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Sri Chinmoy Marathon Team articles - more articles

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Rupantar has been the race director of the Sri Chinmoy Marathon Team since 1985, having been asked by Sri Chinmoy to serve in that capacity. As well as working on the big races the US Marathon Team organise each year - the 3100 Mile Race and the Six and 10 Day Race - he also spends a considerable amount of time archiving the Marathon Team's 40 year history on this website.

In the 1988 IAU newsletter, Malcolm Campbell gives the following detailed history of multiday running in the 1980s.

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Trishul Cherns (l) and Don Choi in the 1985 Sri Chinmoy 1,000 Mile Race

"In a recent publication the last three words of a quotation by Jim Shapiro were omitted. The full quotation is:

‘It is not pain I feel but sinking.
My involvement with the world grows dimmer.
It occurs to me that it would be nice to keel over.
A barely audible whisper says it would be a way out.
It seems almost impossible to bother any more...
But I do!’

The words appeared in Jim’s book ‘Ultramarathon’ which was published in 1980, and tells the story of Ultrarunning up to the end of the 1970s. The multi day event was just about to take off and Jim had noticed this when he wrote ‘In 1979, Don Choi organized two 48 hour runs in California. Mutterings are occasionally heard from Tom Osler in New Jersey about possibly staging a 6 day wobble.’ I very much hope that Jim will write another book because the events of the 1980s are well worth recording. The first 6 day race of modern times took place in Woodside, California in July of 1980, and was won by Don Choi with 401 miles. The first Edward Payson Six Day Track Race took place a few weeks later in Pennsauken, Philadelphia. Don Choi was the winner again with 425 miles. The following year in Pennsauken, Park Barner completed 430 miles.

The development of the sport depended on the willingness of the runners to participate and the willingness of organizers to stage these very demanding events. Sponsors were available but they had to be educated concerning the athletic possibilities of modern day runners. To some extent the growth of the sport sprang from chance remarks or accidental meetings of interested parties. One runner in the 1981 Pennsauken Race who played a vital part in the growth was Geoff Richardson, a Scot working in America. Shortly after the race finished he returned to England determined to stage a similar event, and with the aid of three good friends, the first Nottingham Six Day race was organized. The winner was Mike Newton who became the first runner of modern times to pass the 500 mile mark. Multi day racing owes much to Mike Newton. Most established ultra runners in England were reluctant to take chances on a new event and many thought the race was doomed to failure. How wrong they were. Don Choi, Jim Shapiro and Wes Emmons came over from America. The Canadian, and Olympian, Paul Collins entered and Joe Record from Australia took part. The media loved the event and sponsorship was assured for a number of years.

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(l to r) Richard Brown, Yiannis Kouros and author Malcolm Campbell prior to 1988 Ultra Trio

In 1982, the Nottingham race was won by Tom O’Reilly with 576 miles and a new modern day record. At this point, students of ultra distance running were noting that in the 1980s there were a number of performances over 600 miles and that George Littlewood’s record of 623 miles and 320 yards, set at Madison Square Garden in 1880 was far beyond the capabilities of modern day runners. The race was now on to be the first to beat this record and the subject aroused worldwide interest. News of the event had spread to France, a country with a long standing tradition of distance running, and a Six Day Indoor Race was staged at la Rochelle in 1982; the race winner was Ramon Zabalo with 537 miles. The Nottingham Six Day Race was held annually from 1981 to 1985. The La Rochelle Race has been held annually from 1980. The Six Day Race is also firmly established at Colac in Australia where some outstanding performances have been achieved.

Fred Lebow took an interests in the Six Day Race and became determined that the first man to best Littlewood's record would do so in New York. The New York Road Runners club organized two Six Day Races and the first of these was held in 1983. The race winner, Siegfried Bauer, completed 511 miles which was a better performance than the mileage indicates. The temperature during the entire race was particularly hot.

The following year, Lebow signed up Kouros and Ramon Zabalo and the ancient record (Littlewood's record) was finally beaten when Kouros added a few yards to his World Record and Zabalo completed 593 miles.

In many ways, 1984 marked the end of an era. There would be other good performances over six days, but no other runner would pass Littlewood’s mark, and only two runners would pass the 600 mile mark. Stu Mittleman ran 577 miles at Boulder County, and Patrick Macke ran 579miles at La Rochelle. The great French runner, John Gilles Boussiquet, ran 605 miles at La Rochelle in 1984, and the following year his fellow countryman, Gilbert Mainnix ran 609miles at the same venue. The highlight of Eleanor Adam’s career came at Colac in 1987 when she beat her own World Record with 521 miles.

