Race-walking event Rīga - Valmiera 2020 results: http://rezultati.ultrataka.lv/
The review on the radio show NABARĪTS on Radio NABA together with Viktors Dunaiskis can be found HERE
Blog entry "Greeting to the doorknob of Sīmanis' Church #1" can be found HERE
The race day has arrived. Finally. All week, I’ve been waking up in the mornings drenched in sweat, and even at night, falling asleep hasn’t been easy. For almost a month now, I’ve been adding magnesium ampoules to my water at lunch and struggling to drink it. I’m also forcing myself to eat something and go about my daily tasks without overthinking. But still... every time I get a moment to think, I become aware that with each passing minute, that day, that hour, that very moment is getting closer… when I will head to Valmiera for the second time. For the second time! Looking back at what happened last year, I still don’t quite understand how I even made it to the finish line. There was a goal, there was adrenaline, and I had prepared a little by walking a few long distances. This year, things are a bit different. I’ve been training more regularly—both shorter and longer sessions—but I haven’t completed a full hundred kilometers in one go. How will that affect my performance, my endurance during the race, and, most importantly, will I achieve this year’s goal—to finish within 16 hours? These are the questions I’ll soon have answers to.
As planned, I’m packing my things before getting some rest before the race. Since this time I’ll be meeting my family only in Stalbe, I decided to send one bag to Ragana as well. A bit of rain is expected overnight, so it would be nice to change clothes in the morning. I spot a roll of adhesive tape and panic—why isn’t it smaller? I could take it with me in my vest; who knows what kind of blisters await me. Just before going to sleep, I read news portals about an ongoing emergency meeting where they’re discussing updates to some old restrictions. I start getting really anxious—what if I wake up to find the race canceled or the start time changed? For a moment, I even wonder if, deep down, I’d be relieved not to run to Valmiera. Oh no, what nonsense! Fear is a terrible excuse for such thoughts—I’m not weak.
I can’t sleep anymore, I need to get dressed, fill up the last water bottles, and properly eat some pasta. While my mom is braiding my hair, I’m talking with her friend about the upcoming adventure, one that I still can’t quite believe is happening.
Shortly after ten, we get in the car so we can register and get our number before 11:00 PM. We manage to do this successfully in the rooms of the University of Latvia’s main building, which I’ve walked through hundreds of times. I’ve managed to do a lot here while studying in my first year. After a small photoshoot, I say goodbye to my mom and brother. I stay alone. Well, sort of. Many people greet me, and we chat a little. As I experienced last year, I’m not exactly of clear mind, and at some moments, I don’t even understand what I’m saying. There’s something in my stomach that feels a bit like those butterflies from last year, but not as strong. I’m just nervous. And, of course, emotional.
Twenty minutes before midnight, we head towards the Freedom Monument, followed by speeches and chatter around us. I’m still scared, but one thing I do remember is that now I have to move towards the back of the group. I plan to walk the first 15 kilometers quickly, so there’s no place for me at the front.
Five, four, three, two, one... and we begin! Of course, I take it easy for the first kilometer, then switch to a fast walk. I laugh at others who rush off at the green pedestrian light, running as fast as they can, but then, a few meters later, I see them again at the next intersection. Let them run, what do I care!
Already by the Dailes Theatre, I’m met with my first surprise—a hand sticking out of a cheering car, ringing a cowbell. I get closer and realize it's Anita Liepiņa with Valters Kaminskis, who are my biggest rogaining friends and inspirations. I hug Anita, who has already started to worry that I’ve changed my mind about participating in the run-walk event. I laugh a little—where would I go? I keep walking, but then I hear Anita's last words: "I’ll be waiting for you in Stalbe. From there, we’ll go together!" What does that mean? This lady just gave me a topic to think about for the next few kilometers. Does Anita work as a volunteer in Stalbe and will join me on the way to Valmiera from there? Or will she only walk with me to Rubene? How long does she plan to wait for me there? There are twice as many questions as there are answers, and I truly don’t know how I should feel. But I do believe one thing—I need to get to Stalbe as quickly as possible; I don’t want Anita to wait for me for half a year.
I’m three minutes later in Garkalne than last year. That only means one thing—I haven’t overdone the start, and now I can eat to my heart's content. I drink cola, eat cucumbers, cheese, bread, and handfuls of olives. It’s pouring rain outside, and I almost tear up because I really don’t want to leave the tent.
Everything is wet, especially my shoes. I hadn’t planned on changing them, so all I can do is pray to higher powers that the moisture won’t cause early blisters. Although, since Jugla, I’ve been feeling like one of my toes doesn’t quite like this running. It’s okay, the most important thing is to get to the LeukoPlast I left in Ragana, then I’ll be able to put a lot of it on.
While I’m enjoying the snacks, Kristīne and Dzintars catch up with me, and I realize that the smartest thing to do right now would be to stick with them. That’s exactly what I do, and I don’t regret it for a moment.
