tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71521005734558930542024-03-29T00:29:02.954-07:00Live your dream and share your passionEquine Veterinarian chasing the dream as an adventure athlete and Mountainbiker whilst accompanied by my 4 footed dogly friends Fynn and MacduiNienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-12303750111421917762023-12-13T07:52:00.000-08:002023-12-13T12:57:37.762-08:00"Give it a try" whispered the heart <div class="separator"><p style="clear: left; float: left; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p></div><div class="separator"><p style="clear: left; float: left; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></p></div><div class="separator"><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></p></div><div class="separator"><p style="clear: right; float: right; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p></span> <p></p></div><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfE4L6gMwOblBiYvJbGpNejUdzSlYFbwTCqDfoh-vRneOOOxGhWsSPT1EMbB-xrCtMROFQVihOJjcpzqjG2f3wuk2urvhxJNeJfv3c21ybUMWuLtXDTDFnPA1csxCC8nYkqFudeLrWrjVV-YKJ_4vBSB1OiKCv6b1YTZnaTvhcgPLErINQeLyoK6qS_W5b/s723/Bostan%20Marta%20Gabi.jpeg" style="font-family: georgia; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="464" data-original-width="723" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfE4L6gMwOblBiYvJbGpNejUdzSlYFbwTCqDfoh-vRneOOOxGhWsSPT1EMbB-xrCtMROFQVihOJjcpzqjG2f3wuk2urvhxJNeJfv3c21ybUMWuLtXDTDFnPA1csxCC8nYkqFudeLrWrjVV-YKJ_4vBSB1OiKCv6b1YTZnaTvhcgPLErINQeLyoK6qS_W5b/w555-h402/Bostan%20Marta%20Gabi.jpeg" width="555" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">3 years ago I rushed out of my shoe box sized apartment to try and skin up 800m in less than an hour on my ski’s something I had seen on Instagram. I did not have light kit at the time and carried a big backpack with all the things you need for an all day adventure rather than a time trial to the top. I spotted someone in the far distance and made it my goal to catch up to him. As I passed my target whilst sweating and panting heavily, he started following me “hello, I am Yann your landlords friend, do you remember me? I met you the other day” I had no intention to be social as my focus was to climb as fast as possible but Yann had no intention to stop asking me a million questions. Apparently there were not many females around that would “run” up the mountain for fun and it got his attention. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78lJR8ujkDTrX4Jp5dCvqscwCBr2atM655p6vX7k_EE8CSFAlwpKn_UjM0SKN46RZErIWe_SkK5gmGhRhY5iRXa1vBH1bUeC9sQj2q_7yi6VP2HC364FftFd-u02yw0GtOZi48CyfvacNZlWQ2wUliSVR_OHUXlbv_GfXKFzSe-n1Nm4drWpGqNnvPxcQ/s1334/meeting%20Yann.jpeg" style="font-family: georgia; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78lJR8ujkDTrX4Jp5dCvqscwCBr2atM655p6vX7k_EE8CSFAlwpKn_UjM0SKN46RZErIWe_SkK5gmGhRhY5iRXa1vBH1bUeC9sQj2q_7yi6VP2HC364FftFd-u02yw0GtOZi48CyfvacNZlWQ2wUliSVR_OHUXlbv_GfXKFzSe-n1Nm4drWpGqNnvPxcQ/s320/meeting%20Yann.jpeg" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The picture Yann took of me the day we met</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I did not make the climb in less than an hour but I did meet my kindred spirit. Since meeting Yann I have climbed 15 x 4000m plus Mountain Summits including the highest in Mountain in Europe Mont Blanc 4809m. I have gone from never having rock climbed before to doing multi pitch routes following Yann along exposed ridge lines and up vertical walls. I have skied several 45 degree “couloirs” and started competing in Ski Mountaineering races. Inspired by Yann’s 8 entries in one of the most prestigious ultra trail running races world wide; the UTMB, I started trail running and every year I added distance. This summer I finished the famous CCC 100km at the UTMB trail festival. I went from mixing Dutch, English and French words in an attempt to learn French, to speaking the language fluently. I moved from my studio apartment to a one bedroom apartment and then to living with Yann in his beautiful Chalet at the foot of the stunning lake of Montriond. I have gone from avoiding Christmas (too many sad memories) to buying a tree the first weekend of December and filling the house with Christmas decorations. I have reconnected with my mother after too many years of silence and my sister and I are as close as ever before. Sometimes you meet someone who challenges you to always be the best version of yourself. Someone who inspires you to learn, to progress, to reflect and keep moving forward. Yann has been that person to me. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnoKS0bel18_0EMfiRbS9taD2tLc2XQ6R7QfxxphsYlgNFrBDQ5aNIp_kZGltfQTYGYiYzTLlQpZnBjT5qEvq4NSSZKeVxuIA7NhyphenhyphenrDULFEZ7ucNdsPBvKP1-YY9zYjlq_kELXMx745H5CBMoltQpeKhM6sD_qpo7TRMg9yYS03AllKqgz4FcXaqs5j1j2/s1671/alpinisme.jpeg" style="font-family: georgia; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1671" data-original-width="1371" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnoKS0bel18_0EMfiRbS9taD2tLc2XQ6R7QfxxphsYlgNFrBDQ5aNIp_kZGltfQTYGYiYzTLlQpZnBjT5qEvq4NSSZKeVxuIA7NhyphenhyphenrDULFEZ7ucNdsPBvKP1-YY9zYjlq_kELXMx745H5CBMoltQpeKhM6sD_qpo7TRMg9yYS03AllKqgz4FcXaqs5j1j2/s320/alpinisme.jpeg" width="263" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ticking of the 4000m peaks in Europe</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtC7YvKZrHcfJU7a0ANeFkPrg1DLEzZrwiYDyS2EDRGUm3KT2hb7bmtlJvNg1_0ubBGFVSqkzPrtXZXZCdMTRNOQljuats0IW_1Ro67iAswfNgdCsnsXJ_fIG5A1Ki5yv3h8XRKdB9Oz8T5-_BfRYFgA6bw6wW0_YfHkJ0ZIPyjrhNPtmX2Oz4NAUsJzrx/s1800/Cornette%20de%20bise.jpeg" style="font-family: georgia; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtC7YvKZrHcfJU7a0ANeFkPrg1DLEzZrwiYDyS2EDRGUm3KT2hb7bmtlJvNg1_0ubBGFVSqkzPrtXZXZCdMTRNOQljuats0IW_1Ro67iAswfNgdCsnsXJ_fIG5A1Ki5yv3h8XRKdB9Oz8T5-_BfRYFgA6bw6wW0_YfHkJ0ZIPyjrhNPtmX2Oz4NAUsJzrx/s320/Cornette%20de%20bise.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Multi pitch climbing</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqNAyv4bRMf8p5PvC0RB11rcLHxWJHXVCQaS9s3De3W8I0siWH3iVR34BeQFSNB0XmpdPVCGCba2YrMNI2MQWW2FBCt879eD_nZJUhJzNg11JJ2NbgPLR5ZwTRe-wr39GzE74g9QZzGaGWgIJMDW5iS5jBphXwhRYWwPQjJk2f-5ZgLJFMqriekMScvqPU/s1800/Yann2.jpeg" style="font-family: georgia; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqNAyv4bRMf8p5PvC0RB11rcLHxWJHXVCQaS9s3De3W8I0siWH3iVR34BeQFSNB0XmpdPVCGCba2YrMNI2MQWW2FBCt879eD_nZJUhJzNg11JJ2NbgPLR5ZwTRe-wr39GzE74g9QZzGaGWgIJMDW5iS5jBphXwhRYWwPQjJk2f-5ZgLJFMqriekMScvqPU/s320/Yann2.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">following Yann out of my comfort zone </td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd1e6RcJ3xy9EQZRg-SqqaDKddWEGdu1N3QyY82vZFKSaEG3EPDK_Uh8x0RnOT73xmjxh45MJmm_6lG8CBmRqZjhwwRMbonBE9rns58O91dai0AmS0Buxr1kDSe1G4711p8D4HkDHD6KLh_DE_DVEfvU3j0GClmV9lWQr3YUxVFBRSnCETPaD7e7ATleRL/s1440/Yann.jpeg" style="font-family: georgia; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd1e6RcJ3xy9EQZRg-SqqaDKddWEGdu1N3QyY82vZFKSaEG3EPDK_Uh8x0RnOT73xmjxh45MJmm_6lG8CBmRqZjhwwRMbonBE9rns58O91dai0AmS0Buxr1kDSe1G4711p8D4HkDHD6KLh_DE_DVEfvU3j0GClmV9lWQr3YUxVFBRSnCETPaD7e7ATleRL/s320/Yann.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">My preparation for the CCC 100km trail race this Summer was difficult with all the pain I experienced through my spine after finishing the Atlas Mountain Race in October 2022. Somehow everything seemed to fall into place on the start line with strong legs and a back which felt better than it had felt for months. So I went for it! After a year of battling pain, the pain bear was silent and I could push on the uphill as well as the downhill which felt like magic! I was heading for a solid performance. Unfortunately my inexperience made for a few mistakes on the nutrition front and with 40kms left to go I couldn’t hold anything down and finished the last 30kms on one cup of <span style="background-color: white;">tea and everything I had ingested before that was left along the trail!</span></span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal;"> </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal;">Although I lost a lot of time, I was so happy I had a go at pushing my limits physically and then I had to push them mentally when I couldn’t take any water or food in. It was an experience which made me dream again and made me believe that I was not done yet. I did however need a break from racing and decided not to pencil anything in the calendar for the winter ski season and decide last minute what I wanted to race.</span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT54DWFw5ttw_XZiLeJ11RYLUTKXXbYNt19UqGerlrHp1RFZN-P4yOI5_AfN_A1ipGapaNV5GykdtO1ZdPYL6nbgPSbDak-R4hElWkHZgHDbFsxWjlahS4si8eVwfpgvjzsHbRD9p1Nl04_axj7UrRDiD2zXSGFeeCCvts38ARTWlvTHdSMC1hFlx4tDu/s640/CCC%20finish.jpeg" style="font-family: georgia; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT54DWFw5ttw_XZiLeJ11RYLUTKXXbYNt19UqGerlrHp1RFZN-P4yOI5_AfN_A1ipGapaNV5GykdtO1ZdPYL6nbgPSbDak-R4hElWkHZgHDbFsxWjlahS4si8eVwfpgvjzsHbRD9p1Nl04_axj7UrRDiD2zXSGFeeCCvts38ARTWlvTHdSMC1hFlx4tDu/s320/CCC%20finish.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the finish line of the CCC</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Until I got an email from the team manager of the Dutch Ski mountaineering team inviting me to join the selection weekend for the upcoming Ski Mountaineering season. I had 4 weeks to recover from the CCC and train some speed in my legs again after a lot of slow endurance training. I had no expectations leading into the weekend, I decided I would be ok with not being selected. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhDX-lJEhRkR8lC3Mor0XSgaMhVU0mHXE0XG8sbCm0q-8xRJL_z191ttoeWso2I7FguQtC6wYXwaA_XPPQpl-zCiKSNkKi75iYunkJfVHAParX0yAy_oVRiHkp7fADG6uOP0Gf8oTJW-zUhfSaK9kR7a2Y9Na-TTr7L-H5eDoGeOu4wsCgnzkCWp43TJC/s2048/saasfee%20selection.jpeg" style="font-family: georgia; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRhDX-lJEhRkR8lC3Mor0XSgaMhVU0mHXE0XG8sbCm0q-8xRJL_z191ttoeWso2I7FguQtC6wYXwaA_XPPQpl-zCiKSNkKi75iYunkJfVHAParX0yAy_oVRiHkp7fADG6uOP0Gf8oTJW-zUhfSaK9kR7a2Y9Na-TTr7L-H5eDoGeOu4wsCgnzkCWp43TJC/s320/saasfee%20selection.jpeg" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Run time trial</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">When the team managers started to explain the Winter Olympics dream, my head started to spin. Which athlete does not dream of going to the Olympics? With lack of pure speed I knew it was a tough ask to get selected but I gave it all I got. Getting selected was the first hurdle. The second hurdle was turning me from an endurance athlete into a sprint athlete to suit the Olympic Ski mountaineering format which was a 4min sprint condensing all the different techniques you need to have to be a good ski mountaineer and making it spectacular to watch at the same time.</span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2Cwejq58YLtF6HU-7SnGqOz8hTHUImF_588BSYbcArG_cbsWPOsOzOeyKv-6PloZFeSER81MMlbMuDV6b9vIWtXAcsWL2oJT6JV3zdJyajSVPKiQIn9pb5C_SCIjqTeCpCnuyUmEk_oFlHoBZQ_4pAIrjD2Hi2f0mOQ1Mxz9QOZd34KPXRLz5plDCqZ6/s1544/Saasfee%20.jpeg" style="font-family: georgia; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1544" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2Cwejq58YLtF6HU-7SnGqOz8hTHUImF_588BSYbcArG_cbsWPOsOzOeyKv-6PloZFeSER81MMlbMuDV6b9vIWtXAcsWL2oJT6JV3zdJyajSVPKiQIn9pb5C_SCIjqTeCpCnuyUmEk_oFlHoBZQ_4pAIrjD2Hi2f0mOQ1Mxz9QOZd34KPXRLz5plDCqZ6/s320/Saasfee%20.jpeg" width="233" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">training in Saas Fee with the world Champion Max Drion</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">So in the last couple of months I have gone from finishing a 100km ultra, getting selected for the National Ski Mountaineering team, to working with a new high performance coach and training for my first Ski mountaineering sprint race which counted as the French National Championships held last weekend. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In all honesty I did not really want to race. “I am not ready” I said to my coach. “You will certainly not be ready but then we will have a starting point” he answered me. Lucky one of my closest friends Katie lived near the race venue and was the perfect person to have by my side to calm my nerves. When I first had a look at the course I choked. It was very steep. There were slalom gates. I had never skied around gates before. What was I doing???? I froze. I did not eat or drink all morning. I did not properly warm up. And suddenly I stood on the start line with a race official telling me “1,2, 3 GO!”</span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZD2O8VkipaRDTixOND2CK2GSNY21QRMTprY7ezS__YdTxBZ_xrtjlmKbRXx6_u1RCCL1JirNp-BKrB-gVt6j0eQfGq0Q_e-IDEEUV318tY5Kb-SB8mzDrUURfZiBYnLKhgky7R7bf2WkADw8tj0RVySb_3bq1cK8NHWKDMfV28YCADpEgmq8AEukrliN/s1729/Skimo%20sprint%20diamonds.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1729" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfZD2O8VkipaRDTixOND2CK2GSNY21QRMTprY7ezS__YdTxBZ_xrtjlmKbRXx6_u1RCCL1JirNp-BKrB-gVt6j0eQfGq0Q_e-IDEEUV318tY5Kb-SB8mzDrUURfZiBYnLKhgky7R7bf2WkADw8tj0RVySb_3bq1cK8NHWKDMfV28YCADpEgmq8AEukrliN/s320/Skimo%20sprint%20diamonds.jpeg" width="208" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">going around the diamonds</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;">And off I went as fast as I could, skin up a vertical climb, around the “diamond” turns, first transition, skis off and on my back, run up as fast I could, second transition skis back on my feet, back skinning around the diamond turns, faster, faster, faster, third transition: from skin to ski, and down I went around the gates finishing with ski cross rollers, a tight right hand corner and into the finish line, 4min and a bit with the biggest smile on my face. This was fun!! </span><p></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmYJjQhiu3MHSTTvE8mQ8_Xavmhqj1_kbC7bxNRm5b0FCEqNozNOV_UeiXzZewHBy3Jn5ne1k4GO8FUNv_6hx6NLcXjsjbaQwQgvN_rfnskE5SnHKGJPGyI-1wc9CPQ3vlN5_7pg-vQ_nJ31uHo_5OGkAsiRE4rHv6VhoWetgG6K6-Na-Qq4nB7PV95qj0/s2048/skimo%20sprint%20downhill.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="946" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmYJjQhiu3MHSTTvE8mQ8_Xavmhqj1_kbC7bxNRm5b0FCEqNozNOV_UeiXzZewHBy3Jn5ne1k4GO8FUNv_6hx6NLcXjsjbaQwQgvN_rfnskE5SnHKGJPGyI-1wc9CPQ3vlN5_7pg-vQ_nJ31uHo_5OGkAsiRE4rHv6VhoWetgG6K6-Na-Qq4nB7PV95qj0/s320/skimo%20sprint%20downhill.jpeg" width="148" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first time around the gates</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpplF4BYVp9GynZ83Pcn_NiXdtSs7hBTMu3q28HvL38ujtLYJGwMsUFyJYKUOOLCAUjrcmyOlDYCbOIGrxvaB0_7ZM8UiIhZivlEChW534o73ZfCex0DeqbVEyEoYb_yrYOcQmjFXJLPuGEphzVYgoRjMNCHxOJiIq2tTU88ugtgA37g1W_d_71tp2ugOb/s1707/409759989_10161840077870961_7771955085454162477_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1707" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpplF4BYVp9GynZ83Pcn_NiXdtSs7hBTMu3q28HvL38ujtLYJGwMsUFyJYKUOOLCAUjrcmyOlDYCbOIGrxvaB0_7ZM8UiIhZivlEChW534o73ZfCex0DeqbVEyEoYb_yrYOcQmjFXJLPuGEphzVYgoRjMNCHxOJiIq2tTU88ugtgA37g1W_d_71tp2ugOb/s320/409759989_10161840077870961_7771955085454162477_n.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">boot pack</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Olympic format, a standardised loop with 80m vertical gain, 3 transitions, a boot pack and a downhill. A 3-4min </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">all out effort which is repeated several times through qualifying, heats, quarter finals, semi finals and finals. I never thought I would love this as much as I did as it is far fetched from the adventure that made me fall in love with ski mountaineering in the first place, however it is very focussed on all the techniques you need to nail to be any good at this sport and safe in the mountains. I have always gravitated to sporting disciplines which is so much more than physical talent but rewards skills and mental strength.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This winter season it is all about getting as much experience as possible at world cup level, I will therefore race all the disciplines, from the sprint, the vertical km, the individual (a 2hrs loop with 1500m of vertical gain) to the mixed relay (a slightly longer version of the sprint with a male team mate). I will be racing 5 international races including the Dutch national champs from January to April. Going from a 10-20 hour effort to a 4min-2hrs effort will need a bit of adjustment and my only goal this season is to show improvement as the season progresses.</span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="No photo description available." class="x1bwycvy x193iq5w x4fas0m x19kjcj4" data-visualcompletion="media-vc-image" height="390" referrerpolicy="origin-when-cross-origin" src="https://scontent-mrs2-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.6435-9/170511911_10159818455855961_4301875390046127091_n.jpg?_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=dd63ad&_nc_ohc=mwQfHRp1b0sAX_i68XE&_nc_ht=scontent-mrs2-1.xx&oh=00_AfCYr6a3rfrRNeMxNGJSv_4yS28R6kVegBD_0qnO3uGENg&oe=65A1273B" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="293" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lucky to have someone who pushes me every single day to be a little bit better than the day before </td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Winter season 2024/2025 is where Olympic Qualification will begin and I will be committed to race all the World Cups to gain as many points possible to not only qualify the Netherlands but I will also try and be the person our national federation will send to the Olympics to represent the sport in Cortina D’Ampezzo 2026. I am fully committed to give this all I have got. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Over the years I have represented the Netherlands in Equestrian (as a junior), in Mountain Biking and Triathlon and never did I think I would be chasing the Olympic dream this late in life in a sport completely new to me! People will think I am crazy, people will think I am too old, people will think I am wasting my time. But I am a dreamer through and through and although a lot of my aspirations and dreams disappear into thin air, the chase is worth the journey. Even if I fail to reach my goal at least I can say I gave it my all. This is my dream to dream and I will not die wondering. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A huge thanks to James McCallum who has been my rock over the years and always said to me 'there is more to come'. And Rab Wardell who is missed every single day. I owe both more gratitude than I can ever express. Thank you does not really cut it but it will have to do for now. </span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span face="Actor, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(136, 32, 33); color: #882021; font-size: 28px;">It's impossible, said pride. It's risky, said experience. It's pointless, said reason. Give it a try, whispered the heart.</span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-25029652407961718162023-08-30T10:47:00.005-07:002023-08-30T10:48:54.693-07:003 years in France; turning into an ultra mountain runner (shuffler)<div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhba3bOa7upbcf-H9zsEvMiWe5OqV1OJ47oOH2KLKz3-XjUfrUxaoAnc7Y0_mza8c1WfaEC5o1djlkrqVOrEdt3iqYS3iDVMLZDoGec6KgWY5YIME9uS4xCPZbUrV4lI89gA7CpxXrXb6sz6gzoUOmqAob-pBhMjdE79HGV62b1wdrtEwhk-YMLucIeCtim/s1800/going%20rogue%20with%20Yann.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6T_3MFQWRe420A9wBwLPwCVFBLr0TkGLZsIoG2U9ZCJFpdc0IDc8AzQ9nIN7P9pkrhCpt7_PgsTQUH2c03sOEobrRSLZ2LWX9jyammbMPiEkSglMF0XzePu__5kv90VvU3TFFIhGAT-H6baB2_PZfbj2KQfy-k17kNqf_A2Q0NfzDfWMQuJu8ugDe1Zzu/s847/F79CA0C1-B9B3-4609-A722-965A2E09558E.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="847" height="403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6T_3MFQWRe420A9wBwLPwCVFBLr0TkGLZsIoG2U9ZCJFpdc0IDc8AzQ9nIN7P9pkrhCpt7_PgsTQUH2c03sOEobrRSLZ2LWX9jyammbMPiEkSglMF0XzePu__5kv90VvU3TFFIhGAT-H6baB2_PZfbj2KQfy-k17kNqf_A2Q0NfzDfWMQuJu8ugDe1Zzu/w533-h403/F79CA0C1-B9B3-4609-A722-965A2E09558E.JPG" width="533" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">When I was told back in 2017 it would be unlikely I would ever run again let alone race again, I made a pack with myself that one day I would run the Ultra Tour Du Mont Blanc, a 170km (100miles) ultra trail race with 10.000m (35000 feet) of ascend on an existing hiking route around the mighty Mont Blanc crossing the French, Italian and Swiss Alps. Regardless of my injury this pack I made with myself was completely unrealistic since I had never run a marathon on the road, let alone an ultra marathon through the mountains.</span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I started working with a pain specialist in 2019, he gave me a running budget. It was as little as 2kms, three times a week and I could increase that with 10% each week only if I did not experience a pain flare up. At the time those 2kms felt like a marathon to me. I would spend the whole day motivating myself to do it and to not focus on the pain I would experience in my legs. Retrain the brain it was called. I went from being a 36min 10km runner to running 2km in 14min which was sobering to say the least and forced me to leave my ego behind. At times I got frustrated about my (for me) slow running speed and my coach James would say to me "stop being such an ass to yourself, if you keep at it and keep running, you will only get faster" Instead of grieving the old me, I started working on rebuilding a new me.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3OBMcB3PkahOw-7SbM_HfYQZP1DRM0zfwX4Tnr8arRDkKqiVMPQqU7IBokMC3EW0O609g66dWj_wrmfBLs-l5x_IIZ_4VwHRe-mA0s6EA38Fr45zEq-CG7-YJYjrG3rQ6lcSqhPKYbKKcmtsMEPedSReASyuCdlPk1CeFc-N6XAOW7A25-kYEXef_J-6Q/s2048/in%20the%20rain%20with%20erin.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1293" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3OBMcB3PkahOw-7SbM_HfYQZP1DRM0zfwX4Tnr8arRDkKqiVMPQqU7IBokMC3EW0O609g66dWj_wrmfBLs-l5x_IIZ_4VwHRe-mA0s6EA38Fr45zEq-CG7-YJYjrG3rQ6lcSqhPKYbKKcmtsMEPedSReASyuCdlPk1CeFc-N6XAOW7A25-kYEXef_J-6Q/s320/in%20the%20rain%20with%20erin.jpeg" width="202" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I met Erin when I could barely do 5kms </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">With the 10% rule, weeks passed and 2kms became 5kms, 5kms became 10kms, 10 became 15kms and although the progression felt like a cha cha cha, with multiple pain flare ups setting me back, I run my first ever marathon in the Scottish Pentland's during lock down in 2020. By no means was I running pain free nor was I running fast but I was running again, and I was running against all odds. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqR2C0AXYUHODhRxL1PgFWOriWwr4eZoljNiQTgknoQRzITVhvp6HfrOKKZPAtAz80RMjTcWXS7Wyb3XZlERzDzCNstHXJr5Nw9iD_ot_2XcL8HYuuGNJMzsWARCk2ue3J--0K4re-w9lq2MSrICwQP9-iU4_vw3WGydGkgelqNo4lFqHW8i5zIYZvMzS/s1747/running%20.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1747" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqR2C0AXYUHODhRxL1PgFWOriWwr4eZoljNiQTgknoQRzITVhvp6HfrOKKZPAtAz80RMjTcWXS7Wyb3XZlERzDzCNstHXJr5Nw9iD_ot_2XcL8HYuuGNJMzsWARCk2ue3J--0K4re-w9lq2MSrICwQP9-iU4_vw3WGydGkgelqNo4lFqHW8i5zIYZvMzS/s320/running%20.jpeg" width="264" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Spending hours roaming the mountains with Mac</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">My move to the French Alps in the Summer of 2020 meant I was a little closer to realising the dream of running the UTMB living less than a couple of hours from the route. I quickly learned that trail running in the French Alps had a very different meaning than trail running in the UK. Running technical downhill was not my forte but as with everything in life, the more you do it, the better you get at it and I love a challenge and the feeling of progressing. I embraced the opportunity to improve with open arms spending most of my summer months exploring the mountains by foot with little Mac. The happiness that this gave me made me feel stronger whilst experiencing less pain as the months turned into years. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3FfqFsWLd3AQ_hJLRB1klMLYP_N9lFhvkqCOJp-1Q4EDhOk-X0NmAEIIW7-Z6mbutl8nJjjird3l868BGy5-jqp7zG-48GxfyKDaBN5Z2HZFc2PuBJ5Fe2eXjZXlnhZeKN7jMPkiH0e9wV8tALAPm6MoHOyrmhL7rDA8XfTxLuFM62iSG29Edbn9PoSH/s1800/downhill%20running.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3FfqFsWLd3AQ_hJLRB1klMLYP_N9lFhvkqCOJp-1Q4EDhOk-X0NmAEIIW7-Z6mbutl8nJjjird3l868BGy5-jqp7zG-48GxfyKDaBN5Z2HZFc2PuBJ5Fe2eXjZXlnhZeKN7jMPkiH0e9wV8tALAPm6MoHOyrmhL7rDA8XfTxLuFM62iSG29Edbn9PoSH/s320/downhill%20running.jpeg" width="256" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">trail running in France not quite the same as in the UK</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I dared to run and finish my first ultra mountain marathon last summer in a local race. 50kms, 4500m of ascend over the most technical terrain in France. By running a couple more 50kms events during the Summer, I had collected enough points to enter the UTMB but I decided to enter its little sister the CCC instead. This way I could properly build up to the100miler and not get (more) injured in the process! It took a lot of self control and listening to people I trusted since all I wanted to do was enter the UTMB! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Starting from Courmayeur in Italy the CCC covers the last 100kms off the UTMB route to Chamonix and doing the CCC instead was a great way to introduce me to the longer ultra distances. Because of the popularity of the race they installed a lottery system to allocate starting slots, the more points you had the bigger the chance you got to the start line. The draw was done in December and based on the last two previous running seasons. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I knew people who had tried for years to toe the start line in any of the UTMB festival races so when I received the email in early January that I was offered a spot, my heart skipped a beat. May be I was not wise for entering the event whilst I was still dealing with nerve pain flare up and compressed vertebrae ever since the Atlas Bike Packing race in Morocco. At the time I entered the CCC I was not even able to run 20min let alone 20 hours which it would take me on a good day. Although I am someone who will not often put something I really want to do on hold, having lost a couple of close friends recently has made me even more aware that not everyone is lucky enough to have "later" or "next year". This thought process was part of my decision to run, well knowingly the real race was the one against time to get me physically pain free enough to be able to do it.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhba3bOa7upbcf-H9zsEvMiWe5OqV1OJ47oOH2KLKz3-XjUfrUxaoAnc7Y0_mza8c1WfaEC5o1djlkrqVOrEdt3iqYS3iDVMLZDoGec6KgWY5YIME9uS4xCPZbUrV4lI89gA7CpxXrXb6sz6gzoUOmqAob-pBhMjdE79HGV62b1wdrtEwhk-YMLucIeCtim/s1800/going%20rogue%20with%20Yann.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhba3bOa7upbcf-H9zsEvMiWe5OqV1OJ47oOH2KLKz3-XjUfrUxaoAnc7Y0_mza8c1WfaEC5o1djlkrqVOrEdt3iqYS3iDVMLZDoGec6KgWY5YIME9uS4xCPZbUrV4lI89gA7CpxXrXb6sz6gzoUOmqAob-pBhMjdE79HGV62b1wdrtEwhk-YMLucIeCtim/s320/going%20rogue%20with%20Yann.jpeg" width="256" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Going rogue with Yann </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After a difficult winter season battling the pain bear, I mapped out the Summer season with my running coach Alex. To be as well prepared and pain free as possible for the CCC which was run in September. This included physio on a weekly basis and working again with James for strength and conditioning training. James had been my rock through a lot of years and knew my hole injury history. A 5 min chat with him was enough to fill me with confidence I would once again crawl out of this pain hole. Alex was also someone I had known for a long time and she knew that coaching me involved accepting that from time to time I would go rogue and disappear with Yann for proper mountain adventures climbing and mountaineering at high altitudes. Alex understood that it was an important factor in my overall happiness enabling me to be able to do it all rather than being one goal focussed. For me this is one of the most important part of working with coaches, making sure they get what makes you tick.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwjhtwDfmp1DPIlmS-0afben-Y71bg6qaCw5BNqzNcGr7Br6o43E_rjTxkqsE7GGw5myB3W11jBgfM7A-rePt0pl7OUGW4s49Ah6XPMSLzUg8W8Ijn7VY-p-KpSZlXG2rcn-o5MvycRQGDnNDRcBBOd9F2Z5bg2jzfgwcYKnSe1U4P8xCf7aUAYibeMgE/s1800/making%20friends.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwjhtwDfmp1DPIlmS-0afben-Y71bg6qaCw5BNqzNcGr7Br6o43E_rjTxkqsE7GGw5myB3W11jBgfM7A-rePt0pl7OUGW4s49Ah6XPMSLzUg8W8Ijn7VY-p-KpSZlXG2rcn-o5MvycRQGDnNDRcBBOd9F2Z5bg2jzfgwcYKnSe1U4P8xCf7aUAYibeMgE/s320/making%20friends.jpeg" width="256" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">making new friends whilst enduring torrential rain in the Gypeate </span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8N6orlJGuTy-cLx8vvubPrw568Su0_6pRXuhbkBaIfDaesHrXSoseSJcRYyz4oR4CmVge7f_uwl5URGuF31mbgxSxtJwQFg98db_lpb1pSvsLPYyauHj-UH4DTGAp4lUwpwl2q4PiVIkNmOth3UjF1zZ5GP1R4waejqrCZ4uAo4XWEF2HH7SsXSA8N2zM/s1800/vanoise.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8N6orlJGuTy-cLx8vvubPrw568Su0_6pRXuhbkBaIfDaesHrXSoseSJcRYyz4oR4CmVge7f_uwl5URGuF31mbgxSxtJwQFg98db_lpb1pSvsLPYyauHj-UH4DTGAp4lUwpwl2q4PiVIkNmOth3UjF1zZ5GP1R4waejqrCZ4uAo4XWEF2HH7SsXSA8N2zM/s320/vanoise.jpeg" width="256" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The final kms of the Vanoise </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Every month from the end of April I was running an event, starting with the Tour Du Mole 35kms and 3500m of climbing, The trail Du Gypeate 60km and 4200m of climbing and finishing with Tour du Vanoise 75kms and 4000m of climbing at the beginning of July. I am lucky that I did not need to travel very far to get to these races and each one of them belonged to the 'classic' mountain ultras in France. They were known for their technical difficulty, toughness but incredible beauty. Each one of them pushed me to my limits in every possible way. From wondering what the hell I was doing trying to do these brutal events whilst battling nerve pain in my legs during the Tour du Mole, to being rained and thundered on for the final four hours of the trail du Gypeate having to run down mud rivers in the final 6kms. The tour du Vanoise was supposed to be the 'easier' one, but with 100 out of 500 starters not finishing the race it was clear it was not a very easy one at all! The first 30kms I spend what I would call my version of trail running hell, having to navigate rock gardens the size of houses whilst enduring cold, wet, foggy weather with no views to enjoy at all. During all these three races however there was the side I loved so much and why I kept on going back doing events despite of my physical battles. There were the fellow sufferers who you would spend hours in silence with bonded through a shared passion. I have never come back from a race not making a new friend. There were the (literally) breath taking views after a tough oxygen zapping climbs making my mountain heart sing. And where movement was my friend after hours of shuffling through rough terrain, the nerve pain would dampen towards the end in every one of the races and I could finish strong satisfying my competitive side. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sY86se1iAbtgDaqBrEjw8oae0YX8nwsxsIPTK5clB4S0BvOlEd6oSCJt2PpDXKEAftK3VEioVeD3CxhZ4aUEpwHUjOjIDXPgtBb1vW6sVafKOV2Jf4r9e9dGO0fxixcyRUg5Z-Uv237B3UNWZVR7RdzzpttjF2sXsEd1TnxKuV4bWiqDhTgWBCrMaWJ6/s1800/mac%20bivvy.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sY86se1iAbtgDaqBrEjw8oae0YX8nwsxsIPTK5clB4S0BvOlEd6oSCJt2PpDXKEAftK3VEioVeD3CxhZ4aUEpwHUjOjIDXPgtBb1vW6sVafKOV2Jf4r9e9dGO0fxixcyRUg5Z-Uv237B3UNWZVR7RdzzpttjF2sXsEd1TnxKuV4bWiqDhTgWBCrMaWJ6/s320/mac%20bivvy.jpeg" width="256" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mac was guarding us all night during our bivvy at 2200m</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My final preparation for the CCC was a course recce with my best (human) friend Erin and my best (furry) friend Mac. The plan was 100kms over 3 days whilst carrying all we needed to camp out in nature. But I really wanted to do the full Tour du Mont Blanc which meant instead of 100kms, 160kms in 3 days. When I asked Erin what she thought (having never run a marathon before let alone 3 in a row with a loaded back pack at altitude) her response to me was 'I trust you'. Say. No. More.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixSFkYH8Jx8Osw1zZEt-JXVwBzn7CASfGwwevvno0Zf3oWI_OVqFIM82zt3PidqZvRbHmbQsBI4mFQO-ErWyNkThtNsTkpElKZOnzdiUAH--p2ntZfL3U5y2eyD3_jyhBqvug_4JU1jjD2IcxC1q1WYXnChX8Ic8ni34zsbLt5zM10taAAR-Ut0fU9Yo7A/s1440/erin%20and%20me.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixSFkYH8Jx8Osw1zZEt-JXVwBzn7CASfGwwevvno0Zf3oWI_OVqFIM82zt3PidqZvRbHmbQsBI4mFQO-ErWyNkThtNsTkpElKZOnzdiUAH--p2ntZfL3U5y2eyD3_jyhBqvug_4JU1jjD2IcxC1q1WYXnChX8Ic8ni34zsbLt5zM10taAAR-Ut0fU9Yo7A/s320/erin%20and%20me.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Erin has been there through the good, the bad and the ugly </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">No race will ever compare to the incredible 3 and a bit days Erin, Mac and I spent taking in all the beauty that comes with this iconic hiking route, running through France, Italy and Switzerland. Because of the added mileage we were under a bit of time pressure and I picked Erin up from the airport late afternoon to start running that Thursday evening and bag the first big climb before dark. We spent a very cold night sleeping out on the mountain at 2000m under a magical sky full of stars listening to numerous (somewhat alarming at times), animal sounds. Woken up by rain early morning we were relieved it was already 5am and we could start moving. This became our routine for the following days. We pushed in the quiet morning hours so we would be able to drop the pace in the afternoon when the legs started to feel tired and still finish at a reasonable time. We were lucky with amazing weather during the day but the afternoons turned wet and cold so we chose to stay in hotels instead of bivvying out. This meant we could have a hot shower, a hot meal and crawl tired but happy in our beds at 8pm to repeat it all again at 5am the next day. I am not sure how we pulled if off, with my painful body carrying a loaded backpack filled with Mac's kibble for three days along side my own kit and Erin had never eve run more than 30kms before let alone at altitude. But our mutual trust in each other made us embrace this mad little adventure and the sore shoulders, arms and legs that came with it. Mac in his own right became really popular on the trail and will be featuring in many holiday pictures all around the world! My little legend. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIF6W4gwAL-tYEgIEjNhC3r2bcPmpC-P4Erjav_IHdXbwQPIANLsqsJJGOzysu1hc4zJs8FC0m0gK8A-LkZ0j3hM8JaW-n5rR5mh4UPGHSKBL_zQU7iITTBg3wNcsM2bW1QnVnVG8OBQTjQlq2lqNW3T8h852nqVn45r-AXAqUbN_V1FkjHqnc0GkhSHaP/s1800/363394111_10161565111450961_3407774550305236039_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIF6W4gwAL-tYEgIEjNhC3r2bcPmpC-P4Erjav_IHdXbwQPIANLsqsJJGOzysu1hc4zJs8FC0m0gK8A-LkZ0j3hM8JaW-n5rR5mh4UPGHSKBL_zQU7iITTBg3wNcsM2bW1QnVnVG8OBQTjQlq2lqNW3T8h852nqVn45r-AXAqUbN_V1FkjHqnc0GkhSHaP/s320/363394111_10161565111450961_3407774550305236039_n.jpg" width="256" /></span></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Although I did not do it in a race setting, nor in one go, I did run the Tour du Mont Blanc like I said I would after being told I would never run again in 2017, and for that doing this with Erin who had been there all along the way over those years, felt extra special.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am days away from toeing the start line of the CCC on Friday the 1st of September and the only goal I have is the finish line. With the unpredictable nature of my pain symptoms I have no idea how the body will respond over a distance I have never run before. And when it comes to racing ultra endurance events there is never any guarantee. I do know however that I am as well prepared as I can be. More importantly my adventure with Erin and spending a week with my beautiful sister Martje has inspired my heart and soul more than ever to be brave, let go of my ego and give it everything I have, no matter how long it will take me or where I finish in the field, letting no room for negativity in my mind. I am here and I am doing it, against all odds.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img alt="May be an image of 2 people" class="x1bwycvy x193iq5w x4fas0m x19kjcj4" data-visualcompletion="media-vc-image" height="318" referrerpolicy="origin-when-cross-origin" src="https://scontent.flyn1-1.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/367717476_10161600212455961_95797174106420209_n.jpg?