The Return of the Six-Day Race
Most runners measure their races in hours.
A few measure them in days.
Ted Epstein stepped into a world where the clock ran for nearly a week.
The Six-Day race — one of the most punishing endurance events in history — dates back to the 1800s. Athletes once walked or ran for six straight days, chasing distance while battling exhaustion, pain, and sleep deprivation. The event faded for decades before being revived by a small group of modern endurance pioneers.
Ted didn’t just try it once.
He finished it three times — in San Diego, Boulder, and La Rochelle, France.
San Diego — April 1984
The rules were simple. Run in circles on a track for six days. Change direction every twelve hours. Sleep and eat whenever you want. The winner is whoever covers the most miles.
In reality, nothing about it was simple.
During the day, San Diego was beautiful. At night, humidity soaked everything. Ted’s supply table would be covered in moisture by morning — even the paper towels were unusable. The hardest hours came between midnight and dawn, when the body begged for sleep and the mind struggled to stay focused. Sunrise brought relief, like an emotional reset button.
Vivian became Ted’s crew. She tried to sit and read but rarely made it past a page. Every lap, Ted needed something — bananas, towels, drinks, or help with blisters. Asking a pharmacy for needles to lance those blisters embarrassed her; she worried what people might think.
By day three, Ted’s feet had swollen so badly he cut one-inch holes in his shoes with scissors. Other runners improvised too — one woman stuffed sanitary napkins into flip-flops for cushioning. This was endurance stripped to survival and creativity.
When Ted needed bigger shoes, Vivian braved unfamiliar California freeways at night, making phone calls from a roadside booth until she found a store that carried oversized Vans. She returned with sizes 14, 15, and 16.
By day six, lifting his foot over the curb to reach the portable toilet was agony.
But he finished.
The winner? A mail carrier — a man perhaps more accustomed to endless miles on foot.
Boulder — December 1984 to January 1985
Ted wasn’t done. He wanted to run a Six-Day race in his home state of Colorado.
Vivian thought it was madness and refused to crew. Friends — and Ted’s brother Ron — stepped in. The race took place indoors at Balch Fieldhouse. Sleeping bags lined the track. Lights blazed. Music blasted to keep everyone awake.
Ted, who normally slept easily, could barely sleep at all.
After three days of exhaustion, Vivian urged him to sneak away to her hotel room for just two hours. That short rest revived him enough to return to the track. Most runners survived on light foods — yogurt, bananas, energy drinks — and mental discipline.
Some listened to music. Ted preferred silence. Running became meditation: one foot, then the other.
Scientists even wired runners with electrodes to study how sleep deprivation affected mental function. Surprisingly, despite the lack of rest and extreme exertion, cognitive ability remained steady.
Ted finished his second Six-Day race with 314 miles.
The Three-Day Lesson — 1985
Not every race was six days long. A three-day race in California brought a different kind of test.
By the end of the first day, Ted’s feet were covered in blisters. Every step felt like running on broken glass. A fellow runner taught him how to lance and bandage them. Ted shuffled forward at a snail’s pace.
Meanwhile, a muscular, confident competitor — surrounded by admirers — lounged for hours, conserving energy. Ted kept moving.
When the rested runner returned to the track, lactic acid had seized his muscles. He could barely walk.
Ted passed him.
The old fable of the tortoise and the hare played out again — in real life.
La Rochelle, France — October 1987
In the charming seaside city of La Rochelle, Ted ran his third Six-Day race. French soldiers in uniform counted laps. Spectators shouted “TED!” as he passed, thanks to Vivian sewing his name on the back of his shirts.
Each runner had a tiny cubicle for supplies. Vivian felt like she was living in a fishbowl, turning her back to eat so she wouldn’t feel stared at.
After six days, Ted finished once more.
His supporters escorted him to the train station waving American flags. Exhausted, he collapsed into his bunk in the train compartment and fell asleep instantly.
Then came one last adventure.
A stranger entered their locked compartment — a booking mix-up. Vivian tried to explain in French. The man insisted the cabin was his too. Ted slept through it all.
Later, wandering the train in a daze, Ted forgot which cabin was theirs and could be heard calling down the corridor:
“VIVI! VIVI!”
Endurance, it seemed, didn’t end at the finish line.
By CHRISTOPHE LUCET Les sixièmes Six Jours – Translated from article in French newspaper
The Crazy Race of Ted Epstein
Between climbing Kilimanjaro and an expedition to Antarctica, Ted Epstein, a corporate lawyer from Denver, Colorado, once threatened with paralysis, dreamed only of running the Six Days of La Rochelle. Since last night, he’s on the track.
The Six Days of La Rochelle is not your typical footrace.
You have to run for six days and six nights on a flat course, with only brief rest periods. Despite losing his luggage at the Nairobi airport, the Colorado lawyer arrived in La Rochelle in good shape. He climbed Kilimanjaro last year. In November, he will head to Antarctica to climb Mount Benson, the highest peak on the continent.
And why all this? Let’s just say Ted Epstein is more colorful than most competitors in an event like this. He has already been featured in the Rocky Mountain News Sunday Magazine, the newspaper in his hometown of Denver. “Do, go, do… now.” That simple motto sums up this 52-year-old, mustached American with bright eyes — a believer in doing things now, with no time to waste on empty speculation.
TRAINING IN A COLD ROOM
A look at his calendar says it all: after the Six Days of La Rochelle, he heads to Punta Arenas in southern Chile to embark for Antarctica. His equipment is ready. Ted Epstein trained by spending entire days in cold rooms in Denver to acclimate himself to polar temperatures. One issue remains: his hip. For now, he undergoes treatments to remove calcifications. “I don’t seem to be a very good patient,” he says with a laugh.
Ted Epstein took up serious sport later in life. The only thing that once mattered to him was being a good corporate lawyer. “The only truly indispensable thing,” he says. Now he believes having a goal that pushes you beyond your limits is essential.
A year after learning to swim, the man in his fifties swam around Manhattan Island — 35 kilometers. He wisely got vaccinated against tetanus and other diseases; the water of the East River has little in common with the Volga. He now better understands why he plans to swim across the English Channel in August.
The man is calm and disarmingly kind.
Almost casually, he mentions a key part of his story: a last-chance spinal operation when he was threatened with paralysis. Ten years ago, the surgeon gave no guarantees. “After the operation, the doctors told me I would never be able to run.” Twelve years later, Ted Epstein has proven them wrong. “Willpower is the key,” he says.
THE MIRACLE MAN
At 52, Ted Epstein is in peak condition, radiating a bright smile and unshakable determination. “Life begins at 40,” he says. “That’s exactly what I’ve learned.” Even though Epstein had already achieved athletic feats before the surgery, he still fears his injuries might return.
As for his performances, they have been remarkable. During the Six Days of La Rochelle, he ran more than 500 kilometers — a respectable, if not record-breaking, distance. But that’s beside the point. Running is what matters. La Rochelle is the best race, according to American specialists who observed him. Psychologists in Denver claim that Six Day runners endure an experience of torture similar to that of prisoners of war — the lawyer says this with a laugh.
These races weren’t just about miles. They were about persistence, improvisation, humor, and the stubborn refusal to quit — qualities that defined Ted Epstein as much as any finish time ever could.
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