Ultra-Trail Małopolska 2019 - Character's test

          I look and wonder why others are making a selfie here - some kind of mountain in the background. I'll do the same for myself and I have to go pick up the number. There are two hours left before the start. How to find the strength to maintain inner peace - everything will flow by itself. 

          It takes me a bit longer to decide what to put into the bag for the first and third repack and what to put into the bag for the second repack. From all this, I missed where I put the most important equipment - lighting. For a few moments I can't find a headlamp at all! I wonder if she didn't stay in the room where I spent the night. Stress! She searches all the bags. 

          It turns out that the headlamp was put into the cross-country backpack and without it I wouldn't have passed the equipment control that took place. 

"This is where the powerbank will be..." - I can hear it when I approach the equipment control just before entering the launch zone.

"Yeah, here it is...." - without thinking about it, I lecture all the elements in accordance with the regulations. There are many of them, but only for safety reasons.

          I am still picking up a small GPS box - before the start, which must be put into a waterproof place and....

          Few people talk to each other, full concentration. Music flows from the speakers - energetic, rhythmic, warming up. Someone walks with a webcam and archives selected players who warm up. In percentage terms, it is about sixty percent of the competitors who start at a smaller distance - 105km. The competitors from a distance of 240km are almost on the track for ten hours. We, the "yellow" and the "70s", are hardly recognized in this "100km crowd", together with the stopper, are invited to take a pre-start photo.

          We went quietly on the road, no hurry. Initially, it's cool to run uphill and downhill (well, downhill 🙂 ) although someone is screaming from above to turn back - already a surprise at the start....

          Frankly speaking, I don't remember the first kilometers, because we were running for the first kilometers, I think, idyllically. The terrain was initially maybe very gentle and maybe because of its gentleness, it wasn't stuck in my memory. 

          I remember a lot of grassy sections at the beginning of the run and then in the forest and in the mud. The headlamp of Led Lenser NEO is doing great. The rains from days before the start prepared a nice "ride" for us. Several times on the route the ribbons were placed a bit too far and it led to wondering if we were on the route, but the obligatory track of the route, alarmed us about returning to the previous place.

          Mud, big puddles, but if it's deep, I don't know...... Well laced shoes were a guarantee that the shoe wouldn't stay. It was really salutary, so was the mud. Despite the fact that man slipped and slipped very much, it gives a feeling of gentle walking on the terrain, like a "delicate tissue for the nose", or for the foot. How to climb very minimal hills on a very flat trail when entering the so-called edge of the trail, not to run on water, is impossible because of the very mud on which you slide down to the puddles. Forget the dry shoe and the socks are still dry. This is some kind of unearthly ride where you are sometimes sure of your step taken and it turns out that 'the mud laughs' and still effectively, so far, destabilizes - it makes you angry perfectly and it does so already at the first twenty kilometers.

          At first the terrain was not friendly to running and after some time you just had to accept this fact, because it was like that all the time. Accept deep ditches on the trail and they are full of water or get off the trail.

Stories about Szczebel...

          I hear in the crowd, some initial fears. They concern the approaching hill, which is called Szczeblem. I have checked the mountain on the Internet, but if I don't survive it, I don't speak out. There was also a time when someone mentioned the worst that awaits us in Trans Gran Canaria, although somehow I was not scared. So this time I'm also waiting patiently for this top.

          The fact is that we are entering a very steep approach and it can be gently compared, or maybe not gently, to the last approach during the "Hell of Czantoria" distance of 64km. I didn't stop even for a moment. I know from experience that it doesn't help, that you will still have to move your legs and they are in a trance. A few competitors, however, had to hold off for a while. Feelable pressure and cold and, if you can call it it, visible dew, these signs, spoke about the approaching peak, which I didn't see anyway, because the focus was already on the fugitive.
          Then it turned out that it was easier - downhill, through a kilometer-long section in fields and a small town. Up again! Well, it will be, but that's why I came here. I knew that there would be about 9000m here.

          When I was getting to the first repack, we exchanged lead with one competitor. I changed very sweaty clothes and socks. Now I often paid attention to the map, which I had all the time under the number. I was looking and I knew what was waiting for me or maybe I didn't know yet. I was not afraid. I was expecting. I looked at the map and if there was something strong - I sighed and moved - after all, I will not miss it anyway. 

