I’m too fat for this shit – Brocken Challenge 2024

Bodyweight.

Is a thing for me since ever. If you are interested in a race report, scroll down.

According to my parents, I was not always chubby. But as far as I remember, I was always one of the non-ideal-body-shape people in school. I always carried this blob beneath my navel that I imagined being baby fat, I never got rid of. I was never really overweight. BMI was always fine. But I always felt fat. Not being fast and agile on land added to that feeling of clumsiness. I tried to accommodate in that by moving less and less and making a show getting out of a chair etc. With my beginning Asthma at 8 years, I stopped playing soccer (there was a time where I was the main goalie of my team of 6 year olds, no running, you know…) and took up swimming. The clean, humid air allowed me to push myself without getting out of breath. As with everything, I did this to excess, was in the pool around 7 hours a week, added weight training end the like. I was never fast enough to win anything of importance, but I maxed the swimming thing out for me and was happy with chasing my own PRs. As we know from seals and whales, moving in the water is not really worse with a few additional kg of body fat. But I got nasty nicknames and my girlfriend admitted, she was quite shocked when she saw me in swimming trunks for the first time. Apparently, my shirt choice covered the fat rolls very well.

Anyway, I was able to do things I loved with my body, like swimming and cycling, without too much effort, so I never really cared enough to cut on weight. And I decided that I am a water person, and all gravity infested sports on land were not made for me.

Fast forward to my third child, when I put on weight during pregnancy without giving birth then, so never lost it easily. My scale shouted 95kg in my face, and I was not able to bend sidewards because of fat rolls. This was enough to have me diet (as you know) to excess, lose 10kg in 10 weeks and take up running. I hated it though. The epiphany of a fun run took half a year of practicing a very slow jog twice a week for 30 minutes very late in the evening where nobody had to witness my ordeal.

Running more and more had me also shed weight, but I struggled with a good, healthy eating. It was either all or nothing. Well, a big lot or very little. I never really reached a stable behavior, but always struggled. Running around 200 miles per month then had me burn enough calories to eat whatever I wanted and not gain weight. This was great for the glutton in me. But very bad for my diet. I could keep this amount of training for about half a year and it gifted me the nicest, easiest, long runs and races ever. Soreness after the Brocken-Challenge? No. Running hundred miles and carrying a kid down the stairs without using the handrail the next day? Piece of cake. I really miss those times.

While pure dieting and a little jogging had me lose the first 10kg, I began to read about getting rid of body fat and got sucked in the universe of body builders who always try to balance a maximum of protein intake and a minimum of calories so the body will not be able to store any reserves. Of course, I also began some sort of weight training. Body weight in the first place. Mostly at home, some at work in a abandoned hall where some heavy equipment could be moved from left to right and the old crane was a good bar for pull ups. I did this whenever the cravings for food became too much to bare. This had my get my weight down to 78kg with a body fat of around 6%. I also tried the training site/app 2peaks that I got recommended by Bernie who supported me big time those days. When putting in my personal data, I got a note that the ideal body weight of a long distance runner of 1.84m height was about 73.5kg. Whoa. So, even with the 78kg I always felt like I needed to shed more weight in order to run better. And of course, every kg counts when you run. Going down from 80 to 78kg was a direct increase of performance by 2.5%. Try to reach that increase by training… Of course, this is only true of the two kg that are gone were entirely useless body fat. So for Brocken-Challenge 2016, I made an attempt to get lighter and reached 76kg with a strong diet again. Only, as I learned later, not all body fat is useless, superfluous. But for example the subskin-fat is a vital part in the immune system. Turned out, I weakened my body too much with the diet that I got sick with a cold a week before the race and had fever on race day.

So, I dropped the idea to get very light for running and tried to get comfortable where I was. And I also wanted to eat dessert again. For some years, I weighed in around 82kg which was still a weight I could carry through hundred milers, but the blob above the navel grew back. Yes, it was gone for a while, a thing that made me very, very happy and proud. Also the fact that less body weight and stronger legs had me leave a chair without effort in an instant. This meant so much freedom for me.

Then came the Blerch (see https://theoatmeal.com/), I ran less and ate more, self betrayal at its best that this would work out. I saw the scale climbing again. Figured, as long as I could run well, this is not a problem, and getting more and more into my old habits to stuff my face with whatever there is, mostly sweets. Ask my colleagues, there is hardly a time where I don’t have something to eat in my hand at my desk. I tried to lower my weight before significant races, but never really managed to. I ran the dreaded Brocken-Challenge last year with 88kg. And a partly ruptured calf. No fun. Then came the JUNUT. I was not fit for that race. But as it was cancelled at 80k in the year before, I had to do it. For the yellow jacket. For my quest to learn how far I can go. So I did it, overweight, undertrained, coming out of an injury. And I finished. So proud! But the tingling feeling in my feet the last 20k were less my macerated skin but nerves in the mid foot I pinched. It took three months to regrow the nerves so I could feel my middle toes again, to know if they are laying correctly in the shoe or if some is crossing its neighbor. Some severe pain in the middle foot had me fear a fatigue fracture. Got an xray right before our hike across the Alps and apparently, its not a fracture but Morton’s neuroma. Sigh. Sometimes painful, but harmless. In my book.

But all this had me not run for a very long time. I even lost all routine. So, I had many, many attempts to get into running again from fall last year, and every time there was something preventing me to get into a rhythm again. Silvester should have been another attempt to start with some short runs, only the house we stayed at was so infested with mites that I could not even climb stairs without my asthma spray. Another week with Cortisone spray followed and then I finally ran a bit here and there. Always the 80k in my head that I of course wanted to finish again. Without the pain from last year. Only, I weighed in at 92kg, sometimes even a bit more. My legs, muscles, joints and tendonds complained a lot. And I got out of breath easily. Had to start very, very slowly, and usually made it to the point where my lungs opened up. Sometimes not. Then I kept the initial crawl and retracted home like a beaten dog.

As Jan and Bernd who would stay at my place and run the Brocken-Challenge with me, also complained a lot about missing training, I felt in much better company. I heard and loved the song “Immer noch drauf” by Lumpenpack one of Jule’s favourite bands at the moment. They describe in the first verse the start of a running race with little training and a bigger belly. This became kind of the hymn for this race. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8tLQ3GstIQk

Brocken-Challenge 2024, here we go!

Ok, let’s get to the point. In the last week up to the race, I did not do any harm to my calves, even though I ran faster than what’s wise on my last training run on Thursday. But finally, sub 6min/km felt effortless. 5:30 still manageable. 5:00 possible without getting in a spiral of breathlessness. I reworked the slides for the briefing a bit here and there, put in the photos from Markus, Michael and Christoph who got up all the turn signs on Thursday. I made plans when the kids would come over to meet Jan and Bernd, arranged my backpack of dry clothes and towel to be sent up the Brocken, and it was Friday afternoon in the blink of an eye. There was a little adrenaline rush when I learned that there is none of the usual house technicians and I was supposed to not have my laptop in the front to show the route. But we managed with a telephone joker to have everything in place at 18:00. Even the slide about the Braunschweig-Goettingen-Challenge, a jubilee run end of May which is a must for me as it connects my two home towns. And because I made the route 😉 But 135k in May? Phew.

