Which recounts Don Quixote's 100 mile adventure through Spanish Pyrenees, even going mad climbing multiple mountain tops
"Devil take me!" I shouted as I saw Don Quixote bumbling towards Bossot aid station after running up and down the Great Pyrenees in search for that wicked enchanter who has casted spell on lady Dulcinea. "Master, what happened? Have you found and defeated that evil enchanter? Please tell me!"
Don Quixote, as if he were under a wicked spell himself, disregarded my plea and walked passed me with an unfocused gazed in his eyes and sat on a chair with a thousand yard death stare.
Last time I saw him was yesterday afternoon, more than 12 hours ago, at the starting line in Vielha with 427 other excited runners. I remember seeing hundreds of spectators and supporters cheering, announcers shouting into microphones and speakers blasting AC/DC's Thunderstruck. The atmosphere was surreal and I can only imagine what it would be like at the UTMB in Chamonix, which is multiple times grander than Val d'Aran.
At 2 minute mark, music changed to Conquest of Paradise, UTMB's theme song, and I sense my master's mood changing from excitement to appreciation. "I've dreamed about running the UTMB and I am one step closer today as completing Val d'Aran would give me 8 Running Stones (compared to usual 4 for other 100M races) for UTMB selection process," said Senor Quixote. "Also, this adventure would give me an opportunity to search the Pyrenees for that evil enchanter who has wronged my lady Dulcinea!"
"Yes, master, those are definitely true. But, I'm also very appreciative that we are fortunate, both physically and economically, to be here today," I said just as the countdown began:
10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1! Go!
Don Quixote ran off, wandering through the town feeding on energy from other excited runners and spectators. About a mile into the race, the course took the runners out of town on a hilly gravel road. Here's where I bid farewell to Senor Quixote, watching him continue his climb, and made my way to Bossot aid station to wait for his arrival.
According to Don Quixote, he had to endure climbing up and down some of tallest mountains in Spain to reach Bossot. The first was Aneto, which he arrived after climbing over 1,200 meters in first 15 km with water-only aid station at 11 km. The trail wasn't too technical during this section but it became really steep towards to the top. About half way through the climb, my master said he was pushing himself too hard due to the excitement of the race so he slowed down a bit to control his hearth rate, but the momentum of the line, with runners in front pulling and runners behind pushing, ensured that he continued his way up the mountain at a good pace.
"So there I was, Sancho, after climbing close to 4,000 ft over the first 10 miles after leaving Vielha, I was at a mountain peak with breathtaking panoramic view of surrounding mountaintops and valleys as far as eyes can see. I looked all around me, to the north, south, east and west, seeing where that evil enchanter could be hiding. Off to east, I saw another peak where I thought I could get a better view so off I went.
"After a sharp decent along the mountain ridge, another hard climb, this time up through boulder rocks, brought me to another peak where I saw a fog covered mountain ahead. This is the place, I thought. This is where that phantom is hiding and I can finally avenge my lady Dulcinea! I shouted her name and prayed that she give me the strength to face that evil rascal as I ran down the steep mountain ridge. The trail improved with fewer large rocks but the steepness unwavered just as my resolve unwavered. I ran down the mountain seeking my moment of glory. That evil enchanter, sensing my unshakeable resolve to confront her, must have turned the rocks on the ground loose for I slipped and tumbled down the hill, stopping only after several full headlong tumbles. Luckily, there were other runners on the trail who assisted me.
"I got up and dusted myself off. I didn't notice any pain nor injury, other than injured pride knowing that enchanter had bested me on this round, so continued on my journey. Shortly after, I arrived at the Geles aid station (21 km). The race was early and I was looking forward to the upcoming downhill section.
"After rehydrating and eating couple bland sandwiches, which will be a common occurrence in this race, I continued on. The trail after Geles was a hard and steep downhill, forcing me to slowdown or risk falling again. About half way down the slope, I started to notice a pain and discomfort on the outside of my right knee. Perhaps it was from the earlier fall or from strenuous downhill running. Regardless, I was hoping it would not worsen. It is often said that uphill drains your energy but downhill destroys your muscles, especially your legs, and this section definitely started to destroy my legs (and knee).
