Friday 13 December 2013

The Brat is a life sucker

8 weeks...

It's been 8 weeks of pain with no running, which means 8 weeks where ambitions, excitement of training for a race and everything that comes in between have diminished little by little...The brat is on a mission of sucking life out of me.
It's funny actually, as I recall how some elite ultra runners like Anna Frost have had many months of no running due to injuries, or how others who I thought were fanatics for running 7 days a week or doing races every weekend had injured themselves, it never occurred to me I could actually be "injured" because I was not doing what they were doing. little did I know that the Brat was a creeping shadow eating up my leg little by little.

The Brat
How naive!  I thought that injuries could only happen to others because they were overdoing it, over training it, over everything it, while I was just doing it and Brat was a niggle. But then BAM! I'm now part of the running clan who is looking at runners on the street and wishing we were the one running.
I should have known, injuries only creep in when you don't take care of niggle, when you think you are invisible. Thanks to the Brat, I know wish I had listened to Mick and the others, but pride/ego and everything else, just make you carry on, doesn't it? It makes you not listen to advise, not be wise and get...injured! Alala! What have I done...we have so much running adventures to look forward to next year!

First it's Country to Capital in the UK.
Then it's Kimba Kenya, in Kenya, a 100 km, 5 day stages race where you get to run with gazelles and zebras, go around lakes and the savannah!


We have the TransGranCanaria in March, 125km trail race crossing the whole island.


The Royal Raid, an 80km trail race across Mauritius Island in May.


and Andorra Ultra Trail  in July, Mick is doing Ronda del Cims, while I'm still unsure if I'll go for it or if I should just stick to the Mitic










or




So the Brat needs to go, or I'll never get to be part of this! But how?

Saturday 2 November 2013

Between madness and stupidity: Endurance Trail 100km


Endurance Trail 100km in Millau, France. 4600m of ascent around scenic forest trails, canyons and untouched historical villages. This was our final race of the season and the longest we had ever done. Physically we felt prepared, having done some long runs, and downhill training. Mentally... well, having got lost during a race, running injured or hitting many walls, nothing could have surprised us, or so I thought.
This is not a race report, as I ended up walking the last 65 km. This is the story of how I manage to finish our first 100km when everyone said that I would not make it. Was I mad or stupid? that's for you to decide. But I hope that it will inspire others to just carry on even when it looks like it is impossible. Because you know what, I’ve done it, I finished that 100 km sucker, and it was all worth it, all the lows and the pain brought so much more than darkness and self-doubt.

The race starts with goose bumps all over the body from the Templiers music theme, the atmosphere is electric, the night is warm and cosy.

  Listen to the first minute, you'll feel it too :)

Everyone started the race super fast! From the first 100 m, I tried to keep up with Mick, who was trying to keep up with the first 100 runners. But I lost him quite quickly, legs were feeling heavy and the Brat was quite "noticeable".
At the first checkpoint (18.8km down the trail), I was in the last 100 out of 749 starters, the sun was still asleep and it was quite weird running for 4 hours in the dark with the Brat for company, keeping the pace slow and awkward. My mind wanders as the body is on auto-pilot. How's Mick feeling, I hope he is having a bit more fun than me. Looking around,no one dares breaking the silence of the night run. Head down, we all attempt to zombie trail till sunrise.
I finally get sun-kissed 22km down the trail. It feels good then, following Mick advice to eat something every hour, the legs and spirit are getting nice and warm and the Brat is getting manageable. For the next 10 km, I pass pretty much everyone who had passed me for the first 20 km, ( thanks to the sun and not trying to keep up a pace that wasn't mine). At that point, I'm thinking if I could carry on like this for the rest of the race, I could make it before nightfall...ah, how more wrong could I have been?
At kilometre 35, pain strikes on the outside of...my back right knee. Yes, you right, not the Brat (who sits nicely on my left knee) but the right. I still can’t describe the pain, never had it before, medic will say tendonitis, other runners some other scary names I choose to ignore, and so it takes me quite some time to accept that something was very wrong.It hurts! So much so that I can't no longer run, tears are running down, walk becomes this limp-y dragging leg twisty thing, weird sounds are coming out of my mouth.
My legs can't race no more but thoughts on the other hand are racing crazy. It goes from no no no, this is not looking good, I am actually stopping? to No way, I didn’t just come here to not even complete a marathon, right?.... What is Mick going to think? would Mick quit? can I quit? I can't quit? all of this training for nothing? I need to carry on...,quit?...walk till the next CP?
Mind was going wild, crazy thoughts of flying, sleeping, hibernating mixed with these questions were hiding the fact that it is very painful and it's really not looking good. People are passing by, looking sorry for me. I don't want you to feel sorry for me, I want to run with you, I'm only 7 km to the 42km checkpoint, that's a marathon, I could at least do a marathon... that's reasonable right? it doesn't hurt that much...madness
My walk is slow and...long! Every one I had previously passed, passed me again, and more are coming down my way. It's frustrating, a lot of them asked if I am ok, if they should call someone, one tells me the CP before was much closer than the one I'm heading towards... Stupid... My pride takes another big hit, clinching my teeth, smiling and telling them I’ll be allright,...I'm boiling inside. But who can blame them? I guess I am not looking great there. A bunch of guys passes me and snort! Nice! One even tells me " You not going to make it sweetie, and even if you do, the DNF bus will be waiting for you"... with a smile on his face! what a twat! I can't believe my ears! I didn't ask for anything!

