ALS run 65km (64km / 2760m+), Svit, 21.3.2026 Published March 21, 2026
Celebrating spring with a winter run for a good thing
Anyone who knows me knows that winter ultras and I don’t get along too well. I’m a lizard — I need to bask on warm rocks, with sunburned skin and heat on my back. I once ran a winter hundred — Letecká 100 — but back then a wild spring was raging, so I basically dodged all winter conditions 🤷♀️.
So when I heard about the 10th annual ALS run adding a brand-new 65 km route, it didn’t even tempt me. Late March can be tricky — mostly cold — and I wasn’t about to risk trudging through snowdrifts on a ridge, slipping down icy slopes of Kozí Kameň, or shivering for endless hours. The past three years, we’ve helped at aid stations in Gerlachov or Spišská Teplica, and I assumed this year would be the no different.
Then one day, I got a message from Mirko Hollý telling me I should go ahead and sign up and not to worry about the aid station - they’d handle it. I politely declined at first, but well… the idea was planted.
Fast forward to March 20th: it’s Friday night, I’m heading to the race check-in, bundled in a feather jacket, trembling from the cold. The forecast for the night and Saturday says snow and barely above freezing temperatures. My emotions are all over the place — it feels like forever since I ran anything long, Kokava Trail last September, to be more precise, and I have no clue what to expect from myself.
If someone had asked that dreaded question (and please, if possible, don’t ask me this) — “So, what time are you hoping to finish in?” — my imaginary answer would’ve been, “Under three hours,” 🫣 just for laughs. In reality, my goal was to stay within the time limits (5 hours to checkpoint K2 at 30 km with +1600 m elevation, and 11 hours overall) and finish strong.
Still, I kept worrying about the cutoffs. I doubted myself more than usual. I mentally went over the route — I knew most of it and it was quite runnable, which helped calm me down. The limits were strict for slower runners like me, but doable.
The night was awful. In the morning, I awoke to a snowy landscape and had to brush off the car. For the thousandth time, I cursed the damned fu****g winter, surrendered to fate, and headed to the start.
At 6 a.m. (thank goodness the organizers moved the start from 5:00 to 6:00), we took off from the inflatable arch, following a cycling path into the forest. It was beautiful — a soft, fairy-tale single track lined with pine needles winding through a sugar-dusted forest. The start felt tough, lungs burning, body sluggish, but after a few kilometers I warmed up and it became only slightly less uncomfortable 😅.
Before I knew it, we were at the first aid station (12 km). The volunteers, frozen to the bone but smiling warmly, served tea, cola, water, and snacks. I was so grateful to be running — at least I was generating heat instead of standing there for hours in that awful cold that seeps through every layer, even into your hair. After thanking them silently with deep admiration, I moved on.
The next runnable stretch I chatted through with Jožko Kimák, and soon we were climbing one of the ridges of the Kozie Chrbty range. The chatter faded; you could hear only breathing and occasional muttering. The ridge was stunning — mysterious, foggy, wintery. Somehow, I loved it. Winter really is beautiful… for about two days max.
I kept checking that my bib number was visible in the front — organizers had warned repeatedly that anyone with a hidden number would be disqualified. So, even alone in the woods, with maybe a deer or bear as my only audience, I made sure to keep it on display. You never know — the bear might be a snitch - you never know these days.
We passed a photographer who didn’t take pictures of us (guess we weren’t photogenic enough 😄) and continued along a trail packed with fresh snow until it was time to descend. That’s where the 45 km and 65 km routes split. Our route led through a less-traveled but equally magical ridge, then a traverse around a viewpoint, and finally the climb up to Kozí Kameň, the highest point of the race.
That’s when I started getting anxious. I had it in my head that the next aid station was somewhere else entirely, and the math didn’t add up — no way that the 30 km station will be at the 30. km mark. My watch already showed 26 km, and I wasn’t even at Kozí Kameň yet. “No way I’ll make the time limit,” I worried, frantically recalculating.
