Time to take balance

Greece 2025 has left me with many memories that will remain with me forever.

If I had to give this year a name, I would definitely call it the "year of uncertainty"; but I would also call it the year of the "beautiful people."

Let's try to summarize my race notes:

• Just as we expected, the altimetry killed us; it was definitely a race to run first with your head and then with your feet.
• Unlike Mongolia, everything was more civilized. On the one hand, it made everyday life more bearable, but on the other, it took away the wild flavor of these events.
• Greece is surprising for its beauty, but also for the few people you see in the mountain villages.
• A light backpack makes a difference. This year I lost 5kg (from 15 to 10) and it was noticeable in my performance.
• A separate note for the chemical toilets. I've never seen such clean chemical toilets, which is nice because there were six of them, plus a small, vacuum-cooled truck, which followed us with the six toilets and the tank. Compared to Mongolia (holes in the ground), this was like being in a VIP room.
• Managing my feet and blisters was also a challenge; I suffered through them in Mongolia. In this one, the Vaseline and tape made me enjoy the race much more.
• Equipment: I used every last thing I had with me; there was absolutely nothing left over.
• Body: Preparing for this type of race is very different from mountain marathons, and I would imagine it's also different for a regular Ultra. Here, endurance is everything (unless you're the Japanese guy who won). For mortals, the trick is carrying a lot of weight for long periods.

That's all for my reflections on the technical side. Additionally, these races, which require 160 people from 54 countries around the world to coexist for seven days, offer deeper lessons.

Life is "only moments," and these seven days filled me with moments. It's hard to list them, but let's try:

• An English woman who said I "saved her life" just because I ran about 2 km downhill to tell her she was lost, and we should have brought them up together.
• Another person who told me my whistling brightened her every morning.
• A Korean determined to pass me on the Long Mach.
• An Australian sitting 1,000 meters from finishing the 80K, staring into space. When I offered him a hand, he said, "Come on, I need to think." There were 1,000 meters left!
• The technique and speed of the Japanese man who won the race. The kid was a machine.
• Forgetting it was his birthday.
• Getting into the bag with Descartes.
• The people at CP3 singing happy birthday to me in unison.
• Every finish, no matter the time, no matter if you're first or last, the drum beating, and people cheering you on.

But (I hate the word but) it applies very well here. If I had to define the best moments of this race, I have no doubt they were those at the Aquiles Tend.

Out of nowhere, a GREAT group formed. We supported each other, waited for each other, encouraged each other, and above all, it was an outpouring of joy. Every morning we sang, laughed, and started off with a bang, and every night we waited for each other and held each other in check.

Truly, guys from Team Aquiles, it has been an honor to run with you.

May it happen again!

Hora de balance.

Grecia 2025 me ha dejado muchos recuerdos que perduraran en mi por siempre.

En un año lleno de incertidumbre esta carrera fue un bálsamo muy especial, fue un año de incertidumbre pero también de la “gente bella”.

Intentemos volcar mis notas de carrera:

• Tal cual lo esperábamos, la altimetría nos mató, decididamente era una carrera para correrla primero con la cabeza y luego con los pies.
• A diferencia que Mongolia, todo fue más civilizado, por un lado hizo más llevadero el día a día, pero por el otro le quitó el sabor agreste de estos eventos.
• Grecia sorprende por lo bella, pero además, por la poca gente que se ve en los pueblos de montaña.
• Una mochila flaca hace la diferencia. Este año bajé 5kg (de 15 a 10) y se sintió en el rendimiento.
• Nota aparte para los baños químicos. Nunca vi baños químicos tan limpios, simpático porque eran 6, más un camioncito atmosférico, que nos iba siguiendo con los seis baños y el tanque. A lo que fue Mongolia (agujeros en la tierra) esto era como estar en una sala VIP.
• EL manejo de pies y ampollas también fue una superación, Mongolia las sufrí, en este, la vaselina y las cintas hicieron que disfrute mucho más la carrera
• Equipamiento: Usé hasta la última cosa que llevé conmigo, no sobró absolutamente nada.
• Cuerpo: La preparación para este tipo de carreras es muy diferente qué para los maratones de montaña, y creería que también para un Ultra regular. Acá la resistencia lo es todo (salvo que seas el japones que ganó) Para los mortales, el truco es mucha carga por largos períodos.

Hasta ahí mis reflexiones sobre la parte técnica, Adicionalmente, en estas carreras, que obligan a convivir a 160 personas de 54 países de todos los lugares del mundo por siete días, dejan enseñanzas más profundas.

La vida es “sólo instantes” y estos siete días me llenaron de instantes, es difícil enumerarlos, pero Intentémoslo:

• Una Inglesa que dijo que “le salvé la vida”, solo porque corrí como 2 km en bajada para avisarle que se había perdido, y debimos subirlos juntos.
• Otra persona que me dijo que mis silbidos le alegraban todas las mañanas
• Un coreano empecinado en pasarme en el Long Mach
• Un australiano sentado a 1000 metros de terminar los 80K sentado en la calle mirando la nada y, cuando le ofrecí una mano, me dijo “andá, necesito pensar”. Faltaban 1000 metros!!!!!
• La técnica y velocidad del japones que ganó la prueba, Una máquina el pibe
• Olvidarse que cumplía años
• Meterme a la bolsa con Descartes
• La gente del CP3 cantándome a coro un feliz cumple.
• Cada llegada, no importa la hora, no importa si sos el primero o el último, el bombo sonando, y gente alentándote.

Pero (odio la palabra pero) pero acá aplica muy bien :). Si tengo que definir los mejores “instantes” de esta carrera, no me cabe duda que fueron los de la tienda “Aquiles”.

De la nada se armó un GRAN grupo, nos apoyamos, nos esperamos, nos alentamos y por sobretodo, fue un derroche de alegría, cada mañana cantábamos, reíamos y arrancábamos con toda la onda, y cada noche nos esperábamos y nos conteníamos.

La verdad muchachos del team Aquiles, ha sido un honor correr con Uds.

Que se repita!

Note 1: Since tomorrow there will be 5 km left and, after the race finishes, I plan to get drunk, I choose to write this closure today mainly because if I write so much nonsense being sober, I would not like to find out what I may write drunk and with too much adrenaline.

Note 2: A beautifil being I like A LOT wrote to me on Day 2 telling me that I was the only person she knew that on his birthday, instead of spending his time lying on a couch eating a lemon pie, was running un ultra but, since she knew me, she wasn´t surprised. Well, let´s try and surprise you a bit more...

Let´s go to the last narration before a I get drunk.

A few moments before dying, soaked under the rain, the replicant Roy Batty tells Deckard (Harrison Ford):

"I've seen things you would never believe. To attack ships on flames beyond Orion. I´ve seen C-Rays shine in the dark near the Nanmmhauser gate. All these moments will get lost in time. It's time to die..." (And, under the rain, he dies and lets go of the pidgeon he held in his hand).

Well, this is not Blade Runner and I am not a replicant and besides I don´t have a due date (that I know of), but inspired by and paraphrasing Roy I can say...

I´ve run through places you would not believe. I have crossed the Sahara, left my last drop of sweat at Atacama, climbed the Great Wall and lived Northern Lights in the North Pole. I´ve crossed mountains, valleys, olive plantations and temples... all those moments will remain fixed on my left leg forever!

2026 LET´S GO for Namibia (over 55 degrees) and let´s go for ANTARTIDA (-20 degrees).

Anyone can run an ultra... let´s do TWO!

And now, yes, I´m going to get drunk!

