The Running Man

Think you’re in shape? Think again. Shan Riggs takes us inside the underground world of ultrarunning

By Ross Kennerly

Like you and me, Shan Riggs is in his mid-20s. Like you and me, he works in River North as a salesperson for a mid-sized marketing company and moonlights with one of his co-workers as an event promoter for Zentra and occasionally Sound Bar. Like you and me, he grew up in the Midwest and studied engineering at Purdue before moving to Chicago. Like you and me, he owns a condo in the South Loop, has a fiancée, enjoys a few drinks on the weekend with his friends and watches “The Daily Show” and “The Colbert Report” when he has a spare moment for TV.

Like you and me, Shan is your average Chicago 20-something.

But unlike you and me, Shan is going to run 50 miles (in less than eight hours) in November, two weeks after completing the Chicago Marathon. Then, unlike you and me, Shan is going to run 100 miles across Southern Illinois in April. In one day. Non-stop.

To give this some perspective, a typical marathoner, like those competing in the upcoming race, runs between 30-50 miles per week at the peak of his or her training. A professional marathoner, 60 miles per week. Shan runs more than 100 miles a week, averaging 15 miles on workdays, a full marathon on Saturday and 35 miles on Sunday. Which means that by the end of this year, Shan will have covered about 5,000 miles, not including the 50-mile competition. Or coast-to-coast across the United States at least once.

I put less mileage on my car.

Can this be healthy?

The term “ultramarathon” — or “ultra,” as Shan abbreviates it — was coined in the 1970s during that decade’s running revolution and is defined simply as any marathon that is longer than 26.2 miles. However, the most common distances for an ultra are 50 and 100 miles. According to Shan, there are anywhere from 60-70 different 100-mile marathons per year in the United States and across North America. Attendance varies, but the largest ultras have about 200 competitors. Some ultrarunners participate in what is known as the “grand slam” of ultrarunning, where they run the four major 100-milers, and some compete in what they call “The Last Great Race,” where they run the top six 100-milers.

But it doesn’t have to stop there. If runners really want a challenge, there are multi-day races, like the Marathon Des Sables, a seven-day, 149-mile ultra through the Moroccan Desert, or the crème de la crème, the Self-Transcendence 3,100-Mile Race in Queens, N.Y. This is the longest footrace on Earth. Like most multi-day races, participants run on a closed course (a concrete sidewalk, in this case) a little more than a half-mile long and have 51 days to complete it, running, on average, more than 60 miles per day.

However, running great distances alone does not an ultrarunner make. As if running 50 or 100 miles wasn’t hard enough, most ultras are held in high altitudes. The 50-miler Shan is training for is called the Chicago Lakefront 50 K/50 Miler, which is held once in the spring (though just the 50 K only) and once in the fall. (This year’s 50/50 is taking place on Nov. 11.) It’s a “flat fifty,” which is rare; most are in the mountains or hilly terrain, which worries Shan in training for future races like the McNaughton Park Trial Runs, the aforementioned 100-miler in Pekin, Ill. The race’s website jokes that Pekin contains all the hills that are supposed to be in the rest of Illinois.

“I’m going to have to run on a treadmill, or go up and down stairs, ’cause there’s not a hill for 35 miles,” Shan shrugs. “I’ve looked.”

You’re asking yourself how this is humanly possible. If you remember the legend of the first marathon, the soldier Pheidippides dropped dead after running 26 miles to deliver the happy news that the Greeks had defeated the Persians in the Battle of Marathon. But over 70,000 people in the world complete at least one ultra per year — and so far, in my research, I have yet to find an ultramarathon-related fatality.

But is this healthy?

“That’s a good question,” Shan admits. “I can say that there are people that complete a 100-mile race within the cutoff (24 or 48 hours), and they’re 70 years old and have been doing it for years. The average age for an ultrarunner is 44 years old. So it’s completely possible.”

Although not without its share of physical ailments. Shan has had acute tendonitis, knee injuries, and every few weeks, his pinkie toenails swell up and fall off. Some ultrarunners have to drop out of training to have ankle replacements. But, Shan tells me, as long as the injuries keep rotating to different parts of his body — rather than one chronic, nagging injury — the pain is manageable. And expected.

