100 Mile Intrigue: Embracing the Unknown
April 11, 2012 by Geoff Roes · 81 Comments
There’s something mythical and mysterious about the 100-mile distance. It is the most intimidating, intriguing, and respected distance commonly raced in trail running. I’ve felt this way about 100 miles since long before I ran my first one – The Susitna 100 in 2006. Before I even knew that an entire sport of ultrarunning existed, I knew about a few of the well-known 100 mile races: Western States, Leadville, Hardrock, and Wasatch. I was both horrified and strangely drawn to the idea that 100-mile running races existed. I never thought I would actually run 100 miles, but I always had an inexplicable curiosity about running that far. It was as though I was curious to run a 100-mile race because I wouldn’t quite believe they existed until I did.
Several years and eight 100-mile finishes later, I no longer doubt whether these races really exist and if people really do run them. There is, however, still something magical and intensely appealing to me about the distance. I think this appeal comes from several places, but mostly from how challenging, unpredictable, and unknown the experience of running 100 miles on trails in the mountains is.
Despite the rapid growth in the sport of trail running, the 100-mile distance is still only attempted by a small minority of trail runners. If you take it a step further and compare it to the marathon or other popular road racing distances, the amount of people running 100-mile races is essentially non-existent. Someone with a lot more patience than I could probably look this up, but my guess would be that more people complete a marathon worldwide in a month than have ever completed a 100-mile race.
It is this lack of precedent combined with the immense challenge that makes 100-mile races so mythical and appealing. So few people have actually attempted to run 100 miles that there really is no proven right way to do it. (I’d like to use the statement that the book hasn’t yet been written on this subject, but one only needs to look as far as the editor of this website to find an actual book on this subject, so this kind of shoots the metaphor dead.)
There are many theories on how to best prepare for and race 100 miles, but you find very little consistency within these theories. Every successful 100-mile runner has found an approach that works for them, but no one’s approach seems to work for everyone. In a recent column on this website, Ian Torrence talks about the necessity of a structured training program which includes a balance of endurance runs, stamina workouts, and speed training. I have only met Ian briefly in passing, but with a resume of over 150 ultramarathon finishes in a nearly 20-year career, he is someone I take very seriously when he writes about how to prepare for an ultramarathon. The problem, though, is that when I take into account my experiences of racing 100 miles, I have found no personal benefit of a structured training program. I am not alone in this area.
The three fastest runners ever to run The Western States 100 – Tony, Kilian, and myself – have something in common in our approach to training that is hard to ignore: we each simply go out and run in the mountains with essentially no structure. The runner who has won more 100-mile races than anyone in the world, Karl Meltzer: the same thing. Unless of course you count shoveling snow and sledding as stamina workouts or speed training. Ian, however, also isn’t alone in his belief in a structured training program being an “essential element of successful ultramarathon training.” As evidenced in the responses to Ian’s column, many 100-mile runners seem to benefit from a more traditional, structured training program that includes regular stamina and speed work. What works for one often seems to have no benefit for another, but it is the success of these diverse approaches that makes the 100-mile distance so elusive and intriguing.
The question then that begs to be asked is who is right? How can so many people disagree on something so intrinsic to the sport as to whether structured training is necessary to be fully prepared to race 100 miles? The answer, of course, is that no one is entirely right, and no one is entirely wrong. And herein lies the appeal of the 100-mile distance: none of us really know what we’re doing when it comes to 100 miles, and the aspiring 100 mile runner who has yet to race her first step, has a better chance of figuring out what works best for her than anyone else does. I have people ask me all the time what advice I would give them for preparing for their first 100 miler. I usually give them a few basic logistical tips, and then tell them that all they can really do is go out and run until they find out what works for them. And, lastly, I tell them to be skeptical of anyone who tells them that they know definitively what type of preparation is going to work best for them.
Eventually, the practice of running 100 miles may become so commonly attempted that a definitive best method will evolve and come to the surface, but I think this will be a sad day for the sport. So much of the intimidation, intrigue, and appeal of running 100 miles comes from the reality that none of us really know what we’re doing.
Call for Comments (from Bryon)
- What intrigues you about the 100-mile distance?
- Do you think there’s a best approach to training for a 100-mile race? If so, what is it?



Lots of wisdom in these comments. My opinion is that “just running” on Terrain as close to the Terrain you’ll race at is the best program, not necessarily because its best practice, although it may be, but because its the best way to just enjoy your training. I come from a very structured running backgrround (running at the ncaa level at CU) and that type of training is just not as fun as getting lost on a trail for hours.
Thank you Geoff for the intriguing article.
It makes sense to me that unstructured training works nicely for long endurance races with many uncontrolled variables but it would be great to have you elaborate on what you mean by “we each simply go out and run in the mountains with essentially no structure.” What are some principles that you use to guide your decisions on when and how far to run? Do you decide every morning what you are going to do that day based on the current state of your mind and body? What guidelines do you use for recovery or for when to push your limits by running on tired legs?
Looking forward to seeing more articles from you!
Best Regards,
–Bill
bill, personally I rarely decide what type of run i’m going to do more than a day in advance. sometimes i know that i want to get in a long run and i’ll plan it a few days out so that i know i have a day when i’ll have enough time to do it. other than that though it’s usually just more of a general pattern. i might have a time when i know i really need to get more strength built in so i’ll do a lot of vertical most everyday. other times i know i need more endurance so i’ll focus more on trying to get in several days of high mileage. that’s about it though.
I’m glad my idea of structure, which is basically not one, fits someone of your caliber: go out and enjoy the trails while penciling in days and nights where the timing gods come together to allow the time to be out a long or even longer time. That’s more difficult in the world of earning a living with the years of recent unpleasantness, but what is, is. There is nothing better in trail running than training by one’s self, at night, with a variety of hills, switchbacks, mountains and other amusements to entertain. Funny; when those things are happening all sorts of creative things go on in the mind, and things that matter in the career-world don’t seem to matter too much, particularly after tripping over a hidden root, landing butt-down with a clear view of a big moon above. That’ll clear one’s head. So, structure really is the art of doing it on the trails. Structure is freedom on the trail; I’ll take all of that rigidity I can.
I don’t think there is any one right way to train for a 100. You have to make the most of the environment around you and you have to make the most of your abilities and your mental make up. For example, I don’t live near trails with vertical that I can hit every day. So I have to find fitness gains using speed work instead of vertical work. And, quite frankly, I enjoy the competitive, watch-oriented nature of road running.
I think the factors that ultimately determine success lie outside of training: natural ability (V02 max), experience, nutrition and hydration, a plan to “run within yourself”, etc…
I think the mental part is so important, and everyone’s mind works differently. The workings of the human mind are such a mystery – there will never be a definitive way to train – especially for this distance.