The maple leaves, in nearly every shade of the rainbow, tinted the bright morning sunshine. It felt like I was running through a cathedral in the multicolored light: my footsteps and breathing steady, my mind quiet and reverential. It was one of those magical moments where I felt completely, joyfully in my element. This was the 2019 Seoul100k!
I can honestly say that I loved everything about this race. I loved it from top to bottom, and from start to finish. In hindsight, it’s obvious that I would fall for the Seoul100k. Located in my favorite city, the race ranks were filled with friends and the course was set on beloved trails. So it’s ironic that we very nearly didn’t run this race.
The road home
I wanted an October race: I planned and pleaded for an opportunity to run in gorgeous fall conditions. The trouble was not in a lack of races, but in a surplus: we just finished a race at the tail end of September, and there were quite literally dozens of awesome events to choose from in mid-October.
Casting shots in all directions, I first got in touch with two local events in China to see if we could volunteer. Next, I carefully examined all of the Asian options. Conflicting travel plans helped us rule out a few runs (a return to the gorgeous Trans Jeju, for example), and finally we were left with a trio of choices. Then the really difficult decision-making began.
One choice was a race in our then home base, Qingdao. The Laoshan 100 is a formidable beast: over 6000 meters of elevation gain on punishing terrain consisting of a mix of tangled bush and hundreds of concrete stairs. We ran bits of this course in training – finding jaw-dropping views and thrilling ridges along the way. This race seemed like the perfect opportunity to push ourselves: we could sleep at home and eat our normal diet. There would be no tiring travel and, best of all, we could continue to train on the course.
Yet I hesitated to sign us up. For one, by the time we established that we’d be in Qingdao on race day, it was too late to go for the 25k or the 50k. Coming back from travel wouldn’t actually leave us much time to train on the course – and it seemed to me like the massive gain of the 100k demanded our best efforts. All things considered, I knew we wouldn’t be able to give that effort at that time. So, somewhat unbelievably, we had to pass on a chance to race our home mountain.
The second race on the table was this one, the Seoul100k. I was thrilled to read news of this race in the months leading up to it, and delighted by the course. It was to be the first race in Seoul, and it looked wonderful. With highlights in Bukhansa National Park (북한산국립공원) and along the Seoul Trail, how could it not? Actually, it looked too good to be true: the route followed familiar trails that we’d enjoyed as recently as earlier this year. As a result, I eventually psyched myself out of choosing it. Could we justify returning to places that we’d just run months earlier – and when the running was free? Should we keep going back to Korea over and over again like two rolling stones?
Our third option was Ultra Maokong: a 50k race on the outskirts of Taipei. This race appealed to me immediately: it would be a chance to finally visit our friends living in the city and explore what appears to be a vegan paradise. The race course was accessible for a weekend trip, and timing was right to do a 50k. With an elevation gain of 3300 meters, it presented a challenge – but one that was within reach. It took some convincing, but eventually with Kent on board, I signed us up.
And then, with a big international trip to prepare for, I shelved the planning for our October race for later. Later turned out to be in the hazy, sleep-deprived hours of our first full day back in China: October 16th. To my dismay, I quickly learned that there was no possible way we could make it to Maokong by dawn on Saturday. We were scheduled for classes on Friday afternoon, and the only direct flights to Taiwan were in the morning. Most of the connecting options were several hours too late to be of any use. There was this one connection through Seoul, though, that seemed promising…
With a layover of less than an hour, it seemed very dubious indeed that we could make a dirty transfer (a change of airport, airline or both!). Heavy of heart, I wrote my friend Hyon Shim (and the race director) to call the whole thing off.
Kent was frankly eager for a weekend of rest, but that connection in Seoul had the wheels spinning in my mind. Registration for the Seoul100k was definitely closed. It was impossible, a flight of fancy, to even consider this race. Still, I shot off a few quick messages – and was promptly informed of the speciousness of my request.
