Sæby 24 Hours 2026 – Race Report

The race started at 12:00 on May 30th, 2026.

My supporter, Morten, and I had spent the night in a summer house in Sæby right next to the course. My build-up had been months of various niggles. Achilles tendonitis in my right foot, followed by arch tendon soreness in my left foot. All while my longer-running problem with my glutes still wasn’t solved, because the other bits had taken the focus. A long stretch with no races, and now suddenly the start was getting close. My first real race of 2026.

Damn, I was honestly getting nervous.

My stomach had gone into race mode. Slightly more frequent bathroom visits without me actually changing anything food-wise. Just nerves. But I’d had salad for dinner Friday evening, and a bit of my classic peanut-butter-bomb crispbread. The morning was coffee, electrolytes and water. So fasting since around 10 p.m. That meant I was now as ready as possible. And the legs felt pretty good.

Up until the start everything was calm. Morten kept me sitting in the chair, and I relaxed and waited. Waited to NOT have to sit for 24 hours.

Time ran out.

We were off. And I could feel right away that my legs weren’t razor sharp, but still totally okay. There just wasn’t going to be any hard pushing. So I took my first calm start on the course. Pace 4:30 min/km and grinding away.

Got water, salts and KE4 ketones in bottles while I chatted casually with people on the course and enjoyed my kids, my wife, my aunt and my nephew cheering me on from different spots. The laps ticked by, and over a few laps I reeled in my nearest fellow runners.

I didn’t see much of Mads Emil. Kenneth Risom I saw a little. Katja Bjerre I also kept an eye on. Partly because I loved seeing them and hoped they’d run a bit with me, so I could get some company. I also ran a little with Jimmi Vroue, who was chasing 12 hours. I saw him a few times and thought it must be going well. He’d apparently set his sights on the 145 km record. Unfortunately it dawned on me during the race, without anyone telling me, that Jimmi had thrown in the towel. This was during a stretch where I ran with young Rasmus Christiansen, 16 years old. He had speed in his legs and ran with me for a few laps, where he told me he’d gotten hungry for first place.

My race actually went okay. As always it got hard quickly. After a few hours I could literally feel my glutes going hard. The cramps set in.

The course had a fair bit of wind and a fair bit of sun. That made for a hard race, where we got hit by harsh cold headwind on every lap, followed by a stretch with pretty harsh heat.

It’s hard to dress for 1985 meters with cold and heat swinging that much, so everyone was fighting.

I cheered on my fellow runners and got so much cheering back, and that’s really what Sæby does. A huge sense of togetherness.

The hours were hard. Sometimes time felt like 5 minutes lasted an eternity, while other times an hour had suddenly passed. After 3 hours I knew it wasn’t going to be a record, but I tried to keep myself running. Always. Running on the track the whole time. And then with a hunt for 5-minute timed breaks at the aid station, where Morten could lift my legs up so I could get the cramps under control. That combined with Anti Cramp shots from MNSTRY, which is pickle juice.

Morten gave me updates on how many more laps I had to do before I could get a break. And I delivered. Exactly when what happened is a bit blurry.

But suddenly we were approaching 12 hours.

I’d reached 140 km, and I’d only had a few breaks of just under 5 minutes. On the course I was still always running. My average pace was good. Pace 5:15 were my slow kilometers. 12 hours also means a change to the course. The 12-hour runners stop.

Night is on its way.

I saw Rasmus Christiansen had reached his goal and was lying at the edge of the track recovering, while I lapped him a couple of times. The classic question popped up:

“Why can’t you just settle, Emil? 12 hours is fine too.”

But night was here. The night was actually beautiful. It wasn’t really dark at all. The sun went down at 10 p.m., but it was still light. The thinning-out was okay. There were still people on the track. It had gotten colder, and Morten had helped me into a merino wool top. Followed later by a thicker merino wool top and a neck gaiter. It was super good. I stayed warm, sweated a little, but didn’t get nearly as cold as the other years.

The cold still gave me slight nausea, but I could keep it in check with water. And then a bit of pickle juice that burned all the way down through my throat into heartburn – for the cramps of course – but followed by more water to balance the nausea. The hard dance between cramps, nausea and fluid intake.

During the night, from midnight to two or three-ish, I ran and thought about getting my half marathon in the book. That, and trying to pull myself and people up a bit. It’s funny how a night like that can be like pulling teeth. The head plays a trick on you, and it’s hard to keep your spirits up. It’s as if there’s a longer way in to people. Where before you could say something dumb and laugh together, now it’s a distant echo of your running friends as you run past. A bit like a bad dream. But Morten managed to tell me:

“Please put a little sound in your ears.”

