Lavaredo Ultra Trail 2019

The Lavaredo Ultra Trail 2019

 

 

 

The headline event, 120km and 5,800m of elevation gain and loss. The race starts at 11pm on the Friday night, with a 30 hour time limit around The Dolomites we have nothing even close to this in Ireland ,Both feature dominant and distinctive mountains. They are undoubtedly one of the most beautiful mountain ranges in the world.
A quick mention about the heat at this years race it hit 40 plus degrees at it hightest point and was the hottest race i have ever run,and was one of the main reasons for the high DNF rate.Being a chef for over 35 years think it actually stood to me being used to working in stressfull and hard kitchens under very hot kitchens for 14 hours a day.One day before the race we got an email to change the mandatory gear and there was no need to carry jacket or water proof pants but to make sure we had uv cap extra water and suncream. On one of the big climbs i met 2 irish lads lying on the side of the trail on the hottest part of the day but unfortunately us irish are not build for it so they didnt make it to the finish so just be aware of the heat.
So here is a list of what you can expect to receive for the 120 euro entry fee:
  The majestic beauty of the Dolomites on a well marked route along mountain passes and forest tracks.Countless volunteers and medical assistance.Hot showers and changing rooms.Efficient bag storage.Personalised race number with timing chip (hot-wired directly to live trail for real time tracking at each checkpoint).A rather sparse race pack containing a nicely designed cotton tee-shirt and a fruit bar. A “pasta-party” ,A post-race meal that failed to cater for any non-carnivorous participant. The coveted finishers jacket which must have been cut under the assumption all ultra-runners have very long bodies and extremely short shoulders(when i collected mine i was happy i ticked XL on the sheet and the lady commented that i was the only Xl which was embarrassing but i was so happy i did) The most chaotic and soul-destroying feed stations I have ever encountered (I will get on to that later!)
I am not even sure if I have fully finished processing this race just yet. In all honesty, I am not sure I ever will. When Anton Krupicka describes a race as “probably the most beautiful I have ever run”, you know you are in for something special.The Dolomites are sensory overload in every one of the five senses. The eyes truly have difficulty in getting your brain to process the level of out-of-this-worldliness that is being taken in. The taste of the free running snow melt water that is the most delicious I have ever drank.
It’s hard to find words to describe the atmosphere at the start of a big European mountain race. But this was my first time to experience it and there is a lot of noise, both music and cheering, and general fanfare as the crowd of spectators cheer you over the starting line. It can be stressful and tense, but I’ve taught myself to enjoy the experience and be grateful for the wonderful privilege it is to be able to not just run, but to run somewhere like this with this crowd of people.Being a very nervous person i never feel like i belong at the start of these races , I felt a little vulnerable being crammed in surrounded by runners, with big packs and poles everywhere,it was here i met up with Joe who i ran to the first check point where we lost each other the check points can get very mad and we never met again till next day for a coffee and catch up he samshed it) and his wonderful wife Nicky who had smashed the 42km race only a few hours earlier. When the music stops, the countdown begins.Then we wait patiently for a few minutes to cross the start line with the other 1608 runners and begin the parade through town.
The people of Cortina cheered and applauded until we left the town and we entered the trail
 We started to climb the first hill and it’s almost impossible to pass anyone because the path is very narrow, so we are all running in a line. But I’m happy to be in the race, and be accompanied by a large group of runners , I listen to different languages: Italian, German, French etc. Tonight we were lucky and it was a beautiful evening, if a little humid. Everyone was running in daytime clothes and those who had started with a jacket on quickly removed it.This bit is fun and like nothing I have experienced. For a mile the streets are lined with spectators cheering, snapping photos and high five-ing runners. Eventually the crowds give way to runners standing and squatting at the side of the road to finally relieve themselves of too much hydration after the sixty minute wait in the starters pen.Within ten minutes of leaving Cortina’s streets we were bottlenecked by a gate at the start of the first woodland path and the first ruck of the night ensued. The next four hours were a stroll. Fine on the uphills, frustrating when you intend on making up time on the descents. No sooner did gravity compel the group to accelerate then pace was disrupted by another tight switchback that bought our train to a grinding halt. Of course, the narrow paths and densely vegetated steep banks did little to deter the odd enthusiast from barging past hollering some typically gruff italiano. Oh my god… Poles.Did I mention the chaos these created on the first climb of the night? Too many people, too many poles going wayward, how did no-one get seriously injured? I took one for the team on the first ascent as the runner in front waved his pole aimlessly across my face. I am massively in the minority here. At least restrict the use of poles until the runners have dispersed a little. .I intentionally chose to start slow and was unaware of how far back in the field I was a more walking race than running race - and that is what you get for failing to appreciate the impact dumping several thousand runners on the Dolomites single tracks would have.At least I got to share some early continental trail time with Joe.As for the feed stations… tirade time!
