Sakura Michi. A dialogue with the brain of a runner.

The Sakura Michi Kokusai International Nature Run, aka the international run on the road of cherry blossoms, was born from the mind of the bus driver Sato Ryoji who one day stopped along the Nagoya-Kanazawa route that he used to travel everyday. People were moving a 400 years old cherry tree to build an artificial dam and he was so impressed that he went there every day to check that the roots of the old tree had taken in its new location. Its strength struck him so much that he decided to start planting more cheery trees along the road he traveled every day. Unfortunately Sato died at the age of 47 leaving his work half done but in the last 26 years his initiative has been honoured by running along the 250 kilometers that separate Nagoya from Kanazawa during the blossoming of the cherry trees he planted.
The idea of ​​running Sakura Michi had been buzzing in my head for so long that I don’t even remember where I read about the race. In a rush of poetry I saw myself running lightly on a soft carpet of cherry petals for 250 kilometers.

Brain: “the usual dreamer”

But I love to dream and I was curious to see if I was still able to do it.

I call a friend who, thanks to some Japanese colleagues, gets me in contact with Mr. Hogo, the organizer. Having taken part in the Spartathlon guarantees me the registration within the small number of foreign participants.

“You will never be able to train for such a race, Spartathlon was 3 years ago and you are old now”

But I want to try, I run as much as I can in all my free time because it’s not easy to mentally prepare to run for 250 kilometers. The goal is huge and everything you do seems too little. The time has come to leave for Japan, my son Claudio is with me and he will follow the race on a bus of the organizers.

“It is the first time that you are alone with him at a race, try to maintain your dignity instead of showing him what you become after 30 hours”

Here we are, the opening ceremony of the race (totally in Japanese) is extremely formal, I don’t understand a word but the ritual calms me, everything is in its place in Japan as I  imagine will be the race. The night before I sleep very little because of the jet lag, I look out the window and see a magnificent sunrise over the Nagoya castle. The wait is over, now I just have to run and see if I can make it to the other side of Japan. The first kilometers are always strange, we have an absolute obligation to stop at traffic lights and the snake of the 120 participants is compacted and then breaks continuously to each of the thousand stops. After the agony of traffic lights, the strongest runners dramatically accelerate and we let them go. It’s useless to take risks at the beginning. I suffer of that strange form of bulimia that runners sometimes have and stop at every refreshments point which are extremely well supplied with fruit and onigiri, the best foods for my poor stomach.

“Of course you have to eat, try not to act like yourself, if all goes well we’ll be done after 30  hours and 20,000 Kcal”

The sun is burning on my skin, I bathe as much as possible to keep the body temperature acceptable and not waste energy to cool me down. I try to count the cherry trees to distract myself and find my pace, but I quickly lose count. They are more constant but interrupted as soon as I get close to urban ares and that does not make me understand their schematic drawing. It is not the long tree-lined street that I had imagined.

“Welcome on Earth, reality is never like you imagine it”

Kilometers pass by and the more I go on the more evident it is to me how Japan is always on the line between tradition and modernity. While cities are alienated by asphyxiating rhythms and everything tends towards modernity, in rural Japan instead the call of nature and traditions are still very much alive. Meanwhile, although my cruising speed is still good, I begin to feel a little tired, struggling to understand what hour it  is because of the jet lag. I arrive at the 110 km with a good time. Now begins the climb that will take me to the highest point in the middle of the race.

“It’s time to stop, give up the run, before it’s too late”

The sun sets, it will soon be dark, I put my front light on and turn on all the lights attached to my bib while I wear a long-sleeved shirt.

“But it’s still hot and you’re sweating”

Maybe I lost some lucidity. I take off my long-sleeved shirt running for a while bare-chested trying not to let anyone see me just in case that some of the rules written in Japanese say  it’s forbidden.

“You’re not even halfway through the race and you’ve already lost your mind”

Fortunately, after climbing the mountain the temperature drops and I can keep the shirt on. Towards the evening the traffic decreases and we remain alone on the road that becomes magically silent. With the light of the sunset, the light pink cherry trees petals shine. Refreshment points are located in warm and welcoming workshops, joinery and workplaces. The level of kindness of the volunteers surprises me, I never need what they offer me and I regret to refuse their continuous offers.

“They just offered you a cot and you ran away without even saying goodbye”

I reach the summit of the mountain, apparently the bulk of the race has passed without problems, above my head there is a full moon and I feel very good. A slight descent starts and I feel like I’m flying, it’s a perfect moment, one that makes all of this worth. Filled with excitement I pass by some of my competitors.

“Cool! Acting smart, let’s see what happens as soon as you’re down there”

I don’t care about the consequences, even if I were not able to run anymore, now I am alive and running, fatigue doesn’t exist. After a few kilometers a long up and down stretch begins with very long tunnels that cross the mountains. Passing from the dark of night to  the artificial light of the galleries sends me into crisis. I’m a little confused.

“You haven’t slept for two nights, day and night are almost reversed, you must sleep!”

As often happens when the balance breaks down the problems begin. In the galleries there are 20 degrees, outside there are 3-4 and I do not have the lucidity and strength to undress when I enter and dress up as soon as I go out. I try to do it but the timing is wrong, I dress up in the gallery and I undress while I’m leaving.

“You can’t take it anymore, accept it”

I surrender to the evidence, I’m cold and my stomach hurts, I have to find a solution. The fear of not making it awakens me, I decide to stop and put the pieces back together. I lay down on that cot that I had managed to avoid until now.

“Great, I had to give you a stomach ache to make you stop, you can’t consume all these energies”

I fall asleep and I know that later it will be better but getting up, leaving a warm bed and start to run again in the middle of the night is not easy. Slowly, the legs warm up and start spinning again. The stomach is not feeling good yet but I can keep a decent pace. I haven’t met other competitors for a long time, everyone in the countries is sleeping. I am alone, but as long as I move the solitude is light. I meet Claudio who tells me that I’m on schedule. But I know that the plans I’ve made are wrong .

“You are right not believing it, you were wrong and you will never arrive on the other side”

When everything seems to fail, things looks more difficult than they are. The only thing to do is to divide the problem into smaller ones, such as getting to the next refreshment and so on. Meanwhile the sun is about to rise as I arrive at the last major climb. Fortunately it is very steep and cannot run. I am amazed that I have always run from the start. I begin to walk, the level of the effort decreases and a strange exhaustion takes over my body.

“If you slow down you’ll fall asleep”

I struggle to keep my eyes open but if I lie down I will not get up again and I will regret it. I arrive staggering at the top of the slope and, in a fit of rage, I start running again, hoping to leave the crisis behind me. Less than 50 kilometers are left, the most is done.

“50 kilometers is an eternity and everything can still happen”

As often happens, I reach a point where all doubts about a possible negative end dissolve and I run without thinking about the consequences. It is as if all the crises served to save energy for the grand finale. I begin to pass by other competitors while seeing a deep tiredness on their faces. I pass them by and we exchange a quick gesture of understanding, they know that in some way they will make it to the finish line. At that moment my mind and my body finally are the same thing and the arrival never seemed so close to me.

“After all you’re okay, you can do it”

I’m in a full racing trance, at the last refreshment I leave my gears of the night and I wear my beloved Wild Tee shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of very fast Hoka Tracer. I start running even uphill, I feel like I’m flying. If I hurry I will still be able to stay under the 30 hours, a time that in my head represented the watershed between doing well and fail. Running the last few kilometers out of 250 is something wonderful. This will be the memory that will cement in my head. I arrive on the last road that leads to the Kanazawa castle and I find it full of cherry trees in bloom.

“I must say that, despite the premises, you did it again”