Running News Daily

During a recent press conference, Dauwalter dished oUltrarunner extraordinaire Courtney Dauwalter has picked up in 2024 right where she left off last year. After famously winning three of ultrarunning’s most epic races  during the span of about nine weeks last summer—Western States 100, Hardrock 100, and Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc—the 39-year-old athlete from Leadville, Colorado, defended her Transgrancanaria 126K title in a decisive wire-to-wire win in late February and won the Mount Fuji 100-miler for the second time on April 27, placing third overall.

She’s now gearing up to go for a third straight win at the Hardrock 100 on July 12-13 in Silverton, Colorado. After Hardrock, she’ll be crewing and pacing her husband, Kevin Schmidt, at the Leadville 100 on August 17-18, and then tackling a yet-unannounced trail running project in September.We caught up with Dauwalter to talk about her fueling and training in a virtual press conference, where she announced the May 20 release of her signature flavor of Tailwind Nutrition Endurance Fuel—Dauwaltermelon with Lime—as a permanent part of the brand’s lineup. Since she’s emerged as one of the world’s top trail ultrarunners, she’s been known for having a sound approach to nutrition and fueling, never shying away from eating whatever she wants, admitting her soft spot for candy and pastries, or having a beer every now and then if she feels like it.

COURTNEY DAUWALTER: I am still eating all of my favorite things whenever they sound good in quantities that sound good, and I am not intending to change that part of my life, because it just gives me a lot of joy to live that way. I guess it’s got to be partly my upbringing, and also with Kevin and I, our idea of how we want to live our lives is to enjoy it to its fullest while it’s here. We just want to enjoy food, enjoy meals out, enjoy the cravings that we have, and not worry about it. But I would say in the past couple of years I do more consistently do a recovery drink after a long run or after putting in big efforts, and that’s something that I was a little more lax with originally, so I feel like that’s a step in the right direction.

When I first got into ultrarunning, I had no nutrition plan. I didn’t know what I was doing. My first race was a 50K, and I remember not knowing that these aid stations would be buffets. My mind was blown when I got to them—all the options were overwhelming. I just started filling my pockets with jelly beans. In those first years, I did a lot of mimicking of what the people around me were doing. So if I came to an aid station and someone was grabbing pickles and drinking Mountain Dew, then that’s what I would do. If they were grabbing pretzels and cheese cubes, that’s what I would go for. It was just kind of roulette for me on what I would end up eating—if it would work, or if it wouldn’t work.

Initially, I never had a fueling plan at all. But then in 2017, I went to the Run Rabbit Run 100 in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, and Tailwind was available on course at all of the aid stations. I had a buddy who had started using it that year, and I remember just loving it and suddenly not having all the stomach issues and energy dips that I often had. I was like, ‘Oh, maybe this is what it’s like to have something reliable.

'At this point we’ve gotten pretty dialed on the race nutrition plan for those 10-to 24-hour efforts or the events of 100 miles or below. I’m not a person who has my watch beeping at me ever to remind me to eat. I don’t get those kinds of reminders, and I don’t want to eat every 15 minutes or 30 minutes during a race. I’m going to just slow drip the calories I have as often as possible—basically it’s an eating contest on the move. Now I know my body functions pretty well with about 200 calories per hour during those efforts. So, depending on the distance between aid stations, I can rely solely on a bottle of Tailwind and then supplement with some chews or waffles or gels, because usually I get actually hungry feeling and having something solid helps with that. But mostly, I’m relying on Tailwind as my backbone to the whole plan and generally aiming for that 200-calorie-per-hour benchmark.The past couple years (working with a nutritionist friend), we’ve been better at creating A, B, C and D plans—because sometimes the perfect nutrition plan that you have relied on isn’t going to work. Our approach is that’s fine, and here are some things you can start subbing in during a race that can cover your needs. I view race nutrition like a puzzle piece, and sometimes it fits into the puzzle right where we want it to, and sometimes we have to kind shift things around a little bit. I think one of the reasons a lot of us love ultrarunning is because, when things just aren’t going to plan, we have to problem-solve it.

That’s one thing I’m hoping to focus on a little bit more on in this buildup and this prep for Hardrock, because in the past couple times I’ve run it, I’ve struggled a little bit with taking stuff in. I would love to just try to intentionally train my stomach to be better at taking in those calories while pushing hard at 12,500 feet or 13,000 feet just to see if we can make some strides forward. So stay tuned on if that works or not.

