Ultra trail in Oman - when the illusion becomes reality and reality becomes an illusion
This record is a story about how we overcame 138 km of Oman's desert mountains, and nearly 8,000 meters of altitude have passed, walked and climbed. The story of how we, following two sleepless nights, experienced the changed states of consciousness, which were written by Carlos Castaneda in his books, after the sunshine of the fragmented rocks. As his Don Juan Matus in the Mexican desert, we crossed the borders between the worlds, the borders between the visible and the invisible. On the journey to the unusual reality, we came into contact with spiritual beings in the form of animals or beings in the image of man. We've tried out the limits of our capabilities. One day after coming to the finish line, it was enough for me to close my eyes, and I had already seen invisible companions accompanying me on this march along the mountain desert. Elephants, camels, leopards, curly wrapped girls sitting on the trail. Men with turbans on my head who stood beside the hillsides and greeted me with a raised arm. Faces that greeted me from stones under my feet, from the walls of the deep canyons around us. The moment I wanted to touch them, they all disappeared and turned into stacks of stones.
Lithuanian Gediminas Grinius, world champion of the Ultra Trail World Tour 2016, wrote at the end that this was one of the hardest race in his life and that the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc next year would get a hundred-mile long Best, an older brother. Yes, we were able to do a beautiful beast, but above all we moved the boundaries of our experience to a new level. After such experience, you can not be the same person as before.
"It's a pathology." - A typical comment from last days :)
"You don't have a car?" - classmates asked my daughter at school when she told them that her father ran 138 km
I apologise for some "strange" translation, because article was quickly translated from Slovene language using "google translator" and after that checked very quickly.
6 months before the start
You have 1 new message. This message appears on my computer in the bottom right corner of the screen. Well, let's see what happened. Something from the organisers of the Ultra Trail run around Mount Blanc, where this year I did not get trapped in the first attempt (Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc or short UTMB). I read the first paragraph of the message. They organise an ultra trail run in Oman. Where the devil is this Oman? Race is organised for the first time, only one track is 138 km long, with 7,800 m ascents and just as many descents. The space is only for 300 runners (later 400) who sign up first. I stop reading, I close the message. Running on the sand desert is not my style, I'm not interested in it right now.5 months before the start
During the run I am talking with Robert Kereži, an ultra runner from Maribor, Slovenia. He said that he applied for a race in Oman. I told him that the sand did not seem interesting to me. He said that I'm wrong. It is a mountain desert and predict temperatures around 25 degrees during the day and minus at night. Mountains:) Ops. That's another story. The thing is getting me interested. I looked for an old message and I read it all this time. The route is mostly mountainous. They are promising exposure and climbing sections on the course. And it's really not predicted such a heat. I read further. I feel that familiar feeling, that tingling in the stomach. I've never been to those parts of the world before. I find that Oman is located on the clear end of the Arabian Peninsula. The idea is that the unknown places and especially the wild nature, which is more interested for me than the city, will be very tempting for me during the course of a several-day course. During such a course I am much more perceptive of experiences and feelings. The tingling grows into the feeling that slowly moves from my stomach to my head and my eyes grow from thrill. That's it. I talked to my dear wife, I can go :) Thank you, sweetheart. I booked a flight quickly and signed up. I started to look forward to crazy adventure.Injury period
Since August, my preparations have been a little complicated. First of all, after a month of exaggeration on August 15, I had a back injury. The old injury recovered after a couple of years of hibernation. Then in the end of October I ran 42 km at the Ljubljana Marathon, injuring my ankle or Achilles tendon, so I could barely put my foot on it.I spent the last month before my start in Oman at rest and attending physiotherapy. For the first time 3 weeks of almost complete rest. Well, 4 weeks of physiotherapy. In the meantime, I was discouraged by the physiotherapist Uroš, when the condition was not much improved. It did not surprise me, since I have been working with Achilles for two and a half years, but it is never ok. I made the mistake of starting with shock therapy and running instead of idle. And the matter became chronic. I have tried with all the masks I have heard or read about, but this physiotherapy was already the third. For the last week, we have tried with stronger shock waves, desperately to no avail. 4 days before departure I went for the first time in a long time to Pohorje and the next day I walked 12 km. The effect was sad. I barely got to my feet after the run. For the last 3 days, I just rested and hoped for a miracle.
