A Wild Leap of Faith – For a while now, running has been my happy place. It’s where my thoughts get sorted, my legs get a good workout, and sometimes, I find a deep truth hiding in the dust of a trail. I’ve run full marathons. I even managed to finish some ultra trail races. Last year, my BDG Ultra 64K felt like my own personal Mount Everest. It was my longest run ever, with the most climbing. I felt pretty proud of it, honestly. That was my "normal world" of running – comfortable, familiar, something I knew I could do. Little did I know, I was just looking at the base camp for something much bigger... and definitely crazier.
|
| BDG Ultra 100K |
Then, something just clicked. Or maybe a wire short-circuited in my brain! The idea started as a whisper, then shouted like a crazy person on a megaphone: three 100K ultras in eight weeks. Yes, you read that right. My brain, bless its hopeful, over-ambitious heart, thought this was a perfectly normal next step. Was it a brilliant idea? A mid-life moment of madness, but in cool running shoes? Probably a bit of both, seasoned with "why the heck not?"
BDG Ultra 100K became the first step in this wonderfully insane plan. It wasn't just an "upgrade" from my 64K. It was like going from a bicycle to a rocket ship with no instruction manual! Over 6000 meters of elevation gain? This wasn't just a race. This was THE race. My first 100K. My longest run ever. My highest climb. It was a leap into the completely unknown.
Leopards, Doubts, and Training Wisdom
The first rush of excitement quickly changed. It became a mix of "what have I done?" and "am I completely insane?" My inner critic, a rather loud and persuasive friend, started listing all the reasons this was a terrible idea. My feet, still aching from training, were staging their own silent protest.
And as if my self-doubt wasn't enough, just weeks before race day, news broke. A leopard had gone missing from Lembang Zoo. Right near Tangkuban Parahu – part of our race route! Suddenly, every rustle in the bushes wasn't just a friendly squirrel. It was a potentially stressed, hungry, 100K-curious leopard. Who wants to be a personal best for a leopard?
Despite my dramatic inner thoughts and leopard worries, I wasn't totally unprepared. My training wasn't just running; it was my teacher. Semarang Mountain Race 50K, Dieng Trail Run 60K, Maybank Bali Marathon – these weren't just races. They were wise old friends, teaching me patience, strength, and the art of putting one foot in front of the other. They built my foundation. Even if my sanity felt like it was resting on shaky stilts. This steady, sometimes very tough, effort became my guiding light. It prepared me for the beautifully terrifying unknown.
Race Day: Beauty, Beasts, and Blisters
The night before BDG 100K was a symphony of nervous energy. I re-checked my gear for the seventh time. I tried to force down food my stomach wasn't entirely thrilled about. And then, the usual pre-race ritual: convincing myself I could actually do this.
Then, Saturday, September 13, 2025, at 5 AM. The flag-off from the Swiss-Belresort Dago. A surprisingly quiet thwack. It sounded more like a muffled plea from my tired legs. And just like that, the familiar "normal world" of comfortable distances was behind me. Ahead? The special world of BDG 100K. With its soaring, almost impossibly steep peaks. Its challenging trails. And yes, the lingering, funny (now!) thought of a certain spotted friend. There was no turning back.
|
| Flag off - BDG Ultra 2025 |
The first few miles were a visual feast. This epic race follows a demanding route. Through Mount Palasari, Mount Pangparang, Mount Bukittunggul, and Mount Tangkuban Parahu. Each mountain offered endless climbs. Technical trails. Breathtaking views. The North Bandung highlands opened up like a magnificent painting – lush green, crisp air that felt like a hug, and sights that made me forget my suffering for a while. But this beauty came with teeth. Over 6000 meters of EG isn't just a number. It’s a relentless, lung-burning, leg-shredding reality. My early excitement slowly but surely began to turn into a grim determination.
Every climb was a negotiation. Every technical downhill was a dance with gravity (and often, a quick, unplanned sit-down!). The distance started to play its mind games. Was that a phantom water station? Did that rock just move? Was that... a leopard?
Thank goodness for the brief, shared smiles with fellow runners. A silent nod of mutual suffering and fleeting joy. I was lucky to run with a friend, Mas Husni. We’d shared miles in CTC Ultra 80K and Dieng Trail Run 60K. So there was a comforting, familiar rhythm to our shared misery. And speaking of allies, BDG Ultra truly boasts the best food among Indonesian trail races. And their volunteers? Top-notch. Absolute angels! With 10 aid stations for the 100K race, each one was a little oasis in the wilderness.
