PART 2 (PART 1 here)
by Jonathan van Geuns, May 22, 2025 (updated May 24, 2025; updated May 30, 2025)
What does this mean for the sport?
I deeply believe in welcoming new runners. I love nothing more than seeing a runner discover the beauty and absurdity of long-distance running. We should celebrate and make space first-timers. This sport should remain a portal, not a wall. Yet when the door gets trampled by a crowd chasing hype, when it breaks off its hinges and no one can explain who’s holding it open or why, we have a problem. This also isn’t about who “deserves” to run. People come to ultras for all sorts of reasons. Rather, it is a serious question about infrastructure, culture, safety, and what happens when a community-driven sport starts to buckle under the weight of its own popularity.
The broader story unfolding perhaps is one where growth, buzz, and commercialization are outpacing our grounding values. Visibility brings energy and new faces. With growth comes responsibility. What’s at stake here isn’t just personal disappointment; it’s structural. The discomfort lies in the deeper tensions surfacing. When hype eclipses infrastructure, when access becomes more about luck than commitment, we have to ask: Who is this sport being shaped for? Who gets left behind? What kind of sport are we building? And what culture are we enabling?
The broader issue is this: the sport is growing, but the principles guiding that growth are unexamined. This isn’t about who got in and who didn’t. It’s about whether our systems, narratives, and values are evolving with intention, or scaling for the sake of it. Meaningful inclusion isn’t guaranteed by open signups or messaging.
We are told that evolution is inevitable, that growth is progress, and that questioning this pace or direction is nostalgic or regressive (David Callahan, Co-CEO of UltraSignup). This is a false binary. Evolution doesn’t always mean improvement. And for one, not all growth is progress(!). Growth, when left unexamined, can rot from the inside out. Unchecked growth, especially under the logic of market expansion and digital hype, tends to erode the very things that made it distinct. We need growth that’s sustainable, accountable, and deliberately designed.
So we need to ask not how many people are entering the sport, but how they’re entering; with what preparation, support, and sense of responsibility. Otherwise, participation becomes a lottery of timing and enthusiasm, rather than a reflection of readiness, respect for the challenge, or care for the land and communities. When registration is reduced to a frantic, glitch-prone free-for-all, it doesn’t democratize access; it distorts it.
This isn’t about gatekeeping in the exclusionary sense. It’s about recognizing that retaining our values depend on intentional design.
Field size, registration timing, waitlist shuffles, these aren’t neutral decisions. They shape who gets to show up, who stays in the sport, and who burns out early. The system is the message. Yet, say the word “gatekeeping” and watch the room get nervous. It has become a scare tactic; a way to end a conversation before it begins. As though any form of selective entry undermines inclusivity. The truth is, every race already gatekeeps.
We gatekeep financially: through high registration fees, expensive mandatory gear, costly travel and accommodation. We gatekeep logistically: with limited field sizes, application windows during working hours, platform-based access, fast internet, and constant monitoring of social media. We gatekeep psychologically: by romanticizing suffering to the point where people who run with joy, caution, or emotional fragility are seen as less. We gatekeep culturally: through who gets sponsored, amplified, deemed “deserving” of attention, and reinforcing narrow ideals of what an ultrarunner “looks like.”
There are implicit privileges at play causing uneven playing fields. For example, last year, I landed on the waitlist too (because I was still racing and recovering from sleep deprivation when the race sold out). To hedge my bets, I registered for other races as backup, additional costs I could barely justify. Many don’t have the flexibility to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars securing “options” in case one race falls through. While those with more disposable income can register across multiple events without risk. Optionality in this system isn’t just strategy, it’s structural advantage, one that disadvantages others by taking up space on entrants lists.
In most countries, participation in long events is contingent on demonstrable readiness.
Runners are required to have completed similar or commensurate races recently before gaining entry. I’ve never run a long race in Europe without first submitting proof of prior experience showing that I can tackle the distance. This also is about aligning access with safety, sustainability, and respect for the challenge. A 200-miler is not something people can fake their way through. Not a vibes-based registration. Enthusiasm shouldn’t override the reality of what’s required to finish a multi-day trail race.
Cocodona is, in spirit, one of the most imaginative events in trail running. But imagination isn’t bulletproof. Even the best ideas buckle if no one’s paying attention to the seams; even the most meaningful events can lose their grounding if we don’t ask harder questions about access, purpose, and the systems we’re creating. If we keep equating popularity with value, if we keep treating a sold-out race like a moral win, we’re going to wake up one day with a sport optimized for visibility and stripped of soul.
We need to be honest: this moment isn’t about a registration error. It’s about whether ultrarunning can scale without losing itself. That depends on whether we have the courage to rethink not just the mechanics, but the deeper priorities driving the sport forward; how brave we are about slowing down, and asking what we’re actually building.
So what can we do about this?
If we accept that the current system is flawed structurally, then we have a responsibility to ask: What would a fairer, more sensible and intentional model look like? How do we move forward? There are proven models we can draw from. Cocodona could adopt a transparent lottery system, already standard practice in respected races, and helps reduce the inequity, and randomness of high-demand registrations. They should reflect a basic principle of fairness: when a runner invests time, energy, and emotional focus into a race, that should count for something. None of this is perfect, but the current system isn’t working.
If we agree that this wasn’t just a glitch, but a system working exactly as it was (un)designed, we have to stop asking how to patch it, and start asking how to reimagine it.
