The running industry has changed enormously in the past decade, but scratch beneath the surface and there is still a pretty significant gender imbalance.

Women buy the kit, enter the races and make up a huge part of the running community, yet the companies making and selling products to us have traditionally been founded, funded and led by men. And that funding gap is still enormous. In 2024, all-female founding teams accounted for just 1.9 per cent of the total value of UK equity investment.

Which is one reason I love seeing more women starting running and active brands themselves. Particularly when those businesses have grown directly out of problems their founders have experienced as runners. Shorts that roll down. Kit that doesn’t fit properly. Running vests that cost a fortune. Sports nutrition that you don’t actually want to eat.

So these are five female-founded or co-founded brands that I genuinely use, and the products I particularly rate.

Bimble & Bolt

Founded by Hannah Walker-Howard

Bimble & Bolt came about because lifelong runner Hannah Walker-Howard was fed up with running kit that didn’t fit properly. While training for the Manchester Marathon in 2017, she became increasingly frustrated with leggings that rolled down. Eventually her boyfriend, now husband and co-founder, suggested she make her own. Several years later, Bimble & Bolt was born.

The brand now makes women’s running shorts, leggings, tops and other activewear, with a big focus on getting the fit right for different female bodies rather than assuming one design works for everyone.

What I love: The 6-inch running shorts. These are one of my go-to pairs for shorter, faster summer sessions, particularly tempo runs when I want something comfortable that I don’t have to think about. They come in several lengths, which is also something I really appreciate because women’s preferences around shorts vary enormously.

Bimble and Bolt

Veloforte

Co-founded by Lara Giusti

Veloforte has one of my favourite founder stories because its sports nutrition really did begin in the kitchen. After Lara Giusti’s husband Marc underwent abdominal surgery, he was looking for something more wholesome to fuel his long bike rides. Lara, a former cardiorespiratory physiotherapist with an award-winning background in baking, started experimenting.

Her original energy bars were inspired by traditional Italian panforte, using fruit, nuts and spices. Lara, Marc Giusti and Steve Marson went on to build Veloforte, which now makes energy bars, chews, gels, electrolytes, protein products and other sports nutrition.

What I love: The energy bars are still my favourite Veloforte product and we always have a family box in the house. I’ve eaten them on a lot of ultras now because they feel like actual food and, crucially, I still want to eat them after I’ve been running for hours. They have become a fairly regular fixture in my ultra fuelling.

I also know lots of runners who love their soft energy chews. They are made from real fruit juice and designed to melt in the mouth, which can make them easier to get down when you don’t fancy another bar.

Veloforte

KitFox

Founded by Mary Johnson Smith

KitFox is the newest company on this list and one I’ve written about before. Founder Mary Johnson Smith started running through Couch to 5K more than a decade ago and went on to run everything from half marathons to ultras. But she repeatedly struggled to find running kit that fitted her properly.

In 2024 she started asking other female runners about their experiences and found the same complaints coming up again and again. Waistbands rolling, shorts riding up, chafing, inadequate pockets and sizing that didn’t reflect real women’s bodies. She began developing her own kit and KitFox grew from there.

The brand is very deliberately made by women for women, with its products developed using feedback from female runners across different ages, sizes and abilities.

What I love: The Reset 7 inch running shorts. Pockets are always a big thing for me and these have proper pockets on both sides plus another at the back, so I can actually carry everything I need. They also have silicone grippers around the legs to stop them riding up.

They have quickly become one of my favourite pairs of shorts and I’ll be wearing them day after day on my 230km ultra in Kenya.

KitFox

Pip & Nut

Founded by Pippa Murray

Pip & Nut isn’t technically a running brand, but it absolutely deserves a place on this list because running is baked into its origins.

Founder Pippa Murray came up with the idea while training for the Paris Marathon in 2013. Peanut butter on toast was one of her favourite running foods, but she was frustrated that so many of the products she found contained palm oil and added sugar. She started making her own, initially selling it at Maltby Street Market in London before building Pip & Nut into the supermarket brand it is today.

It has also expanded far beyond jars of peanut butter, with nut butter cups, stuffed oat bars and, more recently, protein bars.

What I love: There are two contenders here. The protein bars are really tasty, with nuts as the main ingredient and 10g of plant-based protein in each bar. They don’t have that dry, powdery texture you get with some protein bars, which is a major bonus.

But I also have a serious weakness for the chocolate nut butter cups. A large part of the Pip & Nut range is vegan too, including all three of its current protein bars, which makes life considerably easier for me.

Pip & Nut

Harrier

Founded by Kate Parker

Trail runner Kate Parker founded Harrier in 2020 because she felt there was a gap between cheap kit that didn’t necessarily do the job and expensive brands marketed using elite athletes.

Her aim was to make trail running feel more accessible, with functional, well-designed kit at prices that didn’t suggest you needed a second mortgage before venturing onto a footpath. The range now covers running vests, poles, waterproofs, socks and much of the other paraphernalia you suddenly discover you need when you start trail and ultra running.

What I love: Harrier is particularly good for affordable, practical gear and I use the Curbar 5L Race Vest a lot. It’s small and lightweight but has plenty of pockets and enough room for food, water and the basics.

For me, it’s ideal for training runs when I need to carry a few things but don’t want the bulk of one of my larger ultra packs. Most importantly, it fits me well and doesn’t bounce around.

Harrier

There are obviously plenty more female-founded businesses out there, and hopefully that list will continue to grow. But these are the ones currently earning their place in my running drawers, food cupboards and race vest.

And I like the fact that several of them exist precisely because a woman went for a run, got irritated by something that wasn’t working for her and thought: I can make this better.

Can you recommend a female founded brand?

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It was like a scene from a horror movie. There I was, pliers in hand, chasing a man across the fields as blood dripped down his arm. Except, everything wasn’t as it seemed.

I was actually a tail walker at a 50km trail ultra and the pliers were for cutting down reusable way markers. The man in front of me was the very last runner and he had caught his arm on a bramble without noticing.

My role was the race sweeper, picking up signs that were no longer needed and staying behind the runners at the back of the pack.

For me it was a win-win. I was getting to give back to my local race company as a volunteer whilst also banking race credit I’d use in the future, plus getting in a decent length training run-hike with a 6kg pack.

In the end I was out on the course for 11 hours, most of it accompanying 81-year-old Bill Mitchell.

As a mid-pack runner it was a new experience for me and I learnt a huge amount about resilience, determination and inclusivity. I also discovered a newfound appreciations for technology, something I have been moaning about of late.

Being a sweeper is a big responsibility but I found it actually removed a lot of the pressure surrounding race day. I rocked up to the Foxton Hound 50k Ultra just 10 minutes before it started knowing it didn’t really matter if I didn’t begin on time because I was the last person - and not racing officially.

In fact I was perhaps a little too casual about it all because as I was driving to the race I realised I hadn’t downloaded the GPX file. I had to pull into a layby to download it so I knew where I would be going. It would have been a bit embarrassing - and irresponsible - to be a tail walker without a map.

The race started off simply enough and I ran-walked the first 1km as the participants headed off into the distance. One man near the back asked me “Are you OK? Are you just easing into it?” I did wonder if he would have asked a man the same question. I politely told him I was the tail walker, and slightly embarrassed he responded “Oh, well, you definitely won’t have any problems then.”

After a couple of kilometres the pack had spread out and I caught up with the last runner, 81-year-old man Bill. He was an extraordinary man who took up running in his sixties and within two decades had clocked up more than 300 marathons and ultras. I quickly realised that he would be my companion for the day as within a few minutes the rest of the runners had disappeared.

Bill was navigating the course via written instructions and didn’t have a map, or any GPX files. This was quite an impressive feat in itself, let alone the fact an octogenarian was doing an ultra.

I dropped behind Bill giving him the space to navigate himself, whilst I snipped race markers off trees and posts with my pliers. But it only took about 90 minutes for my role to change from sweeper to supporter. As we were walking up a road Bill dropped down to hike alongside me and we began chatting. For the next nine hours we stuck together and I made sure he didn’t go off course and gave him plenty of moral support (not that he needed it).

