“Why?”
That one-word question often pops to mind whenever a gut-wrenching, oxygen-depleting athletic feat is described or witnessed. Just mention of an extreme sport can send some seeking Google for a visual cue or two. Trying such daredevil pursuits is a whole other league. Think highlining — walking across a rope tethered between mountains or buildings, or wingsuit flying — skydiving at nearly 100 mph in a jumpsuit with wings-like folds of fabric between the arms and legs.
What some consider extreme sports would be better defined as lifestyle sports or adventure sports, according to Eric Brymer, an associate professor in human sciences at Southern Cross University. “Extreme should be about self-directed independent leisure activities where a mismanaged mistake or accident would most likely result in death, e.g. solo mountaineering above the death zone, big wave surfing [on waves at least 20 feet high] or kayaking Grade 6 [rapids].”
However you define “extreme sports,” not all are fast and furious. Consider Paul Salopek’s “National Geographic Out of Eden Walk,” a 38,000-km,10-year trek that is retracing our ancestors’ mass migration. The two-time Pulitzer Prize winner was too busy walking to talk about his slow journalism experiment. Last month Edie Hu became the fastest open swimmer to cover the 20-km Oresund Strait from Denmark to Sweden. That milestone took about five hours and 10 minutes. To try to get a better handle on why some athletic extremists do what they do, WWD interviewed a few record breakers.
You May Also Like
Why Would Anyone Want To?
Lhakpa Sherpa, 50, has climbed Mount Everest 10 times and is the only woman to have done so. Without any sponsors, she crowdfunded her record-breaking trek in 2022. Her life is the subject of the new Netflix series “Mountain Queen: The Summits of Lhakpa Sherpa.” One of 11 children, she was born in the remote Nepalese village of Balakharka, where the elevation is 13,123 feet. She slept swaddled in sheepskin in what looked like a bird’s nest and grew up canvasing the nearby mountains, since there was no school.
She says, “We didn’t have books, a phone or the internet. I learned in my own way, very athletically — hiking, running and chasing life’s little goals. What can I say? I explored by myself.”
However unlikely as it sounds, she has been based in West Hartford, Conn., for the past 20-plus years. As a single mother with three children, she cleans houses and offers the mountaineering service Cloudscape Climbing. Without a car, Sherpa’s training consists of hiking whenever she can, but primarily walking everywhere all day long, easily covering 15 miles. “I’m never tired. I have such a strong body that I never need rest,” Sherpa says.
As for what drives her, she says, “This is my sport. I want to go again, again and again. If I don’t do it, my body hurts. I want to go to Everest and carry my backpack.”
Last year she summited K2, which is part of the Karakoram range that has an elevation of 28,251 feet. Sherpa says, “K2 is no joke. It’s a very difficult and technical mountain.” Ascending the 50 highest peaks in the U.S. is her current task. She has faced other challenges, including allegedly being abused by her ex-husband, declining to elaborate about that. Above all, Sherpa says that she wants to inspire young women and men to “never give up. Life is not easy. You go up and down. But keep doing whatever it is that you want to do, and you can reach your own summit.”
Even though he is a proven endurance athlete and professional mindset coach, André Belibi Eloumou’s latest goalpost was an anomaly. Why would anyone want to be in the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest ice bath? He achieved that in late May after spending more than four hours and five minutes encased in ice cubes up to his neck. His incentive was a charity that raises awareness about autism, but discovering ice baths took years.
In 2017, he ran nearly 2,000 miles from France to Morocco as a tribute to immigrants around the world, including his Cameroonian father. For Belibi Eloumou, one of the goals of that three-month, 13-day endeavor was also to improve his mental health and self-worth. “Ever since I was young, I’ve had some issues with self-esteem and not knowing where I belong. In the Western world, I’m seen as a Black man. But when I got to Cameroon, I’m seen as a white man,” he says, noting how that endurance test helped not just him personally, but others with their struggles.
Then in 2020, Belibi Eloumou finished a 3,000-mile run from New York to Los Angeles to support the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. Such milestones crank up the adrenaline to “off-the-roof levels,” but the aftermath can lead to depression, he explains. Over time, he found that ice baths helped him to recalibrate to everyday life afterward. So why not go for the world record for the longest ice bath and raise awareness for autism? Part of the inspiration was due to his daughter being a person with autism. “That helped me to keep on going — to do it for others,” he says. “We all have struggles on different levels. Life is so uncertain that we don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. My concept is, ‘Chase your worthy cause.’ That’s the fire that drives me.”