"After bottoming at 26 km, I began a 5 km climb to Artiga de Lin. By this time, the sun was setting so the darkness started to add an element of loneness to my run. Eventually, I saw a faint light of the aid station off in the distance. I reach Artiga at around 9 PM, 3 hours ahead of cutoff.
"Leaving Artiga, there was a mandatory gear check for waterproof jacket. Mountains can be unpredictable at night and we were climbing to the highest point of the race at over 2,400 meters so gear check was probably a good idea.
"Shortly after leaving the aid station, we came across a bridge that took us deeper into the mountains. The climb after the bridge was brutal with relentless and never-ending uphill in the dark. The trail was also technical with rocks and roots protruding from the ground and with parts of trail being ambiguous so each runner had to forge his own path forward, often climbing over rocks or through grass patches until meeting up with the trail again. About half-way up, I couldn't climb anymore with my heart rate elevated to its max and my energy drained. I stopped on the trail with that so familiar pose of an exhausted ultrarunner: bent-forward at the waist, head down, arms out bracing against hiking poles while hyperventilating. Several runners were laid out exhausted on grass field around me.
"I looked back and saw a line of headlamps snaking up from the valley, feeling sorry for those poor souls for the suffering they are about to endure. I looked up and saw a line of runners snaking all the way up the mountain, crisscrossing up the mountainside and along the mountaintop where the lights from their headlamps against pitch-black night sky made those lights look like stars in heaven. I wondered if my lady Dulcinea was also looking up at the same night sky at that moment...The thought that we might be sharing the same view despite being hundreds of miles apart lifted my spirit. I prayed that she give me the courage to face this challenge and mustered what strength I had to push forward.
"I finally reached the peak and followed the trail along the mountaintop, climbing over large boulders and rocks. The trail turned into a sharp downhill once we got to the other side of the mountain top and running down this section was where I knew I was in trouble as this is where my knee pain started to become more unbearable as each step was accompanied by a sharp pain on the outside of my right knee. It was getting to a point that it was difficult to walk downhill.
"The section after Cabanes de Pollander aid station (#4 at 40 km) was highlighted by a series of short but intense climbs and descents that further aggravated my knee. Starting at around 45 km, the trail turned into a long descending single track to Bossot aid station. I ended up walking most of this downhill due to my knee pain, which was unfortunate because despite being at night this was definitely a runnable section."
From Bossot to Beret (102 km):
After hearing my master's tale, I became curious so I poked his knee to see how much pain he was in. At first, he didn't respond, sitting still on his chair with a thousand yard death stare. So I poked and squeezed his right knee harder and that brought him out of his trance as he screamed a painful cry.
"Your grace, are you ok now?" I asked. My master, with seemingly annoyed look, punched me on my face before ordering me to get him some food. I obliged and went to get Don Quixote some food, but found the food selection to be awfully underwhelming. The aid station's warm meal consisted of cold pasta and cold rice. And no sauce! I had to sprinkle salt on pasta and rice to give little flavor and hoped Don Quixote wouldn't notice. (Consensus among runners was that food preparation and selection in aid stations were disappointing at best.)
After helping Don Quixote change into a fresh pair of Injinji socks, which I swear prevents blisters, I accompanied my master out of Bossot aid station just as sun was rising. The first couple miles were on a flat pavement, which didn't hurt Don Quixote's knee, so we were able to run at a decent pace. Pavement eventually gave away to a single track following along a gentle stream before reemerging when we entered a residential neighborhood, starting a series of climbs to Sant Joan, the aid station before epic 2,000m climb over 19 km.
We bid farewell at San Joan and I watched my master fade out of my sight, wondering if he'll have the strength to climb over tall mountains with his body and knee rapidly deteriorating due to unforgiving terrain.
According to Don Quixote, shortly after leaving Sant Joan, the trail led him through a mountain valley surrounded by majestic mountains. Climb up from the valley was highlighted by breathtaking views, but with intense heat and never-ending switchbacks and false peaks - climbing a peak would reveal another peak to climb. This was a long, slow and painful grind and he was rapidly losing his patience, shouting out at one point: "You evil rascal, come out and face me! I, Don Quixote, a Catholic Christian Knight who has vowed to avenge your wicked scheme against lady Dulcinea, challenge you to a duel. If you have an ounce of honor, you will reveal yourself at once and accept my challenge!" said Don Quixote waving his hiking poles around as if they were his lance and sword.
