The question "Why" actually never came to mind throughout the day - which might be a tad surprising, given we had just endured 24 hours of hiking through the hilly region around the city of Wuppertal, 100km (62m) with some 2,000m of altitude thrown in for good measure. In recent years, ultramarathons have massively gained in popularity. The last year brought an additional boost, as travel restrictions due to the pandemic meant that many spent a good chunk of their holidays within their own country, (re-)discovering areas and trails closer to their home. The two largest organizers of ultra-endurance events in Germany are called Mammutmarsch and Megamarsch, and in early 2021 we - Sabrina, Kerstin, Christoph, and myself - registered for the 100km Mammutmarsch hike in September. While it seemed far away at that time, the months flew by and we suddenly found ourselves at the start. As I had found those overviews by previous participants quite useful in the preparation of the event, I want to take an excursion from the usual travel impressions to sum up the hike, and give some pointers on how we prepared and what we brought to the event.
The Beginning (0-20km)
Before we drove to the starting point, our group met up to carbo-load with some big plates of Spaghetti Bolognese, while we checked our gear for the last time and talked about the silliness of the endeavor in general - we were about to have a sleepless, exhausting night, while most of our friends were having a regular Saturday night out, and would climb into a comfy bed later. Yet we never questioned the upcoming challenge. We had spent quite a few weekends on trails in the surrounding area, steadily improving and gaining in experience. That said, it would be almost twice as long as our longest hike up to that point, and we were curious and cautious how our body would react after many hours of physical strain.
We had picked the starting time of 2:30pm, as we figured it might make sense to enter the night while we were still relatively fresh, and with German punctuality the starting shot set the group into motion. Along the track, which you can follow here, there were supply stations every 20km to stock up on water, coffee, fruit and chocolate bars. On the first kilometers, the group (some 1,200 participated all in all) was still marching along as a single long worm of hikers, which thinned out more and more throughout the day. The path was easy to walk, but was shared with hundreds of people on bicycles, which led to constant evasive maneuvers.
Into the Night (21-40km)
Following the first stop and a very welcomed cup of coffee, we marched on as the sun slowly set and put on our headlights, as the trail led through an increasingly darker forest. Our spirits were high, though, and the Bluetooth speaker blasted classic hits of the 80s and 90s into the dark as we made our way through the dark, following the bright spotlight from our lamps on the forest floor:
Music was a helpful companion throughout the hike, and the reactions of the other groups as we walked by makes me rather sure that we were not alone with this. Walking through the night comes with other challenges, as visual input is limited, and one has to pay attention to loose gravel, roots, branches on eye level, all while looking for the small pieces of reflective band, which were used to mark the correct path at crossroads.
After 40km we arrived at the next supply station, set up under the Ruhr-Viadukt, an impressive railroad bridge which was built in 1879 and crosses the Ruhr river with a height of 30 meters. The event logo was displayed on the structure with a big spotlight - a rather impressive view, which kind of looked like they were trying to summon Batman's lesser known sidekick, the mighty Mammoth-Man. We stocked up on water and had a late-night meal of nuts and fruit, while Sabrina, who had already entered the hike with a painful injury, checked if the paramedics onsite could do some magic to help her continue.
From Dusk til Dawn (41-60km)
After about a marathon's distance, our injured companion had to abandon the hike - the terrain was getting increasingly difficult, and without being able to fully trust her legs, it would've been too dangerous for her to carry on at night. A sensible, but nevertheless tough decision, since we had worked towards this day for quite some time.
The remaining three continued the march through the nightly forest, where we had a surreal moment when we lost the original path and were walking next to a broad fence parallel to the intended track: as we turned our heads with the headlamps into the forest, half a dozen pairs of eyes reflected the light back to us. It was too dark to make out the owners of those eyes, which just stared at us without any movement or noise, and our steps may or may not have gotten a little quicker to get out of that forest again. While I had be feeling fine at the last stop, the walk to the next supply station with its steep ascents and descends proved to be tricky, straining my legs to the point that I was limping heavily when we finally got to the station at 58km at around 3:30 in the morning. I drew some worried looks from the remaining two companions as I was lying on my back to stretch some life back into my legs. A coffee, hot soup and some Ibuprofen did wonders, though, and off we went with the headlights. "Only a marathon to go!", a cheerful volunteer told us as we were leaving.
A New Day (61-80km)
The hours until sunrise went by in a bit of a hiking daze. We spotted some toads and a fire salamander crossing our paths, but otherwise both my mental as well as my smartphone memory are fairly blank. We marched on, until we saw the sun come up as we approached the Ruhr river.
The rising sun brought back some energy and we were at that point, close to 70km mark, confident that we would indeed make it to the finish line. We were a bit jaded, sure, but all in all spirits were high. A further boost came a few kilometers in, when our friend Marc, who kindly made his way to a parking lot near the track, let us unload some of our no longer needed stuff. He joined us for the next section of the track, which saw some of the steepest ascents, and with renewed energy and lighter backpacks we said goodbye, as we descended to the next and final supply stop at 80km.
Closing the Loop (80-100km)
After an extended breakfast break at the last supply stop, we followed the spray-painted yellow arrows once more, determined to finish the race. It was not to be without hiccups, though: An hour after we had continued the race, our first aid kit had to be put into use, as Kerstin, who had been suffering from blisters since the early stages of the march, announced with dismay that two had burst, making the remaining 15km an extraordinarily painful endeavor. The track was not kind to us, either, as it had saved the longest up and down passages for this last bit, and every kilometer had to be truly earned, as we counted down the remaining distance in our heads. When we approached the last stretch of the path, people who knew about the event started to congratulate us as we walked by and ensured us that the finish line was within reach. At this point, we had been up and hiking for 24h, and the midday sun contributed to us feeling just how tired we truly were. Once the finish line came into sight, we raised our hands and jointly crossed it, rather enjoying the cheering from the volunteers who handed us our medals.