Thank you for reading so many stupid things (Sol included)

Fragment from the "Cantata del Adelantado Don Rodrigo Diaz de Carreras", by the Argentinian band of humor-music "Les Luthiers): "Culmina Don Rodrigo dura travesía, se acerca a la costa en su fiel caravela, despues de seis meses de brava porfia, desciende orgulloso y con galanardura, ya clava su espada en tierra soñada, la tierra del oro y de la aventura..." Basically, Don Rodrigo arrives to the land he wants to conquest ("the land of gold and adventure") after six months of a troubled journey.

Well, in times of revisionism, let´s conquer Greece.

Ladies, gentlemen, Descartes, we´ve conquered the land of Brad Pitt, 250 km, done!! (Sorry, it´s my ego that feels a little restless, and not precisely from enjoying a wine tasting).

Yesterday was a very hard day: 80 km, all or nothing. And luckily it was all.

The race started with all runners on a ferry crossing to the other side of the fjord. We gathered together and off we went..

Five minutes after that it started raining in an epic way (in any case, Pompeii was not so far away). It poured down like hell! Within ten minutes everything got soaked up, floor, clothes, backpack; we were not able to see anything but the runner ahead of us. (This heavy rain in the middle of the forest took away my right Bose: another 200 dollars added to the race budget). Well, apart from listening to music only with my right ear, with the sand and peebles, things got real slippery, REALLY! This lasted till Camp 1 (km 14) when it cleared up a bit and we could begin drying up.

From Camp 1 to Camp 2, steep ups and downs and, after that, we ended up in a fantastic monastery in the middle of the mountain. During this stage, and English girl from Hong Kong who was running at my pace felt like chatting which, on the one side, got me to practise my English and, on the other, got me to speed up. I like to run alone!!

From Camp 2 to Camp 3 we ended up in a cave with other monasteries inside, also fantastic. Up to this point it was all running and tourism but it was the Long March and this implied much more.

Camp 4 was set at km 50 and there was a "cutting line" (if you arrived past a certain time they would make you sleep there and go on with the light the following day, but the clock does not stop). Luckily, I passed this line with plenty of time, a recovery with hot caffeine and moving on. The worst was yet to come.

As I was telling you yesterday, in these races melons get in their right place after km 30. Well, the groups were already formed, leaders led, the fast ones followed them and, finally, the mere mortals, including this humble runner (this is not me talking, it´s my ego).

Many times, for hours, you run behind or ahead another runner and switching positions can be a long process.

Between 50 and 60 at least 10 runners overtook me at a very good pace. Although it´s better not to think about it, the feeling of being slower is discouraging, specially after 10 hours of running. Of course, I did not give up and let myself go like a Troyan girl in front of Brad Pitt.

After Camp 5 the night fell down, red lights on my backpack, potent lights on my forehead and LET´S RUN. Distances become long and your head works too much.  Km 65, dark night, all I could see was the light of the Korean guy who overtook me with no respect for this HUMBLE Argentinian, or for Messi, or Maradona, or Milei... a shameful feeling that would turn into revenge. The thing was that the Korean got farther and farther ahead and my foot started to ache.

By km 65 you already know you´ll make it, whether running with your feet or using your elbows, but with 210 km on your legs, you start paying more attention to your pains and this one was strong.

To calm down I decided to stop and take a Diclo and a Paracetamol to see if they would help for the last stage. At this point an American woman and two swiss guys overtook me, causing my ego to fall really low.

Anyway, I get all my equipment together again, a lantern on my back and I tried to see how I could run with my bad foot.

The thing is that after two or three minutes (and here different people have different explanations) my foot stopped hurting, my quadriceps begged for running and my mind went back to the state it was at the Starting Line. Some would say it was because there were only 10k left to the Finish Line, while others would argue that Marisa (my nutricicionist and physician) switched the Diclo for one of the pills administered to racing horses; the thing is that suddenly I was running like one of Piñol gazelles on the Tres Tristes Tigres story.

It took me five minutes to reach HONKONES, whom we greeted with the lantern, we being me, Messi, Milei, etc. I reached the Swiss guys who greeted me with a "Hey, Jorge" and, after that, an American girl who was presenting me with a battle for the last 20 km. If I was ahead, she would speed up on  the way up just to overtake me. This time, when I overtook her, for a moment she looked like she would try and speed up but then she just said "Hey, Jorge, you look fantastic!" (or I may suspect of Marisa´s pills here too).

On my last 7 km, already into the city, I overtook five more John Does who greeted me anyway. But, you see, at 11 pm, after running for 13 hours, one can´t recognize people anymore; moreover, I swear that at km 54 I mistook a garbage bag with a runner (I have pictures). So, going back to my thing, I kept going and going and going until I easily reached the FINAL LINE at around 11:30 pm.

We had started at 9:15. I think this was my best time in a long race (please, Marisa, I need more of those pills!)

I was so excited I couldn´t go to sleep. I´ve been sleeping three hours the last four nights. Luckily today I cut some gels and infusions since my blood level caffeine must be as high as a cloud.

I stayed outside until 4am waiting for my teammates. Luckily they arrived well and happy, including Bea, who was not part of our team but is a friend so I waited for her too (she arrived earlier than the rest).

It was a fantastic stage. It looks like all those months of strong effort ended up in the right place.

250 km in five days (four marathons and one ultra), crossing throughout the Peloponnese, with approximately 9258 mts slope... EGO, please, it´s your turn to speak!

Tomorrow we still have 5 km in the city of Ermioni for the photo, the medal and for my ego!

JR

"Culmina Don Rodrigo dura travesía, se acerca a la costa en su fiel calabela, después de seis meses de brava porfía, desciende orgulloso y con galanardura, ya calva su espada en tierra soñada, la tierra del oro y de la aventura…."

Bien,en época de revisionismo conquistemos Grecia :)

Damas, caballeros, Descartes: hemos conquistado la tierra del Brad Pit, 250 km adentrooooooooo! (Perdón, ese es mi ego que está medio inquieto y no precisamente por ir a una degustación de vinos).

Ayer día durísimo: eran 80 km a todo o nada, y por suerte fue todo.

Comenzó la carrera con un cruce de todos los corredores en un ferry hasta el otro lado del fiordo, nos agrupamos, y largada……

A los cinco minutos diluvio epopéyico (Para el caso Pompeya no estaba muy lejos). Que manera de llover! En 10 minutos todo era agua, piso, ropa, mochila; no había forma de ver más allá del corredor que iba adelante. (Este diluvio en medio del bosque se llevo mi Bose derecho; sumémosle 200 dolares al presupuesto de carreras :( ), bueno, amen que tenía que escuchar música con un solo oido, la cosa entre arena y piedras se puso MUY resbalosa, MUY! Esto habrá durado hasta el Cam 1 (Km 14) donde despejó un poco y permitió comenzar a secarse.

Del Camp 1 al Camp 2 subida y bajada pronunciada y de ahí terminamos en un monasterio enclavado en la montaña fantástico.  En este tramo una chica de Hong Kong (Inglesa) tenía muchas ganas de hablar y justo corría a mi rítmo, lo que, por un lado hizo que practique ingles y por el otro que acelere el rítmo :) ) Me gusta correr solo!!!!

Del Camp 2 al Camp 3 terminamos en una cuevas, con otros monasterios dentro también fantásticos. Hasta ahí correr y turismo, pero era la Long March y eso implicaba mucho más.

El Camp 4 quedaba en el Km50 y había hora de corte (si llegas luego de esa hora te obligan a dormir ahí y seguis con la luz del otro día, pero el reloj no para). Afortunadamente pasé holgado, un recovery con cafeína caliente y a seguir. Lo peor estaba por venir.

