What It’s Like to Bring Up the Rear on a Group Trail Run—and Have Fun Doing It

I don’t usually go on group runs, but milling around with fellow runners for my first-ever trail run, as a total trail running beginner, I couldn’t help but catch a buzz. The atmosphere was festive and friendly, and I was positively gung-ho to try my hand (or rather, feet), at running up a mountain.

The trail “running” part didn’t last long. My run turned to a jog turned to mostly a hike, at least on the uphills. In another situation—a road race, maybe—the self-doubt and light embarrassment that began to bubble up as the gap grew between me and the rest of the group might have turned into full-blown shame. But here’s the thing about trail running: Trail runners won’t let that happen.

Because trail runs take place on, well, trails, runs will typically have organizers called sweepers. These are people specifically designated to stay with the last runners in the group so no one gets stranded on the mountain, sometimes on confusing terrain, often without cell service. On this run, two sweepers, another runner, and I hiked on the uphills, and trotted on the flats and downhills—all following my pace. We finished the three mile loop in about an hour, and I genuinely felt proud.

“I’m not a trail runner,” I confessed to one of the sweepers. “Are you running on a trail? Then you’re a trail runner!” she said.

Listen, runners love to say stuff like this to novices. It can feel cringey—patronizing, even—to be on the receiving end, when groups of runners are far ahead or lapping you. And while road races will sometimes have well meaning sweepers, too, there often isn’t room for novice or slow runners in races in particular: Pace inclusivity, with infrastructure and spectators that stay in place until the last runner has crossed the finish line, is something still severely lacking from many races.

But thanks to the sweepers on my first trail run, and their attitude that contained not a trace of the feeling that I was putting them out by making them go slow, I felt genuinely welcomed to the sport.

6 things to expect as the last runner on a group trail run

How did I find myself as a back of the pack runner on a mountain? Six months after I had my son, Hoka reached out to me to see if I would be interested in participating in a trail race training group. I told them that I was six months postpartum, that I hadn’t really been able to run since before my pregnancy, and that when I was running regularly pre-pregnancy, my longest distance was a 10K.

They still welcomed me to try out training with coaches from Sundog Running, fitness tracking from Suunto, nutritionist and mindset coaching, and Hoka gear. I was looking for a way to get back into running, and so with more than a little trepidation, I signed up. My goal: Running a 10K at the Kodiak UTMB trail running festival in Big Bear, California.

To kick off training, the trail running group met up at the Speedgoat UTMB race outside of Salt Lake City, Utah. Some members of the group would be participating in the 10K and 30K races, but plenty of us were just spectating and getting to know each other.

Are you running on a trail? Then you’re a trail runner.

Despite the fact that I was not racing, I wanted to hit the trails. Hoka provided a pair of the race’s namesake shoes—the Speedgoat 6—in beautifully bombastic shades of orange, red, yellow, and purple. I learned from trail runners that it was a faux pas to have dust and dirt-free trail running shoes, so I needed to log some miles!

So my first night, I decided to join a “shakeout run,” which is a short, relaxed run the day before a larger race.

The flaw in the plan? The “shakeout run” for Speedgoat racers was short for experienced trail runners, but a still challenging three miler for me. It also took place in the elite-level ski mountains of Utah, which meant steep inclines at high altitude. I had no idea what I was getting into. But if you ever find yourself as a novice or slow runner facing down a mountain, here’s what’s in store.

1. Expect to face actual hills

My preconception of trail running was that trail runs take place on flat or rolling hills. While this is certainly some trail running, it was definitely not the case at Speedgoat. So, my first lesson bringing up the rear on a trail run? Expect to get up a hill any way you can.

2. Expect to hike as well as run

It turns out that a lot of trail running is actually “speed hiking.” Sure, trail runners will run up hills. But even the most experienced will power hike rather than run, because it’s actually a more efficient use of energy, explained my Sundog coaches.

The sweepers told me that hiking was a big part of trail running, so bringing up the rear in this way felt like I was still participating in the race.

3. Expect to switch up your paces

Both running and hiking on a run was an adjustment, because I have a bit of a mental block about walk-runs “counting” as a run. That was a notion I had to get over during pregnancy and my postpartum recovery. So I applied it to my trail run: Hiking the challenging uphills, and jogging the flats and downhills. Switching between the paces and terrains felt natural, especially because my group followed my lead.

4. Expect to talk!

My next lesson was that trail running in the back of the pack is not a solitary endeavor. I have never, ever completed a three mile run chatting the whole time. But even during the moments of huffing and puffing, the sweepers and other last participant kept me company. We talked about trail running, sure, but also our careers, travel memories, issues like sexism in outdoor sports, and more. I got to know my group to the point that we hugged and exchanged contact information at the end.

5. Expect to stop and smell the roses

There were also moments for reflection and fun. Because I wasn’t worried about making a race time, I got to stop and take photos, even just taking a moment to marvel at a waterfall. A great thing about trail races? They take place in nature. Basking in where you are is part of what it’s all about.

6. Expect to feel a quiet sort of pride

Coming to the end of the trail wasn’t a big showy moment—it was a shakeout run, not a true race. But the accomplishment I felt at being the absolute last person to “cross the finish line” surprised me nonetheless. There’s just something about knowing you’ve gone up a mountain that gets you high on life.

I knew training for a 10K—which was more than twice the distance of my three mile loop—would not be easy. The road ahead would include struggles finding time for myself, postpartum joint pain, logistical issues, and so much more. But my first trail run, as the last runner in a far more experienced group, was a golden start.