Returning to the question of why, maybe the voices in the documentary on The Barkley Marathons put it best: "If you're going to face a challenge, it has to be a real challenge. You can't accomplish anything without the possibility of failure," which I think is true. And on a basic, yet somehow contradictory sounding level: "Most people would be better off with more pain in their lives."
A bonus was that we were able to raise some €2,000 for a children's hospice Regenbogenland in the city of Düsseldorf. They're doing great work and if you want to support them, you can do so here. A big thank you goes out to all contributors, my hiking companions - in particular Sabrina who despite her personal disappointment picked us up at the finish, Marc for his mobile supply station, and to all the volunteers who supported us along the way.
Equipment
The main aim for the 100km was to keep it light. At most hiking events, there are supply stops along the way, so you can rely on those for some of the basics. That said, here's what I had with me (also see the photo in the beginning):
Backpack: I stuffed everything into a trail running backpack, which was sufficient for me, although I saw some participants with giant backpacks, which I doubt were fun on some of the steeper parts. Pack as much as you need, but as little as possible. Keep your stuff in zip bags and plastic bags to avoid it getting wet or damp should the weather turn.
Shoes: On my first longer hike I wore hiking boots, and while they are fine in general, the additional weight means it will take more energy on long-distance events. For the 100km I went with the Hoka Speedgoat. The shoe felt comfortable on both unpaved trails and asphalt, and I felt that its thick cushioning absorbs a good deal of the strain on longer runs. Regardless of which shoe you pick in the end, obviously make sure they are broken in prior to the main event.
Socks: I went with these double-layered socks. They are supposed to avoid blisters and I did not get any on the 100km, so I'd say they worked for me.
Apparel: In addition to the shirt I was wearing I packed two additional ones, and it felt really good to be able to change after a certain distance. They do not take a lot of space and don't weigh too much either. Add one light, breathable jacket for the night and a bandana of sorts, as you will likely get sweaty on longer ascents. Get some seamless underwear to avoid painful chafing.
Rain protection: I followed the weather forecast closely and in the end threw out the poncho and rain pants to save weight, only packing a lighter rain jacket. It worked out this time, but might not the next time, so this is really down to the level of risk you're willing to accept. For other trips I went with a light-weight poncho that can also cover your backpack.
Food and water: Pack stuff you like. You will usually get some simple food at supply stations, so don't overdo it. You will at some point be sick of the power bars and gels, so include some hearty and salty foodstuff as well. I had 1.2l of water with me to last me from station to station, which was just enough.
First Aid Kit: At least one person in your group should carry one, you might need it - we did. Throw in some blister pads.
Headlamp: Because you don't want to be holding a flashlight the whole night.
Powerbank: It's a long walk, and you don't want to run out of juice.
Toothbrush and toothpaste (optional): After long hours of throwing sweet food in your mouth, it can help to feel more human again in the early hours of the next day.
Bluetooth speakers (optional): Yes, they weigh quite a bit, but in my view, having music on the trail gives you more energy than it takes.
Pain killers (optional): A bit of a controversial one and I certainly don't want to advise on taking medication. Ideally you should get through the hike without needing any, and if you feel you really can't go on: stop. There will be another hike some other day. But full disclosure: On this hike, I had an Ibuprofen which helped to push through a low half-way through the hike, when my muscles were acting up following a steep descent.
Walking sticks (optional): While I saw quite a few participants with those sticks, I personally did not find them necessary. There were a few downhill bits where I thought they might come in handy, but all in all I would have likely been more annoyed with the additional weight for 98% of the track.
Preparation
Preparation and training make a huge difference. It was our first attempt for the 100km, but we had taken part in several shorter hiking events throughout the last 12 months before the big one. In the context of ultramarathons, shorter meant 50-55km hikes. Our first 55km hike took us more than 12 hours and we were all basically destroyed afterwards. Through regular 25-30km hikes on weekends we gradually got used to it all and felt adequately prepared. We never did a hike through the night in the preparation phase and I don't think this is strictly necessary.
Since the weather might turn bad during the event, it is helpful to not cancel an training hike because of bad weather. It will come in handy when you know beforehand whether you can trust your equipment, and when you get some experience on how road conditions etc. may change.
While the hike will demand a lot from your legs, don't neglect the core, since you'll be wearing a backpack for the entire day and aching shoulders would be an avoidable annoyance.
Following advice from a more frequent runner among my friends I did not drink any coffee or tea with caffeine for two weeks before the event. The thinking was that after that period of desensitization a coffee during the night hours of the hike would have an additional kick - and boy, did that work. The legs might have ached after a while, but fatigue or low energy was never an issue throughout the march.
In the week prior to the hike, go easy with the workout - you don't want to get to the starting line with sore legs.
Quite importantly, go with the right crew - you will spend a lot of time together, and in particular with exhaustion or hunger some social filters might get thinner. As we had done quite a few hikes throughout the year, we knew that we had about the same pace, and a positive spirit and banter to take us a long way.
Lastly, treat yourself after the race. You will demand a lot from your body, so give it time to recover, and add a little spark if you feel like it.
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