Fifteen years doesn’t seem like such a long time, but in terms of how athletes, events, gear and media have evolved, 15 feels more like 50 years in the sport of ultrarunning.
Rewind back to 2009 (“rewind” being a term that dates me), when I was a young 40-year-old and stoked to compete in a new age group. I could be found running trails in the Bay Area hills wearing a brick-shaped Garmin 305 on my wrist and Asics GT-2000s on my feet. I also used a first-generation hydration pack with an awkward reservoir because soft flasks were not yet a thing.
For three years, I poured myself into training for one of the toughest ultras in the region: the Ohlone 50K. The point-to-point course traversed two formidable peaks and was so challenging that I had to give it my all to break 6 hours, when typically, I’d be trying to break 5 hours in other regional 50ks.
At Ohlone, I looked forward to reconnecting with the legendary 14-time Western States Endurance Run champion Ann Trason, since she would volunteer at an aid station at the base of a steep climb: Goat Hill. She’d offer me a cup of Coke (cupless races weren’t yet a thing) and say, “You can do it – you’re just gonna love that hill!”
I, and others, who’ve been in this sport for decades, tend to get nostalgic about past races and characters who shaped the scene a generation earlier. But why? One could argue that ultrarunning – both the sport and its culture – just keeps getting better.
Today, ultrarunning has a bigger, more diverse community with up-and-comers setting new records and redefining what’s possible. The sport has more races to choose from and a fan base who can follow along thanks to mushrooming social media, podcasts, livestreaming and brands promoting their sponsored athletes. There is a dizzying array of shoes, clothing, gear and nutrition products that we could never have imagined back in the days dominated by PowerBars, Gatorade and ERG (“Energy Replacement with Glucose”).
The sport now feels more professional, pervasive and prospering. So, what is it that I miss about the ultra scene?
A lot of my nostalgia boils down to what we did not use while running in those earlier days: the now-ubiquitous iPhone with its texting, camera, video, Strava and other apps that keep us online.
At old-school ultras like the Ohlone 50K, runners focused on two things: following the trail and its markings to avoid getting lost (since no one had map apps), and racing and connecting with the runners. Although some bloggers took photos while running – usually with lightweight digital cameras, not their phone – for the most part, no one considered visually capturing and broadcasting their experience. We weren’t taking selfies, making calls or answering texts. We didn’t care about creating Instagram and TikTok reels because no one sought to be an influencer, except to a small degree, those of us who were bloggers and wrote race reports for a tiny audience.
The smart phone – along with videography, drones and broadcasting – fundamentally changed the experience of running ultras in both positive and negative ways. The upside includes the inspiration, excitement and professionalism the race coverage lends to sponsored athletes, which enhances their ability to earn an income doing their sport. One also might argue that cultivating an online following of an ultra through livestreaming grows and enhances the sport’s community.
But to me, running “plugged in” – receiving notifications, texting and creating performative photos and videos mid-run – dilutes some key characteristics I’ve loved about this sport since the beginning, in particular, the intimate friendship-building, humility and immersive experience that happens when sharing a tough run while unplugged.
We can, however, choose to experience a pre-iPhone, pre-social media way of running. I raced an incredible off-the-grid, self-supported, week-long stage race in September – the 171-mile Grand to Grand Ultra – which promotes itself not only as a harder version of Marathon des Sables, but also as an opportunity for a “digital detox.” Participants were not allowed to text or transmit any data or use GPS for the week.
Being offline for a full week, with device-free running and downtime, felt like the good old days when runners focused purely on moving down the trail, finding markers to avoid getting lost and talking to one another. The atmosphere among the small group of competitors (56 starters, 38 finishers) quickly became close-knit and convivial since no one was looking at their phones or posting to social media. We simply ran a stage each day and then sat around talking.
However, you don’t have to sign up for a multi-day stage race for this throwback, offline experience. Support smaller races that have a lower profile and less media coverage and run unplugged.
Whatever ultras you choose to run, I challenge you to try to keep your phone off or in airplane mode the entire time. Keep it out of reach, carrying it just in case of emergency. Take pictures with your mind, instead of your phone, to observe and experience the race. Disconnect from the world outside the event and connect with runners and volunteers around you, and run for the sake of running.