It’s been called the most difficult race to finish in the world, but you’ve likely never heard of it. In its 20 years of existence, only six runners have successfully finished-out of the 500 that have attempted it. The Barkley 100-Mile Race (and 60 mile “fun run”) twist through the thick, overgrown natural areas of Frozen Head State Park, set in eastern Tennessee’s Cumberland Mountains. There are no course markings, no aid stations, no crew access, and just two water stops. The race-which consists of five 20-mile loops-has a cumulative elevation change of over 100,000 feet.

“This race is not for everybody, because you don’t get your hand held and nobody kisses your boo-boos,” explains Race Director Gary Cantrell. “The trails are underdeveloped and overgrown, so you have to be self-reliant and comfortable in the woods day or night.”

Cantrell created the Barkley after reading about James Earl Ray’s attempted escape from Brushy Mountain State Prison, which is located near Frozen Head State Park. Ray, famously known for the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., fled into the same wild area where the Barkley is now held. He only covered four miles in 56 hours.

Cantrell keeps the race limited to 35 runners to keep ecological impact at a bare minimum. He doesn’t advertise, rely on big-banner sponsors, or award any prize money. As a result, the race has become an underground legend. “People who enter have to find out how on their own,” says Cantrell. “Then again, people who find us are determined in more ways than one.”

This year the Barkley, held on April 2, had no finishers. Andrew Thompson, who is currently trying to break the speed record on the Appalachian Trail, made it into the fifth loop but physically broke down with about 15 miles to go. Ultra godfather David Horton is the only runner from the Southeast to have completed the Barkley.

If the 100 mile course wasn’t hard enough, Cantrell fills the race with enough little quirks and unconventional rules to drive anyone batty.

To get one of the coveted 35 entries, runners have to write an essay called “Why I should be allowed to run the Barkley.” The entry fee is $1.60 and a license place from your home state (or a white dress shirt if you have run the race in the past).

The starting gun of the race is Cantrell lighting a cigarette, and no one knows when the race will actually start. Runners know it will be on the morning of the race, and when a large conch shell is blown that means one hour until he lights the magic butt.

“I’ve been smoking and running for 40 years,” says Cantrell. On the course, runners have to tear a page out of 11 books to prove they stayed on track. The literary works are riddled with irony, like one titled “There May Be Thorns” placed in the middle of a dense briar patch. When a runner inevitably drops out of the race, organizers play taps on an army bugle.

Then there’s the state prison. A few years ago two runners got lost during the race and stumbled upon the prison. One of the runners, being a state trooper in New Jersey, figured they would get some warm refuge and a cup of coffee as a professional courtesy. Instead they were held on the ground at gunpoint, and after a verification of identification, the runners were told to be on their way.

“They didn’t make it back until the next day,” says Cantrell.

Every year Cantrell has to struggle to keep the Barkley alive. The unorthodox practices of the race have ruffled the feathers of many state bureaucrats. Although no date has been set for 2006, he says the Barkley will definitely return for another year.

-Jedd Ferris