Season 2014

[Bierzo Baggie]

Thanks for updating with your races BB. Good to see you're still going strong.

Still going ......but "strong" isn't the word I would have used Glaconman

Aquilianos 2014
This time it hurt.

Every 2 years I do the long route whatever my physical condition at the time. Must confess that this year I thought twice.

But at 5:45 in the morning I was there again in the main square waiting like a condemned man.
So many familiar faces that it was impossible not to be pulled along. There was Ruben the Russian, Cake-Boy, Domingo the mountain goat, Albino, the fat man from the Dominican Republic, Felix the Cat, ex-football friends and foes... etc, etc.. There were lots of new runners and walkers, more lady runners than ever too, the offroad scene is in full boom and full bloom.

With such merriment all around the first 4 hours passed relatively painlessly. But then came the big big climb, the defining moment of this event. At the risk of repeating myself after so many years, the ascent of the Mare’s Saddle is one evil bastard of a climb. It’s one unremitting, unforgiving, relentless, dismal pile of debris, an ugly 2000m slagheap, a beast. There is but one exit point as the ascent passes just above the lonely Morredero road but otherwise you are on your own.
Everybody is using Nordic walking poles these days but I stubbornly resist. I prefer to rummage through the bushes on hands and knees in search of a good old fashioned stick. Unfortunately I left it late and all the trees were by this time far below. Eventually came up with a gnarled, twisted branch that snapped in two after 5 minutes. This left me with a half-stick. It was a sign of my desperation that I kept it. It was only good for a bit of symbolic rock prodding. Or perhaps I could tie my t-shirt to it and use it to flag down a rescue helicopter.

After 2 hours of mindless plodding with a ridiculous stick I was at the top. The Aquilianos stretched out like an inviation to oblivion. Mist swept in across the line of peaks and my hands went numb. Hurled the stick and tried to get moving as quickly as possibe. But my right knee screamed disagreement and descending was agony over stones and rock. Somehow got up and down the 3 remaining peaks and reached the sanctuary of the pine woods just below La Aquiana. And pine woods can only mean one thing. Sticks. Big, healthy sticks, strong and meaty, like a stick should be. Grabbed the finest specimin I could find and it took the weight off my beleaguered knee. In fact it got me home.

By the time I’d teamed up with Albino (lame like me) and his sidekick Javier I was hopping along in an altogether better frame of mind. We walked from Ferradillo to Ponferrada in 2 and a half hours and to be honest I wouldn’t have run it much faster by that stage anyway.

As we passed the castle on the home straight my companions broke out into a trot. I could barely follow them. Albino unfurled the flag of El Bierzo as we entered the square. But all I could think was that this might have been my final Aquilianos.
This crazy self-abuse must stop.
11 hours 52 minutes.