Como les contaba ayer, en estas carreras los melones se acomodan después del KM30. Bueno, ya estaban armado los grupos, los líderes lideraban, los rápidos los seguían y luego los mortales, incluido este humilde corredor (no lo digo yo, lo dice mi ego).

Muchas veces por horas estas detrás o delante de una corredor y pasarlo o que te pase es un proceso largo.

Entre el 50 y el 60 me pasaron fácil 10 personas a MUY buen ritmo. Aunque uno no quiere pensar, la sensación de sentirse más lento es desalentadora, sobretodo después de 10 hrs. de carrera. Por supuesto no opuse resistencia y me entregué cual troyana a Brad Pitt:)

Luego del Camp 5 ya se vino la noche; luces rojas a la mochila, luces fuertes en la frente, y A CORRER. Las distancias se hacen largas, y la cabeza trabaja mucho. Km 65, noche cerrada, sólo se veía la luz de Koreano que oso pasarme sin el más mínimo respeto a este HUMILDE argentino, ni a Messi, ni a Maradora ni a Milei, una vergüenza que conllevaría venganza. La cuestión era que el koreano se alejaba y mi pié comenzó a doler cada vez más.

Ya en el km 65 uno sabe que va a llegar, ya sea corriendo o con los codos, pero con 210 km en tus piernas le empezas a prestar más atención a los dolores, y este era fuerte.

Para calmar la cosa decidí parar y tomar un Diclo y un paracetamol a ver si ayudaban el último tramo. Ahí me paso una americana y dos suizos. En ese momento mi ego cotizaba menos que bono argentino luego del triunfo de Kichilof.

En fin, armo equipo de nuevo, linterna a la espalda y a intentar correr con mi pié maltrecho..

La cuestión es que pasaron dos o tres minutos y… (aquí las escuelas se dividen sobre el origen de los hechos), pero mi pié dejó de doler, mis cúadricepes pedían correr y mi mente estaba como recién largado. Algunos dirán que es por estar a 10K de la meta y otros que Marisa (Mi nutricionista y médica) me cambio el Diclo por eso que le dan a los caballos de carrera, pues de repente corría cual gazela de Piñol en Tres Tristes Tigres :).

Me llevó cinco minutos alcanzar a Honkones, al cual con mi linterna le mandamos saludos, yo Messi y Millei, y seguí…… Alcancé a los suizos, los cuales me saludaron con un "HEY JORGE", y luego a una americana que me estuvo toreando los últimos 20km: si yo iba adelante, corría en subida sólo para quedar delante mío. Cuando la pasé, hubo un pequeño amague a apurar el paso, y luego me dijo "HEY JORGE YOU LOOK FANTASTIC" (aquí yo también empecé a sospechar de las pastillas de Marisa).

Ya entrada a la ciudad faltando 7 Km pase a cinco NN más, NN que igual me saludaron. Pero, vio, a las 11:00 de la noche, luego de 13:00 hrs corriendo a uno no le queda claro quien es quien; es más, juro q en el kilómetro 54 confundí una bolsa de basura con un corredor (tengo fotos). En fín, volviendo a lo mío, seguí, seguí y seguí hasta llegar comodísimo a las meta tipo 23:30. Largamos a las 9:15. Creo que es el mejor tiempo que hago en una carrera larga (porfa Marisa, necesito más de esas pastillas).

Estaba tan exitado que no podía dormirme. Hace 4 días que duermo 3 hrs. Por suerte hoy corté geles e infusiones, pues mi nivel de cafeína en sangre debe de estar por las nubes.

Me quedé afuera hasta las cuatro AM esperando a mis compañeros de equipo. Por suerte llegaron todos bien y contentos, incluida Bea, que no es del equipo pero tambièn es amiga y la estaba esperando (ella llegó màs temprano)

Fue un fantástico tramo. Parece que los meses de esfuerzo coronaron donde debían. 

250 Km en cinco días (cuatro maratones y un ultra), cruzando todo el Peloponeso, con +- 9.258  mts de desnivel…… EGO te cedo la palabra :)

Mañana, nos quedan 5K en la ciudad de Ermioni para la foto, la medalla y para MI EGOOOOOOOOOOO

JR

Nota 1: Dado que mañana son 5KM y luego de que termine la carrera pienso emborracharme, prefiero escribir este cierre hoy, pues si digo tantas pavadas sobrio, no quiero saber lo que podría escribir borracho y pasado de adrenalina.

Nota 2: Una personita que quiero MUCHO me escribió el Día 2 diciéndome que era la única persona que conocía que, en su cumpleaños, en vez de estar comiendo un Lemon Pie tirado en el sillón, estaba corriendo un ultra, pero que viniendo de mí no le sorprendía. Bueno, vamos a intentar sorprenderte un poquito más :)

Vayamos al último relato antes de que me emborrache

Momentos antes de morir, empapado bajo la lluvia, el replicate Roy Batty le dice a Deckard (Harrison Ford):

"Yo he visto cosas que vosotros no creerías. Atacar naves en llamas más allá de Orión. He visto Rayos-C brillar en la oscuridad cerca de la puerta de Nanmmhauser. Todos estos momentos se perderán en el tiempo. Es hora de morir…" (Y, bajo la lluvia, muere y suelta la paloma que tenía en su mano).

Bueno, esto no es Blade Runner, y yo no soy un replicante y además no tengo fecha de vencimiénto (conocida), pero…. Inspirado y parafraseando a Roy puedo decir…..

He corrido por lugares que vosotros no creerías. He cruzado el Sahara, dejado la última gota de transpiración en Atacama, escalado la Gran Muralla y vivido auroras boreales en el Polo Norte. He cruzado montañas, valles, olivares y templos, todos esos momentos quedarán grabados en mi pierna izquierda por siempre!

2026 VAMOS POR Namibia (+55 grados) y vamos por ANTARITDA (-20 grados)

Cualquiera corre un ultra, hagamos DOS!

Ahora si, me voy a emborrachar!

Gracias por leer tantas pavadas (incluida Sol :) )

First of all, I have to say that I smell REAL bad. Maybe that's why the French woman didn't hug me again. That said, let's get down to business...

Mao said that the only way to control a trend is to accelerate it, and as a stubborn opponent of the status quo, I joyfully note that "there are storms and lightning in the skies, the situation is excellent." Of course, Uncle Mao didn't expect the Long March tomorrow, but that's a LOOOONG TIME AHEAD.

Day 4 in, and what a day! 39K, 45K, 42K, and today 44K, ahem, that's 4 marathons in 4 days (I told you, ego, shut your mouth).

I usually divide marathons into 4 parts of 10K each. Remember, I'm not elite or competitive, so I don't even regularly pay attention to my finishing position. For me, the race is won or lost before the start. "It's all circumstance," that's why before a race we always say, "We've trained what we had to train, we've eaten what we had to eat, and we've slept what we had to sleep, we've given our best."

Well, in my four-quarter race, there's one thing that always repeats itself. Of course, in a multistage ultra like this, it's only the first day. But if we had to summarize a classic marathon of mine, it would be like this:

Km 0-10. Everyone starts off as if they were running a 5k. One person warms up, puts on some music, adjusts their gear, ties their hair up, and watches as they go by. The funny thing is that for every 10 that pass by, three say, "Come on, kid, come on!" And of those three, even one looks at you as if to say, "I hope you make it."

Km 10-20: The melons are lining up on the truck, and you start to get into position (always within my level, remember). Today was a great day, because after shaking off the three out of ten who passed me, we entered a descent like the one from Walner to Las Hayas (those from Ushuaia know what I'm talking about), but it was about 7 or 8 km, so it was a pleasure. I'd been missing those descents! How beautiful! Apart from that, we entered a dirt stretch where I joined a group formed by two Americans, an Italian, a Hong Kong woman and A DOG. All at the same pace, a pleasure. We alternated taking the lead, but it was VERY fun. Of course, the dog won.

