What’s it like crewing a Backyard Ultra?

If you're reading this, it's probably safe to assume you know what a Backyard Ultra is – but in short: runners complete a 4.167 mile loop every hour, on the hour, until only one remains standing. Last man or woman running wins; everyone else, however far they got, is technically a DNF.

Backyards come in all shapes and sizes, so I can only really say what it’s like crewing at Barry and John’s Dublin Mountain Backyard Ultra. It is a hardcore race amongst hardcore races, priding itself on being the most gruelling Backyard in the world, having the most elevation gain per loop.

From the official Facebook feed ahead of the 2024 edition of the race

Why the Dublin Mountains? Because my lifelong friend Sam, who lives in Ireland, wanted to run it. Twice. Despite swearing off Backyards for life at the end of the first one…

And they’re off!

Friday off work, me and Andy fly over from Bristol to Dublin and make our way to Sam’s place in County Westmeath. Saturday comes, early start. Load up the car. Drive from the middle of the island back to somewhere near Dublin.

Zac, Sam, Andy (L-R) fresh faced before the drive to the Dublin Mountains

Views of beautiful hills start to unfold as we near the race. Hike the gear a couple of miles from the car park to the start/finish line. Only an hour before the race starts so we hurry to get things set up while Sam registers and makes his final preparations.

Midday start time at this race. When will it all end? Today? Tomorrow? The course record is 29 loops, set in 2023. I said it was hardcore – compare that to the overall world record for Backyards at a staggering 119 loops. Realistically then, we’ll be done on Sunday.

Three minute warning. Two minute warning. One minute to go. Everyone’s in the starting corral now. Tension and noise building. The race starts with the cowbell ringing in our ears, with around 100 runners in good spirits and cheered on by crews and spectators.

2026 edition runners head off on their first loop, with our man Sam in the bucket hat

Base camp community

With runners completing the loop once an hour, they get some time with their crew every hour. We set up base as close to the start/finish line as possible to minimise the extra distance our man Sam had to cover. It was pretty rudimentary – two chairs, a tent, a cool box and another box of food. Luckily there was no rain in either 2024 or 2026.

This also means we got to spend time with the other crews while the runners were out on their loops. It’s something special about crewing a Backyard, the sense of community and shared purpose building as the hours go by. Need a hand with something? Carrying something back to the car, that for some reason had to be parked 2 miles away down a hill? No problem. A chance to get to know people, connect with them, and share a day or two in nature together.

Hourly pit stops

Like a well-oiled F1 team (ha!) as soon as our hero was out on the route, prep starts for the next pit stop coming in about 52 minutes time. Tidy up. What did he want for the next lap? Get it ready. Cooked pasta? Oh crap, we’d better get cooking then. Then time to relax, chat with your own crew members, other crews, spectators, and of course saying hello to the Dogs of the Backyard.

2026 canines

A rhythm soon develops. Fast runners arrive back from the loop. Probably too fast. Sam comes in around 52 minutes. Flurry of activity. Eat this. Drink this. What do you need for next time? Clothing OK? Pep talk. OK mate, time to get back to the starting corral. The crew needs to be their runner’s brain, think about what needs doing when, are they eating and drinking enough, are they warm enough, when do they need to leave their chair for the next loop. Make it as easy as possible for them, let them focus fully on the mental and physical rigours of the race.

Things settle down, a few runners start to drop out. Eight hours have flown by before you know it. A really grounded, relaxed mindset sets in. Then you notice things start to change – the light is getting less, a few more are dropping out, night is falling, it’s getting cold.

Nighty-night

Base camp quietens, spaces start to appear as crews for runners who have finished (well, technically, did not finish) go home. Midnight comes, 12 hours and 50 miles in now, less than half the field left. A challenging pit stop with Sam’s unexpectedly low mood to contend with, to bring empathy to. Food not going down so well. Pivot to some sweets and a can of Coke. Play some encouraging messages and videos you’ve received on the live feed WhatsApp group you set up for friends and family to post on.

See the results of resilience and pushing through in action – next loop Sam rallies, picks up mentally and physically. Excellent. Let’s do this. Have we got a chance at the win?

It’s late now, so time for some rest in the tent. A few hours where we sleep and take turns crewing the pit stop. Alarm at quarter to the hour, do the pit stop, tidy up, prep for the next pitstop, set the alarm again, go back to sleep.

Runners starting out on a night loop

Here comes the sun

The 2026 edition was hard for Sam. He finally got a London Marathon ballot entry after years of trying so ran the London Marathon a fortnight before the Backyard. Pulled up after a valiant 17 full loops to DNF with nothing left in the tank. But he showed up, and he ran. Still cracked the top ten, DNF and all. His crew were lucky enough to be there and experience it all again.

In 2024 the sun came. The race was on. Eighteen hours in at 6am, less than 10 runners now. The running takes longer, the pit stops are shorter. Things are getting fraught, can we get Sam out for one more loop in time? Yes.

7am loop start with just 8 runners left

Quieter at camp now, sleep deprivation is properly kicking in for both the crew and Sam. Simple tasks are getting more difficult, the unrelenting hourly rhythm continues. You notice a thought that maybe you hope the race finishes soon. Just as quickly you get back to the positive ambition of one more lap. Always one more.

All things must pass

It all seemed to be going so well. 8am loop off and running nicely. No food taken on that time, but appeared well-fuelled and in good spirits. 9am comes though, and Sam is not back. It’s all over. The GI system gave up the ghost and forced a DNF.

20 loops, over 80 miles run, with a whopping 6,000m elevation gain! An amazing effort ably supported by a proud crew, including our late addition Cormac who brought well needed (and cold) supplies, and a welcome booster shot of positive energy around 10pm on day 1.

Cormac, Sam, Andy and Zac (L-R) after Sam’s superb DNF around 9am on the Sunday

Crewing tips

A few things I picked up along the way, for anyone thinking about crewing a Backyard themselves:

•       Prep starts the moment your runner heads out – you've got 50 minutes or so until they're back

•       Be their brain: track eating, drinking, warmth and timing, so all they have to do is run

•       Have a food back-up plan – Sam's pasta became sweets and Coke once his stomach turned

•       Watch for mood dips, especially overnight – empathy matters as much as logistics

•       If it runs past midnight, sleep in shifts with alarms set

•       Pack more warm kit than you think you'll need, and expect to walk gear further than you planned

•       Set up a WhatsApp group for friends and family to send messages – it has a big impact

Let’s go round again

Would I crew again? Well, aside from the fact that I already did, it’s a hard yes. It’s super rewarding to get to support someone reach their potential. Sam could not do it without us, he wouldn’t get as far without us being there, and he was grateful for us being there. The connection as a team, and as a wider community is a special feeling. It is worth being there for that alone.

I'm running my first Ultra – a 50k on trail – in a few weeks’ time, and I already know how much of a contribution my crew, including Andy, will make to my day. That makes it our day. Watching Sam push through the low points from the other side of the fence has changed how I think about my own race – less about grinding through alone, more about trusting the people around you to help carry you when it gets hard. And it is all the more rewarding as a result.