The rain has more or less stopped, and for the next few kilometers, I promise myself to walk quickly so that the snacks can settle. Then, at some point, Kristīne and Dzintars stop, and I realize that the real show can begin. I’m at the thirtieth kilometer, nothing really hurts, I’ve eaten well, and I’m ready to start running.
In the last few kilometers before Sēnīte, I’m running with my wet rain jacket in my hands and bump into last year’s best friend, Justīne. We chat a bit about our feelings and memories, and I invite her to run with me, which we do. Just before the Sēnīte food checkpoint, she also takes a technical break, so I put music back on my phone and continue running. This checkpoint was really special for me—I meet the race evacuee Laimonis, whose services I have no intention of using today. I just hand him my jacket and headlamp, which I don’t think I’ll need anymore. Laimonis says goodbye with the words, “Just make it to Ragana, after that, the real test begins.” I laugh, but deep down, I feel intimidated. Really?
I eat as much as I can, cheer up the volunteers with my quick, somewhat funny jokes, and 10 minutes later, I’m on my way to the next checkpoint. Oh, how I can't wait to change clothes!
I don't understand where this energy comes from—it's probably adrenaline and the desire to get to dry socks. Running down from the "small hills," I’m going at a pace that rarely shows up in my training. I remind myself not to overdo it, but I notice that I don’t feel the fast running. Overall, I move at three speeds—slow walking, fast walking, and running. In this moment of running, I don’t feel the speed, I just realize that I’m running.
In Murjāņi, I experience my first disappointment. I pull out my first sports gel from my pocket, swallow it down, and just as quickly, I vomit it back up. Strange. That had never happened to me before. I try again, but once again, my body automatically rejects it. I switch the gel for a puree, and that goes down much better.
I run into the Ragana food checkpoint with just one shout, "Dear volunteers, do you know what the best feeling in the world is? Well, finishing an ultramarathon is kind of... average. But the absolute best thing that can happen is beating the predicted time!" And that’s exactly what happened—I arrived 12 minutes earlier than expected. I immediately ask for the bag with number 47 and a more private spot because I plan to change completely. They offer me the gas station restroom, which I refuse. As I open the bag, I feel disappointed because, unfortunately, I haven’t packed all the possible change of clothes I might need. It’s okay though, with shorts and a shirt, I’ll be fine. Last year, in Murjāņi, I shared the route with a nordic walker named Aija, and this year, she’s already there with a blanket for me while I change, standing on my feet and sticking LeukoPlast on a few sensitive spots on my feet.
A little more than 10 minutes have passed, but this time I forgive myself because of the change of clothes. The next stop is Brasla, and I’m running there too.
I remember the road to Brasla mainly for reaching a significant point—I was exactly halfway through the ultramarathon. It would be nice to keep up a similar pace and finish by 3:00 PM. I also sent a message to my family, letting them know it’s time to wake up and come visit. During this time, I also receive a message about the fantastic finish of Pēteris Grīviņš and my orienteering club mate Kristaps Magone. I’m proud to know them, and that the record has finally been broken! I’ll have stories to listen to at the finish.
Of course, I can’t forget the visit from the already mentioned Anita Liepiņa and Valters Kaminskis. They both look well-rested and, for a brief moment, cheer me on. It seemed like Anita was ready to join me, but she noticed that I was still running from time to time. She tells me she’ll join when I can’t run anymore, because right now, it looks like I still have a lot of energy. In a way, she was right...
I’ve arrived at the place where, three years ago, bundled up in a blanket, out in the crazy rain, I was, in a way, fulfilling my duties as a volunteer. This time, however, the sun is shining, there’s a headwind, and the mood is 15 times better. The first thing I do is look for Anita and Valters. I scan all the cars, observe everyone present, but they’re not here. It’s clear to me—I need to run ahead quickly to catch up with them.
The volunteers here are amazing—they’re helping me with the stomach issues I’ve been dealing with since the vomiting in Murjāņi, offering me some Smecta and pink pills, assuring me that it won’t get worse. I see two nordic walkers and runners sitting down, but I don’t waste time with such things. After finishing my cup, I grab some gummy candies for the road and continue running. I really hope the medicine will help, because my legs are starting to feel heavy.
I head towards Stalbe, but near Straupe, a small moment of doubt hits me. I stop running, turn on my music, and start talking to myself. I remember how last year I "died" here and bit my lip. Straupe is very dear to me; I’ve spent orienteering camps here with my beloved Meridiāna club.
Out of nowhere, just as if she’d read my mind, Anita Liepiņa appears. Right in the middle of Straupe, by the pedestrian path leading to Plāce. She greets me with her smiling face and rings her cowbell, and honestly, I felt so overjoyed I didn’t know what to do. She, Anita Liepiņa, my birthday twin, such a fantastic walker, athlete, and the person who brought rogaining to Latvia, an incredibly experienced long-distance walker, is now going to walk by my side. All the way to Valmiera!
