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The Queen of Cocodona

The Race That Eats Its Young

The Race That Eats Its Young



In April 1968, James Earl Ray assassinated Martin Luther King, Jr., in Memphis.

After a two-month stint on the run across the United States, Canada, and England, authorities apprehended Ray in London as he attempted to flee to Africa.

Back in the USA, Ray landed in Tennessee’s Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary. Nestled among the rugged crags of the Cumberland Plateau, Brushy Mountain had a gnarly reputation. One documentary called it the “Alcatraz of the South.” A maximum security facility, housing some of the country’s worst criminals, the prison had been designed by geologists to utilize the geography to make it hard to escape. In The Silence of the Lambs, Brushy Mountain was the site offered as an upgrade to Hannibal Lecter if he would help catch the serial killer Buffalo Bill.

In 1977, James Earl Ray decided to attempt a getaway. Having already tried to escape once, Ray and five other inmates used a pipe ladder to scale the rock walls of the prison. They dispersed into the night and the Appalachian woods.

Ray wasn’t an escapee neophyte. He had fled a 20-year sentence at the Missouri State Penitentiary in 1967 and spent the year before King’s assassination on the lam across North America. He was clearly adept at evading capture and improvising on the run.

For more than 2 days, marshals couldn’t locate Ray after he left Brushy Mountain. In that timeframe, it wasn’t far-fetched to wonder if this experienced runner had made it out of the United States. Yet, when authorities finally found him 51 hours after the escape, Ray had managed to move just 8.5 miles from Brushy Mountain!

The mugshot of a man with dark hair
James Earl Ray
A distant photo of a building, surrounded by fencing, with a rising mountain behind it
Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary - photo by Michael Hodge
A map  of Tennessee, showing a blue pin due east of Nashville, in the central-eastern part of the state
Brushy Mountain's location between Knoxville and Nashville

Ray’s endeavor was big news, especially in the surrounding areas of eastern Tennessee.

When word of his recapture surfaced, local ultra-running enthusiast Gary Cantrell was astounded by the short distance Ray had covered after his escape. Though he understood the challenges of the Tennessee mountains, Cantrell couldn’t help but think he could have made it more than 8 miles.

This reflection sparked an idea in Cantrell, known mainly by the alias Lazarus Lake. He and another runner, Karl Henn, hatched the idea of the Barkley Marathons, a race that marries the harsh topography around Brushy Mountain and the limits of human endurance.

Since its debut in 1986, the Barkley Marathons have become infamous in the ultra-running realm. Often touted as the world’s hardest race, it has garnered the sobriquet of “the race that eats its young.”

A man wth an orange knit cap and glasses lights a cigarette
Gary Cantrell aka Lazarus Lake - photo by Michael Hodge

Everything about the Barkley tests human mettle.

The race’s entry procedure is shrouded in secrecy. Limited to only 40 competitors, applicants must find the correct repository for their entry before submitting an essay about why they should be selected for that year’s edition. The fee to apply is $1.60.

Runners have 60 hours to complete five loops through Frozen Head State Park, which abuts the penitentiary. Each loop is “20 miles long.” To keep the event on the edge of possible and impossible, Lake and Henn have changed the route and added mileage, yet the official distance of each loop remains “20 miles.” Today’s contestants estimate each loop is closer to a full marathon than a score of miles. To finish, one must ostensibly trek 100 miles through the Tennessee mountains in 60 hours, but the final total often pushes past 130.

Entrants get a map and a compass, but cannot use global positioning systems. They know the race will begin sometime between 11 PM and 11 AM, but only get an hour’s notice, as Lake sounds the warning on a conch horn. Hidden in the forest along the course are books; to prove runners have been around the circuit, they must remove the page from the book that corresponds to their bib numbers. In the past, these tomes have included Death Walks the WoodsHeart of Darkness, and A Time to Die.

Five loops might breed some familiarity with the on-and-off-trail course, so Lake and Henn force competitors to run two laps clockwise – as the time works out, once in the light and once in the dark – and two counterclockwise. Route finding and locating books in the woods becomes a bit of an orienteering nightmare, in addition to the long mileage. For the last lap, the person in first chooses clockwise or counterclockwise, and every subsequent runner must go the opposite direction of their predecessor.

Conditions at Frozen Head in early spring – the exact date is also a secret until just days before, but it always happens between February and April – vary wildly from year to year and even within one iteration. Rain, snow, heat, and cold are all likely to appear at some point. Need to eat or sleep? You have to fit that into your between-laps respites at the park’s campground.

A group of runners, clad with backpacks, runs up a steep, forested incline
The starters head into the Frozen Head wilderness in 2009 - photo by Michael Hodge
A shot of a mountain ridge from the top of another mountain
The Frozen Head terrain - photo by Amy Callies Satterwhite/Tennessee State Parks
The entire background of a photo is taken up by a rising mountain that s covered with blanketed tiers of clouds
Frozen Head landscape - photo from Tennessee State Parks

If runners manage to complete five loops, they don’t just overcome the mileage and sleep deprivation. They also need to scale and descend the equivalent of Mt. Everest. Twice. 60,000 feet up; 60,000 feet down.

The routes and landforms have garnered ominously comedic names, hinting at the perils that Frozen Head provides. 

Rat Jaw.

Hillpocolypse.

Meatgrinder.

Testicle Spectacle.

Checkmate Hill.

The race is so arduous that only 20 humans have completed five laps, a total of 26 times, since the loop system was introduced in 1995. Just three people have succeeded more than once: Brett Maune, Jared Campbell, and John Kelly. In 2024, Jasmin Paris became the first woman to beat the clock.

Most years, however, no one finishes, including the previous two versions in 2025 and 2026.

Despite the incredible difficulty of the course, Lake offers competitors a consolation prize. If you manage to finish three loops, you earn the official designation of a “fun run.” For that fun, a person trudges nearly 80 miles through the forest with about 75,000 feet of gain and loss.

Of course, following the theme, for many years, Barkley has produced exactly zero fun runs, too.

Despite the secrecy, the uniqueness of the Barkley Marathons meant the race was bound to gain a wider stature. Its reputation as the race that “eats its young” became the title of a 2014 documentary that introduced the race to a wider audience.

It seems safe to surmise that James Earl Ray likely wouldn’t have categorized his 8-mile jaunt through Tennessee as a fun run.

Could you make it farther than the notorious criminal?

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