Race Report: Dolomyths Skyrace
Golden Trail World Series 2021
Photo by Martina Valmassoi
Out of the three races I was doing, this race was by far the scariest and furthest removed from anything I had experienced before. It involved climbing 1700m in the first 10km to get to the peak of Piz Boé at 3152m, followed by running back down 1700m in only 12km to get back to Canazei. It is a true beast of a race, where the climb feels never ending, the altitude is enough to send you just that little bit dizzy, and the descent is an all out, lean into it, move your feet fast, and pray you find solid footing with each step kind of descent.
For me, Dolomyths Run was all about pushing my limits and running a race I was proud of. After the race I had for Marathon Du Mont Blanc, I had my mind set on forgetting all kinds of race plan, going hard from the start, and just seeing where that got me. The blessing of the struggles I had experienced so far on the trip was that this time around, I really was able to forget about everyone around me and what anyone else would think. I was there to give my best, no matter what that looked like, and if I crossed the line knowing I had done that then I really didn’t care about anything else.
What that approach equated to was a whole lot of beautiful pain before one of the sweetest finish lines I have ever crossed.
1. About 200m in to the race; 2. At the top of Passo Podoi; 3. Sruggletown in the patchy snow; 4. The second climb up Antersass
Start lines are always chaos and this one was no different, however an extra layer of chaos was added by finding out after already warming up that the race was being postponed 30minutes due to weather and the course altered slightly to avoid the summit. I really didn’t mind this and the extra time I just saw as extra time to mobilise and drink and relax.
We finally got underway, with all athletes wearing masks to start which is a bit of an odd feel. After the initial jostling for space on the road I went into tunnel vision right from the beginning. I didn’t have much at all going through my brain, all my focus was on the few metres of trail in front of me and covering that ground as fast as possible. The first 6km were all on ski slopes, so nothing too technical, just a grinding climb gaining 800m to get to Passo Pordoi. I covered that in around 48minutes and in 22nd position, but with a few girls just in front of me, which I was happily surprised by.
Then we hit the section from Passo Pordoi to Forcella Pordoi. This beast of a climb is only 2km long, but it gains 600m over those two kms and is not called the ‘stairway to hell’ for nothing. There aren’t actually any stairs, I wish, instead it is switchback after switchback on loose scree that only gets steeper the further you get into it. Hitting it after 6km with 800m gain isn’t ideal either, and then you add in the fact it starts at 2250m elevation and ends at 2850m and yeah….it hurts. In training I would cover this section just laughing at myself for being stupid enough to try to get up it quickly. But come race day I stayed in my tunnel vision and just pushed on for the long hike, repeating mantras to myself such as ‘make. your. self. proud.’ over and over to each step.
I learned slowly and painfully that all the determination and grit in the world doesn’t make up for lack of experience both on that terrain and at that altitude. In short, it took me 37minutes to cover those 2km, and all I can remember is hitting the super steep section in the second half feeling like my head was floating away from me and I was moving backward. It brings a whole new meaning to hitting the wall when the trail in front of you literally looks like a wall too.
To my surprise again though, I only got passed by 4 women on this climb. I tried to stick with anyone that came past me but my legs just had nothing more to give. We hit the Forcela Pordoi and it cruelly flattens out for some fast running on legs that have just climbed for over 80minutes straight, and on snow to boot. This was the kind of snow cover that is patchy and unpredictable, where with each step you might hit solid snow, or you might hit a loosely covered hole, or you might just hit rock that is only slightly covered in snow. I slipped and slid and fell my way through the snow sections before climbing again. Just before the final stretch to the summit of Piz Boé is where the course had been rerouted on a trail that travels just below the summit. It was easy to tell why they had done this, as visibility was so poor I had trouble seeing far in front of me at all and I was very glad to have done the course and this new deviation in training so I knew where I was going. There was more snow to navigate with a short descent (me hitting a hole in this section pictured below), before climbing to the second peak of the race, Antersass.
Doing a massive climb, followed by a short steep descent, only to start climbing on steep and technical rock again was brutal. The good thing about this climb though is that you know once you hit the top, it is all downhill from there.
