My First Ultra: A 50 km Battle in the Cold

Yesterday, I stepped into the world of ultrarunning. My goal? 100 km. My reality? 50 km of grit, struggle, and ultimately, victory.

The Plan

I wasn’t perfectly trained. Dental issues and knee trouble had kept me from long runs, and I knew that hitting marathon distance would already be a serious challenge. Still, I wanted to try. I made a simple strategy:

• Breaks every 10 km – shake out the legs, elevate them for a moment.

• Drink Maurten 320 and water with salt to stay fueled.

• Keep myself motivated with small cards, each marked with a distance. Every 10 km, I took a photo with the next card, inching closer to the big number.

I figured that by breaking it down into smaller parts, I could handle the monumental task of running over 100 km. But the reality, as it always does, turned out to be a lot more complicated.

The Reality

It was minus 5 degrees at 5 AM. The cold was biting and harsh, and my muscles were far from happy. The first few kilometers felt fine, but by 20 km, my mind started to slip. I knew I had a long way to go, and that’s when the first real fight began. It wasn’t just about pushing my body anymore; it was about keeping my head in the game.

I kept moving, holding a pace of 6:30 to 7:00 min/km. But every time I hit another 10 km, my body became more aware of the challenge. 30 km, and my knee was already complaining. 40 km, and it felt like I was carrying the weight of the world with each step. By the time I reached 50 km, I made the call to stop. I didn’t finish the 100 km, but I wasn’t defeated. I knew today, this was enough. I’d given everything I could, and I felt proud of that.

But even in that moment, there was a greater appreciation blooming in me for those who go further.

The Sun Opener

One moment stood out above all others: the sun opener. After hours of running in the darkness, the cold felt even colder, the miles felt even longer. But then, out of nowhere, the sun started to rise. The world changed. It wasn’t just light creeping in—it was a shift in everything. The warmth, the colors, the change in the atmosphere—it felt like a message, almost like nature was telling me that I could do this. It was crazy—like a reset button was hit. It gave me the strength to push on for just a bit longer.

Respect for Ultrarunners

When I set out on this journey, I didn’t fully understand what it means to be an ultrarunner. Yes, I had trained and read about it, but nothing prepares you for the mental and physical endurance required to run over a marathon, let alone 100 km. Running past that 42.195 km mark was eye-opening, and I’ve gained such deep respect for anyone who has run a full ultra. To go out there and run for 24 hours or more—through the night, through pain, through doubt—is something that demands not just physical ability, but an immense mental fortitude.

For me, it was crazy to run over a marathon distance. I can’t even imagine pushing further beyond that. It’s something entirely different, a whole new level of endurance and commitment. The fact that there are runners out there doing this, day in and day out, is nothing short of inspiring.

Reflection

I had told people I’d try for 100 km, but I never promised. And honestly? I don’t feel bad about stopping at 50 km. It was brutal. It was fun. And now, I am an ultrarunner—or at least, on my way.

Will I try 100 km again? Maybe. It feels achievable, but I know it will take everything I have to get there. For now, though, I’ll sit with the victory I earned today—one freezing step at a time.

There’s no shame in not finishing a 100 km, because the journey itself was valuable, and it’s made me more respectful than ever of the athletes who push past that limit. For them, every extra kilometer is a win.