Humbled by the Mountains
I set myself pretty high standards. I want to push my limits, or at least find out what those limits are. Until now, I don’t think I had truly tested them. It’s not until you’re in the middle of nowhere, in a country whose language you don’t speak, on terrain you’re not accustomed to, on a course you are not familiar with, in a climate that you’re not adapted to, that you really find out what you’re made of. I’m made of a flimsy, jello material that goes crispy in the heat!
Duoro Paiva One Hundred 100k
I had signed up to this race a couple of months earlier when I realised I was moving abroad and would miss the UTS 50k. Why I chose the 100km option is beyond me, at the time it seemed like a good idea! The plan had been to initiate myself into mountain ultra running. I have plans going forwards of competing in some of the heavy-weight races around Europe but I can’t do that until I’ve tested myself in lighter affairs first.
It’s a 100k race taking in 4,600m of elevation over the mountains in Central Portugal. Its a new ‘World Series’ where some of the top runners get selected to compete in a ‘grand final’ in Italy in October.
My aim was to experience the mountains, test my (flatland) fitness and see if the latter transferred to the former.
The Build Up
I was acutely aware that the vertical gain in this race came from just four or five climbs. That meant each one would amount to 400-800m of ascent. Not quite the SWCP! This would be a major challenge for me having only run in the mountains on three occasions before arriving in Portugal.
After the Endurance Life Classic Quarter in May, I recovered quickly and was able to get back into the full swing of training after a week. I was moving abroad to Portugal a month out from the Duoro Paiva 100k so I would have a chance to dabble in some mountain running. I planned to take every session to the hills and hit a good amount of elevation on my long runs. I knew that ‘mountain fitness’ wouldn’t be built that quickly but I hoped it would help shift my perception of what a climb entailed.
One thing I noticed quickly was that when I tried to push on the longer hills, my breathing would quickly spiral, my legs would burn but my heart rate wouldn’t budge. I assumed this was a lack of leg strength but it was too late to do a great deal about it.
One week out from the race, I was on my final ‘long’ run. I was taking in a section of the 2019 world trail running championship course around Miranda da Corvo in the Serra de Lousa. It’s extremely technical in sections and had rained the night before. After 15km, I slipped on a rock falling onto my foot and hyperextended my right ankle. I heard a crunch and thought the worst. I was quickly reassured after a palpation of the joint so got to my feet and hobbled off. Over the next ten minutes, my ankle swelled to the size of a grapefruit causing me to be unable to put it down. I called for a pick up.
The next week entailed a simple cycle of - ice, compress, cross fingers, repeat. I was able to run on it after three days which was good. Unfortunately, it takes a lot longer than that to fully regain confidence in it. Regardless, I was going to race. I was itching to race. Life had been pretty tough since moving abroad and I was desperate for a much needed break from it (only a small proportion of the worlds population would consider this a ‘break’, you know who you are!)
The Race
From the start, myself and three others formed a ‘pack’ (I use this word loosely as we could constantly see each other but were rarely running side by side as they pushed up the hills and I capitalised on the descents). I was being careful not to overexert myself in the early, flatter miles. The mountains would come and I’d need every ounce of leg strength. I was feeling good; smooth and controlled. I was excited for what was to come.
We came to the first aid station where I stopped to refill my water bottles and had to watch as they disappeared after collecting supplies from crew. I remained relaxed and thought of this as an opportunity to sink into my own effort and run my own race. Immediately after this, we hit trails that half ran alongside irrigation channels and half ran through them. The wet feet was surprisingly welcome as the temperatures were already hitting 25C at 10am.
A few wrong turns, a farmer shouting at me and three river crossings later and we reached the second aid station (25k). This marked the start of the first real climb of the day - 800m of vertical gain over 6km. I had caught sight of third place leaving the stop on my arrival and was keen to get after him. I retrieved poles from my pack and set off with once again filled bottles.
This climb was where things started to fall apart. It was extremely exposed during the late morning as the sun beamed down and temperatures were rising to 28C+. I stopped at any and every water source on the ascent to dunk my Ponnek cap and try to keep myself cool. After 30min of climbing I developed a dull heaviness in my legs, one that demanded me walk inclines that I would otherwise run. I kept plodding up the hill knowing that the temperature would be cooler as I crested the 1,200m monster.
