Saturday, 7 March 2015

Mont Blanc Marathon 2014  -
Passion feels no pain 

29 June 2014

The Mont Blanc Marathon came up in my mind the very moment I finished the Swiss Alpine the year before. I didn't know why but I was sure I wanted to run it, and sometimes you just have to follow your dreams.

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 decided to take it easy and use the gondola to go up the Aiguille du Midi Skywalk "Step into the Void" altitude 3842 m. As soon as I stepped foot outside the Gondola, my gazelles stuck on the ice and reminded me up there it was no summer. It was freezing cold but it felt like being in heaven: blue sky, snow, peaks, peace, endorphins still wondering around my body, it was a perfect moment.





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?

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