Behind the Lens at Black Canyon 100K

Ultrarunning photographer Howie Stern on how the sport and his job have changed

Like a few thousand others, I spent part of Saturday on YouTube following the livestream coverage of Aravaipa Running’s Black Canyon 100K, an uber-competitive “Golden Ticket” race, meaning it awarded the top three male and female finishers entry to Western States 100 (not just the top two, as in other Golden Ticket races).

I’m not here to break down how the exciting race unfolded among the best-of-the-best newcomers and more seasoned ultrarunning pros (here and here are smart recaps if you’re interested). Rather, I’d like to reflect on how the coverage of ultra events has evolved as the sport itself has grown and become more professional. To do that, I chatted with photographer and ultrarunner Howie Stern, who’s one of the hardest-working guys in the biz and was on the scene last weekend.

Aravaipa’s media arm Mountain Outpost and Dylan Bowman’s media platform Freetrail just announced a collaboration to livestream Freetrail’s new Big Alta 50K later this month and Gorge 100K in April, and Jamil Coury of Aravaipa messaged me that “we have several more discussions happening.” It’s a safe bet livestreaming will grow and become the standard for coverage of our sport. It seems timely, then, to look at how we got here and to consider some of the consequences for the runners, spectators, and media who participate in ultrarunning.

Here are two of Howie’s shots that he took last Saturday. All photos in this post are by Howie Stern and used with his permission, unless otherwise noted.

Rachel Drake, who won in 8:47.

Hayden Hawks on his way to winning in a course-record time of 7:30.

From an on-screen dot to a live fan forum

When I started following the sport of ultrarunning avidly more than 20 years ago, UltraRunning magazine was the sport’s bible. It’s where we turned for reports and results. About two decades ago, the Western States Endurance Run started the then-high-tech race-day tracking of its runners. They used the World Wide Web to show a runner’s position as a dot on its 100-mile course profile and crunched numbers to predict the runner’s arrival time to the next aid station.

During the mid-2000s, I spent countless hours on the third weekend of June staying up through the night to refresh the web browser to see how much a dot, which represented a friend, had moved. (These friends’ crews couldn’t text updates because texting was in its infancy, and cell coverage didn’t reach the remote course anyway.)

Then, with the advent of Twitter, iRunFar.com’s team led by Bryon Powell and Meghan Hicks revolutionized ultra coverage by sending teams to races and live-tweeting runners’ progress at certain points along the route. iRunFar’s race coverage via Twitter set the standard for covering ultras through the 2010s. But it was still just a series of tweets, some of them accompanied by iPhone photos.

iRunFar still does an admirable job tweeting and covering major ultras on race day, and writing race recaps to publish the next day. Over the last three years, however, livestream team coverage pioneered by Aravaipa Running’s Jamil Coury (and, at Western States, led by Billy Yang) has taken race coverage to an entirely new level, affecting the experience both for runners and spectators.

Jamil first experimented with live commentary and footage at the 2018 Desert Solstice ultra-distance track invitational, which was easier to produce since it took place around the confines of a track. He also positioned webcams to show the finish line with some live commentary at Javelina Jundred. To produce live coverage along a point-to-point ultra route, however, would take a much bigger team effort with satellite connections. Starting in 2021 at the Black Canyon 100K, he made it happen and launched the new era of livestreaming.

This livestream event coverage still seems delightfully homegrown, glitchy, and rinky-dink, especially when compared to the Superbowl coverage we also collectively watched last weekend. Yet, it’s far more sophisticated and far-reaching than anything ultrarunning media produced before 2021.

Combined with a new and growing class of ultrarunning podcasters/influencers who also capture photos and video, competitive ultra races are being shown and talked about in real time more than ever before.

To livestream the Javelina Jundred, Cocodona 250, Black Canyon 100K, Western States 100—and starting last summer, the Hardrock 100—teams of camera people and commentators position themselves along the ultra route, and as runners pass, they report on the runners’ performance and reactions, feeding the updates via satellite link to a pair of commentators at race headquarters. They also use drones to capture bird’s-eye views of lead runners chasing each other. This coverage continues nonstop and live—hours and hours straight, without a break—via YouTube.

The commentators inevitably have a lot of air to fill with chatter, because updates can be few and far between. Their banter becomes oddly captivating, even addicting, because we know many of the on-screen personalities as fellow ultrarunners, and it’s fun to hear them analyze and shoot the shit.

What’s more, a burgeoning community of runners chat amongst themselves in the YouTube chat box. The commentators sometimes interact with those of us who are typing comments. The whole platform turns into a virtual stadium of spectators, but it feels surprisingly cozy and personal. (You can scroll and sample the first 11 hours of the archived Black Canyon 100K livestream coverage here.)

