ultra trail 50k much more than just 8km longer than a marathon

"The scenery on the mountain is even more beautiful."

"Life is incomplete without trail running."

"Trail running is the ultimate destination for runners."

That's how I was convinced to start my first trail race, and I chose the beautiful coastal city of Dalian for my first stop.

Last year, I signed up while on a high-speed train. Maybe the train's swaying made me dizzy, and in a daze, I completed the registration. Moments later, I regretted it. But after the grueling race, I was glad I came. Dalian 100 Trail, I'm glad I didn't miss it.

The organizing committee was very considerate before the race, sending reminder texts one after another. When I saw the message, "You might encounter stray dogs during the race; we strongly recommend carrying a trekking pole or at least a stick for self-defense," I burst out laughing. True? False? Later, during the race, I was filled with gratitude for that message. If it hadn't been mentioned, I definitely wouldn't have brought the stick. Fortunately, I didn't encounter any stray dogs, but the stick I thought I might discard ended up supporting me all the way to the finish line.

Before the race, I tried to imagine it as a tough challenge. But deep down, I thought—it's just 50 kilometers, only 8 kilometers more than a marathon, and we have 18 hours, plenty of time. Well, halfway through, reality hit me hard. With a cumulative elevation gain of 2700+ meters (I had no concept of elevation before, just like I had no concept of distance before running marathons), trail running is truly different from a marathon.

The starting point was by the sea, with blue skies, the ocean, beaches, seagulls, and fitting music. It was so cool (forgive my limited experience). Having run many marathons, I always compared them. The 50-kilometer race didn't have many participants, unlike the grand spectacle of 30,000 people running together. Trail running is indeed cold and lonely, haha! Along the coast, with beaches, waves, rocks, seagulls, and the salty sea breeze, my excitement was through the roof. All worries and troubles were cast aside as I enjoyed every moment.

At first, we ran along the coast, with the sea breeze blowing and waves crashing against the rocks, accompanied by my heavy breathing. It was a unique experience. The sea on my right, mountains on my left, and fellow runners ahead, bouncing and leaping with joy. A song suddenly came to mind.

"On the other side of the mountain, on the other side of the sea, there's a group of Smurfs. They are lively and smart, mischievous and agile..."

Before the mountains arrive, let's revel in our joy. Before the night falls, let's celebrate to our heart's content.

Mountains! They finally came, one after another. Following the markers, up and down, down and up, it felt like a monkey show. My initial thought of finishing in 10 hours was gradually dispelled. The gap between ideal and reality was a harsh slap in the face. When you need your legs, you realize how short they are. Some mountains had no paths at all, just piles of rocks and cliffs. My feet were at a loss. I had to aim for a crevice, muster all my strength, do a split, and then leap. It felt like a movie outtake. Please maintain this posture and continue your performance. Going downhill, with nearly a 90-degree slope, the image of rolling down the mountain flashed in my mind multiple times. I kept reminding myself to stay focused, hold on tight, and not slip. I didn't want to faceplant. Please give me wings; I want to fly.

Since the 50-kilometer route was the second half of the 100-kilometer course, I occasionally encountered some 100-kilometer veterans. Their exhausted figures and limping steps showed they had endured a night of struggle. Their worn-out bibs and bloodshot eyes still seemed surrounded by a halo to me. Sometimes, they even joked about their situation. I saluted them and cheered them on.

While climbing a mountain, I met a photographer from the organizing committee. We were climbing up while he was climbing backward to film us, constantly reminding us, "This section is slippery, be careful." Actually, he was the one in danger, walking backward. He didn't want to block our way, so he would climb a bit, then run quickly to get ahead and continue filming. Later, I asked him to take a photo for me and added him on WeChat. When I saw his photos of Dalian, I commented, "Beautiful." He replied, "What you saw was the most beautiful scenery."

Every photographer stood on mountain peaks, cliffs, and precipices, just to capture more beautiful memories for us participants. They recorded these warm moments for us. In my view, these memories became warmer because of them. I'm grateful for every encounter.

The supplies at the Dalian 100 Trail were truly commendable. After the race, I found I had gained a pound. Did I run a fake trail race? Was I just trying to eat back my registration fee? The abundance of supplies felt like a market stall, making it hard to choose, haha. During marathons, I thought instant noodles were the best. During trail running, the instant noodles... you can imagine.

At the last supply station, I had to give up because I really couldn't eat anymore. The four dishes and one soup, canned oranges, bread, and instant noodles from the Dalian Trail... I will miss you!

The volunteers at the Dalian Trail embody responsibility and passion. Throughout the journey, I was moved by their warm words and thoughtful actions. They made the 50-kilometer journey filled with emotion and hope. In the hustle and bustle of life, like most people, I had gradually forgotten the ability to be moved. Every marathon run, I was awakened by the cheers from strangers. They worked tirelessly, welcoming us with smiles. If I have the chance, I would like to experience being a volunteer, to pass on more strength to strangers with a greeting and a smile.

The last 400-meter climb, I underestimated it. My goal shifted from finishing in 10 hours to 12 hours as the race wore on. But nearing the 12-hour mark, I realized there was still a cumulative 400-meter climb left. I still couldn't grasp what 400 meters meant. As I started climbing, I became more alert. Due to inadequate preparation, I went from aiming for the Silver Sea Star to barely hoping for the Bronze Sea Star. Time seemed tight, and I regretted the extra bowl of instant noodles that delayed me...

The sky grew darker, and visibility worsened. I was most worried about missing a marker and taking the wrong path. Every second counted. For the first time in my life, I was walking in the dark in deep mountains and forests, thinking, "How cool." I took big strides downhill, but it was so dark I couldn't see the path, relying entirely on my instincts. After descending this mountain, I didn't know if there were more ahead. The unknown made me more anxious.

Finally, I saw faint lights in the distance and almost cried with excitement. I sprinted towards the road, feeling the solid ground beneath my feet. Checking the time, I realized the Bronze Sea Star was within reach, and I felt a secret joy. Then, I heard a loud shout ahead.

"XXX (couldn't hear the name clearly), I've been waiting for you!" The boy who had been struggling ahead of me suddenly burst with energy and lifted the girl by the roadside into his arms. This public display of affection caught me off guard and was quite awkward, haha. This kind of support was definitely more effective than any brand of instant noodles. Maybe this is the power of love. I wish you both happiness!

At 19:32, I crossed the finish line and received the coveted Bronze Sea Star. 50 kilometers, a journey in my life, 11 hours and 26 minutes, a period of time in my life. Exhausted but gratified, an impulsive decision, a challenge, I saw another kind of brilliance in life and fulfilled a long-cherished dream. Trail running is like an untamed and rugged life. The wilder the trail, the wilder the heart. It turns out "Zen" was never meant for me.

An unforgettable memory, about trail running, about the Dalian 100...