The Power of Showing Up: Crewing a 100 Mile Run

October 21, 2025

Level Unlocked: Crew, Pacer, and “Kinda” Race Director

So, it's official, I've now been a someone's crew and a pacer… maybe even a race director in a “light way” as it wasn't an official race, but a personal goal event type of thing. What am I referring to? Oh, that would be my friend Chris Badgett's attempt to run 100 miles.

The Call

Let's back up a few months. Chris called me and asked if I'd be interested in running some miles in Maine. He had me at “wanna run some miles in Maine”! From there, more details emerged, the overall route and possible dates. Cut to a few more weeks passing, a few text messages, a few phone calls, and nailing down an actual date: Oct 11-12, 2025.

The route was going to be “The Cross New Hampshire Adventure Trail”, which is 83 miles and passes directly in front of Chris's house, but actually goes past it, ending a little over 3 miles past.

That being said, and the fact that Chris wanted 100 miles, and to stop at his house as he had no interest in continuing PAST his own home, I mean, who would? So he needed to add 17 miles before the actual start of the run.

With most of the basic logistics figured out (general route and dates), I made travel plans. I flew into Portland, ME, on October 9, drove the 90 mins to his house in Bethel, ME, where we would hang out for the day.

Chris was smart enough to recruit backup, so he invited his friend Jason to join the adventure. Jason was supposed to get there earlier and grab dinner with us, but his road trip from Pennsylvania took a slight detour. Apparently, there was a pizza place in Connecticut that he just had to visit. A bit out of the way? Yes. Worth it? According to Jason, absolutely.

Last-Minute Logistics and Sushi

I digress, as we had a chunk of the day still open, Chris thought NOW would be a good time to figure out where to stop along the route for re-supply! Umm.. say what was my thought? Now? You didn't do this already, I teased?! Apparently not. He was first thinking that it would be every 20 miles. My eyes rolled, as I convinced him to make the stops about 10 miles apart, maybe 12 at the longest. Experience has taught me a few things, and he brought me along for my experience, right?

After a few hours of reviewing Google Maps, Strava, and some other websites, the aid station locations were set, and we went to a nice sushi dinner.

The next morning, I woke up, logged into work, took some calls, and answered emails. Jason did some work too. Chris packed up and gathered all the things. At 12 pm, we packed up the cars and stopped for lunch. We also grabbed some food for the Airbnb that we were staying at in Mountain Lakes, NH. As we headed West, we did stop a few times to check out some of the pre-planned aid stations. Helpful as it would be, it would be dark when we arrived there.

Arrival at AirBNB

Rooms claimed, cars unpacked, and… Houston, we have a problem. Chris forgot his bag of high-carb energy powder (Skratch) back at the house. Ooof. I've been there, like the time I forgot all my nutrition the night before the James River 50 Miler. Watching him, I recognized that same wave of stress wash over his face.

So he called his wife, and he and Jason drove an hour to meet her halfway. She drove 45 minutes toward us, they met in the middle, and the crisis was averted. My wife and I once pulled the same stunt — a little farther distance, same “oops” energy. It's the kind of thing that's not funny in the moment, but makes a great story later. Good times.

While he and Jason were gone.. I cleaned up a bit… and prepped dinner. I'm so domesticated that I timed it perfectly to have it ready when they came back!

After dinner, we did a little more prep before calling it a night. I'd be joining Chris in the morning for the first 3 to 4 miles, then sending him off to tackle the rest. After that, my job would be to help Jason get us checked out of the Airbnb and start leapfrogging him along the route, aid-station style.

Let's Go!

Saturday morning. I was up at my usual time around 5:30 AM, with Chris rolling out of bed about an hour later. I scrambled up some eggs for us, got dressed, snapped a few photos and some video, and by 8:00 AM, we were at the starting line.

We began slow and steady, walking to get the blood flowing. It was about 42 degrees out, that crisp kind of chill that wakes you up whether you like it or not. As I mentioned earlier, Chris needed to tack on 17 miles before hitting the main route. So he started in New Hampshire, ran into Vermont, and crossed the Vermont Memorial Bridge — the official start of the Cross New Hampshire Adventure Trail. A little backtracking to kick off a big day.

