Running 58.2 miles and climbing 15,761 feet on an active volcano in the middle of summer is as spectacular and miserable as it sounds. I completed a few training runs on Mount Etna in the weeks leading up to the race to test out my gear, but my weekly mileage was nowhere near what it needed to be. Knowing that going into the run, my only goal was to start and finish the race with my friend Ryan.
Required gear - running vest, gaiters, cell phone, reusable cup, water bottles and/or camel backs with 1.5 liter capacity, headlamp with spare batteries, changing socks, thermal cloth, whistle, elastic bandage, food, wind resistant jacket.
Additional gear - trekking poles, power pack and cables to charge phone and watch, heart rate monitor, gloves, sunscreen, chamois cream.
The Etna Trail 94K Ultra started promptly at 11 pm on Friday night in the small town of Linguaglossa, located on the northern side of Mount Etna. You could feel the energy build as the start time approached. The loud music, bright lights, and cheering crowd created an atmosphere that made us all feel like rockstars. Race organizers counted down to 0 in Italian and we headed off into the night. The city lights faded quickly and we found ourselves running through an orange tree farm with hidden roots, rocks, and prickly weeds. After making our way past the farm we were treated to loose cobblestone paths with rocks the size of your fists. And this was just the first mile. Running on such varied and technical terrain in the dark demands your full attention to avoid tripping or rolling an ankle. These surfaces would make up the majority of the first 15 miles before transitioning to loose lava rock which is slightly easier on the joints and feet, but still requires the same level of focus. Trekking poles helped with balance and I consider it a "win" that I only fell twice during the entire race.
Now is probably a good time to explain that the words "Trail" and "Run" in the title of the race are misleading.
"Trail" - There isn't an established trail system on Mount Etna. It's more of a choose your own adventure, or in this case, follow the red and white streamers, reflective stickers, and orange flags scattered along the course. The race organizers did a great job of laying out the course and for the most part it was easy to follow, but you always had to be on the lookout for the next course marker. Even though you could see the next marker, there wasn't always a clear path how to get there and it was up to the individual to figure that part out. Just one more thing to add to the fun and mental challenge of this race.
"Run" - Rarely could you run. The steep grades up to 46% and loose lava rock at the high altitudes and the uneven cobblestone paths at the lower elevations really limit how much you can actually run. My fastest mile was just under 11 minutes and my slowest was over an hour. As the race went on, it became frustrating not having a clear and solid path to truly run.
Back to the race. We went out conservatively and stopped to take pictures along the way. This is a once, or maybe twice in a lifetime opportunity and we wanted to capture it with pictures and video. At the time it didn't feel like we had stopped very long at any given spot, but over the duration of the race, the photo breaks, aid station stops, and "dump the lava rocks out of your shoes" stops added up quickly. Our total moving time was approximately 19 hours, and total elapsed time was 24 hours, 31 minutes.
The first 23 miles of the race are uphill taking you from an elevation of 1,808 feet to 8,998 feet. I'm sure the scenery was beautiful, but the majority of these miles were run in the dark. Although humid, the weather conditions throughout the night were favorable. Temperatures were cool and there was little to no wind. I don't recall a lot of the details during this portion of the race. It was early on, I was feeling good, and Ryan and I passed the time by talking and sharing stories. There were four aid stations and we topped off our water and grabbed a few snacks each time. We witnessed a beautiful sunrise and a minor volcanic eruption on the way up the first major climb of the day. Having climbed over 7,000 feet to reach mile 23, my calves were screaming for mercy. At this point in the race, I could finally give them a break and destroy my quads instead. The next two miles were straight down the volcano with a -7 to -43% gradient.
I was feeling strong through the first half of the race. I set an alarm on my Garmin watch to remind me to eat and drink every 15 minutes and had done well sticking to that plan. I carried a significant amount of food and 2 liters of water in my running vest which felt like an endless supply throughout the night, but that wasn't the case once the temperature started to rise in the morning. The distance between water stops 4 and 5 was about 8 miles. Normally that wouldn't be an issue, but taking into account that we had multiple miles that took greater than 45 min each, the time between water stops was too much. I ran out of water at mile 27, just before the second major ascent.
It was at this point when the race took a turn for the worst. I was really concerned about how to minimize the dehydration I was beginning to experience. My mouth was dry and I wasn't sweating as much as I should have. I knew it wouldn't be possible to fully recover during the race, but wanted to do whatever I could to minimize the severity of it. I refilled my water when we finally made it to the next aid station at mile 28, but did not drink enough at the aid station so I went through my supply quickly when we started moving again. Lesson learned. I was also beginning to experience another issue which was not getting enough food. With a dry mouth, it was becoming tough to eat. I had to force down whatever food I could but it wasn't enough. I also carried energy gel with me, but I need to chase it down with water to avoid an upset stomach. With a limited water supply, I had to limit the gel. The last thing I needed was a stomach ache.
Miles 28 to 30 were steep with approximately 2,000 feet of climbing. We took it slow and steady not wanting to overexert ourselves in the daytime heat. Our plan was to take it somewhat easy during the day and then make up the time in the evening when the temps would be cooler and when the course is primarily downhill. At this point in the day I think we forgot how treacherous the cobblestone terrain and uneven farmland was leaving Linguaglossa. Although the course would be downhill, running down it on tired legs wouldn't be easy.