I  wanted to preserve my legs and whilst I have no doubt that a lot of the runners knew what they were doing, some were clearly carried away by the early exuberance I had seen a good three or four runners hobbling along on twisted ankles, their races and dreams ended in just a couple of hours from the start. There was no guarantee I would finish this, but I told myself whatever happens my race would not end from over exuberance or stupidity. I was not after a time, I was after a finish and this was all about self-preservation and self-management. So with just 6.5 hours to hit 33k within the cut off, I was moving where I felt confident and safe to do so. At 18k we hit the first aid station and this was right on my schedule. The schedule being to hit 33k before 4:30am so I could bank 1 hour on the cut offs.
We then descended down some hairy switchbacks with steep drops and I let the speedy ones past as I stayed well and truly on the side of the trail away from the edge. With poles being carelessly swung to maintain their balance and an at times complete disregard for other runners, I wasn’t going to let a kamikaze runner take me out of this race.
I arrived at Ospitale keen to top up my water, grab a quick snack and be on my way before the biting chill of a sub-zero night took hold. So I patiently queued. And waited… and waited… and waited and it was here i lost Joe didnt know if he was behind me or a haed of me as i left the aid station. After a few minutes it dawned on me the only way to get served was shout rudely and thrust your bottle in front of those in front of you and wave it in some poor attendants face. Ok everyone is tired and keen to get on their way but how can anyone in the back third of the field justify an urgency to get served before those who have been queueing longer. It was a farce; it was a fight; it was going to get a lot worse at the second aid station in Federavecchia and pretty much all of the first busy few aid sations where not fun. Here the focus was hot soup and the atmosphere ferocious. After much pushing and shoving I made it to the table and took it on myself to distribute bowls to those who had clearly been waiting longest. But getting your soup was one thing, making it back out of the melee without spilling any was a fresh challenge. I left depressed, hungry, and hopeful that dawn might bring sense or at least spread the field enough to reduce the volume of runners passing through a station at any moment.. I quickly moved through and headed into the second of the big climbs of Lavaredo, to Son Forca.As I crested the top I could see runners far fitter than I look( as i am a very chubby Ginger), wrapped in foil blankets waiting to be evacuated down by Mountain Rescue. It was a further reminder than the mountains don’t care how well you’ve trained, how fit you look, but only on how you respect them and the distance.We then descended down some hairy switchbacks with steep drops and I let the speedy ones past as I stayed well and truly on the side of the trail away from the edge. With poles being carelessly swung to maintain their balance and an at times complete disregard for other runners.Eventually after a quad grinding hour, we hit the aid station and I was delighted when I glanced at my watch to see I was almost an hour and twenty minutes up on the cut off. I wasn’t about to get complacent, so quickly filled my bottles, ate some food and was on my way.It is no exaggeration to say you can lose hours in a race like this at the aid stations. For me, one of my race saviors was telling myself I wouldn’t sit down unless absolutely necessary. It’s very easy to get cold, particularly pre-dawn when you are already soaked in sweat from the humidity and I wanted to maintain a rhythm and also keep gaining time on the cut-offs. I knew that later in the race I may well be walking a large portion, so I needed to bank time now. I was in my own little world not racing anyone but the clock and it felt good.
The course ascended to a stunning sunrise at Pianmaceto then i run a little quicker through this relatively flat but high wooded trail section. As dawn surrounded us I broke out of the woods and arrived at the beautiful Lake Misurina, which I knew led to the third steep climb of the day up to the 50k point that the course is named after, Tre Cime di Lavaredo- the jewel in this races crown.Fortunately, whilst the aid stations where sparsely spread out, there were regular opportunities to fill up on water from little taps dotted here and there, as well as directly from the mountain streams. So before this big climb, I refilled, prepared a Tailwind mix and got myself ready.And it really was a brute of a climb. Eventually, I arrived at the 48k aid station at Rif Auronzo . The length and steepness of that climb, combined with altitude at well over 2000 meters i needed to sort myself out before talking the long next section.I downed a lot of coke, drank some noodle broth.The next aid station wasn’t until 66 kilometres but was a focus point for my race because it was firstly over halfway by that stage and secondly, where my dropbag was and my wife and mother where going to meet me for the first time ,with a fresh gear and food.I was feeling tired here and spend 45 mins trying to regroup so i changed into fresh gear and ate as much as i could which felt amazing, downed the two cans of sugar and was out again. The next climb was probably the hottest of the day and the track we hiked ran parallel to a gently tumbling stream. By halfway up, this was too much to resist and I took my pack off, paddled in and lay down face first, holding my breath for ten seconds or so as the freezing water soothed my cooked body.

