Why Running an Ultra in the Italian Dolomites Is Worth 2100 km Drive
As of writing this post, I'm almost a year removed from running my longest race yet, which also happened to be my first mountain trail race with elevation gain resembling stupidity on another level. Which I like.
With this post I was aiming to focus entirely on the race, which was my main goal for this trip, but it's never just about the race; it's about commitment, planning, training, finding the time, sacrificing, travelling, dealing with doubt, facing fears and stepping outside my own way before I sabotage and quit the whole thing. This wasn't one of those times.
The race I'm talking about is called Lavaredo Ultra Trail 80k. Since there's always more entries than spots available, to take part in the race I had to win a lottery. After finding out I had a spot guaranteed, on October 19, 2022 I paid 150 Euro entry fee securing my spot and making it official. I had just over 8 months to get my fat ass in shape for the toughest race yet.
Vanlife to Italy
I live in Lithuania's capital Vilnius, which puts me approx. 1700 km away from Cortina d'Ampezzo - one of many Italy's ski resort towns where the race was taking place. Given the circumstances, most people buy plane tickets and reserve hotels months in advance with carefully planned deadlines all around. I did things a little different. Instead, I bought an industrial van (Ford Transit, which I named "Ford Freedom") which I would use to travel to the race while sleeping/ camping in it. What a brilliant idea, I thought. And it turned out to actually work. (Worth mentioning though that I didn't buy the van just for this race; it's all a part of a much bigger master plan.)
This is the exact route I ended up driving. 2100km+ visiting Warsaw, Bychawa, Košice, Budapest, Zagreb, and eventually Cortina d'Ampezzo.
By this point I'm closing in on day #70 of me living full time in Ford Freedom, while converting it into a full-time four-season home on wheels, but that's a whole separate set of posts. For this trip, the most important thing was to make sure I make it to Cortina without any major issues with the van, like a full-on breakdown on the side of the highway jeopardising the race.
Thankfully, Ford Freedom broke down only three times after I bought it, of which only twice leaving me stranded and calling for help. Also, thankfully, all the breakdowns happened before the trip. Let's say I got really, REALLY lucky.
After dealing with breakdowns (which included restoring seized starter motor, fixing central locking, and changing a snapped gear shift cable), I changed the engine oil, installed a missing spare tyre and bought a bunch of essential tools just in case of a breakdown. On top of that I also got that extra insurance which covers breakdowns anywhere in EU. By this point I had just a couple of weeks left before the race, couple hard(er) training sessions before tapering down my training all together. I was ready and excited to go.
Road trip of dreams
Around a month before the trip I made several posts on various Facebook groups looking for someone crazy enough to join me, in hope for making the road trip that much more fun, and cheaper. Despite somewhat surprising interest from a lllot of people, as days went on I made up my mind to go all by myself. And as I felt it all along - it was the right choice.
Just five days before me leaving for Italy, my girlfriend Monika calls me with her beautiful smiling eyes and breaks the news; she manages to get nine days off from work and join me. As the day came, she landed in Warsaw, I picked her up and the journey was on. In the background, as I was covering more and more distance with the van, the confidence was increasing. "If I made it to Warsaw," I though, "I will make it to Italy."
This was a special trip for both of us, since we were sure that Monika won't be able to join me due to work commitments. Lavaredo Ultra Trail would be my 5th ultra to date, and it would be the FIRST one she would miss. It didn't sit well with her and she made it happen. Love her so much for that.
Throughout the following 5 days after leaving Lithuania, we covered over 2100km crossing 6 country borders while sleeping in a van and discovering hidden gems along the way. Vilnius 🇱🇹 → Warsaw 🇵🇱 → Bychawa 🇵🇱 → Košice 🇸🇰 → Budapest 🇭🇺 → Zagreb 🇭🇷 → Ljubljana 🇸🇮 → and finally arriving at Cortina d'Ampezzo, one day before the start of my 80km adventure through Dolomites. No police stops, no parking tickets and no breakdowns. The trip was a success and some of the best time we had. It was a road trip of dreams. Now, all I had left was what I came for. Let's race.
Mountains are calling, and I must go
Mountains are calling, and I must go. As shallow as this might sound, this is literally how I felt on the early morning of race day. I've been putting in hours and hours of work and visualising running in the Dolomites. I've been longing for mountains and anticipating that nervous excitement you get before throwing yourself into the unknown of a race day. The time has come.
As the clock hit 5:00 AM I pulled myself out from the inflatable bed and in one swift movement while sliding van's doors I stepped out into chilly air of Cortina d'Ampezzo. Forecast was showing a whopping 12 degrees and a steady rise all the way to 27 before dropping back down. I saw no rain or thunderstorm warnings for the whole day, which is always a good sign. Considering we're now in the hands of the alps - I knew that no forecast was a guarantee.
As I was getting prepared I consciously checked my state. I felt unusually calm and ready. I knew excitement is still to come so I also tried to anticipate my gastric state. The last thing I really wanted was an emergency poop situation right before or after the start. Since I had a healthy portaloo visit right before the bed last night, I figured I should be OK.