The thought of DNF hadn't really sink in yet, I was still trying to come to terms with this new niggle.  But this guy, how dare he?! Like my bubble is not burst enough already, you need to create a new one and burst it on top? really?!
He's disappearing on the slop! I so want to run to him and kick his ass ...,I'll get him, don't know where and when, but I'll get him. I was going mad, from  superwoman who wants justice to fatalist wimp who just wants to stop, and all variations in between in a space of 2 hours . And what felt the most excruciating was that I was alone, everyone seemed to have passed me. Gosh! where is this CP?! Should have put the watch on! Slowly coming down, a man stops at my side and decide to walk with me to the CP. I ask him what happened to him, he explains that he's been vomiting 3 times since the start of the race, and can’t seem to keep his food down so he is stopping. I don’t know how it feels, and can’t seemed to find any words that could make him feel better. So I try to joke around unsuccessfully, and end up walking silently wondering why he is staying by my side and half wishing he could just leave me alone in this endless death walk. He is a nice man, lending me his sticks to try to walk a bit faster. I’m so slow and he is staying ... it’s really frustrating. My mind wonders, would I have given up because of food?

We finally arrive at the CP, I see a medic, she asked what happened, I’m unable to explain, a bit confused myself about the how it happened bit. She gives me ice to put on both knees and an anti inflammatory pill. I take it, feeling annoyed. Really annoyed. I'm trying to reason myself, at least I’ve done a marathon, right, I can let it go? I don't realise that I'm talking out loud. The medic looks at me with her kind big brown eyes and tells me “ this is not the marathon km yet, sweetie, it’s up that hill, you are at kilometre 41.1.” My world scrambles, what?! I’m not at the marathon km?! Mind is racing, how far to the next checkpoint? 10 km she says, it’s up that hill and down again.

Grrrr, I’m not at the marathon point, I can't let it go, I need to do a marathon ( No I don’t, thinking about it now, I’m mad! or stupid) This thought is haunting me, I think of the snorty dude and this helps me decide. Next checkpoint... I have 5 minutes left before the cut-off. Screw this, I’m at least doing a marathon,... and if I can carry on to the CP I will have done a small ultra... not a bad way to DNF...Man, I really hope Mick is having a better day than me. So there I go, I’m last, I don’t care, just want to do a marathon. I go up the hill, pass a few people. There is this very very old man breathing hard, I admire his determination. I carry on, the leg is feeling better, maybe the pill effect, I tried to run,... how wrong I was. I miserably limp again until it’s bearable. Stupid, so stupid.... I’m on top of the hill, a flatty section before some serious downhill. I've done a marathon.

Mad moment on hill, I feel like walking superfast, I pass another few people, but they pass me back as I slowly go down this rocky path. Silly! Soon, I’ll be at the CP. I can see it from here, it’s just...2 hours down the trail..I finally make it, I’m happy I’ve done 51.1 km. Mick would be proud to know that I finally knew when to stop to avoid to damage myself even more. I'm not stupid or mad, I say to myself. I should stop now,... I've done good...Where is the next checkpoint? Huh? Who asked that?! I hear..., 10 km up that way. Really 10km? I can do another 10 km right? at least until they pick me up because I didn’t make the cut-off right? I could just walk till I drop?! aiaiaiaie madness or stupidity?

