Welcome to part 5 of my series documenting the Great World Race—7 marathons on 7 continents in just 1 week. If you’re just catching up:
- Part 1 covers the icy beginning in Antarctica.
- Part 2 takes you to the sunny shores of Cape Town.
- Part 3 dives into Perth, where the PB magic happened.
- Part 4 recounts a rainy, chaotic night run in Istanbul (Europe).
And now we’re in Istanbul (Asia), where daylight brought hope… and a whole new level of chaos. From stunning seaside views (or was it a river?) to digestion battles, marathon #5 was a gritty test of endurance, ego, and an unforgettable amount of bathroom stops. Let’s get into it! 🌍💪
After a short, restless night (if you can even call it that), it was back to the starting line for marathon number five. Spirits were higher than the night before—thank you, daylight! The weather was great, the course was along the seaside, and everyone seemed a little more alive.
Day 5: Istanbul (Asia) 🌞 When the shit really hit the fan.
The first loop felt decent—slower than the previous races, but my body was holding up. And then… the fun began. Or, more accurately, my digestion decided to stage a rebellion. Whether it was the gels, a virus, or just my body being tired, I ended up visiting every bathroom, every café, and, yep, even the beach along the course.
I was running into random cafés like a lunatic, begging for a bathroom. “I don’t have money, but I’m running a marathon, and I REALLY need to use the loo!” Embarrassing? Absolutely. Necessary? 100%.
Somewhere between loops 4 and 5, I slowed down. At first, my ego fought it—I mean, walking? During a marathon? But honestly, once I gave in, it felt healing. I wasn’t the only one—David Kilgori, who had knee issues, was walking too. Watching him push through instead of giving up was so inspiring.
I crossed the finish line at 4:33, with my watch indicating that I hadn’t moved for 39 minutes throughout the „race“. My slowest marathon yet, but you know what? There was no euphoria, no sadness, just a quiet sense of accomplishment. It was what it was.
After the race, we couldn’t wait to get back to the plane. We were thrilled to collapse into our seats, lie down, and finally rest. Feeling cheeky, we even ordered some champagne (because why not?). We slept straight through the flight to Madrid, where we refueled and reunited with the crew who started with us in Cape Town—it felt like family coming back together.
I didn’t wake up until we were well on our way to Catarina. By then, I felt rested, but my thigh? Not so much. It was black, blue, swollen, and definitely something I’d have to deal with today. But that’s a story for day 6!