I made sure that throughout the day Bill never felt rushed and I never referred to the time, or the distance left. We simply moved at his pace, and if he needed to sit down for five minutes at an aid station that was absolutely fine. The only time I intervened was when he mis-interpreted the written instructions, and I could see from my watch that he was about to go the wrong way. But other than that, I let him take control of the route and navigate by his instructions. I felt it was important that he felt empowered and in charge of his journey, although I did encourage him to do a sprint finish - which he did!

Accompanying him on the race felt like an honour rather than a chore, and I was truly inspired by his resilience, determination and all round fitness. It is really hard work being out for so long and my legs were still swollen for several days afterwards.

The more time I spent with Bill, and learnt about his race experiences, the more I realised how important back of the pack inclusivity was. Bill raced most weekends but had to be selective about which events to enter because many were strict about cut-offs and he’d been unceremoniously timed out before. It seemed a shame that someone who was trying to stay as active as possible in his eighties wasn’t being given the grace of a bit of leeway. In some cases he’d only been a few minutes over the final cut-off but still hadn’t been allowed to continue.

The whole experience made me realise that it wasn’t just older runners that were being disadvantaged, but women too. Women on average are slower than men across all distances so cut-offs affect women in greater numbers.

My day with Bill made me revisit the Back of the Back report compiled by SheRaces which shares the positive and negative experiences of runners, and presents guidelines for races.

Back of Pack report

Many of the people surveyed had negative experiences of being back of the pack. These included:

• Aid stations being packed away before all runners had passed

• Finish-line infrastructure being dismantled before the cut-off had expired

• Post-event recovery options, such as on-site massages or provided food/drink, no longer available

• T-shirts being unavailable in the size ordered at registration

• Lack of pacing groups for slower athletes.

The report highlighted that being treated badly has a disproportionate emotional effect. It concluded: “Back-of-the-pack athletes often arrive at the finish line after spending longer on the course, managing more self-doubt, and receiving less crowd support. A dismissive comment or obvious impatience can overshadow the day and mean that athlete is less likely to return to any start line in the future.”

This was certainly a feeling that Bill shared. He told me about races were he felt unfairly treated and as a result he never signed up for any more events put on by that race company. As someone who raced up to 30 times a year, he was a customer that race directors really ought to be accommodating rather than alienating.

On the plus side, companies like Race Harborough who organised the Foxton Hound 50k Bill was doing, were getting things right. Bill praised race director Mary Pearson, and was delighted to get a cheer and warm welcome at the finish line.

Races that get it right create a positive experience by getting the simple things right. Back-of-the-packers in the SheRaces report highlighted the following:

• Medals, food and key supplies were still available at the finish

• The finish line still had atmosphere, announcers and support

• Cut-offs were clearly stated and fairly handled

• Walkers and run-walkers were genuinely welcomed

• Later finishers were celebrated rather than merely processed

If we want a society where people remain fit and active then we need to do better at creating inclusivity and accessibility to all, rather than focusing on competition. Otherwise there will be no more Bill’s at the finish line and that would be a real shame.

Pick of the Week

There has been a lot of negativity on my social media feed about the European Athletics Championships held in Birmingham last week. People have been pointing out empty stands, high ticket prices and inaccessibility to the site. While there may have been a few issues, from my experience as a spectator it was an amazing event. I took the family to a mid week evening session where we saw three finals plus a load of heats and we felt it was great value for money.

We picked up adult tickets for £26 each and the kids were half price. The stands were pretty full and the atmosphere was amazing. There were also loads of food stalls which were not crazy expensive and there was no pressure to use them as we were allowed to take in our own food.

The park and ride system worked really well (although it was a ball ache getting to Walsall to park) and was reasonably priced.

I’ve been to sporting events like Wimbledon where the prices have been far higher and there have been loads of empty seats. It seems to me that the recent criticism was just complaining for the sake of it. I’d love to see more high profile athletics events like this returning to the UK in the future.

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In a month’s time I’ll be missing my husband’s birthday and trying to not get eaten by a lion or trampled by a herd of elephants. This might sound rather glib but perhaps this is my way of masking the fact that I’ll be taking on a daunting race. And this comes from someone who has run 100 miles non-stop, raced 250k across Tanzania, run jetlagged around Easter Island and battled the boggy Highlands.

But despite all my experience I do feel that Beyond the Ultimate For Rangers may be my biggest challenge to date (as a result I’m fundraising for Save the Rhino here).

There are two key reasons it feels particularly tough. First, the heat and second, running with a heavy pack.

The distance of the five-day 230km running-safari-on-foot is the least of my worries. I know I can run long distance day after day. But what I haven’t done before is run day after day with a heavy pack, under the blazing African sun. Oh, and there will be some running at altitude as well.

As a result my training for this event has been rather different to other ultras as there are many more different components to consider. It comes off the back of running 100 miles in early June, so I’ve had to balance recovery with maintaining my endurance and strength.

I won’t be racing competitively in Kenya (I estimate I’ll be middle of the pack) but I am intending to run whenever I can, to avoid being out in the sun too long. At the same time I want to be able to immerse myself in my surroundings and will probably take lots of photos which will slow me down. I also need to finish it in decent shape as I’m part of team running Equinox 24 the weekend after I return from Kenya 🤦🏻‍♀️

So this is what my peak training has looked like.

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Every time I join a WhatsApp group for an ultra marathon I see people chatting about how much ibuprofen to pack. It seems reasonable enough, considering you are likely to get some kind of pain when running for such a long distance.

When I first started running, I used to pop a couple of ibuprofen before a half marathon race. It had been suggested to me by a friend, who in hindsight, clearly had no idea what they were talking about.

Because NSAIDs (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs) like ibuprofen can actually be extremely dangerous to runners, particularly when covering marathon and ultra marathon distances.

The medicine is used to help treat pain and reduce swelling (inflammation) but when the body is already under stress they can actually do a lot more harm than good.

Here’s why you should not be packing ibuprofen before your next ultra.

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“Sometimes tech is more of a hindrance than help,” read the WhatsApp message that popped up from my coach this week. I’d be moaning about a temperature sensor that was not working properly.

I had tried using it in various positions on my body but it didn’t always pick up my temperature. On holiday I’d spent many hours faffing about with it plus the paired heart rate monitor I was using, trying to get them both to work. The devices were meant to help me heat train for my forthcoming race in Kenya but were just becoming an irritating time suck.

As my coach pointed out, any running in the heat I was doing would be helping my body to adapt and I didn’t necessarily need a piece of tech to tell me I was hot (or that I was getting used to the heat).

It got me thinking about the role of wearables and running technology and how it feeds our anxieties or creates new ones, rather than empowers us with useful knowledge.

Watches and wearables often seem to be telling us we’re not fast enough, we’re not rested enough or we’re not doing enough, which heaps a whole load of negativity on our psyche causing us to go out and buy more tech or subscribe to more services to fix the problem.

And whilst we drown in technology telling us what to do, we have lost the ability to sense how we feel.

That’s not to say that some technology isn’t useful and there are certainly functions I couldn’t train or race without. But it needs to be balanced with other methods such as perceived effort, and we mustn’t lose the ability to problem solve on our own. Because ultimately technology can let us down. It can give us inaccurate or inappropriate information, and without warning it can leave us in the middle of a 100 mile race in the pitch black with no navigation or light (yep - this happened to me).

So here are the ways I navigate technology in running, and what I find most - and least - helpful.

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If you think I sound restless you should meet my eldest son. If he is not doing some adrenaline-fuelled activity on holiday he drives us all mad. For this particular 13-year-old the beach is “pointless” unless there are huge waves, wandering around a historic or cultural sight is “boring” and splashing about in a villa pool simply does not cut the mustard (by comparison his 10-year-old brother loves a spot of sightseeing and is easily entertained with a pack of cards or a One Piece book).

So this year we decided we needed a holiday where my eldest could be entertained and the rest of us could have a peaceful time. I’d heard a lot about Club La Santa in Lanzarote from my friend Sophie Power who goes there every year. It’s a holiday resort geared around sport with an athletics track, Olympic swimming pool, dozens of courts for racquet sports, a water sports centre and kids sports clubs.

