Few Years Video: Barkley Marathons - The First Year 1986  

By Davy Crockett From 1875 to 1879, at least 130 six-day races were held, mostly in America and Great Britain. In 1879, the foot races became the #1 spectator sport in America. During that single year, at least 88 six-day races were held worldwide, with about 900 starters and witnessed by nearly one million spectators. Women played a significant role in these early six-day races, a century before they could take part in marathons. From 1875 to 1879, at least 30 six-day women's races were held, involving 150 women starters who ran as far as 393 miles in six days. These daring women athletes caused a significant rift across the Victorian-era society. An editorial in the New York Times stated, “Today it is the walking match, soon the women's vote will come.” It isn't surprising that once the women competed, that New York City considered passing an ordinance banning “all public exhibitions of female pedestrianism.” Many people thought these races, even limited to men, were a plague on society, especially because of all the wagering that took place and suspected corruption involved. In Louisiana, it was written, “Can't someone up there give these lunatics some kind of creditable employment in which they can exercise their pedal extremities to their hearts' content?” From London, England, “One of these days, when one of these poor fellows, dazzled with the distant prospect of gold, drops down dead on the track, science will be satisfied, sport appeased, and public indignation aroused. Pedestrians will go on doing the ‘best time on record' until they drop down dead.” Get my new book on Amazon After a huge race in New York City, The Third Asley Belt race, that affected attendance at churches that week, a minister wrote, “New York has been shamefully disgraced. This commercial emporium is in dishonor in the sight of God and in the eyes of the civilized world.” These early pedestrians at first had a goal to surpass 500 miles in six days. They then kept pushing the six-day world record further until George Littlewood reached 623 miles in 1888. That record stood for nearly a century and was considered a running record that would never be broken. But it eventually was broken by one man. Today, the six-day world record is held by Yiannis Kouros, of Greece, who covered an astonishing distance of 635 miles on a track in New York City in 1984. Later, in 2005, he covered 643. Running vs. Walking In 1878, the British established a six-day world championship series of races called “The Astley Belt.” After the 3rd Astley Belt Race in early 1879, won by Charles Rowell of Great Britain, Daniel O'Leary, the former six-day champion of the world, spent a lot of time pondering how the British seemed to being exceeding the Americans in the six-day sport. He became convinced that no strict walker could ever again win a highly competitive six-day race against runners. The best strict heel-toe walkers could exceed 500 miles, but not much further. He believed the runners being developed in Britain could go much further than 500 miles, and it was time for Americans to learn how to run more during these “go-as-you-please” six-day races. The six-day races held during April 1879 During April 1879, at least 13 six-day races were held, including five during the same week. Two significant races were held that month, the American Championship Belt at Gilmore's Garden, New York City, and the 2nd English Astley Belt held at the Agricultural Hall in London. Plans for the American Championship Belt The six-day American Championship Belt race was billed as a contest to produce the best man to be sponsored to compete in the 4th Astley Belt race to be scheduled in June 1879, in England. For this qualifying race, $1,000 and a championship belt would be awarded to the winner. The race was open only to residents of America and would be under the direction of the New York Athletic Club. Belts, not belt-buckles,

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).    

Listen to the audio version. I included my interview on the very good Trail Runner Nation podcast. I recently went on it to talk to the guys about my new book, Classic Ultramarathon Beginnings. We discussed several of the very early ultras in our history. Classic ultramarathons (races longer than 26.2 miles) include the oldest races, the most prestigious, the largest, the toughest, and the races that have captured the imagination of outsiders who look inside the fascinating sport of ultrarunning. Classic Ultramarathon Beginnings is the definitive history of how nine classic ultras began and includes the history of their first years.   Read the fascinating origins of these classic ultramarathons The Barkley Marathons in Tennessee - "The race that eats its young." The Comrades Marathon in South Africa - The oldest and largest ultramarathon in the world London to Brighton - The race that started in 1897 and became the most prestigious ultra in the world The Mount Baker Marathon in Washington - The first American mountain trail ultra that started in 1911 The Redwood Indian Marathon in California - The race of more than 400 miles that featured Native Americans in 1927 The JFK 50 - The oldest ultramarathon in America, held in Maryland The Lake Waramaug 100 km - The oldest 100 km race in America, held in Connecticut Across the Year - The premier fixed-time race in America, held in Arizona Spartathlon - The race from Athens to Sparta in Greece in the footsteps of Pheidippides

By Davy Crockett The “around the world on foot” craze of the 1890s was first dominated by Americans, but eventually spread to Europeans. Some very interesting individuals, mostly from Germany and France, appeared in New York City claiming to be making a global journey on foot. Most were usually highly educated and impressive. Why would someone leave their well-respected careers and endure the hardship of being on the road for months and years? But the biggest question is why the public and news press could believe in such a hoax. Well, some figured it out. Here are three stories that were followed in newspapers across America. In a way, this was their way of following a continuing reality show that was often printed on the front pages of newspapers. These three stories are among more than 60 included in my new book, Around the World on Foot: The Early Globetrotters. Three German Barons Some young men in New York City had an ingenious scheme to escape depression-induced poverty and get treated like royalty. On June 10, 1896, three men professing to be German officers took the city hall in New York City by surprise, when they came into the building dressed in military uniforms. They handed their cards to a policeman and explained who they were: Baron Otto Von Sarkmitzlaff, Baron Friedrich Ferdinand von Levetzow, and Baron Alexander von Kawezynski. Since they didn't speak English, an interpreter was promptly summoned. Through the interpreter, a story unfolded that they were German officers on a furlough and were walking around the world on foot for a secret wager. They wanted their travel book to be signed by Mayor William Lafayette Strong (1827-1900) “As they advanced toward the mayor, they saluted with their right hands.” The mayor signed the book, and the city seal was stamped in it. For an unknown reason, the three individuals were hesitant to sign their names in the city hall visitor's book. They also would not reveal their around the world route, except to state that they were going to “foot it” to San Francisco. Their next near-term destination was Albany, New York. The three had their skeptics and after they left the city, some were puzzled. “Friends of the trio are at a loss to account for their action at city hall, as two of the young noblemen have resided in New York for the last three years. What their object could have been in getting the mayor to sign a voucher for an alleged pedestrian trip around the world, no one seemed to be able to explain.” A week later, two of the “barons,” including a new one, were 180 miles to the west in Sunbury, Pennsylvania instead of going north to Albany. They now spoke English fluently and finally came up with a story. They claimed to have begun their journey from New York City with no money and were required to report to the mayor of New York within two years after going all the way around the world. Instead of being in uniforms, they were now dressed in $5 suits they had acquired from a pawnbroker. They said they could not ride on trains, but oddly could ride in farmer's wagons. As proof of their identity, they pointed out the New York seal in their book, signed by the mayor. They claimed that a year earlier in Berlin, Germany, they were in a café where some Americans were bragging about the U.S. Army's superiority. Levetzow then boasted that he could walk around the world, and a wager was established. After their visit to Sunbury, a man, Burgess Stern, let the city know that the two were frauds. “Stern claims that he has positive proof of the facts, as he saw them riding on the train cars, which they claimed they were not allowed to do and that they are two frauds who make it a business to fake people out of all they can.” Davenport, Iowa As the men arrived in cities, they would seek out any German immigrant populations, let them know they were barons, and would then be treated like royalty with the best room and board available.

By Davy Crockett My new book, Around the World on Foot: The Early Globetrotters is available on Amazon. After an introduction to help you understand what in the world was going on, I will share a chapter about the strange tradition of starting in a paper suit. I am pretty proud of this book. I wanted to share some details about what my research found. Years ago, as I was doing some research into transcontinental walks and runs, I came across some newspaper articles about two German men, in 1893, who were trying to walk all the way around the world, taking steamers between continents. I had never heard of something like that before, so I did some further research that resulted in episodes 38-45. But I still didn't understand just how many people took part in the frenzy on foot. In recent months, I researched the topic much deeper, which resulted in my new book, Around the World on Foot: The Early Globetrotters. The reason I'm proud of this book is that no one else has ever researched deeply the amazing event before. No one had ever before lined up side-by-side the hundreds of walker stories to answer many questions of why. Why were there so many walkers? Some towns got tired of globetrotters continually coming into their towns. Did any of them truly succeed circling the globe on foot? How many of them were frauds? Why did it take so long for the public, including newspaper reporters, to catch on to some schemes? How many years did this fad last? Why did many of these globetrotters start in paper suits? Who originated that wild idea? Were there really some around the world races as several of these globetrotters claimed? I found the answers to many of these questions. My book will share more than 60 stories of men and women who attempted to walk around the world or were conning people into thinking they were. I don't just tell the stories; I analyzed them for truthfulness and validity. If a walk was legitimate, it was covered in dozens or even hundreds of newspapers as they made progress across America, Canada, or Great Britain. If they went to Australia, they received news coverage there too. For a given walker, I collected all those articles together, plotted their progress and dates from town to town, to validate or invalidated their pace. It was a fascinating exercise. For example, one walker was in Salt Lake City, Utah, and the very next day was 400 miles further west on the railroad line at Battle Mountain, Nevada. When he arrived in San Francisco, he proclaimed he walked every mile by foot across America. In my book, I point out these amusing claims and inconsistencies. Some fakers would appear in towns but have no one witnessing them going in or out of the town on foot. They would simply march into a newspaper office, give them a press release, try to set up a lecture, and free room and board. The resulting book is hopefully entertaining, a bit mind-blowing, and at times amusing. I had to pull it all together to make sure this history was told. Now, to some details. Introduction In 1872, the French author, Jules Verne (1828-1905), released his renowned adventure book, Around the World in 80 Days. This novel fascinated readers with the idea of circumnavigating the world within a specific timeframe and encountering incredible sights. Also, starting about that time, “pedestrianism,” competitive walking and running indoors in arenas and town halls, entered its heyday. Beginning in 1875, people began talking about the idea of walking around the world. Wagers were made, and some isolated attempts began. They had no true idea how far it was around the world, what roads and trails existed, how many miles could be walked each day, and how long it would take. It took over 100 years more for guidelines to be established for those who truly wanted to walk around the world. How far is it to walk around the world? Today, the World Runners Association has set a standard...

