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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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!
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| suffering |
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.
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.
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| getting ready on the start line at 5.30am |
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| frozen hands and altitude makes Via Ferrata a lot harder than it should be! |
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.
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.
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| running on ski boots |
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; although my dreams and aspirations might disappear into thin air, the chase is worth the journey.
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.
"Every morning you have two choices, continue to sleep with your dreams, or wake up and chase them"
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.