_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=8bfeb9&_nc_ohc=93GKbrXn8ykAX9xpD5R&_nc_ht=scontent.flyn1-1.fna&oh=00_AfA505VHCJnE1Dsv1ZVPfgmuyU0F8mvaSZvipq1k7Lbcpw&oe=64F31408" width="255" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLXRam2y_bgbjZN4XBTcfonpjc27HKC8EoW7H5av2HdVGGx6-kifusO69TjThOrD8KQVHdOPVm33MN5ieojkhkDvnv7kwIdiyvtMwZt0YqAbmsuTzy8eD_TU85mKjvGOYjQrOUUQpX02T6YS0GfXDrzlTNfuJCCnjLCm8KnIrs348PoMde8Qh1tgiglJa/s4032/IMG-4835.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLXRam2y_bgbjZN4XBTcfonpjc27HKC8EoW7H5av2HdVGGx6-kifusO69TjThOrD8KQVHdOPVm33MN5ieojkhkDvnv7kwIdiyvtMwZt0YqAbmsuTzy8eD_TU85mKjvGOYjQrOUUQpX02T6YS0GfXDrzlTNfuJCCnjLCm8KnIrs348PoMde8Qh1tgiglJa/s320/IMG-4835.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></p><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana; text-align: left;">As NZ triathlete and Olympic Medalist Hamish Carter used to say: Finishing is over the finish line.</span></p></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">A huge thanks to my coach Alex and Jimmy, to my physio Louise, my close friends, my beautiful sister Martje and off course Yann without who's support I would be nowhere. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And my last words of appreciation go to Rab, who is the one I want to make proud the most. I reckon this would blow his mind. He is the one who said yes I will help you when everyone said no. Missed for a year already but never forgotten. Thank you. </span></p><p><br /></p>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-8797730687740599112023-03-28T15:09:00.032-07:002023-03-29T13:59:23.883-07:00 Adamello Long Distance World Championships Ski Mountaineering; Accept and Commit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6k2MCAGarHTAGCPsN79qTaFJKIfJan3HXRcPQyrbJIEvk7llhXfLBhiWNZPid-QgBLVF7wGH5EWMxs7aJSQe9HnQnJdtsUDIEnv_Bbd1yfuSrFNokqPMfZScG98PRLXRKBA9voijBlbECSygcJgninIKriMjeWilIT4FyaXGrdsbUVazXh84SGjEbA/s1800/adamello6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="471" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6k2MCAGarHTAGCPsN79qTaFJKIfJan3HXRcPQyrbJIEvk7llhXfLBhiWNZPid-QgBLVF7wGH5EWMxs7aJSQe9HnQnJdtsUDIEnv_Bbd1yfuSrFNokqPMfZScG98PRLXRKBA9voijBlbECSygcJgninIKriMjeWilIT4FyaXGrdsbUVazXh84SGjEbA/w377-h471/adamello6.jpeg" width="377" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">After a restless night I woke up. I tried to sit upright and grabbed the side of the wall for support but the pain in my lower back and glutes was too intense and I laid back down. I pulled my knees up to my chest gently one by one to decompress my injured disc like my chiropractor told me to do. I could turn myself around now with my knees tucked under myself on my front. I rested for a moment. It was eight in the morning and I was already exhausted. Not helped by a stubborn cough and flu like symptoms which I had been battling for weeks. I pondered the why. This was not the physical state of an athlete. And an athlete I needed to be to be able to compete at World Cup level in ski mountaineering races with the first team of ski mountaineering athletes the Netherlands had put together. "what am I thinking" I spoke out loud. I pushed myself of the bed and waddled to the bathroom. It is just not happening this winter season. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">What was I trying to prove? I was now officially an "old (er)" athlete. So why did I always want to be with the very best. Why did I do this to myself once again. Why dealing with the disappointment of not performing at the level I knew I could and wanted to perform at. I knew this feeling all too well. I did not really have an answer for the why other than that quitting when things were hard, felt too easy.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfX5qIHkxIgXgQItpOlSHX8sys8-uLQNpnKJy_YLzoMFyQUZGII9t6uPg0WNOTgKJ7TC84wdteFeaHcj5UDJcUrU6jZpW4DEtLyWShKUAAccabYJxfLxLRbJ43RSaISh5xca9wPoG4sQfuTU_NHIr_lRxkAB7F1O8FzXAZOa7H_WnQ9Q0_nV6yir2LA/s1600/sunset2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfX5qIHkxIgXgQItpOlSHX8sys8-uLQNpnKJy_YLzoMFyQUZGII9t6uPg0WNOTgKJ7TC84wdteFeaHcj5UDJcUrU6jZpW4DEtLyWShKUAAccabYJxfLxLRbJ43RSaISh5xca9wPoG4sQfuTU_NHIr_lRxkAB7F1O8FzXAZOa7H_WnQ9Q0_nV6yir2LA/w295-h369/sunset2.jpeg" width="295" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Most of my fight was against my brain, settling down my over sensitive central nervous system. Reducing symptoms of persistent pain was a daily task even when symptoms were settled. This time however I injured a disc in Morocco adding to this daily challenge. But when I achieved it, when everything fell into place for even a single moment and I felt strong and pain free, it was the best feeling in the world. I was not willing to give up on this. Wether I chased extraordinary or not, my pain levels would be the same. Chasing extraordinary however gave me the bigger reward. That was my Why.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I am the happiest in races where athletes excel when they have a sense for adventure, an athletic ability and a skillset more advanced than others rather than pure physical talent. These are generally technical mountain sports like mountain biking, adventure races, mountain running and ski mountaineering is probably the toughest of them all. It was love at first sight for me but oh man how this sporting discipline has eaten me alive and spat me out! Beating me up mentally and physically on a daily basis during the winter months in the last couple of years!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">After I canceled the world cups my whole season turned into a time trial to get my disc solid enough to race the Ademello Ski Raid in Italy which counted as the long distance world championships. When my female team mate pulled out two weeks before the event my heart broke in two. May be this was a sign. It was really not meant to be this year. The problem was that I did not believe in signs, nothing in my life had been straight forward. Ever. One of my previous employers once said to me, your existence is consistently inconsistent and it stuck with me. So I decided to see it as an opportunity. I asked Yann to be my team mate. I knew that with his experience I would learn bucket loads and although we would be competing in the male category since mixed teams were not acknowledged, it lit a new fire in me to give this race all I had to give even if I was not going to be at my best. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There were two cut off times we had to make in order to complete the full distance, one was after the first climb of 1300m and the other one at half of the distance. I had only one plan and that was to race as hard as possible to half way point because these cut off times at world class level are not for the faint hearted nor for beginners, which realistically I was!</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJAulRjhNbUVgE7z-b1ScnSmiYNOoJY31C_Ls4zelwCqeEIAUEZmEVJxXnaSqZjw54gkLk27JCh-9J-OOWlSvFqrjT5eaAHIJHd63abcJL60OCwjjRppnNN3THDaIexDDVPUxVxuwJhpsyhtr-eT9ShL0-nrhpzGqPW4o2zv7-vcYEehllWbD5N686Aw/s1800/adamello2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJAulRjhNbUVgE7z-b1ScnSmiYNOoJY31C_Ls4zelwCqeEIAUEZmEVJxXnaSqZjw54gkLk27JCh-9J-OOWlSvFqrjT5eaAHIJHd63abcJL60OCwjjRppnNN3THDaIexDDVPUxVxuwJhpsyhtr-eT9ShL0-nrhpzGqPW4o2zv7-vcYEehllWbD5N686Aw/s320/adamello2.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">suffering</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">After eating a lot of pizza, pasta, cheese (we were in Italy after all) and having a mild panic attack thinking we (me) had forgotten half of the compulsory equipment (including a climbing rope) which in the end was all found in the van, it was finally time to race.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Normally Yann was hard to wake before 9am on any given day but we were both right awake before the alarm went off at 4am. The atmosphere at the start was electric. I had become a fan of the stars of this sports some of whom where Yann's friends. So I found myself star struck trying to focus on what was about to begin. Staying positive and finishing over the finish line were the only goals I had. As the gun went off I was expecting to be left for dead but as we began the first climb, we were well placed and making the cut off times was never in any doubt.</span></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXV_oPcT11Om0tOzuKLeXKo5gZ9hLZeDRa5F26c0h5oX5hR5v_ze54vFLEug-tHBbljkuNv3r3ybWfqhiuvOXwEK34pc5rscMZJmsanLcOudSe7irREaZ67Ir6JEofrRIayZ2iMkb9etPKoMJWORNmsIUO1fMnIWcSxKt2nSOV8_8PVCbH1cHYR0e7JA/s1800/adamello.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXV_oPcT11Om0tOzuKLeXKo5gZ9hLZeDRa5F26c0h5oX5hR5v_ze54vFLEug-tHBbljkuNv3r3ybWfqhiuvOXwEK34pc5rscMZJmsanLcOudSe7irREaZ67Ir6JEofrRIayZ2iMkb9etPKoMJWORNmsIUO1fMnIWcSxKt2nSOV8_8PVCbH1cHYR0e7JA/s320/adamello.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">getting ready on the start line at 5.30am</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQfGtYMqu587FtofeTSJ35hwSQNt3D3gGu2d0TrA8nk8xr2-w0wOHElG114z9tksEh6NfnwvHIcjfxPVcOPOEZXMYkmptxKU9Tc5-WbW2xxi3f20wjwsTbegn3bYxtSQxXf_ESZjby-ForifxrqJnQEIuRKT4GchLQVDxgJb9pjKveWIx3MTrlSQXCA/s1800/adamello3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQfGtYMqu587FtofeTSJ35hwSQNt3D3gGu2d0TrA8nk8xr2-w0wOHElG114z9tksEh6NfnwvHIcjfxPVcOPOEZXMYkmptxKU9Tc5-WbW2xxi3f20wjwsTbegn3bYxtSQxXf_ESZjby-ForifxrqJnQEIuRKT4GchLQVDxgJb9pjKveWIx3MTrlSQXCA/s320/adamello3.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">frozen hands and altitude makes Via Ferrata a lot harder than it should be!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">From getting blinded by stormy snow flakes to bright sunshine the weather was ever changing. Winds were strong and cold on exposed parts of the course turning us into ice cubes. The crowds all along especially on the mountain passes were amazing. As soon as spectators and volunteers saw I was female their cheering became louder "Brava, brava, brava" they shouted. I would try to smile as much as I could. The first downhill was a slalom through a rock garden on a plaque of ice, not ideal for me! It felt like there was no end to it! After a couple of pirouhettes and one somersault trying to keep up with Yann I was happy to attack the second climb. From a distance we saw a small group of people on the track, Yann looked back at me. An athlete on the ground, yellow Scarpa ski-boots sticking out from under a survival blanket, someone performing CPR. The man's skin looked blue. I hyperventilated. With his experience as a ski patroller Yann offered to help. We were told to keep going and that a helicopter was on the way. "He is dead" I said to Yann, my voice trembling. I struggled to get my head around it. "He is dead" I mumbled. The course got technical again and I had no choice but to focus back on the race. "Nothing we can do" I thought to myself.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Suffering from the altitude and our fast start I did not feel to great the second half of the course. Feeling the lack of oxygen at 3400m altitude, breathing heavily, nauseous and dizzy, I focused on Yann's skis in front of me and kept moving forward as fast as I could. But oh how beautiful it was skiing over glaciers and scrambling high over rocky ridge lines. The incredible views when the sun burned its way through the clouds. The cheers of the volunteers motivated me to keep pushing. Yann and I worked together as a well oiled machine which gave me energy when I needed it the most. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRNe_hOxud41ztlWa5L2AnNXyyXRblaYmrlNUZsPACxoHxpB1I53ZZsT4u6mpZK9qui4R-vnX_h83C0srzSH7UyV0KlE-J8pHOqCOgkTsZ32GnaRupJH_Gbl26OuR9IvYGfeToCj5SJr-wrkE6-psO-a4mp4MkktuDbKz9DB4rEAmfcPwo6Zt7jBMevA/s320/adamello5.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="256" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">running on ski boots </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRNe_hOxud41ztlWa5L2AnNXyyXRblaYmrlNUZsPACxoHxpB1I53ZZsT4u6mpZK9qui4R-vnX_h83C0srzSH7UyV0KlE-J8pHOqCOgkTsZ32GnaRupJH_Gbl26OuR9IvYGfeToCj5SJr-wrkE6-psO-a4mp4MkktuDbKz9DB4rEAmfcPwo6Zt7jBMevA/s1800/adamello5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"> </a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial;">When we were on the last downhill my legs were dead. A1650m descent is a dream for good skiers. That is not me. However snow conditions up high were amazing. We skied down very beautiful, steep and technical couloirs. As we descended lower the snow got tougher and tougher to ski and my legs were burning. In the last 6kms or so we started a run over steep slippy trail due to the lack of snow. Running on rigid ski boots with skis on our backs was not something I had done before. But the thought of the finish line made my heart sing. We did it. With 400m to go Yann grabbed my hand. All smiles. 8 hours. 40kms. 3400m ascend. We were far from last. Feeling of happiness. Fulfilment. Feeling of accomplishment. Despite the setbacks this winter, I had accepted where I was at and stayed committed. Which in the end led to success. Finishing this race was no small feat. I did something extraordinary together with Yann which made it even more special. This was my why. Never give up on something you cannot go a day without thinking about. My why; a</span><span style="font-family: arial;">lthough my dreams and aspirations might disappear into thin air, the chase is worth the journey. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUsyXV8Quvu-WMZxBFSrLUZMyfBPtCOiSQyUW0pTA2xO5CYeIz5yX9aT2Q3FzKzbcAj3ujiMUi5ZbFp3SJr6GW2hLXt3fw7oExD18htZ7UwK4or1mAMkOC8Dl9bJBTyZvGp_xacQJOVNkOjtESjFDLFmjOBl4nmQF11PhRi_h_Sktkmk_IJMQN1wvbrA/s1800/skiadamello.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUsyXV8Quvu-WMZxBFSrLUZMyfBPtCOiSQyUW0pTA2xO5CYeIz5yX9aT2Q3FzKzbcAj3ujiMUi5ZbFp3SJr6GW2hLXt3fw7oExD18htZ7UwK4or1mAMkOC8Dl9bJBTyZvGp_xacQJOVNkOjtESjFDLFmjOBl4nmQF11PhRi_h_Sktkmk_IJMQN1wvbrA/s320/skiadamello.jpeg" width="256" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Huge thanks to the organisers the volunteers, to Yann, to my friends, my work buddies, my coaches over the years and my support network, chasing dreams is what it is all about.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>"Every morning you have two choices, continue to sleep with your dreams, or wake up and chase them"</i></b></span></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">Later that day we found out that the athlete in question Omar Ferrero died from a cardiac arrest whilst doing what he loved doing. A tragic ending to an otherwise perfect event. My thoughts go out to his friends and family.</span></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-1092500765687365672023-01-30T07:59:00.014-08:002023-01-31T10:53:30.974-08:00The aftermath of the Atlas Mountain race and diving into the winter season <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsSqm4PSVcfc0QDujOBfgyDzvmUqSczbUuQAG0JLDiX0KMprwWAyFHPfaU6kV-7Hw9omDf3a8WfHdrUqH0yWGt8egD0Modw_bVB2YgsIesIXw2XqcCS-KNIrE0wAq_Bwusw-3KP0MbOgAK3YibNFiRDeL0sNeiQeZmuEdltVkfUxYp1XdokageW2mow/s1024/image_6483441-14.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsSqm4PSVcfc0QDujOBfgyDzvmUqSczbUuQAG0JLDiX0KMprwWAyFHPfaU6kV-7Hw9omDf3a8WfHdrUqH0yWGt8egD0Modw_bVB2YgsIesIXw2XqcCS-KNIrE0wAq_Bwusw-3KP0MbOgAK3YibNFiRDeL0sNeiQeZmuEdltVkfUxYp1XdokageW2mow/w347-h462/image_6483441-14.JPG" width="347" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Recently a friend of mine send me an interesting article about the health risks associated with endurance cycling and whether organisers should be responsible for pulling injured riders out of the race. There were also comments made about it being irresponsible applauding athletes pushing themselves to the absolute limits which have serious consequences to their health and celebrating these efforts on social media. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue;">We are three months on from the Atlas Mountain race in Morocco and both my hands still have tingly sensations from associated nerve damage. I still have major problems with my neck after experiencing Shermer’s neck and I currently struggle riding my bike for more than a couple of hours. The pressure I put on my spine by tieing my helmet to my backpack in order to keep racing has caused disc related symptoms in my lower back and pelvis which makes me look like an 100yo granny when I get up in the morning. Running is not much more than a shuffle at present. I already suffer from a sensitised central nervous system resulting in persistent pain and unfortunately the Atlas Mountain Race has caused a significant setback. </span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As I am someone who is always preparing for the next thing, which in this case for me is the ski alpinism season in the French Alps, this setback has caused a lot of frustration. And then we are not even talking about the accumulated fatigue trying to function normally with a body which is continuously aching everywhere. Although the winter season is my favourite of all, I haven’t been the most pleasant person to be around in the last couple of months. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-VlITj4p2KB2pfLPb1ZtuvNlaWlJ-7nk2Ez2XpF3bzjh-5L5J5WCtVXVfi964vM-CC5lvpnrZP3ZmuiqQBFE7xKa7CM8rdjUfg1SKS75rjpzSojdfzcbXE0eQZJk2dgj4OqP5cbObo4owRZ0qVJ-12OsPwnXBsX3JrzCQQVEvQY3Ixala4E5-KRUdQ/s2048/image_6483441-16.JPG" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-VlITj4p2KB2pfLPb1ZtuvNlaWlJ-7nk2Ez2XpF3bzjh-5L5J5WCtVXVfi964vM-CC5lvpnrZP3ZmuiqQBFE7xKa7CM8rdjUfg1SKS75rjpzSojdfzcbXE0eQZJk2dgj4OqP5cbObo4owRZ0qVJ-12OsPwnXBsX3JrzCQQVEvQY3Ixala4E5-KRUdQ/s320/image_6483441-16.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">my favourite season </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After a disappointing performance in my first ski alpinism race of the season, I decided to seek some help and landed with a well respected local chiropractor. “Let me start with that I can help you” he said to me after examination, followed by “but you have to accept that you are injured and it is impossible to perform at your best like this” . I find it very difficult to make excuses for myself, it is always easier for me to think I am not good enough and need to train harder than to accept injury or other factors in my life influencing performance. Hearing these words was good for me. I needed to accept that this was the state I was in and that I needed to work on getting better again.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am going into my third ski season and my second season of ski alpinism races after having done only a handful of events last year. I dream of racing La Pierra Menta, a 4 day technical ski alpinism race in pairs with the best athletes in the world being selected to race. I supported Yann and his team mate and friend Antoine last year and it is a sport which literally makes me feel fire in my belly. I want to be able to master this discipline which will keep me occupied until I am officially to old to do anything.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTThjfkOr28psmW1dghZgCp70czR0NIkJhtLD54aNAIGOuF-TYLFjYkyQhsCylkp5wZD9nIqfS1uapU674iifOPieWFMZk01FtZYo1CljQQ12Rfr9hJ_ZcGD70FBpUGooPnnuZf6S_d10lkA6gqNuSgEqOiOoJE3WHrCEox_aAmwBmKnECGjChAmDGg/s1920/image_6483441-18.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTThjfkOr28psmW1dghZgCp70czR0NIkJhtLD54aNAIGOuF-TYLFjYkyQhsCylkp5wZD9nIqfS1uapU674iifOPieWFMZk01FtZYo1CljQQ12Rfr9hJ_ZcGD70FBpUGooPnnuZf6S_d10lkA6gqNuSgEqOiOoJE3WHrCEox_aAmwBmKnECGjChAmDGg/s320/image_6483441-18.JPG" width="256" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="font-family: -webkit-standard;" /></span><p></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For people who do not know, ski alpinism involves climbing mountains on skis or carrying your skis on your back depending on steepness and technical terrain and then descending those mountains on skis. The races are elitist, as you need to be able to move fast to get to tight check points on time. This is to reduce the risks of getting competitors caught in avalanches later in the afternoon. It involves back country skiing down steep technical slopes with all sort of different snow conditions, from deep soft powder, to crust, ice or thigh burning heavy sticky white stuff which does not resemble much to the snow find on piste in ski resorts! Because of the amount of climbing in these races, equipment used is as light as possible. This means descending on what can be described as noodle skis and ski boots which can move almost in every direction! Anyone who skis will know this does not feel the most reassuring going down steep gradients at high speeds. There is a lot of technique involved, having to change over from climbing to skiing and back again. Putting crampons on your boots and putting your skis on your back, using Via Ferrata equipment to “run” and scramble over exposed ridge lines attached to a rope with one hand and holding on to your ski poles for dear life (you do not want to lose them of the side of the mountain!) with the other hand. Although a good set of lungs, legs and a healthy heart is very beneficial, athletes who have it technically nailed will surpass ones who are physically more talented. It is a sport which blew my mind last year and has me dreaming of big things this year. But it is oh so tough. I have so much respect for especially the badass women in it who literally match it up with the men, with their grit, determination, incredible courage and skills to move through the mountains on skis as fast as they do it at.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Last year I attempted the Belle Etoile, a two day ski alpinism race which is a qualifying event for the bigger races such as La Pierra Menta. Due to lack of experience and skills my team mate and I did not finish on the big course due to not making the cut off times. Never the less the feeling of racing in this crazy ski discipline was an incredible adventure to witness first hand.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This year I was teaming up with Laetitia, a talented trail runner, who although not born in the mountains had a lot more experience in ski alpinism than I had but it was her first season racing. With my neck and back problems I made sure I would not make matters physically worse for myself lining up to race. Again my chiropractor reinforced to me “you can race but you are injured and simply will not be able to be at your best” </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I gave Laetitia the choice to race with someone more competitive than me but we decided that finishing on the main course would be our objective and it being Laetitia's first race it was fine with her.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="text-align: center;" /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfGK-hrAqeS4RdPbKecS8otXR2xssvpONkndh0BnY6N57FE5fKdywWfbMwM7DhgHPWFJ0ByPCi7yCfApZ5jGhs_SmpITC3FDTA6PAC61SHmtDHxa8BfjiS9ZKxPI0FAbr9zendKyb3jrE7DEfvcN4q7tZVvKv8f9E6E3f0uEUJLG3IMMrIPb7TMoRSg/s320/image_6483441-15.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="256" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going at full speed at the start</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfGK-hrAqeS4RdPbKecS8otXR2xssvpONkndh0BnY6N57FE5fKdywWfbMwM7DhgHPWFJ0ByPCi7yCfApZ5jGhs_SmpITC3FDTA6PAC61SHmtDHxa8BfjiS9ZKxPI0FAbr9zendKyb3jrE7DEfvcN4q7tZVvKv8f9E6E3f0uEUJLG3IMMrIPb7TMoRSg/s1600/image_6483441-15.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></a></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This year the Belle Etoile designed an even more technical and bigger course to match the type of racing of its big brother La Pierra Manta. The organisation was faultless, the atmosphere buzzing, the mountains spectacular and although I am always someone who will be disappointed in my own performance when it is not at it's best, it was hard to be disappointed finishing a tough event like this. With 2700m of climbing, around 24 different transitions and a million kick turns it was a race which had it all and was suited to the technically flawless amongst us. (Not me!) It is always difficult to adjust to a new team mate and being the weaker link this was not easy for me! We had some equipment malfunction, some short lived hissy fits (me), transitions which did not go very smooth (again me), but overall we could be happy with how we managed all of it together.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I did feel the strain of a big and tough day that evening. I really dislike the feeling of not knowing if my body will show up the next day. I cannot control the amount of pain `I will be in and it robs me of my confidence. I find it the most difficult to deal with. In the morning I told Laetitia my doubts “just do your best” she answered. And so I did. We worked a lot better and positively together. Laetitia’s strength motivated me to keep pushing, my kick turns became smoother and although I made a lot of mistakes in transitions, Laetitia helped me get faster, made sure I ate, drank and that we kept moving forward. Unlike other teams our time on the second day was significantly faster than the first day. With less climbing this was to be expected but the difference between day 1 and 2 for us was more than significant compared to other teams!</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Incredibly happy to finish the Belle Etoile with Laetitia and with a 12th place in the female pairs against some absolute machines we did not embarrass ourselves either. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW-6ReW7jRmjBQ35dE33WancPlEBEPW-EMOt3D4Z_cgZRM1F1yYLshVE7V-gEwsDT4tlwxUI7jWQSqLKge-Xx8wMlqh8cugsUriP4WYpFGsMVkPyYziKbiFe3KfDY7oGBop3_BHffeA364TNQs4sSi6zNERYAXAxPAmp7hWiYjwNPe_ayPPEF3tcUxw/s1600/image_6483441-13.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW-6ReW7jRmjBQ35dE33WancPlEBEPW-EMOt3D4Z_cgZRM1F1yYLshVE7V-gEwsDT4tlwxUI7jWQSqLKge-Xx8wMlqh8cugsUriP4WYpFGsMVkPyYziKbiFe3KfDY7oGBop3_BHffeA364TNQs4sSi6zNERYAXAxPAmp7hWiYjwNPe_ayPPEF3tcUxw/s320/image_6483441-13.JPG" width="256" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">going down at high speeds on noodle skis </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I asked myself the question that if I knew what the aftermath of the Atlas Mountain race would be like, if I would have pushed as hard as I did to finish. Or if I would have liked the organisers to make that decision for me. I came to this conclusion; I believe we are adults, we are endurance athletes and suffering is what we know and love best. I would not want to have missed the amazing experience I had in Morocco with Katie. It was my choice to carry on when physically everything was failing and I do not believe the organisation should be held responsible for that. Neither would I have appreciated being pulled out of the race by organisers. Personally I do respect and reward mental strength and look up at athletes who have that ability to dig deep in endless amounts. My team mate for the AMR, Katie, is one of them. And as long as it feels inspiring to me, I will applaud these type of athletes on social media. We live in a society where people want life to be too easy and whilst at it have someone to blame when it goes all wrong. Endurance events are not easy, they should not be easy, the responsibility for when things do not go according to plan lays with the athletes preparation and knowing exactly what they are getting themselves into, which is not that hard to find out.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWbW42qfrOKmkQtWx4VcmCzjQfzy87__2pGm25tuw9aPE0XVVFNv9KYRatfDbMfN85N3GB2d2Y5uan0Ub5TNNCXslLvvrWPa49EjqmzTMt08Rf2FRdf7GPZDuDY137CLaQD_mC9SZM4wjAY2XK0aCWtsOOLwjTQHGuIR2aSN4ujSmvWsdvtzqPkLkVQ/s1024/image_6483441-17.JPG" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1010" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWbW42qfrOKmkQtWx4VcmCzjQfzy87__2pGm25tuw9aPE0XVVFNv9KYRatfDbMfN85N3GB2d2Y5uan0Ub5TNNCXslLvvrWPa49EjqmzTMt08Rf2FRdf7GPZDuDY137CLaQD_mC9SZM4wjAY2XK0aCWtsOOLwjTQHGuIR2aSN4ujSmvWsdvtzqPkLkVQ/s320/image_6483441-17.JPG" width="316" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> sharing tough moments with Katie </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Therefore the only thing I would change now, is my preparation. I did not give the AMR the respect it deserved. I would make sure my body was ready for what I was about to ask it to do. When I traversed Nepal on the mountain bike I prepared 10 months for it with my coach James. And my body showed up day in day out. For that reason I decided to team up with my old Organicoach friends Alex and Nico to help me improve as a ski alpinist and also going into the trail running season in the Summer. I have an entry in the CCC a 100km mountain ultra which is part of the famous UTMB festival. Unfortunately James is not the one who can get me ready for those type of races but he will be always someone `I will seek advise from and when I get back on the bike he will be my man. (if he still wants me)</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1125" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4YVuJpnH_3d1cZPE87LylITjTDEAuIhqBj0epDEn4v5rorfZ1sqLsRdI_w2TSL6Q9asI2kotiaMkiPFPhm1Ok7jma5e6DaaeHtc62cHjN6F2rbw_6E_nyeO3wJGlbBydcBZ-9v9my-qYK1HIsTEZcwwrfUyKW_KdJMtlPMoWFDAqLbbVkuHFpSCLzA/s320/image_6487327-4.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of the people I admire for mental toughness</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4YVuJpnH_3d1cZPE87LylITjTDEAuIhqBj0epDEn4v5rorfZ1sqLsRdI_w2TSL6Q9asI2kotiaMkiPFPhm1Ok7jma5e6DaaeHtc62cHjN6F2rbw_6E_nyeO3wJGlbBydcBZ-9v9my-qYK1HIsTEZcwwrfUyKW_KdJMtlPMoWFDAqLbbVkuHFpSCLzA/s1125/image_6487327-4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br style="font-family: -webkit-standard;" /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But first `I need some time to get my body back on track. I need to focus on structured and repetitive training to settle my central nervous system and aim towards some big races a bit later in the season. A little bit down because of this but never out!</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A huge thanks to Laetitia for helping me achieve something which I doubted I could do! Watch out girls, this one will be on your heals soon!</span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i><b><span style="font-size: medium;">"surround yourself with the dreamers and the doers, the believers and thinkers but most of all surround yourself with those who see greatness in you" </span></b></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><br /><p></p>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-86093216298779556942022-10-20T05:46:00.004-07:002022-10-23T07:06:38.448-07:00The Atlas Mountain Race; A suffer fest under a sky full of stars <p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZ72b7iNsmsE1CTxH0zvHcpiVYZFOPdBANIzDwwfl4oIBnBXHBHLUY8y9-GSefApvCxJS5mzGr8X1a9zyGn_gC3qy4yyuUqOGnFpvo8zQEHJhayDDqN3CWvS1VSYe8d5xlhUV3RlU8EhMaudr-AdWYLhNCZQ1nJAmSh4g575nPWGdCZeWMuiuEM0sRg/s1125/9EAAC1B7-5549-4CDF-A80A-B53E22DD9721.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="1125" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZ72b7iNsmsE1CTxH0zvHcpiVYZFOPdBANIzDwwfl4oIBnBXHBHLUY8y9-GSefApvCxJS5mzGr8X1a9zyGn_gC3qy4yyuUqOGnFpvo8zQEHJhayDDqN3CWvS1VSYe8d5xlhUV3RlU8EhMaudr-AdWYLhNCZQ1nJAmSh4g575nPWGdCZeWMuiuEM0sRg/w500-h330/9EAAC1B7-5549-4CDF-A80A-B53E22DD9721.jpeg" width="500" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Whilst I am writing this my hands still feel numb and tingly and every now and then I loose control over the effort I am typing at, knocking things of my desk in the process. I keep on changing position on my chair to relieve the saddle sores on my bum. My feet are as tingly as my hands and my vision is somewhat blurred fighting off the fatigue from last week. Yet my mind is buzzing, my heart is filled with joy, my passion for racing has returned in a way I never thought it could and I am patiently awaiting Nelson’s news of a new race next year in Greece. </div></span></div><p></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">When Katie asked me to join her on this adventure for the 2020 edition we had ambitious plans. With my racing back ground I would help her get into race mode. With a practice bike packing trip planned, Katie would teach me all about logistics, strategies and fast transitions to get us riding at the pointy end of the field of the Atlas Mountain race. Covid happened however and all our well intended ideas went out of the window. Life got in the way and before we knew it it was two weeks before heading to Morocco and we had still never ridden together.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZtIzDWf5SelcXMyyd-KcE2XhQOvcTdilUK9MUSkZ49mTtjgW3o9bvQK0a5N6EgVCUUgQagsqBxcQ2lwJe33LPM3rhDR8piym3_uFFQiuCm3mlE-DsTw3hGfHKznypggRgmGxVvE52d5hHRxXWkRQBhBnRICh36AHsWe463YTr3sJ49KqzxLG6M60Sw/s1800/image_6483441-9.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZtIzDWf5SelcXMyyd-KcE2XhQOvcTdilUK9MUSkZ49mTtjgW3o9bvQK0a5N6EgVCUUgQagsqBxcQ2lwJe33LPM3rhDR8piym3_uFFQiuCm3mlE-DsTw3hGfHKznypggRgmGxVvE52d5hHRxXWkRQBhBnRICh36AHsWe463YTr3sJ49KqzxLG6M60Sw/s320/image_6483441-9.JPG" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">waiting for the start</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;">I found Katie on the internet. She had a brilliant kit list for the Silk Road Mountain race and I contacted her for some advise for my Nepal expedition where I was traversing the high Himalayas from West to East by bike in 2019. Where other big female names in the bike packing community had ignored my messages, Katie responded with openness and enthusiasm. She was happy to share her endless experiences as an adventurer with me, in such a passionate way it resonated. I trusted her instantly. And with that instant trust we developed a friendship which was based on honesty and transparency which quickly turned her into one of my favourite people.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">This winter was the first winter for many years that my turbo trainer collected a layer of dust and my bikes had not seen the light of day. Instead I had thrown myself into my first season of ski Alpinism racing and I used all my spare hours around work to improve my skills on skis. When the days started to get longer and the snow left the mountains, my motivation to get on the bike was lacking and instead I filled my summer with ultra mountain running events and used the bike as my recovery. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4ewt-SJwYBDxKxRbipJrRO-e6mmfzEb18GcMB04RyiXFkOdhKrKPX7ZmfYnOYbmkioFYc42d_9uqBGiXbidggCii0fl3NbBdOWM8gcMioYIRl_tg4af4Po-DxOgP-mwRD72svirtfxIVIWv50cCkVUz_dlnhv0FHCBHQxukxadr-Eepn2Ct9C7Wqmg/s4032/IMG_9084.HEIC" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4ewt-SJwYBDxKxRbipJrRO-e6mmfzEb18GcMB04RyiXFkOdhKrKPX7ZmfYnOYbmkioFYc42d_9uqBGiXbidggCii0fl3NbBdOWM8gcMioYIRl_tg4af4Po-DxOgP-mwRD72svirtfxIVIWv50cCkVUz_dlnhv0FHCBHQxukxadr-Eepn2Ct9C7Wqmg/s320/IMG_9084.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">staying feminine in a man's world! <br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Because the Atlas Mountain race had been postponed so many times I had not given it any thought. I was a little bit over confident, I knew on paper I was a stronger rider than Katie and with her summer being taken up by her guiding qualification I felt no urgency to actually train for it. Oh boy did I misjudge the strength required to simply complete these type of events before the tireless snail eats you up and spits you out. Although my legs, heart and lungs were never under enormous amount of pressure, my hands, feet, arms, neck, back and most of all my brain were challenged in a way they had never been challenged before. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Arriving in Morocco a few days before the race we were sucked into a false sense of security. We got a few rides in, checked our kit and recovered from life in the fast lane. I shared a room with Belgium super mum Katrien Desmet and after 5 minutes it felt like we had known each other for years. Katrien did us all proud finishing 3rd female with saddle sores so bad they needed surgery post race!</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDVAG48J9Fz47IWXOSnhnZ2PSa7F52XOiC7A_x00gW7NEkfiN66MEw8Kn7dCYslv8nlIi3hhHY9HtdGybmPhCwyjvyGj-igln6oMHkCpxk5ZDFYUvjddNItS4cR4sNhA7J_Va9kil7kb17Se4vPX3pBKk4okLxJJqVkVI4ajXPVqkyN8fF_F0yQW5-Fw/s3088/IMG_9092.HEIC" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDVAG48J9Fz47IWXOSnhnZ2PSa7F52XOiC7A_x00gW7NEkfiN66MEw8Kn7dCYslv8nlIi3hhHY9HtdGybmPhCwyjvyGj-igln6oMHkCpxk5ZDFYUvjddNItS4cR4sNhA7J_Va9kil7kb17Se4vPX3pBKk4okLxJJqVkVI4ajXPVqkyN8fF_F0yQW5-Fw/s320/IMG_9092.