Transvulcania 2022 Race Report — Abby & Cordis Hall

After CCC, we headed to Bad Gastein, Austria for three weeks where we transitioned from all-things-UTMB to some annual time together as a team. These days in Austria were full of easy living—scenic runs with teammates, long dinners together, rousing games of chess and supporting Infinite Trails. But emotionally, this time for me was about letting go of CCC.

I know myself enough to know that the days following a race are some of the biggest transitions I make in the year, my own change of seasons if you will. In order to move forward, I need to fully accept and let go of the effort behind me.

In this case, I couldn’t be happier with how CCC went. But even that emotion requires the conscious act of moving on. Every start line is a new opportunity, a new effort. For me to race with a fully present mind, my next race can’t be a reaction to the last one.

So for a while, I enjoyed each day as it came and didn’t bother making up my mind about racing once more in the fall like I’d talked about earlier in the season.

But of course, the email arrived in my inbox all too soon asking for my final decision about Transvulcania, the race I’d been planning to end my season at. I decided to say yes. In making my decision with Koop (my coach, Jason Koop), I described my current state as: “I feel like I’ve got a bunch of leftovers in the fridge I can still make a great meal out of.”

I described my current state as: “I feel like I’ve got a bunch of leftovers in the fridge I can still make a great meal out of.”

By this, I meant I’d had a long build to CCC (I didn’t realize until later that this was one of my longest and steepest builds I’d done to date) and felt like I had some good fitness to work from. Not to mention, I’d been wanting to experience the excitement of Transvulcania for years. So I booked my travel, did a couple solid runs in the Canyon as a check-in with my body and headed off across the pond on October 11th, 11 days before race day.

What I sought to learn from Transvulcania was how I could perform with a less-specific build and less course knowledge—racing a bit more intuitively, if you will. Most of my races in the last couple of years were either races I’d already done or had meticulously reconned. I wanted to play with the parameters of what I require to race confidently.

Also arriving early to the island was my dear friend and adidas TERREX teammate Petter Engdahl. (Petter wrote a great race report you should check out!) We rented a car and had a fantastic week together scouting the course.

Scouting at Roque de los Muchachos with my teammate Petter. Photo by…self-timer by…Petter Engdahl.

Talking with our friend Martin Gaffuri ahead of time, he said, “if you only scout one section, make it the downhill.” I decided to really listen to my friend’s advice and do the exact opposite: only scouting the climb. ;-) This was partially due to access—last year’s Cumbre Vieja volcanic eruption had made transit from Fuencaliente (where we were staying) to Los Llanos, Tazacorte, etc. quite difficult.

The sections Petter and I scouted (including links to each Strava activity) were:

The start from Faro de Fuencaliente to Los Canarios, as a recovery run
Los Canarios to El Pilar as a one-way run, taking a taxi back. I had 4x4 min intervals that day.
El Pilar to El Reventón, as an easy out-and-back run (we unknowingly scouted the old route, which simply followed the dirt road, and were surprised on race day to learn that they’d routed it up and down on the single track next to the road.)
Roque de los Muchachos to Pico de la Cruz and back, as an easy run.
El Time to the finish, as a one-way run with a larger group of teammates a few days before the race

Being that these are the sections that made up a bulk of the duration of the race, I don’t regret the sections I scouted. They helped me capitalize on the climbing, which I knew would be crucial in such a short (for me!) race.

Leading up to race day, I kept things relaxed and even a bit boring, as usual. I like to completely clear my head, mainly by sleeping a lot, poring over gear with Cordis, eating and watching dumb TV. By now, our group of teammates had fully assembled and our attitude was resoundingly uniform across the board—with it being the last race of the season for most of us, we were excited to just go have fun racing.

If you’re someone who likes more data, you can check out the splits and such here on my Strava activity for the race.

Starting in the dark on race day was just stunning, with our queue of 2,000 headlamps tracing up and down the volcanic slope in the pre-dawn glow. I was able to take off my headlamp shortly after leaving the first aid station, Los Canarios, about 45 minutes into the race. I believe I was in 3rd place at Los Canarios, but felt confident about my strategy to work the big, upcoming climb. (The climb from Los Canarios to El Pilar is about 4,700 feet, or in my own mind’s terms, one full climb out of the Grand Canyon.)

