Season 2014

[Bierzo Baggie]

Race 2.
Xabalín trail.

“Xabalín” means baby boar and the woods above Rimor are infested with the little beauties. This is a new race on the agenda and it was a very pleasant surprise.

Thoroughly enjoyed the route although my legs were still sore from the Alto Sil 2 weeks previously. Recovery takes a lot longer these days.

Discovered a few new paths and trails. Many of them have been named and framed by the thriving mountain bike community. The longest and most spectacular one was called K2. You may well guess why. The descent cuts a near vertical line through a dense forest of dwarf oak. Here I lost control of my legs and instinctively grabbed out at passing branches to slow me down. One gnarled stump was so rotten it snapped in my hand and I ran 20 yards brandishing a tree. One more for the bizarre moments collection.

Not for the first time my legs took such a battering that the upper quad muscles cramped up near the end. Ran a section backwards which seemed to put everything back in place.

Post-race lunch in Rimor village square with a delicious wild boar and bean stew. Yum yum.

2 hours 48 minutes,
67th out of 91 finishers.

[Bierzo Baggie]

The next 2 races (both in April) were the only ones in which I managed to finish halfway up the field.

Race 3. Cacabelos 10k
It’s a 3-lap road race.
It’s friendly.
It’s free.
Paced it well and finished in 46 minutes, a few seconds faster than last year.
Quite happy about that.
German, “the old fox” beat me though. We tend to run the same races and always have a bit of a tussle, so much so that his friends have started calling him “el británico”.
The old fox has turned 60 but shows no sign of slowing down.

Race 4. La Tebaida Berciana.
An old favourite and an ideal sort of route for me, with slow gradual climbs and abrupt descents. Prefer it like this and not the other way around. Again, slightly faster than last year through better pace judgement and through walking in the right places.
Coincided briefly with “the mighty Susana,” the top lady mountain runner in these parts for many years. When the going gets slightly technical Susana skips away like a gazelle. But there is so much more competition these days and she’s not even top-3 this time.

2 hours 48 minutes, exactly the same time as at the Xabalín trail.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Race 5. Truchillas again.

At least I made it on time to this year’s race.

I never described last year’s nightmare journey. Encountered unexpected roadworks and had to improvise an alternative route along unfamiliar roads with no map.
Each sleeping village had one human inhabitant.
Each single inhabitant pushed a wheelbarrow stacked high with cabbages.
When I asked one old guy for the best way to Truchillas he lowered his wheelbarrow and eyed me suspiciously. Then he squinted upwards at a distant rocky crag that hung from the sky.
“It’s up over the other side of them up there” he said, pausing to look at my car, “but I wouldn’t recommend it...”

This year the road was finished.

Have been using a pair of thinly soled INOVs this year which enable me to descend like a madman. But I suspect a bit less speed and a bit more cushioning might be appropriate at my age. The minimalist craze may be of great benefit for some, I’m sure, but I suspect that it will also cripple thousands. The Truchillas course is hard and stony.. Each step downwards sent shudders along my spine. I fell a couple of times on easy ground, I think I was dragging my feet a bit as a result of backache. Descended very carefully fearing more falls.
Struggled around in 3 and a half hours, a full 40 minutes slower than 2 years ago.
160th out of 192.

[glaconman]

Thanks for updating with your races BB. Good to see you're still going strong. I think running backwards is an interesting way of addressing failing muscles. A friend of mine did the same thing in a mountain bike sportive.

Agree with the shoes thing. I bought some shiney new light inovs but they are only good on grassy races. On rocky descents they are murder for my ageing body.

Thanks again.

[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.

[Bierzo Baggie]

And yes CharlieCat, there was free beer at the end, cans of San Miguel in ice buckets. You could have as many as you wanted. I managed 2, but then I'm a lightweight!

[glaconman]

After 12 hours on my feet I would probably manage a couple. That is a big effort. Outstanding.

[Charliecat5]

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

The Aquilianos stretched out like an invitation to oblivion.

But all I could think was that this might have been my final Aquilianos.
This crazy self-abuse must stop.

You are really not selling it to me!

However, if I do decide to take part in this madness, you're joining me!!

[Bierzo Baggie]

However, if I do decide to take part in this madness, you're joining me!!

A declaration of intent if ever there was one
Better get training with the beers and cream cakes

[Bierzo Baggie]

Time trials

2 more events to write up. One of them was a week before the Aquilianos. At just over a kilometre it was considerably shorter.

