A Full Decade of Trail Ultra Endurance - Retrospective, Perspective and Prospective - Tor Des Géants on the horizon

 

 

After all, the best way to travel is to feel.
To feel everything in every way.
To feel everything excessively
Because all things are, in truth, excessive
And all reality is an excess, a violence,
An extremely vivid hallucination
That we all live in common with the fury of the souls,
The center to which tend the strange centrifugal forces
That are human psyches in their harmony of senses.

- Álvaro de Campos

Many years later, as I face The Grim Reaper, I will remember that remote afternoon when my father took me to discover the mountain.

(shamelessly paraphrased from the great Gabriel Garcia Márquez)

It all begun on the 13th of July 2012. On that date, 10 years ago, I started my first 100 miles adventure on the mountains.

Here is the complete list of all such adventures:

2012: Ehunmilak, 168 km - 11.000 mD+, in the Basque Country.

2013: Le Grand Raid desPyrénées, 160 km - 10.000 mD+, in the French Pyrenees.

2014: VCUF - VoltaCerdanya UltraFons, 214 km - 10.000 mD+, crossing the Spanish and French Pyrenees.

2015: Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc, the mytical 100 miles race: 170 km - 10.000 mD+, around Mount Blanc, crossing 3 countries: France, Italy and Switzerland.

2016: Eco Madeira Ultra Maratona, 170 km - 7.000 mD+, around Madeira Island.

2017: Andorra Ultra Trail - Ronda dels Cims, 170 Km - 13.500 mD+, around Andorra. DID NOT FINISH.

2018:VOID

2019: Andorra Ultra Trail - Ronda dels Cims, 170 Km - 13.500 mD+, around Andorra.

 

2020: Estrelaçor, 180 km - 10.000 mD+, on Serra da Estrela (interrupted at 142K due to bad weather).

2021: TransPenedaGerês, 165 km - 8.500 mD+, on Serra da Peneda Gerês.

 

2022: ?

 

It is my desire to carry on adding to this list well into the 2040's.

Godspeed.

I start by recycling the text from a post that describes the first 6 adventures:

 

"Let's build something such that the world will say that we were crazy"

– Filipe II command to El Escorial architect

To run 100 miles is nonsense? Here's the real nonsense:

"In every day of a dull life, time takes us. But there's always the time when we have to take it. We live in the future: ' Tomorrow ', ' later ', ' when you get a position ', ' with time will understand '. These inconsequences are admirable, because after all it's about dying. The day comes when the person finds out or says he's 30 years old. [...] He belongs to time and recognizes its worst enemy in this horror that invades it. Tomorrow, he longed for tomorrow, when all of himself should reject it. This revolt of the flesh is The Absurd "

-Camus, The Absurd






Why do I run?

It's all in the imagination. None of this is real. Running 100 miles in the mountain does not add anything to my destiny. It doesn't change the order of things. I do not generate new universes, I do not save humanity, I cannot reach immortality. I am still immersed in the human condition. The Cosmos remains an unlikely place, without justification or appeal. Particles and force fields continue to jump out of the vacuum and interact because it is so. Species struggle because it is in their nature. This planet is walking towards the oblivion. Mine, ours, existence is no more than a fleeting ephemeral in an empty space-time.

There is no redemption, no salvation.

Yet, an adventure like this gives me the strenght for at least another year. It helps me to overcome the difficulties of daily life. The small irritations, the boredom of repetitive gestures. The inexorable path towards decay becomes smoother. The moments become richer, more colourful and vivid.

While I'm here I will engage in the inglorious struggle and my atoms, when they scatter in the wind, they'll at least know I've lived. They will have my mark, after Gilgamesh, Homer, Alexander, Hannibal Barca, Julius Caesar, Erik the red, Rolando, Zheng He, Ibn Battuta, Magellan, Vasco da Gama, Livingstone, Neil Armstrong.

I will be a small line at the Plank scale in the fabric of space-time.







Happy families are all alike; Unhappy families are unhappy each in their own way.

-Leon Tolstoy






Easy  races are all equal; Hard ones are hard each in their own way.