“As long as it’s a different problem every week, and not the same recurring problem, then I feel like I can keep going,” states Shan. “I’ve had knee problems, but I’m trying to run as much as I can. You always have to be judging what’s normal aches and pains and what’s an injury that might set me back and prevent me from running.”

An important takeaway is the amount of training required for an ultramarathon, which entails running further than you ever have in your life for a long, long time. Don’t assume that because you completed a marathon you can walk on to an ultra course. For many of these races, runners have to qualify or be invited, especially for the 100-milers. They’re not for beginners.

“To me, at the time that I ran (the Chicago Marathon), it was the ultimate in physical exertion,” Shan explains. “And it is. Running an ultra is no different. It’s about finding where that limit is. It takes the same level of commitment to train for a marathon as it does for an ultra. I just put in more hours.”

Also, don’t assume that because the distance is greater that runners have a greater risk of heart failure or death.

“There’s more of a danger in marathons because there’s people that just that aren’t that experienced at running,” Shan continues. “They try to run a race without drinking water, or they won’t consume any sodium and drink too much water. So that’s when there’s been people that fall down dead. Or have a heart condition that they’re not aware of, and it’s the first time that they’ve ever tried to push that hard. So that sort of thing (for an ultramarathoner) is a lot less likely.

“People don’t run 100-mile races that aren’t experienced marathoners.”

 

Because he can, that’s why

Shan has a runner’s tanned physiognomy and toned physique. A trained engineer, he methodically and almost systematically approaches his running with remarkable self-assurance and, I sense, a peace. Put simply, he runs because he can. Or, more philosophically, it is not the promise of a marathon that compels him to run, but the compulsion to keep running that drives him to compete.

Since birth, Shan has always been involved in some kind of extreme sport. At four or five years old, he was water skiing in the Skipper Ski Show, a trick-skiing outfit (think Sea World) that his family used to run. In fact, learning to water ski was like learning to walk for him, in that he doesn’t remember when he first started. At Purdue, Shan was on the club water-skiing team — he competed in slalom, trick skis and the jump — and says his team was pretty good for being the only school in the league that wasn’t located near a lake.

Shan started running in junior high (“I was kind of a chubby kid”), initially jogging the mile to the bus stop before school. He never stopped. In high school, he ran track and cross country, though he says he was only about the fourth best on the team. Three years ago, he ran the Chicago Marathon for the first time, clocking in at three hours and 55 minutes. Afterwards, he says, without a clear goal in mind, “I was just on my own running on the weekend. I’d go for a run and leave at 8:00 in the morning, and I’d come back at 5:00 at night. And so I was doing 40-mile runs — not all at once, I’d stop and eat — but just on my own, just for fun.”

Shan’s epiphany came after reading “Ultramarathon Man” by Dean Karnazes. For the uninitiated (including this writer), Karnazes is arguably the most famous ultramarathoner in the world. (According to Wikipedia, Karnazes has developed somewhat of a bad rap for his self-promotion in a sport that values humility in accomplishment over the glory of winning; in fact, “most famous ultramarathoner” could be considered an oxymoron.) Karnazes is sponsored by The North Face and will be competing in the Chicago Marathon this month as part of the Endurance 50 — his attempt to run 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days. His past accomplishments include running the 199-mile Providian Satun Relay (normally a 12-leg race) by himself six times and running 350 miles non-stop in 80 hours and 44 minutes.

“I think most people read that book and think, ‘Wow, that’s amazing — he’s crazy!’ ” Shan says. “And I thought, ‘Wow that’s amazing — this guy’s me!’ I’ve been an ultrarunner, but I didn’t know it.”

So far, the farthest Shan has run is 50 miles. Starting in the South Loop, he ran south to the end of the Lakeshore path (about 70th Street) and then north to Winnetka and back. He admits that he ran too far too soon (he had just run 40 miles the week before) and had trouble walking for about a week. Once, he ran 35 miles to Naperville to a friend’s house and ended up running in the long grass by the side of the road when the sidewalks disappeared.