But miracles happen when you have marvelous friends. I merely mentioned the fact that we were thinking about the Seoul100k to Jaeseung, and suddenly, it became a thing. Late Thursday and early Friday were spent filling out forms, transferring funds and buying last-minute tickets. The only thing we didn’t have to do was pack – as we hadn’t even had a chance to unpack!
And so, we found ourselves on the last flight of the day headed from our new home to our old home. We were going to Seoul100k! Or, were we?
No announcement preceded our delay. We simply sat in the plane on the tarmac for nearly an hour, nerves rising. Race check-in was open until midnight. Our flight had been due to land at 10, and Seoul is just over an hour away from the airport. Our window was narrowing.
Eventually we took off and shortly after that, arrived in Incheon. Whereupon we proceeded to miss first the last train and then the last bus to Seoul. We had one working phone, no cash and a massive argument. Endless queues filled our time: first for customs, then for a taxi into town.
One kind-hearted volunteer and our best friend in the world waited for us at Seoul Plaza until after 1 am. After check-in, we managed to strike out at the first motel we’d booked(!), but found ourselves another in which to get set up for the race.
Finally with a little time to sleep, my body rebelled and got hungry for breakfast instead. A few very short hours after we arrived in the city, we lined up for the Seoul100k.
Seoul100k 2019
The 50k of my dreams
Dazed and more than a little amazed that we were actually doing the Seoul100k, we joined the countdown and began. Nearly instantly, I felt at home. We ran through the quiet, darkened city streets on the Hanyangdoseong (Seoul City Wall) loop that Kent and I played on last May. We climbed the stone stairs up Inwangsan, treated to a beautiful night view that made this familiar place new.
Determined not to do the usual headlong dash away from the start line, I pointed out my favorite sights to Kent and Jaeseung. Then, running a little in front, kept my mind on my heartbeat and breathing. I steadied my steps and quieted myself.
As the line leapfrogged, we saw other running friends: all of us sharing the Seoul100k course but running individual missions. We all needed to be quick through these first few sections with tight cut-offs. But running too fast might cause a flame-out that would stop us from reaching the easier, later stages.
Although I gave some thought to proper pacing as we ran up and over Bongsan, my mind was mainly on the sights and memories associated with them. How I love running in the cool silence of night: alone or with a couple of hundred friends!
There were so many things to make me smile during Seoul100k: from friendly greetings, to great views, to the flow of my own movement. My cheeks hurt from grinning, and I couldn’t stop. Home is this rhythm of footsteps; this place I’ll always be drawn back to; these people I love to run with.
Leaving the first aid station around dawn, we began to climb. Feeling strong, I left my poles where they were in my pack, and pushed off my knees. It was a steep ascent that only grew steeper. Only a few hikers joined us on this path up to Bogungmun Gate – due likely to the early hour of the day, as this is actually a well-trodden route. But with runners both ahead and behind, the climb felt like a community effort.
Soon we were feeling the warm embrace of Bukhansan. By that I mean we’d reached a height and a density of forest in the national park that set us a world apart from urban Seoul. I felt another rush of gratitude for Korea’s mountain trails. There was all manner of chirping in the bushes: had I taken for granted how lively this country’s bird and insect life seemed to be? How bright the sun could shine on an early morning in autumn?
The peak of my appreciation was directed at my feet. These dirt trails, technical though they might be, are in some kind of a goldilocks zone compared to the rough jungle of Southeast Asia and the concrete kingdoms of China. This is what I want and need to be running, I kept thinking. When I wasn’t focused on enjoying the moment, a series of Korean summit videos played through my mind.
The sun was shining bright on the mountain tops, and soon we reached the light. Instantly warmed, we proceeded into a landscape so lovely it took my breath away. Fall in the mountains of Korea is truly something to behold. Such a kaleidoscope of colors decorated the trees! And peeking out above the forest were Bukhansan’s magnificent smooth granite peaks.
Here, the Seoul100k course offered a second taste of history as we turned to run alongside Bukhansanseong – the Bukhansan Fortress. We immediately recognized the route from another one of our goodbye Korea runs in May. But this was only our second time in this section of the national park, so it was equal parts familiar and fresh.
