At the weekend, I ran 50km.

It’s not something I talk about in terms of pace or position, because if I’m honest, that’s never been the point. What stayed with me most wasn’t the time on the clock, but the people around me. One woman finished in under five hours, another took closer to fourteen. On paper, those two experiences couldn’t look more different. But standing there, watching them come through, they felt exactly the same.

Both had made a decision. Both had shown up. Both had followed through on something they’d once said they would do.

And that, to me, is what ultra running really reveals.

There’s something about running an ultra marathon that strips everything back. It takes away the noise, the layers, the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, and leaves you with something much simpler. A quiet, persistent question that runs alongside you the entire way: will you keep going?

Because there is always a moment when it becomes uncomfortable. Usually many moments. Points where your body aches in ways you didn’t expect, where your energy dips, where your mind starts to negotiate an easier way out. And it’s in those moments, not at the start line or the finish, that something shifts. You meet yourself more honestly. Not the version of you that talks about resilience or strength, but the version that has to decide, in real time, whether to stay or step away.

That’s where trust is built. Not in the big, visible moments, but in the quiet decisions no one else sees.

What also struck me this time, perhaps more than before, was everything happening around the race. The support. The subtle but powerful shift in roles. I saw men carrying bags, holding children, waiting patiently at checkpoints. Not as an exception, but as part of the day.

Because for many women, the challenge has never just been about whether they can do something like ultra running. It’s about whether they have the space to. The capacity. The support around them that allows them to step out, even briefly, from everything they usually hold.

There’s an invisible question that so many women carry: who holds everything else while I do this?

And what I saw, in those small but meaningful moments, was that question starting to soften. Not just women stepping into spaces that might once have felt out of reach, but the structure around them evolving too. It turns something that looks like an individual achievement into something more collective. The effort is personal, but the support is shared. And that changes everything.

Then there’s the quieter layer of it all, the one that sits closer to home.

My children won’t understand what 50 kilometres means. They won’t grasp the scale of it, or the effort behind it. But they don’t need to. What they absorb is something much more important. They see that I commit to things. That I follow through. That I do hard things, even when they’re uncomfortable.

The children already see running as something that just is. Not something extreme or unusual, but part of normal life. Strength, in that sense, isn’t something abstract. It’s something lived and witnessed in small, consistent ways.

And that stays with them. Long after the details of any race are forgotten.

Physically, it’s humbling too. In the hours afterwards, I felt it in everything. Sitting down, standing up, walking across a room. Movements you take for granted suddenly require thought.

But rather than something negative, it brought a different kind of awareness. A brief glimpse into what ageing might feel like. Not in a way that creates fear, but in a way that sharpens appreciation.

It shifts the narrative slightly.

Not I need to stay fit to avoid ageing, but I want to use this body fully while I can.

Because strength, when you really look at it, isn’t about performance. It’s about independence, freedom, and dignity in your own body. And this is where ultra running, wellness, and retreat life begin to overlap more than people might expect.

Because when you push your body, when you really test it, you don’t disconnect from it. You come back with a deeper awareness. A greater respect. A clearer understanding of what it needs.

And that changes how you rest.

This is something I see time and time again on our yoga and wellness retreats. Women arrive often feeling disconnected, tired, or unsure of where they are physically. And through movement, time outdoors, and space away, something begins to rebuild.

Not just fitness, but trust.

The stillness feels different when your body has been used. The breath feels more intentional. The rest feels earned.

It’s not about extremes. It’s about contrast. Effort and ease, both having their place.

The “why” behind running an ultra marathon isn’t always something you can explain neatly. It’s not logical in the way most goals are. It’s something you feel more than you articulate.

It’s about showing up for yourself. Keeping your word. Staying when it would be easier to step away. Feeling fully present in your body, even when it’s uncomfortable.

And perhaps most of all, recognising that this, this ability to move, to choose, to challenge yourself, won’t always be available.

That awareness changes how you show up, not just in running, but in life.

Because in the end, it was never really about the distance.



It’s about becoming someone you trust.