By Davy Crockett This is an encore episode with additions in the article. The Across the Years race, established in 1983, is one of the oldest fixed-time races in the world that is still held annually. The race is always held at the end of the year, crossing over to the new year with a grand celebration. Through the years, it has attracted many of the greatest fixed-time ultrarunners in the world and still today is the premier and largest fixed-time race in America. Over its impressive history, about 2,500 runners have logged more than 500,000 miles at Across the Years. It all started in 1983, the brainchild of Harold Sieglaff, of Phoenix, Arizona. This episode is a tribute to Sieglaff and the other pioneer ultrarunners who were the first to run this famed ultra. This history and the histories of eight other classic races are contained in my new book, Classic Ultramarathon Beginnings, available on Amazon. Read the rest of this episode here

By Davy Crockett New Book, containing the early history of The Barkley Marathons Watching sports on Christmas Day is enjoyed by millions of sporting fans. But it also is probably despised by even more of those sporting fans' families who have other priorities on that special day. While today the events watched are primarily basketball and football, back 144 years ago in 1879, the most popular sport taking place in America on Christmas Day was ultra-distance running, called Pedestrianism. Why would thousands leave their festive holiday celebrations to go many miles by horse carriage to smoke-filled arenas to watch skinny guys walk and run in circles for hours? 1914 Christmas match In America, on Christmas Day, the NBA basketball games have become a tradition (more than 75 years) and increasingly NFL football games are being played. What about soccer (football) in Europe? The most famous Christmas Day game took place during World War I in 1914 between British and German soldiers in No Man's Land in Flanders, Belgium. Soccer leagues played on Christmas well into the 1980s before they stopped. Back in 1879, the featured Christmas Day sports event was ultrarunning/pedestrianism. That day, at least four ultramarathons were taking place. The largest six-day race in history, “The Rose Belt.” with 65 starters, held in Madison Square Garden in New York City, in front of thousands of spectators. In Chicago, at McCormick Hall, four pedestrians were competing in another six-day race, more crowded facilities. Probably the most unusual ultramarathon in history was also taking place in the Red Sea aboard the steamer “Duke of Devonshire.” Pedestrianism and Six-Day Races A British long-distance walker, Foster Powell (1734-1793) started a focus on walking/running for six days and is recognized as the “Father of the Six-Day Race.” In 1773, Powell caused a great stir when he walked and ran about 400 miles from London to York and back in less than six days. “Walking” in those very early days was a general term. These pioneer ultrarunners of the late 1700s and early 1800s actually performed a “jog-trot,” or a mixture of walking and running. There was no emphasis yet on “fair heel-toe” walking. Powell established a six-day standard that would be remembered for decades. Nearly all six-day attempts in the decades that followed pointed their efforts to Powell's previous accomplishments. Dozens attempted to match or improve on his feat. By 1779, Powell was the first long-distance runner who was referred to as a “pedestrian” performing the art of “pedestrianism.” That term took hold in England and eventually referenced competitions on foot for all distances, even sprints. Pedestrianism came into the American public eye as Edward Payson Weston (1839-1929) of Providence, Rhode Island, made several attempts in 1874 to walk 500 miles in six days. P. T. Barnum (1810-1891), of circus fame, had the brilliant idea to move such attempts indoors for vast audiences to watch, in his massive Hippodrome in New York City. In 1875, Barnum put on the first six-day race in history, won by Weston with 431 miles. In these races, the winner was the athlete who reached the furthest distance within six days. During the late 1870s, this new reality show of indoor six-day races exploded across America. People of all classes became fascinated by the competition, drama, and human tragedy that could be witnessed during these events. Spectators would usually pay 25 cents per day to enter smoke-filled arenas and city halls to cheer and wager on their favorite runner. In only a few years, pedestrianism became the number one spectator sport in America. Onlookers would watch walkers and runners circle indoor tracks for days, secretly hoping to witness suffering, fainting, and even fistfights like modern-day hockey matches. Indeed, pedestrianism was like the modern-day reality shows that addicts television viewers today,

Gary Cantrell (a.k.a. Lazarus Lake), of Tennessee, was recently inducted into the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame. Most people recognize him for creating the legendary Barkley Marathons, arguably the toughest trail race in the world. But few understand that he once was a talented runner during the 1970s and early 1980s. His running exploits when he was in his 20s and 30s groomed his experience into the most famous extreme sports race director in the world, and into an encyclopedia of ultrarunning wisdom. To understand the complexities of the man, Gary Cantrell, before he became Lazarus Lake, one must learn about his background and experiences that led up to the birth of the Barkley. Gary Duane Cantrell was born in 1954, in Texas. His parents were Franklin Delano Cantrell (1933-2012) and Florence Earlene (Dishman) Cantrell (1933-2022) both of Tulsa, Oklahoma. They were married in 1852. In 1954, his father was in the army and went to Fort Bliss, in El Paso, Texas, for basic training. His mother went to live with her family. Gary arrived four months later in Caldwell, Texas, but the family still claimed Tulsa, Oklahoma, to be their home. His brother Douglas arrived a few years later. Gary's Ancestry Gary's ancestral roots were solidly southern. His Cantrells lived in Tennessee and Arkansas for generations. He had ancestors who were among the early Colonial American settlers. His first Cantrell ancestor in America was his 7th Great-grandfather, Richard Cantrell (1666-1753) who emigrated from England to Colonial America in 1682 to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He was at first a servant to another man, probably serving an apprentice learning to be a brickmaker. It is believed that he made the bricks for the first two brick homes built in Philadelphia. Gary's 4th Great-Grandfather, Thomas J. Cantrell (1761-1830) fought in the Revolutionary War for North Carolina and was the first Cantrell ancestor to settle in Tennessee. He operated “Old Forge” in Sink, Creek, Tennessee. On Gary's mother's side, the Dishmans lived for generations in Missouri and Kentucky. His first Dishman ancestor in America was his 6th Great-Grandfather, Samuel Duchemin (1640-1727) from France. He came to America in about 1693, settled in Virginia, and Anglicized his name to Dishman. His grandsons fought in the Revolutionary War, including Gary's 4th Great-Grandfather, Jeremiah Dishman (1752-1841). Civil War Ancestors Nearly all of Gary's ancestral families were deeply impacted by the Civil War. His 3rd-great grandfather, Ransom Blades (1821-1901), who Gary must have patterned his beard after, was an outspoken Union sympathizer living in Missouri, favoring the Northern causes. During the war, fearing for his life, Ransom, a father of eleven, had to flee Missouri and went to Kansas. Other ancestors fought on the side of the Confederacy, including 2nd-great-grandfather, James Brashears (1846-1935) for Missouri, 3rd-great-grandfather Hamp Martin (1820-1902), for Arkansas, 2nd great-grandfather, and Clement Hunt (1839-1913), for Arkansas. Most of Gary's ancestors were not enlisted in the conflict but affected by the battles, lost brothers or sons, and had troops raid their towns. Childhood Gary's Grandparents and family Gary's grandparents were James Allen Cantrell (1896-1983) and Lucy Cordelia Wilson (1899-1985) of Arkansas. In about 1918, they moved to Oklahoma, in a covered wagon and raised their family there, where James worked as a laborer on an oil rig and then farmed. Gary's father, Franklin, grew up working hard in the fields using mules to plow. His father was an outstanding athlete and a star on his sports teams. His farm was next to the farm of Andy Payne (1907-1977), who won the 1928 race across America (The Bunion Derby). Gary's father knew him well and told Gary many stories about Payne's famed run. Running Across a Pasture As a child, Gary would enjoy hunting with his father and grandfather in the outdoors.