- Lottery system. A Cocodona lottery could include weighted entries à la Western States, where: runners who have applied multiple years gain increased odds over time; first-time entrants are given a fair chance through a dedicated pool; previous entrants are separated into a different draw, so the race doesn’t get dominated by returning participants, and; bonus entries could be awarded for volunteerism, trail work, or other contributions.1
- Tiered application windows. An option would be to use a hybrid skill-luck access model, maintaining openness but anchoring in both readiness and community-building.2 Instead of a single open registration, runners enter in waves based on experience or past contributions. Seasoned ultrarunners and dedicated volunteers could apply early, with newer or less-experienced runners entering later. This respects both readiness and inclusivity.
- Rollover approach: Another practical reform would be to offer rollovers or priority access for those who narrowly missed entry or had to withdraw for legitimate reasons, like pregnancy, loss, caregiving responsibilities, or financial hardship (the latter I’ve not seen implemented anywhere). These runners have likely demonstrated commitment and planning. Recognizing that investment builds loyalty, fairness, and continuity; values more meaningful than click speed.3
- Accountability-based lottery boosts. Runners who demonstrate acts of care—like volunteering, trail stewardship, or inclusive leadership—can submit them for small lottery advantages. It rewards ethical engagement, not just athleticism. Think merit-based access, redefined.
- Regional entry quotas. Reserve a percentage of slots for runners from Arizona or the Southwest to keep the race rooted in its place. It reduces travel emissions and strengthens local trail culture. Growth doesn’t have to mean losing touch with home.
- Training readiness declaration. Require applicants who have no demonstrable experience on UltraSignup to submit a simple training commitment form: to prompt reflection and responsibility. It could include prior experience (for example, thru-hiking) and a statement of intent. A soft barrier that centers preparation over performance.
- Matching model: An out-of-the-box idea is to look at residency matching. Cocodona and other high-demand 200’s could adopt a transparent algorithmic model where both runners and organizers rank their preferences. Runners submit a short profile and indicate which races they’re most committed to (e.g. ranked for up to 3–5 races). Meanwhile, races define their own criteria. An auditable, stable matching algorithm (like the one used to assign 30,000+ medical students) assigns runners to races based on mutual fit. Every applicant gets a clear placement explanation of their match or waitlist placement. This re-centers registration as a deliberate act.
Toward amore intentional future
Ultimately, these are not just operational questions, they are governance questions. So, to Aravaipa and other race organizers I ask: What do you care about?
Who do you want to see at the start and finish line?
Do you want to prioritize regional equity, making space for locals?
Do you care about diversity in identity, background, ability? (We know the answer to this one: yes, Aravaipa does)
Do you want to ensure a high finishing rate and safety across the field?
Do you foster competition, community, or both?
Or do you care more about visibility and media attention that an individual brings?
None of these values—if they are indeed priorities—are clearly reflected in how registration is currently handled. That’s the gap. Not a failure of intention, but of (mis)alignment between vision and infrastructure.
Cocodona will continue to grow. The sport will too. That’s not inherently a problem. But growth without intention is just expansion. It’s not development. It’s not culture-building. It’s not stewardship.
Growth is not neutral. It reflects what we (refuse to) confront. Every decision not to redesign registration, every shrug at the inequity baked into a system, is a choice. That’s not inclusion; it’s abdication. Growth will happen either way. But will it reflect care or convenience? Vision or inertia?
I strongly believe we need to grow with care, reflection, and respect for the complexity of what we’re building, and who we’re building it for. Aravaipa has created something sacred. The decisions made now will shape who gets to touch it. As someone lucky enough to be included this year, I feel a responsibility to speak to the shape of that door. Ultimately, ultrarunning is more than just getting from point A to point B. It’s about how we get there, and who we become along the way. Let’s make sure we’re still making space for that.
What if we saw this moment not as a crisis, but as an opportunity to redesign from the inside out?
We could imagine registration models that reflect care, not just convenience. Races that prioritize not only speed or spectacle, but also stewardship, storytelling, and solidarity. Communities where volunteering through the night earns you more than gratitude. We could build systems that reward not just toughness, but contribution. Not just clicks, but commitment. Not just who shows up, but how we show up. None of this is simple. But the soul of this sport was never about taking the easy route. It has always been about asking more of ourselves: to endure, to pay attention, to grow with integrity. As ultrarunning continues to evolve, let’s not just scale it. Let’s shape it. Let’s make sure the future is something we would all want to run toward.
- A tiered entry windows systems could look like:
– Tier 1: Previous applicants or those who volunteered in past years;
– Tier 2: Applications from underrepresented groups based on diversity in identity, background, ability;
– Tier 3: New applicants who’ve demonstrated interest (e.g. finished Sedona 125);
– Tier 4: Open public lottery. ↩︎ - Registration is divided into three pools:
1. Merit/experience-based (must meet a transparent readiness threshold, e.g., 2x 100-milers);
2. Community contribution pool (volunteering, pacing, storytelling, etc.);
3. Open lottery pool (completely randomized).
Each pool has a % of spots, say 40/30/30. This maintains openness but anchors it in both readiness and community-building. ↩︎ - One idea would be for applicants to submit a short reflection or answer a few values-based questions (inspired by artist residency models): Why this race? What have you learned from past challenges? How would you support others in their journey? This isn’t about writing a long essay; it’s about inviting intention. A small panel (including past runners or volunteers) could review entries and grant a portion of spots this way. This cultivates commitment, not just clicks. ↩︎
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