DNF: 100 km Brabant Ultra Trail

Full of hope I started the BUT100 in Leende, but it was not to be. A reconstruction of 63 km running through forest and heathland.

Every once in a while you need to take yourself out of your comfort zone, challenge yourself and shake up the running feathers a bit. I don't remember which podcast I got the idea from, but it may have been really what I needed.

It may sound really lame, but after 1.5 years of corona time with some long trails every month, running seemed to go a bit too easy. Except for the temporary decline after the vaccination, but that was explainable. Whether I can run 40-50 km is not even a question beforehand. And when things get tough, I find a way to psyche myself up. Play around a bit, watch the animals, take pictures or eat and rest on a terrace. Then it never becomes too hard to deal with. But it might be the easy way out (as Barry van Oven rightly pointed out the day after).

So that's my reason for signing up for the Brabant Ultra Trail (BUT100) in Leende: 100 km in a maximum of 14 hours. Theoretically, it would be hard work, but possible: the 90 km of the Indian Summer Ultra I ran in 14.5 hours. And that was a bit harder: fully self-supported with a gigantic load of drinks and emergency stuff in my pack. There were no supermarkets along the route and the bars and restaurants were closed (there were no public taps either), plus in case of a problem I would have to walk for a while to find a way out. Besides, I had a lot of problems with blood sugar control during that run and made quite a few photos, a habit that also takes quite some time.

The advantage of Leende was that the area in January (one of my last races for corona) was fairly monotonous, which means few distractions for this ADD guy and therefore less time wasted. The route was pretty flat, just like the Indian Summer, but I think a bit more accessible (less wet and more wide trails). I was very curious about the north half, which was not in the earlier trail, which might also lead a little extra willpower to continue discovering after the first half. All things considered, a 100 km in 14 hours should be doable. Especially after a more or less successful attempt to run a marathon with the same strategy: without camera and other distractions (spoiler, because of the heat that day, I did dip in the Zevenhuizerplas).

Stalking

Fully incognito I sat on the terrace of hotel De Jagershorst. Incognito, because nobody recognized me because of my longer hair. Unfortunately for Chris van Beem, his long curls were a bit better known, so I stalked him just before dinner to get my race bib. He told me it would be a nice small field of participants. The 14 hours for this trail had been a bit of a guess, he himself ran it in 11 hours (and Chris is pretty fast), so that gave me some doubt. But fortunately, taking slightly longer would not be considered a capital offence.

During the run, we would also be stalked: everyone got their own tracker, so my whereabouts could be followed live. I personally don't like that very much: I have no problems with showing the data afterwards, but sometimes I just have a dip and then leaving me alone is often the best option; also in connection with not being able to control your emotions during hypos by the way (one of the symptoms of a low blood sugar). Unfortunately, I have also had bad experiences in the past. If I set off at a normal pace and get a hypo, sometimes the people behind me make rude comments about stopping or walking. That's especially true at races with a high proportion of road runners. Trailers – especially on the long distances – often ask if you are doing well and run on when confirmed; on a route of this length they fortunately make up almost the entire field.

Still, I'm certainly not against trackers, it can be very handy for the race director to see if everything is going well and to take quick action if there are problems. After all, it is a large area to wander deliriously through. So from that side it did give some peace of mind.

What also helped to get into the right spirits was Chris' super-enthusiasm. This was the first time the BUT100 was really going to happen. He was proud of the medals (and participants) and did everything he could to be there for us. Right down to offering special food at the posts for me if needed. Top.

Quiet start

At 7 am it was time to leave. The idea was to start slowly, but not too slow. The goal was to build up a reasonable time advantage at the first aid stations while I was still fresh. Luckily, the temperature – not the humidity – was great with a maximum of 24-25 °C according to the weather forecast. So a very big drop in speed in the afternoon would not have to occur.

When I saw Barry van Oven, he seemed the ideal candidate to get me up to a reasonable speed those first few kilometers. So I followed him and Jantine. That way I managed to run pretty well on automatic pilot. Maybe I didn't see much of the surroundings, but that was probably also the intention this time. The first kilometer my pace was around 7.15 min/km, but then it changed to 6.09-6.19 min/km. Until after 7-8 km I considered it to be a bit too fast and slowed down.

Except for a little bit of stuffiness, the first 18 km went pretty well. I think that was mainly due to my blood sugars. My blood sugars were way too high during the first few kilometers, even though I assumed they would go down quickly because of the insulin I was using. But that did not happen. At the first aid station (within 2 hours), the Libre still indicated 15 mmol/l. I decided to take 2 pieces of licorice and some cola, because I suspected the Libre was lagging behind a bit.

Downwards spiral

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Less than 2 km later I felt pretty lethargic. According to the Libre I was still pretty high. But the drop was very fast. Could the licorice have given me a kick so that my blood sugar started to descend again? Had the first load of Ucan now almost worn off? I do not know, but it did not make me run well anymore. No more flexibility, no more speed. Doubts began to start and a little later the Libre registered a hypo (which is not shown in the above graph: very short peaks are ‘flattened' in the line).

In the meantime I did get to see more of the surroundings. Funny how you have more time for that. I saw the surroundings in a completely different light than in January 2020. Now there were lots of flowers in some places, the marshes looked beautiful between the golden blades of grass and red marsh plants. Why I saw it as a somewhat duller area earlier, I do not remember exactly. There are many wide dirt roads on the route, but maybe it was mostly the time of year and the somewhat slow pace at the time.

