Es labprāt neatskatīšos uz ļoti garo un nogurdinošo operāciju un rehabiltāciju posmu, kura laikā biju atmetusi cerību jebkad vairs noskriet kādu ultru. Vai maratonu. Pat pusmaratonu. Tā sajūta, kad uzzini, ka ar jau veikto operāciju nav gana, ir jāveic vēl un tad vēl un katru reizi jāmācās skriet kā no jauna. Tas nedaudz liek zaudēt drosmi. Man likās, ka skriešanas prieka augstākā izpausme manā gadījumā turpmāk būs kādi maksimums 7-10 saudzīgi kilometri saulrietā. Un tiešām, vai cilvēkam vajag ko vairāk? Sajust mieru, ko dod ritmiski soļi pa mīkstu meža stigu un viegls vējš matos. Kādēļ man jābūt tādai negausei un jāgrib noskriet visi iespējamie kilometri? Man taču pat nav mērķu vai sportisku ambīciju, man ir tikai sapņi.
Savu skriešanas formas atgūšanu jau pāris gadus esmu uzticējusi trenerim Andrim. Man likās, ka cilvēkam, kam pašam ir traumu pieredze būs vieglāk mani saprast. Mans vienīgais un ļoti pieticīgais mērķis, kam gatavoties, visu šo laiku ir bijis: “Varēt atkal paskriet”, kas droši vien skriešanas formu klasifikācijā ierindojas kaut kur pašā apakšā. Skriešanas jeb drīzāk tipināšanas apjoms vidēji ir svārstījies ap nieka 30 km labajās nedēļās. Par sliktajām nerunāsim. Lai “varētu atkal paskriet” man nākas arī vingrot fizioterapeita uzraudzībā divas reizes nedēļā. Nevingrošana rezultējas sliktajās nedēļās. Jā, reizēm drosmes uzplūdos piesakos uz kādu pusmaratonu vai Lūsi un pat iestājos zemessardzē, taču kopumā turos pie tiem 7-10km saulrietā. Tomēr, arī mīkstmieši sapņo. Pagājušā gada oktobra beigās prātā iešaujas spontāna doma - ja jau kādu laiku ceļgali nemaz tik briesmīgi nesāp, tad varbūt ir pienācis laiks atkal doties kādā ultragarā piedzīvojumā. Un Grankanārijas sala ar saviem kalniem, kaktusiem un sauli iekārtojas manā apziņā uz palikšanu. Kamēr ar vienu roku jau stiepju naudiņas saulainās salas virzienā, ar otru uzrakstu trenerim, ko viņš par to domā. “Grūti jau spriest cik stulbi sapņot, bet sapņot jau vajag,” raksta Andris un vēl piebilst, ka pilnīgi neiespējami tas neesot, tikai jāstrādā. Fizioterapeits, savukārt, ļoti sapriecājas par šādu domu un sola, ka mēs visam paspēsim satrenēties. Nē, nu kā lai nepiesakās?
Pirms Ziemassvētkiem treniņplānā sāk iekļauties kādi nebūt pauguriņi un februāra sākumā jau kāpaļāju pa Siguldas kalniņiem visai garlaicīgos, līdz pat 3,5 stundu garos treniņos. Nedēļas apjoms uzkāpj līdz “galvu reibinošiem” 44 kilometriem. Ceļgali reizi pa reizei izmet kādu niķi, tomēr, viss iet pārsteidzoši gludi. Vai tiešām es to varēšu? 84km garā TGC Advanced distance ar 4700 augstummetriem! Ik pa laikam pētu gaidāmā skrējiena grafiku, tikai lai jau atkal domīgi savilktu pieri par pirmajiem 2 posmiem. Daudz augstummetru, ne tik daudz laika, ja tikšu tam pāri, tad atlikušo daļu vajadzētu varēt bez satraukuma. Es zinu, ka mans treniņu apjoms ir smieklīgs, pie tam pēdējo 5 gadu laika garākais noskrietais gabals ir bijis 32 kilometri, esmu uzēdusi ne vienu vien lieku kilogramu, bet nu pat jau sapnis manī ir tā piepūties, ka nožēlai un bailēm neatliek vietas.
22.februāra rītā ierodos Expo Meloneras, lai izņemtu savu numuru. Cik savādi, no malas es līdzinos visiem citiem, taču nejūtos kā visi. Kaut kur iekšā ir tā sajūta, ka neiederos starp šiem priecīgajiem, sportiskajiem ļaudīm. Jūtos kā viltvārde, kas tikai izliekas par ultraskrējēju. Un es plānoju izlikties visas distances garumā tā no sirds, lai paspētu iekļauties kontrollaikā. Jā, tāds ir mans mērķis, iekļauties kontrollaikā. Man nav vispār nekāda uztraukuma. Tas ir tik nepierasti. Laikam jau, ja jāpaveic kas nepaveicams, uztraukums ir pilnīgi lieks. Citkārt man ir bijis svarīgi kā es noskrienu, vai es noskrienu labāk kā iepriekš un tamlīdzīgi, bet šoreiz darīšu to par visu naudu, kā pašā pirmajā reizē pirms nesaskaitāmi daudz gadiem, kad stājos uz starta līnijas savā pašā pirmajā kalnu ultrā. Tieši šeit, Agaetē.
Starta rīts ir nesteidzīgs, visu esmu salikusi, visam esmu gatava, pa ceļam ieslēdzu GPS sekošanu, ko iegādāties pieprasījuši mani vecāki - viņiem jāzina, kur atrodos ikkatru mīļu brīdi. Rīts ir vēss, vējains un apmācies, kaut biju plānojusi skriet Mazajā Melnajā skriešanas kleitiņā, ko īpaši esmu radījusi tieši sacensību skrējieniem, atstāju virsū softshell jaku, ar kuru esmu skrējusi visu ziemu. Starta drūzma nav pārāk liela, un es vēl joprojām neesmu satraukusies. Kaut kur blakus, starta koridorā, kāds čurā, pieļauju ka vairāki, jo tāds apjoms nav viena cilvēka darbs. Šķidrums aizvijas pa slīpumu uz leju daudzos jautros strautiņos. Cūkas gatavie. Cenšos izvairīties, lai uzsākot kustību šajā visā nebūtu jāšļakstās. Atskan “Ay mi Gran Canaria”, kas nenovēršami liek skriet skudriņām pār muguru un parādīties spilgtiem atmiņu uzplaiksnījumiem manā prātā. Tik daudz startu, tik daudz piedzīvojumu un tik sāpīgs pārtraukums. Beidzot es atkal esmu šeit. Tas, kas sagaida priekšā ir vienlaikus biedējošs un arī tik ļoti mīļš un gaidīts. Es gandrīz jūtos kā atgriezusies mājās. Laika atskaite un skrējiens sākas. Emocijas vairs nav kontrolējamas, asaras laužas pār vaigiem un man tiešām jāturas, lai nesāktu skaļi šņukstēt. Droši vien izskatos pagalam savādi. Bet vai nav vienalga - es izdzīvoju savu sapni!
Sākumā skrienam pa ielu, kas ved uz augšu vieglā slīpumā, kad tas sāk apnikt, maršruts strauji nogriežas no ielas uz augšu akmeņainā serpentīnā. Pāreju atsperīgos soļos, jo nav man ne mazāko nodomu skriet uz augšu. Lēnām sāku lūkot, vai jau var vilkt laukā nūjas - tās man noteikti liks justies pārliecinošāk. Laikam drīkst. Nepalēninot tempu izvelku vienu, taču velkot otru, tā ņem un iesprūst. Mieru, tikai mieru, tā ir niķīgā nūja, es to pazīstu, agāk vai vēlāk tā padosies. Nekā. Lai kā es censtos tā nefiksējas. Sasodīts stulbums. Pienākusi šosejas šķērsošanas vieta, piestāju, lai pilnvērtīgi pievērstos nūjai. Nolaužu 3 nagus. Nekā. Visi raiti soļo man garām. Nekā. Nevaru izturēt. Soļoju tālāk ar vienu nūju, bet ir tik neērti. Līdz pirmajam kontrolpunktam jāpieveic 1370 augstummetrus 13 kilometros. Tie ir 17.5 Ziediņkalni - ar vienu nūju kaut kā neizskatās rožaini. Galvā maļās domas, ka jāpaziņo Veipa kungam, lai sadabū man kādu citu nūju. Vai šo jau mest pie malas, vai tomēr mēģināt vēl? Vai Edijs spētu sakontaktēt ar vakar finišējušajiem Riekstiem un aizņemties no viņiem nūju? Kaut, diez vai kāds to īso distanci skrēja ar nūjām. Pie tam 1.kontrolpunktā palīdzība no malas nav atļauta. Apstājos un bakstos vēl. Nekā, puļķītis neparko nelien ārā. Liekas, aiz manis ir vairs tikai pāris censoņu, kas tūdaļ pat pasteigsies garām. Izstiepju savienojumu cik spēka un triecu nūju pret akmeni. Atkal un atkal. Vai nu tā lūzīs, vai padosies. Puļķītis ir parādījies un man izdodās ar nagu atliekām to izkasīt ārā. Ir! Paldies, Dievam, esmu atpakaļ uz ceļa. Laikam esmu palikusi pavisam pēdējā. Aiz muguras neviena vairs nav. Phe, un kas par to - šis aizvien ir mans sapnis. Sākšu no beigām, būs jautri!