A screen shot from last Saturday’s coverage. Two of my favorite people, Schuyler Hall and Corrine Malcolm, are working the desk at headquarters and corresponding with the field reporter in the lower righthand corner as he waits for a runner to go by. Meanwhile, the chat box of spectators on the right endlessly cheers and analyzes.

As a spectator, I appreciate and get hooked on the livestream. But all those extra cameras and reporters are not entirely welcome by runners and crew. Runners hear buzzing drones as they run, and the elites have cameras and mics close to their face as they try to focus on doing what they quickly need to do at aid stations, all of which can distract and detract from what has traditionally been a less crowded, more nature-oriented competition.

Last summer, when I worked an aid station at Hardrock, I witnessed how all the coverage impacted the aid station operation. In addition to the livestream crew, numerous videographers hired by brands jockeyed for space to capture footage of their sponsored athletes. Overall, the scene was manageable, but it felt annoyingly crowded and at times borderline chaotic to park cars without blocking the route in a remote, difficult-to-access space in the mountains, increasing the event’s footprint on the environment. I felt relieved when the elites passed through, the camera people and commentators drove away, and the aid station regained its old-school, quieter feel as the midpackers who don’t generate media coverage arrived.

Squeezing out the photographer?

My friend Howie Stern has observed these changes up close and has been affected by them. I met Howie in 2011 when we both were pacing at Hardrock, which he has run numerous times. Back then, he lived in the Eastern Sierra, worked as a math teacher, and played gigs as a musician. He made a major life shift when he became a professional photographer in 2015, and he started getting hired by magazines, brands, and race directors to cover ultras. He now lives in Silverton, and I enjoy crossing paths with him a few times a year.

Howie’s first breakthrough photography job was covering the inaugural Bigfoot 200 in 2015. “Before that race, everybody just did the pretty running shot. I wound up in that race going into the trenches and getting all the candids of people deep in their pain caves running their 200-miler, and that sort of became my thing. I got less known for running shots, more known for the struggle shot.”

As I watched Black Canyon’s livestream last weekend, I also repeatedly checked Howie’s Instagram to see his beautiful race-day photos. Aravaipa Running hired him as their event photographer. With all the hoopla around the event, all the new names vying for top spots, and all the photographers and videographers positioning for shots, I wondered how Howie was feeling about his assignment.

Howie Stern working the Javelina Jundred. Photo by Rebecca Collicott

Last week, prior to the race, he and I happened to message about our age. We’re both 54. I posted a quote on my Instagram story from someone saying how 54 is “a weird age … Not old yet, not young anymore. I can feel myself becoming invisible. It’s a diminishment and superpower at the same time.”

Howie messaged me back, “Boy, does that hit home.” He later explained how he’s surrounded by much younger videographers and influencers while working his job, many of whom don’t recognize him and don’t know about his long involvement in the sport. “Everybody is 20 to 30 years younger than me, so it’s easy for me to start feeling invisible at my job.”

Howie’s Black Canyon weekend started with an eight-hour drive to Arizona, then he worked all day Saturday to photograph the frontrunners, then all day Sunday to photograph all the runners in the event’s 60K. Before he hit the trail, he had to do a lot of homework to determine where to be along the course and which notable runners to shoot—no easy task, since the field is bursting with Gen Z ultrarunners fresh out of college, plus road marathoners and sub-ultra runners transitioning to ultras.

“Most of the names I don’t even know because there are so many new people who are fast,” he said.

The start line of the 100K felt frenetic as he and others tried to spot and shoot the elites. “You almost have to knock elbows because people don’t show the same decorum as they did in the days past, when people talked to each other. Now they just cut in front of you.”

Traditionally, he said, he and the handful of other photographers working an event spoke to each other to respect each others’ space. “I’d say, ‘Hey, I’m Howie, who are you shooting for? Who’s your runner? Let’s work around each other so you get your shots and I get my shots.’ We worked together. People don’t really do that now. People just yell at me, ‘Hey, you’re in my shot’ and it’s like, I’m hired to cover this race, I don’t know who you are. People want to get their shot and throw it up on their Instagram as quick as possible. … The space has gotten so crowded, it’s made my job a lot more difficult. You’re having to fight at the finish line with 15 other people who are rushing up to an athlete.

“It’s a free-for-all circus now with no communication between all the different entities. Video and livestreaming is beginning to supersede everything, and still photographers are becoming an afterthought. … On top of it, a lot of the new people are massively undercutting what they charge in order to get work. I wonder how sustainable it is.”

