Before the Memories Fade: Reflections on the Dalian 100 Trail Race

(My Dalian 100KM medal.)

I did not have high expectations for the Dalian 100. I viewed it merely as a warm-up race—an urban trail run. How hard could it really be?

This arrogance peaked when I downloaded the course map. It showed a cumulative elevation gain of less than 4,000 meters. Furthermore, I knew the hills in Dalian were quite low, seemingly maxing out at around 200 meters.

My first mistake was inadequate preparation. Thankfully, I had joined a participant group chat beforehand. I ended up having to visit the registration area twice—the second time specifically to drop off my transit gear bag. Unlike my previous UTMB experiences, Dalian required gear bags to be submitted well in advance, a detail I had completely missed.

Moreover, I did not sleep well the night before. This exhaustion culminated during the final segment on the cross-sea bridge, where I practically fell asleep while running and nearly veered straight into the ocean.

At the mid-point transition station, I opted not to change my shoes or apply Vaseline to my feet. I justified this as a "stress test," but in reality, I was just underestimating the course. Naturally, this resulted in foot pain and minor blisters toward the end. When you invite trouble, you can only blame yourself.

As for the terrain: yes, the hills in Dalian are not high, but there is an endless supply of them. It was a relentless cycle of ascents and descents. We even climbed the exact same mountain twice from different directions. Consequently, there was a massive amount of downhill running. For six consecutive sections in the middle of the race (out of ten total), there was virtually no flat ground. Countless runners dropped out because of this brutal profile.

I crossed the finish line in 20 hours and 46 minutes, ranking 303rd out of an estimated 800 finishers. Given my current level, I am quite satisfied with that. Beyond the finish time, here are my primary takeaways from the race:

01. Equipment Testing: The Heavy Poles Delivered

I used this race to test my new adjustable Black Diamond trekking poles. My initial concern was that they would be too heavy. However, they performed admirably and clipped easily to my running pants when not in use. In fact, their slightly heavier build translated to excellent stability on the technical trails.

02. Race Strategy: The "No-Rest" Approach at Checkpoints

I tested a strategy of skipping rests at checkpoints (CPs). Even at the main transition station, I kept my downtime to an absolute minimum. My logic was that since my running pace is fairly relaxed and my heart rate remains low, resting is simply unnecessary. This race proved that theory correct: runners maintaining a steady, moderate pace genuinely do not need to sit down and rest.

03. The Power of Psychology: Conquering the Phantom Knee Injury

During the third section, I slightly twisted my right knee. I paused for a few minutes, felt fine, and continued. However, it created a massive mental block. For the next several hours, I overcompensated with my left leg, afraid to put any real power into my right.

By sections seven and eight, my right knee felt genuinely sore. I repeatedly stopped to massage it and even considered dropping out (I never hesitate to withdraw if there is a real risk of injury). Simultaneously, I debated whether the pain was purely a psychological manifestation of fatigue. I kept stopping to inspect the knee—pressing it, observing it—but found absolutely zero physical signs of injury.

In the ninth section, a very chatty runner caught up to me. To save face and be polite, I matched his pace, which turned out to be quite fast on the climbs. To my surprise, I found I could accelerate both uphill and downhill without any pain whatsoever. Just moments prior, I had been anxiously speed-walking on flat ground, terrified to jog.

Entering the final section over the Xinghai Bay Cross-Sea Bridge, I reverted to speed-walking. Runners were passing me left and right. I tried to jog, but my knee "felt" weak again. I walked until there were only 2.5 kilometers left. At that point, I made a firm decision: Even if it is a real injury, 2.5 kilometers will not cause permanent damage. I decided to completely ignore it.

Then, a miracle happened. I took off like a rabbit. I was hitting a pace of 5:20 per kilometer (which is my marathon pace, exceptionally fast for me at the end of a trail race), overtaking countless runners. In the final kilometer, I even sprinted at a 5:00/km pace.

This was a profound lesson. Previously, I was a strict adherent to physical training metrics and entirely dismissive of psychological factors. Yet, the moment I made a conscious decision to "forget" the knee, the pain instantly vanished. It taught me to properly respect the psychological aspect of endurance sports, something I plan to leverage in the future. (And for the record, the knee was perfectly fine; I tested it post-race and the next day with zero signs of pain or injury.)

(The moment I crossed the finish line.)

04. Regaining the Flow State

Lately, my mind has been a bit chaotic. This is primarily work-related; I have been experimenting with many new business initiatives and pushing myself far out of my comfort zone, which has been quite taxing. When the race began, even though I deliberately ran without listening to any podcasts or music, my mind simply would not quiet down.

It wasn't until the final two sections of the race that my thoughts finally narrowed down to nothing but the act of running itself. Reaching that "flow state" felt incredible. This mental clarity is deeply important to me, and it remains one of the primary reasons I run.

Post-Race Blooper: The Eye-Roll Photo

If you see a photo of me rolling my eyes at the finish line, here is the context: My ego was incredibly inflated during that final sprint. I was running so fast, completely convinced that the crowd at the finish line would be awestruck by my blazing speed. The reality? Someone chose that exact moment to propose to their partner right at the finish line, completely stealing my thunder.