Šis augšupceļš man patīk. Ir arī plakanākas vietas, kur var paskriet. Neticami, cik zemu lejā jau ir starta pilsētiņa. Nemaz nejūtos tik augstu uzkāpusi. Apsteidzu pāris lēnākus soļotājus, bet te jau pretī bēdīgi nāk pirmais cietušais. Stipri klibodams un izmisumu sejā, viņam skējiens ir beidzies. No sirds jūtu līdzi. Atgādinu sev, ka jāskatās zem kājām. Ik pa laikam pietuvojos 2 čaļiem, kuri atkal un atkal apstājas, lai sašņorētu savas kedu auklas. Kad tieku garām, tie uzreiz mani atkal apdzen, lai jau pēc pāris līkumiem ņemtos šņorēties. Tik kaitinoši. Goda vārds, ja tas atkārtosies vēl vienu reizi, es apstāšos un piedāvāšu viņiem iemācīt Neijas kundzes dubulto mezglu. Tas mani ne reizes nav pievīlis. Par laimi, viņi beidzot pienācīgi attālinās. Vējš gan ir traki stiprs. Liekas, tas reizi par visām reizēm grib man iemācīt savākt matus. Es strīdos pretī, bet viss ko iegūstu ir pilna mute un acis ar matiem. Neko neredzu. Želejas ēšana vispār ir tīrā jautrība. Nākas piekāpties. Kas tam vējam vainas? Nu, lai viņam tiek, normālos apstākļos gan jūs mani ar savāktiem matiem neredzēsiet. Ar dzeršanu ir neliela ķibele. Ūdens sistēmā garšo pēc plastmasas. Nekāda skalošana nav līdzējusi. Jocīgi, nekad neviena sistēma tā nav uzvedusies. Labi, ka man līdzi ir arī puslitra pudelīte. Taciņa ir šaura, un kaut jūtos patīkami pārsteigta, ka ir kāds par mani arī lēnāks, apsteigšana ir apgrūtinoša padarīšana. Tu vari tikt garām tikai, ja tevi palaiž. Dažkārt izteiksmīgi skrapstinu nūjas un skaļi šņākuļoju, bet citreiz vien pieklājīgi palūdzu, lai palaiž. Man liekas tā skrapstināšana ir foršāka - neviens to ilgi nevar izturēt. Ko gan Inga ir tā saregulējusi manā Garminā, ka viņš kaut ko ziņo ik pa minūtei? Tā kā esmu ielādējusi trases maršrutu, iespējams, pulkstenis signalizē par katru niecīgāko pagriezienu, vismaz tāda ir sajūta. Lai nu kā, bet augstumlīkne tajā liecina, ka pirmais kāpums ir beidzies un tūlīt pat nāksies noskriet līdz pašai apakšai. Yes!!! Noskrējieni man patīk. Šis gan tāds stāvs un vietām grants izslīd zem maniem papēžiem. Tomēr apdzīšana palikusi vieglāka, dzirdot manis radīto troksni, piesardzīgākie biedri jau laikus pakāpjas malā taciņas līkumos. Hopā, viens pagrieziens atklāj kedu šņoretājčaļus, kuri jau atkal aizrautīgi nodevušies savai nodarbei. Ē, nu nē, kaut kā sakautrējos - nu kas gan es esmu, lai pieaugušiem vīriešiem mācītu kedu siešanu, un arī stāties negribas, esmu atradusi labu ritmu. Nav mana darīšana. Turpinu apsteigt lēno galu vienu pēc otra. Līkumu līkumos nonākam pilsētiņā, kur pusaizaugušo taciņu nomaina stāvs, asfaltēts lejupceļš. Tas man vairs nepadodas, kājas saslīd kedu purngalos un tās sāk briesmīgi spiest. Mēģinu kaut kā lēkšot, lai mainītu spiedienu, bet ilgi jau vairs tas nav jādara. Pilsētnieku gaviļu pavadībā maršruts iegriežas galīgi aizaugušā taciņā, kas caur sazinkādām pažobelēm noved mūs kalna pakājē un augšupceļš var sākties. No šī es baidos. Tas ir stāvs un grūts. Visi, kurus apsteidzu pirms ieskriešanas pilsētā, tagad drošā solī dodas man garām. Jap, esmu nīkule. Vai es paspēšu laikā uz El Hornillo? Ja ne, tad šī būs visai nožēlojama izgāšanās. Kilometru atzīmes pīkst gausi, es jūtos aizkaitināta. Negaidīti nonākam uz lēzenas šosejas, kur skriešana ir labu labā. Katrs skrienamais metrs ir jāizmanto! Kārtējā vertikālā taciņa un norāde, ka līdz ciematiņam atlikuši 1.9km. Taciņa vijas un vijas, tā ved augšā stāvā sienā, domājams, ka pirmais galamērķis ir ne zemāk kā pašā augšā. No krūmiem izlien kāds japānis, viņam seko vēl daudz neredzētu seju, tātad šeit mums pievienojas garā distance. Neliela drūzmēšanās ceļā. Kad sienas augšējā mala ir sasniegta, protams, tas ne tuvu nav gals. Aiz pagrieziena un neliela lejupceļa vēl kāpt un kāpt. Nopietni, man taču neatliks ne drusciņas laika rezerves! Kaut kur tālu augšā uz brīdi pavīd skrējiena baneri, taču tuvāk tie negrib nākt. Nu es arī negribu nākt tuvāk, bet tā tas nestrādā.
Visbeidzot uzrāpusies augšā ieraugu bagātīgi klātus galdus. Neko negribas. Apēdu veselu vienu čipsi. Pa ceļam esmu diezgan uzcītīgi ēdusi želejas, atliek vien uzpildīt ūdeni. Plastmasas garšas sistēma vēl ir pilna, pudele gan jau sen tukša. Uzmanību piesaista zaļganas nokrāsas Schweppes, jā, lūdzu, to man 2 krūzes un bonusā vēl vienu glāzi pepša. Tas nav garšīgs, bet auksts gan. Jūtos pienācīgi spirdzināta un gatava doties tālāk. Atliek vien izkratīt akmeni no kedas, tas jau sen krīt uz nerviem. Nākamajam posmam kontrolpūķis, kurš šņakstina savus zobus tepat aiz kalna gala, žēlīgi atvēl 2 stundas un 15 minūtes. Galīgi nav daudz un praktiski viss posms ir uz augšu. 836 augstummetri un 10.9km. Jāsaspiež bulkas!
Ceļš ved uz augšu, bet ir asfaltēts. Cilvēku ir ļoti daudz, pārsvarā no garās distances. Soļoju dūšīgi un lēzenākās vietās uzskrienu. Aprunājos ar dažiem skrējējiem, kuri izskatās nu briesmīgi sašļukuši. Prasu kā viņiem iet ar skrējiena izbaudīšanu. Sajūtu tādu kā skatu no augšas, kad kāds francūzis man skaidro, ka atšķirībā no manis, viņš jau esot pieveicis 50 kilometrus. Sirsnīgi smaidot saku, ka viņam ir paveicies, jo garā distance ir no tiesas burvīga, un aizmūku. Iepazīstos ar kādu nīderlandieti, viņš nudien sit pušu mūsu garlaicīgos Ziediņkalna treniņus, sakot, ka ir trenējies šim visam tikai uz trenažiera. Tam man nav ko likt pretī. Beidzot izdodas sapļāpāties arī ar kādu savas distances veicēju, puisi sarkanā krekliņā, nez kāpēc pieņemu, ka viņš ir dānis. Pēc trašu dalīšanās punkta, kur sanīkušie garās distances baudītāji dodas citā virzienā, uz brīdi esmu ieguvusi šo pļāpīgo ceļabiedru tikai sev. Viņam nepatīkot lejupceļi, bet uz augšu gan esot forši. Dīvainis. Ceļa malā brīvprātīgie, kuri norāda, ka jādodas uz augšu, pa stāvu, zaļu taciņu. Nu, protams, kurš gan būtu gaidījis, ka šis ērtais, lēzenais lejupceļš turpināsies mūžīgi. Pagrieziena malā 2 skrējēji sēž zemē un skatās uz taciņu tik drūmi, itin kā nevarētu saņemties tajā doties iekšā. Kāpiens ir stāvs, gribu atkal būt viena, tādēļ paņemu zaļo pauzi, ļaujot pļāpīgajam ceļabiedram attālināties. Ir tikai 2.posms bet jūtos tāda kā sagurusi. Jau labu laiku ievēroju 2 meitenes zilos šortos, pareizāk