I hit the downhill and did my best to follow the line Stian and Anders had showed me. Within a few hundred metres I had passed two of the women who had passed me on the climb and was gaining on a third. Even though I was making up ground finally, I did not feel anywhere near as coordinated as usual, it was like my brain would pick ne place for my foot to go and my foot would pick another. Fatigue and altitude were combining to make this already scary descent even more petrifying, but at the same time running down something as steep as Dolomyths is so much fun. Type 2 fun for sure, but the exhilaration is real.
When I finally caught the next woman in front of me (Caterina, we became friends after the race) I was starting to lose steam in a big way. Even though I had approached her at a much faster speed, I told myself it would be better if I just sat behind her and followed her line down off the technical stuff before passing her later. This was perhaps the one mistake I made in the race, because running someone else’s line and settling into a slightly slower rhythm threw me off, and as soon as we hit more runnable downhills I could feel my body giving up in a big way. There was around 6km of fast, mostly smooth downhill to go from here, and it was all I could do to stare at the shirt of Caterina and let the gradient carry me down. I imagined a rope between me and her so she was pulling me along as a way to keep going.
Part of the problem was that because I am not used to the steepness of the terrain or the altitude I had struggled to get in enough of my nutrition to keep me going strong. So even though I ran into the last aid station right on the back of Caterina and there was only 3 fast km of downhill left, my brain saw the cups of coke, and it was like something snapped. I came to a stop, grabbed a couple of cups, walked the 30m from the table to the bin off in the distance drinking the coke, and then after a deep breath and telling myself that I CAN get to the finish line, ran on.
By the time I was running again Caterina was long gone, but I was still worried someone behind me would be finishing fast and come past. I tried to lean right into the downhill and not think about how I was feeling or how much each step felt like my legs were hollow and had no muscle left. There is one more tiny little climb with around 2.5km to go that Stian introduced to me as ‘the second mountain’, because although it is short and not technical, trying to get you body to move well on an uphill after sprinting downhill for 10km is a hell of a lot worse than going from up to down. I covered this short 200m section slower than I had done in any of my easy training runs, and I didn’t think a 200m climb could ever feel so damn long.
The top of that was a really big relief though, because it is so close to the finish then. I ran the final stretch like I was running for my life, chasing down any guy I could see. When I hit the spot where I knew there was around 1km to go, I looked at my watch for the first time since the top of the climb and saw it just tick over to 2:42:00 and vowed I would break 2:45. The all out sprint that followed was one last awesome reminder from my body that there is always more to give, you just have to find the thing that enables you to let it out.
I ran through the streets of Canazei, onto the finish carpet, and across the line in full sprint, with my breathing sounding like a freight train and my form probably all over the place. But I did it, crossing the line in 2:44:52. There is only four other finish lines in my life where I have been so destroyed but so happy at the same time, and like all the others this one will be etched into my memory forever.
My only wish would have been to have someone there to share it with. Because that’s the hardest thing about solo travel for races. If it goes bad, you need a hug and someone to remind you it is just a race. If it goes well, you are still an emotional an exhausted mess that needs a hug or at least a high five. I didn’t quite know anyone well enough yet for me to have anyone to go to immediately after, so after collapsing for a little bit and getting my breathe back, I walked back to the park where my bag was, grabbed a water bottle, and just sat trying to get the tingling feeling all over my body from effort and lack of oxygen to dissipate. I facetimed coach, he is always my first call after races, and had a little celebration with him before going to buy myself a few scoops of Italian gelato and mingle with the other incredible athletes.
Like Marathon Du Mont Blanc, my race day ended in a car, this time on a 9 hour drive from Canazei to Annecy with Greg Vollet, dropping Stian (who had won the men’s race) off at the airport along the way. This wasn’t ideal for my body obviously, but it was the best way to travel. Plus, to be able to debrief with and learn from Stian and Greg before being safely dropped off in Annecy at 1am the next morning was an incredible end to a day I will never forget.
Safe to say, I was destroyed at the finish line.
THE RACE STATS
Strava file Here.
Distance: 20.69km
Elevation Gain: 1647m
Elevation Loss: 1647m
Time: 2:44:53
(stats according to my watch - Suunto 9 Peak)
THE GEAR/NUTRITION
Shoes: Salomon Sense Pro 4
Watch: Suunto 9 Peak
Fuel: Tailwind, made up with 77g powder/L, total 1 Litres, plus 2 small cups water/1 cup coke
Other: 1 x Revvies 100mg energy strips (10km)
Race day photos by Jordi Saragossa
Next Post: Annecy - The Interlude