Coast to Coast Ultra Night Trail. The name alone sends chills down my spine. I analyzed the data and pored over past races to understand this beast. It wasn't perfect. It was a wild, chaotic symphony of iron will, searing pain, and choices that flirt with deep regret, all set against the backdrop of Yogyakarta’s hidden beauty where every mile becomes a story told for years to come—a haunting song of survival.
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| CTC Ultra 80K |
My race prep was not good. Other runners feasted on carbs and chased dreams of glory while I fought a losing battle against a common cold. I choked down ginger tea and braced myself for my first vitamin shot. Running an ultra while ill is a dangerous gamble, yet I stood at the line with no excuses and a body at war, knowing that if I could master the internal storm of my mind, the miles beneath my feet would eventually yield to the sheer force of my determination.
Section 1: Start To Queen South (0-6.8Km)
Four o’clock arrived. Traditional dancers moved with a haunting, rhythmic grace. We surged forward onto the Parangtritis sand like a pack of hopeful madmen. The sun blazed overhead while I chewed Degirol to keep my lungs open. I reached the first checkpoint, battling through a haze of grit and heat.
Section 2: Queen South To Alas Curukboto (6.8Km - 13.3Km)
I left Queen South with a flicker of hope. The next six kilometers were a trial of slippery roots and sudden drops. It took over an hour of relentless grinding. Eleven runners quit here.
Section 3: Alas Curukboto To Palgading (13.3Km - 18.8Km)
The jungle finally released me. Palgading offered open fields and rolling hills. I climbed into 50th place. Two more runners surrendered to the night. I found a temporary rhythm in the clearing, feeling the breeze on my skin and watching the horizon expand, realizing that despite the bugs and the fatigue, there was a strange, haunting beauty in the way the landscape shifted beneath the darkening sky.
Section 4: Palgading To Omah Pojok (18.8Km - 26Km)
Shadows stretched across the fields. The path to Omah Pojok became a blur of fading light and gentle inclines. I hit the first major cutoff with time to spare. Eight runners walked away. I sat in the dirt and stared at a meager serving of a quarter egg, fueling my body not with calories, but with the cold, sharp desperation of a man who has traveled too far to turn back now.