But back to running. For a while it was alternating between slow and fast. Really fast pieces had become out of the question. And slowly more and more runners passed me at a moment that I would have preferred to have more peace in my surroundings and head; I therefore let most of them pass me. The next aid station was still in time, but that was more due to the head start I built up earlier.

How to proceed

To get back into the swing of things, I tried to go back to a 5 km run and a few hundred metres walk schedule. Music playing. This tactic went reasonably, until the viscous sides of a ditch slowed me down again. It became a struggle. And a lot of fatigue came to the surface. For weeks now my blood sugars have not been running smoothly at night: it either goes completely down – resulting in a beeping extremely low alarm – or it goes the exact opposite way. There's not much of a line in this, but both cases are disastrous for sleep. Almost every night I had a trip for insulin or carbohydrates.

Yet I remained positive for a long time that the pace would come back. The blood sugars during the run were actually excellent, so there was no reason for this setback. The fact that the pace was off for a while is something I often experience: a bad part in the first half doesn't mean you can't find your rhythm again in the second half. The limits were still achievable, although I did get closer and closer to them. The body didn't seem too cramped, so if only I could get the mental part to work again...

Close to the 50 km I met Ilja and Edwin for the umpteenth time. Edwin had also had his own problems, but seemed to run a lot easier than I did at that point. And I had to run another 50. Still, I didn't want to give up completely when I reached the halfway point (hotel with dropbag): there was still 20 minutes left and the running wasn't unbearable. With Chris I quickly looked at alternatives to shorten the route. And as always, I had enough stuff with me to keep on going, even when the supply stations would be closed.

Breakthrough

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And that was the start of the second half. A completely different landscape, along a stream. The weather came to the rescue with thunder in the distance, and locally just a little refreshing rain. What I hadn't managed for a long time – because running was too easy? – happened now. Emotions were released again and mixed with the rain.

It might sound like something really nasty, grief rising to the surface. Or sometimes anger. Or other dark emotions that we often suppress. But it is not. It means that you get closer to your nature, that you live with your feelings instead of fighting against them unnecessarily. And actually, it is exactly why I was probably present in this run; a necessity.

Sometimes a moment like that makes me run easily again, but unfortunately that wasn't the case now. The local shooting club brutally snatched away the ‘present’ prematurely and I came back to reality. At narrow mud paths, along the Tongelreep, where I was greeted by the frogs who took advantage of the wetness to expand their territory. Slowly I became one with the world again. And tiredness set in again.

I ran for a while, stubbed my toe (still not completely healed from the Winter trekking), cursed and started walking again. It was clear to me that the next station was going to be the last one. And that's when your Protestant youth pops up: that almost is still complete failure, that you just have to finish things. But for whom? In the end I sent Chris a message that it wasn't going to be and that I wanted to go back at the aid station. While the rain was pouring down my screen and I had to type everything at least ten times before it read correctly, we agreed that from there I could go back with the car.

If it doesn't matter anymore

It's always amazing how such a decision suddenly gives you some new energy. I didn't want to keep the volunteers waiting too long and decided to speed up. My brain could no longer handle 37 km, but it could handle 3. And Wende (Heb ik dat nodig from her CD Mens) got me through it on repeat (translated from Dutch):

Dance for the love
Dance through the light
Dance for the evil that you abandon in your swirl
Dance like the bride for the doors you close behind
For the roads that separate us
For the opportunities we seize
To dance through the night
And dance along the sun
Dance with the foolishness
Without reason or why
Dance without chains for your life without regrets
Dance because who knows tomorrow what's coming for you and me

The song helped. And I returned to being full of love. Walking and dancing through the puddles. Not holding back, just following the body, which apparently agreed with the decision. And it made sure I could step out without regret.

And so I came to the end of my journey, where I was met wonderfully by Chris’ daughter Lotte and her boyfriend. A lot more lively than before, and because of the fatigue probably much too talkative for a stubborn Frisian. I felt a bit sorry for them that they had to sit there in the cold for so long. Nobody would come after me, they were only waiting for me. Advantage: I was back at the hotel very quickly. With a f* you to my Protestant roots I received one of the medals of the 50 km (Chris was so proud of it). Something I would normally never do. After all DNF is DNF and I did the 100, not the 50 or 63. But somehow it felt right at the moment.

Every advantage has its disadvantage. I didn't have to worry about not being able to order food anymore. It was only a little after four o'clock. After a short nap I could just start eating dinner. During dinner I almost fell asleep a couple of times which meant that my decision was the right one. Also the cramps in my legs suggested it was. At my normal cruising speed I never have any pain, I am pretty immune to muscle pain. But apparently the severe cutoff plus fatigue had had an impact. In conclusion, doing something different definitely was a success, even if I messed up the race itself. It was good to take on a challenge again.

Photos

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The next day I wanted to make use of the nature reserve as I was already there. A good moment to take some pictures of the northern part. I definitely want to run that missed loop there once. With the stiffness in my legs (and the already packed suitcase) I decided to take a walk. Everything was still functioning, so I hadn't gone too deep. And I managed to walk a nice 16,5 km.

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