Not specific things. I think I want to just keep finding the challenges that intrigue me and fire me up to keep putting in the work, the training, the time, the effort to go after them. And so whatever that is, there’s not a list of things I want to check off necessarily, but, I’m continuing to pour myself into this sport and see what’s possible while every one of my systems [muscular, digestive, endocrine, cognitive, emotional, etc.] is allowing that to happen. The Leadville 100 is on my short list of races I would love to do as soon as I can, but as far as a bucket list in general or what intrigues me, I’m still very interested in exploring the longer stuff and how our brains and our bodies can work together to take us over 100 miles. What does that look like to move efficiently for 200 miles or 500 miles? So that’s where I am putting a lot of my attention into—just finding ways to test myself on stuff that’s really long.I am interested in trying a road marathon again at some point because that was what led me to ultrarunning.. I didn’t think I could make that distance, but I finished without dying and then wondered, ‘What else is out there that sounds too hard that I could try?’ And then I stumbled into the ultrarunning world. In those first marathons, I was a casual runner.

I ran every day before work because it made me feel better to start the day, but I wasn’t doing huge miles or running quickly.  So circling back to run a road marathon would be kind of fun.I definitely didn’t invent it, and I don’t know who did originally, but I know that for me that phrase just became this imagery that I really grabbed onto—as opposed to the struggle bus or the hurt locker or the many other terms. That one for me was visually something I could see, and it was something that I could work with to be productive. Back in high school, I had a cross country skiing coach who was big on the mental side of the sport and would always remind us and believe in our capacity to push past that moment when it feels like you have nothing left. He was huge on just the idea that there’s always one more gear. So I just crank the knob and believe that it can be cranked a little bit more. Having someone who believed in me so wholeheartedly that I could trust to keep pushing was important because it’s hard to do that when you’re any age, but for sure it’s hard to do when you’re a teenager.

The idea that you feel like you’re about to die and yet you’re telling me there’s more to push past that? That’s hard to learn. So I feel really lucky that I had that coach and to learn about that mental side of sports and digging deeper than you think.

That was so special,  a highlight of my life for sure. We ran together through the desert in Arizona, side by side the whole time through all the highs and lows, and made it to that finish line. I’ll remember that forever, and that gift that she gave me of doing this thing with me and the sport I love and spending so much time preparing for it. She was training hard back home in Minnesota, trying to learn how to run trails, trying to power hike hills, and learning how to use all of the gear because she had never really run trails before. I think the domino effect is that you can start anything at any age. She was 66 when we ran this race together and 64 when she started this journey into trail running. I had told her my dream was to run an ultra with my mom, and now that she has completed a 100K, she has found a lot of joy in the trails. Even though we don’t have a race on the calendar together yet, she is still just finding that peace that the trails bring her, and it’s something she incorporates into her weekly life. I think that’s really cool, and it’s why I hope more people can find out about trail running—not necessarily even ultrarunning—but just getting out on the trails and exploring a little bit because that feeling of moving with your feet surrounded by nature and feeling so small in a big landscape is really, really cool.

My hope is that people hearing about the stuff that I’m doing or that the ultrarunning community is doing helps them believe they could go after something that sounds too hard or something that sounds crazy. Whether that’s running 100 miles or 200 miles or not. We can all find that thing in our lives that we can go after with a little more gusto and raise the bar for ourselves on what we’re actually aiming for. I also hope I can be a small example that you can work really, really, really hard at something and have a lot of fun doing it. Those things can happen at the same time and there’s no reason to separate them. I never predicted this chapter in my life, but I feel grateful every day for it. I’m just trying to squeeze as much living out of this period of life as I can.

n her approach to nutrition and fueling, early-career bonks, and more.

Long before he became the fastest man in history, before the Olympic gold medals, world records, and global superstardom, Usain Bolt was simply a gifted teenager with extraordinary speed and limitless potential. In 2002, on the track at Kingston's National Stadium in Jamaica, the world witnessed the first chapter of a story that would forever change athletics.

At just 15 years old, Bolt lined up for the men's 200 metres at the World Junior Championships with the weight of expectation resting on young shoulders. Competing before a passionate home crowd, the Jamaican prodigy produced a performance that instantly captivated the athletics world. Crossing the finish line in 20.61 seconds, he became the youngest athlete ever to win the men's 200m title at the championships.

It was far more than a gold medal. It was the moment the world realised that a once-in-a-generation talent had arrived.