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">meeting Katrien and becoming besties in less than 5min<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: medium; text-align: justify;">Just before Katie and I rolled out onto this epic adventure I was told these type of races could break friendships. And as the first two days unfolded it became clear that our strengths as a pair were not in anyway suited to each other. Where my natural endurance pace and mountain bike skills were more advanced than Katie’s, it was her ability to ride for literally hours on end without needing a mental break and her efficiency off the bike which was second to none. Simply put, we were slowing each other down. </span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I had never ridden my bike for longer than 15 hours, ever. I had no experience with night riding or sleep deprivation (other than my experiences as a veterinarian on duty). I could not keep my mind occupied because I was not used to the slower riding pace. My inefficiency off the bike meant I had only time to either eat something or do the million little jobs needing doing to keep things organised, not both at once like Katie could. Trying to keep up with her flawless routine made me feel continuously rushed. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBFwU1MxgbKw-tXPdXKewxuC9aAO3PMjnTe1AcKD4p0_U6fXxjCp4-gZe40PUpMYVy85H0qPvvhbDuTDDmPdKZsvYTbkkaLtG2LYgBHJPUwuAEmJGbnDDvQUtm8VtSFSiLkGYFcwqd2I_Gycma_QRIvTv85fNZAmvCRe87INeYgY6w0W7ugCdQeXMGg/s1589/image_6483441-10.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1589" data-original-width="1275" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBFwU1MxgbKw-tXPdXKewxuC9aAO3PMjnTe1AcKD4p0_U6fXxjCp4-gZe40PUpMYVy85H0qPvvhbDuTDDmPdKZsvYTbkkaLtG2LYgBHJPUwuAEmJGbnDDvQUtm8VtSFSiLkGYFcwqd2I_Gycma_QRIvTv85fNZAmvCRe87INeYgY6w0W7ugCdQeXMGg/s320/image_6483441-10.JPG" width="257" /></a></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">In the first couple of days I developed ulcers in my mouth and sores on my lips from lack of proper nutrition. My saddle sores were bubbling through my shorts leaving crusty muck on my bike seat. I lost power in my hands and my fingers start to feel funny. My feet were a mess and my calves were already covered in cuts and bruises. We endured deafening thunder storms all around us whilst hiking down a boulder covered donkey trail in the pitch black on our first day. We slept under a ledge of a building surrounded by barking dogs to hide from the rain because we decided not to take the outer cover off the little tent we shared. We came across a Czech rider in the early morning hours who had lost everything (except his sense of humour) in heavy river floods. Only to be found again by fellow riders a few km’s lower down. We were not even 300kms in and my brain was blown. How on earth would I last for another 900kms???</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">At 2am on the third day I was not coping and Katie and I had an honest chat. We had to reset our goals. The question “what are we here for” was simply answered by “to have an adventure” And as a pair we needed to start functioning like one. From there on in, so we did.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2BymvZCM0NtUSk7c6YNJ4mwRXMsKTyn4P-Z5XYMdZgRHg5HOEJYKBh7LduqopzDtK8TyzbMFKDKmIs-GlSxdHzE6ZeHRErvlS99WsMdNisPTREs5ZpBroCPMeoVYFGtIWVXVFO_qgMLLyTAQMNQF8jF0BnWJ-DEOfmwkU3ziWPjHluazikQjw2PLHQ/s4032/IMG_9155.HEIC" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2BymvZCM0NtUSk7c6YNJ4mwRXMsKTyn4P-Z5XYMdZgRHg5HOEJYKBh7LduqopzDtK8TyzbMFKDKmIs-GlSxdHzE6ZeHRErvlS99WsMdNisPTREs5ZpBroCPMeoVYFGtIWVXVFO_qgMLLyTAQMNQF8jF0BnWJ-DEOfmwkU3ziWPjHluazikQjw2PLHQ/s320/IMG_9155.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Where I tried to ride at a pace to keep Katie insight and motivate her to stay on my wheel and follow my lines, Katie would fit in extra breaks or let me stare in the distance for 10 minutes if she felt I needed it. I started to get the hang of getting things done quicker when we were stopping to get food and Katie pushed herself to ride terrain she would probably normally walk. Including smashing one of the more technical descents with a locked fork! I loved looking back and seeing her smile when she nailed a trail section. As a mountain biker I highly enjoyed the more technical parts of the race. Even when I misjudged the weight on my bike due to the added bags, causing for a few landings onto unfortunate surfaces like cactus plants or badly situated sharp rocks. Adding a few extra scars to my already battered looking legs.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_W9eMCUZ5P7pt7WAvMbi8b4yt3CuWR-VNXpTHiQYAeXjIcjoT1aSV8inmHG0xDrfZSEeDbD-7CdheKCotBPu_Aul414G00UmG7HDIHHyc7nOEQ2PPemzeWGBo3KQrSKWLgLq3RlvrRxjgsE6zxMRGSl1dobHhJTPUUY7EJ7qmnwgm54XFE8VIxfuVUQ/s4032/IMG_9130.HEIC" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_W9eMCUZ5P7pt7WAvMbi8b4yt3CuWR-VNXpTHiQYAeXjIcjoT1aSV8inmHG0xDrfZSEeDbD-7CdheKCotBPu_Aul414G00UmG7HDIHHyc7nOEQ2PPemzeWGBo3KQrSKWLgLq3RlvrRxjgsE6zxMRGSl1dobHhJTPUUY7EJ7qmnwgm54XFE8VIxfuVUQ/s320/IMG_9130.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTCQPNVKK8LmL7EDDGWHmSNM38l1DnzjRqix9tIFPlcCR7EiN5BEFqgNSFpTTE3aigVgvbfxJ7n-6aYHk4zX3JG44aN2I6cO1eC8w2l6H1rD5zWs7x6d5MhkDkaW3ahDPHAt9Y2n8qUpjqzKrNVt4cO3IeEnEgwD4IenqGCjxjr1k9FMJ4xHZrkfI_g/s4032/image_123927839.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTCQPNVKK8LmL7EDDGWHmSNM38l1DnzjRqix9tIFPlcCR7EiN5BEFqgNSFpTTE3aigVgvbfxJ7n-6aYHk4zX3JG44aN2I6cO1eC8w2l6H1rD5zWs7x6d5MhkDkaW3ahDPHAt9Y2n8qUpjqzKrNVt4cO3IeEnEgwD4IenqGCjxjr1k9FMJ4xHZrkfI_g/s320/image_123927839.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMoGokoLn_n0nndelkEu1SxGhUdeawTMl6YA2Sg0anZ9XTwoMSfot2EjuvwfCCM0HKBnH-2YLxePx2sC-vdIlWfNZrL_kab1Dz9aqB3_L3bi03wMEYLBKaVqFULhV2JPMCRxYuPPJ_iK7_5ZoPGOumsR7anDJdG12c16hR0RTB6WbxJSsoRf0qu4lTgw/s4032/image_67166977.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMoGokoLn_n0nndelkEu1SxGhUdeawTMl6YA2Sg0anZ9XTwoMSfot2EjuvwfCCM0HKBnH-2YLxePx2sC-vdIlWfNZrL_kab1Dz9aqB3_L3bi03wMEYLBKaVqFULhV2JPMCRxYuPPJ_iK7_5ZoPGOumsR7anDJdG12c16hR0RTB6WbxJSsoRf0qu4lTgw/s320/image_67166977.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOzL_Q4B9mjDvaxtuZ4O3qRVZx3WY064vKZP0MDn_ejrSUSiBHOtqaVTkoe40jQz9oHWh7J0x0PoA6VfGhZVSwTh8RUE90eiNevpf6XXI8dUHJRBhHYuh5XrTc71QtET7L9avmPfF5CUG11xN_-5ijE9JfJgHS-XHeUszF5OyYo4KBWKWJfKSNAyTmdw/s4032/image_67199489.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOzL_Q4B9mjDvaxtuZ4O3qRVZx3WY064vKZP0MDn_ejrSUSiBHOtqaVTkoe40jQz9oHWh7J0x0PoA6VfGhZVSwTh8RUE90eiNevpf6XXI8dUHJRBhHYuh5XrTc71QtET7L9avmPfF5CUG11xN_-5ijE9JfJgHS-XHeUszF5OyYo4KBWKWJfKSNAyTmdw/s320/image_67199489.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Other things felt naturally in tune between Katie and I. Overall we were upbeat with only some short-lived teary moments. We shared the love for our breath taking surroundings or saw humour in the same situations. Our toilet stops did not cause much interruption or when feeling hot or cold, we got rid or applied layers of clothing in a synchronised matter. We snacked when one of us felt hungry and when the rear shock on my bike started to malfunction so did Katie’s knees. We lost a bit of momentum during this time having to regularly pump some life into both of them. Strangely Katie’s knees and my rear shock recovered miraculously later in the race, or may be there were more urgent issues needing attention making these less of a concern. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowtWwg8ldFhbfAQksG3wtBxLzhQS0MjVOvUiDEQexZyfXPf5X3DLnSIklLwbahwN7RcHBNN_EOWbPDjsppT7zyQlnY5_ZXIYwpxXaQnRQVXnDXoUCyDSXWU7t38aEHXCDtmED414lVsIEuwMmI7h_mzr1ZHa0BGprKAvh_RGh9ZgfkGuM5vxHL4PbVA/s3088/IMG_9132.HEIC" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowtWwg8ldFhbfAQksG3wtBxLzhQS0MjVOvUiDEQexZyfXPf5X3DLnSIklLwbahwN7RcHBNN_EOWbPDjsppT7zyQlnY5_ZXIYwpxXaQnRQVXnDXoUCyDSXWU7t38aEHXCDtmED414lVsIEuwMmI7h_mzr1ZHa0BGprKAvh_RGh9ZgfkGuM5vxHL4PbVA/s320/IMG_9132.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">laughter was never lacking</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I loved the early mornings (or rather middle of the night), passing riders cuddled up in their bivvies on the side of the trail surrounded by their bikes. We covered a lot of ground during these peaceful hours, moving forward under beautiful star filled skies and moonlight shadows. All before the heat, dusty dry air and relentless head winds would rob us from our energy. The sunrises were breath taking, as were the sun sets, moments which would damper the pain of our aching bodies and tired minds. We would spend hours in silence, listening to music, singing out loud or chatting about anything and everything under the sun and we would continue to do so in no particular order. The long stretches with no supplies or water were frightening at times so we had to stay astute, having to think about where we needed to be at what hour of the day. The route was unforgiving with hourly long climbs, rough rocky, body destroying technical descents, tough hike a bikes and mind numbing endless miles of straight roads which felt like riding through a pre heated oven. We felt welcomed by local people and children who run at blistering pace trying to keep up with us.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gBEQOZdtnuEfu6kiEBnZaW0k7Q4Ih3IZv1Dex3atGuhL-6M1-UgkZ4bYdBLvrx5-1JfvlzzB26CzsJEVwumPn6oMqGvyA4sM5TmTMe15HUKstIWfgO1tHw8UGXAyiwWFWQzTubCD08Y0fgHFlG_DntD92U5hOAkIuN59hRtvcTSe233KOCUrRV0ykg/s1119/IMG_9577.jpg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1119" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gBEQOZdtnuEfu6kiEBnZaW0k7Q4Ih3IZv1Dex3atGuhL-6M1-UgkZ4bYdBLvrx5-1JfvlzzB26CzsJEVwumPn6oMqGvyA4sM5TmTMe15HUKstIWfgO1tHw8UGXAyiwWFWQzTubCD08Y0fgHFlG_DntD92U5hOAkIuN59hRtvcTSe233KOCUrRV0ykg/s320/IMG_9577.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAYwzg7MF5hPEuuh0bp-Wc3P9e3KXtvkzNV_Vci2bipeWxEBgEr7snTgC2kqbuDoig1pVsaEnJNpDNZdIe-2GurDqdEm7l9qYMqe7dms73nAP_LXeYlmFOvgFm7ocvN7n5jqw3HapA01bLHXwcgy7SI6K-rDnP661o6z5DZzpAbgX6DWwtfDIo_OAhw/s4032/image_67238145.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCAYwzg7MF5hPEuuh0bp-Wc3P9e3KXtvkzNV_Vci2bipeWxEBgEr7snTgC2kqbuDoig1pVsaEnJNpDNZdIe-2GurDqdEm7l9qYMqe7dms73nAP_LXeYlmFOvgFm7ocvN7n5jqw3HapA01bLHXwcgy7SI6K-rDnP661o6z5DZzpAbgX6DWwtfDIo_OAhw/s320/image_67238145.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg46VMGYkzIKhFlG3CEq8wD_5WLz5y5hmhVND6_GchxrcAQdN0K_XsakRGL5AYi1DA8jyHW-aeLqg4RVFlPYmkRM8MRGVBO69NBYX6zMiSZ4lc-zpDlOvJzPnYQTau1S8mhIStTmGVw0aSrJRuBP8Pl76PkSyMrGlIcdFfgHJXUAGDg_DM1Wk5BxU2GgQ/s4032/image_67218945.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg46VMGYkzIKhFlG3CEq8wD_5WLz5y5hmhVND6_GchxrcAQdN0K_XsakRGL5AYi1DA8jyHW-aeLqg4RVFlPYmkRM8MRGVBO69NBYX6zMiSZ4lc-zpDlOvJzPnYQTau1S8mhIStTmGVw0aSrJRuBP8Pl76PkSyMrGlIcdFfgHJXUAGDg_DM1Wk5BxU2GgQ/s320/image_67218945.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; text-align: left;">Encounters with fellow athletes along the course turned into little treats of smiles, laughter, funny stories and the comfort of shared hardship. They were the moments we were looking forward to the most. There were the checkpoints which turned into little gatherings of riders sharing their experiences which felt like a breath of fresh air. Also having pancakes and other things to eat there rather than the countless omelettes en route was a big bonus! </span></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAhHH2d1kzgACy_RLscVQGuVTHtbLO6e7heO7ltH4MFlWEJzIIdipxEH5MQDDBIMQY673JlX1j8y5ZHHP0LBC9ZkYS0pUJxaGqe8_g8jkbPYaWG3swe-6u2lpnqg-TQ77-WhyB7KHGTwZGyulKfcx4MFbME9RcFcO0k756Vb-nUHVps02n5IVpuLFBMg/s1024/79ad48d8-5143-4c25-bd67-cd681cac3f7c.JPG" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAhHH2d1kzgACy_RLscVQGuVTHtbLO6e7heO7ltH4MFlWEJzIIdipxEH5MQDDBIMQY673JlX1j8y5ZHHP0LBC9ZkYS0pUJxaGqe8_g8jkbPYaWG3swe-6u2lpnqg-TQ77-WhyB7KHGTwZGyulKfcx4MFbME9RcFcO0k756Vb-nUHVps02n5IVpuLFBMg/s320/79ad48d8-5143-4c25-bd67-cd681cac3f7c.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">friendships developing </td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1-uzyZjA7yFyM64sXxtk6CCgHKrDdLr7VW8ueyHmR3KV3RL-VtxZABlmdwjj1UX8a_hfDPge8G1B3TWc6Kb5aQzgoTQE6tCWn58BVmbmbEaEOt_f3VvJuLbQLW-58Ezl6rG4_HzKHndlScJcZISYCByp97kfw19eEqtcXsFBykHoiGnp5rZuI8z-IQ/s1024/61f37125-5f59-4325-976b-0f2f364a8b66.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw1-uzyZjA7yFyM64sXxtk6CCgHKrDdLr7VW8ueyHmR3KV3RL-VtxZABlmdwjj1UX8a_hfDPge8G1B3TWc6Kb5aQzgoTQE6tCWn58BVmbmbEaEOt_f3VvJuLbQLW-58Ezl6rG4_HzKHndlScJcZISYCByp97kfw19eEqtcXsFBykHoiGnp5rZuI8z-IQ/s320/61f37125-5f59-4325-976b-0f2f364a8b66.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">breakfast club</td></tr></tbody></table><div> </div><div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">With roughly 300kms left to go my neck started to feel funny. I struggled keeping my head up and used my shoulders to give my neck added support. As a consequence my back started to spasm. Katie had told me about this condition as she had experienced it during one of her races. As a vet it closely resembled swimmers tail in dogs, where the tail muscles are so fatigued from swimming, the tail goes flaccid. Needless to say a neck going flaccid whilst riding a bike was less than ideal. Katie helped me tie my helmet to my backpack so I could lean into my helmet and relieve my neck muscles. In order to do so I had to make my backpack heavier to hold in it in place which caused immediate strain on my spine. This was also less than ideal. On top of this we had one of the toughest parts of the course still ahead of us. Strangely not once did I think about quitting, whole heartedly I wanted to finish. I would keep riding until I could not go any further. Katie and I did not discuss the potential consequences and we stayed positive. “We will see” she said to me when I asked questions about her neck experience rather than worrying me with hypothesis.</span></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia64EV45WaOTHJbOM9kRQBDBDg6BEhR6Ap27GWlC9ZFBeWyg996un_zqJ7j4BNbHPkSYHAlp_bUi-bQCCASXyia8ZE0noSfZF4E7j-X6wSdJx-ZxfyQQn8yoO0yD59Ly7rLS8vPWnTFMmQ7Xz2RjyGIWkFJ3DJOG1VigfU0i6meu8JX6-JwdoiqPbuMw/s1836/image_6487327-2.JPG" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1836" data-original-width="1124" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia64EV45WaOTHJbOM9kRQBDBDg6BEhR6Ap27GWlC9ZFBeWyg996un_zqJ7j4BNbHPkSYHAlp_bUi-bQCCASXyia8ZE0noSfZF4E7j-X6wSdJx-ZxfyQQn8yoO0yD59Ly7rLS8vPWnTFMmQ7Xz2RjyGIWkFJ3DJOG1VigfU0i6meu8JX6-JwdoiqPbuMw/s320/image_6487327-2.JPG" width="196" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">holding my head up</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">We adjusted our plans and instead of riding through the night to the third and last check point before the finish, we decided to add a few hours of sleep. I read that with 4 hours of sleep the neck could recover, so 3 hours simply had to do. Katie started to experience stomach issues and diarrhoea. I would see her tall figure fold in half due to cramps or she would run off the side of the trail for a toilet stop “I am ok” she would smile “this is quite normal for me”</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">When we set off Friday morning at 2am we had still a lot of climbing and hike a bike sections to go. The plan was to ride all through Friday night to the finish line aiming to be there on Saturday before lunch time. Well ahead of the virtual snail which was counted as the cut off time. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">That morning I woke up in a world of pain. I knew this feeling all too well, I was experiencing a full blown nerve pain flare up and the left side of my body was not cooperating. Although it made me feel anxious, I had been here before and I needed to get it somewhat settled. My biggest worry was the lack of power in my legs which would happen when my muscles stopped firing properly during one of those flare ups. When I looked over at Katie it gave me some comfort that she did not look her best either. Quietly we started moving forward towards check point 3. We caught up to the boys, Dylan, Timo, and James, who we had been crossing all along the course. Seeing the little head lights in the distance, hearing their voices and their laughter, gave me comfort during some of my darkest moments of the race. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppZYK3sAVRUnQEWi4pkl5dmgVu8RGGKrlZ_tfNUg00W9aGQYM6hPCbrVLaXwzrwS-suzSkl86xCDq1LZ79kMAk_3qfN_-nQ8r6aQ4oA2IFW0xpfSfPVLQzOtb5UhCn45eErRRfjAHsGQNIEjduRuPxiv3_Jp7CVntVtByocCxUTGCpSpkb0mcU5Lwsw/s4032/image_67140865.JPG" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjppZYK3sAVRUnQEWi4pkl5dmgVu8RGGKrlZ_tfNUg00W9aGQYM6hPCbrVLaXwzrwS-suzSkl86xCDq1LZ79kMAk_3qfN_-nQ8r6aQ4oA2IFW0xpfSfPVLQzOtb5UhCn45eErRRfjAHsGQNIEjduRuPxiv3_Jp7CVntVtByocCxUTGCpSpkb0mcU5Lwsw/w245-h327/image_67140865.JPG" width="245" /></a></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Somehow we had made it to check point 3 and the nerve pain in my legs and spine felt acceptable. My neck was holding its own. The weirdest thing was that I had absolutely no memory of the 1200m climb we did during those early morning hours! My mind had switched to survival mode during that time. We left the CP3 somewhat recharged with a spring in our step. We could now smell the finish line. The feeling of being so close yet we were still so far away. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Things started to unravel fast for me and I felt I was on borrowed time. Katie was battling here own race demons and at one point she stopped, grabbed her tooth brush and started brushing her teeth. I looked puzzled in her direction. “Resetting my brain” she smiled, “here” she said offering me tooth paste, so I did the same. In tough moments like these it was where Katie showed her experience, exactly knowing how to trick the mind into believing all is ok.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">In the last 30kms the dreaded sand arrived, I had read about this part. We had to keep getting off and on the bike causing intense pain in my back and legs. I felt my power disappearing and I could barely hold my neck up. Katie was a super star “I just have to keep going” I mumbled in tears during the final 10kms. She gave me a hug. She picked up the pace and I stuck to her wheel. I noticed her suffering stomach cramps and yet she never slowed in these final moments. Her mental strength had been incredible to experience first hand. And in those difficult hours my appreciation for her friendship grew by the bucket loads.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_lzdpQokZNzgdfjFVi6AKh9T6X6YTk6nKZNMudPde0i6Qf0uZpr6UxU1u_c6t9U0AWB34YOskWFOdRtVl3a218Frf2GTGrhxHL5PqUaM6AXCLK_1vTffamnUbMBwv_AqVZbRAixesq54ijL29yj3EMBIcpaK0MmATtghD_5HOeoLMl_LV-z9sdsiT_A/s1992/image_6487327-3.JPG" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1992" data-original-width="1125" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_lzdpQokZNzgdfjFVi6AKh9T6X6YTk6nKZNMudPde0i6Qf0uZpr6UxU1u_c6t9U0AWB34YOskWFOdRtVl3a218Frf2GTGrhxHL5PqUaM6AXCLK_1vTffamnUbMBwv_AqVZbRAixesq54ijL29yj3EMBIcpaK0MmATtghD_5HOeoLMl_LV-z9sdsiT_A/w209-h370/image_6487327-3.JPG" width="209" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">team work makes the dream work</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Suddenly we were crossing a road and I heard clapping and cheering. My vision was blurred, my body was shaking, I tried to smile. The finish line. We had made it. Against all odds. I tried to get off my bike but my legs gave way, I sank to the ground. Tears, a lot of tears. Katie’s arms around me and she said something which made me laugh. So many emotions. I thought of the people who helped me recover from my injury over the years, especially Rab, he would have loved this. What an adventure. I felt so much gratitude, so much happiness, so much love for the people I had shared the last week with. A moment I will never forget.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Katie and I were the first female pair to have ever finished the Atlas Mountain Race. It was something which filled me with pride. Not because we were the strongest, fastest or most talented women out there, but because it was our team work which got us to succeed. Racing as a pair requires a whole different skill set. At the end of the day we were just a couple of girls wanting to have fun and because of our positive attitude we got rewarded with the best rewards of all; finishing over the finish line.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZwhwYIDkCPG5bwVNHEwyT07CJf-5QaXqPy69FAjfu4QRaRDGGAUF9mUQj03RNOTcgpBA3Ly2glF_ITVINnntgTli61lVyrqZX30Ik3HZ5Sx3_u1wR5NADWEACb4EKy_Hp5Unc7mvF42Kw7T_SQ-OzjKg62r4dXeh7WBcubMjfD5fU5IvRsRB-MUXUw/s4032/IMG_9464.HEIC" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZwhwYIDkCPG5bwVNHEwyT07CJf-5QaXqPy69FAjfu4QRaRDGGAUF9mUQj03RNOTcgpBA3Ly2glF_ITVINnntgTli61lVyrqZX30Ik3HZ5Sx3_u1wR5NADWEACb4EKy_Hp5Unc7mvF42Kw7T_SQ-OzjKg62r4dXeh7WBcubMjfD5fU5IvRsRB-MUXUw/s320/IMG_9464.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little trophy which means the world<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Before the Atlas race I was not sure what I still wanted to achieve on the bike. I have however fallen head over heals in love with this style of racing. It has nothing to do with speed, wattage, power or pure physical talent but everything to do with attitude, positivity, intelligence and the ability to suffer in such a way it humbles you.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A huge thanks to the organisers, volunteers, photographers and everyone out there on course which made this adventure one which is engraved in my heart forever. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqWp4iu6rY7XyHRMoOvAyYdZLdmcRs5Lu4IW0aYww6pReU8264-bdNOPSpSYey3PLwiL67rBP0bQyFOpXXr7G-nNW3bRVBPgSBQvZSQuXzvS19PWbRSfmu8Bfd0qVZ9ydA8lc4AyUPJekZKsOJwpet7oNQgX3xgKvhdF4YAcdNdns9TLEQZ-dZE5BHBA/s320/image_6483441-11.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katie and Katrien at the finish line </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibU400bTqmJaQmAV8TjW00Y4-BSO84KLryjJi8Vt75bkZhnp-_YXs-L0-J2SerzvIjnkmyLaZ2B_1VtOZ5CmtVN6cxutTHhh2pJ1l-JzNf2rrMwhJYKkF6UPUm4nrELNf3gPGCOEROSaWR0PtN7FH9z_r8hA1R3THPyJY7kUFdAKbd-A2H0z7ppRjlEg/s1271/IMG-9732.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1271" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibU400bTqmJaQmAV8TjW00Y4-BSO84KLryjJi8Vt75bkZhnp-_YXs-L0-J2SerzvIjnkmyLaZ2B_1VtOZ5CmtVN6cxutTHhh2pJ1l-JzNf2rrMwhJYKkF6UPUm4nrELNf3gPGCOEROSaWR0PtN7FH9z_r8hA1R3THPyJY7kUFdAKbd-A2H0z7ppRjlEg/s320/IMG-9732.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To Rab; thank you does not do it justice, I miss you greatly my friend and I will never stop chasing my dreams in your honour</td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqWp4iu6rY7XyHRMoOvAyYdZLdmcRs5Lu4IW0aYww6pReU8264-bdNOPSpSYey3PLwiL67rBP0bQyFOpXXr7G-nNW3bRVBPgSBQvZSQuXzvS19PWbRSfmu8Bfd0qVZ9ydA8lc4AyUPJekZKsOJwpet7oNQgX3xgKvhdF4YAcdNdns9TLEQZ-dZE5BHBA/s800/image_6483441-11.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><br /><br /><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-70207782041305725782022-07-18T14:45:00.012-07:002022-11-08T02:50:54.991-08:00Two years in France; Owning my story and writing a happy ending<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IdBX8ITP4N7nPlv9NrJrhCQWQSQCO2D4vZ9HzhWKKSxrQpbVZojjM1xtLB2yL_z5x9GKUSWfgpkdrSvr0_0X6lI1NcwXrA-7FLOrf6D0jW-0l-0RPz_4dBZrFu385YhRytenXQrzrZth6ppauuisdzXLj3eNyeDVPJX7UvFIAHcUlKk7xjVlGM0LHA/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(8).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="772" height="455" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IdBX8ITP4N7nPlv9NrJrhCQWQSQCO2D4vZ9HzhWKKSxrQpbVZojjM1xtLB2yL_z5x9GKUSWfgpkdrSvr0_0X6lI1NcwXrA-7FLOrf6D0jW-0l-0RPz_4dBZrFu385YhRytenXQrzrZth6ppauuisdzXLj3eNyeDVPJX7UvFIAHcUlKk7xjVlGM0LHA/w342-h455/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(8).jpeg" width="342" /></a></div><br /><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">When I was about 16 years old and studying for my final school exams the police came to our house. I remember the flashing lights and two men in uniform when I opened the door. ‘Is your mother home’ I was asked. “No” I responded. The men looked at each other ‘Ah ok’ they said ‘would you be able to identify this man’ they asked pointing at my father who was stumbling out of the police vehicle. “Yes’ I answered “he is my father” </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">My father was found heavily intoxicated in his car on the side of the road with a knife in his hands wanting to end his life. “Thank you officers” I nodded as my dad went inside. One of the police men hesitated leaving, he looked at me ‘would you like us to call social services ‘ he asked me. He was young, probably not much older than 25, he had big kind brown eyes in an open and honest face. He did not look away from me as he waited for my response. One of those rare moments I felt someone cared about what effect this incident had on me. “ no thank you” I replied “we have it covered” I smiled at him whilst fighting back the tears.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGI51RL8UiP8bCHY8nLflWkmpFyb9o7UTUrUVBl2uREQxEWcj1fksCcdJldb77Rm3Txxe7vCVQ05kM3W2z_3tcdz38ts0VNGchXTW3nX9e_BKbGaKy-QFFKOwlzZnlTfHkMttNRAL5LEf9ZBuOd2aK_fAiP0c8Mn8y5RGz0jE_CRxrerCKO2reXPFmjg/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(4).jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="841" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGI51RL8UiP8bCHY8nLflWkmpFyb9o7UTUrUVBl2uREQxEWcj1fksCcdJldb77Rm3Txxe7vCVQ05kM3W2z_3tcdz38ts0VNGchXTW3nX9e_BKbGaKy-QFFKOwlzZnlTfHkMttNRAL5LEf9ZBuOd2aK_fAiP0c8Mn8y5RGz0jE_CRxrerCKO2reXPFmjg/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(4).jpeg" width="263" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">before my father spend his life going in and out of psychiatric hospitals he was a top businessman for Heineken<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This was not the first time my dad had tried to take his own life and it would not be the last. He was a dark <span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space"> </span>complicated man. People who were lucky enough to have only known his good side would have loved his charisma and positive energy. He could be endlessly generous if he wanted to be. He had a sense of humour which would make you laugh so much you cried. He had a kindness which would feel protective and he had a way of making you think like you could conquer the world in his company. People who were unfortunate enough to only know his bad side would know he was a dangerous man, that he would destroy anyone getting in the way of his ambitions in a blink of an eye. That he could be ruthless, abusive, manipulative and hurtful, cutting deep down to the core. Nothing would get in the way of his success.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">For the few people like my sister and I who had witnessed almost every corner of his diseased soul, my father was a man who’s abuse had no limits or boundaries. Nor did his kindness. The complexity of these two extreme sides of his personality and having this man as our father gave my sister and I a lifetime fighting the demons he had created.</span></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcRZkPX2tSX9Yz523ZvZQG0Bkhgad-aNemMOysSxXeYiS1dBkANxkOsHGAMHT_nELCWR_4ZUYVoC0hsI2pPErbIRhS-FwZXR9HG-CYu9PjTCXVPlQWYvWIen7pt2HbUytoptrAdy0CBf5FnKvv-pM4RkXgMGHuNb_kKYqjUV1bOJG75fCNoiMu5jf4g/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(7).jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="1024" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBcRZkPX2tSX9Yz523ZvZQG0Bkhgad-aNemMOysSxXeYiS1dBkANxkOsHGAMHT_nELCWR_4ZUYVoC0hsI2pPErbIRhS-FwZXR9HG-CYu9PjTCXVPlQWYvWIen7pt2HbUytoptrAdy0CBf5FnKvv-pM4RkXgMGHuNb_kKYqjUV1bOJG75fCNoiMu5jf4g/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(7).jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLZLXSzsoO2_nBKtBGSmNlLQXiz-g05paRZIPaT05Otn4ASPrsw75pqUKqnDo4TA7zHEuqGQ4RhYv0Tt3W98AW6k07bMIiMCavuL6GEVDwd5XbtM5I7GX2VqSN7Po3y-LqyAsRLD9rAU496wQR_iEweDyMmAaRF3HQ-ACoaQ49qqEt7SbNab5P8WmI-w/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(6).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="851" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLZLXSzsoO2_nBKtBGSmNlLQXiz-g05paRZIPaT05Otn4ASPrsw75pqUKqnDo4TA7zHEuqGQ4RhYv0Tt3W98AW6k07bMIiMCavuL6GEVDwd5XbtM5I7GX2VqSN7Po3y-LqyAsRLD9rAU496wQR_iEweDyMmAaRF3HQ-ACoaQ49qqEt7SbNab5P8WmI-w/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(6).jpeg" width="266" /></a></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This summer, two years after my fathers death, a 20 year legal battle involving a family property on the coast of Normandy finally came to an end. My sister and I had merely been a couple of names on a legal document from my parents divorce. Even though we tried, legally we had not been able to make any decisions towards the house yet we had been held accountable for the negligence regarding the property. Involving a threatening court case to try and hold us responsible for all the ignored costs involved with the upkeep of the house including many years of ignored tax bills by my parents. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">At the beginning of this legal nightmare I wanted to fight, I wanted to renovate this beautiful house, in a way I wanted to save the house as a symbol of our broken childhood. I wanted something good to come of it. But when I saw how much stress this was causing my sister I decided we had to stay a united front and stepping away from the house would be the last disconnect needed to finally feel free from our parents.</span></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oEnplUEjRCaW1mvJ1UiVd1-zbdviJXkG5ooV8ri9vyI1rz2A-RijTAhJsqfpDYeRSsDuffYHELCZ98_e7olBUX4qcLEbIAXmmeH5offPxlEoo589cYruRSmTnY8GZUBOlpMkGN4efN8hUN5XN9nQI9fSd5Ei8v369pVvNJiLg2w63JOvZbCNaRnJhA/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.23.01%20AM.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2oEnplUEjRCaW1mvJ1UiVd1-zbdviJXkG5ooV8ri9vyI1rz2A-RijTAhJsqfpDYeRSsDuffYHELCZ98_e7olBUX4qcLEbIAXmmeH5offPxlEoo589cYruRSmTnY8GZUBOlpMkGN4efN8hUN5XN9nQI9fSd5Ei8v369pVvNJiLg2w63JOvZbCNaRnJhA/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.23.01%20AM.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">endless adventures with Mac and Yann</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRa8PJ_-ygV_6fqbl3UVIaipTppaEPjhDbdd1JgHjEssa26QhDZMy5rYEapZ5RwIpbjvuTDTuCfnsPAER3M6__wVCAdnw5NX37CpqpFRUwrAK8lT1ab81ptBvNO0KUsmIETPwQnBDevJfqcN3InWfmI54_oXGjCIwdEU-bc2LEmHC2brSDlmXC27k0XA/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%2011.32.14%20AM.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRa8PJ_-ygV_6fqbl3UVIaipTppaEPjhDbdd1JgHjEssa26QhDZMy5rYEapZ5RwIpbjvuTDTuCfnsPAER3M6__wVCAdnw5NX37CpqpFRUwrAK8lT1ab81ptBvNO0KUsmIETPwQnBDevJfqcN3InWfmI54_oXGjCIwdEU-bc2LEmHC2brSDlmXC27k0XA/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%2011.32.14%20AM.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">living my dream of mountain sports <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4I98aPSAGjQeoqX8GO7yT1P7LUef8Kz0-RjIj8QEWv47mHrPCOWLZO5cpKNkB8uSbceIH7jyJ485QVv9Q67a6s7xGdJUEbxJ9DqtWG32xZYzOu2VgF-E5P2wRpc2fWtC_khd9H2OOFu_DQccnkLQv_ZWUxAHOscxZrkdZYIJlIFOAr0rx5ZZtstNO3Q/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%2011.30.38%20AM.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="823" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4I98aPSAGjQeoqX8GO7yT1P7LUef8Kz0-RjIj8QEWv47mHrPCOWLZO5cpKNkB8uSbceIH7jyJ485QVv9Q67a6s7xGdJUEbxJ9DqtWG32xZYzOu2VgF-E5P2wRpc2fWtC_khd9H2OOFu_DQccnkLQv_ZWUxAHOscxZrkdZYIJlIFOAr0rx5ZZtstNO3Q/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%2011.30.38%20AM.jpeg" width="257" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My backyard </td></tr></tbody></table><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3lo5Qzmr4wKafLzOaf9ovyJkmu2hNRidVELfUhU6imx3rE40deYjrJkoN7UtBfwqZTMHRnGmS_YAliqFshojvY4pJX91fNPGH7cNH9uBR2VIr9Q05kMoI3GutiRUIyv15TkZRIj_mo3w2EB8Nk6Gx8LYZdOw9YDC555m6naBlkzSIDFqBOPIYVaRyPQ/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%2011.26.51%20AM.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3lo5Qzmr4wKafLzOaf9ovyJkmu2hNRidVELfUhU6imx3rE40deYjrJkoN7UtBfwqZTMHRnGmS_YAliqFshojvY4pJX91fNPGH7cNH9uBR2VIr9Q05kMoI3GutiRUIyv15TkZRIj_mo3w2EB8Nk6Gx8LYZdOw9YDC555m6naBlkzSIDFqBOPIYVaRyPQ/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%2011.26.51%20AM.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">learning to ski steep gradients in all conditions</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><br /><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This summer also marks my first 2 years in the French Alps. How time flies.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am living the life of my dreams right now, France has given me all I yearned for and more. When people tell me ‘you are so lucky’ however, I feel defensive. Not because I do not feel like I am lucky or that I do not appreciate what a beautiful part of the world I get to live in. But it was a tough and rough road to get here and I had to swim against a strong current to make it happen. It was not luck that led me to the life I am living right now, it was my choices to keep fighting for the life I wanted. And these choices were never easy. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4SzBYYnL_nCWN7-bZc2LNoWJZ6tqXVs9wnnoBthH9RSNLynvgikwCLwpgUS_l28613SUlGkzcByccDekR1GipPxocTzDtL5Go9YsAilTOq3daiXS9f6fzQrKAQKQcUQKR_VrMCSFOGYzn8GJNDfXyM987ohihkcEFWsuMr_4CAI-clf1VXHPXve0Yg/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.19.50%20AM%20(3).jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4SzBYYnL_nCWN7-bZc2LNoWJZ6tqXVs9wnnoBthH9RSNLynvgikwCLwpgUS_l28613SUlGkzcByccDekR1GipPxocTzDtL5Go9YsAilTOq3daiXS9f6fzQrKAQKQcUQKR_VrMCSFOGYzn8GJNDfXyM987ohihkcEFWsuMr_4CAI-clf1VXHPXve0Yg/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.19.50%20AM%20(3).jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making friends through a shared passion</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">When I left Europe at the age of 20 and moved to New Zealand, all I wanted was to let go of the broken version of me and start over. Feeling robbed of a childhood, robbed of a carefree adolescence, and where as a child I did not have a choice, I decided that as an adult I could choose my future. And I chose to fight for my pursuit of happiness. Which after roaming around the world like a gypsy for many years led me to the mountains. And in the last two years I have soaked up everything it had to offer me. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVx7PA3bEg2-Cz9KAXrsAfbEVmRMDWkL04jKb3bIPZW_LvfH_JmjQhS4YVLzwrk-TYFqicoBkd8aMXHhUwpbB-cwwVvMs_qu6n3964_RTtImG8sorqcfZ97Nhas3Uv6rz3HJHwc1riQM-KNdf_v-tr-uTsSm-gv9M5CZ0zfcvHmHtkST8qZOu90XaVzA/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%2012.33.58%20PM.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="792" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVx7PA3bEg2-Cz9KAXrsAfbEVmRMDWkL04jKb3bIPZW_LvfH_JmjQhS4YVLzwrk-TYFqicoBkd8aMXHhUwpbB-cwwVvMs_qu6n3964_RTtImG8sorqcfZ97Nhas3Uv6rz3HJHwc1riQM-KNdf_v-tr-uTsSm-gv9M5CZ0zfcvHmHtkST8qZOu90XaVzA/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%2012.33.58%20PM.jpeg" width="248" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting Yann on top of a mountain during Covid I see as my little miracle </td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This winter I raced my first ski alpinism season, turned myself inside out on vertical climbs, chased Yann for </span><span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">hours over mountainous ridges and down steep exposed gullies, I claimed many podiums including a national title being the current Dutch national champion ski alpinism. With age, injury and experience, I now know how relative these podiums are, and although I enjoy climbing on top of them they really do not mean anything and they certainly do not define who I am anymore. I still race because I love how it challenges me to progress and because of the people I get to do these events with. It has given me friends all over the world from all different backgrounds bonded by a shared passion. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTyN-tyruIdlqH7FXYyKsDj62-AvA59FasMn7sDI6ILBxJBJV6T0ubMDajKycp5fewFRZ2SHWEvXtf6rYK9SX9AsVqEEi8BNTWK9Q6vOumdN_kOneaMr0a9nx7JNDtzoPNg16FJzpegk5eLjzJsYniaGq6OYVRDthibJPwP1SH6rYA9i6kqNmPN91gQ/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.19.50%20AM%20(1).jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTyN-tyruIdlqH7FXYyKsDj62-AvA59FasMn7sDI6ILBxJBJV6T0ubMDajKycp5fewFRZ2SHWEvXtf6rYK9SX9AsVqEEi8BNTWK9Q6vOumdN_kOneaMr0a9nx7JNDtzoPNg16FJzpegk5eLjzJsYniaGq6OYVRDthibJPwP1SH6rYA9i6kqNmPN91gQ/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.19.50%20AM%20(1).jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">winning the Dutch Champs </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzTIGzooxBVeyhM9cvnNzzxcP6qd8F-ffvNKB0bzq0OeVMKvB8_hsX1BfnHuy23lXO6iyj8qo0rlw7X3AsPjCznG2D93_3HbzQXDaN85pjh1aRpr4XEij1Kt_ln4Y-GXr18ytu6MtwWPgGf2MRwqPvKc5CqcLKzKaQRhdmz1lWrNsKrWuBVxV2sp5ow/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.20.27%20AM.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzTIGzooxBVeyhM9cvnNzzxcP6qd8F-ffvNKB0bzq0OeVMKvB8_hsX1BfnHuy23lXO6iyj8qo0rlw7X3AsPjCznG2D93_3HbzQXDaN85pjh1aRpr4XEij1Kt_ln4Y-GXr18ytu6MtwWPgGf2MRwqPvKc5CqcLKzKaQRhdmz1lWrNsKrWuBVxV2sp5ow/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.20.27%20AM.