Dr Vicki Lim travelled to Romania last year to support her fiancé, Dr Inia Raumati, as he tackled the gruelling 2024 Ultra Race Romania in August. Through dense and rugged Carpathian terrain, she navigated the highs and lows of crewing – proving that endurance racing isn’t just about the runner, but the team behind them.
I went to Buzau, Romania in early August of 2024 excited to be with my fiancé Inia Raumati for his fifth race of his mission to run a self-supported ultra on each continent in one year (#8raceson8continents).
He’s been on some epic races around the world this year, running to raise funds for our scholarship Kia Mau, Kia Ora, where we are hoping to put young people through self-supported ultras as we truly believe they can be life-changing experiences to help break any perceived limitations.
I haven’t been able to travel with Inia to all the races due to work commitments and taking care of our four-legged family members, but Ultra Race Romania lined up nicely. I thought I’d volunteer as part of his crew; help where I could, walk some of the course, and soak in the atmosphere of it all.
I did not expect to have an amazing time in a country I didn’t know much about, and have my mind blown by a 10-year-old girl named Rebeca.
Ultra Race Romania (URR) in 2024 contained a small field limited to 30 runners. After more than 24 hours of flying, we arrived in Bucharest where the swelter of the environment shocked our systems. We found ourselves seeking refuge in a local Starbucks, buying one cold drink after another and struggling to keep our eyes open as we flew on the cheapest possible flight and weren’t able to check in to our accommodation for about five hours after we landed.
After a couple days, we hopped on a bus to Buzău, where we spent the night. My first job as part of the volunteer crew was to collect everyone’s passports for hotel check-in. I definitely got a few suspicious looks from the runners when I knocked on the door with my bright yellow dry bag full of multinational passports, but most of them gave them up with little protest. A lot of runners took the opportunity to pack and repack their gear, and catch a bit of shut-eye before the race briefing in the late afternoon. I think is came as quite a surprise when the race director casually started talking about bears, holding the plus-size can of bear spray for runners to carry, along with the five firecrackers they were each issued. There was talk about wild dogs and rabies too – more on that to come later.
Gear check was right before we left the hotel the next day, and I had the pleasure of getting racers to unravel all their meticulously packed bags to tick off their mandatory items. Most of the runners were seasoned individuals who have raced all over the world, and who had their gear down to a “T” in impressively light packs. But as in every race, there was one smart-ass who tried to pass off a down jacket as his seam-sealed waterproof jacket (yeah, nah); and also didn’t bring his mandatory lighter – not sure how he was planning to light those firecrackers.
We arrived at camp one where tents had already been set up by the local crew. In the daytime heat everyone slowly dispersed to do some last-minute gear rearrangement, or to have another nap. We were also issued our ration of poo bags for the race. As a vet who loves dogs but doesn’t do much camping and the like, I had a good few chuckles to myself about the idea of pooing straight into a bag. Was I tickled by this novelty? Yes, very much so. Did Inia steal my poo bags as he burned through his allocated amount in record time? Also, yes.
The energy levels in camp shot up once the crew started turning up with mountains of pizza – one box per runner! Everyone retired to their sleeping bags early that night, nervous tension in the air before the first stage.
I piled into a car with Georgy, a Russian volunteer whose wife was running, and two of the younger local volunteers who spoke English so they could direct Georgy at the wheel. We drove through a moderate rain until we got to the bridge to camp two which was almost comical, if it wasn’t so terrifying. It was built by the local farmer whose land we were going to be camping on, and I kid you not, was made of wooden planks and some cables.
Georgy almost had an aneurysm when our Romanian navigators told us yes, we were to drive over that bridge, but maybe we should just wind down the windows and take off our seatbelts in case we slip, slide, and submerge into the river below.
