Who Has the Harder Job: The Runner or the Support Crew?

After more than fifteen years of running races and endurance events, I have often found myself thinking about a question, who has the harder job? The runner or the support crew?

At first, the answer seems obvious. The runner is the one covering the kilometres, climbing the hills, battling fatigue, and pushing through discomfort. They are the ones who willingly sign up to spend hours, and sometimes days, testing themselves physically and mentally.

But the longer I have spent in this sport, the more I have wondered whether the runner has the easier role.

Many of the events I have participated in have technically been solo efforts. My name appears on the entry form. My feet cover the course. My result belongs to me. Yet some races cannot truly be done alone.

Behind many successful runners are people who willingly sacrifice their own comfort so someone else can pursue a goal. I have been fortunate enough to have some remarkable support teams around me over the years, no more so than my husband Zac and the older I get, the more I appreciate what they give.

Preparing for a running event is rarely just about running. There are training plans to follow. Easy runs, interval sessions, long runs, recovery runs. There are shoes to test, packs to wear, hats to choose, nutrition strategies to refine, and technology to monitor. You study race profiles, elevation maps, weather forecasts, and event logistics.

You plan. Then you plan some more. You look at where each aid station sits on the course and create a race strategy around those points. You estimate arrival times and calculate splits. You work out where your support crew can meet you and what you might need when you arrive. The runner prepares a race plan and hands it over, hoping that everything unfolds according to schedule. But races rarely care about plans.

As runners, our world becomes surprisingly simple once the event begins. We know where we are going. The course has been mapped out before the starting gun even sounds. There are arrows, markers and checkpoints. Our job is simply to progress from one aid station to the next. Yes, we have challenges. We navigate terrain, weather, fatigue, competitors and self-doubt. Most of all, we navigate our own expectations. But compared to the support crew, many of the variables are removed.

The support team is operating in a world of approximations:

• Will the runner arrive earlier than expected?
• Will they be running behind schedule?
• Will traffic cause delays?
• Will a road closure appear unexpectedly?
• Will they miss a turn?
• Will there be somewhere to park?
• Will they be standing at the correct location?

And perhaps most importantly, what sort of version of the runner will arrive at the checkpoint? The support team never truly knows. They become the fuel station, the water station, the logistics coordinator, the navigator and the emotional support all at once.

Sometimes they meet a runner who is flying. Other times they meet someone who is falling apart. And often they have only a few brief moments to provide whatever is needed before the runner disappears down the trail again.

Over the years, I have become more self-sufficient as a runner. Experience teaches you how to solve problems independently. You learn to carry what you need, adapt when things go wrong and manage setbacks without panic. But no amount of self-sufficiency replaces the lift that comes from seeing your support crew waiting for you.

Sometimes the assistance is practical. Sometimes it is emotional. And sometimes it is simply the reassurance that somebody believes you can keep going, even when you no longer believe it yourself.

Long endurance events spend hours exposing runners to their own thoughts. That can be both a gift and a burden. The body becomes tired and the mind, if left unchecked, can become a difficult companion. Self-criticism creeps in. Expectations grow louder. Doubt begins to negotiate with determination. It is often not the terrain that defeats a runner. It is the conversation happening inside their head.

Perhaps if we approached racing with a little more kindness, telling ourselves, “I am doing the best I can with what I have today” the burden would feel lighter. After all, we train for these moments.

Runners do their best to prepare them with maps, split times, fuel requirements and logistics, but races have a way of creating circumstances nobody anticipated and through it all, the support team adjusts. They problem-solve. They wait. They worry. They encourage. They keep showing up at the next checkpoint.

So whenever someone asks me who has the harder job, my answer remains the same. The runner has the easy part. The support crew carries the stress.

I am incredibly grateful for every person who has stood on the sidelines, driven between aid stations, filled bottles, handed over food, offered encouragement or simply smiled when I needed it most. Because while I may have crossed the finish line, I have never truly arrived there alone.

For now, I am happy to keep running. But I know that one day the baton will change hands and when that day comes, I hope I can become the kind of thoughtful, patient and dependable support crew member that so many others have been for me.