And I will run 120 kilometres

What is next for you? If I had a page of frequently asked questions for my life, this would top the list. Whether it was when I finished my world record for fastest time to hula hoop ten kilometres or fastest marathon dressed as Elvis Presley or running a sub-3-hour marathon or running my first ultramarathon, people are always eager to know what my next goal will be.

In many ways, I think it is karma. I remember when my brother and his then-girlfriend just had their first child, William, 17 years ago, the very first question I asked them after the long and strenuous birth, was “when will you be having a second?”. It is only human nature to always being looking forward to the next thing, the next goal, the next life event. But before I even plan for the next world record, the next ultra-marathon, the next race, or the next whatever, it is important to reflect on the goal just accomplished. So here it goes.

The goal was to run 5 kilometers every hour for 24 hours for a total of 120 kilometers. I set this goal for four reasons: (1) to run the longest distance to date; (2) to set a challenge of running with breaks rather than running continuously for 120 kilometers; (3) to have something challenging to work towards to occupy my mind during Covid times; and (4) to organize  a Covid friendly event with my November Project family which brought people of all speeds and abilities together to share in the realization of my goal.

On May 12, 2021, I awoke to a rush of nerves. I somehow struggled through my regular work day, all the while knowing that in less than 24 hours I would be undertaking the next big thing. By noon that day, my stomach started acting up. I couldn’t hold any food down and my stomach was filled with dread. The normal fluttering butterflies were absent. Instead, I had the feeling of caterpillars, stuffed with leaves, growing plumper and longer and heavier inside my gut. After work, I laid in bed and tried to shut the world off. I fell asleep for three hours hoping to awake to something lighter. At 11pm, Robbie showed up at my apartment and started setting up the camera equipment in the corner. Hugo was busy making coffee and planning out the food for the next 24 hours. I jammed a long stick up my nose and down my throat taking a swab sample to test myself for corona. The negative test result marked the green light for my 24-hour run.

I was more nervous than usual. This coming from a girl that pre-Covid times, raced every single weekend for years. And yet, this event seemed more daunting than anything I had ever done before. I could not get lost in the crowd of the race. Others adrenaline would not propel me to the finish line. It was my run, my goal, my race. I was nervous and scared. My hands trembled.

I don’t write this recap for anyone but myself, but I still feel the obligation to document it. I may not be Thomas Jefferson. I am certainly no Hollywood star. But I am human and as humans we have the obligation to record what we think and do. I won’t be in any history books, but that doesn’t make my story any less recordable. These words, these journal entries – are a testament to my life. We live and grow and then we die. I hope that one day after I die that my son and my grandchildren will understand the importance of taking a risk – of breaking through your childhood – of recreating your story – of writing your happy ever after ending.

I don’t care if I am dramatic or hysterical. It is okay to let modesty go for a night or two and just relish in one’s hard work and determination. But what if I fail? What if I can’t complete? What if, what if, what if, what if? I guess, who really cares in the grand scheme of things? But isn’t that what I am afraid of. That no one cares if I finish or don’t. Isn’t that our worst nightmare? That no one is invested in our success. That no one will remember our achievements. Or worse, that no one will remember us when we are gone. Then what? The caterpillars squirmed in my stomach.

 In the weeks leading up to this day, I had mapped out three loops of 5 kilometers. The city loop – one going towards Amsterdam center – was to be used during night time as it was littered with street lights. The Bos loop made a short loop in the Amsterdamse Bos and was intended for those that were accompanying me on bike. This loop offered less people and wider pathways for bikes to easily ride along for the 5 kilometers. The final one was the Amstelpark loop and it travelled through the blossoming Buitenveldert footpaths into Amstelpark. In the end, this became the most important loop of all as it offered not only fragrant flowers but also shade from the unplanned, and not forecasted, heat and humidity.

