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The night before the small village had been drenched down and we had all
wondered if today was going to be the same...but little time is left to
debate. Laid in front is a flat road section offered to us as a warm-up
by the river Romanche. All we can see is the dancing headlights and all
we can hear is the sound of the water and chatter from runners around
us. Warm-up is over as soon as we reach the forest path; in front of
us is the first 1000m climb to Villard Reculars, sleepy village nested
below the famous ski resort village of Alpes d'Huez.
This
is a tough 5 km climb as there is already a significant gap in between
runners, no one dare talking, we are sleepy zombies climbing up that
mountain searching for the first rays of sun. My sleepy head is not
registering anything and I feel like a turtle moving up so ever slowly
that I wonder if I'm last!The climb is never ending, no rest allowed unless you decide to hang around the first CP. No one really does thou, we all want to reach the summit as we know the 12 lakes are eagerly waiting to play. Second CP on the border of Alpes d’Huez, village is still asleep but the volunteers are trying their best to cheer anyone looking gloomy. Again,I don’t stop; I want to carry on as there is another 1000m of ascent to reach the Col Blanc CP. I haven't eaten anything for the last 2 hours, but I don't realise it until...
I’m struggling to run on
these darn shallow ascents made of road and tiny fields. Looking up, I wonder where Mick is, I
wanted to race with him as this is my "A" race and wanted to do a good
time. Feels and looks like, I’ve made a mistake with my fuel and the motor is just
not going strong…To distract me from my poor performance I decide to take
pictures :) as usual in these moments I forget that this should be a
race and just breathe in the grandeur of the mountain.
I
finally reach the Col Blanc CP, the volunteers are so cheery but are looking at me a
bit concerned…I’m not looking great, a volunteer who saw me at the first
CP wonders if I’m going to make it . In my right hand
one volunteer forces a cup of tea with sugar and fizzy water, in the
other hand a sweet lady put a piece of Pain d’Epice, a piece of butter cake and
waits for me to eat, telling me that I won’t be going anywhere unless I put
this in my motor! I dutifully start eating, scared that I won’t be
allowed to carry on. As soon as I finished with the tea, I’m handed a
glass of cola. It all looks strange to be taken care of by unfamiliar
faces, but heh, at this point I know my chances of doing great have dissipated so why not? I finish the two pieces of cake on top of
the two drinks, ask if I’m allright to go, get a tap in a back and there
I go, hoping to the lakes.
At this point, we are less than half way from the finish.The
path is made of different types of rocks, big ones, tiny ones, shiny
ones, by then the sun is up, kissing my face and making the lakes shine
so softly. I hear a voice, so I decide to follow while searching for the tiny flags put to guide us in between these rocks. But
the voice is now behind me, shoot! Did I get it wrong? No here’s
another small flag and the descent to the GrandMaison Barrage. The voice had it wrong and looks moody. I attempted to cheer the voice up while trying hard to slalom between rocks and high grass. We reach
Col du Couard and a massive torrent. The path is now made just of high grass and
funny looking floor leafs.The voice and I missed the flag leading to an
“easy” passage of the torrent so we end up finding our own pass. It is quite exhilarating to be in the middle of a torrent, hoping not to fall and toboggan slide the rest of the way while trying to reassure the voice! The
voice belongs to a 64 years old kind gentleman, after we cross one, we both struggled to
pass the other massive torrent and our butts are now all wet, but heh!
It’s refreshing and feels so good on the legs and at least...we didn't toboggan slide!
