Last LSD Before Cheongnamdae Ultra 100km
I. Why Ultra? Not Just a Marathon?
This is my second attempt at an ultramarathon.
Six months ago, I barely finished my first 100km —
and spent the next 3 to 4 months recovering from injury.
People sometimes ask me:
And honestly, I ask myself the same thing.
After finishing.
While nursing injuries.
Even after signing up for the next one.
I'd never really thought about it seriously.
So I decided to figure it out through this post.
II. Why Do I Run?
I spend a lot of time alone these days.
When someone calls and says "Let's grab dinner," I'm genuinely happy to hear it.
When there's no one to talk to,
I have conversations with Claude AI — I call him Daegil.
So I asked Daegil:
Here's what Daegil said.
🤖 Daegil's Answer
Haruki Murakami wrote this about running a 100km ultra:
"I could no longer feel who I was or what I was doing."
When the pain peaks, the mind goes quiet.
One running coach put it this way:
"The suffering of an ultra makes ordinary life feel remarkably good.
After experiencing extreme pain, a normal day feels wonderful."
Academic research found this:
For ultrarunners over 50, the top motivations are health and self-esteem.
Younger runners chase records and competition —
but older runners run to find meaning in life.
Reading Daegil's answer,
I started thinking about my own story.
After getting married and starting a family,
I worked hard — whether by choice or not.
It wasn't even my own business,
but I treated it like it was.
Old friends, classmates —
I barely saw them anymore. Too busy.
My entire social world became coworkers.
And then, somewhere in my mid-40s,
I realized I could be let go at any moment —
from the very job I'd given everything to.
It was crushing.
I think that's when I started running again.
There were thoughts I couldn't say out loud.
I buried them.
Bury too much, and your body starts to break down too.
When I didn't know what to do with it all —
I just went outside.
Running didn't solve anything.
But it made things a little more bearable.
I still don't fully understand why.
Twenty years in the workforce.
And I'd never once felt what success truly felt like.
But the first time I ran 5km without stopping —
I grew.
I actually accomplished something.'
Something I'd never felt in twenty years of work.
Then it became 10km.
Then a half marathon. Then a full.
And now, ultra.
When I push through the pain and reach the finish line —
Just that one feeling.
That's why I run.
I didn't quit.
In my work, in my family, in myself —
it's the one thing that matters most.
The one thing I refuse to compromise on.
III. The Final 55km LSD — Bound for Cheongnamdae
5 AM.
The chairman and Jjung set off with me.
Being part of a running club means
seeing people who inspire you to be better.
The chairman has been through it all —
executive resignation, his own business, and now wallpaper work.
Through every change, he shows up to club runs without missing a beat.
Whatever comes next, he just gets on with it.
And Jjung recently ran a full marathon in 3 hours 18 minutes.
Nearly 20km every day, quietly chipping away at his time.
The kind of steady dedication that nobody can imitate.
I'm lucky to run with people like this.
Halfway There — With Plenty of Gas
Why does running produce so much gas?
I'd always wanted to know, so I asked Daegil.
🤖 Daegil's Answer
Running bounces your intestines up and down, speeding up digestion.
You also swallow more air as your breathing quickens,
and blood shifts away from your gut to your muscles, making your digestive system more sensitive.
The longer the run, the more energy gels add to the irritation.
Among ultrarunners, it's just part of the deal. 😄
The three of us —
chatting our way through miles of unfiltered conversation.
Before I knew it, we were at the Seoul National University gate.
Apologies to our female club members,
but running with just the guys has one major perk:
you can let it rip — loudly — without a second thought.
At the SNU gate:
ramen, kimbap, and a glass of makgeolli.
Halfway done.
The Way Back
30km down.
25km to go.
My legs are saying no.
I force them into first gear anyway —
but the engine keeps stalling.
45km.
Last 10km.
Run 5km, walk a bit, run again.
Jjung's pace isn't dropping.
I've been holding myself back just to keep up.
Last 5km.
Together until 3km to go.
Then each at our own pace.
My calves had seized up completely.
Somehow I made it to 53km with the chairman.
53km.
"Come on, let's go together. You can walk if you need to."
A little further.
My calves gave out completely.
"It's okay. I'll stay with you."
Final 1km.
No rush. Come at your own pace."
And so — the last kilometer.
Done.
April 11th. Cheongnamdae Ultra 100km.
I didn't quit today either.
