TransGranCanaria 125km: a dark heaven

TransGranCanaria 125  starts when you wait for the bus to get to the start line.

It's 9:40 pm and we are around 100 sleepy runners waiting to get into the bus to the start in Agaete. We are all looking nervous and unsure of what's going on, wondering if this is wise. Midnight start is awful, you can't sleep the hours before no matter how hard you try ( unless you are like James Adams and 2 beers is enough to knock you out until the start ;) ) and so, you end up being a zombie/vampire until the sun rises, daydreaming of going back to bed...But the buses are there and we fill them up to the last sit.

2 hours later, we are welcomed in Agaete with the sounds of drums and cheering locals. It's cold and windy. My heart is racing, just looking at the 500 runners ice-fill my mind and runs shivers of doubt and fear down my whole body. Mick does it again: reassuring me that it will all be ok, it's 90% mental, 10% in the head he says...I smile at this and shake my head, surely there is a physical aspect to this whole thing, No?!Winking, he replies, I'll find out soon enough...and with a last kiss, the start is given. It's 12 am on Saturday 01 March 2014. Up there 10 km away,  our first checkpoint Tamadaba awaits. We do a bit of road to say goodbye to civilisation and reassuring artificial lights before entering 8 hours of darkness under trees and rockies.

For the next 43.5 km  the only sounds I will recollect will be fragments of failed conversation with other runners in 3 languages, the whimpers of the Brat , the walking sticks knocking the rocky path and the cheers of the volunteers and passers-by from the the 3 aid stations. For 7 hours and 53 minutes, I will remember nothing but fragments of dead looking trails, phantom-like runners' gloomy faces caught from the halo of my headlamp, and looks of runners wishing we could turn back and forget this whole thing.

But the sun rises, and with that, what was dark and gloomy becomes almost enchanting, what was a depressing past becomes a better future. I wonder how Mick is feeling, I'm hopeful he's doing great and this help me running down faster without thinking of the Brat biting my leg. We reach Fontanales check point where I'm welcomed by sun-rays warming up my sleepy head and Scott who's doing the 82km version. I've made the first marathon point in 8 hours, if I do the second marathon the same way, chances are I can finish in 20 hours as the third marathon is supposed to be easier as it is flat and downhill, and I could keep the Brat at bay. I have mentally prepared myself to “embrace the flat” so I don't stop at the checkpoint, and carry on to the next one. Maybe I could do it in less time and not be running up and down for a second night?

From the race profile, it's just a small climb to Valleseco before reaching Teror Checkpoint 6kms later. The elite runners of the 82km are flying by, and I daydream of doing the same! I attempted to follow...but the Brat is playing up, moving up and down my leg, butt and lower back, reminding me that I would never fly! Pufff....clenching my teeth, I distracted myself by attempting a conversation with Bill, the UN work and by the distance left...where is that checkpoint again?

The not so accurate profite

 The climb does not end...and Vallesesco is still out of sight. I don't have a watch or a gps so guessing is all I've got but I'm sure it's been 7km! I make the mistake to ask other runners with big watches and funny enough, they all have different left over distance. So in 3 different languages, we compare notes and find a compromise that we still have 4 kilometres to go before Vallesco...ok maybe I miscalculated the time/distance travel....this day is getting longer by the climb. It's ok, the sounds from the Spanish runners are a very good distraction. They are talking so fast and continuously on that climb! I wonder how they can talk so much and still keep up with the climbing rhythm. I wonder what on earth they could be talking about. I wonder if maybe training while talking a lot is beneficial.I wonder if elites talk so much.  I wonder so much that Vallesco CP suddenly appears. The volunteers and locals are so genuinely caring that my water bladder and cocacola bottle are filled up in to time and I am gently pushed towards...the other climb to Terror before going down and up again to El Talayon. Brrr just the name is scary but it's the half way mark!