After Littlewood’s record was beaten a number of major sponsors lost interest in the event. It became difficult to justify the considerable travelling expenses involved for competitors who, at their best, would be unable to complete distances that had been achieved over 100 years ago. In 1982 Cliff Young, a 62 year old farmer, won the inaugural Sydney to Melbourne foot race. He achieved worldwide publicity and became a National Hero, and the race was assured of a place in Australian history. Westfields Corporation realized the publicity value of the race, and it has become the most costly event on the ultra running calendar.

The Westfield run was dominated, as the six day race had been dominated, by Kouros and in 1987 he completed the 1060 KMs between Sydney and Melbourne in a time of 5 days, 14 hours and 47 minutes; he was nearly 26 hours in front of the second place runner. Quite clearly, the sponsors of other runners could be forgiven for wondering if they were getting value for their investment. 1988 was Australia’s Bi-Centenary Year and the Westfield organizers were determined to make maximum use of the publicity for the event. The course was altered slightly and the new distance was measured as 1015 KMs. Yiannis Kouros was persuaded to accept a 12 hours handicap and started at 23.00 hours, whilst the rest of the field started beforehand at 11.00 hours. A number of runners expressed some concern at the arrangements, but in fact Kouros was paying them a great compliment in only giving them 12 hours start. In any event, he overhauled the entire field and finished about 4 hours ahead of second place Richard Tout. The handicap made his race time 6 days, 7 hours, 14 minutes. Richard Tout’s time was 6 days, 11 hours, 18 minutes. Although there are no serious challengers to Kouros over six days, it seems likely that Richard Tout presents the greatest threat to the supremacy of this great Greek athlete.

Meanwhile, a new event had emerged on the multi day calendar. The 1,000 mile race! In the 1970s there had been a two-man challenge between John Ball of South Africa and Siegfried Bauer from New Zealand. Bauer won this race which took place in South Africa and he was to win over the same distance in Colac (Australia) in 1983 with a time of 12 days, 12 hours, 36 minutes. This race started in Melbourne and the competitors ran to Colac, a distance of about 92 miles, where they continued around an accurately marked circuit in the Memorial Square of the Town. In 1985, the Sri Chinmoy Marathon Team in New York organized a 1,000 mile road race in Flushing Meadows Park, Queens, New York. That great pioneer of multi day racing, Don Choi, was still around and it seemed most appropriate that he should win this inaugural event. His winning time was 15 days, 6 hours, 24 minutes. In the same year, a 1,000 mile track race at Gateshead in England was won by Malcolm Campbell with a time of 15 days, 21 hours, 7 minutes. This had been the first 1,000 mile track race for nearly a century and, unlike the old 6 day records, the old 1,000 mile track times were quite modest. The Australian runner, Tony Rafferty, won a 1,000 mile road race in England in 1986 with a time of 14 days, 16 hours, 45 minutes. An outstanding 1,000 mile run was produced by the American, Stu Mittleman, at Flushing Meadow (a Sri Chinmoy Marathon Team race) in 1986 when he finished 25 hours in front of the second place runner with a time of 11 days, 20 hours, 37 minutes. Mittleman’s record for 1,000 miles seemed secure against all known competitors over the distance, and posed certain questions for outstanding performers over lesser distances.

In six day races there are competitors who run quite slowly to achieve great distances by not sleeping very much. Others run quite briskly but rest more often. There are a few exceptional performers who are able to manage with very little sleep and are still able to run well. These are, of course, the Champions. However, their ability to manage with virtually no real sleeping periods has only been tested over 6 days. They are not certain to manage for 10 days without a ‘trade off’ – and thereby lies the interest of the 1,000 mile race.

Eleanor Adams won a 1,000 mile stage race in England in 1987 with an overall time of 16 days, 23 hours, 9 minutes, and this was the best time ever recorded by a lady over the distance. One can only imagine the time Eleanor Adams might achieve in a ‘go as you please’ event and she has done much to encourage the increase in standards of lady multi day runners, and like Don Choi, must be considered one of the truly great pioneers of the sport.

This article was started before the Sri Chinmoy 1,000 mile race took place in New York. The race started on 20th May 1988 and Yiannis Kouros was to become the IAU World Champion with the incredible World Record time of 10 days, 10 hours, 30 minutes, 35 seconds. The second place finisher in that race was the Canadian veteran, Michel Careau, who now has his sights firmly set on a Six Day Race. Third in the race was Sandy Barwick from New Zealand, who set a ladies' World Record of 14 days, 20 hours, 45 minutes, 16 seconds.