Within an hour I was all geared up and on my way towards the shuttle bus which would take all the runners 10km to a nearby village San Vito di Cadore, which would be our starting location. With the clock approaching 7am, excitement grew and so the queues next to portaloo's. After a somewhat unproductive visit myself, it was time to head towards the start line.
I positioned myself what seemed the middle of the massive 883 participant queue, which felt right. Several selfies later, it was time to activate my fully charged Coros, I clicked "record" on my experimental Insta360 shoulder rig and with "We Are the Champions" by Queen blaring in the background I was taking my first steps of Lavaredo Ultra Trail 80k.
Am I going too fast?
883 participants for a race, especially an ultra with mostly singletracks, is a lllot of people. The startline felt huge. As I was covering the first couple kilometres of the race I thought to myself that I should have positioned myself just a little closer to the startline. The beginning was slow and slowing me down, but since this was my first race of this magnitude, I took it as a new learning experience. After all, I also knew that people will eventually thin out as we covered more distance, right?
It is easy to get carried away by the excitement and competitiveness of the moment while running any race, and I definitely felt it with this one. "Maybe I am running too fast?", I thought to myself. In moments like this I always remind myself by saying "run your own race", which I find extremely helpful. I felt like a bull unleashed, I wanted to GO. I'm glad I didn't.
Within the first 11 kilometres we climber just over 1000 meters in elevation which felt great. As I was climbing towards that first summit ridge, I felt that all of those hours power hiking my local 55 meter ski resort where I spent most of my time training - it was all paying off. My stride and work with poles felt strong and I found myself overtaking others just through hiking the uphill. After once again questioning whether I'm going too fast, then reminding myself to run my own race, I continued towards the second aid station "Passo Tre Croci" where things looked very different.
Losing positions
First 10k flew by. After refilling my water bladders with a tastiest alpine water in the first aid station "Rifugio San Marco", I shifted my focus towards 2nd aid station, which was another 20k away. "That's a long gap" I thought to myself, so I knew I had to somewhat ration my water. A couple kilometres later I also remembered that I am actually in the alps, where fresh water streams were like hidden gems and there were plenty of them. Even though the heat was picking up, I never had a water shortage and not a single cramp. My hydration was on point.
Between the 2nd and 3rd aid stations I managed to lose 25 positions, which is a lot. Or is it? I didn't know. I just kept moving forward on what now appeared to be a fast and technical downhill. For the following hour or so, while losing position after position I realised I SUCK at downhill. All the people I overtook power hiking uphills, were basically giving it back to me. Mental note taken. "Something to work on" I thought to myself.
As I was settling into the race I couldn't help but pinch myself to look up at some of the most beautiful landscapes my eyes have witnessed, which is easier said than done. Lavaredo Ultra Trail is a very technical course demanding full focus on where you're stepping with your feet. Literally. This was the most technical race by far for me, and it made all the sense to carry extra bandages as a mandatory gear for the whole race. There were plenty of busted bloody legs from falls, many slips ups and tender feet with freshly formed blisters that were revealed at the following aid stations by other runners. Thankfully, the combination of fingered Decathlon socks and freshly purchased Altra Lone Peak 7's, I had zero falls and not a single blister. Just a couple tender toe nails, which would become apparent a little later.
The "leg" between 20k and 40k were the hardest. 20k mark is where my legs felt already tender enough to bring me doubt about how it's gonna hold up. 40k mark is where thoughts like "fuck, not another incline" started to creep in. But then I reached the halfway point, and I just kept going. 60k, kept going. After every low, there's always a high, and since I didn't have that one BIG LOW moment, there were plenty of little "soft moments", let's just say. Until it all went away.
60k onwards was the most fun I ever had in a race. As the sun was slowly setting down I knew that my stomach is taking what I throw at it. Good. I knew that my legs will hold up, so I was able to push juuust a little harder now. Good. By this point I realised I was able to "fall back" to my training and preparation. I felt as good as I ever felt in any of the races at 60 kilometre mark and the only explanation was simply my preparation and experience.
At "Passo Giau", which was the 8th aid station at 65k mark, for the last time I gulped down the last dose of 500ml elektrolite mix, followed by around 400kcal worth of cakes. It was the last aid station with such buffet and free food. I had to use the opportunity. As I was leaving the aid station I even though to myself, that "maybe that was just a few too many calories, dude". It wasn't. It was just a perfect amount of energy to get me to the finish line.
Spot the runners on the bottom right. What a view!
The last downhill
I knew that after my last cake intervention at 8th aid station, it would be mostly downhill from here. But I also remembered that I just learned that I suck at downhills. I guess the race wasn't over just yet.
For the best part of the day I was followed by a slight sense of nausea; a feeling when you want to puke, if you know what I mean. It was slight, but it was there. I think for the most part it was physical exertion (constant elevated heart rate) combined with heat. Since the weather was getting cooler and all the hard vertical climbs were behind, this allowed my legs to recover a little bit, in turn dropping the heart rate.