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| On physiotherapy with Uroš |
Two days before the start
Finally came the hardly expected day of departure. Martina takes us with Robert to Zagreb airport. From there we have 5 hours and a half flight to Dubai, Qatar. We have to cross over there and follow a two-hour long flight to Muscat, the capital of the Sultanate of Oman. |
| We fly with Qatar Airways, the flight is comfortable |
We came there at 3.20 in the morning. Since we had bus shuttle at 8 am in the morning, we have to spend the next 4 hours in the carriage of benches and restaurants at the airport.
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| At the bench at the airport, I try to get some sleep |
Since I almost never fall asleep on the plane, I have been producing one night without sleep, and in just one day we are waiting for another 2 nights without sleep.
Oman is an monarchy. Since its inception in 1970, the sultan Kabus bin Said Al Said has been governed. Of all the rulers in the Middle East, he is in power for the longest period. On our arrival, they celebrate 48th National Day, which is the main holiday in the country. This holiday celebrates the history of Oman and especially independence from the Kingdom of Portugal. They also celebrate the official birthday of the sultan. Thanks to the holiday, many buildings are illuminated by national colours, red, green and white. The sultan watches us from every banknote irrespective of his value. He sees us from pictures on the wall of restaurants, offices, and his paintings are hung over the facades of buildings.
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| Pictures of the sultan |
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| The buildings are also illuminated in national colours by the airport due to the holiday |
The day before the start
By 8 in the morning, the organiser takes us by bus to the remote town of Nizwa, which is the starting point for hiking in the Oman mountains. The landscape around the hotel is flat and sandy, and on the horizon there are mountains Jabal Akhdar or Al Jabal Al Akhdar, in which the barges will be our way. |
| During bus transportation |
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| Our hotel |
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| Province around the hotel |
We find that we do not have any food included in the package, fortunately there is a restaurant with burgers next to the hotel, which becomes our food point for all meals up to the start. We have a problem because we can not replace the euro in their currency, Oman Rial. Somehow we also solve this problem.
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| Sunset, the day before the start |
In the evening, competitors who come to our hotel, were taken by bus to the Golden Tulip Hotel, where the issue of start numbers, checking of equipment and the last lecture with important information for the match is taking place.
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| In the long run, we wait until we reach the start pack |
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| First, with these uncle, we signed a statement that we are guilty of all what happens to us |
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| The following is a detailed check of our compulsory equipment |
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| We're ready, everything is checked |
Also some local people from Oman will be between runners. Today they are still in traditional clothes. Men's traditional clothing is called dišdaša, which is simply an outer garment with long sleeves without a collar. It is mostly white, but it can also be in other colours. They are decorated differently, depending on the region. On the neckline there are some sewn ornamental (furakha), fragrant with perfume. At ceremonial occasions, the odor can also cover a black or light brown coat, decorated with golden or silver filaments.
They carry two types of headgear: musar and kumah. Musar is wrapped in a woollen or cotton route in special way, and the couch is decorated with a cap. Some use a stick, an ace, which has the role of additive in addition to its useful value. They mainly have sandals. Handžar is an Oman dagger, which is attached to the waist at celebrations, festivals, as it belongs to traditional costumes.
Women wear vividly coloured clothes that are richly decorated. Sometimes, each tribe had its own colour. The outer garment is a fragrant or candur, this is a long tunic with a beautifully decorated sleeve. The cheese is wide pants, bound to the knuckles they have under the tunic.They are traditionally dressed only on special occasions. Some are dressed in long, black coats, abdomen, they do not wear burkas, maybe rare in Bedouins. They mainly have a hijab, a scarf that covers hair and shoulders, they rarely cover their face, as the sultan has banned facial covering in public services.
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| Nadhira from Oman |
Day 0
I sleep overnight as dead person. Luckily, I also get 3 hours of extra time at local time to help you sleep more in the morning. Finally came the long-awaited day. This time I am full of doubts in myself and in my body. Usually I have a head arranged, this is my stronger point. This time, I wonder if I have any options at all, with this back pain, painful tendons and after a month without training. And before me, it's the hardest test I've ever made. I'm trying not to think too much and stay positive. At one afternoon we eat beef kebab for breakfast, and three hours later at four, I repeat the same meal. The waitress laughs when I order the same as before. I do not want to test with anything new, just before the start.At 6 pm we go to the bus, which will take us to the start. Before the entrance to the hotel, the driver of the off-road vehicle convinces us that we are the real one waiting for us, and four of us get into his car. Then we drive. During the journey, driver talk something strange on a mobile phone with someone who sounds like his boss. Then he give the phone to one of us, Italy, to talk to someone on the phone. Because they are poorly understood, he hands over the phone to English because he assumes that the problem is in the knowledge of the language. Even the English does not understand the best with a person on the phone. It's slow to see where the problem is, but we're turning the phone back to the driver. After a short conversation, he said: "People, you are not right passengers." Yeah, great, because we thought this already in front of the hotel. However, he ensure that we are already so far away that he will take us to the start.
