What I owe the Boston Marathon
Humble Yourself – Or Running Will Do it For You
The venerable Boston Marathon celebrated its 129th running this past Monday. While the elite performances were certainly spectacular, what caught my attention was everything surrounding the race itself – the marketing efforts large and small, and the extensive coverage by countless publications, sports personalities, (former) professional runners and their teams. The Boston Marathon commands a unique reverence in the running world. And for good reason.
My Boston Marathon
I ran Boston in 2019, and I still haven't made peace with the experience. Not because of my fairly average finishing time of 3:20:54. Not even because I hit the wall embarrassingly early at the half-marathon mark, or because I hit the wall at all.
No, my unease stems from my entire approach to the Boston Marathon.
Humble Yourself – Or Running Will Do it For You
When I took off my gloves and raincoat at the start in Hopkinton that morning, I was fully aware (intellectually, at least) that Boston wasn't the easiest road marathon. Yet I was completely blindsided when my race fell apart at the halfway point. The collapse was so severe that I actually looked for shuttle buses to take me back into the city (thankfully finding none). I was utterly devastated by such a monumental and unexpected failure.
I did eventually cross the finish line on Boylston Street, but at a tremendous cost: 21 kilometers of pure suffering for a mediocre time. The experience left me questioning my marathon abilities and even my identity as a runner. The recovery - mental more than physical - took months.
What Went Wrong?
It wasn't my stupid "more is better" training philosophy of my second running life that kept me chronically stressed and fatigued.
It wasn't the challenging course with its infamous hills.
It wasn't the lack of fuel, the jet lag, or the cold I battled for two weeks before race day.
It wasn't even my overwhelming desire to always perform well at the marathon distance.
Boston crushed me because I was ignorant and cocky.
In short, I had no Plan B. I was completely unprepared for any deviation from the perfect race I had colorfully painted in my mind in the weeks, days, hours, and minutes leading up to the start.
As it turned out, the Boston Marathon owed me nothing. In fact, it owes no runner anything.
“Render therefore unto Boston the things which are Boston’s”
The Boston Marathon demands respect. Not just because of its rich history, its qualifying standards, or its unparalleled spirit. But because it's a race that exposes every flaw in your preparation, both physical and mental.
Boston doesn't care about your plans, goals, and dreams. It expects you to come prepared to adapt, to suffer intelligently, and to find solutions when your primary plan inevitably falls apart. And most of all, it demands that you race like you mean it. Boston deserves no less.
To this day, I feel a strong urge to go back to Boston and get it right. To give the Boston Marathon what I still owe it: absolutely everything I have to give. And I will.
2025 Racing Season is On
With this in mind, my 2025 racing season will start tonight with a short vertical race and continue tomorrow with the middle distance at the GaPa Trail. Followed by a similar agenda next week with another vertical race on Thursday and the K65 distance at the IATF (Innsbruck Alpine Trailrun Festival). All in preparation for the headliner of the season, the Zugspitz Ultratrail in mid-June.
It's hard to compare my upcoming races to the Boston Marathon, except maybe that racing in general does something to me. For me, it's inextricably linked to my running and always serves as an important anchor when I feel like I'm losing my way.
Everything Not Running
Wednesday marked World Book Day, an occasion that once would have passed me by unnoticed. Now, as an author myself, I deeply appreciate any celebration of books and the people who create them.
If you've enjoyed my books Runhundred or Hundert-Meilen-Herz, there's a simple yet powerful way to show your support: leave an honest review on Amazon or Goodreads. These reviews aren't just encouraging words — they're vital lifelines that help my work survive in a crowded marketplace.
The mysterious algorithms that determine book visibility respond directly to reader engagement. Your review could be the difference between my ultrarunning stories reaching fellow jellybean-eating enthusiasts searching for "Western States 100" or my books remaining invisible in the digital wilderness.
A few seconds of your time creates ripples of impact. If my words have moved you, informed you, or kept you company on your own running journey, please consider paying it forward with a review.
Thank. You. So. Much.
On Repeat
Another blast from the past. Barely 27 years old and still dominating like few other European bands. Disrespect from Berlin were the predecessors of the much better known Final Prayer. In terms of hardness and intensity they were maybe even a bit superior, which was not least due to the unbelievably powerful singer Devrim (later with Devil Inside / Jaylan).
Disrespect were also way ahead of most of their contemporaries in the 90s in terms of playing skills and studio production. I still remember how I looked up to Disrespect with my own bands back then. And rightly so.
“Nightbreed" from the album "Eternal Mayhem" is and remains a massive banger.