I woke up on race morning looking 6 months pregnant. Trying not to panic, I prepared myself a coffee and a carb mix while I was getting ready.
Then I felt anger.
Why must this happen again? Why has my gut health become so bad recently? And why did none of the usual things that brought relief work this time? Here I was, groggy from too much magnesium the night before, with a gurgling, bloated gut that would surely get going once I was running.
After I had dressed myself, put on the bib, and packed my race vest, I decided to go for a 10-minute jog to see if that would help. After all, I still had 20 minutes until the taxi that would bring me to the race start would arrive.
It didn’t help.
I didn’t want a second DNS that race season, especially not for the second race that was meaningful to me. I couldn’t start at the Schwerin Seen Trail in March, which should have been my season opener, because I couldn’t get to the start line on time.
I decided to risk it. I had spare pants and underpants in my pack, and if things got really wrong, I could always change my clothes in one of the aid stations. Luckily, every single one was equipped with a toilet.
The Days Before
My troubles started days before the race. I’d been dealing with gut issues since the beginning of the week, and Thursday night’s sleep was terrible. After arriving on Sylt more than an hour late on Thursday, I decided to explore the area a bit despite the cold and windy conditions. I tried to choose foods that wouldn’t be too hard on my digestion—apple and mango puree, tofu, and fruit bars for dinner.
Friday morning, I was still constipated and bloated, which led to slight panic. I walked through the city and along the coast, which was lovely, with fewer people than the day before.
I panic-shopped some shoes because I wasn’t confident that the Saucony I brought would be comfortable for the full 111km. My left foot’s hallux valgus tends to get irritated during long runs in them, so I settled on Brooks Ghost – now the second Brooks in my rotation alongside the Cascadia that I also panic-bought before my first mountain trail race (and which got me through Kullamannen as well).
I got myself some pineapple juice and extra magnesium, which, in hindsight, was a mistake. Instead of helping, it left my legs feeling like jello and made me wake up drowsy without any spring in my step. I did manage to use the bathroom Saturday morning, but it was far from optimal.
My gut was still blocked up, and I went to the start line looking 6 months pregnant, feeling defeated and scared about potential accidents.
VP 0: Start in Kampen (0.0 km)
When I arrived at the start area in Kampen at 05:20, it was windy and cold, and big clouds covered the sky. The race was set to begin at the parking lot of the renovated “Sturmhaube,” a hotel and restaurant that perfectly represents Kampen’s blend of natural beauty and exclusivity. Known as the playground of the rich and famous on Sylt, Kampen has both a reputation and stunning natural surroundings that you can truly appreciate once you’ve felt the coastal breeze on your face at the “Rotes Kliff”.
The weather changed quickly after the start. Before the first aid station, I was already feeling too hot. Unfortunately, there was a queue at the toilet, which I urgently needed, so I continued running in hopes of finding a place along the way.
The more I ran, the more frustrated I became. There were no bushes, no spots to hide. I had no choice but to keep moving forward.
The Northern Section: Listland, Ellenbogen, and List
Halfway to VP 1 Listland (11.5 km), there was a portable toilet in the landscape, and I was relieved to see it wasn’t occupied. After a quick stop, I continued to VP 1, where I passed through quickly, then headed toward VP 2 at the Ellenbogen (17 km). I didn’tdidn’t need anything at VP 2 except to remove my jacket as I continued back down the Ellenbogen loop.
The Ellenbogen section is one of the most unique parts of the race – a nature reserve at the northernmost tip of Germany. The newly asphalted road stretches out toward the West Lighthouse (Germany’s northernmost building), passing Germany’s northernmost point. With Denmark’s Rømø island visible in the distance and sheep grazing freely, this section offered breathtaking, wide-open spaces.
On the return journey, I passed through VP 3 (Listland again at 22.5 km) and started toward VP 4 at the harbor in List. The cold wind blew on my sweaty shirt, and I felt a chill, but after a few minutes, I warmed up again.
As I approached VP 4 at List Harbor (27 km), I hit my first real challenge—the Mövenbergdeich (seawall). The race information wasn’t kidding when it mentioned that this section would test runners with unshielded wind.
The field of runners spread out as we moved from List toward Kampen. I found myself running alone more and more. The clear sky made for beautiful scenery on the dike. Silhouettes of runners in the distance and sheep roaming freely with their lambs sleeping in the sun took my mind off my rebellious gut. It was heart-warming to see them, and I tried to enjoy the scenery as much as possible despite my discomfort.
At VP 4 in Harbor List, I quickly passed through the station, which uniquely offered only “Fischbrötchen” (fish sandwiches) and water. In hindsight, I’m unsure if having a famous Sylt fish sandwich would have helped or worsened my gut issues.