Anyway, the briefing was nice as ever. I loved the pushing sound of Markus and his Leon, even though they did not really match the meditative mood of the slide show of old race photos and (de-)motivationals that we show before the actual briefing. When I packed my stuff, helped one or two people with luggage problems, we wanted to get some pasta, but they ran out because so many people did not register, but ate anyway. Ooops, I did not register as well, so we hopped in the cars (thanks Bernd for taking my bike with us) and went home to have our own pasta party.

We set up the beds, ate some macaroni and aglio i olio, and were joined by Tom who wanted to spend the night at my place as well to witness the start as he does every year. Packing the race pack, sorting running clothes, stuffing on beet root, the usual routine. This time with Bernd, a nice addition to the team. We dropped to bed a little too late, set the alarm to 4 am, and tried to sleep. I could not. Too much adrenaline. Anxiety? Maybe. I turned left to right and back. Sometimes got fully awake in the idea to not have set an alarm. Pre-race routine. At some point, the alarm sounded for real, we got up, had proper breakfast and hopped in the car.

The three, eager to start a day on the road!

I wanted to be there early, to not have to find a wonky parking spot. And we managed, sat in the car for another 20 minutes and talked. Finally got out in the ‘cold’ of the morning and signed in. Even though I had a successful bathroom visit at home, something began to move and I had to retract in the forest for a dump. Gladly, I could borrow Bernd’s headlamp, as I did not take one. Got this over with and joined the others at the camp fire, say hello to Tanya and some more familiar faces when we realized Markus began his talk on the iconic start rock. So we hurried over, some last hugs with Tom and off we were.

It was really warm. For February. 9 DegC at the start. Should go down to 0 at the summit in the night, but winds would make it feel like 5DegC below zero. I had quite some warm clothes in my pack not to suffer the same warmth deficit as last year, this time without hope of being rescued by Stefanie who had a seminar that weekend. I took poles. Also a lesson learned from last year. Those might have saved me big time with my calf. The only vest to really carry the cheat sticks was the big one I used on my Harz adventure, the Chiemgauer100 and the JUNUT. So, no bladder to fill, but two bottles in the front and much more space to load unnecessary stuff. I tried to not excess this time and somehow managed. I wore long tights, short trail Injinis, the common boxers, gaiters, Superior 3.5 that got me through the JUNUT with little toe damage, the TU shirt and the Brocken Marathon longsleeve that is my best option since 2013 when I need covered arms. A buff on the head and that is it. Ah, no. I wore gloves at the start that went into the vest pretty quickly after the start.

We hobbled through the Goettingen forest with all the others, not passing as many as in former years, but still working through the field after passing the gate rather late. Somewhere in the mud Jan and I had lost Bernd. Which was a pity as I wanted to wish him good luck on his first attempt on 80k. He is a marathoner, and below. But sometimes we can convince him to try longer, like at the Katzensprung where he reached 73k. On a level concrete bike path. Let’s see what mud and elevation do to him.

On the drop to Mackenrode I wanted to let it roll as always. And Jan kept up. We passed Sanna who would be somewhere around us all day. I kept back to talk a bit with her and Jan went off. It got lighter and lighter and on the climb after Landolfshausen, I finally got him again. We ran along the Seulinger Warte, down to the Seeburger See and talked. This is one of the few occasions through the year where we really get to exchange what’s going on in each others life. I love that. We were just a little to fast. I had several anxious glances at my watch, 5:20, 5:30… This was not good. But also common in this stretch of the BC. And it was downhill. So we ran. And I had to push to keep up. Yes, Jan is in better shape even though he trained less than me. But he did not put on weight, as far as I know.

We passed the lake, worked through Ruedeshausen, passed the worlds best garden and some more runners and rolled into the second aid station with a grin, but also sweaty and out of breath. Aschu was a welcome sight there, Jan needed to tape a toe and was quicker than I could down a cup of tea. Wow. Grabbed another snack and pushed on to finally leave the asphalt and get traily. I had to get something out of my shoe and off was Jan again on the climb up to the Kapelle and through Rhumspringe. I worked my way to the Rhumequelle, got caught by Sanna and took my time at the aid station. Last year, I was quitting at this point. Not today. They even brought out the cheese cake right before I wanted to leave, so I stayed for a few pieces, and had Jan disappear on the uphill.

Around here I noticed a new kind of pain, chafing in a spot I never had it before. Yes, my tights have the tendency to slide down my leg so my inner thighs rub against each other, the more I weigh, the more I need to make sure the pants are up and there is only fabric on fabric friction. But now the chafing was more on the back of my legs, right below the buttocks. Darn. I pulled the pants up quite often, but this had no real effect on that rubbing. I figured it cannot be that bad, but at some point, I gave in, took out the bag balm and relubed. Also those spots. This helped a bit, but the damage was already done. Lateron, under the shower, I learned that my buttocks were really hanging down producing a skin fold. Argh! Age or weight? I don’t know and I don’t care, I just don’t want this to be. Another thing that reminded me of all the futile attempts to lose weight. Meh.

I did not really want to push, we had already overdone this part on the first quarter of the race. Sigh. So I walked up the forest road, finished drinking and eating, got out the poles again and worked my way uphill. Running was not so much fun, but as there was a hill, I was fine with that. Some people around me triggered some sort of competitiveness in me, so I ran the downhills, the flats and even the slightly uphill parts, as in my book poles make this possible. It was really hard work. Every now and then, I saw Jan in the distance. He was pretty close after the Einsiedlerhof, but pulled away again on the rolling hills leading to Barbis. My quest to walk only ‘steeper’ uphills came to an end when I passed the tractor exhibition and reached the long long road through Barbis. Someone else in front of me also walked, so I took this as an excuse to not push anymore, until I got bored with the sidewalk and grumpily hobbled along and down to the aid station.

There were many cheering people. Not only here in Barbis, where this is a common thing that friends meet their runners at the halfway point and give applause to everyone else as well. But also on the rest of the way, we had many people giving some nice words. Only one guy somehow put up music at every intersection he was waiting for his runner, who apparently had a similar pace than me. At the Seeburger See, this was some very awful Schlager, in Rollshausen, it was at least HBloxx, but somehow it did not go well with the silence along the entire way. We had nature’s sounds and our feet. I even felt bad for the clicking of my poles. Yes, there were many runners wearing headphones, but for me the music was always some kind of disturbance. And at the same intersections there was always Christoph, who could not run this year, as he was ill, but he decided to support Michael, who was always a bit behind me but the final stretch. Christoph always made sure we saw that he had no business with the music, but I somehow thought they were sharing a ride. But no. Just coincidence of their runners’ speed.

Entering the Harz was again an attempt to be carried along by others as I tried to not have Martin and Lisa pull away who passed me when I got another stone out of my shoe. A tad before Wasserscheide, I could no longer keep up and had them pull away, only to see that they were taking longer walking breaks too. Not on the downhill for me. And the Steinaer Tal is not really steep. So I got into a grind to ‘run’ as long as was manageable without my heart rate shooting up, then walk until the next landmark I set when starting to walk. Only, I found myself to find something interesting, to take a photo, read a sign, whatever, only to miss the point to start running again. Darn subconsciousness…

Oh, look! A tree! I need to take a photo. Wasn’t it that tree that I wanted to start running again at?

At Barbis, I refilled one of my bottles with the remaining container when they had to make new tea. Turned out, this was salty. And not really broth or anything, but warm salt water? Ugh! And just that morning I told Jan and Bernd about my discovery of how good a nauseant warm salt water is when I tried to fill on salt right before a training run on a day of eating sweets. I tried to avoid that right bottle, but tried it every now and then, as I could not really imagine that they gave out salt water. I have to investigate on that… Much later, coming up to Lausebuche, I finally emptied that bottle and had it filled with proper tea. Phew.