Continuing with my quarters of the race, things got more technical between 20-30, but all downhill. My race plan was to take care of the last 20 because my fasciitis (or however it's spelled) is giving me alerts, but you see, the flesh is weak and there I went. Running past those who looked at you strangely while they get off with their arms akimbo is priceless. For everything else, there's Mastercard (Shut up, ego, I told you :)

30-45K

Normally, the race is decided by then. You're either alone for most of it, or the person in front or behind you maintains the same pace. What wasn't in my plan was that the last 13K would be on TRACKS. You have no idea how happy the sole of my foot is to run on train gravel. But hey, the experience of the Train of the Clouds helped, and I gained a couple more places.

Great stage. I arrived early so I have more time to recover and prepare for the Long March. Everything is different there: the race plan, the food, where to accelerate and where not to.

170K in, except for the sole of my foot, my body is whole, no blisters, a bit sore in the quadriceps, but nothing to worry about. Now comes the real test: we have to cross Checkpoint 4 before the cutoff.

Tomorrow will be a VERY LONG day; we'll have to cross the Rubicon.

Alea Jacta Est

The great Borges said that two is a mere coincidence and three is a confirmation. Well, let's confirm that we're already on day 3 and at the peak of the race.

Today was a really tough day. In fact, I was thinking of starting this post with "Goodbye fortunate fields, where perpetual joy reigns, hello mansion of horrors!" But let's not be so melodramatic.

Last night started off weird. For some reason, I couldn't sleep until late. (I couldn't even fall asleep while spooning with Destacrtes. In fact, I'll have to ask him if he wasn't responsible for it). Either way, I fell asleep at 2:00 AM.

This morning, the same old routine: feet, bandages, gear preparation, briefing, and then suffering. The day offered no incentive to encourage us: 40.5 km uphill climbs promised to be tough and boring. The day's plan was to take care of my quadriceps at all costs, and under no circumstances should I overexert myself.

CP 1 (11 km) was uneventful, CP 2 (21 km) was also uneventful, and around km 25, the sole of my foot started to hurt a little. Nothing to worry about, but something to take care of. A couple of km later, I stopped to pee and realized my urine wasn't as transparent as it should be. Two things to keep in mind for CP 3.

I reached CP 3, hydrated like crazy, and decided to continue my last 13.5 km (they were the steepest). 200 meters past CP 3, my route entered a small Greek village straight out of a Felinni film: stone houses, old people sitting on the sidewalk watching life go by, and a bunch of dirty runners with their bags, flowers, dogs, a perfect world.

200 meters further, to my right, the unexpected happened: a small village bar with its doors open and a refrigerator in the back with cold, dripping beers. With everything on my back, I went into the bar, went straight to the refrigerator, grabbed a Dark Pilsen (a large bottle), and drank half of it with the first sip. I think the Belgians documented this moment; I'll have to get that video.

The point is, I pay and head out quickly to continue the last 13.5 km, enjoying every drop of my little bottle. I finish it, find somewhere to throw away the container, and 200 meters ahead… (Please excuse the scatology) but after three days of melon-flavored electrolytes and dried food, a burp arose from the depths of my being, one that Placido Domingo himself would have envied. MAMITA, it was like touching heaven with my hands…

If you're wondering what happened to my foot, my hydration, and the 13.5 km uphill climb, don't pay attention to it, more of the same, 123 km in.

God, today I recovered my faith in you.

Charles Bukobsky said, "Find what you love, and let it kill you." I never thought he meant it literally. Oh my God, now I understand Tusides when he said, "The strong do what they can, and the weak suffer when they must." What a way to SUFFER!

Anyway, into stage 2, a great stage.

Since the sun is beautiful, many people have showered me with affection, and I just completed 82.5K. Let's take a moment and let me tell you about this peaceful day.

It started off peculiar, as I went out at 6 AM to go to the bathroom and a perfect stranger (from France, I think) gave me a hug, which froze me. Not because a French girl hugged me, but because of the courage she must have had to hug a guy wearing a rower for 80km and who hasn't bathed in three. But anyway, Happy Birthday came along, and then everything made sense. It turns out it's my birthday, and I didn't even remember, thinking about today's stage.

The 7:30 briefing had a special mention of my birthday, even with a plastic candle. Coming from Sam, a true Englishwoman, it was a great demonstration of love.

Today was an easy day, briefing, the same t-shirt, and off we went... 10 km of VERY steep climbing, which was what we expected, so everything was under control. Then a super technical descent. I love going down, what a way to pass dummies! I have no idea what position I'm in, and I don't care, but I love going downhill at full speed. It was 20 km at full speed. I only stopped at position number 3 (km 31) because the kids were waiting to sing Happy Birthday to me in chorus. You can't ask for more.

Well, until the 30th it was the day I'd dreamed of. Randomly, I had one better track than the other. The trail was technical but fun (I just paced myself so as not to burn my quads more than necessary). This was just the beginning, but at km 40, things got really steep, like a 5-kilometer, 5 terrible, destructive kilometers. What a way to suffer... but... We made it in one piece.

Although it was a meat grinder, it was an excellent stage. Now for revoverys, 1,000 calories, and time to dream for a while.

Today's Notes: I'm way ahead of my Spanish friend Bea (she just arrived while I was writing this :)). I hope she's okay. Arthur from Brazil dropped out today, which made me sad. Anyway, like it or not, starting with stage 3, this is going to happen again :(

Tomorrow is a really tough day, again with lots of elevation gain, it'll be a matter taking one little step at a time...

For the follow-up team, legs at 100% (I've been careful not to overindulge), perfect meals and hydration. The best part was the desiccated scrambled eggs this morning :). I think tonight I'll have chili chicken.

We're on to stage 3, half the race. After all, it was only 82.5K, so there's nothing to celebrate.

I've been flooded with emails, which keeps me entertained during these relaxing moments. Thanks to each and every one of you. Don't hesitate to write :)

JR

Fredinhard Fochd once said that a battle won is one in which we refuse to admit defeat. And today I refuse to admit defeat. Here we are, after climbing 2,000 meters in elevation, battered and bruised, but we're still standing. The best book I've ever read is called "And the Earth Remained," which is about the end of humanity due to a plague and how a few survivors begin to rebuild society.  In order to try to keep a record of what was happening each year, the main character would write on a rock the year that had ended and a descriptive phrase, such as "Year 1 of the Plague," "Year 5 of the Child," and so on. Kant said that the intelligence of a human being is measured by the amount of uncertainty they can tolerate. Well, if I had to write on my stone, it woulb be "2025: Year of Uncertainty". And right now, in addition to the 3,000,000 uncertainties I have to deal with, I have to add another 210 km of tangible uncertainty ahead of me. If you're wondering how I deal with that uncertainty, I'll tell you that I have a plan. As Saint-Exupéry said, "A goal without a plan is just a wish," and that's not the case here. Although I want to reach kilometer 253, the plan is: to suffer, suffer, and suffer some more. Well, the night started off fun. Everyone was in the tent, we had all eaten dinner, and we were settling in to rest when it started to rain heavily. It looks like the tents are designed for the desert, where it doesn't rain much, because we started getting water leaking in from everywhere. After trying to minimize the damage, we ended up six of us huddled together in the middle of the tent, quite dry. Sleep was also reluctant to come, so I put on some blues music and let Descartes keep me company in my sleeping bag.

The thing is, Descartes stayed for about three hours; it seems neither he nor I were sleepy. My Brazilian roommate kept crossing his leg over mine every now and then (he's 2.03 meters tall, literally!), we were sleeping so close together that I think I even dreamed in Portuguese!

