Running my first ever (ultra) marathon without any training
I always wanted to run a marathon. I ran my longest distance in 2020, with around 30 km and 2800 altitude meters. So if I did the marathon, it had to be a mountain marathon. After having it in my mind for a day, I planned a route starting at home. The plan was to run over four mountains, meaning I had to do 45 kilometers and about 2700 altitude meters (which is basically already an ultra-marathon).
The next day I started my day as always, getting up at 4 am, having breakfast, and packing the rest of the needed stuff. At 5:15 am, I started. The conditions were good; with 1°C, it was just the perfect temperature for a run. I started slow with the first kilometer at 7'16 min. After about 1,5 kilometers, the first climb started, and at the start, it went well, speed hiking through the forest. After 30 min, snow appeared on the trail ahead of me, and at first, it wasn’t that bad. I had anticipated some snow. It was February, after all. But then it got more. It was not that deep but partially frozen, meaning I often broke into the snow, scrapping my ankle and slowing me down. After one hour and 15 minutes, I finally stood at the first peak. The last kilometer was not bad, and there wasn’t much snow. But this was only 5,5 kilometers and about 800 altitude meters into the "race." The sun started rising, but I would not see it for at least another hour or two because now the first descent was to begin.
After the first kilometer, the snow completely disappeared from the trails, and I got into the flow, running back down to the valley. Then I had to run a bit on the street leading to my second ascent of the day, which was shorter than the first. But I already started to feel my legs, so speed hiking up became a lot harder. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea after all. I was doing my first-ever marathon with 2700 meters of altitude to gain, zero training, and being sick the week before. Who does that?! My last time up in the mountains was three and a half months before. In the previous year, I ran only 30 kilometers and hiked about 70 kilometers with 11000 altitude meters in total, and most of that was in spring and summer, which means I had nearly no training at all. It was mainly because of all the injuries but also because I “sacrificed” my time in the mountains for being in the climbing gym or climbing on rocks. But I had to know if I could push through the pain and do this.
When I arrived at my second high point, the sun finally came out, and it was time for sunglasses and the second descent. This one felt much harder than the first, and my legs started hurting a lot. Luckily my mum was so kind to drive back into the valley so I could refill my water bottles. Having made it down, I had done one-third of the distance and altitude in 3 hours.
But now, the hard part was about to begin. Unlike the second mountain, I now had about 900 meters of altitude to gain to get to my high point of the course. There would be snow again. The first time this day, I started to slow down a lot on the way up. But I just kept going. No matter how slow, I would finish this marathon. After more than 1,5 hours, I reached the top, and I could refill my water bottles at the hut. Now I had about 1000 altitude meters and 7 km back down into the valley, but because of the snow, I changed my route a little, which made it a bit longer, but I would have to do some altitude meters less. When I finally was back down, I met my brother, who brought me water and two additional Clif bars because I already ate all the food I had taken with me. He also brought chocolate, which I basically inhaled in a few minutes.
After a 10 min break and being in a relatively good mood despite the pain, I was back on the road running. This lasted about 1 kilometer. Then it hurt so much that I walked for the next 1,5 kilometers. Then I picked the pace up a bit to where the trail started up the last mountain. But as I arrived at the crossing, there was a sign saying the trail was closed due to rockfall. “Fuck!! It’s always like that. When it’s already hard, it gets even harder.” I sat down on the grass and cursed. But that didn’t help, so I thought about alternative routes. I could go back along the mountain and then home. This would shorten the way, but the distance would still be a marathon. Or I could run five extra kilometers to get to the same place I would have gotten with the closed trail. It took less than a second, and I knew what I would be doing because when I set out to do this, I promised myself that I would not quit no matter what happened, and taking a shortcut would definitely feel like quitting.
Trail closed because of rockfall
So I was back on the road running. This time I had found some energy and could run to where the road started to go up again. Then I went back to speed hiking. But of course, it got really hard after a few kilometers. But this time, it was awful. I felt extremely slow and exhausted like never before. Going up the last mountain was brutal. Even though I felt so slow and unstable, I still overtook some hikers. I felt like a Zombie going up that mountain, trying to use my poles as much as I could to help my legs as much as possible and keep my balance. I don’t want to know what it looked like from the outside. After another grueling 1,5 hours, I arrived at the Falkenstein ruin, and I could see the whole route and my finish line, which was still about 8 kilometers away.
Here you can see the first half of my "marathon"
The way down went by relatively quickly, even though I was not fast. When I arrived at the place where I had met my brother a few hours before, the way back home was a nearly flat road, so I decided to run again, and for the next kilometer, I was fast, and I did my fastest time of the day with 6 min 30 sec. But shortly after that kilometer, I couldn’t withstand the pain anymore and went back to walking fast. So it took me another 30 minutes to complete the last 3 km.
Looking back at it, I’m sure I could have run the last 3 km, but at this point, I was just too tired and sore mentally and physically to go even closer to my limit. My mind had quit at this point, even though my body would have been capable. But I pushed myself a lot more than ever before on any run, which makes me proud of this one. In the end, I did 50 kilometers instead of the marathon distance of 42 km and with 2717 meters of altitude gain in 9 hours and 58 minutes. This will probably be one of very few trail runs until summer, when I hopefully return to Norway because the main priority is still bouldering and the upcoming competitions.
The day after, I felt sore, and I could barely move my feet, but other than that, I felt relatively good. My brother and I made pancakes for breakfast, which were really good. But after eating some, I started to feel full, but there were still two left, so I ate them. The last one was not good and should probably have been baked a little longer. But I thought this wouldn’t be that bad and it would be ok again after some rest. But I was very wrong. It got awful, and I felt terrible. I had to throw up a lot; by the afternoon, the pancakes were finally out of my body. I felt better, but now I had lost so much water that my head hurt a lot. Luckily, everything was good again the next day, and my legs also improved.
I’m grateful that I did this because it showed me once again what you can achieve when you are not willing to quit and keep going. When I was halfway through the marathon, it hurt so much. After being back down in the valley, I already achieved a lot because I never did such a distance in my life, let alone in such circumstances.
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