And I found Jan again. Made a push. And right before I would reach him, there was a runner coming down the valley and I figured this was Aschu, who went up from the Oderstausee to see some old friends on the route he gave the briefing for so many times until I took this over from him. He turned and we walked together, all three, to the Jagdkopf. This was a fun distraction. At the VP, I fell into a chair, got a blanket and had my bottle filled with tea over and over, got a bottle of coke, and whatever I could reach on the table. Really good were the marshmallows. I’d never taken them as race nutrition in the store, but here I was picking all of them out of the mix and was really glad to have found something that worked, as my stomach signaled some dissatisfaction since Barbis.

Jan was looking really miserably, and walked off and I was sure, I’d reach him in an instant once I got out of my chair. But he was gone. Kai left the aid station together with me and we exchanged some words, even though I did not really feel like talking at that moment. So I pulled away on the longer slight downhill and tried to stay ahead, ha. Did not work out in the end, but made for some ‘fast’ kms in that second Entsafter. Every once in a while I could see Jan on the long stretches ahead, but lost any will to torture myself, only to have him pull away again. At the Lausebuche I took some time with the soup, another bottle of coke and Haferschnitte. Filled my bottles and walked on. I still had the intent to run anything downhill and this kind of worked out. But my quads were already very stiff and the knees started to hurt. I used the poles by putting more and more weight on them, only to find my elbows complain where the tendons attach. Sigh. On the flats I ran as much as I could, which was not much. Had some people pass me. They were all much wiser to not push initially, so they got plenty in the tank here on the many uphills.

I directed one other struggling guy over the dangerous road in Koenigskrug and there we were at the second to last aid station. I made sure to tell them that they made a good job (as I always do, but those were running an aid station for the first time, and did not have much reference) and went on, in the intent to get this thing over with soon. When I was 50m along the road, I heard a familiar voice ‘Nummer 8’, Tanya reached the aid station as well. I like to run with her, but traditionally, I am much faster than her. Not this time. Not with all the weight I carry and the little training I managed. Again, I pushed, did not want to get caught. Angrily walked up the very long hill after Koenigskrug, not without shouting someone in the correct direction who was about to run the spanish round to Oderbrueck downtown. I even got him down the correct path to Oderbrueck (sorry for the wrong hint in the briefing, it’s not possible to see the powerlines at that intersection, I apologize for that!) and we hobbled through the swamp which usually is covered by ice and snow. This time we got wet feet. And caught Michael, who made sure to make it through with dry feet, which took him way longer. I love the food the Matzkes put on in Oderbrueck. So I stayed for a bit longer, chatted, filled up with tea and coke again, and ate quite some russische Zupftorte.

Number 9, 8, 7 meeting at the Matzke outpost.

Then Tanya came flying through. ‘It’s running so well, I cannot stop now…’ and off were both my plans to stay ahead and to finish in well known company. I made an attempt to get her, but had to face it, she was faster than me. I could not catch up. Too much weight on too little training… Another woman was in between us who made funny bursts of really fast running with her poles but only for a few tens of steps. I figured she was chasing Tanya, but later saw Marcel already coming down the hill and exchanging some words with Tanya and then applauding that woman who jumped aside and he apologized big time. Apparently, she was not part of the party. When he reached me, he simply turned around and went up again. As we talked about this and that it dawned on me that he did not change his mind about the direction, but simply did not want me to need to stop to talk. Very attentive. And very mush my brain at that time. I went on, passed said woman and worked up to the Brockenbahn. Never ever was this section as long and steep when there was snow. There really was no end. I remembered when I had my four day Harz adventure and saw this road without snow for the first time (actually, I must have seen it during the BC reverse in summer back in the days, but that was down!) and did not recognize it the slightest bit. Up at the railroad tracks, I was completely alone. Felt like the last man on earth, or at least the last person in the long line of runners. I was actually glad when two younglings (not by the number of years but their effortlessness) passed me and disappeared in the fog.

not producing any fog. Sigh.

I then met Marina with kid and partner and Christoph. Another good time, nice words and no intention to push myself. The end of the tracks could have come sooner, but I had a stop to record a passing train for Tom, then turned to Brockenstrasse and decided that all people around me have to endure the pole clicking now. I went up in a solid walking pace and passed a group of young guys, kind of where I would choose the other side of the street. But they were done by the uphill and asked me if I was up here before, and I told them that this is my nineth edition of the Brocken-Challenge, but all they wanted to know was how long they have to climb still. Maybe they thought I did the climb nine times that day? I don’t know and don’t really care.

Up at the station, a train was just rolling in. When I briefly saw one earlier making it’s way up the Brocken when I was in Koenigskrug, I had the idea to make a photo and blame the train for the fog on the summit. But here I was totally in the fog and the train did not push out any steam as it was just rolling into the station by it’s momentum. Sigh. I made a video anyway, another reason to stop for a while.

doesn’t look nearly as foggy as it really was.

Then there was no more delaying of a finish, and I went up the last few meters. The finish crew made a very good job in acoustically marking the finish area. One guy was constantly rotating this loud Knarre. When they saw me, some Partytroeten joined and I was finally there. Made the tour to the Brockenstein and had a cyclist take a few photos. Then quickly into the warmth. The stairs were really horrible. But I managed, found Jan after some seconds of disorientation and tried to make some room on the floor for all my stuff.

An important part of the BC, which I had to skip last year

The rest was routine. A very nice routine. Kind of why I do this thing over and over. The warm shower, treating my chafing with zinc ointment, getting food and drinks with minimizing the steps on the stiff legs. Chatting here and there, enjoying the afterglow, and the dry and warm clothes. And that I did not have to run on. And not think about the way down. Getting a bit anxious when and if Bernd will arrive here. Applauding many many people who reached the Goethesaal after me. Sorting all my stuff. Sending finish photos.

waiting for the bus to start

And then Bernd came. It was Tanya who saw him first and joyfully shouted ‘Bernd!’ through the hall. It made me really happy to see him up here in good spirits. And he was walking without a limp or anything. He made a really smooth impression. Wow. More food, drinks, finally a massage by Rado. More people reaching their finish and the day came to an end. Tanya was a bit nervous to not make it down to the bus in time, so she started a tad early and we followed with the last bunch of people. Out into the ‘cold’ darkness was a bit harsh in the beginning and I was glad to have taken my expedition down jacket. And poles. I definitely needed them. Although the massage was really good, my quads were still quite stiff when stepping down. The Rampe down from the Brockenbahn was painful. But company was nice and we just trotted down, had a few moments in the Hochmoorbaude and when Markus came, we hobbled to the bus and were brought safely back to the start. Another really nice adventurous day on the route of the Brocken-Challenge is in the books.

I love the half sleep on the way back.

Nordic Walking on an empty stomach – JUNUT 23 race report

Admittedly, I still had some beef with this race, see Cursus Interruptus – JUNUT 22 race report, from last year. So, I needed to do this. Even if just to get the imprint on my yellow jacket. This one was set.

Only, training did not really happen, and, maybe even more important, my quest not to eat any sweets between new year and easter did not have my weight drop like I intended. OK, substituting sweets by nuts does not really cut on calories. But this was so much more healthy. Well.

