Sondershausen

On Monday evening, I met Almut in the city to go to the Christmas market. It was cold and rainy, but we nevertheless walked through the city among the numerous vending booths. Spiced hot wine is the best cure for coldness, and we stopped twice to warm ourselves up.

On Tuesday, I took the metro to the eastern-most stop at Wedel where Helmuth lives. His wife was the best friend of my grandmother, and my mother spent time with the family, both in Germany and in New York City later.

We met at the ticket machines and drove past a giant statue of Roland in the time square. I asked if I could get out to take a picture, which I did. He objectively described how the city once looked before the war in comparison to now. It’s so sad to hear this in about every city or village I visit. We then went to a bakery to buy some cakes for the afternoon.

At his home, we sat and talked for three or so hours drinking tea and slowly dividing and savoring the pastries as we talked about his family, my family, his job, and his time as an officer by the German Army. It’s a rare privilege when World War 2 veterans open up and talk about their somber memories to an ignorant youth, especially when the veteran was once an enemy of my country.

On Wednesday, the head officer in this Wohnebene, hosted a small get-together. I find it very interesting that almost every German thinks that the beer out of their region is the best. Since Rene comes from Dresden, Radelberger Pilsner was provided!

On Friday, I took the long and complex trip to Sondershausen in Thuringen in central Germany. I walked immediately to the youth hostel and dropped off my bag. I then walked down to the city center and visited the palace, the old guardhouse, the Christmas market, and some other old buildings and churches. Germany, and probably most of Europe, is so interesting because almost every village has something old, historic, and/or beautiful in it worth looking at. When describing where I was going to run a marathon, nobody had heard of Sondershausen, and for a no-name town, it was nevertheless worth the trip, run or no run! Then I think of the hundreds of villages and cities in Germany that I have never seen…

I went to the market and bought some food for dinner and walked back through rain to the hostel. I wrote some postcards to friends and family, ate, talked briefly on the phone, and went to bed. Providentially, nobody else shared the hostel room. What a deal that hostel was, comparable to a 90 Euro a night hotel room! I was alone in the room with an awesome breakfast buffet for only 12 Euros!

During the early breakfast, I talked to a man from Finland and two Germans, one of whom drove me to the race location about 6 kilometers away, saving me a annoying walk before the run and/or the taxi ride.

I picked up my start number, changed, and put on my mandatory helmet. The marathon took place in an active salt mine. The 700 m descend in pitch black lasted 3 minutes. I only wished the run had lasted that long too…

What a psychological nightmare that run was. First, it was so hot and dry that I finished the race with totally dry clothes. Normally they are soaking wet. Once, I spilled water on me while running and drying to drink…in five minutes, it was dry. My head was on fire, and my thumbs felt like hot potatoes. Second, the course followed the same course that the miners had followed when mining for salt…up and down constantly on a somewhat slippery salt bed surface with an elevation change of 1300 meters. Most psychotic, I think, was the almost pitch-blackness. Four laps through the mine left me somewhat delusional...I had no way to gauge distance or how far I had run. The corridors were nearly all the same with a dim light fixture barely lighting up the path in front of me. The water stations ever 2.5 kilometers did more than just hydrate me, they helped break apart the utter loneliness. Most of the time, I was alone deep in the earth, not even able to see my shoes. I can’t even count the number of times that I wanted to run down one of the many roped-off corridors and hide behind a big machine and just sit there, hiding from myself and the race I should be running. The elevator to the surface was the most appealing, but way too far away. I would have to say that the last lap, the last hour was the most serious gut check I have ever had to content with. In addition to the natural muscle soreness, I felt something after the race that I have never really felt after a marathon or half marathon: absolute spiritual/emotional fatigue.

I am glad that this was not my first endurance race; it would have left such an impression on me that I would never sign up for another again, much less pay for one! It wasn’t really a marathon either…the fastest time was around 3 hours and eleven minutes, a whole hour slower than what the winner at a regular marathon would run; less than 30 of the 430 participants ran under 4 hours. Yet it was an experience I don’t think I will forget. I think and hope that it has prepared me for some of the major challenges that life will throw my way.

It felt so good to ride back up the surface and breathe once again the cold fresh air. I took a shower and prayed that somebody would offer to take me to the train station. Within a second, a car pulled up and a man asked if I would like to ride with him. He asked where I wanted to go, I said “North, towards Hamburg,” hoping that he too had to drive North and I could take the train from wherever his home was. He, on the other hand, lives in Freiburg…south. I told him I didn’t care, I would ride with him south to a major city and take a faster, director train. This I told him gave me the chance to see more of the German countryside and speak with a German. We talked for a while until we found out that his journey on the autobahn was going to sideline major German cities, and that the drive from the outskirts into the city would require 20 minutes. We then planned for him to drop me off at a gas station where I would call a taxi. Luckily, we saw a bus in the distance. Like a true German, he speed up, overtook it, and parked along side it. I asked the driver the bus’ direction, and he said the best thing ever: Erfurt, a major German town! I wasn’t even able to give him proper thanks and goodbye!

I took the bus to Erfurt and had to wait an hour before the journey from the train station. During this time, I ate and ended up talking to a German man as we stood at a booth.

It was a long, long day before I ended up making it back to Hamburg, and I don’t remember really falling asleep. I am thankful that I did set my alarm though, because I woke up really late in the morning and I was meeting Aunt Eva at Dammtor for lunch.

We went out to eat together in the Gansemarkt district and then walked to a mall where we had some afternoon coffee. I enjoyed those four hours with her in constant conversation. I learn so much from these experiences.