RUNNING WILD
Ultra-marathons set on breathtaking — and often rough — terrain are sure to earn you bragging rights,
There’s no agreement on what an ultra-marathon is, other than being long and hard and usually stretched across rocky trails, somewhere in the woods. The trail part is important, because the only thing more grinding that running 80 kilometres, 100 km, 160 km or more non-stop is doing it on pavement, without the benefit of branches overhead, or the occasional stream to splash through.
It would be a mistake, though, to see “ultras” only as unfathomable excesses. Often, they ’re set in spectacular backcountry terrain, or exotic wonderlands you couldn’t see any other way.
Admittedly, running through the night or deep into the wild (or both) is an acquired taste. But if you’re up for something unique and entirely breathtaking, here are five stunning adventures to explore at length. Rim to Rim to Rim, The Grand Canyon There are signs, as soon as you enter Grand Canyon Village that hiking either the 11-km or 13-km trails to the bottom and back in a single day is extremely ill-advised and not to be tried without talking to park staff and your doctor first.
There are no warnings posted about running all the way down, along the canyon floor, then 23 km up to the other side, before turning around and doing the entire thing in reverse, in one go. They don’t bother mentioning that, because it is nuts.
And yet the 78-km trek is absolutely incredible and in truth, doable, more or less. I, and several other runners, did it in13 hours, starting at 4:45 a.m. and taking only short breaks to eat, drink and steady ourselves. The views were beyond divine, from the first step down to the last stagger up. The Panama Canal, Panama You cannot actually run along the canal, at least not for very long. But you can trace its journey, beginning in the (seriously sketchy) port of Colon on the Atlantic side, through a series of shantytowns, then into a spooky and wondrous rainforest, before connecting with the canal and into Panama City, 80 km away.
We ran through the night, on the soft shoulder of the old highway. It is a dusty strip favoured by dogs and drunks and spiced up at various intervals with some major-league cock fighting. That’s one raucous sport. The most memorable moment came after midnight in the immense Soberania National Park, when one of our gang of four, a doctor, administered an IV to another in the group suffering from severe dehydration.
In pitch darkness at the side of the road, we all laid down, only for a transport truck to arrive out of nowhere, screech to a halt, pause and then roar off into the night. Cayuga Trails 50, Ithaca, N.Y. Unlike the aforementioned adventures, this one is actually a race. Indeed, for the past two years, it has been the U.S. 50-mile (80-km) trail championships, which sounds much more intimidating and official than it should. It just means a few of the skinnier cats come out.
The course connects two state parks, crosses through creeks, passes by waterfalls and hugs the side of a stunning gorge. (“Ithaca is Gorges” posters dot the town, which seems cheesy, until you see those gorges up close.) You rarely finish an 80-km run wishing to go further, but this setting is so beautiful it was sad to stop. Almost. Sinister 7, Crowsnest Pass, Alta. With a name reminiscent of a scary ski run, you could be forgiven for a little eye-rolling. How fearsome could it be, given that 1,400 people rush to sign up each year? Well, tough enough. (The race typically sells out in 10 minutes.)
The 161-km course drags you across seven stages; through streams, deep into valleys, then up, up, up atop the Rockies. If the Gods are kind and the skies are clear, the views from atop any one of the southern Alberta mountain passes are mind-boggling. The winner finishes in 18 hours. More than half quietly quit and enjoy the scenery long before that. Ultra-Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB), Chamonix, France This 166-km loop around Mont Blanc is the Boston Marathon of ultra-running — if Boston required three races to qualify, allowed in a fraction of the field and took 40 hours to complete.
The course stretches across the Alps, beginning in France, ascending into Italy, through Swiss countryside, before returning to Chamonix, having climbed roughly 9,600 metres from start to finish. And roughly is the right word.
Race officials warn you need a “real capacity for personal autonomy,” which, translated loosely, means “Suck it up, buttercup.”
There are glaciers, meadows and mountain passes on every side; what’s better than a little exercise along the way?