The first 3.5 miles in the bag… and I'm done for now. Planning on joining more at the 70-75-mile mark and bringing him in. I jogged back to the Airbnb, cleaned up, checked us out, and met Chris just in time at his first aid station. We resupplied, he took off down the trail, and that set the tone for the day. He'd run ten miles, we'd drive fifteen minutes, and then wait two to two and a half hours for him to catch us. At first, the timing worked out perfectly… then, as it often does in ultras, those gaps started to stretch a bit.

The next aid station was nothing glamorous — just a parking lot. But apparently, in that town, Saturday is “dump run day.” Cars were lined up to drop off trash for the big truck to haul away. While we waited, an 11-year-old wandered over and asked, “Whatchya doing?” We told him, and he just stared at us like we were speaking another language.

Up next for Jason and me was brunch in Vermont. We stopped at a little local spot called Tuttles Family Diner, about half a mile from the bridge where we'd see Chris next. This was the stretch that would eventually bring him back home at mile 100.

Tuttles did not disappoint. Our server, Stevie, was an absolute character, the kind of person who seems to have been part of the place as long as the diner itself, which has been around for over 50 years. After a hearty meal and plenty of laughs, we made our way to the bridge. Approximately 20 mins later, Chris rolled in, hung out for 10-15 mins, topped off supplies, and headed back out down the trail.

Our next stop was Lilac Memorial Park in Lisbon, NH. We arrived with plenty of time to spare, so we stretched our legs, chatted with a local, and picked up a few bits of town wisdom. Then I claimed the back seat of my rental car for a quick power nap while Jason cracked open his laptop and hopped on his hotspot to get some work done. Time passed, and right on cue, Chris appeared. Rinse, resupply, repeat. Before heading to the next station, we wandered across the street to Sweet Treats Ice Cream Shop, which happened to be closing for the season the next day. The “small” scoops were basically pints, overflowing and perfect. A little sugar boost for the crew never hurts.

From there, we headed to another glamorous aid station location — a parking lot called Ammonoosuc Rail Trail Parking in Littleton, NH. And yes, I can barely pronounce “Ammonoosuc,” but apparently it's named after the river. We met a guy there, Joe… or maybe John? Who runs a rental and guided tour business? I swear he could've been James Tolkan's twin (you know, the “Top Gun” guy). When we explained what Chris was doing, he barely blinked. Apparently, this area attracts plenty of endurance weirdos like us, so we didn't even make the top ten strangest things he'd seen that week. It was here that I decided to get myself ready for when I would join Chris. As it was still light out, I knew gathering what I needed and putting on the majority of the layers I'd wear would be easier than in the dark of the night.

After Chris came and went from Ammonoosuc, I realized that even though I wasn't really hungry, I needed some protein in me. In theory, I was supposed to join him between midnight and 1 AM, but with his pace slowing and longer aid station breaks, that timeline had already drifted back a good hour or two. Still, starting a long night of pacing on an empty stomach is never a good idea. So Jason and I headed up the road to Littleton Freehouse Taproom & Eatery. Littleton was absolutely buzzing that Saturday night. When we asked our server why, she explained it's a year-round tourist spot — summer events, the river, winter skiing, and right now the big draw was the fall colors. It all made sense as we waited 30 minutes for a table. And for the record, the garlic parmesan dry rub wings were excellent.

Our next stop was a random intersection near Burns Lake Campground, and it ended up being a memorable one. First, it marked a big milestone, 50 miles down. Chris was officially halfway home! Second, it's where we got our first visit from law enforcement. A local state trooper spotted two cars parked in the middle of nowhere and decided to check in. Once we explained what we were up to, he gave us the same look everyone else had — a mix of “you're out of your minds” and genuine respect.

It was also at this stop that I pulled out the “I'm an experienced ultra runner” card — something Jason and Chris don't quite have in their decks yet. As the temperature dropped, Jason had one of the car heaters going full blast, creating a warm, cozy haven that looked way too inviting. I quickly shut that down. After 50 miles on your feet, climbing into a warm car is basically asking your brain to start negotiating a DNF. It's way too easy to think, “Hmm… why am I doing this again? Happily, Chris took my advice like a champ. Instead of slipping into the mobile sauna, he sat in a folding chair outside and ate his ramen like a true ultra runner.

After another successful resupply, Chris headed out for another nine-mile stretch. Our next stop was Meadows Road Trailhead. On the drive over, I noticed a few solid inclines along the road that he'd have to tackle before getting back on the trail. I'd been behind the wheel most of the day, so I had a pretty good sense of what the terrain felt like, and I was pretty sure Chris wouldn't be thrilled about those climbs. I mean, who actually enjoys a long, never-ending, gradual uphill slog after 50 miles on their feet?