Still, it was certainly a unique aid station offering 🤣
VP 5: Back to Kampen (37 km)
When I arrived at VP 5 in Kampen (37 km), which also served as the first relay exchange point, I was angry but determined to go on. Thoughts of quitting have been a constant companion until now. Still, I didn’t want to give up so easily.
Either my gut would calm down, or I would continue trying to get from aid station to aid station as best as I could. In Kampen, I spent a few minutes in the bathroom and took some salt crackers and bananas from the aid station, hoping these foods would calm my digestive tract.
Grumpy, I started the next section to Keitum. However, my instincts were correct as my gut slowly calmed down. I was running mostly alone now and wondered if I could make it.
Training hadn’t gone as I’d hoped at the start of the year, mostly due to persistent gut issues. I overtook two other runners during that section—one guy and one lady walking. After checking in on her and assuring myself she was okay, I pressed on.
VP 6: Keitum (45 km)
The aid station at VP 6 Keitum (45 km) was small but welcoming, with a proper toilet and women’s hygiene products. I learned later that this stop was graciously hosted at the Pastorat Keitum by the St. Severin parish, offering runners shelter and support.
I took a few minutes there before filling up my water bottle, grabbing a few pieces of banana, and continuing. I started to calm down.
My initial goal for this race was out of reach, but I could still focus on finishing and doing my best under these circumstances.
VP 7: Morsum Kliff (54 km)
The section to VP 7 at Morsum Kliff (54 km) was breathtakingly beautiful but mentally taxing. This part of the course was the most “trail-like” section of the entire race, with sandy and sometimes muddy terrain plus a few actual elevation changes (peaking at 21m).
The Morsum Kliff is Sylt’s oldest nature reserve, featuring cliff formations with rock layers up to eight million years old – one of the few places in Schleswig-Holstein where pre-ice age stone is visible.
When I arrived at the aid station, my mood was much better. The volunteer said the worst was over, and while I felt relief, I also had doubts. We still had half of the race left, after all.
After that aid station, my mood improved more , and I was becoming my old chirpy self again. My gut now cramped very badly, but I could run through pain. Even if I still had to move slowly, at least the urge to go every 15 minutes was gone.
I ate bananas and some pretzels from the aid stations, which helped calm my gut even more. However, the cramping got worse.
I was now running completely alone, which I enjoyed immensely. Slowly, I made peace with not being able to finish as fast as I wanted and set a new goal of finishing before dark. I started to enjoy the run despite the pain. I also focused on mostly liquids and non-fiber foods, hoping that would keep me going.
VP 8: Rantum Becken (66 km)
The course here followed the Nössedeich and around the Rantumbecken, a fascinating piece of history. Originally created in the 1930s as a possible water landing strip for Luftwaffe planes (though never used for that purpose), it’s now a 600-hectare bird sanctuary.
Running between the Wadden Sea on one side and the basin on the other provided beautiful views, but the endless straight paths with few turns became mentally challenging.
Somewhere along the way a guy passed me on a bike and yelled “Machine” (machine). “Weird dude,” I thought to myself.
VP 9: Rantum (71 km)
VP 9 was a bustling aid station, and the big jubilation when I arrived lifted my spirits massively. The Co-working space served as the aid station and 2nd relay exchange point. With a big grin, I said, “It is a party in here,” and told the aid station volunteer how uplifting this atmosphere was now.
I drank two cups of Coke, grabbed a few gummy bears, and went. They also had hot soup and potatoes, but I didn’t want to eat something warm or spend more time at an aid station than necessary.
Like in all races before, I spent very little time at aid stations – not more than absolutely necessary – and I’m quite happy with my aid station efficiency.
However, not long after I left, I noticed my water bottle leaking.
VP 10: Hörnum Harbor (86 km)
The stretch after VP 9 was challenging—one long path straight ahead in the scorching sun, with no one ahead or behind me. It was more than 10 kilometers of almost only straight-ahead running. I doubted a few times if I was on the right path, but I trusted my Garmin and was elated each time I saw a red arrow confirming I was on track.
I ran through the Harbor in Hörnum, hoping to see an aid station somewhere, but there was none. I panicked a little and double-checked my Garmin. The red arrows on the pavement confirmed I was on the right way.
However, as I left the harbor and ran through the streets, I feared I had missed the aid station somehow. My water had run out a while ago already, and I had made plans to pop into the next restaurant or shop to get some water. And if all failed, I would stop a few bikers and ask if they had any water with them.
Suddenly, the aid station appeared on the other side of the road. I wasn’t the only one who thought they’d missed it 😅. I took a few minutes longer because I wanted to find my spare bottle in my pack.
I was also pretty tired, so I allowed myself to take a minute and properly fill my bottle. I drank two cups of Coke and grabbed a few raisins. I was at the southernmost point now and at the turnaround of the course and would run the same long stretch back to Rantum aid station.
I later regretted not taking the leaking water bottle with me, as I could have used it for cooling myself down – the sun was brutal now.