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Racing with Yann</td></tr></tbody></table><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7LHLt7GjWEdPhxSMm2vnC4UwPRAVDvslLAfK7FnyA5JiEnG1GLWXWqRWRyS5PGIPK0r9dDtYQhW-MqDs2zEI9UC3RdyHNdFjnJ0HmjAqQdXWtuboXowdcwRBfSVtdxHc17wKjSWI4kH91oDcDlG-VOvfb6nQBddN05R62Q6nmMExsATwke1_7Xy2vQ/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.20.28%20AM.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7LHLt7GjWEdPhxSMm2vnC4UwPRAVDvslLAfK7FnyA5JiEnG1GLWXWqRWRyS5PGIPK0r9dDtYQhW-MqDs2zEI9UC3RdyHNdFjnJ0HmjAqQdXWtuboXowdcwRBfSVtdxHc17wKjSWI4kH91oDcDlG-VOvfb6nQBddN05R62Q6nmMExsATwke1_7Xy2vQ/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.20.28%20AM.jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">racing Ski Alpinisme is a dream come true</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><br /><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This summer I ran my first true mountain marathon known as one of the most technical trail races in France, if not in the world. 55kms with 4000m of climbing following ridge lines and via ferrata cables and down endless rock gardens. A wet thundery day made it even more tricky staying upright on the gnarly descents. I am hopeless at downhill running let alone technical downhill running, and it is not something that my overactive central nervous system likes. The unpredictability of rough terrain generally produces immediate pain. So why did I line up? Well I like a challenge, I love wild mountainous courses, and the only way to improve is to keep at it. All I had to do was move forward and enjoy a day in the mountains. So all I did was move forward, and I enjoyed a tough beautiful rough day in the mountains with probably the least amount of nerve pain I have had running in years. As usual in French races the support around the course was amazing. In the last 10kms Yann found me and I run a few kms with my favourite training buddy Mac. On the final </span><span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">climb I had jumped 20 places coming mid field in the overall classification, just outside the top 10 overall females and 3rd in my category. I expected to be at the very end of the field. And although results are all relative to who shows up, this time it meant something to me. When Yann told me his parents had driven close to an hour to watch me finish I had to fight back the tears. With 2kms to go I spotted them sitting on a rock </span><span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">“allez Nienke” they yelled at me. I felt overwhelmed by the support not only by them but also by the Dutch National Alpine federation who were there with runners as it counted as the Dutch National Ultra trail running championships. I could not stop smiling, I managed a great run, on a great technical course during which I had made some great new friends. It was a perfect day in the mountains.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ImftbfWE_n01ZuuQBmuUNJfGwdjW576fMAGOERPaRVa8BjIA0R-lzbz4EqQ52ibzsaTg3fjzD3ZbfiFCGJZpeUq1PJLZLU8-6xsQMWcKIKvqcUx4R7bJBkRhBo2EMtVzkZg5ilDgSO3s8Rspf8yqn_LJCAmGWaeWZE8t4biZeNFndZ-L-Kd_wSI5zQ/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.19.50%20AM%20(5).jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ImftbfWE_n01ZuuQBmuUNJfGwdjW576fMAGOERPaRVa8BjIA0R-lzbz4EqQ52ibzsaTg3fjzD3ZbfiFCGJZpeUq1PJLZLU8-6xsQMWcKIKvqcUx4R7bJBkRhBo2EMtVzkZg5ilDgSO3s8Rspf8yqn_LJCAmGWaeWZE8t4biZeNFndZ-L-Kd_wSI5zQ/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.19.50%20AM%20(5).jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">knowing I will make the finish line</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazkjXU86uPLBhOjRRBSQuuFdDrz4N9sgsSR6Xa2c48BQ5MslBVT8rD7rgCDB6NHrgOvC0OOi4xqMLZyo1fwQO55hfiaidRp-vTA-wGztoeAu1pzpno0LLD07_4HIwDUGgslonKgLSVNs9jImSF7lapQ2CMvBz_rwbyEQ7jKcymC2a1WopV0zm2byoFg/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.19.50%20AM%20(6).jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazkjXU86uPLBhOjRRBSQuuFdDrz4N9sgsSR6Xa2c48BQ5MslBVT8rD7rgCDB6NHrgOvC0OOi4xqMLZyo1fwQO55hfiaidRp-vTA-wGztoeAu1pzpno0LLD07_4HIwDUGgslonKgLSVNs9jImSF7lapQ2CMvBz_rwbyEQ7jKcymC2a1WopV0zm2byoFg/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.19.50%20AM%20(6).jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling emotional having Mac, Yann and his parents at the finish</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><br /><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A week later I signed the last document making the sale of our family house official. It felt like a huge relief combined with intense sadness. Finally the feeling of letting go of something so toxic. Since my fathers passing I have caught myself mentioning him more and more in conversations. I have let my thoughts go to the memories, some of them making me smile. Some of them make me wake up crying in the middle of the night. I have spent so many years hiding from this. Although I do not want to be a victim, I feel like my endless amount of dark stories have shaped me just as much as the stories which people find inspiring. As much as I have tried, there is no way I can dissociate them from each other.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9hN18XP7LMH7uO8JcUCmS-h57xUDAHrRhp22jPpdFBsRqj5lRZ_iwEGurp_VVwEJ4IV7kO7GHnW7wEtmq-u4hPv-wB6UjtGN3rQf2oCdtqHXwwHh9pPiMjLRA2qL-fLvqxlP-FxljoDUdTrk-_KrCq6VEImASgdtv6npK6iXZygiRC3_QLZAgtwzJyQ/s1024/mart%20en%20ij.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1006" data-original-width="1024" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9hN18XP7LMH7uO8JcUCmS-h57xUDAHrRhp22jPpdFBsRqj5lRZ_iwEGurp_VVwEJ4IV7kO7GHnW7wEtmq-u4hPv-wB6UjtGN3rQf2oCdtqHXwwHh9pPiMjLRA2qL-fLvqxlP-FxljoDUdTrk-_KrCq6VEImASgdtv6npK6iXZygiRC3_QLZAgtwzJyQ/s320/mart%20en%20ij.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">One of my best friends is currently confronting her family with her own fathers abuse. “I have so many questions” she said to me and I want to yell at him, I want to scream at him. When I said to her that she probably would never get the answers she is longing for she answered “I know that and I do not care, I simply refuse to be silenced” Her strength struck me. Although heartbroken she was owning her story. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">If I could have a dinner party with any 5 people dead or alive, one of them would be my father. I would want to ask him my million questions just like my best friend was going to ask her father. I would want to get to know him as an adult and I would like him to get to know me as an adult. And although he would never be able to give me what I ached for, <span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would want to look him in the eye with all the horrible hidden truths exposed and find it in my heart to forgive him. I am not there yet.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5R4fJZ-WBdamcq5Wy1p6rY4s5YGFewf_BKGuY2TgcGmQESL9AhIB7Tq3rRQYE_-Or0iGRTfyMQuAFYtlGGSeXSQgAMhRGmlCYuntdzLwZQFMtjGqBLzIGnEa-ij2ua2F3NcHBkXgfu_FVkzW-D5rRTeZOUOx81-r5fkQwCaiVKnEUC-lWd-8e7U21g/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(2).jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5R4fJZ-WBdamcq5Wy1p6rY4s5YGFewf_BKGuY2TgcGmQESL9AhIB7Tq3rRQYE_-Or0iGRTfyMQuAFYtlGGSeXSQgAMhRGmlCYuntdzLwZQFMtjGqBLzIGnEa-ij2ua2F3NcHBkXgfu_FVkzW-D5rRTeZOUOx81-r5fkQwCaiVKnEUC-lWd-8e7U21g/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(2).jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family does not need to be blood related <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In the French Alps I have found my happy place. Somewhere I can disappear into the mountains and find silence when my mind is noisy. Somewhere with people around me who treat me as family and people who live a little further afar who feel like family to me. I have a job where I am appreciated and have been trusted to start leading a team of vets which I have been really enjoying. I am learning to allow myself to feel at ease. Still a work in progress. But with that feeling of trust comes a certain desire to be known, to start sharing my story. To own my journey. And if I can help one person feel a little less lonely by doing that, it will be worth the vulnerability that comes with it. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSg8zbDmFGbPAYbdXniplXeTR2Pc-OZ_8rNGTgY8ICQpvQZqVjsl1p4rcd5G6FeP1AaJ690j0pDyL7IqxpZ4la2tz-WdSngqsXvP3RaWiljdW293O5a5rX0ivZxUyDR-AbxOOQBKkCW3L_ib5uRonx5b5M0XzOvhuoEOq7BKU4JR4lCAEmGoE0bsp82g/s1024/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(1).jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="819" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSg8zbDmFGbPAYbdXniplXeTR2Pc-OZ_8rNGTgY8ICQpvQZqVjsl1p4rcd5G6FeP1AaJ690j0pDyL7IqxpZ4la2tz-WdSngqsXvP3RaWiljdW293O5a5rX0ivZxUyDR-AbxOOQBKkCW3L_ib5uRonx5b5M0XzOvhuoEOq7BKU4JR4lCAEmGoE0bsp82g/s320/WhatsApp%20Image%202022-07-19%20at%208.15.34%20AM%20(1).jpeg" width="256" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A home is built of love and dreams</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">'When we have the courage to walk into our story and own it, we get to write the ending' Brene Brown </span></p>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-3395908655499970052022-01-31T03:59:00.018-08:002022-02-02T10:29:42.395-08:00Le Belle Etoile 2022; A crash course in ski alpinisme racing<div class="separator"><p style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p></div><p><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG-_mYj5v8dVVtFkt69vV2arRDpyrqebc-CLMySF2rYOTo3fEaTr3ngodb8vWjARqH7iQ0uVr9DdxtcdM1BYjM5lKXBmulf1_NzZBACy_MbAE0y6RO0HfDF_HDoYDjlytyc8KMSubQh_8V_YNpZCdswkdPCPFtj3GiMw08Mw5kkvGQD5PipZ99naEbPw=s1024" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG-_mYj5v8dVVtFkt69vV2arRDpyrqebc-CLMySF2rYOTo3fEaTr3ngodb8vWjARqH7iQ0uVr9DdxtcdM1BYjM5lKXBmulf1_NzZBACy_MbAE0y6RO0HfDF_HDoYDjlytyc8KMSubQh_8V_YNpZCdswkdPCPFtj3GiMw08Mw5kkvGQD5PipZ99naEbPw=w296-h395" width="296" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />For many years now I have been following mountain athletes like Killian Jornet, Emily Forsberg, Laetitia Roux to name a few, and I have been in awe of the ski alpinisme races they were performing in. Dreaming that may be one day I would have the skills needed to attempt one of these epic events high in the mountains myself.<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px;"> </span><p></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">When I moved to the French Alps the summer of 2020 and entered my first winter, I had previously done 2 weeks of ski touring in Norway and a handful of outings with friends in Chamonix over the years. I did not know how to do a kick turn up a climb properly, I had only used crampons once, I never had done a Via Ferrata nor had I much experience climbing or scrambling over ridge lines as narrow as the width of your foot at breath taking heights. Yet I had traversed the Nepalese Himalayas on a mountain bike solo and knew what suffering in the mountain entailed. </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">I have wondered sometimes if it is my personality or if I have been lucky to be in the company of people who have a simple way of looking at progress "if you do not know how to do something you learn how to" </span></div>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I was first introduced to ski mountaineering by Alex Dimitrioux who took me on a ski tour in Chamonix where I was at my limit following him up and down the mountains and who turned my negative view from "I can't" to "show me how to”</p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Meeting Yann last year I met someone who understood my drive instantly, someone who not only understood it but nurtured it as well. Yann had done almost all the classics ski alpinism races including a bucket list event for me the Pierra Menta, a 4 day Ski Alpinisme race in France, reserved for the best of the best in this sport. I was accepted in Yann's group of mountain friends instantly. They helped me learn, progress and continuously inspired me to practice, practice and practice so I could keep up with them in the mountains which is very much still a work in progress! </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghXGyjNZREMK4CDVBYH7FQmEqiJqzp3yvkCs-Ie_w9T87YQsG0wUa-uAL9XAv3228qIaMWVAMcKmNEtxZR12JNVW6n5tjK17QAsxltBZ2lQEUmob9E1xkL_jFVGnS4rm8h6WRbx-6veAuFQYu3_9NMSO3oVMc3a3_wZi8J45Cs-IIE8RYtyFAB7qAaRQ=s1600" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghXGyjNZREMK4CDVBYH7FQmEqiJqzp3yvkCs-Ie_w9T87YQsG0wUa-uAL9XAv3228qIaMWVAMcKmNEtxZR12JNVW6n5tjK17QAsxltBZ2lQEUmob9E1xkL_jFVGnS4rm8h6WRbx-6veAuFQYu3_9NMSO3oVMc3a3_wZi8J45Cs-IIE8RYtyFAB7qAaRQ=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">learning the way of the mountains with Yann</td></tr></tbody></table>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I have never felt I have been someone who has an enormous amount of talent, but what I can do is work hard. And when I mentioned wanting to do the Belle Etoile, a 3 day ski alpinisme race which is a qualifier race for the Pierra Menta, Yann's reaction was a little reserved. It is hard he said, you need to really work on your downhill skiing, and work on being able to perform the transitions from skiing to skinning back to skiing fast, including putting crampons off and on and putting your skis on your back. </p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">This year I invested in my own set of skis instead of using Yann’s kit which was a little to big for me. As soon as the snow arrived I practiced, practiced and practiced. Spending big days in the mountains searching for the steepest corners of the edge of the ski resort to become comfortable with steep gradients but not needing a massive day in the mountains to find those descends. I got as much skiing in as I could, working on Yann’s feed back on what I needed to work on. “Your skis have to become an extension of your feet” he said. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjlAPGVjSq56EruQOYn5KVx3ZLX-ya_ZUabyyIz3pTydNCpoOuTSNbqd4oJNGBfgY4BodoMoXfIdKKl80PMOx2K97OQhllyzN9sbx74c58fiisLREfVclg5QaTYsNk1VaG1AootXMmiFxr5YkbkO-YbSCHWKV62YwM2FeqMQ6t_DUUfrehSWrrtb9EBA=s980" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjlAPGVjSq56EruQOYn5KVx3ZLX-ya_ZUabyyIz3pTydNCpoOuTSNbqd4oJNGBfgY4BodoMoXfIdKKl80PMOx2K97OQhllyzN9sbx74c58fiisLREfVclg5QaTYsNk1VaG1AootXMmiFxr5YkbkO-YbSCHWKV62YwM2FeqMQ6t_DUUfrehSWrrtb9EBA=s320" width="245" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">skiing steep terrain with Mac</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The next challenge was finding someone who wanted to do the Belle Etoile with me. Yann was doing it with his friend and team mate for the Pierra Menta, Antoine. When I asked people who had much more mountain experience than me, they would answer it was too hard, “may be next year with more training”. May be I wanted too much too soon. I had almost given up on the idea until I received an email from Nina 4 weeks before the race. She had seen my post on the organisers Facebook page that I was looking for someone. Nina had the same objective as I had, solely getting to the finish line and enjoying the experience. Before she had a chance to change her mind I had entered us. And so the madness began!</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1eMAUZL7s85Zvqh1OgkwluJX1gZ7TD4UlfcXYfSi6xTh4Ct3ZrfSvYIgHTumn5OoY-RwJemki_L-BIcFx5QbVC554Sccry2kg42QWKi4NosVOWlwl53Ihz8d0r8dUCBDPIIrWjcpcRuiR03pvKDAdwmnQqmZXA4fqSX8c1X_w-VdgjOz-yqOTAauRGQ=s1334" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1eMAUZL7s85Zvqh1OgkwluJX1gZ7TD4UlfcXYfSi6xTh4Ct3ZrfSvYIgHTumn5OoY-RwJemki_L-BIcFx5QbVC554Sccry2kg42QWKi4NosVOWlwl53Ihz8d0r8dUCBDPIIrWjcpcRuiR03pvKDAdwmnQqmZXA4fqSX8c1X_w-VdgjOz-yqOTAauRGQ=s320" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">skiing a morning with Yann and posters to improve my downhill</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I met Nina the evening of the prologue, we did not know each other, let alone skied together, yet we immediately got along and I could not have asked for a better team mate for my first event. Although Nina had a lot more skiing experience than me living in the South Alps, it was also her first “grand course” of ski alpinism. The blind leading the blind you could say.</p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The evening stage was relatively “easy” being at night and staying on the pistes for safety reasons. The speed however and the amount of technical change overs from skiing to climbing to skiing to a “portage” which means skis on back and on foot up steep gradients, was incredible for such a short course. We were blown away by the high level of athletes in this race, from olympians to world champions and UTMB winners, this sport was for the elites and we were certainly not elites in this sport! But we stood our ground and were happy not to get lost in it all!</p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Saturday was a different story. My mind was blown on the Saturday stage. Probably one of the hardest races I have ever done. The speed at which these athletes do very technical transitions, technical traverses over ridge lines and technical downhills is difficult to process it being a newbie in this sport. </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUOcl4n0axAsVnYrW3GKBnbHlSusEvF8eXkJOvhXluHg1t3HaMHdbBwmBgiRxTPl8KyDajqx4nUalsv4tXc-1S1cfEj4T6gG5MnahMs-IjF5RFdP1mMVWfQd3voLiDpvpESURXrYUR0INSp0_rIuaA9u6i3usi-OgtO5pv-BRVM3KKSBUpIqvfDKPc1g=s816" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="816" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUOcl4n0axAsVnYrW3GKBnbHlSusEvF8eXkJOvhXluHg1t3HaMHdbBwmBgiRxTPl8KyDajqx4nUalsv4tXc-1S1cfEj4T6gG5MnahMs-IjF5RFdP1mMVWfQd3voLiDpvpESURXrYUR0INSp0_rIuaA9u6i3usi-OgtO5pv-BRVM3KKSBUpIqvfDKPc1g=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Where my strength lay purely in the speed I could go uphill, Nina’s brilliance lay in her ability to stay calm and focussed during the transitions, her technical skills in the multiple kick turns and her down hill skiing ability. Everything but I mean everything was done at full speed during these races. You would be pulling your skins of your skis with a heart rate sitting a max as fast as you could. Who knew that putting your boot into your ski could be so difficult when you are gasping for air??</p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Even though I had studied the course before hand I lost count of the amount of transitions during the day. In the end I felt we were actually really strong in our transitions leaving the area often before other teams who were already there when we arrived. Following Nina on the downhills was a challenge for me. It is hard to explain how fast and how technical the off piste descents were. They involved little narrow “couloirs” at 40% gradients if not steeper at times in all sorts of ski conditions, from soft powder to hard crust and icy slopes. The race skis are super light, narrow skis which are difficult to ski at the best of times, let alone at high speeds. My legs were burning and I felt everything BUT in control chasing Nina down the mountain. When my race brain is in action however it simply does not let me slow down as much as I want to try! </p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">We were unlucky on Saturday when we got stuck behind people for at least 30min on a ridge line (strava has evidence of this!) and therefore missed the cut off time for the final 300m climb and were redirected on course B which was the two day course. Although happy with our race we were a bit disappointed when we got told by the organisers we would get a two and half hour(! ) penalty for this or we could chose to do the B course on Sunday and our time would count in their results. Either was not ideal because we had done a lot more climbing on the Saturday compared to the B course, and we also had the prologue already in our legs. But at the end of the day we there for the experience. When we looked at the B course for Sunday it only missed out a climb and descent on piste compared to the A course which made the B course much more interesting for us.</p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxnkvvD_QusrmnMqXrBxOXyLIukSoezr9jDj8QrAy0FV3u0k1BXTS_19XDSPHTxQUv8idbXbQZ-Iy0jBfxliPMTDldLK07K4luTxQDmsVO8Fjla5cLSGyLvmX0rEVWR4H3q6TOkQ1U7cXQXIG-ZLuLXiN-mmIDRT3wXRBdBhB47Un8LKgVQwPpLskdog=s2000" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxnkvvD_QusrmnMqXrBxOXyLIukSoezr9jDj8QrAy0FV3u0k1BXTS_19XDSPHTxQUv8idbXbQZ-Iy0jBfxliPMTDldLK07K4luTxQDmsVO8Fjla5cLSGyLvmX0rEVWR4H3q6TOkQ1U7cXQXIG-ZLuLXiN-mmIDRT3wXRBdBhB47Un8LKgVQwPpLskdog=s320" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">finding team flow with Nina</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">With what felt like very little rest we were back on the start line on Sunday morning ready for another speedy day in the mountains. Where Nina’s fears were the climbs I was worried about the downhills because I had not really enjoyed them on the Saturday. We started a bit higher on Sunday which meant we had to take a chairlift and ski down to the start. It got me in a frozen state and I did not feel good. The race started with an icy technical kick turn climb (not my strength) and we were stuck behind people. I struggled to find my rhythm feeling nauseas and worried for the remainder of the day. Surprisingly chasing Nina on the downhills on Saturday had progressed my skiing some what and I could keep her insight. Feeling a lot more in control I started to enjoy the high speeds we were flying down the mountain passing a few teams in the process. The ridges on Sunday were more exposed and technical and involved scrambling up icy rock on crampons at close to 3000m altitudes as fast as we could go whilst being attached to a fixed rope with Via Ferrata kit. Clip, unclip, clip unclip, clip unclip as fast as you can following the rope over a narrow ridge line. What I love most about racing is that your brain is so focussed on moving forward fast, there is no room for fear. You are climbing up with your heart rate close to max, and only focus on your feet, your hands, the ropes, the rock and ridges ahead of you, it is like all the movements become automatic after a while trying to be most efficient. I love how calm my brain becomes whilst doing this. </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqoEnvUAbwFmB1tdvIMqHTorBaaaZxQ58Xl7PRYts2gJRgR6M4DnQGekdCCu9xDMs0YaJjnh4ZS3QFFimIdXYgQC7qGaGJNoLpKuy_Y5cNNKgGDYOSUDW0Opw1uMopRLhkRKLvyfYsWxmQchZc_gsGuIl4aKZMHhXzip9405SdQ7rvWl1F65ojbsh54Q=s2000" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqoEnvUAbwFmB1tdvIMqHTorBaaaZxQ58Xl7PRYts2gJRgR6M4DnQGekdCCu9xDMs0YaJjnh4ZS3QFFimIdXYgQC7qGaGJNoLpKuy_Y5cNNKgGDYOSUDW0Opw1uMopRLhkRKLvyfYsWxmQchZc_gsGuIl4aKZMHhXzip9405SdQ7rvWl1F65ojbsh54Q=s320" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">transitioning from skinning to skiing as fast as possible</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">As the day got on Nina and I became more and more relaxed. We laughed with our fellow competitors, chatted to the awesome volunteers, powered up the climbs and flew down the descents, I felt like the second half of the Sunday we started really flowing well together, complementing our strengths and weaknesses and it was pretty cool to feel that team spirit. </p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">We were pretty happy to see the finish line and that we were able to complete this incredible tough course, our crash course into ski alpinisme racing! Close to 5 hour days at full speed was hard! With only a few female teams entered we managed a 3rd place in the B course which was the icing on the cake. </p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;">Unfortunately Antoine was ill after a very strong start with Yann and could not race on Sunday. Luckily Yann was allowed to race solo but without a number on his back which still made for a good training day which he was happy about. Our other room mates Jules and Martin had a very strong performance coming top third in this very elite field.</p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">It is hard to describe how tough this sport of ski alpinisme is and how many skill sets you need to have to be able to do well at it. It has certainly blown my mind but it was equally one of the coolest experiences I have had racing. It has inspired me to keep working at it to become faster and the Pierra Menta is on my bucket list now more than ever!</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjlUWlocE5ca-_JdA8Guu3h_KTjI-zKkWQvDjFjynf_nuO8Z0rSCDpcEDLD1Rg5o2dXMtwz133vg2YY8avzHGFqk_gGfZYGq9sqjqJtOqtdJGleLYM7nxiGx1ccMMBFGUf7EXkraK5CksR3Omef38kCMqNhVUNuKQl6PMf9ocsNQhXVKEB5o_k3wbwdLw=s3088" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjlUWlocE5ca-_JdA8Guu3h_KTjI-zKkWQvDjFjynf_nuO8Z0rSCDpcEDLD1Rg5o2dXMtwz133vg2YY8avzHGFqk_gGfZYGq9sqjqJtOqtdJGleLYM7nxiGx1ccMMBFGUf7EXkraK5CksR3Omef38kCMqNhVUNuKQl6PMf9ocsNQhXVKEB5o_k3wbwdLw=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I feel lucky to have been accepted by Yanns friends showing me life in the mountains</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Since I have been living in the mountains I have been able to tick off one bucket list event after an other. I can not thank Yann and his friends enough for taking the time to teach me, to support me and inspire me to keep on learning, keep on dreaming and keep on progressing. </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A big thanks to <a href="https://www.hammernutrition.eu">Hammer Nutrition</a> who has made a real difference for me in recovery and proper race fuelling which has been a weakness of mine for years and which I can now turn into a strength. </p>
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<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Whats next? No rest for the wicked, more ski alpinisme races of course!</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Be willing to be a beginner every single morning"</p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-77448624566237963392021-11-30T15:03:00.026-08:002021-12-01T13:37:10.384-08:00The Saintelyon; impossible is nothing <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iJ2_sGp13Fw/YaaRYRgIVtI/AAAAAAAAFx4/roDVvNb122skvBgSVqSPyEA1icRlOkYbACLcBGAsYHQ/s1084/unnamed.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1084" data-original-width="750" height="453" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iJ2_sGp13Fw/YaaRYRgIVtI/AAAAAAAAFx4/roDVvNb122skvBgSVqSPyEA1icRlOkYbACLcBGAsYHQ/w313-h453/unnamed.jpg" width="313" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">
I had it already written out in my head what this blog would be about. The
journey called the Saintelyon Ultra Trail and the positive experience it would give me. May be because I dreamt about doing it so much and how incredible
it would feel completing that ultra distance in an iconic race such as the
Saintelyon that it set me up for disappointment. I cried at the finish line, actually I
cried most of the distance. And they were not tears of happiness as I had
imagined it in my head but it was sadness that creeped into my body. Sadness that I
still was not able to control my pain issues, no matter how hard I worked, no
matter what I did, the chronic pain bear would keep on screaming at me and
during the Saintelyon he screamed louder than he had for a long long time.
</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2iU3btiZWY/YaaSD6jiJ8I/AAAAAAAAFyA/ClxUPpLN1FAObhtiC8BESRF_3tUI7w4HACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/saintelyon.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1202" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2iU3btiZWY/YaaSD6jiJ8I/AAAAAAAAFyA/ClxUPpLN1FAObhtiC8BESRF_3tUI7w4HACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/saintelyon.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">
The funny thing was the race itself was everything I had dreamt off, if not
more. Standing on the start line just before midnight with thousands of other
exited runners whilst large snow flakes tumbled endlessly out of the sky is an
experience I will never forget. I do not like people, I do not like crowds or
hypes, yet standing there with all those people felt like magic. United by a
shared passion and slight madness wanting to run 78kms of hilly trails through a
snow storm and bitter cold temperatures. </span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I had read blogs about this race and I
experienced everything my fellow runners had written about it. The thousands of
little lights weaving through the dark country side, through the snow, through
enchanted forests. It literally took my breath away at times which had nothing
to do with the physical exertion. There were people dancing, people singing, volunteers supporting
all along the course deep into the night and early morning hours. They must have
been freezing cold, wet and tired but yet we were celebrated as the heroic ones
running past them through the night. The camaraderie amongst the runners was incredible, I have loved the ultra trail
running world from a distance for a long time but never experienced firsthand
what it would feel like to be part of it. And it felt incredible. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Before running
the Saintelyon I watched “long shorts” a film about legendary runners Francois
D’Haene and Courtney Dauwalter, in which they explained that focussing on a time
you want to run or a placing you want to get has no meaning in running ultra’s as
the uncertainty of making it to the finish line is simply to big. So the one
goal in running ultra’s is the finish line, however long it might take you.
And I held on to those words for dear life for the 11 hours it took me to complete
my first Ultra. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> So why the sadness? My whole year had been about dreams turning into reality, from
skiing my first couloirs during the winter to climbing Mont Blanc, from standing on a European
podium in a mountain bike marathon to completing 6x 4000+m peaks in one day, learning to
rock climb and completing my first multi pitch route. I was living my dream life. I
don’t think I have ever felt this happy, this accepted anywhere, this at home. But it
came at a cost, and I was confronted with that when I lost someone mid summer
who had meant the world to me. Who had loved me and cared for me in an
unconditional way which I had taken for granted and when she needed me the most
I could not be there for her (due to covid restrictions) in the same way she had
always been there for me. I had not even taken the time to say goodbye to her
when I left Scotland because I thought I would see her again shortly.
</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u1Eyf_sz0bU/YaaSXDSHhYI/AAAAAAAAFyI/pvpIiuTpkSgv_4ZvpJxTQD5oFUskb1iZQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1101/247707983_10160234638260961_5385368299355204750_n.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1101" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u1Eyf_sz0bU/YaaSXDSHhYI/AAAAAAAAFyI/pvpIiuTpkSgv_4ZvpJxTQD5oFUskb1iZQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/247707983_10160234638260961_5385368299355204750_n.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Erin coming over to visit</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">
When I returned back to France from Scotland after the funeral I struggled
letting go of her and the overwhelming confrontation I had felt when realising
the amount of love she had for me and how I was appreciated also by other close
friends I had left behind. My reaction to this feeling of sadness was the only way I knew how to, pushing my
body. So I started running, cycling, and going on epic mountain adventures,
turning every outing into a smash fest and the more I pushed myself the more my
body started falling apart. Until it gave me no other choice and I had to stop and reset. What I
have learned now though is to reach out, I learnt that if you open up a little to the right people, the
support is there. And even though I still feel very new in France, I am so lucky
to be surrounded by the loveliest of friends who understood and helped me cope by just being there for me.
</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EWUgPmA3Qrc/YaaSnB04OZI/AAAAAAAAFyQ/of8ZB6R9P5oz-HJMTtI6pUazc6KhLQZ2gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/248277871_10160231520525961_6459123976510752466_n.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1638" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EWUgPmA3Qrc/YaaSnB04OZI/AAAAAAAAFyQ/of8ZB6R9P5oz-HJMTtI6pUazc6KhLQZ2gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/248277871_10160231520525961_6459123976510752466_n.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Erin, Yann and Mac watching sunrise </span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">
Running the Saintelyon was a last minute decision after one of my favourite
adventure buddies Erin had come over from Scotland and we had run the Tour de
`Dents Blanches in one day, a 30km mountainous technical route with 3000m ascend
which is normally a 2-3 week trekking route. The tour had been on my bucket list
since I had moved to the Haute Savoie and it was such an amazing day being able
to show Erin my backyard and share such an epic experience with her. These type
of outings always inspire me to dream bigger. The original plan was the 45km
course, but then I knew I could run the 45kms already so I signed up for the
78kms after asking Yann if he thought I could do it since I had only 6 weeks
left to get ready for it.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> I knew downhill running was my enemy so in the weeks leading up to the event I
focussed on downhill running form and I felt I was getting stronger, faster and
experienced less and less pain running downhill. My longest run was 46kms 4
weeks out from the race and I felt really comfortable running 20-30km long runs in
training. It gave me a confidence in my body which I had not
experienced for such a long time and it made me very happy. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7QDG5txAbl8/Yaas0vIiwOI/AAAAAAAAFy0/O5OFcSgLfaQgsucrh1Jw5t4p9ftTz8HEQCLcBGAsYHQ/s414/251379288_10160258578420961_645013099400204357_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="414" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7QDG5txAbl8/Yaas0vIiwOI/AAAAAAAAFy0/O5OFcSgLfaQgsucrh1Jw5t4p9ftTz8HEQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/251379288_10160258578420961_645013099400204357_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">climbing during the summer </span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">The problem with the Saintelyon was that it is run at night so visibility on
technical parts of the trail is difficult, conditions were very icy, snowy and
cold, making the course even more unpredictable. And my brain, or central
nervous system should I say, does not like unpredictability. And when I slipped
and hit the ground hard in the first 10km’s I immediately experienced a pain
flare up. Like tooth ache in my legs, I knew this feeling all too well, and as I
ticked off the km’s, the pain spread to my ankles, knees, and wrists joints, it moved around my body like flickering Christmas lights. I
was not even 18km’s in when I started to doubt if I could bare the pain for
another 8 or so hours. And it made me feel incredibly sad. I knew there was nothing
structurally wrong, I knew I could run 30-40kms without this amount of pain in training, I
knew I had not gone to fast and blown up, I knew I had stuck strictly to my nutrition
plan and that my heart and lungs felt strong. And yet the pain I could not control. The climbs would give me the
least amount of pain when the downhills and flats were agonisingly painful. So I made a
pact with myself, I would push on the climbs and survive on the downhills. It
did not matter how long it would take me or how much pain I would have to endure.
I was there to finish. This is what I wanted.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Without sounding airy fairy, I believe there are certain people who have come
into my life who I share a certain energy with and somehow they seem to show up
either in a message, a phone call or in person when I need them the most. One of
those people for me is Yann which makes sharing my life and adventures with him
so easy. Another one of those people is Edwina who I found on the internet when I
was searching people to run with when I first moved to Montriond. A mother of 3,
a professional runner, a running coach with a smile so big it can light up the darkest room in
seconds. I met Edwina the first time when I tried to ski as many meters
ascend in one day and she was the only one crazy enough to join me on parts of
it. Edwina was running the Saintelyon double 156kms! With over 6000 people on
course it would be unlikely I would find her in the dark of the night. Yet on
the highest part of the course, climbing up in the snow, I
slipped and reached out for a hand, and the hand which grabbed mine was
Edwina’s. A magic moment.
