Ultramarathon Daily News | Mon, June 3

IRF/Justin Mock: All the trail and ultramarathon results from this past weekend. A few thoughts:
-Elisa Descu took second at Zegama (to a soccer player turned MUT runner!), and I like iRunFar’s policy of pointing out her PED ban with every mention of her name.
-Kilian at Zegama…9th win, but he still doesn’t have the CR. I didn’t know that until this morning.
-Kaytlyn, Ladia, and Maria at the Red Devil Challenge 50k. Nice little tune up!

Tough: Gabe Grunewald tells the grim reaper “not today” and finishes her burger. Wow.

Everest: Martin Breshears’ comments about the Everest deaths sounds an awful lot like my opinion of some pacers in ultramarathons.

Marketing/PR: The North Face snuck logos and ad pics into Wikipedia entries and everybody’s freaking out. Only two comments about this: First, the ad person who gloated about the hack is an idiot. Keep it to yourself, dude. And also, this is something people are getting outraged about?

Speaking of PR, are you looking for a new PR gig in the outdoor space? Check this out.

The Guardian: Adharanand Finn writes about his introduction into the ultramarathon scene and how it’s affected his life. Here’s out chat with Adharanand from last year.

Kevin Beck: Kevin writes/rants about a recent fall start by a girls HS distance runner and how rules and fans affect the kids and the future of the sport. The video is painful to watch…what do you think?

LessonsInBadassery: Camille Herron gives a good interview with the focus on doping in our sport. With her background in road racing and science, she’s got a unique perspective. Good read…check it out.

WTA: I love this idea of taking a slow and deliberate hike on a trail I’d normally run on.

Do you:
Have some extra airline miles?
Want to get away from the hot summer?
Have some time to fill?
If so, consider some of these lower profile races in Australia/NZ, courtesy of the guys at Ultra168.

Beer: More bars serving NA and low-alcohol drinks. Woohoo!

TIME: Is our obsession with health data making us crazy?

RIP: Northern Calfornia and the greater ultramarathon scene lost a good one last week. Mark Richtman, an absolute powerhouse 60+ runner (10:10 at Miwok 100k at age 61) was lost at sea while kayaking and is presumed dead. John Trent wrote an emotional and powerful remembrance of Mark on FB and I’d urge you to check it out.

How to become a better trail parasite.

And hey, did you get your Lazy Trail Parasite shirt yet?

15 Responses to "Ultramarathon Daily News | Mon, June 3"

Aaron Stewart says:

June 3, 2019 at 8:43 am

Killian had the course record until Stian took it very recently in fact!

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scott says:

June 3, 2019 at 9:03 am

Re: North Face
I get people being upset. It’s insidious. It’s invasive. Digital graffiti when you just want to learn about/see nature.
There are likely many people who considered that brand on “their side” so it feels like a betrayal. The brand that represents the outdoors for so many people is putting themselves ahead of the outdoors.
You can expect advertising in so many facets of your life but you feel safe on a site like that.

I think it’s pretty shitty on a personal level. And professionally just such a huge miss when you think about their demo or the image they try to portray. They fucked up real bad and the person who thought it was a good idea to promote the work they did is beyond out of touch.

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scott says:

June 3, 2019 at 9:04 am

I say all this as someone who doesn’t own anything by the brand and has never had an interest in their races.

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moses vaughan says:

June 3, 2019 at 9:11 am

unfortunately, the link to the emotional and powerful remembrance of the great Mark Richtman…seems to be broken…
But I will say this: Mark was a stuning athlete…and a genuinely nice guy. Although he was clearly driven and competetive; his ego always well under under control, and he maintained an open and sharing relationship with all us back-markers. He will be gretly missed.

