A Full Ironman vs. a 100 Mile Ultramarathon

As silly as it may sound, one of my primary motivators for recently completing The 2024 Arizona Ironman was to see how it compared to a 100 mile ultramarathon. I had seen some discussion about this in various endurance communities online, but I was very curious to glean an understanding for myself. My hypothesis was that a 100 miler would be the bigger feat, but there was no way to know how it compared until I had completed both events for myself. In 2022 I ran The Bear 100 in Utah & Idaho. Now that I’ve added the Arizona race to my resume, I figure this would be a fun chance to compare and contrast the two events against one another.

The results were a bit surprising.

Finish line pics from The Bear 100 and the AZ Ironman. I though it would be fun to do a mini essay comparing and contrasting the two events.

Training

Perhaps the biggest thing that I was not expecting was just how substantial of a commitment the training for an Ironman would be. It sounds obvious to say that doing three sports at once would be a time suck, but I don’t think you really appreciate how true that is until you try it. The uniquely challenging thing about the Ironman training is that because you are constantly switching sports, you always feel like you need (and are able) to push for more.

Swimming, for example, is a very taxing activity. I always left the pool feeling pretty spent and like I had gotten a great workout. But the thing is, no matter how hard I swam, I was never tired or sore enough to not be ready to push right into another long/tough session the next day (or even that afternoon) for one of the other sports. Same with biking. As tired as I might be, it was almost never so bad that I couldn’t run the next day.

What all this means is that you’re continually needing to jump from one long workout to the next (or at least, once you really get ramped up). I mean, over my biggest four day stretch I did the following:

• Friday = 4,000 meter swim
• Saturday = Century ride
• Sunday = 18 mile run
• Monday = Right back in the pool for a swim

When you factor in the necessary ‘brick’ workouts involved in triathlons as well (that is, multiple sports back to back, e.g. Ride then run), it adds up to even more. As I was peaking, I was doing weeks on end of 9 workouts per week: 3 swims, 3 rides, and 3 runs. And some folks do more than this.

And then you have to consider the time commitment of the sports themselves. Running is mild and mindless in comparison to the other two. To go for a run, you basically just trot out your door and go. But going for a swim takes all kinds of planning, driving, changing, fighting for lap lanes against boomers, showering afterwards, and other kinds of BS. Biking has it’s own set of complications. And to get a decent bike ride in usually requires at least an hour. Long rides take half a day or more.

The point is, I was very surprised at how much the Ironman training was a near continuous flow of going from one workout to the next. And the time commitment of each sport only added to this.

Contrasting all this to ultra running. I mean, yes, weekend long runs of 30+ miles (a necessary part of ultra training) are a really massive effort indeed. But they’re simple to do in many ways. And afterwards you’re pretty much completely destroyed for the next 2-3 days. This adds up to a lot of downtime. I don’t think I really appreciated how violent of an activity running is until dabbling in the tri training. Every fiber of your being is destroyed after a hard, long run. Doubly so for trail running with lots of vertical gain and loss and/or at altitude.

The challenge of training for a 100 is just staying healthy amidst the continual pounding and grind of all the miles. Whereas with triathlons you’re usually able to keep pushing into the next thing. so the challenge is its relentless nature.

In fact, there’s an infamous – and somewhat sadistic – quote about Ironmans that goes like this: “If you’re not just about divorced by the end, you didn’t train hard enough.” I’m happy to report that I did not reach this point, but I think anyone would be lying if they said it wasn’t a massive, massive time commitment.

Anyway, all-in, I think that the training for an Ironman is a bigger commitment and challenge. Getting prepared for an 100 is all about steeling yourself. Getting prepared for an Ironman is about crazy discipline and commitment. Both are a far, far cry from easy. But the unique combination of time challenges, multiple skills, and commitment of the tri training I found it to be the bigger challenge.