When we reach the market in Birkat Al Mouz, where the start is located, we were surprised to find that the event has been prepared a lot. Even the city centre is closed to traffic and there are many events in the starting area.
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| Robert at the start line |
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| I am also ready, but now it will be what it will be |
At 19.30 we are ready. The start of the race signals the head of the competition with rifle shooting. We are starting the most unusual adventure in our life.
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| Start shot from the rifle |
The beginning is folded. We run along the city streets and along the rivers of the old fortress Birkat Al Mouz, and then we connect the sand road that walks toward the mountains. Runners in front of me have fairly dusted the road and we, who are in the middle of the column, are already eating a sand. In the meantime I smile at the situation that is happening around me. I hear behind my back that a pair of runners are approaching slowly, one of which is constantly nibbling. I do not even know when he could breathe.One of the runners in my group calls in English: "Shut up!" Nothing, the type of bees goes on. The upset repeats its scream three times, without any effect at all. He curses in French. I laugh to him, and tell him to wait for another half an hour, and then he will shut himself up in one way or another.
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| Old fork Birkat Al Mouz, photo by Oman by UTMB |
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| photo by Oman by UTMB |
The control points follow a steep climb along the dusty road to the top of the mountain, where on the other side we descend down the slope to the Salluta checkpoint (25.6 km). On this road, I am catching up runner from Slovenia Matjaž Čampa, an experienced ultra runner. He's here with his wife, daughter and daughter's friend, and the team is waiting for him at the checkpoints and helps him. I recalled that on Robert's blog I read that Matjaž described me at this point as "completely painful, exhausted, broken" and smiled a little. If you felt like that, then you would never have seen a spot at 82 km where we dressed and ate. And how did I feel? Totally painful, definitely. I was worried about the back that made me so worried that I expected every moment that it would hold me so that I could not continue. I was full of questions, questions posed doubts, doubts were due to uncertainty that was not welcome. Because of pain from injuries, I did not dare to go more fully, but I listened to the body and reduced intensity with every strange sign. No focus on what needs to be done, which usually leads me most forward. No serious focus on the fight.
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| In the dark, the column of lights lights up to one of the countless peaks |
Leave the place Sallut and climb the steep trail to the mountain plateau with spectacular views. The village of Hilat As Sharaf continues the path to Wadi Bani Habib (34.4km), where we cross the abandoned old village, which in the dark acts as a fairy-tale from the second time.
The name Wadi denotes a dry river valley in the deserts of North Africa and Western Asia. Occasionally they are filled with water after heavy rain. In wadis with a large catchment area, even very distant thunderstorms can lead to a surprising and sudden rise in water.
The first night is relatively warm, even with short trousers and socks. The path goes steadily up and down, slowly becomes irrelevant, how many kilometres is behind us or ahead of us. Even as it is said to the place. The first morning rays of light take us back on a climb to the top of a hill over 2,200 meters high. At the top of the hill there is a refreshment room and wind blows greatly. For the first time, we are hanging around and pulling on our gloves, hat and wind jacket.
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| The first rays of daylight |
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| The green dots shows us a very well marked route |
The new energy also comes with the sun. The body warms and wakes. The eyes stretch in a smile. We're fine. The landscape around us is phenomenal. The game of shadows of shameless nude is appealing.
We come to a wide mountain plateau. The sun begins to slow down. I stop, struggling to replace transparent glass with dark sunglasses in the new Adidas Sunglasses . When I brush with the sun cream, I'm ready to continue. In the meantime, a couple of runners overtake me.
We are high in the mountains. On the edge of the plateau, the walls are hundreds of meters steep in the abyss.
Dream and reality. Anxiety or reality. We've been on our way for 12 hours.
For a while, I continue without a cap with a sun visor, because I'm afraid my glasses will rot. At some point, I feel that I am close to a sun-drenched sun. I'm stopping and looking for a hat in the backpack. When I attach it to my head, it is immediately better.