Use of poles was permitted starting after Los Canarios until reaching some of the upper stretches of the caldera, so I pulled them out immediately after running through the aid and felt right at home. I regularly train with my poles year-round, especially in the summer months, so for me, clicking into them is a reminder of the staggering volume of vertical training we’ve enjoyed together. My rhythm feels most at home when it’s the percussion of my two feet, my inhales and exhales, and my two poles tapping along.

Most people I’ve spoken with on the topic have opted to not bring poles for this race, but I was glad I went with my gut and brought my trusted LEKI poles. There are a few sections where use of poles is banned, but even when you consider the amount of climbing that’s done beyond those sections, I’m certain they allowed me to move more efficiently. Of course, to-pole or not-to-pole is always a personal decision. TLDR; go with your gut.

Probably within 10 minutes of clicking into my poles, I passed the two ladies ahead of me (one of which was my teammate Yngvild Kaspersen; go Yngvild!) The sun had now risen into its full, unbelievable glory. With distant Teide poking its head out above the ocean’s cloud cover, I definitely let out some “WOOO!”s in here. This was special!

Can you believe that sunrise? So glad Ian Corless was there to photograph and capture this moment.

The ground underfoot in this section is loose and sandy, but very familiar terrain to much of what we run in Arizona. From scouting this section, I remembered it wasn’t worth the energy to muscle too hard against the sand, but instead to let the pace naturally fluctuate with the terrain and to keep the effort steady.

I skipped the aid station at Las Deseadas, still working through my refill from Los Canarios and plowing through my usual array of gels. The leader camera popped out of the woods on a mountain bike and joined me on the descent into El Pilar. (I’ll take this moment to say how impressed I am with the quality coverage from the day—I had a camera with me at all times from El Pilar to the finish! Also, if you see me smiling or talking to the camera, it’s because I heard they spoke French and I was really excited to practice some of my French with them. One of them was a pro-MTB-er, which makes sense given some of the terrain they were so easily following on!)

Babs met me in El Pilar and stocked me up with a fresh supply of gels and bottles. I had half a Coke in-aid and was out of there. Next up was the aforementioned surprise that we were not running the smooth section of dirt road like the course usually follows—instead, we were weaving back and forth across the road on singletrack. It was a perfectly fine trail, but definitely slowed down my planned splits for this 4.5 mile section by about 2-3 minutes per mile.

In El Reventón, I filled a bottle from my back pocket that I’d prepped with powder. The next aid after El Reventón is Pico de la Cruz, a whole 9 miles and 4,000 feet of climbing later. About a mile after the El Reventón aid, all of the terrain was new to me until Pico de la Cruz. I was blown away by how gorgeous this section was, tracing a spiny ridge of trail high above the pine forest and finally, into the high country.

I ran confidently through here knowing it wasn’t all that different from chugging along through the Dry Lakes back at home.

During this section, I passed Cordis who went on to have a tough day plagued with full-body cramps. I gave him a quick kiss when I passed him, and we yelled encouragement at each other for about a minute or two until our gap spread further apart. I passed a number of men in this section, and it was where I started to see the difference in holding a run on the steeps vs. falling into a hike. Unbeknownst to me, I was closing in on the top 10 men in this section.

Along this section of climbing, there was a surprise aid with water which was much-welcomed—I chugged one and took one with me and it definitely helped ward off running out of fluids too early.

I knew we were approaching a higher altitude here, about 8,200 feet, but it was fun knowing that it was only a little higher than what we live at back at home at 7,000 feet in Flagstaff, Arizona. I ran confidently through here knowing it wasn’t all that different from chugging along through the Dry Lakes back at home.

Arriving at Pico de la Cruz, I was surprised how quickly the race was already passing. I had increased my lead to about 8 minutes. I chugged 500ml of Coke in-aid, and took another 500ml of Coke with me to nurse over the 2.9 miles to the high point of the island and second crew point, Roque de los Muchachos.

