By Madeleine CummingsT
he Sinister 7 Ultra is a breathtaking 100-mile race that sends
runners up and down mountains in Crowsnest Pass, Alta.
Some brave souls run the whole thing themselves, but most compete
for male, female or mixed-gender relay teams. The first male and
female soloists to cross the line win $1,000, plus other prizes. Teams
also race for prize money, but only one team – the fastest overall –
receives $1,000.
When my teammates and I caught wind of this prize structure, we
were angry. We are all competitive women accustomed to passing
guys on the trails, but we knew there was next to no chance of us
beating every all-male and mixed-gender team out there on race day.
A search of past race results confirmed our suspicions. For the past six
years, an all-male team had clocked the fastest time.
A few weeks before the race, a couple of us emailed Brian Gallant,
Sinister 7’s race director, to ask if he would consider adding a women’s
team prize. Though he said he might consider making changes next
year, he defended the current prize structure by saying the team cash
prize was not assigned by gender and that it was “circumstantial that
a male team has won the most in recent years.”
The gender pay gap continues to be a big problem in sport.
According to John Walters in Newsweek, the pga awarded
$320 million in prize money last year while the lpga gave out
$61.6 million. Cycling, soccer and basketball are also notoriously
inequitable. Footraces, on the other hand, tend to divide their prize
purses equally between men and women. The top man and woman at
the Boston Marathon each win $150,000. Victoria’s Times Colonist
10 k, the Vancouver Sun Run and the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront
Marathon are just a few of the big Canadian races that divide moneyequally between men and women.
Ultramarathons – and Sinister 7 isn’t the only one – have further
to go.
Rory Bosio, a decorated American ultrarunner, encountered an
inequitable prize money structure at the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc,
which is one of the most prestigious trail races in the world. She won
the race in 2013 and 201 4 , but was annoyed that the race awarded
prizes to the top ten men but only the top five women. When she
complained to the race director, she was told the women’s race was
less competitive. Bosio eventually refused to race utmb again unless
prize money was equally distributed.
“My main reason for wanting to see 10 women on stage during the
awards is the message it sends to younger girls,” she told me. “ The
more we highlight the fact that women really excel at this sport the
more women we will be attracted to it because they will see that
it’s doable.”
The race changed its ways and equalized the prizes for 2016.
Sometimes, as at Sinister 7, the sexism behind prize money
distribution is more subtle. Ellie Greenwood, perhaps Canada’s
best ultramarathoner, spoke up in 2012 after the Indiana Trail 100
announced they would award $25 ,000 to anyone who broke the
current North American-soil 100-mile record. After she and others
on social media protested, the race added a prize for breaking the
women’s 100-mile record.
According to Nikki Kimball, an American ultrarunner who has
won the Western States 100 three times, unequal prize money is
only part of the problem. During her ultrarunning career, which
spans nearly 20 years, she’s seen women’s trail courses shortened,
unequal compensation from sponsors, and male-centric media
coverage. Prizes can also be unequal in value, even when they are
offered to both winners. At one race, where the male winner walked
away with a gift certificate, she got perfume and soap.
“It makes me feel, when any of that sexist stuff happens, that the
race director doesn’t care about the women,” she said. “You don’t
want to race knowing that the race director doesn’t really care.”
Like Bosio, Kimball now refuses to compete in any race that does
not award equal prize money.
I suspect race directors aren’t clinging to sexist prize structures
because they truly believe men deserve more money than women
do. These inequities are just the last remnants of a distance running
culture that excluded women for so many years.
Not everyone’s voice carries the same power as that of Rory Bosio,
Nikki Kimball or Ellie Greenwood. But it’s worth encouraging races
to award equal prizes, even if you don’t have a shot at winning a cent.
If no one spea ks up, race directors have no reason to cha nge t he st at us
quo. Gallant told me I was the first person to complain about Sinister
7’s prize money structure.
After running for nearly 16 hours, our last runner crossed the
f i n ish l i ne at Si n ister 7, ea r n i ng u s t he f a stest fema le tea m tit le. W hen
we filed onto the stage during the awards ceremony, the race director
offered a last-minute cash concession: a $100 credit for each of us to
next year’s race. We also won shoes from one of the race’s sponsors.
The men’s team received their shoes plus the $1,000 prize. Since
there were seven of us, we essentially earned 70 per cent of what the
male winners did.
It wasn’t quite equal, but it was a start.Madeleine Cummings is a Canadian Running columnist
and reporter living in Edmonton.Get Rid of the Gap
Running is one of the most equitable sports out
there, but we need to speak up to make sure men
and women receive equal prize moneyrunningmagazine.ca Canadian Running 29Michelle Simpson
thoughtsaboutrunning
what madeleine cummings thinks about when she thinks about runningcolumn