Elite Ultras Must Pay Prize Money

Everyone Gets a Trophy

When Caleb Olson and Abby Hall crossed the finish line at Western States, drawing thousands of viewers to a race whose soaring popularity over the past decade owes much to elite performances, why did they walk away with only a cougar statue and no prize money?

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Elite athletes pour countless hours into training and make immense personal sacrifices to reach the Western States starting line, yet they often leave with nothing but a chance at cougar statue.

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Why do American ultramarathons (like Hardrock, Western States, Cocodona, Black Canyon) refuse to pay their top podiums, despite elites clearly boosting their revenue and prestige?

It seems simple: races generate revenue, so they should share it with the elites who fuel their success. I love Western States, but without elite runners like Olson or Hall, its popularity would barely outshine smaller races like Wasatch 100.

Few tune into live coverage of WSER or Hardrock or Cocadona for the middle or back of the pack. Some do. YouTube viewership plummets after the men’s and women’s leaders cross the finish line, proving elites drive the audience.

Yet, the issue is tangled in gray areas (tight budgets, purist traditions, and competing priorities).

I’m comfortable navigating these complexities, but on one point, I’m unwavering: races that profit from elite participation, directly or indirectly, have a duty to offer prize money.

If elite athletes drive revenue, they deserve a share of it. To understand why this issue remains so contentious, let’s first unpack the nuances that cloud this debate.

Where Does Ultramarathon Prize Money Come From?

Prize money, even when driven by altruistic goals of fair distribution, is bound by financial realities and capitalist principles. Some bristle at “capitalism,” but even the most equitable, socialist-minded systems don’t generate wealth. They rely on capitalist mechanisms to create it, then redistribute and often spend it down the capital without a framework to replenish it.

In short, you can’t pay prize money without money to pay prize money.

To explore prize money, we must examine the “sources” of prize money.

Sources of Funds

Race directors (RDs) need money inthe bank to offer prize money. It sounds simple – registration fees roll in, sponsor banners line the course – but it’s not. The complexity lies in balancing those funds against the costs of running a race, a challenge RDs face every time they consider a prize purse.

• Race Registration Revenue: Entry fees seem like a sustainable source for prize money, but race directors (RDs) must decide if it’s fair to raise fees for all runners to fund elite payouts.

In a 300-runner race with a $5,000 prize purse, that’s roughly $17 per runner. Could that money enhance aid stations, safety, or volunteers for everyone instead of rewarding the podium? It’s a tough call, and RDs must prioritize their race’s values.

• Sponsor Revenue: Sponsors can cover prize money, reducing reliance on entry fees. Securing a brand to fund the purse is challenging but feasible for a skilled RD, keeping costs lower for runners.

Still, RDs must weigh whether sponsor dollars should prioritize elites or the broader runner experience. In running, elites and amateurs share the starting line, and catering to the average runner (within two standard deviations of the bell curve) often outweighs rewarding outliers, unless elites significantly boost revenue, as I’ll explore later.

• Equity Infusions, Debt, or Crowdsourcing: These are only viable if prize money drives strategic growth, like attracting more runners or sponsors. They’re not sustainable long-term.

Funding elites with loans or crowdfunding might boost a race’s profile, but without a plan to increase revenue, it’s reckless. These sources must align with a broader vision.

Allocation of Funds

Warren Buffett’s genius lies in allocating scarce resources to achieve his goals. RDs face a similar challenge: balancing limited funds to deliver a quality race. Economics is about scarcity, and ambitious RDs thrive or fail based on their allocation decisions.

Many argue the average runner’s experience is paramount. Cutting aid stations, safety, or quality to fund prize money risks alienating the majority, who drive registrations through word-of-mouth (the best marketing tool).

If an RD skimps on food or volunteers to pay elites, the podium may shine, but other runners suffer.

That’s a failed allocation.

RDs must juggle costs for permits, infrastructure, and amenities while keeping fees affordable.

Profit and Prize Money

Some propose using profits for prize money, but profit isn’t just cash for owners—it’s a metric showing if a race’s unit economics work at scale. Are entry fees priced right?

