Race report 2

SECOND REPORT FOR THE 7 ULTRA CONTINENTS CLUB👀. Cape Town, Africa -30.11.2019 r.

TRIP TO PICK UP THE RACE PACKET 

❤ I warmly invite you to read about the crazy event I took part in at the end of last year. 🏃‍♀️ Ultra Trail Cape Town 65 km 3100 D+⛰ took place on November 30, 2019, at 5:00 a.m. (early in the morning) in Cape Town, South Africa 🌍.

UTCT is one of the races included in the classification of very interesting events under the name Ultra Trail World Tour—feel free to check it out here: https://www.ultratrail-worldtour.com/. However, in this competition, only races starting from 100 km and above are considered. It's still too early for me. Maybe I'll focus on those after turning 60. 😉🤣

The scenery of this race was simply epic. The start was in Cape Town, and the course led through Table Mountain, Lion's Head, Signal Hill, Orangekloof, Llandudno, Hout Bay, Constantia Winelands, the upper slopes of the Kirstenbosch Nature Reserve, and Devil's Peak. All of this is part of the world's iconic natural heritage and one of the New Seven Natural Wonders of the World. Yes, it was breathtaking. 💋😎

Publishing a race report is one of the requirements set by the organizers of the 7 Ultra Continents Club to be included on the members' list (you can apply after completing three races on different continents) and eventually have a shot at being listed on Wikipedia 😉.

So, here we go. This won't be short. I'm writing it as a keepsake—something to look back on when I'm no longer able to run (which will likely be in the coffin ;)). Cape Town—you know what? It's kind of far away :).

I remember as a child, during geography class in elementary school, we learned how to point out the Cape of Good Hope on the map, and that was precisely the area where this race took place. 🗺🧭 Flying there for the run, I had this incredible feeling that I was about to touch a place I used to point to on a map with my finger. Something that once seemed completely unreal and unattainable simply happened. Moments like these are worth waiting for!

Why this race in particular? I came across an interesting website that showcases races categorized by continent: 

https://www.ultramarathonrunning.com/races/index.html#polar. 

The calendar was old, but it became one of the key tools in my search. 👀 Hours (and ongoing hours) of browsing eventually led to a preliminary list, which included Ultra Trail Cape Town, where I casually noted: "I'm going :)". ✔😆

When registration for the race opened in March (https://www.ultratrailcapetown.com/), my hands were trembling. 😱😰🥶🥵😨 I ended up entering my information incorrectly (writing my first and last name twice), which meant I wasn't included in the ITRA classification. I was yelling with emotions, feeling like I'd completely lost my mind. My husband, sitting next to me, finally pressed "Enter" on the registration form because I was so unsure of myself that I probably wouldn't have done it! :)

At that point, I had no plane tickets, no accommodations—nothing! But I was registered, so I had a goal :). Naturally, the entire trip's organization was handled by the best logistics expert in the world (you won't find another like him—my husband). He managed everything!!! Absolutely everything—flights, accommodations, the race, a visit to the Cape, and even a stopover in Zanzibar. The only thing he couldn't arrange was a teleportation device, so instead, I was "flown" across trillions of kilometers ✈🛫🛬, enduring countless turbulence, topped off by a mid-flight mechanical failure and emergency landing. Hmm… okay, but let's focus on the race. Oh, and yes, the plane story is unfortunately true.

Back to the topic! So, a real opportunity to run on November 30, 2019, in Africa arose. The catch was that I only had 2 months and 2 weeks to prepare, since on September 13, I'd decided to undergo nasal septum surgery :). My trainers had their hands full, and honestly, I owe them a huge thank-you. It was a ridiculously short amount of time to mold someone as physically unprepared as I was into a race-ready runner. All I had going for me was a strong mind. 💪

START

But oh, that head of mine 🤯☠—so "wise" that it only remembered how short my preparation time was when I hit moments on the course where I had no strength left… and there were several of those moments.

