Each year in May, for the past 11 years, the Spanish Legionnaires (“La Legión”, a Spanish military wing) organizes the famous, “101 km of Ronda” event, in which the 5,000+ participants endure a 101 kilometer (66 miles) tour through the mountains and sierras surrounding the beautiful namesake city of Ronda.
My wife and I participated for the first time last year, 2006. Of the three participation modalities — running/walking, mountain bike, and duathlon — I did the mountain bike option, and finished in a leisurely nine hours. She did the walk, and ended up having to quit at 70 km, due to an oversight. Not anticipating the extreme overnight temperature drops in the Ronda sierras, she hadn’t thought to bring cold weather clothes, and ended up having to quit before hypothermia set in around 1:00 am.
So this year, 2007, she wanted to give another go, and I decided to accompany her in the walk, as far as possible. In short, I ended up quitting at 1:00 am at the 65 km point, and my wife ended up completing the walk, in 23 hours and 30 minutes — a mere half hour from the official cut-off! Let me tell you — walking 65 km, much less 100 (!) is one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done!
Preparations.
Unfortunately, there were very little preparations. We spent a lot of time thinking about what to pack, but precious little actually training. I think the only thing we did, was a 14 km walk one morning.
How it unfolded.
After a hard friday night of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu training, we got up Saturday morning early, and headed off to Ronda, arriving about 9:30 am, one and a half hours before the scheduled start of 11:00. We got our Ronda 101km “Passport” signed, and joined the other several hundred walkers in the middle of the football field, waiting for the start.
At 10:30, the big artillery guns fired, and the mountain bikers took off in a big bowl of dust. Us walkers then grouped up at the start, where 30 minutes later at 11:00, the guns fired again, and we were off.
To walk 100 km in 24 hours, taking into account breaks (and the Legionnaires have a water/food stop setup roughly every 5km), you actually have to walk at a pace that’s a bit faster than feels comfortable (to me), so our strategy was to jog the flats (at a roughly 6:30 min/km pace, and then walk the uphills (at a roughly 10:00 pace).
This worked out for the first 35 km or so, until we came to the massive climb after the city of Arriate. Good grief — four kilometers of near vertical climbing, and I was ready to quit. I’d already started forming some blisters on my feet, and my hip had started hurting. After a rest at the top, though, I decided to continue on.
The daylight hours were marked by very high temperatures, and a beating sun. I was glad to be wearing my venting hat, draped with a connected bandana, protecting ears and neck from the harsh sun. I was also glad to be wearing my hydration system, and tried to drink approximately one liter per hour. The organized rest stops, every 5 km, had isotonic drinks, fresh fruit, and in one stop, sandwiches.
As I expected, my wife (and it’s true, women are tougher than men) looked fresh as a rose all day.
As the sun went down, around 9:00 PM in the evening, we arrived in Setenil, a major rest point. (Many people starting the race actually plan to quit here.) A lot goes on at the Setenil stop — there are doctors to treat physical problems, physiotherapists to provide massage and ice treatments, and foot doctors (“podologos”) to treat foot problems. It’s also the first stop where you can have, in advance, a bag waiting for you, in which most people include their evening/cold-weather clothing. Due to the long lines one usually finds retrieving the bags, we took advantage of a gracious offer from a friend, Luis Pérez, to meet us there with our stuff.
After a sandwich and a stretch, I visited the medical tent, to have the podologos take a look at my blisters. I had two — one on each side of my outer heels. After draining, and bandaging/taping them up, I was release to head off.
By this time, it was about 10:15 PM, and darkness had set in. I was wearing my Petzl headlamp, and marching off through the darkness. (The Legionnaires mark the path with glowing small lights, but one still definitely has to carry a headlamp, if there’s no full moon. And even still, I was tripping and stumbling through the potholes.
Pino and I arrived at the first rest point after Setenil, where under a lightbulb the Legionnaires were serving water and orange slices, and listening to a soccer game on the radio. At this point, people started to look in really bad shape. One girl waiting to be picked up appeared to be suffering hypothermia, and another man could hardly stand up.