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1. eric schranz says:
  
  June 3, 2019 at 5:40 pm
  
  Moses, here’s John’t lovely piece about Mark, for those without FaceBook:
  
  Mark Richtman: An appreciation
  It’s been a tough last few days if you are an ultra runner. Outside Online, usually a bastion for thoughtful discourse, dropped all sense of the careful value of language, made a grab for the clicks and ran a headline that had all of the sensitivity of a tweet from the president of the United States, calling trail runners “parasites.” Then, on Friday, there was another online headline, this one in the Marin Independent Journal far more personal for many of us who knew the man involved: “Authorities end search in Tomales Bay for missing kayaker.”
  Mark Richtman, 64, perhaps the greatest age group runner ultra running has ever seen and certainly one of the greatest endurance athletes of his time, was gone. Mark went out on his kayak on Wednesday. He never returned. Search and Rescue, aided by dozens of ultra runners, many of them Mark’s closest trail friends, scoured the area for the better part of a day. By late Thursday the search was called off. On Friday night a candlelight vigil was held at the Marin Catholic High School track in Kentfield, where Mark, along with his good friends, Tim and Diana Fitzpatrick, had coached the cross country team for many years. Mark had been a fixture for the Tamalpa Running Club, and his friends and teammates from Tamalpa were out in force during the vigil as well.
  Mark’s loss goes far beyond the fact that Mark re-defined age and athleticism in the ways that he re-wrote the record books. My concept of how to grow old with power and grace always included a mental snapshot of Mark, who was tall and handsome with gray hair so primal and thick it looked like it belonged to a different time. He looked like he could’ve easily passed for a general of one of Jon Snow’s armies of the North. Mark was so adept physically he not only could command his own body to run long distances exceedingly fast, he could influence the bodies of the horses he rode to greatness as well. There was a point in his career in the sport of Ride and Tie where he had won more world championships than anyone else.
  As a runner, he ran the kind of times runners half his age would’ve sold their souls to achieve. At 47 he finished third overall in the 2002 Western States 100-miler, running 17:59, finishing behind only the soon-to-be legend Scott Jurek and Leadville 100 champion Steve Peterson. In 2015, he set the world record for the 60 to 64 age group for 50 kilometers on the track at Desert Solstice. He ran 6:13 for 50 miles at Jed Smith at age 56.
  This is all well and good, and certainly reason to cheer. But the reason why we need to always remember Mark Richtman isn’t because he was a handsome, strong man who ran times that re-defined age-grouping in our sport. There was a lot more to him than just his running. He spent more time at Western States volunteering than he ever did running. He was part of the Tamalpa group that for years has helped run the Ruck-a-Chuck river crossing aid station at mile 78. If he wasn’t there, he was crewing or pacing his friends on race day. There were years when he wouldn’t race much, if at all. He had family and he had friends and as intoxicating as it must be to win races and set records, there was a gentle, friendly side to Mark that was just as pervasive as his presence at the front of the pack. At yoga sessions he would jokingly say all the runners needed to be in the front row. Whenever people needed advice, he was there to offer some jarring specifics (take a look at his Strava sometime and you’ll see how hard the man could train) and some light-hearted alternatives.
  He was aware of you, even if you didn’t realize he had realized it. I found this out in 2016. It was the spring following my youngest daughter Katie’s finish at Western States. Katie was 22 then, and had finished with just three and a half minutes to spare at the 2015 Western States. I was out running in the canyons a few months later. I saw a strong, formidable figure coming up at me, moving quickly, even though he was climbing uphill. He wore a singlet with the middle cut off. With flowing gray hair, pushed back in a careless ‘80s rocker’s sort of way with a Buff, his belly bare and there for everyone to see, it was a look that many of us could never, ever have the personal audacity or confidence to pull off. Yet the way Mark wore it, it wasn’t an arrogant look at all. Mark was an engineer by training. So everything on his body was always about streamlining, about efficiency, about covering as much as ground as aerodynamically, as powerfully and as quickly as possible.
  I was stumbling on the downhill. He was all power as he ran up. Our eyes met. A huge grin crossed his face.
  “There’s the proud Dad!” Mark yelled, pointing at me.
  We exchanged high-fives. I kept stumbling. Mark kept powering. He disappeared in a matter of seconds. I turned around just to check if everything that had happened had actually happened. There was still dust rising from the trail. But Mark, moving faster uphill than I was down, was already gone.
  I’ve thought about that moment a lot over the past few days. Sure, it was neat to have a record-setting age-group athlete acknowledge me. The power he exhibited in that moment was like standing in the slipstream of a jet and almost getting pulled along with him. But what has stayed with me more is something much more elemental and less metaphysical, less about Mark re-defining age with his running excellence and more about his words pulling me into something shared and lasting. Here we were, two dads out running, and one dad knew what it meant to point out to another dad that he was aware of a recent success. Usually it’s the other way around. Most parents wish to call out their own children’s exploits without much prompting. Here Mark was, giving me license to be a proud dad. Mark knew all about Katie’s finish, and must’ve known how proud I was of my youngest daughter. My sense from that day has always been that Mark, too, was no doubt a proud dad and husband. Why else would he have said what he did, in the way that he did, to me? The best souls, whether they race at warp speed or turtle speed, always have a way of reflecting goodness back at others, of taking a compliment and making sure that the adulation they receive can also be about the rest of us, too.