After reaching the peak of the second climb, it was approximately four miles to the next water stop. Unfortunately I ran out of water about 45 minutes prior to arriving there. Ryan had shared his water with me, but at this point I was really starting to bonk. My energy levels were dropping, my pace was slowing significantly, and mentally I was starting to unravel. It was becoming uncertain if I'd be able to finish the race. I didn't want to be a liability to Ryan or the race organizers. I'm accustomed to pushing my body farther than it wants to go, but if something happened to me, there's no easy way to get help up there. I had to focus internally and as a result, I really didn't say much for the next several hours.
After leaving the water station at mile 34, we started to get concerned about cut-off times. We needed to reach the next checkpoint at mile 39 by 4 pm or risk getting pulled from the course. It should be relatively easy, but we knew we'd have to limit photo stops and any extra breaks. As it turned out, the terrain through this section was particularly difficult with a lot of steep up and down sections over larger lava rock formations. There were also several instances were we had to pause to look for the next orange flag to stay on course. We would spot the next flag, but often times there was no obvious trail or clear path how to get to there. Time began slipping away rather quickly. I was really feeling mentally, emotionally, and physically drained through this section. I still wasn't consuming enough food or water. Thoughts of dropping from the race were becoming stronger and I really wasn't sure how much more my body could withstand. I turned to my mantras, "relentless forward progress" and "keep moving forward." I kept repeating them to myself and we eventually made it to the next checkpoint with 9 minutes to spare. While we were at the checkpoint we saw one person drop out from the race. They looked relieved, but disappointed. I didn't want that.
It was tough getting started again from the water stop knowing we had some very steep climbs ahead of us. Miles 39 to 43 take you from 8,000 feet up to 9,800 feet and then back down to 8,000 feet with grades as steep as 43%. It goes without saying, but these miles were the most difficult. Ryan led the way. I often found myself falling behind and then struggling to catch back up. I knew I was slowing him down and appreciated him not dropping me.
As we were approaching the summit, we heard a few explosions and saw smoke and ash billowing from above. This was just one of numerous eruptions we saw and heard throughout the day. What made this one different was that the wind was really picking up and blowing the ash and sulfur in our direction. The skies were dark with ash and it was also starting to sprinkle. The light rain felt refreshing, but was causing the blowing lava ash and dust to stick to our skin. When we reached the highest point on the course, there was a man from the race crew waiting for us. I was really struggling and was secretly hoping he was there to pull us off the course for unsafe conditions. Mentally I was checking out and looking for a reason to be done. As it turned out, he was just there to direct us to the next set of flags to follow down the volcano. Relentless forward progress.
It's all downhill from here. The remaining 15 miles of the course descend from 9,800 feet to 1,800 feet. I started to feel better during the descent and finally made the decision that I would finish no matter what. Ryan was offering words of support and talking about how our families would be there to see us finish. Ultimately I didn't want my kids to see me fail, so I had no option but to finish. We stopped at the mile 46 water station at Piano Provenzana and took several minutes to prepare for night running. I put a fresh set of batteries in my headlamp, changed my socks, refilled my water and stocked my running vest with food. At this point I was in a much better condition mentally and physically. My energy level was rising and mentally I was ready to run.
Leaving the water stop we found ourselves in a unique position. We were two of the last four runners on the course. Everyone else behind us had dropped out. A group of four race volunteers asked if we were going to finish. Of course we were. They said their job was to escort the final finisher and we all started off together. As somebody who normally finishes in the front or middle of the pack, this was a new experience and one I really appreciated.
Some of our fastest miles were during this last stretch to the finish line. We ended up catching and passing a few other runners still on the course. As a result we lost our entourage of volunteer runners as they dropped back to stay with the last person. It was fun while we had them.
We wanted to finish the race within 24 hours, but that didn't happen. We pushed hard those last 12 miles, but once I realized we weren't going to make it by 11 pm, I slowed the pace way down. I was running out of water again and my legs and mind were fatigued. I was tripping over rocks every few steps. I knew it was only a matter of time before I stumbled over a rock and injured myself. This close to the finish, I didn't want to push my luck. We eventually made our way through the orange tree farmland and back into town.
Once we were back on paved roads and could see the city lights we ran to the finish line where we were welcomed with cheers and greeted by our families. My sons and our dog accompanied me across the line while my wife took photos and video. Seeing how proud and excited my family was to see me finish was well worth the struggle.
Recovery time. By the time I crossed the finish line, I had been up for 42 straight hours. I woke up at 6 am on race day and had planned on taking a nap prior to the 11 pm start time, but it didn't work out that way. I didn't stick around long after finishing the race and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. All things considered, I woke up feeling pretty good the next morning. All my joints were sore, but my hips and ankles were the most noticeable. What hurt the most was the bottoms of my feet. They were bruised from all the small rocks and lava dust in my shoes and from the impact of running on large rocks and lava stone. After three days off from all activities, I'm ready to get back to training. I have no desire to run off road anytime soon, but a nice easy run on a flat track or smooth road sounds pretty good. Keep moving forward.
