“Do you even know how well you race?”
A woman approached me in the dark. It was just after 10 pm, and the night’s darkness had enveloped the motocross track where I and 49 other runners had set out 12 hours earlier to complete as many 2 km loops as possible within 24 hours. Each loop featured 60m of elevation gain, and by the time it was dark, I struggled to climb up the steep sandy hills.
“No,” I told her as I filled my cup with water at the aid station and inspected the selection of foods provided by the race organizers. “I just run.” “Let me show you,” she said, pulling up her phone. “You’re in 5th place overall.”
I was surprised but already too exhausted to comprehend what that meant. I thanked her for telling me, grabbed a few dates, and continued on to complete my next loop.
I thought I would surely lose many placings during the night.
I signed up on a whim and vastly underestimated the course.
When I signed up for the 24-hour Mad Chicken Run, I did so out of frustration.
My endurance took a big hit after contracting COVID-19 in March. Running felt hard, and for the next two months, my weekly mileage rarely crossed the 60-kilometer mark.
I canceled my participation in the 100 km German Championships, and I was afraid that I wouldn’t be fit enough, so I deferred my start for the Race Across Scotland.
However, I wanted to have at least one longer race this year, and a timed race seemed the best option. At least there wouldn’t be any possibility that I won’t make it to the finish line 😅.
When I saw that the Mad Chicken Run had a flat course option and a trail option on a motocross track, I was delighted and thought I would simply use the trail race as a training run for my big adventure in Scotland in 2024.
When I arrived at the race location on Friday, I started to panic. I collected my race bib and saw a bit of the course. Steep uphills were followed by short downhills. As I was chatting with other runners, the reality of what running on a motocross track and 60m of elevation gain per 2-kilometer loop really meant set in.
I walked to the hotel I was staying at, defeated, wondering if I should just ask tomorrow if I could start on the flat course instead.
Meeting a few of my teammates during the pre-race briefing later that evening didn’t ease my anxieties either. They all signed up for the flat course and seemed to respect the motocross course massively.
However, sitting with them and chatting about running and how we’re all just gonna have fun the following day took the loneliness away I experienced earlier that day. I knew I wasn’t alone.
Racing with joy and collecting miles before the sunset.
I sent my sister a quick message before the start to ease my nerves and reassure myself that doing my best would be enough. “I think I will have to hike a lot.” She assured me it would be okay, and her words comforted me. I was relieved and immensely grateful when she told me she would think of me and keep her fingers crossed.
I felt calm and relaxed when the gun went off, telling myself to take it easy.
The main goal was to stay on the course for 24 hours.
To climb up the steep hills, I put my hands on my knees and leaned forward with my upper body. This worked well on some hills. However, on others, I needed my arms up in the air to keep my balance on the sandy ground.
I quickly found my rhythm of climbing with care, running the flats calmly, and enjoying the adrenaline rush of speeding down the downhills as fast as possible.
Before the race, I thought I would have much time to think about my business, but I didn’t. I didn’t think about much at all. The course required constant focus and attention, and my mind had no time to wander.
I forced myself to eat from the beginning of the race. I used the electrolyte drink provided by the race organization. I didn’t follow the advice of “nothing new on race day,” and it worked.
My energy level remained high, my gut didn’t give me problems, and my mood was still good as night fell.
After I had climbed yet another hill and saw the sunset, I took a few moments to take it in thoroughly and then pulled out my phone to take a picture. I told myself I would take more photos of the course as soon as it was daylight again.
I didn’t know then that I was competing for 1st place in the women’s race.
Fighting through the night.
After the lady, who was the wife of a fellow runner, told me I was in 5th place overall, the race got hard. It was dark, and it seemed as if fewer runners were on the course. I found myself running alone for long stretches.
I met a teammate during a bathroom break and told her I contemplated stopping after completing 100 kilometers. The darkness and my increasing fatigue slowed me down.
At some point, my stomach started to act up, and I felt dizzy. I decided to stop eating for a couple of rounds, but that didn’t help to ease my discomfort. I sat down at the aid station for a few minutes, opted to eat some salted peanuts, and tried another round.
The peanuts helped to lift my mood, and I continued to grab a handful of peanuts every other round. After I had achieved my goal of completing the 100 kilometers, one of the race organizers told me I couldn’t stop now because I was the first woman 😜.
