June.To run or not to run?

[Bierzo Baggie]

Ho hum, it's June.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Hopped across the river and onto Monte Pajariel. Joined up with a barechested runner on the first slopes of the Toral trail. Rarely run accompanied on Pajariel and I probably went a shade too fast.
The hillside is still beautiful. The white rockrose has had its moment of glory and purple foxgloves now take centre stage. Struggled back from Toral de Merayo along the country lanes. Its hot and breezeless. Tried to imagine the last 10k of the Toral de los Vados marathon in this heat. Couldn’t.
45 minutes.

[Bierzo Baggie]

It's the annual Montes Aquilianos route tomorrow. A fast walk or a slow run? It's a good test to see if I'm in any condition to run Toral de los Vados in 3 week's time and the sooner I'm back home the better. Might end up running it or at least part of it.

[Bierzo Baggie]

This is one I never miss and it’s difficult to classify. A long walk? An ultra-mountain marathon? A non-competitive hike? Whatever you call it, it generates addiction and you usually end up coming back for more.

The Aquilianos Challenge started 10 years ago as an all-day endurance test for walkers and mountaineers but has evolved into something resembling a race. Local runners compete for the honour of getting around the course in the fastest time. Others (myself included) repeat year after year and try to improve their Aquilianos PB.

There are two options. For the so-called “long route” (and it’s long…66km with over 2500m of vertical climbing) the challenge lies just in getting round within the 16 hours time limit. Walking all the way at a good pace with few stops you’ll finish in about 15. The second, more humane option is of 44kms and avoids the 4 mountain peaks that you must conquer in the long route but it still involves 1200m of climbing. I’m down for the “short” route this year.

Saturday morning. 5a.m. and the alarm clock rings. Didn’t actually need it as baby Lara had already woken us for an early morning feed. Promised to be back for lunch and headed up to the town hall where 350-odd participants were already mulling around in the darkness. Some are dressed for walking with lightweight mountain gear, walking poles and light rucksacks whilst others are dressed for competition with state of the art off-road running shoes, shorts, vests and water-bottles tucked into bum-belts. Amongst many familiar faces there are a mixture of speedy road runners and grisly fell-runners. Say hello to the ones I know. Tino Pinilla the miner (I wonder if he’ll work a full shift the next day) Pedro the lumberjack, Carlos the copper and his sidekick Ignacio the string-bean. This year I can also see seasoned athletes (young and old) who don’t normally take part in such rugged events. Luciano the dentist for instance is a sub 2:40 marathon runner and Chus Alonso was a recent Spanish half marathon vet 40+ champ. Lots of lyra-clad girls too and others who I see on my Monte Pajariel jaunts such as Eduardo “lord of the paths” who is one of the founding fathers of the event.

6 a.m. and we’re off. The runners disappear into the darkness leaving a cloud of dust and the smell of muscle-rub. Of about 350 starters maybe 50 tear off as if it were an Olympic 1500m final. I join the walkers with Val, a friend from the town of La Bañeza and with Paco from Seville. The early morning air is cool and pleasant and after half an hour the dawn chorus is in full song and the first rays of sunlight bathe the surrounding vineyards. The Aquilianos range lies ahead distant and unattainable. I’m glad I’m not going there this year.

We press on, first climbing the northern flank of Monte Pajariel and then dropping down to the narrow valley behind. Dad would have loved it. I curse Ben Nevis. We follow the course of the River Oza until the first food and drinks station and then a short, stiff climb takes us over to the next valley. Two villages follow, Valdefrancos and San Clemente both hemmed into little valleys where time has stood still. Houses cluster together with thick stone walls and huge wooden beams supporting roofs of coarsely cut slate, much of the villages seem to be built from locally extracted materials from the pre-concrete era.
Finally leave the stream for another tough climb which takes us up to 1000m and the semi-abandoned village of Montes de Valdueza and another medieval time-warp. Here after 20km is the second food and drinks station and it marks the point where long and short routes part company (up to now everybody has followed the same path). Picked up a small rucksack and after a stop of about 20 minutes (must admit, I got stuck into the sandwiches) we set off again, this time climbing through a dense wood of chestnut and hazelnut. Here it is dark and humid but we eventually come out onto a wide forest trail bathed in sunlight. Above us is a series of rocky crags which the locals call “the 12 apostles” and somewhere above the apostles are Pedro the lumberjack, Carlos the copper and other long route participants hammering it out over the highest peaks.