My enemies? Blisters that felt like tiny, angry volcanoes. A stomach that decided to go on strike. And that persistent voice in my head saying "you could be home in bed right now." And of course, the ongoing internal "leopard alert" whenever a leaf crunched too loudly.
|
| Running in BDG Ultra |
The Deepest Dark: Body, Mind, and a GI Crisis
As darkness swallowed the trails, the world shrank. It became just the narrow beam of my headlamp. This was the deepest, most isolating part of the race. Shadows played tricks. Every tree became a menacing figure. The miles blurred. My body became a heavy, uncooperative sack of bones and protesting muscles.
By this point, "sleep" was a cruel, teasing whisper from another dimension. My eyelids felt like sandpaper grinding against my eyeballs. And my stomach? It wasn't just empty; it was screaming in deep sadness. This was the true test. The deep dive into the "inmost cave" of ultra-running. These are the moments where you question every single life choice. The ones that led you to a remote mountain trail at 3 AM. Utterly exhausted. Hungry. And possibly being stalked by a phantom leopard.
Everything was going mostly to plan, on track. Until we hit WS 12 Tree Top, around the 80km mark. Then, the real fun began: I got a massive stomach problem. I wanted to throw up, desperately. But nothing would come out. So for the last 20km, my only food could be water. Every other thought was overshadowed by that churning, unhappy gut.
|
| Rest is part of the strategy |
This was it. The main crisis. Pushing through an entire night and into the next day. The clock ticked past 24 hours. Then 25. Then 28. Every single step felt like a huge decision. My body was staging a full-blown rebellion. A symphony of aches, cramps, and desperate pleas for a soft bed. It wasn't about speed or grace anymore. It was about raw, stubborn, almost stupid willpower. I was negotiating with myself. Promising future bowls of ramen for just five more steps. I fought off the urge to simply lie down in the dirt and weep. My mind and body screamed. But something deeper, something stubborn and ridiculously determined, just kept putting one foot in front of the other.
More than 30 hours. That's how long I wrestled with this beast. It was a brutal, beautiful, utterly exhausting ordeal. I was no longer running. I was simply existing in a state of forward motion. Fueled by stubbornness and the desperate hope of a finish line.
A New Dawn, A New Me
The sun began to paint the sky with glorious colors. Dawn. Oh, glorious, glorious dawn! It wasn't just light. It was a psychological jump-start. Suddenly, the world expanded beyond the beam of my headlamp. And a flicker of hope, a renewed sense of purpose, ignited within me.
And then, as if on cue, a true ray of hope appeared at WS 13 Jayagiri, around the 88km mark. I stumbled in, utterly depleted. I immediately asked the medical team for some stomach medicine. And a hot sweet tea, please, to soothe the internal storm. Those angels worked their magic. After a brief rest and that blessed tea, I felt a flicker of freshness. A subtle shift in my tormented stomach. It wasn't a full recovery. But it was enough to make the impossible feel merely improbable.
I was still moving. I had survived the night. The hunger. The extreme sleepiness. The stomach turmoil. And the phantom leopard attacks. The finish line, though still a wobbly mirage, transformed into a tangible, if painfully distant, promise. I had found a new depth of strength. A quiet, fierce understanding that I could do this.
Those final miles. Each one was heavy with the weight of over 30 hours of journey. Still brutally hard. But now, filled with the knowledge that the end was truly within reach. My pace was... let's just say "purposeful shuffle" rather than "run." But it was forward. Every single agonizing step was a testament to every single training run. Every early morning. Every blister. And every internal debate. The finish line, at Villa Istana Bunga, Lembang, called to me.
|
| Finishing BDG Ultra |
And then, after what felt like an entire lifetime, I saw it: the finish arch. I stumbled. I swayed. I probably looked like a very confused zombie who'd accidentally wandered into a race. More than 30 hours. I was beyond sleepy. Ridiculously hungry. And probably covered in more mud than dignity. But as I crossed that line, something shifted.
It wasn't just finishing a race. It was a resurrection. Exhausted, yes. Famished, absolutely. But also, fundamentally changed. My legs screamed "never again!" My brain craved a coma. But my heart? My heart swelled with a quiet, fierce triumph. I didn't just finish BDG 100K. I endured. I wrestled the beast of my own limits (and thankfully, no actual leopards). And I came out... more. More resilient. More aware of my strength. And definitely more appreciative of a hot meal.
The special gift I brought back from BDG Ultra wasn't a fancy medal (though that’s nice too). It was the hard-earned wisdom. The humble feeling that comes from truly pushing limits. The raw strength you discover when you think you have nothing left. And the deep appreciation for every single step. It taught me that sometimes, the "crazy" ideas lead to the most profound growth.
My body might be a collection of aches and protest notes. But my spirit, a little singed perhaps, is already looking across the ocean. BDG Ultra, you were my wild, beautiful, long first kiss with 100K. You taught me the music of perseverance, the quiet rhythm of enduring. And now, after a very, very long nap, I know that inner strength will guide me to the next grand adventure.
No comments :
Post a Comment