In 2019, there were many candidates for best race of the year. But Izu Trail Journey takes the cake. It was a 70 kilometer long celebration of all that is great about trail running: brilliant weather, challenging but runnable terrain, and camaraderie among fellow runners. Breathtaking views of Mount Fuji made this race not just great, but unforgettable.
For me, Izu was a moving meditation. It was one of those races where I felt completely dialed in. Physically, the running was good. Mentally, I felt light, joyful and free: ready to enjoy the day, whatever lay ahead. The race was not without its challenges, and still, it was perfect.
We took a winding road to Izu Trail Journey
You can’t go back – or can you?
After the most magical Japan experience ever in 2011, Kent and I hesitated to return. We both desperately wanted to, but knew – or thought we knew – that it just wouldn’t be the same as those hot summer days we remembered. So we waited, for years, for the right moment.
Without a doubt, Izu was the right moment. A chance to return to Japan to run a race? And not just any race, but a race with Mount Fuji views? Yes please! The prospects were ideal, so we signed up as soon as race registration opened!
That was June, and many months passed. When I thought about Japan, it was with a tingle of delight that we would get to run there. But no plans were made.
This was partially because of work. We weren’t sure exactly what kind of time we would have available around the race. And with the summer and fall so wildly busy this year, I had little time to make a proper plan.
When it finally did come time to plan – and shortly thereafter embark on our return to Japan! – I felt nervous. We had a two week holiday (a winter break in lieu of a Christmas break), and I wanted to make them count. More than that: I wanted to make them wonderful.
I needn’t have worried. I was delighted from our first futon sleep to our last Lawson snack smash. A trip to Japan just is wonderful, no matter what you do. I literally can’t imagine visiting and having a lackluster time. Still, I’d made what I thought was the perfect plan for us.
More mountains, please!
Which was why I was surprised when Kent began getting antsy midway through our trip. We’d been traveling around many mountains, and he was itching to hike them, not just admire them from temples and trains.
During the long train journey towards the Izu peninsula, we caught sight of one particular mountain: Mount Fuji! Our first views** of this majestic peak were pure magic: that perfectly conical shape and snow-covered summit belonged in a painting. It took my breath away it was so literally awesome.
These outstanding views, along with Kent’s eagerness to run, inspired a change in our plans.
We stopped off in Hakone, to see the sights, we said. Moments after check-in, we were unfolding large hiking maps over the standard brochures for cruises and cable cars. The mountains were completely irresistible.
This is probably not sound tapering practice, but we picked out a 20 kilometer route marked by Fuji ‘super viewpoints’, leading from our doorstep to a peak over 1000 meters. Thursday before the race, we woke up before dawn and ran it!
It was a superb day. Bright blue skies and the clean air that follows a rain. White puffs of volcanic gases rising from distant craters. Crunchy, frost-covered ground coupled with morning sunshine that felt warm on the skin. Running on the ridge, with gorgeous views of Japan’s icon, I was absolutely on top of the world. This was our very own Hakone Trail Journey!
Actually, we’d stumbled onto a well-known skyrunning route. At our final peak, Kintoki, we were greeted not only by jaw-dropping Fuji views, but by a shrine to ultra running. Inside a small mountain hut, there were numerous signed photos and jerseys of local elites. And while we were there, we met the world record holder for Mount Fuji climbs!
It was hard to leave the stunning ridge and consign this run to the past. I think both of us wanted to stay forever. We’d fallen completely in love with Mount Fuji all over again. Conversations were had and research was conducted on the feasibility of abandoning our plans to tackle a winter ascent.
But it was time to head down. The food was finished and we were cold. And after one of the most epic runs of our lives, we couldn’t be anything but grateful we’d had this experience. We descended.
And so did the clouds! We ultimately did take a cruise on Lake Ashi, but Mount Fuji was cloaked. The next two days were rainy as we made our way to race base.
In previous years, Izu Trail Journey had been cloudy and cold. We wondered about our chances of seeing Fuji again from the race course – and felt extra grateful that we’d taken the chance to run when we did, crazy as it seemed. We’d had our Fuji super views, anything else would be a happy bonus.