Kind of frustrated, I approached the Brocken-Challenge and then had quite a desaster happening, see It’s just pain – Brocken-Challenge 2023 race report, which was followed by three weeks of no running, and wearing compression panties, hoping my calf would heal up completely. It seemed to do so, I started to run cautiously still with compression on the calves and with poles. I would use them at the JUNUT anyway, so I better train for that. Why didn’t I think of poles for the Brocken-Challenge? I have no idea. They might have saved me big time back then.

Anyway, preparation was very patchy. Like, more holes than fabric. I then tried the reverse taper, so just ramp up my mileage as much as possible until race day. Easter offered the opportunity to run 25k and 13k back to back. A week before the race. Less. It was a gamble, and I won. Those runs were really nice, and I felt good. Not as fast, as I was a year ago, but I needed to get this monkey off my back anyway. I. Will. Not. Run. Like. Last. Year. Period.

Race plan was to not die and not quit. And get this patch onto my jacket. Andre somehow tried to sneak in my head again, proposing a top finish. But I tried to concentrate on taking it slow and told everyone who stopped long enough in my vicinity that I will not run like last year. That I will not stick to Michael and Christoph like last year. I will pick a spot in the back of the field and hang on.

I had an AirBnB with Stefanie nearby Dietfurt that should also act as a base for her, who agreed to crew me through the entire round. Which was a huge commitment, and I tried to find a way for her to get some sleep and not drive endless kilometers back and forth on the course. Not so easy with these distances. I remembered how long our shuttle was from Matting to Dietfurt last year. Almost an hour. OK, we had almost 10 hours of running done by then.

We took our time on the way down to Dietfurt and somehow missed the deadline to sign in. I was pretty worried, only to learn that it is still possible to collect my bib the next morning. Phew. The briefing was again a huge get together, so many people I shared some miles with, and many more who I recognized from their fame or posts on social media. We got two seats next to Michael and Dani, got the necessary route information, especially the fact that the Deutsche Bahn will not have us cross the railroad tracks at the usual spot, an ‘unbeschrankter Bahnuebergang’, because it was under construction right now and there was no gate. Sigh. German bureaucracy at its best. Dinner was the same as last year, but I could stomach it very well last year, so this was a plus.

In our room, I distributed all my gear, and when I say this, imagine a huge pile, on the floor and tried to make up my mind what I wanted to wear, what would go into the drop bag (which was a backup for when Stefanie would not be at all stations, but would also mean that this gear is not available at intermediate stations, even when she will be there. What should be in my pack for changes on the road, rain whatnot. A box with drinks and food, bag balm, first aid and the like. A pack with all the remaining running gear. Spare shoes and poles in the van.
All this took much longer than I wanted, but in the end we got a good night of sleep until the next morning, where this huge thing should take its start.

Getting my bib and the (black, yeah!) drop bag was again a nice experience. Apparently, the later you come the more you will be known 😉 A last bathroom break, lubing up. Packing the drop bag and putting it on the trailer with all the other duffle bags. So many starters. Wow. Then to the Chinesenbrunnen getting more and more nervous. Photos, some chatter here and there. Many people to exchange some nice words. Finally 11am came and we were sent on our way by the mayor with his gun. Bye, Stefanie! See you in 25k.

Dietfurt, right before the start. I was trying to not think about all the distance ahead.

Having a crew is something I am not used to, although we practiced this already last summer in the Alps. Usually, I do my runs self sufficient. Rely on the aid stations of course. Try to exploit all that is available. Drop bags, getting my own stuff in looped courses, sometimes pubs on the way or strangers, other peoples crews. Having my own, personal support meant much more planning, and made me feel like I should run in a more planned manner than I usually do. When will I be at the next aid station? Of course, I have my expectations how long a certain stretch takes, but I learned that this expectation is very rarely met. And I don’t care. Well, when I am slower than I hoped for, this can get to me. But here, I made a commitment to be at the next aid station at a certain time. 25k? 3 hours. How I got to this number? I don’t know. Take 10km/h and add some time because of these freakingly steep ascents.

This struggle went on through the entire race. Of course, I should be somehow predictable to her, but in an ultra you never know and setting goal times for sections is a recipe for disaster. In most my runs, I go out too fast and have one of the many deaths which makes me come to senses. That I cannot push through these very long distances. To gain access to my humility. To take what the route is throwing at me. To become reactive in a good way. Encounter difficulties and solve them. I love the feeling to have an answer to stuff that is happening. But I need to let go of any forcing mine onto the course. Here I was, running after some appointment that I set myself. I don’t want Stefanie to wait all too long for me, but not having her around would also put a big dent in my spirits when I expected it.

All this mixed into the voices that told me not to go too slow. To make up some cushion for the cutoffs. What? What were the cutoffs? Was I in danger? As long as I reach Matting not all too late after the opening of the Donau crossing, I’ll be fine with whatever pace I can manage afterwards. So I told myself. But I didn’t do the math. Didn’t learn the cutoffs by heart. And didn’t want to get out the mandatory copy of the race chart. So I did a lot of calculations without really knowing anything. Like my own projected pace for the next few hours, the elevation of the stretches to come, cutoff times. All I managed was the distance to the next aid station, and some vague estimate on how long this will take me. You bet this didn’t get better with the hours.

I had a song in my head for most of the run: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVV8AYvRj68

Along the Altmuehl, we had the stretches of level running, interspersed with the occasional climb onto the plateau or the drop back down again, sometimes with a bridge, to look at the rock walls of the valley from the other side. Last year, I was surprised how much level running there was on a run that had huge elevation numbers on their advertisements. We ran all these in blistering 5:30 min/km pace. As Christoph knows only on or off. And I could hang on. Not this year. Still, I was in a competitive mood. Every runner pulling ahead was getting to me. Once I overtook someone (mostly on the drops, the downhill running did not get worse with my weight, but I feared this to damage my quads more than last year. I bolted them down anyway) I tried to pull away as far as I could.

So I pushed myself. Against everything I promised to myself. I couldn’t let go. And found myself more and more hot, exhausted. My legs getting heavy. My tummy too. I got out of breath on the climbs, while walking. Sigh.

I was always wondering if the people I overtook were early starters. Last year, we crossed a huge crowd of them on the Keltenwall. Hopped happily through the mud when they looked like a long line of pilgrims with their poles and rain capes. This time, I had a single runner around me. He was faster on the uphills, I was faster downhill and could not keep up the running on the flats as long as he could. My quest to get ahead never worked out and in the end I had to let him leave me behind. Darn.

The Tatzelwurm, an important landmark early in the run. It’s pretty steep in parts.

Usually, during a race briefing, I tame my insecurity with all the professionally looking runners around me by telling myself that I will place ahead of most of them. This year I was not so sure. The Chiemgauer showed me that even with a lot of effort, I can end up under the falling finish chute. So I kept pushing. Hanging onto people, trying to make up some miles before I fall apart. Thereby accelerating the falling apart significantly. This was not wise. But I couldn’t help.

With the Tatzelwurm, a really nice wooden foot bridge, and the kite starting ramp, we crossed important landmarks that I remembered from reports I read in the preparation for last year. I was surprised that they were so early in the race. Apparently, most runners lose the mojo to take pictures of significant stuff along the route the longer they are on their feet. In hindsight, I cannot blame them. Producing a good photo album becomes less and less of a concern when you are busy pulling your feet out of the mud puddles or trying to keep the bite of a cereal bar down because you need your stomach to function well on the next aid station.