By Davy Crockett Trail 100-milers started to be held in Great Britain in 1973, four years before the Western States 100 was established in America. This piece of ultrarunning history is largely unknown to Americans who have been told for decades that trail 100-milers began first in the U.S. In reality, trail 100s were also known to be held in Mexico among the Tarahumara as early as 1867. Thus, recognition is deserved among several cultures and countries to those who dared to head out into the rural wilderness to achieve the distance of 100 miles on foot. See the new book:  Running 100 Miles Part One: A History (1729-1960). The Long Distance Walkers Association (LDWA) In 1972, a British association was founded named The Long Distance Walkers Association (LDWA). The LDWA started with 355 members. Eventually, the organization grew to more than 9,000 members. The LDWA defined a “long distance walk” as any walk of 20 miles or more. They wanted to concentrate on rural walks. Local groups were created, a journal eventually called Strider was published, and group walking events were established, referred to as “social events.” In the very first issue in 1972, it was written, “Although our title includes the word ‘walkers,' this is not intended to preclude those who trot around the course of an organized walk. Some organizers specifically say that competitors must not run, but there can be no real check when most walks go over remote areas and of course when going down a 30% gradient, it is often impossible not to run.” The LDWA 100-Milers Formal “challenge events” were established that were up to 100 miles. These trail and cross-country events were marshaled with checkpoints to ensure walkers followed the route. Finish times were published and ordered by finish time. Finishes under a "first-class time" were recognized, but “winners” were not emphasized or awarded. They were not called “races,” but had nearly every attribute of a race. Competitive athletes quickly treated them like races. During 1973, at least 20 ultra-distance trail events were held, supported or publicized by the LDWA. Sandra Brown (1949-) from England, who by 2020 had finished more than 200 100-milers and dozens of LDWA walks commented, “Some of these LDWA runners and walkers are, year after year, completing 100 miles or more, largely off-road, usually with thousands of feet of climbing over quite remote hills and mountains, and with route-finding on the UK's quite complex historic footpaths network, in around 24 hours. Events like the LDWA's annual 100 and other distances (50 miles, 100 km) have since the 1970s been the precursor of today's popular trail runs.” Starting in 1973, annual LDWA trail 100-mile events were hosted each year at different locations on the Spring Bank Holiday weekend. These trail 100s, could be classified as mountain trail 100s. They were mostly off-road hikes that did not have to walked according to racewalking rules. Running or jogging was permitted, so they were not Centurion walking events. Finish cutoff times for the 100-milers were eventually established at 48 hours. Some elite British ultrarunners would take part running, seeking to be the first to the finish line. Each walker (or runner) was required to walk with small packs containing certain items, such as the course description, maps, waterproof jacket, clothing layers, hat, gloves, compass, whistle, flashlight, bivi bag, and a first aid kit. Many checkpoints (aid stations) were set up with food and drink between about 5-10 miles apart. At the checkpoints along the course, marshals checked the walkers and could pull out anyone over-fatigued or behind schedule. Medical staff were at checkpoints to evaluate runners and help them fix their feet. All such conventions were devised years before the Americans established their trail 100-milers and aid stations. The founders of the LDWA were Alan Blatchford (1936-1980),

By Davy Crockett Get this history in my new book The first certified 100 km race in America was held at Lake Waramaug, Connecticut, in 1974. Today it remains as the oldest 100 km race in the country and the second oldest American ultra still held. For many years in the late 1970s and throughout the 1980s, it was the unofficial national championship for the 100 km distance and the best ultrarunners in the U.S. made their pilgrimage to Lake Waramaug to test their abilities on the 7.59-mile paved road loop around the lake. Before 1974, the 50-mile or 100-mile distances had been the America's “standard” ultra distances. But most of the ultras held during the 1970s were of odd lengths. There were a few road 50 kms, such as those put on by the AAU in Sacramento. But in the New York City area, the hotspot for ultramarathons put on by Ted Corbitt (1919-2007), of the New York Road Runners, had a large variety of ultra distances during the 1960s and early 1970s. San Francisco had been the scene of multiple 32 milers. Racing around Lake Tahoe for 72 miles would become popular starting in 1975. No one had yet thought to put on a race that was exactly 100 km. The Great Tarahumara 100 km of 1926 We must give credit to Mexico and the Tarahumara for the earliest known running race that was strictly 100 km long. With the Central American Games coming to Mexico in 1926, Jesus Antonio Almeida (1885-1957), the governor of the State of Chihuahua, and the President of Mexico, Plutarco Elias Calles (1877-1945) wanted to showcase the newly discovered Tarahumara distance running talent on this world stage. They arranged for an exhibition 100 km race to be held. It was called La carrera Tarahumara, or the “Great Tarahumaran Race,” and was held five days after the games. It was hoped with the attention to this race, that the 100 km would be adopted by the upcoming Olympic Games. “They dreamed that their Tarahumaran countrymen would win honor for Mexico by thrilling the world at Amsterdam in 1928.” With Mexican victories, they hoped that it would help drive away racial lies about the Mexican people. The 100 km race was held on a highway from the silver mining center Pachuca to the stadium in Mexico City. Tarahumaras, Tomas Zafiro ran along with Leoncio San Miguel. A third Tarahumara, Virgillo Espinoza, also competed but did not finish. The race began in the dark at 3:05 a.m. The people in the villages along the highway to Mexico City lined the road to cheer them on to the city. They shot off firecrackers, cheered, and some joined in to run with them for short distances. Church bells tolled, bringing out more spectators. Zafiro and San Miguel entered the stadium packed with thousands of spectators at about 12:35 p.m. and ran three laps around the track, finishing tied for the win of 9:37. College athletes at the games were astonished. Zafiro and San Miguel became national heroes. 100 km Races Begin in Europe George Perdon 100 km races began to be held in Europe as early as 1959 with the Lauf Biel 100K that was competed on a long road loop in Biel, Switzerland. Most of these European 100 km events started as hikes but opened up to runners. In 1974, nearly 2,500 runners and walkers finished the very popular European race. At least 14 100 km races were held that year in Europe. The fastest recorded 100 km times were usually split times accomplished by runners trying to achieve longer distances, such as 100 miles. In 1974, before America had a 100 km race, the world record of 6:42:53, was held by Ensio Tanninen (1936-) of Finland, who set that mark on an uncertified road course in 1972 at Järvenpää, Finland. The record on a certified track was 7:26:14, set by George Perdon (1924-1993) of Australia, in 1970, at Olympic Park in Melbourne, Australia. America Was Slow to Adopt the 100 km Ultra America, of course, was not on the metric system, although there was increased discussion in the 1970s to start using it.

By Davy Crockett This part will cover additional stories found through deeper research, adding to the history shared in found in the new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Grand Canyon rim to rim hikes and runs become very popular as thousands descend into the Canyon each year. Fastest known times for R2R and R2R2R runs are broken. In 1991, Jerry Chavez, a Vietnam veteran of Leadville, Colorado, worked for the NPS. He operated the pump station at Indian Garden, which pumped water up to the South Rim. He lived year-round at a nice residence down at Indian Garden. Chavez was also a member of the park's 20-member rescue team and kept in shape by running rim-to-rim. Chavez said that the “dumbest thing” he saw was people hiking without food or water. “Chavez had seen a lot of weird things in the Canyon, including a guy hiking in a dusty tuxedo and women in high-heel shoes.” Often, he would rescue hikers suffering from heatstroke. One recent case was particularly bad. He remembered, “When I saw that man, he looked like death. We had to carry him up a mile. His temperature was 109. We were running water from a creek and kept pouring it on him. When they flew him to Flagstaff, he still had a temperature of 105. The doctor called and said whoever worked on him saved his life. The guy walked out of the hospital as normal as can be.” Chavez was awarded a National Park Service achievement award. Out-of-shape parents were often seen bringing down small children. On a winter day in 1989, Chavez was out for a run and found parents with two small children and heavy packs. “The kids were lying in the snow and crying. I told them, ‘You're going to have to carry those kids out.'” He offered to help, but the father refused and yelled at the kids about 2-3 years old. Finally, Chavez got permission to rescue the kids and carry them out. Amphitheater High School Double Cross During the summer of 1991, cross-country runner Virginia Hope Pedersoli (1974-) and others from Amphitheater High School in Tucson, Arizona, achieved a double-crossing giving publicity to the feat to other high schools. The group went down South Kaibab at dawn and reached the North Rim in ten hours. They ate lunch and headed back, finishing in the early morning at about 3 a.m. for a 21.5-hour double cross. Pedersoli said, “It was awesome. Walk until you are dead and then walk some more. It's hard to explain. While I was doing it, I wanted to quit, but after I was done, I wanted to do it again.” She went on to win five state championships in track and cross-country and competed in track and cross-country at the University of Arizona. President Bush on South Kaibab Trail On September 18, 1991, South Kaibab Trail was totally shut down with federal agents crawling around it with rifles and large binoculars. President George H. W. Bush (1924-2018), visited the Canyon and descended down the trail with a group that included Interior Secretary Manuel Lujan (1928-2019). The president wore loafers that became coated with dust and sweat drenched the back of his shirt. He chatted quite a bit about the views and the fishing in the Colorado River and at Phantom Ranch.  He really wanted to get to the bottom, but they turned around after going down 685 feet to Ooh Ahh Point. After they turned around, Bush left most of his group behind and powered up the trail. His hike lasted about an hour and covered 1.8 miles. Major Destruction of the Kaibab Trail in 1992 During February 1992, a major rockslide destroyed a large portion of the North Kaibab Trail between Supai Tunnel and the bridge across the ravine below. It took out nearly 9,000 feet of switchbacks. The slopes had been soaked by early winter rains, became very muddy, and then crashed down into the canyon. Bruce Aiken at Roaring Springs reported, “Rebuilding the trail is going to be very difficult. It will take at least two months, maybe longer.” Hikers were given directions to use the Old Br...

