Ruth Croft and the Legacy Beyond the Finish Line

This weekend I found myself glued to the screen watching little dots move across the map of the French Alps. Those dots, for the uninitiated, were the elite runners at UTMB, the biggest ultramarathon event in the world. The one that starts in Chamonix in France, and loops around Mont Blanc, via Italy and Switzerland. In a sport full of hard people doing hard things, it is the hardest. And this year, a Kiwi did something utterly ridiculous. Ruth Croft, who hails from the West Coast and seems to thrive on understatement as much as on vertical gain, became the first woman and only the second person in history to complete the “triple crown” of UTMB races. That is, she has won OCC, CCC, and now UTMB itself. A trifecta that most mortals cannot even dream of, let alone lace up for.

Now, I could spend the rest of this piece waxing lyrical about the enormity of that achievement. The fact that it took years of grinding training, meticulous planning, and iron discipline to pull it off. The fact that UTMB is the kind of race where just finishing, at any pace, is considered a badge of honour. The fact that not only to finish but to win places Ruth in the annals of ultrarunning history. But here is the thing. None of that really captures who Ruth is.

Because while the record books will say “winner of UTMB 2025” and while ultrarunning insiders will nod knowingly when someone mentions her name, what makes Ruth remarkable is not the medal or the podium or the triple crown. What makes Ruth remarkable is that she never seemed all that fussed about them in the first place.

I have had the good fortune to hang out with Ruth a little bit over the years. She is the quintessential West Coaster. There is no entourage, no inflated ego, no sense of self-importance. She could walk into a café anywhere in the country, and you would not know she is one of the best mountain runners on the planet. She would be just as happy chatting about a local track as she would about a global race.

That humility is rare, especially in a sporting world that tends to magnify egos as quickly as it does results. So many athletes seem to have the constant need to remind you that they are, in fact, special. You know the type. Every story they tell circles back to their brilliance, and every interaction is a chance to show off. Sure, they are talented, but the glare of their self-regard leaves little room for anyone else.

Ruth, by contrast, has always seemed driven by something simpler and purer. A love of the mountains. A curiosity about what the body can do. A respect for the trails and the people who move through them. That is the kind of drive that does not expire when the race calendar changes or when someone younger and hungrier lines up on the start line. It is the kind that endures.

It reminds me of something I have been mulling over a lot lately, this question of legacy. Who gets remembered and why? A couple of centuries from now, Adam Smith will still be debated. Rutherford will still be the man who split the atom. Will ultrarunning’s record books be as enduring? Probably not. Most of these wins and times will blur into obscurity. But Ruth’s way of being, her generosity, her lack of ego, her genuine joy in simply being out there, that is the sort of legacy that ripples far beyond race results.

I once watched her after a race, not a big international one, just a smaller event here in New Zealand. She could have quietly disappeared for a shower and a feed, but instead, she hung around the finish line, cheering in the stragglers. There was no media, no sponsor obligations, no cameras. Just her, clapping and encouraging as runners stumbled across the line hours after she had finished. That says more about her character than any medal ever could.

And it matters. Because most of us are not Ruth Croft. Most of us are not winning UTMB or breaking records. Most of us are just muddling through, trying to squeeze in a jog before work, or hobbling through a trail race for the satisfaction of finishing before the cut-off. To have someone at the top of the sport who does not sneer at the back of the pack but instead celebrates it, who does not revel in superiority but in community, is a gift.

The truth is, running is just running. It will not stop wars, it will not cure cancer, it will not change the course of human history. But in its small way, it reminds us of what matters. Humility. Perseverance. Joy in simple things. Connection with the land. If Ruth Croft can embody those things while standing atop the most prestigious podium in ultrarunning, then maybe we can all take a lesson.

So yes, Ruth made history this weekend. The record books will note the triple crown, and the commentators will gush about her toughness. But when the dust settles and the years roll on, I suspect what people will remember most is not the splits or the stats. It is the way she showed us that the real win is not in the medal. It is in loving the mountains, loving the process, and lifting others up along the way.

And in that sense, Ruth Croft has already secured a legacy that will outlast any finish line. Chapeau, Crofty!