In the end we opted for Las Playitas in another Canary Island - Fuerteventura. It was a similar concept but more affordable and it had the option of a private villa with a pool so we didn’t feel like we were in a big complex.

It turned out to be a winner all round. We spent nine nights there and by the end of the holiday I’d completed my biggest training week for several months. And I’d managed to do it with zero mum-guilt as there really was something for everyone at the resort, and we all managed to pursue our individual interests.

By the time I returned home I’d managed to fit in heat acclimation, cross training, a road race, strength training, steep hill climbs and around 40 miles of running. And I didn’t feel completely knackered as I’d also had plenty of time lying by the pool reading my book.

Here’s how it worked.

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After more than a decade of putting up with ill-fitting running gear, Mary Johnson Smith decided enough was enough. The 50-year-old runner launched KitFox, a new UK running brand aimed at midlife women, with a simple philosophy: function over fashion.

Her business idea came not only from her own running journey, but from years spent inside the sport. Mary worked as head of social media and community manager at The Running Channel and head of marketing at Harrier Trail Running, before setting up on her own.

Drawing on feedback from more than 400 women runners, KitFox has been designed around the frustrations women actually experience, from shorts that ride up to limited sizing and inadequate storage.

We caught up with Mary to find out how running transformed her own life, why she believes the industry has overlooked women like her, and how she’s building a brand shaped by the running community.

How did you first get into running?

I started running as a way to lose weight. I’d already lost about eight stone through changing my diet, but I still had another three stone to lose. Running was the thing that really helped everything click into place.

I never thought it would be something I could do. I’d gone from being in a body where even going upstairs was a struggle to running 5Ks, then 10Ks. A friend offered me a half marathon place and I thought, “I’ve only ever run eight miles.” He said, “You’ll be fine.”

After that I wanted to run a marathon. I did London in 2014, then Milton Keynes a month later, then Chelmsford in the autumn. I ran three marathons in my first year because I was determined to break five hours.

Did running became important for reasons beyond fitness?

It really did. Around that time I went through a divorce, and my running friends never left my side. They were always there for me.

Running became my reset button. If I’m having a bad day, I put my trainers on, go out for a run and come back feeling lighter. There’s nothing else I’ve ever done that has that effect. You suddenly realise the world feels a little calmer.

That support network is something I’ve carried with me ever since.

You eventually moved into ultra running. What attracted you to longer distances?

I learned very early on that I’m never going to be fast. I’m never going to run a 20-minute 5K.

I’d much rather suffer a little bit for a very long time than suffer a lot for a short period of time.

So ultras suited me perfectly. You run 50 miles and then you start wondering what else is possible. I haven’t got any ambitions to run 100 miles yet, but I’d like to tick off a 50-miler once I’ve got my menopause fuelling sorted.

What was the spark that led to KitFox?

I didn’t fit what I’d call the standard running mould. I was a size 16 with a bigger bust, and I could never find kit that actually worked. If it fitted properly, it didn’t have the features I wanted. If it had the features, it didn’t fit properly.

Originally I was designing a women’s hydration vest because I couldn’t find one that fitted well. I started surveying women to get feedback, and as I asked more questions it became obvious the problems went much further than hydration packs.

Women kept telling me the same things. Shorts rode up. Waistbands slid down. Tops weren’t cut for women’s bodies. Sizes stopped too early.

I realised there was an opportunity to rethink running kit from the ground up.

Your message is very much “function over fashion”. Why is that so important?

I’m not a fashion designer. I want the kit to look good, but that’s not where I start.

I’m thinking, “If you wear a hydration vest over this top, where are the seams? Will they chafe? Is the fabric going to rub after hours of running?”

Function has to come first. Then you think about style.

There are lots of brands producing what is essentially gym wear. It looks great, but it hasn’t been designed for people running for hours. When you’ve done marathons and ultras yourself, you become very tuned into what works and what doesn’t.

What did your research discover?

We surveyed more than 400 women and heard the same frustrations again and again.

For many midlife women it wasn’t just about sizing. They wanted shorts that were a little longer, tops that made them feel confident and kit that reflected where they are in life.

There are some brilliant new women’s brands, but many are aimed at Gen Z. Midlife women told me they couldn’t always find things that made them feel comfortable or represented.

I also lead a beginners’ running group, and if a size 20 woman decides she wants to start running, I never want her to discover that a brand doesn’t make her size. That’s effectively saying, “This isn’t for you.” Running should be for everybody.

How has the community shaped the products?

Everything starts with the community.

We began with surveys, but every new product is developed in collaboration with women runners. I genuinely want people to tell me what’s wrong, because that’s how we make things better.

I think it’s good business sense as well. You’re testing ideas before you invest in them, but you’re also making people feel part of the process. They can honestly say they’ve helped shape the products.

My inbox is always open because I want those conversations.

What are your plans for the range?

We’ve launched with shorts, leggings and socks, and we’ve got vest tops coming next. Longer sleeve products are in development, although I’m not completely happy with them yet.

The hydration vest is still a huge priority. We’re already on the fourth prototype.

I want to create something designed specifically for women, whether that’s someone with a larger bust or someone with a very small frame. Too many current packs simply don’t fit properly.

We’ll keep growing as the business grows. Every product we launch helps fund the next one, so the goal is to build a complete range that women genuinely enjoy running in.

Visit KitFox

Pick of the Week

Self-promotional plug time! I’m very excited to announce that we finally have an audiobook of Ultra Women. You can now listen to tales of unstoppable female power during your long runs, and hopefully draw inspiration from their amazing feats!

Find it on Amazon and Audible today.

Ultra Women audiobook

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This weekend I attended Love Trails festival three weeks post-100 mile race. I had cautiously signed up for a 10k race as a test of where my recovery was at.

Following the South Downs Way 100 I had been struggling with a hamstring injury which was something I had never encountered before. My right knee was massively swollen on the left hand side by the end of the 100 miler and had taken a week to subside.

When I tried to run on it a week after the race, within a couple of kilometres I felt a stiffness behind my knee, leading from my hamstring down into the top of my calf. I felt pretty sure it wasn’t a knee injury, as it felt like something inside the muscle.

I crossed baker’s cyst off the list after talking to my physio friend, and we both concluded it was likely to be an overuse injury that would settle with rest.

So when I stood on that 10k start-line on a sunny Saturday morning I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I had run my first ever 100 miles just three weeks earlier and I wasn’t sure how my body was going to hold up.

Turns out, it was absolutely fine. I ran sensibly on the flat, walked the spicy hills of the magnificent Gower Peninsula, and pushed on the downs. No fatigue, no pain, no stiffness. I was then able to run a flatter 12k the following day, again with no issues.

How was I able to do this? Because I had spent three weeks focusing on recovery.

This is how I did it.

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Laura Briggs, a member of the Green Runners, recently returned from a solo adventure travelling 200 miles across northern Spain on foot.

She ran the Camino Primitivo, one of the most challenging and remote routes of the famous Camino pilgrimage which travels towards the grandiose cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, Galicia.

Her route began in Oviedo, Asturias, and took in around 8,500 metres of elevation, over seven days.

For mother-of-two Laura, the journey was never just about covering the distance. It was about proving there are different ways to adventure, without flying, without a big race entry, and without buying endless kit.

Subscribe to Laura's Substack

Why did you want to run the Camino Primitivo?

The whole point of this journey was to do it in the most sustainable way we possibly could. That was kind of our USP.

Being affiliated with the Green Runners, it was always to show people that you can go running and you can have adventures, but they don’t have to cost the earth. If you just maybe think about the way that you do things, and maybe change a few things.

It’s not about wagging the finger and going, “Oh, naughty, you mustn’t do that.” It’s about saying, how might we do something different, or could we offset our journey, or can we put something back in social terms?

I just love that self-sufficient freedom, showing people that actually you don’t have to do it in an organised format. You don’t have to spend a huge amount of money or buy a huge amount of kit. We’re getting more and more conditioned to think that we need all this stuff to go running. Actually, we don’t really need anything other than some clothes and some decent shoes, and yourself. That is the joy of running.

How did the idea first come about?