View of Pico de las Nieves from one of the climb

 The scenery is breathless and I enjoy looking around until we reach this climbing pine foresty path with dry pines leaves. What is this?  Seriously? The leaves are making the trail very slippery and unsteady...I'm tired... I wonder what time it is. I wonder where is Mick. I wonder why they made us go through this path. Are they mad? Did they not think that after 60km people will be going a bit mad themselves? Here's a man taking a nap of the sliding pine leaves. I wonder how comfortable it is. I wonder if I should join him and close my eyes for a little bit. Hum...if I could just lay there for a while, but time is flying by and I need to keep swearing at the road parts and hardcore concrete village paths that shot the hamstrings and feet in a way I could have never imagine, to reach what I think is the end of the climb to Garañón. 

How wrong! This is not it, it is some nice rock (El Garanon) where they have decided to put the chip control. Arrrh! Really?! Don't get me wrong moon landscapes are great, but with more than 12 hours in the legs, I really don't feel like taking a picture and having a picnic. No No, especially when you then tell me that I need to go back down more and then go up for another 5 km to the actual checkpoint. 

Because you know what, that's not how the race profile look like.

See:

The not so accurate profile

I tell this to a bunch of Spanish guys, I call them FC Barcelona hehe we've been playing cat and mouse for a while now,  even if words are not what we are sharing, they are nice company. They are laughing asking if it is my first time...Venga Venga they say, it's not too long to Garanon where there will be pasta. Haha I never seen people being so excited about pasta! But these guys are and their good mood is contagious, so I follow them down...and up and what felt like was not too long, is actually super long and screws with my imaginary plan. It's 16:30 and I have 3 hours before night fall and I wanted to be there 1h ago to not be running up and down in the night again. It's really not fun, and it plays with your mind in a very nasty way.

So after being controlled there, I try to hurry my way up to Tunte. It's supposed to go up for a little well... according to the race profile, but I start doubting this alot, and so I climb until it is time to go down again and don't stop until I reach this mountain path made of small rocks where you have to jump from one to the others with care or else you twist your ankle or worst fall head first. This game is fun but time consuming and I can see the sun setting, It's 18:15...where is the CP?! ... come on!  A board with the distance left to the finish appears in the horizon. OK, we should be 20 km away and CP should be just around the corner. But that's' where I got it wrong again, from that board, we have 30 km left, meaning...no! CP is another 8 kilometres away up and down...which means I won't reach it in time before sunset. Noooooooooo!

Ok ok, No I just need to run down faster, from the race profile, it's all going down! So let's get on with it.
And that is what I am going to think for the next 5 hours, yes...it took another hour to the check point and 4 hours to do 25km. How naïve was I to think that I could do  a bit more than half a marathon in 2 hours? How naïve was I to carry on thinking that the race profile was truly what was on the bib number...The night had fallen now, and what should have been a shallow descent is actually the deepest descent of the whole race....just before the CP Arteara. I tried running it, walking, butt-sliding it, swore at it, cry to it, cringe at it until I just let it go and went with whatever way came under my feet with cactuses from both side of the paths with sharps rocks and your mind  making the path probably worst than it really was.  Reaching Arteara, we found ourselves going wait... upwards again...I can hear feet heavily pounding the rocks,  quads taking all of energy left to get up and down, everyone around looking again like mechanic zombies. But a worsen zombie version of the night before, as the stride is heavier, the mind in a darker place, and the fatigue is taking over everything good of the human spirit and making people forgetting about the joy of running...

We reach Machacadora checkpont at 117km and we have 6 km left to the finish. I don't stop, barely smiling at the volunteers I reach the 5km to the finish board.  I should be happy but somehow I am not relieved and I'm not feeling anything at all: My mind is gone...what's left is my soul knowing that Mick is waiting  at the finish line and this is almost over. And so I go...we pass Sonneland, the hotels, locals cheering up until we finally reach Maspalomas Lighthouse. It's over: 125km, in 23hours and 11 min of darkness in heaven.

I reach Michael's arms and understand what he had said 23 hours ago: pain is only temporary and this was 90% mental, 10% in the head. Wherever the mind go, the body follows no matter what. But what happen when the mind is gone and the body is fine? or you think it's fine?

I wondered about many things during this race but never questioned my mind about its own limits, but where is the line?