          I was able to read the difficulty of an episode by the colours on the map to a certain degree. During the distance covered by the route, from point to point (nutritional points), I did not eat any gel or bar. I had many of them in my backpack, for every hour - everything was calculated. Too many calories waiting to be absorbed. Apart from drinkable water and drunk isotonic between points, I do not eat. I only eat what the nutritional points offer, which are richly equipped. On the repacks there is also another dose of bars in the bag - to have peace of mind - the basis.

          A dissolved isotonic with an orange flavour in a softflask, which I will never buy again (isotonic and softflask), works only up to, maybe, forty kilometers. Then there were some minor problems with its uptake by the body, so a quick decision was made, like in Trans Gran Canaria, to get rid of this product. He was poured out and was replaced by a black, sweet liquid - also popularly known as a cola. So I went back to the next element of the old maybe scheme, which is impossible to replace.

          I understood that this isotonic is good for two sips, but not as an isotonic drink that can be trusted over longer distances. I have a very large time reserve after the first point marked on the map as the first limit. The time limit is eleven hours, but I manage to leave the point just before two o'clock in the morning. This time will be needed later.

          I promised myself that I would rest for a while longer on the next few points. I am not going to chase - experience. It is better to "pull the big car slowly" but to the end than to "generously" and stop after a few meters.

          The route is changing. It is alive. During the day, it shows its sunny, sometimes desert hot, destructive face, hitting all places in the body with killing force by the sun's rays if you have something dark on you, while another "devil" comes out in the evening when the moisture is awakening. Maybe it's cooler, which is a plus, but the disadvantages are different - as dangerous as the sun. Moisture brings everything to life. We are talking about mud, slippery stones or natural difficulties on the approach, and when you would like to run quickly on the runways and mud interspersed with streams and stones, both larger and smaller, make it impossible to run quickly.

          It would seem that small stones are less of a problem, but the opposite is true. You can jump over large stones and having MTs on my feet from Kalenja, I trust these shoes infinitely. This shoe does great in mud, water, on slippery ascents and descents (I haven't had a situation yet, like with the Altras, when the shoe slipped). The only base is a well lace-up shoe and it won't lower your foot, which I can't say about the Altras.

          On one of the points warm soup, probably carrot soup, on the other hot potatoes from the fire. One piece of advice - do not warm yourself by the fire, or you will get cold. On every point in the main menu there was water, cola, apple juice, which was very good, he admits honestly. On one of the points we were accompanied by screams of little kittens' parks (he regrets that I didn't photograph them - wonderful and so tiny). There were also rice waffles "Sonko", which could be covered with very good peanut butter. Literal kitchens on the road - there is no other word for it. Well, that's all right, you have to sweep your legs further. Further approaches are waiting.

          We run, as you know, at our own pace. I put two boys out in the field, but I'm caught up by them in one place where the headlamp is turned off, because the night lights are strong enough. It slightly stands out from them. Boys from "hundreds". I'm not going to chase. On the hill, where I take a few memorable photos (maybe very early), I put the boys away and as if something were inside me to try running in a training way. Surprisingly, it comes out without any problems. I also catch up with other competitors, which unfortunately I say goodbye by putting my foot behind my foot in front of them. The sun starts strong. There is nothing warm to drink here yet. Tea heats in a pot and one of the girls, as if I have a feeling that it doesn't fit completely here, while another of the girls comes up with an idea very clever at that time and unfortunately, but I can't fail to point it out. Respect her for the fact that she fills the tincture with tincture and inserts the tincture directly into the fire. I don't think I've seen boiling water so fast, in field conditions, yet. This view additionally worked for me, because my mind stopped working only on one route. I don't know her name, but I thank her very sincerely for that. Such people are Gods on the road.

          Waffle in the hand and on the road. This way I fall into a trance in a calm run, no matter if it is a runaway or a runaway or a straight line. I don't break up my movements. Regular, calm, confident, courageous, sometimes high steps have to be taken and sometimes jumps. Sometimes a sip of water, sometimes a sip of cola. No gels, no bars. The strength is not known from where, but it is. Again, spaces, wonderful views.

          Here, unfortunately, on one hill, we have to part with one competitor. "One hundred to the left, one hundred and seventy to the right. We wish you good luck in English with the player, with whom, unfortunately, only in this way you can communicate.

Alone, just alone. Find power despite distance...

          Another space. By myself. Nobody in the front, nobody in the back. We have to run, not wait. You are alone with yourself. No one will support you here, no one will tell you, it will be fine, you will be able to do it. He has to find his own strength, because time, another limit.