Having survived the bridge of doom, we somehow managed to get all the runners and crew tents up and move all the gear under cover between some short bouts of torrential rain. Race leader Noemi made light work of the course, turning up not long after we had finished. Inia came in 5th place that day. Unfortunately, in the time waiting for other runners to come in, I had developed a pounding headache which wasn’t going away with some paracetamol. As the sun started to set, I snuck away to tuck into the sumptuous beef stew that camp chef Laurentiu had prepared – but instead had to scurry away, bowl in hand, to look for the least offensive spot to hurl into.
I was originally meant to sweep Stage 2, but was moved back to the camp team due to previous night’s malaise. It seemed like a couple of other runners were similarly affected by this transient bug, but thankfully everyone felt a lot better after a good night’s sleep.
We took down the tents, packed them up, and this time I opted to walk over the bridge of doom instead. We trucked our way to the next camp, and, you guessed it, put the tents up again! Only this time, a young girl who had smiled at me yesterday came up to me, and in impeccable British-accented English, introduced herself, and I had found myself a new friend.
Now I have to just say here I’m not really into kids, but Rebeca was an exception. She was incredibly clever and curious about the world. I was very lucky to have her help me with the translations of the subtler camp goings-on, and just thoroughly enjoyed learning about her and her life in Romania.
On the long stage (68km), Rebeca and I had plenty of time to swap Kiwi and Romanian snacks and chat. She also showed me her drawing book, which was well beyond my abilities, and while flipping through the sketchbook, her face suddenly fell – someone had ripped a piece out of one of the pages. She was upset but simply sighed and just said, “Life’s life, and people are people”. In that moment I was struck by her casual profoundness, and still am today. Pretty brilliant for a 10-year-old to figure out what many adults die without knowing.
Inia held steady in 5th place after a long day and came in absolutely wrecked. The usual hip flexor and hamstring niggles were flaring up, and not happy after 185km – more if you count the four other 250km races he had run in the past 6 months. He trudged across the finish line, and really wasn’t in the mood for conversation. So I left him alone while he meticulously took care of his feet and kit.
Speaking of sweeping the course, on Stage 5 after sweeping the front section I caught up with Inia at one of the checkpoints, where he had unfortunately come across local runner Mihai who had done a good number on his ankle and was in no position to keep racing. Inia offered to take Mihai and his pack to the checkpoint but Mihai stubbornly refused, asking Inia to keep going.
Luckily he managed to meet one of the photographers up ahead who told the crew about Mihai’s accident, and he was swiftly carted off to the nearest hospital for some imaging. Mihai had been ahead of Inia the entire race, and though this meant that Inia moved up a spot, he was pretty gutted to lose a friendly face.
During another stage, Mihai had come to Inia’s aid when Inia had gotten ambushed by a pack of about eight livestock guardian dogs. The dogs had Inia surrounded, and he was fending them off with his poles while trying to get his bear spray. The shepherd was yelling at his dogs trying to get them to stop, but the dogs weren’t listening. Having heard all the commotion, Mihai turned back to rescue Inia and reached him with his bear spray out – around the same time that the shepherd ran down the hill and got to Inia, swinging his axe at his unruly dogs.
It was no surprise then that everyone cheered and said Mihai deserved a medal at the finish line (crutches, cast and all)! There was even a fantastic lunch at the finish line, with that fantastic Romanian cheese and cold cuts, and barbecued sausages. It was a sign of things to come post-race.
Yet another drawcard to URR was the post-race itinerary. Included with race entry were endless high-quality meals, tours to Dracula’s castle, and exploring the beautiful town of Brasov.
Most other multi-stage races might sort you out night before and after the race with some pizza at the finish line, but the extent to which URR went to, to share their country and culture, was above and beyond. Romania isn’t a well-known holiday destination, but after this experience, we couldn’t recommend it more from both the perspective of a competitor or a volunteer. If you’re looking for your next overseas race and adventure, put Ultra Race Romania on your list.
This guide appeared in Edition 55 of Trail Run Magazine 2025. Grab your copy here