There were basically three of us. We met during the Dragon’s Back Race 2024, super hot, a heatwave, and we all became friends. Jay, one of the trio, said, “If we ever got the chance to run the Camino in northern Spain, that would be amazing,” because he’d walked it with his wife.

He’d seen a woman with a tiny backpack and said, “How have you walked the Camino with that backpack?” And she said, “Oh, I ran it.” So he was like, “We could run it.”

We were going to do it last summer, but Ben had an injury, so we postponed it for April. By the time April came around, Jay’s life circumstances and Ben’s life circumstances had changed, and they couldn’t make it. So I had that decision of, do I just run it on my own, which was a big scary deal, or do I just not do it? It had been preying on my mind for two years. I was like, I can’t not do it now.

How did you get there?

I got the ferry from Plymouth to Santander. It’s 24 hours and it was choppy because you’ve got the Bay of Biscay, which is notorious for being quite wavy. On the way out, I pretty much spent most of my time lying in my bed trying not to be sick.

Then I had to get a bus from Santander to Oviedo. That was a two-and-a-half-hour bus journey and it took me right into the city centre. I was staying somewhere really nearby, so that was quite an easy transition.

When I finished, it was a nine-hour bus back to Santander, where I was getting the ferry from.

What were the conditions like?

I got so lucky with the weather. It got up to about 27 degrees, which is hot for running, but not so hot that it scuppered the trip. I had a couple of hours of rain on day one, but that was it.

I was out for about nine or 10 hours a day. I ran a lot of it, but there were times I just couldn’t. You’re walking up a mountain, so there was fast hiking. I got to about 20 miles and then thought, right, now I can afford myself a fast hike. If I could run the downs or the flats, I would.

What were you carrying?

I knew I had somewhere to stay, so I didn’t have to carry tents, bivvies or sleeping bags. I did take a sleeping bag liner, just in case.

It was a really slimmed-down wash kit, like half a bar of soap, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a towel, and then I would basically wear one, wash one. I had one pair of shorts, two T-shirts, two long-sleeved tops and a pair of leggings. Pants, obviously. Three pairs and three pairs of socks.

I had waterproof trousers, a waterproof coat, and a warm mid-layer coat for chilly mornings, hat and gloves. That was it clothes-wise. I got it down to about five kilograms without water, so it was really doable.

What did you eat and drink?

I’m vegan, so I had to be really careful about eating. Spain is very meat-heavy, and if you don’t eat meat, it’s cheese-heavy, so I was at a disadvantage in terms of how many calories I could get each day.

If there was a supermarket, I stocked up. The evening meals were generally provided by the hostels, where I was staying, so it would be a communal meal, mostly. A couple of places didn’t provide food, so I’d have to go out and buy microwave rice or something along those lines.

During the day, my breakfast would be whatever was left over from the night before. I might have a dry roll and a little packet of jam, and then I’d use the old bread to make a sandwich with some crisps I’d bought. It was really rudimentary.

Oranges were my absolute godsend. I’d stuff oranges in my pockets at the hostels where I could. I also took Real Meal bars, which are about 600 calories. If I found myself really dipping, I knew that had enough calories to get me through the day.

For water, I had three 500ml soft flasks on me at all times. The Camino has quite a lot of public water fountains, or random water fountains in the middle of nowhere. Or I would go into a bar and ask them to refill my bottle.

Did running it solo change the experience?

It was a very solitary journey. I was expecting to join this path and there’d be pilgrims all around me, and I’d just be constantly seeing people, and I couldn’t have been further from the truth. I’d start running super early, getting up at five o’clock and running for a couple of hours in the dark. I just wouldn’t see anybody until maybe midday, when I’d see the first walkers starting to come out, and I might pass two or three people for probably the first four or five days.

I don’t want to say lonely, because I actually really love my own company. I was quite happy just tootling along by myself. Some people were like, wasn’t it really scary running in the mountains on your own in the dark in a strange country? And I’m like, that was really lovely. To me, it felt really safe. The people were lovely and I didn’t feel threatened at any time.

One of the loveliest things about running the Camino was not using my phone and not looking at Instagram, and just completely disconnecting from that world. Having come back, I’ve been using Instagram much less. I’m not panicking about, oh, I’d better put a picture up, I’d better put a post up, which I think I was getting into that trap. We’re all getting sucked into this digital shiny picture world, and I don’t think it’s healthy.

What were the biggest challenges?

Aside from figuring out what to eat, it was a cultural shock in a way. I’m quite naturally a people pleaser, so I tend to stand back and be polite and wait my turn.

You’d walk into a bar and there’d typically be a bunch of men around the bar eating their cheese and meat, and I’d feel like I didn’t want to interrupt. I had to learn to be really brazen. I’d walk in and go, right, I need this, this and this. If they were a bit funny with me, I’d stand my ground. I learned to be quite feisty.

And there was navigation on day one. I was relying on my watch and literally as I left my accommodation in the city, I set my watch to navigation and it just froze. It had never frozen on me in my life. So I started following these little bronze shells on the street instead. When you get into the mountains, you’ve got markers with the shell sign on them, and once your brain gets used to that, you don’t have to think about navigation so much.

How did it feel to finish?

I’d almost pictured it before I got there. I was going through my head, thinking, how am I going to feel when I get there? This is a really long way and I’m nearly there. Am I going to cry, or am I just going to have this huge runner’s high, or am I just going to be a bit like, right, now what?

When you come into Santiago, you go through this archway near the cathedral and there’s a bagpiper. Everyone was like, oh, the bagpipe is so lovely. If anyone knows me well, they’ll know I cannot stand them. I arrived and there was a bagpiper, and it just made me laugh a little bit, because I was like, of all the things, there’s a bloody bagpiper under an archway. But it was also like, okay, I must have arrived.

Then you turn left and there are thousands of people, and this massive cathedral. We’re talking about a cathedral that does make your jaw drop. Architecturally, it is just staggering. I felt really proud of myself, but I also had that moment of, all right, that’s that then. It’s done, now it’s probably best to go and dump my stuff and have a shower.

What do you hope your children take away from it?

My children are 11 and 15, so they’re old enough to understand. I do always say to them, how do you feel about me going off for a week and doing this? And they’re like, yeah, brilliant, great.

As a mum, there is always a sense of slight guilt. I’m doing this for me, and my kids aren’t coming with me. But the flip side is they get a lot back, and I like to think they have a strong role model. Certainly my daughter can look at me and think, mum ran across Spain.

It shows them that actually there are no barriers in terms of what they can achieve. It’s kind of clichéd saying that stuff, but it really is true, because your kids see what you can do, and then they just assume, therefore, that it’s possible.

Follow Laura on Instagram: @laurabriggsruns and @Eco.Pilgrims

Pick of the Week

I’ve been watching with interest the growth of the Women’s Spine Support Group set up to create confidence through expert-led education and community. In the past few months the group has already built a virtual community of 400 members, run several informative webinars and held a training weekend for 28 women in the Lake District.

But it has also rapidly grown beyond the Spine race into a community of women who want to learn more about ultra running from women with expertise. Leading the charge is elite runner Anna Troup, sports dietician Renee McGregor and sports physiotherapist Sophie Vecchione. They have plenty more plans in the pipeline and I’m really excited to see how this community develops. For now though you can keep up to date with their plans and advice via their Instagram page and WhatsApp group.

Thanks for reading this week’s newsletter. Send feedback to lilycanter@yahoo.co.uk

This week I caught up with Sarah Webster after we’d both finished the South Downs Way 100. We were chatting during the middle of the heatwave and, before we even got onto running, we spent a few minutes laughing about how hopeless our dogs were in the hot weather.

While my dog kept wandering into the conservatory despite it being like an oven, Sarah’s had decided the best solution was to sit on her pillow and pant in her ear.

Our races on the other hand couldn’t have been more different. I completed the South Downs Way 100 - my first 100 miler - in just over 27 hours. Sarah covered exactly the same course in almost half that time, smashing the women’s course record in 14:27:34, placing first female, sixth overall, and becoming British trail running champion in the process.

Remarkably, Sarah is still relatively new to trail running. Better known as one of Britain’s top road ultra runners, she already holds the 24-hour world championship record. Now she’s proving she can mix it with the best on the trails too.