          He contemplates a moment with nature, by taking two pictures of himself, so as not to stop. I admire other mountainous peaks in the distance and check the Thracian track on the phone, because here it will be a real pity when you run into them this path. Every return will hurt, oh, it will hurt temporarily. The dot on the map, however, correctly plugged into the route so hiding the electronics I go into a certain speed, calm and do not slow down. I already know what awaits me after the map, so being in a very long, sharp confluence, I leave behind roots, stones and gentle, temporarily straight sections. Again, something doesn't suit me, so I prefer to check my position. In a few moments there should be a table with water and goodness a little bit long from point to point - twenty kilometers. 

          "How many fighters are there before me? - He's asking about it. I don't know why I asked the question, but I heard that there were about twenty of them. I sit on the hood of the car, because there are no chairs and I feed myself. One of the boys is getting there and I prefer to have a point with a limit, which is at 110 km, so... It's hot, hard and I still didn't eat anything from my backpack, except for the food on the points. Somehow I don't have to.

          That leaves about eleven kilometers to "Luboń". I slide it like a bit of a madman. The run-ups are already demanding, or it seems that way. Those who ran out before me a moment ago from the point where I was resting on the hood of the car, on the run-up, are lagging behind. I'm also catching up with another boy who, after a short conversation, turns out to be running the DFBG last year. The right people in the right gear. We talk and stick together. Here, fortitude, character and willpower already rule. There are no other words for it. At least I can't call it any other way.

          When we see the competitor in the distance approaching the mentioned "Luboń", the eyes become enlarged and from the lips flows honestly - "I'm damn it". Again, deep breathing and forward. In the distance the approach looks like a vertical wall, which can only be reached with a rope. Yes, that's how it looks. This view forces us to pull more water and a Coke. I know that there will be food at the top and that's very motivating. Find some thought in these overloads, motivate yourself to enter in order not to let go, so that when you stagger a little at the moment of approaching and at the same time you catch the balance on the approach by fast sticking sticks between the big stones. A foot on a stone does not guarantee stability because the stones are loose. The situation is similar to the "Blizzard" where you put your foot and it glides freely and still has a lot of fun. 

          We are very tired with our colleague, but we run "to the kitchen". There are five and a half hours left to the limit and we are not yet in "Luboń" and apart from him there are two more approaches, about which we are in a moment.

          It's very hard to get to Luboń. So this approach is actually almost vertical. Every step here is made with effort, but it's getting closer. The lungs work here probably at 300%. Very large layer of concrete in the legs, overload. I had already thought that there would be a point at the tower, but we still have to run away and reach it. For the first time in my life I experienced such an approach. In the proverbial "kitchen", warm potatoes fell into the throat with a skin almost within a minute. I see roasted peppers, which I bite between the potatoes and drink with large sips of warm tea. I still took a few jellies in chocolate, rice wafer, bitten up the chopped orange and left this nice point, which greeted us with hits on the drum.

          It turned out to be such a tiny approach on the map at the starting number, so invisible at all, and the reality has shown the true wild, sharp, very demanding nature like a plug, which by all means trying not to let you climb here. It forced the approach from us to find the strength to climb here, to climb so much.

A part of Malopolska track is history now...

          For the first time at this competition I'm glad that I won't be climbing this kind of mountain anymore, I'm just really happy. All those who pass us by and run towards the hill I left behind wish them good luck and I wish them good luck. I'm starting to feel a little bit bad, but not because of the food, but that some of the competitors may not make it to the limit point. I feel sorry for them. Such a fight they did with each other and they do. Hopefully they will succeed. Literally for a moment I have tears. This elevation unfortunately forced me to the very end of the show, if you are hiding the undiscovered strength of your character, or persistence, to reveal now these forces, the most hidden skills. If you don't find them, if you don't discover them, you won't be able to. 

          Forty or five degrees, maybe that's how many degrees it's climbed and you can't forget about the stones.

          So I was tested here well and after this confluence we will now have a five-kilometre approach to the big Gorc. I had to brake gently on the deserter to calm my breath a little, but there was no tragedy, although whoever signs up for this competition must be aware that it is not idyllic. I also ask my friend, who I am with at the moment, because his legs hurt him, to slow him down, to save himself, because something may happen soon and the descent is very slippery, narrow. It is full of small branches, which can be easily hooked and fallen. An addition is a rushing stream that flows along the whole width of the descent.