Packet Pickup. 🐧 I picked up my race packet two days before the event to avoid stress, check out the starting area, and get the lay of the land. The pickup spot was a clearing with a tent set up, and you could already feel the race atmosphere and the adrenaline building. I just wanted to start running already! 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

Mandatory gear had to be laid out in a container for a thorough check. The staff were very precise. One lady was concerned that my headlamp wasn't battery-powered and kept asking how I would recharge it if it ran out. I confidently assured her that I wouldn't need it. Classic overconfidence! 😉 The gear requirements were strict: a rain jacket (with an inner membrane), a buff for the head, a fully loaded backpack with a hydration bladder, bottles, a cup, an elastic bandage, a rescue blanket, plasters, and, of course, running gear. Thankfully, I had everything.

After the check, you moved with your container to another station. My backpack was tagged with a chip for quick identification on the course. I also received my race number, a t-shirt, and a wristband (mandatory for entering the starting zone). And that was it—now, all that remained was the start.

The Start.
As you can imagine, sleep the night before an event like this is a very relative concept. I was in the starting zone by around 4:15 a.m. Of course, multiple visits to the porta-potties ensued, including right before the start. The area was filled with zombie-like figures shuffling around in the dark, sporting faint smiles that reflected the awareness of what was about to come. The atmosphere, though, was fantastic.

Dawn had not yet broken. The emerging silhouettes of the surrounding mountains ⛰❤ were a vivid reminder of the effort ahead. I wisely positioned myself somewhere in the back third of the group—no need to be in the front row! If I recall correctly, there were over 400 participants on the starting list. Little did I know that there would also be around 50 DNFs (Did Not Finish).

5:00 a.m.—we're off!
Well, "we're off" might be an exaggeration—they blasted off! 💪 Full throttle. I remember reading a race report from a Polish participant who mentioned that some runners were doing 4:30 min/km. Meanwhile, my first kilometer was 5:39, and my second was 5:29. I was screaming internally, Oh my God, oh my God, I know I'll pay for this later, but who cares, I'm flying!

The pace naturally slowed by the third kilometer because the first incline appeared, dropping my speed to 7 or 8 min/km. Still respectable. I couldn't understand why everyone was pushing so hard—until I later realized that the cut-off at the first checkpoint was reportedly quite demanding. But I calculated my chances. I was in it. 😊

10 km

The first checkpoint at 10 km, with a time limit of 1 hour and 50 minutes.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, with all due respect, that seemed easy-peasy. Oh sure, "easy." I ran like a maniac. I overtook people on the descents, cursing at those who slowed me down 😁🤣😜. I was like a feather floating over the rocks… and that's where the grace ended.

My bravado had to come to an end eventually. Somewhere around 5 km, my shoe—along with my foot—got wedged between rocks 😷😡🤬. Twisted ankle 👿. I stopped dead in the middle of the descent. Now, everyone passing me was cursing, asking if I needed help. Well, yes! I'll take a brand-new leg, please! Damn it all! A quick mental reset—think, think… Okay, ice spray, 400 mg of ibuprofen—move, move, because the limit is ticking away!!!

So, hobbling on one leg, I slowly headed downhill 💪. Every step burned, hurt. I warmed up, started moving faster, and thought, Alright, let's go! …and then—goodbye to the other ankle! F**K and all the other colorful words 😡🤬. Total despair. I thought about calling my husband to start looking for another race, maybe somewhere in Egypt or closer to Poland, because what was I going to do without legs? 😥😭.

I kept walking, thinking, then stopped thinking altogether. Running, pushing forward 🏃‍♀️💪. Damn, it still hurt. On the edge of a hill, I saw a girl lying down with a cut on her arm, already receiving help from medics 👨‍⚕️👩‍⚕️. Blood was pouring down… but there was still no checkpoint in sight. I had hit 10 km, and yet it wasn't there!

Where the hell is this checkpoint?! Time was slipping away, the limit was approaching! As I climbed a hill, I saw a woman eating and said, "Ma'am, now is not the time to eat; you've got 8 minutes to reach the checkpoint, or you'll get a DNF!" She looked at me, surprised, "What limit? What DNF?" Oh, what a blissfully unaware person! She stopped eating as soon as she saw everyone around her gritting their teeth and racing toward a checkpoint that still wasn't visible, even though 10 km had long since passed.

Finally, there it was—but at 12 km! A little bonus for us, just for fun. I know that during training, I sometimes add a kilometer or two for good measure, but this was sweet revenge from the trail gods ;).

