Endurance Trail 100km in Millau, France. 4600m of
ascent around scenic forest trails, canyons and untouched historical
villages. This was our final race of the season and the longest we
had ever done. Physically we felt prepared, having done some long
runs, and downhill training. Mentally... well, having got lost during
a race, running injured or hitting many walls, nothing could have
surprised us, or so I thought.
This is not a race report, as I
ended up walking the last 65 km. This is the story of how I manage to
finish our first 100km when everyone said that I would not make it. Was I mad or stupid? that's for you to decide. But I
hope that it will inspire others to just carry on even when it looks
like it is impossible. Because you know what, I’ve done it, I
finished that 100 km sucker, and it was all worth it, all the lows
and the pain brought so much more than darkness and self-doubt.
The race starts with goose bumps all over the body from the Templiers music theme, the atmosphere is electric, the night is warm and cosy.
Listen to the first minute, you'll feel it too :)
Everyone started the race super fast! From the first 100 m, I tried to keep up with Mick, who was trying to keep up with the first 100 runners. But I lost him quite quickly, legs were feeling heavy and the Brat was quite "noticeable".
At the first checkpoint
(18.8km down the trail), I was in the last 100 out of 749 starters,
the sun was still asleep and it was quite weird running for 4 hours in
the dark with the Brat for company, keeping the pace slow and awkward. My mind wanders as the body is on auto-pilot. How's Mick feeling, I hope he is having a bit more fun than me. Looking around,no one dares breaking the silence of the night run. Head down, we all attempt to zombie trail till sunrise.
I finally get sun-kissed 22km down the trail. It feels good then, following Mick advice to eat something every hour, the legs and spirit are getting nice and warm and the Brat is getting manageable. For the next 10 km, I pass pretty much everyone who had passed me for the first 20 km, ( thanks to the sun and not trying to keep up a pace that wasn't mine). At that point, I'm thinking if I could carry on like this for the rest of the race, I could make it before nightfall...ah, how more wrong could I have been?
At kilometre 35, pain strikes on the outside of...my back right knee. Yes, you right, not the Brat (who sits nicely on my left knee) but the right. I still can’t describe the pain, never had it before, medic will say tendonitis, other runners some other scary names I choose to ignore, and so it takes me quite some time to accept that something was very wrong.It hurts! So much so that I can't no longer run, tears are running down, walk becomes this limp-y dragging leg twisty thing, weird sounds are coming out of my mouth.
My legs can't race no more but thoughts on the other hand are racing crazy. It goes from no no no, this is not looking good, I am actually stopping? to No way, I didn’t just come here to not even complete a marathon, right?.... What is Mick going to think? would Mick quit? can I quit? I can't quit? all of this training for nothing? I need to carry on...,quit?...walk till the next CP?
Mind was going wild, crazy thoughts of flying, sleeping, hibernating mixed with these questions were hiding the fact that it is very painful and it's really not looking good. People are passing by, looking sorry for me. I don't want you to feel sorry for me, I want to run with you, I'm only 7 km to the 42km checkpoint, that's a marathon, I could at least do a marathon... that's reasonable right? it doesn't hurt that much...madness
My walk is slow and...long! Every one I had previously passed, passed me again, and more are coming down my way. It's frustrating, a lot of them asked if I am ok, if they should call someone, one tells me the CP before was much closer than the one I'm heading towards... Stupid... My pride takes another big hit, clinching my teeth, smiling and telling them I’ll be allright,...I'm boiling inside. But who can blame them? I guess I am not looking great there. A bunch of guys passes me and snort! Nice! One even tells me " You not going to make it sweetie, and even if you do, the DNF bus will be waiting for you"... with a smile on his face! what a twat! I can't believe my ears! I didn't ask for anything!
The thought of DNF hadn't really sink in yet, I was still trying to come to terms with this new niggle. But this guy, how dare he?! Like my bubble is not burst enough already, you need to create a new one and burst it on top? really?!