Here’s what she had to say.

How did you prepare for the South Downs Way 100?

I did generally more trail running and more mileage than I did for the 100km (Ultra Conero 100km in Italy, where she ran 7:03:48 in February and won the women’s race). I was doing about the same mileage as for the 24 hours (IAU 24-Hour World Championships in Albi, France, where she ran 278.622km last October) and set the women’s world record, around 135 miles a week, but it was mostly faster and obviously with lots on trails.

I combined a dog walk and run two or three mornings a week, running up Seaford Golf Course, along the cliffs and back down. It wasn’t difficult trail running but it got my legs thinking about uneven ground and practising the descents.

I also started running to work and back rather than driving. It’s 6.8 miles each way and it meant more time on my feet. Then on Thursdays I’d run home the long way around 13 to 14 miles, getting onto the South Downs and practising the descents.

My long runs were three to four hours at the weekend, done by time rather than distance, and I still kept one speed session and one marathon pace session every week.

I think I had a massive home advantage. The last third of the course is basically my training ground every weekend. I’ve done hill reps on the hills outside Seaford and pretty much every off-road run for the last year has been up there somewhere.

I also recced the course from Amberley onwards because I thought, if I know that section really well, I’ve got no excuse.

How did the race unfold?

The first quarter was pretty good. I was really conscious that I didn’t want to go with the front group because I knew they were going to go off faster than me.

Then between Queen Elizabeth Country Park and Washington I definitely went a bit too fast. I floated down to about 7.30 mile pace when really I should have stayed closer to 7.50. I think if I’d done that I probably wouldn’t have cramped as badly as I did.

By Washington the cramps had started. I had to accept I was going to walk all the hills because otherwise my legs were just going to seize completely.

The third quarter was by far the hardest part of the race. If I hadn’t had my pacer, I probably wouldn’t have done it. But once I got onto my home territory I knew exactly where I was and exactly how long it should take me. That really lifted me mentally. I started to feel stronger again and I could run a bit further up each hill before I had to walk.

What were the toughest moments?

Alfriston was horrible. That climb was probably the only bit I really struggled with.

Then the descent through the gully was awful. It was so narrow and my legs were so tired I genuinely thought I was going to fall over. If the camera hadn’t been on me I’d probably have just stood there and cried.

I actually only fell once during the race and that was on a fairly flat section. Two lovely trail fairies helped me back up.

How important were your crew and pacers?

They were brilliant. I had crew at pretty much every crew point and they were swapping bottles, handing me gels and doing everything for me. When you come into a checkpoint you’re in a bit of a panic. Having crew means you don’t have to think.

I also had three pacers. George took me from Washington to Clayton Windmills, Flan from Clayton to Firle and Ellen from Firle to the finish.

How did you fuel yourself?

My nutrition plan has actually got simpler and simpler with each race.

I took a Precision Fuel & Hydration gel every half an hour and had three caffeine gels during the race. Later on I had some Coca-Cola as well.

The mistake I made was probably not drinking enough in the first half. I was paranoid about wasting time swapping bottles or stopping for the toilet, so I held back on fluids.

I was also supposed to stop at aid stations and pick up food that I fancied, but I honestly don’t think I even saw the food. I was in such a rush that I just kept moving.

What were you hoping to achieve?

My only real aim was to finish in daylight because I don’t like running in the dark, especially not through that gully.

I thought under 16 hours was realistic and I was hoping for under 15, but I honestly didn’t know if I was capable of it.

What does breaking the course record mean to you?

Records are there to be broken and hopefully somebody will come along and break mine.

For me, becoming British trail running champion was actually more special. I’m not really a trail runner, so to compete against some very good trail runners and come away with that title was fantastic.

I was very nervous before the race because I didn’t know how I’d compare with genuine trail and mountain runners. It’s nice to know I’ve got some ability off road.

Looking back, would you change anything?

I’d definitely pace the second quarter a bit better. The cramps were probably a combination of going too fast, the heat, not drinking enough, not taking enough electrolytes and maybe not eating enough.

I also forgot to put sun cream on. I remembered about two hours into the race, mentioned it to the crew and then we all forgot about it. So I ended up with burnt shoulders.

What’s next?

The World 100km Championships in Spain are next, then eight weeks later I’m doing the Cape Town 100km, which is part of the World Trail Majors.

I’m very conscious I probably only have another few years at this level. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop running, but I’d like to race as much as I can while I’m still capable of competing near the front.

There are so many races on my bucket list that I’d rather keep testing myself somewhere new.

Pick of the Week

My friend Louise Humphreys podiumed at Dambuster Triathlon last weekend, coming second in her age group. Off the back of this incredible achievement she has written an excellent blog about why women over 60 are not invisible and how it’s never too late to try something new.

It’s an impassioned plea to older women to think big and refuse to hide away. It’s right up my street and I highly recommend reading it, whatever your age!

Louise was the first person to introduce me to canicross (running attached to a dog) and is the reason why I now have an insane dog 🤣 She is an inspiration to so many women and I hope I’m as fit and active as her when I reach my sixties.

Read her blog

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I did it! I completed my first 100 mile race at the South Downs Way 100. I would love to say that I feel euphoric, and it was a life changing experience, but in reality I just feel very sleepy and oddly off-balance with one good leg and one swollen leg.

I’m sure the achievement will eventually sink in, but five days later and I’m still in recovery mode trying to catch up on sleep and calories.

However, whilst munching cashew butter on toast (oh, how middle-class ultrarunner of me) I’ve managed to reflect on the race and focus on my key takeaways.

Hopefully these are more useful to share than a step-by-step breakdown of the day.

So here goes..

You can struggle mentally at any point

The mind is a very odd thing. Generally speaking I have a lot of mental resilience and have never wanted to give up in a race. My mind is usually far stronger than my body. So it was a very weird feeling when self-doubt arrived very early on.

The first 10 miles to be precise. I started the race feeling really tired as I’d been up since 4 am and hadn’t slept well the week before. Plus I had only just got over jetlag from my recent Easter Island trip.

My body felt strong, I was eating my rice bars, but my head was sleepy. I just didn’t feel like running 100 miles. For the first section of the race I kept saying to myself “I’m not feeling this today. In fact I don’t even want to go to Kenya to take part in my dream race in September. It’s going to be too hard. I don’t like this.”

I came into the crew point at 18km feeling really low and quite bored, and told my amazing crew Emma and Gaynor that I wasn’t enjoying it. They looked concerned but kept quiet and gave me some boiled potatoes. Off I went, feeling dreadful that I had dragged them all this way and was already thinking of giving up.

Then the power of potatoes kicked in. I kept moving at a decent pace and just realised my body needed to wake up, even if it took several hours. By the time I reached 50k about five hours in, I knew I was going to finish.

Emma and Gaynor said the difference between seeing me at the first crew point and the second, was miraculous. I was a completely different person.

But it was a stark reminder that the inner chimp can appear at any point. But also that not every low point is a crisis. Sometimes you just need potatoes.

Having crew is vital

Originally I thought I would do my first 100 mile race without crew. Looking back, I’m very glad I didn’t.

For a first 100 miler, the logistics of drop bags would have been really hard. It’s difficult to know what you’ll want to eat or need hours in advance, and even good aid stations never quite have exactly what you fancy at that particular moment.

My crew could hand me ice lollies, cool my neck bandana, grab food for me and do a lot of thinking for me. We didn’t always get everything right (I left them at one point without filling up my water and we forgot I might need suncream on the second morning) but they still made it so much easier.

Best of all they kept me company so I didn’t get bored and it also meant I had someone to share the experience with, particularly the magical night section.

Preparing for the heat is key

The week before had been cool and wet but I had a feeling it might be warm on race day. It turned out to be hotter than forecast. The heat could have been a real problem, but all the small bits of preparation helped.

I had been training in the heat of the day rather than cooler mornings and had several sauna sessions. I’d also run in a sweat suit on my treadmill in the garage.

On race day I covered up in sun cream from the start line and had a wide brim hat to keep direct sunlight off my head. Having something wet and cool around my neck was also a huge relief and I was so glad I’d bought a cooling neck bandana at the last minute. A Calippo in the afternoon was also great.

