Adamello Ultra Trail part II: we did it!
- Natalia Roman Lopez
- Mar 27
- 11 min read
We have been running for 16h, remember? We are half-way into a 3-year project called Adamello Ultra Trail. A brutal 165k with 11.500m of relentless climb. Did you miss part one? Go read it before continuing ;-)
Here the media manager live from Ponte di Legno ;-)
Ponte di legno -> Pontagna: new friendships in the dark
The adjective ‘bastarda’ will be used often to refer to the uphills in the second half of the race. Rightly so. The climb out of Ponte di legno is merciless for the first 400m. Then comes an endless flat (why?!), before going up a black ski slope that makes my hamstrings tense like the cords of a Spanish guitar.
A light follows me. It gets closer in the steep parts and further away in the flats. I pay little attention to my surroundings and rather focus on the playlist. It’s a ‘total eclipse of the heart’ moment. I sing out loud. As loud as the uphill laboured breathing allows me. I also laugh. Flashes of the Barkley Marathons movie from Karen Sabbe wolfing in the forest to stay awake cross my head. Just that I am far from sleepy. I am fired up!
Soon enough I enter the warmth of a mountain restaurant. Four youngsters manage the tinny aid station. The light behind me orders a coffee. I remember him! He passed me hours ago – as I was fighting a hypo – and said ‘let’s talk again in 12 hours’. Sir, here we are!
During this section I prioritize my stomach, which feels better after the rice and camomille at the aid station. The glucose is high but flat and I don't want to over-correct during the long long uphill
I am determined to keep moving before the promise for a warm chocolate becomes too irresistible. I find myself running the flat section utterly surprised by how easy it feels. Don’t ask me why! I try to ‘see’ in the dark the beauty surrounding me. I remember the twisting flat trail meeting the river just before a steep climb to the pass.
My new friend catches up with me halfway through the climb. From here on we run pretty much together till Pontagna. He is the kind of person that knows when to engage in a conversation and when the mere presence of another human being makes for a sufficient camaraderie.
Smashing the downhill to Potagna isn’t probably the smartest move but the anticipation to meet my crew motivates me to make full use of the quads. That, and La Mala Rodríguez singing ‘Por la noche’.
Pontagna -> Rif alla Cascata: views over pain
5:45 sounds like the perfect timing for a dose of basal insulin, doesn’t it? I reduce my basal insulin even further; down to 6u, instead of the 14u I would take on a sedentary day. I switch from peppermint to camomille tea – not exactly the picture of a wake-up party. I repeat my rice with tomato sauce menu.
I hesitate to touch the feet. The toenails hurt but not enough to risk making them worse. A couple of clothes changes, phone and watch charging, race strategy (what’s that?!) discussion with the crew and off I go! What feels like a short break, is, in reality, a 20min stop.
Longing the promise of the upcoming sunrise and with the cheerful company of my new friend, the outlook of climbing up to Monte Calvo seems less of a pain. Luca is literally sleep-walking.
I start stumbling on each stone. DAM! Another debilitating hypo. Another 15 minutes of sweating and swearing.
Luca is gone – I tell him not to slow down as he is clearly stronger on the uphills. Even worse, two guys are about to catch me. And I hear a female voice. What the hell? I am supposed to have a 40 min lead over the third woman. The whole situation is a massive wakeup call, and I start power hiking like a maniac. All the way up to the top of Calvo where I come across an unexpected aid station. The warmth of the crispy fire… keep moving, Natalia!
I remember too well the steepness of the upcoming downhill into what I once named ‘the valley of silence’ during a recce. Suddenly I become painfully aware of the infection eating up my big toe. I kick a stone and tears of pain come down my cheeks. I change my gait and avoid by all means to put weight on the inner side of my left foot. At the expense of my right leg quads of course.
After about 10 minutes the sharp pain decreases and soon, I hit the valley bottom. Luca is gifting his face a morning wash at the river. We continue the super steep uphill to Malga Laghetto together. In a moment of desperation, I call my crew asking them bring a pair of different running shoes (my backup shoes are the same model so those won’t help with the toe issue) to our next meeting point. If that doesn’t help, I might have to stop the race. That would be so disappointing that I park the idea and focus on the ‘right here, right now’.
