Ekiden Stories No. 4: Ekiden is Emotion
- jeremy kuhles
- Oct 5
- 6 min read
Updated: Oct 6
Why do you like Ekiden?
Asked no one in particular. But it's a question I reflect on quite often.
Sure, it’s a running event, and I’m a runner, so on the surface it makes sense. But I was drawn to it long before I started running seriously. Maybe it’s tied to the memories I associate with the New Year holidays: going to my father-in-law’s place in the mountains of Wakayama, spending two cozy days under the kotatsu with the Hakone Ekiden on TV, peeling one mikan after another. But it can’t just be nostalgia either.
This weekend, at the Kanto University Women’s Ekiden Championship, I think I began to understand why.
Chasing a Spot in the National Championships
I was there at the regional champs to support Tamagawa University. Through quite a bit of hard work and persistence (Ekiden teams are notoriously closed), I managed to build a relationship with the team, enabling me to train with them regularly and gain firsthand, valuable insights from the coaches, managers and runners about what it takes to build and manage an Ekiden team.
If Tamagawa hit the top six among the universities not yet automatically qualified (known as being seeded), they would secure a spot for the national championships in Sendai in three weeks' time. If not, well... best not to think about that.
The team's average 5K times put them at 10th out of the 20 teams running. And with only four teams with automatic qualification, it was likely going to be a bit tight.
So, standing on the roadside, watching Tamagawa fight for qualification, it hit me, one of the reasons I love Ekiden is the ever-present feeling of jeopardy.
J is for Jeopardy
Certain teams are always going to dominate Ekiden, on both the men’s and women’s sides. There are rarely surprise winners in the marquee races because, quite simply, the strongest schools have the fastest runners. And the fastest runners want to go to the strongest schools.
As a result, the powerhouses attract top talent. In the women's case, this often means snaffling as many 15-minute 5K runners as you can (and there aren't that many to choose from). Since women’s Ekidens typically feature shorter legs (between about 3 and 8.5 km, as in yesterday’s race), those teams hold a clear advantage.
So while you can usually flip a coin between the likely winners, the charm of Ekiden is that it's not all about what's going on up front. The real jeopardy often lies further back in the field.
That’s where the real drama unfolds, tense, uncertain, and impossible to look away from when you’ve got a horse in the race.
To be in the mix to earn automatic seeding for next year’s race, well, that’s something within reach, and worth every ounce of effort. The powerhouses might have the podium spots all but locked up, but further down the field, the margins are razor-thin. These teams are far more evenly matched, and that’s where the real drama unfolds, tense, uncertain, and impossible to look away from when you’ve got a horse in the race.
As if to drive the point home, I found myself standing on the roadside next to one of the other team’s coaches. He had three stopwatches hanging from his neck, all running at once (I’ve no idea why), and was constantly on and off his phone, barking instructions and fielding updates. It was clear things weren’t quite going to plan, but as his runner came past, he shouted, “You never know what’s happening up ahead, so keep pushing!”
That, in a nutshell, is Ekiden.
Awash with Colour and Camaraderie
One of my favourite sections in the Harry Potter series is in The Goblet of Fire and the descriptions of the Quidditch World Cup. J.K. brings it vividly to life through colour and camaraderie: the flags, badges, face paint, and throngs of supporters decked out in their team symbols, all rallying behind their chosen sides.
It taps into something deeply human, our instinct to align ourselves with a team or a tribe. That impulse goes back centuries I guess, to armies marching under their own banners. Of course, in sport, it’s sometimes taken too far. I grew up in the UK during the ’80s and ’90s, when hooliganism was a constant presence. But in the Quidditch World Cup, it all stays on the right side of civil. And that, I realise, is another reason I’m such an Ekiden fan.
Tying a Tamagawa-pink scarf around my neck and clutching my banner, I was clearly choosing a side, nodding and exchanging greetings not just with fellow supporters, but with fans of other teams too. It’s an easy conversation starter, which is saying something in Japan, where small talk isn’t exactly a national pastime.
The whole event was beautifully vibrant and full of partisan energy: Takushoku University in bright orange, Josai in yellow, Juntendo in its signature navy. Many of these are traditional schools, with elegant kanji calligraphy on their singlets and elaborate badge work stitched into their kit. It was another factor I hadn’t quite put my finger on, until I sat down to think about it today.
Ekiden is Emotion
And then, the final reason Ekiden means so much to me: it’s pure emotion.
When you’re running for more than yourself, when you’re part of a team chasing a shared goal, everything hits deeper. And because Ekiden is unpredictable by nature, it draws out every shade of feeling.
By now, you’ll know that Tamagawa needed to finish high enough to qualify for the national championships. As the race entered its final stages, I’d completely lost track of where we stood. So I left my vantage point halfway up the hill, a great spot to cheer from by the way, and honestly, if I were running up a hill at 3:15 per kilometre pace, that’s exactly where I’d want someone shouting for me.
“She did it!” Yuka yelled. “Did what?” I asked. As anyone who’s lived in Japan knows, high-context language can be baffling at the best of times, and never more so than in the chaos of a race!
On the way down, I passed Tamagawa’s Yuka (1st leg) and Ayano (4th leg).“She did it!” Yuka yelled. “Did what?” I asked. As anyone who’s lived in Japan knows, high-context language can be baffling at the best of times, and never more so than in the chaos of a race!
“Ayano won her leg and broke the course record!”
Woah. That’s special. Tamagawa University hadn’t had a ku-kan sho (a section prize) in 13 years, and to set a new course record on top of that is huge.
Ayano was beaming, half stretching, half trying to get hold of her mum on the phone. Ekiden is emotion.
The finish line was just ahead. Daito Bunka had wrapped up victory several minutes earlier, but then I saw a flash of Tamagawa pink. “Hiyori! Go, go, go!” I screamed like a lunatic. She powered through the final few hundred metres, lungs burning, lactic spiking, and brought Tamagawa home in fifth place, securing a spot at nationals. The team was in raptures: a cluster of pink tracksuits jumping up and down near the finish line, greeting an exhausted but elated Hiyori clutching a sweat-soaked tasuki (the Ekiden sash). Ekiden is emotion.
Later, I spotted one of the Tamagawa runners in inconsolable tears, overwhelmed, having run a leg she wasn’t happy with, the weight of responsibility heavy on her shoulders. Looking at the splits afterwards, I realised Tamagawa had been 11th after the third leg. If things had stayed that way, they wouldn't have made the nationals. To pull it back to fifth is extraordinary. So I'm sure her tears were part relief, as well part sadness about her contribution. (Which was still extraordinary.) I’ll talk to her about it sometime, but not now. Ekiden is emotion.
*Ayano ran a course record in the 5.8km 4th leg in 18:09.
Next Stop: Sendai
So, here we go, then. Time to start checking train times to Sendai. I need to be there to support the girls. They aim to finish in the top eight and secure seeding for next year.
That, in itself, says something about what makes Ekiden so special. For the fourth-year runners (only one in Tamagawa this year), this will be their last race, and even if they succeed, they won’t be around to reap the reward. They run not for themselves, but for those who’ll follow, a legacy for the next generation.
There’s that saying about old people planting trees whose shade they’ll never sit under. Maybe that applies to Ekiden, too.
This weekend left me more charged than ever with the Ekiden spirit, fuelled to keep sharing the stories that don’t make the headlines, but capture what this sport is really about.
Ekiden is emotion