The PM’s ultra granny set an exacting standard
It can be easy to think of the accomplishment of longdistance feats as a modern phenomenon. And it’s sometimes said that the popularity of ultramarathons (yes, that’s a thing) is a pushback against the easy life we have these days: you know, ‘‘oh, sigh, I need to challenge myself – I’m going to run a marathon, or 100 kilometres, or more... just to feel alive’’.
Modernity has inveigled us with softness to such an extent that we feel we need to prove our toughness, to show ourselves that we are made of sterner stuff.
It’s the curse of the contemporary lifestyle.
Which is to infer that striding out for long distances is something our Victorian forebears would think is strange. But distance events now are barely a patch on some of the butt-kicking, brutal events of a century ago.
In fact, in the 1870s ‘‘pedestrians’’, as these athletes were called then, took on extraordinary challenges which drew huge crowds and big bets.
The competitors were celebrities in their own right – and in New Zealand, two of the biggest stars were Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern’s greatgreat grandparents.
Joseph and Catherine Wiltshire frequently appeared in the newspapers for events which by today’s standards are tough.
Joseph’s obituary noted that he had completed 1000 miles in 1000 hours three times, each hour completing no more than a mile. That doesn’t sound like much – how hard is it to get through one mile? But think of the sleep deprivation? Every hour you have to get up and do it again.
The late, great running historian David Colquhoun described the event as a classic in early 19th-century pedestrianism.
Joseph also specialised in completing 250 miles in 100 hours, with no more than 2.5 miles per hour. Again, sounds easy – but you try going over four days with hardly any sleep.
Poor Joseph was a bit of a gambler, challenging doubters through letters to the editor in newspapers and betting that he could compete various events.
According to the Prime Minister, things didn’t turn out all that well for her great-great grandfather, his career plagued
by poor attendance and debts. But her great-great grandmother was a different story altogether.
‘‘She was, at that time, the greatest female pedestrian in the world,’’ Ardern noted in a speech marking women’s suffrage (Catherine’s signature was on the 1893 petition).
Her reputation was cemented when she walked 100 miles in under 24 hours, which Conquhoun believes was ‘‘very likely the first time a woman had achieved a 24-hour hundred miler’’. It was performed before a hollering crowd in what was then Auckland’s city hall, circling around and around. ‘‘As she rounded the bend the hats and handkerchiefs went up, the applause was deafening,’’ Ardern said in her speech.
But don’t think Catherine was honoured solely for her athletic abilities. The Herald, for instance, thought it OK to record that she was ‘‘pleasing, and of good figure’’.
Endurance events these days don’t attract large crowds of spectators. But they remain popular and the boundaries are once again being pushed.
In May, in a ‘‘last person standing’’ event in Auckland called the Riverhead Backyard ReLaps Ultra, competitors will have to complete one lap of a 6.7km lap each hour, starting on the hour, until there is only one person left.
The winner gets an entry to the Big Dog Backyard Ultra in the United States, where this year it came down to two athletes, Courtney Dauwalter and Johan Steene.
Dauwalter, one of the toughest endurance athletes in the world, man or woman, eventually called it quits after 67 laps – that’s 67 hours – leaving Steene to finish one more loop for the win.
The Victorian crowds would have been throwing up their hats and handkerchiefs, for sure.
Distance events now are barely a patch on some of the buttkicking, brutal events of a century ago.