I had planned to quit here, as my feet and hip were killing me, and more blisters had formed on my feet. My wife convinced me to carry on, and see if I could make it to the next stop. In fact, since Arriate, at 30 km, that had been my modus operandi the whole day — “let’s see if I can make it to the next stop.”
So we carried on into the night. At this point, it’s very desolate. We didn’t see anyone behind us, and so only a few small headlamps way off in the distance ahead of us. I told Pino that, definitely, the next stop was the end of the line for me.
And so about 5 km later, around 1:00 AM, we arrived at what for me would be the end of the road. To my happy surprise, they were serving some hot coffee with milk. After a short break, Pino and I hugged, and I agreed to wait for her at the Military Cuartel, where I would be taken by truck soon, and where she would arrive on foot some three hours later.
I climbed into the big military vehicle, in the dark, and could see about six or seven bodies — others for whom this rest stop would represent the end of their journey. There wasn’t any talking; just people wrapped up in blankets, ready to be driven back.
About 30 minutes later, I arrived at the Cuartel, and enjoyed a hot meal prepared by the military kitchen staff. There was a huge line for foot doctors, so I decided to have a leg massage. After waiting in line for about half an hour, it was finally my turn. (During the wait, I had the opportunity to stare at some of the most horribly blistered feet I’d ever imagined. My feet, by comparison, were pristine!)
The physiotherapist noted that one of my legs was much more strained than the other. Upon hearing that my hip had been hurting badly, he indicated that was the explanation; my walk had tried to compensate.
While waiting for Pino to arrived, I watched people slowly arrive at the Cuartel. A couple of them would get their hot meal, sit down, and then just fall over into the floor, holding their heads with dizzyness and nausea. I was tired and sore, but considered myself very very fortunate to be feeling, overall, pretty darn good compared to those folks.
At 4:00 AM, Pino came bouncing in. I’d kinda hoped she’s be in worse shape, and would want to quit and go back to Ronda with me, but no, she was ready eat and head off on the final 25 km stretch (which happens to be the worst of the day!). At that point, a sergeant opened the door and shouted, “Next bus to Ronda leaves in three minutes!”
So we hugged again, and I left, to climb into yet another big clanky military vehicle which would take us on back to Ronda. Pino finished her dinner, stretched, and headed out walking again into the darkness, towards the day’s second big climb up to the “Ermita de Montejaque”.
I arrived in Ronda at 5:30 AM, and walked ANOTHER THREE KILOMETERS to my car, where I climbed in, folded the back seats forward, and tried to rest on the hard platform, using my jacket for a pillow.
Someone walking by the car at 8:30 AM woke me up, and I called Pino, who said she was about one and a half hours from the finish. I drove as close as possible to the “Meta”, parked, and looked around for a bar to have a quick breakfast.
At 10:30 AM, I saw Pino coming with a small group of people, and had such a great sensation of relief and excitement. She’s done it. She’d walked 101 kilometers. ONE HUNDRED AND ONE KILOMETERS. It’s truly an amazing accomplishment for her. Congratulations sweetheart!
Tonight, back at home, neither of us can move very well, and neither have any intention of trying that again. I may go back and do the mountain bike ride, but definitely no more ulta-distance walks (unless I change my mind! ;)
Equipment.
We both wore standard long-distance running shoes. I carried my dearly loved Salewa Cumbra 38 backpack, and my wife wore a Lowe Alpine fanny pack.
Photos.
All the photos we too have been uploaded to Flickr. Have a look, and enjoy!
Elevation Profile.
Each year in March, “La Sufrida” organize an event in Ronda, Spain, in homage to their annual “101km of Ronda” race (which takes place in May). The March “Homenaje,” just like its big brother in May, offers three modes of participation — a 69 km mountain bike ride, a 44 km run or a 70 km duathlon (run and bike). Last weekend, Pino and I participated in the event — her doing the run (crazy, I know), and me doing the mountain bike ride. 
On Saturday, January 30, 2010, I traveled to Lisbon, Portugal to compete with my team-mates at Gracie-Barra Marbella in the brown-belt, lightweight, Senior 2 category of the European Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu championship. Despite an unfortunate previous evening (having eaten something obviously bad), I managed to win my category — making this the third time I’ve won gold in this competition. 