It really is difficult to identify where multi day racing in modern times began in earnest. America, France, England and Australia have all been the venues for events of great significance. When the Nottingham Six Day Race was held for the last time in 1985 it seemed likely that ultra distance running would revert to more standard events. The 24 hour race had become popular and this race is without doubt one of the most demanding of ultra distance races. Perhaps we are to see a revival of multi distance running in England and perhaps this time the top runners might get it right. In the early part of November there is to be a 48 hour track race at the Blackpool International Stadium. Organized by Stan Jewell, a most experienced Race Director, it promises to be an event of great significance.

Later in November, at the Gateshead International Stadium, we shall see the return of the Six Day Track Race. This event will be held to celebrate the British Record of 623 miles set by George Littlewood a century earlier, a race which may also be of some significance in future years.

There is perhaps a preoccupation with records where sponsorship of events is concerned and it is sometimes forgotten that the event is, above all, for the enjoyment of the competitors. But it is appropriate to finish this article as it started, with a quote from Jim Shapiro:

‘Without limits, boundaries or definition, there is no sense to any of it.’"

Campbell, Malcolm. “Multi Day Racing.” IAU Newsletter, September 1988. The following article is reprinted with permission of the author.

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What is it like to run a multi day road race for the first time? Laurie Staton-Carter found out when she ran in the Sri Chinmoy 5 Day Race in Flushing Meadow Corona Park, November 7-12, 1987.

The following is taken from the January-February 1988 issue of UltraRunning and reprinted by permission from the Publisher, John Medinger, titled "A McDonald's Cheeseburger Never Tasted So Good", by Laurie Staton-Carter.

I had wanted to run a multi-day race for a long time, ever since I had read about Marcy Schwam, Ed Dodd, Park Barner, and Wes Emmons running in the second Edward Payson Weston Six-Day Race in 1981. The book I had, written by Ed Dodd, was mostly pictures. There were pictures of people running, eating, sleeping, being cared for; they were taken at night, in the early morning in the heat of day; the runners were alone on the track, or with handlers at the aid stations, or, at the end, running with everyone else in the race on the final lap. There was a short text; but the pictures of their faces told the story, not the words.

Photo: "He may not be the youngest or the slimmest, but Malcolm Campbell is certainly among the best at multi-day racing - just six weeks earlier he had won a 15-day race in Texas." Photo by Ranjit

I had long dismissed multi-day running as too far, too long, too crazy. Yes, I run 100-milers, but I'll never do something like that. Mostly they were too scary, I discovered in the days before I flew to New York.

Sheer terror drove me through the first fifty miles in under ten hours. I was on the edge of tears the entire first day, overwhelmed by the tremendous support we received from the race staff and the other runners, overwhelmed by all of the legendary people that I was running with, overwhelmed that I was doing something that I had wanted to do for years. Multi-day runners have given me much inspiration, especially Marcy Schwam, and also Don Choi, Park Parmer, Malcolm Campbell, and Marvin Skagerberg. I have also been inspired by the nineteenth-century pedestrians Sir John Astley, Edward Payson Weston, and Daniel O'Leary. But it wasn't until I had been running in Flushing Meadows Park for a couple of days that I realized the significance of those multi-day races of old. People kept asking me if this was my first ultra. "Oh, no," I would say. "I've done seven 100-milers and a 24-hour and lots of 50 milers and..." They would smile as they realized my perspective. To people associated with multi-day running, multi-day races are ultras. I had my sense of historical perspective radically altered that day.

Pippa Davis, a British woman of 40 now residing near Boston, is a talented multi-day runner. She is very talkative, unassuming, and great to spend time with. We became friends sometime shortly before the race started, when she came over to my tent - I was trying to neatly organize five days worth of clothing, shoes, and gear into a two-person backpacking tent - to introduce herself and give me a little advice to start the race with. I don't take advice too seriously, and didn't at this time either, but as the days wore on, I welcomed a ten-minute lecture on blisters or swollen feet or anything that Pippa would tell me about this totally foreign kind of running we were doing. She was very helpful, always, and very encouraging, especially when she knew I was having a rough time of it. Pippa was with me as I completed my 200th mile. We were also kindred fashion spirits, as practically everything she owned was purple.

The first day had blissfully wonderful running weather. The temperature was near 60, but with a strong wind that never stopped during the entire five days. I was shooting for 60-75 miles in the first 24 hours, but took a sleep break after covering 65 miles. I awoke feeling good and covered 17 more miles in the first 24 hours. I felt great. I kept remembering what I thought I had heard Pippa say at some point early in the race, perhaps not all that seriously: "After the race you will be changed forever". I hadn't asked her to elaborate.