I say to myself, at least it won’t be a “I’m giving up because it hurts too much, DNF” but a “well I tried but I got caught by the cut-off people, DNF”, the latter one sounded more bearable than the first....so leaving my common sense at the CP, I carry on, walk the uphills, walk faster on the shallow flats. I pass more people, they are so surprised to see me, they thought I would have given up at checkpoint 41.1km. We play a cat and mouse game, I walk steady, they run pass me, stop 100m at the front, walk slow, and so I pass them. This is a cool game. We laugh at the whole situation, and I try to make them feel better. Some of them are struggling to keep up with the pace they’ve set themselves. I tell them don’t push it this hard, just breathe and take the time needed to finish. They must think I’m crazy....I did leave my reason at the last checkpoint, but I don’t feel tired, it’s been 12 hours, I can’t run but I can walk, I can do this I tell myself. Madness...

Next checkpoint. I’m at checkpoint 61km, the pill effect must have run out as my right knee is killing me, I ask for a medic, they tell me, she’s at the next checkpoint, 13km up this hill. 13 km I say, I can do 13km to the pill. Why? This is stupid! This pill- thou is motivating me to go, like a druggie in need of a fix, I want it, I want to ease the pain.  Faster, faster I keep telling myself, but haha it’s only words, actions are slow to follow.
74km down the trail, I'm at the checkpoint, the medic doesn’t want to give me any pills, telling me that it’s only been 5 hours since the first one, I said I don’t remember how long ago it was, it might be more than 5 hours ( I was saying anything to get something) but she's not listening. She brings me to the osteopath, she thinks it’s going to help me. I’m not a wimp I say, she laughs saying nothing and firmly push me in the room. I spent 30 min ( which I felt at the time was a waste of precious minutes, especially I didn’t feel any better after, especially when she said I would be able to run in the next10 minutes), I didn’t get to run in the next 10 minutes or hours as a matter of fact.After she had done what she's done (asking questions and twisting this and that) I leave the room, not feeling any better. All I wanted was a pill! I am becoming a brat myself. I stink...literally and figuratively too. I am bad company , the night is coming down, and I am still out on the trail. Grrrr, I can't give up,...just until the next checkpoint, and I’ll stop I reach the checkpoint 6 with its nice people, foods and wait...Snorty dude!!!! Oh man it feels so good, he's shocked to see me, has no words to say beside “YOU”. And let me tell you, at this moment, I have this evil pleasure to smile and pass him, yes! I pass snorty dude- who told me the bus was waiting for me- snorty dude and it...feels...good. So good that I “fly” that hill to never see him again. But when I reach the top, I feel bad, the whole point of me not giving up was to inspire people and be humble about it. I wasn’t feeling humble at all in this climb and now I was worried that my 10 min cockiness was going to cost me later on. Mad! Yes I wanted to finish, but I didn’t want to make people feel bad about being past by an injured woman. What about their confidence? Their own limits? Their own dark thoughts? I was not helping there! Stupid! I still have 20 kilometres to go to the finish line.
I decide to stop at each runner who are looking like they are struggling, and pat them on the back, not too hard ( don’t want to patronise them) but enough to hopefully make them feel better. It makes me limp more confidently on the downhill, knowing that I maybe could give something back to the ones that needed the most (or at least looking like). 7 km to the finish line. Mad, I go up the last hill to the last check point,  the doctor who gave me THE pill at kilometre 41.1 is surprised to see me and gives me this huge hug that lift my spirit. I carry on the flat section before the last dreaded downhill and the grote du Hibou. It hurts, I have enough, it's been 19hours, how long is 6 km?!

I hear the microphone dude, announcing the runners in front of me, really? I'm close. I get a last buzz, running down hill with tears and cries but I want to prove that this journey was all worth it.  That it doesn’t matter which DNF you end up getting, as long as you’ve tried what seemed impossible.

