Things were going well. We had a detailed, personalized plan produced by a coach who had run this race before. Sticking to it perfectly had been easy in the beginning. I also had new gear, purchased specifically for this race – but tested in the weeks prior. The scenery was splendid, the company awesome as always, and we were on target to run our fastest ever 100k. And then we pulled out of the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail.
How could something that started so perfectly end in such complete disaster? Perhaps because it didn’t start so perfectly after all.
Our road to this race
Getting into this wildly-popular, sold-out race on the Ultra Trail World Tour had involved a massive stroke of luck. One of our friends in Korea had told us about this event many moons ago. So it was on our radar, but we hadn’t actually planned on running a European race while based in Asia. Europe is far, it’s expensive, and we’ve had lots of other exciting stuff on the go this year already (Asia Trail Master series, anyone?).
But. When another contact (race director of the beautiful Trans Jeju race) announced that he had 10 entries to the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail up for grabs, I started dreaming. Unable to help myself, I revealed that Kent and I would be tremendously interested in two of those entries. I figured the universe would sort itself out around this race – if we could even score the highly coveted entries!
As you no doubt guessed, we got them! I was utterly delighted and incredibly nervous. We were undertaking a major move and job transition, and we already had numerous plans on the horizon. All kinds of juggling would be required – but juggle we did: it’s not every day you get an opportunity like this!
And things did magically line up, for the most part! Our new home has great trails, and all of our running since Mt. Apo in April was tailored towards this race. We even enlisted the expertise of a coach! A new, bigger backpack and fresh shoes were more of my tools for success. And, I’ll be honest, we signed up for our new gig in no small part because the scheduled summer vacation aligned with this race. Our vacation would be the week prior to the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail, leaving us plenty of time to get there (if not back).
So on Friday, June 21st, we rushed out of work and into a waiting taxi. We zoomed off to the airport to catch our first flight. We caught a few hours of sleep in Beijing before our next flight to Zurich. I happen to love a long daytime flight, so I was in my happy place flying over the steppes of central Eurasia, alternately gazing out the window and writing in my notebook.
In the familiar Swiss airport, waiting for flight number three, I started to feel both shaky and achy all over. My stomach hurt. My vision swam. I didn’t feel like walking around with Kent. I sweat through my t-shirt just looking around for a seat. But quickly frozen by the air conditioning, I put on my sweater and then Kent’s, too.
“I’m not feeling so good,” I eventually confessed. Kent gave me a look. “It’s Oman all over again, isn’t it,” he said, no question in his voice. My stomach clenched, and this time I couldn’t tell if it was my hurt feelings or an urge to go back to the bathroom.
My eyes filled with tears and I fought them back, a headache building in the space behind them. That wasn’t true, I thought, Kent’s words stuck in my head. I wasn’t sick now, just having a bad moment. I couldn’t be sick now: we’d trained hard – and rested hard, and I’d already had my stroke of bad luck for the year, surely!
Let’s step out of the narrative to explore this for a moment. I often say that I rarely get sick, and I stand by that. Sure, I get headaches and I’m (stupidly) allergic to cats and I deal poorly with pollution. But health is wealth, so I do everything I can to protect my sensitive insides from that crazy world out there. Until 2018, I don’t think I’d even had a common cold as an adult. And I’d avoided the flu since early elementary school. Hand-washing is one of my favorite activities, and I buy hand sanitizer in bulk. I sometimes worry about illnesses, but I’m almost never sick. To get sick again, just six months after having been ill in Oman, seemed like lightning striking twice: incredibly unlucky.
But back to Zurich. I got on the plane, shivering in Kent’s hoodie. I gulped a couple of painkillers in attempts to drown out the headache which was now raging and half-blinding me. Thanks to the drugs, I slept, mercifully, through an additional hour-long delay on the tarmac.
Awake again for the flight, I peeped out the window and caught glimpses of mist-shrouded mountains and the islands of Venice! I remembered listening as a child to an audio book set in Venice, and imagining for the first time other mysterious lands. We only had 24 hours in the city before still more transit, and I wanted to make the most of it.
Alas, on the ground, my plans of dining outside and perhaps taking a romantic gondola ride went out the window. We’d rented a beautiful, traditional room over a canal, but all I could do was lay face-down on the sofa. Alternately shaking with cold and sweating furiously into the soft pillows, I remember wanting to pull off my long compression socks but not having the will to sit up. I dipped in and out of consciousness.