Eddie was in 2nd placed female and 16th overall absolutely smashing this course.
Her energy and positivity inspired me to stay strong and motivated me to keep running. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xfg798aaSfM/YaasFlqhnZI/AAAAAAAAFyo/j2nwMqK4d6c2o3BRwLYZiyTH2S18beXywCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/62127548_10156815496148371_246916385651818496_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xfg798aaSfM/YaasFlqhnZI/AAAAAAAAFyo/j2nwMqK4d6c2o3BRwLYZiyTH2S18beXywCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/62127548_10156815496148371_246916385651818496_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Eddie </span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I saw Eddie again
with 11-12kms to go and I was in a world of pain, not being able to contain my
tears as she tried to cheer me up “its only 11kms" she said, "break it up in your head, 6kms mainly flat and
then 5km up and down which will be mainly walking and swirly, you can do this.” I wanted to
be positive because I knew she must have been so tired herself but all I could
mumble was “ok” whilst trying to smile.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> I kept on saying in my head “I am safe, I am ok, I am safe, I am ok” to shut up
the chronic pain bear something I was told to do when experiencing a flare up. I calculated the time in my head, 8kms, if I keep
running at this pace its less than 50min, 5kms to go, the ups and downs will
start, river crossings, steps, more steps, steps up, steps down, swirling, over the
bridge, 3kms to go, I was catching other runners. 1.5kms to go. I saw Yann, I
tried to smile, 1kms to go. Yann run with me, I tried to pick up the pace,
volunteers applauding, I was going to make it. With the finishing hall in site
the pain became less. I run into the hall, people applauding, so many people
applauding, I finished. Everything became a blur, more tears, finishers medal,
finishers t-shirt, 78kms, 2200m ascend, 11 hours, I searched a place to sit down
and waited for Yann.</span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nC321JQkF-I/YaaTGcNql4I/AAAAAAAAFyY/ZfNZm79mhucMbzn2qjNo0sX5Qf7FGlWBwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/saintelyon%2B2.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nC321JQkF-I/YaaTGcNql4I/AAAAAAAAFyY/ZfNZm79mhucMbzn2qjNo0sX5Qf7FGlWBwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/saintelyon%2B2.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">and yes it did feel good in the end<br /><br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;">
A couple of days on from the race and I have had time to reflect and stopped feeling sorry for
myself and my sadness has been replaced by pride, happiness and that satisfying
feeling I thought I would feel at the finish line. I am not sure how I run 78kms that night whilst having a pain flare up, but I did it. When normally pushing through the
pain would cause a flare up which would take me months to settle, and although I
could not stand on my feet for 24 hours after the race, I could ski the next day (albeit like
an 80yo woman) and I bounced back surprisingly quickly. It felt like I kicked the chronic pain bear's ass well and truly and he was a bit subdued by it.</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J9hZlYsI2u0/YaaTX0w_V6I/AAAAAAAAFyg/Y-vjWybXiHADpZZjmf5mCREWgakCdU3JQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1072/262393304_10160311453060961_8035312373232887216_n.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1048" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J9hZlYsI2u0/YaaTX0w_V6I/AAAAAAAAFyg/Y-vjWybXiHADpZZjmf5mCREWgakCdU3JQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/262393304_10160311453060961_8035312373232887216_n.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ultra trail recovery</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">
When I started my road of recovery with James and the team at Meta, physio’s
Morgan, and Rob in 2018, I remember asking Morgan “do you think I will run
again” he answered me without a doubt in his voice “yes you will” I am not sure if even he thought I would run an ultra trail through the middle of the night in a
snow storm 3 years later.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Yann mentioned to me during the summer that I am someone who always looks ahead,
one adventure or challenge has been done and I am already looking at the next
one, not often realising or appreciating the magnitude of what I have achieved.
I suppose part of that had to do with not wanting to use my childhood
experiences as an excuse, never wanting to be a victim, so I never wanted to look back, my survival mechanism
was looking forward, the best is yet to come. It had to be. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">But Win’s passing
this summer did confront me with how that might come across, as if I
continuously left things behind good an bad. I had the chance to let Win know what she meant to me before she passed and as always with people who understand you, she
already knew without me having to explain it. And when I look around in my
little apartment she is everywhere in little gifts she has given me over the
years, not because I have taken them with me because they had sentimental value,
but simply because she knew the things I loved. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Winter has returned to the Alps and it is starting to look rather Christmassy.
Utterly happy I have had already two days of epic skiing in my empty legs and I
still have to pinch myself that this is my life. This is the life I have dreamt of
living. And I am doing it with my bucket list ever growing. This winter I will be racing my first season of ski alpinism!! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EzFqF0C8Z2M/YaatNOwTwRI/AAAAAAAAFzA/PfQs8hJtyr8M_NhS24eJx7QfoHyAU0huACLcBGAsYHQ/s1334/262917032_10160311453075961_6639784900241349370_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="1334" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EzFqF0C8Z2M/YaatNOwTwRI/AAAAAAAAFzA/PfQs8hJtyr8M_NhS24eJx7QfoHyAU0huACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/262917032_10160311453075961_6639784900241349370_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yann and Mac</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; text-align: left;">As always I have so many people to thank for helping me chase my dreams; James, Morgan, Rob, who clued the broken pieces back together. All the people at my work Joii especially the founders
Robert, Sarah and Paul for having a vision, for listening to staff and really
wanting to make a difference improving mental health for veterinary
professionals whilst wanting to help people with their pets.Without the ability to change my job to working remotely, I would not be living this life right now. My beautiful
talented sister who I will be hoping to run the Ultra Trail of Mont Blanc with
in 2023. All my friends who have reached out over the years when things were
tough and applauded me when things were easy, I really never leave anyone
behind, with every step I take, I take all of them with me. And Win, I will do my utter best to make her proud.</span></div><div><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><p> <span style="font-family: georgia;"> For Win</span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> I have put on a flowery dress because you requested colours</span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">My hair left our the way you loved my curls </span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am wearing the jewellery you have given me, </span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Refusing to buy me any more sports gear </span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I will try and look at this sad day through your sparkling eyes </span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Finding humour in the littlest of things </span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I will try not to cry, I know that would only break your heart </span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And I will remember you, </span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I will always remember you</span></blockquote></blockquote></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-39805850050765052382021-07-03T06:21:00.007-07:002021-07-04T08:55:27.038-07:0012 months in France; Conquering the magical Summit of Mont Blanc<div class="separator"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xgTxMkt2jbE/YN9YuWwWI1I/AAAAAAAAFpo/Y-ScwZAbp7MZfB9c_luCWmfclBdrbnUgQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1799/209277517_10160019251530961_3015622488744282734_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1799" data-original-width="1440" height="457" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xgTxMkt2jbE/YN9YuWwWI1I/AAAAAAAAFpo/Y-ScwZAbp7MZfB9c_luCWmfclBdrbnUgQCLcBGAsYHQ/w365-h457/209277517_10160019251530961_3015622488744282734_n.jpg" width="365" /></a></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">For many years when on holiday I have stared up into the sky in awe of the beauty of Mont Blanc. It was one of the reasons I wanted to make Haute Savoie my home. There is something so magical almost mysterious about the highest summit in Europe. I have always felt that mountains run through my veins, they warm up my heart, and inspire my soul. They make me dream.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VGvholeKd2M/X3Yy_ANCqyI/AAAAAAAAFTE/y7UC0Nvyqxgoav1pHxTkBTCSBr9klI2iwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/image.png" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="256" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VGvholeKd2M/X3Yy_ANCqyI/AAAAAAAAFTE/y7UC0Nvyqxgoav1pHxTkBTCSBr9klI2iwCPcBGAYYCw/s0/image.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mac also in awe of Mont Blanc<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Moving to Montriond in the French Alps meant I had close access to a world I was so inspired by. I started exploring through the mountains with my little adventure pup Mac and tried to learn as much as possible about weather patterns, snow conditions and avalanche risk assessments. With Covid and my slightly anti social personality I found it difficult to meet people who could help me enter the world of alpinism. And I often wondered how I could get into climbing mountains without having the money to spend on a guide or mountaineering courses.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EHmS5l9pad8/YN9dgaQ-NQI/AAAAAAAAFrA/NBsfMtqsLas0bbUpJhRXpjN1Ne3FrVWwACLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/171288038_10159825468815961_557974041141954788_n-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EHmS5l9pad8/YN9dgaQ-NQI/AAAAAAAAFrA/NBsfMtqsLas0bbUpJhRXpjN1Ne3FrVWwACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/171288038_10159825468815961_557974041141954788_n-3.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Instant adventure buddies </td></tr></tbody></table></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Until one afternoon I rushed out of my little apartment after work to get a ski tour in before dark. I wanted to see if I could climb 800m in less than an hour on ski’s, something which I had seen on instagram. With my heavy freestyle ski’s and boots and Mac to chase I headed up the mountain at full speed. In the far distance I could see a figure which I used to push myself harder and try to catch up with. When I finally passed him, still going at full speed, I realised it was my neighbour and one of my landlord Gerard best friends, about whom I had heard an awful lot but never officially met. “You know who I am?” he asked whilst following me up the mountain “I am Yann” he said “Gerard’s friend” </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Yann and I became instant adventure buddies that day. There was an immediate understanding for each others passions, drive and a mutual desire to chase dreams. I found my kindred spirit in the mountains and Yann opened to me the world of mountaineering. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8C-oh5RqT50/YN9apK8h1qI/AAAAAAAAFqg/vA3pLTkXG-8cbzjTNdAG10MF-pqH46hTgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/175467291_10159846843565961_6710040488903173388_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8C-oh5RqT50/YN9apK8h1qI/AAAAAAAAFqg/vA3pLTkXG-8cbzjTNdAG10MF-pqH46hTgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/175467291_10159846843565961_6710040488903173388_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">learning to use ice axes and crampons</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">During the winter months I learned about using crampons, ice axes and climbing ropes. I got used to being comfortable in the most dramatic mountainous settings. Yann taught me about the mountains, its inhabitants, its weather, its dangers and its attractions. And the more I learned the more I got hooked. As soon as the weather warmed up Yann took me rock climbing, the fundamentals for alpinism he said. From an absolute scaredy cat at the start, I learned to have trust in equipment, I learned about different type of knots, about assessing rock faces and where to place my hand and feet, I learned about what my body could and could not do. And I learned to trust my increasing strength, skills and ability.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XJMUg4H-Mnc/YOBeqlYj7tI/AAAAAAAAFsE/yjKgEKn00Fky9rn3QwRhCv6CSrQMextugCLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/175111488_10159841731135961_9046038739951827739_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XJMUg4H-Mnc/YOBeqlYj7tI/AAAAAAAAFsE/yjKgEKn00Fky9rn3QwRhCv6CSrQMextugCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/175111488_10159841731135961_9046038739951827739_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">always with an eye on Mont Blanc</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OJnOyuzQNY0/YOBd69MPvhI/AAAAAAAAFr0/oPFMqjcYawcCpYlYerkgUeQF9EBhIldpgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/154922521_10159725838660961_2042230211205935551_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OJnOyuzQNY0/YOBd69MPvhI/AAAAAAAAFr0/oPFMqjcYawcCpYlYerkgUeQF9EBhIldpgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/154922521_10159725838660961_2042230211205935551_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every adventure presented to me I would say yes</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /> I had met someone who continuously inspired me to try harder, to progress, to push forward but at the same time who also made me accept my inexperience and made me take a step back when I needed it. <p></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KoVHS2mUBRw/YOBd1FYrk0I/AAAAAAAAFrw/d1uwXk41_UE3vZ7k1zm7kOSeQjLW2mjGgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/157749585_10159741026115961_836718118833609707_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KoVHS2mUBRw/YOBd1FYrk0I/AAAAAAAAFrw/d1uwXk41_UE3vZ7k1zm7kOSeQjLW2mjGgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/157749585_10159741026115961_836718118833609707_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting used to heights </td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Every adventure presented to me by Yann I would say yes to. Yes.Yes.Yes. I can, I want, I will, let’s go. And from Yann in return I heard a lot of “no, no, no” when I asked him to take me on his ski mountaineering adventures, often beyond my skill sets. Or when I had planned my own adventure which proved too dangerous he would lecture me. “It is difficult for me sometimes” said Yann to me “to keep you safe” “you are atypical” “you will never give up and never say no and fear does not stop you from doing things you don’t have the skills for” “You have the mental and physical strength to follow me but you will need to gain more experience, it is a simple as that” Sometimes it would be difficult not be able to go with him but I learned to listen and respect Yann’s opinion. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b1FiTPlUGoE/YN9alQ8ofuI/AAAAAAAAFqc/OAxz6JjDzNQIod2wyMiMc3zAi04LMv2JACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/173387896_10159833308485961_1766375421617720243_n.jpg" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238); color: #0000ee; font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">learning all about rock climbing</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">I had put our upcoming Mont Blanc trip in the back of my mind as an earlier trip planned to ski Mont Blanc was cancelled due to bad weather and I was left feeling very disappointed when that happened. When it was time to go Yann made sure I knew that climbing Mont Blanc was not some walk in the park like many people suggested it was. "You are at altitude, it is the highest mountain in Europe, it might not be the most technical one but it still is a very dangerous one” he said. We studied the weather forecast and my excitement grew. Although conditions were far from perfect it was good enough to jump in the van, pick up Yann’s friends Yannick and Clement who we were teaming up with and drive to the foot of the Mont Blanc where another adventure was about to begin. </span><div><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue;"><br /></span><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;">The first hut; Refuge de tete Rousse at 3100m was situated just below Le Couloir de la mort, the name given to the steep technical ascend of about 750m to get to the refuge the Gouter. Due to dangerous rock falls many people had lost their lives on this part of the ascend. We decided to stay here the first and night and reach for the Summit the next day so we had a couple of different opportunities to get up Mont Blanc with the second night planned at 3800m in the Refuge the Gouter.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhITixbJ7aE/YN9YtMnFqYI/AAAAAAAAFpg/a2mIIg08WfI_ZVfRwR9AgidNd3Ce5R9GgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/207352185_10160019253815961_2240244495289818236_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhITixbJ7aE/YN9YtMnFqYI/AAAAAAAAFpg/a2mIIg08WfI_ZVfRwR9AgidNd3Ce5R9GgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/207352185_10160019253815961_2240244495289818236_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">calm before the storm at Tete Rousse</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Wind had picked up and the weather did not look great. Yann was pessimistic (which he never really is) “if we make it to Dome the Gouter, that is already an achievement” he said. My heart sank. A discussion started. “I understand if we have to turn around because it is too dangerous” I said, “but if it is because it is too difficult or too uncomfortable I want to keep going” “I am not scared of suffering” “I am ready to suffer” I laughed “Let’s stay optimistic” I insisted. “Even if I have to crawl over the ridge on my hand and feet to the summit, I want to at least know I have tried”</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WlNrkNa_fg4/YOBKvx6D89I/AAAAAAAAFrg/9-gw5_34g14RBtETUjvCBajfyT9lQos8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/205124308_1231347810631791_3995058289455893156_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WlNrkNa_fg4/YOBKvx6D89I/AAAAAAAAFrg/9-gw5_34g14RBtETUjvCBajfyT9lQos8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/205124308_1231347810631791_3995058289455893156_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clement and Yannick</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br style="font-family: -webkit-standard;" /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">In only a few hours a bond had already formed in our little group, funny how with people who share the same passion this happens so quickly. We all just clicked. With a simple look, a smile, a familiar gesture things were understood quickly which made communication in these extreme circumstances so much easier. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">We decided to push for the Summit at 4am the next morning. The wind was blowing a gale, we could hear the rock fall while heading into the couloir. Yann set a fast pace wanting to be ahead of other groups and spend as little time as possible on this dangerous part of the ascend. In less than two hours we made it to Gouter and it was here that it turned tough, I could barely stand up right let alone push through the wind. Visibility would come and go so quickly which made navigating just that little harder. We crossed groups which had turned around making their way down. The altitude got to me and I did not feel that great. One foot in front of the other, I knew this feeling all too well. I looked back at Clement and Yannick, body language revealed we were all suffering. The wind was so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts which was probably not a bad thing! Yann turned and looked at us, “we will turn around at Dome du Gouter” he said. It was simply too tough. There was no visibility and the wind was relentless. I felt a little sense of relieve. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SWikofJ-T0w/YN9Ytx7O3kI/AAAAAAAAFpk/iJTzE303w4szz4wV3B1mazYVSDYS4vb4ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/205819878_10160019253370961_2872107263626087211_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SWikofJ-T0w/YN9Ytx7O3kI/AAAAAAAAFpk/iJTzE303w4szz4wV3B1mazYVSDYS4vb4ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/205819878_10160019253370961_2872107263626087211_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">le couloir du mort </td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">But as we climbed over the Dome the clouds cleared and we could see Vallot Hut in the far distance at nearly 4400m. “Lets try” Yann said “we are going to the summit” </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I was struggling. My lungs screaming for oxygen, my head about to explode, everything I was wearing felt tight, especially my climbing helmet. My stomach turning every step I took. My whole body was hurting. The feeling of altitude sickness. Acclimatisation like Yannick and Clement had done before hand was probably not a bad thing I thought to myself. “All you have to do is keep moving forward” I heard Yann behind me. And so I did.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br style="font-family: -webkit-standard;" /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wgeNIm5MHos/YN9Yr8_7nqI/AAAAAAAAFpc/aEgHQ4bACC4xfmLomhcvtlrfy1fPb9bYwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/209217111_10160019251535961_4058443328888633916_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wgeNIm5MHos/YN9Yr8_7nqI/AAAAAAAAFpc/aEgHQ4bACC4xfmLomhcvtlrfy1fPb9bYwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/209217111_10160019251535961_4058443328888633916_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">heading for the summit </td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">More groups turning around and the mountain ahead of us started to look deserted, we kept progressing at a desent pace. A guide who was a friend of Yann’s was ahead of us “if he turns around so we will” that was the plan. It got steeper and more technical in places, the ridges turned narrower, the snow deeper and the wind even stronger. At one point I dropped to my hand and knees holding on for dear life to my ice ax and my crampons pinned into the snow whilst 100km/hr winds tried to blow us off the Bosses ridge line. ‘Well I asked for this” I laughed to myself. We were not far from the summit when we crossed Guillome making his way down. “The summit is not far now" he said "go get it" This is very much the limit in terms of weather” he yelled into the wind to Yann whilst shaking his head. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQzkg9i-0qY/YN9fqZf6nrI/AAAAAAAAFrI/T2hdIEFHvGgswy4Nh6JFWz7jRv8idBePQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/210465244_10160019251555961_7018481642907242920_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQzkg9i-0qY/YN9fqZf6nrI/AAAAAAAAFrI/T2hdIEFHvGgswy4Nh6JFWz7jRv8idBePQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/210465244_10160019251555961_7018481642907242920_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">100km/hr winds going over the Bosses ridge on the way down</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Making it to the summit was a surreal feeling, I could not stand because of the wind, my climbing rope flying circles around my face. My goggles filling up with tears. I looked at Yann, Clement, Yannick. We had made it. An intense feeling of gratitude. 5 years ago I could barely walk up a hill without experiencing a lot of pain. And now I stood on top of Mont Blanc. I thought of my friends, some of which who are going through a very tough time, some of which who’s pain won’t be able to be taken away like mine. Life is so fickle, so fragile. I felt so lucky I was able to do this and the difficult conditions made it that much more special. “Le Mont Blanc est toujours la” I had heard guides tell their clients. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">This might be true for Mont Blanc but not for people who do not get to see out their lives. Who are simply not that fortunate. I believe the moment is now (within safety margins), grab it, embrace it, love it and live it. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mq2K25Afqdw/YOBeCOgrh_I/AAAAAAAAFr4/gr0vg8aROfIgu3cMRUOhXv5trmqh6H5EgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/206327818_1231347817298457_64190265469178856_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mq2K25Afqdw/YOBeCOgrh_I/AAAAAAAAFr4/gr0vg8aROfIgu3cMRUOhXv5trmqh6H5EgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/206327818_1231347817298457_64190265469178856_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making our way down Mont Blanc sledging!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Although luck did play in our hands with the skies clearing as we went up higher, I was proud that our little group had the fitness levels, the mountain skills, and the mental ability to push hard to create a window of opportunity for ourselves so we we were able to reach for the stars. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q1iCTRA2ylc/YN9gRvIT2dI/AAAAAAAAFrY/pio56GwKDs0pJKL7HCjAJs4SgxoYO23IQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/205141402_1231347827298456_4466277385648085996_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q1iCTRA2ylc/YN9gRvIT2dI/AAAAAAAAFrY/pio56GwKDs0pJKL7HCjAJs4SgxoYO23IQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/205141402_1231347827298456_4466277385648085996_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">clear views heading to Vallot <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Mont Blanc for me was not some goal I had to tick off. I felt it was only a start. An experience gained. Coming home I was even more inspired to learn, to improve my skills and to go again and again, to become smoother, better, and faster. Yann said to me on our return “ Mont Blanc a fait de toi un Alpiniste, maintenant il faut faire de toi un montagnarde”</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dI3sI19jIN8/YN9YmPpbyEI/AAAAAAAAFpY/c5z9xEfDRsMTcREa1KPwZKCkVVHLqB5yQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/205777890_10160019253520961_7469227527488887625_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="334" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dI3sI19jIN8/YN9YmPpbyEI/AAAAAAAAFpY/c5z9xEfDRsMTcREa1KPwZKCkVVHLqB5yQCLcBGAsYHQ/w445-h334/205777890_10160019253520961_7469227527488887625_n.jpg" width="445" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yann has opened the world of mountaineering to me<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Life has changed so much for me in the last 12 months. And it is not that I do not have difficult days or that my body is pain free. But I have never felt more inspired, felt more positive to keep fighting for what I believe is worth fighting for. And with that believe I feel stronger than ever. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A huge thanks to Yann, Yannick and Clement for an experience which is engraved in my heart.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">“Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit” EE Cummings. </p></div>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-84418868921903951132021-02-23T07:49:00.003-08:002021-02-24T04:47:04.540-08:006 Months in France; La vie en rose <div class="separator"><p style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 12px;"> </p></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7O2agd3kmNI/YDQEQL3HHBI/AAAAAAAAFg8/uYAeFwXfgc01xv7-ywGctMUDj0161GX9wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/F0F192DA-290A-443F-8C40-46F3030EBF2C.JPG" style="font-size: 11px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="536" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7O2agd3kmNI/YDQEQL3HHBI/AAAAAAAAFg8/uYAeFwXfgc01xv7-ywGctMUDj0161GX9wCLcBGAsYHQ/w429-h536/F0F192DA-290A-443F-8C40-46F3030EBF2C.JPG" width="429" /></a></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: left;">A few weeks before my father passed away last summer I wrote him a message. We had had no contact for over a decade and I had been notified by his legal representative that he was dying which he wanted my sister and I to know. </span><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: left;">I wrote to him that I hoped that he was not in any pain, that I hoped he was not scared and was at peace. I wrote to him that my sister and I would take all his good qualities with us and we would try to let go of all the abuse, sadness and grieve. I wrote to him that we were the only living proof of his success despite his harrowing failures. I let him know we would come and see him if he wished us so. A few missed calls from him followed and a message thanking my sister and me for the offer to come and say goodbye but that that was not necessary. He said he was walking again and getting some fresh air. He said that he could see from my social media account that I was doing well. It was the last time I heard from him.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: left;">I am not sure if seeing him or talking to him before his passing would have made any difference to us, the apology we so longed for would have never been spoken. And as a proud man he did not want us to see him so weak. For him to say it was not necessary for us to come was not meant to be hurtful or distressing. There was simply nothing left to say. This ending was typical for the person my father was and for us it felt fitting. He did not want a funeral, no cards to let people know he had passed. He wanted to disappear without any bells or whistles because for different reasons than ours, his life had been a failure to him also. My sister and I wanted to let go of him this way, without any celebrations of his dark, painful and complicated life.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="743" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z15aYTDR7zU/YDPHn_rGJuI/AAAAAAAAFgQ/Szbp6tMoIFA-ZygR-OseBohkxV-PSGDaQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG-6965.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: left;">I have a strong belief that in life you always have a choice. A choice to pursue happiness, a choice to not become a victim of circumstances you can not control. A choice to move on. My sister shares that same belief and we have lived our lives (albeit on different hemispheres at times) with the same passion and determination to surpass our childhood demons and become better, kinder, and a hell of a lot more inspiring people than the ones who put us into this world. I look at my sister and I think she is the most wonderful human I know and without her in my life, I would not have had the strength and believe to achieve the things I have achieved. That feeling makes me very proud of her, that despite it all we managed to rise above.</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I also believe that there is some beauty in all things ugly, and my father was no exception. I feel that because we really knew who he was and have seen all of his darkness, we are also the ones who can decide to hold on to his beauty and his strengths. The good experiences we had with him as our father also influenced us on who we have become as adults and some of the strong positive Oostra traits were very present in our lives on a daily basis. After his passing it was our choice to hold on to this beauty.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2-SBRJAxwk8/YDPHmjxEPyI/AAAAAAAAFgM/AMr5XwQ5wk8gjyEKbjz3z2oIUEd6l0yrgCLcBGAsYHQ/s750/IMG-6966.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="750" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2-SBRJAxwk8/YDPHmjxEPyI/AAAAAAAAFgM/AMr5XwQ5wk8gjyEKbjz3z2oIUEd6l0yrgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG-6966.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My recent move to France has felt a bit like coming home to me, reconnecting with my European roots and remembering my childhood in a more accepting, loving way. Especially with the winter and snow arriving, I fondly remembered our ski holidays when we were children and I let myself cherish those happy moments without it being overshadowed by all the sadness </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">which came with it.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Moving to a new country during a global pandemic and a second lockdown meant I spent an awful lot of time solely in the company of my little adventure pup Mac. I used that time to focus on being comfortable again in my own company. `To let go of all the white noise in my head. Through this solitude I regained my confidence, my happiness, and my self worth. Just like the mountains in Nepal had a healing effect on me, so did the mountains in the French Alps. I felt my energy returning, my optimism, and enthusiasm for all the things I loved so much.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It is funny how you attract the right people in your life when you are in a position to be completely yourself. Slowly but surely I started to get surrounded with like minded people from French neighbours to Dutch landlords and English adventure gurus who made me feel accepted and would applaud my restless feet and thirst for adventures. I started to live the life I wanted to live, surrounded by mountains and outdoor pursuits and people who inspired and challenged me to always look forward and progress. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZcTXQZjcXnc/YDPIdeYuSeI/AAAAAAAAFgc/ZX5_mQkA8Icca9vbZjNjb8Geu8CX8QA5QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/9434c555-8208-4c81-81fb-fcb091e2aab6.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning French from Lucille during a ski tour</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZcTXQZjcXnc/YDPIdeYuSeI/AAAAAAAAFgc/ZX5_mQkA8Icca9vbZjNjb8Geu8CX8QA5QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/9434c555-8208-4c81-81fb-fcb091e2aab6.JPG" style="font-size: 11px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></a></div><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HFo-dgufadI/YDPF3RnGPoI/AAAAAAAAFfU/aTRxSEnSmM8c-Elh3K8QVeKXnjAkkwJagCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/130762066_10159510234915961_1868181723190188501_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have fallen on my feet with my landlord Gerard who takes me skiing and introduced me to Yann who is equally as mad as me in adventure pursuits </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HFo-dgufadI/YDPF3RnGPoI/AAAAAAAAFfU/aTRxSEnSmM8c-Elh3K8QVeKXnjAkkwJagCLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/130762066_10159510234915961_1868181723190188501_o.jpg" style="font-size: 11px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">For many years in Scotland I felt that there was something wrong with me, that the way I looked at life or what I wanted from it was simply a fairytale and that I had to change my views and face reality. For years I really struggled coming to terms with that and yearned for a different life than the one I was living. It felt like a continuous battle to stay true to myself in a world where I did not feel accepted. My journey with chronic pain did not really help that situation and I am aware that my negative feelings towards the UK also stemmed from getting injured and having to give up on my dream of basing my life around a world of outdoor sports and adventures. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1OlXArUYqHM/YDPF571qzII/AAAAAAAAFfc/zshInsANBKgd0ERov44yE-n8fCXzttr_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/136419148_10159577615705961_1570944666921423130_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1OlXArUYqHM/YDPF571qzII/AAAAAAAAFfc/zshInsANBKgd0ERov44yE-n8fCXzttr_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/136419148_10159577615705961_1570944666921423130_o.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My best friend Jantiene coming over was a week of big smiles</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I am not someone who is easily proud of things I have done, being the eternal self critic, but when I look at myself today and how happy I wake up in the mornings living a life I have always dreamt of, I feel pride that I simply never gave up and kept on working hard at achieving it.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I am grateful for the people who have come into my life since I have moved to France. People I now call my friends who have immediately accepted me, made me feel welcome and have given me the confidence to just simply be me.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I feel grateful for the company I work for, Joii Pet Care, through which I can work remotely to make this lifestyle happen and who have given me enough working hours to be able to piece my dream together financially. I feel grateful for my friends spread all over the world who have been there for me through the good, the bad and the ugly and inspired me to keep chasing my dreams. And I feel very grateful for the strong bond I have with my sister, who always knows what to say when I fall silent. I believe that with gratitude, happiness has a chance to flow.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="414" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CmFqaLGs7Lc/YDPFxraUFFI/AAAAAAAAFfE/njG4Hnj-Jv4xugmOIcPRNQmM_Ty3o0mFgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/129887346_10159497282840961_2625166423943538748_o-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best adventure pup in the world </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CmFqaLGs7Lc/YDPFxraUFFI/AAAAAAAAFfE/njG4Hnj-Jv4xugmOIcPRNQmM_Ty3o0mFgCLcBGAsYHQ/s414/129887346_10159497282840961_2625166423943538748_o-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="414" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-93pJ2J6NbhM/YDPFufnjgiI/AAAAAAAAFe0/tqZwdG-p9UIGyRNxRasQOKV8CkCykZQ7wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/123961851_10159418285335961_6574132177811215225_o-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">During lockdown we got very fit in our vertical km radius</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-93pJ2J6NbhM/YDPFufnjgiI/AAAAAAAAFe0/tqZwdG-p9UIGyRNxRasQOKV8CkCykZQ7wCLcBGAsYHQ/s414/123961851_10159418285335961_6574132177811215225_o-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></a></div><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="414" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6BaMeD7iOdk/YDPF1J-2z7I/AAAAAAAAFfM/rbyMBcbmdRICjLVjdksefq9E5zPXc5hQwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/131568682_10159524853590961_8712457480698246525_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joii who helped me chase my dreams</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6BaMeD7iOdk/YDPF1J-2z7I/AAAAAAAAFfM/rbyMBcbmdRICjLVjdksefq9E5zPXc5hQwCLcBGAsYHQ/s414/131568682_10159524853590961_8712457480698246525_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></a></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Managing my pain levels will always be a bit of a balancing act, but I have found a great physio who understands the complexity of it all and with whom I will continue on from what I have been doing in the UK with the Meta team. My body feels stronger than ever with energy levels I have not felt for many years. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This made me want to challenge myself and I started started 2021 with a ski challenge where I wanted to ascend the height of Mont Blanc (4809m) in one day and I surprised myself by climbing 5500m in 10 and a half hours. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3PgPxQHPeBk/YDPF7i9VXII/AAAAAAAAFfg/fDQA7Y_DJOELDkC00DsMElEyU-9IQpuEACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/140420395_10159607191780961_7584948051561110676_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On my way to my final ascent during my skimo challenge with my cheer club Gerard and Yann joining me for the last climb</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3PgPxQHPeBk/YDPF7i9VXII/AAAAAAAAFfg/fDQA7Y_DJOELDkC00DsMElEyU-9IQpuEACLcBGAsYHQ/s1024/140420395_10159607191780961_7584948051561110676_o.jpg" style="font-size: 11px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></a></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I have been able to do solo ski tours high in the mountains which I never thought I could do in my first season here because of my lack of experience and skill set but skiing with Yann and learning from him has progressed my skiing to another level. I have a few more ski adventures on the bucket list before the snow disappears making me feel anxious and excited at the same time!</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This summer I have a few bike challenges on the radar and running an ultra trail through the mountains is also something I would love to do. Other than that I simply love exploring the incredible nature which I can call my backyard. I might do the same loop day in day out but somehow it never looks the same and it always literally and physically takes my breath away! </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3jdDpzxS4Dc/YDPIo5PeOEI/AAAAAAAAFgg/4rH1acsiUWk5yNiRfe4CRMItQqs2HLVeQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/BDE54E0C-4E2E-4DD6-8AB3-1F31ACF201E7.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1638" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3jdDpzxS4Dc/YDPIo5PeOEI/AAAAAAAAFgg/4rH1acsiUWk5yNiRfe4CRMItQqs2HLVeQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/BDE54E0C-4E2E-4DD6-8AB3-1F31ACF201E7.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">living the dream</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 11px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="769" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9uPsjkrrH2E/YDUcrfGxQrI/AAAAAAAAFhU/I3PQnKcfI9EXESKLptgX5P_9byYkorI9ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/28fdd5e9-05b5-419b-aa8d-c1f3deeb9747.JPG" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238); color: #0000ee; font-family: helvetica; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: underline;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yann challenges me on a daily basis to progress in every possible way </td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Through a Skype call my sister told me “I am so happy I have Nienke back” Which is exactly what it feels like, I am truly, utterly, honestly, and happily, me again. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ozyljRF1ce8/YDPFfGxeKnI/AAAAAAAAFeM/5WbSsCCPOwIhWQ-fRmaacE-wEUrlBMDZgCLcBGAsYHQ/s414/132626152_10159542417505961_4057551749970900936_n.jpg" style="font-size: 11px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="414" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ozyljRF1ce8/YDPFfGxeKnI/AAAAAAAAFeM/5WbSsCCPOwIhWQ-fRmaacE-wEUrlBMDZgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/132626152_10159542417505961_4057551749970900936_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My North, My South, My East, My West</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My father always used to say that life should be one big party but that you have to decorate it yourself. Ironic coming from a man who suffered from depression and endured several suicide attempts. It is however something which I often think of when I am standing in front of difficult decisions. Both my sister and I inherited a never ending optimism from him, as sense of humour for when things go horribly wrong, a stubbornness in our pursuit of happiness and an ability to see beauty and experience joy even in the most difficult of circumstances. And we can find it in the littlest of things like a beautiful view, a great song, or simply a funny situation. It is something which has helped me battle through in life whilst keeping my head held high and it has made me resilient. It got me to where I am today and I want to hold on to that as something good he did. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I had given myself to May this year to financially make it work and it was also the time frame I was offered the little apartment I am living in. Recently I have been asked to stay on for another year in my apartment and at the moment I have enough work through Joii to be able to pay my bills, which has been a huge relief. I am here to stay.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NBlq4Z0Z-Po/YDPFwNkk2wI/AAAAAAAAFe8/4VtU8tVYV2M-MsR0x1wbxZWOUrfjD50dACLcBGAsYHQ/s405/129068044_10159489453750961_3544901232498419305_o.jpg" style="font-size: 11px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="405" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NBlq4Z0Z-Po/YDPFwNkk2wI/AAAAAAAAFe8/4VtU8tVYV2M-MsR0x1wbxZWOUrfjD50dACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/129068044_10159489453750961_3544901232498419305_o.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A room with a view </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I am looking out of my bedroom window at the beautiful mountains in front me and my normally itchy feet feel tired but calm and my normally wired brain feels inspired but settled. I never thought I would say this but my gypsy lifestyle might have come to an end because I have finally found a place which is home to me. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><i>"To be nobody but yourself in a world that is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle any human being can fight. Never stop fighting" EE Cummings </i></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9eabpQEbn6k/YDPFi-HeUxI/AAAAAAAAFeY/IxH9WquBcmw0i77kLjc5Hpd-R9uviIosACLcBGAsYHQ/s414/130265259_10159507068840961_6416074665846647509_o.jpg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="414" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9eabpQEbn6k/YDPFi-HeUxI/AAAAAAAAFeY/IxH9WquBcmw0i77kLjc5Hpd-R9uviIosACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/130265259_10159507068840961_6416074665846647509_o.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-81913700233841388042020-11-03T11:13:00.005-08:002020-11-03T12:09:03.877-08:00A life of choices ; always choose courage over comfort <p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7pqU2inxNF8/X6Gq9vF9nCI/AAAAAAAAFY4/E5t4PYUrQdMnp9bQ6VuwMeFPdZ4aHrpNACLcBGAsYHQ/s1728/79004396_496687667719859_6967069753118556160_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1296" data-original-width="1728" height="352" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7pqU2inxNF8/X6Gq9vF9nCI/AAAAAAAAFY4/E5t4PYUrQdMnp9bQ6VuwMeFPdZ4aHrpNACLcBGAsYHQ/w469-h352/79004396_496687667719859_6967069753118556160_n.jpg" width="469" /></a></div><br /><p></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When I was asked to write a blog for the active vet movement to try and inspire more veterinarians to become active, I immediately said yes. And then it took a while to actually get words down on a page. These days there are so many books out by people doing extraordinary things and there are thousands of blogs available online of people sharing their experiences. I had the pleasure of meeting someone recently who made me question the need to share a story. Whether the words written were interesting enough to read and truly inspiring or whether they were instead a self fulfilling prophecy of being liked and accepted. I love stories, hence I love reading blogs, but with social media so present in our lives I have often questioned the originality of a written piece. I am always searching for the real story, the honesty of the person behind the words they have written and ultimately what makes them truly tick. I have found however that those stories don’t often get told or don’t get the exposure they deserve, because it is not what people like to read.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-arEYv6TWtrQ/X6GnjUgPh9I/AAAAAAAAFYQ/zYsKBK7X9TQCDB-xxphgZywUzeh7TdE6ACLcBGAsYHQ/s604/71471723_10158176376555961_2587096052079263744_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="604" height="242" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-arEYv6TWtrQ/X6GnjUgPh9I/AAAAAAAAFYQ/zYsKBK7X9TQCDB-xxphgZywUzeh7TdE6ACLcBGAsYHQ/w275-h242/71471723_10158176376555961_2587096052079263744_n.jpg" width="275" /></a></div></div><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">lucky to have worked with the best of the best</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I read a book recently in which there was a beautiful paragraph about people not liking messy. Society asks for the happy endings, the feel goods, the affirming and uplifting reports. “Come back when you have something positive to say” But my life has been nothing but messy. Most of it related to a childhood I could not control. I am still working it all out. Personally I have found comfort in other people’s messiness so to speak, those are the stories I have always been interested in. </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SFi_RhffjN8/X6GnPbDR_1I/AAAAAAAAFXo/fknd7xEz0cAyEQkUkO9E6LpAyZyoYoW-wCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/1900117_10152987174425961_356620314_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SFi_RhffjN8/X6GnPbDR_1I/AAAAAAAAFXo/fknd7xEz0cAyEQkUkO9E6LpAyZyoYoW-wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1900117_10152987174425961_356620314_n.