He's disappearing on the slop! I so want to run to him and kick his ass ...,I'll get him, don't know where and when, but I'll get him. I was going mad, from superwoman who wants justice to fatalist wimp who just wants to stop, and all variations in between in a space of 2 hours . And what felt the most excruciating was that I was alone, everyone seemed to have passed me. Gosh! where is this CP?! Should have put the watch on! Slowly coming down, a man stops at my side and decide to walk with me to the CP. I ask him what happened to him, he explains that he's been vomiting 3 times since the start of the race, and can’t seem to keep his food down so he is stopping. I don’t know how it feels, and can’t seemed to find any words that could make him feel better. So I try to joke around unsuccessfully, and end up walking silently wondering why he is staying by my side and half wishing he could just leave me alone in this endless death walk. He is a nice man, lending me his sticks to try to walk a bit faster. I’m so slow and he is staying ... it’s really frustrating. My mind wonders, would I have given up because of food?
We finally arrive at the CP, I see a medic, she asked what happened, I’m unable to explain, a bit confused myself about the how it happened bit. She gives me ice to put on both knees and an anti inflammatory pill. I take it, feeling annoyed. Really annoyed. I'm trying to reason myself, at least I’ve done a marathon, right, I can let it go? I don't realise that I'm talking out loud. The medic looks at me with her kind big brown eyes and tells me “ this is not the marathon km yet, sweetie, it’s up that hill, you are at kilometre 41.1.” My world scrambles, what?! I’m not at the marathon km?! Mind is racing, how far to the next checkpoint? 10 km she says, it’s up that hill and down again.
Grrrr, I’m not at the marathon point, I can't let it go, I need to do a marathon ( No I don’t, thinking about it now, I’m mad! or stupid) This thought is haunting me, I think of the snorty dude and this helps me decide. Next checkpoint... I have 5 minutes left before the cut-off. Screw this, I’m at least doing a marathon,... and if I can carry on to the CP I will have done a small ultra... not a bad way to DNF...Man, I really hope Mick is having a better day than me. So there I go, I’m last, I don’t care, just want to do a marathon. I go up the hill, pass a few people. There is this very very old man breathing hard, I admire his determination. I carry on, the leg is feeling better, maybe the pill effect, I tried to run,... how wrong I was. I miserably limp again until it’s bearable. Stupid, so stupid.... I’m on top of the hill, a flatty section before some serious downhill. I've done a marathon.
Mad moment on hill, I feel like walking superfast, I pass another few people, but they pass me back as I slowly go down this rocky path. Silly! Soon, I’ll be at the CP. I can see it from here, it’s just...2 hours down the trail..I finally make it, I’m happy I’ve done 51.1 km. Mick would be proud to know that I finally knew when to stop to avoid to damage myself even more. I'm not stupid or mad, I say to myself. I should stop now,... I've done good...Where is the next checkpoint? Huh? Who asked that?! I hear..., 10 km up that way. Really 10km? I can do another 10 km right? at least until they pick me up because I didn’t make the cut-off right? I could just walk till I drop?! aiaiaiaie madness or stupidity?
I say to myself, at least it won’t be a “I’m giving up because it hurts too much, DNF” but a “well I tried but I got caught by the cut-off people, DNF”, the latter one sounded more bearable than the first....so leaving my common sense at the CP, I carry on, walk the uphills, walk faster on the shallow flats. I pass more people, they are so surprised to see me, they thought I would have given up at checkpoint 41.1km. We play a cat and mouse game, I walk steady, they run pass me, stop 100m at the front, walk slow, and so I pass them. This is a cool game. We laugh at the whole situation, and I try to make them feel better. Some of them are struggling to keep up with the pace they’ve set themselves. I tell them don’t push it this hard, just breathe and take the time needed to finish. They must think I’m crazy....I did leave my reason at the last checkpoint, but I don’t feel tired, it’s been 12 hours, I can’t run but I can walk, I can do this I tell myself. Madness...
I finally get sun-kissed 22km down the trail. It feels good then, following Mick advice to eat something every hour, the legs and spirit are getting nice and warm and the Brat is getting manageable. For the next 10 km, I pass pretty much everyone who had passed me for the first 20 km, ( thanks to the sun and not trying to keep up a pace that wasn't mine). At that point, I'm thinking if I could carry on like this for the rest of the race, I could make it before nightfall...ah, how more wrong could I have been?
At kilometre 35, pain strikes on the outside of...my back right knee. Yes, you right, not the Brat (who sits nicely on my left knee) but the right. I still can’t describe the pain, never had it before, medic will say tendonitis, other runners some other scary names I choose to ignore, and so it takes me quite some time to accept that something was very wrong.It hurts! So much so that I can't no longer run, tears are running down, walk becomes this limp-y dragging leg twisty thing, weird sounds are coming out of my mouth.