By Davy Crockett This part will cover additional stories found through deeper research, adding to the history shared in found in the new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Overcrowding Concerns In 1971, because of overcrowding in the inner Canyon, the Park Service started to implement a reservation system for camping. They shared a situation on the Easter weekend when 800 people tried to camp at Phantom Ranch, which only handled 75. Park Superintendent Robert Lovegren (1926-2010), said, “We readily accept quotas on tickets to a theater or sports event. If the performance is sold out, we wait for the next one or the next season. We don't insist on crowding in to sit on someone's lap.” Reservations requests were made by mail. In the first month of the system, 1,463 people wanted to reserve 100 camping spots for Easter weekend. They used a lottery system for that weekend. Get Davy Crockett's new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Read more than a century of the history of crossing the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim. 295 pages, 400+ photos. Paperback, hardcover, Kindle, and Audible. Phantom Ranch Chef John Boggess worked as the chef at Phantom Ranch for ten months and was ready for a new assignment in 1971. But there was a problem, and it looked like he would be trapped at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. “When Boggess showed up here for his cooking job, he weighed 216 pounds. There's a rigid rule that no one over 200 pounds could ride the mules down the walls of the canyon. Boggess went on a diet, shed 16 pounds and rode down to his job.” But during his ten months down there, he ballooned well above the 200-pound limit. He paid a helicopter pilot to bring him out of the canyon. 1971 Flood Damage In July 1971, a wall of water washed down Bright Angel Creek and stranded eleven hikers at Phantom Ranch who were on the wrong side of a washout area. They had to spend the night out in the canyon. Rangers came to the rescue the next day, strung ropes across the rain-swollen creek, and helped the hikers on their way. The washout exposed a 60-foot section of the new trans-canyon water line about a mile above Phantom Ranch. Major breakage points required tools and a giant welder to be brought in by helicopter. The North Kaibab Trail was closed for more than a week to make repairs. Then just a month later, a two-hour storm dumped 1.34 inches on the South Rim and washed out a portion of Bright Angel Trail near Indian Garden and left an inch of water in the Ranger Cabin. Thirty hikers had to go across the Tonto Trail and exit using the Kaibab Trail. Grand Canyon Noise Pollution “Noise levels at this once tranquil vacation spot have risen steadily over the years and now rival levels on a busy downtown street, two Northern Arizona University researchers reported.” The 1971 test was conducted on Labor Day weekend and measurements reached as high as 90 decibels in tests on the South Rim, the inner trails and at Phantom Ranch. Most of the noise came from air traffic which was not yet restricted over the corridor region. Hump to Hole Attempt On October 26, 1973, Ross Hardwick, age 20, of Anaheim, California, and Scott Baxter, age 27, of San Diego, California, both students at Northern Arizona University started a run from the high point in Arizona, the summit of Mr. Humphreys (12,633 feet) to Phantom Ranch (2,546 feet). They were attempting to complete the run of about 80 miles in less than 24 hours. They didn't carry food or water, but placed caches along the way and had a support crew on U.S. 180. Unfortunately, they quit less than halfway. Later in 1982, Baxter and Alan Williams accomplished the reverse direction which became known as “Hole to Hump” in 21:26. Runaway From Inner Canyon On February 6, 1974, a group of troubled youth from a Texas school went on a hike down Bright Angel Trail, turned west on the Tonto Trail at Indian Garden and camped at Salt Creek three days later.

By Davy Crockett This is an encore episode. Spartathlon, an ultra of 246 km (153 miles), takes place each September in Greece, running from Athens to Sparta and with its 36-hour cutoff. It is one of the toughest ultramarathons to finish. In Part 1 of this series, episode 88, the story was told how Spartathlon was born in 1982, the brainchild of an officer in the Royal Air Force, John Foden. Three servicemen successfully covered a route that was believed to have been taken in 490 B.C., by the Greek messenger, Pheidippides. The 1982 trial run set the stage for the establishment of the Spartathlon race. The race's 1983 inaugural year is covered in this part won by Yiannis Kouros of Greece. Read the rest of this episode here. Help is needed to continue the Ultrarunning History Podcast and website. Please consider becoming a patron of ultrarunning history. Help to preserve this history by signing up to contribute a few dollars each month through Patreon. Visit https://ultrarunninghistory.com/member

By Davy Crockett This part will cover additional stories found through deeper research, adding to the history shared in found in the new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Rim To Rim in the 1950s In 1950, two 15-year-old boys from Los Angeles discovered that hiking rim-to-rim was a lot harder than they thought. While resting down at Phantom Ranch, they ran up an $8 unpaid bill and then decided that there was no way that they were going to hike back up. “So, the two youths ‘borrowed' a pair of mules at the ranch and rode to the top, tethering the mules at the head of Bright Angel Trail. The boys next headed south, stopping en-route to Williams, Arizona, at a service station where they pilfered $20 from the station's cash drawer.” Their trip ended there after some officers arrested them. Get Davy Crockett's new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Read more than a century of the history of crossing the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim. 290 pages, 400+ photos. Paperback, hardcover, Kindle, and Audible. Phantom Ranch Guests Arrive by Helicopter On October 29, 1950, Vesta Ledbetter Malone (1912-1995), of Missouri, Phantom Ranch caretaker with her husband Willis Wayne Malone (1910-1997), received a telephone call from Mrs. Jerry Evans of Cody, Wyoming in the afternoon requesting dinner and overnight accommodations for three people calling from the gauging station on the Colorado River, near Black Bridge. “There was nothing unusual in this, as late hikers often showed up at Phantom Ranch about dinner time. But when Mrs. Evans walked up to the ranch attractively attired in a fresh green silk dress complete with matching handbag, and of all things, high-heeled pumps, Mrs. Malone did a double take. ‘We're the folks that landed on the sandbar in the helicopter a little while ago.'” The pilot, Edwin Jones Montgomery (1912-1990), who established the first commercial helicopter operation in the country, in Tucson, Arizona, walked in and explained that his helicopter's motor had conked out over the canyon, but he had glided to a sandbar, and they walked a half mile to Black Bridge. “They established a record as the first Phantom Ranch guests to arrive by helicopter.” The next day, the three rode out of the canyon on mules. A few days later, Montgomery and two of his employees made repairs. “When they attempted to fly out, they flew only about a mile and one half downstream before the motor stopped and the plane dropped into the water. A team of mules pulled the craft out of the water.” There it sat near the bottom of the Bright Angel Trail. The machine had to be dismantled and packed out of the canyon by mule. Maintenance Needed Neglect was noticed in 1950 because the federal government had cut back on Grand Canyon funding for eight years, starting with World War II. Appropriations to the Park were only 50 cents per park visitor. Rotting benches were seen and trails were in poor shape. Rangers were only paid $1.50 per hour and could not work overtime. The old CCC barracks on the South Rim was being used as housing for employees. Some new projects were started, a water storage system was built at Cottonwood Campground to help deal with occasional water outages. A crew of eight worked there for three months. The water tank can still be seen. In 1951, about 8,000 people rode the mule train to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and about 1,000 stayed overnight at Phantom Ranch. Hundreds of additional people descended on foot. The 1952 winter snowfall was so severe that in January, the Kaibab Trail was closed for the winter. Two employees of Utah Parks Co. rode a snow cat to the North Rim to repair the telephone line. “But they found the wires broken by so many fallen trees and in such a tangled condition that the repair work was abandoned.” Black Bridge finally received a new coat of paint. The last time it was painted was in 1934 by the CCC. It took two men six days to paint the 440-foot-lon...

Recently I went on the "Ultra Running Guys Podcast" with Jeremy Reynolds and Jeff Winchester. This will be a slimmed-down version of their interview with me. Their excellent podcast has also been doing a series interviewing race directors of some of the classic ultras. The Ultra Running Guys said, "Not only was Davy Crockett the 15th person to complete 100-hundred-mile races, but as the Director of the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame, and the host of the Ultrarunning History Podcast. He has contributed more to the world of Ultra than just about anybody we know. Take us on your long run to hear about his personal running history, and what inspired him to write his newest book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History."

