The Self-Supported Effort is the Pinnacle of Sport

Been working on this FOR FAR TOO LONG. Opinions inspired after reading William W. Warren's, History of the Ojibwe People

“It is thus that a man who travels for the purpose of writing a book to sell, and who, being a man of letters is able to trumpet forth his own fame, often plucks the laurels due to more modest and unlettered adventurers.” —William W. Warren, History of the Ojibwe People p.115

The evolution of the Fastest Known Time (FKT) has invaded and colonized what started as self-supported ultra-endurance efforts. As people seek to push the physical limits of what is possible, we’re left observing what the supported athlete is capable of. To be supported is to be privileged; to have your story told by an observer is to be rich. The FKT phenomenon undermines the significance of the individual human limit, which includes, but is not limited to, mental toughness, emotional well-being, historical context, spiritual growth, cultural responsibility, self-determination, and a deep knowing of self. Society, specifically Western society, has increasingly valued individualist accomplishments.

As I scan the depths of the internet for the stories of athletes setting FKTs (mostly in ultra-running), I find some common themes from athletes lamenting how their privilege had made them a victim of circumstance and thanking the crews that “got [them]to the finish line.” This all leads me to try to wrap my head around this FKT phenomenon. Is there room on the FKT scorecard to include additional factors like style, historical background, morals, or socioeconomic realities? Further, what does it look like as the most elite athletes are setting records that are faster and faster while having a support crew (or person) along? Are self-supported efforts going to die or fall to the wayside?

The most beautiful concept to me is the idea that any person could line up at the starting line of a race or route and win or set records. One could find a route, prepare, and set out independently without rallying a crew of people to anticipate their every need. One could build a career out of thin air by pushing the envelope of what is possible. Even a 200+ pound Native chick from a trailer park in Wisconsin could go on to become a high-level competitor, sponsored athlete, and record holder. Of course, I am heavily biased because that’s what happened to me. Before 2018, and my women’s win of the Tour Divide, I was invisible. Not just invisible to the cycling world but invisible in multiple corners of my life. No one asked me my opinion, no one listened to me, and I had spent most of my days before that as a drunken-pink-haired-fixie-queen. To be fair, that 2018 effort was mostly a fluke. I wasn’t trying to win; I didn’t even fathom that I was capable of winning, but I did so with a 23-day effort. (Nowadays, that finish time is comfortably mid-pack.) In the following paragraphs, I rant and decipher the future of self-supported efforts and why I hope they stay alive.

What does it mean to do it Self-Supported?

Self-supported efforts exist across all disciplines of sport. In the purest sense, to be self-supported is to do something “on one’s own.” In running, there are generally three accepted categories, unsupported, self-supported, and supported. For partner sports, this means that the partnership serves as the individual. For a basic framework, the self-supported effort is intended to be completed with only the power of the individual, never relying on, or accepting outside support to reach the finish line.

I understand self-supported from bikepack ultra-racing. I have put a lot of time into these races and any record or record attempt is expected to be completed by one’s self. Accepting fan hand-ups, caching food/water, free spectator sleep accommodations, a ride to or from the course to an off-course location, or even having a film or camera crew (or person) along is reason enough for disqualification from a true self-supported finish, “record attempt,” or FKT. Some of the arguments around the definition of self-supported get a little into the weeds and are a little overzealous in my opinion, but I think I get it. It all comes down to this when trying to discern what self-support really means: an athlete follows the rules held in common by the community of people who show up to race or complete a route that pushes the limits of what has been done, and otherwise complete the course under the power, and with the resources of but oneself, with the understanding that every single competitor, whether in a race or during an Individual Time Trial (ITT) has the same opportunities the racer had.

Self-supported efforts differ from supported efforts in the realm of accountability. For example, in ultrarunning, those who set out for a supported FKT often (I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of a supported runner not running with a pacer) utilize pacers. Not only to aid in helping the athlete keep a decent pace, pacers also help keep an athlete on course, supervise them, cheer them up, document (video), or serve as a “carrot” to keep the momentum moving forward. In bikepack racing, one must stay coherent enough to keep the momentum moving forward herself without the safety net of another person. There are consequences if one gets too sleepy that she may take a wrong turn. Or when the weather is so hard that it feels impossible to move forward, it’s the self-supported athlete that draws on her own strength, not the voice of someone who is supposed to be there to make sure they stay on course (i.e. the pacer) or knowing that someone is nearby and could rescue them if things get too out of hand (i.e. camera crew.)

The Brain Versus the Body

Ultras have long been celebrated for the psychological effort required to complete an event. Not only is physical fitness a huge factor in the success of these races, but mental and emotional resilience is key. As the body begins to fatigue, the brain almost screams messages to the body to retreat. Moving forward can seem pointless in the lonely hours of the night. In a torrential downpour, or after battling headwinds for days on end, the idea of a warm bed is magnetic. I personally draw on some of my harder lived experiences to get me across the finish line. I ultimately say that there is nothing more painful than hating oneself.