This morning the sun came up and I thought, "Time to get up!" But my other roommate (from Guatemala) started packing up the gear at five in the morning, I almost strangled him!

We left at exactly 8:00, with all the typical adrenaline of these moments, and the first sign that it was going to be a fantastic day was a torrential downpour straight in our faces. In 10 minutes everything felt twice as heavy, my eyes were covered in rain, and my shoes were soaked.  After a while it stopped and you think, "Not so bad," but then a cold headwind made the wet clothes feel even colder. At those moments you look at the sky and think, "Come on, God, send a meteorite and let's just be done with it..." And all of that in just 10 km.

The rain stopped and we started climbing all day. 6.5 hours of climbing in 39 km, not bad to start with.

Now, recovery drinks, dinner, and time to rest.

For those following me, everything is going according to plan: good race plan, good nutrition, and a good mindset.

For everyone else, keep writing, either on the blog or privately, I read them all.

And a special hello to Descartes too! :=)

Fredinhard Fochd dijo una vez que una batalla ganada es aquella en la que nos negamos a confesar que hemos sido derrotados”. Hoy me niego a confesar que he sido derrotado. Aca estamos luego de haber subido 2.000 metros de desnivel, partido al medio, pero estamos.

El mejor libro que he leido en la vida se llama “Y la tierra permanece” que versa sobre el fin de la humanidad por una peste y como pocos sobrevivientes comienzan a reconstruir la sociedad. El personaje principal para intentar mantener el recuerdo de lo que iba aconteciendo en el año escribìa en una roca el año que terminaba y una leyenda alusiva, como ser "año 1 de la peste", "año 5 del niño", etc.

Kant decìa que la inteligencia de un individuo se mide por la cantidad de incertidumbre que es capaz de soportar. Pues bien, si yo tendrìa que escribir mi piedra, pondrìa 2025:año de la incertidumbre  y en este momento, ademàs de los 3.000.000 millones de incetidumbres que tengo que soportar, le tengo que sumar 210 Km màs de incertidumbre tangibles por delante. Si se preguntan como se combate esa incertidumbre, les cuento que tengo un plan. Como decìa Ssaint Exupery: un objetivo sin un plan es solamente un deseo. Y este no es mi caso pues, aunque deseo llegar al kilòmetro 253, el plan es: sufrir, sufrir y sufrir.

Pues bien la noche comenzò divertida. Ya todos en la carpa, ya cenados, nos acomodamos para descansar y comenzò a llover con todo. Se ve que las carpas estan preparadas para el desierto y ahì mucho no llueve, porque empezamos a hacer agua por todos lados.

Haciendo control de daños temrinamos seis apretaditos en el medio de la carpa y bastante secos. Igualmente el sueño fue reacio a aparecer, por lo que me puse un blues y deje que don Descartes me acompañe en mi bolsa..

La cosa es que Descartes se quedò como tres horas. Se ve que ni èl ni yo tenìamos sueño. Mientras mi compañlero brasilero me iba cruznado una pierna de vez en cuando (mide 2,03 literal), dormimos tan apretados que creo que soñe en portugues!

Esta mañana el sol saliò y dije "hay que levantarse". Pero mi otro compañero (gautemala) a las cinco se puso a acomodar el equipo; casi lo extrangulo

Largamos a las 8:00 en punto, con toda la adrenalinda tìpica de estos momentos y el primer mensaje de que iba a ser un dìa fantàstico fue una torrencial lluvia de frente. En 10 minutos todo pesaba el doble, los ojos estaban tapados de lluvia y las zapas empapadas :), Al rato parò y uno dice, no fue tan malo, pero al instante un viento frìo de frente hizo que el cuerpo mojado sufra. En esos momentos miras al cielo y decis, dale Dosito, manda el meteorito y listo… Y todo eso en 10 km.

El agua pasò y comenzamos a subir TODO el dìa, 6,5 hs. De subida en 39 km, nada mal para empezar.

Ahora Recoverys, cena, y a recuperar.

Para el team que me sigue les cuento que todo va segùn el plan, bien plan de carrera, bien alimentaciòn, y bien la cabeza.

Para los demàs sigan escribiendo o en el blog o x privado que los leo todos.

Y un especial saludo para Descartes tambien :=)

"I feel driven towards an ending I don't know! As soon as I have reached it, as soon as I am no longer needed, an atom will be enough to tear me to pieces; but until then, no human force will be able to do anything against me!", said Napoleon when the Russian campaign began. Not to be outdone by him, I am of the same opinion but, instead of Moscow, I'm going for Greece.

This September 28 begins my "Russian, I mean Greek, campaign" which we hope will end better than the Napoleonic campaign because, even though Don Napoleon conquered Moscow, his victory lasted as much as a breath. Cold, hunger and disease took care of returning him to France with less than half of his soldiers and with the beginning of the end of his empire in the making.

Fortunately, I have no intention of conquering Greece; just crossing the Peloponnese from one end to the other will be enough. So, perhaps more than like Don Napoleon, I may feel more like Brad Pitt in Troy (with the difference that no one will put makeup on my abs; they are all mine).

Francisco (Pancho) Panceta (Francis Bacon for The Crown) once said that if you start with certainties, you'll end up with doubts; but, if you accept starting with doubts, you'll end up with certainties. Listening to Sir Bacon, you can't imagine the number of doubts I have. In fact, I'm a living "doubt." I've already had a medical checkup, an equipment checkup, they've hooked up my GPS, and tagged me like cattle on their way to the slaughterhouse. I have a little while left to try to calm the adrenaline, and then we'll head off to Camp 1. HOLLY MOTHER, yes, Pancho was right. I'm going to end up full of certainties. But in the meantime, I'm a meat grinder.

Side note: I've already met the Brazilian team, the Guatemalan team, and I've reconnected with a bunch of people from Mongolia and Four Deserts 😊

Tomorrow will be a terrible day: 1,700 meters of JUST climbing. You'll have to be VERY smart not to burn more than you should. The good thing is that once you start, your mind goes on autopilot. Nothing exists but that summit; nothing exists but today's goal. Then, if all went well, you cross that first finish line (the volunteers are always cheering you on, whether you finish first or last) and your mind already has to start preparing for day 2: hydration, recovery, eating every grain of your 1,000 calories that you're entitled to that day, healing your feet, socializing for a while, and then, YES, that precious moment arrives when you get into "the bag," grab your headphones, choose the song, and let your mind leave your battered body and fly. (This race, I plan to really enjoy that exercise every night until I cross km 253).

It will be 7 long and arduous days, carrying my beloved/hated backpack, crossing mountains, valleys, and olive groves. Everything is yet to come.

We are here, we have trained all we had to train, eaten all we had to eat, and suffered all we had to suffer. Therefire, as the great Caesar said when crossing the Rubicon... Alea iacta Est!

And, as the great Fredinand Foch said: Victor, c’edt la volonté

¡Me siento empujado hacia un fin que no conozco! ¡Tan pronto como lo haya alcanzado, tan pronto como ya no sea yo necesario, bastará un átomo para hacerme pedazos; pero hasta entonces ninguna fuerza humana podrá hacer nada contra mí! dijo Napoleón cuando comenzó la campaña rusa. Yo, para no ser menos, opino lo mismo pero, en vez de Moscú, voy por Grecia 😊.

Este 28 de septiembre comienza mi “campaña rusa, digo, griega” que esperemos que termine mejor que la campaña napoleónica pues, por más que don Napo capturó Moscú, su conquista le duró un suspiro. Frio, hambre y enfermedades se encargaron de devolverlo a Francia con menos de la mitad de sus soldados y con el principio del fin de su imperio en ciernes.

