May 2026
We used to spend Saturday nights very differently.
There was a time when a Saturday night meant something else entirely: good food, good wine, good company somewhere warm and comfortable. Last Saturday, I was standing on the Thames Path at 11 pm in the dark, waiting for my good friend to arrive at mile 60 of her first 100-mile ultra. She had been running since 9 am that morning. I had a headtorch I had grabbed from the drawer on the way out, and absolutely no idea what the next eight hours were going to look like.
I would not change a single second of it.
This is what crewing a 100-mile ultra actually looks like from the inside: the kit, the conditions, the low points, the laughter and the lessons. If you are thinking about supporting a friend through their first ultra or considering one yourself, this is the honest version.
How the Thames Path 100 Works
The Thames Path 100 does not allow pacers or crew until mile 51. Her husband had that honour, joining her at the first checkpoint and running with her through to mile 60 before handing over to me.
She arrived to meet me just before midnight. She had been on her feet for fifteen hours. She looked extraordinary, considering she had already covered 60 miles.
The race started at 9 am on Saturday morning. She finished at 2.39 pm on Sunday afternoon. 29 hours and 39 minutes. 100 miles. Every single one of them is hers. In reality, it was actually 105 miles – frustratingly, there seemed to be a few more miles to cover than the billed 101.4 on the map – always the way with races – they always tend to be more than the billed distance.
Into the Dark — Miles 60 to 80
The Thames Path at night is eerie and not something anyone I know would want to face alone, especially after running for 60 miles.
Mist came off the river in waves, catching our headtorch beams and turning everything soft and diffuse. She was running with the Petzl Iko Core, lightweight at 79g, balanced beautifully with the battery pack at the rear, 500 lumens of clean, uniform light. I had grabbed a headtorch from the drawer at home. It did the job, but I wished I had picked something more up to the job.
The trees closed in on both sides of the narrow path in sections of the route. The only sounds were our footsteps and breathing, the occasional rustle in the undergrowth that we chose not to investigate, and of course, our chatting and laughing as we questioned what on earth we were doing.
Then the eyes appeared, sets of them reflecting back from the trees and riverbank. Deer mostly, and other creatures moving through the dark. Eerie does not cover it. I decided to internalise that, though, she did not need that kind of anxiety at this point.
What we did share were the swans. Dozens of them along the riverbank, white and luminous in the darkness, completely unbothered by two women stumbling past at 2am. We kept stopping to look at them — are we really seeing this? Yes. Yes we are. Just swans. Everywhere. At 2am on the Thames.
And then there was the house. Fully decorated for Christmas. In May. Lights, the lot. We did not question it. At that point in the night a fully illuminated Christmas house on the Thames Path felt entirely appropriate. We laughed about it only this morning.
At one point, she was running behind me, and I was watching the shadow thrown forward by her headtorch; this enormous, slightly ominous silhouette stretching ahead on the path. There was a joke about how she had the most enormous shadow when her real form is quite tiny! I will not forget that image for a long time.
The path was technical in places. Wooden steps, which were rickety and nearly invisible in the dark. Tree roots across the path that could catch your feet if your beam dropped for a second. Narrow sections where the river was right there just beyond the edge of the path, and the mist made it impossible to tell exactly where the bank ended. Every so often, you would hear an ooh or an ouch from one of us as we stubbed a toe or caught ourselves off balance.
We ran and power walked in roughly equal measure, not because she was struggling, but because that is the right strategy at mile 60 of a 100-mile race. Managing effort over distance rather than chasing pace. Her discipline was remarkable. She knew exactly what her body needed, and she listened to it without ego or impatience. That discipline is what got her through over 100 miles, still moving.
The Aid Stations
Every aid station. Every single one. Cheese and marmite sandwiches and a cup of tea.
By the third one, neither of us ever wanted to see a cheese and marmite sandwich again. By the fourth one, we were eating them anyway because what else are you going to do at 5 am? Personally, I knew there was a McDonald’s at the checkpoint at which I was finishing and had already texted her husband to put our breakfast order in.
The volunteers at every station were extraordinary; warm, encouraging, and practical. They have seen every state a runner can be in, and they handle all of it with the same calm cheerfulness. If you are ever looking for a way to contribute to the ultra running community, volunteering at an aid station is it.
The Reality of the Middle Miles
We talked. We laughed – properly laughed, the kind that comes from nowhere at 2 am when everything is slightly surreal. There were tears towards the end of my stint. And then laughter again almost immediately. That is what the middle miles of an ultra look like; the full spectrum of human emotion compressed into a few hours of darkness and effort and trust.
There was also, at approximately 3 am, a side-by-side nature stop in a field that we will never speak of again and yet will reference forever.
