the ultra

published in Ultra Running Magazine, June 2023

I was quick to realise I was never going to be fast. I could run for some time at a slower pace but struggled to keep a fast pace for just a few minutes.
Anthony Bourdain once said in an interview that one of the beauties of embracing a new sport at an older age is the fact that you learn something new everyday, you are always a little better than the day before. I couldn’t disagree more about running, in fact the only “new things” I acquired daily were injuries and pain on a weekly basis.

In the middle of 2022, roughly 2 years into my incursion into trail running, I decided it would be wise to start working with a trail running coach. The amount of injuries, pain and difficulties I felt after my first and only ultra were now a little too much, it was obvious I wasn’t going anywhere, literally speaking, running by myself.

There is nothing better that a friend that hates coaching to get a good coach advice. I decided to call Armando Teixeira.

Besides his work as a coach Armando is also the organiser of a race, Estrela Grande Trail, an 85km race with 5000D+ at Serra da Estrela, mainland Portugal highest mountain. That was the challenge I needed so we talked about it and I signed up.

Estrela Grande Trail, or EGT, is not just a 85km race, it his as technical as a race can be. You actually scramble for most of the time, you twist your ankles, fall, get your feet wet and in a good year you might get some snow and avoid the rolling rocks on steep mountains. It is something between a UTMB or a MIUT, very technical during the first part and more runnable during the second half but with a lot of elevation gain.

Definitely not a race for my ability or experience but nevertheless I showed up at 6am, bib on and ready to tackle whatever I was thrown at.

For some bizarre reason I can run uphill, without training, without any obvious reason I can climb. The first part was mostly dirt road uphill and with the poles I breeze through it. The second stretch was a all different story. Growing up in an urban environment I don’t fell comfortable climbing and jumping rocks and that stretch was all about rock hoping. There was no way I would quit there so I decided that the best way to face my fear was to tag along in silence with someone and so I did, I ran 15km with a much more experienced runner than me, I tried to keep up with his pace, kept my eyes focused on his technic and made it all the way to aid station. Things are going better than expected.
I got to Torre almost 2 hours ahead of the cut off, my mind was already in survival mode. I left Torre as quickly has I could and started my way down.

From that part to Vale da Amoreira, 65km after the beginning there was a black out, I barely remember were I was, what I’ve done. I lost memory, I just ran and walked as much as I could.

Vale da Amoreira was a monster, from there I had to go up 750D+ in 5km. At that point in the race I already fell 5 or 6 times. The stress of getting to the finish line was getting worse.

The hill was nothing like I was expecting, due to severe wildfires last year the road was fill with debris and broken branches making every a challenge. I guess more experienced runners would breeze past that but I was already struggling.

Finally at the top, the flatter grounds were perfect to start jogging again even doe my legs were not in such good shape anymore. By then my watch warned me that it was 10 minutes until sunset, at first I got a little concerned about the race flags, I’ve been struggling during the entire race to see them, not because they were misplaced but because I am colourblind. As I get my head lamp on and the night falls the temperature immediately drops and hits me like a rock, I struggle to get my jacket out of my vest and to put it over the vest while holding my poles and my hat.

I still had some hopes of an easy, runnable end, even at night. I couldn’t be further from the truth. I still had a really steep descent with burnt roots, only this time I was really uncomfortable, cold, in pain. I was done.

I walked the last 3k to Sameiro were the last aid station was placed, when I passed the door I felt that most people there were looking at the dead man but I soon realised that the room was already filled with dead man. I recognised other runners that passed me at km 30 something, there were others that came with me during the last stretch. They were all eating and getting ready to leave. They all told me, without exception to join them in the last stretch, everyone there tried to bring me to life but I was done.

I DNF 10k from the finish line with still almost 5 hours to finish the race.

When I started the descent to Sameiro, during the phone call with my coach he told me that the hangover would be worst than the pain. He was right, I can’t remember crying so much in my adult life as I did the following morning as I walked to cheer a friend in his 26k race.

As a kid growing up we all start counting the days to Christmas on the 26. I started counting the days to EGT 2024.