Almost there,  I am praying that Mick is at the finish line, I know he finished 5 hours ago with an injury too, but am hoping that he will be there to share the last struggle with me ( how more selfish can you get when you are about to finish heh?) Madness.
I see him, but there are the darn last stairs...arrh finally this struggle ends in19 hours and 40 minutes of madness but feels like it's a victory, a sweet victory over oneself.  In Mick's arms I end, heart so warm of gratitude for the fact that because of him, I'm here. But I exclaim, this was the last run. This was stupid.  He smiles and murmurs comforting words in my ears, not believing a word I say. We've completed our first 100km, we both injured ourselves while at it, but we've done it...and what I take from this is to NEVER EVER GIVE UP, you never know until you try and push the barriers you've set in your mind.  

PS: After the race, I saw the osteopath lady again, and she worked on me for an hour putting back my hips and vertebrates in place and explaining that all of these injuries were due to the twisted left ankle from the 80km of the MontBlanc which never healed and created unbalances. All I need now, is learn to run again with posture and footing. Nice program for the next 3 months, until Country to Capital., heh?  :) can't wait to tackle those miles!

Tuesday 15 October 2013

Greensand Marathon : When DNS or DNF are not an option and wine your only escape

Saturday night, I can't sleep, I'm still debating if I'm going to do the Greensand marathon or not,... the Brat is still playing up? Should I start or save myself for the Templiers Ultratrail? Shoud I just DNS?

Sunday morning,7 am, we are getting ready for the race, still unsure if I'll be at the start, I don't talk about it, but my mind is racing!
Sunday, 10 am, I'm at the start...Mick won't be running with me and so tell me to just run to Leigh Hill and see if I make the cut-off time.  Sound reasonable...so I'm doing the race then?

The race starts with...a hill, everyone is running it! Darn...there is not even time to do a gentle warm up. But it's cold and rainy so..at least we'll get warm quite fast! Mental physical check, the Brat feels heavy. The route is nice and familiar, we've done it so many times so I push the leg aside,  taking in all in, the rain, the wind, the autumn leaves, the rain...
"Race strategy" starts to unfold, taking Mick advice about running hard on the Brat and see if it's shakes off, I attempt to do just that. It's hard thou so I take a gel...1 mile in...this is going to be a long day!
No DNS but maybe a DNF?
A long hill comes up, people are still running it, I wonder how and think maybe it's the marathon effect (no walking allowed unless you want to show how untrained, you are...)
But I'm so used to walking the hills ( thanks to Ultras) I automatically stop running and start walking. Oops! A group of 3 musketeers passes me, one of the guy is massive and quiet, the 2 others are not massive and not so quiet. I watch the massive guy 's effort on that hill, smile and wonder if he will be able to hold the pace of the other two. Reaching the top, there is a 3 mile shallow hill section. Gel effect kicks in so I start running too and soon pass the musketeers. Not so quiet runner 1, makes a comment so I tell them not to worry, I'll see them soon again on the next hilly section. We are under trees so it gives a small break from the heavy rain. But check out these puddles, they are huge! Playing with the "smaller" puddles and jumping in the big ones, we soon reach the first checkpoint. The marshals are so lively and cheerful, they don't seem to be bothered by the typical British weather.  Passing The Plough Inn pub, I wonder if I should stop for a mulled wine before climbing that long hill towards Leigh Hill.  The idea of the wine is so tempting...ok if I don't make the cut-off, I can just run back down and wait for Mick there.  I have 20 minutes, if I walk, I might not make it. So..I walk, the 3 musketeers pass me (again) they are cheering each other up, I smile, for sure they are having fun. Flat section with massive puddles, I pass them. We laugh at this cat and mouse game, I wonder who's the cat thou...We reach the top of Leigh Hill, checking my watch I realise that the mouse/cat game got me here before the cut-off..., darn the warm wine is going to have to wait. Although there is the King's Head pub in Holmbury Saint Mary ... I could carry on till there..
Debating which pub to go to
It's a struggle in this bubble, I take another bit of gel, maybe I'm not eating enough. I run the downhill bits, jog the flat and meet up with the banker (Simon) we talk/jog for a while which keeps my mind off the little voice. Steep down hill, Simon is now running, so I do the same. The pub is not far anyway. I pass Simon and the 3 musketeers and reach Holmbury aid station. Marshals are giving jelly babies and jaffa cakes along side warm smiles. I thank them and start walking towards the pub, but the 3 musketeers are running the stupid hill and are actually waiting for me....Gosh, I guess I could get to the half way point and still make it for happy hours?
Massive guy smile and carries on running the long hill, if he only knew that this ascent only just started. I smile back as I know I'll catch them up on that next flat bit...this game keeps me going. Arriving on top of part 1, I pass the massive musketeer and decide to stay with him, it's Tom and we get talking for a while which is cool because it gets me down to Duke of Kent school in "no time". I lost them thou, downhill seems to be my thing today. I cross the first man, Ed, coming back, he's fast and is making it look effortless, I try to do the same but it's not working haha. Half way point must not be too far as more and more people are on their way back. I see the first woman, she looks good too, more people, this is nice, you can cheer and run at the same time. 
Here's Mick with a big smile on his face, he looks so good  and gives me a high five. I'm glad at least he's enjoying himself and not waiting for me. Second Lady, she too looks good. James Adams, looking a bit rough but going strong, and there, ...the others ladies.
Silly me, I just realise that a part of me was actually hoping to make the top 5 women. I'm struggling, it's hard to count, jump roots and puddles while cheering well done to all of the runners at the same time.  It's surreal until the half way point. The marshals are so nice, they joke about getting a ride back to the start/finish line.  For a split second, I find myself thinking seriously about it...nice cosy car, breakfast at arrival, warmth...no mulled wine thou...and Lorry driver runner starts asking me questions. So I turn my head back to him and find my feet running back to Dorking. I wink at the 3 musketeers, happy to see that Tom is still looking good.  I'm so happy to be on the way back that I don't realise that Lorry driver is nowhere to be seen...and that last guy who went by was... the last guy. No more people to cheer up...so I slow down to a walk, as there is need to look good or cheerful anymore. The brat is really playing up and it seems like there is nothing that can distract me from despair. Bloody mood swings, why can't we just stay happy?
I look up,...there, a woman is walking Reynards Hill, my heart skips a bit, I could run with her, take my mind off the Brat, right? So I walk the hill a bit faster, but don't reach her in time, she stops at the top and  talks to a marshal. Darn! I need to find someone else. The trail is going down and up and then down again to the Duke of Kent school. "Come on" says the still so ever cheerful marshal on top of Pitch Hill and " be careful, it's quite wet". I thanked him and not so carefully run down towards King's Head PUB. There, I could stop as I won't be in the top 5 so no rush, warm myself up with a nice pint of mulled wine and then carry on running to the finish if I don't stay there too long. That's plan sound awesome in my head!