By Davy Crockett This part will cover additional stories found through deeper research, adding to the history shared in Part 2 of this Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim History. These stories can also be found in the new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. By 1927, Phantom Ranch was well-established at the bottom of the Canyon. The new South Kaibab trail was complete, and the Black Bridge was nearing completion. On the North side, the North Kaibab trail up Roaring Springs Canyon was also nearing completion, which would make the rim-to-rim hiking experience much easier instead of using the "Old Bright Angel Trail" that went steeply up to the North Rim. During the early 1930s, the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) had a camp across from Phantom Ranch and worked on many significant projects, including the River Trail along the Colorado River. Their story can also be found in Part 2. Get Davy Crockett's new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Read more than a century of the history of crossing the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim. 290 pages, 400+ photos. Paperback, hardcover, Kindle, and Audible. Power and Pump Stations at Roaring Springs A hydroelectric plant below Roaring Springs was completed in 1927 to pump water up to the North Rim. The plant comprised two turbines connected to generators, powered by water from a small diversion dam on Bright Angel Creek, that was brought a half mile through amazing wooden tubes/troughs. Power was then generated for the pump house, to lift water 3,870 feet to the North Rim through 12,700 feet of three-inch steel pipe which can still be seen today. Water was stored in a 50,000-gallon reservoir on the Rim. The heavy machinery to construct the plant and pump station had been lowered on a special tramway that was constructed. “It had to have angle stations in it to get around high cliffs. There were two cables to the tram, one to carry the load, and the other moved by a big steam engine which furnished the power to haul the loads along on the big cable. The tramway worked exceptionally well and added its own new chapter to engineering history. It was two miles in length, but its lower end was 4,000 feet below its head-house where was located the big engine that operated it.” Grand Canyon Lodge at the North Rim In 1927, construction began on a large hotel, camp, and related facilities on the North Rim. “This will contain large lounging rooms, recreation hall, storeroom, dining room that will seat 200 persons, kitchen with cold storage plant, shower, baths, and accessories. Sixty-two two-room guest lodges of log construction will be provided.” The Utah Parks Company agreed to develop a water supply and establish electric lighting and sewer systems, and telephone lines. They hoped to have everything complete in fifteen months. The Grand Canyon Lodge, finished in 1928, became a special place to escape the summer heat in the days before air conditioning. It was designed by architect, Gilbert Stanley Underwood (1890-1960) with a Spanish-style exterior and an observation tower. On the top floor, employees stayed in a dorm. Underwood also designed the original lodges at Bryce Canyon and Cedar Breaks. In 1930, the new National Park Service Director Horace Marden Albright (1890-1987) said, “The Grand Canyon lodge, including the housekeeping units, employees' quarters, and other facilities is the finest tourist development in the national park system. The availability of water through the hydroelectric power and pumping plant constructed at Roaring Springs is an outstanding factor in the general development.” The help at the Lodge were young men and women from colleges, recommended by their faculty. “The students did all the work, acting as clerks, porters, chambermaids, waiters and waitresses, chauffeurs, and guides. They acted also as entertainers, capable of putting on a musical or literary program of good quality. Moreover, they had to be young people of good moral char...

By Davy Crockett. You can read, listen, or watch In 1906, David Dexter Rust (1874-1963) established a permanent camp near the confluence of Bright Angel Creek and the Colorado River that they name Rust Camp. They dug irrigation ditches and planted cottonwood trees by transplanting branches cut from trees found in nearby Phantom Creek. The camp was visited mostly by hunters going to and from the North Rim. Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919) visited the camp in 1913 for a few hours and it was renamed to Roosevelt Camp. By 1917, the government revoked the permit for the camp, and it became deserted. As the Grand Canyon National Park was established in 1919, funds became available to develop the park and its trails. Phantom Ranch, a Grand Canyon jewel was ready to be built. Get Davy Crockett's new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Read more than a century of the history of crossing the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim. 290 pages, 400+ photos. Paperback, hardcover, Kindle, and Audible. In 1921, The Fred Harvey Company started major construction near Rust/Roosevelt to establish a tourist destination at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Designs were under the direction of Mary Jane Colter (1869-1958) and the structures were architected by others. Initially, the ranch was referred to as “Roosevelt Chalet.” Early in 1922, progress was reported, “The Fred Harvey Co. have had a force of 15-20 men constructing Roosevelt Chalet near the mouth of Bright Angel Creek. Substantial stone cottages and a central mess hall and social center are well underway. No expense is being spared to make the camp one of the great attractions for Grand Canyon visitors, especially those who wish to make the mule-back trip from rim to rim via the new Kaibab suspension bridge.” The new bridge was being used daily by park rangers and Fred Harvey pack trains. Soon Colter insisted that the ranch be named after the side creek nearby, named Phantom Creek. Phantom Ranch was initially advertised to be a sort of halfway house for South Rim sightseers who wanted to make a three-day trip to Ribbon Falls and back without camping out or make a seven-day trip to the North Rim and back. Phantom Ranch was initially advertised to be a sort of halfway house for South Rim sightseers who wanted to make a three-day trip to Ribbon Falls and back or make a seven-day trip to the North Rim and back. “For tourists making rim the rim trip, it is a natural stopover and resting place. It is reported visitors are coming in increasing numbers to the North Rim from Utah points. The longer trips can be taken either in hiking or horseback parties. In each instance, there are government guides with each party and these men, besides knowing every inch of the country, are entertaining with their short talks on the points of interest that are encountered. Phantom Ranch opened on June 15, 1922, with four cabins, a lodge with a kitchen, and a dining hall. The ranch was designed to be self-sufficient, with an orchard of peach, plum, and apricot trees. Also included was a chicken shed and yard, a blacksmith shop, a water reservoir, and a barn. Additional cottonwood trees were planted.  The cabins had two beds, a fireplace, baths, showers, running water, and eventually telephones connected to El Tovar Hotel on the South Rim and electricity. The first telephone line from Phantom Ranch to the South Rim was completed in 1922 and worked well. Phone stations were also at Pipe Creek and Indian Garden. It was boasted, “It is the deepest down of any canyon ranch in the world. Nothing is like it anywhere else.” More improvements to Phantom Ranch were wanted, but Ralph Cameron (1863-1953), who built the Bright Angel Trail and had fought for control of the trail and mines for years, became an enemy of the National Park. In 1922, as a U.S. Senator for Arizona, he fought hard and succeeded in denying $90,000 of funds for Park improvements. He said the expenditure of the funds would be “wo...

You can read, listen, or watch No Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History can be complete without mentioning the Kolb brothers, who maintained a photo gallery on the South Rim for decades. The two were among the very first to accomplish double crossings of the Canyon and did more exploring up Bright Angel Canyon and its side canyons than anyone of their era. They were early guides for those who wanted to cross and, knowing the canyon well, were involved in many rescues and searches for missing persons in the inner canyon. But they were best known for their daring antics to obtain spectacular photos in places others had never seen before and mastered the “selfie” 120 years ago. Get Davy Crockett's new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Read more than a century of the history of crossing the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim. 260 pages, 400+ photos. Paperback, hardcover, Kindle, and Audible. Edward and Ellan Kolb Ellsworth “Ed” Leonardson Kolb (1876-1960) and Emery Clifford Kolb (1881–1976) were born and grew up in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. Their parents were Edward Kolb (1850-1945) and Ellan Nelson Borland (1851-1944). Their father worked as a sales agent of medicine. The Kolb family was of German ancestry. There were four sons in the family, Ellsworth being the eldest. Later, a daughter was adopted. Coming to the Grand Canyon In 1900, at the age of 24, Ellsworth went west to see the world. He had experienced an accident working in a steel mill and wanted to have lighter work. First, he worked putting up telephone lines in Colorado and then operated a snow plow at Pike's Peak. He had plans to sail to China but went to view the Grand Canyon first and then didn't want to leave. He first got a job chopping wood at Bright Angel Hotel for Martin Buggeln (1867-1939), an Arizona pioneer railroader and rancher who had recently bought the new hotel. Ellsworth worked hard and was soon promoted to a porter. After earning money for a year, in 1902, he sent money back home to bring his adventuresome younger brother, 21-year-old Emery, to join him at the Canyon. Ellsworth initially found a job for him at John Hance's asbestos mine, but it closed by the time Emery arrived. Emery, who had been learning photography, arrived at Williams, Arizona, 60 miles south of the South Rim, on October 10, 1902, with only his camera, harmonica, guitar, and the clothes on his back. While waiting to catch the train to the Grand Canyon, he went into a photographic store that was up for sale. The unsuccessful gallery had been operated for a few months by O. Arbogast. The Kolb brothers saw the opportunity ahead of them and bought the gallery for $425 on a payment plan. It was described as a little “clapboard shack.” They advertised to take interior photos of homes, and took group photos posed against a painted scenery, but surely there were better photography opportunities. They wanted to establish a photography business at the Canyon to take pictures of mule parties, but the Santa Fee Railroad, who had most of the control on the South Rim, would not let them open a studio. Kolb Studio on South Rim Established Kolb's first gallery at Grand Canyon In October 1903, the Kolb brothers were finally allowed to establish a full-time gallery at the Canyon with a business arrangement between Ralph Henry Cameron (1863-1953) who controlled the Bright Angel Trail and other facilities on the South Rim and Indian Garden (now called Havasupai Gardens). They initially set up a photography tent near the Cameron Hotel. Emery recalled decades later, “Our first dark room was a blanket over one of Ralph Cameron's prospect holes. We had no water to develop our pictures, so we hauled water from a muddy cow pond eleven miles out in the woods. We would wash our pictures by hand in that muddy water. Our final wash with clear water packed up by burros, four and a half miles out of the canyon from Indian Garden.