’twas the night before Izu
We made our way slowly down and around the Izu peninsula. A series of buses and trains carried us to our destination at a leisurely pace. It was another chance to appreciate Japan’s striking fall scenery (wispy clouds rising up from valleys still colored in foliage) and mentally prepare for what was to come.
Izu Trail Journey 2019 featured an altered course. After the original course suffered damage in two typhoons, our cohort would run a route known as Faxbis. It was ever-so-slightly shorter with a length of 68.3 kilometers, and had much less elevation gain (3320 meters) compared to the original. Only the start, finish, and the time allotted for the point-to-point course remained the same.
We arrived at race check-in at just the right time. Below the classic starting arch we found some friends of ours, and we’d keep bumping into others. We were ushered through the gear check process by a team of friendly and festively-costumed volunteers.
It was a highly-professional, streamlined experience. After we showed our mandatory gear, we were promptly given our souvenir t-shirts and race bibs. Mine turned out to be lucky number 2222: a fact I was overjoyed about!
After our early check-in, we had a few hours before the briefing. We decided to fill those hours with a massive feast (Have I ever told you how much I love sushi? And how you can buy it cheaply – and in bulk – at Japan’s supermarkets?). This was followed up by a nice nap. Paradise: already found.
Relatively few foreigners attended Izu Trail Journey, so our briefing was indeed brief! We sat in the front row with our friend Martin, and shared a laugh over some extended sponsor presentations and questionable questions from the assembled international runners.
Back home for the night, I found it incredibly hard to sleep. Our gear was laid out on the bed, and we slept on the floor: a meme in real life. I tossed and turned on the tatami, looking out the window at the moon rising over the sea.
Izu Trail Journey 2019
It was dark and cold. As we walked to the race start, hauling the belongings that would meet us at the finish, I questioned my decision to wear shorts and a t-shirt. A long hour of waiting passed as I began to also question my sanity. I jumped up and down: rubbed my knees, ears, nose.
Maybe ten minutes before the start, we nudged our way into the huge crowd assembling behind the line. Izu Trail Journey had a start list of over 2000 runners, making it one of the biggest events we’ve ever attended!
Swedish Sam joined us first, and Martin’s height and hair made him easy to pick out of the crowd and call over. Pressed together by the mass of humanity on all sides, we listened to the theme from Ghost in the Shell played over the loudspeakers. I found myself shivering, now with anticipation.
The running began slowly, with so many people crammed into such a small space! We jostled our way under the starting arch with everyone else as we began our collective journey.
A quick turnaround had us facing towards the sunrise that was brewing beyond the mountains. Although the sky overhead was still a deep, velvety blue, the horizon was streaked with pastels and the stars were already beginning to fade.
I kept snatching glances at this as we set out on our first climb. It was not easy to look up, because I needed to focus on my feet. It took a lot of concentration to avoid tripping anyone up or being tripped up myself! Izu’s beginning was not unlike a road marathon: I could have reached out and touched ten people.
Naturally, it was a friendly atmosphere. Smiles were exchanged as we caught one another gazing at the sunrise. Numerous runners with tinkling little bells added musical notes to the beating of our feet.
But, our progress was abruptly halted when the wide, sealed road suddenly transitioned to single-track trail. We were stuck in the crowd, now.
We would move forward only a few paces at a time, then stand in a long unbroken line stretching interminably through the forest. There was nothing to be done about it, so we passed the time chatting with our neighbors – a bunch of friendly locals.
It was easy to feel impatient, as we were eager to get on with our own journey. But it was also easy to laugh about the improbability of standing in a massive queue in the middle of the woods. Our sport can be so grand and humbling – and so funny and common, too.
An unknown amount of time passed, as we walked and waited, walked and waited some more. Finally, we could move again! We more or less sprinted across the ridge, we were so happy to be on the go again. Everyone nearby seemed to feel the same, so we achieved at least a sense of separation here.
