Chasing adventure on the trails
Words by GRID Athlete Robbie Britton @ultrabritton
Images by Agnelo Quelhas @agneloquelhasphotography
We all run for a variety of reasons, be it fitness, competition or just running away from the stress of life. For some of us though, it’s running into adversity that is the incentive in itself.
Training for the Seville Marathon in December, things were going well and the sessions were always good fun. Yet the idea of putting in the months of hard work for a slightly lower number next to my marathon PB was leaving a bit of an empty hole within.
As an ultra runner you often reach your peak levels of fitness and then race day leaves you completely broken. In no other sport do you start as one of the fittest people in the world and then, if all goes well, you’re struggling to walk up or down stairs afterwards.
You can’t help but look at races and projects as a finite resource. Over a career there’s only so many times you can go that deep and keep everything held together. Coming into my 17th year running ultras, with a body that, at times, feels like it’s held together by bits of string and a healthy dose of luck, the importance of doing what feels right for the heart booms stronger. There’s a voice inside your head that wants adventure, even if your knees are less keen.
This brings us to Terra de Gigantes, a 306km race from the highest point in Portugal, Sierra de Estrela, to the beach with the highest waves, Nazare. It’s a non-stop, self-navigated course that has 10,000m of climbing along the way.
“Be bold, start cold was more of a requirement than a choice”
Only a handful of weeks out from race day the weather looks good. Dare I say it, it looks perfect. Cold, but with sunshine and a tailwind all the way. We might even need sunglasses. As the big day got closer it wasn’t even clear if we would be able to start from the top of the mountain as the roads would be closer for snow and high winds.
Be bold, start cold was more of a requirement than a choice, but the first block of running was all downhill into the wind, before the first trails gave some shelter. The headwind would be strong all the way to Nazare. Good for surfers, but tied up with the devastating wild fires that had destroyed woodlands here last summer, the racers all balanced just above that line of being too cold from wind wicking away all heat with the rain and sweat. The dual zip on my GRID Storm Jacket was either fully down or right up at the top like a cape, with me trying to fly up the hills and not overheat.
With 30-50km between checkpoints it was a case of spending multiple hours looking after yourself in a variety of terrain. Try as you might, dry feet eluded all but the longest of jumpers as puddles covered the entire trail at times. One time I thought I might make it through with dry feet, but a balancing act on the edge of the trail was lost and I was wading again.
For the most part the navigation was simple, with the screen on the Garmin Enduro 2 set permanently to the map. The struggles were mainly in settlements when little alley ways and staircases took you through stone villages that were built in a time before cars. The checkpoints were well stocked and in permanent structures well sheltered from the weather. Often a warm fire greeted you, but always there was a wonderful team of smiling people there to look after your every need. The medics were proactive, to the extent that you wondered if some had a bit of a blister fetish, but it just left you feeling cared for in a way that can often be missing in a race of thousands.
In terms of competition the race was great, until it wasn’t. Early pace felt controlled, maybe a touch too hard, but 85-90g of carbohydrates were coming in each and every hour, through Precision Fuel 90g gels, packs of Mentos and the odd Bounty or Lion bar.
The plan for sleep had been to go without, and during the first night this was fine. The bad weather potentially increased the effort on the body, but this might be one of the turning points that saw me finish second rather than first.
It was around 265/270km when Dave Philips cruised past on an uphill. At this point there was an enjoyable level of hallucinations going on, with patterns and tattoos across the floor and every rock was the face of a friend or a famous person. 20 minutes kip at the previous checkpoint (ominously watched throughout by a small child who wasn’t actually there) was insufficient.
I’d gone too far into the red and Dave’s strategy of taking 4 x 5 minutes of sleep in the first night saw him manage things a lot better than I. Exactly what you would expect from someone with the long distance experience my fellow Brit brought to the start line.
The other factor leading to an undoing was the rather late entry and pivot from marathon training. Fitness was strong, but my body wasn’t fully ready for this race. That was part of the appeal, as an adventure without risk is no adventure at all, but from early on my quads were a weak link and I was quicker going uphill than downhill in the latter stages.
Dave’s race was spot on, he came past before the last checkpoint and went straight though to run just under 41 hours. I kept battling until he came past, but the next climb and descent to the base felt like I was climbing Mount Everest and it would never end. My body needed sleep, but we could still get the job done.
90 minutes of shut-eye and some veggie quiche in the next checkpoint, as well as opening my dreaded “shit has hit the fan” kit bag of walking gear, allowed the forward progress to continue, albeit at a snail’s pace. Ignoring the clock was part of the game and the mistake of having a distance countdown on my map screen was never more apparent. Some miles seem to tick down one yard at a time.
Seeing the signs for Nazare and its big waves, the emotions were high.
This whole race wouldn’t have been possible without my friend Vincent, who’d taken the last minute call to adventure as much as I had to come along and crew me.
One last sting in the tail, a climb above Nazare to come down a staircase with a beautiful view, it was once again a showcase of quicker speed going vertically than descending. Gravity was no longer a friend at this stage.
The welcoming faces at the finish line were from volunteers that had been part of the adventure the whole way through. Invariably the people at Checkpoint one move along the course as that one closes and it felt like friends had returned to cheer you on. The people of the region kept appearing at road heads and alongside trails to take a picture and shout encouragement. I don’t think I imagined all of them….
Ultimately this race was exactly what I hoped it would be. An adventure, but also an experimentation with my own limits. It would have been lovely to have won, but on the day I gave it what I had and came away satisfied.
The appetite for longer distances wasn’t diminished for a second. The harder the race became the more I craved the challenge in future, even if at the time my brain was searching for reasons to give up.
Not only am I already looking at the 2027 edition, but also bigger challenges in between. Next though, the Mt. Fuji 100 is calling and I need to get training… as soon as my legs stop throbbing.
Running Tops
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