At exactly midnight, on May 13, 2021, I set off outside my apartment in Zuidas for my first 5 kilometers. Hugo accompanied me on this city loop by foot and Robbie biked alongside us with his heavy camera. We took the first round easy. We laughed. We made jokes about what was to come. I unfortunately was still preoccupied with my stomach and hoping that I would soon find relief. For the next 12 hours, I would complain about the sharp pains in my lower right stomach. Everyone offered home remedies. I drank flat ginger ale and hot tea while lying in bed with a hot water bottle on my stomach. I took a few showers between running with no avail.

I decided to start the 24-hour run at midnight in order to get the darkness over with at the beginning when I was still fresh and mentally strong. During these early hours of the night, Millie and her bubbly Boston personality, Antoinette’s calm and rational approach, and Wei and Wilbur’s friendly demeanor, pushed me through to sunrise. Hugo eagerly awaited my arrival after each 5 kilometers with snacks and beverages to keep me fueled. Over the 24 hours, he fed me crackers with hummus, cheese quesadillas, fresh sticks of mango and pineapple, sports drink, warm tea, salty pretzel sticks, and homemade Indonesian chicken noodle soup.

On loop three, Millie joined for our first detour from the city loop towards Amstelpark. But unbeknownst to me (and her), the park was closed forcing us to reroute. The change was not what I planned, and I immediately panicked. She kept me calm, reassuring me that at 5 kilometers we would simply stop and walk the rest of the way home. It was dark and even though I have six years of familiarity with the city, I was lost. Neither of us had taken our phones and instead had to rely on a map on the footpath to navigate the quickest route home. We had just made it through Beatrix Park when the watch buzzed 5 kilometers. We stopped and walked the remainder of the 800 meters back to my apartment.

Even though I had mapped my runs carefully before starting this monster goal, by loop four I was already confusing my left and right, causing Antoinette to run in the wrong direction. She took the executive decision to scrap the routes and instead to run out and back towards the Amstel and towards Amstelveen. The simplicity of these routes eased my mind. I relaxed. We talked about diet and nutrition, running in the moment, vacation plans, and work. As the night wore on, our conversation stilled. I listened to our feet hit the pavement. I steadied my breathing. I was now five loops in and, even though my stomach still cramped, I felt closer and closer to the end goal. At around 4am, we did a video chat with Cassie from New York. She fittingly reminded us that “magic happens when everyone else is sleeping.”

At 5am, Weiyi, joined. The sun was rising and with it my mood followed. The light renewed my energy. We discussed the first time we met the year prior at the CPC Halve Marathon in the Hague, which was ironically the last organized race I had attended before corona hit. By 6am, Wilbur showed up by bike. It had been a long time since we had seen or talked with one another. We discussed injuries and Minnesota accents, which he perfectly pulled off. The “You betcha” and “dontacha know” took me back to watching Fargo with my dad and brother decades earlier.

At 7am, Stephan was waiting for me to join on the next lap. We had seen each other only 5 days earlier at the Mud Masters run, but his familiarity felt reassuring. We exchanged war wounds from the previous Saturday and talked about how much we missed Wednesday morning workouts at November Project.

At 8am, it was Frank and Teresa’s turn. I met them downstairs and they were busy conversing in Portuguese. We headed out towards the Bos. Teresa, a former colleague at the University of Amsterdam, and I chatted about PhD progress (or lack thereof). I was serenaded by Frank singing the one and only Celine Dione, “all by myself, Don’t wanna be, All by myself, Anymore.” You are right, Frank, I don’t want to be by myself anymore and am so thankful you were there for my run.

For the next two rounds, I had the pleasure of running with Michael. The last time I had seen Michael was at his marathon in Amsterdamse Bos last fall. Roles, however, were reversed this time. I was now the tired one and he was ready to bring this party to the next level. For the first loop, we ventured into Amstelpark, which was now open, and Frank was still following us by bike. We ran over the rode brug (red bridge) and Frank informed us the park was developed in the 1970’s. The white blossoming flowers, stacked rocks, ferns, and manicured pathways were an ode to the 1970’s and it indeed was pretty groovy.