Kent poured water into my mouth and tried to entice me with nice juices. During one lucid moment, I insisted he go out and find a pizza place we’d looked up in advance. Afternoon faded into evening and then into night: a long night punctuated by trips to the bathroom. In Venice, I broke my six year no spewing streak (the last time, in 2013, also incidentally related to pizza – but that’s a story for another time…or perhaps never).
The next morning, I woke up slightly less out of it. Weak but determined, we set off to see the sights of Venice at dawn. At first, I couldn’t swallow anything at all or even stand up straight. We had to stop every few steps so I could sit on or lean against something. But how can one visit Venice and not see it?
Progress was slow, but we made it to San Marco and back! I savored the scenery, feeling a bit better in the fresh air.
It was a bit like a weather window, in that it didn’t last. By the time we got back, I was sick again. Kent had to pack while I gave the toilet bowl a thorough examination. I slept all the way uphill, missing out on our super scenic bus ride.
Much like in Venice, in Cortina it was hard not to feel somewhat trapped in my own skin. We had a few days there before the race, but they were utterly wasted on me. My eyes wanted to feast on the Dolomites and the pretty alpine town, but my body stayed glued to the sofa. I encouraged Kent to go for walks on his own, and when I was feeling better, I sat near the big, open front window of our room.
Eventually, doing nothing worked. The days passed slowly. But sitting by the open window progressed to standing, and soon I joined Kent on trips to the market and a couple of teeny tiny runs on a gentle nearby trail. We even enjoyed a spontaneous date at the local mini golf course! I’d been staring down some difficult decisions, but when it was time to pick up our 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail bibs, I knew I had to get mine too. I was in!
The 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail
Cortina came to life that night. The outdoor seats were packed with well-dressed diners, and the streets were lined with spectators. This was completely unlike any other race we’ve ever done!
In fact, the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail starting corral was so packed that we couldn’t see the start line! As more and more racers joined the crowd ahead of the 11 pm start time, we crammed closer and closer together. It was like riding the subway in Seoul at rush hour!
There was music, a countdown and a loud bang that signaled the start of the race, and then…nothing. The number of runners being funneled towards the starting arch was massive, and it took a few minutes for us to start our race.
Once we did, we took off like rockets! We dodged other runners and cheering spectators, looking for room to run. This time, our speed wasn’t just nerves: we had a specific pace to follow and we knew that the first section was easy running. We wanted to make up some ground and avoid getting caught in the bottleneck of the first uphill.
Well, we did make up ground – but we also got stuck in the bottleneck. Turns out, it didn’t matter so much! Coming down from the first climb was some of the best running I have ever done. It was rooty and erosion caused clumps of dirt to fall away underfoot. But it was fast! The grade was not so severe, and switchbacks made it manageable. For the first time in my life, I was flying past people. I didn’t feel the need to apply the brakes at all: I felt strong, swift and confident.
Kent close on my heels, we whipped past the first check point without stopping. There’d be time to grab water later on, when we needed it.
Continuing on through the night, I felt incredible. I completely forgot about being sick earlier in the week I just ran like I was made to do so: like the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail was mine to enjoy. We climbed up out of the forest and over a pass, zipping down the steep switchbacks on the other side. The moon rose, huge and orange. The kilometers ticked past effortlessly.
We stopped for bananas and a water refill at Federavecchia. Five hours and 33 kilometers down. The sky was just beginning to brighten as we climbed up past Lake Misurina.
On this extended climb, I felt like our years of hiking had really paid off. We ran where we could, but when we couldn’t, we climbed at a strong and steady pace. The first rays of sunlight gilded the mountain tops, and everything was beautiful. It felt like the perfect time of day to be going up, and was nice to be able to enjoy it.
This was the highlight of the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail. The scenery was incredible and we were both powering our way uphill. The effort felt doubly hard at altitude, but it was too wonderful to be tired. Motivated by soaring sights of Tre Cime above, we maintained a steady effort.
Arriving on top was truly glorious. We sped through the crowded aid station tents that smelled vaguely of vomit, and stopped outside. I took deep breaths of the clean mountain air and gaped at our surroundings.