When we reach the edge of the mountain plateau, the descent into the deep valley follows. In the very bottom there are stone remains of houses from ancient times, typically pushed into the walls of the canyon, which alone provide little shade. I am constantly wondering who could have lived in this wilderness, where it does not grow, but the water is only here and there in the form of a muddy puddle. On the other side of the valley we must again climb a steep slope on the ridge, which is visible to the left of the rock wall on the lower figure.
Let's go down to the bottom of the canyon. Finally 2 minutes of shadow. We immediately rise up again and the sun is merciless. The previous refreshment room is already hours behind us and I slowly drink the last drops of water.
Sun of baking, time of mine, leg in front, step by step, and the ridge does not want to come closer.
Finally, we reach the top of the ridge and behind it is the lower village. Above it, finally, the next refreshment room and so desired water.
The Frenchman, with whom I have been together for a while, shows the desire to continue together. When I am ready to continue, he says he will lie for another 10 minutes. I can not sit in the place, and I go alone to the hill that rises above the cafeteria.
I continue the next few hours on the mountain desert. For a long time we are over 2,000 m high, and the road is winding up and down all the time. Several times route go very close to the edge of a deep precipitate, which requires additional concentration. We have been on our way for 20 hours, and the sun does it, and slowly, invisible friends are starting to visit me more and more often from "the suddenness of reality". From the wall beside me, my face speaks to me. A meter from the meadow welcomes me with Bedouin. Also, an elephant passes by me.
The brain slowly refers to the reality of this ultra-trail. And this is the gigantic time you need for a short distance on paper. Often, the distance between two refreshments is about 4,6 kilometres. First, I thought why they were so together. Then you see. For some 4 km sections we also need 2-3 hours. Sometimes more. For a 10 km section you need so much time that he is already running a match in the race. The distance to the end is reduced by the worm. Something that's incomparable to any other trail I've been on. Something, what you need to be comfortable with and think about as little as possible. Some can not. They've deviated all day. And I've been listening all day long that something like they never goes again.
The path leads us through the ancient stone paths, built centuries ago. This area is called the Lost Villages Trail.
When descending into the bottom of a deep canyon, a lower village appears before me like dreams. At first, I think it's another thing that will disappear when I want to touch it. Well, it's not, it's obviously true. Lost village.
After a long downhill, we get straight to the bottom of the canyon and continue the path along the dry riverbed, where obviously, with some kind of flood, water flows. The terrain is demanding for progress, we also have to climb a little. The landscape around us is crazy.
We are dreaming or it is true. In the middle of the mountain canyon we reach the lower lake. A serious climbing begins over him. I have been an climber for 27 years, but in some places I do not fell comfortable. And this is after 21 hours on the road and sleepless nights. Some are scared. I'm climbing with 4 runners from Russia. They beg that this was not a trail but an alpine climb. For some of them it's too much. They say they will retreat at the hotel at the edge of the wall.
Up to the edge of the wall separates us another 150 m of the vertical wall, across which the protective wires are driven. At this point, we get a helmet and a belt with a self-protection kit.
Some have problems here, I do not fix the safety kit itself for most of the time and overtake a couple of runners.
The wall is finally behind us and we have another 5 minutes running to Alila Hotel at 82 km. This hotel is the only point on the road where a bag of spare clothing and real food is waiting for us. I've been very hungry for a couple of hours, bananas and biscuits I eat at refreshments, after almost 24 hours are not longer enough.
Alila Hotel is built in a phenomenal location, at the very edge of the wall. I arrive at the hotel at 17.30, until I have to leave this point I have another 1 and a half. The so-called "cut-off-time" is at 19.00. First, I get into the food. I drink two cups of warm soup at the pot. Then the chef loads a full plate of rice. And because I have too big eyes, I add 3 more pieces of chicken roll and one egg. When I sit down at the table and start eating, I have to come to terms with reality. The stomach is so narrow that I can barely swallow a spoon of rice. It stops and hurts. For the next 20 minutes, I'm working hard to get at least some real food inside my stomach. I leave dry turkey, there is no way to swallow it.
Many here decide to quit. It's very easy, everyone were asked. You only poke and the suffering is over. The runner from Oman says that he sees no sense because he knows the way, and there is even more difficult way ahead of us than behind us.