Next up will be another big chill. In January he and a friend, Wesley Bauman, will run 200 miles from Calgary to Edmonton wearing only shorts and sneakers to draw attention to suicide prevention and mental health.
Why Not Go for the Records?
Earlier this year, intrepid athletes Lauren “Nini” Champion and Lisa Roland set a world record for a duo rowing across the Atlantic. Each had sailed across the Atlantic before, and had decided independently to take on “The World’s Toughest Row,” before agreeing to pair up. Champion wanted a better understanding, as well as greater respect, for her limitations and abilities. Roland wished to release trauma from her foster care experience, and also recognize that she has not allowed that to impinge on her continued success.
At sea, the pair nearly experienced a full capsize at one point. Despite Roland being harnessed to the boat, the knockdown caused her upper body to be quickly submerged. Even though they lost some supplies, including a Hellie Hansen foul-weather jacket, they soldiered on. At times they rowed upward of eight hours simultaneously, with only a 10 to 15 minute break per hour. Pre-trip training meant hours on the Erg, an indoor rower, and other forms of cardio and weight training. There were also hours on the R25 rowing vessel called the “Invictus” around St. Thomas, St. John and even out to St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands.
In the end, three years of training, fundraising and other planning were needed for the historic row that required 45 days at sea for Team Ocean Grown. The pair are still at work on another mission, the Bridges Over Water Program, which assists youth who have aged out of foster care to find maritime careers. Champion says the accomplishment has instilled in them a certainty about their capabilities, which they store in their hearts for any time doubt may arise. “And we will have that for the rest of our lives.”
As part of her “Project 1000,” Natalie Dau ran 1,000 km, or 621.3 miles, from Thailand to Singapore — about two marathons a day for 12 days — to set a new record. Her aim was to raise awareness about issues that she cares about — namely giving underprivileged girls access to health education, sports programs and body positivity. But her husband advised that she “would have to do something crazy” in order to even get people to pay attention, Dau says. After deciding to challenge her body and mind, while “trying to do some good along the way,” the ultra-runner ran on behalf of Women Win’s GRLS program.
With only six months of training, the 52-year-old Australian says her years of distance running helped, as did twice-a-day runs. Averaging 150 km in weekly training mileage, Dau wanted to keep things manageable and injury-free. Strength work and recovery time were layered in too. Typically, she runs anywhere from 15 km to 26.2 miles six days a week. “You get to an age and society has a viewpoint of what a 52-year-old woman looks like. I wanted to break down that barrier. It doesn’t mean we can’t do crazy stuff still and remain relevant,” she says. “It was to let women know you can do anything at any age. We’re the only ones holding ourselves back.”
You get to an age and society has a viewpoint of what a 52-year-old woman looks like. I wanted to break down that barrier. It doesn’t mean we can’t do crazy stuff still and remain relevant. It was to let women know you can do anything at any age. We’re the only ones holding ourselves back.”
Natalie Dau, ultra-runner
Dau didn’t listen to music or podcasts, preferring to be “very present the whole time.” She says, “I didn’t doubt that I would ever finish but I had a huge amount of low points along the way. I hurt my hip on the first day and had an awful UTI. But my whole outlook was, ‘Control the controllables. Expect the unexpected.’ I knew things would happen.”
After a few physio appointments, a full medical exam, some quality sleep, walks and refueling, she was running again seven days later. Next year — to her parents’ “horror”— she plans to run 1,000 km again over 12 days in a different country with more school visits and stops at women’s shelters to encourage others. During this year’s ultra-run, she “thought about stopping or questioned why she was doing it about 1,000 times a day,” Dau says.
Although she ran in her 20s to stay thin, she didn’t return to the sport until her early 40s and with a much different and empowering mindset. “I can’t go as fast as I used to so I’ve just taken to the fact that I can go further now. While my body allows it, I will absolutely keep going. I didn’t expect Project 1000 to impact so many people including children,” she says. “I never expected 7-year-olds at a school in Thailand to say, ‘You inspire me.’”
