O-See Ultra Trail 2025

Event Page: XTerra O-See Ultra

Oybin, round three! 🏔️

Back in this tiny village tucked away between Germany, Poland, and the Czech Republic, my yearly pilgrimage to one of my favorite races. After 50 km in 2023 and 65 km in 2024 (well, 68 km if you count getting lost… 😅), I signed up for the brand-new 100 km distance. But a late cold brings me back to reason, and I switch last minute to the 75 km, also a new option this year.

I arrive around 19:30, pasta party already over. 🍝 Nothing left to eat, but I managed to swap my bib, drop off a bag, and scavenge an abandoned plate of pasta. Short night, brutal alarm. After a quick briefing, we’re off at 6 sharp into the darkness. It’s 4°C, breath fog streams through our buffs, our headlamps jumping around. The trail slowly reveals itself: rocks, roots, steps carved by time, towering stone monoliths. I’m back on those merciless paths I love so much, the kind that steal your breath and break your legs. 💪

We move through the night for about one hour before switching off our headlamps at sunrise 🌄. The forest wakes up, and with it, the first enemy of the day: mud. Thick, sticky, ankle-deep in places, slippery as ice elsewhere. Thank god for the poles keeping me upright and off my backside 😅. The cold surely is our second challenge. It settles in quietly but stubbornly. Bad gear choice: my base layer doesn’t work well, so I’m soaked early and I have to put on my jacket that hardly keeps me functional. The first cramps hit my legs way too early, a clear sign of low calories intake rather than poor training. It’s about time to feed the engine that’s currently failing to keep the body warm. 🔥

Luckily, the first aid stations appear. It’s not the Marathon du Medoc, but it’s full of warmth: campfires, sweets, salty broth, and volunteers ringing cowbells 🔔. I don’t linger; the road ahead of me is long. The next section is more runnable, with wider paths, and the satisfying feeling of moving forward again. 🏃 I alternate hiking uphill and jogging the flats, saving my poles until I finally need them for good. Legs are fine, spirits high. The sun breaks through, lighting up the full autumn palette: browns, yellows, greens, ochres 🍂. The forest hums softly beneath our steps on the carpet of fallen leaves.

The real race begins at kilometer 50, where we split off from the shorter distances heading home. I feel myself suddenly alone, but not for long. The 50 km aid station is a proper feast: sausages, pasta, local treats 🥖. I find my drop bag and finally change into dry clothes. That’s where I meet Jonnie, a cheerful Spaniard with a bright grin 😄. We swap race tales over a (non-alcoholic) beer. Volunteers bring out coffee and crêpes; if we don’t leave soon, we’ll end up staying here all day! ☕

I lighten my pack, ditch my gloves (bad idea), but keep my headlamp, which I’ll be grateful for later 💡. The new 75 km loop starts with some road before diving back into the woods. A pleasant surprise, the route is less technical in parts, but never dull. The scenery bursts with color, the silence peaceful, the kind of section that reminds me why I love trail running ❤️. I let the trail carry me, running by feel, tuning in to my body. But enough with the flat stretch, we signed up for some elevation too! The next hill is short but brutal, splitting our sentences in half 😤. We push on, breathing hard, step by step. At the top, the view opens, light is fading away, the night’s not far. Through a sports complex, we reach another aid station, yet another feast where joyful volunteers spoil us. But this time we resist the temptation. We’ve got to beat the dark and the cold. 🌙

It’s a vain attempt, the night is falling fast, like a hungry runner on aid-station cookies 🍪. I silently thank my past self for keeping the headlamp. Its warm beam cuts through the dark, guiding us along the twisting trail. The cold returns, biting. My fingers curse myself for the gloves I left behind 🥶, but my new dry clothes keep the rest of me warm. We reach the final hill, the steepest of all, a staircase of slick stone. I reach the top just in time to catch the last rays of the sun, as Jonnie emerges behind me by the glow of his lamp. ✨

The descent to the finish demands focus to stick to the narrow trail and avoid tripping on the hidden roots and loose stones ⚡. I’m starving and devour whatever’s left in my pack. We catch up with a few fading runners and form a small group, pushing each other forward with comforting words. Around a corner, the race’s iconic monolith appears in our headlamps, massive, ghostly 👻. It marks the end of the road, the long-awaited finish. Two hundred meters from the arch, a group of girls overtakes us. No way I’m letting that happen! I sprint like a kid 🏃‍♂️💨… before realizing they’re closing the 100 km. Fair enough, they’re miles ahead in every sense. I cross the finish line after 13 hours and 30 minutes of yomping around the road, my longest run ever. 🏅

No hot meal at the finish, as usual, that’s a pity. 🍲 Music and celebration fill the gap, but my body craves more than candy and cake crumbs. Nothing that dulls the memory, but just a note to the organizers: sometimes a bowl of soup is worth more than a medal! Though I do love my medal! 😄

Final thoughts: the O-See remains my all time favorite race, tough but not cruel, technical but not elitist, run by delightful volunteers who give their all to make it a great day for all 🙏. The new 75 km route adds freshness without losing the race’s spirit. No regrets swapping 100 for 75 this year. I still believe you should enjoy a race, not endure it 💫. I’ve learned a few lessons: pick better layers, respect the cold, eat early and often, and pack only what matters. I can’t wait to come back next year to rediscover this stunning region, this giant playground of rugged trails and blazing autumn colors 🍁. Each edition gets me a little closer to La Diagonale des Fous, my ultimate goal in a few years.

Ciao Oybin! 👋 See you next year. Hopefully a few degrees warmer… but with the same coffee and crêpes waiting at the aid station. ☕🥞