The highs and lows came in waves. Pride, fear, determination, exhaustion, confusion, laughter… sometimes within the space of ten minutes. The thing I noticed watching her navigate all of it was that the low points always passed. Every single one. Twenty minutes after the hardest moment, she was making me laugh. Knowing that the next wave up is always coming is one of the most important mental skills in ultra running.
The Kit — What Worked and What to Know
Petzl Iko Core headtorch
She ran with the Petzl Iko Core from midnight until around 4.30 am before the battery dropped, roughly seven and a half hours on full charge. For a summer overnight section or a shorter night run, it is excellent. For anything beyond eight hours on full beam, you would want a backup battery or a second torch. Worth factoring into your kit planning before committing to it for a longer event.
Garmin watch battery
Her Garmin Fenix battery dropped at around mile 80, which was frustrating; a portable charger at the next aid station solved it. At that distance, your GPS watch is your pacer and your safety net. Carry a portable charger or make sure your crew has one available at every checkpoint. We discussed the best Garmin watch for battery life at this point! Endurance 3 definitely is worth checking out.
Discover the best Garmin watches for trail running here.
Salomon running vest
The Salomon running vest got a serious workout throughout, collapsible cup in and out constantly, gloves on and off as the temperature changed, snacks, water, Tailwind, and layers. A good running vest on an ultra is not a luxury. It is infrastructure.
Trail shoes
Georgie ran in road shoes throughout. The Thames Path is predominantly firm and runnable, but there were sections, particularly in the woodland stretches between miles 60 and 70, where more grip would have made a difference. Something like the Hoka Challenger 8 would have been ideal for the conditions, enough cushioning for 100 miles of mixed surface, enough grip for the rooted woodland sections, and versatile enough for everything the Thames Path throws at you. Actually, there was the opportunity to do drop bags at miles 51 and 71 – this would have been a good point to change shoes from the road to trail – personally, I always struggle with distance when a shoe change is required – almost don’t want to bend down and do laces etc, something I think Georgie found – she just wanted to crack on and keep going.
If you were looking for a good trail shoe that will handle both road and trail sections, the Hoka Challenger 8 is probably the best option.
Daylight and the Handover
By around 5 a.m., the sky was beginning to lighten. Proper daylight came gradually, and by the time I handed over just before 7 am, we had been running in the light for a couple of hours. There is something about that transition from dark to light on a long run that is genuinely uplifting; the world coming back into focus, the mist lifting off the river, the path becoming clear and readable again.
Just before 7 a.m., her husband rejoined her, and I watched them disappear down the path together, at which point I drove home. After my Maccies breakfast of course.
She kept on running.
Mile 95
At mile 95 her knee went.
Five miles from the finish. After nearly 27 hours of running. After the dark and the mist and the aid stations and the tears and the laughter and every single mile in between.
She kept going anyway. Her husband beside her every step. Walking, limping, whatever it took. The finish was five miles away, and she was going to get there.
2.39pm on a Sunday
She crossed the finish line at 2.39 pm on Sunday afternoon.
A buckle. A finish photograph. 29 hours and 39 minutes from start to finish.
This was entirely her. Her legs, her lungs, her heart, her mind. Her husband beside her for miles 51-58 and then final stretch. Me for 7 hours in the dark in the middle. But every single step was hers, and the finish belonged to nobody else.
The pride and emotion and something close to awe that comes from watching someone you care about achieve something they set their heart on — I felt all of it from home tracking her final miles on the results page. It does not require being at the finish line to feel it completely.
100 Miles Ultra? Completed it Mate
What I Learned as a Coach and a Friend
Eight hours on the Thames Path at night taught me things I could not have learned from reading about ultra running or coaching it from the outside.
The low points always pass. Managing them without panic, slowing down, eating, talking, laughing is the skill that separates finishers from DNFs far more than fitness does.
Pacing discipline compounds over distance. The runners who manage their effort conservatively in the middle miles are the ones still moving at mile 90. She was a textbook example of this, and her ability to stick to her strategy through the night was remarkable to watch.
The crew is part of the race. Not in a way that diminishes what the runner achieves, every step is still theirs. But the people who show up at midnight with a headtorch and eat cheese and marmite sandwiches at 3 am matter. They matter a lot. Turn up for your people. I’d do it again, and she has not stopped thanking me, but I didn’t do it for that. I wanted her to achieve that goal almost as much as she did because that’s what you do for your friends.
If You Are Thinking About Your First Ultra
Start with a 50k and build from there. See our 50k ultra training plan for a structured approach to your first ultra distance.
Get your kit right before race day. A good running vest, a reliable headtorch with enough battery for your night sections, trail shoes with enough grip for mixed terrain and a portable charger for your GPS watch. See our guides to the best trail running vests, the best trail running shoes and the best Garmin watches for trail running.
And find your people. The ones who will show up at 7 pm on a Saturday evening with a headtorch grabbed from the drawer and run through the night with you.
We used to spend Saturday nights very differently.
I think I prefer this.
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