It’s possible to solve urinary issues

Hydration and sodium were something I worked really hard to improve. I didn’t want a repeat of Equinox 24 where I was weeing every 20 minutes for the best part of 30 miles.

My session with Precision Hydration really paid off and I weed far less than normal, only stopping about once every couple of hours. Under the guidance of sports scientist Tash Cooper-Smith I increased my sodium intake four fold which meant I retained much more of the liquid I was drinking and I never suffered with cramps or sickness.

But you may still have bowel problems

No amount of preparation guarantees everything will go smoothly.

I didn’t manage to go to the toilet for a poo before the race started because my body hadn’t woken up. Within a few hours of running I was severely bloated and extremely uncomfortable. The heat and the fact I was putting my body under a lot of stress meant that the blood was flowing to my muscles and skin rather than my gut, making the problem worse.

Then all of a sudden I really needed the toilet but not all the aid stations had them. A lot of the course was open and exposed with no bushes to duck behind. So I desperately needed a poo and had nowhere to go. It was all a bit of a nightmare.

Even when I did get to a toilet this only relieved me for an hour or so before I needed to go again. The lesson was always carry enough wet wipes (I only had a couple) and hand gel.

Running at night is magical

I thought running through the night might feel scary or disorientating. But it didn’t. It was beautiful and immensely peaceful.

It never got truly dark and there were an incredible mauve glow on the horizon. The stars were out in full force and I felt privileged to experience fields full of sleeping cows, something I’ve never seen before.

It was my absolute favourite part of the race, with Emma to chat to, and very mild temperatures meaning we could keep moving at pace.

We were also lucky to experience an amazing sunrise peeking through the hills, which will always stay in my memories.

It doesn’t matter if you walk it in

By the final 10 hours, I was only really running the downhills and some of the flats. Long flat sections were too much for my mind to cope with at a running pace and up hills were definitely for walking.

Once we moved into the final 10 miles my legs were so swollen and stiff I could only manage walking. But it didn’t matter. I was still moving forward and I’d bagged enough time in the first half that a slow walking pace still got me in comfortably under the cut off.

I’d imagined maybe running the last few miles or doing some kind of sprint finish. None of that happened. I walked it in, apart from the final 20 metres, and that was absolutely fine.

Be proud wherever you finish

In the first part of the race I was on track for a 21 hour finish. I was running to heart race to ensure I didn’t push too hard and powering down the hills. My aim was to finish in under 28 hours, giving me a two hour buffer against the 30 hour cut off.

I knew the last quarter of the race would be much slower and the 21 hour pace would go out the window, so slowing down dramatically wasn’t a problem.

In the end I finished in 27:17:45 so you could say I paced it perfectly. I was 13th in my age group and 37 / 82 women. The female winner, Sarah Webster (who will feature in a newsletter very soon) was almost twice as fast as me.

By comparison in most mass road races I am usually in the top 10 to 20% of women, and I’ve podiumed at smaller ultramarathons. So I could feel disappointed by my placing at the SDW100.

But I also need to consider that only 14% of participants were female, so just getting to the start line was incredible. And there was a 25% DNF rate for both women and men. So even finishing the race was a huge achievement.

On top of that it was my first 100 mile race and I’m not great at hiking or going uphill, so actually I should be pretty damn proud of my achievement.

Giving feedback is productive

I gave feedback to the race director after the event about some of my observations around the visibility of toilets, sanitary products and the need for more female-specific information in the race briefing.

To his credit, he replied immediately and we set up a call the next day to talk it all through.

We discussed what was practical, what wasn’t, and some possible solutions, including better toilet signage, more visible sanitary products and a stronger focus on women in the race briefing. He is already working on changes for future races.

That felt really heartening, because it would have been much easier for the race director just to ignore me. And it’s not the first time a race director has acted on my feedback. So my plea would be for all participants to give helpful, constructive feedback as it’s an effective way to make positive change.

You don’t have to love it

OK, this is the really honest bit. Was it a life changing experience as many people told me it would be? No, not really, it was just a very, very long way.

Was it the hardest thing I’ve ever, done? Again, no not really, because I was happy to walk the last section and knew I would finish. I also have a lot of ultramarathon experience under my belt and actually the first few ultras I did were more challenging mentally and physically because I was inexperienced.

Yes, my legs were too stiff to run but I wasn’t in pain. My feet were absolutely fine thanks to good foot care (I only got one tiny blister) and eventually my gut issues subsided.

What I realised most of all though, is that 100 miles is not really my favoured distance. I really don’t like walking and find it rather frustrating, slow and boring, but at that kind of distance there is always some walking. I certainly don’t have the urge to see if I can do further than 100 miles, and currently have no desire to do another 100 miler (although never say never).

But it has made me reflect on what I love most, which is multi-stage races and 50 milers. So maybe my next focus will be on experiencing more of these, and improving my performance, rather than seeking to go further.

Pick of the Week

I couldn’t have done the race without my tried and tested kit which included:

• Salomon ADV Skin 12 hydration pack

• Hoka Mafate X trail shoes (with Scarpa Golden Gate 2 ATR as a back up)

• Hilly marathon fresh socks

• Sweaty Betty Power 9 inch cycling shorts

• Leki poles

• Adidas Kaphiros sunglasses

• Montane Dart long sleeve t-shirt

• Triwonder gaitors

• Adidas Techfit Control Bra (which they no longer make - boo!)

• Dhb aerated tee (which they no longer make - hiss!)

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But behind the scenes, there is a wealth of people doing valuable work to help athletes understand their bodies better. People researching performance, nutrition, hydration, heat, fuelling and recovery. People who are not necessarily on the start line, but whose work can make a huge difference to how athletes train, race and look after themselves.

That world is still male dominated. Not just in terms of who gets to race but also in the science, support and expertise that sits around sport. So I wanted to speak to a female sports scientist about how she found her way into the industry, what it is actually like to work in sport science, and how she now supports athletes in her role.

Tash Cooper-Smith is a sport scientist at Precision Fuel and Hydration, where she works with everyone from everyday endurance athletes (like me) to professionals, helping them make better decisions about fuelling, hydration and performance. She is also a triathlete herself, which means she is not just giving advice from the side lines. She understands what it feels like to train, race and try to get the best out of your body.

I sat down with her to talk about growing up as a gymnast, nearly choosing medicine, breaking into a male-dominated industry and what it really means to work with athletes behind the scenes.

What was your involvement in sport like growing up?

I was a competitive gymnast from a very young age until about 16. At that point, when I was doing my GCSEs, I decided to step away from it because it was quite a lot of training. I think I just got bored of it.

I had a big passion for sport. My parents put me into any sport possible and I loved it. I did it at school and growing up it shaped me into someone who benefits a lot from doing daily exercise, as most of us do. It has become a norm and it was probably one of the things that made me want to do sports science.

How did you decide to study sport and exercise science?

When I was deciding my A-levels, I picked the subjects to do medicine because the majority of my year group were going that way. The school I was in was quite high achieving and everyone seemed to be going into medicine.

I followed that trend up until the point where we had to submit personal statements and I realised I didn’t actually want to do medicine. I visited a fair few universities and went to Birmingham. I spoke with one of the professors for sport science and I thought, I love sport, I love exercise and I had a massive fascination with the human body, which was where the medicine angle came from.

From that I thought, this could be a fun way to do a bit of both. Still do the sports side of things, but also understand more about medicine and how we function. There and then I said to my dad, this is exactly what I want to do. I’m going to do sports science.

What did you study?

My degree was Sport, Exercise and Health Sciences at the University of Birmingham. Then I did an MSc by research. Essentially it was entirely research based with no taught component. It was like a mini PhD; a research study and a thesis.

Were there many women on your course?

There were definitely more men, but I think it would have been about 60 or 65 per cent men and the remainder women, so not as bad as some universities.

It is definitely more male dominated. A lot of my peers at the time wanted to go into personal training, PE teaching or football coaching, and those were more male-focused careers. The majority of girls in my group went on to do masters or another degree.

Was the research you studied mostly conducted on men?

Yes, and the majority of the research we still reference is very male dominated. The issue is having to account for the menstrual cycle poses so many different limitations in research.