sakot viņu dibenus. Jā, mēs, lēnie ceļa baudītāji savus ceļabiedrus labāk atpazīstam pēc aizmugurēm. Lielais, zilais dibens ir ātrāks, par mazo. Viņa ik pa laikam apstājas, lai sagaidītu savu draudzeni un mēs visu laiku maināmies vietām. No sākuma viņas abas mani apdzen, tad mazais, zilais atpaliek, tad lielais apstājas viņu gaidīt un es paeju abām garām. Tad viņas mani atkal apdzen un tā uz riņķi. Esam tikušas cauri kādām pažobelēm un sākam kāpt burvīgā kalnā, kas apaudzis ar garskujainajām priedēm. Tāds nu tas ceļš uz Artenaru vienmēr ir bijis - ļoti skaists. Aplaižu acis apkārt, meklējot augstāko iespējamo vietu, kur uzkāpt. Ja sākumā sienas liekas mēreni augstas, tad aiz kāda pagrieziena atklājas nedabīgi spics, priežu un mākoņu ieskauts kalns ar dzeltenu virsotni. Brr, nav šaubu, ka kaut kā tur jāuzraušas. Izskatās nereāli. Bet, es taču izdzīvoju savu sapni - šodien viss ir iespējams. Skrienu visur, kur varu paskriet, jo kontrolpūķis, šķiet, slēpjas tepat, pāris līkumus iepakaļ. Ja kādu brīdi vēl bija ilūzijas, ka tas kalns tur ir tikai apskates objekts, tad pienākot vietai, kur mums atkal pievienojas garās distances skrējēji, šaubas pazūd. Saspiest bulkas un pa taisno debesīs. Kalnā ved stāvs serpentīns ar īsiem pagriezieniem. Zilie dibeni mani ir pieveikuši, tāpat arī vesels pulks garās distances skrējēju. Spēju tik laist garām. Traki grūts kāpiens. Un laiks iet tik ātri, nekādi nevaru atcerēties cik tālu no kalna tā Artenara ir. Kad kalna gals ir sasniegts, mani pārsteidz neaprakstāmi biezs mākonis. Knapi var redzēt 15 metrus uz priekšu, bet blakus, labajā pusē, visai draudīgi no miglas rēgojas majestātiskais dzelteno klinšu veidojums, ko no apakšas varēja redzēt kā kalna spicīti. No šejienes jābūt labam skatam, bet mākonis nevēlas mums rādīt itin neko. Pa biezo miglu vēl pēdējo reizi apsteidzu zilos dibenus - vairāk šīs meitenes trasē neredzēju. Tikusi ārā no biezās miglas jūtos kā izlauzusies no kaut kāda apburta pasaku meža. Ārprāts, atlikušas 8 minūtes un zīme, ka līdz Atrenarai ir 1.7km! Mieru, tikai mieru, es nezinu vai līdz kontrolpunktam ir tieši tik, bet sliktākais, ka nekādas civilizācijas pazīmes vēl neredz. Jāskrien! Jāskrien cik spēka! Skrienu garām cilvēkiem, kuriem izskatās, ka ir vienalga un arī tādiem, kuri turpina cīnīties. Man jāpaspēj, es nedrīkstu nokavēt! Kāds stulbums, vai es nevarēju kāpt kripatiņu ātrāk? Skrienu un skrienu, līdz pulkstenis rāda, ka kontrollaiks beidzies. Acīs saskrien asaras, nu kā tad tā?! Nē, es nepadošos, es lūgšos un strīdēšos, es mēģināšu tikt tālāk! Skrienu līdz galam un kontrolpunktu sasniedzu 2 minūtes par vēlu. Izrādās, ka tomēr esmu iekļāvusies, jo arī starts ir bijis 2 minūtes vēlāk! Kāds atvieglojums. Man ir atļauts 2 minūtes uzpildīties, bet ja tām beidzoties nebūšu vēl ārā, tad sacensības man ir beigušās. Edijs uzpilda ūdenstraukus un paziņo, ka mans GPS nestrādā, es tikmēr izdzeru krūzīti ledusauksta pepša. Nekam citam nav laika. Ar GPS nekas nav labojams. Dodos tālāk. Nākamais kontrolpunkts ir burvīgais Tehedas ciematiņš, līdz tam jāpieveic 726 metru augsts kāpums un arī pamatīgs noskrējiens, kopā 12,4 kilometri. Ai, nu cik gan grūti tas varētu būt?
Uzreiz ņemu savus vārdus atpakaļ. Kāpiens ir smags un stāvs, brīdi kāpusi kopā ar pļāpīgo dāni, kurš pielavās no aizmugures, padodos un turpinu vilkties savā tempā, smagi balstoties uz nūjām. Jo tuvāk nāk kalna gals, jo aukstāks paliek. Vējš pūš kā traks. Pretīgs, slapji pelēks mākonis cenšas ielīst visās vaļējajās jakas daļās. Uzlieku kapuci, jo to slapjo pūtēju ausī vairs nevar izturēt. Brīžiem vējš pūš stipru lietu, brīžiem slapju sniegu, es nespēju noticēt, ka tas notiek šeit, Grankanārijā. Ir tik sasodīti auksti! Vējam vienalga, ka es neticu, tas rauj man no rokām nūjas, mēģina ar tām mani paklupināt un nopūst no klints. Organizatoriem nav bijuši prātā joki, kad tie 3 dienas atpakaļ ieslēdza obligātajam ekipējumam cold kit režīmu. Ir tik grūti, ka neko negribas, bet želejas ir jāēd, vējš, šķiet, tam piekrīt, tas iepūš želeju man rīklē, liekot aizrīties. Neticami. No citiem gadiem atceros, ka šeit paveras burvīgs skats uz blakus esošo ieleju un ciematiņiem, šodien man ir tikai pelēks mākonis un viegli nojaušamu klinšu silueti. Kalna galā ir iespēja paskriet pa ļoti slapjām takām. Ir arī visai slidens, taču slidenuma īsto “burvību” var apjaust sākoties stāvajam lejupceļam. Akmeņaina un dubļaina taka, pa kuru straumītēs plūst ūdens - tā tik ir līdzsvara pārbaude! Sāku apdzīt tos, kuri man gāja garām kā stāvošai augšupceļā. Es varbūt neesmu tik stipra, cik viņi, bet sanāk, ka esmu drosmīgāka, vai arī man ir labākas kedas, vai arī vājāks pašsaglabāšanās instinkts. Cruz de Tejeda - šī ir pazīstama vieta, kas sniedz nedaudz atelpas kājām uz gluda asfalta, pirms mesties iekšā nākamajos serpentīnu virpuļos. Kāda meitene izstājas gluži manu acu priekšā. Pārāk auksti? Pārāk slidens? Gribas uzsaukt, ka tālāk noteikti būs labāk vai vismaz savādāk, bet kaut kā nav liekas enerģijas.
Mākonis ir palicis savā kalnā, tālākā serpentīna taka ir gana sausa un skrienama. Es aizvien apdzenu, un ir arī ko dzīt - tajā šausmīgajā augšupceļā mani apsteidza milzumdaudz ļaužu. Skaista pļava, nez kas noticis mandeļkokiem, ka tie šogad nezied? Parasti burvīgā Teheda bija mandeļziedu ieskauta, bet šoreiz kaut kas nav lāga. Skaistā taka pārvēršas stāvos ciemata nomales celiņos. Vietām kāpnes, vietām trotuāri, ļoti stāvi un grūti skrienami. Apsteidzu arī pļāpīgo dāni, kuram nepatīk lejupceļi. Sāku nedaudz satraukties par laiku, kā arī par to, ka trases profils rāda vēl vienu kāpienu pirms kontrolpunkta. Aiz kāda līkuma mani pārsteidz Veipa kungs. Viņš līdz šejienei esot nācis 10minūtes, bet uzņēmis laiku, ka citi skrējēji tiek līdz kontrolpunktam 7 minūtēs. Bet cik laika man ir atlicis? Esot 7 minūtes. Šausmas! Sākas augšupceļš, bet spēka nav galīgi. Es gribu, taču nevaru paskriet uz augšu. Edijs ietur distanci kādus 20-30 metrus un visvisādi cenšas uzmundrināt. Mani tas kaitina, bet saprotu, ka viņš tikai grib, lai es paspēju. Saņemos, šoreiz viņa dēļ, jo uz mirkli man kaut kā ir tik grūti, ka ir vienalga - paspēt vai nē. Paspēju.
