Sweat is dripping in my eyes. I look up, but can’t see the top of this climb. I sigh and tell myself: ‘One step at a time. Focus on your mission. You’re only here to finish. You’re only here for the Running Stone. Time doesn’t matter’.
It’s weird, a couple of minutes ago I was happily running. Even faster than expected. The opening of the Camins de s’Arxiduc, the UTMB race I’m running on Mallorca, was fanatic. I know trail races can be, no matter how long they are. Some people just want to sprint to the finish. Heck, some people can. I’m not one of them.
To be fair, I haven’t made it to the finish line in my last two races. At the Trail du Saint-Jacques I had to step out after 65 kilometres. I had only 15 to go, but I had been running 65 kilometres with a torn hamstring and my right leg had enough of it. The UTMB CCC was entirely another story. I got overheated and – as it turned out later – was running with a flu. I had to leave that race halfway; after 55 kilometres. So it’s about time I finish a race.
Especially this one. The UTMB CCC, earlier this year, was a big disappointment. Next year I want to run it again. To do so, I have to qualify and I precisely have one chance to do that; today. So whatever happens, I have to finish this race.
Discovery runWe have 5 hours to do it. My guess is, I need four. It’s a wild guess. I did one little discovery run earlier this week, here on Mallorca. That was the last 4 kilometres of this race. From the finish up the trail and back to the finish. It looked rough. Some faster dirt roads, but mostly loose pebbles, rocks and old Roman roads. Not the easiest stuff to run on.
That run didn’t include the climb I’m on now. This one is steep. Seriously steep. Not just that, it’s horrible. Seriously horrible: gravel that slides away under your feet, dusty rocks my Altra’s have no grip on, and patches of tarmac in corners where the road would have otherwise been washed away by rain.
The UTMB CCC is two months ago. I haven’t done any serious climbing since, and I’m feeling it now. I also haven’t done any serious long runs since the CCC. I rested my legs and went back to base building. My longest training has been two hours. Today I will have to do double. I hope there is still some endurance in my legs. Especially because I was injured before the CCC, so I haven’t done any propper long running since June.
It feels weird to run this race. Not just because of the lack of preparation, also because earlier this week South-East Spain, including Mallorca, was hit by DANA, torrential rain caused by an isolated low-pressure area. The floods killed more than 200 people. This morning, before the start of the race, there was an impressive minute of silence. Thirty seconds later, everybody was cheering and clapping and getting ready to run. I know, life goes on, but still, it took me a couple of moments to make the switch back to running.
Directly from the start we ran uphill. False flat to start with, a little steeper later on. The start was fast; maybe because I’m assigned to the first group, to my own surprise. Now, everybody is slowing down, including me. Steep climbs are not my thing. That’s also why I started at the back of this first group. That’s where I feel at ease.
The climb is rewarding though. We get glimpses of the sea, and are surrounded by the grey, brown and red rocks of Serra de Tramuntana, the most visited national park of Mallorca and an UNESCO World Heritage Site. I still find it amazing that we can run with a couple of hundred trail runners through a national park. That’s also the reason I get pissed of when some runners leaving the path, trampling the plants in an attempt to move up a few spots. If we would all behave like that, next time nobody is allowed to run, as the organisation simply won’t get a permit.
After 7 kilometres I pass Es Cargolí, the first timing point of the race just before the neutralisation zone. When I look at my phone, I see that I’m number 504. A part of the path has been destroyed by the rain and a metal bridge has to help us from one side to the other. The bridge isn’t very stable so we have to cross it one by one. It’s directly followed by a steep, slippery section with a big drop off. So slippery one of the runners before me fell. His knee is covered with blood. A medic first aid tries to clean it, while the runner is cursing and moaning.
It looks like a clear warning sign, but although we’re only allowed to walk this section, some runners are so close on top of eachother that if one falls, we’ll all go. One guy is so close behind me, I can feel his breath in my neck. I ask him a couple of times to maintain some distance, but three steps later I can smell him again. So far for safety measures.
When we’re allowed to run again, I feel recovered. The single tracks are fun, and are interspersed with wide gravel roads and old Roman roads. When we come into Deià, I’ve moved 83 places up the ranking and are on the heels of the second Dutch runner. The Dutch number one is far ahead, but Clint Reemers and I are playing leapfrog. Who wins doesn’t really matter, but it’s a fun game to play.
One that keeps me going a couple of kilometres later, when I suddenly hit the wall. The sun has come out, we’re climbing again and we’re exposed. The combination is too much. I feel hot, empty. When I trip over a rock and fall, it feels like somebody is punching me in the face. But nobody is there. It’s just me and my clumsiness. My little finger doesn’t like the fall and swells up. My legs don’t like it as well. I try to walk, but my legs have never been this heavy before.
The UTMB CCC is flashing by in my head. During that race I didn’t just feel dizzy, at times it became black in front of my eyes. This time, I feel completely empty. I’ve been taking care of my nutrition, but just like a two months ago, it’s as if the sun is sucking all the energy out of me. I sit down twice, to let my body temperature go down. When I walk, it goes slow, but at least I’m moving.
My head is filled with doubts. Should I leave this race? No. Stepping out is not an option. Not, if I want to run the CCC next year. But should I run that race? This year it was incredibly hot. I can’t handle heat. Maybe I should just stick to races in winter. Or stop racing at all and create my own challenges.
My ordeal lasts forty minutes. Then I’m on top of the last climb and start my descent. Running feels okay again. Cooler, literally. I even feel some power in my legs. When I see Clint in front of me, I have somebody to aim for. It makes running easier. Plus, I feel like having the upper hand. I know the last part of this trail. I’ve run it before.
One by one I overtake the people who overtook me when I had to sit down. It’s six kilometres to the finish. A lot of them are walking. We’re on the tricky part. Big rocks, uneven, small paths. It’s easy to misplace your feet here and sprain your ankle. Luckily I know where to push and where to go slow. When I reach the lighthouse that’s been built in 1842 at Far des Cap Gros, I’ve moved up another seventeen places and am the number 404 in the race.
From here on, it’s just downhill and over the boulevard. I’m wondering how much there still is in my legs and if I can move up a few more positions. Maybe top 400. I know, nobody cares which position I’ll finish in, but it’s a challenge to give it my all one more time. When I run down, I feel that my quads are trashed, but seemingly not as trashed as some of the people in front of me, because I keep picking up. At the same time, one girl is flying by so fast, I don’t even dare to follow here.
The boulevard feels like a glorious entry. People stop to clap. Those sitting on the terrace are clapping as well. I pass the beach, the little boats in the harbour, the restaurants on the streets. One more turn, one more left and I’ve got my Running Stone; my ticket to the CCC next year.
When I check my phone, I’m number 396. The second Dutch person to arrive, and the number twenty in my age category; 50 minutes behind Manuel Ordonez, the fastest man of my age. One minute behind me Clint finishes as third Dutch runner. I guess we’re not made to run in the heat and we’re not made to run over hills, but that doesn’t mean we can’t keep trying.
Behind the finish Sara is waiting for me. A relieved smile also graces her face. Mission accomplished. Hand in hand we walk to the beach. There is only one way to celebrate this; with an ice cold plunge in the Mediterranean Sea.