Logistics

I would also have to give the difficulty nod of logistics and planning to the Ironman. As I noted in my AZ trip report the preparation and organizing for this sport can be dizzying at times. There is SO much to always be thinking about, planning for, buying ahead of time, and prepping in advance. The training prep is a gauntlet unto itself, and the race even more so. I’m not saying that a 100 mile ultra is a logistics simplicity (it certainly is not), but it does have the distinct advantage of being focused on just one thing.

This is actually a big part of why I’ve always loved running so much. There’s a real purity to the straightforward nature of the activity. Go as far as you can, as fast as you can, and as long as you can on your own two feet. This simplicity is a beautiful thing. And I think that is (somewhat) reflected in the race logistics as well. Or at least, compared to a triathlon.

The tri is full of complications and operational considerations. Don’t get me wrong, I actually found this to be quite fun, albeit a bit exhausting at times. Tris really are for the thinking person. This surprised me in a good way as I enjoyed it. And I’m sure this gets easier as you gain more experience. But it was much more complicated than I had expected. Thus, the Ironman gets the difficulty nod here as well.

Race Vibe

There’s not really a ‘right or wrong’ or ‘harder or easier’ when it comes to the race vibe, but it’s still interesting to compare the two. Tris vs. ultras have very different atmospheres, but I deeply appreciate each for what it is.

The Ironman was most definitely a race. People put in a ton of time, effort, and money to do this. They are there to compete. There is a distinct atmosphere of wanting to go your fastest and beat the clock. Every second seems to matter and people act like it. Maybe part of this is marketing (the tri community is well conditioned to spend every dollar possible to go faster), or maybe this is simply an Ironman corporate thing, or maybe it’s just the nature of the sport. I don’t know. But what I do know is that there’s a lot to be said for the competitive atmosphere of these races. I kind of like the pressure to really go out and compete, even if it’s just against the clock.

The contrast of this to ultras couldn’t be more striking. Colorado ultrarunner John Lacroix has an all-time quote about the best approach to doing ultras, “Start slow and ease off.” This is one of my favorites as it really captures the essence of these races. The implication is not that everyone isn’t trying, but rather, that everyone knows just how insanely brutal these efforts can be. As such, you MUST support one another and take a conservative approach.

I always felt this is why there is such a humble, supportive, and community-oriented spirit to ultras. Factor in the connection with nature and the beauty of being in the mountains and the ultrarunning community is really unparalleled. Unlike my near constant failing to make friends during the Ironman, I’ve found myself sharing some of my most intimate moments with total strangers out on the singletrack. And each and every time it’s been met with compassion, empathy, and an unbreakable common spirit that is only found in that unique setting.

I’m not saying that’s necessarily better or worse than an Ironman vibe. But there’s no denying the uniquely human atmosphere of running 100 miles all at once. It creates a special atmosphere that is unrivaled in any other athletic activity I’ve done. Doing an Ironman is about racing the clock. Doing a 100 is about racing yourself.

Race Organizers

In my experience, the philosophical underpinnings and overall approach of the race organizers completely sets the tone for races like these. That spans from the moment you start your research and carries all the way through to well past the finish line. As such, I’ve found the spirit of the organizers to a be a key aspect of the overall enjoyment of the event. It is, therefore, worth reflecting on the groups who manage these races a bit further.

The IRONMAN brand is owned by World Triathlon Corporation, a private equity group. They are in turn owned by Advance Publications, a privately held American media company. That right there should tell you almost everything you need to know about the guiding principals behind “IRONMAN” events.

The Ironman brand (and those aforementioned other companies) have taken a lot of crap over the past few years for their various practices. Lots of people were unhappy with how they handled COVID. Lots more are very unhappy with them now owning the UTMB trail series. And of course, no one is really happy with the high prices these events command.

