Imagine running 1631 miles in 16 days 5 hours 44 minutes and 35 seconds.

Beginning on March 17th, Yiannis Kouros ran from Sydney to Melbourne, Australia (631 miles) in 5 days, 19 hours and 14 minutes. That's an average of 109 miles per day. According to an article in the July/August issue of "Ultrarunning Magazine, he followed this race with 40 days of rest to recover from a "painfully swollen achilles tendon and inflamed left knee"...The rest period was followed by two weeks of 10 to 15 miles per day in the hills around his home in Tripolis, Greece.

On May 20th Kouros started the Sri Chinmoy 1000 Mile Race inQueens, New York. He didn't sleep during the next four days as he racked up daily totals of 144, 110, 101 and 101 miles. Over the following six days Kouros managed to get some sleep during his scheduled rest breaks. These breaks, which often included a massage, a shower and a change of clothes, seldom lasted more than two hours. Lounging in the luxury of all this sleep, his daily totals slipped to 94, 89, 91, 80, 69 and 85 miles. He completed the last 36 miles in just over 10 hours giving him a final time of 10 days, 10 hours, 30 minutes and 35 seconds. This result improved on Stuart Mittleman's World 1000 mile best by 34 hours. Ultrarunning Magazine reported that Kouros' six day total of 639 miles was the best ever recorded on a certified course.

On June 23rd I had the privilege of sharing lunch with Yiannis at a sidewalk cafe in Squaw Valley, California. He was in town to participate in the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run to be held on June 25th. Kouros spoke excellent English. His body was tanned to an olive hue. His thick black hair, eyebrows and mustache accented the soft features of his roundish face. At 5'9" and 160 pounds he was not fat, but he certainly didn't resemble the emaciated souls who excel in the world of marathoning. He was calm and very relaxed. Anyone could have spoken to him and it was easy to see how his mild temperament must be an asset in the long races he dominates.

I wondered what it would take to upset such a man. He answered my questions in a soft voice as he lovingly selected pieces of fruit and slices of mellon from a large platter set in front of him.

"In the thousand mile race in New York last month I had planned to run 20 hours and rest for 4 hours," said Kouros, "but as it turned out, when I tried to sleep, sleep just wouldn't come, so I just kept running. You see the race was near a large airport and every few minutes a plane would take off, 'Brooomph,' and the noise would make me jump. I couldn't sleep, so I just kept running."

I observed, "It seems that in these very long races, one of your strengths is the talent of being able to go without sleep while running so far for so many days. Do you think you have a special ability to go without sleep?"

Kouros shifted in his chair. Using a napkin to wipe the ample juice of a honey dew slice from his fingers, he glanced in my direction, "No I have no special ability to go without sleep. I get tired like everyone else, but I just keep running. When I get very tired, too tired, I lay down. I sleep for fifteen to twenty minutes that's enough. I get up and I run."

I shook my head doubtfully, "I couldn't stay awake for four days if my life depended on it and I had nothing else to do," I said. "Too stay awake for days while running four or five hundred miles at the same time, well I just can't imagine it."

Kouros smiled, his tongue slipped between his lips and disappeared back in his mouth. "It is easy to stay awake when I run, I just think of positive things, my plans for the future, my race and things like that. At home I get tired easily. I get very sleepy sitting in my chair, I fall asleep driving my car," he said rubbing his right cheek with his hand. "I am very sleepy at home."

"Do you find that you sleep more after a big race like the one in New York?"

Nodding seriously in the affirmative. "Yes, yes, I sleep much more after a race. For maybe a week, I sleep eleven maybe twelve hours every day."

"So in a race, you find you can borrow sleep, but you must pay it back later."

"Yes, it is something like that." He flashed a slight smile that caused his cheek to bulge momentarily.

"So you have no special talent for running then?" I asked.

"No, no special talent for running." He crossed his legs and absentmindedly fingered a slice of cantaloupe. "There are plenty of better runners than me, I just get better results," he said glancing toward me again. His brown eyes boring straight into mine, he shifted in his chair so his body was squarely in front of mine. Casting his opening hands forward and then to his sides he exclaimed, "Look at me, I am just an ordinary person like everyone else. There is nothing special about me," he insisted.

