It's time once again for us to plan our upcoming racing season and to put our names in all
of those lotteries!
Both Audree and I just put our names in for UTMB 2022, so we'll see in a week or so if
we're heading to Chamonix in September.
Races are selling out faster and faster each year, with more of them moving to a lottery
system, but fortunately as the sport continues to grow, new races keep popping up as well.
In fact, I sometimes find myself getting a bit of choice paralysis as I look for new
and interesting challenges.
It seems like every trail running race these days markets themselves as the toughest race
around.
I've seen so many claim to be one of the hardest in the world, it kind of leaves you wondering,
compared to what?
How can they all claim to be the hardest?
And what really makes a race hard?
So I thought I'd record what is more of a video essay with some of my thoughts on the
answer to these questions, ultimately to help you to better choose races for your upcoming
season.
I'll explore all of the different variables that come in to play to make some races harder
for some runners, but easier for others.
Because, spoiler alert, the difficulty of a race is kind of relative to the individual.
That's ultimately the thesis that I'll be arguing in this video.
When you do a search for 'trail race' with words and phrases like 'hardest', 'toughest',
'most difficult', and 'most challenging', you usually get lists of the big ones like:
- Tor Des Geans in Italy - Dragon's Back in Wales
- Hardrock 100 - The Yukon Arctic Ultra
- The Grand Raid de la Reunion - The Transalpine Run which crosses the alps
from Germany to Italy - Everest Marathon
- The Jungle Marathon in Brazil - The Barkley Marathons
- Western States - Badwater
- and; Marathons Des Sables
But many of these races couldn't be more different.
A handful of these, like Marathons Des Sables and Dragon's Back, are stage races which are
very different than continuous runs of 200 miles or more.
In fact, a common theme with races that claim to be hard seems to be just that they're long.
But by that measure alone, it would be silly to include races like Hardrock and Western
States alongside something like Tor Des Geants.
That feels like a bit of a cop-out to me though, because obviously running for longer is going
to be harder for some.
But then again, I've always felt that properly training for and executing a really fast 10k
can be much more impressive than finishing an ultra just barely under cut-offs.
Running fast is hard, just in a different way.
Environmental factors definitely seem to play a role in many of the races that seem so difficult.
Some are in really hot environments, like Badwater in Death Valley, known for being
both the driest place in North America and the hottest place in the world.
Others are in really cold environments, like the Yukon Arctic Ultra, where runners literally
risks losing limbs to frostbite.
But a race doesn't have to be even that hot to affect performance for a runner not properly
acclimated to the environment.
I recently ran a 7-day staged race in the Namib Desert.
I found I was able to adapt to the dry conditions pretty quickly, no doubt thanks to my having
arrived in the country a week early to acclimate.
My race this past summer in the boreal forests of Quebec I found way more difficult, because
there we also had really high humidity which I definitely wasn't used to coming from Vancouver.
Some of the runners I'd met there who'd be training locally for the few weeks prior in
Quebec seemed to find the humidity to be way less of a problem.
Cold is also quite relative.
I ran the Fat Dog 120 miler years ago during what will forever be remembered as the year
of the big storm.
The race started out quite warm, but the weather quickly deteriorated into thunder showers
and hail.
Many runners had to drop because of hypothermia, but I found the colder conditions to be perfect
after throwing on my extra layers.
I tend to burn pretty hot while I'm moving, although I do get cold quickly once I've stopped,
but you can always put on more layers if it gets cold provided you're properly prepared
which admittedly some weren't.
And then there's the terrain itself.
There's a huge difference in the level of effort and focus required between trails that
are buffed out and super runnable, compared to very technical trails, especially when
running at night.
But whether you're just talking about roots and rocks underfoot, or having to scramble
through boulder fields or even doing a bit of bushwhacking, some runners are definitely
more experienced and confident in technical terrain than others.
Of course, it pretty much goes without saying that elevation change is a huge variable.
Running a flat and fast course is totally different experience than one requiring you
to climb and descend mountains.
But does that mean that a flat 100 miler is necessarily easier than a hilly one?
I know a lot of runners who would definitely prefer a chance to hike the hills rather than
having to try to run the entire time on a flat course, because nobody wants to end up
having to walk on flat terrain, yet many end up doing just that.
All of that running taxes your body in a very different and for some a much more difficult
way than climbing and descending does.
And what about altitude?
Running a completely flat course above 3,000 metres or 10,000 feet or so may be more difficult
for many of us than a hillier course down at sea level.
This is just one of the variables that makes a race like the Hardrock 100 so difficult,
given that it takes place at an average of around 11,000' while reaching 14,000' a handful
of times.
But that's not all that needs to be considered.
Most longer races in North America allow pacers to join a runner, usually from around the
halfway point.
This is partly for safety reasons, since trail races tend to be located in pretty remote
terrain with all of the risks that come with that, and the fields of runners are much smaller
so you can end up spending a lot of time alone.
But in Europe, where the infrastucture and trail systems are much more developed and
where field sizes tend to be much larger, it's more common for races to not allow pacers.
