Hitting the Wall: A Run Through Berlin

In 1961, someone in the German government unfolded a map of Berlin, grabbed a pen, and drew a line that would forever change the course of world history.

Sixty-three years later, a guy named Mike did the same — with two slight differences.

  • He used a neon highlighter.
  • He didn’t change the course of world history.

The line drawn in 1961 became the Berlin Wall. Mike’s bright yellow line became the route for a running tour, crisscrossing areas once strictly divided into East and West Berlin.

Although the Wall was dismantled 35 years ago, its palimpsest is still there, and I was about to run all over it. 

A map of Berlin with a running route drawn on it.
Meet route.

Introducing Mike

Mike, the guy with the highlighter, is the founder and namesake of Mike’s SightRunning. I found him while researching running tours in Berlin. He’s highly rated on TripAdvisor and Google.

Here’s what I liked about Mike:

  • He customized a route just for me.
  • He is a great conversationalist — he shared his experiences and insights, not just facts and dates.
  • He let me set the pace, which is important because I move slower than a slug after Thanksgiving dinner.
  • He took great photos.
  • He’s just an all-around great guy.

I Never Promised You a Tiergarten

With our route planned, Mike and I headed to the Tiergarten. It was a great day for a run — a sunny yet cool Sunday morning in September.1

Berlin’s central park was green, welcoming, and buzzing with happy people — but it hadn’t always been that way. Most of the park was destroyed in World War II, and Berliners ransacked it for firewood during fuel shortages that followed the war. According to Mike’s grandmother, the Tiergarten looked like a wasteland by the end of the ’40s.2

We ended up at the Victory Column, which, if you’ve read any history books published after 1918, you know has nothing to do with either World War. It was built after Prussia and Austria defeated Denmark in 1864.3

Mike said there’s a viewing platform atop the Victory Column, and the views would be spectacular that day. He asked if I wanted to climb the 300 or so steps to see it. I did not.

Dave pointing at the Victory Column in Berlin.
Look! A woman dipped in gold!

Mike told me that Hitler had the column moved in the 1930s to make room for bigger monuments and grander buildings as he redesigned Berlin.

Instead of a 300-foot-tall arch, Berlin got a 100-mile-long wall. We began running west, along the Spree River, to a spot where Berlin was once physically divided but now symbolically united.

A Capital Idea

You’ll find most of Germany’s government buildings in a district called — wait for it — the Government District.

What, you expected something whimsical?

Honestly, it’s a much too literal and colorless name for an area that meaningfully and — dare I say it — joyfully ties together Berlin’s past, present, and future.4

This is where Hitler began clearing the ground for his grand designs for Berlin. What he didn’t raze, the Allies did. The Wall went up. And then it came down. The land that once symbolized German aggression, defeat, and separation could now become the home for German healing, democracy, and progress.

Yeah, even I’m sickened by how over-the-top that last sentence was.

Here’s a better way to think of it: Germany needed a slew of new government buildings quickly, and plenty of newly available land was in the middle of Berlin. It was a no-brainer decision, symbolic or not.

Several gleaming new glass-and-concrete buildings straddle the Spree, connected stylistically with architecture and realistically with bridges. Mike pointed out details I certainly would have missed, like the complementary roofs of the Paul-Löbe-Haus and Marie-Elisabeth-Lüders-Haus, which face each other across the river.

What about the area’s older buildings? Well, you’ll be glad to hear that they finally fixed the roof on the Reichstag. In 1933, the building went up in flames in what was first described as arson but may, in fact, have been set by German patriots on a “normal tourist visit” on a “day of love” in support of their dear leader. Wait, that sounds familiar.

The Reichstag’s glass dome, completed in 1999, is an engineering and architectural masterpiece that serves two purposes:

  • Symbolically, it represents transparency in government.
  • Structurally, it keeps rain out of the main hall where parliament meets, which is considered a good thing.5

To truly capture the Government District’s historical, cultural, and architectural significance, I made Mike take a bunch of photos.

Dave running along the Spree with the Reichstag in the background.
A running spree on the Spree.
A picture of Dave with the Reichstag in the background.
Essentially the same photo, but in this one I’m not pretending to run.
Dave on a Bridge over the Spree River.
Thumbs up, Berlin!

After running past the Reichstag, Mike took me to one of Berlin’s most famous landmarks, the hotel where Michael Jackson dangled his newborn over a balcony. To get there, we had to pass through the Brandenburg Gate, which, now that I think about it, is probably more noteworthy. 

Dave leans nonchalantly against a lamppost near the Brandenburg Gate.
Why am I smiling? Because I’m smart enough to know not to dangle newborns over balconies.

The Brandenburg Gate is where John F. Kennedy, Jr., proclaimed “Ich bin ein Berliner,” and Ronald Reagan ordered Mikhail Gorbachev to “Tear down this wall.” Were these speeches important? Yes. But did they make the front page of the National Enquirer? No. So, if you’re keeping score, it’s Presidents 0, Pop Star 1.