  I have a feeling I’m not alone in feeling this way. In scrolling through Facebook over the past couple of days, it’s been obvious that Mark had a profound and loving influence on the people he knew.
  There was this from Victor Ballesteros, like Mark a gracious and kind soul who when need be will run you off your feet: “His running accomplishments and records are blinding achievements. Even more blinding was the light that came from his heart. He gave so much to his friends and community. His smile was infectious and his conversation always looked forward to. Partly in jest and partly out of respect I had gotten into the habit of calling him Mr. Richtman. Coming from me, he always thought that was funny. I’m honestly in a bit of shock, but can only imagine that of his wife, family, and students he coached. My deepest condolences go out to all. The universe has lost a brilliant soul. Thank you Mr. Richtman for your light. I will carry it always in my heart.”
  There was this, from another age group champion, Roy Pirrung: “Mark and I crossed paths a few times. More recently he shared with me the records he broke, that were once mine. Happy he got them, as we had mutual respect and a passion to challenge ourselves and remain humble. My prayers go out to his family.”
  And there was this from Shannon Yewell Weil, one of the founding forces behind the success of the Western States Endurance Run and a longtime horsewoman. She recalled a long-ago gathering, at one of those legendary parties held by Janet Furman where the gathering was often eclectic, funky and maybe in a running way, a bit Warholian, long before Mark ever set any age group records, where she introduced Mark to what Western States was.
  “He hadn’t ever heard of it,” Shannon wrote. “I knew he would love it though and he sure did.”
  I AM AT THE AGE now where it’s a given, and maybe others are the same way. You find yourself increasingly rooting for the age-groupers. I can still remember almost passing out at the finish line when Gunhild Swanson became the oldest woman to ever finish Western States with just seconds to spare in that glorious year of 2015, when Katie, the youngest finisher that year, finished only a couple of minutes ahead of 71-year-old strong-striding Gunhild.
  Do we root harder for these people because we wish to be like them? Maybe. Maybe in our dreams, in the way we wish we can become Hollywood actors or actresses. When we are awake, though, we see our champion age-groupers as examples of the humanly possible, of our strongest, highest and best examples of those who are fighting the diminution of old age with strength and not fear; with grace and not (too much) complaint; with determination and not hopelessness, with daily curiosity and not bored surrender. The hardest part about growing old isn’t growing old. It’s fighting the urge to give up. These folks seemingly never do. That said, these folks are not perfect, by any stretch, and their task, even if they are more physically gifted than the rest of us, is no less formidable. Each day is a daily struggle to find physical equilibrium and psychological purpose. Some days, I’m sure, the joy of remaining fit and performing at a high level can spiral into the self-doubt of “Is this all worth it?” I remember in 2007, after my then-60-year-old friend, Lon Monroe, had finished Western States for the eighth time. As Lon rolled around uncomfortably on an air mattress on the unpleasant and baking infield grass of the Placer High School track on Sunday, just before the awards were presented, he groaned to no one in particular, “Guys my age are considered a hero just for playing a round of golf. I just ran a hundred miles. Why in the hell do I keep doing this to myself? What is wrong with me?”
  Nothing was wrong with Lon, or any of the others we look to for inspiration in our running lives.
  When I think about Mark Richtman, and why he will be remembered, my mind drifts not to the records and the victories and the times he ran that re-set the Clock of the Possible for age group athletes. That part seems short-sighted to me. His running career was superb. His human performance, though great, is far exceeded by his humane performance. This is why when I think of Mark I don’t necessarily think of his 6:13 50-miler at Jed Smith a few years ago, or the dozens of age group records he set. I think instead of a man who embraced the full, rich kaleidoscope of life and was all-in and attended Janet Furman parties. I think of a man who was beloved by his high school runners. Who was beloved by the people he coached with, Diana and Tim Fitzpatrick. Who was beloved by his Tamalpa teammates. Who didn’t feel it was beneath him to stand out in the middle of the night and work the Ruck-a-Chuck aid station with his friends from the Bay Area. Who didn’t care in the least if his rocker’s hair and his cut-off singlets and exposed belly seemed like anachronisms.
  When I think of Mark Richtman, I think of a man who lived an incredibly full life. I think of a man who seemed constitutionally incapable of doing anything in his life without trying to do it to the very best of his ability. That included running very fast. That he was a little faster than the rest of us is actually kind of immaterial. That he was like so many of us, in so many other more important ways, is everything.
  From one proud dad to another, may you rest in peace, Mark.
  
