In running, as with everything in life, there’s good days and there’s bad days. Inevitably, you need to make decisions based on the cards you’re dealt. At Kilometer 4 my body told me “I’ve had enough” and I turned around even though I’d already covered 80% of the distance and 90% of the elevation.
Einstein may or may not have said “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results”. Likewise in trail running, expecting to do better at a race you’ve done the previous year without having done a better preparation may indeed be, well, insane.
“Don’t go out too hard” is pretty much the universal advice for long distance trail running. So why was I in an unlikely second place the entire first Kilometer?
I’ve mentioned the format already – 3.8km of distance, 1000m of elevation. The best male runners manage to cover this in less than 35 minutes, and my own magical barrier seems to be the 1-hour mark, which I’ve previously beaten once and exceeded twice.
As for preparation, it wasn’t as good as I hoped. I was doing fairly well until April. Spring was very busy for me with my second job as a freelance sports photographer. The inevitable result of that was that basically May can be summed up as a low-motivation month where I was burned out a lot of the time (although I did two short races) and June I was ill and only returned back to good health a few days before leaving for Chamonix.
As for gear, I tried to iterate from previous years, making minor changes as my wardrobe changes over the course of the years. I maintained the basic idea of not wearing a running backpack for such a short race. Hoka Challenger ATR 3 shoes, Ronhill cargo tights and a Salomon Agile shirt would do the job quite well.
The starting procedures as defined by the race organizers were more… organized this year. The basic idea was still that of a time trial staggered start spread out over several hours, with the slower runners starting at 4pm and the faster ones closer to 7pm. In 2015 the line-up was mostly random, following broad time windows. In 2016, at the time I was supposed to run nobody was ready to toe the line and the announcer basically had to beg for people to line up at their predetermined start time. In 2017 the predetermined start time could not be kept because there was an onslaught of people that lead to long lines and I waited in the heat for a long time. In 2018 they finally got it right: the starting times were definitive, runners were lined up according to their bib numbers (which were increasing from slow to fast) and you merely had to line up 10 minutes in advance and yet be certain of your spot. As it should be.
At 17:38, exactly the time slot I had been allotted, I set off. The initial meters followed exactly the same route of the two previous editions: up some stairs, passing the church on its right side, up some more stairs, then a right turn into Rue de la Mollard. This is a straight road heading up towards the cable car station, and for someone with my running background it’s a grade that’s right on the limit of still being runable. Past the station, I adapted a run/walk rhythm for a while and then had to admit defeat and definitely switch to power-hiking. All of this happened before I even turned left into the start of the endless switchbacks that mark the middle part of the race.
After a few bends, my watch beeped. 1KM done in 8 minutes. This was mostly in line what I’d done in 2016 and 2017, so I was in good spirits. Supporters lining the course were also contributing to the positive vibe, especially in one bend where a very vocal group had made it their task to enthusiastically cheer on everyone.
Up to here, I had passed one person and had not been passed yet. This was unlike previous years; where there was a bit more immediate competition.
From 200m of elevation gain to 500m of elevation gain, I plodded along. My heart rate was in the low 170s, which was an OK range for me. I could feel that I wasn’t pushing as hard as I was in 2015, but the effort felt easier than 2016 and 2017 when it was much warmer.
But at around 500m of elevation gained, I began to notice that my progress wasn’t quite as efficient. The watch had beeped again with a 2 KM split of 19 minutes, about 2 minutes slower than 2015 but a couple of minutes ahead of my 2016 and 2017 efforts. I’d need to keep going efficiently to maintain my chance of finishing in less than 1 hour.
From about 500 to 700m of elevation, I could sense the impending doom. My legs were starting to feel heavier, and my heart rate was decreasing slowly; a sure sign that my body was entering self-preservation mode. Which, needless to say, is slower than full-speed, guns-blazing mode.