About 36 hours into the race, my hamstrings got so tight that I couldn't run any more. My quads were also shot, and my movement along the course became very slow. This was Sunday night and the race wasn't even going to be over until Thursday. Now I was overwhelmed by the fear that I was injuring myself permanently and that I would never run again. I went off the track for a sleep with not many miles covered that day, the wind blowing relentlessly across the park, my neatly folded piles of gear untouched in my tent. When I told my lap counter I was going to sleep she asked, again, if I wanted to be awakened. No, I didn't. As I slowly hobbled to my tent, I told myself that I would quit. After all, I'd trained hard and had a good year. A little rest would be a fitting reward. It would feel so good to lie down and not have to get up and run any more.

I awoke to the tapping sound that a Chronomix makes as the seconds advance. My tent was 25 feet directly behind the women's medical hut. It was dark, except for the lights of the aid station and the park street lamps. In a couple of minutes I heard a lap counter say, "Malcolm, that's 153. Gotcha." Then, a minute later, "Marty, that's 145. Gotcha." Then, "Malcolm, that's 154. Gotcha. Pippa, 126. Malcolm, 155. Gotcha." I drifted off again, dreaming that I was still running, but not sure if I was dreaming it or it was for real.

When I woke up Monday morning at about 4:30, I couldn't stand it any more. I had to get out and at least see if I could move around. I took my first lap of the day in absolute agony and saw fellow Wasatch Alpine Strider and multi-day aspirant Fred Riemer as I came into the aid station. "How's it going," he asked, sounding tired but genuinely interested. I burst into tears, unable to hide my disappointment in not being able to run any more, the pain and fear of being injured, and the vague possibility that all of my worst nightmares were coming true. He comforted me as best he could. He was having problems too, but he had just had a massage and was going to give it a go. I headed for the women's medical tent for extensive chiropractic and massage. In the second 24 hours, I managed to cover only 42 more miles.

I spent all day Monday in and out of the medical hut. I'd get a chiropractic treatment that would work wonders and I'd walk in relative comfort for a few laps. Then, everything would hurt again and I'd go back for another massage. I ended up doing acupressure on myself for several hours. I was pleased that it seemed to be working and that there was something that I could do to sort of revive myself.

Sometime in the afternoon, after I had come around another lap, I was over at the water stop checking out the various drinks and OWWWW! I had just stepped down on my left foot and it felt like a searing coal. I limped directly to the medical hut where I was given a lance to drain my blisters. But they wouldn't be drained, somehow inaccessible to my jabbing lance. We constructed foam doughnuts to cushion them. They still hurt a lot, but at least I could stand on them and move around.

The blisters, deep and painful, right on the ball of my left foot, soon developed on my right foot. It seemed they were caused by fluid accumulating around the metatarsal joints, due to the swelling of my feet, and had somehow developed from the inside of my foot. By Monday night, I was slowed to a lurching, painful walk, taking about 20-25 minutes per mile. Every mile was a major accomplishment. I saluted my lap counter after every lap, waiting to hear her confirm that I had completed one more mile. Fred was having problems with his knee and ankle and was going at about the same speed. As darkness fell, little drops of rain began falling.

The wind picked up and it started to rain. On one of the few laps that Fred and I ran/walked together, we were telling each other what had gone wrong and that we weren't even half-way through until 10:00 that night, and about how, if either one of us had looked this bad one day earlier, we would have been tempted to shoot ourselves. After a while Yves Pol came strolling by. Yves is a short, tiny Frenchman who amused us with his singing what sounded like opera or various national anthems, in falsetto, in French. Yves, not knowing our harrowing predicament, came up behind us, walking, and we somehow managed to scurry along at our best 3 mph pace to stay with him. Soon, we were laughing so hard that tears were rolling down our checks.

I got into this routine starting Tuesday. It was still raining, but I'd get up and get out of the tent whenever I felt like it. Sometimes it was 5:00 am, sometimes it was almost 7:00. I would go straight to the medical tent to get ready to roll. After my feet were prepared and my legs were massaged I would get out and move around. Then I'd hit the kitchen for this wonderful oatmeal that a woman named Ghelahti would fix up. There was usually either French toast or scrambled eggs too.

