Inveniam viam aut faciam

- Hannibal Barca



Mar 24, 2017

Running Heaven Beats Migraine Hell

Frauke Poeschmann had chronic migraine when she found a safe haven.


Adelina Storkaas

Running. Her attacks dropped from 20 a month to 5 and she felt free, stronger and hopeful, when two years of darkness dissolved.

“Pain is inevitable, suffering optional,” says marathon runner Frauke Poeschmann, summing up her attitude towards her chronic migraine and running passion with a quote.

Speaking with The Outdoor Journal, she says, “It’s so true to my migraine. It will never go away, so I have to live with it. But if I give up, that’s my choice. And it’s the same with running a long distance run. It’s going to be painful. Running 42K is definitely something that you’ll feel in your legs and muscles, but it doesn’t make me suffer, it makes me happy,” she says, adding “Running makes me feel stronger than a stupid chronic sickness.”

When she was 19-years-old, the migraine attacks began. Hitting her 2-3 times a month. She got on prophylactic, but the treatment that prevented the attacks also brought on a depression after a couple of years. In the end of 2012, she quit the medication.

“And that’s when the migraine really hit me,” she says “It’s a headache, but not really a headache like when you haven’t had a lot of liquid or are hung over. It’s actually a really severe pain and when it doesn’t go away when I take painkillers, I feel like taking a knife and stabbing it in my leg, just to feel something else apart from the pain in my head.”

For two years, she had migraine more than every second day, 15-20 times a month. Painkillers kept her functioning at work as a Consumer Insights Manager, but her personal life was badly affected.

Hamburg Marathon 2015
Frauke running the Berlin Marathon. Photography courtesy of Frauke Poeschmann

“I didn’t go out. My relationship ended. I almost lost friends because I couldn’t connect to anyone so I couldn’t really participate in anything anymore. Couldn’t drink alcohol, couldn’t eat certain things,” she says “So basically I started cocooning in my safe place, which was my couch. It was not really a life worth living.”

Migraine affects people differently. While some people get sick to their stomach, she describes how she gets emotional, very short fused and has problems concentrating or handling people when the attacks kick in. Sometimes she can’t grasp her surroundings: “Even in my own flat, I end up running into my own door,” she says.

But when she turned 30-years-old, she decided that she didn’t just want to run into doors. She wanted to get active and the only thing that she used to enjoy was running. She quit her sedimentary life and hit the 2-3 km tracks outside her flat in the mornings before heading to work. Even though she hated it at first and walked like John Wayne because of aching muscles, her new habit soon turned into a passion that she can’t live without.

“It’s the best idea, I have ever had. To start running and to start running marathons,” she says ”Migraine might not sound that bad, but for those who actually suffer from it, it is quite a pain in the ass. And it is just not there when I run.”

Medals from races. Photography courtesy of Frauke Poeschmann

Running is her safe haven where she feels free and clears her mind of worries.

“Migraine works a bit like a computer without spam filter,” she says “I’m genetically missing the spam filter and take everything in. And when I get too stressed, it explodes in my brain. Running is a bit like replacing the spam filter because it unwinds me and relaxes my thoughts and my brain.”

Her migraine attacks also dropped to 5-7 a month when she picked up running and a new treatment: “Botox is doing one part of the job, but I think that running is doing the other one,” she says.

Dr. Katy Munro at the National Migraine Centre has not personally seen a case with such a drastic improvement, but adds: “We do see some amazing results when we have helped patients to find a personalised plan for managing their migraine. Simply eating regularly, not skipping meals and having a bedtime snack can make a huge difference to some people. The regularity is important as the brain of migraine sufferers is very sensitive to changes in their internal and external environments.”

Researchers have also found evidence that supports Frauke’s experience that running can have a positive effect on her disease. When you exercise, your body releases endorphins and enkephalins that can tackle pain and depression. As a result, some people with migraines notice a decline in the number and severity of the attacks. The Migraine Trust recommends people do 30 minutes of exercise, three times a week for six weeks to see eventual benefits. 

Headache specialist Munro also emphasises that eating and drinking before and after a workout is important to dodge the attacks. Uneven blood glucose levels can aggravate or precipitate a migraine attack.

Frauke usually runs around a lake in Hamburg which is roughly 8 km, four times a week. When she prepares for marathons, she adds another day of running, increases the number of laps around the lake and adds a core stability workout to the weekly schedule.

