September 28, 2026, 6:07 pm | Read time: 6 minutes
FITBOOK editor Anna Echtermeyer never wanted to run a marathon. Then she won a spot in the Berlin Marathon–and thought, “Challenge accepted!”
This Probably Won’t Work
As I walk through the urine-scented Tiergarten to the start on Sunday morning, I’ve had a sleepless night from excitement and forced down a toast with jam. I forget to warm up and tie my shoes properly. Ahead of me are 42.195 kilometers. This probably won’t work.
Standing here wasn’t planned. I’m a runner, yes. But a marathon runner? No. My world was 10 to 15 kilometers, rarely “overdoing” it with 20 and realizing it wasn’t for me. My running life was about distances where you can push yourself without thinking about a fueling plan. I considered 42.195 kilometers a good reason to use public transport.
Preparation Begins 8 Weeks Before the Marathon
Why I entered a contest for a marathon spot, even though I never wanted to run one, is a valid question. The truth is, I probably wasn’t even honest with myself. I wanted it (obviously), but admitting it to myself and others is another matter. I never said it out loud, let alone seriously pursued this “goal” that was dormant within me.
It was August 2 when I learned about my lucky spot, eight weeks before the Berlin Marathon. I immediately knew: “A sign from fate, you have to do this now.”
The challenge was clear: How do I get my body to run more than four times my comfort distance in just a few weeks? I created a plan with the help of AI and started training right away. Besides the obligatory long run on weekends (first 16 kilometers, then 18, 21, 25, 27, 30), I added 18 to 20 kilometers during the week.
My cartilage-damaged knee, which used to reliably act up on longer runs, held up thanks to Kinesio tapes (a great discovery for me, thanks Sandra!). However, after a mild herniated disc was diagnosed in July, my back started acting up. It seemed like a miracle that targeted core exercises stopped the pain. Only then could I continue my training to the end. And that was the prerequisite for everything else…
Also interesting: Training plan for the first marathon
The More Fueling Plans I Saw, the More I Doubted Myself
Meanwhile, I familiarized myself with the essentials: carbohydrate intake during the run. I probably won’t become a fan of gels (warm, sticky slime that initially gives me acid reflux). But since I can’t tolerate bananas and gummy bears, I made peace with a gel with artificial lime flavor.
The last days before the marathon, I was wrapped up in the Instagram running bubble. My family had to discuss topics like tapering, shakeout runs, carbo-loading, and race strategy with me, unfortunately without being asked. The more fueling plans and preparation overviews I absorbed, the more I doubted myself: “Will it be enough?”
Then the Marathon Morning Arrives
On marathon morning, I choose the most effective form of fear management: I’m running late. I definitely didn’t want to stand in the starting block for an hour and get worked up. So I slip into the starting block (K, the last one) already moving toward the start line.
I run slowly, controlled–and manage to enjoy this run from the start. Berlin makes it easy. At the major squares, people are packed tightly, and the city has turned into a massive open-air festival. The drumming rhythms resonate deeply with me. Goosebumps!
Once, I feel an unusual wrinkle under my foot–blister? Blood? Something worse? My worried thoughts are swept away by the sight of a runner sitting in front of the medical tent around kilometer 15 with blood-soaked socks. Ski boots are on the ground next to him. I suspect he won’t continue. Seeing this, I logically conclude that my foot can’t be “that bad.”
The Most Common Saying
Fortunately, large running events are known for having exciting things to discover. Like the man with the unsecured pineapple on his head. Or Daddy Pig! And, of course, the many motivational signs from spectators. “You run better than the government!” “This is not very difficult!” shouts a runner, echoing my thoughts. “Your ex would have quit at kilometer 5!” Often seen: “Pain is temporary. Strava is forever.” The saying seems to make a certain sense among tens of thousands of people in running shoes. I occasionally tap a Super Mario power-up mushroom (“Tap here to power up!”) and high-five little kids.
Maybe it’s because I’m in the last starting block, but there’s surprisingly little competition among the runners. No one fiercely defends their ideal line. If someone bumps into another, they apologize. If someone wants to pass, they say “Excuse me.” Everyone runs their own race, yet no one does it entirely alone.
From Meeting to Meeting, It Works Out
At kilometer nine, my family is waiting. So I run to kilometer nine first. Friends are at 13, and more at 25. A friend promised a message on a screen along the route at kilometer 32. A colleague waits at kilometer 35. I run from meeting to meeting. Maybe that’s why the distance doesn’t seem monstrous for a long time. Forty-two kilometers is absurdly far, but it’s manageable to the next meeting point.
Of course, eventually, my legs get heavy, and the lightness of the first hours is gone. Nothing really hurts, but my body increasingly signals that it considers the idea of continuing to run for hours sufficiently tested. At the refreshment stations, I drink while walking after three and a half hours, instead of continuing to run.
At Kilometer 39, Another Runner Stops Me from Walking–Thank You!
As I fall back into walking between kilometers 38 and 39, someone taps me on the shoulder while passing by. “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Keep on running, come on!” Matías and I spontaneously form a German-Paraguayan running team, ensuring each other keeps going.
This might be the most beautiful absurdity of this marathon: For weeks, I focused on training plans, heart rates, long runs, and whether my body could handle 42.195 kilometers. And in the final kilometers, it’s a stranger who says the right thing at the right moment.
“Since My Dream of Running the Mallorca Race Fell Through, I Just Ran a Half Marathon Alone at Home.”
“Thanks to training with an AI app, I ran a half marathon in under 2 hours”
The Best Motivation Awaits Me Just Before the Finish
Just before the Brandenburg Gate, I see my family again. My son on his dad’s shoulders beams at me, holding a sign with my name. They’ve drawn a bomb on it, with sparks flying from the fuse.
Finish Time: 5:04:16. This Wasn’t My Last Marathon!
Matías and I nod to each other, light the bomb, and run grinning through the Brandenburg Gate. We see the finish–a few hundred meters later, I stop my watch: 5:04:16. That’s a relaxed 7:13 minutes per kilometer.
Matías and I collect our medals. Then we lose each other in the crowd. I wanted to say thank you(!!!) to you.
A few months ago, I would never have thought of running a marathon. Without the won spot, I probably never would have done it. Luckily, fate decided otherwise! Now I know that my first marathon probably won’t be my last. What an experience.