The body as a machine

What is the furthest you have travelled powered by your own body? What was your record in swimming, running, walking, biking, …?

For me it was approximately 40km walking together with Isolde. We walked around the Kreuzensteiner Castle in deep winter, ankledeep in snow and with low visibility. At times it felt like we were in the middle of greenland.

It feels a bit weird to talk about frosty winter, when there is an unbearable heat outside. but rest assured, it’s gonna get hot and sweaty in this entry real soon too.

Looking back

Those 40km took all day. It was dark when we finally returned to the train station. and after a 20min train ride, our bodies ached and muscles got stiff. Getting up from our cushioned seats never took as much power of will. And then we hobbled and limped back to our place.

Around 2 months later I got the glorious idea to follow an advertisement hung up in a train: Burgenland Extrem. A challenge to walk around the Neusiedler See in 24h (thats 120km!). Thanks to the Rundumadum I was fairly familiar with 24h challenges and maybe because of that (or despite it?) I was intruiged and signed up with Isolde. It was meant to take place in late january but due to covid it was delayed to mid june.

Hot hiking conditions

I would choose neither of the seasons to walk for 24h straight, but I wasn’t the one in charge. So we prepared for 30 degrees from above and 60 degrees from below. The road would turn into a top and bottom oven, and we would be the chicken grilling in between.

A few hours of respite were granted before the sun would shine down on us from its zenith, as the starting time was 2:30am on a friday morning. Oggau, the starting village looked deserted, but around the municipal office a few hundred people gathered. Most of them were equipped with trekking poles, long sleeved shirts, compression socks up underneath their knees and water bottle harnesses. They all looked so professional…

The first hours went by so quickly. Everyone was in a good mood and jested around. The cold air and rising sun granted winged feets as everyone fell into their own pace, spacing out the initially tight queue. Trekking poles transformed from a tripping hazard to useful tools. And in Balf, after 27km, the first refreshing station awaited the breakfast-hungry hiking company. We got luke warm peppermint tea, isotonic drinks and still mineral water, alongside Striezel.

The mental battle begins

On a regular hiking day, the workload for the day would already be done, but we were just getting started. Despite being at the first station, the majority of attendees already tended to their blisters and stretched. I myself had to deal with a very uncomfortable and awkward chafe. Marmot balm helped ease the pain and got my mind off it for another 10km.

The section in the south of Neusiedler Lake in Hungary was very monotonous. One small village queued after the next one. Dogs barked behind their fences, weeds grew through cracked pavement and colorful roses grew in small patches of dirt along the main road.

Our initial pace of over 6km/h slowed down as it got warmer and we had to adapt to a blister ridden colleague. The question arose: What to do with them? Slow down and accompany them? Or leave behind to keep up a certain pace? The proverb “A chain is as strong as its weakest link.” stayed in the back of my mind for most of the hike then.

At refreshing stations we checked in on the one behind us by calling and tried to find out what to do about the situation. In the end Isolde and I walked the rest of the hike alone.

Dreading every step

Our bodies got weaker by the kilometer, feet ached, joints hurt, sunburns formed, sun allergy rashes appeared, our pace slowing down to a creeping 5km/h.

The kilometers before Apetlon were horrible. The aforementioned 30/60 degrees became reality and the roads were straight as an arrow. No end in sight, yet we were exhausted to the bone. Tears of exhaustion welled up, shaming and humiliating me. Either I underestimated the challenge or overestimated my capabilities. Videos and reports about 100km challenges all warned about the impact and difficulty of such an attempt. But who considers to be one of those quitters? I didn’t. But at 60km we stopped walking. No more. Enough is enough.

Would I keep walking to prove something to myself? My friends? The internet? Just to see those numbers on my fitness watch?

It’s okay to quit

Walking half of what I set out to still was impressive after all. We set up our new personal best and charted our physical and emotional limits. Despite not receiving a finisher medal or walking through the inflatable finish arch back in Oggau, we staked out how far we could walk in one go. How many kilometers until the first signs of exhaustion would appear. How many hours until the chafing starts. We got to know our average pace in such a setting.

And despite all the discouraging symptoms of our body telling us to stop, we kind of felt like… doing it again?

The Event

The shared goal with the crowd, the competition, the cheerful words of volunteers at the start, stations and end, the admiration for the complexity and sheer size of the project impressed, motivated, encouraged and stimulated. Everyone tried to be the best version of themselves: “Be the hiker you wish to meet on the trail”. We got offered RedBulls from their personal stash, got invited to drinks as we forgot to bring any coins and got uplifting words from lone wolves charging onwards like there was nothing but the goal. And the lone wolf in question was probably 70 years old. What an icon. I truly aspire to be like him when I get old.