Bolt's victory in Kingston marked the beginning of one of the greatest careers in sporting history. Over the years that followed, he rewrote the record books, dominated the Olympic Games and World Championships, and transformed sprinting into a global spectacle through his breathtaking speed, infectious personality, and unrivalled confidence. His legacy continues to inspire young athletes across the globe, many of whom dream of following the same path he once began as a teenager.

This week, that dream comes alive once again as the World Athletics U20 Championships take centre stage at the iconic Hayward Field in Eugene, Oregon. The venue has already witnessed the birth of future superstars. In 2014, it was where Britain's Dina Asher-Smith and Uganda's Joshua Cheptegei captured their first global titles, launching careers that would later produce world championships, Olympic medals, and lasting legacies in athletics.

Twelve years later, another generation arrives in Eugene hoping to create its own defining moment.

Among the brightest young talents is Great Britain's Jake Odey-Jordan, the 200m bronze medallist from Lima who now owns the European U20 100m record after an astonishing 10.01-second performance. He enters the championships eager to build on his growing reputation as one of Europe's most exciting young sprinters.

The United States will look to Tate Taylor, who has already made history as the first American high school athlete to break the 20-second barrier for the 200 metres. Fresh from a Diamond League victory in a sensational 19.75 seconds, he arrives in Eugene carrying the momentum of one of the most remarkable junior seasons ever recorded.

Jamaica, the nation that introduced the world to Usain Bolt, will once again have high hopes through Shanoya Douglas. The talented sprinter has established herself as one of the championship's leading contenders after producing lifetime bests of 10.98 seconds for the 100m and 22.11 for the 200m this season.

History has repeatedly shown that the World U20 Championships are far more than a junior competition. They are often the first chapter in the careers of future Olympic champions, world record holders, and global icons. Every generation arrives with ambitious dreams, but only a select few leave having announced themselves to the world.

No one can say with certainty whether the next Usain Bolt will emerge this week. Greatness cannot be predicted, and legends are never manufactured. Yet every legendary career begins with a single breakthrough performance.

For Bolt, that defining moment came in Kingston in 2002.

Now, under the famous lights of Hayward Field, another group of gifted teenagers stands ready to chase history. Somewhere among them could be the next athlete whose name will inspire the world for years to come.

"An athlete cannot run with money in his pockets. He must run with hope in his heart and dreams in his head." More than seventy years after those words were spoken, they remain among the most powerful messages ever shared in distance running. They are often quoted as simple motivation, but behind them lies a remarkable story of sacrifice, courage, conviction, and an unwavering belief that true greatness is never measured by financial reward.

Few athletes have left a legacy as enduring as Emil Zátopek. Known around the world as "The Czech Locomotive" for his relentless determination and unmistakable running style, he redefined what was possible in endurance racing. His legendary performance at the 1952 Olympic Games in Helsinki still ranks among the greatest achievements in athletics history. In the space of just nine days, he captured Olympic gold in the 5,000 meters, the 10,000 meters, and, incredibly, the marathon—a race he had never attempted before.

Yet the world in which Zátopek competed was vastly different from today's professional athletics landscape. During the 1950s, elite sport officially operated under strict amateur rules. Olympic athletes were forbidden from accepting prize money or earning a living directly from competition, although unofficial financial arrangements existed in many sports. Zátopek himself never raced for appearance fees or lucrative prize purses. Instead, he served as an officer in the Czechoslovak People's Army, receiving a military salary while representing his country. Running brought him glory, but not personal wealth.

It was within that environment that his famous words carried genuine meaning. For Zátopek, success was never driven by the promise of money. He believed the greatest performances were fueled by hope, ambition, discipline, and the courage to pursue dreams that seemed impossible. Those qualities, rather than financial incentives, formed the foundation of lasting excellence.

With the benefit of history, his words carry even greater significance. In 1968, during the Prague Spring, Zátopek openly supported democratic reforms in Czechoslovakia. When the movement was crushed, he paid a heavy personal price for standing by his principles. He was stripped of his military rank, removed from public life, and forced into years of manual labor. The man who had once stood proudly atop the Olympic podium found himself performing physically demanding jobs, far removed from the stadiums where he had inspired millions.

His story reminds us that the values he expressed were not empty words crafted for public admiration. He lived by them, even when doing so came at enormous personal cost. His belief that hope and conviction mattered more than material rewards became evident not only in the races he won, but also in the hardships he endured with remarkable dignity.