And I did. Suddenly I could do it a bit again. My own words about the whole thing, when I put on the beat I’d written for myself in an attempt to pull myself together when it’s hard. It actually worked. “Circles” was running around in my head.

Hold on now, Emil. Seize the chance. And I held on. My courage grew.

The sun was already glinting at 2 a.m. out on the horizon, and I started running and shouting to people:

“Look out there, friends! It’s the sun!!”

Morning was breaking. The night had been good. The hours rolled away. The night was actually ultra short. It was grim, because there was silence, but short because there was a full moon, and the air was mild.

The race entered its third phase. For me that meant negotiating with Morten.

What could the goal be? Could I get a few more breaks? I was hoping Morten would be tough. On the one hand. On the other hand I also really just wanted a real break from being in pain soon. Constant pain in my ass…

The goal got dialed in on holding the lead. And reaching 260 km minimum. That would be the third longest distance ever by a Dane.

The breaks were supposed to help me endure the whole thing, and otherwise just stay running on the track. As always people woke up with the sun. The track woke up, and the light came.

Already at 4:30 a.m. we saw the sun properly. So yeah, the night really was short. The almost constant wind was still there, but started to get milder.

My family came out again around 7 and cheered, and it was lovely to see them. It was always wonderful to see my aunt, nephew, my kids and my wife. I got emotional and wanted a hug, but I held on to my dogmas.

• Only 5-minute breaks.
• And NEVER walk on the course.

During the morning I also got a break where I talked with Morten and Lasse Skarre. I sat there panicking a little about whether I could trust that the win was actually mine. That real runner brain.

“Are you sure that if I keep it lightly ticking over… and I don’t go full gas… that Kenneth, Mads Emil and Katja won’t come and catch me?”

But the message was clear. I was 10+ laps ahead. It wouldn’t be easy to catch me. If it was even possible?

Hardly.

The pride and relief that the work had borne fruit. ALL the work over the last many months. The pain endured.

Pinch me. I’d damn well won three national championships in a row… Any minute now.

Proud and happy I ran back out. Now the race had to be finished. It had to be savored and completed. 4 hours left. 3 hours left.

2 hours and 20 minutes left. And only 8 laps left to reach 262 km.

We agreed I could take it easy. No reason to push the body too much to reach a course record. I’d had a build-up full of injuries, and now it all just had to be done calmly. I’d get off early.

OFF EARLY!!!

I’d damn well never tried that before. The laps ran away. I ran some of them with Agnes and enjoyed it all. The heat on the sunny side had gotten harsh though. Everyone got roasted these last many hours by the water, and I whined a little too, but enjoyed the extra minutes at the aid station to cool off. The laps went brilliantly. I enjoyed it, even though it was hard. Final laps.

And there were over 30 minutes left. I ran out and told everyone it was my last lap.

LAST LAP!

The relief was almost physical. I get to the end of the lap, and Anne and the kids are cheering by the water. Anne shouts:

“Don’t you want one last bonus lap?! Come oooon!”

No, right? Nooo. I’m off?! Okay. I’ll do it. I’M TAKING ONE MORE LAP! But then you all come and cheer me to the finish. I actually sprint the lap. I mean, relative to my state. I run through the tent and shout to Morten that I’m juuust taking one more lap.

“Anne says I have to!”

And I get super roasted in the sun. It takes me almost 10 minutes to get around. And then Anne is still standing cheering by the water. Together with several others who are cheering and shouting. Someone says I can make one more lap. More people shout that I can. I think:

“NOOOOOO, I’m doneeee!”

But I give in. SO ONE MORE! I sprint around. 10 minutes left. I can just make it. Full pressure.

WE’RE ALMOST DONE!

I can feel my whole body vibrating with relief that I’ve done it again. Run 24 hours. How did that even work out!? Anne and the kids cheer again at the same spot by the water, while Anne throws messages to the kids that they have to hurry to the finish line to receive me.

Agnes runs along toward the finish line and sprints with me. She’s damn good at running. And together we run across the finish line, while I whoop and roar.

Whooop whoop!

I stop in the tent with seconds to spare. The high is buzzing. And for a fleeting moment I think:

“Only 1 fucking lap from the course record… only 1 lap…”

That’s how I landed at the aid station after the finish. I could get a chair and flop down. 266 kilometers and a few extra meters. And then I didn’t get off early after all…

And I didn’t get the course record either… But that’s probably just how it is in my head.

Never quite satisfied.

…but still fucking fucking proud!