On Michael’s second loop, Hugo joined. Michael had pre-made a Canadian playlist on his spotify and for the next 30 minutes him and Hugo belted out “Born to be Wild” by Steppenwolf, “Man! I feel like a Woman” by Shania Twain, “The Suburbs” by Arcade Fire, “The Weight” by The Band and “Nautical Disaster” by Tragically Hip. As we passed walkers, Michael exclaimed that “Shania Twain is better than the Beatles” and other funny things that made my spirit lift higher.

Next up, my fellow November Project Co-leaders, Dani and Kid X joined in the fun. Dani showed up in a full Penguin suit ready to compete for the most outrageously dressed. As we ran, Kid X biked alongside us. We played a few rounds of the animal game – where one person picks an animal and the other two have to guess it by asking a series of questions. The Ogopogo, the infamous lake monster that is said to inhabit the Okanagan lake in beautiful British Columbia, Canada, stumped both Dani and I. We were perhaps less creative with our centipede and goat creatures. Halfway through the Bos loop, I had to make an emergency stop in the bushes. Dani and Kid X got a kick out of announcing that I had just did my business in the woods.

Surprisingly, my stomach finally felt better. The relief outweighed the humiliation. The caterpillars had finally transformed their bodies, emerging as butterflies. As we neared the end of the 5 kilometers, Kid X asked how far we had been running. I said that I had run 59 kilometers at this point. He immediately replied “wow, I feel so rested. This is really easy, Header.” Dani reminded him that they had only travelled 4 kilometers and not 59 kilometers. Her correction, however, did not damper his mood. He still felt amazing, Penguin!

For the 13^th and 14^th round, Amanda showed up. She remarked that of course she would be running unlucky 13. For the first round, Dani, Amanda, and I marvelled at all the statues in Amsterdam and gushed over Frank’s Celine Dion rendition. Dani outshone us all in her rainbow cape and I was a bit disappointed that Amanda, my fellow Canadian, was unaware of the Ogopogo. I, of course, forgave her once I saw the apple pie she had brought with her to my apartment.

On the second round with Amanda, Millie was back bringing pretzels and Gatorade and ready for her second loop of the day. Their unadulterated conversations distracted me from my ever-growing exhaustion.

My stomach was better, but my mind was wavering after 65 kilometers. I took most of my breaks in bed. Hugo massaged my legs and listened to my endless rants on my physical and mental ailments. For the 15^th round, Leo and Christy would pull me through with new conversations and plenty of photographs. I felt like a model for Runner’s World as Leo biked ahead and snapped photos.

On the 16^th and 17^th round, Christy stuck by me. We reminisced about my 100-kilometer run this past October and the difference between that run and this one. She noticed that I was much stronger and upbeat now compared to my 100-kilometer shuffle. Even though I didn’t feel stronger, her comparison of the two events left me feeling hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, I could really finish this thing.

On the 18^th and 19^th round, Kate and Shiva jumped in. Shiva wore her Canadian compression socks as a homage to my native country. They were both lively and filled with encouragement. We chatted about training for long distance runs, Kate’s first upcoming marathon this fall in Amsterdam, and Shiva’s goal of running 100 kilometers. I was blessed to focus on someone else’s goals for 10 kilometers instead of the present moment. My mind was beginning to slip. I couldn’t remember if I had told a particular story or what round I was on or how much longer I had to go. They both reassured me that this was normal, and I was doing amazing.

For loop 20, which would mark 100 kilometers, I was delighted to have Diana join. She brought carrot cake, red velvet cookies, and her upbeat personality. I really needed her at this point. I was starting to struggle with keeping up with the conversation, but Diana didn’t mind. If you know Diana, you know how well she can keep the conversation going from her side. I relaxed and let myself listen.

When I finished this loop, I went straight to my bed and cried. At this point I knew I was going to finish, and it was all so overwhelming. Hugo hugged me, and the tears flowed. I was cold and hot and tired and nauseous and mentally done. I had 20 kilometers left to go and then this magical day would all be over. Then what? Fortunately, there was no time to answer this question or contemplate it further as it was time for the next 5 kilometers.