Dropping back onto a quiet road, our new friend Sam caught us up, and several kilometers ticked quickly by as we chatted with him. We broke for pee breaks and reunited wherever we found each other on the trail.
This was easy running, heading down to the first check-point at 13.5 kilometers into the race. This aid station was located on a short out-and-back, and we got to see faster runners (including Martin) sprinting out towards the long middle section.
This would be a super quick stop. Did we need anything? When we determined that we did not, we simply grabbed a couple of handfuls of chips from a female Santa and were on our way.
Now we were the faster runners heading out into the crowd! Although we had the easier direction (going out meant also going slightly down), there was such a flood of racers coming in the reverse direction that we had to stick to the side and dodge them.
After several k’s of companionship, we bid Sam goodbye as he turned on the jets. I paused to put on my gloves again as we remained in deep shade that I found chilly. Kent had established himself as our leader and was setting a strong pace. I was enthused to follow him, although I felt like my body was still waking up from the deep freeze of the start.
Running uphill began to warm me up. There was a long stretch of forest road ahead, and all of it was climbing. Leaving a few small, scenic villages behind, we entered the wilderness at the center of the Izu peninsula.
Our first views over this peninsula were near the top of the climb. The sun poured warm light into the valleys below, brightening the greenery. I was grateful to have that same sunshine finally on my skin too!
Already on the lookout for Mount Fuji, we scanned our surroundings eagerly from the clearing at the high point of the road. There were undulating green ridges to either side, but no sign of the volcano. Not yet.
On the level stretch of dirt road that followed, we had a wildlife encounter: a plump, pink earthworm nearly as long as my arm!
Kent and I got ravenous around the same time a few kilometers later, and helped each other access the snacks. Onigiri, those magical rice triangles available everywhere in Japan, were on the menu. Tried and true during our earlier Hakone Trail Journey, they were our snack of the day (honestly, they fueled most of our trip!).
Shortly after, we left the road for a brief section of trail. After winding our way through a picturesque bamboo grove, we emerged onto a highway. A sign marked this open area as Nishina Pass.
Approaching this sign, I turned over my shoulder to call to Kent and remark on how cool it was. So when I swiveled my head back around, the sight took my breath away. There it was: that million-dollar Mount Fuji view!
And we ran on past, swift as the wind…Nah, not really. I lost my mind. I laughed, I exclaimed, a tear might have made an appearance – and the camera certainly did. It was so stunning. It’s hard to even describe. I couldn’t not stop and just love it.
Moving again was brought to you by the fact that the Mount Fuji views were not fleeting. They continued as we ran down the trail. In fact, they were just beginning.
The white-topped summit was briefly out of view when we descended to the second aid station at 40 kilometers into the race. There was a massive line for hot soup that we opted out of entirely. I tried a strange electrolyte brew, and Kent ate various biscuits, and then we were once again on the move.
We were making great time through these aid stations, but a lack of options for me and insufficient calorie consumption for Kent meant that we were burning through our supplies pretty quick. No matter, I thought, we were more than halfway and finished with the big climb. Plus, you know, the food’s there for eating.
So we continued on our merry way.
We merged onto another trail with peek-a-boo glimpses of the peak attraction. Somehow I found myself at the head of a sizeable pack, which was highly motivational. For a couple of k’s, I was clocking amazing times, flying downhill!
And then I was hangry. I smashed an energy bar and a pouch of liquid fruit, but sensed it was burning up as soon as it went in.
Luckily, there were some additional peaks on the trail to appreciate at this point. We’d pop up above a forest of gnarled trees to a little summit where we’d grab a photo and admire the views for a moment. We were still pushing pretty relentlessly, but…peaks!
The first of them was Mt. Konnoyama. Next came Tanabayama, and finally, highest of them all: Mt. Daruma. From Daruma there were such stupendous views that we had to pause and take it all in again: thank our lucky stars, practice gratitude, hug and admire.
Just before the high peak and a little over 50 kilometers into the race, we’d encountered the final aid station. It was my favorite because of one hilarious volunteer who kept offering me bananas. I’d taken a small, sliced piece, whereupon he offered me a whole banana. When I declined, he tried to give me a bunch. He was very persistent and I couldn’t stop laughing.