Fortunately for him, the only ones who came over were other concerned runners who probably thought he was a delusional fool who was hallucinating due to intense heat, thirst and fatigue. They looked around for a cool shade to sit him down but not able to find one they just sat him down at the spot where he was standing (no trees or vegetation to provide cover on this mountain pass despite intense heat and sun!)
"Senor, are you alright? Are you seeing things now since you have not had any sleep in over 24 hours?" asked a kind runner.
"No, my good, kind sir. I am fine, though I was bit frustrated that I can not right the wrong that my lady Dulcinea has suffered," replied Don Quixote.
"Who is this lady Dulcinea that you speak of? Is she one of the runners who has dropped already?" asked another gent.
In response, my master started to pontificate about life, errantry, King Arthur and his knights and his lady Dulcinea del Toboso, who must be eagerly and anxiously waiting for him to present himself before her so she could hear about his adventures in vanquishing evil, protecting the weak and righting wrongs throughout the king's highway in her name. Hearing this gobbledygook, the other runners were for sure convinced that Don Quixote was suffering from a heat-induced delusion so decided that it's best to get him to the next aid station rather than have him sit around under a hot sun. They got him up and had him restart his climb up the mountain.
Eventually, after hours of long, slow and demoralizing climb under intense hot sun, they arrived at the peak where some runners took advantage of snow patches to provide some relief from heat.
Proceeding downhill to Pas Estret was a nightmare. According to Don Quixote: "Sancho, my good friend, I believe that wicked phantom, having sensed my injured knee, turned what was a well-groomed single track during the climb-up into a impassable road full of loose rocks, sharp stones and steep decent once we reached the top. All these combined to make my journey frustratingly long, painful and demoralizing, but I persevered and arrived here exhausted and with my feet on fire."
"Devil take me! Why are your feet on fire, master? Did that sorceress turn the trail into a burning road that no mortal can possibly pass?" I asked, wondering what wicked magic Don Quixote had faced.
"No, Sancho, my feet are burning because I had to use them to compensate for my injured knee. They acted as my main "break-pads" as I could not run or walk downhill properly so I had to use them to fight gravity," said Don Quixote taking off his shoes to provide some relief to his feet.
The next section to Montgarri had the famed mines of Val d'Aran, which I desperately wanted to see so I companied Don Quixote. The trail was very technical and we had to pass some gnarly sections, some with metal chains bolted to the mountain wall for additional safety and support.
Decent down to Montgarri was about 10 km. Again, this was demoralizing for Don Quixote as he had to resort to gently walking down the hill, using both poles to take pressure off of his knee. Even as a simpleton, which I am, I could tell the difference in my master's performance between uphill and downhill. I tried my best to help him as his Squire First-Class, but the narrow single track made that impossible.
We stayed at Montgarri for few minutes fueling, hydrating and escaping from the hot sun. Sitting at the aid station, Don Quixote noticed a runner (Senor Miguel) who he was constantly switching places with for the last several miles. Don Quixote would pass him and then he would pass my master a bit later before Don Quixote would pass him again, and so on. Senor Miguel was a Spanish gent living in the US and he was also having similar knee pain as Don Quixote so both gents commiserated their misery before we left for Beret, a 5 km gradual climb on a single track up through a small hill.
To Finish (161 km):
Beret aid station had a better assortment and quality of food than Bossost - fruits were fresher and they actually had sauce for pasta, which Don Quixote and I devoured two full bowls each. After ensuring my belly was full, I accompanied my master to the aid station to see if there's anything they could do for his knee. Senor Pablo (medic) said that it was likely a strained IT band and offered to tape the knee, but he cautioned that taping would not be a cure and would only provide a limited support. The knee would continue to hurt, especially during downhill sections.
