“Shit”, I thought. “I possibly can’t hike these muddy trails with that heavy backpack.” Panic and anger set in as I evaluated my options. The steepness of the trail wasn’t the problem. The problem was the ankle-deep mud I had just sunk into and the trees blocking the path. It seemed impossible to move forward, especially with a backpack full of clothes, food, and other utensils for the next four days. And I didn’t have the luxury to take it slow. It would soon get dark after all.
I turned around, walked down the trail, and headed toward the small town where I had arrived an hour ago. I decided to call the hotel I would be staying at. When I booked my stay at the “sports park Rabenberg,” they informed me that I should let them know in advance if I needed transport up the mountain where they’re located. Confident in my hiking abilities and eager to shake out my legs after a 7-hour train ride, I let them know I wouldn’t need transport. Oh well… how I regretted that decision now 🙄.
Hope and panic merged as I dialed the number to the hotel. What would they think of me? It wouldn’t matter, I decided. What if they wouldn’t be able to pick me up? I hoped for the best. But it was already too late. They didn’t have anyone at the property anymore who could pick me up.
“Do you know if there’s a taxi service in that area?” I asked. He knew of one. I scribbled down the number on paper and hoped for the best. “Thank you, and hopefully, until later.” I tried to keep a positive spirit as I hung up and called the taxi service.
He could be there in a few minutes. Relief washed over me. I felt exhausted, but I couldn’t rest now. Not yet. First I had to walk the way back to the train station and try to clean my mud-coated shoes as best as I could. I was afraid I wouldn’t be allowed to enter the car because of how much dirt stuck to my shoes.
Just a few minutes after I had arrived at the train station, the taxi arrived. We chatted a bit during the short drive to the sports park, where the hotel was located and he enthusiastically told me about a mountain bike race he participated in. I felt relieved and relaxed when we arrived at our destination, but one small hurdle was still to be taken.
It was not possible to pay for the taxi by card, and I didn’t have enough cash with me. Cell service was non-existent.
After a few moments of brainstorming how I could pay him, we agreed that I would pay him via PayPal as soon as I had checked-in and gotten access to the hotel’s internet.
As I settled into the room and unpacked my bag, I was glad I decided to take an extra day off. I arrived two days before the race and had the next day to relax and decompress. This was at least one smart decision for this trip so far 😅.
On Friday morning – the day before the race – I decided to walk down the mountain into the small town to get myself food for the next three days. It was a nice 8 km hike, and after that, I spent the rest of the day stretching, planning out my next weeks, and reading. When I picked up my race bib, I met a few members of my running club, and I had a quick chat. I didn’t feel like hanging out, though. Anxious about my very first mountain trail ultra, I didn’t want to risk staying up too late.
I fell asleep listening to the sound of rain and the recorded voice of Akshay Nanavati, telling me how to embrace fear.
A rainy racing weekend.
It was still raining on Saturday morning. I told myself this would be good training for the Race Across Scotland in August, where I expected it to be rainy and cool. I was nervous but less tense than before any other race.
I didn’t set any goals except to reach the finish line safely and before the cut-off. The Saturday the week before my thigh and hip seized up so much that I had to cut the planned long-run short and decided to swap my Sunday run for a long hike.
My hip wasn’t hurting anymore this morning, but my thigh still didn’t feel optimal, and I was unsure if it would hold up over the 75.5 km and 2.120 m of elevation gain.
I packed my drop-bag and ate some honeypower energy gels (use the code: “nicole20” to get 20% off your first order).
“I still need to figure out a pre-race breakfast,” I told myself. I decided to remain calm and not get angry with myself for not practicing this vital part of ultramarathon running in training.
I was relieved to hear during the briefing that they would wait for the last runners, even if they’d arrive after the cut-off, and that there would be marshalls on tricky sections during the race. The course was changed a bit due to the rain over the past few days, which made many of the trails extremely muddy and boggy. “This will be good training for Scotland,” I told myself.
I lined up in the back of the field as the race director counted the seconds to the start.
Warming up on the first few kilometers.
“Relax,” I told myself as we charged up the small hill leading us onto the trails. “This is just the start. Running always feels hard the first few minutes.” I struggled. Maybe my body was still in chill mode after two days without much movement. Maybe it was the altitude I am not used to from sea level. Maybe it was race nerves. But I did hang on as best as I could, and as we headed down the first single trail, I started to have fun.
The trail was very technical, with many roots, rocks, and narrow bridges that were extremely slippery due to the rain. I surprised myself with how confidently I attacked this downhill and how much I wanted to overtake people in front of me who were going a bit too slow for my liking. But I held back and decided to race cautiously. After all, there was still a long way to go, and I didn’t know how well my leg would hold up.
I decided to take off my jacket at the first aid station, as I was getting too hot and the rain subsided. “Luckily, I decided to put on short pants,” I told myself. Said and done, I stopped after 5.5km, had a sip of water, and took off my jacket. After a brief moment of shock because the zipper on my brand-new pack broke, I continued. Luckily I could still close the backpack, but I was a bit concerned about this being the start of bigger issues down the line.
Smooth running without significant issues.
The following section was uneventful. I enjoyed the varied route and beautiful scenery, immersed in nature, and doing what I loved. I had emptied my bottle of Tailwind before I reached the second aid station at km 13 and debated whether I should refill with water only or take a few minutes to remove my pack, get out my stick pack of Tailwind, and refill. I chose the former option, grabbed a piece of banana, and continued down the trail.