There was a prolonged rocky scramble that I don’t think we did last time, and it was one of the highlights of the day for both of us.
We had stupendous views: I thanked my lucky stars that the air quality here was better than what we’d recently returned home to in Qingdao! The sky above was blue and dotted with white puffy clouds. Seoul spread out before us like a treasure map in emerald.
After the rocks, the first big descent was a rough one. We’d imagined speeding down to gain time against our slower ascent. But the trail was truly tough: we hopped from rock to rock, wondering if it was always like this and we’d just forgotten. It wasn’t until halfway down the mountain that we could pick up the pace and run.
Next up, the Seoul100k course followed three consecutive sections of the Bukhansan Dullegil. We were now running in the western shadow of the mountain – and once again in familiar territory!
This is the area of Bukhansan we know the best, actually. We spent a few weeks living in the neighborhood at the foot of the mountain, and played on these very trails almost every day. This race was turning out to be a real trip down memory lane!
There were more and more hikers out and about, but the racing crowd had thinned out considerably. We ran alone through this area, and made good time on the gently rolling route.
Coming in to CP3 was exciting. It was located in the bustling main entrance to Bukhansan National Park. We caught up with some runners we’d met earlier, and took a short break. Kent was feeling off and only wanted a cucumber. But I was struck with a sudden and uncharacteristic desire for a bowl of noodles and green onions. After I established my weirdness to the volunteer by refusing any soup, I scarfed down my dry bowl.
Time for another climb: back up Bukhansan we went! This climb was much easier than the first: it was a gentler slope and initially on pavement. But we stuck to our guns about not pushing the pace. We hiked here, and all the steep or long uphills this race. Breathing deeply and evenly, I felt relaxed and at peace.
Midway up, we reached the first of several hidden CPs. Volunteers took pictures of us to confirm we were following the prescribed route and not taking any shortcuts. Here, not for the first time, I was impressed by the Seoul100k organization!
Once up top again, we passed through another historical gate and began a plunge downhill. Hikers were so friendly here: stepping aside and cheering for us, even offering us provisions that we couldn’t accept. Once again, I found myself wondering if I had taken this for granted in the past. Fist pumps and shouts of ‘fighting’ touched me deeply.
Down in the Ui neighborhood, I zipped into the fourth checkpoint. Kent was a few paces behind, and nearly took a wrong turn that would have had him skip it. All of Seoul100ks aid stations were well-run and memorable, but this one was my favorite. It was my favorite because, when I asked for Pocari Sweat and it turned out they had run out, one volunteer dashed to a nearby mart to buy me some. Such service! I felt like a VIP, and was extra grateful for my favorite rocket fuel!
Turning around, we headed straight back up the mountain. The third climb was the steepest one, but it led to Yeongbong! This peak has some of the best views in Bukhansan National Park: a fun fact we’d discovered when we first climbed it, you guessed it, back in May.
I really enjoyed this climb, tucking in, finally, with my poles. But much as this was the race of my dreams, it was becoming tough going for Kent. He’d was overheating and starting to cramp up. He took a short break on top while I frolicked around on the nearby rocks.
The last big descent was a long one, and we took our time by taking wrong turns, making friends and occasionally enjoying the scenery. But it was otherwise runnable, so I would dash off and then pause to peep over my shoulder for Kent. The sun lost its strength as we descended east and into the valley. Shadows both literal and figurative, as it turned out, awaited us in the later half of our Seoul100k effort.
A 50k in my dreams
Our drop bags awaited us at CP5. One of the friendly volunteers had it ready, and I immediately set to work repacking our backpacks with fresh snacks. While I worked, I ate a few mochi – a favorite treat made of rice and a sweet filling: peanut in this case. Kent, meanwhile, set to work on a bowl of spicy soup. He drained it and requested another. I had my concerns, but he was really craving hot, salty food. Moments later, he was orally dispatching the same soup into the bushes nearby.