I have just completed half-dozen races with more than 100 miles and more than 23,000 feet climb (D+).

Each of them like a different lover, who gets under your skin. It is no coincidence that in the latin languages mountain is a noun of the feminine gender. Do not be mistaken, they are not there to be conquered, or dominated, or any other verb drenched in testosterone. No. They all have the last word and each has to be approached in its specificity. There are softer mountains, other more wild and temperamental, and others shy and elusive. But with each one we need to know how to obtain their agreement in order to discover their secrets.


I will assume a literary freedom by taking the part for the whole, calling the mountain by the name of the race.

The first lover was Basque. The Basques are a proud and independent breed, which has always resisted being assimilated by other cultures. We must show them our worth and bravery to succeed in winning their respect. However, we will never get them to surrender. Life with them will always be an eternal struggle, very rewarding, and very exhausting.

The 100 miles of Ehunmilak were my debut in the distance. In 2012, I wrote the following in my blog:

Psychosis:
"The term psychosis is defined as the inability to distinguish between subjective experience and external reality, i.e., there is a loss of contact with reality."

The huge, gargantuan, shattering challenge that was for me the Ehunmilak 100 miles race, can be defined as the anti-psychosis.

It takes place in three stages, along which it will remove the outer layers of the psyche until only the naked and primeval slef will remain, immersed in a pre-uterine reality, one with the universe ( "In the beginning was the Word").

First, the Mountain destroys the body, fiber by fiber, until there is nothing left besides the mind to take us forward. Then it destroys the mind itself, through the fatigue and sleep deprivation, which prevent the concentration and hamper our steps. Finally, we are just left with the sheer will to take us to the end.

Five days after the completion of the race, I still spend hours meditating about what happened on the mountain. I have more vivid memories of what happened on the second day than of what happened in the first (lack of sleep impairs memory formation). I still feel pain and abrasions on various parts of the body and still have difficulty feeling the big toe of the left foot. I still feel the asthenia and am overwhelmed by the deep sleep that befell over me in the days after the race.

However, I also feel the comforting calm provided by that prolonged contact with The Will in its purest state.

So are certain human relations. They end leaving us deep wounds, but simultaneously lead us to places within ourselves where we would never dare to venture alone. What remains is a huge sense of gratitude for having made the trip.

The second lover was French, born in the Pyrenees. The French have a rich history and culture, which entitles them a sense of superiority and detachment that sometimes borders on arrogance. Nevertheless, they also know how to be gentle and kind.

The 100 miles of the Grand Raid des Pyrénées were my second adventure in the distance. The profile of the race is imposing like the French. It consists of 4 climbs over 5,600 feet each , and a long descent, of 7.900 feet. How to overcome these brutal ramps?

In 2013, I wrote the following in my blog:

How to overcome adversity? Where do we get the strength to continue when every fiber of our body screams it's time to give up?

They say that fatigue is a fiction that the brain generates, that tells the body that it's time to stop before something irreparable definitely stops us.

Perhaps reality is itself a fiction created by our mind. Or maybe it is a plot that our brain constructs, dynamic and interactively, in order to navigate in a complex world, devoid of purpose that is independent of our will.

There are researchers who say that we have a "social" brain composed of modules with different functions. At the command of those modules (or being controlled by them) may or may not be an identity called the "I", the "self", "consciousness", or whatever we wish to call it .

The reason we build paths and chase goals is because we need one or more purposes that guide us in this life. As we are not simple beings, it is not easy to define a clear purpose.

Perhaps it is our evolutionary history that throws us to the razor's edge. Maybe we're just crazy and it is inscribed in our genetic blueprint. The primate who went crazy.

Ultra-Trail races have unique characteristics that set them apart from road racing. The strategy is much more complex since it is necessary to evaluate a much larger number of variables, such as the route, the environmental and wheather conditions, the necessary equipment (waterproof clothes, poles, etc.), the food and supplements, the rhythm, rest, etc.

So are the human relationships. We must nourish and balance many factors for the relationship to grow and succeed. A single weakness can ruin everything.