Atvieglojums nav ilgs, kontrolpunkts jāatstāj 5 minūšu laikā. Atdodu Edijam uzpildīt dzeramtraukus un pati našķojos ar 3 banānu gabaliņiem, saliekot kopā, iespējams, sanāk viens normāls banāns. Jūtos lepna, ka varēju apēst tik daudz īsta ēdiena. Nekādas limonādes šoreiz neredzu, izdzeru Edija sarūpēto kolu un kopā ar pļāpīgo dāni dodos ceļā. Izsoļojam cauri ciematiņa centram un negribīgi laižamies noskrējienā. Šī posmā iesākumā jānoskrien tā zemāk, lai pēc tam varētu uzkāpt tā riktīgi augstu. Priekšā 1114m kāpiens 11.6km garumā. Šī, priekš manis, vienmēr ir bijusi trases grūtākā daļa. Cik reižu tajā esmu kāpusi, arī pašā labākājā skriešanas formā esot, tur allaž esmu jutusies kā nāvei parādā. Šis gads nav nekāds izņēmums. Jo augstāk kāpju, jo grūtāk paliek. Kā ieraugu kādu dibena augstuma akmeni, tā gribu apsēsties, cenšos to nedarīt pārāk bieži, ja reiz smagais gals uz akmens ir piezemējies, tad apēdu želeju. Ļaudis kāpj man garām. Kāds izmisis spānis apsēžas blakus un pa pusei spāniski, pa pusei ar zīmēm stāsta savu sāpi, ka nokavējis kontrollaiku Tehedā, bet viņam atļauts doties tālāk, tikai bez ēšanas un tagad ir pienākusi viņa pēdējā stundiņa. Piedāvāju želejbatonus no saviem krājumiem, bet viņš izteiksmīgi rāda, ka no cukura viņam esot jāvemj. Nu trakums, atstāju viņu bēdājamies uz akmens un raušos tālāk. Žēlojos par to, cik sasodīts stulbums ir šis pasākums visiem, kas gatavi klausīties, kāds kungs man aizrāda, ka lai tak es padomājot par tiem, kuri vispār nevar kustēties. Apkaunos un aizveros. Kā atvieglojums nāk skrienams lejupceļš cauri nelielam ciematiņam. Kaut kā tādu neatceros. Nākamais augšupceļš ir vēl niknāks. Malā, klints sienā daudz kur ir iebūvētas durvis, līdzīgi kā Līgatnes alās, jocīgi, ko viņi tik augstu glabā? Ļoti gribas uztaisīt zaļo pauzi, bet nav ne mazākās iespējas, mani visu laiku kāds apdzen, ne mirkļa vientulības. Ap kalnu virsotnēm laizās drūmi mākoņi un es nekur nevaru saskatīt raksturīgo Roque Nublo virsotni. Vai tālu vēl? Dāsnais, šim posmam atvēlētais kontrollaiks draudīgi dilst. Nāk virsū raudiens. Esmu te iesprūdusi - nu kā gan es varēju iedomāties, ka man šis ir pa spēkam?! Sāk krēslot. Cauri mākoņiem vīd fantastiskas saulrieta krāsas. Man nav spēka izvilkt telefonu, man nav spēka vilkties tālāk, un arī meklēt lukturi. Bet apstāties nedrīkst. Vissmagākais kāpiens ir pirms pašas virsotnes. Un arī visskaistākais. Apkārt kalnam jau valda tumsa, bet saulriets spēj izgaismot virsotni sedzošos mākoņus koši oranžā krāsā. Sirreāls skats, liekas kalna galotni pārņēmis ugunsgrēks. Vēl pēdējie metri līdz pašai spicītei, kur numura skanētājs paziņo, ka līdz kontropunktam ir kādi 3-4km. Izvelku lukturi. Nav labi, man ir tikai 40 minūtes, bet priekšā vēl pieklājīgs kāpiens. Sākumā noskrējiens. Tajā netaupos. Klimperēju pakaļ aizkaitinātam spānim, kuram bez apstājas zvana telefons, un uz zvanu atbildot viņš nerimstas piesaukt puta madre. Pirms dambja pulciņš skrējēju ir manāmi apmaldījušies. Rādu pareizo virzienu, bet viņi negrib man ticēt. Kā gan viņi varētu zināt, ka man vienmēr ir taisnība, tāpēc bez šaubām dodos pa izvēlēto ceļu. Jā, marķējums droši vien bojāts, jo kādu brīdi to nevaru ieraudzīt, tomēr pēc laika tas atsākas. Vadātāja pieveikto skrējēju pulciņš, acīmredzot, atraduši kādu, kam uzticas vairāk un pēc brīža tomēr patraucas man garām. Uz augšu un uz augšu, nevaru sagaidīt to kempingu. Saprotu, ka nokavēšu. Šoreiz tās ir 4 minūtes, bet man tiek paziņots, ka varu turpināt, ja nedodos ēst un uzreiz pametu kontrolpunktu. Sacīts - darīts. Pa ceļam uz izeju izdzeru mammas sarūpēto mango sulu, saņemu apskāvienus no vecākiem un Veipa kunga, un dodos prom tumsā. Uzpildīties nav laika, nāksies dzert to plastmasas ūdeni. Ceļs gar žogu, kuram nav gala, vismaz plakans. Tā kā beidzot ir kādi nebūt krūmi, izslēdzu lampiņu un paņemu zaļo pauzi. Tās laikā man garām pasoļo teju vai vesels gājiens. Kur jūs visi bijāt paslēpušies? Man likās, ka esmu pati pēdējā. Priekšā nieka 2 Ziediņi uz augšu un 939 metri uz leju 9.9 kilometros.
Paliek arvien aukstāks, ja tas vispār ir iespējams šajā mūžīgās vasaras salā. Nē, nu es vairs nejūtu pirkstus, jāmeklē kur esmu iegrūdusi siltos cimdus. Pie viena notiesāju želeju, tuvojas noskrējiens, enerģija noderēs. Šī akmeņainā, stāvā taka uz leju man vienmēr ir patikusi. Izslēdzu saprāta balsi un lēkšoju pa kustīgajiem akmeņiem, turot līdzsvaru ar nūju palīdzību. Īstas medības. Ja vien te nebūtu tik grūti paspraukties kādam garām. Un neviens tā pieklājīgi laist arī nevēlas. Pavisam drīz jau sajūk skaits. Apdzenu gan vienīšus, gan veselus vilcieniņus. Kā tas var būt, ka mani ceļgali vēl joprojām neprotestē? Vai tie būtu aizmirsuši visas savas traumas un ir tik pat sajūsmināti par šo iespēju kā es? Šajā takā galvenais ir neko negaidīt. Pacietību - ceļš beigsies tad, kad tas beigsies, nav jēgas snaikstīties apkārt un meklēt iespējamo galamērķi. Ik pa laikam aizķeros aiz asajiem akmeņiem, taču noturu līdzsvaru. Nespēju izmest no galvas jautājumu - “Ja es tagad aizķertos un kristu pa šo stāvo taku uz leju, vai pirmo pret akmeņiem es atsistu pieri, degunu vai tomēr savu iecienīto vietu, ceļgalus? Varbūt paspētu pašaut priekšā rokas? Varbūt izdotos tās salauzt?” Brr. Kāpēc manā prātā neienāk nekas pozitīvs. Apdzenu vēl divus tumšus stāvus un kad esmu kādu līkumu zemāk, dzirdu kā viens no tiem augšā izteiksmīgi vemj. Ka tik viņš neuzvemj man virsū! Te pat virs galvas vien ir! Metos prom ar dubultu spēku, līdz vemšanas trokšņi paliek iepakaļ. Kad beidzot akmeņainā taka izved mani kārotajā pilsētā, liekas, ka pa asfaltu skriet ir grūtāk, nekā lēkšot pa asajiem akmeņiem. Pēkšņi sajūtu cik sadauzītas pat cauri biezajām Hoku zolēm ir manas pēdas. Tās kā gliemezis grib ierauties mājiņā un nelīst ārā līdz pat rītdienai. Vismaz līdz rītdienai. Nekā nebija, sakožu zobus un grīļīgi tenterēju uz Tuntes centru, kur savu atbalsta komandu pārsteidzu nesagatavotu. Viņi ir tikko ieradušies, mani tik ātri nav gaidījuši.
Uz organizatoru galda neuzrunā nekas, pat vegāniskais čili. Izdzeru mammas mango sulu un paknibinos ap Edija picas gabalu. Kāds onkuliņš spāniski mēģina mūs pārliecināt, ka palīdzība no malas šajā punktā nav atļauta, kaut kādas nedzirdētas muļķības. Man nekur vairs negribas doties. Nedaudz pasēdējusi uz soliņa un nosalusi, esmu gatava izbeigt šīs mocības, tādēļ tieku aizdzīta trasē. Pa ceļam apmeklēju sabiedrisko tualeti, ja kādam šķiet, ka tas nav pieminēšanas vērts, jūs maldaties. Nav nekā labāka, kā 57. kilometrā apmeklēt īstu tualeti un nomazgāt rokas. Tas liek justies kā cilvēkam, nevis kā bezmērķīgam, visu aizmirstam rēgam nekurienes vidū. Cik apdomīgi, ka tur nav ierīkoti spoguļi, nav nekādas vēlmes šobrīd satikt Kanāriju raganu.
