A report on the completion of UTMHNHNM RUNNING CLUB's by a member of HOUYHNHNM RUNNING CLUB♡!
. From here onward, we will be presenting a contribution by Suzu Suzuki, a handsome member of HOUYHNHNM's RUNNING CLUB♡ who participated in the UTMF 165k and finished the race with flying colors. What were her thoughts during the long journey? And what did she see after running 165 kilometers? Please enjoy this realistic report!
PROFILE
Suzu Suzuki / Born in 1977. Has been running for about 14 years. While working in the fashion industry as a company employee, she also calls herself a "long-distance runner" and writer.
Finally, I was able to stand on the stage of my dreams.
. A faint sound can be heard coming from the dark forest. It is not the sound of nature, like trees swaying in the wind or creatures chirping, but something more artificial. A chime, chime, chime. It is a bell. Soon, the light from a headlamp approached from the distance, swaying. The man who is the owner of the light is probably in his mid-40s. In any case, he does not look very healthy. His legs are covered in mud, and he is not running very strongly. His breathing is erratic.
When I first saw the 100-mile race, I was struck by the extraordinary, but not generally beautiful, spectacle.
When I first became aware of the UTMF, the entry requirements were stricter than they are today, requiring, roughly speaking, the completion of at least one 100-kilometer trail race and two 70-kilometer races. . and a certain track record was also required to enter that 100-kilometer race in order to enter the UTMF. I couldn't afford to drop even one race in order to qualify for entry in the shortest time possible.
Somehow or other, he managed to collect points (or more precisely, the eligibility hurdle was lowered, and he found himself earning them), won the lottery, which was said to have a threefold increase in the number of participants, and finally received the right to challenge the UTMF in 2020. However, the race was never held. The following year, too .
And here I stand at last. Four years after I started running in the mountains , I have imagined myself there over and over again, at the start of the largest 100-mile race in the country.
It is said that preparation is everything in a long distance race. . in the past four years, my monthly mileage has never been less than 300 kilometers. The week before, I had my beard waxed and a routine checkup at the dentist. All I have to do now is run toward the finish line.
I have participated in more than a few races in my life, but the scale of the UTMF is a cut above the rest. I felt this when I arrived at Fujiyama Kodomo no Kuni, the starting point of the race, and came near the start gate after checking in my luggage and drop bag.
The number of athletes and staff is unparalleled, and when I hear the official theme song, "Out of this World," my spirits are lifted, whether I like it or not. . Ah, I'm going to run the UTMF now.
. a lot has happened up to this point. I had a rather bad experience with a woman who was a business partner of the company I was working for at the time, and she threatened me, "I will tell the president of the company to stop doing business with your company. I wonder if she is doing well.
The pace was unexpectedly fast in the beginning.
. saw off the start of the first wave and entered the starting block. I was feeling calmer than I had imagined. . so much so that I felt excited while watching the super-hyped MC. . It was only when I was running down the flower aisle surrounded by the cheering crowd that I suddenly felt a surge of excitement. Suddenly, I felt a sudden surge of excitement. Oh no, I'm going to cry. If anything, I was farting a little.
. a lot of things have happened up to this point. When I did my first TTT (Tanzawa to Takao, about 50 km) to practice for the night trail, a girl who saw my Insta Stories and sent me a DM encouraging me to go, was quite old but had a pretentious character. I wonder if she is doing well.
This year's UTMF was a speedy race that could be run (and was run) up to about 50 kilometers in the early stages because the course was changed to bypass the Amago Mountains "with a larger margin of safety" in light of the rainfall forecast for the day before the race.
I don't know if that had anything to do with it or not, but the pace of those around me was very fast. 9 km into the woods, I checked my pace on my Suunto, and it was about 5:40/km (sub-4 full marathon pace). I wanted to ask the people around me, "Hey, hey, hey, can you guys keep up this pace for another 150 km? I wanted to ask the people around me, but of course I couldn't do that. Oh well. I slowed down to go at my own pace without being distracted by the others.
For a runner of my level, the key to completing 100 miles is to hold back, hold back, hold back in the beginning. 100 miles starts at 120 km, and that's when the real work begins. . If you go too hard in the beginning, you will die a slow death in the second half.
Fuji in the moonlight was impressive.
And so we arrive at Fujinomiya, U1 (21.5 km marker). We refill our water and put on our headlamps . The famous Fujinomiya yakisoba noodles (yum!) The route to the aid station at the foot of U2 (43.2 km point) is mainly on forest roads and roads. We will take it easy on the climbs, and try to take it slow on the flats and descents.
From the foot of the mountain to Lake Motosu (53.7 km point) in the U3, the situation did not change significantly, and the surface was mainly single-track like a field road. The blend of moderate fatigue and physical relaxation at this point allowed me to run at a comfortable rhythm, and as a result, I think I overtook a good number of runners. . It was getting dark, but I didn't feel cold even in my sleeveless clothes.
Fuji, floating in the moonlight, caught my eye at the panoramic platform we suddenly arrived at after we had finished the ascent of the trail from Motosu Lake to Lake Seishiko (65.6 km point) on the U4.