“I usually do at least one run a week that is longer than marathon length, so at least 27 miles,” Shan says. “I think that’s probably more, from what I read, than what some people are doing in ultra training. I basically run as much as I can without causing myself injury. That’s the stopping point, I guess.”

In fact, Shan is such good shape that he can run and talk on his cell phone without callers noticing. He can run an eight- or nine-minute mile with his mouth closed. He eats and drinks when he runs — not Powerbars, which he finds disgusting, but potato chips or a ham sandwich and Red Bull for the caffeine. He has even run drunk before, deciding after being out clubbing all night that he would rather run than sleep. Then again, you don’t need as much sleep when you run this much.

“I still go to bed at the same time, but I wake up a couple hours earlier than I used to,” he says. “It’s easier for a couple reasons. One, I’m in a lot better shape. Activity is easier on me. Getting up and going to work is easier. But also mentally, I can’t whine and complain to myself about having to get up in the morning if I just ran 50 miles. Because gosh, if I can do that, getting up and going to work is easier. Another side benefit in doing this type of training — and I think it’s the same sort of thing with marathoning too — you’re in mental shape. Once you’ve done a marathon, once you’ve done an ultra, everything else from that perspective seems a lot easier, like your job, your relationships.

“If I could do something this extraordinary, then all these regular day-to-day things? God, I should be able to that. Once you can complete something that big, it makes those other things just really easy.”

 

Zen and the art of ultrarunning

“Part of the attraction to (ultrarunning) is that it removes athleticism,” Shan explains to me in his office on a Friday after work, dressed in dri-fit running gear before his post-work training. “Being a good athlete is not that important in an ultra. The farther it is, the less your athleticism is important, and that’s what’s cool about it. Because I’m not that good of an athlete. It’s toughness. It doesn’t matter — male or female, tall or short, traditionally heavy-set — anybody can be an ultrarunner. It just takes a lot of guts. Because no matter how hard I try, I can never be in the NBA. If anybody tries hard enough, you can complete an ultra.”

Interestingly enough, Shan compares ultrarunning to ultimate fighting.

“There are similarities in that I feel that it’s pure,” he says. “You’re taking one thing as far as you can take it. In ultimate fighting, the question is: If two people got in a fight to the death, who would win? Now that’s a pretty extreme example, but it’s similar in running this type of distance because I want to see: How far can I go? How far physically, emotionally, mentally — where is the line when things start to break down? When do you quit having a choice to go on? When does the body just completely give up? I want to find out where that line is, and then I want to move it farther back.”

Shan hasn’t found that line yet, but ultrarunning, even just the training, causes a person extreme and almost bipolar emotional, mental and physical distress. Over and over again, the body experiences a runner’s high that bottoms out as your endorphins fade. Peaks and valleys, peaks and valleys, caused by what Shan theorizes as your brain chemicals running out. Your lungs hurt. Your knees hurt. Your back hurts from holding up your arms. Your nipples burn from wet cloth rubbing on them and you have to wear nipple guards (band-aids) to stop the pain. You haven’t slept in 24 or sometimes 48 hours. It’s not a question of how far you can run. It’s a question of long you can stand up. That, Shan says, is pushing the limit. That, he says, is really cool.

Ultimately, his goal is to compete in the Badwater Ultramarathon, a race that Dean Karnazes won in 2004. It’s an uphill, 135-mile race that begins in the Badwater Basin in Death Valley, Calif., and ends at Whitney Portal on Mount Whitney, some 8,360 feet above sea level. Temperatures average over 120 degrees. The race is by invitation only, and runners must provide their own support crew and first aid. So far, no one has died.

I ask Shan, half-seriously, if given the option, would he run himself to death.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I plan to live forever. At least to see three centuries, which means I’m going to have to live to be at least 121. If it’s going to be shortening my lifespan, then I’ll stop. Other than that…”

Then he trails off, like sidewalk into foot-high weeds.

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