“Sometimes when I feel a migraine is coming up, I just go running and it doesn’t come,” she says “And sometimes when I’m running it comes, and I have to stop.”

Hamburg Marathon. Photo © Hamburg Marathon

In 2014, when the migraines got really bad, she went to a special clinic for four weeks where she got off her painkillers and started the botox treatment. She told the neurologists that she would try any treatment they had, as long as it wouldn’t compromise her running.

They were positive about her training, but not very fond of her facing a marathon. According Dr. Munro, most people with chronic migraine would be unlikely to embark on the training for a marathon. But adds: “If they have good prevention and acute rescue treatments there is no reason why they shouldn’t try a marathon.”

Frauke’s mother, who also suffers from migraines, was worried about her health before the first marathon in 2014 and thought she put too much pressure on herself.

“Then when she saw me, because she was there supporting me, she was like ‘Okay, I’m not going to tell you not to run marathons, because you were the only person I saw who smiled the whole run’,” Frauke says and adds “I just smile all the time, I have the time of my life when I run.”

She started off with half marathons before going over to the full marathons: “It felt so good. To have a goal and reach it. So I thought, why not try a marathon?” she recalls.

“In April, I had 21 days of migraine. And when I think about that month, the only thing I think about is the marathon. Because it was the only day that I wasn’t worried about anything,” she says.

In four weeks, she sets off on her sixth marathon on home soil in Hamburg. Although she is not as prepared as usual, she says, “I don’t really care. I’m not looking to achieve a certain time. I actually enjoy 42km of running,” and is already planning a South African 56km ultramarathon for next year.

“Just reading about it gave me goose bumps. It must feel amazing to finish this run,” she says.

Meeting other people that are as enthusiastic about running and marathons as she is, running and seeing her family and friends supporting her, gets her spirit up. She doesn’t think she will ever quit running.

“I don’t even go on a business trip without running shoes,” she says and would rather get up at 5:30 than “compromise a run for an early morning meeting.”

“I’m stronger than my sickness,” she says “Pain is inevitable, suffering optional.”


Feature image courtesy of Frauke Poeschmann

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Oct 01, 2018

The Forbidden Zone: Mongols, to Your Horses

The rolling green hills, rocky passes, flower-laden meadows and clear streams of Gorkhi Terelj National Park in northern Mongolia is the birthplace of the Mongols. The Outdoor Journal spent a week on horseback with Stone Horse Expeditions in the heart of this country’s vast wilderness.



Apoorva Prasad

Tdrihe Khan Khentii mountains stretched before us, from one end of the azure sky to the other. Tegri, the Great Sky God, watched us with his infinite panorama. From here, I could see miles and miles into the distance. This was the “Forbidden Zone”, that unknown wilderness where Genghis Khan was born. As a child and then again much later on, he hunted here, his true home, on a horse, sheltered in a ger or under the blue sky. When he was a boy, exiled with his family into the cold and harsh wilderness of the northern Mongolian hills, his only friends were what these lands contained. After he built an empire and died, it became a sacred and taboo zone, left to the deer and wolves. For decades the area had been closed off. The Soviets enforced it as a Highly Restricted Area to allow them to do what they wished with it – from logging and military exercises, to also countering any potential rise of Mongolian nationalism around the great Khan. Despite those years, the Area remained wild.

No wonder the Mongols worshipped it.

A day before, we had crossed fresh bear tracks. There were no signs of human presence apart from our train of horses and riders. And now, this vista lay in front of us, green and yellow grassy hills, long valleys, meadows of flowers stretching to higher mountains all the way to Siberia, some still snow-dusted despite the summer sun. Burkhan Khaldun stood further behind higher peaks. And that incredible sky. No wonder the Mongols worshipped it. We all lived once under this blue infinity. As we’d ridden northwards away from Ulan Bator, the city’s pollution had faded away long ago, the gray curse had lifted and my eyes had once again accustomed themselves to what they had evolved to do – see long distances, look for hares, deer, bears, navigate passes and ford streams, climb rocks, and watch falcons circle on thermals above. And over the last few days, we had done all these things.

The weary horseriders arrive in the ger to refresh themselves.