You can read, listen, or watch “Prof” Thomas Henry Cureton (1875-1957) of Williams, Arizona, was a significant Grand Canyon rim-to-rim contributor. Through his selfless service in the 1920s, he passed on the love of the inner Grand Canyon to a generation of youth who lived at the doorstep of the Canyon. Over several years, he guided about 50 youth across the Canyon and back, teaching them minimalist camping skills and how to love the Canyon while hiking on the developing inner Canyon trails. Fascinating and very detailed accounts of their Canyon adventures have been recently discovered and are preserved in this article. His pioneer rim-to-rim efforts inspired and launched hikes involving thousands of boy scouts to hike rim-to-rim in the decades to come. Cureton was also the grandfather of future rim-to-rim record holder, Allyn Carl Cureton (1937-2019). What led Thomas Cureton to make such an impact on the youth of Williams and to introduce them and the citizens of Williams to the joy of crossing the Grand Canyon rim to rim? Get Davy Crockett's new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Read more than a century of the history of crossing the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim. 260 pages, 400+ photos. Paperback, hardcover, Kindle, and Audible. Williams School in 1906 Superintendent of Schools in Williams, Arizona Cureton was originally from Missouri. He started teaching in 1894 in a country school near Neals, Missouri and then moved to Montana, where he taught for several years. Furthering his education, he moved to Lawrence, Kansas, and received a law degree at the University of Kansas. While attending, he married Nellie May King (1880-1960), of his home state of Missouri. She also attended Kansas, where she received a master's degree in Latin. Both were highly educated and natural leaders. In 1906, they moved to Williams, Arizona, where Cureton became the superintendent of schools. He was given the title/nickname of “Professor” or “Prof.” Teaching conditions were challenging in the small city, with about 1,000 residents. The school, grades 1-8, were crowded with up to 200 children, 50 per room, in the four-room school where Cureton was both the principal and teacher of multiple grades. The school was built in 1894 and expanded in 1900. During his first year there, another needed addition was built onto the school, expanding the classrooms, completed in 1907. After two years, in 1908, Cureton resigned his job in Williams to take a “more lucrative position” in Guanajuato, Mexico. After a year, he went back to school and attended Harvard University, where he earned a Master of Arts degree. Return to Williams Williams before trees were planted In 1911, Cureton returned to Williams to lead and teach again. He was asked why he returned to Williams. “Well, for one thing, I was interested to see how that lot of trees had grown that we planted when I was here before.” The city of Williams had been mostly devoid of trees and Cureton had started a multi-decade effort to import and plant trees across the city. As principal, Cureton was not timid about doing unusual things to spark the interest of his students. As the snow started to fall, he constructed a “toboggan slide” eighty feet long in the schoolyard for the eighth and ninth-grade boys. It was so popular that lanterns were put up around the slide the first night, allowing them to slide until a late hour. Boys would get to school early and slide until the school bell sounded. The girls asked for a similar slide to be constructed for them. It was reported that the slide “was a great help to the progress and discipline of the school as to keep the children busy and contented.” Attendance at the school dramatically increased. Cureton soon introduced an athletic club at the school. He was a strong advocate of sports, especially basketball. While attending the University of Kansas, he had become acquainted with its physical education director,

By Davy Crockett You can read, listen, or watch Running the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim and back is one of the ultimate experiences for ultrarunners. Before the Grand Canyon National Park was established in 1919, there were several individuals who helped to bring attention to the wonder of the world and set the stage for rim-to-rim travel in the future. In 1913, getting to the North Rim from Utah was still a difficult endeavor, requiring support and guides. Roads to the rim were still primitive. Traveling rim-to-rim involved nearly 100 Bright Angel Creek crossings and a dangerous climb up to the North Rim. Visitors to the Rim were mostly hunting parties, looking for big game hunts. But as more of the public reached the Canyon and told others of their spectacular rim-to-rim adventures, more efforts were made to open up the North Rim to anyone desiring to go there. Get Davy Crockett's new book, Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History. Read more than a century of the history of crossing the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim. 260 pages, 400+ photos. Paperback, hardcover, Kindle, and Audible. J. Cecil Alter - Weatherman Adventurer J. Cecil Alter John Cecil Alter (1879-1964) was born in Indiana in 1879, the son of a civil engineer and surveyor. He studied at Purdue University in Indiana. In 1902, he moved to Salt Lake City, Utah, taking on an assistant position in the weather bureau office which oversaw 65 stations throughout the state. He soon married Jennie Oliva Greene (1874-1949) and quickly developed into an influential pillar in the community. He became widely published with papers such as, “Agriculture in the Great Basin.” By 1905, he became a frequent contributor to the local newspapers and developed a wide following. Besides his weatherman duties, he became an editor for a monthly magazine, The Salt Lake Outlook, with interesting articles about farming, mining, and business in Utah. In 1910, he took over as section director for the weather bureau office in Salt Lake. By 1913, Alter was fascinated with the automobile and became experienced driving cars to tough places. He successfully drove up a rugged canyon road to Brighton Resort in Big Cottonwood Canyon above Salt Lake City. In August 1913, he set off from Salt Lake City, hoping to reach the North Rim of the Grand Canyon in three days and be the first person to drive an automobile all the way to the rarely visited North Rim trailhead at the head of Bright Angel Canyon. Edwin D. Woolley Jr. Four years earlier, in 1909, Edwin “Dee” Woolley Jr. (1846-1920) who had overseen the creation of the first trail down from the North Rim to the Colorado River took two automobiles on a round trip from Salt Lake City to his cabin on the North Rim, proving to skeptics that it was possible. He had shipped gas by horse wagon up to the Kaibab Plateau to support the vehicles, which had to receive many repairs along the way. The cars made it to within three miles of the Rim. Alter wanted to prove that it was possible to drive all the way to the North Rim trailhead. During 1913, some rugged tourists visited the North Rim from Utah by horseback, horse wagons, and none were trying to get there in automobiles. To get there without getting lost, hired guides were needed from Woolley‘s company, because of the various networks of trails, cattle paths, and dirt roads on the Kaibab Plateau. Alter's automobile nearing North Rim Alter's journey took place in August 1913 and Utah readers were fascinated with his adventure written up in newspapers across the state. He made the successful drive to the trailhead with his wife and another couple. They then drove an additional few miles to an overlook called Greenland. He praised efforts taking place to establish a usable road to the canyon by the forest service, and believed that the views on the North Rim were better than the South Rim. He wrote, “I confidently expect that every automobile that has the courage to start will ret...

By Davy Crockett You can read, listen, or watch Read the full story of Frank Hart in my new book: Frank Hart: The First Black Ultrarunning Star By late 1892, many of the original six-day professional pedestrians had left the sport, using their winnings to establish other careers, some of them pursuing illegal activities. Frank Hart had another terrible health scare during a six-day race in Wisconsin. News had spread across the country that his running days were finally over, that "he will never be seen on the track again." But running professionally had been part of his life for fourteen years. At the age of 36, now referred to as an "old pedestrian," Hart was determined to continue to compete and prove his doubters wrong. Get Davy Crockett's new book, Running 100 Miles: A History (1729-1960) This definitive history of the 100-mile races presents the rich history of many, both men and women, who achieved 100 miles on foot. Part one of this history includes tales of the trail-blazing British, the amazing Tarahumara of Mexico, and the brash Americans. Many of the early legendary, but forgotten, 100-miler runners are highlighted. St. Louis Six-Day Race Hart recovered and showed up in St. Louis for Professor Clark's Six-day Tournament held on December 19-24, 1892, at the Natatorium (swimming and gymnasium hall). People were astonished to see him a week before the race. "Frank Hart, the famous colored ped arrived in the city yesterday, a living contradiction to the rumors that had been circulated about his ill health. He denies that he coughed up a lung and part of his liver.” He trained with other competitors at the Natatorium and was seen reeling off mile after mile.  He indeed started the race and looked good in the field of fifteen runners. “A new lease of life appears to have been meted out to the old-time colored pedestrian." Hart reached 100 miles on the first day but then another alarming health scare took place. “He acted like a maniac while covering the last mile but returned to sensibility and resumed the race.” He had picked up a stool-bottom chair which was at the edge of the track, walked in front of the music stand, and threw it at the pianist with all his might. The musician dodged it, and the police came quickly. “They knew Hart had no reason in the world for acting as he did and thought he had gone daft. Hart emphasized this feeling himself by yelling more than a dozen times in a perfect frenzy, ‘You want to run a man crazy!' He was finally pacified and resumed his journey around the ring.” Hart reached 128 miles during the first day, soon took the lead, and had a great battle with Gus Guerrero, of California, on day three. “Frank Hart is as graceful as of old and came in for his proportion of the liberal applause.” He soon looked haggard. “Frank Hart is virtually out of the race although he occasionally appears upon the track. As he laid prostrate upon his couch last evening, he presented a sad spectacle. His limbs were swollen to nearly twice their natural size, his eyeballs were sunken deeply within their sockets, and the pedal extremities, which had traveled so many miles, were ornamented by large blood blisters. The colored champion will probably never again be seen in a race of this description, as he realizes that the time is at hand when he must acknowledge his younger superiors.” On day five, he was rolling again, but far behind. In the past, he would always quit in these circumstances, but he pressed on. He finished with 425 miles, in sixth place, enough to have a share of the prizes. But because of poor attendance, he did not win much. At least he proved to America that he was not dead yet, and his running career was continuing. At the end of January 1894, he competed in a 27-hour race in Buffalo, New York, where he finished third with 121 miles but received very little money for his effort. “The dividend for the contestants was hardly perceptible und...