I'm almost there, I can see the pub! But what?! another cheerful marshall is waiting for me at the aid station, telling me that's I'm doing great, it's almost over and what's that? A cup of water and jaffa cakes...no way...
I take two and stuff my face. Shoot, I guess I love eating more than I like drinking, heh? With a handful of cakes and another of jelly babies, I'm walking (can't run while face stuffing) up Somerset Hill.
It's another long one, so I can take the time to think about the new plan. King's Head is not far, I could just walk the hill and just fly down there in no time. I smile, this plan sounds good but the hill is never ending, ..its the other face of Leigh Hill...my plan is fading away. After 100 yards, I debate of a new one. I have enough, I could stop at the tower, have a nice cup of tea and wait there with the marshals. I've done good, 20 miles is a good training run right? OK, sounds good. With this is mind, I'm going up a bit faster, faster I say. FASTER! I'm at the top, the tower is looking VERY gloomy, I shiver, the views are nice but the wind and rain mix is making it...unwelcoming. I won't be able to stay there, initial plan sounds much better now. This struggle with the "plans" and the Brat make the whole situation such a drama that I have enough, I want to go home.  There is still 7 miles left, I can just DNF, wait at the pub for the marshals to go back to the finish and attempt to recover for the Templiers Ultra, nothing wrong to DNF if it's for the best, right?  Yeah!I can do this!
So I go down the hill, up another, swim in a big puddle and start running the final stretch to the pub. But something is happening, something familiar, something which happened during the last 16 miles of Trail of Herts. It's that other me, the one who has enough and just want to go....fast...very fast, like a hungry cheetah chasing an antelope, I'm chasing the trail to the finish, survival mode, nooooooooo! This is so going to hurt!
I'm running fast, too fast, fly by the pub, the aid station, some dudes, another aid station where I caught another lady runner, she calls me speedy, I call her awesome. She has the picture of her grandma attached to her bag.
The trail is calling and I know what's coming, it's all down hill till the bridge, I'm running away from the pain, away from the cramps devouring every part of the brat. Aie Aie Aie, I  can't stop nor can I slow down. I'm going to get you trail, watch me.
Last hill to the finish, ...wait! There is a lady half way to the top, she will be gutted if I pass her 500 yards from the finish...but my whole self knows that it's then straight down to the finish. Straight down...
Powerwalking that hill like I never done before, I hammer it down, pass the crowd, the marshal and Rob and only stop at...the carrot! Yeah, a carrot, (Rob likes giving carrots at the finish, it's pretty cool) And so after 4h 47 mins of "British weather blissfulness" and no longer needing to be a cheetah (did get top 5....) I'm walking back to Mick, hoping he's done as well as he wanted to and feeling much better than me. But my walk soon becomes a limp, the brat has given up, the knee is swollen up, the ankle is collapsing and I can't lift any part of my body without a grimace...alala where is the wine?

