Running on the Roof of Japan — Altitude Training in the Japanese Highlands
- jeremy kuhles
- Jun 24
- 5 min read
"Jeremy, your face has turned blue."
Hearing that, I knew the session was over. I felt light-headed, and I was ready to believe I’d turned into some kind of smurf.
"I'm done."
And that just about sums up day one of my experience at the RETO Running Club high-altitude training camp in Nagano, the "Roof of Japan."
My running club organizes several running camps a year, which are always rich and rewarding experiences. Last year, we were in Sugadaira, an altitude camp at around 1400m and favoured by the top university Ekiden teams.
This year, however, the club decided to stack on 300m and bring us to GMO Athletes Park Yunomaru, a pro-level training base with the highest altitude track in Japan.
After arriving at Shigeno Station, a tiny little backwater spot serviced by an infrequent two-carriage train, we took a bus up the mountain.
We climbed.
And climbed.
And climbed.
For about 30 minutes, we zigzagged up the side of the mountain, the battle-hardened bus's windows misting as the temperature dropped.
It was like that scene in Harry Potter when the Dementors come on the Hogwarts Express.
And still we climbed.
And as we eventually pulled up outside an old-school ryokan, we were in the middle of a cloud.
We were quickly shepherded to our shared rooms, where we upended our packs and let running gear and shoes tumble onto the floor. Then it was straight back out into the mist for the short walk to the highest-altitude track in Japan.
I could already feel a slight shortness of breath on that brief meander.
This was going to be tough.
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Training Camp Session (Day One)
Date: Saturday, June 14th
Place: GMO Athletes Park (Altitude: 1750m)
Session: 1600-800-400-200 X 2
5’55（3’42/km）-2’50（3’32/km）-80（3’20/km）-34（2’50/km）/ 3’30
Team relay (200m)
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We ran through our usual warm-up routine, but completely failed to get warm. The cold was setting in, and rain was falling steadily. Water was already puddling in the inside lane; this was going to be wet 'n' wild.
After a few jog laps, it was time to go. Within the first hundred meters, my shoes and socks were drenched, my heart rate was spiking, and my will to live was bottoming out. At sea level, this session at that pace might’ve been just about manageable, but up here, it was a different beast. I felt panic creeping in, which only made my breathing worse.
Still, I gritted it out through the first 1600, gasping for air as I crossed the line, already meters behind the pacer. I’d had enough. I wanted to go home, but that’s not why I came.
I’m slowly learning to get mentally stronger in these moments, but I still struggle. And this was pushing me to the edge. I tapped into whatever mental tricks I could muster to get back on the line for the 800. I made it — reluctantly — and tried to drag myself around.
“Make sure you breathe out properly,” someone said. But all I could do was gulp quick, shallow lungfuls that only made the panic worse. After scraping through the 400 and 200, I stumbled off the track and grabbed the fence for support.
“Jeremy, your face has turned blue.”
Hearing that, I knew the session was over. I felt light-headed, and I was ready to believe I’d turned into some kind of smurf.
“I’m done.”
I’d been pretty naïve about the altitude. I was convinced I could mix it with the best of them. It turns out you can't escape our old friend Mr. Ego, even at the top of a mountain.
The more I run, the more I realise: it’s not about toughing it out every single time. For me, building confidence and being consistent count for more. In hindsight, I should’ve dropped down a few groups and focused on finishing strong.
After a brief nip back to the hotel to regroup (avoiding the strong temptation to disappear into the steaming hot baths), I made my way back to the track. I rejoined and did a few more laps at a manageable pace.
Then came the team relay. And it was a blast. Nothing galvanises a group like a shared session in freezing cold, driving rain at 1,750 metres altitude.
We came last, but who cares? Everyone dug deep and wrung out every last bit of grit and speed for their 200 metres. Then we half-walked, half-staggered back to the ryokan, straight into a very welcome onsen.
After what felt like an all-night tattoo of drumming as rain pounded the windows, the sun was finally starting to break through the thick clouds as we rolled out of our futons. Humbled by the previous day’s ordeal, I knew I had to approach the morning’s 20K cross-country run with a more realistic mindset.
The goal wasn’t pace. It wasn’t ego. It was to finish strong.
I joined a quartet moving at a similar pace, led by Hakone Ekiden legend Daichi Kamino, which was a special treat. The course was a mix of track and trail: six laps of the track, then out into the forest for a rolling 2.5K loop. And then do it all again four times over.
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Training Camp Session (Day Two)
Date: Sunday, June 15th
Place: GMO Athletes Park (Altitude: 1750m)
Session: 2okm cross country (@4:53)
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In the end, it was a beautiful run. Tough enough to feel like I was working, but manageable enough that I didn’t lose hope — or confidence. The track laps felt a little laborious, giving the mind too much time to dwell on the thin air and heavy legs. But once we veered into the woods, it was pure joy: towering trees, soft trails, and almost constant birdsong.
It made me wonder if my running journey might one day lead me to the trails.
It was also incredible to cover that distance alongside Kamino-san — the legendary “God of the Mountain,” known for his extraordinary performances on the Hakone Ekiden mountain stage. I watched how he tackled the inclines with tiny, almost dainty strides, shortening his step with a rhythm that looked effortless. Meanwhile, I was clumsily stomping through muddy puddles and nearly tripping over tree roots.
I was also testing out a pair of the norda 005s, generously sent to me by the innovative Canadian brand. They were a joy to run in. I'm no shoe reviewer so I won't try to discuss stack height or foam type, but they were responsive, comfortable, and more than up to the task on both track and trail. They definitely added to the experience.
I glided through the final hundred meters with a real sense of warmth and quiet satisfaction. Respect for the environment around me and maybe even more importantly, respect for myself not giving in to the ego. I learned a lot on that run. Lessons I’ll take with me.
Text: Jeremy Kuhles
Photos: Kanta Nakamura (https://www.instagram.com/kanta_nakamura_/)
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