Priekšā 300 metru kāpums un 960 metru noskrējiens līdz Ayagaures, pilsētiņai, nemīlīgu klinšu vidū. 300 es varu. Ir pietiekoši zems, lai kāpiens nedzītu izmisumā. Klausos kādā romantiskā sarunā aiz muguras. Nu kā - klausos, es vienkārši nevaru to nedzirdēt. 2 garās distances skrējēji, šķiet, trasē vien iepazinušies un lēnam nonāk līdz viens otra ģimenes stāvoklim. Ak, cik veiksmīgi, abi neprecējušies! Meitenei gan aiz muguras esot nepatīkams šķiršanās stāsts. Besī ārā, ka nevaru no tiem atrauties, man tas nav jāklausās. Visas cerības uz lejupceļu. Noskrējiens nepieviļ, jau atkal varu spraukties visiem garām, savukārt, mani neapdzen neviens. Liekas, ka mēs krītam lejā bezdibenī. Tumšā ala, pa ko dodamies lejup, negrasās beigties. Manām pēdām ir apnicis uz leju, tās jūtas kā izklapētas karbonādes. Neliels pārskrējiens pa granteni un atkal tumša vertikāla taka. Pretī skrien kāds ļoti sasmaržojies jauneklis, ko viņš te tumsā dara? Stāvais kritiens beidzas uz plata ceļa, kas līkumo pa reti apbūvētu pilsētas daļu. Ieraugu priekšā 2 puišus ar koka nūjām. Viens no tiem saka, ka vedīs tās mājās kā suvenīrus, jo tās viņu esot izglābušas. Puiši izrādās norvēģi, taču taujāti vai viņiem patika piedzīvotie laikapstākļi, tie atbild, ka tomēr esot par aukstu. Pretī nāk Edijs, tad jau kontrolpunkts ir tuvu. Mamma ar tēti aizbraukuši gulēt un nav atstājuši man mango sulu. Kāda vilšanās, man tieši tagad ļoti gribas to sulu. Tā vietā atkal tieku pie zaļā tonika, par ko esmu ļoti priecīga. Pacenšos iedabūt sevī nedaudz īsta ēdiena - rīsus ar dārzeņiem, ko piedāvā brīvprātīgie. Vistu izlasu ārā un ar pienācīgu piespiešanos iedabūju iekšā kādas 2 ēdamkarotes rīsu. Atvados no Veipa kunga un dodos ceļā. No sākuma jāpaiet nedaudz atpakaļ, kur jānogriežas uz tilta. Tur satieku pagalam apmulsušu skrējēju. Laikam jautājums - “Ko pa stāvo taku krītot var atsist pirmo”- ir atbildēts. Galvu. Puisim pa seju tek asinis un viņš nesaprot, kurp viņam jādodas. Uzstāju, ka pareizā izvēle būs uz kontrolpunktu, pat ja viņš nevēlas atrādīties mediķiem, viņam tur ir jāatzīmējas. Šķiet, ka viņš paklausa. Kontrolpunkts ir tepat, 50 metrus aiz stūra, domājams, viņš neapmaldīsies. Es dodos pāri tiltam uz priekšā melnējošo sienu, pa kuru, iezīmējot veicamo ceļu, uzvijas retu lampiņu virtene. Pēdējais kāpums. Lēzena grantene, bet es neskriešu vairs ne soli. Nevaru un negribu. Kopā 14 kilometri līdz finišam. Man liekas, ka kontrollaikā iekļaušos pat rāpus. Uz augšu jau atkal tieku masveidīgi apdzīta. Man vienalga. Kādu daļu no tiem apsteidzu sekojošajā lejupceļā, kurā gan tikai ātri eju. Skriet ir pārāk sāpīgi. Nonākot izslavētajā upes gultnē visi ceļabiedri kaut kur pazūd. Brīžiem liekas, ka pilnīgi viena kuļos te starp drūmajām klintīm. Tās kā melnas sienas abās pusēs mēģina atņemt ikkatru cerības staru, ka kaut kur sasniedzamā attālumā varētu būt finišs. Bet es te neesmu pirmo reizi. Finišs tur ir, man tikai pacietīgi jāpārvar šīs šausmas. Apaļo, kustīgo akmeņu bērums visādā ziņā cenšas pieveikt manu līdzsvara izjūtu. Klūpu daudz reižu, bet nekrītu. Potītes tiek ļodzītas uz visām pusēm. Kuļos pāri ar visu atlikušo gribasspēku. Nekā cita jau man vairs nav. Tā kā kontrollaiks mani nespiež, nekādas papildus motivācijas tam, ka vienkārši gribu to izbeigt, man arī nav. Kas tās par muļķībām? Es taču izdzīvoju savu sapni - pēdējie mirkļi ir jābauda! Nē, man pietiek. Nevaru sevi piespiest vairs ne apēst kādu želeju, ne norīt malku ūdens. Ja es nevaru dabūt savu mango sulu, man nevajag neko. Vienkārši kusties uz priekšu! Visas ultras reiz beidzas, gan īsās, gan garās. Atskārstu, ka šī būs pirmā reize, kad ultraskrējienā neesmu apēdusi nevienu ibumetīnu, vēl vairāk, man nevienu brīdi nekas nav sāpējis tik ļoti, lai to sagribētos. Jocīgi, varbūt tāpēc, ka esmu tik lēna? Apsteidzu dažus jau redzētus dibenus, bet tad, kad tālumā beidzot jau var nojaust okeānu ieraugu kādu sēžam zemē. Viņš jautā vai dodos uz Parque Sur. Protams, mēs visi turp dodamies, kurp gan citur, tas ir finišs! Jautājot cik tālu tas ir, viņa sejā manāms apjukums. Kaut kas nav kārtībā, pierunāju viņu pieslieties kājās un doties uz finišu, viņš ir garās distances veicējs, tadēļ nezinu cik kontrollaika tajā atlicis. Apsolu, ka paspēt iespējams arī neskrienot. Atlikuši vien 3 kilometri. Varbūt man vajadzēja pārliecināties, ka viņš tiešām uzsāk kustību? Jūtos vainīga, ka uzreiz aizspēros tālāk. Nu, sorry, es arī gribu vienreiz beigt. Aizsteidzos garām arī koka nūju norvēģiem. Tiem laikam uz finišu gribas mazāk kā man. Savukārt Uve no manas distances ar kura lielo, zaļo dibenu es te vienā laidā mainos, aizsteidzas garām man. Tātad grib labāk. Viss, es jau redzu mērķi - priekšā spoži izgaismots stadions un aiz tā kārotais parks. Izmetam pēdējo loku caur kanālu un dodamies iekšā civilizācijā. Kāds garās distances veicējs, nepārliecinoši soļojot uz finišu mudina mani skriet. Nez, kāpēc pats neskrien? Es sāku skriet vien nonākot uz finiša paklāja. Tas mulsinošā kārtā ir ieklāts 90 grādu leņķī - aizskrienu līdz pagriezienam, gaidu ovācijas, bet ne, tur vēl jāskrien. Jaskrien un jāraud.
Emocijas jau atkal plēš mani gabalos - Es to paveicu! Bet tik daudz gadu es domāju, ka nekad vairs to nevarēšu un viss, kas man ir atlicis ir tikai sapņi. Bet varbūt, tas arī ir viss, kas vajadzīgs. Finiša medaļa un apskāvieni. Es nespēju tam noticēt! Tiešām! Sapnis ir piepildījies! Es to tiešām izbaudīju veselas 21 stundas garumā.
Man vēl ir daudz sapņu, man ir arī pacietība un es nebaidos ieguldīt laiku un darbu, lai tos piepildītu. Un man ir fantastiska atbalsta komanda, kura man tic, ne mazāk kā es pati. Tiekamies takās!
]]>We all have our own reasons for running. Some people run to have fun, some others set high athletic goals. Some, on the other hand, just want to control their body weight or relieve stress. But as far as it goes, running is never just kilometers. It is spending quality time with yourself, gaining new experiences and overcoming weaknesses. The feeling of harmony between the way we feel and look during the workout is very important for us at Fox-Pace. It inspires us to continue our searches for the perfect fit and design. Because working out should never be boring!
Our new prints are inspired by floral elements of the Ginkgo tree, known as a symbol of hope, love, longevity, and continuity. The colour palette includes green and blue ocean shades as well as classic black and beige.
We use high-performance fast-drying sportswear materials. To be proactive about sustainability, we make sure at least fifty percent of each design is made from fabrics that include recycled PET bottles
Are You ready to run?
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The streets are completely empty, as usual. Slowly shuffling down the street, feeling stiff and cold, I’m thinking about the next section of the course. There are 41 kilometer ahead to a beautiful village named Tejeda with almost 3000 meters of a vertical climb followed up with 13 more kilometers and 835 vertical meters to Artenara, which is the second base camp. How hard could it be? Difficult to say - it’s the highest part of the island and I’ve got some sickness issues with highs over 1600 meters above sea level.
Outside the city our course leads up the hill, often used by mountain bikers. There are so many tracks, that it is hard to hold on to the right one. The lamps of runners ahead of me are rapidly receding as they are faster than me. The city lights are receding as well as I’m climbing higher and higher. What a view! No time to look back though, as I find myself severely off track. How did this happen? I must have taken one of these false tracks. Crawling up a steep slope following the azimuth, corrects the mistake and I find myself in between other runners’ headlamps soon enough. Maybe I should stick together with someone to avoid such foolish mishappenings. I catch up with the French couple again and for some time we are traveling together. This time they are following me not the other way around. It is dark and the track is barely visible, sometimes it seems nonexistent at all. Herve is searing the path actively, and somehow we manage to stay on the right way while Celine has turned on a vegetable mode. She is too sleepy to do anything more than apathetically following her husband. When he is not sure if the path is right, she just sits down and waits for him to find it out. How convenient! More and more often I find myself rather joining Celine in waiting than Herve in searching the way.
Wandered long enough in the wilderness, we find ourselves on a wide dirt road. Wonderfull, at last I can do some running! Sleepiness is gone and I leave my companions behind. Pace is good and soon enough it feels too hot. That’s great, I was annoyed and tired from all that shivering and extra clothes. I really do enjoy moments like this - only me and the movement, surrounded by the darkness. My mind is completely empty. The only thing that matters at the moment is the next step and nothing else. Moments like these are rare, because my mind always runs ahead of me. Suddenly I find myself at the dead end. At least it seems to me that way. The navigator shows that everything is right, but as I see it - I have to pass someone's backyard to get further. That doesn’t seem right. While I’m standing and wondering, Celine and Herve are here as well. They are not confused by trespassing someone's property at all and boldly go into the yard. I just follow, because it doesn't seem that there are any other options left for me. No way - a real monster awaits behind the corner! A big black dog is sitting in the gateway right in our way. It looks scary, exactly like these drawings on Gran Canarian souvenir t-shirts. It’s eyes are glowing in the lights of our headlamps. Dog is on a chain, but it’s so long that it is not an obstacle for this monster to eat us alive. The French, absolutely cold-blooded people, are not bothered by anything, even the dog. They just pass it and disappear in the dark. Well, here we are - me and the beast. No need to explain here, that I’m terrified of dogs. “Don’t show it your fear, don’t show it your fear…”, I whisper to myself, but it’s hard to do when it feels like I’m going to wet my panties while slowly moving through the gateway. The murderous creature is watching me but it doesn’t move. It probably has eaten enough runners tonight and isn’t interested in me after all. I can exhale only when I feel safe. Now it's time to chase the French couple and turn on a vegetable mode, while getting out of the shock.