He spoke highly of the livestream crew at Black Canyon and at other Aravaipa events, saying they didn’t get in each other’s way. By contrast, he said, he and other still photographers at Big Dog’s Backyard Ultra last October “were not allowed to get right next to runners, yet the livestream people were allowed to put a camera three inches from a runner’s face, so much so that the runners had to whisper to their crew so their comments wouldn’t go out over broadcast. That was frustrating.”

He also appreciated that follow cams weren’t following runners at Black Canyon, unlike at other major races such as Western States. "Every elite has a follow cam” it seems, he said. The follow cam often is hired for the livestream team or by the athlete’s brand sponsor. “You can’t get a clean shot.”

One of Howie’s favorite finishing shots, of top runner Allie McLaughlin finishing the 2023 Broken Arrow skyrace with her dog meeting her, diminished by the guy and his follow cam in the background.

What about the top runners themselves—has Howie noticed a change in their behavior, or has his interaction with them changed since he doesn’t know many of the newcomers?

“In some ways it’s disconnected me a little bit, because going back a few years—whether it was Walmsley or Courtney or a handful of other [top competitiors]—they were my friends, and I know them pretty well. When I’d see them at races and I’m shooting, it’s really easy to be interactive, and they’re excited when they see me on trail. Now, with so many new names I don’t know and they don’t know me, it feels a lot more impersonal when I’m covering events because I don’t have that same connection.

“And I feel like up at the front—not with the women, but with the men—it’s getting more cliquey. Like they have their bro club and they interact with themselves. I don’t feel that from the women; even if it’s women I don’t know, I still feel like I can shoot women better, because their heart feels more open. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s the truth. The men, I feel more distance from. Maybe I’m feeling the age gap. At 54, I don’t have that same testosterone energy that a lot of guys seem to have when they cross the finish line.”

Nonetheless, he still feels that ultrarunners are more similar than different than they’ve always been, and last weekend’s event featured many uplifting moments.

“When I shot the 60K, I shot the whole field. Watching them smile as they see the sun rise, and having them say hi as they run by—they’re just out on the trail having fun. At the finish, I saw the tears and happiness, the regular ultra stuff we’ve all seen and done over the years.

“Despite what the media or others try to portray, I feel like the sport in general is kind of the same. It’s a lot of miles by yourself on the trails or miles with friends. Most people aren’t competing to be pros. … I hope it continues that people are out there just because they like to run and hang out with friends and enjoy nature.”

Amen to that.

As a runner, Howie has had a tough few years losing loved ones and confronting health challenges, most seriously thyroid cancer in 2021, which is under control since he had his thyroid removed and got on medication. He timed out while running Hardrock last year, however. “It’s been strange to go from being strong in the mountains to all of a sudden being against cutoffs. I can have days when I feel good, and other days I can’t move.”

Yet he’s taking on the challenge of both the Ouray 100 and Swiss Alps 100 this year. “I might as well do stuff while I can still put one foot in front of the other. I feel my mortality more. … The older I get and the slower I get, the more I appreciate just being out there and seeing beautiful stuff, whether it’s with friends or with my dog, and if I can’t run, I hike.”

I relate to a lot of what Howie describes, having seen the sport evolve and being an over-the-hill runner myself. I share Howie’s hope that room and respect prevail for all types of runners and for all types of media coverage. I also hope he’s right in his view that, “There’s space for everything—for UTMB, for Aravaipa, down to races like the Ouray 100 that has no sponsors and two cones for a start line.”

I’m sharing his story in part to show another aspect of this sport’s growing pains, and in part because I hope the new, younger generation of speedy competitors and those who follow them gain respect for the person behind the camera creating captivating still photographs.

The race coverage and fandom doesn’t have to be so instant, fleeting, and focused on the front. The story isn’t just about who’s in it to win it. It’s also about the relationships, the landscape, the rookies, the oldsters, the volunteers, and the back-of-the-pack strugglers.

To their credit, many of the livestream commentators recognize that fact and filled airtime with banter about the bigger picture. And, my spirit felt lifted as I followed along the livestream chatbox and read the river of comments bursting with enthusiasm and humor. I just hope that veterans in the sport, like Howie, continue to be at the heart of our sport’s new era rather than pushed aside or overlooked, and that the coverage of these high-stakes races is more thoughtful and down-to-earth than frenetic and competitive.

An oldie but a goodie: Howie Stern’s shot of me from 2016, which became a promo shot for my book.

I’ll have more to say about trail-running media and Substack newsletters in a bonus post to paid subscribers in a couple of days, prompted in part by Zoe Rom’s interesting and somewhat depressing essay about media coverage. I’ll also be hosting the monthly online meetup for paid subscribers next Thursday, February 22. If you’d like to gain access to bonus posts and the Zoom, please consider upgrading your subscription to the supporter level.

A nice note from a subscriber last week—made my day!