          Stepping on very wet rocks in a creek is not easy, but with decisions made in seconds, you have to do it. We inform each other about moving stones. We inform each other which way to go. We are waiting for each other to help each other. This way we reach the end of the descent to the asphalt.

          It's not even "Ultra Chojnik". These are the running harvests - only the hardest seeds in every sense of the word, including the physical, mental, mental ones, and maybe not. We are talking about this distance.

After the Malopolska baptism...

          All the time I'm terribly impatient as if I'm impatient with another sharp rise. These competitions start to get me used to "verticals" and I don't mind. The queue of the jersey is already wet. Buff also. I still don't touch any gels. Now, however, he decides to buy small pieces of "Mars", but in fact these are very delicate pieces. Sweetness, however, has a very strong influence and was broken to make a bigger bite. At the beginning of the approach a boy, who previously took pictures of me behind the point with tea heated by a girl in a tincture on fire, now comes down here. I hear in response that the approach is five kilometers long.

          The rest of the gels, the bars are still untouched, I don't need them now. Having climbed to the top, I run on the main trail. Without hesitation I check it on the sawmill. "Where is the Gorce? - He asks himself. However, I still have about twenty minutes to reach the "hot" elevation and I don't think I should go in my head. I don't know where this force is still in me. Without chemical supporters, only based on points.

          A cyclist who arrives on competitive mountain equipment asks about the supposed distance to the Gorce. Unfortunately, the answer is not satisfactory, but remembering the outline of a gangway, I catch up with two boys.  One of them is a bit tired and I try to build up, although I know from experience that the person has to deal with it on his own.

          How good it is for your eyes and legs when you see a plate with a peak called "Gorc" in the distance. Now, from the top to the bottom, to the bottom, to the "limit". I have a very large reserve of time reaching two hours. Just a few more steps. I am overtaken by boys, whom I have just overtaken. When I see the UTM flag literally in the first place again tears flew. To be on the limit at four o'clock with a hook. The UTM guys are still taking a picture with a flag.

Limits, limits...

          I've had a lot of apple juice here. I also tried to swallow the cake, but it was not possible. It does not go through the throat. I decided that since food does not enter, it is necessary to base still on the proven things. Wedel's candy without inhibitions fell into the stomach. I also asked for a Coke taking in the mouth of the wafer and an extra piece of it in my hand and with more than an hour of spare time, I left the point earlier changing my shirt and socks. There was a repackaging here.

          Target, little Gorc. Hot. The climb up the hill, which so far has been about asphalt, is very exhausting. With every step a man looks for a shadow, which is here "as for a cure". Man goes and goes and can't get to the top of the hill. On the way there are still windbreaks in the way. Dry, dirty, hard, hard, getting higher and higher and the top, as you can't see, can't be seen. I don't slow down, don't let go, don't know how. It was supposed to be only three kilometres uphill - that's the information we got from the point. Maybe it was an encouragement. How long can it last? I think it will be over in a moment? - I ask myself. These questions give vent to the psyche and the person starts to calm down. 

          I'm catching up with my friend on this approach once again, with whom we ran before Luboń. We are already at the end of the small Gorce and feel the dot falling from the sky. For so long we waited for cold, rain, something that will soothe even a little bit of high temperature, but not only felt bodily as sunny heating. We needed something that could force the body to put on a jacket so that the body would feel different stimuli because it was slightly tired like desert skin, which does not know what rain is. The caning that was served to us has been left behind.

          But the worst is behind me. We are talking about the last, very demanding limit.

          Reach the next point at the 121st kilometre and have a hot cup of tea - a dream that has winged now to run. The forest paths were conducive to this. They were not demanding - at least at this moment.

          I ran out of the forest and was afraid of the sun again, the burning sun, but if it was, I would survive. There were already two situations that tried to break me and, unfortunately, they became a thing of the past like hunger devils in yogurt advertisements for a little hunger. But now it was cooler.

          There's no tea for that! - Well, well, well. There is juice, water, cola and other delicacies. That's how you can still call these points. I slipped a rice wafer into my mouth, the second one I was already "pushing" with my hand to get it into my throat faster, although I haven't swallowed the first one yet.

          A volunteer mentions two boys who left about eight minutes ago. He remembers that if I had caught up with them, it would have been more likely at night. "It can be done on the runway," I answer. Waiting no longer for anything, I still take jellies in chocolate in my hand and despite the elevation which is in front of me, I run for them.