My legs can't race no more but thoughts on the other hand are racing crazy. It goes from no no no, this is not looking good, I am actually stopping? to No way, I didn’t just come here to not even complete a marathon, right?.... What is Mick going to think? would Mick quit? can I quit? I can't quit? all of this training for nothing? I need to carry on...,quit?...walk till the next CP?
Mind was going wild, crazy thoughts of flying, sleeping, hibernating mixed with these questions were hiding the fact that it is very painful and it's really not looking good. People are passing by, looking sorry for me. I don't want you to feel sorry for me, I want to run with you, I'm only 7 km to the 42km checkpoint, that's a marathon, I could at least do a marathon... that's reasonable right? it doesn't hurt that much...madness
My walk is slow and...long! Every one I had previously passed, passed me again, and more are coming down my way. It's frustrating, a lot of them asked if I am ok, if they should call someone, one tells me the CP before was much closer than the one I'm heading towards... Stupid... My pride takes another big hit, clinching my teeth, smiling and telling them I’ll be allright,...I'm boiling inside. But who can blame them? I guess I am not looking great there. A bunch of guys passes me and snort! Nice! One even tells me " You not going to make it sweetie, and even if you do, the DNF bus will be waiting for you"... with a smile on his face! what a twat! I can't believe my ears! I didn't ask for anything!
The thought of DNF hadn't really sink in yet, I was still trying to come to terms with this new niggle. But this guy, how dare he?! Like my bubble is not burst enough already, you need to create a new one and burst it on top? really?!
He's disappearing on the slop! I so want to run to him and kick his ass ...,I'll get him, don't know where and when, but I'll get him. I was going mad, from superwoman who wants justice to fatalist wimp who just wants to stop, and all variations in between in a space of 2 hours . And what felt the most excruciating was that I was alone, everyone seemed to have passed me. Gosh! where is this CP?! Should have put the watch on! Slowly coming down, a man stops at my side and decide to walk with me to the CP. I ask him what happened to him, he explains that he's been vomiting 3 times since the start of the race, and can’t seem to keep his food down so he is stopping. I don’t know how it feels, and can’t seemed to find any words that could make him feel better. So I try to joke around unsuccessfully, and end up walking silently wondering why he is staying by my side and half wishing he could just leave me alone in this endless death walk. He is a nice man, lending me his sticks to try to walk a bit faster. I’m so slow and he is staying ... it’s really frustrating. My mind wonders, would I have given up because of food?
We finally arrive at the CP, I see a medic, she asked what happened, I’m unable to explain, a bit confused myself about the how it happened bit. She gives me ice to put on both knees and an anti inflammatory pill. I take it, feeling annoyed. Really annoyed. I'm trying to reason myself, at least I’ve done a marathon, right, I can let it go? I don't realise that I'm talking out loud. The medic looks at me with her kind big brown eyes and tells me “ this is not the marathon km yet, sweetie, it’s up that hill, you are at kilometre 41.1.” My world scrambles, what?! I’m not at the marathon km?! Mind is racing, how far to the next checkpoint? 10 km she says, it’s up that hill and down again.
Grrrr, I’m not at the marathon point, I can't let it go, I need to do a marathon ( No I don’t, thinking about it now, I’m mad! or stupid) This thought is haunting me, I think of the snorty dude and this helps me decide. Next checkpoint... I have 5 minutes left before the cut-off. Screw this, I’m at least doing a marathon,... and if I can carry on to the CP I will have done a small ultra... not a bad way to DNF...Man, I really hope Mick is having a better day than me. So there I go, I’m last, I don’t care, just want to do a marathon. I go up the hill, pass a few people. There is this very very old man breathing hard, I admire his determination. I carry on, the leg is feeling better, maybe the pill effect, I tried to run,... how wrong I was. I miserably limp again until it’s bearable. Stupid, so stupid.... I’m on top of the hill, a flatty section before some serious downhill. I've done a marathon.
