Bakonyi Zarándok futás - Wacky Races

I have been in Hungary for Easter visiting Kata's family.  On Easter Monday I took part in a race that Kata found for me. It was described as a 14km trail race with a 500m ascent. The only part of this which turned out to be true was the 500m ascent part. 

Jumping for joy at the start

We drove to the race finish where race registration was held and in typical fashion made it by the skin of our teeth. Turns out we weren't the last people to turn up though because we ended up giving a lift to the start line another runner who was even later than us and had missed the bus that transported us all to the start (it was always our intention to drive there rather than take the bus). So the race was point to point, starting in the village of Bakonybel and finishing in Zirc. Standing at the start line I noticed I was one of about 3 runners wearing shorts, most were covered head to toe in thermals. This worried me a bit and I had visions of being stuck at the top of a hill and being overcome by hypothermia or exposure. I consoled myself by choosing to believe that this unseasonably cold weather had just freaked out the Hungarians and that as a hardy Scotsman used to the freezing Springtime conditions, I would be fine.   We were informed at the start that this was the first time that they'd held this race and I joked that they were "testing it on us". How prophetic those words turned out to be. As I mentioned, the distance was (supposed to be) 14km on trail. Well first of all, if that was a trail race, I'll eat my hat. My sweaty, running hat. At some sections there was no path whatsoever and we had to just make our way through the forest as best we could, negotiating the bouncy, overgrown, tangled forest floor. The first 5km reminded me of the Inversnaid section of the West Highland Way, which is to say it was tough going. I remember running towards a log that blocked our path and trying to decide whether I'd be faster going over or under it.  The route was marked out in two ways. 

1.  There was a permanent route markers for walkers painted on to posts and trees at intervals along the way. 

2.  Where the route was not obvious, there were blue ribbons tied to trees or bushes or whatever. 

Except there weren't. The organisers must have been running short of blue ribbons and so they were obviously rationed. A few times I found myself standing with my hands on my hips looking about for some indication of the correct direction. Sometimes I caught up with another runner doing the same, or another runner running back towards me because he'd gone the wrong way and was retracing his steps. The first time I went off-piste I realised quite quickly and managed to correct this after only a round trip of about 100 metres. This was at about 3km and I thought that it'd be the story of my race. I was wrong. The second time I got lost it was me and a guy in a yellow top on our own. He was slightly ahead of me when he stopped, turned to me and said something in Hungarian. Once I'd managed to get across to him that I had no idea what he was talking about by pointing at myself and saying "Skót" (Scottish) and "nem tudom" (I don't know) a few times, he sighed and resigned himself to the hopelessness. We ran together back the way we came before eventually finding a blue ribbon on the other side of the road and more importantly, a stream of about 10 runners that we had been comfortably ahead of running ahead of us. We set off in chase. This pack of about 10 runners would show up again.  I was disgusted by this point believing my race to be ruined. I had been doing well up to this point and making good time towards the front of the field.  I had no option but to keep going so keep going I did. I really wanted to get ahead of the runners that I had lost my place to so I made that my motivation. I actually caught them in quite short order (in about 1km or so). We were about 9km into the race by this point and I was knackered with the effort of catching up. On a relatively easy section of the race I looked behind me and saw the pack of 10 behind me. I worried that with 5km to go they'd be able to beat me in a sprint to the end due to their steady pace versus my energy sapping burst of exertion.  Turns out this was to be the least of my worries!  

Ready to go in Bakonybel

Not long after, running up a dirt track, yellow top guy (who'd also made back his place) came running back towards me. Oh no!  I stopped. The pack of 10 stopped. We all looked at one another. Some Hungarian was said. The Pack of 10 found the blue ribbon first as they were closest to it and started running in the right direction.  This was getting ridiculous. I had to pass them again. I had to!  And time was running out with only about 3km to go (although I knew my Garmin would be out due to all the detours of the 14km route taken). I wasn't polite about passing them either. The trail was narrow and as I caught and then sprinted past every one of them I think I actually grunted or shouted as I ran past a few due to the  effort and pain of sprinting uphill and taking a long way around. But I was ahead of them all again and in a short time and I noticed Yellow Top was as well.  The end was in sight now. I guessed I had about 15.5 or 16km to run taking into account the additional distance I'd ran. There were two more points in a wooded area where Yellow Top and I stood, hands on hips, looking for the correct path. We took an educated guess one time, and the second I spotted the blue ribbon, pointed, and shouted "jo" at him. This means "good" but it's all my Hungarian could manage and I got the point across.  Next thing we could see the village where we had been about 2 hours before to register. The run down onto the village was steep and my legs were running ahead of me. Yellow Top got ahead of me at this point but I was fine with that. He and I had practically ran the exact same race. 

Underway... 

Kata later described the end as an "anti-climax" and I can see her point, but I was just glad to reach it. In the end I was only ("only") just over 1km out. I heard that even the race winner crossed the line and then immediately started ranting about the disgraceful route markings. I'm glad it wasn't just me. Apparently a lot of constructive criticism was delivered from almost the whole field at the end.  

Out of puff

I remembered back to the start and joking that they were testing the race on us.  I also remembered being worried about dying of exposure and noted that I had in fact finished in my t-shirt having started in a wind proof jacket. The jacket actually came off pretty quickly as I was so warm. Kata told me that some guy asked her about the "Number 10" that she was taking to and that had kept passing him.  Well that was me obviously. I was wearing my Men's Health 10k shirt which has a big, yellow 10 on the back. The guy wanted to ask Kata about me because he'd noticed I ran such a hard race. Now I type this, I actually remember him shaking my hand at the post-race soup session. So that was nice. 

Nice medal, sweet tea

Despite the frustration, this has the potential to be a really good race.  Some of the feedback the organisers received was that this wasn't supposed to be orienteering and that the rubbish route markings ruined the rhythm of the race. Well I couldn't agree more and it did a heck of a lot more than "ruin my rhythm". I'm glad I ran it.  I got over my annoyance pretty quickly and I suppose it was comforting to know that the blame wasn't with me. We also got an awesome medal with a Hungarian flag coloured ribbon and generous helpings of soup and scones at the end.  

Better luck next year, guys. 

'Cel' means that this is the finish line