The Saintelyon; impossible is nothing

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.

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. 

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. 

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. 

 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.

Erin coming over to visit

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.

Erin, Yann and Mac watching sunrise 

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.

 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.      

climbing during the summer 

 

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.

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. 

Eddie 

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.

 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.

and yes it did feel good in the end

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.

Ultra trail recovery

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.

 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. 

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. 

 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!! 

Yann and Mac

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.

                                                                                      

                                                                          For Win

 I have put on a flowery dress because you requested colours

My hair left our the way you loved my curls 

I am wearing the jewellery you have given me, 

Refusing to buy me any more sports gear 

I will try and look at this sad day through your sparkling eyes 

Finding humour in the littlest of things 

I will try not to cry, I know that would only break your heart 

And I will remember you, 

I will always remember you