16 Hours of Pain, 100km of Pride: My First ra Journey

 

I. Before the Injury

This was my very first attempt.

I once ran a full marathon in the past and got injured,

“Can I really finish this? If only I don’t get injured, I’ll make it to the end…”

I doubted myself before the race, and even on race day.

Passing the 20 km mark, I thought, “My legs already feel heavy… can I really make it to the finish?”

Between 20 and 30 km, my pace started to drop and I kept wondering, “Are my legs getting heavier and heavier?”

From 30 to 40 km there was a hill. On a normal day I would have run up it, but this time I walked.

Going downhill, I was careful not to overload my legs.

The heaviness in my legs eased, and I started to feel better.

When I reached 40 km, I got a little excited. “Maybe… maybe I can really finish this.”

From 40 to 54 km, that excitement turned into poison. I pushed too hard uphill and went into overpace.

I didn’t feel anything going up, but on the downhill I started to feel pain in the bottom of my right foot.

I tried to land as lightly as possible on the painful spot and shifted my weight to my left foot. That way, at least, I could still run a bit.

“How long can my left leg hold on?”

My left leg had never been injured before, so I kept telling myself it would be okay.

After passing 60 km and reaching 70 km, I thought, “If things don’t get worse, I might actually reach the finish line.”

Hope and excitement about succeeding in my first ultra attempt started to rise in my chest.

I felt like I would finally be able to say “I did it” to my family, to my running club, and to myself.

Even the boring scenery, the streetlights, and the endlessly stretching road looked beautiful as I ran.

Lost in that feeling, I ran more than 1 km at a 5:30 pace.

Then my left knee, which had been holding me up, suddenly began to hurt, and I couldn’t run anymore.

A little bit of carelessness turned into an immediate result.

That’s how I arrived at the 80 km aid station… only to realize the spray painkiller was already gone. (Personal spray painkiller = must-have item!)

II. Just Get to 90 km Within Two Hours

There were 5 hours left until the race cutoff.

I thought, if I can just reach 90 km within 2 hours, somehow I’ll be able to cover the remaining 10 km in the last 3 hours.

After the halfway point, Haneul, who has finished 18 ultra marathons, started pacing with me. I couldn’t run anymore at that point,

“Haneul, please go ahead without me.”

“No, Jung-team, let’s stay together.”

“I feel bad holding you back. Because of me you can’t even run properly…”

I stopped to rest a bit further down the road. After a while, Haneul came back to me again.

“Jung-team, come on, let’s go together.”

“I’m afraid I’m only getting in your way… I feel so guilty.”

“Run when you can, walk when you want. Don’t worry about me, I’ll match your pace. It’s not like I’m here for a record anyway.”

“Okay…”

So that I wouldn’t feel pressured, Haneul walked slightly behind me.

Worried that I was exhausted, he set a 5-minute alarm on his phone and we took a short nap together at a bus stop.

Even though Haneul was still capable of running, he kept walking with me, and his body cooled down. He put on the windbreaker he had brought with him. (Windbreaker = another must-have item!)

Compared to the pain in my right foot and the IT band injury in my left leg, the blisters on my feet were nothing.

It was painful just to walk, but if I slowed down even more, I knew I wouldn’t make it to 90 km within those crucial 2 hours.

“Haneul, please walk in front. If I match your walking pace, I think I can make it within two hours.”

Step by painful step, those 10 km felt endless. The 90 km aid station just wouldn’t appear.

My Samsung smartwatch battery died at 80 km, so I kept asking runners passing by what distance we were at.

(Samsung smartwatch is not ideal for a 100 km ultra.)

In the middle of all that, a runner who was struggling but still moving ahead of us passed by and shouted loudly,

“Good morning!”

Somehow, that’s a phrase I really want to shout myself at my next ultra.

And finally, the 90 km aid station came into view!

“Somehow I’ll cover the last 10 km… I’m so relieved I made it here within two hours.”

III. The Last 10 km

“Haneul, even walking is hard now, so I’m going to slow down. Please, really, go on ahead without me this time.”

“Okay, Jung-team. It’s only 10 km now, you’ll be fine. I’ll head out first.”

“Thank you so much for walking with me. See you at the finish.”

“See you there.”

As long as I kept walking, it was barely manageable. But the moment I stopped and started again, the pain was excruciating— every single step hurt.

I had already pushed my body to the limit. The only way to keep going was to know exactly how many kilometers were left.

I set my phone, which still had some battery left, to track a 10 km walk and started moving again.

Runners or walkers passing by me— I kept wondering what kind of pain each of them was enduring.

Watching those who were still able to run, I thought to myself, “The ones who can keep running to the very end… they’re the real winners.”

The light rain turned into a heavy shower, and I put on the rain poncho I had brought. (Rain poncho = another must-have item.)

I think it was around 8 a.m. at that point.

As I staggered along the road,

someone rolled down their car window and shouted, “You’re almost there! Keep going, fighting!”

Another driver flashed their headlights and honked, “Beep-beep-beep, beep-beep!” like a World Cup cheer.

My phone rang every time I finished another kilometer. “Okay, that’s one more down… this is how many I have left.”

IV. Finish Line

I started at 5 p.m. and crossed the finish line at 9:13 a.m.

Total time: 16 hours, 13 minutes, and 26 seconds.

I had imagined this moment would feel glorious and satisfying,

but maybe because I was soaked from the rain, or maybe because the pain was so intense,

the very first thought that came to my mind was,

“I just want to go home.”

And the next thought was,

“Still… I’m so grateful that I can say I finished.”

I could now proudly tell my second child, who had teased me saying “I’ll accept it if you at least make it to 80 km,”

my running club friends who had joked for over two months, “If you’re training for an ultra, you need to do a few more hill repeats,”

and my wife, who told me to stop immediately if I felt any pain.

And to myself as well, the one who took on this reckless challenge and somehow made it through,

“I’m so glad I finished.”