8 minutes before the cutoff! A whole 8 MINUTES! I made it! 💪 Both ankles were swollen, but thanks to ibuprofen, my brain had triumphed! I didn't call my husband—no need to worry him. I've got this! I'm fighting! 💥

SIGNAL HILL

SIGNAL HILL – first checkpoint conquered! 👌

Everyone leaving the checkpoint is smiling. We're satisfied—no DNFs here! One of the runners says, "Now the real fun begins." My eyes went as wide as Donald Duck's when he saw dollar signs. "What do you mean, 'begins'?!" I asked. "Oh, just the usual—calling for your mom and other saints," the runner replies. "Ah, great," I muttered sarcastically (yep, that's me, the cynic). I laughed to myself—a silly laugh, really 😜. I didn't know what to think about it, so I just stopped thinking and pressed on.

The running was going great—I'd found my rhythm, and nobody was overtaking me :). That was until I glanced to my side and realized I was running along the edge of a mountain with a steep slope, on a narrow path made up of jagged, broken rock slabs.

Pro tip: Never let your head take control of you. My mind got the better of me, and dizziness hit. I lost confidence and slowed down, while the fearless "angels of courage" (as a fellow runner called the others speeding ahead) zoomed across the rocky ledges, barely brushing the ground.

I kept telling myself it would end soon. And finally—finally—it was time for the part I love most: 1,000 meters of climbing. Let's go! 💪⛰

KLOOFNEK 

Second checkpoint—still no DNFs, and now I had a comfortable time buffer.

Unusually for me, I actually stopped at the checkpoint. I refilled my entire hydration bladder with an isotonic drink and filled two soft flasks with water. This was the first race in my life where I ended up drinking about 8 liters of fluids. I didn't even do the refills myself—someone took my backpack, loaded it with everything I needed, and handed it back, ready to go. It was the first time I'd ever experienced something like that. I must have really looked rough :). Here, I turned on my phone and recorded a short video. The section between 800 meters above sea level and the climb to around 1,800 meters was the most breathtaking moment of the race for me. ❤ And no, not just because I passed about 40 people :). It was the 800 to 1,000 meters of steep climbing through a magical landscape of jagged, threatening mountains. A mist hung around them. In the fog, a man played bagpipes. Surrounding me were shouts of encouragement from tourists, and in the distance, the sound of cowbells echoed, signaling the arrival of runners at the summit. A running companion next to me said, "They're playing for us, you know? We need to push for them. You have to give back as much as others give to you." I know that. I know it deeply.

Suddenly, the bagpipe music stopped. The cowbells on the summit fell silent. Everyone stood still. Then, applause erupted. Five seconds of unforgettable magic. Time stood still. The clapping echoed off the rocks. A tear—a first, but not the last—filled my eye. ❤😍 We moved forward. A kind fellow runner I overtook struck up a conversation: "What distance are you running?" He glanced at my bib. "65? Really, you're running 65? Are you sure you can make it? Why are you going so fast?" I smiled and replied, "I'm really not going fast." He waved at me in disbelief as I kept going :). The summit appeared suddenly—and with it, everything I loved about this race was behind me. Ahead of me lay the real ordeal: the descent. 😱 

What happened there is hard to describe. The first round of swearing and calling for mom began, including gems like: "Oh my God, Mommy, I wanna go home, this is insane! I knew it would be hard, but something like this? WTF?" and more. It was a highly technical descent—or, in my case, a slide. Massive boulders, steep drops, and one moment in particular that I'll never forget: the "spider slide." A crevice twice my height with a protruding rock on the ledge, perfectly positioned to skewer anyone careless enough to miss their footing. One wrong move, and it could have ended very badly. My quads were on fire. Let's face it—I can't descend worth a damn, and that's just the way it is :).

