Otter trail
It might sound a bit crazy, but the only question that concerns me at 4:30 in the morning is "which shorts to wear." In an hour, I need to be standing at the intersection of Oslobozhdenje and Gorky, ready to hop on the van to Gradac. And here I am, waking up at 4 AM, sipping coffee, and thinking about which shorts to leave the house in. The choice is between two options: regular denim shorts or regular sports shorts. You can’t run in regular denim shorts. Although I have running gear, for some reason, it seems crucial at this moment to have a second set of running clothes. For what? To run the course again, but in something different? 😀
4:44 AM. Morning, time to zone out. Sipping coffee, trying to solve a very difficult question.
At 5:30, I hopped into the minibus with a group of fellow early risers, all ready to suffer, and we were off.
At 9:10, we were still standing by the starting gate. Ten meters to the right, smoke was rising from a grill, cooking something very meaty and delicious. Honestly, I wanted to go and eat because the two sandwiches I had at 4:30 had long since been digested.
Gradually, it was getting more crowded by the gate. But an interesting detail—there was no musical accompaniment, no warm-up. It felt like it was still very early and everything would start in an hour when all the equipment was set up.
At 9:20, a sudden pop sounded, and everyone cheerfully applauded and started running. Um, is that it? In Bečej, half an hour before the race, the whole square was buzzing: there was an energetic warm-up from the stage, music playing, and food and drink stalls already set up. It felt like a great celebration. But here—a pop in the silence and everyone started running.
We didn't run for long, though. Just like in Povlen, the crowd encountered the first obstacle 100 meters from the start. It was a closed barred gate with a 90 cm door. More than five hundred participants stopped 100 meters from the start, trying to pass through the door. There was no crush, just a long and slow movement forward.
After the gate, freedom and the first ford 300 meters ahead. Cold water up to the ankles, splashes everywhere, and wild excitement. Running in the lowland is great. You run in the shade and coolness. All you hear is "slosh-slosh, slosh-slosh." Wet sneakers squelch in the mud and everyone runs, watching their steps. And underfoot is muddy mush, branches, and tree roots sticking out from the ground.
Another stop was about 1.7 km in. We were climbing a mountain path and somewhere in the middle of a hundred-meter ascent, we stopped. Why? Because those who reached the top wanted to take a photo. So we stood and waited while everyone took pictures.
Standing in the middle of an ascent is boring. When possible, we bypassed each other through the bushes. But that's not an easy task; the bushes are mostly impenetrable, or the ascent is so steep that there's nothing to grab onto. So we had to wait on the path.
The second ascent was at the fifth kilometer. By this time, the crowd had thinned out significantly. Some stayed behind, some went ahead. But there was no queue even on the two-hundred-meter ascent. It's funny, but while crawling up two hundred meters, you constantly think about when you’ll reach the top. You crawl because it's impossible to run that vertically after about a quarter of the way. And you keep thinking, "when's the top," looking at your watch and counting meters.
71 meters left to the top. I pass people with walking sticks. They press to the side, letting me pass and smiling. The thought flickers in my mind to stand with them. Apparently, they like standing; why not join them.
Forty meters to the top, I try to pass a group of three. They are walking rather slowly but don't plan to yield. Well, we crawl behind them, resting. Twenty meters later, the path widened a bit and I passed them.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and there it is, the top. There’s already a refreshment station and a flat track leading into the forest. And just 600 meters ahead, a descent! Yes, climbing up is hard, but descending 300 meters down is even harder. Your legs rush down and all you can do is try to run slower.
I really hoped there would be at least one more ford at the end so I could plunge into the water and cool my muscles a bit. But there was no ford. There was a small bridge, a sharp turn, and there were those same metal gates where the jam was an hour ago. The last hundred meters of good asphalt, music, and applause. You smile broadly, trying to look decent for the finish photo and there it is, the finisher's medal already hanging around your neck. I grab a bottle of water and plop down on the grass near the finish to wait for the others. I completed these 10 km in 1:44:50. The course that I usually run on regular asphalt in 55 minutes took me almost two hours. But it was great. Wet, muddy, and beautiful.
Of course, there was also the trip back and the pljeskavica I ate about an hour after the finish. A huge patty in a bun, a hundred times tastier than anything made in any McDonald’s. Onions, tomatoes, and a sauce I couldn’t even remember, covered the patty grilled over charcoal. All of this was also part of the run. But the main impression was on the course. Where you had to jump through water, slosh through mud, and crawl uphill, dreaming of crawling downhill soon.