When America Went Wild For Competitive Walking

Before the Victorian era, some footmen already ran for their masters as a diversion. The aristocracy would bet on ever more outlandish feats of walking. There was no “inventor” of pedestrianism per se, though Foster Powell was one of the earliest long-distance walkers to make his name through the pursuit.

In 1809, Captain Barclay managed a mile in an hour for over 41 straight days, 1,000 miles in 1,000 hours, setting off a frenzy of betting on his accomplishment! That was both good and bad for endurance running, but it laid the groundwork for what came next.

Apparently, a young man named Weston lost a bet on the outcome of the 1860 presidential election and he had to walk from Boston to Washington in order to fulfill his end of the bargain. The walk drew public attention and helped launch his fame. Weston made the most of the attention, going on to build a career out of walking!

The Irishman O’Leary beat the celebrity walker Weston in 1875 and later became the Astley Belt winner, a title given to the sport’s top long-distance racer. Newspapers treated this fight as one between America and Ireland. “World champion” was a term used loosely. There was no such governing entity.

The races lasted from Monday through Saturday, giving them about 144 hours of racing. They did not run continuously though; they could go to sleep when they wanted and then they would get back out there and cover thousands more laps. F1 who?

Another variation of the event was known as go-as-you-please, which in essence gave competitors free rein over their strategy, whether walking or running.

The crowds arrived and departed at all times of the day, as though they were attending a weeklong festival, not a single game. The music was playing, the food was served, the newspapers were being updated. It was a whole event, yes!

The races took place indoors in places such as London’s Agricultural Hall and New York’s Gilmore’s Garden, and were wildly popular night after night. Audiences continued to flock to these events because, well, people like watching other people walk!

A thing about humans, in any century: they will always love a wager. So, unsurprisingly, side bets and massive wagers soon found their way to the sport of pedestrianism, and betting on it became big business.

With prize money and appearance fees, pedestrianism was a real career path for some walkers. Top earners supplemented their income with a share of admission fees and endorsements. But advertised prize pools didn’t always reflect actual payout after the promoter’s commission.

Women — known as pedestriennes — also had their own separate events. Large crowds flocked to watch the women compete, and for some, the sport gave them a rare shot at financial independence.

There are some stories that state Ada Anderson walked 2,700 miles in one sitting. In fact, she walked a quarter mile, 2,700 times, in 15-minute increments, which added up to about 675 miles. Still a huge accomplishment.

Then there’s Emma Sharp, who did a 1,000-mile challenge which led to various tales of sabotage and food-tampering, and who reportedly carried a pistol for protection during the final days.

Frank Hart competed in, and won, several major six-day races, becoming a national celebrity when it was rare for Black athletes to achieve that level of recognition. He may not have been the first Black athlete to become a national celebrity, but he was among the first.

Since clearly just walking day after day wasn’t a realistic prospect for the typical human, runners sometimes drank coffee or beef tea. Others chewed coca leaves, which wasn’t quite the same thing as taking cocaine, but still involved the plant in question. They also got massages and new shoes throughout the course of the race.

With a sport as popular and gambling-heavy as pedestrianism came the inevitable accusations of cheating. There were allegations of fixed races, questionable lap counts and unending disputes over the judges. Heavy gambling always means scandal, and pedestrianism was no different. Many of the accusations, however, remained unsubstantiated.

The regular coverage and interviews turned walkers into celebrities, and the serialized story kept people coming back for more. It was the ideal format for the emerging mass-market papers, which were looking for content to fill the empty space in their pages. The rivalries were given the same sort of treatment reality TV offers to its players today.

Barnum applied his flair for promotion and showmanship to the sport, presenting exhibitions and creating publicity. He didn’t create a fad, but he sure knew how to market one.

Racewalking was a modification of pedestrianism; we didn’t abandon it, so much as reinvent it. Ultrarunning and six-day races of today carry on the tradition. The idea of how far we can push the human body beyond the point of reason didn’t die.

The ascendance of baseball and a cycling craze siphoned off interest; the rise of the amateur ideal in sports, which looked down on paid competitors, further reduced it; gambling and morality issues hurt it, too.

This content was created with the help of AI.