To do it correctly, you have to have either the timing of studies done based on their cycle or you have to take blood draws to reassure the reader that this was done at this exact phase in their cycle. It’s expensive to do those hormone profiling tests.

In the study I did for my Masters, we tested both males and females because what we were looking at, we didn’t believe to be massively influenced by the cycle. But all we could do was ask people to note down if they were on oral contraception and what stage of their cycle they believed they were at.

Sports science isn’t that heavily funded at the moment, so it is hard to get more accurate data.

What was your Masters research looking at?

We were looking at exogenous carbohydrate oxidation based on a set dose of carbohydrates per hour and then a personalised dose.

We did three exercise trials. In two of them we gave the athlete 90 grams of glucose per hour for two and a half hours on the bike. In the other trial, which was randomised, we gave them a personalised amount. We looked at how many carbohydrates they consumed that they actually oxidised or burnt whilst exercising, and then we gave them that dose to see if we could get the same oxidation rate with a lower intake of carbohydrates.

It was quite novel at the time and it said, yes, you don’t need to feed excessive amounts to get the same oxidation. We were trying to address some of the GI issues that people suffer from. Not everyone needs to have 120 grams an hour.

Read the research here

How did you get your role at Precision Fuel and Hydration?

It was a weird way into a job really. I was in the second year of my Masters, which was basically remote. I was writing up my thesis and doing the analysis, and I lived for a lot of that year in Dorset at my parents’ house.

I reached out to Precision on the email that everyone has access to and said who I was and that I was interested in the company. I realised it was local. I said I was a triathlete, because at the time I was just starting in triathlon. I said what I had done with my Masters and I think that was the hook.

They asked me to come in for a chat. I presented the work that I did and had a very informal interview. It was probably not the way you’d normally get to work for a company, but the Masters project was very novel at the time and it was enough for them to think they wanted me.

But it wasn’t immediate. I had the chat and then maybe six months later I re-reached out to say, are you interested now? At first it was, we are, but we have no availability. So I was quite persistent, hopefully in a good way, and it did get me here.

What does your job involve now?

As a sport scientist, there’s no one day that really looks the same. If you asked my job description, I have no idea what it is. There are so many different things.

I do customer sweat and sodium tests and also lots of media things. But the thing that takes most of my time and energy is working with pro athletes.

I’ve got between 20 and 30 pro athletes that I work with, whether that’s runners, cyclists, triathletes, swimmers, you name it. They will race every week of every month, so we’re chatting through their plans, whether it’s a heat strategy or lactate testing, and using that to inform their training.

Travel is another big one. We go to different events. We’ve been to Western States quite a lot. Being on the ground at a race and providing support might mean working an expo, or data collection, or weighing athletes pre and post-race and collecting all of their fuel and hydration to understand how well they hydrated through something.

We’re doing research in-house as well. We have a study going on at the moment looking at the sweat test and heat acclimation. As a company, we want to start not just reading the research, but generating it.

How did you get into triathlon?

I became interested in it at university. I thought, I don’t want to do gymnastics, I want to try something different. So I picked probably the most different thing.

I had a few injuries from when I was a gymnast that I was still trying to get over, so I didn’t really start until maybe the end of 2020 or 2021. I got coached straight away. I know myself well enough to know I need structure, so I thought, I need someone to tell me what to do instead of just thinking, I’ll run every day, bike every day, swim every day.

I did my first 70.3 and thought, maybe I could be quite good if I actually tried properly.

What has helped your performance improve?

I think it was probably me learning to do what I’m told. I used to be very good at thinking, they say easy run, I’ll just run at threshold, because I didn’t understand the concepts behind it.

There’s a reason someone tells you to run easy for the physiological benefits that come with that. When I realised I was progressing quite a lot from doing what I was told, it got easier to stick to it.

The nutrition side of things probably helps as well. I learned how to fuel and hydrate properly because it was my job. It’s very hard to tell someone to have 90 grams an hour if you’re personally only having 30, so I started practising that and saw a lot of performance gains from fuelling better in longer training sessions.

Do you think there are more women coming into sports science?

I am noticing more females. I think as women we’re all trying to make more of an effort to be seen and heard and to have more of a prevalence, and companies are latching onto it.

Not just Precision, but other companies are aware that to get better reach they need to have a better balance of male versus female on their platforms. Whether that means there are more women in the industry, I’m not so sure.

But it’s definitely a focus. There are also more companies now that are more female based. I’ve recently started working with Liv Cycling, which is Giant's female-specific brand, and their team is very heavily dominated by females because their whole policy is, if you’re going to create bikes for women, they need to be backed by women and created by women, because we understand it.

I think it’s getting a lot better. Even on the research side, there are more female researchers around than when I first started the sport science career.

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Pick of the Week

I have to give a big shout out to the Fastest Known Time website. Earlier in the year I did an eight-page spread for Runner’s World (July 2026 edition) on the arbitrary world of FKTs. It was a fascinating glimpse into this sub-culture of trail running and led to me creating my own FKT route. The beauty of FKTs is that anyone can create one so it is completely democratic and you don’t have to be an elite to be at the top of the leader board (at least initially). I previously wrote about it here.

So, this is my call to all runners to go out there and take on an FKT or even better, build your own adventure!

Take me to the FKT website

Thanks for reading this week’s newsletter. Send feedback to lilycanter@yahoo.co.uk

In just over a week’s time, I will be attempting my first 100-mile race.

It has taken me seven years of ultra running to get to this point. Not because there is one correct route into 100-milers, or because everyone has to serve a certain amount of time before they are allowed to enter one, but because that is how long it has taken me to feel I have enough experience behind me.

I have been running consistently for about nine years, and I did my first ultra within a couple of years of that. So I did not exactly hang around. But I also did not go from parkrun to 100 miles in a matter of months. My first ultra was a very manageable one where I did loops around an aid station (the fantastic Big Bear Events). The route was pretty flat, easy running and I didn’t have to carry any gear or navigate.

I then built up gradually through longer races, hillier courses, tougher terrain, night running, FKTs, more looped events and multi-day races.

Over the last seven years I have probably done at least 30 ultras, either in races or in training, before even attempting 100 miles. I didn’t just decide to run 100 miles on a whim.

And while I want more women to feel inspired to go longer, I also think we need to be honest about the amount of experience required to “go longer”.

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Hydration is one of those running topics that seems like it should be simple.

Drink when you’re thirsty. Don’t let your wee go dark. Add an electrolyte tablet if it’s hot. Job done. Except, like most things in running, it turns out to more complicated than that.

I’ve been thinking about hydration a lot this week as I’ve been trying to adapt to running in the heat. I have a 100 mile race in two weeks and if it’s a hot day there will be no avoiding it - so I figure it’s best to get used to running hot.

Thankfully I have data on my side as last month I sat down with Tash Cooper-Smith, a sports scientist at Precision Fuel and Hydration. I visited her at the company’s HQ to get an individual sodium and sweat test - which was extremely illuminating.

I went in with lots of questions, not least because I’ve always been a bit sceptical of the idea that every runner needs to be constantly sipping on expensive powders, tablets and brightly coloured drinks.

But the more we talked, the more I realised that lots of us are probably getting hydration slightly wrong. Here’s how.

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Before I jump into today’s newsletter I just want to make a little announcement. Last night Emma Wilkinson and I won the Women’s Sports Writing category in the Charles Tyrwhitt Sports Book Awards for our book Ultra Women. To say we were shocked is an understatement! It was a highly competitive category with some outstanding books and to be shortlisted was incredible. Winning though, meant so much to us. We fought for two years to get this book commissioned by a publisher. This award was validation that our doggedness and determination was warranted. The male lens in sport still remains the status quo, but slowly we are nibbling away at it.

I’m just about over my jetlag. Travelling 40 hours from the UK to the middle of the Pacific Ocean – and back again - takes a lot out of you. It’s not just the seven-hour time difference, it’s the two night’s missed sleep on each leg of the journey, having to navigate two trains and three flights each way, and the lack of any substantial food.

But I can’t complain. I’m incredibly lucky to have experienced a ‘work trip’ to Easter Island (now known by it’s original name Rapa Nui) to take part in the Rat Race challenge.

