Extreme sports were once considered the exclusive domain of men. Nicky Redl explores the trailblazing world of female ultrarunners.

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The sport of ultra trail running has boomed in recent years, with 80,000 ultramarathon finishes in the USA alone last year.

The races are anything longer than the conventional marathon of 42 kilometres—hence the ‘ultra’ prefix.

Often, the races span 100 miles or more. They can take over a day to run in their entirety.

They’re single-stage races, too. On hundred-mile races, cut-off times generally kick in after 30 hours.

That means participants don’t generally get time for much more rest than a sit-down or a quick nap to rest.

The famous Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc series in the European Alps attracts about 10,000 runners across various distances each year.

While the sport is still male-dominated, the number of female competitors has in recent years risen far more than the number of men.

In the USA, women now make up nearly a third of the ultramarathon field.

So what makes extreme distances so attractive to women? One way to find out is to ask a genuine ultramarathon trailblazer

Ann Trason, an American endurance runner, is a legend in the ultrarunning community. She has broken 20 world records. She’s never forgotten the first time she trained on the Western States Trail.

‘It captured something in me. I just felt it was in my blood. I can’t explain the beauty, the freedom.’

Trason started running ultramarathons in the ’80s, when women were still a much rarer sight on the trail. For her, long-distance running is a way of life.

‘My favourite runs are things where I run across the Sierras by myself,’ she says.

‘I would just do these runs and mail my clothes somewhere and spend the night, and then run back to my car a different way. That’s my favorite thing to do in the world.’

Long-distance running hasn’t always been inclusive of women. Until 1971, women were banned from the world-famous Boston Marathon.

When Kathrine Switzer ran it in 1967 after not identifying as a woman on her race registration, the race director tried to physically force her off the course.

Despite finishing the race, Switzer was disqualified because of her gender.

In the ’80s Trason found most people very supportive, although some still had difficulty getting used to female ultrarunners.

One male trail running friend told her that she didn’t have the right genes for what he termed a ‘man’s sport’. Trason would later run into him during the Western States race.

‘When I passed him, I asked him how his genes were doing,’ she chuckles.

Trason won the women’s division that year and every year she ran it thereafter—a total of 14 times.

Here’s a biological quirk: the longer the race, the better chances women seem to have at narrowing the gap to male top runners or even winning races outright.

At the Sydney marathon, the female winner is usually at least 20 minutes behind the male winner. For an ultramarathon covering four times that distance, you’d naturally assume the time difference would multiply—but that’s not always the case.

At the Western States 100, Ann Trason twice came second overall—once, she was minutes behind the male overall winner.

In the 135 Mile Badwater Ultramarathon, where competitors run in boiling temperatures of up to 50 degrees through America’s Death Valley, US competitor Pam Reed crossed the finish line ahead of the fastest men twice.

Making time to train and compete is a challenge in itself, especially when raising a family—but some competitors just get them involved.

Ana Braga-Levaggi, 56, has completed eight of the toughest 100-mile races in the USA. Her husband—a keen cyclist—provides more than moral support. ‘My husband is very involved and hands on, whether he paces me or in giving me what I need.’

It’s a family affair: her daughters time her breaks and make sure she keeps moving, and find plenty of inspiration in their mother’s achievements.

‘Ultrarunning brings us together. My perception of my mom transcends from personal chauffeur/macaroni maker into hero,’ Braga-Levaggi’s daughter Bella wrote in a college essay.

The USA is still the world’s ultrarunning hub, but the sport is growing fast in Australia, with over 100 annual ultras.

The Ultra-Trail Australia is a trail running event that attracts thousands of people to the Blue Mountains for its 100 and 50 kilometre distances each year.

One hundred miles isn’t the limit, either. Australia’s Coast to Kosciuszko ultramarathon is 240 kilometres long, from Twofold Bay in New South Wales to the summit of the country’s highest mountain, Mount Kosciuszko.

Age plays less of a defining role in ultramarathons than it does for other styles of running. Meghan Arbogast holds the Western States record for women over the age of 50 and still finishes races ahead of younger competitors.

She believes older runners have some advantages in endurance sports.

‘Partly, it takes the body a long time to adapt and get that strong,’ she said at a trail running training camp on the Western States course.

‘I think we get mentally more tough the older we are.’

With age, runners can also become more patient and learn to pace themselves better over long distances.

Arbogast runs 100 miles a week and is still as fast as she was years ago.

‘There are a lot of 40 or 50-year-old women who are thinking, “She’s still doing it. I don’t have to slow down when I’m 45 or 50 or 55, I can still do this,”‘ Arbogast says.

‘That matters to me.’

Broadcast on ABC Radio National’s Life Matters on February 4, 2016, and published on ABC Online.

