Imagine this: a 61-year-old potato farmer, standing at the starting line of one of the world's most grueling ultra marathons, wearing nothing more than overalls and gum boots. This isn't the beginning of a joke; it's the start of one of the most extraordinary stories in the history of endurance sports. The man? Cliff Young. The event? The 1983 Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultramarathon, a punishing 875-kilometer race that would test the limits of human endurance.
I first heard about Cliff Young during a casual chat with a coworker, who, with a mix of disbelief and admiration, mentioned how this unassuming elder ran the race fueled by whole milk, his feet encased not in high-tech running shoes but in simple gum boots. Intrigued, I dove into old footage of the race and was captivated. Here was a man who didn't even consider competitive running until after his 50th birthday, yet he was about to take on—and astonishingly, crush—the competition in a race where even the fittest and most experienced runners often falter.
What unfolds is a tale not just of physical endurance, but of sheer human spirit and the belief in defying the odds. Cliff Young's journey from the rolling fields of his farm to the finish line of an ultra marathon is a testament to the incredible feats we're capable of when we dare to challenge the impossible. And as the race began, with spectators and fellow runners alike watching in a mix of skepticism and curiosity, little did they know they were about to witness history in the making.
Who was Cliff Young?
To understand the man who would defy every expectation and rewrite the rules of ultra marathon running, we need to journey back to his roots in Beech Forest, Victoria. Cliff Young wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth or running shoes on his feet. Instead, he was raised on the rugged terrain of a sheep farm, where the concept of a "day off" was as foreign as an Australian snowstorm in December.
Cliff's daily routine was a marathon in itself, filled with long hours of physical labor. He didn't run for the sake of running; he ran because that was the most effective way to get around his vast farm to tend to his flock. Miles and miles he would cover, day in and day out, in all kinds of weather, often wearing nothing more than his work boots. Without even realizing it, Cliff was laying the foundation for his incredible endurance—a foundation not built on a runner's high, but on the necessity of rural farm life.
His upbringing instilled in him more than just the ability to endure; it shaped his character. Cliff Young was the epitome of humility and hard work. In a world that increasingly celebrates ego and individual achievement, Cliff's approach to life and running was refreshingly simple: do the work, stay in the moment, and let your actions speak for themselves. This down-to-earth nature would set him apart in the competitive arena of ultra marathon, a world filled with athletes chasing personal glory and pushing the limits of human performance.
To me, Cliff Young's story transcends the sport of running. It's a powerful reminder that sometimes, the most extraordinary capabilities arise from the simplest of lives. His success in one of the world's most daunting races wasn't just about physical stamina; it was a testament to the strength of a positive attitude, a relentless work ethic, and the magic of living in the present moment. Cliff Young didn't run with ego; he ran with heart. And as we'll see, this heart carried him much further than his feet alone could have.
The Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultramarathon
The Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultra marathon wasn't just any race; it was the Ironman of running, a Herculean challenge that asked more of its participants than perhaps any other event of its time. Stretching an awe-inspiring 875 kilometers (that's about 544 miles, for those of us more familiar with imperial measurements), this ultra marathon was a multi-day odyssey that pushed athletes to the brink of their physical and mental limits.
But let's talk about what made this race uniquely daunting: the weather. The journey from Sydney to Melbourne is not just long; it's a roller coaster ride through some of Australia's most varied and unpredictable climates. Runners would find themselves battling the scorching sun one moment and shivering through a cold snap the next. Rain could turn the roads into rivers without warning, and wind could buffet runners as if trying to push them back to the start line. It's one thing to maintain a steady pace on a calm, cool day; it's another to do it when Mother Nature herself seems bent on breaking you.
Then there's the mental game. Imagine for a moment the mental fortitude required not just to keep your legs moving but to keep your spirit from flagging, mile after mile, day after day, through conditions that seem designed to test your resolve. This race wasn't just about physical endurance; it was a battle of wills against the elements, against fatigue, and against the doubts that creep into the mind during the loneliest parts of the journey.
These challenges are reminiscent of life itself, aren't they? Just like in the ultra marathon, we face our own unpredictable weather patterns—moments of difficulty and ease, of turmoil and peace. What Cliff Young's participation in this formidable race teaches us is a valuable lesson about resilience. Through his journey, we're reminded that facing life's unpredictable moments isn't so different from conquering an ultra marathon. It's about moving forward, one step at a time, and embracing each challenge as an opportunity to grow stronger.
Looking at Cliff Young's achievement, it's clear that his approach to life and running was deeply intertwined. His success wasn't just due to his physical ability to endure but also his mental resilience, his unwavering positive attitude, and his capacity to remain present and steadfast, no matter what life—or the race—threw his way. In reflecting on Cliff's story, it's comforting to realize that we're all capable of adopting this mindset. His extraordinary feat reminds us that, perhaps, the difference between the ordinary and the extraordinary lies in how we face the challenges along our path.