If I had a kite…

I was soo happy when we rolled into Riedenburg. Time to stop. To regroup. To be held. Cared about. Stefanie even got butter to make the Brezn much better to eat. Iso in one bottle, water and apple juice in the other and off I went. Having several people being much faster at the station than I was. A reoccurring pattern. But most of the time I got some of them quickly after as the rest did some positive effect to my running.

Getting the Brezn buttered. Loved it!

The following picture was taken after the break. I was really damaged when I reached that station. Always dreading the distance laying ahead. But that is part of the ultra package for me.

first aid (station). I was already done by then.

Between Riedenburg and Kehlheim, I was still convinced to finally get in a good rhythm, that I would be running fast and efficient at some point. And forced it as long as possible and collapsed into an angry walk when I could not stand it anymore. On top of my missing fitness and superfluous weight, the trails were really muddy in this section. Like slipping left and right with every step. Like no pushing forward, as this would just mean the foot to slide backwards.

The poles helped a bit, but I needed to walk many many kms that were entirely runnable from a grade perspective. Not with this goo. Funnily, my feet stayed dry most of the day. They were damp a bit, but the water from the mud did not enter the shoes.

Shoes. I was running under the Altra team RED label, even though they did not want to have me anymore this year. I was too lazy to ask them to convert me to ASFM in the club section. But this way, I did not need to bother which representative clothes with an Altra logo I should wear when. And could show my Suunto loyalty with my buff. And my stunt badassery with the shirt 😉

I have my difficulties with the Altra Superior since Version 4.0. They somehow ditched the straight big toe with that model. Then made them successively thinner until my square feet did not fit in the shoes anymore, even when going up half a size. I complained about this big time, but apparently, people running in minimally cushioned shoes don’t need room for toes. I got black toenails on the pinkies on longer runs with the 5.0. And on my back to back longish runs a week out I got the nail of the left big toe pretty irritated due to the limited shoe box of the Superior 5.

So, for this race, I needed something that works. I used the KingMT in the Alps, but this was only 100 miles (ha!) and technical most of the time, and finally, the reinforcement of the toe box came loose and pushed into my toe nails at the end of the Chiemgauer100. So I inspected the two pairs of Superior 3.5 that brought me through the STUNT100 twice. And which refused to die even though I used them for years on my training runs. One pair at home, one at work. They had only minor holes. And the outer sole did not have that much tread in parts. But they were my best bet for this adventure, so I took them. And had the Kings, a pair of Superior 5 and something else as replacement shoes in my box in the van. But the Superior 3.5 worked so well that I wore one pair for the first 140k, the other for the final 100k. Good decision. Despite the very end maybe.

Many level sections were too slippery to run on.

Approaching Kehlheim, I met Max at a point where I was struggling a lot. I expected him to be far far away, so his sight was a good motivation. We chatted for a long while, and apparently moved so fast that Stefanie missed our turn at the Donaudurchbruch where she wanted to take spectacular photos. Even though we joked about it, there was no way to turn around and do the last 500m again.

All in all, I gave in more and more to walking. Of course I ran the downhills. And sometimes the level sections. But not for too long. And ascent meant anything with the slightest positive incline. Fortunately, I had the poles. They helped so much. With fast walking. With starting to run again. And with taking load off my legs while running. When I was running. Which I did not for long stretches.

So happy to have some company by Max and approaching Kehlheim.

On the long stretch into Kehlheim, I had to let Max go ahead. Running was no fun anymore. I tried and stopped, tried and stopped. At least, it was now less than 200k to go. Whoa. Many bad thoughts in my head. Having Stefanie on the bike around me helped that I did not lay down on the asphalt and simply stopped doing anything. So I pushed and stopped, hobbled again, got exhausted again and walked. All this through the crowded city. One woman asked us what we were doing here, because she sees so many zombies in running clothes. When she learned that this was about a fifth of the route, she was quite shocked. OK. That was funny.

At the aid station, I tried to stuff my face with everything I could grab and which did not look all too bad. And some more. Was happy about the green tea and downed about a litre of it. And some coke. And MnMs. Whatever I found in the box. Some apples? I don’t remember. But I felt miserable. And saw many people enter the station and leave again. I got up, expressed my gratitude and got a goodbye hug. Which pressed that tiny bit too hard on my belly. I felt the dreaded inflow of saliva into my mouth and the stomach rumbling. I checked for any buckets and decided the best bet would be the toilet and not the bushes around the place. I reached it, got the lid up, even closed the cabin door. But could not get down quickly enough. Oh, I ate beet root. That was some sight. I waited until I was entirely empty. And was a bit happy that some of the food did not reappear. So, I got some calories at last, no?

If you look closely, you see why force feeding in an ultra is not a good idea.

It took another sort of strength to clean all this mess up. But having someone else do it was out of the question. I stumbled into the light again and explained my misery to Stefanie. No way to eat anything now, so I just made sure the bottles were full and I got enough bars and potatoes for the next 30k until Matting. Which would be partly in the dark already.

I just barfed my guts out. A mere 190k to go…

Maybe this was the one point that told me to give in to the course and have me come to senses with all the pushing. I walked up the bridge, had a rather hurtful goodbye with Stefanie and did not even try to run. Just walked and tried to relax my stomach. When there was a small drop, I even hobbled a few steps but immediately converted to walking when I reached the flat. Up the hill along all the small chapels I realized that my legs were pretty fine. Letting go of the pressure also felt good. So after the climb I could get into some very slow jog. Again in some nice forest trail. Yes, level stretches of asphalt are not for me.

I again remembered sections from last year, but no longer compared them to now. Just hobbled on and somehow got in a flow. A very viscous one. Night fell earlier and there was no nice sunset, but I made progress, even passed people, but no longer spent any thought about placement and the like. I don’t remember how I got my stomach to cooperate again, but I had no more problems. And at some point, Stefanie told me that she was in Bad Abbach eating a pizza. A pizza would be nice, I better get my ass to Matting quickly. And somehow I always thought that I should be there already. I did not trust the distance on my watch and my mind expected Matting to be around the corner any time.

But we had to cross Bad Abbach first. Sigh, still some stretch to go. But then in the dark road with the occasional struggling runner, there was someone standing outside with a pizza box. Stefanie! I did not expected her to be on the route, but apparently, we passed exactly her pizzaria. Cool! I stopped and she offered Pizza. Melanzane! I was not so sure about my stomach but tried and realized this was it. So I ate quite a lot of it. Other runners approached curiously and got a piece as well, so Stefanie was left with an empty box, but the shop lady who watched us already prepared another one.

‘There was a lady in Bad Abbach distributing Pizza!’

This encounter lifted my spirits big time. Or the molten cheese. Both. The last hop to Matting went much easier than many miles in the beginning. Somehow I was always surrounded by people without really getting into alliances but I felt in a field of like minded when we flew into the firefighters station, I got my drop bag and a nice corner to change completely. And get more pizza!

One of the guys who entered a tad after me told others or his crew that there was a lady in Bad Abbach who distributed pizza, and how awesome that was. Nice!

My digestion system seemed really well again. I even tried the bathroom part successfully. I took a lot of time for the entire stop. Made sure, I cared about everything of importance, and was more and more looking forward to the unknown to come. First rebirth of the race.

Well fed, drank a lot, changed in dry clothes. Ready for the night!