“No peein’ off the porch” is the sign that greets me as I wait on Craig Thornley’s deck.

He is in the kitchen to make tea and one of his cats is keeping an eye on me from under a wooden bench. What do Western States runners get up to on their race director’s porch?

Once he joins me with two mugs, he tells me it was just one guy, but he was a repeat offender. Some house rules might be inevitable, given how full his and his wife Laurie’s house can get come June.  The location is no accident – the race director lives just a mile from the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run finish line.

Listen to the full interview with Western States Race Director Craig Thornley:

This week, thousands of runners around the world enter the lottery in the hope of scoring a spot in this iconic race from Squaw Valley to Auburn, California. Numbers are capped at less than 400 runners, due to permits.

The organizers want to balance being an elite event that grants some top athletes automatic entry with being inclusive by giving also slower runners who have managed to qualify a chance to participate. Either way, those chances are slim and stand at less than 5% at first try. The most consecutive years you qualify and enter, the better the odds.

WS has come a long way in four decades. Originally a 100-mile race for horses called the Tevis Cup, a man called Gordy Ainsleigh one day decided to run it, and finished in under 24 hours.

“He obviously had something in his head that not too many of us were, at least, able to show that we had it. So he decides to run,” Craig Thornlesays.

After that first finish in 1974, the race doctor thought it was a once-in-a-lifetime feat that no one would ever duplicate.

“It was just so far out there to think of running in these kind of temperatures and this terrain, the canyons are just not very friendly, and he just started this crazy sport. It wasn’t that he started ultrarunning, but it was covering 100 miles in this type of terrain, ” Craig says.

By now, thousands have finished WS and many thousands more want to run it.

The training weekends, such as the Memorial weekend I took part in, are one way to see much of the course without winning the race lottery. Anyone can take part, and volunteers often include highly accomplished runners with a long WS history, such as Tim Twietmeyer or Ann Trason.

Craig sees runners off in the morning and greet everyone with a big smile and some hugs at the finish line each day.

The race director has grown up with this race. When Craig was a teenager, it found him in the form of an exhausted runner tumbling out of the woodwork as he and his brother were out camping.

The runner wanted to know where the aid station was. The brothers had no idea what he was talking about, but they never forgot the look in his eyes.

“Not blank, but there’s definitely a whole lot going on and we just knew that we have to experience whatever they are experiencing. You could read a lot into those eyes,” Craig said.

After working the Dusty Corners aid station for 10 years, Craig ran the race for the first time in 2001 and finished, a feat he has pulled of seven times since, always in under 24 hours.

Finishing in one day earns runners a highly sought-after silver belt buckle. These buckles are custom-made from sterling silver and valued at USD 355 – nearly the race entry fee.

The belt buckles are another legacy from the Tevis Cup, originally meant for riders. The makers from Comstock Heritage aren’t runners themselves, but have a lot of appreciation for what the buckle means to people.

“They are totally engaged, they are excited that they get to make the buckle that so many people want to earn.”

“It’s not just that it’s a 355 dollar buckle, but it’s what that buckle represents, that whole effort, commitment, not just on race day alone but getting to the race and preparing, and all the sacrifices. It’s symbolic of so much more than just a finishing time.” Watch how the buckle is made.

It’s not the first race Craig Thornley has been directing, but it’s certainly one on a completely new scale. His professional background is in IT, but on the side he’d already set up the Waldo 100k Trail Run in Oregon.

“I started developing Waldo and it became a really well-respected race, it was a national championship,” he says.

“I got to implement my ideas of what I think a race should be like, treating every runner equally, first class service at aid stations where the volunteers are very knowledgeable. […] I got to use it as kind of a playground, as a learning tool.”

Added to his race organizing experience, Craig was also a national sky patroller for years, and stewarded 16 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail. So when the WS role came up, he had no trouble getting an interview. He did have trouble getting TO the interview, though.

Having committed to helping champion runner and friend Meghan Arbogast race the day before, he’d booked the earliest morning flight to make it in time.

It ended up being an epic day of flight delays, missed connection flights, rebookings, and finally a way-too-helpful rental car assistant hell-bent on selling him everything he didn’t need, ultimately leaving him chasing down the highway with no time to lose.

And then there was the problem of not usually using deodorant. We all know what happens when you’re under a lot of stress and there’s no deodorant around. Not good.

“The interview of my life and I smell so bad!” he laughs.

He was driving so fast that he made up enough minutes to storm into a petrol station and get some deodorant, and – smelling beautifully – got the job.

So now that he’s held the position for three years, where does he want to take the race?

“I definitely want to see us involved in the international scene. We are already making contributions by being involved in Ultra-Trail World Tour and the International Trail Running Association. I want to see the race continue to be relevant on the competitive scene in the world, attracting the top 100-mile runners of the world,” Craig Thornley says.

