I’d wanted to run this race since the first time I opened Ian Corless’ Running Beyond book. Transvulcania is the first entry. The jagged volcanic ridges scared and inspired me in equal measure. The profile looked ‘interesting’. There’s a lot of climbing in the first 10 miles, then some ridge running with lots of spiky bits (both in profile and on the trail itself), then a huge descent to the sea. And for good measure there’s a final 300m climb up to the finish (because finishing back at the sea would be too easy…)
La Palma is one of the smaller islands in the Canaries and it’s not that easy to get to from Edinburgh. I went via a few days working in Madrid either side and spent the week before the race on the island. I sought out bits of the course and ran and hiked to familiarise myself with the trail and the heat, and to appreciate the views without the excitement of race day. I failed to acclimatise to the heat properly, although I only realised that too late! My sauna training back in Edinburgh wasn’t really enough…
Race morning started with a 3:30 am bus to Fuencaliente. I made sure when the main pen opened I got into a good position which wasn’t too far back and stood like a sardine for an hour, refusing to give up my spot. The atmosphere was electric. We counted down from ten in Spanish to AC/DC and then set off to cries of “Venga, venga!” The first mile or so was uphill on road, before we turned onto the sand. I’d heeded Bob’s advice about the clouds of dust and sand during the early stage and had a buff to breathe through, but it made little difference and quickly I felt my lungs fill with dust and wanted to cough. I tried to control my breathing and the adrenalin surging through me. I was running. I felt good. As we hit the wide gravel track I chanced a glance behind me. My heart filled with excitement at the sight of the trail of headtorches lighting the darkness all the way back to the sea. This was awesome, and I was part of it! The trail narrowed again to single file before Los Canarios but everyone around me was climbing happily and there was no rushing or pushing. One guy stumbled on a rock and we all helped him up. I realised probably everyone else was as nervous as I was!
In his podcast after last year’s race Ian Corless said that coming through Los Canarios is like being in the Tour de France. I’m not sure it lived up to this hype for me, but the crowds were immense and hyper and I can imagine if you were one of the first runners through it would have been wild. There were people lining the streets, many of them still in dressing gowns, dancing to the loud music pumping from the aid station, and volunteers everywhere. I’d barely touched my water so I didn’t stop. From Los Canarios we climbed for the next ten or so miles before a short descent to El Pilar. I got my poles out and settled into a rhythm climbing on the sand, trying not to get too close to anyone to avoid a faceful of dust. The dust was everywhere and made breathing harder. We climbed above the cloud and were rewarded with incredible views of other islands poking through and the sun coming up between them.
I reached El Pilar sooner than I’d expected and feeling great. I topped up my water and continued on, passing lots of people in the aid station. The marathoners were all lining the path and cheering us on as they waited to start their race. The support here was incredible and we were made to feel like superstars. The trail is super runnable from El Pilar and I felt myself flow into a nice rhythm. A woman caught up to me and I slipped in behind her. It was starting to heat up and there wasn’t much shade on the wide track. The next aid station also came sooner than expected. I refilled both bottles but turned down the offer of cold water on my head, which turned out to be a mistake. From here we started to climb again and I began to suffer in the heat. I’d been racing for four and a half hours and had enjoyed it all so far. I’d been feeling great: running smoothly, feeling strong on the climbs and staying top of my nutrition and hydration. Now it was mid morning and there wasn’t much shade as we climbed out of the forest. Lots of people started to pass me on the climbs, including people I’d overtaken earlier on. The woman I’d been running with disappeared over the distant horizon. I had my poles out to help on the climbs but should have put them away here as I ended up power hiking sections I should have run, or I ran awkwardly with my poles in one hand.
At the next aid station at Pico de Nieve I again stupidly declined the offer of a cold shower. Ensuring I kept cool wasn’t something I was used to doing and my inexperience showed here. On the climb up to the high point I slowed even more as I was so hot. It felt like I was slowly roasting, and my body was unable to move any faster. But I was mentally holding it together and was drinking lots and eating at planned intervals. I kept putting one foot in front of the other. Relentless forward progress. I finally wobbled into the tent at the Roque de los Muchachos aid station and was immediately taken to sit down by some volunteers. They poured cold water over my head and neck from a saucepan. I wished I could cut all my hair off to keep it off my neck! I ate some fruit and left as soon as I could stand without assistance.
I’d been looking forward to the descent but didn’t enjoy the first part of it. I still wasn’t feeling great and was being too cautious. I was scared of slipping and picked each step carefully. That’s no way to run down a hill. A few guys flew past me kamikaze style. The marathon runners were catching up now and their race finished down at the beach so they weren’t holding back on the descent! One guy kept passing me and then stopping to stretch, so I’d pass him and we’d do it all again. It was too hot to get annoyed so each time I calmly pulled aside and let him go past. Slowly I started to feel better and flow down the descent more comfortably. Every time there was an easier section I made sure I took a drink. I was on Active Root by now and it tasted amazing. At the aid station at El Time I got doused in cold water again, ate some orange and took some more water.
I flew past the lady I’d been running with back at El Pilar. I had thought she was long gone. It made me realise how important it is to keep moving, however bad you feel and however slowly you think you’re moving. Everyone has highs and lows in a long race and you should never consider yourself beaten. Thoughts were passing through my mind quickly as my focus had to keep returning to the manic descent. It was breathless and never-ending (it took me over 2 hours!) We dropped from over 2400m to sea level in 17km. My ears popped on the way down! Towards the end we ran down the VK route: super steep road, then steep cobbled switchbacks with a huge drop into the sea on one side. It was awesome and relentless and required all my tired focus. I almost fell about twenty times, stabbing a rock with my foot and just catching myself before smashing face first into the rock. I ran with a massive goofy grin, tongue out, loving it. I felt in my element on the cobbles, quick feet dancing downwards and catching people on every bend.
I finally hit the seafront in Tazacorte and ran through the marathon finish line and into the final aid station amidst huge cheers and a pumping baseline. Another cold shower, more fruit, and I took off onto the beach and the dry stony riverbed. It was more runnable than I’d thought it would be. I ran / walked, hopping over rocks when I could, catching people. It was over quickly and I climbed up to the road and the final switchbacks. I didn’t bother with poles and hiked, hands on knees, drinking frequently and running the flat sections between climbs. I felt like a different person from a few hours before and climbing felt easy again (although I was wary of pushing too hard as I didn’t want to overheat again). I overtook a handful of guys who looked totally beat. I didn’t know how many switchbacks there were but never let myself think I might be on the last one, or about the finish line.
Finally I reached the road into Los Llanos and started to run (it felt super fast but was actually 8:40 mile pace!) I’d walked up and down this road in the heat of the day during the week and I knew how long it could feel, but it felt so good to be moving freely again after so much climbing and descending. I ticked off the things as I ran past them – the Chinese Bingo (not what I thought it was), the stadium, the supermarket, the first arch. People appeared from everywhere to line the street, there were children eating ice creams holding out sticky hands for high-fives and men dashing out of bars for high-fives when they saw me running past. It felt exhilarating (and the celebrations went on all through the evening and into the night, so every finisher was made to feel like a hero!). I slowed and high-fived as many people as I could and crossed the finish line feeling overjoyed.
I finished in 10 hours 26 minutes. 17th female and 101st overall. I finished totally in love with the race, the island and people of La Palma and the whole incredible experience. And I finished feeling proud of how I ran and with lots of ideas for improvements.
Rachel