With Anita, we quickly move at a good pace, reaching Stalbe, where I plan to meet my family for the first time today. Along the way, I listen to her initial plan of walking solo from the Freedom Monument, but then she remembered the ongoing race-walk and decided to come support me.
This time in Straupe, unlike last year, I don’t sleep. For the first time during the whole competition, I sit down and try to wrap my legs with tape. My appetite has noticeably decreased, but I still manage to shove something into my mouth.
After spending about 7 minutes at the checkpoint, my family arrives – my mom, brothers, my mom's sister with her daughters. I’m given trekking poles, not for walking with them, but so that I have something to lean on and maintain balance. I don’t know how to use trekking poles; it’s a lot of arm movement.
After leaving the checkpoint, I felt both a bit uplifted and in excruciating pain (if only I had known what kind of agony awaited me in just an hour). Things were starting to get really tough, and I could feel it. At least I wasn’t falling asleep anymore.
I began draining my last energy reserves when Anita and I agreed to pick up the pace. Even though 10 minutes per kilometer isn't anything extraordinary, it still took some serious grit. At least sleep wasn't creeping in anymore. Anita kept me entertained with her stories about the ultras she's completed. The more I listened, the more I realized just how much lies ahead for me. I couldn’t wait for the challenges that awaited.
I start running. For the first time in my life, my feet are burning. Every step feels like stepping onto 200 knife blades. I deliberately place my feet at an angle, on the outer edges, to relieve the pressure, but that only makes it harder. I endure it. I grumble a little but force myself to push through. It was, I think, just under a kilometer before something suddenly bursts. Something in the sole of my left foot pops, it becomes wet, and I let out a loud groan because now I can’t even put that foot on the ground. Huge tears start flowing, a bit of hysteria kicks in, and I begin limping. I CAN-NOT put my left foot down—just can't! Anita won’t let me stop; she pushes me forward, telling me to cry and wail as loud as I want. At one point, I even start cursing with words I had never used in my life before—who knows from what deep subconscious place they were coming.
We run into Valmiera, and I switch back to limping. Anita walks ahead of me, scolding me for not running. I don’t care. I deeply don’t care. Let her go; I don’t need any help—I’m dying here. So, I spend a little time in lonely silence, all the way to Hesburger. And then, suddenly, right in front of me, jumps last year’s guardian angel—my best friend in Valmiera, Migliņš.
Every step I take brings new tears to my eyes. I’ve somewhat gotten used to the burning pain in my feet, and now I trot along slowly, with two truly dear people by my side. I’m waiting for St. Simon’s Church—OH MY GOD, how I’ve been waiting to see that church appear. And then, suddenly, in an instant… there it was, bathed in the golden evening sunlight. It hadn’t moved since last year. I break into my second bout of hysterical crying—this time, without any shame.
Music plays in the distance, and confused Valmiera locals surround me. I see nothing else but the church.
One thought fills my mind—I did it. I really did it!
The pain disappears, adrenaline kicks in, and for one last time in this ultramarathon, I break into a run with every last ounce of strength I have left.
People are all around me. I hear my name being called. Maybe it was familiar voices, maybe just supporters, but in my head, it was the door knocker.
I step onto the red carpet. I keep moving forward. I see the knocker. I run toward it.
I reach it. I touch it.
I let the tears flow.
Please, please, dear organizers, turn the music up. I don’t want anyone to hear me sobbing like this. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the cameras with swollen, red eyes and a runny nose.
Then again, at that moment, I didn’t care.
The saying "slow and steady wins the race" sort of works – taking it easy at the start led to avoiding overexertion and allowed for greater endurance in the long run. Of course, you shouldn’t go too slow, but for this time, it worked out quite well.
At some point, the fatigue from lack of sleep will catch up, and that’s inevitable. The key is to anticipate when this breakdown might happen and find a "guardian angel" who can be by your side. It could be a loved one, another competitor, or a fellow runner. The most important thing is that it doesn’t end with you stepping off the road in the middle of the race.
Sitting is harmful – during this race, I only rested my bottom 4 times, which is definitely a record. In my opinion, you shouldn’t let yourself completely relax. Getting back up after that is definitely a lot harder.
Haha, I also have to remember that sports gels don’t really sit well with me. In fact, sports nutrition really burns my stomach, so I need to be cautious. But I have another year to test out different foods.
Regular training is key, with short to medium-length runs. Doing 2x 100 kilometers before the race will really have little benefit.
I have cut down the time from the previous one (19 hours and 46 minutes) by almost three hours. Last year, I needed 7 months to decide on the 2020 start. This time, it took me less than 24 hours after the finish to set a new goal and start planning how to achieve it.