Distance running has changed dramatically since Zátopek's era. Today's elite athletes compete in a fully professional sport where prize money, sponsorship contracts, appearance fees, and endorsement deals can be worth millions. Success on the track and roads now offers opportunities that were unimaginable during the age of amateur competition. Professionalism has transformed the sport, allowing athletes to train full-time, access world-class coaching and sports science, and build financially secure careers.

Yet despite these changes, the essence of Zátopek's message has never lost its relevance.

Every elite runner naturally hopes to earn a good living from years of dedication and sacrifice. There is nothing wrong with financial success, and the rewards available today have elevated the standard of competition across the world. But history consistently shows that money alone is rarely enough to sustain greatness. The athletes whose careers endure the longest are often those driven by an inner passion to improve, to test their limits, and to chase excellence for its own sake. Financial rewards become the result of that commitment, not the reason for it.

When competition is motivated solely by wealth, its deeper purpose can fade. But when an athlete races with genuine belief, relentless determination, and an unwavering dream, extraordinary performances often follow naturally.

That is why Emil Zátopek's words continue to resonate across generations. His legacy extends far beyond Olympic medals and world records. It lives in every runner who laces up their shoes with a goal that cannot be measured in dollars, every athlete who refuses to surrender when the race becomes painful, and every competitor who understands that the greatest victories begin long before the finish line.

The economics of distance running may have evolved beyond recognition, but the heart of the sport remains unchanged. Every athlete still arrives at the starting line carrying something far more valuable than money—hope in their heart and dreams in their head. Those invisible qualities have always been, and will always remain, the true fuel of greatness.

Winning a major championship is never just about crossing the finish line first. Behind every gold medal lies a carefully crafted race plan, and Josh Kerr's unforgettable Commonwealth Games triumph in Glasgow was a perfect example of tactical brilliance meeting extraordinary finishing speed.

While the final time of 3:54.12 for the mile will be remembered as the official result, the split times reveal a much deeper story—one of patience, precision, and devastating acceleration when it mattered most.

Kerr resisted any temptation to force the pace from the gun. Instead, he settled into a controlled rhythm, allowing the opening stages to unfold naturally. His first four 100-metre segments—14.9, 15.1, 15.3 and 15.1 seconds—brought him through 400 metres in 60.4 seconds, a measured opening that conserved valuable energy while keeping him firmly in contention.

The second lap remained equally composed. Passing 500 metres in 15.3 seconds before recording splits of 15.7, 16.2 and 15.4, Kerr reached 800 metres in 2:03.0. The pace had eased, but that was exactly where the Scottish star wanted to be. Rather than chasing early speed, he was setting the stage for a decisive finish.

Everything changed after halfway.

Kerr gradually increased the tempo with smooth, controlled acceleration. His 900-metre and 1,000-metre splits of 15.2 and 14.9 seconds signalled that the race was beginning to stretch. He then surged through 1,100 metres in 14.3 seconds before covering the next 100 metres in just 13.4 seconds to reach 1,200 metres in 3:00.8.

From there, the home crowd witnessed championship running at its finest.

Instead of fading, Kerr became even stronger. He reeled off three consecutive 100-metre splits of 13.4, 13.4 and 12.8 seconds, dismantling the field with every stride. His final 100 metres were covered in a stunning 12.5 seconds, sealing an emphatic victory and sending the Glasgow crowd into celebration.

The progression of his race was remarkable. After opening with relaxed 15-second splits, Kerr transformed the closing stages into a demonstration of world-class speed endurance. His ability to accelerate continuously over the final 600 metres highlighted not only exceptional fitness but also supreme confidence in his race plan.

Championship middle-distance racing is rarely about producing the fastest possible time from the start. More often, it rewards athletes who understand when to conserve energy and when to unleash everything they have left. Kerr executed that philosophy to perfection.

His split chart paints the picture of a runner who never panicked, never wasted effort, and saved his greatest weapon for the closing stages. It was a textbook display of patience followed by relentless aggression—a combination that turned a tactical race into a memorable Commonwealth gold medal performance.

For aspiring middle-distance runners, Kerr's Glasgow masterpiece offers an important lesson: the strongest finish often belongs not to the athlete who runs hardest from the gun, but to the one who knows exactly when to make their move. On home soil, Josh Kerr timed that move to perfection, producing a performance that will stand as one of the defining moments of the championships.

At just nine years old, Oliver Smith has achieved something extraordinary—not by chasing records or medals, but by proving that determination, compassion, and consistency can create a life-changing impact.

