12h Külsheim – Daniel Bürgin

12h Race – That's a short distance for you

"12h race, that's a short distance for you" – that's what I often hear when I switch from my 24h races to the 12h distance. Yes, 12 hours is significantly shorter – some shrewd analyst would even say: half as long.

But that doesn't mean it's easier. There are two good reasons for this:
Firstly, there are numerous marathon riders who have enough grit and power to keep going for 12 hours. The competition is therefore significantly stronger in both quantity and quality. Secondly, my strong point is the night – precisely when other riders take a break or drop out. However, this "second half of the race" is absent in a 12h race.

I've already proven that I can master the 12 hours: in 2022, I celebrated a triple victory here in Külsheim with two teammates.

So now I'm back. Accompanied by my two daughters and my wife Pamela, we set up our bivouac directly on the track – near the military training area where the race takes place.

The night was good – only my stomach is overly nervous before the race start. The girls fill a paddling pool with water – the source to cool down overheated bikers with water pistols later on. The bikes are checked, the nutrition strategy discussed – at 9 am, the starting signal for the 12h Külsheim race sounds.

The Man with the Hammer

Unfortunately, even in the first lap, I can't keep up with the pace of the riders I wanted to compete with. As an old hand, I know: these races are long, a lot can happen in 12 hours. So I focus on my own pace and my wattage.

It's incredibly hot from the start – not over-pacing is key now.

Everything goes well for the first 2.5 hours. I'm consistently doing 37-minute laps. But in lap 5, the man with the hammer arrives. At 39 minutes, I'm suddenly 2 minutes slower – I have a headache, burning legs, back pain. My body has reached a pain level that was actually only intended for the last few hours of the race.

In the next lap, I get even slower – I start to ponder:
Does it make sense to fight for places here if I'm not competitive? Do I still have something to prove to myself or others? And if so – for 8.5 hours? Or should I just listen to my body, which is clearly telling me that it doesn't want to sit on the bike for 12 hours today?

I end the race after this lap. Of course, everyone is disappointed and annoyed.
I retreat to the camper.

Life Writes Its Own Plans

It seems it was still the right decision to be here now:
My youngest daughter is sitting there crying with a sore throat – the older one was already sick this week, and now it's caught up with her too. So: make herbal tea, give medication.

Shortly after, Pamela complains of severe abdominal pain – maybe appendicitis? While the race continues, I quickly start packing everything up, just in case we have to go to the hospital.

Fortunately, everything settles down within the next hour: Mayla feels better, Pamela is back on her feet. I'm now treating myself to a nap, currywurst with fries, and the upcoming T

Dumb or Brave?

I've been doing this long-distance ultralongdistance stuff for several years now. I know exactly: after a race, I need at least six weeks to recover and prepare for the next one. In top form, maybe four.

Now, just two weeks after the exhausting 24h Stöffelrace, I'm back at the start – I should have known my body wasn't ready yet. Was that dumb?

Maybe. But there's another story: On March 30, 2025, it was decided – the 12h race in Külsheim would only take place if 200 registrations were received by that day. On the entry list: 198. I registered – and, together with one more registration, saved the race.

At that time, the Stöffelrace wasn't even planned yet.

Yes, in retrospect it might have been dumb. But because I was registered, I wanted to be brave – at least try. Maybe I would have had a surprisingly great day and made it into the top 10. But instead, I dropped out after 3.5 hours.

And not over yet

It's just after 5 pm. Pogi and Jonas have just exhausted themselves on the Tour, and I'm still feeling a bit off in the camper. I watch the exhausted riders pass by while my girls are in action with their water pistols.

I don't want to quit like this.

I pull myself together, dig out my second set of clothes, and get back on the bike. My crew looks puzzled. "I'll need the next bottle in an hour," I say – and restart my race.

Of course, the race is over. I don't feel any better and I'm not any faster than this morning. But that's not the point.

Back in the Race

I re-enter the race in 52nd place and will make up another 20 places in the coming hours. Shortly before 9 p.m., I cross the finish line – and manage to finish in the top 20 in my age group.

Since Pamela and Mayla are still feeling unwell, we pack up immediately and spontaneously head home. We are back home at 1:30 a.m.

I had actually planned another race in the Vosges for next weekend. But I will now give my body time to recover.

Happy ride
Your Daniel