We had left our last camp around mid-morning, some hours ago. One half of the party broke away to ride into another valley out west, while Keith and I wanted to ride up and to the pass in the range of hills that separated the Gorkhi Terelj from the Khan Khentii. We skirted the granite mounds which punctuated the ends of this valley, forded a marshy grassland below the campsite, fought off the bloodsucking horseflies that made our horses’ lives miserable for a little while, eventually entering a tall forest of larch and birch. The ground began to rise as we entered a narrow rocky trail that started to wind uphill. Jerry, my sturdy, stubborn little Mongolian horse plodded on. This easy gait was infinitely more comfortable than the long trots of our previous days in the saddle. Keith Swenson, a taciturn, the 64 year-old owner of Stone Horse Expeditions along with his wife Sabine Schmidt, showed none of the wear I felt – my skin of my thighs were quite literally raw after 50 kilometers of riding and trotting in the wilderness. After a few days Keith opened up with wisecracks. “People ask what do you do, and I say I’m a rider”, says Keith, punning on his American accent. “They think I mean ‘writer’, “and they ask, what have you written?” “So I say, Blackie, Brownie, Ol Dirty Face…”, naming his horses.

These lands, however remote, are important.

Halfway up the trail was a shaman’s totem, poles placed on the ground to make a conical structure, wrapped with bits of fabric and ribbons. But at the base, and near a tree, we also found broken shards of glass, vodka bottles drunk and thrown by unknown travelers who no longer respected their old ways. We’d been riding for an hour or so and we stopped for a short break in the little opening in the forest. It was quite warm in the strong sun, perhaps 30C like every day of the summer, but cold at nights, often dipping below freezing.

These Mongolian horses play a huge role in making a trip across the steppe easy and fun for riders. Each horse has a unique personality. Big Dirty Face pictured here loves coffee and will drink it straight from your cup if you let him.

The Mongols invented the modern world*

The old ways are important. These lands, however remote, are important. The Mongols invented the modern world*. When, at the age of 55, Genghis Khan rode out into Asia and Europe, he created the largest empire known to humanity, as well as its first international postal system, and the largest free-flowing network of ideas, trade and culture. But today, Mongolia feels relatively isolated and far away, landlocked in the Eurasian continent. And getting there turned out to be a greater adventure than we’d expected. Instead of flying, we took the famous Trans-Mongolian from Beijing to Ulan Bator. At 11pm, the train pulled into the last station on the China-Mongolia border to change the undercarriage (the railway gauge is different in Mongolia). Three hours later we got back on the train and waited patiently for the Chinese guards to hand us all our passports back. Our intern’s passport was returned ripped from its cover. Before anyone could make a move, the train entered Mongolia… where the Mongolian border guard insisted that the 18-year old girl get off the train because she wasn’t allowed to enter on an invalid passport. Twenty minutes of arguing later, at nearly three am, we got off and watched the train leave without us.

Mongolian cuisine is typically meat and dairy products. Vegans beware.

Fifteen hours later, after many phone calls and emails to various embassies and important officials, she was finally allowed to enter the country. The Trans-Mongolian having long gone, we finagled an eight-hour taxi ride across the great steppes (on a second-hand car coming off a goods train) for $45. Welcome to Mongolia.


I did not have much riding experience, but I usually don’t let a little thing like that deter me from a trip. Keith, once also a climber, agreed that anyone up for adventure would be perfectly fine on a Mongolian horse. They were sturdy and forgiving. We all gathered at their staging camp an hour’s drive from Ulan Bator – a Singaporean couple on their second trip with Stone Horse, their friend from Hong Kong, a French diplomat from Swaziland, our team of three, Keith, Sabine and their crew – Nyamaa, Buyana and Jackson, the American intern. Soon, our team of 16 horses and Stinky the Mongolian Dog, a most genuine companion if there ever was one, were off towards the north. Day one went reasonably well, with a short four hour ride to our first campsite inside the Gorkhi Terelj National Park. The other experienced riders asked me various questions about how I felt and whether my horse had cantered or galloped, and I said I didn’t know, but the horse seemed to know what it was doing. Apparently, they have many gaits.

Nomads Yadmaa and Tavaasurn inside their summer ger, just outside Gorkhi Terelj.

I learned what that meant the next day.