Some runners have a help team here. I need to endlessly long to find fresh clothes from the bag, replace the wet stuff from the backpack with dry ones, replace the spare batteries and change. Most of those who have come around my time are in no hurry. I wanted myself not to waste time at the point. Some people lie down in bed for a couple of minutes, some in the rooms on the corridor. Since I am waiting for somebody for a company through the night, I end up in the shower, which is offered to me next to the toilet. At first, it seemed funny for me to take a shower in the middle of the game, but then, while waiting, I said why not. About 15 minutes before 19.00, with a runner from England, we finally leave for the night.
In front of me is a long last night without sleep. And night without pictures, because I do not paint at night. There are no pictures, but there is a lot of time to think. The first kilometres with the runner pass, although the track is most of the time down. So-runner says he has an injury that he does not want to run down. Okay, we have time. After 3 km, we reach the next control point and just 50 m before the asphalt stops, it gets very bad in my left knee. I know this pain. I can not get rid of it all the way. Once it appears, it's here. It's hard to shake your leg because of this.
Our group increases somewhere to 5 people. The first two are speeding up the step, it's hard for me to follow them. Go ahead, I stay with one Italian and the Saudis. Saudian explains that this is his first and last ultra trail in life. We are convinced that he has to try something else that is totally different from the rest, much more difficult. He says he will not. To deal with Ironman triathlons and stay there. It was reported by friends, but now everyone has resigned. And that now it has to reach the goal of preserving their honour.
Hours are passing, the body is getting more and more painful. I still care most about the back, which is hard as a stone, Achilles are so constant, and now my knee. Slowly after a little shut down. The brain is walking on its own. I wonder, like the rest of the hours and hours, why this is necessary to me. Why do not I simply quit? Why did not I simply quit the hotel, but if I knew how sick my illness was, and that I did not have much opportunity to keep up to the end? Why? And of course I say, never again. I promise the body 2 months of rest if it lasts to the end. It seems to me that I'm getting more and more slow. There is a runner or a runner over there and there. But if I look back, I see that there is a snake of light behind me and below me. "Those behind you are people with disabilities like you. They're normal at the front," I say. Somewhere in the corner of tired minds, I realise that each of us has our own problems, our doubts and our limits to be overcome.
There is still strong and cold wind. Hell, how cold. We are over 2,000 m away. Energy supply for heating the body is exhausted. Since the first night was not that cold, I naturally made the same mistake as the majority of the hotel, and I took thinner clothes with me for that night. I shake myself, I'm moving, I'm shaking, I'm moving. The accidents are becoming more and more common. I do not even think about it anymore. Hours are passing, and the way is always up and down the mountains. I do not remember when we finally had a meter of plane. A new snack bar arises from the topic. The runner next to me decides that he must warm up in the tent at the refreshment room. I'm proceeding. And then I'm always wondering why I did not go on my own. Why am I trending with this move? I admire for the fifth runner of a native race from Russia, who has been living in the Netherlands and her Dutch friend for 5 years. Focus narrows to easy tracking of five in front. I have to try to follow the tempo.
So we arrive at 2.00 at night to the next refreshment station. The girl says that she goes to the tent, that it is too cold. I also react reflexively, without thinking. I'm going to the neighbouring tent, otherwise I will be messed with shaking. There is a girl in the tent, in appearance from Japan or Korea. She's wrapped in astronaut foil, I wrap myself in a blanket lying beside me. In the morning, I set the alarm clock in 45 minutes, if I accidentally fall asleep. By mistake I turn off the stopwatch. The devil will do nothing to make the path recorded at the hour. Something stuck in my back. Open the starting number. I'm moving from side to side, maybe I also fall asleep, I'm not aware. On the verge of a thrown time when over 45 ads warn me is even more faint than I was when going to the tent. I drank some coffee fast and go further into the night. At the departure they tell me that it is 1 km up and then 6 km down. If I had known this before, or my brain would still work, I would not get stuck at the highest point and go further down into warmer places. Pity.