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">once I found the mountains I was hooked </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-40-EmzPKevw/X6GnmD5xB9I/AAAAAAAAFYU/sHPkzo_hea8ICK8BpW2b0zKpxsBL43MIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/27972933_10156734355650961_3546874096828589262_n-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="960" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-40-EmzPKevw/X6GnmD5xB9I/AAAAAAAAFYU/sHPkzo_hea8ICK8BpW2b0zKpxsBL43MIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/27972933_10156734355650961_3546874096828589262_n-2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I have never really belonged anywhere, I moved around a lot as a child which did not help that matter. But I also believe it is partly me, because I love to be free. To try a thousand things and become a jack of all trades rather than a master at one. And although I chose horses as a specialty in my veterinary career, I did not choose one particular interest in that field and ended up working in all most every aspect of equine practice. The same counted for my athletic career, so often I was asked to choose. “choose the bike and you will excel, keep doing multi sports and you will never reach your full potential on the bike” But I wanted to run, ski, kayak, get lost in the mountains, I wanted it all. The same counted for combining my job as a veterinarian and pursuing my sporting career. Other than the financial reasons for finding it difficult to leave my profession, I loved being a vet, it was challenging, it was exciting and I was lucky to have learned from some of the best veterinarians in the world. When I was asked to choose, I did not want to do that. It often was perceived as being uncommitted or never being happy, but it was neither, I just loved progress and progressing often meant jumping at opportunities given. But my chase in wanting it all came at a huge cost. It has taken me years to climb out of the hole I dug for myself. I get frustrated when I read quotes like “hard work always pays off” “you will achieve it if you want it bad enough” “just follow your heart and it will all work out” because that is simply not true. If it was then all the hard workers would be world champions and anyone with a big dream would be able to achieve it. And believe me at the pointy end of the field everyone works their asses off to try and succeed at living their dreams. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AGfdE0tyrVk/X6GnXr-ySLI/AAAAAAAAFX4/5aP7jGIatrEzM5VEmnlPYZ04hMdBZ5KjQCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/29315077_10156818468955961_5435169237158475435_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="729" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AGfdE0tyrVk/X6GnXr-ySLI/AAAAAAAAFX4/5aP7jGIatrEzM5VEmnlPYZ04hMdBZ5KjQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/29315077_10156818468955961_5435169237158475435_n.jpg" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Before I discovered fast bikes, there were fast horses<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NC1bOtYVyRI/X6Gq0u8hYdI/AAAAAAAAFY0/X0un9r3GsbcuhSfSjxqA3rgsLd04ha0DgCLcBGAsYHQ/s427/72118824_10158176426625961_7888877113317523456_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="361" data-original-width="427" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NC1bOtYVyRI/X6Gq0u8hYdI/AAAAAAAAFY0/X0un9r3GsbcuhSfSjxqA3rgsLd04ha0DgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/72118824_10158176426625961_7888877113317523456_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UBdp2lO5qhk/X6GnQhk79SI/AAAAAAAAFXs/uWqQNbm15O8kgyIjPEYzfrZlZ_N_bn--ACLcBGAsYHQ/s414/10366032_10154534622830961_3783612113522825554_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="414" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UBdp2lO5qhk/X6GnQhk79SI/AAAAAAAAFXs/uWqQNbm15O8kgyIjPEYzfrZlZ_N_bn--ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/10366032_10154534622830961_3783612113522825554_n.jpg" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Turned out I was good at suffering giving everything I got during a race getting me into the elite within 12 months of discovering the sport</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rGFMemtGsyE/X6GnberS9ZI/AAAAAAAAFX8/U8c07T-ZcjYDo_YsxgSvw_QGUJ2ti97TACLcBGAsYHQ/s1414/15003313_10155347915275961_2323765996067591670_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1414" data-original-width="1249" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rGFMemtGsyE/X6GnberS9ZI/AAAAAAAAFX8/U8c07T-ZcjYDo_YsxgSvw_QGUJ2ti97TACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/15003313_10155347915275961_2323765996067591670_o.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I am not someone who easily lacks motivation or is scared of big dreams. I am weirdly wired where I will suffer massively from the imposter syndrome, I felt this especially during my short stint of racing at elite level, but at the same time I have an attitude where I would never settle for mediocre when there is an opportunity to strive for excellence. I have never needed motivation to train around my working hours, it is what I loved doing. Sure the temptation to stay in bed on the cold and wet winter mornings instead of going out training was there, I am only human after all. but I always looked at the bigger picture and improvement is my addiction. Staying in bed would not get me any better, faster or stronger. </span></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My drive and the idea which has been preached around the world on social media that if you want something bad enough all you need to do is work for it, took a physical and mental toll on me. When it did not work out, I felt like a failure. But during the last few years whilst trying to get back on track I have had a lot of time to reflect and work out what ultimately is most important to me. And it comes down to my freedom. The freedom to be myself, in my work, my friendships and my relationships. I left veterinary practice because I did not feel I could feel do that. I felt that I was continuously pulled in different directions and I was never good enough. For a long time I felt stuck, not knowing what direction to head in. When you look at my profile you could say I have done it all, I worked at some of the best equine hospitals in the world, I became a lecturer at one of the best veterinary universities in the world and I raced at elite level with the best athletes of the world in multiple disciplines (al be it at the back of the pack) And I have not regretted anything I have done, but I would not recommend doing all of this unless you have an incredible support network! </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Gmz59yudIQ/X6GnV4aPTAI/AAAAAAAAFX0/dlpJcrQHtD0F4ovMiOMX8xQd1q0HT7ntACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/19399240_10156045517350961_1684450682024604804_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Gmz59yudIQ/X6GnV4aPTAI/AAAAAAAAFX0/dlpJcrQHtD0F4ovMiOMX8xQd1q0HT7ntACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/19399240_10156045517350961_1684450682024604804_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Racing at the world championships in the Dutch national kit was quite something</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Last year I made a choice, it came with the dream of challenging my physical and mental limits traversing the Himalayas in Nepal from West to East on the mountain bike. When I researched it, I discovered it had never been attempted let alone done before. I planned everything from choosing a route studying a million maps endlessly, to all the logistics needed for something this big. I paid for the expedition and everything that came with it out of my savings. The project was completely mine, It was my idea, it was my dream and although nothing went according to plan, it was the most rewarding thing I have ever done in my life because I was in control of what was controllable from beginning to end and I tried to execute that to the best of my ability. The icing on the cake was achieving a world first. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As vets we are born high achievers, heck just getting into University means you have to stand out, we are also generally people who want to fix things, save animals, help out where we can, which often results in working around the clock. The expedition in Nepal taught me that I am the one in control of my life, that it is up to me to dictate my own boundaries. Unfortunately I had to leave equine practice to realise that but I am keen to find a balance. Search for a (part time) job where I can dictate my own freedom with people who respect that so I can chase my so many numerous goals on my ever growing bucket list!</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">“Freedom in any case, is only possible by constantly struggling for it” Einstein </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p>Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-57623943374741894492020-10-01T12:55:00.037-07:002020-10-02T12:52:02.023-07:00When life throws you lemons; be more Mac<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VGvholeKd2M/X3Yy_ANCqyI/AAAAAAAAFS0/9qAH0Xo4-SwMZUvUrobos85TNBMu8Ma7QCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rxp1yrZuS0M/X3Y1PdFZVyI/AAAAAAAAFTk/qRGR8ImvWGo4V28VxZKNxp8tAublz3OpACLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/F3B7E0CC-258D-4BEE-A316-9EDCE5BCDE60.jpeg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SQ8uXHGQ7pw/X3Y1nzxT5HI/AAAAAAAAFUM/_mJYXSIHy0oLZe-BbliIhasdksv9iHA4wCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="256" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SQ8uXHGQ7pw/X3Y1nzxT5HI/AAAAAAAAFUM/_mJYXSIHy0oLZe-BbliIhasdksv9iHA4wCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" width="192" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The last few days I have started this blog countless times only to have multiple unfinished blogs saved on my computer. I felt they were either too critical, too negative, too fake or soaking too much in self pity for me to be comfortable sharing the words I had written. So here I am, plenty to write about, I just haven’t really found a way to process it all. </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KbhmIYE1hWA/X3Y1HUb4fFI/AAAAAAAAFTY/AKM_hJKdpE0TXUHoWg_LXdkgggh118RAwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/119150366_10159278584920961_9070475774551634162_o.jpg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O-Gws_51l1Y/X3Y1ghSdvxI/AAAAAAAAFUA/mUQG2qq13kEFf47aSv0l7M5kHiymGlFTgCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="256" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O-Gws_51l1Y/X3Y1ghSdvxI/AAAAAAAAFUA/mUQG2qq13kEFf47aSv0l7M5kHiymGlFTgCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" width="192" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Last Saturday I raced my first UCI sanctioned race in 3 years, my first MTB marathon in two years and my first MTB race in over a year. I entered in an attempt to meet some like minded people in my new country of residence, France. Because yes, I decided to move countries during a global pandemic, a bit more on that a bit later. My friend and super adventurist Katie and I were going to do a bike packing trip of the back of the race to see if we would be a compatible team for future bike packing adventures. Since my move to France late July, the weather had been incredible sunny with endless blue skies. A week before the race I cycled in shorts and t-shirst struggling with the heat. This was all going to change very quickly the week leading into the race with snow forecasted down to the lower mountains, my track record for good race weather or race luck in general is not great and this was certainly no exception. First of all Katie fell ill and had to pull out of the race and our bike packing adventure which meant I was heading to Villard de Lans a little ski resort near Grenoble only accompanied by my 4 footed friend Mac. Needing a bit of social contact after many weeks hanging out by myself I was looking forward to a race day with fellow bike riders after which I would head to Bozel to spend some time with Katie and talk all things adventure.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">On Friday morning I woke up to white flurry stuff falling from the sky and the top of the mountains looking beautifully white from my bed room window. Absolutely stunning but not ideal for a bike race. A little apprehensive I packed the van and headed to the race village, a 3 hour drive from Montriond which I now call my home. Late afternoon I arrived at registration whilst it had become quite snowy on lower grounds and the race started around 2000m. This was going to be interesting. The plan was to camp out in the van but as I parked up in a quiet spot, the heavens opened, thunder, lightening and hail the size of ping pong balls fell from the sky. A quick look on <a href="http://booking.com">booking.com</a> and I had found a super friendly aubergement as the French say it, to spend the night, Mac was welcome as well and even got his own bed, I tried to relax as much as I could.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZphYV6OPRfI/X3Y1-i5RLUI/AAAAAAAAFVE/gYgE0_nL050xbyUIS3yi1uOPhS_ei2UuACLcBGAsYHQ/s1799/118237891_10159231676870961_1467700071812473311_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1799" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZphYV6OPRfI/X3Y1-i5RLUI/AAAAAAAAFVE/gYgE0_nL050xbyUIS3yi1uOPhS_ei2UuACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/118237891_10159231676870961_1467700071812473311_o.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"> </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I woke up to even more snow and freezing conditions. When I took Mac for his morning walk my motivation dropped to an all time low. It would have been so easy to head to Katie’s and not race but when I commit, I commit and a couple of hours later I found myself shivering on the start line with about 400 other shivering riders. The course had been cut to 45kms because of the extreme weather conditions. I was expecting a European type MTB marathon with plenty of long non technical climbs but this course was a whole different story. Because of lockdown I had not really ridden any natural forestry trails and unknowingly I was getting myself into 3 and a half hours of slippery, muddy, snowy, frosty technical single trails with climbs not quite long enough for me to make up for my lack of technical speed on the descents. It was never the plan to be competitive but on the start line my brain always disagrees so I went out and tried to ride as best as I possibly could. With the result that for two thirds of the race I found myself in a little group of 3 leading the female field, I even had one of those drone thingies zooming around my ears, but they never used the footage! Haha! I led the climbs only to be dropped on the descents.The weather was horrendous with proper snow bucketing from the sky and it was getting colder and colder. Although not really enjoying it as such I felt reasonably happy with how I was going until with 10kms to go I had a back brake malfunction (stopped working). This resulted in me coming down hard on a collection of rocks perfectly placed to break my landing. I ignored blood seeping through my jersey and although a bit shaken I got back on the bike trying to chase my two new friends disappearing into the distance. Already lacking in confidence on the downhills, the crash and a non functioning back brake brought me to a halt, my body went into shutdown and I crawled all the way to the finish line with my body uncontrollably shivering so much I actually thought I would break my jaw at one point. 5th overall female. I have no idea how big or how small the female field was but from a performance point of view I can’t remember the last time I was actually in contention of winning a race, let alone a UCI sanctioned one and that was enough for me to be happy about my physical performance. I felt strong, I was just lacking technical skills. As I drove to Bozel wearing all the clothes I had brought to try and get warm, the sun came out.Typical. The rest of the weekend was spent enjoying Katie and her partner Lee's company, talking for literally hours on end, planning new adventures together whilst exploring the beauty of their backyard.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MBq0lMKtZnc/X3Y1K77-1bI/AAAAAAAAFTc/R2Rj1HDywqsU6Ii4HdeSTUI4cJD4CP2JQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1440/120195520_10159328290405961_6954289977230415324_o.jpg" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UNTQ-zj2jOM/X3Y1t8loVNI/AAAAAAAAFUc/2u_caWdXvo4BQ3NVDcDpqZz_uj0iPy5agCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UNTQ-zj2jOM/X3Y1t8loVNI/AAAAAAAAFUc/2u_caWdXvo4BQ3NVDcDpqZz_uj0iPy5agCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Like most people I have found Covid pretty tough, although I think for very different reasons than the general population. Just before we went into lockdown, I was notified that my father had only a few days to live. My father’s life was not one to be celebrated as he had made a mess of it in the worst possible way, something which will take my sister and me our whole lives to process and come to terms with. My fathers death caused a confrontation with our past which was difficult. It sent us both on an emotional roller coaster ride which we are still trying to somewhat control. With the borders closing we haven’t had the chance to be in each other’s company to grieve our childhood together and when this will be possible is still a big unknown. During Covid I have witnessed my friends flying home from all over the world to be with their family confronting me with the fact that other than my sister I don’t have a place I can go “home” to. That feeling of belonging somewhere unconditionally was lacking from my life. For some reason this made me feel more and more disconnected from the UK and the urge to reconnect with my European rootes made me chase my long time dream of living in the Alps. Being born in the Italian mountains, I found that mountains wherever in the world have always felt like home. It was not a decision I took lightly but it was one I needed to make for my own sanity.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">That’s where I am right now, I found a home in the French Alps. I expected the feeling of stress related to only just piecing it together financially but I underestimated the feeling of isolation I would get due to the pandemic. The when, how and if I was going to see the people I loved and the difficulty of starting a new social life with all the restrictions in place has made it a little tough. But I am here, and I am battling on and I am not one to give up easily, and hey after 4 years of beating injury I actually managed to race in 2020 with more power in my legs I have had for years!! </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Every day I have this little dog called Mac who gets me out of the house on those days I preferably would want to hide inside and he always manages to show me that even in what seems the worst circumstances at the time, there is always beauty all around us to enjoy. And if you greet the world with a smile, the world will smile back at you.</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-orQYiHP9DYI/X3Yyy2ANnqI/AAAAAAAAFSo/dmP4xszqht8DACPjzjgDHbor8lvKZ2w2QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/F3B7E0CC-258D-4BEE-A316-9EDCE5BCDE60.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-orQYiHP9DYI/X3Yyy2ANnqI/AAAAAAAAFSo/dmP4xszqht8DACPjzjgDHbor8lvKZ2w2QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1800/F3B7E0CC-258D-4BEE-A316-9EDCE5BCDE60.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tlwjTp-pd4s/X3Yy9kB8aiI/AAAAAAAAFSw/mKc8f_wJkvkwuZgJqy1nFiQg1b1KUgM2ACLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></a></div></div><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;">“Remember, remember, this now and now and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I have taken for granted” </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1gtItp6CcV8/X3Y2ZYGyvPI/AAAAAAAAFVY/tUKwi6GuWxQ1DcLJ71gTOvDehKqYsNDDQCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="256" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1gtItp6CcV8/X3Y2ZYGyvPI/AAAAAAAAFVY/tUKwi6GuWxQ1DcLJ71gTOvDehKqYsNDDQCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" width="192" /></a></div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3UCMdD0d_CA/X3Y1EscZgZI/AAAAAAAAFTU/odzCclz0ZwQwRd-jLyXSwiXC2WiOdtFPgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1799/118237891_10159231676870961_1467700071812473311_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3UCMdD0d_CA/X3Y1EscZgZI/AAAAAAAAFTU/odzCclz0ZwQwRd-jLyXSwiXC2WiOdtFPgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1799/118237891_10159231676870961_1467700071812473311_o.jpg"><br /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U4zzuhlHWiU/X3Y1NnlPNHI/AAAAAAAAFTg/K3wsUmeSpvEAtMTEMDwTaQO4m6v8n8xYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/120299928_10159320825930961_3540990548135535585_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U4zzuhlHWiU/X3Y1NnlPNHI/AAAAAAAAFTg/K3wsUmeSpvEAtMTEMDwTaQO4m6v8n8xYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/120299928_10159320825930961_3540990548135535585_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t1MlhwKP9UM/X3Y1kEXNPQI/AAAAAAAAFUE/yjBAmFDzt9IE43H8kZ7vtgvw258XPx-eQCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t1MlhwKP9UM/X3Y1kEXNPQI/AAAAAAAAFUE/yjBAmFDzt9IE43H8kZ7vtgvw258XPx-eQCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v4ertxIZsjw/X3Y1ufS3mAI/AAAAAAAAFUg/FJpeZxwjnAYtGJ20yUS95kRsqJVPnKjHACLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v4ertxIZsjw/X3Y1ufS3mAI/AAAAAAAAFUg/FJpeZxwjnAYtGJ20yUS95kRsqJVPnKjHACLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QMZCPlqt5XI/X3Y1wauRCSI/AAAAAAAAFUo/9Sz5DDSYAAcLxWm44rzB1pVCcc0Tlg9bQCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-QMZCPlqt5XI/X3Y1wauRCSI/AAAAAAAAFUo/9Sz5DDSYAAcLxWm44rzB1pVCcc0Tlg9bQCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sGKQCaIO2Fk/X3Y1zpX9twI/AAAAAAAAFUs/idJPDtkaH7EpLCgoWNEebseXUooJAAsMQCLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></a></div><br /></div><br /></div></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-59025391074793545002019-12-20T09:51:00.002-08:002019-12-20T10:03:45.149-08:00I DID IT <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7kxu0lLfO94/Xf0I-rluHbI/AAAAAAAAFEg/-u3KyCmanU0L7C-3qXd0lg2k-5-th18-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/79248607_10158357559530961_3875058462413029376_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7kxu0lLfO94/Xf0I-rluHbI/AAAAAAAAFEg/-u3KyCmanU0L7C-3qXd0lg2k-5-th18-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/79248607_10158357559530961_3875058462413029376_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There is so much to write about the last 8 weeks in Nepal and so much to process, lots of things to share which is beyond this blog. But I wanted to document this feeling I have at the moment, a certain pride, a certain amount of energy and excitement related to 3 simple words : I DID IT.</span></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I feel so different than 8 weeks ago when I left for Nepal, and never knew that so much change could happen in a person in such a short time. Only now have I realised how disappointed I was in myself, as a person, as a professional and as an athlete. Warranted or not that feeling of not wanting the life I was living consumed me. I just did not know what it was that made me feel that way and how I could change it. Michael would often say to me that it was the way I looked at things I had to change. I figured out in Nepal it was the way I looked at myself I had to change.</span></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Saikalako ended up my dream, my way out, my turning point. I put all my energy, money, spare time and trust into it. It was never really about completing the traverse for me, or a world first. It was about going there and trying every single day to do what I planned on doing to the best of my ability. For weeks on end. It was about not giving up when things got tough. To keep moving forward. And I did exactly that. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When in the first week it was clear that it was going to be extremely hard, almost impossibly hard and my team mate Karin decided to leave, I thought I had made a huge mistake in pursuing this crazy dream of mine. I felt devastated that it was such a disappointment right from the start. But the more Karin was talking about going home, the more I felt resistance. I had no reason to go home, I wanted to keep going even though we had lost a lot of time and getting to the Eastern border was almost impossible. I wanted to keep going even though being ill had taken a lot of strength out of my body. I wanted to keep going day by day until my time was up and I had to get back on a flight home. Why? Because I felt comfort in the beauty of the mountains, because I was prepared to physically and mentally suffer, I was prepared to dig as deep as I possibly could, because this was the journey I wanted to be on. Because Nepal had captured my heart. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful people of Nepal </td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By having to go solo I had to step up. I had to face my fears of navigating, and not only navigating but doing that on incredible tough terrain. Overcome my fear of narrow off camber trails, vertical land slides, steep rocky down hill hike a bike. And do this on my own. I had to believe I could do it. And so I did. And as the days went on, my confidence grew, my strength grew, and my body responded. I can not explain why my chronic pain disappeared during my time in Nepal. Why the strength I knew I had in me but had been lacking for so many years returned. I can not explain why at no point did I feel weak or not fit enough other than the incredible preparation I did with James. And I am not saying that I did not have bad days or that it was all a bed of roses. It was crazily tough, there were tears, there were hissy fits, there were moments of despair. Being so isolated at times, where no one speaks your language and you don’t understand theirs. The physical exhaustion, the mental challenge, it was relentless. But there was something magic in being able to keep moving forward, step by step, pedal stroke by pedal stroke, mountain pass by mountain pass. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">that's me, I did this!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The expedition started to change me, I felt grateful. Grateful for the life I was living, grateful for my friends and Michael and for being able to do what I was doing. The life I felt so disappointed with before Nepal, was now something I really cherished. Thanks to the kind people of Nepal, the beauty of the mountains, the simplicity of being and the hardship I endured during Saikalako I started to feel happiness again. Why? Because after many years of feeling I had failed me, I started to value myself again.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Where as an athlete I felt I had never been able to do what I knew I was capable of doing, during Saikalako I proved to myself what I was physically and mentally capable of. My coach James put it into words for me on return “what you have achieved is indisputable” 7 weeks non stop, roughly 1600kms of technical terrain, 85.000m ascend and multiple passes between 3000-5415m altitude with a loaded bike. I look at pictures from the trip and I think to myself still in a little disbelieve “I did it”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was asked recently what I learned most from doing this. I learned so many things on so many different levels but after a little bit of processing time I think the most important thing for me is this; I learned that I am very fortunate to live in a country where I am in control of my life and therefor I am in control of my own happiness. I am the driving factor to change things for the better. With that in mind I am going to do things differently professionally to help manage my chronic pain levels and I will keep on working hard to keep on improving physically and mentally in order to be able to keep on chasing my dreams.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-isByycIarcI/Xf0JqPm7jkI/AAAAAAAAFFA/-_lgGstw8LQ-u4n3qd0jwKIHRjxNrPB-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/80186874_10158393891495961_1440266219847417856_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: 11px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="689" height="319" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-isByycIarcI/Xf0JqPm7jkI/AAAAAAAAFFA/-_lgGstw8LQ-u4n3qd0jwKIHRjxNrPB-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/80186874_10158393891495961_1440266219847417856_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Missed these nutters so much!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A huge thank you to anyone who has supported me and believed in me over the years especially Michael, James and my wonderful sister Martje, without a good support crew I would be nowhere! There is loads more to share from this journey but I wanted to write this down for days to come. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> “It is not the mountain we conquer, it is ourselves” Edmund Hillary </span></span><br />
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-87591148002716450342019-09-09T13:47:00.001-07:002019-09-09T14:08:18.503-07:00The Dukes Weekender 2019; Making the UK great again <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Exactly 12 months ago I showed up at a little place called Aberfoyle with my van loaded with my dogs and my bike to meet my friends Kerry and Lewis to race the Dukes Weekender. I had been hiding from the world after coming back from a MTB stage race in Sri Lanka called the <a href="https://nienkeventures.blogspot.com/2018/06/sri-lanka-airlines-rumble-in-jungle.html" target="_blank">Rumble in the Jungle</a> where we were faced with tragedy when one of the Nepalese riders lost his life in a freak accident. But from the first minute driving into Aberfoyle my spirits were lifted with a positive vibe radiating through the whole of the Trossachs. Racing Dukes Weekender last year changed my life when organiser Rob Friel read my <a href="https://nienkeventures.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-dukes-weekender-just-what-doctor.html" target="_blank">Race blog</a> about the race and reached out to me sharing a lot of his time and knowledge about <a href="https://nienkeventures.blogspot.com/2019/05/body-in-mind-my-struggle-with-chronic.html" target="_blank">chronic pain</a> a complicated condition he recognised I was dealing with. Rob opened a whole new world to me where I learned to understand why my body reacted the way it did and how I could find a way to deal with it. </span></div>
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Fast forward 12 months and I drove again into the little village of Aberfoyle, renamed #Gravelfoyle for the weekend (which made me laugh) to meet my friend Kerry. Kerry's life had been turned upside down after the passing of her soulmate Lewis. Although Kerry had mentioned she did not feel brave or courageous in her attempt to get her life back on track, for me she was one of the most inspirational people I knew. Her grit and her determination to keep on showing up even if her whole being wanted to opt out was something to live by. There was nothing fake about Kerry and her honesty and realness always made me feel at home in her company, like she was family. I was very much looking forward to a weekend of bikes and being surrounded by inspiring people like Kerry.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kerry and Lewis at Dukes 12 months ago, his company was going to be missed.</td></tr>
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After a solid winter of doing a lot of smart training to get my chronic pain under control things had been very up and down in the last couple of months. Partly because I pushed myself too hard on the good days and partly because it was is just the nature of the bear, the name we gave my chronic pain. As preparation for my upcoming Nepal expedition I had to get my vaccinations the week leading into Dukes Weekender. My overactive central nervous system ended up giving an overreactive response resulting in very painful muscles and joints. I was that sore that I spent most of my time in bed between work hours! “may be just ride the Sunday” coach James said, but there was no way I was going to miss the most awesome hill climb in the world!! </div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The entries had doubled in numbers and it was super exiting to see so many women on the start list! This was proper racing. I immediately felt uplifted when I saw Amber’s smiling face, Rob and Caroline and the electric energy at the start line of the Dukes Pass Hill climb. The road was closed for cars so we could feel like pro athletes cheered on by screaming crowds the whole way up. Before I knew it, it was my time and cheered on by supporters I made my way to the top. Where normally nerve pain would kick in during a high intensity session preventing me to go hard enough to go lactic, this time I could push through. Very unattractively with my mouth wide open and my legs on fire I reached the middle of the climb where tons of screaming supporters making incredible noise, and life music greeted me. The enthusiasm of everyone there actually made me laugh out loud, although hurting like hell I was buzzing. I saw the girl in front of me and with 200m to go, two guys screamed at me from the top of their lungs to catch her (I wonder if those blokes have any voices left!!) spurring me on to completely and utterly empty the tank and beating my time from last year. I was one big smile. It felt like my whole body was smiling. To feel lactic again felt absolutely awesome, to be able to push this hard even better. I rolled back down to the start to support Kerry, catching up with equally big smiling familiar faces on the way.</span></div>
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Like last year the Dukes Gathering was filled with inspiring speakers including Kerry talking about her Hebrides heritage and obstacles she had to overcome to get into bike racing. Which explained her independence and "just go for it" attitude chasing her dreams. We stayed in a lovely little cottage on Dukes pass kindly offered by the organisers for Kerry speaking and ended up solving the worlds problems till late in the night until we decided we better had to get some sleep with a big day of bike riding ahead of us! </div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When you are a racer at heart it is difficult to have no expectations and it has been the biggest obstacle for me entering events for fun. </span>The great enduro format for the Gravel race made it possible to ride with your pals and smash 6 different the stages at your own pace which made it a lot easier to relax and race for fun of it. Our little group was at the back of the pack and consisted of a very speedy 17 year old Mieke, Kerry and Kate McKay who I had the pleasure to get to know over the following 4 hours. </div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The whole day was just buzzing, the volunteers were awesome, the route was beautiful and the stages were so much fun. I really got inspired to keep up with the speedy company I was in and to my surprise I had no nerve symptoms at all. The bear was deep asleep. My legs were pretty empty like probably every one out there who had done the hill climb but as a typical endurance athlete I felt better and better towards the end. I was so impressed with Kerry’s power when she would storm passed me and watching Mieke’s ability to turn herself inside out when I managed to stay in her proximity on one of the stages. At 17 years old she could really put herself in the hurt box!! I loved being chased by Kate who pushed me on to ride my bike like a competitor, gasping for air with legs screaming at me. “I am going to get you” she yelled at me on the last stage whilst I was skidding around the trees and flying down the steep hills when I missed a corner and landed straight ahead in the grass. Giggling like a child I got back on my bike as fast as I could finishing the Dukes Weekender with the biggest smile I have had after a race for a long time!! </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the beauty of the Trossachs (photo credit Dukes Weekender)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">There was cake and tea, banter and more smiles before we rolled back into race village after a brilliant day in the Trossachs. I was nervous to hand my timing chip in because I did not want to be disappointed. But when I got my results my smile got even bigger. I was 2nd Fvet on the Gravel and in the Full Dukes and Kerry had won the overall in both, we were absolutely buzzing!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">They say hard work always pays off. But it was my dedication to hard work which got me in a state of overtraining and chronically injured. I have seen very sad things happen to hard working, undeserving people. In my opinion it is resilience which pays off. Showing up day in day out fighting for your believes, dreams and happiness regardless of what life throws at you. I have so much love for this event where I was surrounded by incredible inspirational positive people who each have their own amazing story to tell. It lifted me up to dig deep and try my best, and a body which was willing, making me smile all the 70km through the Trossachs with Kerry, Kate and Mieke. This event changed my life last year and it was so great to be back, in less pain, as a better competitor and finishing at the pointy end of a great field of women. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Thanks to everyone involved especially Rob, Stu, Amber and Caroline, I will be smiling thinking about this event for days to come and it will keep on inspiring me to never give up.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><i>"Courage is contagious, every time we choose courage, we make everyone around us a little better and the world a little braver"</i></span></div>
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-86793304755785345802019-08-27T03:58:00.003-07:002019-08-27T13:40:35.716-07:00Sometimes the bravest and most important thing you can do is just show up (Brene Brown)<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I love stories, and it is one of the reasons why I love sport so much, it is filled with inspiring anecdotes on every level. I do not necessarily love the stories about the best athletes, but about the ones who dare to fail, who are brave and willing to fight it out. Because if you never try, you will never know.These athletes</span> inspire me to keep on improving myself. Progress is my addiction. For 5 years now I have been entertaining a love/hate relationship with my body and only in the last year have I realised how big my own mindset influences the levels of pain and fatigue I experience. With the help of some key people I have learned what my triggers are, what I should and shouldn’t do and what a fine balance it is for me to stay healthy. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favourite stories in sport and the definition of courage; Jenny Risveds comeback </td></tr>
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About 6 weeks ago I tipped myself over the edge just wanting a little too much to soon which resulted in my back giving in, painful muscle spasms and 5 days of couch time. As frustrating as this was, I had been here plenty of times before, I knew it would pass and with the help of my coach James I had no choice but wheel it all back in and go into rehab mode. Of course I felt very sorry for myself in the first couple of days but the difference was that I was very aware that my mind would have a big impact on how quickly this episode would pass. It was important to stay positive. So as soon as I could walk a bit more freely I went to the pool and started swimming, I ventured out on very gently bike rides and where normally I would push and push and push, this time I let my body guide me. And day by day I felt improvement, every time I went out, I could do a little bit more. </div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It took about a month to feel semi normal again which was followed by a meeting with James to plan our next phase of training for the up coming Nepal expedition. We had still plenty of time so this little physical hiccup did not have a massive effect on the long term plan. But it did make me think a lot about the triggers which causes my pain. For 3 years now I was battling pain flare ups and it certainly did not get any easier getting through daily life as a veterinarian dealing with it. And when my coping mechanisms have always been the outdoors and exercise, the motivation to keep moving whilst in pain had faded a little over the years, making matters worse. It was during these last few weeks whilst I was struggling getting in and out of a car, let alone vaccinating a needle shy horse, that I decided that something had to change. And my health was more important to me than the uncertainty of my professional future. After a long chat with Michael I gathered all the courage I had left within me, went to work the next day and handed in my notice. It was one of the hardest things I had to do in my career. Turning my back on a profession I was once so passionate about and had been working so hard towards from my first childhood memories . And when I drove home that night I felt grief and relief at the same time. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">facing uncertainty in my professional future, I have only ever been a vet.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Although I still had to work my 3 months notice, my decision made my head feel a lot clearer heading into the <a href="https://saikalako.com/" target="_blank">Saikalako</a> expedition. I did not have to worry about going straight from Nepal back to work with the necessary on call catch up over Christmas. Not having a job to go back to meant time for proper recovery, probably for the first time in my athletic career and it felt mentally great. And with a clear mind, my body followed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Time for some volume” James response was to that, which meant a two week block of long rides with the Kirroughtree 10 hour MTB race right in the middle of this training block. I can’t say I am a huge fan of racing laps for 10 hours, there is not much adventure in that for me. On top of that it was logistically difficult. Run on Saturday meant I had to rush out of work on Friday to pack up and drive 3 hours prepare everything and ride for 10 hours the next day. Not ideal. But as James said ”this is part of the process, you need to be able to ride tired in Nepal for days on end and mentally learn how to work through that”. So off we went, with already 18 hours of bike riding in my legs over 8 days and a tough week at work, loaded the van with dogs and bikes, Michael and I arrived late at Kirroughtree Forest on Friday night.</span></div>
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Waking up early morning I knew I had nothing to give but sometimes you hope that once on the bike things will feel better. It did not! We started with a big climb and I felt every single minute of the 18 hours of training in my legs and for the first two laps there was a mental battle going on in my head. Simply put, I wanted to pull out. I did not see the point in this. But that was my racing mind talking. Because what was the point in this? It was riding my bike for 10 hours, physically and mentally battling it out. Not racing. I knew I could ride for 10 hours whilst fatigued, I had done it before. I had to stop trying to be a competitor. So I dropped the pace and tried to get into some sort of rhythm. The course was pretty awesome, even for a lap race! Lots of natural technical single track, cool flowy descents, and gazillion of short punchy climbs (not my strength!). My fellow competitors were equally awesome, the front of the race politely passing whilst sharing words of encouragement without any of the race aggression I had witnessed in similar events. Even Kyle Beattie who was chasing a course record took the time to be supportive! And after 5 hours of racing I finally started to find my groove. In the pit was my friend Marie Meldrum who was racing in a team and has a great way of making me smile “ "just keep on going" she encouraged me "one pedal stroke after the other”. And it simply became a battle between me and myself. I decided 6 laps was enough and then I went onto the 7th lap, calculating time became difficult with a tired mind but I figured out I still had two hours to be able to finish an 8th lap. I was mentally fried “Karin would do another lap” I thought about my best friend who was joining me in Nepal and off I went for another lap. When I finished I had ridden my bike for over 10 hours and felt intensely happy. <span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">more volume after the race!</td></tr>
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This was where my satisfaction of racing came from, not beating other people, not winning, not being the best out of a group of people, but beating myself and being the best I could possibly be on that day. At Kirroughtree I succeeded at getting the best out of myself even when circumstances were not ideal. On the day this was good enough for 2nd place solo female and even for a little race this felt awesome because I showed up, toughed it out and I won the battle against my own demons. Huge thanks to all the organisers and volunteers for a great event, the vibe was simply awesome!! </div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">At this point in time I don't really know what my future holds. I don't really know what I want other than beat this chronic pain thing and it has my main focus. Getting my mind happy and healthy again is the goal, and I feel confident that the rest will follow. </span></div>
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"<i>Choose courage over comfort, choose whole hearts over armor. And choose the great adventure of being brave and afraid. At the exact same time</i>" Brene Brown</div>
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-55413976757717084562019-06-24T13:38:00.000-07:002019-06-24T14:04:48.541-07:00A mini mountain expedition in the Alps <div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";"> I</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">t has been two weeks since Karin and I went on a mini epic traversing through the Alps. Almost everything which could go wrong went wrong; starting with missing my bus from Geneva airport to Chamonix and Karin running out of fuel 100kms from Chamonix. Setting us both back a few hours whilst we were under time pressure to do the full 180km Tour de Mt Blanc loop already. Add a broken bike and last minute repairs at a busy bike shop (who were kind of us to prioritise us) in the mix and we set off at 6pm heading for the hills (aka mountains). Following an already eventful day, a less than ideal route choice meant that we ended up having to turn back down the mountain in the dark. Crashing at the first hotel we could find only 5 km’s further from where we started after 5 </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">tough hike a bike hours.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Karin and I both have the ability to see humour in situations when no one else can,</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">which is one of the big strengths of our friendship. Both being stubborn and opinionated we can have the most heated discussions but there is also a mutual unspoken trust and respect through which we can support each other during the toughest of times. Karin was therefore my first choice when I was getting a team together for the Saikalako Expedition. On top of our ability to work well together under pressure which we proved by unexpectedly jumping on the podium during the Grandraid Nisramont adventure race in Belgium, Karin also adds great navigation and problem solving skills to the team which will be detrimental to the success of our expedition having to face extreme circumstances in remote parts of Nepal not many people have crossed yet.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Saikalako expedition </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">In our three day adventure in the Alps we learned a lot. Our fully loaded bikes felt a few kilo’s to heavy when we were pushing it up 40 degree gradients over technical terrain for hours on end. Pulling and pushing over tree roots, squeezing in between trees and navigating big rocks. It was simply madness. We had one day of pure weather bliss, with blue sky’s and endless mountain views which did make the suffering a little easier! After careful negotiation and local’s advise we redirected our route away from the col’s which were covered waist deep in snow and proved impossible for us to safely pass without ice axes and crampons. Even some of the lower slopes proved quite a challenge having to overcome dangerous sections covered in snow. At one point we were faced with a 300m traverse over 45 degree angled snowy slope with only room enough for one foot at a time. If we had to turn back it meant at least 6 more hours to civilisation when we probably had only 3 hours of daylight left. If we traversed we would have only two more hours to a bed and some chill time. (by this point we had been moving for 8 hours already) But a slip meant a hospital visit, or at best losing a bike. When I look back I find it quite amazing how very quickly we came up with a plan. Actually let me rephrase that, Karin came up with a plan and I completely agreed. We took all the kit of the bikes and brought that over to the other side first. Then we went back and brought the bikes over on our backs. I still struggled with proprioception in my left leg after my back injury. And although I knew both my legs were so much stronger, I still didn’t trust my stability to carry 10-12kg of wobbly load on my back over slippery narrow terrain. Without any hesitation Karin said she would do both bikes. I would meet her where the snow line stopped carrying the bike to the top from there, whilst she would go back for the second bike. We managed to turn quite a tricky situation in something reasonably simple by breaking it down in segments. And we felt quite impressed with our own problem solving skills and strength to make it happen.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mighty traverse </td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The day was not smooth sailing from here though, having to climb up what seemed to be a river and negotiating fallen trees in the most inconvenient places. A little exhausted we arrived at a little village searching for a bed at the cheapest rate doing a full loop of the town, with our smelly clothes and sun burned faces, only to repeat that loop again to find a kitchen that would still serve us food! </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">making things difficult in the final kms of the day!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The weather forecast for the next day was atrocious with thunderstorm and rain for most of the day. We knew we could not cross over to Courmayeur because of the snow so we decided to go as far as we could go and from there ride back to Chamonix over the road. It was supposed to be an easy day out with relatively little climbing. When we were faced with a massive landslide only 2km from our turn around point we could only but laugh and like we had been doing all weekend face the challenge with a smile! Soaked, tired but satisfied we reached Chamonix in the evening with enough spare time to find a pub for great food and post adventure celebrations.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last obstacle of the day, an avalanche landslide!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Although our mini expedition was full with laughter and incredible moments it did create a fair amount of doubt and a small wobble for the Saikalako expedition. It also gave me the time to think about what the expedition meant to me. So often I get labelled "crazy" because of the adventures I choose to do and the dangerous situations I get myself into. The interesting thing is that the fear I feel when I am facing these situations is very different for me than the daily anxiety I feel from the pressures to try and fit into society. The fear I feel in the mountains turn me into a better version of myself, whilst the fear I feel in daily life turns me into someone I do not really want to be. That anxiety suffocates me, whilst the feeling </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">I</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> get whilst searching for my limits liberate me.</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The two hour climb we casually forgot about!!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I was asked by a friend what I would do if I would get a pain flare up during my time in Nepal. It is interesting that in my day to day life it is a continuous struggle to keep my chronic pain under control but I am very confident that I will not have that problem in the Himalayas. The dream of crossing the Himalayas by bike started after having to let go of racing due to injury. For me the project is about being in the mountains for days on end, facing challenges which will push us to our limits. Creating that feeling of not being able to go any further and then taking another step. A journey which will tell the story of three women who all are battling their own demons and have come together through a shared passion. And although a "world first" will attract sponsors, I realised during the days in the Alps that that wasn’t what it was about for me. I actually did not care about the attention it </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">could</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> attract. All I wanted to do was go to Nepal, start the project with Usha and Karin being as well prepared as possible to ride our bikes through the most beautiful and remote terrain the world could offer us. I wasn’t worried about the outcome, I did not want the pressures we put on ourselves to succeed, to not let others down. I did not want the fear of failure. I was interested in the process, the skills we needed to develop, the preparation, the team work during the expedition and if we managed to complete that to the best of our ability, it could never end up in a failure no matter what would happen.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happiness in the Himalayas </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">There is something about the mountains which makes me feel instantly at peace. Life becomes so simple during these type of expeditions. My mind becomes quiet. I am more than ready to step up the training for Saikalako and put everything in place to be the strongest I can be at the end of October when we start our traverse from West to East Nepal by bike.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">45 days, 1700km 70.000m ascend non stop and unsupported. Lets do this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><b><i>"It is impossible" said pride "It is risky," said experience "It is pointless" said reason. "Give it a try" whispered the HEART" </i></b></span></span><br />