Afortunadamente no tengo intenciones de conquistar Grecia; con solo cruzar de punta a punta el Peloponeso me sobra. Ende, quizás más que como don Napoleón me pueda sentir como Brad Pit en Troya (con la diferencia que a mí nadie me maquillará los abdominales; estos son todos míos).

Francisco Panceta (Fracis Bacon para La Corona) una vez dijo que, si uno comienza con certezas terminará con dudas, pero si uno acepta comenzar con dudas, llegará a terminar con certezas. Haciéndole caso a Sir Bacon, ni se imaginan la cantidad de dudas que tengo; es más, soy “una duda” que camina. Ya pasé control médico, control de equipamiento, me enchufaron el GPS y me etiquetaron cual ganado rumbo al matadero. Me queda un ratito para intentar bajar la adrenalina y ya partimos rumbo al Camp 1. MAMITA, sí!!!!,  Pancho tenía razón, voy a terminar lleno de certezas, pero “el mientras tanto” soy una picadora de carne.

Nota Aparte: ya conocí al team brasilero, al guatemaltes y me reencontré con una banda de gente de Mongolia y Four Deserts 😊

Mañana será un día durísimo: 1.700 metros de PURO ascenso. Habrá que ser MUY inteligente para no quemar más de lo debido. Lo bueno es que una vez que largas, la cabeza se pone en piloto automático; nada existe más que esa cumbre, no existe nada más q el objetivo del día. Luego, si todo fue bien, cruzas esa primera llegada (siempre los voluntarios están alentando en ella, llegues primero o llegues último) y ya tu cabeza tiene que empezar a preparar el día 2: hidratación, recoverys, comer cada grano de tus 1.000 calorías que te tocan ese día, curar los pies, sociabilizar un rato y luego, SI, llega ese tan preciado momento en el cual te metes en “la bolsa”, agarras tus auriculares, eliges la canción y dejas que tu mente salga de tu maltrecho cuerpo y vuele. (Esta carrera pienso disfrutar MUCHO ese ejercicio cada noche hasta cruzar el km 253).

Serán 7 largos y penosos días, cargando mi amada/odiada mochila, cruzando montañas, valles y olivos. Todo está por venir.

Ya estamos aquí, ya entrenamos todo lo que teníamos que entrenar, comimos todo lo que teníamos que comer y sufrimos todo lo que teníamos que sufrir; ende, como dijo el Gran Cesar al cruzar el Rubicón… ¡Alea iacta Est!

O mejor aún, como dijo el gran Fredinand Foch : Victore, c’edt la volonté

One day to go, and I'd like to share my mood with you: HELPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

Like Moses, we've reached the promised land, Marathon, and—technically speaking— I´m totally damn FREAKING OUT. Today is a day of rest, walking around, and getting used to jet lag, so there's plenty of time to get my pen ready for a while and philosophize.

Realizing philosophy was born right here is no small deal. Great ideas were born in these lands, the very concept of "the soul" emerged. So much so that the young people who lived around here a few years ago believed that "the soul" had three basic capacities.

First, they believed that "the soul" contained the principle of movement, it is what gives commands to the body. In my case, I hope mine will command my body for 250 kilometers. Otherwise, Ï´ll get really angry at it. Second, "the soul" is the source of knowledge, not only because of intelligence, but because it decodes what we feel. Third, they believe that "the soul" contains within itself the principle of action, or, in other words, it is what tells us whether we should act or refrain from doing so.

With these three principles, the Greeks explained human action. Likewise, Uncle Plato (another neighbor here) went a step further and thought that this axiom doesn't explain why "sometimes we act" and "sometimes we refrain from acting." Therefore, Uncle Plato the Great proposed that within "the soul" there are different parts. He enumerated three: an appetitive part that seeks to satisfy "in any way possible" what we desire—drink, food, sex, caresses—a rational part that deliberates, reasons, and evaluates; and a third, which he called the "spirit or vital ardor," which is like an impulse or anger that can be calmed by appetite or reason. In other words, "vital ardor" plays for both sides.

How right Uncle Plato was. That "vital ardor" is what brought us here, what got us out to train come rain, shine, or snow, what kept us running along the route after the Esmeralda round trip until we reached our goal, what makes us see how we run, how we take our steps, and how we get better every day.

Paulo Coelho used to say, or says, or said: "poor thing he who is afraid of taking risks, because perhaps he will never be disappointed, or have disillusions, or suffer like those who pursue a dream." Let's let our "vital ardor" become an ally for a while with our "appetitive" part and keep the flame of desire alive to reach these 250k, and for another while with the rational part and tell us when to act and when not to (day 1 and day 3 NOOO)

Let's let our "vital ardor" run wild through the PELOPONNESE, here we go...

Faltan UN día y quisiera compartir con Uds. mi estado de ánimo: SOCOROOOOOOOOO.

Cual Moises, hemos llegado a la tierra prometida, Marathon y -técnicamente hablando- el CAGAZO corre por mis venas. Hoy día de descanso, de paseo y de aclimatación al yet-lag, así que hay tiempo de sobra para afilar la pluma un rato y filosofar.

Pensar que la filosofía nació por acá nomas no es poca cosa, de estos lares nacieron grandes ideas, nació el concepto nada menos que “del alma”, tanto así que los muchachos que vivían por estas tierras hace algunos años pensaban que “el alma” tenía tres capacidades fundamentales.

En primer lugar, pensaban que “el alma” contenía el principio del movimiento, ella es la que le da órdenes al cuerpo, en mi caso espero que le dé ordenes por 250 kilómetros, sino se las tendrá que ver conmigo. En segundo lugar “el alma” es la fuente de conocimiento, no sólo por la inteligencia, sino porque ella decodifica lo que sentimos y en tercer lugar pensaban que “el alma” contiene en sí el principio de acción, o, en otras palabras, es ella la que nos dice si debemos obrar o abstenernos de ello.

Con esos tres principios los griegos explicaron el accionar humano. Igualmente el tío Platón (También vecino de por acá) fue un paso más allá y pensó que ese axioma no explica por que “a veces actuamos” y “a veces nos abstenemos de actuar”, por lo que el tío Plato Grande propuso que dentro “del alma” hay distintas partes, él enumero básicamente tres: Una apetitiva que busca satisfacer “como sea” aquello que deseamos -bebida, comida, sexo, caricias-, otra racional, la que delibera, razona, evalúa y, una tercera, que él llamo el “animo o ardor vital” que es como un impulso o cólera que puede allanarse con los apetitos o con la razón, en otras palabras el “ardor vital” juega para ambos bandos.

Cuánta razón tenía el Tío Platon. Ese “ardor vital” es el que nos trajo hasta acá, es el que nos sacó a entrenar llueve, truene o nieve, es el que después de ir hasta Esmeralda ida y vuelta nos hizo seguir corriendo por la ruta hasta alcanzar el objetivo, es el que nos hace ver como corremos, como pisamos y como nos superamos a diario.

Paulo Cohelo, decía, o dice, o dijo: “pobre el que tenga miedo de correr riesgos, porque quizás ese no se decepcione nunca, ni tenga desilusiones, ni sufran como los que persiguen un sueño”, dejemos que nuestro “ardor vital” se alíe un rato con nuestra parte “apetitiva” y mantenga viva la llama del deseo para llegar a estos 250k y otro rato con la parte racional y nos diga cuando actuar y cuando no (día 1 y día3 NOOO)

Dejemos correr nuestro “ardor vital” juntos por el PELOPONESO, mañana iniciaremos una nueva locura

A few years ago, a certain Confucius told me that "vices come as passengers, visit us as guests, and stay as love." Well, here we are, headed to the Peloponnese in search of satisfying one of my vices: running. An interesting vice, this one has filled me with satisfaction. The fact that my legs has tatoos representing 1,007 kilometers of marathons and ultramarathons in five continents makes soneone say, "Wow, that quite a VICE!"