 

 

 

 

The third lover was Catalan. From Puigcerdà, Spanish Pyrenees. The Catalans are industrious, strong, passionate, challenging, sociable people.

"The Catalan language belongs to the Italic branch of the Indo-European family and is the largest minority language in Western Europe. It is part of the rich Ibero-gala culture, which includes the Provencal. It has many characteristics of Spanish and French."

The 214 km of VCUF - Volta Cerdanya UltraFons were my third great adventure, and the longest distance covered so far in any competition. It was also one of the most social races in which I participated. The team spirit among the Portuguese was fantastic, perhaps because we already knew each other well, and also because the race had a reduced number of participants.

 

It was also the race which took a smaller tool on me, despite the longer distance.

 

The first 44 kilometers are like a loving relationship at the beginning: no major obstacles, everything is progressing well. After this initial soft and easy route, the real difficulties begin, and the relationship enters into a carousel of emotions that will last until the end. That if we are lucky, of course. 

 

In 2014 I wrote the following in my blog:

 

There are multiple factors that can explain the success in the Ultra Trail.

According to the manuals, sporting performance can be explained by decomposing it into three fundamental factors: VO2max, namely the "power of our engine" (the ability to carry oxygen to the muscle cells) multiplied by our resistance or endurance, which is the ability to maintain a constant rate at a high percentage of VO2max, and divided by the energy cost of our mobility (related to our running technique).

For each of the three factors in this equation, there are various contributions.

VO2max can be improved with hard intensity work, but it depends also on genetics and the age of the athlete.

Endurance depends on our resistance to neuro-muscular and articular fatigue, the ability to ingest fluid and solid food during long periods of continued stress, resistance to weather amplitudes, to stress in altitude, etc., but particularly mental endurance.

The energy cost is directly related to our running technique: the amplitude of our step, the vertical and horizontal displacement, weight, etc.

In ultra Trail there is a trade-off between these two latter factors. To spare the joints and the musculo-skeletal system, the individual tends to adopt a less efficient but more protective step.

In conclusion, the performance can be optimized by adjusting these three factors.

But as for me, the mental continues to be the most decisive factor when we travel distances with 3 digits.

I would call it the ability to maintain a constant dialogue with ourselves. During the race, I am permanently alert to the signs of the body and mind, and I keep weaving a narrative of the race in my mind. It's like earing a soundtrack in the background and a steady stream of images playing in the brain. I nourish the mind with good experiences Ihave had in previous races as well as in other areas of my life, such as family, friends, associations, work. I use all of these ingredients to weave a story that conforts me and makes me move forward step by step.

The fourth lover has again French, but this time born in the Alps, in Chamonix.

To date, no other placed me such a challenge, marked me so much, and caused so much pain, as this passion.

They say that there are mountains which are tougher than others, that are more demanding lovers. It is possible, but as for me that is not the most important point. What is relevant is our relationship with the mountain. We have to learn to listen to it carefully. We can not want to bend it to our will, because it will reject us. It takes a great deal of intelligence, in the wider meaning of the word: rational and emotional.

The 100 miles of the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc were my fourth adventure in the distance.

This would be my 4th 100 miles race in the previous four years.

In 2015 I wrote the following in my blog:

In all of the races which I described above, I  carried no special goal beyond those which are  essential:to enjoy myself on the track; to be left  with unforgettable images and memories and to  roam through an inner journey that enriches me as a person. And if possible to finish the race.

This time I had a rather more prosaic ambition: I was determined to break a time barrier of 32 hours. I fully assume this desideratum.

In 2012 I had completed Ehunmilak's 100 miles in 39:42 and in 2013 had completed GRP's 100 miles in 36:42. Both races were completed after overcoming great difficulties, and throughout both of them I had felt that my performance could had been better.

I had applied twice for a place in UTMB just to see my expectations dashed in 2 unlucky draws.

I spent three years feeding a dream, seeing it grow, start walking, from the first tentative steps, through a gentle trot, a strong march, until to the furious gallop of the last months of preparation for the challenge of a lifetime.

The UTMB is certainly not the most difficult Trail Race in the world stage, not evern even the one with the highest degree of difficulty that I've ever done. I have completed more technical (GRP), in worse weather conditions (Ehunmilak) and longer races (VCUF).

