A week ago, I finished the toughest (and my first) 100-miler in Australia: GPT100. The course covers 162 km across the Grampians, with an accumulated elevation gain of 7,700 m. To put it in perspective, that’s almost running four marathons while climbing 90% of Everest’s height!
It took me 33 hours without sleep. I crossed extremely technical terrain, moved through the night under heavy rain and strong wind, and dealt with freezing temperatures. It was a roller coaster of emotions, from bursts of excitement to moments of deep doubt. I discovered sides of myself I hadn’t seen before and gained an even deeper appreciation for the power of consistency.
It was a journey of throwing myself, once again, into the unknown, the uncertainty, and the uncomfort. Instead of writing a novel, I’m gonna share key thoughts and reflections that carried me through this challenge. I hope they inspire you to chase a better version of yourself, to push your limits while enjoying the process.
At the start line, I was buzzing, excited by the massive challenge ahead, to spend countless hours in nature, and to be surrounded by other crazy people. My brother from another mother, Sergi, turned to me and asked, “Are you ready?” With a big smile, I answered, “Yes, but it’s 50–50.” One cannot simply train for a distance like this, and thus the only way to find out is by trying. And somehow, despite being someone who deals poorly with uncertainty, I was surprisingly calm. I felt at ease with not knowing the outcome; I was already proud of myself just for showing up.
To strengthen a bond, you sometimes need silence. Sergi and I have spent countless hours running together. And even though we both love talking, most of those hours are quiet. That’s the beauty of trust: you can share silence without feeling the need to fill it. You can go deep into your own thoughts while still feeling safe.
When Sergi ran into an unexpected health issue during the miler, I felt helpless. I wanted to take the pain away, but there was nothing I could really do. Except one thing: stay next to him, quietly. There was no point in throwing empty lines like “this pain will go away” or “everything will be fine”. So I just walked beside him, step after step, for as long as he needed. Sometimes, simply being there is enough.
Not even halfway, around 65 km, the doubts started creeping in. I felt overwhelmed by the hours still ahead. Darkness was closing in, and the hardest section was right around the corner. “Even if I manage to push through the entire night without sleep, there will still be roughly another 12 hours to go”, I thought. I was scared, and I desperately wanted to quit. And honestly, it would’ve been so easy. Why was I putting myself through this on purpose?
But deep down, I knew I’d never forgive myself for stopping before giving everything I had. The reason of doing this didn’t matter anymore; what mattered was getting the job done. After a long internal battle, I made a simple deal with myself: just get to the next aid station. If I still wanted to quit there, I could. And, well… the rest is history.
P.S.: After the race, I remembered exactly why I was doing this: to revisit the pain cave, and meet myself in my rawest form, stripped of all comfort, and have that honest conversation once again.
Sometimes we get so caught up in the execution that we forget to enjoy the moment. But despite all the uncertainty, I was having an incredible amount of fun exploring the Grampians. It’s almost ridiculous how a few rocks, a bunch of trees, and a good view can make me so genuinely happy. Even during the rough night (cold, soaked, and exhausted) I felt so grateful to be alive! Just being able to walk, run, and spend endless hours outdoors filled me with joy. I truly felt lucky!
This huge achievement isn’t just mine. I’m incredibly lucky to be surrounded by friends who I consider family. They supported me through the entire race: feeding me at aid stations, cleaning my blisters, handing me fresh clothes, and, most importantly, giving me the emotional boost I desperately needed. To stay in sync with my schedule, they barely slept. They waited for hours, in the sun or in the cold, just to see me for a quick ten minutes before I headed back out. I can’t put into words how grateful I am. They’re simply the best!
This is the question I asked myself the most throughout the run. People say an ultra is basically an eating competition, and I couldn’t agree more. I’ve learned from past experience how quickly my body and mind can hit a wall when they run low on energy (I get very rude!). Recovering from that deprived state is almost impossible, so the best strategy is to avoid it entirely.
This time, I had a simple plan: stick to solid food (fruits, wraps, burgers, potatoes) for at least the first half of the race. Only when my stomach started to feel unsettled would I switch to gels. And honestly? It worked beautifully.
Even before reaching the finish line, my mind was already drifting toward the next challenge. It’s funny how chasing goals can become its own kind of addiction. But I’ve also realized how unhealthy it is to constantly need a new objective just to feel grounded. So for once, I am holding myself to not to rush into the next target. I need to learn how to sit with a bit of uncertainty and live without a clear direction for a while.