"Yes that's true," I readily agreed. "But that's true of every other world class runner I have met. You can't separate fast runners from slow runners by their looks," I asserted.

He thought briefly while a thin smile crept over his face. "That may be," he said, "but there are plenty of better runners than me."

"Well how is it then that you beat all the other runners in the world, if you have no special talent?" I asked.

"It is mostly just mental, I run and I think positive thoughts. I don't think that I am tired or that my legs hurt, I think of other things," he said rubbing the tops of his legs with his hands. He was gazing intently across the square where some children and a Labrador Retriever were splashing in a fountain.

"Well you must have a talent for this mental concentration then," I asserted.

"Maybe, but I don't think so," he said looking back at me, but still rubbing his legs.

"Do you practice this mental concentration, I mean when you are not racing?"

"Yes sometimes, but not like the others, not like the Sri Chinmoy runners do. For my big races I plan for three or four months, but sometimes when I have a lot of races, I just run," he said straightening his body in the chair and resting his right arm on the table. "For my first Spartathlon (a 155 mile race between Athens and Sparta in Greece) I thought for three months if I could finish it. When the race came, I was so happy I had finished, I couldn't believe I had won it."

"How do you train for these long races?"

"I plan for three months, I run an hour each day, maybe seven or eight miles at seven thirty or eight minute pace," he leaned forward and started rubbing his quadracepts again.

"How many long runs do you do for a race like New York?"

"I do no long runs; I run the same every day."

I was stunned. "You mean you run a thousand miles in a race and you do no long runs in training?"

"Yes," he paused and then added thoughtfully, "There is no way to prepare for a thousand mile race."

"You must do some thirty or at least fifty mile runs, I mean at least sometimes, don't you?" I pleaded.

"No." He shifted in his chair so he sat sideways with his left arm draped over the back of the chair and looked straight into my eyes. "You are going to run this one hundred miles on Saturday; how are you going to feel after that? Are you going to run the next day?" he asked.

"Well no, I probably won't run for at least four days after that," I said.

"Well that is my point," he said. "It is better to run everyday and anyway, I have no time to run like that. I am busy with my house and my music and I have things to do. I save my long running for the races and then I rest. I rest maybe three or four weeks."

"Do you mean you take it easy when you rest or do you quit running altogether when you rest?"

"Yes," he said, "Sometimes I don't run, it depends on the races I have coming up. If I have races I run, if I have no races, I don't run," he said taking a bite from a nectarine.

Frustrated, I blurted, "How can you not run, if I don't run for three days I get sore legs."

Kouros raised his eyebrows and twisted his mouth and then continued chewing the nectarine. No words came from his mouth. After a thoughtful pause he said, "Last year with my surgery, I didn't run for seven months. This spring, when I started running again, my knee hurt and swelled up like so." He ringed his knee with his two hands and outstretched fingers to show the outline of his formerly swollen knee. The circle he traced made me think his knee must have been the size of a halloween pumpkin. "It hurt, but I ran," he said. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to finish in Australia, but when the race came, it was alright."

"What do eat when you run?" I asked.

"When I run I eat fruits and sweets, but no meat or dairy." He took another bite from the nectarine.

"Oh, so you are a vegetarian then?"

"In the race I eat only fruits and sweets, but before the race and after the race, I eat anything. There are so many good foods, I like to eat everything."

"I read in a magazine once that you had a special cook that went to your races and prepared Greek desserts for you, is this true?"

"Yes, that used to be true, but then I learned there are many good foods to eat and I don't need special foods to run well."

"From what I have heard you have never raced on trails before, what do you know about this race and the runners you will face?" I asked.

"I watched some films of the race last year and the year before," he said, "But I don't remember any names, except Jim King. Jim King is pretty good I think."

I said, "You are such a famous runner, you must feel a lot of pressure about this race."

He was listening intently and staring in my eyes, but instead of answering me, he chose to finish the nectarine.

"I mean," I continued, "Suppose you have a real bad day Saturday and suppose you don't finish in the top 100. I mean everyone is expecting you to do so well, how will you feel?"