However this race is unique. There is no other with the involvement that it generates. Chamonix is ​​a week of celebration. One lives, breathes Trail Running. It is the most emblematic. Those are the Olympic Games of Trail. A kind of Tribal meeting at planetary level. It is the river where the salmon go up to get to the source. It is the cemetery where the elephants come to die.

(...)

Driven by arrogance of youth, I completed the first 136 km of the race in just 26 hours. It translates into an average of 5.13 Km / h, which is very good. However, I am suddenly struck by a rock wall.

(...)

From here it would be a lonely path that I would need to travel, I would have to cross alone the second night, and see myself faced with my worst ghosts.

Moses parted the Red Sea with his staff and the word of God.

I'll have to open the night with blows of rage and despair. But I lack the beard of the prophet.

I'm in the race at exactly 26:26:26, hours, minutes, seconds.

The Number of the Beast hidden between the 3 Swans ...

I have already completed 136 km, 8,000 m D + / D- 7,150 m. Not much longer to the finish line!!! ... I delude myself ...

(...)

The descent is going to be much worse.

I cross fellow runners which are sitting by the track, staring off into empty space. I ask them if they are OK, and they acquiesce, slightly bowing their heads.

Are these the guards flanking the Styx, as Charon's boat drags me to the bottom?

"From the descent to Hades no one returns. At least not the same it was."

Will Tiresias be waiting for me to reveal prophecy? Will I reach the tranquility of my kingdom, despite the trip being particularly hard? Will I ony be able to return if I restrain my greed?

Talk to me Tiresias! Reveal me my destiny!

My destination is to go down, down, down ... I have a rendez-vous with a French village called Vallorcine, at 1,270 meters high.

It takes nearly two hours to descend. More precisely one hour and forty-seven minutes. The same that had taken clinbing up, at exactly the same speed: 2.8 km / h!

That means I am increasingly rusty, shaky and hopelessly fatigued!

I enter the tent at Vallorcine at 01:55 in the night. I feel dizzy. I need to sit down quickly. I do it in the first chair by the table that I can find. I need a few minutes facing the ground until I am able to recover my composure.

I'm dead. Or so I feel. I have to rise again, I have to rise again!

(...)

After this race, and for a long time, I was not myself. It left me drained, exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Subjectively, it was the hardest of all.

The fifth lover was from Madeira Island.

The 170 km of EMUM - Eco Wood Ultra Marathon was my fifth adventure in the distance.

This was a lover without history. A summer affair, which does not leave many memories, but rather a pleasant and superficial feeling of some well spent time time. It was a smooth race, the transition from the violent and impetuous lovers of the past for those which the future would bring.

 

 

The sixth lover was Andorran.

Objectively, this most recent one was the hardest of them all. Subjectively, it all depends on us, were not this statement itself a perfect tautology.

The 100 miles of Andorra Ultra Trail - Ronda dels Cims, required two attempts in order for me to succeed.

In 2017 I made my first attempt. The 12-month period between July 2017 and July 2018 was my annus horribilis. At the starting line I knew that I had not prepared enough. But I hoped that the long years of practice could produce a miracle. And, in a way, they produced. With minimal training and overweight, still I was able to reach kilometer 87, in Coma-Bella' s refreshments station.

My head was not in the race.

Like in a relationship where we are not fully engaged, because we are too focused on our own problems, real or imaginary, eventually the other person gets tired and leaves, so the mountain does not forgive a lack of diligence.

After this bitter defeat, I was remained without training for almost a full year. I just kept some sporadic training on the road, but with very low intensity and volume, and did not return to competitions.

I gained immense wight. I drank too much. I went from a normal weight of 70 kg to 85 kg. 


Meanwhile my father died, my marriage ended, I moved my home. 

"Mistakes, bad Fortune, burning Love
To my doom conjured;
Errors and Fortune were too much,
For me only love was enough."
- Luís de Camões

I stopped running completely. It was only in July 2018 that I waas once again willing to go to the road. It was a slow rebirth. My weight decreased slowly to 80 kg, but once there it remained stagnant. I couldn't reach the speed of the old days. Marathons below three hours seemed a distant mirage.