VP 11: Rantum II (98 km)
A long stretch along the main street followed, leading us back to VP 11 at Rantum II (98 km). This was the exact location as VP 9, but now I was approaching it from the opposite direction after the turnaround at Hörnum.
This aid station had a cut-off time of 20:15, but I was well ahead of that. I caught another runner on the way there and tried to chat a bit, mainly to distract myself from my tiredness. He seemed more tired than me, but we exchanged friendly words.
I was relieved to reach this aid station, knowing I was in the race’s final segment. The volunteers were encouraging, and I felt a renewed sense of determination. I would finish. I just needed to remain calm and keep running until the end.
It was much quieter at that aid station now, with only a few runners present. The volunteer was outstanding, chatting me up and telling me how amazing she found that we could still stand upright. I told her I was feeling the same.
I drank a cup of Coke, grabbed a few gummy bears, and asked her if they were the last before the Westerland aid station. She confirmed and said it was only some 6km away. I told her how happy this info made me and continued to the next aid station.
My hotel room was in Westerland, and I told myself I would be running home. I knew where the aid station would be and had spotted the race marking the day before when I took a morning walk along the beach.
VP 12: Westerland Promenade (104 km)
The way to VP 12 at Westerland Promenade (104 km) was still along the main road, and when I arrived in Westerland, I was happy to have a bit more shade. As I made my way up the stairs to the Strandpromenade (what the locals call the “Himmel’s Leiter” or “Heaven’s Ladder” though it’s just a few steps leading to the beach), I was in high spirits. I felt terrific!
I sped up and enjoyed running fast on the wooden sidewalk. I met that guy again who had passed me earlier on a bike. He shouted, “Da ist die Maschine!” and gave me a high five. I enjoyed the cheers of the many people hanging out at the Strandpromenade and arrived at VP 12 full of joy and gratitude.
This last aid station was located at the Musikmuschel – one of the island’s most exposed and public spots. It was refreshing to finally have spectators again, and a loud cheer made me grin from ear to ear.
When the volunteer asked me how I felt after such a long way, I told her I felt better the longer the race went on because I initially had extreme gut issues.
Still, I was happy that I would finish.
At that moment, this was all that mattered to me.
I knew I would finish, and I was proud that I proved to myself that I could – that I would not give up, that I would push through the low mood and thoughts of wanting to quit, and that I could remain calm when things went wrong.
Finish Line: Back to Kampen (111 km)
The last few kilometers were a new challenge. After leaving the Strandpromenade and running through small streets, I suddenly found myself in the dunes – deep sand, uphill, and it didn’t end. When it finally did, I had more stairs to climb.
Seeing the finish in the distance back in Kampen was beautiful.
I knew I would really be able to go there now and not have to run past it for another 5 km loop (like we had to during Kullamannen). I carefully ran up and down the wooden stairs as I didn’t want to risk a fall so close to the finish.
I finished in 12:19h, the sixth female (out of 35) and first in my age group (W40). While I planned to finish much quicker, I was happy with the result because I decided to run as best as I could with a severely compromised gut that was acting up from start to finish.
Reflections
The North Sea Ultra 111km was one of the best-organized races I have participated in.
From the responsive communication pre-race (answering my questions about shoe choice) to the beautifully designed race bibs and medals, top aid stations, and amazing volunteers. I appreciated that the starter pack came without unnecessary advertisements or paper junk.
The aid stations were well-stocked, with a nice selection of muesli bars, fruit, vegetables (cucumber and tomatoes), crackers, and gummy bears at almost every station. Some had cookies and packaged energy bars, and a few had raisins. My nutrition strategy worked well enough—I had packed 8 PH gels, 4 chew bars, and 2 mango fruit bars. I used the gels and found they didn’t worsen my gut issues. The chew bars were also a nice addition, especially the ginger ones.
Except for painful and tired legs and my gut still cramping, I felt good once I finished.
This was the first race I finished in which the finish was not announced at various intervals before the finish line (either with markers or people), and I believe this helped my mental state immensely in the end. Sure, one could always look at one’s watch, but I forced myself not to look at the kilometers for most of the race, including the final stretch.
Once back at the hotel, I realized I had gotten a sunburn and woke up during the night with bad pains from it. I had the feeling it hurt more than my legs! After waking up, I ate a pack of rice cakes and went to sleep again.
The day after, I realized how bad my sunburn was. Even putting on clothes did hurt.
I still need to figure out how to reduce the impact of IBS on my running as much as possible and develop good strategies. Due to gut issues, my training has been disrupted, and I feel I lack the longer runs and speed training.
But finishing this race despite everything gives me confidence that I can overcome these challenges.
One of the most beautiful medals and race bibs I’ve received so far will now remind me of this accomplishment and the beautiful island of Sylt—a tough but rewarding 111km journey that tested my limits in unexpected ways.