My rational brain often questions my decisions at 2 AM. Especially when I'm voluntarily running up a mountain in 11°C weather, having just put my legs through the wringer a mere seven days prior. But then, there's the call of the trails, a whisper that promises profound conversations with myself, a kind of madness that makes perfect sense to a runner's soul. And that, my friends, is the story of my Dieng Trail Run 2025.
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| Dieng Trail Run 2025 |
From Scorching Heat to Misty Heights
Just a week before Dieng, I found myself battling a completely different beast: the UI Trail Race. Forty-two kilometers, 2500m+ of elevation gain, under an intensely scorching sun. My body screamed, my mind argued, and every single step was an exercise in pure mental toughness and patience.
I learned something crucial that day, a truth that would echo just a week later: resilience isn't pure adaptability. Sometimes it's shivering cold in the dark, sometimes sheer determination to keep moving under a scorching sun. My legs, still humming (or perhaps groaning quietly) from Sentul, were barely recalibrating for what Dieng had in store. The contrast was already a character in this unfolding drama.
When the opportunity for Dieng Trail Run 2025 came knocking, the 60K+ distance, with its 4100m+ elevation gain, seemed like an irresistible, albeit slightly insane, challenge. The race offers a spectrum of pain and pleasure: from the spirited 6K and 12K (where a whopping 99% and 98% of runners make it to the finish line, respectively – kudos!) to the more brutal 25K (97% finishers). But then, things get serious.
For the brave souls tackling the 60K, like myself, only 57% managed to cross the finish line, facing a median finish time of 16 hours and 7 minutes against an 18-hour cut-off. Not much room for sightseeing, is there? The truly audacious 100K ultra-marathoners saw a mere 88% finish rate, averaging just under 28 hours against a 30-hour cut-off. This isn't a walk in the park; it's a testament to raw, relentless endurance.
My own journey began with a midnight start, the air crisp at 11°C, and the world momentarily going dark – literally. The route was a pilgrimage through Dieng's very heart. We ascended from Patak Banteng, a familiar gateway for many adventurers. Soon enough, the relentless climb up Mount Prau began, the highest peak in the Dieng area. Though famous for its 'golden sunrise' views, at midnight, it was a silent, challenging climb – a conversation between my headlamp and the rocky path, far from any sun-drenched selfie moment. Then came Tambi tea plantation at Sigedang, where glimpses of unique terrace farming might have broken the monotony, if only my focus wasn't entirely on putting one foot in front of the other.
The true 'run above the clouds' began as we approached Sembungan, famously known as the highest village in Java Island. Sembungan was more than just a landmark; it was also a critical checkpoint with a 10-hour cut-off, a place where many 60K runners, sadly, had to face the dreaded DNF. Passing through there, knowing the odds, added a new layer to that quiet conversation with myself. But if the ultra trails taught me anything, it’s how to keep putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how steep the incline. This too shall pass.
The route then led us towards Silandak, a basecamp that would lead to one of the most memorable segments. From Silandak to the summit of the formidable Mount Bhisma, a volcano in its own right within the Dieng complex, was arguably the hardest segment of the entire race. Just a brutal 4 kilometers, but with an almost +1200m elevation gain. It was a relentless, leg-burning, soul-testing climb towards Indraprasta Peak on Bhisma – every step was a dialogue with my own limits, a truly painful, yet ultimately defining, experience.
Crossing that finish line, under 17 hours for the 60K, wasn't just about the time on the clock. It was a profound conversation with myself, a powerful reminder: every step, a reminder: we’re capable of far more than we imagine.
The Afterglow of Dieng
The physical recovery after Dieng was, as expected, a 'conversation' all its own. But far more impactful were the mental and emotional takeaways from this intense back-to-back racing experience. Battling the searing heat of Sentul one week, then the shivering cold and relentless climbs of Dieng the next, hammered home a deeper understanding of resilience.
It's not a static state; it's pure adaptability – the ability to bend, not break, regardless of whether the world is throwing fire or ice at you. These trails are brutal, beautiful classrooms, teaching lessons in perseverance, self-belief, and the sheer audacity of the human spirit that translate so directly to leadership, to business, to life.
The Philosophy of the Trail
So, why do we do it? Why chase these clouds, climb these impossible inclines, and endure the lonely dark? It's not just about the finish line or the mileage; it's about pushing boundaries, discovering the raw, untamed resilience within, and fostering a deeper understanding of our own capabilities. Life throws us enough flat roads. Sometimes, you need a mountain (and a midnight start in 11°C, after a scorching 42K, with two more ultras looming) to remind you how high you can climb and how much courage you possess. It's about learning to adapt, whether the world is throwing ice or fire at you, and knowing that even when the finish rates drop, your spirit doesn't have to. It's about finding that quiet courage, time and again.
The aches fade, the memories sharpen, and the quiet courage found on those dark, cold trails of Dieng – and the sun-drenched paths of Sentul – becomes a compass for every challenge that lies ahead. It's a testament to pure adaptability, and a reminder that we are all, truly, capable of far more than we imagine. And perhaps, just perhaps, those upcoming mountains will reveal even more.
(P.S. For those who prefer to explore at a more… leisurely pace, the beauty of Dieng still beckons. Just don't tell my legs about the next mountain.)
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