Mad moment on hill, I feel like walking superfast, I pass another few people, but they pass me back as I slowly go down this rocky path. Silly! Soon, I’ll be at the CP. I can see it from here, it’s just...2 hours down the trail..I finally make it, I’m happy I’ve done 51.1 km. Mick would be proud to know that I finally knew when to stop to avoid to damage myself even more. I'm not stupid or mad, I say to myself. I should stop now,... I've done good...Where is the next checkpoint? Huh? Who asked that?! I hear..., 10 km up that way. Really 10km? I can do another 10 km right? at least until they pick me up because I didn’t make the cut-off right? I could just walk till I drop?! aiaiaiaie madness or stupidity?
I say to myself, at least it won’t be a “I’m giving up because it hurts too much, DNF” but a “well I tried but I got caught by the cut-off people, DNF”, the latter one sounded more bearable than the first....so leaving my common sense at the CP, I carry on, walk the uphills, walk faster on the shallow flats. I pass more people, they are so surprised to see me, they thought I would have given up at checkpoint 41.1km. We play a cat and mouse game, I walk steady, they run pass me, stop 100m at the front, walk slow, and so I pass them. This is a cool game. We laugh at the whole situation, and I try to make them feel better. Some of them are struggling to keep up with the pace they’ve set themselves. I tell them don’t push it this hard, just breathe and take the time needed to finish. They must think I’m crazy....I did leave my reason at the last checkpoint, but I don’t feel tired, it’s been 12 hours, I can’t run but I can walk, I can do this I tell myself. Madness...
Next checkpoint. I’m at checkpoint 61km, the pill
effect must have run out as my right knee is killing me, I ask for a
medic, they tell me, she’s at the next checkpoint, 13km up this
hill. 13 km I say, I can do 13km to the pill. Why? This is stupid! This pill- thou is motivating
me to go, like a druggie in need of a fix, I want it, I want to ease the pain. Faster, faster I keep telling myself, but haha
it’s only words, actions are slow to follow.
74km down the trail, I'm at the checkpoint, the medic doesn’t want to give me any pills, telling me that it’s only been 5 hours since the first one, I said I don’t remember how long ago it was, it might be more than 5 hours ( I was saying anything to get something) but she's not listening. She brings me to the osteopath, she thinks it’s going to help me. I’m not a wimp I say, she laughs saying nothing and firmly push me in the room. I spent 30 min ( which I felt at the time was a waste of precious minutes, especially I didn’t feel any better after, especially when she said I would be able to run in the next10 minutes), I didn’t get to run in the next 10 minutes or hours as a matter of fact.After she had done what she's done (asking questions and twisting this and that) I leave the room, not feeling any better. All I wanted was a pill! I am becoming a brat myself. I stink...literally and figuratively too. I am bad company , the night is coming down, and I am still out on the trail. Grrrr, I can't give up,...just until the next checkpoint, and I’ll stop I reach the checkpoint 6 with its nice people, foods and wait...Snorty dude!!!! Oh man it feels so good, he's shocked to see me, has no words to say beside “YOU”. And let me tell you, at this moment, I have this evil pleasure to smile and pass him, yes! I pass snorty dude- who told me the bus was waiting for me- snorty dude and it...feels...good. So good that I “fly” that hill to never see him again. But when I reach the top, I feel bad, the whole point of me not giving up was to inspire people and be humble about it. I wasn’t feeling humble at all in this climb and now I was worried that my 10 min cockiness was going to cost me later on. Mad! Yes I wanted to finish, but I didn’t want to make people feel bad about being past by an injured woman. What about their confidence? Their own limits? Their own dark thoughts? I was not helping there! Stupid! I still have 20 kilometres to go to the finish line.
I decide to stop at each runner who are looking like they are struggling, and pat them on the back, not too hard ( don’t want to patronise them) but enough to hopefully make them feel better. It makes me limp more confidently on the downhill, knowing that I maybe could give something back to the ones that needed the most (or at least looking like). 7 km to the finish line. Mad, I go up the last hill to the last check point, the doctor who gave me THE pill at kilometre 41.1 is surprised to see me and gives me this huge hug that lift my spirit. I carry on the flat section before the last dreaded downhill and the grote du Hibou. It hurts, I have enough, it's been 19hours, how long is 6 km?!
I hear the microphone dude, announcing the runners in front of me, really? I'm close. I get a last buzz, running down hill with tears and cries but I want to prove that this journey was all worth it. That it doesn’t matter which DNF you end up getting, as long as you’ve tried what seemed impossible.