Somehow I got to know Marv Skagerberg, the guy who had raced across the country with Malcolm Campbell. It was Tuesday night and it had been raining hard all day. Fred and I had miraculously managed to get someone to bring us each a slice of cheese pizza (Sri Chinmoy folks are very vegetarian) and we started to crave something for dinner other than pasta pinwheels. I had been walking around with Marv for a while when he mentioned something about burgers. "Yeah," he said, "McDonald's cheeseburgers. I had a guy bring me a couple of them last year. You can put them in your tent and stick them in the microwave when the kitchen staff goes home, between midnight and six in the morning. They keep, you know." I was crazed. Real cheeseburgers? I'd give anything for a cheeseburger. It took me a lap to come to my senses and form a plan, and the very next time I saw Marv I made him promise to cut me in on any cheeseburger deals. A few laps later he informed me that he'd be meeting his ladyfriend down at the far end of the straightaway (away from the aid station) to discuss burgers. In the pouring rain and the dim light of a street lamp, we met to close the deal. We kept an eye out for anyone who would leak the info about us and the burgers. I said that I wanted one, and Fred would want one, so make it two. Several laps later, Marv's ladyfriend returned and met us on the dark side of the aid station. She pulled a bag of burgers from under her trenchcoat (really and truly) and we quickly slipped them into our Gore-Tex jackets. The next morning, at about five o'clock before the kitchen staff arrived, I had a sumptuous breakfast of a McDonald's cheeseburger. It was heavenly.

I went into the medical hut again after covering my 200th mile. As I was lying there on the massage table I heard the pouring rain stop. People were yelling and hollering and sure enough it had started to snow. It was beautiful. The pinkish glow from the street lamps was reflected off the pavement by the rapidly forming ice, and everything was light and quiet. I was back to walking again, but I was having a ball. I will never forget seeing Fred coming around the end of the straightaway - wearing his silver Gore-Tex pants, a red Gore-Tex anorak, and a grey knit cap; he was slowly, ever so slowly, making his way down the track. He was running. He was absolutely focused on something far, far away, because he didn't notice that we were passing each other. His cheeks were rosy and his breaths came out in puffs. Everybody was out on the course on Wednesday night, putting in the miles, even if it meant stopping every two miles for breaks. Wednesday night was like magic. It seemed like the time had gone so fast and in the morning it would be over. We had gotten very close, all of us, and we kept each other going. It was a very special evening.

After 203 miles I rewarded myself with a shower at the Tennis Center. Then I went to sleep not caring when I woke up.

I awoke just before dawn to a gorgeous, clear morning. Everyone was out running their brains out. I suddenly hustled to be out there. I got my oatmeal and the best waffles I have ever tasted, to go. My right ankle had started to swell and was now very painful to walk on. I put ice bags in my sock and was off. I began limping around the track, so happy that the race was still on, that all of my race-mates were still out there going around. We were in twos and threes and groups, trading stories and talking about anything and everything, from our last birthday gifts to family holiday traditions. The sun was shining brightly as the days dwindled to hours and the hours to minutes and seconds. Malcolm finally reached 400 miles, and Pippa was headed for a PR of 334, 17 miles shy of first place among women, which went to Suprabha Schecter. Suprabha had been in a trance for days, finally slowing to a walk toward the end. As the last hour approached I figured out how many miles I could cover at my ungainly 19-minute pace. Instead of going out for partial laps in the last 15 minutes, everybody started to congregate around the Chronomix, waiting for the last of us to finish our final laps. I scurried as fast as I could, swinging my arms and throwing my entire soul into the final lap. I turned onto the straightaway and went for it. I couldn't run, but I was moving. I was squinting to see the seconds on the Chronomix. Would I be able to finish the lap before the clock turned over 120 hours? As I got closer, I could see the numbers, 43, 44, 45, 46...; then 52, 53, 54 seconds. I really wasn't sure I was going to make it! I was the only one left out on the track. Then the seconds turned to 55 and I had to run. I lurched past the clock with three seconds to spare.

Everybody was cheering - the runners, the lap counters, the masseuses, the cooks, the winos in the park. Had we really been out there for five days? Couldn't have been. It seemed like it went so fast...

Fred and I got to the awards ceremony a little late. Everybody was clean, in regular clothes, sitting around tables. It was quiet. Some gave short speeches. We all got our awards, each with a big color photograph of us all, posed at the start, only five days ago. As my name was called I went up to the front of the room and was handed a bouquet of fresh flowers and my framed award. I couldn't say anything, so just whispered thank-you.

At the airport, Fred and I headed for the bar to wait for our flight. We treated ourselves to some Beck's beer in frosty mugs and toasted our experiences of that week. We also had our pictures next to us; we couldn't stop looking at them. I will look at that picture with fondness for a long time. Fred is absolutely right; the New York road racing scene is the greatest.

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