Slowly I rose from the ashes. I resumed participating in road races and achieved results far from past records, but perfectly reasonable otherwise.

In November 2018 I felt confident enough to risk attempting again a race of 100 miles. Of course, the choice would have to fall back on the one that had I had left unfinished.

I only do not finish that which stops making sense. And the two things that have made most sense throughout my whole life, are my family (and friends), and to run on the mountain.

 

 

 

So in July 2019 I lined up again at the starting line.

Despite the enormous hardship of the race, I ended up not feeling it that way. I walked the path very calmly and patiently. Perfectly integrated into the environment that surrounded me. And that makes all the difference.

As I commented on the blog:

As Yuval Harari says in "Sapiens", I think the life of a hunter-gatherer was way more interesting than ours. It was more dangerous and had more pain, illness, trauma, etc, but they were doing what they were adapted to do, by millennia of evolution. What we are not adapted to is the routine of office work. It's a poor approximation, I know, but as much pain as I have in a 170km race, I feel a lot happier, and that happiness lasts for a while.

The spirit with which I faced this test was more or less the one which is mirrored in this excerpt from my blog (it is not easy to translate from the portuguese meaning):

Now we enter the Madriu Valley (puta que pariu - whore that gave birth... as a friend said).

In fact, I can't resist transcribing part of a post by a fellow athlete, because I found it immensely funny:

"Mitic AUTV 115k 9700D+ with pass through milking, curtain, plate edges, accordion doors, lap of good death, glued with perafita, Cock cap, Madriu valley, bitch that gave birth, pico de comadrosa, doorknob and other little places that the devil wouldn't remember. Going up, down, laughing and crying, sweating and a lot of snot. Let's see if we can have lunch in Ordino next Sunday!"
- Luis Alvaro

Or in the original:

"Mitic AUTV 115k 9700D+ com passagem por ordenha, cortinado, bordas do prato, portas da sanfona, colo da boa morte, colada com perafita, Boné da piça, vale Madriu puta q o pariu, pico de comadrosa , marçaneta e outros terrinhas que não lembra ao diabo. Subir, descer, rir e chorar, transpiração e muita ranhoca. A ver se conseguiremos almoçar em Ordino no próximo Domingo!"
- Luís Álvaro

 

 

On this trail I was helped by many friends who made the journey with me, both in spirit and in body.
 
I arrive at Refugi de Sorteny at 1:24 pm, after 54:24 of trail.
 
It's very hot.
 
I eat fruit and refresh myself.
 
10 minutes after arriving, I'm sitting inside the cabin, getting ready to continue, when Sandra's smiling face appears at the door!

I wasn't expecting to see her around here. I was expecting my friends to receive me further down, but not at the last station.

It was a huge joy! And soon the joy doubled when Rui also appeared. They asked me how I felt, if I needed anything, and they told me I was their hero.

If they hadn't shown up, possibly I would have walked the last 12 km. But the mood they instilled in me made me manage a reasonable trot.

I met them in more points later on, along with Carla, António, Jorge, Elsa, Gonçalo. They really cheered me up in this last section

And that's it, I finished the 170 km & 13,500 mD+ of Ronda dels Cims in 57:00:34 (3 km/h), flanked by my friends and teammates from RUN 4 FUN.

Is there greater happiness than this?
 

 

 

The seventh lover was Beirã (from the Center of Portugal).

 

Serra da Estrela is my favorite spot to train. I love staying overnight at the Eco Resort do Vale do Rossim campsite, one of the most beautiful places in the world.
 
Running the vertical kilometer from Loriga to Torre and then going down to Alvoco is a fantastic workout.

 

 

 

 

 

However, it is a very temperamental mountain range. As quickly happy and content as suddenly furious and irascible.

Until 4 pm on the second day, everything went smoothly. I was comfortably within the plan I had drawn up to complete this race in 42 hours. The ascent from Alvoco to Torre began and everything was within normal limits.