Is it the body or the mind that determines who will achieve that FKT? Is it sheer mechanics or intuition? The body’s role is significant in the pursuit of achieving the impossible. As much as strength, aerobic fitness, adaptability, and endurance matter , I would argue that one’s performance is mainly a reflection on ones ability to teeter upon a thin line between pushing one’s limits and avoiding a complete breakdown. Durability, not pure fitness alone is mandatory to be the fastest in these multi-day efforts.

As the body begins to fatigue, we’re left with just the brain. Exhaustion not only allows insecurities and loneliness to creep into any rational plane of thought, but it also makes the brain’s job all that more complicated. What seems like good ideas at the time or a desperate grasp for advantage can fail us. I’ve found myself tuning the world around me entirely out and focusing on a sole thought on repeat in my brain for sometimes the entire daylight period.

The Magic

Whenever I try to explain self-supported ultra-endurance bike racing to people who’ve never done it, it’s hard. There are very few films out there that convey the experience. Words fail to capture what the event was like. Unlike ultra-running, day races, or stage races, the challenges in capturing race footage require a lot of work. Really, though, the magic of these races is invisible. It lives in the brains of the people pushing their limits. It’s not just a single person’s performance, it’s a performance in relation to one’s competitors. If it’s an ITT, it’s a performance in relation to the past competitors. The limiting factor in performance is the basis of self-supported in the way I understand it— do it with the power of my own body. That means removing the occasionally “acceptable” car hitch to a town when something breaks. It means leaving the documentation crew at home.

It means sharing the journey with only those brave enough to dare to chase or be chased. And in the case of creating after the event, we have a responsibility to tell more than a story of moving fast. Because that’s not it, that’s not what we’re doing, just fast for fast sake. Aren’t we trying to be our best, pushing each other to bring their best? If we lose the essence and dilute the values of self-supported racing, we risk losing the opportunity to display some of the most raw expressions of human physical endurance.

Beyond the FKT

So, why even use this FKT language at all? Not only does it invalidate anyone who may have made wild, heroic efforts long before contemporary times (or Strava), but it leaves but one true effort that lives in a vacuum (i.e. there is only one with the Fastest Known Time, subject to infinite nuances.) A vast effort reduced to a singular achievement. I suspect my criticisms of the language around these “FKTs” simply boil down to the linguist in me reading too much into the semantics of the words we’re using to describe fast efforts. But, to that tone, language has an incredible ability to inform our worldview. I come to this conclusion as a learner of an Indigenous language and pretty firmly stand in the knowing that the words we use influence the way people both consciously and unconsciously think.

What is the future of ultra-endurance bike racing? As the sport gains participants and we, as individuals, accumulate resources, is the uncontrollable magic factor going to disappear? What are we really celebrating— the validation of how much support one can summon? How much content do their efforts generate? Or is there still room for those who can pull from their reserves—are we rooting for those with the most resources or for those with unwavering determination? I’m guilty of going all into the sport for both selfish and altruistic reasons. I love winning and setting records; not as blanket glory, but as to extend invitations, to leave behind a breadcrumb trail of my own personal achievement and growth. I want more people to dare to attempt impossible things, to push and pull their bodies, to touch their limits, to embark on a journey to really get to know themselves. I’ve healed so many of my body and food-eating issues through the pursuit of sport. I’ve reconnected with my culture because I’ve reconnected with my body through the process of competition; competition as a path back to myself. I’m sponsored enough, more than many, less than some, but guilty of profiting from my accomplishments. Do I still consider myself self-supported?

I ask, most importantly, how do we continue to breathe life into the self-supported effort? How do we protect it from those who blur the lines of self-supported, claiming their achievements under the guise of something it is not? Dualities exist across all dimensions of life, and both supported and self-supported efforts can, do, and should continue to co-exist. But shouldn’t the self-supported effort continue to be the equity in competition, the ultimate representation of pure sport—the heartbeat of true athleticism?

My definition of what it means to compete self-supported has evolved over the years; I respect it more and more each year. I really feel the self-supported athletic feat to be a real-life ballet of agency—proof that one is ready to leap into the journey relying on no one but oneself.

I hope that we build on, preserve, and critique these self-supported efforts so that we may uphold the spirit of true self-sufficiency in the backcountry. I want to see opportunities continue to exist for athletes to achieve at the highest levels without the requirement of external aid, support or financial reward. I believe the preservation of the sacred self-supported performance rewards the ambitious, humbles the ego, and surprises the most nonchalant. By holding these performances in high regard, we can honor an athlete’s sacrifice, and acknowledge that we don’t all line up at the same starting line— outcomes not dictated by disparity.

The commitment to upholding the values of self-supported athletic feats builds community on a shared foundation of respect, shared experience, shared values, and the belief that we each deserve an opportunity to prove ourselves. A self-supported effort serves as something more significant than the self. It can serve as grounding in life's meandering journey. In belonging to the self-supported world of sport, we transcend our limitations, bringing meaning to our lives that reminds us what truly matters. It’s our interrelatedness, who we become when we realize that our single experience may have ripple effects that extend far beyond our individual experience.

After all, the Self-Supported Effort is the Pinnacle of Sport.

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