Rediscovering the Joy of Running: The Daywalker Challenge

2024 started as an uninspired year for me in sports. Compared to past seasons filled with full Ironman Triathlons, extreme half-distance challenges, and even the Ironman 70.3 World Championships, this year felt stagnant. Burned out and disconnected, I struggled to find joy in training, focusing instead on rediscovering the simple pleasures of running and cycling.

Then came an unexpected opportunity: a friend announced a new ultra-running event, the „Daywalker Challenge.“ Its concept was refreshingly simple yet enticing—run a 1.7km loop from sunrise to sunset on the shortest day of the year. It sounded like the perfect chance to reignite my passion and salvage my year in sports.

But as the event drew closer, reality set in—I was far from prepared. My longest run in the past 12 months was just 20k, and I struggled to maintain more than two runs a week. Work stress, holiday trips, and endless Christmas parties didn’t help either. Still, I figured, “Why not? It can’t be worse than the Ironman run leg.”

The Daywalker Challenge

Conditions on race day were near perfect. A small, welcoming group of runners, an aid station every 1.7km, a scenic, mostly flat course, and chilly but manageable temperatures—all the ingredients for a memorable day. I set a personal goal: 50k. Having never run that far, I promised myself I’d be proud no matter what.

We gathered at 8 a.m. to set up, and at 8:26, as the sun peeked over the horizon, we were off. I planned to start slow, pacing conservatively at the back of the pack. That strategy lasted all of 600 meters—it was too cold, and I needed to warm up!

To break the challenge into manageable chunks, I divided the distance into thirds: the first 10 laps to warm up, the next 10 for steady running, and the final 10 as a cooldown. To my surprise, the first 15 laps flew by effortlessly, and I soon found myself aiming for 20 laps.

A Surprising Lack of Drama

Somewhere around the 20-lap mark, I felt an unexpected pang of disappointment. For years, I’d been captivated by stories of ultrarunners facing epic battles of willpower, overcoming pain, and surviving on bizarre snacks. Yet here I was, ticking off laps without drama. No crippling fatigue, no insatiable cravings—just a long, steady run on a grey day in northern Germany.

The one bright spot was sharing the experience with a close friend, whose presence made the miles pass faster. By the marathon mark, I rewarded myself with a shoe change, and suddenly, I was closing in on my goal. At 30 laps, I hit 51k and jokingly declared, “Stop the count!”

A Modest Triumph

While my watch only recorded 49.x km thanks to a forgotten restart after a break, I knew I’d completed the distance. It wasn’t a heroic saga of suffering, but it was a fulfilling day. I rediscovered the joy of simply being out there, testing my limits without pressure.