The next loop would be the furthest I have ever run to date. Jane, with her pink wig, was just the person I needed to assist me into this next milestone. She had just completed a major event which included running 50, biking 500, and swimming 5 kilometers over 5 days in celebration of her 50^th birthday. She knew exactly where I was at and what I needed. She kept things positive and banished all negative talk. We somehow even discussed contracts and GDPR regulations. I wore a colorful 80’s visor she brought for me and together we rocked these 5 kilometers.

On loop 22 and 23, I had the pleasure of running with my longest friend in Amsterdam, Chris. I was definitely not running at his normal speedy pace at this point, but he didn’t mind. I was at 110 kilometers and my vision, balance, and mental capacity was waning. He ensured that I didn’t run into bikes, trip on sidewalks, or tense my shoulders. He allowed me to remain silent. He didn’t make fun of me when the hallucinations started (well maybe just a little). At one point, I asked him what was wrong with my hands. Why had my hands become cartoon like – huge and undefined? My once normal hands were replaced with Mickey Mouse gloved paws.

On loop 23, Hugo came with us. I could hear my staggered breathing and was struggling to maintain a 6:00 km/ pace. As my Hoka’s hit the squared tiled sidewalk, I started to see chess pieces laid out on the sidewalk which was now transformed into a massive chessboard. The bishop was moving diagonally, the rook moving left to right horizontally and then up and down vertically, and the Queen – well, she was there too! It started to rain. I knew that I was hallucinating, and I was surprisingly happy about it. I didn’t want to run 120 kilometers without hallucinations without any rain without any obstacles. These things are what make it interesting.

After running 115 kilometers, I immediately crashed on the bed. I could no longer take any food or water. I couldn’t function. Even squatting to use the toilet was too much energy. I had long before stopped tying my own shoes, relying on Hugo to tie them like he does for his almost four-year-old twins. After coming in and out of consciousness for 15 minutes, I got out of bed (with assistance), got on my shoes (with assistance), put on my Boston 2020 jacket (with assistance), and set out on the final loop with Hugo on foot and Robbie on bike. All three of us were ready for this to be over. We were exhausted from the day without sleep. Robbie was sore from hauling a heavy camera by bike for over 100 kilometers. Hugo was worn out from his crew chief duties of feeding, dressing, massaging, talking, and supporting me for 24 hours. Stella was also dog-tired from a day full of cuddles, attention, crumb hunting, and door bell ringing.

I kept asking Hugo “is it going to be okay? Will I finish? Can I do this?”. For the next and last 5 kilometers, he repeated, “you are doing it, you are okay, you are going to finish, you are killing it.” As we made the last turn towards Zuidas metro station, I finally saw and felt the finish line. I sat down on a cement block outside some businesses and was silent.

I did it. No. We did it. We all did it. We survived the stomach pains, the heartburn, the leg cramps, the sore muscles, the fatigued mind. We did it.

Thank you to everyone that joined me on this big adventure. My November Project Family got me through this day no doubt. You all brought something different and special on each 5-kilometer round and I am forever grateful for your friendships, your unwavering support, and your love.

A special thanks to Robbie for filming the entire 120 kilometers, interviewing people, and listening to me complain into the camera for 24 hours. I really hope you got the footage you need to finally complete your documentary.

And of course, thanks to Hugo for being the most attentive, sweetest, kindest, loving, and supportive boyfriend a girl could ever dream of. I jokingly said when we started this thing that this was a test to see whether you could cut it as my boyfriend. You passed the test with flying colors. You went above and beyond for those 24 hours and I owe you my heart. I love you so much.

So, friends, family, November Project community, let me ask the question this time, what shall we do next? Because I would roll 120 kilometers, and I would roll 120 kilometres more, just to be the girl who rolled 240 kilometers, to fall down at the feet of those I adore.

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