Who knows what makes people do some of the things they do. George Mallory said he tackled the impossible heights of Mount Everest “because it was there.” When asked why he robbed banks, famed criminal Willie Sutton replied, “Because that’s where the money is.” And Babe Ruth famously explained his swing-for-the-fences batting by saying, “If I’d worried about striking out, I wouldn’t have hit so many home runs.”
So, what makes ultramarathoners do what they do? There must be some burning reason that would compel a person to subject their body to 100-plus miles of straight running, when the first person to run 26 in a row, Pheidippides, famously died afterward? Why would they push their mental endurance to its limits, forgoing the comforts of sleep and company for days on end? Why would they put themselves into a position where vomiting into a ditch is just part of the overall strategy?
“I see Peter West, an acupuncturist on the island, who has done 11 Ironman races, and he described it as, ‘You’re trying to face the devil and see if you can win.’ Your devil is whatever you fear or whatever is driving you,” said CH2 designer Catherine Davies, who is no stranger to ultramarathons. “That’s pretty accurate. Your body and your mind are telling you ‘no’ and you’re just pushing through it to see if you can.”
Catherine Davies runs towards mile 50 during her 5th 100-mile race, The Virginia Trail Running Festival held by Run Bum Races.
Davies began her love/hate relationship with running shortly after moving to Hilton Head Island.
“I used to hate running really. In high school, I played soccer and volleyball, which gave purpose to running. But running just to run sounded horrible,” she said. “My dad was a big marathon runner, though, and he and his father were very into endurance cycling. In fact, my dad ended up cycling across most of the 50 states as well as the Oregon Trail. At any rate, when I ended up moving down to Hilton Head, I didn’t know anybody and didn’t really have any friends at the time, so to fill my free time, I just started running.”
Her casual runs started becoming more frequent and eventually she decided to try and run a half marathon, to see if she could. After that goal was accomplished, Davies set her sights on following in her father’s footsteps and running a full marathon in 2018. However, after completing the 26.2-mile goal, her newfound love affair with running was almost cut short when she tore her meniscus, and then later developed an edema on her patella.
She was told to stop running if she didn’t want to exacerbate the injury or have serious surgery. Not accepting that her running career was over so soon, Davies instead decided to work with a trainer, Kevin Purvis, to rebuild her right leg and learn how to run again by undergoing grueling PT for more than nine months.
Davies at the end of her first successful 100-mile race, Stevi’s Roost held by Rough Runners.
With her leg healed, she started eyeing the Marine Corps Marathon.
“That was one that my dad always ran, so it was pretty sentimental for him to be there and see me cross the finish line,” she said. “But there were supposed to be no more races after that.”
Her second retirement from running was just as short-lived as her first, and before too long Davies was floating the idea of running a 100-mile race. “I’d never really had much interest in running hundreds, but it kind of became another ‘what if I can’ situation ,” she said. “After moving back to Hilton Head, I made a bunch of friends who were ultra runners. One person in particular, Ronald Vargas, took me under his wing and literally showed me how to train mentally and physically, and fuel properly in order to tackle some of these longer-distance races.”
Davies accepts her second 100-mile buckle at the Peyton Johnson Moore Track and Field.
Ultramarathons exist on an entirely different level than the typical 26.2 miles. Stretching across hundreds of miles, and taking days to complete in some cases, these races by design stretch the human body to the breaking point. Racers eat when they can and sleep when they can on a circuit that can be a simple one-mile loop or stretch up the entire coast of Georgia. They push through pain, exhaustion, and the deterioration of their own mental state in pursuit of their goal.
knowing from her ultramarathoner friends the heavy toll these races extract, Davies pursued her training until she took on her first ultramarathon just a month after her father passed. Called the Bronze Dragonfly, this race wasn’t about distance but endurance, testing runners to see if they can push themselves for 30 straight hours.
Catherine Davies and Ronald Vargas finishing together at Southern Discomfort.
“It didn’t go well. I packed it in at 60-something miles,” she said. “However, knowing that my first attempt might not be successful I had a backup race in September of that year called Stevi’s Roost that had a 48-hour time limit. That was a roller coaster of emotions and pain. I remember really struggling with a major inferiority complex, I didn’t think that I belonged there, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be successful again, which was stupid. After I crossed the finish line of my first 100-mile race I felt so good that I wanted to do another loop, because my tank wasn’t empty yet.”
Each race is different and presents different obstacles to push through. Flash forward to April 25, 2025, when Davies decided to celebrate her 40th birthday by running her fourth 100-mile race, called Cannonball Run. “This race started at 8 p.m. and was on a 3.3-mile loop through wooded horse trails. I had a mental breakdown around mile 70 or 80 and just wasn’t thinking right. I also ended up hallucinating a lot in that one,” she said. “You’re in the woods, exhausted, and it is pitch black around you, your eyes start to play a lot of tricks on you and make you see things that aren’t there. I remember seeing a lot of large bushes and thinking that I was seeing massive possums on top of each other. I saw a wild boar, and I’m not sure if that was real or not. Another time I thought I saw The Mothman sitting in a tree looking down on me.”
If anything, Davies said, these races create an entirely unique kind of inclusion. In a normal marathon or a normal race or any kind of running pursued by normal people, there is an element of competition. Each racer may wish each other the must superficial of luck, but in their heart of hearts, each wants to be the first to cross the finish line.
Ronald Vargas pacing Davies on a bike during Catherine’s 4th 100-mile race, Cannonball Run.
In ultramarathons, where the only real competition is your own body’s vulnerability to pain and suffering, there’s a much greater spirit of camaraderie. And when you’re running for 30-plus hours straight, sometimes with no sleep and with as much food as you can hold down, you need all the fellowship you can get.
“It’s probably not the healthiest, but at a certain point, you don’t care. The people are so encouraging and so friendly. Even though you don’t know any of these people, they’re all rooting for you to finish,” she said. “Everybody is going to cheer you on from the first person to the very last person. However you finish the race, the first person sometimes will wait for the last person to finish and cheer them on … we’re trauma bonding.”
Ultimately, these ultramarathons aren’t about competing with one another. They’re about competing with the devil, in whatever form he takes that drives you to move forward.
The before and after of a 100-mile race
After five ultramarathons and countless races in between, what devil is Davies still running against?
“I think my devil is fear and lack of belief in myself. That’s probably par for the course of a lot of people. I think I’ve heard people say that if you feel that you’re an imposter, it’s probably because what you’re doing means so much to you,” she said. “Fear of failure and what lies ahead is a big devil for me, but I also never thought I’d do five of these. And now I’m pushing myself further and believing in myself more. The ‘why’ is still, of course, to see what I’m capable of achieving.”