Almost there, I am praying that Mick is at the finish line, I know he finished 5 hours ago with an injury too, but am hoping that he will be there to share the last struggle with me ( how more selfish can you get when you are about to finish heh?) Madness.
I see him, but there are the darn last stairs...arrh finally this struggle ends in19 hours and 40 minutes of madness but feels like it's a victory, a sweet victory over oneself. In Mick's arms I end, heart so warm of gratitude for the fact that because of him, I'm here. But I exclaim, this was the last run. This was stupid. He smiles and murmurs comforting words in my ears, not believing a word I say. We've completed our first 100km, we both injured ourselves while at it, but we've done it...and what I take from this is to NEVER EVER GIVE UP, you never know until you try and push the barriers you've set in your mind.
74km down the trail, I'm at the checkpoint, the medic doesn’t want to give me any pills, telling me that it’s only been 5 hours since the first one, I said I don’t remember how long ago it was, it might be more than 5 hours ( I was saying anything to get something) but she's not listening. She brings me to the osteopath, she thinks it’s going to help me. I’m not a wimp I say, she laughs saying nothing and firmly push me in the room. I spent 30 min ( which I felt at the time was a waste of precious minutes, especially I didn’t feel any better after, especially when she said I would be able to run in the next10 minutes), I didn’t get to run in the next 10 minutes or hours as a matter of fact.After she had done what she's done (asking questions and twisting this and that) I leave the room, not feeling any better. All I wanted was a pill! I am becoming a brat myself. I stink...literally and figuratively too. I am bad company , the night is coming down, and I am still out on the trail. Grrrr, I can't give up,...just until the next checkpoint, and I’ll stop I reach the checkpoint 6 with its nice people, foods and wait...Snorty dude!!!! Oh man it feels so good, he's shocked to see me, has no words to say beside “YOU”. And let me tell you, at this moment, I have this evil pleasure to smile and pass him, yes! I pass snorty dude- who told me the bus was waiting for me- snorty dude and it...feels...good. So good that I “fly” that hill to never see him again. But when I reach the top, I feel bad, the whole point of me not giving up was to inspire people and be humble about it. I wasn’t feeling humble at all in this climb and now I was worried that my 10 min cockiness was going to cost me later on. Mad! Yes I wanted to finish, but I didn’t want to make people feel bad about being past by an injured woman. What about their confidence? Their own limits? Their own dark thoughts? I was not helping there! Stupid! I still have 20 kilometres to go to the finish line.
I decide to stop at each runner who are looking like they are struggling, and pat them on the back, not too hard ( don’t want to patronise them) but enough to hopefully make them feel better. It makes me limp more confidently on the downhill, knowing that I maybe could give something back to the ones that needed the most (or at least looking like). 7 km to the finish line. Mad, I go up the last hill to the last check point, the doctor who gave me THE pill at kilometre 41.1 is surprised to see me and gives me this huge hug that lift my spirit. I carry on the flat section before the last dreaded downhill and the grote du Hibou. It hurts, I have enough, it's been 19hours, how long is 6 km?!
I hear the microphone dude, announcing the runners in front of me, really? I'm close. I get a last buzz, running down hill with tears and cries but I want to prove that this journey was all worth it. That it doesn’t matter which DNF you end up getting, as long as you’ve tried what seemed impossible.
Almost there, I am praying that Mick is at the finish line, I know he finished 5 hours ago with an injury too, but am hoping that he will be there to share the last struggle with me ( how more selfish can you get when you are about to finish heh?) Madness.
I see him, but there are the darn last stairs...arrh finally this struggle ends in19 hours and 40 minutes of madness but feels like it's a victory, a sweet victory over oneself. In Mick's arms I end, heart so warm of gratitude for the fact that because of him, I'm here. But I exclaim, this was the last run. This was stupid. He smiles and murmurs comforting words in my ears, not believing a word I say. We've completed our first 100km, we both injured ourselves while at it, but we've done it...and what I take from this is to NEVER EVER GIVE UP, you never know until you try and push the barriers you've set in your mind.
PS: After the race, I saw the osteopath lady again, and she worked on me for an hour putting back my hips and vertebrates in place and explaining that all of these injuries were due to the twisted left ankle from the 80km of the MontBlanc which never healed and created unbalances. All I need now, is learn to run again with posture and footing. Nice program for the next 3 months, until Country to Capital., heh? :) can't wait to tackle those miles!