          Wooden stairs, partially flooded with water, partially covered with mud no longer impress me. These obstacles are too simple.

          On the hill I rush the boys mentioned, but for a while the pace is a bit too slow for me. "I'm sure you'll catch up with me," I answer.

          I'm running at my own pace, even up the stairs. It doesn't matter how the area looks like anymore. Looking at the map I realize that now I have to relax in the form of a fugitive.

          There is nothing here. Only me, the forest, sometimes a swish between the trees or silence, that is nature and slowly falling dusk. Here and there I see protruding, broken branches of trees. From a distance they look like strange statues, but only for a while. Do I have hallucinations? No. It's been a long time since I've seen ribbons indicating the route and as if I can hear some voices from behind. Those voices are those two who caught up with me and their names are Michał and Bastek.

          I'm checking the trail on the track, because for a moment I had the impression that I had to turn back - make sure I had to. I'm already a little broken, physically and mentally, but I don't want to sleep and I don't think about going off the track at all. So many "passages" and give up - never, but you also have to think slowly to get dressed, put on a headlamp, because it's getting darker.

          The boys are ahead of me, but only for a moment. The three of us run to the shelter. Bastek, while still at the shelter, goes to check if it is possible to buy coffee. It's twenty-three o'clock, I think. One of the boys from a distance of two hundred and forty kilometers is looking for the right way. Together with Michał they analyze the thracian. The fact is, without a sawmill here, it's a bit hard despite the markings.

          We go for a few kilometers to Obidowa. The legs hurt a bit, but well. We take a momentary break, even for a minute, to bring our psyche to the state of usability. Michał goes ahead. He starts to move me - a slight confusion escapes, I wake up again. He proposes a change, because I understand Michał that he may be tired. Non-stop mud.

          After a very long walk we descend down a sharp grassy descent, which wakes me up very, very much, even harder, and afterwards we come across windbreaks. Very long and big trees fell down. There is no way to get through. It is difficult to take steps here. Sticks do a lot of work as a means of maintaining balance of our bodies and headlamps perfectly illuminate obstacles.

          "What was there to be a lumberjack run, a forester run, a sawmill run," recalls Bastek. There are places where you have to crawl through. It's starting to irritate us a little, but as we say, at least it's not boring.

          We hear whistles and applause. Obidowa greets us with applause. A light sign of joy appears on my face, because I have a dream - to drink warm tea. Tears are flowing down my cheek uncontrolled - they will dry out. This is some damn surrogate, but I'm glad we're continuing.

          "The little black" wakes up the three of us. Our mood is returning. There are still two hills to climb. We are joined by a foreign couple, but they become a little too weak. Once we run, once we go. We talk about various topics to make our time more pleasant. Michał checks the route every now and then - without thinking about it - when we are afraid which way to turn. I also check. I can see the eyes illuminated by the headlamp downstairs. Bastek more and more often mentions the necessary sleep, though fifteen minutes long. I understand it, although I don't want to sleep on my own.

          And again we run to this route, to leave these kilometers behind somehow faster, we are getting closer and closer to Rabka-Zdrój, but here on the confluence we witness a heavily marked route which leads to a slalom. We run in a very strong fog and the muddy terrain makes the run difficult again. You can see the flies under the headlamp. Literally milk.

          After this descent, I turn off the headlamp on the street, because the street lights perfectly illuminate the road. There was a strong fog. In front of the building there are many people and the building is the Primary School in Rabka-Zaryte.

          Here I only change my shirt. I eat two portions of couscous with tomato sauce. I drink from three teas. I swallow four Wedel jellies in chocolate and we wait for Bastka. "We are going", says Michał. Bastek was ready - he slightly squinted his eyes.

          So, together with the boy from the longest distance we climb Luboń Wielki. I didn't think that this hill would be so complicated. There are moments when the hill has a very sharp approach angle, but what is it for my MT's on their feet. They bite into wet leaves, mud, grass and hold the least protruding elements. They do not let go. I didn't slip even once. Slowly but surely I take every step. Now, after a very rocky section, we still have to climb. It reminds me of Austria - Pitztal. Steep. The route through large boulders leads to the top and I am afraid of heights. Just don't look down - I'm telling myself, but it's tempting. I turn around and it doesn't affect me anymore. It is four o'clock in the morning.

          Once again, as I've already written, I don't know which one, we are leaving the hill on a very muddy trail. You have to be very careful not to slip. Oh, it would hurt here. We made it to the open space and I still have in my head what the boys mentioned about the approaching Szczebel, about the descent almost vertical where you have to really try to catch on with your shoe, tread to not get down.