Despite tripping a few times and falling twice… I was feeling good and tried to apply the theoretical knowledge I had about mountain running to the race: Eat during the uphill hikes, run the downhills fast and relaxed, avoid breaking with the quads, and remember the mantra “what goes up must come down” when you struggle during a challenging uphill section.
As I didn’t bring poles, I used the hands-on-knee technique to propel myself upwards on particularly steep hills. Whenever I caught myself falling into a slow walking motion, I told myself, “You are a good hiker, and you can hike faster.” A couple of weeks before the race, I started to practice fast hiking to improve my overall ability to cover long distances faster. It seemed to have paid off, and as I was overtaking people who climbed up the hills with poles, my motivation increased.
The longer I run, the better I become.
I used this mantra in previous races to avoid getting demotivated when the start felt hard. I also used it in many training runs when the first half of a scheduled long run felt so hard that I doubted my ability to go the distance. I used this mantra at the beginning of the race. Now, it has proved to be true.
I was hunting now, overtaking people as I flew down the long descends and overtaking them as I was power hiking up the long ascends. The flat sections were my weakness in that race. Considering I am living in pancake-flat Berlin, I find that quite hilarious. But also reassuring. My strategy of endless hill repeats and treadmill uphill hikes did help me prepare for mountainous trail races.
When I reached the aid station at km 46, I was surprised by how good I felt. Tired, achy legs, sure. But overall, really good. Despite my shoes being muddy and wet from running through ankle-deep mud and boggy meadows, I decided to keep my pit stop short and only discharge one of my water bottles, my long-sleeve, and my reusable cup. I wanted to lighten the load I was carrying and ensure that one bottle of water would be enough between aid stations. Plus, I wanted to make space for my honeypower gels, which wouldn’t otherwise fit in the front pockets of this pack. And even though I felt the drying mud rub on the ankles of my feet, I decided not to change socks or shoes. “Don’t waste time,” I told myself. “Get in and get out.”
“You still have a long way to go,” I told myself as I drank a cup of Coke, ate a few salted pretzels, and grabbed a piece of banana to eat later. “Stay calm and relaxed.” On my way out of the aid station, I ate a honey gel.
The energy boost from that sudden influx of calories and sugar was noticeable, but my muscles were tired, and the downhills started to hurt more now, especially the ones on asphalt. And especially in the beginning. After a long climb, my quads felt extremely tight and painful during the first few steps of running again. But I quickly learned that after a few strides of running again, they would feel better. “I need to remember this for Scotland,” I thought.
It wasn’t long before I fell a third time, just before the aid station at km 65. This was the last aid station before the finish with food, and I decided to take a moment to gather myself. I chatted a bit with the guy that I just overtook before my fall. He was exhausted. I was tired, too, but overall I felt fine. When I learned that we only had some 11 km to go I was elated. I didn’t expect to feel that good so far into the race. I knew I would be able to finish – and well before the cutoff. I refilled my water bottle, grabbed a handful of peanuts, and went. I was tempted to walk but decided “slow running is better than walking.” I remember how repeating this mantra to myself got me through my tough spots in my first 100-mile race in August 2022, and I knew it would serve me well on these few last kilometers.
An epic fall before the finish.
I took my final steps up the hill and as soon as I stepped on flat ground, I fell. Hard. Much harder than the previous three tiny tumbles, and unlike the other tumbles I took during that race, this fall wasn’t on soft ground. It was on hard rock. My left knee was bleeding heavily, and it instantly swelled up, as did my left hip.
My right hand bled, too but it wasn’t as bad as my knee. I tried to get up, when a guy ran past me, asking if I was okay. Anger welled up inside of me. Why didn’t he stop to see if I needed help? What difference would a few seconds make now? He wouldn’t win anyway.
But when I walked a few steps and saw two girls welcoming the runners to the finish area I was smiling again. They looked at me, shocked, and I told them I was okay. An overwhelming mix of emotions made it hard for me to breathe as I started running slowly again on the home stretch. The shock of the fall and the anger about the guy just running past mixed with the relief and immense gratitude I felt for completing this technically demanding race.
I crossed the finish line with a smile.
The aftermath.
I didn’t have time to collect my thoughts or enjoy a few minutes of calming down and realizing what I had just accomplished because a woman approached me to take a finisher photo, and I, of course, agreed. After the pictures were taken I went to the medics to have my wounds cleaned. Unfortunately, the swelling in my knee and hip had gotten so bad, that they insisted I needed to have it checked out in the hospital. Despite my ensuring them it didn’t hurt badly and I was fine, they wouldn’t let me go. So, instead of celebrating my 6th place finish (out of 46 women overall) with my teammates and new acquaintances I made along the way, I spent the evening in the hospital of a small town.
Luckily, though, I just incurred a badly wounded knee and two hematomas, which the doctor advised I should keep an eye on. When I returned to the sports park I went to my hotel room. It was late already and I wanted to get up early tomorrow to make the long trip home. I didn’t know how to get to the train station with my banged-up knee and hip, but I decided to think about this tomorrow morning when I could assess my ability to walk.
During check-out the following day, I chatted with the receptionist about possibly having someone take me to the small town. The only option was to go with the repairman around midday. It would also cost me 25€. A fellow runner overheard our conversation and offered me a lift. I accepted happily and arrived home in the late afternoon—enough time to get my wound checked and re-dressed by my sister-in-law.
It was an adventurous weekend, that started with my overzealous idea to hike from the train station to the sports park and ended with me spending the better part of Saturday evening in the hospital.
During that race I learned a few lessons about myself as a runner and know which areas I want to focus on to improve further. I am thrilled with 6th place, but I also know that I have more in me 😎.