In addition to vomiting, Kent was struck by the most severe cramps he’d ever had. He sat down in a chair and was basically paralyzed for several minutes, as any movement caused new cramps. I squatted down to remove his shoes when cramps gripped his hands and feet.
It was really scary, certainly for me, and undoubtedly for Kent too, so I called a couple of volunteers over. One gave him a massage while another advised us of our options. He recommended that Kent rest in an ambulance where he could get warm and be under supervision.
To his credit and my amazement, Kent rallied without much assistance. When he could stand, he wanted to go on – and get moving! Our stay at CP5 was going on 45 minutes, and he thought we needed to move if we were going to stay ahead of the time cutoffs for the Seoul100k race.
As he was tying his shoes and we were preparing to leave, the third place woman dropped in briefly, and left in second. I cheered her on, admiring her quick CP turnover and still-swift stride. We also had the opportunity to cheer on two friends: Adrian and Yoonjoo were entering the aid station as we were leaving it, and it was so nice to see their two smiling, friendly faces.
And so, despite our checkpoint crisis, we continued! The Seoul100k course bid goodbye to Bukhansan National Park at this point and moved on to the Seoul Trail, sections 1 and 2. We crossed train tracks and city streets, and ventured back into the forest. The sun sank below Bukhansan as we climbed the slopes of Suraksan.
Plunged into darkness, it was my time for troubles. Up until this point, the race had been easy for me. I’d kept my heart rate in check on long climbs, and allowed gravity to propel me downhill. My mindset was the best it has ever been. So I used it now to keep me going as exhaustion descended on me like the night.
I didn’t feel physically wiped so much as sleepy, heading into my second sleepless night of the weekend. My eyelids drooped, my run slowed, and I felt myself weaving side-to-side. But I knew this was nothing: it was nothing compared to what Kent had just endured, and it was a moment of no consequence in such a long race. If I could be patient, I would feel alert again. One hundred kilometers is a long way: there was time for everything.
Several times throughout the race I’d been keenly aware of my good fortune, and I reminded myself of it now. ‘Is there anything that you’d rather be doing than this?’ I asked myself. And of course the answer was no: this was everything I’d wanted. I could literally think of no better scenario in the world then to be exactly then and there, in the middle of the Seoul100k.
At 14.6 kilometers, this was the longest stretch between aid stations. A couple of runners went past, and we marveled at their speed. We, meanwhile, took our time: jogging the downhills and hiking the uphills. Sometimes we talked to each other and sometimes we let silence envelop each of us individually.
In the middle of this section, you come down into the city and actually travel through Dangogae station. It made me laugh when we were running Seoul Trail for fun: epitomizing the convenience of the city. This new experience also had me smiling during. It felt nice to come down into the light and be greeted by cheerful race volunteers. A couple of them ran us across busy streets and helped us navigate a few twisting alleys.
Then we were back into the forest and back on our own. Somehow refreshed, we ran hard again for a while. But soon we succumbed to sleepy stumblings once more. Our runs were conducted at jogging speed. Our hikes became upward ambles.
In this way we reached the small checkpoint at Gongneung Baeksemun Gate. We plopped into chairs to give our muscles a break while we slurped cokes and smashed bananas. A volunteer offered me a blanket, which I gratefully accepted, because whenever we slowed or stopped I would absolutely freeze.
But I was excited to go on: Achasan being a highlight of the Seoul100k course and one of our favorite bits of the Seoul Trail. There were some winding city streets to navigate before we got there, but the idea of getting there gave me a little extra pep.
On the move again, I did a bit of a risky pee to the side of the trail – sorry Jungnang Forest! – but it was my first of the race, so I was pleased my body was displaying such a range of functions. As we drew closer to the base of the mountain, I wondered if we’d be able to run the gentle, paved ascent on the north side of Achasan.
Alas, we could not. Kent, having bounced back so spectacularly from his dramatic troubles at CP5, was falling asleep on his feet. Perhaps he’d witnessed me weaving and wanted a turn! He was eyeing up benches and talking about naps.