The morning begins easily and we move along a gentle valley. At a stream, the horses bend to drink. They’re herd animals, comfortable only in their own numbers. Suddenly, there’s a commotion as one of the pack horses spooks and bolts. We’re unprepared, and good old Jerry decides to follow the bolting horse too, suddenly turning 180 degrees and galloping wildly. I have to pull firmly on the reins to stop him, while the teamsters have to get the other fella back. He’s bucking around wildly, his unshod feet stamping, his grass-eating brain telling him that that bee sting he felt on his hind was a wolf’s nip. Stinky ignores the commotion, running ahead happily back in his favorite hunting grounds, chasing ground squirrels to their holes. We continue, entering a forest and then riding uphill to a pass. On the other side, a wide open valley, and our first real gallop. Now I feel the sensation, riding with the animal as one, gently cycling my feet in the stirrups and gripping with my knees, all of it coming naturally to me and I urge Jerry on, on, on. Chhoo, Jerry, Chhoo! We stop at a babbling brook in the valley below where we wash our faces. Are we in paradise?

And then the long trot begins. For a horse, it’s the most comfortable way to move. But it’s bouncy. I try to “post” like all the real riders. Watching me grimace in agony, Keith smiled and said, “real men trot,” as he rode along comfortably with that rolling ankle movement to compensate for the horse’s bumpy ride. “Trotting is how the Mongols moved such vast distances. If you make him gallop, you won’t get very far, you’ll kill the horse”.

a melting pot of humanity and ethnicities

But Mongolia changed the course of human history since long before the great Khan and his riders, the ultimate, self-sufficient soldiers. Apart from the Mongols, it is also the original homeland of the Huns and the Turks. It is a melting pot of humanity and ethnicities, where thousands of years ago two language families met and separated – the Indo-Europeans and the Altaics – and possibly where the wild horse was first tamed, thereby changing the course of history. When men on horses first raced out of Central Asia, first ancient Mesopotamia, then Egypt fell. Europe’s original ‘mother culture’ and India’s Harappan civilization disappeared. Humans, moving incredible distances on horses, spread across Asia, from the western end of Europe to Korea, all the way down to Arabia and India, creating nearly all the cultures we know today. Some of the languages they spoke evolved today into English, and others evolved into Japanese, but some of their words have become so intermingled that it’s hard to distinguish which came from which. Hindi is an Indo-European language, but today the common Hindi word for “home” is “ghar” (from the Sanskrit “grhá”) which is nearly identical to the Altaic Mongolian’s word for home, ger.

When the Hunnu (“Huns”) fought the Chinese Hans, the clans that lost fled towards Europe, creating Hungary, as well as leading to the downfall of the Western Roman Empire. Centuries later, the Turkics originally from the Mongolian steppes came hurtling into Constantinople, wiping out the Eastern Roman Empire.

We ride through rocky hills and rock formations, up and down defiles, over passes and across shallow streams, through meadows of flowers and knee-high grass. We ride all day, and every evening set up our traveling camp like the Mongols of old. We sleep in modern-day lightweight tents, under trees or under the stars, breathing cold clear air, drinking from fresh rain-fed streams, eating atop rocks while falcons circle above and the horses graze.

The Stone Horse team from left to right – Jackson, Keith, Buyana, Nyamaa and Sabine.

The world has continued to change, but horses and men will forever ride together.

One day we stretched out the ride to reach a farther campsite, a Hunnu gravesite. We set up our tents atop 2000-year old graves, low mounds of stones marking the places where men, women, children and horses were laid to rest. “I believe that these people would have loved us to be here, living like they did,” said Keith. When they hear our horses, they’ll feel alive”. The next morning, I pulled my horse off to a side and to a vantage point to shoot the group riding further down the valley. Jerry stomped and neighed angrily as the herd passed him by, but I held him back. When the group disappeared into the distance, I quickly packed my camera gear back into the saddlebags. Then jumping back on, I let the horse fly as he wished, back to his herd. Jerry, the funny but tough little horse, galloped madly a mile north over the gently rising slope. Our hooves rang out in the valley, as two large round mounds, Hun graves, emerged in front on the mountainside. Neither Jerry nor I needed to veer, and we galloped directly over the centre of the mounds, the sound of our hoofbeats gladdening passed Hunnu souls. Their ancestors, our ancestors, had once tamed wild horses, and together changed the world. The world has continued to change, but horses and men will forever ride together.

Images by Madhuri chowdhury.


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