Cliff Young's Unconventional Preparation
If you were to step into Frontrunners Victoria, you'd see the latest and greatest in athletic footwear, designed to shave seconds off a runner's time—sometimes at a hefty price. Yet, amidst a world obsessed with the perfect running gear, Cliff Young's training "regimen" (if we can even call it that) flips the script on conventional wisdom.
You see, Cliff's preparation for the Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultra marathon didn't involve high-tech sneakers or scientifically optimized nutrition plans. Instead, his daily life on the farm served as his training ground. Running in gum boots wasn't a quirky choice for social media likes; it was practicality dictated by his environment.
Imagine the sight: a man herding sheep and tending to farm duties, all the while running across the rugged terrain of his property in gum boots. It's a far cry from the polished, cushioned running shoes we covet, but for Cliff, it worked.
His diet, too, was far from what you'd find in the meal plan of a typical ultramarathoner. Whole milk and yogurt were staples, not because of their calculated nutritional benefits but because they were readily available and, quite simply, what he liked. There were no protein powders, no carb-loading dinners—just the simple, hearty fare of a man living off the land.
And formal training or coaching? Non-existent. Cliff relied on his innate stamina and a deep understanding of his own body, honed through years of physical labor on the farm. His approach was if Rocky Balboa took on sheep cattle ranching without a horse. It really is Cliff's functional—real-world strength and endurance that came from actual work, not workouts.
Hearing stories of a 90-year-old running in Oxford shoes or grandparents fleeing danger in clogs puts into perspective the incredible diversity in human resilience and adaptability. Cliff Young, running an ultra marathon in gum boots, is a testament to that. It challenges our modern fixation on the "right" gear and the "best" training methods, reminding us that at the end of the day, it's not what's on your feet but what's in your heart (and perhaps your determination) that counts.
Cliff's preparation for the ultra marathon wasn't just unconventional; it was a bold statement on the essence of endurance—both physical and mental. In a world where we often look for external solutions to improve our performance, Cliff's story is a powerful reminder that sometimes, the best resources we have are innate, honed through the simple act of living a life filled with hard work and purpose.
The Race Day
Race day at the Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultra marathon was a spectacle to behold. Picture the scene: a lineup of elite athletes, their bodies honed by years of targeted training, their gear optimized down to the last detail. And there, amidst the sea of high-tech fabrics and determined faces, stood Cliff Young in his overalls and gum boots, looking for all the world like he'd taken a wrong turn on his way to the farm.
The skepticism was palpable. Onlookers and fellow competitors alike couldn't help but doubt the seriousness of this 61-year-old potato farmer's intentions. His presence at the starting line was viewed as quaint at best, misguided at worst. After all, what chance did a man in gum boots have against seasoned ultra marathon runners?
But then, the race began, and something remarkable unfolded. Cliff's running style—what came to be affectionately known as the "Young shuffle"—was the antithesis of the powerful strides exhibited by his competitors. To the untrained eye, it seemed inefficient, a slow, loping gait that surely couldn't sustain the relentless pace of an ultra marathon. Yet, this "shuffle" was Cliff's secret weapon, a masterclass in energy conservation. While others expended their energy in leaps and bounds, Cliff maintained his steady, unassuming pace, like a turtle amidst hares, intuitively practicing what we now recognize as Zone 2 training.
For those unfamiliar, Zone 2 training focuses on maintaining a moderate, sustainable pace, where you're working just hard enough to build endurance without overtaxing your body. It's about staying in that sweet spot where you can keep going and going, burning fat as fuel in a way that's efficient and sustainable. This was Cliff, farming speed personified, moving at a pace that he could maintain for hours—days, even—without burning out.
Reflecting on my own starting line at the Finlayson Arm 100km, with pockets stuffed with raw, natural fuel and a pace that was uniquely mine, I can't help but feel a kinship with Cliff's strategy. Like him, I understood the importance of listening to my body, recognizing what it needed and honoring its boundaries. As the race stretched into the night, with elite runners succumbing to the toll of exhaustion and nutritional missteps, it was Cliff's consistent shuffle and his profound connection with his own stamina that propelled him onward, impervious to the unfolding drama of fatigue around him. This wasn't just about physical endurance; it was a deeper harmony with the rhythm of one's own being.
The turning point came when it became clear that Cliff wasn't just there to make a statement or to merely finish. He was there to compete, to win. Observers and competitors alike watched in amazement as this unassuming farmer from Victoria outlasted those who'd seemed invincible at the start. It was a profound reminder of the power of knowing oneself, of the deep understanding of one's capabilities that can sometimes be lost in conventional training and living.