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-62642415456178049812019-05-09T13:22:00.001-07:002019-05-11T03:17:23.171-07:00Body in mind; My journey with chronic pain <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pfKwPXlXpXQ/XNSF2GMXVvI/AAAAAAAAE0o/G76PWbPdEVwWIN_s5ASlGyByo4AG8bVAACLcBGAs/s1600/DSC04741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pfKwPXlXpXQ/XNSF2GMXVvI/AAAAAAAAE0o/G76PWbPdEVwWIN_s5ASlGyByo4AG8bVAACLcBGAs/s400/DSC04741.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Pain is complicated in nature and after so many years dealing with it, it has become very personal to me. This is my journey to experience, no one els’s. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">One of the hardest things I have found is when people are trying to make me feel better by saying “just race for the fun of it” or “I have bad weeks in training as well”. </span>If only things were that simple.</div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Explaining what it feels like to live with chronic pain is not easy and I think it is a different experience for different people. Being an athlete, the pain you feel in your body after a hard week of training or the burning sensation of lactic acid in your legs during high intensity sessions, I call that good pain. Chronic</span> pain is a whole different sensation. It feels like something is very wrong. The best way I can describe it is like a bad tooth ache in my whole body. I call it bad pain. The worst pain is in my legs. It takes the fun out of everything I do. My philosophy however, is that I would rather be on my bike in pain, or be in the outdoors in pain, than be sitting on the couch or laying in my bed in pain. It is this motivation which keeps me going.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting Rob racing Dukes Weekender </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">When I look back at my training diary I started having symptoms after the 2013/2014 season when I tried to combine my career as a veterinarian whilst racing at elite level. I got myself into a chronic state of overtraining and depleted my parasympathetic nervous system. Of the back of that I fractured my back in 2015 in a rather benign bike crash. I ignored the pain until symptoms had become so bad in 2016 that I was told not to run for 12 months and only ride my bike at low intensities. Not being</span> mentally ready for this, I stopped running but kept on riding my bike and started training for MTB stage races guided by coach Rab Wardell who tried everything in his power to slow me down. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding the Dolomites with people like Siegrid easing my chronic pain symptoms</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I landed at Whatsyourmeta through Rab, where I started working together with James McCallum and physio Morgan Llyod on getting my strength back after 12 months of what I considered as taking it easy.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running trails is my chicken soup for the soul</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">My biggest complaint to my coaches both Rab and James, was that I felt like I could not push myself through threshold i</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">ntensity in training. Looking back now I was never honest to them or myself about the amount of pain I was in during these sessions. I did not want to be told I had to rest because rest days made me experience more pain. No professional could really explain to me what was going on. It was like my body was blocked. With my primary injuries being kept under control with the help of physio Morgan, I felt that there was only one way to beat it and that was to try harder and fight against it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Last Summer I experienced the worst pain flare up to date which left me mentally and physically broken. I started having difficult conversations with my coach James questioning if the effort was worth it, and what I was trying to achieve. I was so lucky James got never negative and kept me believing there was a way out even if we could not see it yet. Although he always worried about me, he never gave up on me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It was during this time Rob Friel reached out to me after having read my blog about racing an awesome event he organises; <a href="https://nienkeventures.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-dukes-weekender-just-what-doctor.html" target="_blank">The Dukes Weekender</a> . He educated me about chronic pain and it was like a light bulb went on. A million messages, a few phone calls, and a couple of meetings followed. To me Rob is worth his weight in gold. It was like a whole new world opened up. The three key things which made me understand my pain were these;</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"> 1: The brain produces pain as a response to anything that can form a threat to the body, not just physical stressors but also mental stressors, it produces pain in an attempt to protect the body. It relies on previous experiences to decide how much pain to produce.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"> 2: Pain is not directly related to the amount of physical damage </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"> 3: Chronic pain often leads to central sensitisation. Which means that the nervous system gets regulated in a persistent state of high reactivity. This state of reactivity lowers the threshold for what causes pain and comes to maintain pain even after the initially injury might have healed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The way I had been dealing with my pain only caused for more symptoms. On top of a stressful job as an equine veterinarian I had been overloading my body with high intensity training sessions in an attempt to “overcome” my lack of performance. With a central nervous system which was screaming at me to slow down by producing more and more pain. </span>Once I realised that there was a reason for what was going on with me which had nothing to do with my ability, (or in my head lack of ability) as an athlete it was much easier to accept that I had to change my approach.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one day I will get back to this</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Understanding where my pain was coming from was the easy part, how to desensitise my central nervous system is the tricky part. Rob and I call my pain “the bear” and the key is to poke the bear enough to make him pay attention and stimulate adaptation but not poking the bear to much, waking him up growling causing more flare ups. </span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I started to learn about my pain triggers. My job as a veterinarian being a huge trigger, running was another one, and riding my bike at high intensities/race pace. The cold Scottish climate was not hugely beneficial for my overactive central nervous system either. Once I knew this I tried and adjust to prevent flare ups as much as I could. Backing off my training after a stressful day at work. Choosing turbo over riding outside on cold days and being kinder to myself on bad days. On the bike we started doing consistent sub threshold power sessions, giving threshold power and over a gentle nudge every week.</span><br />
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Although running was a huge trigger. Giving it up was not an option for me. So with Rob’s guidance I started with a 2km run 3xweek rehab program. That distance was increased by 10% each week. I was in quite a lot of pain when I first started. Barely managing the 2km. But with Rob’s support I persevered. 2kms turned into 3, 3 into 4, 4 into 5kms. All the way to 10km’s where I am at now. Once I started to run over 5km’s I started to feel less pain. I was able to lengthen my stride and produce more power. The more I enjoyed it and relaxed I run the less pain I would feel. Interestingly with decreasing pain in my running, my overall pain decreased.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My succes at Ten Under The Ben does not mean by any means that I am "fixed"</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">This is where I am at now. Finding the right balance is a work in progress. I still get growled at quite a lot by the bear but he is not as loud anymore.</span> I am not sure if I ever will be pain free. Which makes me sad from time to time, because all I long for is to be able to move freely. But as frustrating as it gets, I now understand what is going on. And instead of telling myself to "try harder and push through it” I tell myself to “chill out and stop fighting against the bear" And hopefully one day the bear will stop fighting against me. </div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">A huge thanks to Rob, James, Morgan and Carol and the team at Whatsyourmeta for the endless support and positiveness. You really have been my rock. Here is to baby steps forward because I am simply not giving up.</span></div>
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“Sometimes the strength within you is not a big fiery flame for all to see. It is just a tiny spark that whispers ever so softly “You got this. Keep going”<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-25549193637004541012019-05-01T14:46:00.002-07:002019-05-06T03:28:27.398-07:00Ten Under The Ben; putting things in perspective <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">I wanted to write an upbeat blog about overcoming my racing demons at Ten Under The Ben last weekend but after the devastating news of Chris Stirling’s passing, I find myself staring at my computer screen lost for words. But I am going to try.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I have always felt that my ability to turn adversity into something positive was my biggest strength, always looking for a silver lining some how, but lately with age and some of the more recents happenings I have found myself often wondering “what good can come of this?” </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I entered Ten under the Ben, a 10 hours lap format MTB race in Fort William in an attempt to get my racing demons under control. Chronic injury had managed to wipe out my confidence bit by bit and continuous disappointments in my own performance over the last few years had progressed into a lost battle before I even made it to the start line. How could something I loved doing so much make me feel so low at the same time?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I woke up early listening to the rain clattering against the window on race morning with that familiar sinking feeling in my stomach. And the excuses I have used to pull out of races so many times started to accumulate in my head. “My longest ride has only been 3 hours over the winter and now I have to do 10, I am not fit enough” “I am too tired” “I dont feel well” and the thought of the pain I had to endure riding my bike for 10 hours started to make me feel anxious. So why line up? </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"> I knew that if I did want to get back into racing I had to overcome this. That the only way to get some race fitness back again was racing. That ultimately this was my passion and I wasn’t ready to let go of it. If there was such a thing as "racers block" I was certainly suffering from it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Michael who generally does not interfere with my racing had heard this all before, but he also knew how much it meant to me and that I would be disappointed with myself if I pulled out once again. “ just start” he said, “ride your bike for 10 hours and do not care about anything else” He made me promise I would not pull out when I wasn’t performing even if I was coming last.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And whilst Michael was getting ready for a day in the hills, I made my way to the start line. I was so happy to see Paul Cooper’s smiling face when I was aimlessly wondering around trying to find a spot for my box of supplies for the day. He kindly offered his pit. Paul and I had known each other through triathlon racing from when I first moved to Scotland and he knew about my long standing injury history. He had been a good friend to me over the years. “Just go and have fun” he smiled. “you have nothing to prove” </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">enjoying the only smooth part of the course!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The course was absolutely brutal, 9ish miles with 350m plus elevation gain per lap, there was only a small section of fire road and the rest of the trails were up, down single track with lots of technical sections to navigate through. No real recovery anywhere. I started at the back and really all I did all day was ride my bike. And I loved it. There was no urgency in my riding and I tried to focus on staying smooth and relaxed. It stood out to me how all the women I met on course were so supportive and I enjoyed riding in their company. At times I wondered if I was coming last and if I was coming last, if I would care, but dismissed the thought quickly because I was quite happy with how I managed to consistently ride lap after lap after lap, hour after hour after hour without slowing down much and really that there wasn’t much more that I wanted to do. It felt nice to just be out there on my own, without any support and just do my thing. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicken soup for the soul</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Going on to my 9th lap after 9 hours of racing I was told I only had an hour to complete that lap for it to count. Having ridden a lap in over an hour all day I did not think I had it in me to smash out a last lap in under an hour so I decided to call it a day. Only to find out that I had till 8.30pm to complete the lap when it was only 6.30pm when I finished. I had two hours, not one!! The first thought that came into my head was that I did not stick to my promise to Michael of finishing the full 10 hours and felt a little disappointed!! Luckily he did not mind! Just shy of 120km and 3000m of ascend was a great day out!</span><br />
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Strangely when I found out I had won my category and came 3rd overall female the anxiety I had felt in the morning returned. I did not want to go to prize giving. Preferably I wanted to go home straight away and I struggled to get the negative thoughts in my head under control. What was wrong with me??</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I realised that I did not want my performance to be associated with a win or a podium position. For me finishing Ten Under The Ben meant so much more than that. For the first time in a long while I was not disappointed in myself when I crossed the finish line regardless of results. The achievement for me was in showing up, pinning on a number, riding my bike and forgetting about everything else. And I had done exactly that. I did not get caught up in racing, stayed in my comfort zone, nailed the technical descents on some laps, and not so much on others! I had laughed with the volunteers, chatted with fellow riders and shared the pain in the legs over the final laps. Most importantly I had finished with a smile.</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ten Under The Ben training; ski touring in Norway</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Earlier this month I made a conscious decision to stop fighting the things which were beyond my control, and try to look at my world in a different light. Be more acceptive. One of the first things I did with that new mindset was reconcile with a friend who I had lost partly through my own negativity. And it felt so good having done that and being able to cherish that friendship again. High level sport often attracts high achieving personalities and we can be so brutally hard on ourselves often not seeing or believing the excellence that other people might see in us. Equally any criticism or feeling of failure is something I know </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">I</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> personally and athlete friends of mine really </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">struggle</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> with. Lacking the ability to just brush it over the shoulder. I see my life very much as a work in progress, taking small steps towards the path I want to be on and turning myself into the person </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">I</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> want to be. </span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">If Chris’s death can teach us anything, let it be kindness. Kindness towards ourselves, and to others. We never really know what someone is going through. What demons are being fought. Compassion, empathy, kindheartedness is some of the best medicine you can give to someone else </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">and one of </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">the</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> qualities Chris was known and loved for. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">A huge thanks to my coach James who keeps on believing in me when I am not, Michael who never gives up on me, Keith for going out of his way to help me get my tyres sorted the night before the race and all my friends for inspiring me to keep on working on becoming a better human. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">“the human soul does not want to be advised or fixed or saved. It simply wants to be witnessed exactly as it is” Parker Palmer</span><br />
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RIP my friend<br />
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-76517725859006802882019-01-26T03:13:00.002-08:002019-01-26T06:24:20.276-08:00Dreams of adventure <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">I can not really remember a time where I did not have big dreams. I honestly believe I was born with them. And somehow having the ability to keep those dreams alive in the most difficult of circumstances. It has always been my way to cope. The ability to dream is my faith. My hope. Although my sister is much more rational than I am, I feel like she is wired pretty much the same way. She has never been negative about anything I might wanted to achieve in life. And when I, myself, find a thousand reasons why I can not make something happen, she will find another thousand and one reasons why I can. I sometimes wonder where our inherent confidence and positivity has come from since we definitely did not get it from our turbulent childhood life. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";">Having the courage to chase dreams does not mean I am never scared. I am pretty much scared all the time, both in my professional an personal life, often thinking I have bitten off far more than I can chew. But it has never stopped me to try and take that first step. Because at least if I have tried I feel like I have stayed true to myself and will have no regrets.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister, my rock.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";">Coming back from Nepal was difficult. I missed the people, the mountains and I had promised my physio and coach I would take it easy for a while. Which meant I had nothing much to get excited about on the horizon. Resulting in one of the most severe pain flare ups I had had in 12 months. Thanks to Rob I knew how to work through it a bit better than previously and I knew that it would pass eventually. James and I decided not to have a training program for a while but to just let me do what I felt like. I have never been good at being without goals but I knew I needed a mental break from it all after a pretty tough 2018 physically as well as mentally. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Mountains have always felt like home to me.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I decided to leave the Sandy Wallace Cycling team for 2019 because I had not much to offer in terms of racing. It added to the feeling of being without any goals and it was also the first time in a long while I had not been associated with a team. Not short after I found two lovely (surprising) messages in my inbox offering some kind of bike support to me, one from Fraser Waters the founder of Happy Cog and the other from Keith from Terraventure asking me if I was interested in becoming an ambassador. These offers had nothing to do with podium results or performance promises and more to do with me as a person and what I wanted to represent as an athlete which was the way I liked it and I found very flattering. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bQNiM3gro7k/XEw6Q1YmqVI/AAAAAAAAEUQ/gLiu6lJwwJkZohlvaZkWrPHiQvHtNbPbQCLcBGAs/s1600/49815889_10157533826265961_1152990619220574208_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bQNiM3gro7k/XEw6Q1YmqVI/AAAAAAAAEUQ/gLiu6lJwwJkZohlvaZkWrPHiQvHtNbPbQCLcBGAs/s320/49815889_10157533826265961_1152990619220574208_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting Karin for a micro adventure in the Spanish Pyrenees</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Having the time to just move for the sake of moving and ride my bike as slow, hard, short or as long as I wanted gave me a lot of time to think about what it was I still wanted to achieve athletically and what it was that really inspired me. With this on my mind I booked a trip to Spain to see my adventure buddy Karin to go on a micro adventure into the Spanish Pyrenees. Just the two of us. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aB6znwV0L2I/XEw6Zzh2y3I/AAAAAAAAEUk/pfR7OPxMzF47icSZsxw4au7DKx5ZdOt4QCLcBGAs/s1600/50456931_10157533813495961_8501329231999926272_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aB6znwV0L2I/XEw6Zzh2y3I/AAAAAAAAEUk/pfR7OPxMzF47icSZsxw4au7DKx5ZdOt4QCLcBGAs/s320/50456931_10157533813495961_8501329231999926272_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">learning to become less clumsy on these snow shoes!!</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Being out there, traversing the mountains on snow shoes, being out of my comfort zone, actually feeling pure fear more than once and learning from Karin’s experiences in the mountains made things clearer for me than ever before. The freedom I felt was liberating, having the ability to do this with just the two of us, a couple of girls, in the middle of nowhere. Sleeping in freezing mountain huts on hard stony floors. Reading snow and weather conditions, assessing risks of the route and making calculated decisions, navigating through mountainous terrain with no visibility in a snow storm whilst having this unspoken mutual respect and trust in each other made me feel like a real adventurer. It made me feel very alive and peaceful at the same time.</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">conquering my fears traversing 40 degree angle slopes felt so liberating!</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">4 years ago I would have been so worried about what effect this “break” in my regiment training program would have on my fitness levels. Not often wanting to embark on a crazy adventure like this if it was going to interfere with that. My attitude towards training could not have been any different now! Don’t get me wrong, I still very much like physical suffering but I get that satisfaction from long tough days in the mountains just as much as I can get it from doing tough sets at a certain pace or power. It also opened up a curiosity in me. I wanted to learn more about moving through the mountains independently, away from guided groups, off the beaten track and become able, like Karin and I had done in the Pyrenees, to venture out on our own and complete something requiring quite a descent skill set. Making me feel really cool at the time. (looking back at the clumsy video footage of me on snow shoes painting a slightly less cool picture. haha!) </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J6IkSoM9GzA/XEw6Ue7iBZI/AAAAAAAAEUw/qJlA3lNHpLUyWq82J9UYGjWrUf7Rt4XWACEwYBhgL/s1600/49949993_10157534293805961_3567731802669842432_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J6IkSoM9GzA/XEw6Ue7iBZI/AAAAAAAAEUw/qJlA3lNHpLUyWq82J9UYGjWrUf7Rt4XWACEwYBhgL/s320/49949993_10157534293805961_3567731802669842432_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we collected wood on our way to the first hut to keep us warm!</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have mentioned before that I am a little addicted to improvement, the feeling of moving forward. Professionally as well as personally. My injury had properly hacked into that satisfaction on a sporting level performing more like a cha cha cha dance instead of progressing forwards. But trying new sports like snow shoeing and mountaineering had opened a whole new world of improvement for me and I loved it. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-INbB1mVcv6E/XEw6YoVRtgI/AAAAAAAAEU4/B30MbkznOAMbQqZLL32UkSv05AD7VODLACEwYBhgL/s1600/50247416_10157533813685961_7178666118729433088_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-INbB1mVcv6E/XEw6YoVRtgI/AAAAAAAAEU4/B30MbkznOAMbQqZLL32UkSv05AD7VODLACEwYBhgL/s320/50247416_10157533813685961_7178666118729433088_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sleeping in deserted mountain huts</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have always had a bit of a relaxed “it will be alright” attitude whilst exploring the outdoors and in the short 3 years I have known Karin, she taught me so much about keeping risks of failure to a minimum by being prepared, educated and organised. Making big adventures feel a lot more achievable. With this new mindset, new dreams started to develop. </span><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">My passion had shifted from wanting to pursue athletic elitism to wanting to pursue proper adventure. Step into the unknown and do something I had never tried before. My love for the mountains had only grown since injury struck and my dreams had only become bigger because of it. I was after adventures which would require detailed preparation, exceptional fitness levels and skill sets. Adventures which would lead to real mastery. This could be done on our door step in Scotland, further away in the Alps, the Pyrenees or my biggest dream yet completing a MTB expedition in the Himalayas. When I had felt so lost in the last couple of years not being able to identify myself as an athlete anymore, suddenly things started to click in my head knowing what it was what I still wanted to achieve. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A day ski touring with Michael in Scotland</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">After 6 weeks of no structured training I had a meeting with coach James about what 2019 was going to be for me. Knowing me quite well I am sure he knew that walking away from big goals was not really in my nature. When I told him about some of the dreams that had started to unfold in my head his reaction confirmed that he was the best person to help me achieve them. Without a blink of an eye he started to scribble down things we needed to set in place to make my it happen. No negativity, no doubts, no “what ifs” and no questioning if I could actually physically do it with my slightly uncooperative body and the issues that came with it. No "problems" for James, only "solutions" and one of the big reasons we made such a good team. ” </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">getting some mileage back in the legs after 6 weeks off</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">A couple of months ago 2019 was pretty much a blank page. And as much as I wanted to stick to that and have some down time, 6 weeks was more than enough for me. I was back at it, getting mileage in my legs and strength in my body. I had started a bit of swimming and a bit of running and had learned from Rob that keeping the mind positive would keep the chronic pain under the control so I was working hard on that. Practicing the habits of the person I wanted to be every single day. A huge work in progress but every second of trying was more than worth the effort in the long run.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael loving an adventure just as much as I do</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">In the past I have seen it as criticism when people insinuated I would never be happy or satisfied. “when will it ever be enough?” Now I am almost excited to say that it probably will never be enough, I love searching for things which scare me a little, which require a certain courage to begin and which put a smile on my face when I am talking about it. It is what life and happiness is all about for me. My bucket list has never been fuller. “You are lucky you can do these things you know, not many people can” yes I am lucky, lucky to share my life with Michael who understands who I am and gives me the freedom to be me, lucky I was born with the imagination to dream big, and lucky I have the strength to chase those dreams. </span>And hopefully I will be lucky for many more years to come to explore this beautiful world we live in until I can no more.</div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“It is impossible”, said pride. “It’s risky,” said experience. “It’s pointless,” said reason.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">“Give it a try”, whispered the heart. </span></div>
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-7290524802074045372018-12-17T11:54:00.000-08:002018-12-18T06:07:34.889-08:005 years in Scotland; entering a new year<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Just like that another 12 months have passed and I am heading into my 5th Scottish Christmas. I have always found this a difficult time of the year. My gipsy lifestyle causing my sister and closest friends to be scattered around the world which has not made it any easier. It was 5 years ago that I arrived here from Sydney, Australia. With not much else than 2 bikes, a bag filled with clothes and my loyal dog Fynn. 5 years later and my bikes have accumulated to a total of 5, my bag of clothes expanded to a house full of furniture and Fynn has been joined by a collie pup called Macdui. Time is fickle. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Macdui in awe of his big brother Fynn</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I had given myself 5 years to “make” it as an athlete. I am still not sure what that actually meant but I can safely say I did not make it as an athlete the way I had it planned. Often people say “all the hard work and commitment has payed off” when they have achieved something big. All my hard work and commitment did not pay off in terms of medals or winning championships but when I look back on the adventures I have had this year it certainly has payed off in a totally different way. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">most MTB rides in Scotland turn into an epic </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have been struggling with injury 3 out of the 5 years I have been here. In the last 18 months chronic injury settled into chronic pain. As athletes we are trained to push through pain and I have always felt my ability to do that in training and racing was what made me a strong competitor rather than having pure natural talent. Chronic pain or chronic fatigue are probably not words you would associate with me when you follow my adventures. Yet I have all the symptoms. And I have been dealing with the mental struggle and exhaustion that comes with it. In the last 12 months it feels like I have gradually run out of resilience finding it harder and harder to motivate myself to not fall down that slippery slope of depression and inactivity associated with the cliche of chronic pain patients.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amazing ski tour season in Scotland </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It has been more difficult than ever to stay positive this year for various reasons. I have always loved my job as an equine veterinarian but the stresses of the profession and the physical nature of the daily routine involved has had a huge impact on my pain levels causing a feeling of resentment against my work which I wasn’t used to feeling. I got injured in Scotland and I have always struggled with its cold climate making it hard to not point the blame in Scotlands direction. Would everything be better elsewhere? </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IK2q7eCIkeM/XBf3v6SPULI/AAAAAAAAESM/a9cH9J_chcE0aSHFiRp8YLWEbPsImJjgQCLcBGAs/s1600/38846417_10157163770310961_3430404685851262976_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IK2q7eCIkeM/XBf3v6SPULI/AAAAAAAAESM/a9cH9J_chcE0aSHFiRp8YLWEbPsImJjgQCLcBGAs/s320/38846417_10157163770310961_3430404685851262976_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have always had a passion for my job as an equine vet</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">It has been a sad year for many of my friends losing loved ones and whilst I am someone who always tries to create something positive out of adversity I have struggled making sense of it all. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">A spiral of negative thoughts only leading to more symptoms and more negativity.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beauty of the Scottish Highlands </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have had such amazing feedback on the incredible adventures I have been lucky to experience this season, but achieving those was the easy part really. The bit in between, my daily life as a veterinarian living from pain flare up to pain flare up, not being able to get any consistent training done, not being able to find a way to control the pain, that has been the hard part. That is where the hard work and commitment has come in. In a very different way than 5 years ago when I arrived here having just finished my first season at elite level. Back then a short run would be 10kms minimum where now I can barely manage 2.5kms and on bad day I struggle to just take the dogs for a walk. My volume of training if I can even call it that nowadays has cut in half, and improvements are measured in pain levels rather than pace or power. I have had to completely let go of my competitive side and measure my achievements in a very different way. Strangely I have been applauded for my resilience during races more this year than ever in my whole racing career. Still giving me that sense of satisfaction which I would otherwise get from a well executed race.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PiY2v3ED-N8/XBf3rtdUmJI/AAAAAAAAESE/26Ciy3WnS0wnkTVQrlYFeH3G5lZaMPePwCLcBGAs/s1600/34583556_10157014805340961_6430580440372871168_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PiY2v3ED-N8/XBf3rtdUmJI/AAAAAAAAESE/26Ciy3WnS0wnkTVQrlYFeH3G5lZaMPePwCLcBGAs/s320/34583556_10157014805340961_6430580440372871168_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">catching up with Karin always leads to another adventure !</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I love adventure, it is in my heart, it is in my soul, it runs through my veins. I love the outdoors, the mountains, the solitude. The feeling of freedom it gives me. Although injured, this year I have mentally pushed myself further than I have ever gone before. And in those moments life becomes so simple, my mind becomes completely quiet. It sounds contradictory but being so far out of my comfort zone, becomes my comfort zone. And I long for those moments of tranquility. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uRyTfvPMcyY/XBf1lT7jI9I/AAAAAAAAERo/PFgTz9dCVjI4oRTOeEz0DXaWBBqkfSGuQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_1554.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uRyTfvPMcyY/XBf1lT7jI9I/AAAAAAAAERo/PFgTz9dCVjI4oRTOeEz0DXaWBBqkfSGuQCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG_1554.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">racing leads to meeting lots of incredible people with the same view on life</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I become instantly happy when I think about being out in the mountains or when I talk about races I have done or plans I might have in future. I feel it enlightens me, it energises me and it makes me feel alive. To give this up is simply not an option. It would be asking of me to change who I fundamentally am.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So I consciously have made the choice to keep going, to get up off the couch and ride my bike with or without pain. It does not come easy. The dialogue of motivation in my head exhausting me at times. It is however a conscious decision, where every day I choose to keep on chasing dreams and work towards them to the best of my ability with all that I am today and all that I can no longer be. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">coach James being charmed by Macdui</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Whilst chatting to a client of mine she surprised me with a great analogy of having a tool box to deal with adversity. A good tool box has all the tools in it to keep you functioning. She made me realise I had a great tool box. It fitted my coach James McCallum, my physio Morgan Lloyd, chronic pain specialist and friend Rob Friel, my remedial massage therapist Carol Andrews, my partner Michael and a whole lot of friends scattered around the world inspiring me to keep believing. Over the last 5 years I have trained hard, I have raced hard, I have travelled to remote places to do ,when you </span>think<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> of it, crazy stuff. I have pushed myself to the limits on all sorts of different levels. I might not have the medals to show for all my hard work and dedication but instead what I have to show for it is a lot more valuable. I have accumulated incredible friends, I </span>have<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> made rare connections with like minded people, I have had amazing experiences and made memories no one can ever take away from me. Most importantly my hard work and commitment has showed me what is possible even when things do not go according to plan and to never give up on something you can not go a day without thinking about.</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It might only be 2.5km I can manage but they are beautiful 2.5kms!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">2019 is about to start. Coming back from Nepal I purposely had no plans for 2019. I thought it was time for me to be without pressures for a while. What I have loved most in my life is that opportunities have always come my way when I least expected them but when mentally I have most needed them. So before I had a chance to recover from the Yak Attack there was a ski mountaineering adventure in Norway scribbled on my calendar thanks to the lovely Fiona Russel, a trip to Spain to catch up with my kindred spirit Karin Sloove which always leads to some crazy project and a few other things I am working on to keep my head happy. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">racing at 5000m altitude during the Yak Attack</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have days where I barely make it through a day of work without crying due to the pain in my legs, and I have days where I push myself over a 5500m pass in Nepal whilst suffering significant altitude sickness, and there are all the days in between. And all my hard work and dedication has paid off to be able to live this life full of extremes.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">"<i>let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray"</i> Rumi</span></div>
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-46501940440918382302018-11-20T00:34:00.000-08:002018-11-20T06:50:29.042-08:00Making memories; Bike packing our way through Nepal <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fgzzs2o4bas/W_PGnzjNiyI/AAAAAAAAEKs/ImBcSk4LYVEIHLTTmLfQh-KfIut1kSbFgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="796" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fgzzs2o4bas/W_PGnzjNiyI/AAAAAAAAEKs/ImBcSk4LYVEIHLTTmLfQh-KfIut1kSbFgCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_1050.jpg" width="513" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We decided that the only way for an adventure not to end was to keep adding more, in Karen’s case to the absolute last hour. Having literally just finished the hardest MTB stage race we had ever done, Nepalese MTB champion Laxmi, Karen and I were embarking on another epic; bike packing our way back from Pokhara to Kathamandu. 300kms of dirt roads. Following the back ways to get a real taste for what rural Nepal was all about. The only slight hiccup was that we were told the morning we left that the Nepalese MTB pro’s Ajay and Roan had recced the route before and it had taken them 4 days. Guided MTB tours would take 8 days and because of Karen’s flight we would have to do it in 3 days. No pressure. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting on the way with all smiles</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We were sent off by the Yak Attackers who had become close friends. A feeling of nostalgia came over me as our journey began. We had been treated with incredible weather, bright blue skies set against the colourful features which made Nepal. The high peaks on the back ground. After having been so sick during the Yak Attack, I started to feel almost human again adding to my feeling of contentment. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Badman fixing my back tire</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we weren't spared from endless climbs</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">enjoying a little rest</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">never ending beauty </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5BqjnOgYF50/W_PK82zeZWI/AAAAAAAAELY/qHzicFf6u10q1kH6GxNoAzZDkm2RbpURwCEwYBhgL/s1600/image_123923953-4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5BqjnOgYF50/W_PK82zeZWI/AAAAAAAAELY/qHzicFf6u10q1kH6GxNoAzZDkm2RbpURwCEwYBhgL/s320/image_123923953-4.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">landscapes changing in front of our eyes</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We were all on high spirits cruising along taking in the beauty of our surroundings and the km’s seem to </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">easily</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> disappear. Laxmi had brought her friend who was nick named Badman to help us with the route. After an hour and a half we were sipping on a cup of tea and a couple of hours later we we were having lunch; this was the life!! We had to get to Ghorka that night. Ghorka was a little mountain village at the foot of the Manasu Circuit. Laxmi was a world of knowledge and told us that Gorkha was the foundation of Nepal. It was the home to the bravest-of-the-brave troops in the world, Gurkha. From the Gorkha only, the vision of present-day Nepal was sketched by the first king of the modern Nepal. Before that, Nepal was divided into small kingdoms until when Prithvi Narayan Shah, the first king of (modern) Nepal had the vision to unite small kingdoms into a singular strength to build a wall against the rising force from the East, East India Company. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b3vZHjSgRzo/W_PA7w4SGYI/AAAAAAAAEKQ/dEK36ryQKXoxCKWJVCiHsZBaTg5mfsXNwCEwYBhgL/s1600/46019302_10157391521320961_2603575811529244672_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b3vZHjSgRzo/W_PA7w4SGYI/AAAAAAAAEKQ/dEK36ryQKXoxCKWJVCiHsZBaTg5mfsXNwCEwYBhgL/s320/46019302_10157391521320961_2603575811529244672_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">no rush to get anywhere </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunset</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and then it was dark</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">some food before our final 15km climb into Ghorka </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We had to cover a good 100km to get there so Laxmi and Badman were working on “short cuts’ taking us to the most beautiful isolated small mountain villages with the friendliest people you can ever imagine. Sunset hit and our head torches came out but none of us seem to be overly worried and there was no real rush to get anywhere. Slight </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">panic</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> set in when a 7km road up to Ghorka was unreachable due to a road block, adding a 30km detour!! Up hill of course! We reached our beautiful hotel at 8.30pm almost 12 hours after we set off in Pokhara. Laxmi had called ahead and had organised food for us which never tasted so good! That and a warm bed was all we needed to recover for the next day!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">beautiful hotel in Ghorka</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">Day 2 started slow and ended up never really getting on track. Laxmi and Badman felt the efforts of the day before and Karen and I were riding to far ahead to make the day flow. Causing slight frustration on both ends. In terms of location we were placed in no mans land and we either had to do another 13 hours day to reach the next village or call it quits after 6 hours of riding so we had at least somewhere to sleep. This meant that our final day to Kathmandu was going to be another epic of around 120km but we did have time to recover a little. Laxmi’s choice of hotels was impeccable with great food, awesome service and a hot shower!!</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">I woke up filled with the flu the next day a little worried what affect that would have. We left early to get as much day light as possible and I felt Karen’s tension wanting to get to Kathmandu in order to get everything sorted for her flight home. I felt absolutely awful, I had lost my sense of humour or sense for adventure for that matter and my body was not dealing very well with the early morning never ending climbs and the raise in temperature riding at such lower altitudes. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">We rode 5-6 hours non stop to make as much ground as possible before having lunch. From there it was 15-16km “Nepali” flat to the beginning of a 20km climb up to the hills surrounding Kathmandu and a 16-17km descent into Kathmandu valley. There was discussion that Karen would go ahead guided by Laxmi so she would get there at a reasonable time so I did not have to feel the pressure to keep up with a body filled with the flu. I was still in zombie land and did not really engage in the conversation, my lack of attention biting me in the ass later on!! I decided to ride with music in my ears to distract me from what was going on and to try find my happy place moving forward. Causing me even more so to withdraw into my own bubble not really paying attention to the whereabouts of the others. After an hour of riding I realised I had lost Karen and Laxmi through traffic. I looked back to see where Badman was, but when </span>I<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> still could not see him after 10 minutes of waiting </span>I<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> panicked a little. I had no idea where I was exactly, I did not have any data on my phone so I could not download any maps, and where to go once over the hill???!! It would be dark by then also. "crap" I thought. Unhelpful thoughts </span>entering<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> my mind. </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">“Laxmi and Karen must have thought I was with Badman” I talked to myself. I waited a bit longer to see if he would catch up but after 20 min there was still no sight of him. "he must have taken the bus" </span>I<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> thought. I took a deep breath, nothing I could do about it other than to keep riding and address the issues as they presented themselves </span>to me<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">. So I went on, riding this incredible climb which for some reason suited me. The colder air made my body feel better, riding alone strangely settled my mind. I felt happy again. I found my rhythm and I reached the top of the climb unexpectedly fast, just on dark. And then panic again; Kathmandu valley was in front of me and it was massive!! "Where to go from here???" I tried to ask people around me but </span>I<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> only got lots of smiles and nodding. One of the military officers demanded a selfie, nodding and smiling endlessly at me when I tried to figure out where to go. “Lets descend first” I decided and with a small head torch on my helmet I dropped off the mountain as my surroundings turned into a display of little fairy lights. </span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I asked directions to Kathmandu a </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">few</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> times not really trusting the answers but I figured that at some point I would run into a tourist and I could ask. That was my plan. I now felt </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> was in a game of Pac-Man where I was trying to dodge the gaping motor bikes and cars heading directly at me. I had to jump off my bike into a gutter a couple of times. I went from wanting to cry to laughing out loud and back again. This was absolute madness. I found someone who spoke good English and who seemed to know what he was talking about. “just go straight he said, you have to cross two big roads and then you will end up in Thamel” Simpel.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Crossing a road at traffic hour in Kathmandu, anything but simple! Probably one of the most insane things I have done. Throwing myself in front of traffic seemed like the only way to cross, yelling “please don’t hit me, please don’t hit me, please don’t hit me” Using my beloved mountain bike as a body shield. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">After just under 12 hours from when we set off in the morning I reached smaller touristy streets, I asked a </span>western<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> looking man “do you know where the International Guesthouse is?” “you are right in front of it” he answered. I never felt so relieved!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I stumbled into the hotel to the amusement of other guests, covered in dust, dirt, and smelling of 3 days of bike riding. I looked into the smiling face of one of the hotel receptionists “Yak Attack?” he asked me. “Yak Attack indeed” I answered.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the end I was only 20 minutes behind Karen and Laxmi and they did think I was with Badman and never expected that I had to cross through Kathmandu on my own. I had to laugh about it. It had been a massive few weeks and despite the amount of stress of the final day, I felt sad to see it had come to an end. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It was surreal to spend a day doing nothing before getting on a plane. The only day in my time in Nepal with no craziness</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> planned. 3 weeks of absolute madness and emotions at so many levels. I </span>strongly<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> felt that this was only the beginning, having sparked my adventure heart in a way it had not been sparked before. With the question "whats next?" lingering on my mind.</span></span></span></div>
