Unconventional 'Last Runner' ultra rewards unrelenting endurance

Ten a.m. June 8, 2018. Sixty-six runners toed the line at the base of Spirit Mountain in Duluth. Climbing on a gravel road, the group strung out as they switchbacked up the root-crossed Superior Hiking Trail that brought them to the top of Spirit Mountain, before plunging down the ski slope back to the finish. That was the first loop. Sixty-four of the original bunch lined up again at 11 a.m. to run the same route. And at noon, and 1 p.m. Eleven hours, eleven 4.17-mile loops later, there were 23 competitors left.

In the morning glow of June 9, Nick Whitbread finished the 21st loop with about five minutes to spare, turned around, and scanned the steep slope behind him for fellow survivor Brandon Johnson. He spotted Johnson, 35, gingerly making his way down the hill, still a half-mile away. Three minutes left on the hour, two minutes … Johnson limped across the finish line, over time. Whitbread took a 22nd lap to claim the inaugural Last Runner Standing victory.

In most ultra races, runners cover a known distance — 50 miles, 100 miles. It's a test of speed and endurance. Last Runner Standing, as the name implies, is an elimination race that favors unrelenting endurance. Every hour on the hour, another race starts, so whether they complete the 4.17-mile loop (if they last, runners will cover an even 100 miles in 24 hours) in 35 minutes or 59 minutes, everyone starts the next loop together. The course is easily completed in an hour, at first. But as the hours tick by, fatigue builds and so, too, the need to eat, drink, poop, change clothes or rest. Runners are eliminated by either exceeding the hour limit, or by simply refusing to step to the start line one more time. The race continues until only one runner remains. Last year, it took Whitbread 22 hours, and 91.74 miles, to outlast everyone else. This year, the race could go longer.

Last Runner Standing, set for June 8 in Duluth, is put on by Andy and Kim Holak, who organize trail races and running tours through their business, Adventure Running Co. But that devilish race format is the brainchild of the Marquis de Sade of endurance events, Gary Cantrell. Cantrell first designed the infamous Barkley Marathons, a roughly 130-mile thrash through the Tennessee wilds that has only been completed 18 times since 1995. He devised what's generally recognized as the original last-man-standing race — Big's Backyard Ultra — in 2012. Since then, a handful of similar races have popped up around the country, including Holak's version in 2018.

"Sure, we know Gary. We had him over for dinner when he came to Duluth back in the day," Andy Holak recalled. "We're always looking for something different, so when we saw Big's, we thought it'd be fun to try that here. The concept is similar, but our race is different."

Cantrell is more of a purist, Holak said, in that Big's Backyard 4.17-mile loop is fairly flat, and runners shift to a smooth road course at night to truly test the limits of human endurance.

"Our course is more challenging than Big's, and we don't make it easier at night. We don't think anyone's going to go as far here as at Big's. They're testing their endurance against this course."

Other differences? Big's Backyard has one winner; everyone else is a DNF. Last Runner Standing is "more inclusive." All Last Runner Standing entrants got a custom wood coaster blazed with the number of races they completed, as well as age group awards.

"Gary makes a big deal about the suffering," Holak said. "We wanted runners to enjoy the race. That's why we made the course gorgeous. Together hour after hour, runners became friends. But that's the thing — having company makes it easier to keep going, but if you want to win, you also want your friends to quit."

Camaraderie was the key for Last Runner Standing, said Whitbread, 38.

"We were having a good old time," the van-living trail race director said. "My friend Steve and Seth — a farmer from Wisconsin — and I tried to be the last ones back in camp every loop. We'd come in with about five minutes to spare — enough to have a snack and get back to the start."

Whitbread, a native Australian who lives in Canada, has done several 200-mile races. "I'm durable but not exceptionally speedy," he said. "In a normal ultra, elite runners like Michael Borst would thrash my pants off, but in this format, I thought I'd have a chance."

By the time it was down to six competitors, Whitbread and Johnson, of Esko, agreed that local boy Mike Ward would probably be the last runner standing because he'd once held the "fastest known time" on the 310-mile Superior Hiking Trail.

"Whatever it takes — that's what I told myself before the race," said Ward, 30, who co-owns a timing company in Duluth. "Knowing the course, and that it probably wouldn't have the level of competition they have at Big's, I figured no one would go more than 24 hours."

Ward tried to stick to a steady 52 minutes per loop but suffered some vivid intestinal issues in the early going. Once he was feeling better, he posted energy-guzzling 46-minute laps. He started the 18th loop with Johnson and Whitbread, but was walking within the first mile. Alone in the dark, he sat down. Then he laid down.

"I just gave up," Ward said. "When there's a definitive end of the race, like a regular 100-miler, and you're in the middle of nowhere at 71 miles, are you going to drop out? No. In Last Runner Standing, you constantly have to tell yourself to get up and do one more loop. It's so easy to quit. Physically, I could have gone on, but mentally I wasn't strong enough."

Last Runner Standing is so named to leave open the possibility that the lone survivor may be a woman. In the race's first edition, the last woman standing was Julie Moulton, 30, of Brainerd, an ultrarunner who recently quit her job in banking to run more and write a book about why she runs so much. Though she, like Whitbread, is a veteran of 200-mile races, she'd never tried an elimination race.

She originally planned to use Last Runner Standing as a training run, an easy way to get in at least 50 miles, but felt off the morning of the race, and dialed her expectations way back. To her surprise, she felt better with every loop. At 50 kilometers (about 31 miles), a lot of people dropped out. For Moulton, the race was just starting, and her competitive spirit kicked in.

"After 40 miles, I would have kept going as long as it took to be the last woman," she said.

But still, Moulton has completed races of 200 miles. Forty, 50, even 100 miles should have been nothing, right?

"In a 200-miler, if you feel sick or tired, you can take some time and hike your way out of a bad spot," Moulton said. "Here, you can't have even one bad hour; nothing can go wrong."

Two women started the 12th loop, but only Moulton finished within the hour limit. She completed a 13th loop, 54.21 miles, and, as the last woman standing, was awarded a coaster and a thermos.

She has signed up for this year's Last Runner Standing: "Why not? Those are my people," she said. Unless, of course, you're a rival still standing with Moulton after 40 miles.

Sarah Barker is a freelance writer from St. Paul.