Hailing from Wombwell, on the outskirts of Barnsley, Oliver set himself a remarkable challenge at the beginning of the year. Rather than attempting a single marathon, he decided to complete the equivalent distance of nine marathons over several months. From January 1 to April 26, the young runner covered an incredible 380 kilometres, breaking the distance into manageable daily runs suitable for a child his age.

His routine was built on dedication. Saturdays were reserved for parkrun events, Sundays for junior parkrun, while the remaining kilometres were steadily accumulated throughout the week. Averaging approximately 3.3 kilometres each day, Oliver never lost sight of the goal that inspired every step.

The challenge carried deep personal meaning. Last summer, Oliver's father, Tom Smith, suffered a devastating health setback after losing most of the vision in one eye. Medical examinations revealed a 4-centimetre meningioma wrapped around his optic nerve, leading to a complex 12-hour operation at the Royal Hallamshire Hospital in Sheffield.

Throughout the family's difficult journey, The Brain Tumour Charity provided invaluable guidance, support, and reassurance. Grateful for the help his family received, Oliver decided he wanted to give back in the most meaningful way he could. He launched a fundraising campaign with an initial goal of raising £2,000 to support others facing similar challenges.

What followed exceeded everyone's expectations.

Oliver brought his incredible fundraising challenge to a memorable conclusion at the Mini London Marathon, finishing on the very same day his mother, Hannah Smith, completed her first-ever London Marathon. It was a fitting family celebration of courage, resilience, and perseverance.

By the time Oliver crossed the finish line, donations had soared beyond £16,500—more than eight times his original target. His remarkable achievement captured the hearts of supporters, demonstrating how one young boy's determination could unite an entire community behind an important cause.

For Oliver, however, the journey is far from over. Inspired by the overwhelming support and the difference his efforts have made, he has already begun working toward his next fundraising challenge.

His story serves as a powerful reminder that age is no barrier to making a meaningful difference. Sometimes, the greatest acts of courage are measured not by speed or distance, but by the willingness to take one small step after another for the benefit of others.

Oliver Smith's inspiring journey is more than a fundraising success—it is a testament to the strength of family, the power of kindness, and the extraordinary impact that can begin with the simplest decision to help.

Sometimes the smallest opportunity creates the greatest triumph, and Jamaica's Navasky Anderson proved exactly that with a stunning performance to capture the men's 800m title at the 2026 Commonwealth Games in Glasgow.

Less than 24 hours after scraping into the final by the slimmest of margins, Anderson produced the race of his life, surging to victory in 1:45.33 to complete one of the most remarkable comeback stories of the championships. His gold medal was not only a reward for exceptional talent but also for courage, determination, and unwavering belief when everything was on the line.

The journey to the top nearly ended in the semifinals. Locked in an intense battle with England's Max Burgin for the final qualification place, Anderson threw himself across the finish line in a dramatic dive, stopping the clock at 1:45.38. That desperate effort earned him the last available place in the final as the fastest non-automatic qualifier, keeping his Commonwealth dream alive by the narrowest of margins.

With another chance in his hands, the Jamaican made sure it counted.

In a fiercely contested final, Anderson displayed outstanding tactical awareness and patience throughout the opening stages before unleashing a devastating finishing kick down the home straight. His perfectly timed acceleration left the rest of the field with no answer as he crossed the finish line first, securing a memorable Commonwealth crown and one of Jamaica's standout victories of the Games.

Australia's Luke Boyes delivered an impressive performance to claim the silver medal in 1:45.93, while Kenya's Wyclife Kinyamal battled strongly to take bronze in 1:46.12 after another highly competitive championship race.

Anderson's unforgettable triumph will be remembered as one of the defining moments of Glasgow 2026—a powerful reminder that championships are not always won by the fastest qualifier, but often by the athlete who refuses to surrender. From a fearless dive that kept his hopes alive to a brilliant gold-medal performance less than a day later, the Jamaican wrote one of the most inspiring chapters of these Commonwealth Games.

Men's 800m Final Results

1. Navasky Anderson (Jamaica) — 1:45.33

2. Luke Boyes (Australia) — 1:45.93

3. Wyclife Kinyamal (Kenya) — 1:46.12

Navasky Anderson arrived in the final as the last man to qualify, but he left Glasgow as the Commonwealth champion—a remarkable transformation that perfectly captures the unpredictable beauty of championship athletics.