I insisted that we had to keep going, no matter how we felt. Sure that stopping meant getting chilled, I pushed him onward. But at one point he plopped down on a bench and refused to budge. We sat there, in the pale orange glow of a streetlight, and all we could do was wave at the runners who passed us (including Yoonjoo and her group of friends who were doing a nice uphill run!).
Sure enough, Kent got cold too – and this motivated him to move. We joined a group of several Korean runners and our friend Adrian and made our way up the mountain together.
Chatting seemed to perk Kent up, and soon he was moving with purpose again. But conversation can be distracting, and sure enough, we lost the way completely on the mountaintop. I paused in front of a sign, disturbed to realize that we were heading straight back the way we’d come!
We’d actually seen another runner going in the opposite direction several minutes earlier and tried to stop him. When he ignored us, we wondered what the heck he was doing. Turns out, we were the crazy ones. Somewhere we’d gotten completely turned around.
It was not easy to get back on track. Although the Seoul100k route was simple and the markings clear, minds were fuzzy. While I continued to insist that we were going wrong, other members of the group continued on. Despite doubting myself, I convinced both Kent and Adrian that while, yes, we were on the race course, we were going in the wrong direction. We called our Korean companions back to us and showed them the reflective tape only facing in one direction. After much debate and consternation, we all headed down the correct side of the mountain.
The experience wasn’t for nothing: we were awake and full of energy for the descent. We ran into the checkpoint and recounted our experience to the volunteers while the guys all slurped bowls of hot noodles.
Kent will disagree, but I was happy that the next section was along the Han. It’s flat and paved, making for easy running – albeit not strictly trail running.
But I was most excited for another return to our roots: when I moved to Korea in 2011, I ran along the Han often: usually at night or early in the morning. And Kent and I spent so many wonderful weekends cycling it in preparation for our Biking to Busan trip the very next year. In another era, we used to run from Bundang to Seoul by way of the river, and in 2015 we ran a marathon on the Han.
Ready as I was to reminisce, I couldn’t focus on the night scene. I suddenly had to go desperately, and the jostling motion of running was almost unbearable. It was a long, straight, flat age before a bathroom materialized.
And Kent hated this section. He found it boring beyond belief and without any redeeming features. For him, it was simply a sufferfest.
It was a little bit true that we were now listening to the sounds of the highway next to us rather than rustlings in the forest. And that ‘flat and easy’ section on the elevation profile gave us no reprieve. We could run it, so we mostly did: our bodies taking a pounding on the unyielding pavement.
After 12.7 kilometers of that, we reached the final aid station. Kent was a bit of a zombie and wanted a good sit. I felt fine enough, having been leading the way, but I too sat down. And before I knew it, I had slumped backwards into a supine position, and from there into a nap. I have no defense: all I can say is that there were blankets and hot packs and a warm heater blazing. I was helpless against that kind of arsenal.
When I came to and realized I’d been sleeping, I was flooded with a sense of urgency. ‘We have got to go!’ I whispered desperately to Kent, although he was engaged in conversation with a volunteer. It was the loneliest little aid station of the Seoul100k: only us and a couple of volunteers under one little tent on the river bank. But it was the most welcome one of the whole race, and it was a little hard to leave it.
The final 9 kilometer stretch lying between us and the finish line was on the Cheonggyecheon stream. On nearly every occasion when we had someone visit us in Korea, we took them to central Seoul. So that meant we’d found another palimpsest of memories.
The Cheonggyecheon was the setting for my first half-marathon in Seoul in 2012, as well as a social gathering spot for the annual lantern festival. It was where we’d gone running in the early morning before Kent’s sister and our European friends woke up on their 2016 visit.
Tonight, we were once again running while the city slept. There were signs of life though: a few elderly Seoulites were walking our same path.
However, after my nap, I was ready to really run it in. I felt more alert than I had in dozens of kilometers, but Kent was still hopelessly sleepy. With cold preventing him from straight-up stopping, he took to shouting (at his sleepiness, he later said).