Running on the level, flat track beside the famous Lavaredo peaks felt like running in paradise. There was a tiny church and even a little snow!
A descent rumored to be gnarly awaited us on the other side of the high pass. But, just like earlier, I was delighted to find us confident and fleet of foot! The sharp switchbacks and steep angle were intense, but we raced downhill fast and free – passing, rather than being passed. It was an incredible feeling.
If this reads like a description of the perfect race, well, it really felt like that! I was proud of our pacing and thrilled by the scenery. However, despite all the good stuff, I had been struggling with one thing all race: my stomach. It poked out between my cropped t-shirt and my comfortable, low-slung black shorts. Concerned about chafing and also slightly embarrassed by my pregnant look, I kept adjusting my clothes as we ran. But it was swollen and achy all race, and all of the jostling was making my abs sore as well.
I was hungry – starving, actually – and quickly eating up all of my snacks. It was just that I didn’t seem to be digesting them. The carbs and sugars would hit my stomach and simply slosh around. It had been this way since we lined up for the start, and 50+ kilometers later, it seemed like my heavy belly would be sticking around.
I wasn’t worried. Not yet. I was still eating and drinking, and I was neither nauseous (something I was truly grateful for!) nor in any real pain. I was constantly aware of my squishy insides, but it was a minor discomfort. Considering how well everything else was going, I could ignore it.
So we whizzed down the mountain’s shady side. The next aid station contained our drop bags, and we were eager to re-fill our snack packs. On our way, we encountered a lovely pine forest as well as one of our Korean friends! I continued to lead the way, and eventually we popped out into civilization.
Running along the road, we looked around for signs of the aid station. We kept expecting it around every corner, because there were so many cars, tents and spectators. But it seemed to take us a very long time to actually reach the aid station. For the first time, I felt hot and tired.
Finally at Cimabanche, the half-way point of the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail, I needed to sit down on the floor. Although not entirely useless, I was surprised by how tired I felt suddenly! I stuffed our backpacks full of new snacks and watched other racers sprawling on the floor or lining up for aid station fare.
A cup of coke might have set me straight. But I didn’t want to stand up, Kent was busy with his backpack and I had yet to interact with a volunteer. It seemed like most of the other racers in the tent had their own personal team of volunteers to help switch out their gear and refill their packs. It’s fair to say we felt a little envious.
But we could help ourselves. We had some extra special snacks waiting for us: a slab of dark chocolate and a juice! After these treats and an application of sunscreen, it was time to be on our way. We jogged slowly away from the checkpoint, mouths and packs full.
Then we slowed to a walk. It was time to head back uphill. Although not nearly as steep or as sustained as the previous climb, this climb felt incredibly tough to me. People began to pass us as I narrowed my focus to my feet: one in front of the other, once again.
As I trudged uphill, I felt sorry for Kent. Leading the way for the first time, he seemed full of energy. He said lots of encouraging things to me, but try as I might, I couldn’t seem to get up the hill any faster. I got a few moments joy from a waterfall beside the trail, and I promised myself that I would run down the other side. I didn’t yet know that my ability to run was done for the day.
We’d been warned of bad weather in this area: a place famous for its afternoon thunderstorms. But the sky above was a brilliant blue and the sun shone down steadily. It was a beautiful day, and I should have loved it. But my inability to coax more than a plodding walk from my muscles had warped my mood. I felt too frustrated with myself to focus on the landscape.
We crested the climb and, as I’d promised myself earlier, broke out into a run. It was so painful for my abs and swollen stomach that it lasted only a few steps. I felt like crying, but instead I forced myself into a hard half-hike, half-jog as I followed Kent downhill.
At the fancy mountain shelter in the valley below, I took a bathroom break and finally had a small cup of coke, but neither helped. I felt exhausted already, with 45 kilometers left to go. But I kept going. I followed Kent’s encouraging smile towards Val Travenanzes – one of the sections I’d been most eagerly anticipating!
Val Travenzes was the longest section and most remote part of the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail course. Leaving civilization behind, we were going to climb up a high valley between towering rocky peaks with names like Nemesis. I felt a glimmer of excitement rising as we headed first down, and then up.