I was glad to be back on terrain that Petter and I had scouted, and remembered details like my preferred way to run over the cobblestones. There’s also a lot of false summits through here, and it was nice to remember the key indicators of the true summit. Poles were not allowed through here, so I focused on a steady, smooth run.

Arriving in Roque de los Muchachos, Robert was there to crew me. He told me Koop said to start cooling early, so we decided to do a couple of pitches of cold water on me at the top of the island. While the air at the top of the island was cool and breezy, the sun was warm and I knew we’d be returning back to the heat of the day down low in Tazacorte.

I took two salt pills in aid with a can of Coke I chugged in aid (yes, more coke.) I took my new bottles and gels and set off for the descent. Robert reminded me on the way out the door to use my experience on the technical descent.

Koop and I made a distinct effort in the spring to spend some time on my perceived weakness, technical descending. I’ve definitely surprised myself a couple times this year in how often I’ve built gaps on descents. While I had a 10-minute lead at the top of the island, by the time I reached the finish in Los Llanos I had built an 18-minute lead.

The descent flew by, and I kept needing to remind myself that this was not like my other races of the year, where I had another 6-10 hours to go. This was go time!

There were some technical sections in here, as well as slippery sections of trail with a 3-4 inch thick layer of pine needles, so I focused on staying upright rather than taking it too close to my edge. I felt like even a basic fall through here could really tighten up my body and that I’d be better off focusing on running smooth.

I didn’t fill any bottles in the aids of El Time or Tazacorte, but I made short stops for cooling. I had 2-3 pitches of water poured on me at each aid and this helped me stay ahead of the heat before I reached the hottest section of the day, the canyon between Tazacorte and the finish.

Leaving the ocean and heading up the rocky canyon is certainly a tough finish, but using the final canyon of Transgrancanaria as a point of comparison, it honestly felt short and easy. Heading up through the banana plantations for a final, 1,200 foot climb, I busted the poles back out and motored up the switchbacks.

We can make notorious course sections like this harder than they need to be. It’s best to turn off the mind and just do it.

These sufferfest sections of the course are where my experience from longer ultras comes into play. I have learned from longer races like Transgrancanaria that we can make notorious course sections like this harder than they need to be, and that it’s best to turn off the mind and just do it. Yes, it’s hot. Yes, it’s brutal and difficult. I was focused on letting my poles do the work for me. I made it from Tazacorte to the finish in 31 minutes. During this climb, I didn’t realize it, but I passed 10th place male and pulled into the top 10 overall. Huge shoutout to the woman along the trail keeping us cool and spraying us with a hose from her garden!

At the start of the road to the finish, a police escort was there to greet me which was a cool experience. Honestly, this section of road drags on a bit, especially when you’ve burned any remaining matches on the climb. I enjoyed the moment, gave high fives, and soaked in the high energy of town excited to greet me as the first woman.

The moment really sunk in when I turned the corner to see the famous orange carpet of the Transvulcania finish. I ran hard through the finish, so happy to reunite with so many faces at the finish line. Learning that Petter won was thrilling—going one and one together was a highlight of the day for me, as was learning that Yngvild was still in second place behind me! Sharing the podium with her was so special.

The one sip of champagne I took hit hard! Photo by Ian Corless

I said it at the finish line, and I’ll say it again: what makes this race special are the people of La Palma. Never have I had a race where the local president is at the finish line, first in line for a hug. I got to meet so many incredible runners, families and individuals after the race who are so excited this event is back after two years of cancellations. The energy is really something—and not just when I crossed the finish line, but for every runner. Reuniting with Cordis after he had a rough day out there reminds me of what this finish line means: however it went–dream day or bad day—we move forward together.

The support from near and far is what makes this stuff special. I’m grateful to have had one more opportunity to drain the tanks this year and play with some variables of what makes for my best racing. Thank you to my sponsors adidas TERREX, LEKI, CTS and Petzl. Thank you to Babs and Robert for crewing. Thank you to La Palma for your warmth and enthusiasm for this event and the sport of trail running. And thanks to all of you who followed along!