The Beginning

When Claire Baker talks about running, it’s clear she’s not just describing a hobby. She’s talking about a relationship — one built on patience, persistence, and a love for testing limits. London clubmates once nicknamed her “the Smiley Runner,” and nearly a decade after moving to Kenya (2016–present), that easy grin still shows up whenever the miles get long. Claire is an ultra-marathon runner, someone who finds joy in the kind of distances most people can’t quite imagine covering on foot.

Her story with ultra running started gradually. What began as a simple desire to move — to clear her head and carve out time for herself — grew into a deep connection with the long, often lonely rhythm of the trail. Over time, the distances stretched out: 10K became 21K, then 42K, and eventually 50K and beyond. Along the way, she discovered how welcoming Kenya’s running scene can be for newcomers — the kind of community that turns strangers into training partners before sunrise.

She doesn’t think of herself as a fast runner — she’s more interested in how far she can go, both mentally and physically. Raised by a French mother and British father who filled childhood with hiking and skiing, that love of movement is now something she’s passing on to her son (stroller miles included). And there are serendipities, too: at her first full marathon in 2017, she crossed a finish line and met the man who would become her husband.

Claire describes ultra running as a test of character more than fitness. It’s a lesson in managing discomfort and staying calm when everything in your body wants to stop. Over the past decade she’s stretched her distances steadily—first 10 K, then 21 K, 42 K, and eventually the 100-kilometer Mt. Kenya Ultra—each one teaching her something new about patience and grit.

“It’s not for everyone,” she admits. “Ultra running isn’t glamorous. You’re tired, you’re dirty, you’re questioning your life choices — but that’s the beauty of it. You learn so much about yourself.”

The lifestyle is demanding: months of training, early mornings, weekends spent on trails, and long hours buying and packing snacks and fueling for long runs. But for Claire, that process has always been grounding. “Running gives me structure,” she says. “When life feels chaotic, it’s something I can rely on.”

That structure, she’s realized, crosses into her professional life too. As a fundraiser and business development leader, she tackles large projects with the same mindset she brings to races—break big goals into steady milestones. “When I interviewed for a job with a three-million-dollar fundraising goal, I thought about it like ultra training,” she says. “Start where you are, plan your route, and take it one milestone at a time.”

That disciplined, endurance-driven approach—knowing how to pace yourself, recover, and still show up—has made her believe that being an athlete isn’t just a personal pursuit; it’s professional training in disguise.

Claire’s relationship with running evolved again when she became a mother. She ran until the day she went into labour — quite literally. “My son was born on a Saturday morning,” she says. “Our group runs are at 7 a.m. on Saturdays. So when I announced his birth, I joked that I missed the run that day because I was busy giving birth.”

Three weeks postpartum, she was running again. It wasn’t about “bouncing back,” she explains, but about reconnecting with her body. “When women talk about running again after childbirth, people imagine you’re sprinting. But really, it’s slow, gentle, awkward. Your body feels so different.”

It took almost a year for her to feel like herself again, and running was her way of tracking that recovery. “Every run reminded me that my body was still mine,” she says.

Now, she often runs with her son in a stroller. “People sometimes say something about it being inspirational,” she laughs. “But honestly, it’s just logistics. Weekends are family time, and there’s no one else to watch him — so we run together.”

That habit feels like a full-circle moment. Growing up in a family where weekends and holidays meant hiking or skiing, Claire learned early that movement was part of life, not an interruption of it. “I want him to grow up seeing that same thing,” she says. “That you can move your body, take care of yourself, and still show up for others.”

For anyone thinking about running their first ultra, Claire’s advice is practical and encouraging: start small and stay consistent.

“You don’t wake up one day and run 50 kilometers,” she says. “You build up to it — ten minutes at a time, week after week.”

She warns against comparing yourself to others. “Everyone’s training looks different,” she says. “Don’t let social media trick you into thinking there’s one right way to do it. Just focus on showing up.”

And while ultra training is obviously physical, Claire says it’s the mental side that defines the finishers. “After 40 kilometers, your legs aren’t what keep you going — it’s your head. If you can stay calm, you can keep moving.”

Her other rule? Don’t go it alone. “Find your people,” she says. “Whether it’s a local running group, a coach, or a friend who understands why you’re doing this — you’ll need someone to help you push through the tough miles.”

It’s advice she shares often with newcomers to Nairobi’s running scene, many of whom arrive looking for connection as much as fitness. “Running can be such a good way of finding community,” she says. “Especially if you’re new somewhere — it gives you people, a rhythm, and a reason to explore.”

Above all, Claire wants runners to know that ultras are for everyone. “You don’t have to look like an ultra runner,” she says. “You just have to be willing to keep going when it gets uncomfortable. That’s what makes it special.”Gratitude isn’t passive. It moves.

For Claire, ultra running is more than a sport — it’s how she thinks, plans, and lives. Each race, each run, teaches her a version of patience she carries into her work, her relationships, and her parenting.

“It’s not about medals or records,” she says. “It’s about learning what you’re capable of when things get hard — and realizing that you can always go a little further than you thought.”

That, in essence, is the long run — not just the hours spent on the trail, but the steady, unglamorous practice of showing up. Over and over.

It’s a lesson she takes into every part of her life. From the late-night feedings of early motherhood to navigating career shifts and cross-continental moves, the rhythm remains the same: keep moving forward, one step at a time.

“Running reminds me that progress doesn’t have to be dramatic,” she says. “It just has to be consistent. That’s where the strength is.”

And when she’s back on the trail, breathing in the morning air with her son tucked safely in his stroller, that truth feels tangible again — that endurance isn’t about finishing fast. It’s about finding joy in the journey, mile after mile.Leadership, at its best, is service in motion

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