Once we have reached the highest point of our circuit and the track levels out I start to alternate walking with a bit of running. Leave Paco and Val who plan to make a day of it and head towards the abandoned village of Ferradillo. Ferradillo is one of my favourite places, a secluded ghost town of crumbling houses and an empty church, all in the shadow of the serrated limestone edge which I can see from my kitchen window far below in Ponferrada. Its last inhabitants descended to less inhospitable locations at the start of the 80s and it defies belief that people actually chose to live in such a remote spot in the first place. No road, 6 month winters, no electricity and no piped water. The only ones who stayed on were the cows who congregate in the shade of a small copse and observe the procession of strange grunting humans running past in the midday sun with numbers on there chests. Very odd. Moo.

Look at my watch. It’s 11:30. Other years by the time I reach Ferradillo my legs are too tired to tackle the 600m of vertical descent that follows with any guarantee of safety and my progress involves a succession of stumbling, lurching movements made whilst trying not to break an ankle or my neck. This time, having walked for much of the way my legs feel stronger and I feel confident enough to attempt a fell-runner’s descent and for once, I actually enjoyed it. Almost an hour of leaping, jumping, sliding and at times almost flying. With practice your descent technique improves and your ankles grow stronger and probably for the first time ever I feel really confident. I almost feel like a fell runner. Reach the final drinks station and then the final section is the familiar Monte Pajariel trail which I run every week. It’s hotter down here and with the battering my legs have taken I slow down considerably but still manage to run the flat and downhill bits.

A spot of the usual rock hopping takes me across the river to Ponferrada and then up past the castle to the town hall where it all started. The first three runners from the long route (remember, that’s 22km and 4 mountains more than mine!) have already arrived and look as fresh as daisies. Carlos the copper and Ignacio string-bean crossed the finish line in 6:45 and Pedro the lumberjack was only 2 minutes behind them, demonstrating the clear superiority of the fell runners on their own terrain. Local hero Chus Alonso, a full one hour faster than Pedro in a road marathon, gave up at the first summit and Luciano the dentist fell in the first 10km. He managed to finish but ended up with 7 stitches in his face. Tino Pinilla got lost after Ferradillo and was found in some far flung village hours later.

My final time for the short route was a discreet 7:15. More importantly I got home for lunch as promised and in the afternoon we pushed the pram up to the town hall to watch the constant trickle of Aquilianos survivors shuffling home, applauded by the people on the café terraces or by the other finishers who had stayed on for a post-event beer or two. This continued until the limit time of 10 o’clock by which time we’d gone home again. Lara didn’t seem very interested and fell asleep.

Total running time. Probably between 2 and 3 hours running, usually downhill. Does that count as a long one?

[Bierzo Baggie]

Slipped out for half an hour around the canal. Saturday’s “walk” has left me with aching quads (from the hills) and aching arms (main shock absorbers in the great descent). Didn’t feel too bad at first but realized that it was only because the wind was behind me. Ran back along the canal which was virtually dry. The April and May showers were abundant but short-lived and a warm, dry wind from the south seemed to be whispering the dreaded word “drought”.
Running time 30 mins. Hot again.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Ran around the river. A couple of fishermen were out up to their waists in the water looking for trout.
Saw a big, fat lizard in the shadows under one of the 4 bridges I must run under. It wasn’t a common wall lizard. They dart and scurry about. This was green and it waddled.
Frogs croaked higher up-river and ducked into the water as I approached.
39 minutes. Hot.

[Riazor Blue]

If it's hot for running here in Coruña it must be murder where you are. Looking on the bright side, it's a chance to get a bit of sun on the shoulders and the views along the seafront have also improved. Sounds fun the Aquilianos Challenge.

[Nigel]

Hola muchachos ! I'm going to find out about that heat, too.

Flying to Madrid on Friday afternoon and then to San Leonardo de Yagüe (Soria) and Covarrubias (Burgos) for a couple of days relaxing and looking at some rocks in the Lands of El Cid. Might get a run in at sunset on Saturday, if the bar does not call too loudly.

Then back to Madrid on Monday for a conference next week, staying on the Plaza de España.

Qué divertido - y casi no puedo esperar ! What fun - and I can hardly wait !

[Antonio247]

Congratulations on your long walk in the mountains last Saturday and baby, B.B.

Have a good time, Nigel! It´s a pity you´re going to be so far away but I´m sure you´ll like Castilla León a lot. If you were nearer, you could come to Albacete half marathon on Sunday in Castilla La Mancha.

http://www.carreraspopulares.com/carrera...rtada.html



¡Que lo pases muy bien, Nigel! Saludos a tus niños.

Saludos desde Almería

[Bierzo Baggie]

Hi Antonio! Any advice about running in the heat? You must be used to it down in Almeria.