By Davy Crockett You can read, listen, or watch Read the full story of Frank Hart in my new book: Frank Hart: The First Black Ultrarunning Star By 1888, Hart had competed in about 30 six-day races in nine years. He had reached 100 miles or more in about 40 races and had so far won at least 30 ultras. Perhaps because of his color, he had not been given enough credit as being a dominant champion during his career. There certainly were some who were better six-day pedestrians, but he was at least in the top-10 of his era. Racist labels against blacks such has “laziness” were often heaped on him, which bothered him terribly. He worked very hard. How could anyone who competed in six-day races be referred to as lazy? He did have a serious problem with his finances and likely had a gambling addiction. He looked for new ways to make money in the sport, including race organizing and had been criticized for not paying runners fairly. He was so mad at the reaction that he vowed that he was retiring from the sport. Get Davy Crockett's new book, Strange Running Tales: When Ultrarunning was a Reality Show. This book highlights the most bizarre, shocking, funny, and head-scratching true stories that took place in extreme long-distance running, mostly during a 30-year period that began about 1875. O'Brien's Six Day Race Hart's retirement did not last long. He entered the next big international six-day race held on May 7, 1888, in Madison Square Garden. For this race, 96 men entered and 44 started. One rejected runner claimed he could go 750 miles. In this race was, George Littlewood (1859-1912) of Sheffield, England, the world record holder for walking 531 miles in six days, reached 100 miles in less than 16 hours. After the first day, Hart was already more than 20 miles behind. On the morning of day two, after running 122 miles, in seventh place, Hart was said to look lazy and quit the race as he was falling in the standings. He realized that he would not finish in the money. Littlewood went on to win with 611 miles. Throughout 1888, Hart competed in several 75-hour races in New York, Connecticut, Delaware, and Pennsylvania, winning most of them, but earning less than hoped for. Feeling rejected by Boston, he now claimed to be from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Fox Diamond Belt Six Day Race Hart competed in the most historic six-day race in history, held November 26-December 1, 1888, in Madison Square Garden. There were 100 race entries, but they approved only 40 starters. Richard Kyle Fox (1846-1922), editor and publisher of the sporting publication, The Police Gazette, put it on. Leading up to the race, Hart trained at the Polo Grounds in Upper Manhattan each day “under the watchful eyes of trainers and admirers” with several other entrants, including Littlewood. It would be the last six-day race held in the original Madison Square Garden, previously called Gilmore's Garden, and P.T. Barnum's Hippodrome, made from an old train depot. The old building would begin to be demolished on August 7, 1889. It was located on the block that currently holds the New York Life Building. The Start Nearly 10,000 people filled the building for the start with 37 contestants. Through the first night, it became obvious why the building needed to be replaced. “The ring in the center of the garden looked as if it had been swept by a hurricane. Booths were overturned and the floor was flooded with melted snow, which had dropped through the crevices in the roof.” It didn't seem to bother Littlewood, who covered 77.4 miles in the first 12 hours. Original Madison Square Garden Hart was about 12 miles behind and struggled early. “Several doses of bug juice were taken, and the Haitian youth was wobbly in the legs, and his eyes rolled in a fine frenzy for some hours.” He covered 113 miles on day one, in 11th place. Again, racist comments were made by reporters that he was being lazy.

By Davy Crockett You can read, listen, or watch Read the full story of Frank Hart in my new book: Frank Hart: The First Black Ultrarunning Star Frank Hart's life in 1883 was at a low point. He had squandered his riches and damaged his reputation as a professional pedestrian. He was viewed as being hot-headed, undisciplined, and a womanizer. His wife and children were no longer being mentioned as being a part of his life and by then were likely gone. Many people had tried to help him, even his original mentor, Daniel O'Leary, who called him “ungrateful.” Trainers did not last long working with him. Hart was no longer referred to by the flattering title of “Black Dan.” Certainly, some of the criticism against him was because of racial stereotypes, which he fought hard against. He wanted to regain the glory and fame he had felt in previous years. To make things worse, he had a young woman, Frances “Fanny” C. Nixon, arrested, accusing her of stealing a diamond ring from him valued at $526. The press was quick to point out that a black man was accusing a white woman, unheard of at the time. She had met him at his 1880 world record race at Madison Square Garden and they developed a relationship. He claimed that the night before he left for England in 1881, she had stolen the ring from his vest pocket. She countered that he had given it to her as a gift before he left. She admitted that she later sold it to a pawnbroker for $250. The court released her on bail and apparently the case was soon dismissed or settled. California Here Hart Comes On November 8, 1883, Hart left Boston to travel to California for the first time. Money in pedestrian contests was becoming harder to find, and it was hoped that the West Coast would deliver. He was invited to compete in a six-day race in San Francisco with O'Leary, and two Californians, Charles A. Harriman, and Peter McIntyre, in what was called a “four-cornered” match. The East Coast team's miles would go against the West Coast team. They put in a rule against any “hustle, push, impedance, or interruption with any other contestant” because of Hart's known aggressive conduct in races. Hart Gives a False Identity Hart received a grand reception in California and became an instant celebrity. San Francisco wrote, “Hart, the negro pedestrian, is coming to this city. He will be given a reception by the colored people.” He was met at the ferry landing by a band and escorted to the Pacific Life newspaper rooms, where he was given a banquet. But Hart, wanting even more attention, characterized himself as a wealthy lawyer. An article was printed stating that he was a member of the Boston Bar. “Owing to an unfortunate stutter, Hart is a poor pleader, but his opinions on legal matters are so sought for that he is able to hire a pleader to present his ideas in court.” The lawyer news surprised the Boston Globe, and it implied that the claim was fiction. He also stretched the truth of his recent six-day accomplishments, claiming that he held the current world record. The New York Sportsman got wind of Hart's “lawyer profession,” claim, and a correction was later printed in a San Francisco newspaper. The New York editor wrote, “Hart may be a great lawyer–we have never heard him plead for other than a release from a creditor. Before reading the story of Hart's great ability as a lawyer, we thought his fame rested chiefly on his reputation as a pedestrian and a masher (a man who chases after women).” California Four-Cornered Six-day Race Mechanic's Pavilion The San Francisco Four-Cornered race began right after midnight on Nov 21, 1883, in Mechanics' Pavilion. At the end of day four, the match was tight. Hart had a one-mile lead with 370 miles and his team score with O'Leary led by only five miles. A gossip paper wrote, “Hart has nearly all the time from two to a half-dozen white female visitors in his tent, and on the track,

By Davy Crockett Thomas Joseph Osler (1940-2023) of Camden, New Jersey, was a mathematician, former national champion distance runner, and author. His published running training theories have made a deep impact on distance running for multiple generations. His book, Serious Runner's Handbook became a classic book on running. He was the first to verbalize in a way that was really understandable to most athletes. Runner's World wrote, "Tom Osler was among those who helped push and pull America toward the running mania of the 1970s." His pioneer 1976 24-hour run in New Jersey brought renewed focus on the 24-hour run in America. He won multiple national championships and was inducted into the Road Runners Club of America Hall of Fame. During his running career, he ran in more than 2,100 races of various distances. Of his youth, Osler said, “I was a sickly little kid at 12 or 13 and didn't have many friends. This annoyed me, so I decided to leap head-first into every sport there was. I was terrible. I came home night after night looking like an ad for the Blue Cross." He was an excellent student, but purposely lowered his grades for a while in order to fit in as a “regular guy.” He said, "One day a bunch of us decided to see who could run the most around a field and to my shock I could out jog everybody. So that's when I realized I was born to be a runner!" His gang in his neighborhood picked distance running as "that day's form of athletic torture." When he was still 13 in 1954. He jumped in head-first and started to run. He learned about track from his brother-in-law and discovered that there were races of a mile and further. He also learned about the current local running hero and Olympian, Browning Ross (1924-1998). Browning Ross wins the 1954 AAU 30K Championship. Young Tom Osler on left. "I read in the newspaper that there was going to be this big race in Atlantic City, the National 30-kilometer championship and it was going to start and finish on the Boardwalk at Steel Pier. I got myself a bus ticket and went down there and stood in front of Steel Pier and waited for this race. I remember thinking that runners must be very powerful people—big muscles, well developed like Mr. Atlas! And what shows up but all these skinny people. It was a national championship, but I doubt it had more than 20 or 25 people in it. That's how it was in those days. Browning Ross showed up and I couldn't believe what a small rather insignificant looking human being this hero of mine that I'd read so much about was. The race was several laps, so you saw them come by several times." Someone asked Osler to hold the string at the finish line as Ross won the race and he got in the finishing picture. Osler said, "I lived in a row house in Camden, New Jersey and there was a Mack truck factory at the end of the block that we estimated occupied a quarter of a mile. So, I ran around the block four times. My brother-in-law looked at the kitchen clock to time it and it came out to something like six and a half or seven minutes. We figured with a year's training we could probably get it down to a good racing speed. Which I did." He had dreams he would be the first person to break the four-minute mile. He said, “When you are young, you have dreams that seem very attainable. Every day, I went out and ran four times around the block as fast as I could. So, in a year I went out for the track team as a sophomore at Camden High and was their best miler-- I ran a 5:10. I was the only person running year-round that I knew of. In 1954, England's Roger Bannister was the first to break the four-minute mile barrier, which crushed Osler's dream. His best mile was 4:54, which was disappointing to him, but he was one of the best high school milers in Camden. He finished his first marathon when he was 16 years old with a time of 3:27. In high school, he excelled in his classes, especially in the sciences.

