The Atlas Mountain Race; A suffer fest under a sky full of stars

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. 

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.

waiting for the start

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.

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. 

staying feminine in a man's world! 

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. 

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!

meeting Katrien and becoming besties in less than 5min

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. 

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. 

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???

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.

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.

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. 

laughter was never lacking

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.

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! 

friendships developing 

breakfast club

                                                                    

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.

holding my head up

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”

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.

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.

team work makes the dream work

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.

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.

A little trophy which means the world

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.

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. 

Katie and Katrien at the finish line 

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

Two years in France; Owning my story and writing a happy ending

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” 

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.

before my father spend his life going in and out of psychiatric hospitals he was a top businessman for Heineken

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  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.

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.

 

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. 

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.

endless adventures with Mac and Yann

living my dream of mountain sports 

My backyard 

learning to ski steep gradients in all conditions

This summer also marks my first 2 years in the French Alps. How time flies.

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. 

Making friends through a shared passion

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. 

Meeting Yann on top of a mountain during Covid I see as my little miracle 

This winter I raced my first ski alpinism season, turned myself inside out on vertical climbs, chased Yann for  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. 

winning the Dutch Champs 

Racing with Yann

racing Ski Alpinisme is a dream come true

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  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  “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.

knowing I will make the finish line

Feeling emotional having Mac, Yann and his parents at the finish

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.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)

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. 

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,  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.

Family does not need to be blood related 

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. 

A home is built of love and dreams

'When we have the courage to walk into our story and own it, we get to write the ending' Brene Brown 

Le Belle Etoile 2022; A crash course in ski alpinisme racing

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. 

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. 

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" 

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”

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! 

learning the way of the mountains with Yann

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. 

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. 

skiing steep terrain with Mac

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!

skiing a morning with Yann and posters to improve my downhill

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.

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!

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. 

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??

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! 

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.

finding team flow with Nina

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. 

transitioning from skinning to skiing as fast as possible

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. 

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. 

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.

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!

I feel lucky to have been accepted by Yanns friends showing me life in the mountains

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. 

A big thanks to Hammer Nutrition  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. 

Whats next? No rest for the wicked, more ski alpinisme races of course!

"Be willing to be a beginner every single morning"