The event was four days of sightseeing on the Chilean island, including running and hiking between the famous moai head statues, plus one day circumnavigating the island on foot via a 50k unofficial race (we had race numbers and checkpoints but no timing chips or official times – it was just about participation).

I’m not going into the detail of the trip here because I’ll be writing a full feature for Runner’s World magazine to be published later this year. But in a nutshell, it was an awesome, magical location and a meticulously planned event, suitable for hikers and anyone with a reasonable amount of fitness and cash (what you are paying for is an all-inclusive experience, exclusive access to areas other tourists cannot reach, and a novel way to see the island with highly knowledgeable guides heavily invested in Rapa Nui’s heritage - have I sold it yet?)

Whilst this was a work assignment for me, I also used the trip as a training opportunity. It fell just five weeks before my A race – the South Downs Way 100 miler (SDW100) in June, and was the perfect way to test out fuelling, hydration, heat adaption and kit in a challenging environment, with enough time to recover afterwards.

Here’s how my testing went…

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I’m currently recovering from an epic travelling endurance feat (as well as a lot of running). As you read this I will probably be lying on the sofa watching Euphoria after travelling for more than 40 hours on a return journey back from a Rat Race event in Easter Island (more on this in a future newsletter).

It sounds like a horrific amount of time to be travelling but weirdly ultra running has prepared me really well for this type of travel. My brain, it seems, has become accustomed to stillness, not only on airplanes but also in the car.

This is probably not something I expected to say, but I think running ultramarathons has made me better at long-distance driving.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, mainly because I seem to have spent a lot more time than usual in my car. Back in February I drove home from Scotland, which took about 10 hours in one go, with only a couple of stops. In the past, anything over three hours used to feel like a really long way. Not impossible, but definitely something I would build up in my head as a massive undertaking.

But somewhere between training for ultras, running through the night, spending hours on my feet and learning how to keep going when everything is a bit boring and uncomfortable, I seem to have accidentally trained myself to sit in a car for a very long time without losing my mind.

Here’s what ultrarunning has taught me about long-distance driving.

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I’ve always been a bit sceptical when it comes to running wonder products. You know the sort of thing. The powder, gel, tablet or tiny expensive sachet that is going to revolutionise your running, fix your stomach, stop you cramping, make you faster, save your race and probably do your tax return while it’s there.

So I went into my Precision Hydration lab test with a fairly open mind, but also with a decent amount of cynicism. I’ve written before about electrolytes and the slightly messy research around them. And I’m always reluctant to buy into the marketing around running products because there is just so much guff out there.

When it comes to my own hydration and fuelling strategy I tend to rely on common sense. I drink when I’m thirsty, I have salt tabs when I get hot, and I know roughly how much I need to eat on a long run. I carry a mixture of water and electrolytes and since I’ve never really suffered from cramp I figured I was getting it right. I’ve muddled through plenty of ultras without having a spreadsheet for every mouthful.

But I do have issues.

In the later stages of races I can need to wee a lot. Like every 20 minutes. And each time I’m passing a decent amount of urine. I put this down to something vague like my body getting tired and forgetting how to work properly.

I also get gastrointestinal problems. My stomach bloats, to the point where I look full term pregnant. And sometimes I also feel like I’m about to have diarrhoea before everything then calms down. It’s not race-ending, but it is annoying, uncomfortable and probably not helping me run well.

So on reflection maybe I did have something to learn and I was eager to see if Precision Hydration had the answers.

My session at Precision Hydration was simple but intense. First they measured the amount of sodium in my sweat by connecting me to a special sweat-inducing disc. I then ran for an hour in a heat chamber at 40 degrees, and had a long chat with a sports scientist about what was actually going on.

To my surprise I came away feeling really empowered and invigorated. Not because I’d been sold a magic product, but because I finally had some useful numbers and, more importantly, a way of making them work for me.

Here’s what I learnt.

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Sometimes I have to pinch myself that this is really my job. Last week I found myself testing a treadmill at the swanky Peloton studios in Covent Garden before popping around the corner to interview an elite athlete in front of a live audience.

Both were paid gigs which in all honesty seems a little unfair. I did my interval training session whilst testing the treadmill which I would have done at home anyway, and chatting to Anya about running felt like talking with a mate.

I knew I wanted to write about the evening with Anya for this Substack but was unsure what the focus would be. The session was all about marathon mindset ahead of the London Marathon. I found myself nodding away to Anya – who has a 2:34 marathon PB – as running a fast marathon seemed to have many overlaps with running a very long way in an ultramarathon (pacing, fuelling, managing intrusive thoughts, handling psychological pain).

But what surprised me was how much her reflections taught me about women and running. The more time I spend talking to female runners of all distances, the more I realise we have so much to learn from one another – and the male gaze in sport often means we miss this valuable perspective.

So here are my key takeaways on women and running, deduced from my conversation with Anya Culling.

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This year I signed up for my first 100-mile race and decided to get a new (female) running coach. The race in question was the South Downs Way 100 (SDW100) in June which I’d heard lots of great things about.

For the past few months my coach has been helping me train for this A race together with a series of smaller races, events and FKTs I slotted into the diary beforehand.

Even though I could write my own training plan there are several reasons why I prefer to have my own coach. Firstly it’s nice to delegate to someone else. As a running coach myself I write a lot of plans and having one less to do is a bonus. Secondly I find I always learn something new from a coach because we all have a different approach. And thirdly it makes me accountable. I have someone checking that I’m doing those hard interval sessions and I feel I can’t make excuses to skip a session if I know someone is watching. It also gives me an experienced person to bounce ideas off and provide reassurance that my fuelling, sleeping and pacing strategy is appropriate.

In preparation for SDW100 I’ve been training six days a week which has been a mixture of running, strength work, weighted walks and cross training. The noticeable difference between training for the 100 mile race and my previous training for 100k and multi-stage races (under a different coach, or coaching myself) has been the reduction in running.

I’m preparing my body to keep going for a lengthy amount of time (up to 30 hours) but that doesn’t mean I need to be clocking 100-mile weeks. Instead my training has looked a little something like this.

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Walking into the crowded wood-panelled lobby I immediately felt uncomfortable. The room was buzzing with chatter but as I glanced around all I could see was a wall of strangers. Sidling over to the bar I asked for a lemonade and nervously started shuffling between the guests. I was keenly searching for the one person I knew, but as it turned out she was in Peru. This was a travel awards event after all.

Suddenly I spotted the editor who had commissioned my award-shortlisted article and made a beeline for her huddle. She introduced me to a few of her peers, and I struck up a conversation with a lovely travel writer. We headed into the awards presentation area together and joined a table.

As I sat looking around the grand hall the feeling of imposter syndrome was quite overwhelming. A man at the table asked which category I had been nominated in. I explained that I was nominated in the Consumer Feature of the Year (British Isles & Ireland exc. England) section for my article about a self-sustainable Scottish community. I caveated this by telling him that I wasn’t really a travel writer, I just sometimes wrote about the places that I ran; my real professional was as a running journalist.

Somehow I found it difficult to take ownership of the fact that I was at a travel awards event and that one of my articles had been shortlisted - even though I had entered it. Part of this was because I hardly knew anyone in the packed room. Put me in a room full of running journalists and I would have felt at ease, but this felt out of my comfort zone.

In fact I felt so out of place that when my category was announced, I was on my phone, so convinced that I wouldn’t win. When my name was called out as the winner, my face was one of genuine shock. How could I be an award-winning travel writer? I was a running journalist.

Graciously accepting my award (and over-doing the smile) I decided that I needed to embrace the idea that I was also a travel writer. As someone had said to me earlier that evening, writing about places that I ran was a “really cool niche”. And when I thought back over the articles I’d written in recent years I realised there had been quite a few running-related travel pieces. I’d written for Adventure.com about running across Bermuda in a day, had features published in Precision Air in-flight magazine and Ultra Magazine on running 250km in Tanzania, and published numerous articles about running events all over the UK.

It also dawned on me that imposter syndrome is something that raises its ugly head in my running and is a feeling that never goes away. Let me explain

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