We reach the “dangerous”
passage leading to the Barrage, it is made of sliddy rocks and dirt. On
one side you have your shoulders brushing the cliff, on the other side, your feets are struggling to not go down this "nice" deep slid ( I didn't take a picture, in case you suffer from vertigo!) We decide to walk it and stay together until one of us has enough
and run. It’s nice to have a bit of company. He tells me to eat, so I obediently do so as I realise that I am actually feeling better since
the “forced gluttony” of LacBlanc PC.We talk about my island, about
trail and soon enough we reach the road leading to the Col de la Croix
de Fer. The road is a shallow ascent which everyone seemed to be walking it. Stubborn as I am, I ran it until I
couldn't anymore and decided to hop/walk until the CP, leaving the gentleman behind. There I find out
that we are now more than half way, 43 Km and there is only 20 kms to go. Some grumpy
runners moan about it and so in an attempt to cheer them up I decide to
sing a kiddy french song about kilometres, which makes everyone laugh
and give me the opportunity to get ahead of them hihi! I run the piste
until I see this massive ascent, its HUGE! I can’t even see the end of
it! My my! I look back looking for the grumpy runners 1 &2 wondering if they
feel the same, I see their face and give them a big encouraging smile and start the
long ascent to Glacier de l’Etendard. The path looks like a big rock
which had his heart broken into pieces and laid there. I can feel the
pain but the smiles of tourists and encouraging comments they give makes
me want to just carry on. So I pass the refuge de l’Etendard after
eating some nice “chouquettes” from there, and begin another dreadful
shallow ascent to the Glacier. At this point, I'm running with Benoit, a cool dude from Belgium but living in Mick's hometown. From there, we can see on the other side of the lake (le Lac Blanc) other runners going towards Saint Sorlin.
It makes me think that we are almost done and so I start running thinking that soon after we reach the end of the lake, we are going to the finish line. But I'm sooooo wrong! I should have really study the profile because not only we reach the end of the lake, and there is no turning point, but we are climbing towards a glacier! This affect my poor mind, and at this point, I just don't want to run anymore!Benoit tells me to eat, that he had noticed that I haven't had any proper fuel since the HUGE ascent, so I eat half of my Cliff Bar while I let Benoit disappear in the horizon. Where is the darn turning point? By the time I finish eating, I reach a big rock in the middle of nowhere, there is a control point with a dad and kid, they are telling me that this is the turning point and I don't have much left to do. It doesn't make me feel better because we are carrying on going up and I wonder how far do I need to go on before I reach the point where I saw the other ones...why do the mind pay attention to these types of details?! Why do
I care so much about not being where I wanted to be?! I pass a cute couple and asked them if they are going to Saint Sorlin, they laugh and say that's too far away for them to consider...I smile and think, it can't be, I only had 20 kilometres to go...10 kilometres ago...right? But the energy of the bar start to kick in and because I'm not sure of where I am on this trail, I start to run and reach a pretty cool snowy path, so I do the "Mont Blanc slide"( butt slide) and feel much better. The path is now the one I had seen when I was on the other side of the lake, it's a one track going up towards l'Aiguille Rouge. I can feel the downhill to Saint Sorlin coming up, so I run towards it, passing more tourists puzzled to see me and telling me I'm the first lady. Hahaha! no I say, I'm the last one with a big smile of my face. Who cares right? the scenery is so nice and the people so great, why should we care which place we finish? So I go down on the ski slope, killing my knees with wishing-my jumps-were-gracious thoughts but knowing that I must look like an elephant trying to ballet dance. I reach another control point, the man tells me that I have 1.5 km of piste left and then I'll reach the field path to the finish line. I'm relieved, I'm almost there. I do the 1.5 km very quickly as there is nothing to see, and reach the field path but wait! what's this?...too late, in front of me was an electrical wire for the cows, but I didn't see it and tangled myself till it broke and have my face laid flat on the ground (no cow poo) !!! Ooops sorry farmer! I get up, brush off the dirt and blood and wonder how the other runners managed to see this thing! At least the people after me won't have to worry about it! right? So I carry on the downhill, the path changes from field, to road, to forest trail, to field again in the space of 4 kilometres, it's amazing! I can't believe my eyes, my feet can't have enough of it, I want more. It's funny how knowing you are on the end of the line make running easier and your spirit high, 2 small kids start running with me to the end of a road and I'm feeling grateful to be living a moment like that. I reach another downhill cowfield wondering where is the finish line when it suddently turn and there it is: the finish line with everyone looking and the microphone blaring my name. I feel like a superstar ;) and I thank everyone for cheering up so loud. I can't believe it, 11:20 and some seconds ago I was a zombie searching for sunlight, I now feel like a soldier at the end of the battle cheering for every moment of the way. Writing the panic button entry had made me reflect on mind over body. Writing this one made me realise, that fuel plays such an important part and in this equation of mind over body that I'm really grateful to have had all of the volunteers and other runners around me to tell me to eat as without them, I would still be a zombie stuck in one of the CPs!
11hours 40 mins and some seconds, 63km and 4100m of ascent, not bad for a sunday run ;)
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