I made sure I wore enough clothes for the night stretch to come. And then, after over an hour, Stefanie and I left the station, thanked each and every helper and walked down to the Donau. To the boat. In the briefing, Gerhard said that they keep a list of who enters the station when and that this order is also important when there is a queue at the boat. I took so long that all the others who stood already in full gear on the pier had to have a lower priority. Against all my usual habits, I was about to fight for my place on the next ferry, only to learn that there were enough places for everyone this time.

So I was equipped with the life vest, which sat very tightly over my running vest, and I was afraid that the bottles could leak with this pressure. Luckily they did not. The crossing was as unspectacular as I expected it to be. Yes, this is kind of a nice gimmick to the race, but we could also have gone the extra mile and use a bridge.

Fortunately, the vest did not drain my bottles…

The night was much warmer than I expected and also I seemed to have recovered quite well in the break that I easily pulled away from my boat crew and took off one piece of clothing after the other. To circumvent the construction site at the railroad crossing, we had to make a detour, and not immediately climb after the Donau, but stay a kilometer at the bank and then use a fairly easy climb. Only some dork took away the sign that should lead us into the trail. I scouted the road too long up, and met some people when going down again, but had certainty that this particular path into the woods was the right one.

Then came some stretches of forest roads in the dark. Something I am most used to. And so kind of ordinary that there is not much memory of it. Stefanie and I discussed the options for crewing in the night and I could convince her that her sleep is very important to both of us, and that she should not just sleep for an hour and half and then hurry to the next aid station, but go home and meet me after the night. The next stop was the last one I would meet her, before being on my own until the new day.

Not everybody was as happy as me. Soup!

Pielenhofen had a very good soup. I got a refill on snickers and a beer or two. It was good to have Stefanie here again, to not need to think too much. Only later it dawned on me that Kai was done here, which made me feel bad for him.

Being out in the night felt good, and i simply worked my way to dawn. More dark forest roads, the occasional runner on the way. Nothing of larger importance. Only, my stomach kept acting up again. At one aid station I could not really down anything with a good feeling, and so tried to drink some sugary apple juice I put in on of the bottles in Kehlheim as far as I remember. This made my guts tumble big time and I emptied my belly with a roar that will have impressed all the deers around me. And the runners behind me on one of the switchbacks.

Eating was really a thing. Usually, I love the buffet at ultras and eat a lot and everything intermixed. Not this time. I needed to carefully choose, test, and more than once decline something that I already took a bite of. This is really against my usual self. I tend to finish not only my own plate. Having leftovers or, more evil, throwing away food, as a no go. But I had no choice.

Survived the night, had Stefanie back.

Schmidmuehlen was my first meeting with Stefanie, and I was oh so happy that she already had my boxes in the cozy aid station. I needed to get out of the wet clothes and shoes from the night. Airing my feet was soo good! I even ate and drank a bit, cannot really remember. But she somehow had me get some fluids and then asked me if I wanted her to massage my feet. What a love proof. Massaging unwashed macerated feet that just ran 140k in the same shoes and socks. Wow. I laid back on the slim bench, got a chair to support my arm that I would not roll down and closed my eyes. Just for ten minutes, I told her. In the blink of an eye, she asked me if I wanted to extend my sleep by another 10 minutes and I made it twenty. Apparently the dry clothes, the gentle massage of my feet and dozing away was exactly what I needed in that moment.

I felt really well rested. Enough to have a look at the buffet. Which was looking really great now. Not so much when I entered what seemed like a full day ago. I tried the famous pasta salad, had my bottles refilled, went to the bathroom and on my way out, grabbed a piece of cake, which turned out to be lemon cake, much more sour than I like it, but I soldiered through it, although my stomach made clear that we were not in safe waters yet.

closed my eyes for 35 minutes. Fresh as new!

When I started to train with poles last year for the JUNUT, I asked all my reliable sources about the magic tricks they learned over the years to make the most out of the cheat sticks. Matthias told me to never use the loops on downhills. He is a mountaineer among other sports, so I figured this is essential on rocky, rooty alpine trails. But I made a habit out of it, to declick the poles whenever I ran down some slope. It felt a bit weird, all the more as I heavily rely on the loops for propulsion from my cross country skiing habits. Getting near Hohenberg and no longer really at all my senses, I forgot about that. I also had some company, so I did not pay that much attention to the trail, which was a plus with the state of my legs. Only, we came to a short downhill section, only 15 Meters, but they were pretty muddy. OK, mud was my companion for quite a while, so I did not really register that. Until I slipped with both feet. My left arm had the weight on my pole and as I tried to catch me, I saw the pole bending into a half circle and finally snap. Darn! Poles were essential to my running here. Also, I really liked those extra light things. I even liked their color by now.

I was angry at myself to not have taken the loops off the poles. And frustrated that I destroyed this particularly expensive piece of my equipment. And I was a bit embarrassed to have a witness for all this. Then I realized how much I tore my shoulder with this fall. The poles really are sturdy, even if they don’t look like that. I remembered, having the arm straight up in the air, hooked to the pole, as I slid down the mudslide. The impact when all my weight hang at the pole was pretty hard. I shook it off, and tried to not lose my mojo over the pole, as I knew the old poles, the heavy ones, the ones I could no longer fold as they collected to much aluminium oxide in their joints, were just a hop away in Stefanie’s van. This was really good to know, because I could not imagine going on with one pole, or to McGuiver something with the broken one as Ecki did.

I put the poles away, concentrated on the joy to meet Stefanie and have a break, and made my way to the Vereinsheim in Hohenburg. The hop over the street barrier was by no means as ugly as I imagined, maybe because I was met right before. So happy about the support!

The mean Leitplanke. I was just happy about the welcome.

After the cozy athmosphere in Schmidmuehlen, Hohenberg felt a bit cold and not that inviting. Which might have to do with my inner state and that much more people were in Schmidmuehlen, celebrating the end of the (first) night, and here, we were more or less alone. But this had me get a rather quick turnover, eat, drink a bit, refill and off I was.

‘How do you feel?’

Getting on the road again, now with poles that I will have to carry in my hands at all times, and with the little break was a little hard. But when I worked my way up and waved the GöPi goodbye, I was again on a very nice winding trail which had me forget my heavy legs quickly. This was trail runners heaven here!

World’s best crew’s van.

All my emotionalism went into the pure joy to be here, have all those rocks to hop over, the views to look at. And the certainty that I will have this for quite a while still. I loved it.

I loved this section, could have been high up in the Alps.

Right when the legs started to feel heavy again, I found a bench with a table that had a map of the entire Jurasteig screwed to it. My pause point. I got the pack off, got my legs up and simply looked at the map, the surroundings and had my mind wander off. I was so happy with the solitude, the silence, the presence to simply be here.

This thing is huge!

This place also had me admire the task I was just facing. This immense, but not endless loop around a region I did not know before, but came to like a lot over the last day. At some point, I faced the choice to put on some more clothes or go on to stay warm enough, so I reassembled my stuff and went on without too much of a problem to get moving again. I found my ‘this can go on forever’ tempo. In this mood, the day passed.

At one of the many climbs to yet another hill, I found a huge rock as the summit and was pondering to sit on it for a longer break and enjoy the view, but I was again too much focused on progress. All the more I liked the bench behind the rock that commanded me to take a break for real. Apparently, getting this from someone else, be it a bench, made it much easier to step back and relax a bit.

I was very happy to have someone tell me to take a break!