Like us, many of the runners around us were walking. A few sat in patches of shade. The heat of the afternoon and the long climb ahead were a formidable combo. It was hard on everyone.
I made myself promises that I couldn’t keep. ‘I will not sit down,’ I insisted to myself. Then Kent would stop to dunk his hat in a stream, and waiting, I’d slump against a rock. Too tired to be furious with myself, I simply wished I could appreciate the experience more.
Climbing Val Travenanzes, I slammed into the wall. Over and over. After a jelly or a bit of a bar, I could imagine energy flowing into my limbs. I’d hobble on a few steps. Then I’d stop, leaning on my poles at first, but that quickly escalated to lying in the grass to the side of the trail.
There was a plateau where we crossed back-and-forth over a river. I took off my new shoes and soaked my bare feet in the icy water. For just a few moments, I forgot how much I was sucking at the latter half of this race, and just enjoyed the sensations on offer in this beautiful place.
At the top of the valley, a volunteer gave me a hearty clap on the shoulder. But that moment of positivity was soon eclipsed by the realization that the climbing continued. Fresh waves of people continued to pass us. Some glanced my way sympathetically, and a few of our fellow racers asked if I was okay. I must have looked as awful as I felt.
In short bouts of slow walking, we made it to the crest in the long shadows of late afternoon. It was a beautiful scene, and it marked a change in pace. We would now be descending on a runnable road that we could see snaking downhill below.
But could I run it? No. Not even a step. I tried, but the jostling was more than I could bear and the effort required to move my body faster than a snail’s pace felt herculean. I really couldn’t. Try as I might, I could not run.
So began the world’s slowest march downhill. If you’re imagining me in a haze of self-pity, you’re not wrong. But I had too little energy for cursing or crying. It took all my focus and willpower to place one foot in front of the other.
I had completely forgotten where the next check point was. It was not at the bottom of the hill, but rather on the top of a new one. But the runnable road continued, making for easy going for all of the still-spry runners who kept passing us. Near the top, there were some ruins reminiscent of Oman – and a photographer to capture me in my complete lack of glory.
Time seemed to stand still, and progress was painfully slow. I pulled off the road and went to sit on a bench. I put on my jacket. For the first time in the race, I cried. The sun had dipped below the mountainous horizon, and we could just barely see the trail leading up a steep slope on the opposite side of the valley. My head tucked into Kent’s armpit, I whispered apologies to him, the mountains and myself.
Going down at last towards the checkpoint, we worried about missing the cutoff. In my slow stupor, I’d completely forgotten when it was – and had it pegged an hour earlier than it really was. It seemed obvious that I would not be running any more, but I held out hope that a cup of tea or plate of pasta could cure me.
But once inside the tent, I did not have the stamina to stand in line or elbow my way to the hot food table. Once again, we did not actually speak to any of the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail staff or volunteers. Hope was running low, and I sat in the grass outside to wait for something to happen. And something did: I got cold and stiff.
And the more my teeth chattered, the less likely it seemed that I would be heading off into that second night. Were we really going to walk it in for the next 25 kilometers? Aside from the obvious doubts I had about whether we’d have time for that, would there be any glory in it? I had not run in nearly 29 kilometers.
I’m a dreamer, and I like to leave room for miracles. But you have to be practical when you’re racing ultras. Should I continue and rely ever more heavily on Kent? I’ve never wanted to do that. We definitely push and pull each other through the tough times, but putting safety first (and longevity second) means that we stop before someone gets hurt and/or someone else has to be responsible.
Of course I told Kent to leave me. Many times. He wouldn’t. He kept telling me that he was tired too; that he was also in rough shape – even though it was obvious he was far fitter than I.
If the course was level or downhill from this point onward, it might have been an acceptable risk. But with some of the most technical terrain approaching? I didn’t feel sure of myself anymore. Maybe if I was a little more aggressive in the aid stations, I could have kept myself from bonking like this. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten sick prior to the race. Ifs. Buts. Maybes. Alternate universes I’ll never know.
We boarded the bus bound for Cortina, and I fell asleep immediately.
Lessons Learned
On the long journey home on Sunday, I penned a post about this very topic. And not just for this race, but in general. Stay tuned for that for more of my thoughts.