Craig is conscious of the fact that WS has less than 400 runners each year, while races like the UTMB series have thousands.

He believes the event’s relevance could decline if they don’t stay on top of things, cooperating with and learning from other races around the world.

“I want to make sure we continue to lead the sport and have the best practices in everything.”

The race also wants to continue evolving its medical research. Changes include moving away from overusing IVs to combat hyponatremia (abnormally low blood sodium levels), as it has been found that the risks often outweigh the benefits of this practice, and most runners will recover without infusions, Craig says.

“When we do get a case of hyponatremia we know now that we can give people hypertonic saline, which is three times the normal saline of your body. If you’re not hyponatremic it won’t hurt you, and if you are, it will help you equalise sodium in your blood, in your body, much faster.”

Continuing to attract the best of the sport is important, but WS also continues to be committed to welcoming runners from all walks of life and making sure everyone is treated equally special on race day.

“Every person who comes to WS, whether you are 30 hours or whether you are 14 hours, has an experience that will be unmatched. It will be a memorable day of your life, you will not forget your experience at WS.”

This year, the last finisher was 70-year old Gunhild Swanson, who made it with seconds to spare before the 30-hour cut-off, becoming the oldest woman to ever have finished Western States.

She ran the last mile accompanied by family, friends and overall winner Rob Krar, who cheered her on wearing flip flops after having finished his own race in 14:48:59 – a beautiful show of how much camaraderie there is in the sport.

A woman who only runs after taking precautions against anything from rattle snakes to serial killers has not only run dozens of iconic ultramarathons but also Badwater, a 135 mile race through America’s Death Valley.

Tammy Massie, a mathematical statistician who earned her Ph.D. in biostatistics, handles fear by preparing for the unknown.

Wearing mostly pink on the trails, with a few flowers and stuffed toys mixed in, I met Tammy as she ran with brightly colored snake-proof gators on a 90 °F day. Yes, she said, they were a bit hot, but better than getting bitten by a rattlesnake.

Tammy also carried pepper spray to deter the potential wayward cougar, and an emergency beacon so that her husband could find her body if she falls off a cliff.

It wasn’t rattle snakes or cougars that finally took her apart during a race though. It was something nobody can control or take precautions against, and it was devastating. Her mother became terminally ill.

Tammy tried to cope through sport, but finally, in the middle of the Vermont 100 Mile ultramarathon, she had enough and broke down. Sitting on a log, all she could do was sob. She was done.

Her mother used to be her cross-country coach and they had bonded over her races. She used to cheer for Tammy at the finish line, but during this race she was in hospital and Tammy didn’t know how to deal with the certainty of losing her.

Recalling all those years together made the tears flow faster, and she couldn’t care less about the time ticking by. She knew she was about to miss the next cut-off and it was irrelevant.

But suddenly, it was exactly this bond, these memories of shared experiences, that shook her up.

“I harnessed my inner self and said, you know what, my mum wouldn’t want me to be sobbing, she’d want me to be out there finishing the race and making her proud.”

She picked herself up and ran for hours to the finish, beating every cut-off along the way.

“I think running helped me. It was a little bit grounding,” she said about training in the months that followed.

“With ultrarunning there is that part of you where you learn what you’re made of, how strong you are, and what adversarial things you can handle and face.”

Running was an opportunity to reminisce about her mother and honor their connection.

What helped during the darker moments was a sense of gratitude, she said.

“What I find helpful is to appreciate the views, appreciate the journey, appreciate the other runners on the course.”

“If you appreciate everything you see, you see the flowers, you see the sunrise, the stars, it really makes it all worthwhile.”

In addition to having done about twenty 100 milers, Tammy has also completed the notorious Badwater race from the lowest point in the continent to, in the old days, Mt. Whitney, although the last big climb is no longer included.

The race is held during the hottest time of the year in July.

“The year I did it, it was about 125 °F, that’s about 50 °C during the hot part of the day.”

Runners diligently stick to the white side strip of the road to avoid the even worse temperatures on the asphalt. Despite the unbearable conditions and many moments of doubt, Tammy persisted and ultimately beat the clock to the finish, after 47 and a half hours on her melting feet.

“You never know what you can do until you put one step in front of the other or go out and set some goal and try to do your hardest,” she said.

“Physical possessions people can steal or destroy or you can lose, but not this sense of accomplishment, that pride.”

Tammy considers running ultra events a privilege because just a few decades ago, women weren’t even allowed to participate in marathons. And whenever she finds herself in a place where doubts threaten to overwhelm her, she remembers all the people who have believed in her throughout her life. People like her mum, her family, her friends.

“If they believed in me, I should believe in myself.”