The downhill to Rif alla Cascata is quite gentle on the feet. No big rocks or tiny trails. All I can think about is a big foamy cappuccino. But somehow, we end-up at an aid station having a plate of rice with olive oil and parmigiano. The small hut is out of electricity. Eating inside with the headlamp on after a full night running in the dark seems so comical to me. The people manning the hut are extremely friendly.
An improvised stop at Cascata is called to be the game-changer… or my game is over! I have visualized in my head reaching this point in the race way too many times. I know each step of the 50k left and I am willing to dig deep. But my infected toenail brings a whole new level of struggle. We shall see what a pair of fresh shoes with some front protection can do. I have been running for +24h and stopping now is nowhere in my plans.
Rif alla Cascata -> Edolo: tail wind, head wind, and a tornado!
Despite all the struggle, I am quite on schedule according to the tyranny of my planning spreadsheet. The long uphill to Passo Gallinera has 3 distinct sections: 1. Steep, rocky, and shady to Rif Aviolo; 2. A flat runnable section with tricky footing; 3. Final steep 400m with beautiful surroundings.
During the first section I focus all my attention on the feet, which at first hurt more than before, until they don’t. The immense sense of relief pushes me to run the flat while singing some of my favourite Bunbury’s songs. ‘Si ya no puede ir peor, espera que sople el viento a favor’; that’s exactly what I have been doing: holding tight until the tail wind arrives.
The downhill from Gallinera to Edolo will be the ultimate test to my new shoes. But fist… I remember my dearest friend Ana had packed 3-4 potato chips in my bag for this moment. I sit down on a stone at Bivacco Festa (what a party!) and savor each of them while the volunteers stare at me with incredulity.
The downhill is a beast. By far the most technical trail in the whole race. But I know it and it intimidates me just enough to take it seriously. The toe is doing much better, although far from having a functional leg in the descents. During the slight re-climb to Malga Stain I notice something is wrong with my engine, or is it simply low body battery?
My CGM keeps beeping. The glucose is strangely high. What is strage about this whole circus? It could be the strain; it could be the sleep deprivation; it could be the... I simply decide to ignore the mess for now.
I quickly sit down at the hut and once again go into troubleshooting mode. ‘Team, I need pizza in Edolo!’. After placing the pizza order to my dedicated crew, I leave Malga Stain hopeful as the upcoming forest downhill is on soft ground... or so I expected! Instead, we take a different route which first kills my feet and then my quads. Image descending 300m of vert per km on a road made of concrete for an hour. I am so mad at this re-routing. Also mad at myself for being mad instead of enjoying my dream come true to complete this race.
At 700m above sea level, Edolo is the lowest point of the course and – despite not being a hot day – I feel totally cooked. Body and mind. I am bad at hiding it when I meet my team.
They kindly adjust expectations and their level of excitement. I take a few seconds to put the head on my arms and close the eyes. That is all the self-pity allowance right now!
My glucose is riding on its own… it has been high – oscillating around 11.0 mmol/L (200 mg/dL) – for a few hours despite not eating a thing. I dose a couple of units of rapid insulin as correction, plus 2u for the pizza stravaganza.
Voicing out my concerns about the lack of stamina would be pointless. This is when the going gets hard - I say to myself – and you promised to take it all in, Natalia.
Edolo -> Rif Mortirolo: saved from the pain cave by a magical encounter
The watch becomes my best companion. I am feeling so overwhelmed by the uphill and my labored breathing… counting each step, each meter gained somehow distracts me from the agony. I turn my head constantly expecting to be passed at every trail twist.
On the steep trail I keep a pace of about 20 vertical meters per minute. The math running in my head. It’s pointless. At some point I celebrate having climbed the height of Everest. Pointless.
Despite being absolutely convinced that I hear the voice of the girl behind me, I make it to Malga Mola feeling ready to take in some of the Italian affection from Barbara, who we met last month and to whom I promised to come say hi. Emanuela is also here. Just when I most needed a hug. The ambience is festive.
The temperate is dropping but I, again, need to change the game. These Italians are going to choke… I order an Maxibon ice cream and a cappuccino in which I will dip the ice cream. They can’t believe their eyes. ‘Gnari, una volta arrivata fino a qua, non ci sono più regole’ 😉
The ice-cream does give be a small boost of energy which, combined with a less abrupt terrain, motivates me to move with intent. Permanent movement.
