Chongli 168: Running Between Reality and Hallucination — and a Three-Minute "Miracle"

Hello everyone,

In my last article, I shared some memorable moments from finishing Chongli 168, my first 100-mile ultramarathon. I even found myself in tears at the finish line.

This time, I'd like to talk about some of the experiences that surprised me even more—along with a story that still stays with me today.

Discovering That the Body Can Recover During a 100-Mile Race

Before this race, I had never competed over the 100-mile distance. I wasn't sure whether what I experienced was unique or something many ultrarunners go through.

In my previous 100-kilometer races, my physical condition would gradually decline from start to finish. By the time I crossed the finish line, I usually felt completely depleted.

This race was different.

Looking back, I felt my lowest point somewhere between 80 and 120 kilometers. That stretch was by far the hardest. But around 130 kilometers, something unexpected happened: I started feeling stronger again. My energy gradually returned, and I realized that during an ultra-distance trail race, the body can sometimes recover after reaching a very difficult phase.

Even small details reflected that change.

During most of my previous 100-kilometer races, I rarely needed to use the restroom. After finishing, I would spend hours trying to rehydrate.

During Chongli 168, however, everything became much more balanced in the later stages. At the last four or five checkpoints, I was drinking plenty of water at every aid station and also using the restroom normally. It felt as though my body had regained its equilibrium.

That experience changed my perspective.

Previously, I assumed that physical performance could only decline as the race progressed. Now I know that in a 100-mile race, there may be a recovery phase if you can make it through the most difficult section. That realization has given me much more confidence for future races.

This race was also an important preparation event for my upcoming UTMB.

（I Kept Running Through the Heavy Rain.)

Running Between Reality and Hallucination

There's another experience from this race that I'd like to share.

The first time I ever experienced hallucinations during a race was last year at the TransLantau 120 by UTMB in Hong Kong. The race started at night and continued through two nights. During the second night, I began hallucinating.

Even then, it was unsettling.

At one point, I felt as though I was swimming instead of running. Fortunately, I could still remind myself, "You're running, not swimming." Reality was still recognizable.

This time at Chongli 168, however, the experience was much more intense.

During roughly the middle portion of the final seven kilometers, for nearly an hour, I struggled to distinguish reality from hallucination.

I would look around and question whether what I was seeing could possibly be real. At times, I even slapped my own face, hoping it would help me regain clarity. Instead of trusting what I saw, I relied on reasoning: Does this scene make sense? Is it physically possible?

Only afterward did I realize that my hallucinations were strongest while climbing a steep 300-meter ascent. By then, I was probably experiencing severe physical and mental fatigue. During that climb, my perception became completely fragmented.

If I had to compare the feeling to something, it was similar to being heavily intoxicated—but while still trying to keep moving forward.

It was the most vivid hallucination I've ever experienced.

Looking back, I realize I need to learn more about sleep management during ultramarathons.

Over the entire race, I slept for a total of only 20 minutes.

Normally, if I become extremely sleepy during a race, I can lie down beside the trail, set a ten-minute alarm, and fall asleep almost instantly. But this race was dominated by heavy rain. Sleeping outdoors simply wasn't practical.

The hallucinations also made me think seriously about safety. When your perception is altered, your judgment may not be as reliable as usual. Having now experienced race-induced hallucinations twice, I know it's something I need to understand better before future events.

Even so, looking back, the experience remains fascinating in its own way.

For nearly an hour, reality and imagination overlapped, with countless scenes flowing between them. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

Why UTMB Matters to Me

One of my biggest goals this year is to compete in the UTMB World Series Finals, the legendary race around Mont Blanc in Chamonix, France.

There is a piece of music closely associated with UTMB called Conquest of Paradise, composed by Vangelis.

Whenever I watch UTMB coverage, that melody immediately brings the race to mind. Traditionally, it is played during the start of the flagship UTMB 100-mile race, and over the years it has become deeply connected with the event in my mind.

That is one of the reasons I chose UTMB as my primary goal this season.

If you have never listened to Conquest of Paradise, I highly recommend it. Even if you don't follow trail running, you may recognize its powerful melody.

At the end of August, I'll be returning to Chamonix, where Mont Blanc dominates the skyline. I've visited the town once before while traveling between Switzerland and France. Standing there years ago, I imagined that one day I would come back to run UTMB.

At the time, I wasn't ready.

Today, that goal finally feels within reach.

A Three-Minute "Miracle"

Before Chongli 168, my preparation had not gone as planned.

I had entered a period of training fatigue, then traveled across Europe, where I caught a cold and had to stop training. After returning to Hong Kong, I struggled with jet lag and poor sleep. As a result, my training during the previous month was probably the weakest of the entire year.

Naturally, my confidence before the race wasn't very high.

Before traveling to Chongli, I spent two days in Beijing.

Each morning, I ran an easy five kilometers around Ritan Park as a final warm-up. I used to live nearby and know the park well.

One morning after my run, I walked back toward my hotel from the area around Beijing's Fortune Financial Center.

Then something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, I heard Conquest of Paradise.

The music seemed to be coming from somewhere around the neighborhood.

The sound quality was remarkably clear. As I walked forward, I became convinced that the entire community was somehow playing the same music.

At that point, my confidence was extremely low. With Chongli 168 approaching and a poor weather forecast ahead, I wasn't even sure I could finish the race. If I couldn't finish Chongli, how could I possibly hope to complete UTMB?

Hearing that music at exactly that moment felt almost like a sign.

It lasted for about three minutes.

Eventually, I realized what had actually happened.

I had been running with wireless earphones. Without noticing, I had accidentally touched the controls and restarted the playlist. Since Conquest of Paradise had been on repeat recently, the song simply began playing through my own earphones.

For those three minutes, though, I genuinely believed the music was coming from the outside world.

It wasn't a miracle.

But for those three minutes, I believed it was.

And that belief mattered.

The moment the music started, I felt my confidence return. I remember walking down the street, looking at the people around me with a quiet sense of purpose, thinking that I was fortunate to have a dream worth pursuing.

Looking back now, I can smile at the misunderstanding.

Yet the encouragement I felt in that moment was completely real.

That is the story behind my Chongli 168 race.

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and share this journey with me. I truly appreciate it.