This was the case at both the Tor Des Geants in the Italian Alps and the Swiss Peaks 360k
that I ran.
This can definitely be more of a challenge mentally, especially for newer runners, although
less so for other.
Audree for example has never had a pacer for a race and she seems to have no problem at
all running alone throughout one or even two nights at a time.
The level of support in terms of aid stations can vary as well.
Tor Des Geants had aid stations pretty much every 10 km, so even though I didn't have
crew, I felt like I had all of the support that I needed.
They even had emergency bivouacs at the top of most of the climbs which they had helicoptered
up where you could rest and get a cup of soup in a pinch.
Swiss Peaks by comparison was a completely different experience.
It was a little longer in distance but with a bit less elevation change.
But Aid stations there were more like 20 km apart instead of 10, and there were no emergency
bivouacs on those peaks.
This meant that I'd often find myself along for hours at a time in the cold of night,
which was mentally much more difficult.
Having Audree crewing me there was essential.
Some races are just difficult mentally in other ways.
I find courses that are either point-to-points or one big loop to be the most inspiring for
me.
It gives me the feeling like I'm really travelling somewhere, and of course you end up seeing
so much more along the way.
Compare this to a course like the Hurt 100, which is basically a series of out-and-backs
where runners really only see something like 18 miles of unique trail.
I could only imagine how tempting it would be to drop at the 80 mile mark when you've
arrived back at your car for the 4th time.
Running at night can be more difficult as well.
The Quebec Mega Trail 100 miler that we ran this summer started at 10pm, and the sun really
didn't come up until about 6am under the canopy.
Audree won the women's race there, finishing around four in the morning, meaning she spent
more than half the race running in darkness.
Having started at in the morning instead of night would have meant the opposite.
The time of year of a race can change this calculation as well.
My first 100 miler was one called Chimera in California which was the last weekend of
November.
Even though we started running there at 5am, it was dark by about 5pm, so again we ended
up spending more time running in darkness than light.
Some races change direction each year.
The world famous Comrades Marathon is a good example this.
It's a roughly 90 km run in South Africa which alternates between a mostly uphill and downhill
course each year.
It would seem obvious at first glance that running downhill would be easier, right?
But those who have run both direction would disagree.
All of that pounding over 90 kms of downhill really does a number on your body, and requires
a different approach to your training.
And if all of these factors weren't enough, some races aren't even flagged or are flagged
more sparsely than others, requiring navigation on top of everything else.
Putting aside obvious examples like Barkley, there are races like Plain 100 which is a
completely self-supported event, which only allows for a single resupply point after the
100k mark.
It allows no pacers, there are no aid stations, and no course markings.
All that with 6400 metres or 21000 feet of elevation gain plus loss.
This race truly is in a class of its own.
Speaking of self-supported runs, many stage races require that you carry your own gear
and nutrition.
The Namib Desert race that I just completed in October was like this.
We had to carry all of our own food, camping equipment, spare clothing, and emergency supplies
for the entire week on our backs, while running between about 40-68km per day.
The only thing we were given was a tent to sleep in at night, hot water to cook our food,
and cold water while on course.
But we carried everything else from start to finish, from our sleeping bags to nutrition.
This was basically like a fastpacking competition on a marked course, something which was right
up my alley.
I barely had to even buy any new gear, yet alone did I have to figure out much around
things like nutrition.
But for many runners, this kind of race means entering an entirely new world of logistics
and planning with a ton of new variables that could sideline a race.
So I hope I've layed the foundation for my core argument, that it's practically impossible
to compare races to one another or to claim that one is tougher than another based on
any of these factors alone.
Is heat more difficult than cold?
Is it harder to run fast for a shorter distance than to run slow for a much longer distance?
How about carrying gear, is that what makes a race hard?
And at what point does navigation during a race make it into more of an orienteering
event?
But perhaps we can control for many of these factors by looking at a few other things.
Namely, a race's finishing rate, its average finishing time, and its cutoff time.
Let's try with a few examples.
The Hardrock 100 that I've already mentioned is a notoriously hard race which takes place
in the San Juan mountains of Colorado.
It combines many of the factors I mentioned above, altitude, some technical terrain, creek
crossings, a lot of elevation change, and often really bad weather.
In fact, it's common to have mid-afternoon lightning storms develop that time of year
after the moisture on the ground evaporates in the warming temperatures throughout the
day.
It's so common, in fact, that this is one of the reasons the Hardrock 100 has a relatively
long cut-off time of 48 hours.
The idea is that runners should have plenty of extra time to head for lower ground and
to shelter from a lightning storm if need-be, instead of feeling pressured to press on over
a potentially very dangerous climb.
And that 48 hours is much longer than the cut-off times for most races.
But consider that the average finishing time of the Hardrock 100 is about 40.5 hours , which
itself is still longer than the cutoff times for most 100 milers.
Now, of the 140 runners selected to toe the line each year, somewhere around 115-125 tend
to make it to the finish line under the cutoff, a finishing rate of about 80-90% which is
actually relatively high.