Here Kent had a soup, and I also had about 3 cups of coke. We recalled this spot from one of the videos we’d seen of the race. In the clip, a volunteer had counted down in Japanese. Headlight-wearing runners that appeared out of the gloom afterwards had not made the cutoff time. I felt the cold chill of the wind then, remembering – and a surge of relief that we were able to run Izu Trail Journey without regard for the cutoff times, confidently passing them by wide margins.
Standing at the highest point of the race and gazing on what I swear is one of the finest sights on our planet, I was filled with gratitude and joy. My real life sometimes seems like a fantasy. What an incredible race to run as the year’s grand finale!
Although we were now in for a long descent, I continued to feel on top of the world. Our great views continued, although we also had to watch our feet on some slippery steps.
Where we could speed, we did. On another trail section, I again ran so hard I got desperate for food. When I couldn’t find my emergency energy bar, I had to beg Kent for his. He kindly handed it over, but was soon hungry himself.
Just a few kilometers to the next aid station, we encouraged each other. Or…was it just a check-point? My memory of the exact details of the course were fuzzy, but I knew something was coming up soon.
Although we followed the signs we’d begun seeing for Darumayama Resthouse with great eagerness, it was simply a time cut-off point. There were no more snacks, and we had 10k to go.
Ten kilometers. That’s nothing. We often run that distance before breakfast. Try as I might to remind myself of these facts, let me tell you, it feels a little different when you’ve run 60k already and now you’re on fumes!
Still, despite pangs of hunger, I felt great. Kent and I were jocular and lighthearted, urging one another on as we leapfrogged downhill. The good news? We’d spent half the day running towards majestic Mount Fuji!
Even more good news: the remainder of the race was all downhill! We just had to hold on.
Leftover adrenaline propelled me downhill at first. It was ultimately replaced by the force of gravity and an equally incontrovertible urgency. I will not say desperation, because I honestly didn’t want the journey to be over so soon.
Still, it got tough. My vision slightly blurred, ears ringing and mind like a wad of cotton, I worried that I would bonk and be forced to walk in, ending such a great race on a sour note. But I didn’t. I surged ahead, running faster and faster.
The more I moved, the faster the finish line approached. First, we could hear it. Then, we could see it! We ran across hand-in-hand and so arrived, delighted and foggy, at the end of what truly was a trail journey.
Martin and Sam were there to congratulate us. It was fantastic, to see our friends again and celebrate! But I’d begun to shiver, and both asked if I was okay. We decided we’d better go get our warm gear on and look for food.
There was a luggage storage area where we found our bags, but a serious lack of snacks. It didn’t matter. At some point on the hungry descent, I’d remembered the travel-size peanut butter in my backpack and could think of nothing else.
I descended on it immediately, like a starving woman. I shoveled great heaps into my mouth, which was then rendered too sticky for speech. Kent changed into dry clothes; I remained huddled over my peanut butter.
It was only a text reminding me of our dinner date with two Japanese friends that returned me to this realm. I got it together, but only barely: lugging my as yet unused stuff around in the giant plastic bag provided by the race, I must have looked homeless. I will further add that I tucked my laces into my shoes rather than retying them and my hair out of my bun looked like a wild cat’s mane.
But we had done it, and in pretty spectacular fashion. I sensed at the time that we were running well, but I did not know how well until much later. We’d completed the race in 10 hours, 14 minutes – and achieved our second best ever performance according to ITRA!
We’d also picked the ultimate last race of the year: the most beautiful and perhaps the most demanding. Izu Trail Journey was complete, and I was completely content.
Lessons Learned
Although this wound up being a wicked race for us, it could have easily been a hard one. Future journey-ers, take note:
- We had exceptional weather. Reports from numerous sources, including one participant who’d run all 7 editions of the race, suggest that 2019 offered the best conditions in the history of Izu Trail Journey. Come prepared for less dramatic views – and with gear to withstand snow, rain and cold: all typical of this area at this time of year. Even with mild weather, I wore gloves the whole race and finished in my jacket.