Like a new man, I got up and marched the rest of that hill with renewed vigor until I crested the top and jogged down the other side to Malga Ra Stua at 80k or so. Just a marathon to go, but the steepest climb was about to take place and we still had to descend for another hour or so before it began. A 10k climb of 1000 metre gain in the heat. The heat was radiating off the huge cliffs to the side of the trail, the terrain was like walking up the worlds steepest, longest gravel driveway and there were multiple stream crossings where the feet quickly got wet and rubbed as they dried during the climb.Combine this with altitude increasing with each step and already almost 90k on the legs, by the time we came to what I thought was the top, I was hanging on in there. After a long period of flat through boulder fields it became apparent that this was a false summit and I was also 5k further back than I had thought. Distances become skewed in races like this and whilst 5k is often 25 mins for most people on fresh Saturday legs in the park, 5k here was well over an hour - sometimes two- and the trail only went up.
As we almost crested the top, there was a small sign saying ‘90k’. This may as well have said ‘you thought you were well over 100k, didn’t you fat boy?It was now just 5k to the next aid station then its  Down, down, down until a little tunnel and up to a long since abandoned mountain fort and then down again to Col Gallina. Having the map printed on our race bibs was excellent and allowed us to see what was coming, but it didn’t ever put it in context. I could see that the end was ‘rolling’ and no more steep, long climbs. How wrong I was. The last four climbs may not have been steep, but they were in every way as brutal and most of the next 20k was at altitudes of over 2000m before a huge descent to the finish at 1200m.As I made my way out of the penultimate aid station with just 6k to go until the last one, I knew the last 10k, I was on a mission to hang on in there.I met mt wife and mum here again and she gave me the most amazing salty crips which i horsed down and  I got as much sugar down me as my body would allow and put the headlamp back on.The final climb was marked on the map with an exclamation mark and now I knew why. It had a huge drop to the side of it . I was exhausted and this climb was so steep that my poles were no use and I needed to use my hands to help me scramble up.It was all about just getting to the finish safely, the time did not matter one bit i finally I crested the top and there, twinkling away 1000 metres below me and 11k on foot was Cortina. Whatever happened now, I would be home in FEW hours.The last aid station was not pretty and I moved through the puddles of other peoples puke quickly.I shuffled the agonizingly steep last descentand thought it would never end but before I knew it I was on the cobbled streets of Cortina to cheers of those who were still out there that late at night.
I wondered all day how finishing this race would make me feel. I got a lump at the beauty of Tre Cime and wondered if the same would happen at the finish. As I crossed the line all I felt was shattered. I had just run one of the hardest ultras in the world and finished it inside the the cut off. I was elated, I was done. I knew the feelings of this day would take a while yet to sink in.But to have my mum and wife there made it even more special.
All I can say now is, that race is incredible. I’ve tried my best to describe how it was for me, but just like the photos, to know this race you have to have done it. I can’t get anywhere near what it feels with words. I just can’t. No one can.