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-81351737170634263832018-11-14T21:20:00.000-08:002018-11-18T03:14:36.074-08:00The Yak Attack 2018; grabbing Nepal by the horns <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rbihxtxb10c/W-ziqGkrt3I/AAAAAAAAEFw/hgI0rkHdlSwOXSjdiuB1Zmlx1_4CG-C2QCLcBGAs/s1600/image_6483441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rbihxtxb10c/W-ziqGkrt3I/AAAAAAAAEFw/hgI0rkHdlSwOXSjdiuB1Zmlx1_4CG-C2QCLcBGAs/s400/image_6483441.JPG" width="345" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The world health organisation defines pain as “an unpleasant sensory or emotional experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage or described in terms of such damage” </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have been dealing with pain for close to 3 years now if not longer. I have always tried to get on with it, even on my worst days. When pain from my lower back radiates into my legs, gluteals, hamstrings all the way down into my knees. Some days my wrist hurts and my feet feel like they have knives in them. On bad days I struggle to get out of bed in the morning. I believe however that if I am not sound enough to work, I am not sound enough to ride my bike, and riding my bike is ultimately what makes me happy. I have this attitude that I would rather be on the bike in pain than </span>laying<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> in bed with pain. So I just keep going. I get up, and I move but the fact that </span>I<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> do that does not mean my pain is any less.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This year I have felt my resilience has been running on empty and after a long lasting pain flare up during the summer I have been struggling to find the motivation to keep riding. It was draining me. With the Yak Attack on my calendar I knew that I had to stay fit, and for a while it was touch and go if I would make it to the start line. I am very lucky to have a great support network in my physio Morgan, coach James and recently added chronic pain guru Rob Friel. Rob educated me about the ins and outs of chronic pain pathways and gave me an insight and trust that things would improve. But it meant I had to work hard on desensitising my central nervous system. Which in my case meant no more massive adventures for a while. </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With this in mind I headed to Nepal for one more final crazy MTB stage race of the season well knowingly it would have a heavy impact on my body and that after the race I would have to take a step back for an indefinite amount of time. Making me determent to soak up and enjoy every split second of this incredible opportunity to come up close with the giant peaks of the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I spent my first few days in Nepal riding into the mountains on my own to try and catch up with Cory, Karen and Patrick who were riding high in the mountains to </span>acclimatise<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">. I was used to exploring new places on my own </span>having<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> roamed around the world by myself for years, but I felt unusual anxious the first couple of days. “what if my bike breaks” “what if I crash” “what if I get sick” what if I cant find anywhere to sleep” I imagined </span>myself<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span>being<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> swept away by </span>waterfalls. M<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">y head filled with unhelpful noise. I didn’t see many tourists and each time I passed the permit check points the same repertoire played out which did not help the situation “are you alone?” -yes “no other people” -no “no guide?” -no “no guide?” -no “no guide?” -no. A moment of silence and a stare “no guide?” - still no. Obviously not something which they were used to!! As I was moving higher into the mountains I felt more at ease and my mind finally became quiet. The scenery was spectacular and I befriended mountain guides and listened in awe to their amazing stories of adventures. I rode as high up as the Upper Pisang at 3200m, run into other mountain bikers along the way and the word “crazy” kept on coming up when I mentioned I was in Nepal for the Yak Attack!!</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">road traffic</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lady of my hotel insisting on cleaning my bike </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">chicken soup for the soul</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Life was so simple and I felt at ease in my own company falling in love with the beauty of Nepal and its people. But </span>this did not last. <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">A few days before the start of the Yak Attack I woke up to very sad news from Scotland. I felt extremely heartbroken for my friends who were affected the most. I wanted to jump on a plane, head home and be there for them. I decided to dial Karen’s Nepalese number at 6am in the morning and for a moment the stars aligned and within a 5 minute phone conversation after days of no reception, our locations were shared and I headed down the mountain to meet my friends.</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the colours of Nepal</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">rest day in Chame</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glad to be with my friends after receiving sad news, photo taken by Patrick Means</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We were now about to start one of the most extreme races I had ever done and I was trying to make sense of a year which involved so much sadness and heart ache. It were my friend Kerry’s words which really hit home to me and gave my experiences with pain in the last 3 years value in a way I had not valued them before. Whilst she was in the midst of grieving the loss of her soulmate, she took the time to write to me these words of support; </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“when you feel pain on the bike, just remind yourself its not real pain. Your pain is of gaining life, gaining experience, connectedness, the world and freedom.Real pain as you have likely experienced in life already, is loss and the finality that comes with it. Remember what real pain is when your mind starts to wander. Will be thinking of you and use those as happy thoughts”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I repeated Kerry’s words in my mind during the darkest moments of the Yak Attack, giving me strength and courage when I needed it the most.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">room with a view </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">My Yak Attack race plan was simple, I would ride the first two days as easy as possible to feel as little fatigued as possible once at altitude. Considering we were going from 800m to 3500m altitude in 2 days this was not as easy as it sounded.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagining I was going to be swept away by waterfalls </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had ridden most of the route towards Manang therefore the first couple of days felt mentally easy and I had riders around me most of the time to keep me focussed. The terrain was extremely slow going with endless climbs but as we made our way up the mountain we were rewarded with breathtaking views. I was in the company of the Italian duo for a while who made me laugh by joking that I had two Italian body guards to keep me safe. Then I rode up to friends Brett and Tom towards the end of the first day and the first half of day 2, who were both great company to be in and ended up playing a massive role in me riding over the finish line on the final day. On the way I learned that South American Fabricio was an off road triathlete with little MTB experience, and I played cat and mouse with Alan in the final 15 kms of day 2 making the suffering a little easier when our bodies started to scream for oxygen. I had cuddles with adventure dog Mia who herself impressively walked over the pass. I got to know Cory’s cousin Ali and her boyfriend Brad who were volunteering. I loved the stories that started to unfold and how quickly an international bunch of adventurous strangers felt like life long old friends. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Animal therapy after a tough day on the bike </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For me the suffering started on stage 3 where we rode up to 4500m altitude in 16kms. After two solid stages and a relaxing rest day my body had nothing too give and I was grateful for the company of Christian who was struggling potentially a little more than I was with the thin air. For some reason I lost my head in the final kms of this stage and reached Thorang Pedi being an emotional mess. I was reminded of the camaraderie which forms during stage racing when people all around me quickly organised warm clothes, food and a place to relax. Although I was anxious about the effect the altitude had on me, the evening was spent so cheerful with everyone that I went to bed with a positive mind. Trying to block out the slightly scary talk we were given by an American specialist in emergency medicine about the deathly consequences of altitude sickness. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving prayer flags for Lewis </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">After a restless night it was time for the mighty crossing of the pass. After only 4 days we were heading up and over 5416m altitude, climbing almost a 1000m in 5km. And where my first hour of the early morning was spent at a solid enough pace with other riders in reach enjoying the spectacular surroundings, the lights suddenly went out when I reached 5000m. I ended up in a physical and mental state I have never been before. It was like every cell in my body, every organ every muscle was screaming in pain. I could only take a few steps at a time before taking a break, using my bike to keep me upright. I had to vomit a couple of times and wanted to lay down and go to sleep. Lucky I had seen one too many Everest movies knowing that was an absolute no no. I could not control my thoughts imagining my remains being found at the 20th anniversary of the Yak Attack. I caught myself singing songs I did not know I knew the lyrics to and felt the sickest I had been in my whole entire life. I was waiting for the doctors behind to reach me and pick up the pieces but little did I know that they were slightly busy helicoptering a very ill Christian off the mountain. So I kept going one step at a time, until after many hours of suffering I could see someone waving at me from what seemed the top. It wasn’t until they asked me if I wanted some tea that I realised it wasn’t a fiction of my imagination but an actual person standing there. I made it up to 5416m, the top of Thorong La. My natural instinct was to get of that mountain as soon as possible and treat my body with the oxygen it needed</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> but I had promised Kerry I would leave prayer flags for Lewis at the top. And whilst I clumsily attached the flags with my frozen hands to the thousands of other flags already there, I promised Lewis I would look after Kerry and make sure she would keep chasing dreams and find her happiness again. That I would be there for her to get her through this. I looked around but the beauty of the mountains and the intensity of the moment did not really register. I started to make my way down the mountain with eyes flooded in tears and a head so dizzy I was worried I would ride myself of a cliff but feeling better the lower I got filling me with an incredible sense of accomplishment.</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending from the of Thorong La</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was more worried for the final and 5th stage than I was for the high pass. I had been so sick that I wasn’t sure if I had enough time to recover. My whole body hurt like it had never hurt before. I desperately wanted to complete the Yak Attack so it was as simple as going into survival mode. Which proved a lot harder than intended!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">nothing left in the tank</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the last day everyone rode away from me as if I was standing still and I was at a point of </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">despair</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> at around 20kms when suddenly out of nowhere Brett appeared in the corner of my eye. “Here is your personal photographer” he said “YOU ARE HERE!!!” I sighed (a little too loudly) in relieve. I was so so so happy to see him. “I am just taking it easy’ he laughed. I couldn’t quite figure out where he had come from not realising he had been behind me the whole time. I jumped on his wheel and did my very best to keep up with him, my mind </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">going</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> in overdrive “please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me” repeatedly in my head and then the gap widened and tears streamed down my face whilst Brett became smaller and smaller in the distance. I saw him look back and ease up. “he is waiting, he is waiting, he is waiting” </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was an absolute mess, I felt so sick. “I am not sure if I can ride the 20km downhill to the hotel after the finish” I mumbled to Brett. “lets get you over the finish line first” he answered. “Gosh I must really look bad” I thought to myself. And matters went from bad to worse. I really did not think I would get there. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And if it hadn’t been for Brett I probably would be still out there somewhere wondering around aimlessly in circles. His patience, positive attitude and calmness guided me through the worst moments I have ever had on the bike. Kerry’s words in my mind “this is not real pain” and many tears I tried to hide from Brett. The last few kms were just a blur. The finish line in sight, the whistles, Brett waiting for me and then it was finally over. I felt so incredibly sad, stumbling to a place where I could sit down. Cameras in my face, people everywhere, voices and this incredibly overwhelming feeling of sadness. I thought I was going to pass out when I felt Tom shaking my arm trying to put my jacket on. I suddenly had to laugh. I spotted Brett. I wanted to give him a hug and thank him but I could barely hold myself upright. I was utterly, wholeheartedly, properly, insanely cooked like I had </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">never</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> been before.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">adventure dog Mia</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">When I got up the next morning I was overwhelmed with the reactions from fellow riders and support crew, complementing me on my resilience. Such kind words from everyone made me feel more like a hero then the looser </span>I<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> thought </span>I<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> was. When I feared petty in their eyes I read admiration which refilled my energy levels to make for a pretty cool final day back to Pokhara. What a cool bunch of awesome people.</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">crossing the bridges when feeling dizzy is very scary!</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Yak Attack has been on my bucket list for such a long time and I am utterly proud I have been able to complete it. I have never felt so many emotions at once and it was truly an incredible experience and a race which should be on the bucket list of any adventurous mountain biker. A huge thanks to everyone for making it a week I will never forget. Especially a big thanks to Brett for not leaving my sight during my darkest hours, Ajay for being so super helpful an showing impeccable organisation skills, Corinne and dog Mia for the hugs and endless support, Ali for making me laugh again on the jeep ride back to the hotel after the finish and Karen for being the perfect room mate. And to all my people at home Michael, James, Morgan and Rob for all the continued support </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">helping</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> me chase dreams. Completing this event was definitely a team effort!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vnn7tU_3kSg/W-z5Ku_Jq_I/AAAAAAAAEHU/tlAo2yvpeb4DtWoWCsE3Cg45DRqE5UyNwCLcBGAs/s1600/feb30a79-9028-4bc9-a7e9-dcd3f85405a0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vnn7tU_3kSg/W-z5Ku_Jq_I/AAAAAAAAEHU/tlAo2yvpeb4DtWoWCsE3Cg45DRqE5UyNwCLcBGAs/s320/feb30a79-9028-4bc9-a7e9-dcd3f85405a0.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">broken at the finish line with some of my favourite people</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Time to get this body back on track again giving it the attention it needs to heal. Therefore 2019 is a blank page for now with may be some mini adventures to keep my mind happy. </span></div>
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"Never give up, when your heart becomes tired just walk with your legs- but move on" P Coelhe<br />
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-52439645632308407452018-10-23T12:16:00.000-07:002018-10-23T13:41:31.487-07:00On the count down; getting ready for Nepal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-11nC-vG66j0/W89wgALhigI/AAAAAAAAEBc/35GLN00iMlodI5m5jjC2zSAg8vcBByCfACLcBGAs/s1600/15676192_10155497572630961_5344008935711857298_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1589" data-original-width="1600" height="396" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-11nC-vG66j0/W89wgALhigI/AAAAAAAAEBc/35GLN00iMlodI5m5jjC2zSAg8vcBByCfACLcBGAs/s400/15676192_10155497572630961_5344008935711857298_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It has been 5 years since I first set foot in Scotland. And I have spent probably the first three years suffering from hypothermia. A bit of a shock to the system after spending more than a decade on the Southern Hemisphere, and the 3 years leading up to moving back to Europe in Sydney, Australia. I have very much resented Scotland for its climate. Mostly because I have blamed it for my body falling apart. Only recently have I started to embrace the extreme conditions, turning even the most local rides (I live only 20min from Edinburgh) in some of the most epic adventures.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue";"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">In my </span>first<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> year in Scotland it was a bit lost on me why Michael would head for the hills despite what the weather forecasts had to say. He would be out all weekend in conditions </span>which<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> I thought were pointless, zero visibility and sideway hail storms. And on his return every radiator in our house would be occupied with drying gear.</span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wc8irniXS4M/W89wka8eNSI/AAAAAAAAEBo/GqHKax3GSoAH3FdukKWLgRdpOw2x8FeogCLcBGAs/s1600/29570790_10156836259250961_4984403600656175454_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wc8irniXS4M/W89wka8eNSI/AAAAAAAAEBo/GqHKax3GSoAH3FdukKWLgRdpOw2x8FeogCLcBGAs/s320/29570790_10156836259250961_4984403600656175454_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Although my races have always been adventurous in nature, my training was very much focussed on heart rate zones, power out put and pace. I would find it incredibly frustrating when I could not execute my intervals to perfection due to bad road surfaces or weather conditions.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">And where events such as the Yak Attack have always been on my bucket list, there were always more important races and championships to chase. But then injury struck and I was forced to change my mindset. I wasn't someone who would just do races to complete them but at the same time I couldn't quite let go of racing all together. So I ended up shifting to events which needed a certain amount of resilience to get over the finish line. Generally based in amazing adventurous beautiful settings. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael on top of a Munro in crazy windy conditions</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The interesting thing was that this shift in mentality also made me see Scotland in a different light. And where in previous years I would have opted for the warm comfort of my turbo trainer, instead I would head out, in the cold, the wet, the dark, satisfying my mind with Scotlands incredible beauty. Teaching me that there really was no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. I quite like suffering, athletes will know what I am talking about, the lactic hurt box. But since high intensity sessions had become my enemy I found the answer to my sadomasochistics habits was overcoming the extreme elements of nature. And what better place than Scotland to prepare for such events! </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting out in the snow </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Crazy to think that injury has led me to racing such a tough race as the Yak Attack. 3 out of the 5 days of racing will be above 3000m altitude with the crossing of the highest pass in the world; Thorong La at 5416m altitude being the icing of the cake. It has been a big dream of mine to go to Nepal since I was little. The love for mountains runs through my veins with my uncle being the expedition leader for the first Dutch expedition to Mt Everest back in 1982. Where he nearly lost his live in an avalanche at 7500m height. An incredible story of resilience and one that makes me proud to be his niece. I remember staring at the pictures in my grandparents house as a little kid. My uncle climbing the highest peaks in the world. And although I wont be climbing them, the thought of being in the proximity of these incredible mountains is like a dream come true. The thought of it causing a feeling of contentment I can't quite </span>explain. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My uncle Eelco and I; he might have climbed the top of the world but I took him to his first Munro</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">4 days to go before I leave for Kathmandu. And I am not taking this lightly. Having read almost every blog there is to read on the Yak Attack and having studied the different stages to the smallest details, I feel more prepared than I usually am for a race. It has not been an easy year, and this trip is not going to be an easy one. Where the feeling of anxiety and excitement are barely separated from each other. But this one is for Nepalese champion Narayan who lost his life in Sri Lanka and for the many other people who are not here to live their dreams. And I will soak up every minute, every second, every moment of this </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">incredible</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> adventure </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> am so blessed to be able to experience.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In any weather condition Scotland is like chicken soup for the soul </td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue";">"You are off to great places, today is your day, your mountain is waiting so get on your way"Dr Seuss </span><br />
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-87258727539796537752018-09-23T01:48:00.000-07:002018-09-23T02:27:02.275-07:00The Ride The Dolomites; the only way is up <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: 11px;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">For the last few months The Ride Dolomites had been a little black cloud on my racing calendar.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The starting date coming nearer and nearer and me feeling less and less prepared for it. For a few months earlier this year I was led into a false sense of security that I was on the road to recovery with the least amount of pain in my legs and back I had felt in the past two years. But then about two months ago, for no apparent reason my back injury raised its ugly head again. With nerve pain shooting down into my legs, my glutes, my hamstrings and lower back, everything hurting again. From sleeping, showering, walking the dogs, working, driving, and riding my bike. Simply living my life was painful. Being in constant pain was exhausting creating a lack of motivation I was not used to. It got me so down that I wondered why I was still trying to be an athlete if it caused me this much distress. And at the same time not wanting to let go of something I loved doing so much.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">So I really had no choice but to ride through it. Literally. With The Ride only a few weeks away, I joined a local group ride to spend some more time riding in bunches to get used to it and get some road cycling fitness in at the same time. Not without pain I must add. But riding in company often distracted me from what was physically going on and slowly but surely the pain receded to just my lower back. And then suddenly it was time to pack. <span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The evil master minds behind The Ride; course directors deep in thought...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: medium;">The Ride was a Dutch owned company targeted and attracting mainly Dutch people.</span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none; font-size: medium;">It worked like a proper race tour; for 6 days we would be crossing the Dolomites riding from campsite to campsite. With a whole bunch of volunteers looking after us as if we were professional athletes. From Physio’s to bike mechanics, first aiders, cooks and support vehicles we were spoiled with attention from the first moment we woke up to the last moment we went to sleep. Every stage included a challenge which were all climbs, these timed sections counted towards a General Classification over all the stages. Each route had an option B for riders who were struggling and needed an easier ride. The support vehicles were on stand by the whole day sweeping up riders where necessary. And mechanics fixing broking down bikes. Every night we were treated with a recap of the day involving pictures, video clips and stories of the day in true sarcastic Dutch humour which I had missed so much! It was a really well organised event with good food, great people and amazing cyclists. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-kerning: none;">I was teaming up with cycling guru, Maan Klomp who had done an enormous amount to boost women’s cycling especially in Amsterdam. She was a bit of a cycling celebrity realloy! Maan and I were both ambassadors for <a href="http://www.strongher.cc/" target="_blank">StrongHer</a> whom we were riding for. It was an absolute honour and pleasure to ride with Maan. From the moment I arrived at camp late on the Saturday night she took me under her wing and made me feel at ease. Maan also had her list of troubles getting ready for The Ride including a trip to the hospital with broken ribs only a few months ago! </span>My plan for the week was simple, I was not allowed to push myself. Hmm. Yes. This is a lot harder than you think when the evil master minds behind this event had chosen to send us over some of the toughest climbs in the area. And with a racing mind in my head, I had to let go of my ego and stick to the plan.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">we quickly formed a tight group</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">We started with two massive days, both over 140km of riding and close to 3000m of ascend. And a tight little group was easily formed; Maan and her husband Harco, Joyce and Ger, Marc, Siegrid and I. Riders would come and leave us but this was the core of our bunch for the week.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B9950xhw7kk/W6dQo_HTfbI/AAAAAAAAD_w/338h-QuQc8o3ARSOMKtoW4L2o7VZFZIGwCLcBGAs/s1600/0cb2a5ca-abcb-4e9e-8811-b5c1a634ba71.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B9950xhw7kk/W6dQo_HTfbI/AAAAAAAAD_w/338h-QuQc8o3ARSOMKtoW4L2o7VZFZIGwCLcBGAs/s320/0cb2a5ca-abcb-4e9e-8811-b5c1a634ba71.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our pace maker Harco in conversation with Marc before setting off </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">On Day 2 (143km, 2800m ascend) the heat and steep gradient got to me in the final km of the challenge climb and I decided I needed a lay down in some nice looking green grass (which actually ended up being stinging nettles) When the ambulance drove passed me, they jumped out and came running towards me thinking I had passed out. I immediately got to my feet “I am ok, I am ok” I said to the concerned but smiling faces. This all to the amusement of a fellow rider who witnessed it all, not shy of teasing me about it for days to come! The shero's from first aid gave me some magnesium, lots of encouraging words and off I went on again just as Maan caught up with me who was struggling equally as much as I was. The final 1km felt like 10000000000kms!!</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Absolutely not pushing myself...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">It worried me that after two days I already felt so empty, and there were still 4 days to go</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">with some of the hardest climbs still to come. But the atmosphere was electric, the weather was amazing and everybody including all the volunteers were so upbeat that the suffering was easily forgotten. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">amazing scenery creating a happy heart</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Having a moment with Siegrid to take it all in </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">On day 3 (113km, 3000m ascend) I struggled riding in a bunch, it is something I do not do very often and I felt the constant change of pace was taking its toll. We lost Maan to the support vehicle half way through the day which made me sad for her. I myself felt a bit uninspired. Feeling mentally and physically exhausted. In the final 16km climb of the day I was lucky to be able to keep Joyce in sight up the mountain. It started raining as the last km's came closer climbing into colder air. I had to laugh out loud when a bunch of riders who were hiding from the weather at a cafe cheered us on full noise, lifting up my spirits. As we reached the top of the climb the rain had now turned into heavy hail the size of small ping pong balls, causing a slippery mess on the road. Joyce and I decided the last descent to camp was not worth getting injured for and we called for help. There were at least 20 people still stuck on the mountain but within minutes riders were taken down, given hot drinks and emergency foil blankets to get warm. A big shout out to Jos from the support vehicle and a huge credit to the organisation for taking control of a situation which could have easily ended up out of hand.<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nothing makes me happier </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Day 4 was the mighty Queens stage, 114kms and 4000m of climbing. We were staying at the same camp that night which meant riders could opt out, have a rest day or ride an easier route B. As people were talking more and more about how brutal this stage was, my adventure heart started to sing. It included Passo di Fedaia, a brutal climb with a straight up 3km section averaging 17% gradient. And I wanted to ride it. I did not care if it would take me the whole day. Whilst riders were coming up with reasons not to do it, I started to convince myself I was strong enough to do it. This was a bucket list stage and my name was written all over it. We discussed it in our group and 5 of us were going for it; Joyce, Ger, Siegrid, Marc and I. <span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mighty stage 4</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v0_9qKssOBs/W6bCbH5OntI/AAAAAAAAD_A/YBjzun8xhEcsWmyJ58lqsxxsmsZcE4lkwCEwYBhgL/s1600/7f37b8de-0bdc-4191-8c98-47197dbfadfb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v0_9qKssOBs/W6bCbH5OntI/AAAAAAAAD_A/YBjzun8xhEcsWmyJ58lqsxxsmsZcE4lkwCEwYBhgL/s320/7f37b8de-0bdc-4191-8c98-47197dbfadfb.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">waking up on the first climb with a scenery which was breath taking</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The support of Ger and Joyce over the week was very much appreciated</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">I can’t really describe the magic which told the story of day 4. The connection I felt between our little group, the amazing scenery which simply made me feel the happiest I had been in a long time. And having legs which for whatever reason just kept on giving. We all rode within minutes from each other which made the day flow so effortless it felt like one big great smile. Riding into camp that night having achieved the full stage was one the most satisfying moments I have had for a long time. Something which had absolutely nothing to do with pace, power or speed, but absolutely everything to do with mental strength. One of those days you will recall sipping a cup of tea in the evening sun at the age of 110.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Exhausted with Siegrdid after an epic day 4</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Day 5(125km 2900m ascend) was always going to be a tough one after such an epic day before but we were now on the home straight and it was another day with scenery to keep the soul happy forever.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ready to go after refreshments at the feed zone</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F4bYV9iAmJs/W6bCaLUY3zI/AAAAAAAAD-M/mfJG2A17DAAR0purCNgT9q4BcLbFjeAMwCLcBGAs/s1600/6f0949ed-d43b-4fed-9a6f-e3cc17b0f844.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F4bYV9iAmJs/W6bCaLUY3zI/AAAAAAAAD-M/mfJG2A17DAAR0purCNgT9q4BcLbFjeAMwCLcBGAs/s320/6f0949ed-d43b-4fed-9a6f-e3cc17b0f844.jpeg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Enjoying the incredible views</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Maan back in old form in the last couple stages</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The final day(110km, 2700m ascend) was not without drama when Siegrid suffered a mechanical just before the last climb. Reluctantly we left her behind whilst she waited for the mechanics to arrive. Nothing can get Siegrid down however and ala Annemiek Van Vleuten she stormed up the last mountain to join the rest of us for the final descent back into Levigo. <span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">In these final km’s of The Ride a lot of what had happened in the last couple of years went through my mind and I felt satisfied in a way a great race can only satisfy you. But this time I had not won anything or set any record times. It was simply an amazing week with incredible people. A week which had given me an awareness of my mental strength which I have never had before. Giving me some control back of my physical performance which I had lost through injury.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Although none of us were focussing on the challenges, our little group kicked some ass! With Piet and Stephan (who joined us in the final two days) taking out the men's master duo's, Ger and Joyce coming second in the mixed duo's, Harco coming 2nd in the super speedy master male category, and Siegrid coming 2nd in a very strong master Female field. I myself was very happy to finish 4th master female!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-26Yi5uMNr5Q/W6dK4hRCt8I/AAAAAAAAD_g/t2vnjwh0muoKkfYnMp0LrAVw1sx1TX1-wCLcBGAs/s1600/f12401fb-1411-4c90-915c-f5b9694c5e1c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-26Yi5uMNr5Q/W6dK4hRCt8I/AAAAAAAAD_g/t2vnjwh0muoKkfYnMp0LrAVw1sx1TX1-wCLcBGAs/s320/f12401fb-1411-4c90-915c-f5b9694c5e1c.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Trying to eat as much as possible at breakfast time</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Camp</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">A huge thanks to StrongHer for giving me the opportunity to do The Ride, our little group for all the support and everyone involved for creating such a special week. Back to reality in little old Scotland preparing for my last adventure of the year, Worldwide MTB Stage race The Yak Attack in Nepal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“What you think you become, what you feel you attract, what you imagine you create” Buddha </span><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152100573455893054.post-69932758517283905572018-09-10T15:08:00.001-07:002018-09-13T13:06:11.292-07:00The Dukes Weekender; just what the doctor ordered.<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I love sport. I love following athletes in their pursuit of excellence at whatever level that may be. I love stories of adversity, overcoming struggles and disappointments. People who when the world has given up on them, will lash out and make the impossible happen. I get inspired by those real stories, the truthful, honest and relatable ones. It is what has inspired me to challenge myself, to dig deep, to push my own limits, chase dreams in what ever way, shape or form they may come. To not, no matter what the circumstances, ever give up. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Adversity is something I am very familiar with and to overcome them my true instinct has always been to fight against it, to push against pain. Wether that is physical or mental pain. It has resulted in multiple injuries including ignoring a broken back to the point I could barely walk and alienating a childhood which is just as much a part of me as my present. I have always felt that my ability to suffer in training and races is what enabled me to fast track through the amateur ranks to elite level after getting involved in sport late in life. Rather than having natural talent. And equally this ability to suffer put an end to my short lived pursuit of elitism when I nearly managed to destroy myself by ignoring all the signs of serious injury.</span></span></div>
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Chickensoup for the soul; bikes, trails and dogs</div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have mentally really struggled in the last couple of months to redefine my dreams and goals as an athlete. Chronic injury and debilitating nerve pain prevented me to deal with the feeling of being stuck the only way I knew how to, by fighting through it. Thanks to my coach James McCallum who took the time to sit down with me, helping me make plans with very short term goals I slowly but surely have started to move forward again. Thanks to friends like Laura Cunningham who pulled me out of my own isolation and included me into her cycling family, I have started to feel inspired again. And as the pain in my legs started to recede, my mind has become calmer, or vice versa I wonder?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am not someone who seeks company from other people to feel better but equally I do feel the need to connect with like minded people to feel inspired. With that in mind I entered the Dukes Weekender, a new race on the calendar involving a hill climb TT and a 65km gravel enduro race. </span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Dukes Weekender was advertised as a social cycling festival, including a</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">kids race and a social gathering with inspiring speakers in the likes of Graeme Obree, Andy McKenna and Lee Craigie. With Michael away on holiday it meant I was going alone. I had been improving with leaps and bounces in training but felt a bit anxious about racing. I nearly talked myself out of going when I received a message from my lovely friend and Scottish MTB champ Kerry MacPhee who had noticed my name on the start list. I had to laugh to myself, a social cycling event in Scotland always means it attracts some of the best riders in the country! Kerry’s message got me to pack up my van with bikes and dogs and head to Aberfoyle.</span></span><br />
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My support crew</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Within minutes of arriving I had already made a friend in multi sport champ Pippa Tanner and her husband Nick. Before the weekend was over we were planning adventures together after discovering we only lived 20 min apart!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The event started with a 2km Hill TT, although not my strength, I wanted to really dig deep on the hill climb, empty the tank, give it all I got.The atmosphere was buzzing and hearing Rab’s voice yelling my name through the loud speakers made me want to go that little faster. The bells and whistles, the chalk writing of support on the tarmac disappearing underneath me, the sound of drums and cheering people, it was such a cool experience racing to the top of Dukes Pass. The atmosphere was electric and everyone was in such good spirits. Happy with my performance I went back to the start to cheer on Kerry and other competitors.</span></span></div>
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Hanging out with Danny Macaskill </div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The Dukes gathering on Saturday night was hosted by Rab Wardell and Lee Craigie. Entertaining, inspiring, and buzzing all at the same time having Andy McKenna and Greame Obree speak. Both men having this amazing gift of captivating people with their incredible presence. I had to pinch myself when I found myself engaged in conversation with Graeme Obree after the event. We chatted about his achievements, mental health issues and pursuit of acceptance. An absolutely fascinating brilliant man to talk to. Not much later I found </span>myself<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> in the </span>company of<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Danny Macaskill chatting about his adventures on Killimanjaro. What a night! I returned to my van filled with inspiration and energy after an amazing day on the bike with awesome people. Squeezed in with my dogs and bike buzzing from the days adventures I did not get much sleep! </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Waking up to torrential rain in </span>the<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span>morning <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">was not exactly ideal. I felt awful after a rough night in the van, “but its only 65km” I thought “how hard can that be?"</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Very hard. Very hard indeed was the answer to that. It ended up a very wet, windy, tough cold solo ride for me. At times I felt like I was not moving through the insane headwinds riding over tyre sucking water soaked gravel roads. I completely messed up the racing style riding on my own, wanting to get back as soon as I could. Which resulted in not really having the legs to smash the timed really cool, twisty stages! There was a lot of cursing against the torrential rain, but I always find it amazing how these bad memories quickly fade after a change into warm clothes and lots of good food! The afternoon was spent with old friends and newly made ones, lots of laughter and planning of new adventures. We all took amazing prizes home with Kerry outclassing the overall women’s field and Pippa and I dominating the podium in the slightly older athletes category over the three races. I was most happy with my 2nd place in the hill climb! A huge thank you to all the volunteers out on course and the organisers for putting up a professional run super fun event. I will be back next year for sure!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Driving home I felt inspired in a way I had not felt for a while. I knew that I still had to take it one step at a time with a back injury which needed continuous management. But the Dukes Weekender had managed to awaken and inspire the competitor in me to keep on trying and chasing, to keep on at it. Dreams really have no time limit.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> And </span>I<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span>needed<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> to </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A massive thanks to Sandy Wallace Cycles especially John Woodrow for being so supportive of me and coach James for guiding me through some tough months. I am very lucky to have a good support network around me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Next stop for me; The Ride Dolomites.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> “You will get there, but only if you keep going” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span>Photo credit : Pam La Craig </div>
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Nienke Oostrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03561115987289303906noreply@blogger.com0