I told myself, “If the peak is at 28 km, then the 30 km aid station will be at 38 km. Well, should’ve run faster so the peak had been at 20 km and the 30 km aid station would appear exactly on 30 km mark!” 🤷♀️ Anyway, I kept going, still under pressure but calmer — decided that even if I missed the cutoff, I’d finish anyway. I had enough food and water, and this race was about something much more important ❤️.
On the summit, visibility was zero, so I skipped photos. I’d been there a hundred times, so I just pictured the familiar views of the High and Low Tatras in my head and moved on. The downhill was icy but manageable — much better than five weeks earlier when it had been pure ice and impossible without spikes.
Before long, we reached the saddle of Tabličky and cruised down a soft forest road — and suddenly, there it was: the 30 km aid station at the real 30 km mark, right in the woods. Ahh, so this was it! What a relief 😂 — we arrived with a comfortable 0.5 hours to spare.
The place was buzzing, with runners from both routes — the fast 45k folks who had started 90 minutes later, and the slower 65k ones. After K2, the routes split again (they had 3 km to their next checkpoint; we had 17). We ran through quiet rolling forests and long, winding roads still covered with deep old and frozen snow.
Eventually, we went through a rough section torn up by logging, then a steep meadow climb back into the woods. The course had everything: winter and spring, trails and roads, forests and fields, steep ups and downs, long traverses — and two ski slopes tossed in near the end for a little extra spice.
By now the runners were nicely spread out, and I mostly ran alone, enjoying the peace and freedom. The clouds lifted a bit, and finally — the sun came out. For a few blissful minutes, I was hot 😍.
We rejoined the 45 km route again approaching the third aid station in Šuňava (47 km), where the slower runners from both distances crossed paths. I knew the next section from my training run a few weeks earlier — across meadows and forests between Šuňava and Lučivná, a nasty logged section, a meadow above the ski slope, and then down to Lopušná walley.
There the routes split again — the 45k runners were almost done, just 200m to the last aid and 6 km left to finish line. Not us 😅 — we had to climb deep into Lopušná valley and scramble up and down two steep, still-snowy ski slopes before reaching the last aid station. I wasn’t sure how slippery it would be, so I put on my microspikes and off I go.
It was the cherry on top — a fun, slightly cruel twist before the finish. The volunteers at the 59 km station had the best view — watching us slide and stumble down the slope must’ve been a nice entertainment. They cheered loudly, cowbells ringing, laughter everywhere. I slid down safely, packed my spikes, grabbed a banana, and pushed on. Only 6 km to go!
The final stretch ran through forest single tracks beneath Smolník and Malý Smolník — it passed quickly. At the very end, every 30 meters there were neat little signs saying things like “Turn your bib to the front” and “Make sure your number is visible.” It cracked me up. I double-checked my bib one last time and smiled.
Before the final turn toward the finish line, I glanced at my watch: 9:58. “Oh wow, maybe I can finish under 10 hours!” A final burst of energy — sprint mode on — and I crossed the line at 9:59:12. Yesss 😍. A beautiful finishers' medal around my neck, heart full.
The event area slowly emptied out as everyone headed home from the freezing cold. A few diehards stayed though — I chatted a bit, shared some small talk, ate goulash with the Kimák family, and went home too.
It was a tough but beautiful day in the mountains. It wasn’t easy — there were moments when everything hurt — but I kept reminding myself why I was there and who I was running for.
Huge thanks to the organizers for creating such an amazing event each year to help families affected by neuromuscular diseases. Thanks to the volunteers who stood for hours in that horrible damp cold, making sure we were cared for and cheered on. Thanks to all the fellow runners who shared bits of the trail with me. For a few hours, we were all connected for a good cause.
This was my fifth year at this event:
- 2021: 45 km route
- 2023: Gerlachov aid station
- 2024: Spišská Teplica aid station
- 2025: Spišská Teplica aid station
- 2026: 65 km route 💪
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