We’ve been running for a while, when we suddenly find ourselves by the lake or quarry filled with water. That is so wrong, because we shouldn’t be here according to our maps. Probably no one of us was watching our navigation devices for a while. Turning back always is so disappointing. As a bonus - we can’t find the right turn. When we finally find it, there is no track… and soon enough, we are completely lost. Our navigators are showing different things and there is only one big, steep rocky slope with some lonely bushes. Our paths split. Celine sits down on a rock as Herve crawls further in order to find a way. I’m crawling the other direction, because it feels like my navigator is leading me there and it’s the only thing I can depend on now. It feels wrong anyway. I can't reach the pink line no matter how hard I try. It becomes more and more dangerous. I can hear Celine and Herve calling each other somewhere above me. It’s too steep, I cannot get there. It feels like a bad dream, only it’s real and very frightening. There are some distant headlamps high above me. I desperately need to get there, no matter what. After breaking my way through the bushes a while, I suddenly meet the French couple again but the crazy climb has taken all of my energy and I can’t keep up with them. I’m alone again and the path is lost… again. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I find the way? I’m almost desperate when I see a couple of headlamps a little bit above me. “Please, wait for me I’m lost!” I yell, “Are you on the right path?”. The answer is affirmative. Strangers are kind - they wait as I climb up. “Oh, thank you, good people, I was really tired of being lost.” This is perfect - I’ve got myself some new companions, they love to talk and are quite funny. One of them is from Germany, his name is Martin and the other one - a guy without a navigator - Jean from France. They have absolutely no problems with the navigation, so I can relax and follow for a while. As I understand, Martin tested this segment of the route some days ago, that's why he knows what awaits ahead. Jean is good at finding paths between the aggressive bushes as well, when I ask how he can do it without the map and the navigator he just jokes that it’s his laser vision. Whatever that is - he is good at it. The terrain here is not pleasant at all. There is always only one possible way, where we can barely push through, and that is the right way after all. It’s hard to believe that a few dozens of runners have already been here before us. We feel like pioneers for sure. I have to admit that I wouldn’t want to wander here alone. I wouldn’t feel safe about the choice of the path, if I had to make it alone. It’s good to have somebody to do it for me. Yeah, I’m a selfish bitch. But these guys are not just useful. They are interesting interlocutors as well. Conversations cheer me up and help to stay awake. One of our discussed subjects is the leader of the race - Papi. We try to imagine how he runs through these bushes without any hesitation. It's rumoured that he comes here as soon as the course is published and runs it all the way before the race. That probably is an excellent idea, but the thought of running this course twice makes me feel a bit sick, because I remember how exhausted and miserable I was when I finished it 2 years ago.
My navigator is about to die and I probably need to eat something too. We sit down for a short break and when we are almost finished with our meal a “train” of several headlamps is passing us by. My Latvian buddies Anita and Valters are in the front of it. That’s the chance we can’t miss. If we follow them, we don’t have to navigate at all. I trust their orienteering skills more than any navigation device. So we jump on the “train” and now we can carelessly follow their lead and just entertain ourselves with conversations. Anita and Valters have had a good sleep in La Aldea base camp and rescued a bunch of runners in the same place where Martin and Jean saved me. Among many new faces there is Alexander - the Russian runner I met after the crazy tunnel. He is as grumpy as he was back there, or maybe even a little bit more now. He is very disappointed by the fact that many people didn’t follow the track in that awful place where most of us got lost. Oh, I don’t want to listen to this, I'd rather continue to chat with the nice guy Martin. Yes, this is perfect - pleasant downhill running and pleasant companion. The serpentine road leads us down to the highway. Anita and Valters surprise us by turning right instead of left. What’s happening? They have noticed the organizer's car - we can refill our bottles and take a little break there. Everybody is still resting when I notice that Martin is ready to go. I catch him and we suddenly find an unexpected boost of energy. It’s 4 a.m. in the morning. The paved road is smooth and a little bit descending. What a pleasure! We talk about absolutely normal running themes as we run - blisters, ultras, dehydration and electrolytes. I'm trying to entertain him with my ultra tales. I tell him that my friend calls events like this the festivals of suffering. He tends to agree on that. This is really so true - a bunch of weirdos come together to a small island to suffer and later they boast around about that.
The first light slowly breaks out as we run through the silent valley. Running is easy and we enjoy this feeling so much that we miss the right turn. This was a nice morning run, now it’s time to get back to reality. I ask Martin to abandon me when he feels that I’m too slow for him or when I talk too much. We can see Anita’s and Valter’s train taking the right turn where we missed it. They are fast as they go up the hill. The only one we manage to catch is Jean. He is fighting sleep desperately. Martin finds a caffeine pill in his backpack and Jean is saved. Strong stuff. The ascent becomes absolutely brutal. I’m crawling on my fours, afraid to look down. I feel a bit uneasy about this kind of height. Ok, I’m lying - I’m terrified. The crazy climb is done, but what a surprise - there is no path. When we manage to find the way, it tends to disappear again and again. The course continues up the hill, the sun is up and blazing, but the view is stunning. It gets unbelievably hot. Time to apply some sunscreen. Jean refuses it. He says that getting sunburned is the best way to prove to his colleagues that he was on vacation. We take some time to admire the view. This is one of the reasons to be here. Certainly. Together with the sunlight Martin seems to be recharged and ready to run. He feels that it’s not too late to fulfill his dream about completing the distance in 60 hours, that's why he just disappears. I wish him luck, but I certainly will not follow him. I have my own dreams. Jean stays with me. I tell him the same thing I told Martin - that he doesn't have to wait for me if I’m too slow. But he has no choice, as his navigator is broken. He’s stuck with me at least till he finds somebody else.
Well, we have 10 kilometers ahead of us, mostly climbing up the hill, then as a reward, there will be one delightful downhill run to the little fairytale village surrounded by almond trees - Tejeda. There is one famous cake shop. Oh, yes, I want a cake, a big, fat cake or maybe two. Yes, too cakes are always better than one! From there our path will continue to Artenara, the second base camp, but first things first - let's get these cakes!
]]>The second big climb: 750 vertical meters. Cristina passes me as I’m always slow on uphills. She looks so strong! Why can’t I run upward that easily? Does it always have to be this feeling of passing out at any moment? What am I doing wrong? I’m hydrating and eating gels as scheduled, but still feeling like shit. My feet are barely moving, I’m as slow as a snail. Celine and Herve are passing me as well. No giving up at this moment! I force myself to follow them. Rocks and thorns, more rocks and thorns… The heat is punishing me for something I guess. At last - the top of the mountain. The dusty dirt road and a pipe full of water that runs along with it. It is torturing to hear the sound of running water, but not being able to touch it. All I can dream about is a refreshing spatter in the face but all I get is a cloud of brown dust, as it follows the passing car. Oh, thanks, not exactly what I wanted, though! Okay, if I call myself a runner I should run, right? The dirt road goes slightly uphill and I force myself to jog. I can do it! I’m still keeping up with the French couple. We pass through the empty village and there’s another mountain to climb. This time the water channel that runs along the path is open and I can get as much refreshment as I like. The view is changing, no more wasteland at last. The course is quite picturesque as the path is winding through the pine forest on a mountain slope. The magnificent sight of the valley on our left is a feast for my eyes. The French couple slows down and I can enjoy my run alone. The beautiful path changes into a rocky serpentine, which ends on the mountain top. At last, I am in my element - downhill running is my thing!
The path is rocky, uneven, and there’s scarcely any vegetation around again. It’s ok with me as long as it goes down the hill. I’m going to enjoy it! This surface, though, demands extreme caution, and suddenly I find myself flying and landing on the gravel. Damn it! This hurts! My belongings are scattered down the path but at least I managed to secure my navigator. Pay attention to the road, woman! I get up to continue my run. Concentrate, you fool! You have 230 kilometers yet to go! I’m doing my best at watching the track, but the very moment I take a glance at the navigator, I trip over a nasty little stone again. Time seems to slow down when you’re falling. Nevertheless, the impact is inevitable. I’m landing on my belly with knees first. For a moment I’m lying flat on the ground, struggling to catch my breath. I’m afraid to move - anything to delay the part where I have to face the consequences. What have I done? Is the race over for me? The pain hits me like a wave. It is sharp and unbearable. Tears start bursting over my cheeks as I finally take the courage to look at my knees. This is it, I’m out. I’m even not able to stand up. My leggings are torn. There are only a few small bruises on my left knee, but there is an enormous, bleeding wound, full of gravel on my right one. What should I do now? The disinfectant spray will be useful again. Done, there is only so much I can do for the wound. I have to move further, nobody can help me here, in the middle of nowhere. My hands are hurt and swollen as well - they took part in the landing as I was protecting my face again. The only part of my body that doesn’t hurt right now is the back - I guess it’s just jealous of not being my number one problem anymore. Celine and Herve are passing by and asking if everything is okay. Yeah, right - do I look okay to you, bleeding here on the roadside?! But I just nod and say that I will be. Somehow I manage to stand up and start to shuffle along. There is a small town several kilometers ahead. I should get at least that far. The route leads down the hill. A steep, winding and rocky path. I cannot enjoy it at all, I’m barely able to move. The knee stiffens more and more and my pathetic limping down the hill feels like torture. When I finally reach the end of the path, someone has to hear about my misfortune. No more damn rocks. I was kind of hoping, that my mom and husband will suggest that I quit the race. Well, if not the husband, then at least my mom - that’s what she always does. But no. They are cheering me up, telling me to find the pharmacy to get something for my knee. What’s wrong with you, people? Don’t you care about me at all? It hurts like hell. How on earth am I going to make 220 kilometers more on these crazy paths? But there is no point in dropping out of the race anyway as I have nowhere to go. It’s only Wednesday, the hotel room is booked starting from Friday when my husband Edijs arrives. Even if I find another hotel, what will I do? Just lie down feeling sorry for myself? Maybe I should. On the other hand - I could reach the first basecamp at La Aldea, have some sleep, and then rethink this all over again.