The uphill only time trial (“carrera vertical”) is a relatively new discipline that is growing in popularity. It is spectacular, explosive and spectator friendly. It almost always takes you up a mountain. Participants set off at intervals of 1 minute or 30 seconds and you run/walk what is usually quite a short distance until a summit. Respective times are taken, calculated and finally orded into a classification. The event in its most popular format is the vertical kilometre where the height gain must be at least 1000m

[Bierzo Baggie]

Carrera Vertical Monte Pajariel.
1.3 km 300m ascent.
Here and at long last I managed to lure my bohemian Dutch friend into this murky subculture.

I had spoken many times to Roland of “the races” but he remained unconvinced, despite the innate climbing powers of the man.
“It all sounds me a bit competitive, I did once a half marathon in Holland and....”
“But Rolly,” I said “this is Bierzo, these races are more radical than road running. Hey, this is more subversive than a smoky Amsterdam coffeeshop. You’ll get high just running, errr ......no shit”

My powers of persuasion worked and Rolly rose to the bait.

We met up on the bridge. Only 12 other people showed up but that didn’t matter. El Che was organizing. El Che is an Argentinian running freak who can disappear for days on end. He knows thse hills better than anybody. The clock would start at the river and we would trudge up the CRAZY MOUNTAIN BIKER’S DESCENT to the antenna at the top of Monte Pajariel. The bikers call this trickle of a path “La puta que me parió.” Stick it in Google translate if you really want to know.

Anyway, I set off a minute before Roland. After a mere 5 minutes I could hear him breathing down my neck. Hats off to Van the Man, at this rate he’d take 3 or 4 minutes off me. Impressive. He passed me. One nil to Holland.

But as I suspected Roland paid for his early enthusiasm and I caught up with him on the steeper section in the middle where perhaps I had a stronger walking pace. Then just near the top the path flattened briefly before joining the firebreak to the summit. Here the Dutch master wound up those long legs and steamed past me for the second time eyes bulging, tongue out, like Arjen Robben on a mission to hell.

I had no answer.
There was no answer.,

At the top we both got our breath back. I suspected that Roland would probably never run another race.

“You’re a wasted talent,” I said.

“Yeah, ...wasted.”

[El Gordo]

Marvellous stuff, as ever, and yet more wacky characters to add to the cast list. Great to see Los Aquilianos still figuring, and admire/envy the writing economy. Not that I need convincing but Less is truly More in this area too. I will never learn, but long may these masterclasses continue. Thanks.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Thanks Andy, that is praise indeed. It's all pretty simple stuff and I am certainly envious of the sheer range of language you and Sweder use.
It's funny, my job as a teacher over here is usually to do the opposite, to simplify and reduce language to a bare, functional medium of communication. Anyway, I'm looking forward to reading your next updates. We're due a new installment! Would love to walk those Swiss trails one day....

One more race to report from a couple of weeks ago.

And as expected my friend Roland declined the invitation for a rematch..

and yet more wacky characters to add to the cast list.

I would never risk calling any of the Capelo brothers wacky. Not one of “Los Capelos” is even the slightest bit wacky. Just hard.
There are at least 5 of them. Each one is cast from an identical mould in reenforced concrete. I have mentioned them before in The Football Diaries but that was a long time ago.

At some time or other I played either with or against all or them. Capelo Senior was “el legionario” and as a footballer was the best of the bunch. This was despite having only one arm. The other one had been blown off by a misplaced hand-grenade.

During one game I had the misfortune to clash heads with Capelo Junior. It left me with a golf-ball sized lump on the side of my head. Capelo junior came out unscathed. But I apologized just in case.

Capelo number 3 (or 4) is “el atleta” and my travelling partner for the next race. He was working on building sites around Geneva in the 80s and here he trained with Kenyans. Despite being no “speedster” (more of a “blood and guts” sort of runner) in Switzerland he got his 10k time down to 31 minutes and won a few minor races.
I’ve always said that Capelo is made for mountain running. He has very short legs and a high pain threshold. But with a fairly physical job and 3 kids to feed he’s always been a tad wary of the more extreme end of the offroad racing spectrum. A Capelo would never do things by halves and the risks would not be worth taking.

The Catoute Vertical kilometre is another uphill only time trail, 6K on the ground but with 1000m vertical climb. I know the route well and try to come here at least once a year. Catoute is perhaps the emblematic peak in El Bierzo, the one that every true Bierzo-man should one day climb.

The climb starts in the village of Colinas del Campo de Martin Moro Toledano which is the longest name for a village in all of Spain. Not bad, but it’s not a patch on Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch is it?
And it hasn’t got a railway station.

We set off from Colinas in pairs. My partner had about 100m on me before we’d even left the village. Was overtaken costantly by the better runners who started behind me. And Capelo was a full 24 minutes behind me so my mission was to get to the top before him. In the end it was a close thing. There was livestock amongst the race prizes and one of his brothers works in the village abbatoir so Capelo was especially motivated.