Another certain friend, called Abraham Lincoln (I clarify that he has nothing to do with the cookie guy) told me that “people who have no vices have very few virtues”. In other words, uncle Abraham told me that I should have vices to be virtuous, or maybe not, but my ego tells me that's how it is, and I never argue with my ego, so I have a couple more vices, but you see, as the saying goes, you can't have everything, therefore there are vices that I left in Ushuaia, vices that I carry with me but I don't intend to enjoy and vices of those that can get to you.

The Palette is another of my vices (that one stayed in Ushuaia). Hitting a ball is like having sex after getting out of jail; you give it all up. Running, on the other hand, is like those nights where a caress is worth more than the memory of having been in jail and dropping the soap. When you run, you dream, plan, fantasize, remember. When you hit a ball, nothing exists but your opponent, who is your stubborn enemy, whom you want to defeat above all else.

It's funny that I like two contrasting sports. When I run, I'm not interested in beating anyone. A race is just the culmination of months of planning; the race is won or lost before the start. However, when I play padel, even though there are hours of training behind it, you win or lose on the court.

I suppose I must be half philosophical because of the abstinence of adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin and all those “ines” that sport gives you (I’ve been two days without doing anything -or almost-) and it seems that it is affecting me and making me nostalgic, so much so that a phrase that another great friend of mine, Charles Dickens -Cacho Dick to his friends- told me a few years ago also comes to mind: “vices are sometimes only virtues in excess.” If I remember correctly, he said it to me while he was drinking his fourth glass of whiskey -without ice- and smoking his third Montecristo in a row. But anyway, let’s not take it out of context and let’s go back to the philosophical meaning of the phrase, which after four whiskeys he surely had, I think Charly wanted to tell me that “there are vices and VICES,” some bad, I think Charles died for one of them, some good and others… others, the kind that you can’t and won’t ever stop being addicted to.

Since I still have two more days of abstinence (and a LOT of carb loading), let's define the ideal vice:

A little mountain hike on a sunny day (10-20K, no more), a full-throttle game of paddle, and a long night listening blues knowing you've given it all away!

How right Confucius was!

Un tal Confucio, hace algunos años me dijo que “los vicios vienen como pasajeros, nos visitan como huéspedes y se quedan como amor”, bueno acá estamos, rumbo al Peloponeso en busca de saciar uno de mis vicios, correr. Vicio interesante este que me ha llenado de satisfacciones. Sólo el pensar que mi pierna izquierda tiene tatuados 1.007 kilómetros de maratones y ultra maratones en cinco continentes hace que uno diga ¡Guau, qué VICIO!

Otro amigo de la infancia, un tal Abraham Lincoln (Aclaro que no tiene nada que ver con el de las galletitas) me dijo que “las personas que no tienen vicios tienen muy pocas virtudes”, en otras palabras, el tío Abraham me dijo que debía tener vicios para ser virtuoso, o quizás no, pero mi ego me dice que la cosa es así, y yo nunca discuto con mi ego, entonces tengo un par de vicios más, pero vio, como dice el refrán, todo no se puede, ende hay vicios que deje en Ushuaia, vicios que llevo conmigo pero no pienso usufructuar y vicios de esos que te pueden.

La Paleta es otro de mis vicios (a ese lo dejé en Ushuaia), pegarle a una pelota es como tener sexo luego de haber salido de la cárcel; lo dejas todo. En cambio, correr es como una larga noche de caricias donde nada importa, ni siquiera el recuerdo de cuando se te cayó el jabón en la cárcel. Cuando uno corre, sueña, planea, fantasea, recuerda. Cuando le pegas a la pelotita, sólo existe el oponente, sólo queres ganar y no existe nada más que la pelota.

Simpático que me gusten dos deportes tan contrapuestos, cuando corro no me interesa ganarle a nadie, una carrera es solo el corolario de meses de planificación, la carrera se gana o se pierde antes de la largada, en cambio cuando juego padel, por más que hay horas de entrenamiento detrás, se gana o pierde en el court.

Yo supongo que debo estar medio filosófico por la abstinencia de adrenalina, dopamina, serotonina y todas esas “inas” que te da el deporte (ya llevo dos días de no hacer nada -o casi-) y se ve que me está afectando y me pone nostálgico, tanto que también me viene a la mente una frase que hace unos años me dijo otro gran amigo, Charles Dickens -Cacho Dick para los íntimos- “los vicios son a veces solo virtudes en exceso”. Si mal no recuerdo me la dijo mientras se tomaba el cuarto vaso de wiski -sin hielo- y fumarse el tercer Montecristo al hilo, pero bueno, no lo saquemos de contexto y volvamos al significado filosófico de la frase, que, después de cuatro wiskis seguro la tenía. Yo creo que Charly me quiso decir que “hay vicios y VICIOS”, algunos malos, creo que Charles murió por uno de ellos, algunos buenos y otros….., otros, de esos que no podes ni queres dejar de estar enviciado nunca.

Dado que aún tengo dos días más de abstinencia (y de carga de MUCHOS hidratos) definamos el vicio ideal:

Fondito de montaña en un día soleado (10/20K no más), partido de padel “a fondo” y una larga noche escuchando blues sabiendo que ¡lo dejaste todo!

¡Cuánta razón tenía el Confucio!

On July 31, 2025, the Royal Spanish Academy incorporated the term "pelotudo" into the dictionary as part of the Río de la Plata Spanish. This colloquial term is widely used in my region, not in the literal sense of the word, but as a way of calling someone "not very bright" or, in some cases, very SPECIAL. It is used as a way of telling someone that they are VERY special and that you love them very much.

But the word has another assertion... history tells us that the origin of the word dates back to the time of the Wars of Independence, when the soldiers who went to the front lines with stones tied whit straps were called "pelotudos". They formed three rows. Our gauchos lined up first the "Pelotudos", who carried the large stone balls tied with straps, then the "Lanceros", with facones and tacuaras and, finally, the "Third" made up of the "Boludos", with their bolas and balls.

You might be wondering what all this has to do with this race? Well, Tent Number ONE has been named Achilles by the organization. Aquiles (in Spanish) was none other than the legendary hoplica (Greek warrior) of the Trojan War, famous for his almost invincible strength and his cruelty on the battlefield. The interesting thing is that the way the hoplites fought was not that different from what the gauchos did in these lands. Of course, they had swords and panoplies, while we only had stones and ropes, but basically the battle technique didn't vary much.

In short, there isn't much difference between a Greek Warrior and a “Pelotudo”, and since the FIRST Racing tent of Planet Greece 2025 is made up of 3 Brazilians (among them MY friend Arthur), 2 Mexicans, 1 Guatemalan and this humble Argentinian racer, we are closer to being "Pelotudos" than “Hoplicas”, unless one of my teammates has the appearance of Brad Pit in Troy 😊

Note: I've been looking for synonyms in my colleague slangs, but neither "Pendejo" or " Bobãos " seem to fit us very well, so...

Teammates “Pelotudos”, let the Rock & Roll begin.

See you at the Pre-Racing.

