Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Making Marathons Even Tougher

Kevin Helliker at kevin.helliker@wsj.com

Registration for this weekend's Pikes Peak Marathon filled up in five hours.

"It's become a stampede," says Ron Ilgen, race director for the marathon up and down Pikes Peak on Aug. 22 and the half-marathon up the mountain the day before. Combined, the races admit 2,600 runners.

From five-kilometer to 100-kilometer races, runners in growing numbers are veering off concrete onto dirt, grass, rock and gravel. Nationwide, the number of trail races has nearly doubled since 2004 to 220, up from only eight in 1997, the 14-year-old American Trail Running Association says.

A typical crossover is William Hinz, a 63-year-old lawyer in Orange County, Calif. A veteran of seven urban marathons, he recently discovered trail running and finds he likes the different challenges it presents. Take his eyes off the trail and he might stumble. Fail to look up, however, and he might go the wrong way at a fork in the path. During one recent race, "there was a plank you had to take across a stream," says Mr. Hinz, who is running the Pikes Peak Ascent half-marathon on Saturday. "I just hope to finish," he says.


MarathonFoto
Megan Kimmel, winner of the 2009 Pikes Peak Ascent women's half-marathon.

Trail running provides a more comprehensive workout than flat-land running, because hill climbing engages the muscles of the abdomen, chest, back and shoulders. Apart from the torture it inflicts on calves, thighs and buttocks, trail training raises a question that rarely comes up ahead of flat-land races: How many pull-ups can you do?

Since steep ascents slow even barrel-chested competitors, trail running also provides a longer workout. A runner who covers 10 flat kilometers (6.2 miles) in 45 minutes would likely need an hour or more to finish the Continental Divide 10-kilometer trail race on Aug. 28 in Laurel Springs, N.C. A flat-land marathoner who generally finishes in three hours would do well to finish Pikes Peak in six, especially considering how thin the air becomes near the summit at 14,110 feet. "Above treeline most runners take 30 minutes or more, some much more, just to cover a mile," the Pikes Peak race website says, describing runners at that altitude like a "stream of zombies...from Dawn of the Dead."

Yet for all the pain it inflicts, trail running is easier on joints. Much of the growth of the sport is coming from road racers whose bodies—or physicians—urged them to stop running on concrete. Alison and Jason Bryant, founders of the Continental Divide 10K, are both former road racers, she a nationally ranked half-marathoner. Injuries plagued them until they started running trails. "Trails are just a lot kinder to your body," says Mr. Bryant, 38 years old.

The competition is also kinder, by all accounts. Out on the trail, road racing's first-to-the-finish-line mentality gives way to a spirit of camaraderie, as Mr. Bryant discovered recently after he ran out of water in the final three miles of a 30-mile race.

"The only other runner nearby saw my situation and offered me some of his water," Mr. Bryant says. "That would never happen in a road race."

The trail's growing popularity has prompted Nike, New Balance, Asics and other road-shoe brands to launch new models designed for trail running, a category where they compete against outdoor brands such as Salomon, La Sportiva and North Face.

In the battle for market share, road-running brands have invaded outdoor stores, prompting outdoor brands to leap onto running-store shelves.

"It's kind of neat how they're moving into each other's territories," says Scott Jaeger, senior retail analyst at Leisure Trends Group, a Boulder, Colo., research firm.

Sales numbers show why. In the first half of this year, unit sales of trail-running shoes rose 12% both in running stores and outdoor retailers, compared with an 11% rise for road-running shoes. "Trail running could be gaining momentum from the huge growth of triathlon," says Mr. Jaeger. "A lot of triathlons are run on dirt."

Also appealing to industry is that trail running, like triathlon, is more equipment-intensive than urban jogging. Unlike courses that feature a Starbucks on every corner, a long trek through mountains can expose runners to steep falls, dehydration, wrong turns, severe weather and more. So trail runners often carry packs loaded with water, food, first aid and extra clothing. They also wear trail-specific items such as gaiters—sock-like items designed to keep pebbles out of shoes.

Trail running is gaining support from USA Track & Field, the governing body for America's top-flight runners, including Olympians. For the first time ever this year, USATF is helping finance the cost of an American team to compete in international trail races (where Italy is a traditional powerhouse).

"The profile of this sport is growing domestically and internationally," says Jim Estes, associate director of long-distance running for the USATF.

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Pikes Peak Marathon
Lynn Bjorklund set course records that still stand on Pikes Peak in 1981.

Indeed, 10 trail races in America are now USATF-sanctioned, up from only one in 2002. This stamp of approval, indicating that an event is officially regulated and professionally run, often attracts elite runners and prize money, and the title of national champion at a particular distance is often conferred upon the winner. The winner of the 15-kilometer national trail-race championship on July 31 was Ian Dobson, a member of the 2008 U.S. Olympic track team.

Until recently, there was minimal crossover between road runners and trail runners. Road runners tend to dream about speed, wanting always to best their personal record at a particular distance.

Trail runners, meanwhile, tend to love nature, not only for its beauty but for its exciting—and terrifying—power. Glaring sun can turn to blowing snow during a mountain race, making the finish line a test not only of athletic ability but also of survival skills.

In 1981, Lynn Bjorklund set female course records for the Pikes Peak Ascent and Marathon. But what matters to her more than those records—which still stand—is the 18-mile run through wilderness that she made in 1997 to obtain life-saving medical help for survivors of a plane that crashed near her campsite in the Rocky Mountains.

Says Ms. Bjorklund, a forest ranger who at age 53 plans to run the Pikes Peak Ascent on Saturday, "The airplane incident was by far the most meaningful thing I have done with my running career."
 
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