The asphalt road leads straight to Mogan - checkpoint with a time barrier. I spot the race organizer’s car and the emergency vehicle as well. There are Cristina and some other participants - relaxing and refilling their hydration systems. I could use some water, too. With a somewhat suspicious look, the organizers agree to pour some water over my knee to wash off all this bloody mess. It looks like the medics have spotted me, one of them is already approaching. I’m not sure that I want this, what if they tell me to drop out? I don’t want to be told what to do. This has to be my own decision! Here he is. The paramedic almost drags me to the emergency vehicle. I’m seated on the floor with my legs hanging outside. I don’t understand a word the medics say, but they are very cute. Laughing and joking all the time they are showing me that my leg will be amputated quickly and then I’m free to run further. I cannot help but laugh. My knee starts to look better as the lady doctor cleans it and scrapes out all the gravel. Still quite impressive - time to send some pictures to my family and friends. The hole in my leggings has been cut out even bigger, now the wound is completely exposed. I’m good to go. Really? Just like that? With a bare knee? Shouldn’t the wound be covered or something? What if I fall again? What about all those nasty thorn bushes and other aggressive plants? It’s a pity I don’t understand Spanish. I should learn it one day - I come here too often.
I’m hesitating to follow the route out of the city. I need some ice tea and coke and maybe even ice cream. But most of all I just need a hug. Well, I’m not going to get one here. Coke and ibuprofen will have to do. Sitting on a roadside bench I feel completely broken. I have 30 kilometers with two significant climbs left till la Aldea basecamp. Should I take more ibuprofen? How much is too much? After a moment of doubt, I swallow one more pill and drag myself back to the road. Let’s do the suffering!
I climb and climb. The village can now be seen somewhere far below. I’m alone for quite a while. Where are you, people? Ibuprofen is working well, the pain is not as sharp and much more bearable. Finally, I’m cresting the hill at my snail's pace. I cannot crawl that slow forever. I grit my teeth and start running slowly. It is very unpleasant, but I get used to it as time goes by. The view is stunning again. The sunset is painting the majestic rock on the other side of the valley in beautiful shades of orange. So impressive! Around the other curve of the path, I find a runner, sitting on the roadside, enjoying the view. I feel a sudden urge to sit down with him and admire the view together - it is always much nicer to share something that beautiful with another person, but no. Nonsense! Firstly - I don’t force my company on strangers, secondly - I’m not a weirdo. Last, but not least - my knee is so stiff, I cannot squat down. That is why I continue to run downhill.
I am still full of strength. The path leads down to the highway, turns sharp to the left, and goes further downhill through the rocks and bushes. It’s getting darker. Time to put on the headlamp - the last thing I want is to trip over something again. The route leads through an empty village again. Lights are on, but nobody’s on the streets. The next big climb is about to start here. Streets are getting steeper, and at one point I cannot understand, how they drive here. How come those cars are not just falling backward? Streets are almost vertical. Walking is so hard. As a bonus, I pick the wrong way in the crossroads but luckily discover my mistake soon enough. Standing in the crossroads, confused by the navigator I just can’t figure out which way to go. Too many lines. Two guys are approaching and saying: “It’s you again!” What? Do I know you? They are saying they’ve been using me as a navigator for a while. Okay, whatever - I will be using them now. And it’s nice to have company for a change. I’m just following and not paying attention to the navigator. They come from the German-speaking countries, but time after time I’m being entertained with jokes in English. Funny guys.
Wow, a photographer! In the middle of nowhere! I smile and run as gracefully as I can. Isn’t it too dark for this? How weird. Looks like my companions are either speeding up or I’m turning into a snail again, but soon all that is left of them are a couple of lights on a dark, monstrous wall ahead. Well, this looks like one tough climb. Tough and endless. Because it’s so dark you can’t tell where the mountain ends and the sky starts. The scenery is magic. I can see city lights far below and the starry sky above. It’s breathtaking. This is what I am here for. This feeling. My knee is only bothering me when I’m doing serious uphill power-hiking. There are some big rocks on the path and from time to time I have to crawl over them. Soon enough there are piles of these loose rocks and I realize I’ve lost the track. I’m standing on the edge of an abyss as it seems in the dark, surrounded by the labyrinth of rocks. I can feel my anxiety rising. I don’t remember which way I came from. Concentrate, woman! The navigator is confused as well. Luckily I manage to get back on track. Oh, thank God! There is a light in front of me, the German guys? No, it’s an elderly runner, who gasps and moans so dramatically, that I ask if he needs any help. He just steps off the path to give way. He probably doesn’t understand me. We continue to climb together and soon his moaning starts getting on my nerves. Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough to run away.
“What goes up, must come down…” A huge, almost full moon greets us on the summit. It’s so surprisingly bright, that when I’m running downward again, I mistake it for a following runner’s headlamp. For some moments the dirt road is soft and pleasant for running, but soon enough it ends in the rocky field without any sign of a path. It’s one of those places where you cannot trust the navigator. I pick one direction only to find out it’s a dead end. A moment later I’m struggling on a slippery slope and finally stopping on the edge of a cliff. Wonderful. As I don’t know how to fly and don’t want to jump I should turn back. Working my way through the aggressive bushes, I just can’t get this one question out of my mind - what the heck am I doing here!? On my hard-earned vacation. Paying my own way. Hey, the navigator beeps that we are back on track. Yes, I can see - it’s nasty, steep, with lots of loose stones, yet beautiful. The stones are not brown or gray but burgundy and white. Such an interesting color combination for a path, but weird, on the other hand. I see lights ahead and hear a distant sound of the German language. Seems like a good reason to speed up, and soon it’s my turn to yell: ”It’s you again!”, as we reach the village. I can keep up with these guys only for a moment. The village or town, I’m not sure, is completely empty. There must be a lot of dogs around - the sounds of their barking come from every corner. I’m not exactly fond of dogs, that’s why it’s so disappointing to see the guys moving away so quickly through scary, abandoned greenhouses. It’s up the hill again, don’t ask me to run. Nevertheless, I’ve caught up with somebody again. It’s Cristina and her companion, who speaks only German. I have a sudden boost of energy and I’m rushing away as fast as I can. La Aldea is close, but my navigator is giving up. If only it could last as far as the city border… No, not tonight. I have to sit down and change the batteries. As I’m sitting on the roadside Cristina and her companion are passing me by. The poor guy notices my bloody knee, turns back to say something, and steps off the path. This is like a movie scene. He is falling backward down the slope, waving with his poles in the air. Somehow he manages to catch hold of a bush and stays there hanging. Somebody’s screaming. That’s me, of course. The guy looks calm. He crawls back to the track and continues to run with Christina as if nothing happened. What was that? Did it happen for real? Hee-haw, hee-haw… Only the sound of a donkey braying loud over the valley as if it was mocking someone. I got the navigator working again and ready for the last stretch to La Aldea. This city is huge and empty. Okay, it’s midnight, maybe it is a little late for people to be outdoors.
The base camp is full of people. The medics are here, too. Excellent. The wound has to be cleaned again. I don’t even want to imagine what would happen in the case of infection. There is one good-looking and helpful volunteer who speaks English. That’s good, I don’t have to do pantomime in front of anybody to show them what I need. I’m one hour behind my schedule, but considering the circumstances, it is quite excellent and somehow I don’t even care. First things first. I need some good food, a decent WC and some fresh clothes. The night seems to be getting colder so I put on my waterproof pants and jacket. That sucks. The material is sticking on to my wound and making it hurt even more. Will I get used to it? Suddenly I feel so lonely. Many runners around here have their support teams. I notice Celine and Herve. His bald head is stained with blood. Everybody here has some kind of a battle of their own, I guess. I could call my family, but it’s too late, they are sleeping. When I finally get to the bathroom I notice someone in the mirror. Well, hello there, you old crone! The witch of Canarias herself! No wonder: I’ve got 70 kilometers with 3308 meters of a vertical climb and an epic fall behind me already. And what is yet to come? I have to go further to the second basecamp and find it out! ]]>Winter. It will always be too cold and too long, at least for me. Well, maybe this year we’re experiencing one a bit milder than the usual, but running in cold weather, all those countless layers of clothes, dark evenings, and struggling with choosing the route without too much ice is just overwhelming. This simply kills all the joy of running! It’s such a relief then in February, as usual, I’m able to put aside all this winter wonderland madness and go to a happy place far, far away - Gran Canaria. Don’t get me wrong - Latvia is happy enough a place, but in the winter it's no match for a land of sun, beaches, mountains, and perfect running conditions. Every vacation should be spent with a purpose, therefore a certain race is on my schedule for this one, too. Transgrancanaria 360°. It is really too hard for me and my physical condition is far from peaking, but it didn’t stop me last time. Should anything be different now? There aren’t many things that can hold me back when I have adventures on my mind. I can't come up with any good reason not to participate in this 264 km challenge with 13265 meters’ vertical climb. It was an unforgettable and exciting adventure back in 2017. All the pain and despair have been forgotten a long time ago.