There is lots and lots of debate and info about all this this online, so I’ll let others “do their own research” to learn more about Ironman’s controversial practices and history. Suffice it to say, what I came to realize very quickly is that at it’s core, Ironman is a corporation. And that means (whatever else their literature might say), their #1 focus will always be to extract as much money as they can out of these events and their participants. And to grow unceasingly.

I witnessed this first hand for my race as I fielded a near constant stream of marketing that they threw at me. I mean, just looking back at my email archive, Ironman hit me up for all the following reasons after I signed up for the Arizona race:

• They set me promo emails after I’m 99% sure I specifically opted out of them during the sign up process.
• The offered multiple different pricing levels, experiences, and ‘tiers’ for signing up. e.g. Priority check-in, dedicated bike maintenance, bike and bag return to your hotel post-race “and much more.”
• The offered multiple different pricing levels, experiences, and ‘tiers’ for spectators. e.g. You could pay a few hundred bucks to enter the finish chute and place a medal on your athlete.
• They pitched coaching services.
• They pitched their training app.
• They pushed their Flex90 Benefits many times (I still have no idea what this even is and I refuse to learn).
• They asked me to donate to the Ironman Foundation (ok, maybe this one isn’t so bad…)
• They explained that if you donated enough money to the Ironman foundation you could get a free Kona bid, a dream goal normally only earned with a fast time for most triathletes (ok, I take it back; maybe the foundation is a pile of rotten corporate crap too).
• They sent me info about their pro series races.
• They offered me something called a “Gold Membership Upgrade” (No idea what this is either)
• They pitched me their own virtual cycling platform.
• They sent me partner offers for hotels, rental car companies, restaurants, etc.
• They tried to sell me race day photos.

Even the name of their events are full of corporate nausea. My race was technically called the “Paradox IRONMAN Arizona, Part of the Vinfast IRONMAN North America Series.” The fact that this thing was named after some BS AI-recruiting company and an unknown Vietnamese electric car company should, again, tell you just about all you need to know.

Now, I’ll pause here to say that none of these things are necessarily bad on their own. I’m sure others won’t mind some of this nearly as much as I did. I’ll also note that I signed up eyes wide open to all this. I had been warned about this ahead of time so I somewhat knew what to expect. No one should feel sorry for me.

But I guess the point I’m trying to make is that I was pretty taken aback at what a business enterprise the whole thing felt like. This is a money making machine and they really have it down to a science of how to extract as many dollars as possible from participants. The older I get, the more and more I believe corporations are at the root of most of the current evils in the world (not to mention private equity’s propensity to ruin literally everything it touches), so all of this was off-putting to me.

Maybe part of the reason for that was because of the contrast with the ultra running scene. Almost all the trial races I’ve done have been small, local, and community-focused affairs. Sure, the organizers don’t want to lose money, but nobody is getting rich off of those events. In fact, often times their greatest challenge is just staying afloat due to all the complications of trying to pull off a big event as a small enterprise. As such, I can say with 100% conviction that all the ultras I have done have been primarily focused on the racers themselves. Their achievements, their successes, and their support is the goal. Almost all their ‘extra’ stuff is dedicated to that goal. This was certainly true for The Bear 100 and it’s been the same at others I’ve done as well.

To me, that is the infinitely preferable option. We need more homegrown stuff in this world, not more corporate bull shite. For that reason I’d prefer a solid local race almost any day vs. a mega corporate event.

(Side Note: To give credit where credit is due, I will say that Ironman ran a flawless event from a logistics perspective. Their organizing, on-course support, weekend schedule, and everything that had to do with operational execution of the race was near spotless. I was both very impressed and very thankful for this. They did an immaculate job of organizing which was both surprising and welcomed. 

I guess that’s one of the plus sides to a big corporate entity. When things are organized well, they can offer a level of support and organization that others just simply cannot. But even that comes with the caveat that it was the 2,500 volunteers who really made a difference for my event. Ironman gets credit for organizing them, yes, but it was the people themselves who made all the difference. What it says about a corporation that they use all this free labor to pull off an event in which they make bank is a conclusion I’ll let others make for themselves…)

Effort

And so we come to it, how does the effort itself compare to the two activities?