Arriving at the location, and with more time to kill, both Jason and I took a Power Nap in our respective cars for about 45 minutes. Keeping an eye on Chris's location, we got up and ready for his arrival. This rest took about 15-20 mins, but I could tell that he was definitely slowing down.

Freshly resupplied, Chris was off. Now, I was a bit edgy as it was getting close to “go time” for me. Needed to get to the next location sooner rather than later, and get some solid sleep since at the Appalacia Trailhead in Randolph. NH, I would be leaving my car and joining for the last 27 miles. Well, that was the plan! When we arrived at the parking lot, I turned the rental car into my personal aid station. I climbed into the back, got under the sleeping bag, set my alarm, made sure Jason knew to tap on the window if I somehow slept through it, zipped into my sleeping bag, and knocked out.

Two hours and one snooze later, Chris was still about 15 minutes away and would need another 15 to rest and refuel. Jason handled this stop mostly on his own while I got myself dressed and ready to pace. Oh, and this was the spot where Jason managed to step in dog poop — not on purpose, of course, but the shoe did not win that battle.

It was now 4:15 am, and we were heading down the trail. I was hoping for a little more pep in our step, but Chris was tired for sure. It was slow going. Also, I'm pretty sure Chris did some sleepwalking at this time. Trust me when I say that this happens fairly often to long-distance runners. That being said, I do recall seeing and calling out a few constellations (the sky was amazing without light pollution) — and Chris made a few comments/noises, but not much chatter for a bit. Later, he indicated that he thought it was a plane that was following him!

We eventually made our way to the Hogan Road intersection, where Jason was waiting for us. A few minutes later, Sam (Chris's wife) pulled up as well. And then the real magic we scored coffee. Some hikers, traveling in serious comfort in their high-end Sprinter van, had heard from Jason what Chris was up to. They took one look at us and must've thought, “these people need caffeine.” A few minutes later, two hot cups of coffee appeared like trail angels in human form.

Chris was clearly running on fumes at this point, so we gave him the gift of a 20-minute power nap. Once he was awake, we resupplied him with a grab bag of food, gels, bars, and fluids, then sent him back out into the dark. Next stop: about 16–17 miles up the road.

Those first eight miles actually went pretty smoothly. I took the lead by about 100–150 yards, keeping a solid pace and glancing back every so often to make sure Chris was still with me. He was, but he was definitely starting to fade. Eventually, he asked to stop. He was dizzy. Bonking hard. He sat down on the side of the road, probably contemplating all of life's choices that led him to this exact moment. Anyone who's run long distances knows that look. After about 15 minutes, he got back up, reset, and we started moving again. This time, I stayed right by his side.

With about a mile to the next aid station, Sam appeared again, this time on her bike. She'd left her car at the next stop and rode back to meet us, joining in for the final stretch of that segment. It was a small but perfect boost of energy for Chris, and honestly, a great sight to see after a long, quiet stretch of road.

When we arrived at the final aid station The Green Bridge, Chris was ready for one last recharge. We pulled out the sleeping bag, and he climbed underneath it without hesitation. Sam and I chatted while he rested, swapping stories about the day so far and touching on the usual runner talk: salt, nutrition, and mindset.

Thirty minutes later, Sam gently nudged him awake. We packed up, restocked his fuel, and I handed pacing duties over to her for the final seven miles. I climbed into the support car and headed back to the house.

Two hours later, Chris was home. One hundred miles in 30 hours and 53 minutes — or closer to 101.5 if we're being honest. Trail math has a way of doing its own thing.

Lastly, I do want to share a take away …1 from each of us.

Chris: Race Directors are under appreciated. Laying out the course. Marking it. Knowing where to put aid stations!
Mine: As much as I really wanted to run some of the course when the sun came up, as it was so pretty and so very runnable, I'm reminded that more often than not, we need to be available to others as much as we help ourselves. It's the community that we surround ourselves with that makes us better in every way. Helping friends achieve their own dreams pays dividends in one's soul. At least it does mine. Would I do it again if Chris asked? 100% without question. Would I do it for anyone else who is reading this? Yes, I would. All you have to do is just ask.

So, there you have it, how I spent my first time ever in Maine and New Hampshire!