However, without more sugar coming in for an hour or two, the energy in my legs noticeably dwindled.
I decided to have some coffee. That did the trick. The coffee settled my stomach and gave me some energy for the next two rounds.
I walked a lot during the night, but I never stopped running altogether. Around 4 am, I contemplated again if I should just stop. I thought about going back to the hotel. I would probably miss the award ceremony then. Or could I just go, sleep a few hours, and return?
I decided to go another round.
I thought about my friends at home. Did I want to tell them I quit after 20 hours? Did I want to tell them I gave up? Would they even care? I thought about my ex and imagined telling her, “See, I can do what I set out to do. We could have celebrated together. Shame you didn’t believe in me.”
No, I wanted to keep going.
After all, the goal was to stay on the course for 24 hours.
A new day, the right words from a friend, and hidden energy reserves.
Just after 7 am, I sent my sister a voice message. I was leading the women’s race and wanted to let her know I was still moving and feeling good. Still debating if I should stop, I told her I would like to keep going to at least stay in the top 3.
Even though I was in first place, I still doubted I could win because of how slowly I moved now. But I wanted to try to tough it out as long as possible.
One hour later, I was back to debating if I should stop 😅. We only had 2 hours left. I could easily sit on a bench at the aid station or go over to the flat course and warm myself at one of the fire bowls the race organization has set up.
I lingered a few minutes at the aid station and grabbed a few bites to eat.
Then, one of my teammates came into the aid station. “I think I will stop,” I told her. “I can hardly walk up the hills anymore.” She looked at me and calmly said, “It doesn’t matter. Every movement counts.” I gathered myself, told her, “Okay, but it’s your responsibility,” and started another round.
Then another, and another, and another.
A guy I hadn’t seen before sat on the bench at the aid station, cheering me on each round. I stayed a bit longer at the aid station during the last 2 hours, but I always found the strength to try just one more lap.
I completed my penultimate round around half past nine in the morning. It was clear that I had won the race.
I could have sat down and finally rested, but I decided to go just one more round. The last lap I was able to complete before the race was officially over.
I wanted to go this one lap just for me. To celebrate my win.
But I couldn’t really feel what I wanted to feel 🤨.
I still didn’t realize what I had just accomplished.
When I crossed the finish line one last time, I was greeted by the race director and people applauding. I was exhausted but happy.
Lessons learned.
I am writing this report six days after the race. The win and what I have accomplished still seems surreal to me.
I am a flatlander who doesn’t own hiking poles and didn’t do any hill training on a treadmill, stairs, or something similar. I went into the race unsure of my fitness level, afraid of making a complete fool of myself in that race.
And yet, I won against women who knew the course, were using poles, and won this race in previous years. I placed 6th overall out of 50 starters.
However, I am most proud of my accomplishments, irrespective of my placing. I managed to cover 128 kilometers and 3.840 m of elevation gain 👀.
For comparison, the Berlin Wall Trail 100-mile race I successfully finished in 2022 featured a mere 518 m of elevation gain 
.
Out of the three longer ultras I have completed so far (The 24-hour German Championships and the 100-mile Berlin Wall Race were the other 2), I felt best throughout the race and towards the end.
The most significant difference was eating. I ate significantly more during the Mad Chicken Run than during the other two races, and I believe this was a huge reason I ran so well.
In the 24-hour Championships, I ate nothing for the first 12 hours because my gut was a colossal mess. During the Berlin Wall 100-miler, I had a handful of dried dates, a few cups of coke, and 3 or 4 cups of lemonade. Not nearly enough.
I knew I could run much better if I learned to fuel appropriately. Eating and drinking right from the start during the Mad Chicken Run proved my theory right.
I also learned that I still haven’t found my limits yet.
I debated stopping several times during the race. Still, I continued to try just one more lap and re-evaluate once I was back at the aid station.
And I continued until the end, after a few words that hit me just the right way when I wanted to quit after 22 hours.
I even did an extra lap I didn’t need to do.
I proved to myself that I could go just one more.
And so it is with most goals we want to accomplish. We give up too quickly and too easily.
Often, when we throw in the towel, we can take a breath and realize that we have enough capacity to take just one more action that would move us forward.