I start the ascent, still with plenty of energy in reserve. As I go up the time changes significantly. As I described in my chronicle:

«I start the monster climb. I will have to conquer 1,270 mD+ in just 7 km. Surprisingly I feel really well going up. I'm going at a good pace. I am encouraged by the certainty that if I reach the Tower then I will surely reach the final goal at Penhas.

I come across several athletes. Two pass me by me quickly. I reach a group of 5. I think only two of them are in the competition. The others are a kind of honor guard.

The rain and the cold start to hit us seriously. Now I'm really starting to feel cold. Fortunately I'm prepared for anything. I carry with me, in my backpack, a second thermal layer of long sleeves, waterproof pants, two pairs of gloves with fingers, a second buff for the neck, a warm hat, the survival blanket, a candle and lighter, elastic band to ensure mobility in case of a sprain, a small pocket knife (with frozen hands it becomes difficult to manipulate objects), second frontal with replacement batteries, in case the first one suffers some damage. And reserve food. In the Basque Country I almost fell into hypothermia and what helped me was ingesting several energy bars and gels in one fell swoop.
 
(...)
 
As soon as we reach the plateau, it gets dark. A thick fog falls over us. You can't see the tip of your nose. Anyone who doesn't have the track on the smart watch is screwed. I go after the group of 5, and they keep calling for me (I'm very grateful to them). We come across lost athletes, running around like silly cockroaches. Suddenly a National Guard Soldier appears next to us. He guides us to the Tower Station.

We walk in completely soaked. Some athletes are covered in blankets. We are told that there were two guys who fell into hypothermia.

According to my Garmin, it's 7:11 pm. 150 km, with 7,100 m D+, in 31h48.

The test is over. It's a really weird anti-climax."

 

According to the O Mundo Da Corrida Association and the ITRA, the race is valid. Of the 20 athletes who stayed at this point, I was the 19th to arrive:

The eighth lover was Minhota (from the North of Portugal).

 

 

If we are victorious in one more battle with the Romans, we shall be utterly ruined.

— Plutarch

 

"A pyrrhic victory is a victory that comes at a great cost, perhaps making the ordeal to win not worth it. It relates to Pyrrhus, a king of Epirus who defeated the Romans in 279 BC but lost many of his troops."

 

 

TransPenedaGerês, 165 km - 8.500 mD+, on Serra da Peneda Gerês. 

From the chronicle on my blog:

 

«I confess that as soon as I finished the race, not only had I completely lost the desire to get involved in something like this in the near future, but I also had no desire to write about it because of what I had gone through.

It was an extremely painful ordeal from the beginning.

The two years of 2020 and 2021 were completely unusual years, with the Covid-19 pandemic, overwork and extremely irregular training.

(...)

Well, the medal and the inscription of my name on the "Mural of the Conquistadors" remains for posterity, but above all the unforgettable moment of crossing the finish line at sunrise. The pain passes but those memories stay for life.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

2022 has been a very intense year, with all the work, especially on the occasion of the hacker attack on Vodafone, and additionally with the approximately 3 hours daily course in software development, which lasted until the end of June.

I still have Half a year to start a progressive and sustained preparation so that next year of 2023 I will be ready again to delve into these XL adventures.

 

In the national calendar I have the following options:

 

Or I can do something completely different, such as 100 miles in Patagonia:

What I do know is that until I feel prepared, I won't re-register for such demanding races.

I still want to stay many good years in this modality. I still have a lot of time ahead of me, and therefore I want to do things properly so that I am not forced to stop, as happened between July 2021 and July this year.

I do have a lot of experience in the Ultra Trail, with 46 Ultras finished:

So I do know what to do. Just keep a cool head and outline a smart plan. And of course, hope for some luck such as not to suffer any crippling injury.

Eventually I'll be able to reconsider an even more extreme adventure, like Tor Des Géants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is my list of completed 3 digit races:

 

 

 

And my ITRA (International Trail Running Association) record:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Ancient" history, or "the good old days":

 

Ranking evolution::

General:

 

XXL

XL

L

M

S

And the National Rankings by ATRP (Associação de Trail Running de Portugal)