Running 100 kilometers in a row: this is what it feels like

There was a resolve in my life that I would never run a marathon. Okay, I stuck to that. I didn’t run – I ran. Just like our podcast title “She runs. He runs.” called. But the challenge was just too tempting. By chance I came across the advertisement for the so-called mega march in Hamburg. The aim is to run the 100-kilometer route within 24 hours. What appealed to me: There is no time measurement, everyone can choose their own pace and you can basically get off at any point – if you have covered 40 kilometers, you even get a certificate.

I did a rough run in my head: five kilometers an hour seemed realistic to me, that’s a faster walking pace. So I would finish after 20 hours. That sounded like a long march – but also somehow doable. Of course I asked myself: How does it feel to be on your feet for so many hours? And running through the night? Does the body or the head actually decide whether to reach the goal? And how far does a well-trained runner like me get – but who has no long-distance experience?

I hate it when such questions go unanswered – so I started the mega-march. Not alone, but with two companions: inside. Those who had put on a lot of weight during Corona and had spent the last few months getting rid of the excess pounds. Now they wanted to find out how fit they actually are. He was a former marathon runner, she was a leisure runner – like me.

At the start the mood was exuberant

The start in Finkenwerder, right around the corner from the Airbus plant, was exciting. Some talked about their experiences in previous runs of this kind. Often the sentence was: In the end, your head decides whether you hold out. Mental strength triumphs over physical strength. I quickly saw that the experienced starters had tied a pair of spare shoes to their backpacks. A bearded man who had already made it twice said: “No matter how fit you are, even the smallest bladder can make you give up.” After a short pause, he added: “With so many kilometers it can be excruciating pain.”

Great, unlike the pros, I didn’t pack any expensive blister plasters – just three strips of simple adhesive plaster. I secretly hoped that my well-worn-in sneakers would get me over the track. The idea slowly rose in me that this run would push me to my limits. I realized that I had absolutely no idea what was in store for me in the next few hours. Where from?

To reach the goal you have to run for 20 hours

It started at lunchtime, high noon as they say in American. Felt that way to me too. With breaks, I had calculated that, in the best case scenario, I would arrive at the finish line around ten o’clock the next day. As an experienced runner, I instinctively wanted to start running quickly – but then I remembered a sentence by extreme mountaineer Hans Kammerlander, which he once said to me in an interview: “Choose your pace so that you run as fast at the beginning as at the end. ” He, who has climbed twelve 8000ers, must know.

I strolled off – and the first 15 kilometers were really fun. I enjoyed walking in a group. I quickly got into a steady rut, there was a lot of talk. Where do you come from? Why are you doing this? A young Cameroonian told me that he wanted to set up a company for fine spices. We talked about growing vanilla and how competitive it is. Even at the refreshment station at kilometer 20, everyone was still very relaxed.

Soon after that it became noticeably quieter. Dusk fell, the air became damp, the warming sun disappeared. It went through countless allotment garden settlements – I had no idea that there was so much in Hamburg. The first followers crouched by the side of the road, massaging their feet or putting plasters on. A person running next to me said: “If you already need plasters, you will not finish.” I was glad that I had no friction points. Then we went through a residential area to the second refreshment station. It was dark now, and almost everyone wore a headlamp. 40 kilometers were done.

The body is gripped by a monotonous pain

Once sat down, many gave up. The soles of my feet also hurt now, especially the ball of the toes. We were provided with cheese sandwiches, protein bars and gummy bears. I grabbed the pickles. They came from a huge can. I actually don’t like cucumbers at all. But obviously my body knew what it needs now so that I can keep walking. In this case sodium and potassium – electrolytes that the body loses when sweating. Others seemed to feel the same way. A man behind me in line held out a mug and asked, “Can you fill this with cucumber water for me?”

For me it went on. Getting up was damn hard. Head over body – for the first time I felt what was meant by that. Almost over the marathon, I motivated myself as I ran through the darkness with a stride that was getting more difficult. And after that: it’s halfway through. Reason enough to be proud. But also a little bit of panic rose in me: Run for as long again? Oh God. Step by step I trotted on. It had become quieter. Hardly anyone spoke anymore, only a few were on the track – the gaps between the runners kept growing. I slowly sank into my thoughts. The monotony of my steps lulled me. But there were also more and more places that hurt me. The thighs, the right heel, the shoulders, the lower back. The kilometers crept by. It got lonely.

The head should triumph over the body

A man hobbled next to me. I spoke to him, hoping to moan a little with him. But he said: “It’s going great for me. I have estimated ten hours for the first 50 kilometers, the second I want to do in 14.” I asked myself: “Why does he keep doing this to himself when he is already hurting every step.” Without being asked, he said: “My head should triumph over my body.” But is that also healthy?

I don’t like pain, and I don’t see any particular point in doing sports. With real amazement, I saw more and more runners in the light of my headlamp, who sat on the ground and poorly patted their sore feet with plasters. The sight of it hurt me. And: Oh man, I was glad not to have this problem at least. The crowd of participants thinned with every kilometer. At some point I had the feeling that I was only surrounded by limping people. But very few admitted how much they tormented themselves.

Then the thought crept into me: At least ten hours until you get to the finish. After that, every step became even harder. Soon I was slowing down. Keep going? Overcome deep? Or stop? In the quiet of the night that became a circling thought. Yes, such a run is a matter of the head. I sat down briefly on the side of the road. I also wanted to knead my feet and stretch my calves once. Even sitting down is difficult for me – I almost fail when I get up. The knees went on strike. Ouch.

But for now there is still more to come. Done kilometer 50. I proudly snap myself at the trail markers. But then I already know: It won’t go on for long. The last ten kilometers seemed endless to me. Why should I keep doing this to myself? The decision to abort is then made from one second to the next. It’s over, I don’t like anymore. I was gripped by a monotonous pain. I am just tired. My body tells me in many ways that it finally wants to have some rest

The muscles just do not come to rest

In the end it was almost 60 kilometers. I would like to say to some of the people who hobble past me: Let it be. Zombie walk goes through my head. I’m going home by train. I can see on my watch that I have taken 71,146 steps. It cannot show a resting heart rate – I was never quiet that day.

When I fall into bed at half past one, freshly showered, I’m proud. Because I’ve come this far – and because I got out. I think more than ever that exercise has to be fun. And as an athlete, you have to take care of your health, that’s what I did. During the night my muscles continue to twitch for hours – as if they were walking the distance again. The next morning I hardly get up on my feet. Walk like a very old woman. The soles of my feet are swollen, a toe on my right foot is numb – a nerve in the sole of the foot seems to be on strike. I put my foot on the ground over 35,000 times, it was too much for him. It feels good to have given up.