Sure enough, I reached the summit and checkpoint 3. By this point I was feeling pretty weary. I started to form doubts about me completing this challenge, just a third of the way through it. If it hadn’t been for the guaranteed descent out of this aid station, I would have pulled the plug. Instead, I told myself to bank some extra miles and to just see how my legs felt after the drop down.
What I hadn’t taken into account was how the temperature would start to soar with my descent. Into the valley and the temperature was all but unbearable. I started to take wrong turns (I actually overtook third place and then lost him again after a navigational mishap) and felt frantic in my problem-solving. I wasn’t thinking straight and I started to dream of just stopping. My new goal was to just make it to the next checkpoint and then I would allow myself to drop out. However, even that seemed out of reach.
The organisers had kindly added the aid stations to the supplied GPX. I thought this was genius - I could see the distance and elevation to the next checkpoint on my watch at all times. However, it seemed to get confused and with 1km to the fourth aid station, it said it was all downhill. Starring me in the face was a wall of vegetation and rocks with the village perched on top. I shared a few choice words with my watch and then proceeded into the climb. 25 minutes of torture and 200m of elevation later (including several stops to try and cool myself and a few moments of me just lying on the ground wondering what was going on) and I arrived at my final, revised destination. At 50k and only half way, it was a far stretch from the original finish line.
I collapsed on the ground and uttered the words I never thought I’d say. ‘I’m done, I’m pulling out’. Of course, they had no idea what I was saying, they were Portuguese so I just pulled the ‘death’ gesture of dragging my finger across my neck and they got the gist!
Take Homes
I have always heard people say ‘you learn more from your failures than your successes’. I hadn’t quite understood what they meant until digesting this race several days later. So lets give this a go:
Mountains are a different beast. If you break them up into ascents and descents, the former uses different muscle groups and the margin for error is smaller (its so easy to push over the lactate threshold on a long climb and do ‘damage’ you pay for later in the race). The descents introduce a pounding to the legs you simply don’t experience on flatter ground.
Don’t underestimate the heat. Heat exhaustion was the biggest factor contributing to me quitting. I’m a sweaty runner so even in 18-20C heat, I’m forced to drain a bottle or two on easy runs and to choose less exposed routes. So perhaps moving to 30+C climate, or at least trying to race in it, wasn’t the most sensible thing. I’m not sure I could even consume the amount of fluids required to stay hydrated on a day like race day. Perhaps with additional time to adapt to the climate and extra measures (ice, cool packs, planned rest in the shade, moderating my effort better) then I won’t need to.
ALWAYS THANK YOUR CREW AND GIVE THEM THE CREDIT THEY DESERVE. Watching runners disappear into the distance while I refilled my bottles, rather cumbersomely I might add, really hurt. It’s time that could be earned back with better planning and some altruistic behaviour from a friend. I’ve always found a way around having to stop at aid stations (even if it meant carrying everything I needed on my person) until now and this really reinforced why
Moving abroad is not good mental preparation for your first 100km race. There is no doubt that my attitude played a part in how the day played out. I knew that I was in a fragile place. The six months leading up to the race had been nothing short of a rollercoaster. A day in the mountains sounded like what I needed but in reality, to really get the most out of yourself, you need to be ready physically and mentally to take on a challenge like that. I let negative thoughts enter the fray too early and didn’t take the necessary precautions to fight them off. All too easily I packed it in and called it a day. I’m still not convinced my body had the capacity to make it to the finish line, I’ll never know, but I damn well should have tried!
Don’t be too hard on yourself. I had never thought I would DNF a race. I genuinely believed it wasn’t in my DNA. So naive. I also thought that if I did, I would never forgive myself. Such a bully. In reality, I have actually found it quite easy to accept and move on from. Part of the reason I have delayed writing this is because I really wanted to be able to unpick what I did right and what I did wrong. That takes time. If I'd written this the day after it would have been a pity party trying to justify by behaviour. Well today, it is less so. I am happy with my decision and I have learned an awful lot from it.
Whats next?
One race or performance doesn’t define you. How you react to it and move forwards does. 25 minutes after uttering those words, I had decided my next move - doubling down on vert, strength training, and generally looking after myself in order to approach my next race with more respect and better preparedness. It’s not going to be another 100km either. I’m stripping it back to the simpler format of skyrunning - short and sharp, this will really test where my mountain fitness lies. Benfeita, Lousa, Madeira, I’m coming for you…
Thanks for following along!