What Pace for a Megamarch? Why Speed Is Often Overrated

Anyone new to the world of extreme hiking will encounter numbers sooner or later.

• “My goal today? 55 kilometres in under 8:30 hours!”
• “Yay, finally! 100 kilometres in under 18 hours.”
• “I clocked a really good time yesterday.”

It is rarely meant badly. Usually, it comes from pride and the joy of a strong performance. And yet it creates something—especially for newcomers: a silent benchmark.

Because anyone coming from running has learned:

• Time = performance
• Pace = quality
• Faster = better

And that is exactly where the misunderstanding begins.

Extreme hiking follows a different logic

A marathon is defined by speed.
An extreme hike is defined by pacing.

While the question in a marathon is:

How fast can I push through?

over 50 or 100 kilometres, it is more:

How can I stay steady for many hours?

Long distances do not punish overconfidence immediately.
You can start the first 20 kilometres too fast and feel fantastic.

But in the final third, it becomes clear who has managed their resources wisely—and who was simply fast.

The subtle pressure on newcomers

Newcomers in particular look to what they read or hear. When people constantly talk about “good times”, it is easy to feel that you have to keep up.

Typical reactions:

• starting a little faster than planned
• tagging along with fast groups
• cutting breaks short
• keeping up the pace even though it actually feels too fast

What feels motivating at the start becomes a problem later.

Extreme hikes do not begin at kilometre 5.
They begin when your feet grow heavy and your mind starts negotiating.

What many people overlook: this format is designed around community

One aspect often lost in pace discussions is the true character of these events.

Extreme hikes are not isolated individual achievements.
They are shared experiences.

You start together.
You get talking.
You walk together for a while, go your separate ways again, and meet back up at an aid station.

Small, temporary teams form.
Shared moments.
Shared silence.

When the focus is solely on pace, perception shifts. Every encounter becomes a comparison. Every group becomes a potential benchmark.

Yet the appeal often lies in the exact opposite:

• in the rhythm of your steps
• in experiencing the surroundings
• in the changing light, weather and atmosphere
• in consciously recognising your own limits

Anyone constantly watching their pace misses much of what makes this format special.

Aid station opening times are not an element of competition

One term that is often new to newcomers: aid station opening times.

Aid stations are not open continuously, but operate within fixed time windows. This is not about judging performance, but about organisation and safety.

Event organisers have to:

• coordinate medical support
• plan volunteers
• ensure route safety
• structure the event schedule

The time windows regulate pace—at both the lower and upper end.

• Those who are too slow reach the cut-off.
• But equally: those who are significantly too fast arrive at an aid station that has not yet been set up.

Both show that this format is not a race.

It is a structured long-duration challenge with clear conditions.

Why pace discussions are problematic

No one is banning speed. No one is banning ambition.

But when speed becomes the dominant topic, it creates pressure—especially for those who are new or feel unsure.

And pressure leads to:

• starting too fast
• poor energy management
• unnecessary withdrawals
• frustration instead of an experience

Extreme hiking thrives on people with very different starting points setting off together and finding their own challenge.

Not the same one.

The real appeal

You can impress people over the first 20 kilometres.
Or walk the final 15 confidently.

Very few manage both at once.

At kilometre 50, nobody cares about your average pace.
Your body asks a different question:

Did you pace yourself wisely?

Extreme hikes are not a speed event.

They are a game of patience.
An exercise in self-control.
And a shared journey.

Perhaps that is precisely where their particular strength lies:
Not in being faster than others—
but in being more mindful along the way.