Dziękuję, Tatra Sky Marathon

I’d never considered Poland for a mountain running break before. There’s a degree of familiarity with the famous running destinations in the Alps or Pyrenees but as soon as I saw the promotional video for Tatra Sky Marathon, I knew that it looked like something special.

The evening we arrived in Koscielisko I saw the sun set paint firey hues behind the towering, cross topped, presence of Giewont and it’s neighbour Kopa Kondracka. I may not be in good shape but whatever my legs chose to do, nature had given us an incredible theatre to run in.

The race started close to Zakopane and the atmosphere was electric well before the seven am start time. Runners thronged together under the starting arches and listened to the race briefing. Only two words were translated for me: snakes and bears.

Right then. Let’s be having it.

Four trombita’s sounded the start and we were off along a road leading into the forest. I clicked start on my watch only for it to go blank. Nothing. The first three or four kilometres, which should’ve been spent in focus were mainly spent doing soft resets to get it up and going. Knowing pace, altitude and distance are essentials on a long mountain route like this and I was determined to get it working.

It came back to life as we branched off the road and onto some undulating but quick single track. I made sure to drain a flask of tailwind before hitting the aid station at 9km to maximise efficiency, knowing it’s a long haul before the next one.

After that it was time for the first of the epic climbs up the trail to the col between Giewont and Kopa Kondracka. The sun was already intense despite the early hour, but adrenaline was high and we were having good craic with some of the other runners. I was also using the race to try and perfect my pronunciation of dziękuję (thank you) on passing hikers.

Once on the Col you head right along a beautiful ridge up Kopa Kondracka. The summit is technically in Slovakia and from there you join the border ridge as it dances over Małołączniak, Krzesanica (the high point of this section at 2122m) and onto Ciemniak. The views into Slovakia’s Silent Valley, Tichá dolina, are breathtaking – or they would be if you weren’t already breathless from running ridges at over 2,000m altitude.

Due to my struggle for form, I’d agreed to run the uphill with Karolina and then let her race the downhills where I’m not going so well. The first descent proved better for me than expected though and we contoured the hill together before dropping back onto the beautiful forest trails.

As dehydration set in, my mouth felt like it was carpeted in Axminster, my head filled with fire and my tongue swollen. We passed another runner sat dehydrated being given water by passing hikers. I stopped to offer a sachet of tailwind, knowing the electrolytes would help, but he declined and we headed on toward the valley.

With about a mile left before the aid station at Hala Ornak we passed a river and drank deeply. Never in my life have I been so grateful for a soft cup. The gratitude continued as we reached the station where loads of volunteers offered coke, electrolytes, water and food.

One of the existential questions in a race of this nature is; how much coke is too much at an aid station? I’m not sure I’ve found the answer but the six or seven cups I drank in two minutes may have been a little excessive. Flasks filled, tailwind topped up, encouraging words with other competitors and we were off for the second mammoth climb.

I’m not going to lie. I felt pretty dreadful as we set off. Coke feels like the best thing in the world when you’re gasping for breath in the heat, but running immediately after over indulging is less fun. Still we knuckled down and consistently passed people on the climb.

A little over 1800m up the course flattens out onto the Ornak ridge, a 4km long series of undulating peaks. We picked up the Slovakian border again for the final big one of the day, Starorobociański Wierch (Klin) at 2,176m. As we approached the top I saw the silhouette of a runner carrying his poles crucifix like across his shoulders, as though approaching his own latter day calvary. It was some climb, that one.

At the summit I wished Karolina well so she could fly the long downhill and I could take it easier as I recover from fatigue and injury niggles. I watched her disappear along the ridge as it swooped downwards and I started my own descent.

Half way down I started to dehydrate again. Glancing at my watch, I could see that the aid station was supposed to be close but we were still pretty high up. All became clear when we hit a steep section of wooden steps, dropping 400m of vert in a single kilometre.

At the aid station one volunteer emptied litres of freezing cold river water over my head while another filled one of my flasks and gave plenty of cups of coke. Having told them that nothing in the world had ever felt as good as that water, I set out on the last 7km.

I’d hoped to run the last section at road race pace but the first part was cobbled and I found my feet hurt too much. My expectations of flying along just didn’t happen. I quickly started to overheat again and drained my flask. Passing a bridge I filled up in the river and thanked my lucky stars as I hit asphalt and my pace returned.

With a kilometre and a half to go we diverted through a final trail section. Damping my pace and frustrating the desire to blitz into the finish. The sound of the finish line filled my ears for the whole last section though and I mustered a sprint at the end because it’s the only satisfying way to finish a race, and adds some joy for the people who’ve came out to spectate.

Overall I wasn’t as quick as I’d hope to be when fit but was pleased with my performance after a hard six weeks. It’s one of the best events I’ve done. The route is amazing, there were plenty of marshals, the trails were well marked and signposted, and aid stations overflowed with good stuff. There were also great photographers spread around the course capturing the memories.

The race is part of the Golden Trail Series for Czech Republic/Slovakia/Poland and it can surely only be a matter of time before it gets its opportunity to shine in the World Series too. If you’re looking to take a trip to race in continental Europe next summer, I can’t recommend Tatra SkyMarathon enough, I might just see you there.

Gear: Suunto 9 Baro, Salomon Sense 5 Pack, Salomon Sense Pro 4 shoes, Salomon Sense Ultra poles

Header photo: Adam Brzoza