There she is. The polish girl. I have not shared a moment with a fellow runner for several hours. When she catches up with me, something magical happens. We both stop and chat. We hug. We cry. She unglues a couple of the shinny makeup stars from her cheeks and puts these on mine. It’s an electrifying moment.
Despite being in a better place physically, I continue at my pace, while Tomik fades in the distance. It’s foggy, a gloomy sunset. The Rif Mortirolo is not at the lake - ouch - but at the pass road. That adds 3km which feel endless. I want to see my crew again and for the last time. I want to touch the end of this adventure with the tips of my fingers and still know that it is far form over.
Rif Mortirolo -> Vezza d’Oglio: it's not finished till you cross the line!
The Mortirolo aid station is a party. The brain struggles to connect with the people willing to give a hand. It is cold and there is a fire inside…. No, I decide to stay outside – just as Ana had predicted. Going inside would be too much comfort, too big temptation... We have long passed the point of no return, we are doing this, remember?
As much as a second night wasn’t in my plans, I pick up the heavy headlamp again. It won’t take long. It doesn’t count as a night, I tell myself. We had calculated about 3.5h from Mortirolo to the finish.
I leave the aid station running with Jorge for some meters. It’s a downhill asphalt road and my body is holding up. No distinct problems except for the feet. That’s something after +150km on the legs. The uphill is short and gentle. Enjoyable. Entering fog-land makes it less enjoyable.
As I get to the road split to side flank Monte Pagano instead of climbing it, a violent hypo catches me off guard. Oh boy, it’s the full program: sweats, shaking, blurry vision… am I hallucinating? The struggle lasts perhaps 5-10 minutes, but the mental fogginess sticks with me just like this stupid fog.
The undulating path takes literally forever. How can it be so far?? Eventually, I am welcomed in the middle of nowhere by two men and a cozy fire. They invite me to stay a bit longer and warm up.. sorry, gotta go!
How many times have you heard or thought ‘it’s all downhill from here’? Exactly, except it is not! Rolling stones right and left, my feet are not happy. My brain is fried. I run downhill but sideways. Jorge and I ran this downhill a month ago and I found it so easy and fast. Today, I move slow and trip everywhere. Make it stop soon, please!
I have spent the last 6h thinking about what I would like to say at the finish, all the people I would like to thank for their small and big contributions. The emotions are so intense that my eyes water in gratitude. I also would like to send a message of strength to anyone living with type 1 diabetes. Not the usual ‘there are no limits’. I mean, isn’t it obvious by now? My message goes beyond: You can do anything, and not at the expense of your health. By keeping non-diabetic blood sugars in your day-to-day. By eliminating the number 1 offense to our glucose: carbohydrate intake.When I finally hit the road that will close the loop, I just want to dance it out (in?). I play 2 songs in a loop and just charge as much as my quads allow. Do not fall in your faces now, Natalia! The excitement makes me take a wrong turn in the village and I arrive to the finish line from a side road (not a first!). My crew looks first confused and then simply elated. We have made it!!!
37 hours and 40 minutes of life. Raw, true, fierce bites of life. The usual comment ‘I won’t do this again’.
The feelings have been so intense during my long journey that a sense of emptiness takes over. It’s 10pm. The shower is waiting… and the bed too!
10h of sleep later I wake up quite refreshed. Physically solid – all things considered. Yes, I will do this again.
A DOSE OF T1D REALITY
Reality is managing diabetes comes as a heavy add-on to any race
Why is my glucose sky high if I ate nothing?
By how much should I reduce insulin doses?
Is the sensor working properly?
How do I clean my hands to check in blood?
Where did I put the needles?
Should I eat before a downhill?
Do I have enough glucose for the next 4h?
Reality is every decision must be weighed in in the lens of the potential effect on my blood glucose, which – without being overly dramatic – translates into the potential effect on my safety.
I can’t change reality. So, I deal with it. 37h 40min dealing with reality at Adamello Ultra Trail
It went far from perfect. I lowered my glucose control expectations, so it was mentally easier than in the past. But I couldn’t avoid 4 very wild hypos.
Special thanks to those respectful volunteers who did not make jokes about doping as I was injecting insulin at the aid stations. A first in a race… take note!
I take home many learnings but also theories and hypothesis I would like to test at future races. Too bad one cannot run 100 miles every other weekend!
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