I spent around 10 minutes at "Passo Giau" (8th aid station), and lost 13 more positions, which meant nothing. Experience and good self-awareness allows me to strategise myself during race day. At this point I asked myself "sort yourself out now, and finish strong?", or "keep going while trying to keep the position and pray for the best?" I was just 15k from the finish after all. I took my time, hydrated, ate some cakes and with nausea completely gone I was back on the trail. Was it worth 13 positions? As it will turn out, yes.
The last downhill with sunset.
For the final 15 kilometres I pushed myself. Couple hundred meters of VERT and two more quick stops to refill liquids, it was all downhill from here. As I was closing in on a runner in front, I shifted my attention to the village on my right which appeared suddenly from nowhere. After a minute it downed on me. Now being just meters away from the runner in front, with shallow breath I asked in english "Is this Cortina on the right?!" I shouted. "Yes it is!" she replies back. "Just 10 kilometres more to go!"
"This is it" I thought. "It's almost over." For the following moment I thanked the Dolomites, I even spoke out loud. The girl was still in front of me. I quietly thanked the mountains and said how good it has been to run here. How grateful I am and what an incredible experience it has been. It felt good. I felt good. I was in love with this sport. And I still had 10k to go. Downhill. And apparently I suck downhill.
I truly believe that those last 10k is where the most damage was accumulated. I watched all day people go past me with grace and speed on the downhills and I was inspired. I tried to run faster myself, but I couldn't. I was slowing myself down... because it hurt. The steeper the downhill got, the more painful it was, and so the more I was slowing myself down. Moments later some dude flies past me with speed I couldn't comprehend. I sweared and kept running.
For the last 40k or so runners of 120k and 80k distances were all on the same route. For the most part, it was easy to "recognise" a 120k runner on trail from their red bib numbers (ours were green), and their fatigue which translated through their movement on trail. (120k runners started 8 hours before us!) Every so often I was overtaking 120k runners, which really meant nothing since we were running completely different races, but once I saw two 120k runners wizz past me on the descend, enough was enough. 5k to the finish. "These were the last living souls to overtake me" I thought to myself. I wish this was true.
The most painful area wasn't my knees, calves or quads. On this last downhill I was losing my toe nails. As I was making my way down, I was twisting and turning to deflect the impact and prevent toes hitting the front of the shoe. As silly as this might sound, my toe nails were just too long. Ever since I began running, I started having problems with ingrown nails due to cutting them too short. Naturally, I was keeping my toe nails longer (and more square) than usual, which up until this race, and this brutal downhill, was fine. I didn't quiet know it back then, but all I had to do is to trim my nails. At first I thought it's my brand new Lone Peak 7's are just a touch too small.
Despite the pain I kept moving until soon enough I could hear distant sounds from the finish line which immediately numbed the pain. I was so close. With a smile on my face, for the first time I checked the time on my phone. 9:30PM. "I've been running for over 14 freaking hours!?" I thought. On top of that I had no idea about my placing. Was I one of the last one's to finish? I had no clue. I have my way of tuning out and enjoying the experience. I was deep in my own pain cave.
Within the last couple kilometres I saw the first headlights bouncing in front of me as I slowly approached other runners. The darkness was setting fast, but no headlights for me. I retracted my running poles as the downhill flattened and made my way through the final stretch towards the finish. The closer I got, the more people were cheering and the louder it got. Couple more corners through the streets of Cortina d'Ampezzo and finish was in sight.
After running 80.88k with 4371 meters of elevation gain I finished 300th out of 785 finishers. 98 runners did not make it to the finish. (DNF) I was also able to get back those lost positions from my 8th aid station stop at "Passo Giau", where after losing 13 positions, I got 16 back. That was surprising.
After the finish I knew it's gonna take several days for it all to settle in of what just happened. The amount of information to process from such race can be overwhelming. Looking back this has been by far my favourite race and best performance considering how it all went, including the recovery. After letting it settle in, after all, I can't say this has been my hardest race, which at first I thought it was. My hardest race title would go to "Garmin Ultra Gdansk 50k" due to the lack of preparation. I was nowhere close to being as fit and prepared as I was for Lavaredo.
The seeds of a dream life on road has been planted for both me and Monia. With this new found inspiration and focus it was time to make our way home. After the race we still had 1900km+ journey back, which was as beautiful. Me and Monia took our time and continued exploring cities on our way towards Germany until we reached Nuremberg, where Monia had to catch a flight back to Fuerteventura. Within the following 2 days I drove the following 1400km all the way back to Vilnius. The road trip was officially over.
This whole trip turned out so much better than I ever imagined. The drive itself was a pleasure, cause we did it right. We concluded that this is one of the most fun ways to travel (maybe except cycling) and Ford Freedom was no longer a concept in my head. It worked and it saved us shit loads of what we otherwise would have spent on overpriced hotels.
So this is it. If you're still here, thank you. As I'm getting back into writing, I hope this wasn't a pain to read. If you're interested in my future races and mischiefs, feel free to check out my Instagram and Youtube for updates and more quality content.
It was a pleasure to share this adventure with you through writing. The evolution continues. See you soon.
Marius ✌️
