Welcome to the first instalment of Ordinary Marathon Heroes, a new weekly series starting today. Each Thursday, we’ll celebrate the unsung, non-elite heroes of long-distance running—those ordinary runners who’ve accomplished extraordinary feats. And what better way to kick off this series than with the unforgettable story of Cliff Young, a 61-year-old farmer who defied all odds and turned the ultra-marathon world on its head.
Let’s get one thing straight. You’ve got your elite athletes, your marathon runners, your ultra-endurance sportspeople who train with precision, follow rigorous schedules, and probably have a diet that consists mainly of kale and quinoa. And then you’ve got Cliff Young.
The Day Cliff Young Arrived
In 1983, Australia hosted the ultra-marathon from Sydney to Melbourne—a rather modest 544-mile footrace, just for fun. You know, the sort of race where you can’t quite decide if you should be running or maybe just slowly walking the thing. But this wasn’t just any race. Oh no. This was the race that turned a 61-year-old, gumboot-wearing potato farmer into a legend.
It’s important to understand that Cliff didn’t just show up for the race. No, no, that would be far too pedestrian. Cliff sauntered up to the registration table in his overalls, asking for a number, like he was going to fetch the morning papers, not take on one of the most gruelling races in the world. Naturally, the organisers thought it was some sort of joke. And by 'joke', I mean they probably thought they’d be calling an ambulance by day two.
But nope. Cliff wasn’t joking. He was just... well, being Cliff. He didn’t have the fancy trainers or the latest fitness trackers. Instead, he wore his overalls and galoshes—because apparently, running shoes were optional when you were from the country.
A Long, Shuffling Road to Victory
As the race started, the elite runners, all looking like they had come straight out of a Nike ad, must’ve had a laugh. “Look at the old fella,” they must’ve thought, “this will be over before it starts.” They couldn’t have been more wrong.
Cliff’s running style? Well, that was more ‘shuffle’ than ‘sprint’. Imagine a penguin trying to outrun a cheetah. That was Cliff. And yet, with each step, the other runners began to realise something. Cliff wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t even thinking about stopping.
While the others were following the “run hard, sleep longer” strategy (because who doesn't need a solid eight hours after running a few hundred miles?), Cliff had other ideas. You see, Cliff had spent much of his life herding sheep across fields, often for days on end, with no sleep. "Sleep? What's that?" he probably thought. So he just kept on shuffling. And shuffling. And shuffling.
By the time the other runners realised Cliff had been running while they were sleeping, they were already half a day behind.
The Final Shuffle
Now, Cliff wasn’t exactly young—at least by conventional standards. But, with every mile, he was chipping away at the competition. After five days, 15 hours, and four minutes, he crossed the finish line. And not just in first place, but with a world record, no less. The second-place runner? He was nearly 10 hours behind.
But it didn’t stop there. Cliff wasn’t one to keep all the glory (or the prize money) to himself. After winning the £10,000 prize, he shared it with the other competitors and his support crew. Classy, right? Of course, that didn’t stop the media from practically dismantling his backpack to see what secret formula he’d used. The answer? Pumpkin seeds and water. Very glamorous.
But the real kicker? After he’d finished the race, his legs had given up completely, and he had to be carried off the stage. You couldn’t make it up. But that was Cliff.
And if you think that was the end of his story, think again. He gave it another go in 1984, despite a busted-up knee and a dislocated hip. Even when injured, Cliff finished seventh out of nine. And let’s not forget, he was 61. At this point, if you’re not impressed, you might just want to check your pulse.
Cliff tried once more to break a record by running around Australia, but fate intervened. His support crew member got sick, and the run came to an unfortunate halt. But let’s not focus on the failed attempts. Let’s focus on the fact that an old farmer in gumboots and overalls took on the world’s elite runners, ran them into the ground, and left them scratching their heads.
Cliff Young passed away in 2003 at the age of 81, but his legacy lives on. He showed the world that sometimes, it’s not about speed or flashy gear. Sometimes, all you need is determination, a good shuffle, and the ability to ignore all sensible advice about sleep.
The ultimate takeaway? Never underestimate the farmer in the overalls. Or, as Cliff would probably say, “No worries. I’ll make it all.”