Early morning run on Monte Pajariel. Out at 7, a rarity for me, but it’s the only sensible option, both home-wise and weather-wise. Don’t let them kid you. It might feel great on the beach but for much of inland Spain the climate is one of horrendous extremes, baking hot for half the year and freezing cold for the rest. Bierzo is no exception and everybody is predicting a long, dry Summer.
The morning air was cool though, and heavy with more scents than words to describe them. There was nobody about except for the early birds looking for worms. Saw the silhouette of a bird of prey above the river. And not a lot else. I’m generally sluggish and less observant at this time.
Running time 45 minutes. Knee ached on the hills...always a bad sign 2 weeks before a marathon.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Off road running is tough but fun.
Road running is just tough.
Set out to run for a couple of hours along some totally flat country roads. Followed the Bierzo canal which is not the irrigation ditch of my half hour jaunts but a bigger “channel” that irrigates innumerable rows of tidily placed fruit trees. The “reineta” varieties of apples and pears is king in these parts (the low-lying agricultural “basin” of central Bierzo) and the harvest in September is a spectacle only rivalled by the “vendimia” grape harvest in the surrounding foothills. Today I’m more interested in kilometres than apples and pears. I’ve put in more pram miles than running miles in the last month or so and I wanted to see how I coped with a couple of hours non-stop road running. Predictably, not too well.

The country roads I use are long, straight and seemingly never-ending. Any bend is a distant point on the horizon which you only get to by playing mind games. Gone are the happy distractions of trail-running, a new landscape from a new perspective every 5 minutes, a bird here, a flowering plant there. This is the empty road with its anonymous grey tarmac, the regular, rhythmic pounding of feet, the bread and butter of preparing for a road marathon. I’d actually forgotten how much I hated it.

After about an hour I met the only other runner about this Sunday morning. It was mighty Miguel Basurko, the butcher of Villafranca, a hardy sub-species of the runner-hispanica commonly known as the Bierzo ultra-runner. First met Miguel about 10 years ago when I used to join him for a few lunchtime laps of the park. As he got faster I occasionally resorted to using my mountain bike to accompany him along the paths and trails near his village. Eventually I couldn’t even keep up with him on the bike. Anyway, Miguel will be there at Toral de los Vados as he has been for the last 15 years or so. Ran with him for 10 minutes which was a big mistake as it left me extremely knackered and the last 45 minutes were an authentic torture. Did a section of the marathon route between Dehesas and La Martina by which time it felt as if I’d slowed to a sub-walking pace.

On the positive side I got around without walking and probably averaged 5 minute kms overall. No aches and pains either.
On the negative side the mere thought of running another 18+ kms in a marathon with the thermometers only going upwards fills me with horror. Best not to think about it.
Sod “tapering”… I’ll try again next Sunday.
Running time: 2 hours 2 minutes.

[El Gordo]

After about an hour I met the only other runner about this Sunday morning. It was mighty Miguel Basurko, the butcher of Villafranca, a hardy sub-species of the runner-hispanica commonly known as the Bierzo ultra-runner.

I love the sound of these characters.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Basurko I think I've mentioned before. You could fill a book with anecdotes about mighty Miguel. Here are a few.

He started out as a mountain biker and a rock climber. Miguel lives in the village of Villafranca del Bierzo which like Ponferrada has a castle. What is unusual about the castle of Villafranca is that it's still inhabited. It belongs to the renowned Spanish classical music composer Cristobel Halffter and Miguel as a kid used to use it as a climbing tower. More than once, the white-haired old composer on glancing through one of the castle windows looking for musical inspiration came face to face with a young scally with climbing gear scaling one of his castle walls. You can imagine the conversation.
"Get off my castle you scoundral!"
Miguel also climbed in the nearby "Picos de Europa". Once he was trapped alone on a rocky ledge for 2 days and was rescued by a couple of English climbers.

He got into running in one of the early editions of the marathon of Toral de los Vados. He ran it underage, in 3 and a half hours and crossed the finishing line in tears. But the experience changed his life and he soon came back for more.

One curious thing about Miguel is that if he didn't run he'd probably be quite fat. He's the antithesis of your typical skinny distance runner with his bulky frame and legs like tree trunks. He soon realized that he'd always lack the speed to compete at the marathon distance and opted to specialize in the gruelling ultra competitions where mental toughness comes more into play. He also found he was good at it.

Over the last 10 years he's represented Spain over 100kms on a handful of occasions and has competed in 24 hour endurance events. However, Miguel remains a romantic at heart. He's never had a coach and always trains by himself combining mammoth distance sessions with shop hours in the butcher's and regular visits to the local abbatoir. No shortage of meat then to stock up on calories. The local dish is called the "botillo" and resembles a haggis with pork instead of sheep. The first time I tasted this was at Miguel's mum's place where I bore witness to the huge quantities of food that this man can put away.