  Reply
tmfjones says:

June 3, 2019 at 10:26 am

the people who are always outraged about others’ outrage in a time of institutional collapse and remarkable environmental and social injustice should probably…reflect on themselves somewhat.

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Andrew says:

June 3, 2019 at 10:29 am

Scott,

I am not sure I have ever heard a bigger exaggeration of something so slight in my life. How they will ever get over this “betrayal” is beyond me. It’s just too much hyperbole: “insidious” and “invasive” Come on, man.

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Matt says:

June 3, 2019 at 12:16 pm

I think you meant David Breshears.

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Will says:

June 3, 2019 at 12:17 pm

Every time I read a Kevin Beck article, any point he makes is obfuscated by his deranged writing style. I am not left thinking about if the girl should have been given a warning vs a DQ, I don’t ponder the ethics of sharing a video like that on twitter, but rather I worry that I am reading the ramblings of a demented, disenfranchised man that will one day hurt someone.

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Dan F says:

June 3, 2019 at 1:38 pm

It was definitely one of those “wtf did I just read?!” moments.
In terms of my thoughts, I don’t know the rules about t&f in that regard (never participated myself), but it seems pretty sad they couldn’t just give her a warning and try the start again.

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scott says:

June 3, 2019 at 1:41 pm

Andrew, if you’re familiar with what those words mean you’ll understand their usage in this context. It’s quite literal.
I’m jealous these are the most hyperbolic sentences you’ve ever seen.

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Andy Aitch says:

June 3, 2019 at 4:35 pm

I have no idea what the guy was talking about with the girl’s track race video. Lots of swearing and blaming somebody for something, I think. Oh well.
The girl was obviously upset, it’s a shame this moment in time is being spread around the internet (mostly by adults, I assume?). Stuff like this benefits no one.

Reply
alonewolfrunning says:

June 3, 2019 at 6:28 pm

The track video, i can’t really speak to that article or whatever you’d call that. But feel bad for the runner. Total bummer i’m sure. Something she will get over and grow from though no doubt. Agree Andy, too bad we all are watching it however perhaps a learning opportunity there. I hope the kid gets over it quick, in my own library of embarrassing moments that’s nothing!

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Tom Church says:

June 4, 2019 at 9:28 am

Reagarding the Wisconsin track runner, I see a passionate athlete who lost her balance at the start line. Could the official have given her a warning? Why not. This is high school and officials are there to enforce the rules but also teach the athletes the rules and about fair play. Will she move on from this? Most likely. She assumably has a college career ahead of her at the least.

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Ultramarathon Daily News | Thurs, June 20 | Ultrarunnerpodcast.com says:

June 20, 2019 at 5:35 am

[…] his post about the upset HS track runner from a few weeks ago (and your subsequent comments here) and does a good job explaining and defending what a personal blog is meant for. I love the rawness […]

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