Unfortunately, after about 700m of elevation, the most difficult part of the KMV begins. Here, the narrow single trail first starts getting steeper, and then at around the 800m level, it starts getting much rockier. Whereas the traffic I’d encountered on the first part of the course was much lighter than in previous years, I was now getting passed by at least 10 or 20 people who were markedly faster. Of course, this was also because I’d slowed down a lot. It was obvious that I’d missed my chance to finish in the 50s. I willed myself up the steepest parts, feeling very sluggish and for every competitor that I passed, at least 5 other runners rushed past myself.
After the steep rocky parts and past several race photographers who set up there because of the Chamonix and Mont-Blant backdrop that frame the runners here, it was a comparatively less steep trip over to the Planpraz cable car station. Here, more supporters had taken temporary residence and were cheering on the runners. I didn’t return to running here because my tank was still almost empty and I knew I wanted to save some energy for the home stretch. Past the station, I still remembered last year’s finish line that was all the way around the bend up the next hill; so I was surprised to now see it about 100 or 200m further down. Unexcpectedly with just 50 meters left to go I started running again, but could not sprint. Across the finish line I could see my wife who had come up to cheer on me. After 3 solo trips to Chamonix, it was nice to not arrive surrounded by strangers only, this time.
I crossed the line after 1 hour, 3 minutes and 37 seconds. About 4 minutes shy of my “realistic” goal, and even though the finish seems to be in the same spot than during my 2015 personal best, my perception was still marked by the unexpected “shortening” of the course.
I did the usual post-race routine: get my medal, grab a cup of Coke and then because it was starting to feel a little chilly I retrieved my drop bag and changed into warm clothing before taking the cable car back down towards the valley.
On the way down, I still tried to grab a few shots of the more difficult parts of the race course; but the windows were scratched and the true difficulty of the course still doesn’t come across.
So what’s my verdict? My initial thought was, “the mountain wins again”. I had finished slower than both 2015 and 2017, but faster than the 2016 disaster. In the ongoing goal to finish in under 1 hour, the score is now 3:1 in favour of the mountain; meaning that I reached the goal once (on my first try, at 37 years of age). Am I just getting too old, or has my training not been up to the task? In 2015, I certainly had a better strength base, which I’ve neglected in the past three years.
So will I be back? Time will tell. But I know that I still have a sub-1 hour finish in me, so there’s a big chance I’ll make another attempt.
Just a week after running a 12km trail race, I toed the starting line on a 10km road race. This seems slightly illogical, considering I’m supposed to run an iconic mountain marathon later this year and at this point should be doing long runs and lots of elevation. But if for a variety of reasons I can’t do that right now, there’s still a few lessons that can be learned at races like this.
The preparation for my summer mountain running challenges isn’t going great. With my main job and side job both taking up considerable time and energy (both physical and mental), my proverbial tank has been empty on a lot of days, which means I’m not getting in as much mileage and vertical elevation as planned. My running and cycling commutes are also taking a lot out of me, without bringing either mountain- or speed-specific training to the table. But rather than lamenting about this while watching TV on my couch, I decided that maybe a short 12k trail race would be a good reminder of what this summer’s challenges are about.
The beauty of running a race in the city that was my home for 20 years, and where I still work to this day, is that most of the race course is very familiar. Will that make up for the length of the race, which for me will be a record-breaking 34km (a distance I had never even done in training)?
March was a solid month as far as running distance was concerned. However, I find myself working more on my endurance and speed, and less on my climbing legs. Maybe that’s called building a base, or maybe I’m going to look back at this after my skyrunning adventures in summer and call it lack of specificity? Only time will tell.
Another month, another monthly summary. So what made February stand out? Certainly not time on the bike or on the track, of which there were none. I did get some decent running done while on vacation in mountainous Madeira, and continued doing some regular partial run commutes and lunch runs, however.
January 2018 in a nutshell: Lots of running, a lot of it via partial work commutes, some decent efforts on the weekends; with just a tiny bit of track work and cycling thrown in.