But you do need to consider the selection bias built-in here, since all of these runners
had to run a qualifying race just to get in to the lottery, and typically at least a few
years in a row before they were finally chosen.
So you know they've run at least one difficult 100 miler before but likely many more than
that.
In fact, many of these finishers have actually finished Hardrock before since the lottery
process does favour what are called veterans of the race, so again there's this additional
bias inherent in these numbers.
Ultimately though, Hardrock favours those who have spent time training at altitude in
the mountains.
Being a native to Colorado, or at least living near similar mountain terrain, definitely
works to your advantage.
Compare this to a very different race, although one that is challenging in its own way, the
Western States Endurance run.
This 100 miler takes place in California, and while it's definitely a trail race, I'm
not sure I'd consider it in the same category as mountain races like Hardrock.
Here there's little risk of storms, of getting lost, or of hypothermia, and runners don't
have to deal with issues like altitude sickness.
There's also much less elevation change, with 18,000 feet of gain plus 23,000 feet of loss,
compared to Hardrock's 33,000' of elevation gain plus equal descent.
Western States is also a really well supported race and it's not uncommon to see runners
carrying nothing but a handheld bottle or two.
But it is a notoriously hot race.
The cutoff for Western States is only 30 hours.
That's 18 hours less than the Hardrock 100.
The average finishing rate here tends to be between around 66-81%, with as many as 36%
of racers finishing in under 24 hours in cooler years.
This is based on a slightly larger field than Hardrock of 250 runners, but with a similarly
difficult lottery process, so there is a bias here towards only the most experienced runners
being included in these stats.
But I think it's safe to say that how you've trained your body to handle the heat is going
to be a major determining factor in your success at this race.
So which race is harder, Hardrock or Western States?
I guess we need to define what we mean by hard.
Do we mean hard for the average runner to finish under cutoffs?
Statistically, it would be tempting to say that Hardrock is easier to finish on paper
at least, based solely on average finishing rates.
It may be the aggressive cutoff time of Western States in combination with the heat there
that creates for its much lower average finishing rates.
But anyone who has stepped foot on the course of the Hardrock 100 will tell you that there's
nothing easy about it.
Just because you have two days to finish doesn't mean runners at the back of the pack are having
an easier time.
Quite the opposite, they're dealing with that much more fatigue and a massive caloric deficit.
One thing that is for sure though, Western States would be a lot less difficult if it
had a similar 48-hour cutoff time as the Hardrock 100, with all else being the same.
Inversely, shortening Hardrock's cutoff time by even just a few hours would make the race
exponentially more difficult.
So you could say that what makes Western States so difficult is the relatively aggressive
cutoff time and really just the expectation that runners tend to set for themselves around
pacing that particular course, despite the heat.
Whereas Hardrock is just a difficult course, no matter the cutoff times.
In fact, really any race could be considered the most difficult in the world, if the cutoff
times are set aggressively enough.
Just look at a race like the Barkley Marathons for an example of this.
It's set in very difficult terrain and with no course markings, but ultimately it's the
very aggressive cut-off times that lead to sleep deprevation and the virtually non-existent
margin of error when it comes to navigation.
Even comparing average finishing rates between races can be difficult.
We'd have to control for races that have no qualification requirements or standards at
all vs those with highly competitive qualification and lottery processes which tends to create
a self-selection bias in terms of the types of people who register in the first place.
Smaller, regional races are likely to have lower finishing rates because of this, but
don't let this fool you into thinking they're necessarily more difficult than the larger
and more competitive races with higher finishing rates.
That might seem obvious, but it's worth considering that most of us 'cut our teeth' and make our
mistakes on these smaller, regional races before signing up for the big shows.
And that's really the point I'm trying to make here.
In choosing your own races, you should consider your own strengths and weaknesses alongside
each of the factors I mentioned previously.
Do you like to run fast on the flats, or are you stronger when it comes to power hiking?
How about running on technical terrain?
Consider how much time you'll actually have to dedicate to your training, as well as the
type of terrain you'll have access to.
It's not to say that you can't train for a race like Hardrock or Tor Des Geants on a
treadmill, but you'll get much better results if you can spend at least a couple of weekends
in the mountains.
Consider the time of year and the environment as well, both where you live and where the
race is taking place.
Again, you could try to prepare for the heat at a race like Western States by doing heat
training in a sauna, but running outside in the cold probably isn't going to cut it.
And think about all of those other little things that can make a big difference, especially
when tackling newer distances, everything from how much time you'll be running at night
to how far apart the aids stations are and whether you'll be allowed to have a pacer.
And above all, manage your expectations.
Just because you live somewhere low and flat doesn't mean you can't race somewhere high
and hilly, but just don't expect to perform the same as if you were a local.
It's important to get out of our comfort zone and to challenge ourselves to new things,
but doing so could turn what would be a relatively "easy" race for some into the hardest race
in the world for you.
And that might just be the kind of challenge you're looking for.