About a decade ago, coming off of surgery for a torn meniscus and some dire warnings from the orthopedic surgeon about how I would need a knee replacement in five years time [Oops, wrongo], I became a dedicated, five days a week gym rat for a few years.
In order to give myself a goal, I signed up for a sprint triathlon that was far enough in the future that I had several months to prepare. Good thing, as it turned out. When the eventual day of competition arrived, I was given a t-shirt that read “Not Last”. That turned out to be a fine prophecy as I indeed did not finish last. Or even next to last.
But because I can’t do anything without researching it, during the time of training I came to know something of a very particular world of athletic pursuit that involves a footrace that originated in Australia in 1983 called the "ultra-marathon".
As it sounds, ultra-marathons cover over 550 miles of rough terrain for, well, for however many days or weeks it takes for the contestants to finish. If they do. It is the rough equivalent of 21 combined marathons.
Naturally, this pursuit attracts every extreme sportsman or sportswoman, including the standard collection of nutters who desire to prove something by completing this grueling trial. They are fit, trim, and appropriately muscled. If you saw them, there would be no mistaking an ultra-marathoner.
Well, except for one, who originally was thought to be just another nutter. And why not, considering that he showed up for the ultra-marathon having never competed in even a standard marathon, was already past his 60th birthday, was a farmer from the middle of nowhere, and chose to run in gardening boots?
Oh, he had arthritis in his legs, too.
Apparently, to be a successful farmer from the middle of Nowhere, Australia, where vehicles cannot manage the terrain, one needs to be able to herd the sheep on foot, mainly by chasing after them. For days on end. Hence, Cliff Young figured a race like this would not be any different than what he had been doing on the farm his entire life. Well, except for the chasing sheep part.
You can maybe guess the rest. At the start of the race all the ultra-marathoners took off leaving Cliff the Nutter in their considerable wake. After 17 hours, the runners retired for the evening. The next morning, much to their surprise, Cliff Young was in the lead.
Perhaps I should have mentioned that when Young was herding his sheep, it was not unusual for him to run all over his 2000 acres for days at a time without stopping to sleep or eat. I should also mention that he didn’t realize he would be permitted to sleep.
Is there an adjective more extreme than "extreme”?
To make a long story short, Young won the race. In fact, so dominant was he that, in a later ultra-marathon, he would break his record by two whole days.
When he was presented with the prize check, he revealed that he had not realized there was money involved. He just did it for a lark. In a moment of pure Australian-ness, he divided the prize money between the other contestants, as he felt they had worked just as hard as he had.
Young would set six more long-distance running records before his career ended. He would also compete again in the Sydney-Melbourne Ultramarathon in his 79th year while battling cancer. He finished the race, of course.
I should add that along the way he changed the running style of long-distance runners. Suddenly, every extreme athlete in the world was running like a mildly deranged Aussie farmer. It turns out that physiologists realized that Young's natural running style was the most efficient for that type of foot-racing.
He died in 2003 at the age of 81, still tending to his flock, an Australian hero to the end. As a perfect end-note, the prize money that he had won over the years he did not keep but gave to charities or friends and family in need.
I'd give anything to see you run an ultramarathon in gardening boots. Maybe a flock of sheep follwing behind you? Great story!
Do you think Jeremy Clarkson will be the next farmer to compete in this 😂😂