Trena Eiden

In 1983, the first ultramarathon took place in Australia, an 875-kilometer (544-mile) race between Westfield Parramatta in Sydney and Westfield Doncaster in Melbourne. I wasn’t in that race and I had a very good reason. I was nine months pregnant. And as luck would have it, I delivered three days before it finished, otherwise, I could’ve been a contender. Probably not; saying I’m a runner enthusiast causes my naturally long nose to grow extra. 

The Sydney to Melbourne ultramarathon was a Westfield marketing exercise, but it almost ended before it began because of a 61-year-old farmer named Cliff Young who wanted to run in the race.  

Martin Noonan, who was a marketing executive, and also happened to be a runner, was notified of Cliff’s plan to participate. Management told Martin, “We’re not going to have some old geriatric die on the highway during our race” so Martin had Cliff meet him for a jog to see how Cliff would do. For three hours they ran and when they started going up hills, Martin wondered if he should slow down for Cliff. Instead, Martin was astonished, saying, “I was 27 and he was 61, and my gosh, he was right on my shoulder.”  

Cliff had been jogging for years, along roads and through fields. The nearest major town from his home was 40 kilometers (25 miles) and he’d run there and back for supplies. Frequently, it would rain, so he began running in gumboots, which strengthened his legs and contributed to an unusual way of running, a deceptively quick style that would become know as the Cliff Young Shuffle. 

Cliff started running a few races, usually winning, so began entering longer races. He was shy, but tough, happy and uncomplicated, and not an over-thinker, which is perhaps what helped him win often. Long-distance running is a mental challenge, as much as a physical one, as runners spend countless hours in their own thoughts and often in unrelenting pain. After Martin and Cliff jogged together that day, Martin told the race executives that if Cliff chose to run the marathon, he’d certainly allow it.  

On the day of the race, 61-year-old Cliff, small in stature, showed up in overalls, and wearing galoshes (rubber work boots) over his running shoes. For those who didn’t know him, he appeared to be an old geezer who might have been fixing fence and, on a whim, decided to be part of a race. He told reporters he was a potato farmer from Victoria, but he thought he could run.  

The professional runners, decked out in moisture-wicking, breathable tops, anti-friction shorts, seamless, anti-chafing socks and footwear that had “high-stack cushioning, durable rock plates, reliable grip, and roomy toe boxes to accommodate swelling” assessed Cliff, rolled their eyes, snickered and dismissed him. 

The gun went off and the race began, the professional runners looking like gazelles, with sculpted bodies and perfect strides and Cliff with the awkward, goofy-looking movement. Unbeknownst to Cliff, there was a ‘gentleman’s’ agreement, that the runners would run 18 hours, sleep for around six and begin again at dawn. When night came, Cliff did stop, but one of his team mistakenly woke him at 2 a.m. This put him in front, and from then on, the other competitors never saw Cliff because he never stopped to sleep again. He’d spent decades running across thousands of acres of his farmland, rounding up sheep on foot, in all weather, sometimes for days at a time. He understood distance and persistence, and had no particular framework to stop during the ultramarathon, even after a fall on the first day which damaged his shoulder, or when the toll on his feet saw him lose eight toenails.  

Cliff, surviving on water and pumpkin seeds, won the race, not a few minutes before everyone, but 10 hours ahead of the second-place finisher. He received the $10,000, and seemed surprised stating, “I didn’t know there was prize money.” Then he did a curious thing. He gave $9,000 to the other five finishers, stating that he didn’t feel right keeping it all when the others had run so hard. Who wouldn’t have liked Cliff?  

About the Cliff Young Shuffle — sports scientists discovered it reduces impact on joints and conserves energy so is biomechanically superior for elite ultramarathon athletes. They use it now, training specifically to run the way Cliff did.  

I naturally have Cliff’s shuffle due to my short, chubby, aging legs, but I don’t worry about conserving energy, because trust me, I’ll never run … long distance or otherwise.