And then I rolled down to Kastl. Hundred miles in the bank. From now on the road will be much more empty when all the short distance runners will have stopped. Again, before the aid station I tried to get some food in my stomach to wake it up and be able to eat through the aid station buffet. Did not work. The bar would not go down well. Drinking felt awful too. Dang, for how long did this not really eating thing go on now? Since Kehlheim. Was it 24 hours already? Maybe. I needed calories. And to finally settle my stomach. The second night was around the corner, and I began to get a bit anxious how I would survive it.

Rolling into Kastl, did not really manage to eat or drink properly since Kehlheim now.

I went into the station and hated the stairs immediately, knowing I will have to get down when I wanted to continue. I was really happy about the new rule that 239k runners could not simply stop here and get a short finish, but once I registered for the entire thing, I had to go full circle on it. So, I did not spend too much thought about all those corpses who just finished their run. I was warned beforehand that this particular atmosphere killed the race for several runners who were struggling when reaching Kastl in the years before. But was I struggling? Besides the nutrition part, I was pretty fine.

Stefanie got the food box from the van, for the case I would not like any of the aid station food, still, I browsed the buffet and was strongly drawn to a plate of quarters of hard boiled eggs. Eggs is one of the few foods, I would never pack for a race. Never. But here I was, looking at the eggs and hearing the growls of my stomach. So, skeptically, I took one and put it in my mouth. This was gold! It stayed down and I felt the hunger getting overwhelming.

I don’t know how many eggs I ate, but I did not stop before the plate was empty. Then broadened my focus and found buns with cheese. The most simple ones, but there was butter on it. This was so much what my body wanted. And another one and another one. I remember, there was something out of my box I started with before the eggs took over. That was of no interest anymore. Eggs and buns. Hooray! I was soo happy to have my digestion system back on track. Wow!

Some decide to stop here. But that was not my intention. They had eggs!

Now came the interesting part. I had checked hundred miles on trail several times. 184k in a 24h race on a flat sports ground. But I never went straight through two nights and this long. And the second night was one of the major things, I wanted to experience here. So, head first I went on as it became dark again. The stomach rebirth was really important to this. Still, I had to work for the distance.

Also, surrounding runners were still there, and I was not all too sure how much of walking I can afford, or how much I have to push. I tried to not get too slow and tried to progress as fast as possible without destroying myself. I liked the region leading up to Habsberg, but it was all uphill and the pushing took its toll. When I climbed the stairs, awaiting Stefanie’s face every instant, I felt the stomach turning again. There was a cat on the stairs whose eyes nicely reflected the green light of my headlamp, when I realized that there is no escape but the bushes next to the stairs, so I tried to lean in as far as possible to not puke on the holy stairs. I managed, and used my poles to cover my mess. The cat approved of my efforts and soon thereafter, I could sink in Stefanie’s arms once more. Emptying my stomach always give a very profound energy hole which made me stumble in the really cool building (and not the adjacent restaurant, not the church) where Stefanie prepared a bench for me to sit on. I tried the Coke and broth combination to get my stomach to cooperate again. And a snickers later, it was again eyeing on the cheese sandwiches. Phew, this revolt was over pretty quickly.

Fresh as new, no?

I liked the atmosphere in Habsberg a lot. Several runners prepared for the night here, and nobody was in a rush. Some guy laid out flat and slept for a hour. I think I took similarly long for fiddling with my stuff and making sure, I had everything I would need through the night, when Stefanie would be in our AirBnB again to get some sleep herself.

Excitement took over when I went out again, and I went into the second night. In my erroneous calculations, I should be all too early at the last aid station before the finish, so we agreed to meet again in Dietfurt. Which made the coming night a lonely effort and the race looking like coming to an end. Ha!

The glorious second night, I would get it.

Beforehand, I was really sure that the second night would finally bring the hallucinations everybody was talking about. Surreal mind states, LSD like perception, funny conversations with trash cans, riding a unicorn through the forest. Oh no, the latter would disqualify me, so I’d better leave the unicorn alone.

Only, this night was like every other night running I had done before. Yes, the legs were a tad heavy, but I did not care anymore since a day or so. The trees did not speak, and I had no animate objects like in the Rennsteig nonstop a few years back. It was just me, my steps and whatever was around my route. But I was not disappointed. I was in a mixture of flow and ignorance. Somehow in the moment and zoned out. There was rain in the night. And winds. I did not care. Well, it was annoying to have the rain in my face, but I figured this would not go on forever, so I trotted on. A longer stretch of asphalt road that might have gotten to me a day earlier, but now, it was just part of the journey. Going on and on. And on.

Some landmarks got my interest like the tree in the pic below. Since I am with Stefanie, I got a different look on old trees. This one was definitely old. Trying to get a good picture to show her took some time, but it was worth it. The effect of the rain captures really well my feeling that night. Somehow clear and foggy at the same time.

Loving is transitive, no? This is a really beautiful tree. I did not catch the rain effect properly though.

At some point, the rain was gone again, and I entered the grass fields before Deining. If there were a detour to not step through knee high entirely wet grass, I’d have taken it. But there was none. Or at least, I did not find it. The navigation on the watch was clear, I had to go through this. First, there was kind of truck tracks, but it came to a single trail, and I could not say if the grass was wet from below or above. The shoes were soaked immediately, the feet became cold and there was no end in sight. I ran along the banks of the Laber always a but uncertain if this was really the correct way. I tried to do the math how many people had to be in front of me, with this rarely used trail here.

Then a tiny dinosaur crossed my path.

Like a Brontosaurus, but maybe one and a half meters in total length. And it hopped in some funny and clumsy, still efficient and smooth way from left to right over my trail, maybe 10 meters in front of me, in the light of my dimmed headlight. It took a few seconds until I realized, this was an otter. A first for me to see an otter in nature. Hooray! I even saw it’s slide into the water, a muddy, slippery canal. But the animal was long gone when I made the few steps to the crossing point.

This encounter lifted my spirits a lot. The cold did not matter. The feet could be wet as they wanted. All this wet grass was of no annoyance anymore. I was in otter territory. And it lived in this cold. In the wetness. And I was allowed to run through it. I loved that. The fog only added to the mysterious scenery.

Only, that frecking Deining would not come. This void valley was lasting forever. Another turn, another corner, but no signs of civilization. I wanted to take a break. I wanted to get into something warmer. Shoudl I get out my emergency blanket? Not yet. But soon, I might need it. Then after another turn, there was a light somewhere. A barn. Only, we had to trespass and enter some more grass fields. more of the same.

But as I learned over the years, the simple tactics to put one foot in front of the other will lead you to places. And so it was. A village popped up, and the blue line on my watch led me along a tennis court and into the Deining aid station. Phew. Drop bag time! Dry clothes, yeah! I got the bag, and changed entirely. Only, a spare pair of shoes did not make the cut when I crammed the drop bag back in Dietfurt a lifetime ago. So I would have to get back into the wet shoes after the break. Sigh.

Eating and drinking went well, and I liked the huge screen at the wall with the map and the trackers of the runners. The crew, many younglings from the local sports club apparently, were watching all people working up to their place. And cared about them. ‘Look, he is wandering off again, no, turn around, it was left there!’, ‘ah, he realized, phew’, ‘ Oh no, she is wandering way too much off course, I will get my bike and direct her back on course!’. It felt good to know that there were people having an eye on us lunatics stumbling through the woods or grass lands in this case, and not being at our full senses.

