It doesn’t usually come up among the main tips for completing an ultrarunning challenge, but one thing Chris Thomson did really seemed to help with his motivation: arranging his finish week interview with Runner’s World before his epic feat had started. ‘The thought of talking to you when I was finished actually did help a bit with keeping going, so absolutely you can take some of the credit,’ he says. Happy to be of service, Chris!
‘I don’t think I ever really doubted that I would finish it, but I really didn’t know whether I would enjoy it,’ he continues. Starting on 5 June, the 34-year-old Scotsman ran an ultramarathon every day for 32 days, one in each council of Scotland. That’s all of the nation’s different areas, from the Shetland Islands in the far north to Dumfries and Galloway by the border with England. He planned routes 33 miles in length, always walking the final mile in tribute to his close friend Hamish Locke, who died by suicide aged 33. At the time of writing he has raised almost £29,000 to be shared between seven charities that help with mental health, Motor Neurone Disease, dementia and heart disease – all conditions that have affected people he loves.
You wouldn’t have any doubts about his enjoyment levels if you kept track of his social media feed, which found this self-proclaimed extrovert practically hopscotching across his homeland with a huge grin and his moustache dyed pink. Trying to keep his routes as flat as possible in a country that isn’t known for its sweeping plains, he loved journeys along disused railway lines and the coast of Fife, but his desire to try to see a few sights also required a few more rigorous detours. He visited the Falkirk Wheel (‘The only rotating boat lift of its kind in the world,’ boat lifting fans) and climbed a large hill to see the National Wallace Monument, sitting above the site of William ‘Braveheart’ Wallace’s victory at the Battle of Stirling Bridge. ‘Being Scottish, of course I’m a big fan of William Wallace.’ Naturally, when he finished his 32nd and final ultramarathon in Edinburgh, he was wearing a kilt.
There must have been some low points, though? ‘How much time have you got?’ It sounds like days four and five were the biggest scoundrels: first, a slog across Shetland in hail, sleet, wind and rain. ‘I was underdressed, for starters, not having realised that Shetland is the same latitude as Norway. There are hardly any trees, either, so the coldest wind I’ve ever experienced was cutting straight across the island. I his in a bus stop and phoned my mum, in tears, going “What the hell have I done?”’ The following day, local flight connections meant that he couldn’t even begin the next ultra near Glasgow airport until 4pm. ‘I got it done at 11.45. Looking back, I still don’t really know how I managed that one.’
He was helped by his mum on about 10 of the 32 days, but otherwise was driving himself between the councils as well as doing the running. Friends joined him here and there, some cruising along on a Brompton bike, other previously untested runners managing to jog with him for the entire ultra distance. ‘Days like that were amazing from a psychological standpoint,’ he says. ‘Real morale boosters.’
When doing the running, he tried to stick to a 9-to-5 schedule, stopping for a break and food around the 20-mile point so that he could tell himself he only had a half marathon to go when he restarted. ‘I was trying to get it into my head that it was a work day. I could have been sat at my desk trying to sell technology to banks, or I could be out exploring and loving what I do.’
He resigned from his sales job in March, devoting himself full-time to this challenge, with a view to trying to make a career out of other physical endeavours in the future. It was partly his friend’s death that persuaded him to try. ‘He was an unbelievable guy, really outgoing, a top sportsman. We played rugby against each other when we were at rival schools in Edinburgh, then did the same course at Loughborough University, and moved to London together too,’ says Chris. ‘He moved to Australia, and I think started to struggle a bit, and decided to end his life in 2022. It put me into a bit of a spiral of anxiety and depression too. But in a more positive way, it made me wake up a bit and think: “There’s no reruns here. There’s only one shot at life. What do you really enjoy?” I’ve always loved adventure. I cycled from John o’ Groats to Land’s End, ran 500 miles last December, kayaked around the Isle of Arran. I thought, why not?’
So far, soft tissue damage to his ankles aside, he doesn’t have many complaints about his new life in the pain cave. ‘I have a bit of emotional baggage, but I’ve tried to channel it to do some good,’ he says. ‘If there’s something in life that you want to do, you have to try your hardest to find a way to do it. It might be the hardest decision you make, but you’ve got to get it done. Happiness is key.’