So I took him by the hand, and dragged this salt-stained, screaming spectacle up the riverside path. There were few people to stare, but he was literally frightening the water birds away. Usually I’m the one who bursts spontaneously into song, but Kent’s unusual renditions of long-lost classics had me absolutely cracking up.
And just like that we were in one of those companionable, comfortable moments that this race was full of. Sure, we were slow. But we were together, we were running (sometimes), and we were happy.
Volunteers greeted us warmly at the end of the stream where we climbed up onto city streets. It was only a few hundred meters more to the line, and I was determined to finish strong. When he caught sight of the big yellow arch marking the end of the 2019 Seoul100k, I think Kent felt it too: this surge of energy and extreme gratitude.
We crossed the line hand-in-hand after 25 hours and 9 minutes of running (along with some vomiting, a brief stint in reverse and one accidental nap). I felt happy and strong with another 100k in the books! Jaeseung materialized out of the darkness in the plaza and we posed for finisher photographs together.
The race became dreamlike almost immediately. We shuffled off to a nearby motel for much-needed showers, followed by a much-needed nap of an hour or two. Waking up, I wondered, had we really just run the Seoul100k?
Booted from the motel promptly at checkout time, we spent a few sleepy but sweet hours with our friends. Maybe it was all the kindness we’d received, maybe it was the nostalgia our trip induced or maybe it was simply sleep deprivation, but I choked up as we said goodbye. (I also later cried in the airport when Jamba Juice closed 10 minutes early and I was sure I would die of juice deprivation.)
Then our whole trip to Seoul became dreamlike. I have only the vaguest memories of our late-night flight, and none of our taxi ride to our apartment. It was as though we’d teleported back to Qingdao. Had we really just been back in South Korea?
Lessons Learned
One lesson is clear: I nearly dismissed the Seoul100k simply because it was a touch too perfect. I have no doubt that we would have had a terrific time in Taiwan or Laoshan, but this was the race of my dreams – and we nearly missed it.
I’d always wondered why there was no race in Seoul. Why, in a capital city with mountains galore, was there no big race? It seemed like such an clear tourist draw that I was surprised year-after-year not to see something pop up on the calendar. Local friends provided explanations having to do with permits and such, but there’s a possibility that race organizers overlooked it, as I did, as being too obvious.
Well. If that was ever the case, I’m glad we’re all over our hubris now. Seoul is exotic if you don’t live there. And even if you do, life has a funny way of getting in the way of experiencing all the best things your city has to offer. Seoul100k is a pedestrian trip around all the highlights of north Seoul: a customized tour of history, nature and urban life. It hits all the right notes and has all the right ingredients to make a classic Korean trail race. I hope it sticks around.
On a personal note, I was reminded once again that anything can happen in a 100k (or in a race of any distance, for that matter). The training is about preparing yourself as best as you can for the challenges you might face. But I think my friend Max said it best: those challenges are never what you expected they might be. Think that 100k has the perfect profile for a negative split? Think again: you might find yourself running the tougher front half at nearly twice the speed of the back end.
What I am coming to love, and love a lot, about this distance is the length itself. There’s enough time for everything. It’s a little like life: good times follow bad times and bad times follow good. All you need is patience to bear out the bad times and the ability to appreciate the good times while they last. A decent sense of humor and a partner who sings never hurts either.
This race took it easy on me. I had a few episodes of sleep monsters in the stretch, but I emerged unscathed. Day and night, I was happy and wanted to be there. So I didn’t really have to call on any reserves of strength to finish. I know now how exceptionally lucky that is, and I am very grateful. I’m also grateful to have a partner who is tough as nails and always rises to the challenge. If it was me barfing, I would have bailed for sure.
My Seoul100k experience was like a gift: it was a near-perfect day that reminded me of countless others. It was a celebration of trail running, friendship and a city I love. Are there any better ways to spend a weekend? I can think of none.
Traveling to Seoul? The Seoul100k is the best way to see the city. Live in Seoul? Train on the course and challenge yourself to do your very best at next year’s edition. Search for Seoul100k on social media for the latest updates (the website is currently unavailable).
Beautifully written!!
Inspiring!
Thank you!