- On a related note, the course we ran might not be the course you run. The 2019 route was modified: routed around typhoon damage to the trail. This resulted in a much more runnable race – and more road sections. Pros and cons! I would advise training for both elevation gain and speed, and being flexible in your mindset. Some runners made the choice to DNS this year’s edition after the course changes, which made me sad. Faxbis was a brilliant route, well-worth doing. But if your cohort is on for the regular route, remember that it may be slower and more challenging than the 2019 edition.
- Most importantly, self-sufficiency is key. There are only three aid stations, which is…not a lot for a race of 70 kilometers! I’d read that Japanese races tend to be harder than other Asian races – but I thought it was more about cutoff times and the level of competition. It turns out that it’s also about carrying your own food! This is especially true if you have any kind of dietary restrictions: the wild boar soup on offer doesn’t qualify as good trail food for all. And even if you are up for a taste of local specialties, if you’re anywhere near the middle of the pack, you’ll be waiting in a long line for it.
Training and approach
Our training for this race was really successful. With 7 weeks between Seoul 100k and Izu Trail Journey, we were able to log serious miles at home and practice some race specifics. We studied the (original) profile, and tried to accumulate as much climbing as we could in our runs.
The weather was even accommodating: it rained every single weekend in Qingdao during the lead-up to the race. We expected to face cold, damp conditions in Izu, and so we were grateful!
But much like TMMT, another candidate for best race of the year, my day-of approach to this race was pretty relaxed. We attended the briefing and reviewed the course changes, but focused most on getting enough sleep and food. Having fun was a top priority, so we sought out our friends and experienced the seaside.
This approach ensured that I arrived on the starting line full of excitement and surprisingly few nerves! To begin with, my only goal was to have a great race!
Goals and good decisions
Once on the move, though, I thought about some milestones we could aim for. I doubted we could top our best ever 70k time (set at the much more mildly hilly Tengri in 2018) – but we could aim to set a PB on a 3000+ meter course. I’m happy to say that we achieved this easily: even improving on our great result at Dalat from earlier in the year!
In such a competitive field loaded with Japanese and international pros, I certainly was not expecting to place. But I wondered whether or not we could finish in the top quarter. I wound up 36th of 190 female finishers, and Kent was number 438 out of 1177 men. A great result for us both!
I also think we made good decisions, before and during the race. Beforehand, we lightened our water load, knowing we drink less in cold weather. Although the mandatory gear list was considered conservative and unnecessary by many, we did our best to be responsible athletes and carried every item. On the trail, we followed our instincts about when to push on and pass and where to take it easy.
And it seemed to really pay off: I had one of my happiest days on this trail, and Kent had one of his strongest! He frequently led the charge and had me racing to keep up with him. The mild weather suited him perfectly, and I think he would have gone even faster if he wasn’t constantly gifting me with pretty pictures.
I’m so proud of our performance, and I’ll remember the journey forever. Happy companionship, feelings of joy and well-being, and of course, those ultimate views. Izu Trail Journey was truly the best possible conclusion to a great year of trail running.
Ready to run Izu Trail Journey yourself? Head to the official site for news and registration requirements!
Post-Script: Our trail journey did not end in Izu…
After the race, we had a few more days of freedom. Before the race, we’d imagined lazing on a beach on one of Japan‘s islands. But that was before we realized we’d be staying on the same island as the highest peak in the prefecture…
*Official event photos (those without the Peaks and Penguins watermark and indicated by a star) were taken by All Sports Japan. For the first time, I paid for race photos! They were not cheap, but they are beautiful. I hope you enjoy them!
**In 2011, on the most memorable summer vacation ever, we climbed Mount Fuji on the Fujinomia route. We spent one night in a high mountain hut and an unforgettable sunrise on the summit. However, we never actually saw the mountain, because it was incredibly cloudy during our summertime trip! So we were truly in awe of it, seeing it for the first time on our second trip for Izu Trail Journey. We have vowed to return.