A humble “Pelotudo”

El 31 de julio de 2025 la Real Academia Española incorporó el término "pelotudo" al diccionario como parte del español rioplatense. Este término coloquial es muy utilizado por mis tierras, no con el sentido literal de la palabra, sino a modo de llamar a alguien con “pocas luces” o en algunos casos muy ESPECIALES se usa como forma de decirle a alguien que es MUY especial y que se lo quiere mucho 😊

Pero la palabra tiene otra aserción…. cuenta la historia que el origen de la palabra remite a la época de las guerras por la Independencia, cuando se denominaba “pelotudos” a los soldados que iban al frente de batalla con piedras atadas a tientos, formados en tres filas, nuestros gauchos alineaban primero a los "Pelotudos", que portaban las pelotas de piedra grandes amarradas con tientos, luego los "Lanceros", con facones y tacuaras y, para terminar, la "Tercera" integrada por los "Boludos", con sus boleadoras y bolas.

Uds. se preguntarán que tiene que ver todo esto con esta carrera?, pues bien, la carpa número UNO ha sido llamada por la organización Achilles. Aquiles (en español) fue ni más ni menos que el legendario hoplica (Guerrero griego) de la Guerra de Troya, famoso por su fuerza casi invencible y su crueldad en el campo de batalla. Lo interesante es que la forma que tenían los hoplitas de combatir no distaba mucho de lo que hacían los gauchos por estas tierras, claro ellos tenían espadas y panoplias y nosotros solo piedras y cuerdas, pero básicamente la técnica de batalla no variaba mucho.

Resumiendo, entre un Guerrero Griego y un Pelotudo no hay mucha diferencia, y puesto que la PRIMERA carpa de Racing de Planet Greece 2025 está compuesto por 3 brasileros (entre ellos MI amigo Arthur), 2 mexicanos, 1 guatemaltes y este humilde corredor argentino, por ahí estamos más cerca de ser unos “pelotudos” que unos Hoplicas, salvo que alguno de mis compañeros tenga la facha de Brad Pit en Troya 😊

Nota: Estuve indagando sinónimos en lunfardos de mis compañeros, pero ni "Pendejo" ni "Bobãos" me parecen que nos quede muy bien que digamos, así que….

 Compañeros pelotudos, que empiece el Rock & Roll

 Nos vemos en el Pre-Racing

¡Un humilde pelotudo!

(Spanish)

Una pregunta recurrente que he tenido al terminar los 250K de Mongolia fue ¿Cómo preparas un cuerpo para correr 250K? y como si fuera poco, ¡con todas tus provisiones en tu espalda!

Este año, aprovechando mi deformación profesional (trabajo en estadísticas), me he tomado el trabajo de documentar el largo y penoso proceso de entrenamiento que nos ha llevado hasta acá. Y hablo en plural, pues además de mis piernas, esta carrera la corre Maxi, mi entrenador, el cual se ha dedicado a torturarme por los últimos 8 meses; Marisa, mi médica y nutricionista la cual se ha encargado de mi recuperación, salud y estado físico; Numy mi esposa que ha bancado mis largas sesiones de entrenamiento, que me quede dormido casi todas las noches cual oso polar a punto de invernar, que me levante “partido” cada mañana y; por supuesto, mi gran compañero, mi perro Nio, que entrenó a la par y hasta nos dimos el gusto de correr un 42K juntos.

Irving Berlin dijo una vez que “la vida es un 10% de lo que haces de ella y un 90% como te la tomas”, pues bien, veamos que hicimos en ese 10% del 1ro de febrero a la fecha:

1.557 Kmts corridos en 107 sesiones de entrenamiento, en 8 países diferentes, que incluyeron:

• 42K en La Gran Muralla China
• 30 salidas de montaña
• 64 de calle
• 12 de farlek
• 17 de bici
• Bonus Trak: 77 partidos de Pádel (es mi debilidad)

Si estos 1.557 kmts les parecen poco, les cuento que el entrenamiento fue complementado con 68 sesiones de Gym, las cuales contabilizaron un total de:

• 12240 ejercicios de estiramiento con pelota
• 8160 segundos de Planchas Laterales, o sea, he pasado 136 minutos haciendo “La Plancha” con 15 kg en la mano o en otras palabras 2,3 horas de mi vida estuve de costado sin moverme con una pata en el aire y un brazo mirando al cielo.
• 8160 abdominales tipo kickboxing (Ya estamos listos para que nos peguen duro)
• 4080 sesiones de máquinas de ejercicios diversas
• 4080 sesiones de abdominales con Abductor
• 1720 sentadillas búlgaras (las odio)
• 2720 abdominales con Mancuerna
• 23720 ejercicios con Peso Muerto
• 1860 sesiones de Pecho Plano

Y si estas 68 sesiones de entrenamiento no les parece suficiente, les cuento que, todo lo anterior fue complementado con:

• 5,73 Kg de avena
• 1368 almendras
• 739 arándanos (deberían ser más, pero se acabaron los de temporada)
• 378 pastillas de remolacha, lo que equivale a 454 kilogramos de remolacha (Eso es MUCHA remolacha)
• 479 huevos (tengo que invertir en gallinas)
• 107 bananas
• 252 dosis de creatina y glutamina
• 60 dosis de caseinato de calcio
• 3 sesiones de cámara hiperbárica

• Bonus Track: 102 latas de cerveza (Es mejor que los Recovery)

Resumiendo, si quieren saber cómo se prepara un cuerpo para correr 250K, el truco es: ¡comprar muchas latas de cerveza!

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(English)

A recurring question I've had since finishing the Mongolia 250K was, "How do you prepare your body for a 250K run?" And if that weren't enough, with all your supplies on your back!

This year, taking advantage of my professional background (I work in statistics), I've taken the time to document the long and arduous training process that has brought us here. And I speak plural, because in addition to my legs, this race is being run by Maxi, my trainer, who has dedicated himself to torturing me for the past 8 months; Marisa, my doctor and nutritionist, who has been in charge of my recovery, health, and fitness; Numy, my wife, who has endured my long training sessions, made me fall asleep almost every night like a polar bear about to hibernate, and made me wake up "energized" every morning; and, of course, my great companion, my dog, Nio, who trained alongside me, and we even had the pleasure of running a 42K together.

Irving Berlin once said that “life is 10% what you make of it and 90% how you take it.” Well, let’s see what we did in that 10% from February 1st to the present:

1,557 km run in 107 training sessions, in 8 different countries, which included:

• 42 km on the Great Wall of China
• 30 mountain runs
• 64 street runs
• 12 farlek runs
• 17 bike runs
• Bonus Track: 77 padel matches (it’s my weakness)

If these 1,557 km seem like too little, I’ll tell you that the training was complemented with 68 gym sessions, which totaled:

• 12.240 ball stretching exercises
• 8160 seconds of side planks, meaning I spent 136 minutes doing “The Plank” with 15 kg in my hands, or in other words, 2.3 hours For the rest of my life, I've been on my side, motionless, with one leg in the air and one arm pointing up at the sky. 160 kickboxing-style sit-ups (We're ready to get hit hard)
• 4080 sessions on various exercise machines
• 4080 sessions of abductor crunches
• 2720 Bulgarian squats (I hate them)
• 2720 dumbbell crunches
• 2720 deadlifts
• 1860 flat chest sessions

And if these 68 training sessions don't seem enough, I'll tell you that all of the above was complemented with:

• 5.73 kg of oats
• 1368 almonds
• 739 blueberries (should be more, but the seasonal ones are gone)
• 378 beetroot pills, which is equivalent to 454 kilograms of beets (That's a LOT of beets)
• 479 eggs (I have to invest in chickens)
• 107 bananas
• 252 doses of creatine and glutamine
• 60 doses of calcium caseinate
• 3 hyperbaric chamber sessions
• Bonus Track: 102 cans of beer (It's better than Recovery)

In short, if you want to know how to prepare your body for a 250K run, the trick is: buy a lot of cans of beer!