My autumn laziness and undertraining led me to back pain, which inevitably leads(led?) me to further undertraining. I’ve begun to wonder - why on earth have I signed up for this? Let me tell you a little bit about this “race”. It is not for the faint-hearted. The Transgrancanaria 360º is an individual and autonomous mountain test. The 264-kilometer route is not marked. You have to follow the route using a navigation device, a map, and a compass. Also, be prepared to face the changing environment and weather conditions, lack of sleep, fatigue, eating disorders, and of course, my favorite one - hallucinations. This time it will be a bit different. I’m going to face this challenge alone. Last time I had a fantastic companion, my friend Lauma. Those were crazy, fun, and awesome 101 hours, but at the same time - it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. So, why did I sign up for this again? Let me think... I know: I could certainly use some good entertainment and a bit of adrenaline!
In December, when I’m back in my normal training process, it’s time to work on a race plan. I’ve decided that this time distance should be covered in 80 hours instead of 101. Although it is not exactly a competition I’ve got no intention of finishing in the last place again. As reckless as it sounds, I think it should be quite possible. I think I should do more running at the beginning, spend less time resting at roadside cafeterias and base camps and have less sleep. That should do it. And then the fancy hotel room will be waiting for me starting from Friday. That means every hour I don’t spend there will be pain.
The day of departure has come completely unexpected as usual, of course. Oh, that beautiful island! My winter fairytale! I’ve missed it so much, or probably I’ve simply missed summer itself. The hotel I’m staying in Maspalomas is quite fancy and not far from the ocean so I can spend some fabulous days there before the race, doing almost nothing - just like those fat, happy Gran Canarian cats, lazily basking in the sun. That is what I call a real winter wonderland! I’m trying to avoid running because of my back problem; it’s not completely healed yet, but still I have to inspect the first kilometers of the route and test the navigation device. It’s not very good for me to spend my days alone, I find myself surrendering to the temptation of shopping rather quickly. I enjoy everything. I’m overwhelmed with the excitement about the coming race, and nothing can spoil my mood. And then there’s the splashing in the pool, sunbathing, and shopping. Also. I am busy planning my spare equipment and for my food supplies to be sent to several basecamps along the route. There are 5 bags to be packed with necessary things- food, batteries, power banks, clothes, underwear, shower gels and towels - anything I might need. Everything has to be planned to perfection - even a single mistake could have serious consequences. I could find myself in the middle of nowhere with no food. What’s even worse - I could end up without batteries for my navigator or headlamp in complete darkness.
Race day morning. It’s 6 am, and I’m already up. Mom is calling me on the phone several times to be sure I won’t miss my big event. Everything’s ready. My hair is done, hydration system and bottles filled up. I’m worried sick and not able to sleep any longer anyway so I’m good to go. Oh, no! My backpack is way too heavy! There are 3 liters of water, 10 gel packs, a storm shelter, a cape, waterproof pants and jacket, spare clothes, two headlamps, a pile of batteries, a phone, and a navigator in it. A bunch of other things as well, essentially necessary, of course. 99 percent of it is mandatory equipment, which means it has to be there no matter what. How can I ever run with this weight or climb a mountain? No way! My outrage is not likely to change anything, though, so along with my backpack, I put on a smile and head out to the Expo Meloneras. Here I am, living my dream, right?
The last moments before the start I spend together with other Latvians - Anita and Valters. Their bags are as big and heavy as mine is, but we cannot help noticing that some other participants’ bags are rather small. It looks like somebody’s cheating - but that is none of our business anyway. It’s time to take our places at the starting line. Brief crowding in the starting corridor and not much waiting left. The time has come so off we go. I’ve decided not to use the navigator for the first 10 kilometers. I know the way, I’ve done this part of the race while testing the navigator. The route is quite picturesque in the beginning. I’m trying to get used to the weight of my bag. Nobody seems to be in a hurry. The first kilometers are lovely and runnable. We run on a paved promenade which leads us to a rocky beach. It is not suitable for running if you care about your ankles, but it’s beautiful. The track makes a loop through a small village and returns to follow a trail on a rocky cliff along the ocean shore. I’m trying to enjoy the ocean view as long as I can because very soon we will be entertained by merely succulents and dull wasteland views for quite a long stretch.
Time to bid farewell to the ocean and head into the island. I’ve been pretty happy with the weather so far, but now it is getting rather hot. The dirt road is exposed to the sun and pretty hilly. A tunnel under the highway, a single big tree in the middle of nowhere, and a very steep climb. Soon after this the rest of the course is unknown to me. This is the very point where I turned around to head back to Maspalomas on my test run three days ago.
My Latvian buddies Anita and Valters are too fast for me as I start mixing running with power hiking breaks. I’m too lazy to look for my navigator which is hidden somewhere deep in the backpack, so I use a map to follow the course. Although there is not much of a view to enjoy, the road suddenly starts descending, and I feel strong enough to run. This kind of happiness never lasts long - the first serious hill is right ahead - 500 meters of vertical climb. Suddenly I find myself all alone, and to my great disappointment, I’ve lost the track. This sucks, I have missed the turn, I should find my navigator after all. Nah, still too lazy. The map will do. A steep slope, a little shortcut through the bushes, and I’m back on track. I should be more cautious, though. A small group of runners is approaching from behind. They are fast. I’m bad at uphills, but I always catch up on downhills. This makes me change paces with this group again and again. I’m trying to keep up with them until we reach the top of the mountain. Oh, the delightful descent! It’s time to fly!
Running downhill is so pleasant that I almost miss Waypoint 1 - enter the tunnel. A Polish guy I found myself running together with announces now that we are not on track. He turns around and disappears as I’m finally getting out my navigator. The device shows that I am on track, which can only mean the tunnel is somewhere beneath me. How do I find the entrance? As I’m looking around, a French couple Celine and Herve approaches looking as confused as I do. They decide to go down a cliff so steep that I don’t even consider joining them. There has to be another way! Where did the Polish guy go? He hasn’t returned, which means he found the way. As I’m walking back slowly, I notice a stream below the roadside. That should be it, I guess. I have to slide down into a deep ditch. Finally, I can see it - the entrance. Are you serious?
This is not a tunnel, it’s a dark cave full of water. At least there seems to be light at the end of it. I pull myself together and jump in the dirty, brown water. It is knee-deep and freezing. How refreshing! I have to bend down to get through the cave, but to my surprise, the road after this turns out to be a concrete drainage channel full of water. I am not afraid of getting my feet wet, however, this is very unusual. The view in front of me is breathtaking. This drainage channel is built right in the wall of a cliff. It makes kind of an open balcony on a steep wall of the valley. Running is not possible in water that deep. I just have to wade forward. Should it be called power wading?
The roadbook says this “tunnel” is 3 kilometers long. Nice... Suddenly I notice a girl in front of me. She is balancing on the concrete edge of the channel. It looks dangerous. She says she doesn’t want to get her feet wet. That’s Cristina from Romania. I encourage her to jump in and enjoy this unrefined but very refreshing entertainment together. Pretty soon the walls of the channel close above our heads and we find ourselves in a real tunnel. In the beginning, it has openings to let in some light, but in a few moments it probably goes deeper into the rock and we are surrounded by complete darkness. Cristina puts on her headlamp. The situation is surreal. I have this slightly claustrophobic feeling. The dim light of Cristina’s torch casts spooky shadows and reflections on the wet, moldy walls. The splashes of our footsteps are echoing through the tunnel, making an enormous noise. The guy following us is splashing the filthy water so violently, that my back is all wet. It is refreshing, of course, but considering all the mold and stench, I don’t want this kind of a shower. Ouch! My head bumps against the uneven ceiling, again and again. It was a good idea to wear a cap. Will this tunnel ever end? I miss the sunlight! We’ve been wading for too long. Our pace seems to be good, though. There is a group of runners ahead. It looks like they are waiting in a queue to get out of here at last.
Here it is - Waypoint 2 - exit the tunnel. It’s not that simple. The exit is a vertical opening in the ceiling. You have to crawl up to get out. It seems too high for me. There are a lot of guys around, but nobody is offering any help. So Cristina and I manage to help each other by pushing and pulling. Wow, after such a long time in complete darkness, the sunlight is blinding! A bunch of runners are sitting near the exit with their shoes off. Oh, their poor, little feet got wet… Sissies! We, girls, are not wasting any more seconds here. The rocky downhill path is a feast for my feet. I rush forward to enjoy the wind in my hair at last. The gorgeous serpentine trail ends on a road, that leads us to a small village. For a moment I consider buying some refreshments in a local shop, but there’s no time to waste. To be honest, I need to pee. To my disappointment, I don’t see a public toilet in this village. My need gets more and more urgent as I cannot find any place to hide even outside the village. Only wasteland embellished with some thorn bushes. Not much of privacy, but this will have to do. I step a few steps off the roadside, squat down, and…. Aaaah! The surface beneath me cracks open and I fall down with a scream. Now I’m hanging with my bare rear end in this pit, an old basement or whatever it is, holding on to the dry, thorny vegetation around its edges. Well, this sucks. Those darn thorns! The situation is so embarrassing. The thing I’m worried about the most is that somebody can see this mess. I’m pulling myself out of the pit with tears in my eyes. Oh, that hurts! My palms are full of thorns and bleeding. I’m able to take out only some of them. Time to use some disinfectant spray. Luckily, I have one. As upset as I am, I have to run further. It’s relieving to have a long-sleeve shirt and leggings. The bruises could be much worse without them.
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