Last Friday, I watched a documentary called The Barkley Marathons: The Race That Eats Its Young with Rose House. As a washed-up cross-country runner, I was a really excited to watch this film. I’d known about ultra-marathons prior to watching this film, and had always been intrigued by the level of physical endurance required to sustain the required level of energy for that many hours, or days, or sometimes even weeks on end. I remember hearing about an ultra-marathon in Brooklyn called the 3100 Mile “Self-Transcendence” Race; I can’t imagine having the mental and physical fortitude to do something of that calibre.

But the Barkley is in a class of its own. I feel like a lot of the event’s charm comes from the aura of it. The little intricacies of how the race runs, the characters that organize the event, the class of runners it brings in—they all add to create an event that, at least to me, is oddly intoxicating.  There is so much difficulty buried in the event, but that difficulty is wrapped up in a strange sense of casual-ness. The way the organizers explain how it functions really adds the the experience. For example, the relaxed manner in which the founder explains that the “entrance fee” is simply whatever he needs more of that year, be it socks or button-down shirts, really sets the tone for the rest of the film.

I don’t think I could, not would I ever want to, participate in the event. But I would love to just attend as a spectator, camping out and cheering on the runners. On some level I understand why that doesn’t happen; the event is small, and is intended to build a sense of camaraderie between the athletes, but there is definitely something about the culture of it that feels like it would be fascinating to be part of. It makes me wonder what, and where, all the other events in the same realm is this one are, because you know they must be out there somewhere. Maybe someday, if I’m lucky, I’ll have my very own “Barkley Marathons.”