Paced it well though and arrived with 5 minutes to spare. Enough time to enjoy the marvellous views from the top and cast an eye out for future route possibilites. Then came the worst part, descending with Capelo. The race had finished and he was wearing road shoes but the guy still motored along. Managed to follow him though. At a distance.

The best part was the post-race food back in the village and the prize giving.

First prize was a lamb.
Second prize was a chicken.
Third prize was a rabbit.
And yes, more free beer..

Catoute Vertical, 1 hour 24 minutes: 79th out of 95.



They don't exactly look overwhelmed do they?

[El Gordo]

Thanks Andy, that is praise indeed. It's all pretty simple stuff and I am certainly envious of the sheer range of language you and Sweder use.
It's funny, my job as a teacher over here is usually to do the opposite, to simplify and reduce language to a bare, functional medium of communication. Anyway, I'm looking forward to reading your next updates. We're due a new installment! Would love to walk those Swiss trails one day....

My job also involves editing/rewriting the work of others, and the irony is that I'm always trying to bang out the "less is more" lesson (particularly to my German colleagues who love over-complex, technical language). Physician heal thyself.

I try. A few weeks ago, I wanted to post a brief review of "Boyhood", a movie that I knew would cause a stir, but which I managed to see in a preview several weeks before it was due for release in the UK. So I wrote my brief review, which then expanded to talk about going to the cinema in Switzerland, which then became something else entirely, and currently is about 3,500 words -- and unposted while I think about where my India photographs may be stored. Yes, India photographs. It's my self-diagnosed Adult ADHD. Nothing is fixed; nothing remains what it was 2 minutes ago, never mind yesterday or last week.

As for walks, I have 2 unposted pieces about legs 4 and 5 of my walk, the second of which was quite dramatic, as in life-and-death dramatic (sort of). If I stuck to the walk it would be OK, but I had to meander to Everest and beyond, and this is where it gets out of control. And there's the trip to Dacchau and Bayern Munich, semi-finished but not delivered. Maybe when the moment has passed... the moment has passed. At the minimum, I must get the cinema one up.

Anyway, I can assure you there are plenty of people here who love those quirky tales of Spanish hill running, so please continue. Must dig out the earlier reference to Los Capelos. And thanks heavens for Googlegogogoch, eh?

Fantastic picture, by the way. "Fantastic" as in... what fantastic means.

[marathondan]

They don't exactly look overwhelmed do they?

It doesn't help that the chicken appears to have shat down the silver medallist's shorts. You don't (quite) get that at the Commonwealth Games.

I think one of the reasons your reports are entertaining is the ratio of running to backstory. In your 600+ word post, there are only 3 or so sentences about how the race was for you. I guess the lesson for us all is to get out there into the community, and we too might meet one-armed footballers and end up racing for sheep.

Well done on the race, an impressive climb. Almost as impressive as the way you typed that Welsh village name from memory. (Like I manually counted the words in your post.)

[marathondan]

I try. A few weeks ago, I wanted to post a brief review of "Boyhood", a movie that I knew would cause a stir, but which I managed to see in a preview several weeks before it was due for release in the UK. So I wrote my brief review, which then expanded to talk about going to the cinema in Switzerland, which then became something else entirely, and currently is about 3,500 words -- and unposted while I think about where my India photographs may be stored.

Perhaps you should be splitting these K-word drafts into several posts? I seem to recall that you once were hauled in by the Blog Police, telling you that posts over 700 words actually contravene the Geneva Convention, or something like that. One piece for the review, one piece on cinemas in Switzerland, one piece on your photography filing system (can't wait), and so on.

[El Gordo]

Too sensible.

[marathondan]

Too sensible.

Better!

[El Gordo]

Thing is, they all 'start off short'. 500 word target. I know the [an] answer, but don't want to hijack BB's thread further. Will keep trying. And thanks for the encouragement.

[Sweder]

Maybe when the moment has passed... the moment has passed.

Aye, and there's the rub. I feel this, as they might say in The Wire.
If I hold on to a piece, even long enough to edit typos, it starts to lose its life-force. If I sat on one for a week I'd never post it. There's no logic here - no-one else knows when the event occurred, so the timing of it, the gap between event, writing and publishing, is, in most cases, irrelevant.

The juice that powers my 'pen' also drives the desire to post it. Once that's run out, like Mr Toad, I'm already on to the next 'thing'. ADHD indeed.

Oh and I concur with EG, BB. Your stuff is by far the most compelling here. You have a clear voice, something someone around here once told me is the key to great writing. I look forward to these madcap Iberian adventures with all the goggle-eyed enthusiasm of a young boy off to Saturday Morning Pictures.