Miguel's race selection criteria often has more to do with the curiosity factor than the cash prizes on offer. In recent years he's finished second in the Sahara marathon (a race staged in solidarity with the Saharawis, victims of a forgotten war with Morocco). The entire 42kms were run in a vicious sandstorm. Then there were top ten finishes in an ultra race along the Danube and “the Spartathlon” in Greece, which follows Pheidippides’ original marathon course (all 246kms of it!). He also ran the entire St James' Way across northern Spain, that’s over 800kms in just 9 days (the same time it took me to do it on a racing bike).

The Forrest Gump analogy is probably a bit too obvious. I prefer to see Miguel as a Don Quijote figure, a runner-adventurer battling with windmills, exhibiting the purity and true grit of a fell runner whilst seeing the world and rather enjoying himself in the process. In this cynical and corrupt day and age of drug fuelled Olympic athletes and millionaire sponsorship deals the essence of sport can still be found in a haggis eating ultra-distance running Bierzo butcher. Maybe I'm idealizing a bit but I suppose I'm an unabashed romantic too.

Last year Miguel heard about the London to Brighton race, probably the oldest ultra-race in the world. He just had to go and try it and ended up finishing third. I suppose nobody had a clue who he was, some bearded Spanish guy who didn't speak a word of English. But sure enough he was back at the meat counter on Monday morning. As I said, you could write a book....

[Peterward2]

Definitely Bierzo what an interesting character.

Pete

[El Gordo]

Fantastic stuff, BB, thanks for taking the time to tell us about him. He sounds like a fascinating guy.

Nothing wrong with being an unabashed romantic round these parts.

[Antonio247]

Very interesting report about Miguel, B.B.! ´

Best of luck tomorrow at Toral de los Vados marathon! I´d like to try it one year. I´ve heard the atmosphere is great.


Saludos desde Almería

Antonio

[Bierzo Baggie]

Thanks Antonio (although it's not tomorrow, it's next Sunday) one for 2006 maybe?

I’ve just re-read what I wrote about the mighty Basurko. Forgot to mention that he’s also an excellent bloke with his feet very much on the ground. There’s the temptation to equate ultra running with obsessive running and although I’m sure there’s an element of truth here, Miguel himself would say “a lot of people spend 2 or 3 hours a day watching TV or playing on the playstation. I just go for a run. Who’s more obsessive?”
Last year he still managed to find time to start a family and open up his own butcher’s shop. When I saw him last Sunday he said that he’d wanted to run London to Brighton again this year but with the baby, the new shop, fewer training hours available, a niggling injury here and there....he’ll be there at Toral though.

[Bierzo Baggie]

My own running.
Last week.
Tuesday. Round the river. It was cooler and so I pushed it. 36 mins.
Wednesday and Thursday. Nothing. Must face reality. 7am midweek or nowt.
Friday. Managed 30 minutes around the canal. OK, but it’s hardly marathon training.
Saturday. Out at 8:30. The same 2 hour route as last Sunday. Already hot and I’m soon running shirtless. Lots of folk about fumigating fruit trees.
Running time, 1 hour 57 mins. Felt a bit better than last week at least.

Am convinced that 2 hours running alone along roads is much harder psychologically than 2 hours on the trails, hills and all. Maybe it’s because with road running you feel obliged to keep going, not to stop, banging out the same rhythm mile after mile. Offroad, the terrain may be rougher and hillier but at the same time it’s somehow more laid back, less masochistic. The emphasis is on enjoying yourself...I think.

Sunday. No running tomorrow. It’s Lara’s christening at a little catholic church on the St James’ Way. But that’s for the baby diary....

[Bierzo Baggie]

“To run or not to run: that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to stay at home on Sunday morning and look after the baby or whether to take arms against the marathon of Toral de los Vados. Alas poor Yorik I knew his sister,”...err sorry, Shakespearean hallucinations. It must be all this heat.

Finally paid in the 18 euros entry fee for the Toral marathon and then sent on the entry form via fax (curiously the fax number they gave me was for a local ham wholesaler’s). 5 days and counting...

Slipped out for a suicidal lunchtime run and sought shade in the park. Did a few gentle laps and then a fast one but the heat is energy sapping and I was soon limping home again.
Running time 40 minutes.

[Bierzo Baggie]

Thursday. Round the river and then a couple of laps of the park. 47 minutes. Warm and muggy but breezy.
Friday morning. Canal route. 32 minutes.

Have avoided the stony gradients of Monte Pajariel these last few weeks to avoid any niggling knee strains and instead have looked for flat routes, usually along the road. This has certainly meant fewer observations and more running for running’s sake. Will definitely give this up after Toral and head for the trails again.