          Michał leans forward quickly and takes a commemorative photo of us. Here the cow on the right here the roosters are crowing and here, in front of us, the approach, the last approach, which leads to Szczebel. For two kilometers it is, so to speak, flat, but in a few moments it gets very steep. Without stopping, we climb the stones, taking steps in a mixture of mud and flowing water.

          We take a break on the summit for a while. We hide our sticks in our backpacks and our goal is now the black trail, which we will descend from Szczebel. What does it look like? I think it can be compared to a steep descent from Szrenica or a steep descent from Kopa if you have ever descended from Kopa on skis. Or maybe Kopa is gentle compared to this descent? I think it's more like descending from a ridge in the Tatra Mountains. At the end of the day it's steep, oh, steep.

          The thighs work hard here. I have to stop twice to adjust my breath. You have to be damn careful not to go down the mud. Again, boundless confidence in the tread in the shoe, which "grabs the mouth" mud, earth and does not let go. This shoe is a phenomenon. I was wondering where the descent was, where you have to hook up with the shoe, as it was mentioned, and it turns out that this was it.

          I won't say, an interesting descent, technically strong, no doubt, but I've already had to deal with such ones in my career. The only difficulty, however, is that you are tired of distance and yet it has an impact.

          In the distance I can see a man who is looking for something in a big bag. In a moment he manages to get something out of it. The camera. He focuses his camera on me. "Wow. I am smiling. More pictures? This photo will be probably the most interesting - I'm thinking. "Now it's just a little to the left, then straight through the village, then through the mud and the end," he says.

          The boys in one place, on the bridge, are waiting for me, but I'm saying calmly that I can do it. Let them run. Especially since my leg is starting to hurt a little bit and I don't want to be a slower.

          We get to the road and run a bit on the sidewalk. Then we went up the hill after literally mud. A few turns on the way and.....

          However, there are still two kilometres to go and there is a visible inflatable balloon "Jan Konieczny".

          I don't know how to run to the finish line, but one of the people next to me gets out and says that it will help to open the gate. Here another run will start soon. I have to make it in time before this start.

          A big smile already naturally appears on my face. Hands up, sticks in my backpack. I can see how they are catching me with two cameras. I don't care anymore. I crossed the finish line. They hang a wooden finisher sign on my neck. The organizer pushes the finisher's hat on my head.

          I'm not crying anymore. I don't know what to say to myself, I literally don't know. The Polish equivalent of such a popular run as UTMB has just been won. There was so much fear of it. I thought, before the start, that I was definitely not prepared enough for this and it turned out that strength, mega strength of character worked here.

          We walked, ran like a tank in some moments. How to sit down now to have a drink of isotonic? Someone else is asking in advance about the backpack I have - Kalenji designed for UTMB. Fact, I would improve with two elements in it and certainly not buy softflasks - they are terribly annoyingly hiding in the backpack.

          I did something that I've had great respect for for for a year now. 170 km long section with elevations perhaps corresponding to the run that awaits me in August. I am confident about my ability to cope with mental and physical crises, although maybe if something new happens, it will be difficult to find a way.

          I am very sorry for those people who did not meet the limits, who fell out, but unfortunately, here I found out that the most important muscle that allows you to finish it is a mental muscle, a muscle called the head. There may be a fight at times, but it is a significant element of these professions.

          We are talking about fighting for time, fighting in the sense of leaving the competitors with whom we talk well for the good of the cause, even when you leave your strength, it is necessary to find, search for strength quickly. I don't know where this strength comes from, taking into account the fact that I didn't eat any gel on the route, what I mentioned, no energy bar, except for a few bites of "Mars" and I ate only at the checkpoints. So many bars now, gels to eat... and maybe they will serve during the next competitions.....

          If you want to finish this distance you have to be aware of all this. I don't know what kind of competitions you have to finish in order to finish these. UltraChojnik may be a training event, but it's not far enough. "Suicidal distance" in Ladek-Zdroj will be an excellent training maybe in psychological terms.  What about all the other competitions? "I recommend "Blizzard" individually, because it's not a competition and something very steep. I have never run a competition in the Tatra Mountains, but the experience from abroad is enough for me. So coming back to the UTM for a while... to cover the distance in less than forty-one hours - for me success and for the first time in my life I am now very calm and disappointed with myself.


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