After a kilometre of ascent along the asphalt road, turn onto a dusty road that goes down. I walk at my pace and myself. Suddenly I get to know through the brain. Start number! I'm touching the waist. I forgot her in a tent. The world is shaking. What now. If I come to the next item without a number, I will be disqualified. Should I go back? Well this is at least an hour's walk! Do I have any other option? Resignation? Nothing, I'm going back. Without the will of the bunk, the time is gone. Already on the asphalt, a car arrives opposite me, which directs the headlights in me and stops. Police on the way. Guys, I forgot the number, are you taking me back? When I get to the tent and I take the number it is 3 and 50 minutes. 2 hours after I stood in this place, I'm back here, I can not believe it. A fool's tent. Another 10 minutes to "cut-of-time". The cops tell me they'll take me back to where they picked me up. Thank you, at least that. I'm dealing with policemen, and I'm getting into another by the dusty road. For a moment, I see the last 2 lights far below me. The two I met when I returned and told them to go back to the number. At that moment, I'm giving up the front lamp, the battery is empty. With a problem in the dark with the help of a flashlight on the phone, I replace the batteries and insert the new ones I bought on the pump on the way to the airport. I turn on the flashlight, flashes red 2 times, and switches it in some way, where it does not quite work. Shit, now I'm still without light, alone in this darkness, on a dusty road, God knows where. What else can happen to me? I snore slowly, because I do not have a depth of sight to the soles, through me. The time of the mine, knee and legs hurt like a devil, I'm sure that I can not run down anymore, and even without a lamp. And then the last shock. Everything in me is crushed. Again, I see 2 lights, only this time under me, on the left side of the valley, and I walk down the right. Now I'm still lost? Apparently there was an intersection somewhere that I missed without a glance. The path I walk on is marked with green flags. Obviously some other way, maybe some of which we climbed yesterday?
If the brain still worked, I would know that this is not possible. For the first time in my life, I'm about to decide to quit. I can not see the other options, I'm not going back looking up the crossroads. I find the SOS telephone number with a heavy heart and call. She raises a girl, speaks poor English with French accent. Well, it sounds bad. Probably the problem is in my brain, working at 10% of power. I'm trying to say I'm on a sandy road. How the hell is the sand spoken English? I can not remember anything. The girl desperately gives the phone to a man, also with a French accent. If I could talk normally, I would have told him to send the car to take me somewhere where it would be warm. I have enough for me to get me, I have enough of these topics and solitude. Fortunately, I can not get rid of myself. A man leads me to run an application on the phone that we have uploaded. Inside is one nice SOS button. He only sends him information about my location. In the fog, I understand that I'm saying that I'm on the right road that 1 kilometre ahead of the refreshment room number 16. No, it can not be, I'm right, the lights are left, how can you not understand? The guy insists. Okay. Turn off the phone. And then I feel. I feel the difference, the feeling in the body. Now I know what I miss. What I've missed for the entire time of this trail due to all the circumstances of the injuries and doubts. That focus is to really fight. Internal energy. I usually have this. At this moment I think of this year's ultra-trail in Madeira. 31 hours. And all the time I competed, I fought. After 30 hours, even the last hour I was running out as full as I can. And I did not fight here. I was too full of doubts. Until this moment. Make sure that I do not want to resign. No, I'm going to fight now.
In the next moment I start running down. What seemed impossible to me five minutes ago. It's just pain, I can take it somewhere in the corner. So I run to the next checkpoint. The guy tells me that the next checkpoint is 3 kilometre ahead and that it's a time when I have to leave it by 7 am. That I need to hurry. Do not worry, boy, now everything is possible. I'm running on. The light of the day illuminated the world around me. I can see again, but warmth is pleasant. By the next point, I already overtaken the first two runners, which were a bit ahead of me before. I come to a point at 6.30, I still have enough time to quickly jump into my mouth, go to the bathroom and change my shorts and shirt. I ask my doctor to rub my knee if there is anything. The ointment he has works, knee pain becomes moderate. For us there are 116 kilometre of journeys, on the way I am about 36 hours.
10 minutes before the last deadline, I'll start up. In front of me is the biggest and longest ascent on the way. It is necessary to climb 1,761 m up. First, we must climb over the wall in front of us for 3,000 meters in 3 kilometre.
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| Climb up again |
On these first 1,000 m climb, we must climb again. The matter requires caution and concentration. This is my terrain, I catch up every day and overtake a runner who has also started to climb more than half an hour ahead of me.
Ahead of us is the top, which we mistakenly think is the highest peak on the way. That the way from here is just down. I need a good 2 hours for this part, which was very fast.
