The Gentlemanly Sport Of Pedestrianism
by Ivan Farkas
Picture yourself in 1870s New York City— a gentleman about town, you’re on your second pack of cigarettes, preparing to cram into a stadium with thousands of rowdy spectators. But it's not to watch an event like boxing or horse racing or setting five dogs on a hobo then taking bets; though gambling will definitely be involved.
Get ready: You’re about to watch a bunch of men walk.
It was called pedestrianism, and involved a dirt oval that was about an eighth of a mile in diameter that the walkers would travel around for six days straight.
It probably would have been seven or more, but people had to appease the Lord on Sundays, of course. The pedestrians did take occasional breaks of a few hours to eat, excrete, and nap in little tents on the sidelines. And while walking for over 20 hours a day, champions could easily cover more than 500 miles during their six days, to the soundtrack of crowds cheering and cussing, a big military brass band blaring, vendors dispensing bar-fare, and rowdy, drunken bets being placed.
Pedestrianism was popular from the late 18th century to the late 19th century. Its athletes were the sports superstars of their day, except instead of having lucrative, multi-million dollar contracts, they had to place bets on themselves to make that sweet, sweet cash. Walking 100 miles in 24 hours' time was a popular feat; or better yet, walking 1,000 miles over like 1,000 hours, like Captain Robert Barclay Allardice did in 1809. After wagering what history calls “a crapload of cash” on himself, Allardice walked away with (heh) some £16,000; the equivalent of over 300 years’ worth of salary for a commoner at the time.
Six-day competitions could feature equally insane payouts, awarding a silver championship belt and a grand prize of $700,000 in today-money. Some competitors did actually benefit from sponsorships, usually from salt companies or newspapers, which I'm sure was nothing like a deal from Nike today. But it probably made them history’s first example of athlete-based advertising done on any sort of large scale.
Pedestrians also had entourages like today’s professional athletes, with trainers, lackeys, and yes-men. Trainers advised their champions to drink champagne, which they did, right from the bottle while walking. That often meant that this “sport” could quickly devolve into sleepless, inebriated stumblings and staggerings, which the spectators loved, because humans have always loved watching other humans completely wreck themselves.
As with modern all-stars, big-time walkers each had their own signature style, or gait, be it “wobbly,” “trotting,” or Irishman Dan O’Leary’s industrious mechanical walk while clutching corn cobs as sweat absorbers. The attire was equally flamboyant, as with America’s most famous walker, Edward Payson Weston, who would don a cape, sash, silk hat, velvet breeches, and cane. The nutrtion was on point as well, with champion pedestrian Ada Anderson subsisting on a diet of “rare beefsteak, roast beef, mutton, beef tea, port wine, and champagne.”
According to the Olympics, pedestrianism evolved from the practice of wealthy sirs placing bets on their footmen, the unfortunate souls who were never offered a ride in their bosses' horse-drawn carriages, and instead had to walk alongside and keep pace with them. Which, to be fair, was at least a step up from what was probably rich guys' original idea: Ultimate Footman Fighting Championship.
You see, many Olympic events are milder versions of their historical predecessors. Much like wrestling’s roots in pankration (the ancient version of MMA), in which a participant's death was definitely possible and absolutely not frowned upon. Or even racewalking, which first featured as an event at the 1904 Olympics and was a then-modern and much shorter version of ... well, pedestrianism, as it turns out.
And while racewalking has evolved over time and now includes much longer events, they're nothing close to the hundreds of sleep-deprived, champagne-addled miles laid down by the beautiful sport’s dusty, probably piss-stained progenitors. Bring back pedestrianism!