Well, one unique thing about the Ironman is how much harder you can push the whole time. The race felt akin to holding your finger juuust outside the range of a candle so as to not get burned; always safely out of danger (i.e. not pushing too hard), but continually towing the line (i.e. pushing as best you can). I liked that about the Ironman. There is something special about trying to find that middle ground of going hard, but not quite hard enough that you bonk. It’s what makes this kind of racing fun.

I suppose you could argue this is an approach you could take to running 100 miles as well. But in my experience, flirting with the line in an ultra is a sure fire way to get yourself killed (maybe literally). Running a 100 is just a completely different kind of difficulty. The level of challenge and depth of effort is simply unrivaled in its scope, commitment, and challenge. It’s hard to describe exactly why.

Maybe it’s the time commitment (The Ironman took me just over 11 hours and the 100 just over 28). Maybe it’s the vertical gain (In many ways I felt the 22,000 feet of up and down at The Bear was just as challenging as the 100 miles). Maybe it’s the mountains (being out in the wilderness and contending with all that nature can throw at you). Maybe it’s the singular, relentless nature of the activity (the only way forward is to keep putting one foot in front of the other). Or maybe it’s a combination of all these things and more.

Whatever the case may be, I truly believe that completing a 100 miler was an order of magnitude more difficult than doing a full Ironman.

The 100 miler was just unmatched in its ability to reach into the depths of my inner being. To do it requires much, much more than fancy gear or good training or perfect strategy execution or anything else you might rely on. Yes, all those things definitely help, but unless you’re some kind of super athlete, a 100 requires just about each and every person to search deep within himself or herself to come out alive. There is almost no way to skirt the brutal realities that hit after 100+ miles and 20+ hours out in the wilderness. That is what makes it so special.

I summarized all this to my friend recently by reflecting, “The challenge of a marathon is about the body. The challenge of an Ironman is about the body and the mind. But the challenge of a 100 miler is about the soul.”

As amazing as each sport is and as proud as I am for doing an Ironman, I just don’t think it comes anywhere close to the monumental feat that is a running 100 miles through the mountains all at once.

Recovery

The proof of this might be in the recovery. After the Ironman I was very sore the next day. But I was still able to function. I got up, packed my bike, and limped around the Phoenix airport without too much hassle. In the week that followed I stayed sore for a while, but it was never debilitating. I found myself very tired and exhausted, but nothing a little extra food and sleep couldn’t cure. I even trail ran 10 miles in Moab just a week later.

Compare this to my post-recovery effort after The Bear and you really see how these things are not in the same league. After the 100 I could barely walk. And I mean that literally. I couldn’t get down the stairs without sliding on my belly. My sister brought me a cane that I used unironically for a week. Doing just about anything required herculean amounts of energy and planning. Like I said earlier, running is just a violent sport. It leaves its mark in a nasty, enduring way.

After the Ironman I felt like I had done a big athletic achievement. After The Bear I felt like I had survived a bad car wreck. There is simply no comparison of the recovery between the two.

The Final Word

I think if people want to have an amazing accomplishment, they should go run a marathon. It is an incredible thing and something to be very proud of. Those races can be very challenging yet still attainable, absolutely brutal yet full of heroics, and well-trodden yet still very unique unto themselves.

I think if people want to have a great experience, they should go do an Ironman. The challenge, multi-sport nature, and difficulty adds up to a very unique and distinct experience like none other. And I love it for that.

But I think if people want to talk to God, they should go run 100 miles. In my opinion, the challenges faced and overcome via this unique activity are like none other. It forces people to look within – and above – like nothing else I’ve found in the world of sport. I think it is one of the most meaningful things an endurance athlete could ever do, and I would recommend it to anyone looking to explore the true depths of life.