At the control point at the top, a runner from Ireland says that he will no longer run and that we can walk together. It's just going down there. Something is wrong with me, there are too many miles to finish, that's it. "What I learned in the last 2 days is that I always expect unexpectedly. I do not believe we are in the end," I tell him. I go to the full, as far as I can, I do not want to leave it to chance. The same is also a girl from Russia working in the Netherlands, who was my company to tent night. And now it appears I do not know where. She says she slept a little at the lower checkpoint. Let's go.
"I have one bad news.", my friend tells me. "As far as I can see, after a long ridge to the next mountain, which is even higher than ours, which is glistening in the sun, we have to go a long way."
"I knew that there must be something else. The devil! How far he looks, he will not have us to reach the target in 44 hours." "The damn that 2 hours thrown in at night at the tent," I think. We hold the maximum speed that we can and, first along the ridge, then slopes down the slope to the highest and most distant point of the race, 2,300 m high mountains.
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| At the 2,300 high peak, the highest and most distant point of the race, there is a transmitter for telephony |
The boy on the point tells me that the target is still 7 kilometres. I have 2 hours left, it should suffice. I was hoping that the way from here would take place after some kind of field, on what road. Well, it was empty hope again. Turn to the cliff on rocks and stones, which is very demanding and steep. This continues until we reach the place of Misfat Al Abriyyin. I think that's the goal in this place. Finally, we run along the shade, along the edge of the canyon, next to the trough where water flows. When I run, I see a man and a woman at the entrance to the house. "How far is it to the finish?" I ask. "One kilometre," the woman says. Since I already know that they always say too little, I say: "1 or 2 kilometres?" "Not two, just one," he says.
Happiness is overwhelmed by me, here I am, it will succeed. I'm running on. Time is mine, but nothing. I see every house if it's a goal. So I get to the edge of the settlement. The hostage that interferes with the house tells me: "5 kilometres." It can not be that, because the girl 2 kilometres ago said 1 kilometre. There were 7 of them from the last checkpoint. So I run to the meadow, and on it a tent. Shock. It's not a goal, but another checkpoint. They say that I have 2,4 kilometres left. So I later saw him officially writing. I'm looking at the clock. I got another 32 minutes. "There is enough time," says the lady at the point. It also says that they will extend the permitted time, they saw that they did not spend enough time on the last section.
I do not want to leave anything to chance and I'm trying to run on. Over 200 m the path closes the shepherd who crosses the path with the herd. I do not ask him anything, so he says: "4 kilometres". No, lady said 2.4 km and a dot, you're wrong. Well, it's not. The path is rolled up and down the rocks, in the meantime, we are still taken to the shallow canyon and on the other side out. All my invisible friends accompany me on this section. Every few meters I am greeted by a man, a woman or an animal. When I want to touch them and thank them, they turn into a pile of stones.
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| The last miles of the way through the hot rocks around the city where the target is |
After 44 hours and 16 minutes, I come to the finish line. I obviously needed 46 minutes from this last check point. Or I was hallucinating again, who would know. It's made. The hardest challenge in my life. From almost 400, 142 came to the finish line, I was placed 137th. Among them all 4 Slovenians. We are a stubborn and durable nation :)
Congratulations, Erik Elezovič, Matjaž Čampa and Robert Kereži, runners from Slovenia.
I sit on a chair in the target arena, and each time I close my eyes, I see the images of invisible friends. I'm fine. Perhaps that is how people feel when using drugs. I would not know, because I did not try. It's so simple. You closes your eyes and floods these feelings, impressions and, above all, satisfaction. Open them and turn them off. And you close them and they're back here. What we experienced is coming after me. Memories, feelings, impressions, doubts, pain, happiness. When I get back to the apartment, for hours I sit on a sofa in dirty clothes and leave me with impressions. So I meet Robert, who returns from the closing event at the Golden Tulip Hotel.
I've been listening from the runners during the whole race so that they will never go to something like this anymore. When I met Robert in a hotel, we both agreed that no runners from this year will attend the competition next year. "They screwed up, that's too hard." Then we sleep the first night. In the morning, full of impressions we were again talking. "What are you crazy, what we experienced and survived". "Maybe, maybe sometime again". And then you sleep another night. In the morning, Robert said: "I've already talked to Čampa that we are going for 100 miles race next year." They will extend the track to 166 km. To create the most difficult pursuit, without competition in the world.
That's how we are. As I found out on the second night, at the moment of my enlightenment: "Dušan, do not ask yourself what are you doing, it's simple, you're one bloody fool"
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