I have no idea where I’m going with this nonsense, but do you know who has a route planned out? Mike. Let’s get back to that.6

On our way to the Russian Embassy, we passed several other landmarks, including the American Embassy (a symbol of American freedom and democracy) and Dunkin Donuts (ditto). I asked Mike to take me because I wanted to see the Ukrainian protest and vigil out front. It began when Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022 and hasn’t stopped since.7

A vigil outside the Russian embassy in Berlin.
Slava Ukraini!

Mike said one of the Russian tanks captured by the Ukrainian military was parked for a short time in front of the embassy. I wish I could have seen that. Nothing says “Fuck You” than taunting your enemy with a 50-ton war prize.

The Way Back

After our detour to the Russian Embassy, we began heading back to my hotel. This meant running around past the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, which is a solemn and sobering place. Writing about it in a rambling, goofy blog post would be disrespectful, so I won’t.8

We continued south to Potsdamer Platz, where a few sections of the Wall are on display. But don’t expect to see graffiti, bullet holes, or anything reminiscent of the Cold War. They’re covered with wads of gum, much to Mike’s dismay. Tourists began doing that several years ago.

I told Mike that one of Seattle’s top tourist attractions is the Gum Wall near the original Starbucks. I think it’s kinda cool. I guess I’m OK with using wads of gum for quirky things, but not for defacing historical artifacts.

Sections of the Berlin Wall covered with tourists' gum.
Gumming up the works.

Mike suggested we duck into the Ritz-Carlton to check out the lobby. I agreed, mainly because I needed to use the bathroom, and people tend to frown on public urination these days.

We talked to the hotel manager for a bit and poked our heads into the restaurant. That’s where I discovered one of Berlin’s lesser-known but most important treasures: a giant jar of Nutella with a pump.

The manager refused to let me pump Nutella directly into my mouth, even though I asked politely. He was OK with me taking a picture.

Dave discovers a giant jar of Nutella.
I want one of these in every room of my house.

Our last stop was Center Potsdamer Platz, formerly the Sony Center. This was one of the first major commercial developments after Germany’s reunification. The first time I visited, on a Friday night in 2007, it was a hubbub of activity. Not so much before noon on a Sunday morning 17 years later. A lot of construction work was underway; Mike said the center was adding new stores and attractions to compete with the nearby Mall of Berlin.9

We ended the tour where it began: in the hotel lobby.

Mike and Dave pose with a bear statue in the hotel lobby.
That’s Mike on the left. I just realized his jacket and hat match his highlighter.

On every trip to Berlin, I’m reminded of how large a role the Wall still plays in, well, everything. Its existence once defined the city. Now, its absence does. As a visitor, running along and through where the Wall once stood makes this easier to see.

The route Mike drew with his yellow highlighter didn’t change world history, but it helped me understand and appreciate it.

A close-up of Dave's shoe and a marker showing where the Berlin Wall used to be.

The run wasn’t just about the Wall, of course. I’ve found there’s no better way to experience a city — not just see it — than with running shoes on your feet and an engaging guide leading the way.

Thanks, Mike, for being that guide in Berlin. I hope it’s not long till we can lace up and run again. 

By the Numbers

As a reminder, here’s the route Mike prepared:

A map of Berlin with a running route drawn on it.

Here’s the map of our run. You’ll see it follows Mike’s route precisely, except we went further west on Under den Linden to see the vigil in front of the Russian Embassy. 

Map of our actual running route.

Stats

  • Total distance: 5.7 miles (9.2 km)
  • Workout time: 1 hour, 40 minutes
  • Total time (including stops): 2 hours, 20 minutes
  • Average pace: 17’28” per mile (10’28” per km)
  • Temperature: 58°F, 14°C
  • Nutella pumps: 0
The Obligatory Footnotes
  1. September 15, to be exact. I put off writing this for nearly two months. Hey, a lot of thought and effort goes into writing the world’s best okay-est blog post about a guided running tour in Berlin! You can’t rush excellence okay-ence. ↩︎
  2. Mike’s grandmother wasn’t running with us. Mike was conveying to me what he had heard from her. ↩︎
  3. This happened long before the invention of Legos, which meant the Danish army couldn’t slow down its foes by strewing plastic blocks everywhere. Ever try walking over those things in bare feet? I’d retreat in a second. ↩︎
  4. In German, it’s sometimes called the Band des Bundes, which translates to Federal Ribbon. That’s more charismatic, but it sounds like Band des Bundts, which makes me think of cake. ↩︎
  5. I’m disappointed no one proposed a retractable roof, like the ones you see at stadiums. ↩︎
  6. Who the hell writes this asinine blog? Oh wait, it’s me. At least this proves that ChatGPT didn’t generate this blog post. No computer would write something so absurd and inane. ↩︎
  7. I can trace part of my family tree back to Ukraine, but that was many generations ago, and it would be a stretch to call myself a Ukrainian-American. My outrage is based on my desire for justice, not my lineage. ↩︎
  8. Here’s a video I made a day before: Walking Through the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. ↩︎
  9. At least they didn’t call it the Berlin Mall. That would cause some confusion. ↩︎