Passion feels no pain
29
June 2014
Just
to clarify, the course doesn't actually go up the Mont Blanc as many
people are inclined to think. The route starts in Chamonix and goes
up and down around the valley, + 2511m and -1490m, the highest point
being at 2201m. Its name is probably more impressive than the route
itself, but it is supposed to be one of the most panoramic marathons.
For more information on the profile and the race, have a look at
their website:
On the inscription day, at 12 am sharp I was filling in the entry form. The website kept crashing and I spent 30 min refreshing the page but eventually I made it, I was in the race. I was exited, and scared, there was no way back, I knew I would be there, and I would need to spend a lot of time doing what I love most, running, I was over the moon.
That
day I started to prepare the training plan, the eating plan and study
the course, but the overall 8 months of training proved to be too
much. By the end of May I had one Achilles tendon and one hamstring
inflamed. At first I tried to rest 2 days and get back on training,
but no. I soon realised it would have taken much longer than 2 days,
it would have taken weeks to heal properly. I felt powerless. I
tried a few physio sessions to no avail, I was feeding on pineapple
and all the food that supposedly helps the recovery, but eventually I
had to resign to the only solution: rest. I decided not to run at all
until the marathon day, and instead of tempering I was just walking
up and down the hills, in desperation.
Finally,
after months of preparation I was in Chamonix, this beautiful village
surrounded by majestic beauties. I was staying in a Mountain Highs
Chamonix, a 15min walk out of town but quiet, clean, with a terrace
and hammocks, I really recommend it. All the guests were runners who
signed up for one, or more, races, Vertical, Ultra, Marathon, there
was something for every taste. The atmosphere was great, sharing our
thoughts, fears, experiences, strategies, laughing at our habits and
routines, everybody so organised and practical that even if the
hostel was full, nobody ever had to queue more than 30sec to make use
of any facility.
And
then the morning arrived, it was the moment of truth. The situation
was critical. Over the previous 3 weeks I didn't even jogged once.
Both the hamstring and the Achilles were still soaring, not too bad
but still, I had quite a race in front of me. And, cherry on the
cake, it was pouring down. At 5am I woke up, and as per normal
routine I went out for a smoke. In darkness and pour rain I thought
“I can't be bothered” but then, if you wanted the bicycle then
you have to pedal.
I
went to have breakfast with the “I can't be bothered mood”: 1/2l
beetroot juice (brrrrr...), wholemeal bread with jam, banana, yoghurt
and apple. Went up to wear the marathon outfit, prepared the
rucksack, realised I lost the dorsal clips, went around the hostel
looking for someone with extra clips to fit it. I was wondering what
else could possibly go wrong and then good old Ed Abbey came to me
with words of wisdom...“When
the situation is hopeless, there's
nothing
to worry about ”. Good. I
took a deep breath and thought, here I am, whatever will be will be.
So
there I was, the starting line, the adrenaline levels went up, I did
some stretching to release the tension and nerves, told myself
everything was allright, put on the earphones, wished good luck to
the guys, and set myself ready for the big adventure. Being at the
starting line of a marathon is a unique experience in itself. The
tension in the air is palpable, the energies contagious, and the
light, excitement, happiness, is in everyone eyes.
7am,
the countdown started, go!
The
weather was not getting any better, and it would not have been any
better until the afternoon. Good stuff I trained in Scotland I
thought! The start was slow and it took a few km for the crowd of
runners to slim out along the way, with no chance to speed up or
overtake. Mud over mud, up and down. The higher we run the colder it
got. I was glad I brought gloves, and an heavy raincoat. I had to
force myself to eat something and drink at the stations, but with the
cold temperature my stomach got on strike. Still, I was feeling great
and filled with joy. I lived every single second as a blessing, even
the pain and the misery you will eventually face, are worth it, you
feel alive.
The
amazing landscapes that this marathon offered were none to be seen.
Everything was white and foggy. I found the downhill bit in the
forest to be steep and dangerous, so that it was better to check the
ground than the enchantment of the forest. Mud, people, slippery tree
roots and rocks. Somehow I managed not to fall. Everything was
soaring by km 30, which was good as the general pain covered the
Achilles and hamstring soreness.
At
the last recovery station I could see Chamonix, and it felt so close,
and it was all downhill, I knew I'd make it. Despite the weather many
people were out cheering us up, especially in the last few
kilometres. Crossing the finishing line was a relief, and joy beyond
containment. People ask why going through all this, the answer is
easy, we just LOVE running, fullstops. There is no secondary
intention here, it's its intrinsic nature that make us all addicted,
as simple as that.
Against
all the odds I made it in 5h 41”. The weird thing is that, although
5h 41” are arguably a looooong time, to me they flew by. I don't
know why but this time I remembered being at k30 and thinking “only
12 left?” I thought my brain was gone and couldn't count any more.
Truth is, for once, the biased perception of time and distances
played in my favour.
After
the celebration smoke I headed to the gym to get a shower and join
the pasta party. For once being a woman queuing at the toilet was
better that being a man! The queue to the showers for men was ridicolous,
while it was only 5 ladies in the showers with as much space as we
want. Revenge finally!
At
the pasta party I met Klaus, who run the 80k the day before but had
to abandon it due to water shortage. Every person I talked to in
those days was amazing, pretty much everyone was running marathon and
ultramarathon once a month, and talked about it as the most normal
thing to do, I felt surrounded by amazingly crazy people. Back in the
hostel it was good to see the other guys survived too. To my surprise
I lost 4kg (those that I didn't manage to lose over 6 months..) in
6h, but got back to normal weight once back form the pub night in
town.
The
soaring muscles kept me awake all night and it was endless. I was
glad when the light and the blue sky finally gave me the good
morning, and revealed the mountains in their splendour.
I
chose the Mont Blanc Marathon for its amazing landscapes, and
paradoxically my only regret is that I couldn't see absolutely
anything. Better take it with philosophy, when it's not destiny it's
not destiny, it means I'll have to get back there again, maybe for
the 80K?
No comments:
Post a Comment