I don’t think a DNF was necessarily a foregone conclusion for this race. Despite getting sick en route to the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail, I felt like I bounced back. I think if we had been running one of the shorter distances, even the 89k, I would have survived. Maybe access to more food along the way would have helped me avoid reaching rock bottom energy. Maybe I could have toughed it out and trudged it in, I don’t know.
But I started this race depleted and distended. I ate next to nothing for the first few days of the week leading up the race, and then obviously something that I was eating when I was playing catch-up irritated my stomach. Even so, I was able to put together a pretty excellent early race – including probably the fastest 50-60 kilometers of my life! However, I did not have what it took to run 120 kilometers and over 5000 meters.
In the lead-up to this race, though, I learned more about running than I have in years! All of which was super valuable for the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail and the limited success I felt I had there. But more importantly, lots of good take-aways for future runs and racing too.
- Heat Training. I’m no sports scientist (no matter how much I wish I’d found this field earlier in life!), but heat training is, straight-up, an athlete’s secret weapon. Daily trips to the sauna post-workout were meant to prepare us for the high altitude in Cortina. The sauna’s many benefits include increased blood flow, plasma volume and production of growth hormones. A good sauna sit can alter your sweat rate, help you build muscle and increase endurance. And that’s to say nothing of the incredible health benefits research has uncovered! For both Kent and I, we felt like we’d rediscovered how to relax every time we set foot inside the hot room.
- Pacing guidelines. So, I spent the past year testing out a coaching service (that’s another post in the making) – but this was the first time I had a special plan that was custom made for me and for this race. Every single other race that I’ve done to date has been navigated by feel, improvising off of a very rough plan that I’d come up with mainly on my own. Not so in this race. I was given a spreadsheet with specific times for specific sections that as based on my abilities demonstrated in previous races times the particulars of this race. And it was awesome! Until I plowed into the bricks at Cimabanche, this was so fun and motivational! I loved having mini targets to hit or exceed along the way! And I was completely surprised by how great it was – because normally I hate even looking at the watch while running (I literally use it just to make cool maps 99% of the time).
- Proper gear. Sometimes when you shell out for new gear, it winds up being a waste and you go back to your tried and true standbys. For me, this was the fancy headlamps I painstakingly researched and ordered expensively from abroad last year, only to discover such a multitude of serious flaws in them that they’re now gathering dust in a cupboard. But sometimes, you spring for new shoes or a new backpack that really do make all the difference. In my case, both! For the first time, I now have a pack that can truly fit (on the inside!) all of the mandatory gear for a 100k race. And I got new shoes that are both comfy and have good grip. They’re just the newest model of my old shoes, but I like to wear my shoes out, so they’re only the 4th pair I’ve ever owned. And they’re great! Oh – and they match my backpack!
In advance of the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail, I’d heard so much about its technicality. But the course was well-groomed and well-marked! The race has been running on the same course for over a dozen years, and it’s in the heart of hiking territory, so the trails are great. The length, altitude and elevation gain are significant – but the trails themslves are nothing to fear. Compared to some runs and races we’ve done in Asia, this is a safe and runnable route.
The fact that runners can have crew meet them at nearly every aid station made for a festive atmosphere. I’d also imagine it helped to smooth the way for elites chasing down the course records as well as novices seeking to complete this distance for the first time. Every time I saw someone tucked in a blanket or eating a custom snack, I couldn’t help but wonder what that would be like. Maybe we’re going to need to run another race in North America one of these days and coerce some friends or family into providing support!
My only qualm with the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail was about access to food and volunteers. Literally nobody offered us aid at any point, and while we heard rumors of great food, we didn’t experience it. I don’t blame the volunteers or even the organization for this: we definitely could have sought out food or attention if we were more persistent. But as the biggest race we’ve yet done, it was surprising how different the aid station experience was. There are just way too many people to get the kind of personal attention we’ve had in smaller East and Southeast Asian races. Not that I need that! But I think that’s where a runner’s crew comes in.
All in all, the 2019 Lavaredo Ultra Trail was an awesome race. Maybe luck wasn’t on my side – but then again, maybe it was: we got to discover a new and beautiful place. And of course we’ll be back! I don’t know when, but we have unfinished business on those lovely Lavaredo trails.
Want to test your luck on the next edition of the Lavaredo Ultra Trail? Check out the official race website!