I had run tens of thousands of kilometers, fallen dozens of times, injured myself and got up again, sometimes got lost, turned around, paddled through the bushes, and arrived at a place 14 years after I started running. The view of the sacred mountain, which was nature itself, was unnaturally beautiful and sat quietly beyond the sea of clouds. With this spectacular view in front of me, I felt myself becoming fuller and fuller, even though I had not yet reached the halfway point of the race.
. so many things have happened up to this point. The first time I ran Mt. Takao, I happened to meet a female runner I knew at the top of the mountain and got excited, but she was salty about it. . She is still doing very well.
Why run 100 miles?
This is not the first time I have run a 100-mile race; I ran the KOUMI100 for the first time in 2020 (DNF) and somehow managed to finish the same race the following year in 2021.
At that time, I felt that I never loved 100 miles. There are people out there who love 100 miles and have made it their life's work to run it 100 times. Some people make it their goal to complete as many 100-mile races as possible in their lives. . I, however, was not one of those people.
160 kilometers is far too long for a person to complete in one sitting. The damage after the race is also great, and it can be a bit disruptive to one's daily life. My personal opinion is that it is a bit too strenuous to do as a hobby.
But why would I run 100 miles again? Just as the moon, a lump of rock, looks beautiful from a distance, perhaps it is because my painful experiences have been beautified over the years and transformed into happy memories.
No, I guess if you dig deeper, the answer is simpler, and it's ultimately because I can like myself more for running the grueling 100 miles than I do for not running the grueling 100 miles. I feel that way.
Although I run on a daily basis, I do not practice running to push myself too hard, as it is basically an extension of my playful running. I aim for a fast time in a full marathon, but in a mid-range race of 50 to 100 kilometers, most of the time I run with the goal of finishing the race with a hangover in my body.
However, at the 100-mile mark, one's body and mind are pushed to the limit, whether one wants to admit it or not. The sensation of running in the mountains in the pitch dark with only a headlamp to guide you through the extreme fatigue. The unusualness of it all excited me, a person who had always been half-hearted in everything I did, and I felt a little better about myself when I finished the race.
By the time we reached the U5 Fuji-Q Highland (95.7 km point), it was dawn. Although I still had extra supplies, I replaced my Ziplocs, reapplied Tengu Balm to my soles, and changed my shoes from " Hoka's Speedgoat 4" to Columbia Montrail's "Trinity AG" to freshen up. Perhaps it was because of this that I was able to run comfortably for a while.
Now it's time to go to the finish gate.
After the 116.6-kilometer marker at Lake Yamanakako Kirara (U7), I was ready to go for the next 40 kilometers, but the next aid station, the Nijyugyoku Pass (130.2 kilometers) at U8, was the hardest part of the race.
The incline up to Teppo Tree was steep , and the numerous minor ups and downs that followed took all of our strength and energy. The descent was also difficult. In addition, there were concerns about running out of water, which caused mental stress.
UTMF has a regulation to carry at least 1 liter of water when leaving the aids, but I should have carried 1.5 liters for this section.
Somehow we managed to finish off the rock climber Shakushiyama and were in the process of climbing the last boss, Mt. Frost, when a puzzling phenomenon occurred.
. let me tell you what happened. Before climbing Mt. Frost, I checked the elevation map to see that it was about 900 meters above sea level. . despite that, I didn't reach the peak even though it was over 1,000 meters above sea level. . I know you don't know what I'm talking about, but I didn't know what they did to me either. I was going out of my mind ....... It wasn't hypnosis or super speed or any of that nonsense. I had a glimpse of something much more terrifying. ......
The cause was my presbyopia. This became apparent when I zoomed in on the UTMF elevation map on my smartphone. I could not read the 1,302-meter elevation of Mt. Frost, which I had printed out to scale, because of my presbyopia, and I mistakenly thought that the 1,500-meter elevation line was the 1,000-meter line, so I thought the mountain was about 800 to 900 meters high.
What consumes a person the most is suffering with no end in sight. At least it's good to know that there is an end. . but up another 300 meters. Well, that's so-so. ......
After all this, I finished in 33 hours, 38 minutes, and 22 seconds . . I passed through the finish gate without incident.
After 100 miles of running.
The moment I held the finish tape in my hands, an indescribable feeling of excitement enveloped my entire body, and I couldn't help but cry copious tears, feeling that all the hard work I had put in up to that point had paid off. After all, the 100-mile race is still wonderful!
. I would like to end this article with such a beautiful conclusion if I could. However, I would like to say, "This time, I will not do 100 miles again. The excitement does not exceed the pain. I honestly felt that it was not necessary for my life at all.
. I wonder if this thought will pass in time, and if it will be converted into a pleasant memory that will make me want to run the 100 miles again. Will they be converted into happy memories and make us want to run the 100 miles again? Who knows?
At any rate, let's run again tomorrow. The day after tomorrow, too. Maybe I'll find something. . that's why I keep running, because I don't think 100 miles is fun at all.