If so, profit emerges. But how much is reasonable? Market forces decide. Ideally, a professional association would share data on average race profit margins. Outliers—races with unusually high or low margins prompt questions: What did that RD cut or add? Did it improve the runner experience?

Beating the industry average requires innovation, and new RDs often fall short. Some think skipping their salary frees up funds, but that’s intuitively unsustainable. Profit also repays debt or reinvests in growth, its not necessarily a slam dunk case for prize money. Even profitable races may lack surplus for elites without compromising elsewhere.

The Case for Prize Money

Despite financial constraints, my stance is unwavering: when elite athletes drive significant revenue (through viewership, sponsorships, or registrations) race directors (RDs) have a duty to pay prize money.

Races like Western States, where elites like Courtney Dauwalter and Jim Walmsley draw global attention, must offer prize money. Failing to do so ignores what built their prestige, risking their status as premier events.

It’s not just that a few elite runners want to test themselves at Western States. It’s the de facto National Championship of ultrarunning, where a win is required to even be considered one of the best in the sport.

Western States has deliberately cultivated this notoriety, investing heavily in livestreams, media, and sponsorships. That global spotlight exists almost entirely because of the performances of runners like Caleb Olson and Abby Hall last year, and the elites before and after them. To not compensate these athletes is to undervalue the very spectacle that fuels the race’s success.

When Should a Race Director Pay Prize Money?

The issue of prize money in ultramarathons is steeped in gray areas, but one point is crystal clear: races that financially benefit from elite participation must pay prize money to their male and female podium winners.

My argument hinges on the “sources and uses” principle: if elite runners are a source of revenue, they deserve to be a use of that revenue. It’s absurd that an elite runner pays their own entry fee, covers travel and lodging, wins the race, and earns nothing while the race owners unequivocally create value for their race organization from their performance.

Western States

Some claim Western States hides behind its 501(c)(3) non-profit status to avoid paying prize money, but this is just a tax designation, not a mandate to shun elite compensation. The race is governed by a charter and principles chosen by its board and executed by its director, prioritizing community and trail stewardship over professional rewards. I believe it could do both without compromising the other.

Yet, the grassroots legacy that birthed Western States isn’t what made it a global juggernaut. Its charming history is now a backdrop for a proving ground where elite trail runners cement their legacy.

Sponsors like Hoka don’t write checks for nostalgia alone, they pay for the spectacle of elite runners like Tom Evans, Emily Hawgood, Ryan Montgomery, Abby Hall, and Caleb Olson vying for a spot on ultrarunning’s Mount Rushmore.

Western States generates massive revenue, much like a college football program profiting millions from players who receive only token scholarships. The race’s value grows annually, fueled by elite performances that drive livestream viewership, sponsorships, and registrations.

Yet, elites like Caleb Olson and Abby Hall walk away with nothing but a cougar statue. Failing to compensate a key revenue source risks undermining the race’s prestige.

Conclusion: Doing What’s Right

Ultramarathon prize money is a knoted issue, tangled in financial limits and the sport’s purist roots. But one point is undeniable: races like Western States, Hardrock, and Aravaipa’s Black Canyon and Cocadona profit from elite runners like Courtney Dauwalter, Jim Walmsley, Dan Green, Rachel Entrekin, Caleb Olson, and Abby Hall, whose performances drive livestream viewership, sponsorships, and increase demands for the average runner to participate.

Yet, these athletes leave with just a buckle or statue while organizers pocket the gains. My stance is firm: if elites are a source of revenue, it’s right to allocate capital to the podium.

The “sources and uses” principle makes this clear. Registration fees and sponsor dollars are finite, and race directors (RDs) must balance costs for aid stations, safety, and community.

But ignoring elites who elevate races is wrong. These events thrive because elites draw global attention. As a runner, I love the sport’s inclusivity and don’t care who wins (it won’t be me).

But as a fan, I see a sport out of balance. When elites like Olson and Hall get only a trophy, ultrarunning risks hitting a ceiling, losing its brightest stars to races that value their contribution.

RDs are currently missing a key opportunity to elevate the sport and in doing so, they’re leavin champions behind.

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