Compared to these amazing athletes who run a 135-mile course from 283 feet below sea level to 8,300 feet above sea level, bearing 120 degree-plus heat, with no sleep and little or no solid food, every other athlete in sports seem to be wimps. For the first half of this film I was thinking these athletes are beyond crazy but then I began to understand. As one who loves running myself, I know the Zen of endurance and the bliss of reaching out beyond pain, so I can slightly imagine what the equivalent of over five marathons (!) must feel like. There's that incredible sense of 'being there' in that journey, where you're really on your own (despite the incredible support from crewmembers who help with rehydration, bandages, new shoes, and endless words of encouragement). The bliss isn't so much in crossing the finish line, but in completing each and every step (especially in the last twelve miles, which is straight up the summit).
This event also has something special that no other sports event of this caliber has; a total absence of TV cameras, throngs of crowds waving flags and balloons, and the usual billboards and signs advertising everything from shoes to beverages. The course is mostly barren road and desert, and the finish line looks like a trail of toilet paper with a couple dozen people standing around clapping. The prize is a belt buckle for everyone who can complete the course within 60 hours (the record at date is around 27 1/2 hours). I can think of no other setting that would make me so proud to run such a race. The documentary manages to keep our interest peaked throughout by focusing on several of the runners, not the least of whom is a British bloke named Chris Moon who as far as I'm concerned, won the race. His time was twice that of the 'winner', but he was running a one-legged, one-armed race (he'd lost his leg and arm while clearing land mines in war-torn countries). The next time you hear someone refer to pro-sports players as 'heroes', tell them the real definition by referring them to this film.