By Davy Crockett - Listen or Read Subscribe to Ultrarunning History Podcast New Book! Grand Canyon Rim to Rim History The Barkley Marathons course (thought to be roughly 130 miles and about 63,000 feet of elevation gain) at Frozen Head State Park in Tennessee was conquered for the first time in six years. Laz (Gary Cantrell) blew the conch shortly before 9 a.m., on March 14, 2023, signaling to the competitors that they had one hour to prepare for the start. At 9:54 a.m. Laz, sporting a new "geezer" hat in Japanese, lit the ceremonial cigarette, and about 40 daring athletes were off and running on the grueling course that “eats its young.”  Previously, only fifteen people had finished the 100-mile version of this brutal trail race which was introduced in 1986. The 2023 start of the Barkley Marathons The 2023 field, including eight women, ran or walked up the trail toward the Cumberland Mountains. They had all trained hard, but also had to figure out and endure the purposely mysterious and fun registration process. In addition to writing an essay, this year, they had to answer a series of questions including, "What will be the 119th element on the periodic table." Frozen Ed at Frozen Head State Park 75-year-old “Frozen” Ed Furtaw was the oldest starter. He was the first person ever to finish the Barkley Marathons back in 1988 when the course was about 55 miles. He finished that year in 32:14. This Barkley legend also came up with the idea for the book checkpoints, so runners could prove they made it around the course. This year, Furtaw was the first Barkley casualty, returning to camp early during loop one. Several runners finished loop one in a blazing 8:18. The cutoff for loop one was 13:20. To get an official finish, runners needed to finish five loops within 60 hours. There were no course markings, just general directions to the book checkpoints, and they could take a map. No GPS contraptions are permitted, but they could take a compass and a primitive watch. Seven runners did not finish loop one in time to start loop two, but 31 started loop two. Loop one was in the clockwise direction, two and three would be counter-clockwise, four in the preferred clockwise direction. For loop five (if any runners reached that far), the first runner could choose their direction, and the next runner would have to go in the opposite direction. The weather was pretty incredible this year, although the water jugs provided at the tower on Frozen Head still froze during the night. Keith Dunn As usual, Keith Dunn was the main resource in the camp for Barkley updates, staying up late at night to tweet updates to his 65,000 followers. For a time, he was trending #3 on Twitter. He used three phones with different network carriers to make sure he could stay connected. During Loop one, instead of naming runners, he gave them nicknames describing them such as, "Guy with Mohawk," "Guy with Glasses," and "Another Bearded Guy." Three-time Barkley finisher, Jared Campbell, was called "nondescript guy" for the duration of his run. Nickademus de la Rosa and Laz Barkley veteran Nickademus de la Rosa, of Bellingham, Washington, a previous finisher, returned to camp before finishing loop two. He said, “I am done at 1.75 loops and couldn't be happier with the decision. I got what I wanted (which was to see if the course was still possible for me.) After some irrecoverable navigational errors, too slow of a pace and a dying headlamp I lost precious time needed in order to finish.” As runners finished loops, they presented their collection of thirteen book pages to Laz, proving that they reached each book on the course. Their pages needed to match the bib number they were assigned for the loop. About a day before the race, a master map of the locations of the books was provided by Laz. Traditionally book titles are amusingly appropriate for the task, such as "Death Walks the Woods," and "Don't Count Me Out.

By Davy Crockett  Both a podcast episode and a full article Get my new best-selling book about the history of crossing the Grand Canyon This is an encore episode. The 2023 Barkley Marathons is underway. The Barkley Marathons, with its historic low finish rate (only 15 runners in 30 years), is perhaps the most difficult ultramarathon trail race in the world. It is held in and near Frozen Head State Park in Tennessee, with a distance of more than 100 miles. The Barkley is an event with a mysterious lore. It has no official website. It is a mystery how to enter, It has no course map or entrants list is published online. It isn't a spectator event. For the 2018 race, 1,300 runners applied and only 40 selected. Those seeking entry must submit an essay. The entrance fee includes bringing a license plate from your home state/country. Runners are given the course directions the day before the race and aren't told when the race exactly starts. They are just given a one-hour warning when the conch is blown. To prove that they run the course correctly, books are placed a various places on the course where the runners must tear out a page from each book matching their bib number. If they lose a page or miss a book, they are out. Directly opposite of most ultras, the course is specifically designed to minimize the number of finishers. The inspiration for creating the Barkley in 1986 was the 1977 prison escape by James Earl Ray from Brushy Mountain State Prison. Ray was the convicted assassin of Martin Luther King Jr. He spent more than two days trying to get away in the very rugged Cumberland Mountains where the Barkley later was established. Ray's escape has been a subject of folklore. This is how the madness of the Barkley Marathons started... https://ultrarunninghistory.com/barkley-marathons-birth/

  In 1880, Frank Hart, age 23, was recognized as one of the top ultrarunners/pedestrians in the world. But after a life-threatening illness, many speculated that he would never return to his dominant form. He had also gone through a life-changing transition by accumulating more wealth in one year than most men acquired in a lifetime, and he was freely spending his fortune. Make sure you read/listen/watch parts one and two. Hart's six-day world record of 565 miles had been broken by Charles Rowell (1852-1909) of England by one mile in November 1880, which deeply bothered Hart. In January 1881, he accepted a challenge from Rowell to meet head-to-head later in the year. That became his focus and he tried to get back into world championship shape. But then another rival appeared on the scene full of racist hatred. Racism from a Competitor John Hughes John “Lepper” Hughes (1850-1921) of New York did not hide his racist hatred for Hart. He had been a “poor day laborer” before he found success in pedestrianism. He was born in Roscrea, Tipperary, Ireland, and was the son of a competitive runner. When he was a boy, he was a fast runner, won some races, and could run close to hounds in fox hunts. With no formal education, he emigrated to America in 1868 at eighteen, became a citizen, and worked for the city of New York in Central Park. It was said that he was “stubborn as a government mule.” He was called, “the Lepper” because of his peculiar way of walking with an odd jumping gait. 2nd Astley Belt Race - O'Leary and Hughes Hughes was known for his temper and often showed inappropriate behavior in races. He desperately wanted to be recognized as the champion pedestrian of the world. It was reported, “Hughes is a boastful and ignorant fellow, with a fine physique and unlimited confidence in his powers.” He had a deep personal hostility against fellow Irish American, Daniel O'Leary, who had beaten him soundly in the Second Astley Belt Race in 1878. Hughes blamed his backers for purposely poisoning his milk and swindling him out of all his prize money. Hughes in International O'Leary Belt Since then, Hughes had experienced some success but had failed to win any of the big six-day races. His best six-day mark was 520 miles, when he finished sixth at the Rose Belt Race in 1879, won by Hart. But finally, on January 29, 1881, Hughes had the finest race of his career when he broke the six-day world record, achieving 568 miles in the “First O'Leary International Belt Race” held at the American Institute Building in New York City. Hart did not compete in the race, choosing instead to get ready to defend the original “American” O'Leary Belt, to be held the following month. As the Third O'Leary Belt approached, Hughes desperately wanted to win that O'Leary belt too and beat Hart. He boasted he would cover 600 miles. Hart and Hughes Fight In 1881, Bernard Wood's Gymnasium and Athletic Grounds on North 9th and 2nd Street (Wythe Ave) in Brooklyn, New York, was a popular place for runners to train on an indoor sawdust track. In February 1881, both Hart and Hughes used the track to train for the upcoming O'Leary Belt. Hughes would often yell hate-filled racist slurs at Hart. Hart had nothing good to say about Hughes. One Sunday afternoon, while both were training there, they competed in an ego-based sprint together, which Hughes won. Hart joked that at the upcoming match there would be no poison soup, referring to Hughes' excuse for losing the Second Astley Belt. He added he would beat Hughes at the upcoming match. “Hughes turned around and shouted, ‘You lie, you black (n-word).' Saying this, he struck Hart with a powerful blow under the chin. Hart fell flat on his back but was up again in an instant and hit Hughes over the right eye.” They continued to deliver blows, but Hart was no match for the bigger Hughes. Trainer Happy Jack Smith jumped in and separated them. “As Hart went away,