Deining felt again like recharging my batteries really well. Only, when I went on, along the road, I felt the legs not liking hard surfaces anymore. The nice wooden trail along the river was a bit better, but not for the feet. It was more the overall mood that profited from the winding and bouncing wooden bridge.

Somehow there were always some people around me, somewhere, but not right at my side. I was not in a communicative mood anyway, so this was a plus. Not being entirely alone out there, but not having to use the brain too much to talk. Matthias and Desiree appeared in front of me during the dry and dark patches of that night. I realized that I ran faster, but took more walking breaks. A reoccurring pattern. So, running with them would not work, but running up to them, then falling into a walk and have them pull away felt creepy, so I decided to pull myself together and overtake. So I did and we exchanged some words. Then I had to face my problem that I have to pull away significantly when I overtake someone. Don’t know why, this just is a fact about myself. So I pushed again. And missed a turn, had to track back, meet them at the intersection and direct them to the correct way and bolt off again. This repeated several times. Darn.

Then came a part, where the gps track lead into some trail that has not been used in the last few years. Literally not used. overgrown and straight up the grade. And the Jurasteig signs pointed along the level forest road. So I folled the forest road, but saw that I got quite off the route this way. So I went back and entered this trail. But it did not work. So I went down again, and met the two once more. We discussed the situation and decided to follow the official signs and not the given track. This was about to become a three person party, but I was not into that. Usually, I like company on ultras. You get to know so many interesting people. Not now. Not anymore. This race should be over already. Who expected to be done by midnight? Well, this was entirely on paper, and I was aware, that this would never happen in reality. But 30 hours ago, I was certain to get some sleep that night before the awards ceremony. Nope. Out of the window with this. Still, realizing that I would not even reach Dietfurt at dawn was getting on my nerves. I was in the ‘this should be over by now’ mood. I hopped over some puddles and left the two behind another time.

Dawn came, it got lighter and lighter and at some point, I could no longer hear their chatter, turn off my headlamp, only to misstep soon thereafter and banging my left knee in the ground. Yikes! no capital damage please! The knee hurt for a while but realized I was not listening, so it finally stopped.

It was a huge relief to see Holnstein appear in front of me when I ran out of one of the many side valleys we had to pass through. A majestic sight with the castle. Yet another castle. There were so many, and each and every provoked the sing in my head one more time. Climbing up to the aid station from the bridge was definitely no fun, but I made it. With these last steps until I could raise my legs again, I felt the tingling in the soles of my feet for the first time. Like running on needles. Or, running on wet towels with bare flesh on the underfoot. Something new.

The aid station was not all too cozy, as everybody was sleepy and it was light outside, but they had eggs again, and I got food brought to the table and could just sit. Very highly appreciated. Did I get a hot tea? I think so. They apologized as they did not expect me so early. Yeah!

I aimed for a short break with maximal recovery and it worked out. When Matthias and Desiree entered the aid station, I was almost out the door. And their arrival made a good push to get moving. Out the door was fun, the fresh morning air was so good in my lungs. Then, after 20 meters, came the stairs. down. Ouch. Every step hurt so much! The tingling sensation in my feet was there at the blink of an eye again. No!

All I had in my head that the stretch to come was one of the shortest of the entire race. A mere 15k. Piece of cake! I wanted to be there already! I made some more disoriented math and thought that I might push and be done in two hours. Easy, no? No. The climb after Holnstein was endless. I liked the fact that I did not even need to try running with this incline. But the km uphill took me 20 minutes. What? 3km/h? This meant five hours for the final bit. Could not stomach this.

But this climb came to an end as every other before it. Level trail was runnable, running downhill was possible, yeah! If only this crazy feeling in my feet would go away. But it did not. I attributed it to the wet shoes and tried to run over it, literally. I could put pain away and really run. I got warm, but not too hot. The cold morning and the wet grass down in the valley helped. Only the distance would not shrink on these trail signs, I developed a love hate relationship with over the days. I loved the confirmation to be on track, but I hated the distance indicated on them. Gerhard warned us that our watches will be nearer to the truth than them, but I could not help but compare and get annoyed. Always.

Pushing and pushing. And not really progressing. I was really running with very little and short walking breaks. I wanted to be there already. But Dietfurt did not come closer. For some stretch I zoned out of the question why I do this and had the definite feeling to be doing this effort for someone else. Well, this is always easier for me, but I have no idea how this came to my mind. Maybe just some raw mechanism to find some more energy to further push myself.

Less then 10k. And still too far to say it is over, to let go, to finally be able to step back and relax. Not yet. Not here, and not at the next corner. And the one after and the ten to come. Go on. Run whenever I can, which was surprisingly often.

The End is near!

The opening of the valley of the Laber to the Altmuehl and the church of Dietfurt at the horizon was both a relieving and majestic and also a frightening sight. I was about to finish this thing. I made it the entire round. Heroic! I will get the imprint on my jacket. I will be with Stefanie again. I will be allowed to stop running. I will get some sleep.

But it also meant that this adventure will come to an end. That daily life will have me back soon. All the hard recovery from such an endeavor, with all the pain. Sleeping with twitching legs, washing stinky clothes.

And then, I was still not there. There were tales of one last nasty hill to climb before we were allowed in the HQ and step over the most beautiful finish line on earth. The hill came, I recognized the turn sign from former reports. Well, there we go. Climbing up was astoundingly easy and I loved the trail on the top. Dry leaves, bouncy forest trail. I soo love this underground for running. I almost forgot about my feet. Then the trail turned downhill, some turns, more and more houses became visible through the trees. This was it. The trees opened up and in some narrow road, there was Stefanie, waiting for me! Hooray!

A hug and some tears in my eyes. On the wave of endorphins, absolute exhaustion I hobbled through the cobble stone streets, a bit disoriented, in the best company. Stefanie had my go first up the stairs into HQ who were surprised to see me that early. Apparently, I did not just feel like pushing all the time on the final part, but made some good progress in the end.

I dropped in the chair, and was speechless for a while. This was it. I did it. 150 miles on trail. Through two nights. Much slower than I thought initially, but everybody told me that this was a really respectable time. In the end, I would be place 9 of 20 finishers. So, a lot of people had dropped over the course. 50%? Maybe.

Done.
The most beautiful finish line on earth!

As usual, once I am done, every single step is a nightmare. We got to the car and then to our AirBnB. I showered and dropped in bed. In the intent to get some sleep. Only, our landlord banged on the door, asking, when we were finally checking out? Oh no! I was so focused on getting in bed and close my eyes that I did not spend a single thought on the fact that the appartment was just rented until that very day and that usually, guests have to leave before 11am.

Getting out of bed and into my clothes was such a herculean effort. We just put everything in the various boxes and got them out the back door, as quickly as I was able to. No sleep till Autobahn, it seems.

We got back to Dietfurt and found the print shop to have my finish imprint on the jacket. At last! The guy was asking me where I wanted the print to be and we took quite some time to decide about the best position as there is a big logo on the back already and the Junut logo on the front as well. Stefanie suggested to put it on the upper right arm and there it went. I love the position, the fact that the jackt is now finalized, and I can wear it proudly. My longest run. Ever.

This is what it was all about.

The tingling in my feet turned out to be some sort of pinched nerves in both mid feet. I had no feeling in the three middle toes on both sides for over three months until the nerves grew back. In fear of a fatigue fracture, I had an xray and they discovered some sort of Morton’s neuroma. Well. This was too long for my feet. For my weight and my training volume. I can do it. But maybe I shouldn’t.

But it was so much fun!