It’s one of the simplest race formats — and one of the most brutal.
A “backyard ultramarathon” may conjure images of runners looping on a compact lawn with a picket fence, but the reality is actually much more extreme.
The latest endurance trend taking over the running world, the backyard ultra is a race in which the fastest runner doesn’t always win, there’s no finish line and there’s no predetermined distance.
While many ultramarathons — races that exceed 26.2 miles — take place in scenic locations across the globe, the backyard ultramarathon pops up in parking lots and on mixed-use trails around the US and the world.
The rules are simple: Run one 4.167-mile loop (referred to as a “yard”) in an hour, then do it again every hour, on the hour, until the last person is standing.
Races can last more than 100 miles and, in extreme cases, may go on for days, with the record set last year in Australia at nearly 500 miles and sixteen straight days.
If runners complete the yard before the hour’s up, they can rest for the remainder of the time. If they fail to finish the lap within the hour, though, they’re eliminated and marked “DNF” (Did Not Finish.)
But where “DNF” is a mark of shame in typical races, it’s considered a badge of honor for the backyard ultra.
Despite the intense setup, people are racing to sign up, with hundreds on the calendar in the US alone.
The race was created by Gary Cantrell, who also came up with the infamous Barkley Marathons, a 100-plus-mile race only 20 runners have finished since its start in 1995.
Rather than make another complicated race, Cantrell invented the backyard ultra as a way to use his 150-acre farmland, as required by Tennessee’s Greenbelt tax program, and fulfill his wish to make a race with no finish line.
It worked and quickly grew in popularity because it doesn’t require permits or much in the way of logistics as many mountain-central ultra races do.
“You just shake your head in amazement,” he told the The New York Times. “It’s so totally unexpected.”
To get the just over 4-mile loop distance, Cantrell divided 100 miles by 24 hours.
While runners can pick their pace, some use the walk-run method, combining running with walk breaks to use as little energy as possible on the course.
Others may try to finish their loops as fast as possible to have more time off their feet and catch up on some rest. Though true sleep is rare, they may try to lie down with their eye closed for a bit if they can.
Backyard ultra runner Harvey Lewis — who ran 354 miles in just 85 hours when he was 45 — is an exception. He’s known to squeeze in 4-minute naps when possible (though during the daytime, he said he’s rarely slept more than a minute or two).
In between yards, competitors use the time to refuel with high-carbohydrate gels or food, massage their muscles and whatever else they need to do to keep their bodies running.
Some runners even bring their own tents to build a makeshift pit stop and aid station, turning many a backyard ultra into a tiny tent city akin to Burning Man.
Despite slower paces or repeat laps, many still come to the race to challenge themselves in unexpected ways or explore facets they don’t get to show in everyday life.
“I have this certain level of grit — or stubbornness,” Matthew Sandlin, the winner of the Prairie on Fire backyard ultra, told The New York Times. “And I can’t really display that in the work environment, at a nine-to-five. There’s not really an outlet for that.”