Cliff Young didn't just run the Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultra marathon; he redefined what it meant to compete in it. His race was a testament to the strength of the human spirit, the importance of being in tune with one's body, and the incredible endurance that can be found not in the speed of the sprint, but in the steady pace of the long haul.
The Victory
There's something almost magical about the moment Cliff Young crossed the finish line of the Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultra marathon. After 5 days, 15 hours, and 4 minutes of relentless shuffling through some of Australia's most challenging terrains, Cliff did the unthinkable: he didn't just finish the race; he shattered the previous record by a staggering margin. Imagine the scene: a 61-year-old potato farmer, who had been underestimated from the start, proving not just to the world, but to himself, what the human spirit is capable of.
The crowd's reaction was a mix of shock, awe, and sheer admiration. Onlookers who days earlier might have dismissed Cliff's chances were now witnessing the embodiment of determination and resilience. The disbelief among his fellow competitors gradually turned into profound respect. Here was a man who defied every expectation, not with arrogance or a desire for fame, but with a quiet confidence and a shuffling gait.
And then, the media frenzy ensued. Reporters scrambled to tell the tale of the unassuming farmer who outran the elites, looking for the secret to his success. But Cliff's story was more profound than any training regimen or diet; it was a story of heart, humility, and the human capacity to endure.
Reflecting on this victory, I'm reminded of the unique bond formed among runners in a race. It's a shared experience that goes beyond personal achievement, touching something deeper within us. But there comes a point when crossing the finish line becomes about more than just completing the course. It's about carrying a message, a cause, or a story that needs to be shared—a moment where the journey melds with poetry and compassion, inspiring others.
Cliff understood this better than anyone. In an act that spoke volumes about his character, he chose to share his prize money with the other runners. This wasn't about accumulating wealth or accolades; for Cliff, the race was an opportunity to write his own story and to celebrate the achievements of his fellow competitors. He showed us that true victory isn't found in being the fastest or the strongest; it's in the spirit of generosity and community.
In today's world, where social media often dictates the narrative of success, Cliff's journey stands apart. He wasn't interested in being the next influencer, flaunting a sponsorship, or capturing the perfect selfie atop a hill. His story was one of genuine human ability and humble achievement. Cliff Young didn't just win a race; he reminded us of the incredible things we're capable of when we stay true to ourselves and support one another. His legacy is a testament to the idea that the most profound victories are those that bring us closer together, shining a light on the shared path of endurance, compassion, and humble triumph.
Legacy and Impact
In the tapestry of Australian lore, few stories weave through the cultural consciousness quite like that of Cliff Young. From a humble potato farmer to a celebrated folk hero and an icon in the world of ultra running, Cliff's extraordinary journey is a narrative that transcends sports. His triumph in the 1983 Westfield Sydney to Melbourne Ultra marathon did more than just etch his name in the record books; it fundamentally challenged our perceptions of training, age, and what it means to be an athlete.
Cliff's unconventional approach, characterized by his now-famous "Young-shuffle," has inspired a global community of runners. This unique gait, born out of necessity and the rugged terrain of his farm, became a symbol of efficiency and endurance. It's a testament to the idea that sometimes, the most innovative solutions come from outside the established norms.
But Cliff Young's legacy is about so much more than a running technique or an astonishing athletic feat. It's a call to action, a reminder that change doesn't always start with grand gestures or monumental efforts. Sometimes, it begins with a single step, a decision to challenge the status quo, or the courage to pursue a personal dream, no matter how unreachable it may seem.
At Frontrunners, where stories of change makers and voices of progress are shared every day, Cliff's story resonates deeply. It serves as a beacon for those looking to fuel their own journeys, not necessarily to complete an ultra marathon or an Ironman, but to make meaningful changes in their lives or in the lives of others. It could be as simple as breaking free from unhealthy patterns, advocating for a cause close to your heart, or creating a narrative that sends ripples of change across your community.
Cliff taught us that the value of our endeavors isn't measured by the accolades we receive or our visibility in the media. The true measure of impact lies in the wake we leave behind—how we inspire, motivate, and uplift those around us. In a world that often prioritizes individual achievement and material success, Cliff's journey is a poignant reminder of the profound influence that selfless acts and genuine intentions can have.
We need more rebels like Cliff Young—rebels with a cause, who challenge the prevailing winds with a gentle but unyielding force. His story isn't just one of personal triumph; it's a blueprint for evolving our world in small, meaningful ways. Whether it's through running, advocacy, or simply being a little kinder, we all have the capacity to be change makers in our own right. Cliff Young's legacy isn't just about what he achieved; it's about what we choose to do with the inspiration he's given us. Let's carry that torch forward, illuminating paths not just for ourselves, but for those who follow.
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