"Don Pablo, instead of taping his knee, could you not mix a special magic potion for knights on errantry, like the potion that my master drank at that inn after being attacked by a gang of Yanguesans?" I asked. "I know that magical potion will make Don Quixote vomit violently, but I'm sure he'll feel better after a short rest like the last time." After giving me a puzzling look, Senor Pablo got up to fetch rolls of sports tape.
According to Don Quixote, the knee (being wrapped) felt a lot better! The tight pressure around the knee felt good and he was very hopeful that this could carry him to the finish.
"About a mile after leaving Beret, the course turned into a graveled downhill. I was very hopeful about my knee so I started to jog down. But after several steps, the pain returned!" said Don Quixote with a disappointed look on his face.
"I was now walking slower as the pain got worst as the slope of the decent got steeper. Finally, I arrived at the outskirt of Salardu, hoping that the town would be easier to navigate than the steep trail and road that I just went through. However, this hope was quickly shattered as navigating through Salardu was just as painful as the town was situated on a very sharp hill with slippery cobblestone roads that required extra care," continued my master.
"After a brief stay at Salardu aid station, I caught up with Martin, an English gent living in Spain who was running with another fellow. By this time, we were into our second night so I tagged along for company. It was a gradual and long climb on a dirt single track that took us deep into the mountain in pitch dark. After close to 3 hours of climbing, we finally arrived here at Banhs de Trados with 1 hour and 15 mins of buffer to cut-off. When I left Salardu, I had 1 hour and 30 mins so I lost 15 mins during this section, which is troubling me, Sancho" finished Don Quixote with a sorrowful look on his face.
At Banhs de Tredos, with another 41 km (25 miles) to the finish, Don Quixote had a decision to make. Could he continue knowing that his knee is getting worst? How could he endure through coming steep descents with his knee? Would he be able to meet the cut-offs limping down hills? These thoughts were racing through him and he didn't have much time to make the decision. If he was going to continue, he had to leave now, grabbing food and eating as he went - no sitting around and definitely no sleeping.
"Master, it wounds me that a valiant knight such as yourself must suffer like this! What must you do? Without you, who would be brave enough to avenge lady Dulcinea?" I shouted with tears running down my face. At my mentioning of her, Senior Quixote perked up as if acknowledging the vow he has made. He mustered what strength he had and left the aid station into a dark abyss.
Unfortunately, after only a short while, I saw my master returning. He could not continue as he knew his knee couldn't handle coming onslaught of steep hills. Uphills he could handle, he thought, but as soon as the course turned downhill, he would have to resort to hobbling along at a snail's pace, all alone in the darkness in a no man's land. He lost his confidence.
Don Quixote official withdrew from the race, joining around 160 other runners (about 40% DNF rate) after spending 31 hours and 38 minutes covering 120 km (75 miles)...
We caught a ride back to Vielha from a nice local couple who tried their best to cheer up and congratulate Don Quixote for completing 120 km. We thanked them and as they left I watched the Knight of Sorrowful Face fading into a dark alley, limping back to his hotel with his Salomon vest on one hand and his hiking poles in the other.
From Don Quixote:
This was a very tough race. I would say it was the hardest race I've ever ran. The combination of elevation profile (steepness and total gains) trail condition, heat and some gnarly passes make Val d'Aran the hardest race I've ever attempted. In fact, the consensus among all the runners that I talked to who have also run UTMB was that Val d'Aran was much tougher than UTMB.
Looking back now after the race, I wonder if I could have continued or did I just took an easy way out? This race turned out to be a huge disappointment, especially given the investments I made specifically for this race: countless hours and miles training, thousands of dollars spent to travel to Spain, and time and money spent for five "training" races I did in the States preparing for Val d'Aran...The fact that I DNF'd has been really gnawing at me for several days now after the race, driving me crazy and taking me down a unpleasant path of self-pity, loathing and hatred...I really need to stop thinking about this race.
For those of you who are more video inclined, check out this video by Stephen Cousins from UK who ran and videoed 2021 Val d'Aran. I think this is the best video out there about this race.
Lastly, send me your thoughts, tips, suggestions and experience about Val d'Aran by UTMB and I'll share them here with others.
Comments