Anggriawan Sugianto

The mountains don’t care about your profit and loss statement.

I learned this the hard way in 2025. This year was a study in extreme contrast—a chaotic, beautiful, and sometimes heartbreaking symphony of high performance and hard landing. Physically, I reached a peak I once thought was reserved for the elite. Community-wise, I tried to pour into others even when my own cup felt dangerously low. Professionally, I navigated a trough that tested every bit of my resolve.

It was a year of three 100K races, three cities of volunteering, and three years of financial losses. It was a year of learning that while you can out-run a mountain, you have to out-think a crisis.

Siksorogo Lawu Ultra 2025

January, I started the year in the mud of Bandung. Tahura Trail was a ten-hour reminder of what my legs could do, climbing sixteen hundred meters while the world was still waking up to 2025.

February took me to Yogyakarta for Kelas Inspirasi. Standing in SDN Baciro, I tried to explain the life of an "IT Consultant" to children whose eyes sparkled with a curiosity that had nothing to do with billable hours, a brief and grounding moment before I turned back to the trails for the eighty-one kilometers of CTC Ultra.

March was a month of silence on the trails but loud alarms in the boardroom.

I spent April balancing a quick ten-kilometer sprint at LebaRUN with the punishing verticality of the Semarang Mountain Race. Between those climbs, I went "Back to School" with Kelas Inspirasi Jakarta at SDN Menteng Atas 14, teaching kids that dreams, much like mountains, are conquered one step at a time.

In May, the training was quiet, disciplined, and solitary.

I went back to the asphalt in June for the Jakarta International Marathon. It was four hours of fighting the city’s thick heat and suffocating humidity, a different kind of endurance that demands road speed even when the air feels like soup.

It was supposed to be the grand finale. The last battle in my 2025 ultra trail saga—a year packed with challenge and grit. Three 100K ultras in eight weeks. One race each month. I was tired, yes, but more than that, I was determined. This was the moment to seal the deal. Siksorogo Lawu Ultra 80K. The last dance of the year.

Campground Sekipan, Tawangmangu

I’m no stranger to this race. Not at all. My story with SLU began in 2023, a modest 30K that introduced me gently to the wild trails. It didn’t end there. I came back stronger, wilder, wetter in 2024. The rain never let up; it poured like the sky was determined to wash away every ounce of my hope. I slipped, I tripped, I fought. Yet I finished. Barely.

The 2024 race stats tell a brutal story. From 44 starters in the 120K only 6 finished, a gut-wrenching 14%. The 80K field saw just 51 of 145 make it through, about 35%. And the 50K? Even that, with nearly half dropping out. The median finish times crept close to cut-off, inching like shadows waiting to claim the weak.

Flag-off times laid out a rhythm, a precarious dance with darkness and daylight. Midnight for the longest, early mornings for the rest. These are not casual starts. They are invitations to suffer under the indifferent stars.

Then came 2025.

This year, something had shifted. The numbers were better. 23 finishers of 57 in the 120K, that’s 40%. The 80K grew to 65% finishers, and the 50K even higher. More runners standing tall, more stories of grit written into mountain dust.

Even the median finish times edged slower than 2024, but still comfortably under the cut-offs. That small difference means everything. Because every second counts when the body screams for mercy.

And, yes, the flag-off times in 2025 changed too. The 120K started on Friday night, earlier than before, the 80K at midnight, chasing night’s last breath, and the 50K at 5 a.m. No more leisurely dawn departures. This was battle mode.