Welcome to part 4 of my series documenting the Great World Race—7 marathons on 7 continents in only 1 week. If you’re just jumping in, you can find part 1 here, where the journey begins, part 2 here and part 3 here, detailing the highs and lows leading up to this pivotal day. Each post shares the raw, unfiltered reality of this once-in-a-lifetime adventure, and trust me, Istanbul is where things got real.
Ready to dive into the chaos, camaraderie, and everything in between? Let’s go!
We arrived in Istanbul a little late—thanks to the Cape Town delays—and what was supposed to be a 6 pm race turned into a marathon of waiting. First, missing luggage at the airport, then more delays, and finally, fishermen crowding the course. By the time we actually started, it was 9:30 pm. Cold, rainy, dark—I was shivering before we even began.
Day 4: Istanbul – The Real Race Begins
The course itself? Tricky. Pitch black, slippery, full of potholes, and headlights from oncoming cars made it super hard for me to see. My legs felt amazing, though, and I had dreams of a 3:20 finish.
Hahaha. Cute, right?
The first hour wasn’t terrible—my body felt strong, and I kept a decent pace. But between the rain, reflections on my glasses, and the darkness, I could barely see. Running became more about feel than sight. And then I tripped, again. I went flying. Landed hard on my right leg, elbows, and face. It hurt. A lot. A volunteer helped me up, but I was rattled. I knew I’d have to face that same stretch 15 more times, and the thought was a bit scary. I slowed down after that.
Then came the stomach issues. I felt it building and tried to ignore it, but there was no avoiding it. I barely made it to the trailer bathroom, which was inconveniently out of the way, but… not in time. Let’s just say this wasn’t the kind of “freedom” I wanted to feel. After spending 10 minutes in the bathroom, cold, wet, and miserable, I came back out, determined to keep moving.
I had been listening to music, using it to drown out the mental chaos, but with 10k to go, my data wasn’t strong enough, and the silence hit hard. Then I started feeling nauseous, and I was puking on the side of the road.
I was freezing, hurting, and so far out of my comfort zone. I hate the dark, the cold, running at night—this was everything I dislike rolled into one long, brutal marathon. Usually, I’m in bed by 9 pm, not dragging myself through rain-soaked loops at midnight.
Moments I’ll Never Forget
What helped me tremendously in this run was the community. Jenny Simpson kept popping up along the course, telling me, “You look really strong.” It’s such a small phrase, but when you’re at your lowest, those words are everything.
At one point, I started walking. I had about 10k to go but felt completely done. That’s when Becs came up behind me, gave me a little push, and said, “You’ve got this.” Coming from her, it hit differently.
I even called my mom because, apparently, I thought she could magically fix it all. (She couldn’t, but the laugh I had later about it was worth it.) 😂
I finally crossed the finish line at 3:47:01, and I bawled. Not quiet tears—full-on, deep, ugly sobs. I hated this race. I hated the night, the cold, the rain, the darkness. But physically? It wasn’t even the hardest race.
Sometimes, it’s not your body that needs to fight—it’s your mind.
