How I survived my second 24-hour run
One year after my first 24-hour stadium run, my memory of it faded enough for me to inflict it upon myself again. In my defence, the previous one was in Delhi, while this one was local. In March 2019, at 6 PM, the usual crowd was there, and many others since different races were happening simultaneously.
I had a pleasant start, feeling fabulous for the first 6 hours, and I completed 60 kilometres. After this, I started feeling progressively worse as my stomach started cramping, and I felt nauseous.
At the darkest hours of the night, between 1 and 4 AM, I made repeated visits to the washroom with a stomach problem. I thought it was the end of my race, as I felt devoid of energy. I hit the wall repeatedly as there was no glycogen in my body, and I could not hold any food. If I want to do this again, I will have to experiment with food that agrees with me and how much and how often to eat to avoid hitting the wall.
Yet, somehow, I kept on going and had the comforting presence of my Friend with me.
With the dawn, I started feeling better, ate a decent breakfast and kept on going. But in March, it is already hot in Chandigarh. It wasn’t long before the heat started asserting itself, and with that came dehydration. My heart rate started skyrocketing to 170 bpm, which was much more than it should be at the pedestrian pace I was moving.
I started to stop and drink water or sports drinks every round and walked more to get this under control. One of my fellow runners squirted me with water every time he saw me. It helped. Note to self for next time — bring a truckload of ice along!
Time crawled, and I circled slowly. I was looking forward to seeing my son and daughter, who promised to come and support me. When they finally came, it was such a blessing.
After around lunchtime, I was dead slow. I got into a rhythm of 300 meters slow jogging (one cannot call that running) followed by 100 meters walking. One round of 400 meters took me almost 4 minutes. With one hour and ten minutes left, my strength was all gone. I had my last energy gel, and then to the dismay of my kids, the onlookers, hydration-point helpers and medical staff, I collapsed on the grass next to the track.
I have completed my goal of running 100 miles and thought I would rest for a while and then walk the last hour. The medical guys jumped into action and iced my legs very energetically. After five minutes, my daughter and one of them pulled me to my feet with a lot of effort, and I went back to the track.
I walked for two rounds. I met up with Balraj, who ran the Great run of Punjab with me, and we had a conversation. That encouraged me. With 45 minutes left, I felt that I could try to jog. Then I felt like I could go faster. Before long, I found myself moving quite fast. As I passed another runner, he started going with me.
Faster and faster we went. Round after round, we stayed together for about ten rounds. The crowd got into it and cheered us on. With about fifteen minutes left, my companion dropped off, but I was determined to finish this. Another runner joined me shortly afterwards. He stayed with me, and we finished with a sprint.
I did 415 rounds which (calculated at 414 meters per round) gave me 171k. I came fourth like the last time. I don’t know how I managed to do what I did in those last 45 minutes. As I hobbled painfully towards my car after all the handshakes and hugs (this was before Covid), it was with gratitude and satisfaction in my heart.
My family calls me crazy for doing these types of races. I don’t disagree. However, knowing that there are people who run for 48 hours, and others who run across continents averaging 100k a day for 50 days, I think my insanity is pretty mild. Don’t you think?
Keep running
Stephan