12 kilometers of descent—2 hours! A personal record. I'm a true master of descending… slower than I climb. But hey, only 10 people passed me, so clearly, it wasn't just my "fantastic abilities" that made it tough for everyone. Along the way, I passed Plattekip George and Table Mountain. At one of these checkpoints, I committed a sin—I gorged on watermelon 🍉🍉🍉. I don't even know how much I ate, but it was a lot—so much that 10 minutes after leaving the station, I had to find a secluded spot among the cacti 🌵🌴🌲 to deal with the aftermath. It wasn't pretty. From a distance, fellow runners shouted, asking if I needed help, as I was clearly visible among the cacti. I had to yell back, assuring them I could handle it ;). Crisis averted, I "sped" onward. During this stretch, if I recall correctly, I was passed by Dominika Stelmach. I greeted her and wished her luck, which she kindly returned, saying she would definitely need it. Later, I listened to her post-race report with bated breath, where she called this race the hardest of her life. Hearing that somehow made me feel much better 😌. This section was peculiar because yet another descent appeared on the horizon. My salvation came in the form of trees, where I discovered a new technique I now call "Tarzaning." This advanced running method involves grabbing onto branches and swinging downward over several boulders. To my surprise, it quickly caught on with nearby runners :). After successfully escaping this tricky situation, I began "racing" to the next checkpoint. Finally, I reached Alephen Trail. 💪

ALPHEN TRAIL

According to the map, it was supposed to be around 42 km, but on my watch, it was already closer to 45. Well, it's a trail race, so no surprises there :). I reached the checkpoint, and who do I see? My husband! That moment brought me so much joy ❤😍.

The lady at the station once again took my backpack off, asked what needed refilling, loaded it back onto my shoulders, and encouraged me to rest—or even take a nap if I wanted—since I was 2 hours ahead of the cutoff. Sitting down wasn't an option for me, though; my muscles cool down way too quickly.

My husband reassured me, saying I only had about 20 km left. But I knew those wouldn't be "just" 20 km. This was supposed to be the moment where I "turned on the rockets." That's usually how it goes for me—the longer the race, the stronger I feel. But not this time. The rockets were out of fuel. My quads, burnt out from the descents, and my toes—or what was left of them—were screaming.

So, I switched to my tried-and-true mode: slowly, but surely. The next section started pleasantly, with a gentle incline. It felt blissful—the terrain leveled out into smaller rocks, and I managed to find a light rhythm again. Familiar faces from earlier in the race began appearing around me. We were all sticking together by this point.

I made it to the final checkpoint at University of Cape Town. Only 10 km left. So many thoughts raced through my head, but one stood out above the rest: I will finish this. Even if I have to crawl on all fours, I will finish this. 💪

The course was straightforward: a gentle incline followed by "just" a descent. But every rock, every step up or down, caused me pain. I gritted my teeth, knowing the finish line was only one step away.

Just before the finish, I missed a turn and ran in the wrong direction. A runner behind me called out to me, and I shouted back a quick, "Thank you! Keep going!" But do you know what he said? "No, you deserve to finish ahead of me, not the other way around." 😮 He waited for me to return and then followed behind me.

In those conditions, I finally reached the finish line. I covered my face with my hands, unable to believe that I had conquered this race. For the first time after receiving a medal, I cried. ❤

FINISH

If you want to experience a running adventure in Africa, face challenging conditions, fall and rise, die and be reborn, I wholeheartedly recommend ❤ Ultra Trail Cape Town. I believe this race will push you to your limits but will also leave you with memories of something extraordinary and unparalleled.

Registrations open on March 3, 2020! 👉 https://www.ultratrailcapetown.com/.

Next step: fighting for health! Maybe I'll manage to achieve something by the end of the year. I've decided to skip such fantastic opportunities this spring as:

South America: Running in Chilean Patagonia at Ultra Fiord – April 24–25. 👉 https://www.ultrafiord.com/

New Zealand:
👉 https://www.taraweraultra.co.nz/
👉 https://motatapu.com/event-summary/ultra-run

USA:
👉 https://worldsmarathons.com/marathon/berryman-trail?q=ultra_marathon
👉 Antelope Canyon: https://itra.run/race/2020/71-antelope-canyon/3498-50-mile?fbclid=IwAR08osxB0HwCoENzgJ_24yOdX4TcNr4K8GPTyUOIRnGaZeYSK6TyycnhuGY

Australia:
👉 https://www.ultratrailaustralia.com.au/

As for China—well, let's maybe skip that one for now ;).

If you've made it to the end of this report—congratulations! Ihaaa :) Take care, and see you in Episode #3 of this series. #utct 🎉