PS: Best British trail marathon EVER thanks to the marshals and Rob's organisational skills :)

Wednesday 9 October 2013

Maudit Greensand Marathon

Last year, I should have done the Greensand Marathon, this super nice hilly marathon in Surrey. I ended up marshaling because of an injury.
This year...it looks like I'm going to have to do the same again! Looks like the ultra universe doesn't want me to do this marathon,. I so want to do it thou! it's been our training ground for the last year and it's such a lovely route and profile!


Third time lucky you think?

Saturday 5 October 2013

That brat!

Little Swirly Dictionary of the Brat : an injury/niggle which unables you to do what you love most: RUN
Description of the Brat: Every time, running is attempted, pain is felt first in the left front hipflexor ( or groin), which then moves to the left side of the knee, down the calf, up the lower back and then back to the hipflexor.
After 1 hour of this pain mixture, running becomes a strange limping (or penguin walk) witnessed by others that can last up to 3 days.

After the Trail of Herts mad run, I knew I had done something to myself that non runner friends said it was because I carried on and didn't stop (you nutter) but any ultra runner would have just said " it's part of the deal, well done for finishing, just need a bit recovery time now!"
It's now been 2 weeks since the race, and that recovery, well is not following "THE PLAN". That left leg is definitely a brat! Running was out of the question last weekend after I had to give up after a few uphills and a painful limping back to the car.
Last weekend disastrous hill repeat
So, all week I wondered if it was really my injury pulling my leg, or if it was my brain not wanting to revive what happened during the race and put physical blocks at every running attempts. Especially since I could walk or cycle (go figure!). Therefore I had masterminded a new plan for this weekend (wahahah), I thought I could use a different "mind strategy" ignore the blocks, keep pushing with a "no pain, no gain" concept and see what happens? I bet this sound familiar to you?
Results:
This weekend disastrous hill repeat

You've guessed right. I'm right now sitting in the car, waiting for Mick to finish “our” long run on the North Downs way.  I hate to admit but I've been defeated by the brat after less than an hour run and a slow limping walk back to the car, ... I ignored the blocks ( 5 mins down the run) and what I gained 50 mins down the run was... more pain so that no pain, no gain concept is utterly rubbish! Some will think “ nah! it's a niggle, you should have push it harder! or "don't worry, you'll be fine in no time, you just need some time”....but with all the niggles I got since I have started running, I had made myself a promise to keep running no matter how bad it felt, as I never wanted to be called a "pussy" for not starting or finishing a race or being a drag to Mick especially during our training runs. Many stories of how one had withstand pain to start and/or finish an endurance event are out there; many comments of others wishing to have that same pain threshold or asking how to train the mind to ignore the pain are omnipresent on social networks. And so,I always thrived to be that one who ignores the pain and just carries on. So is it a niggle? hell no!  As I listened to Stephanie Howe's interview after UROC about her decision to run the race on an injured foot and nursing it to be able to finish the race, I'm thinking I could just do the same, right? I don't want to just give up to that brat, so, any mind tricks? body tricks you would like to share? what would you do with the greensand marathon next weekend, and the Endurance Trail 2 weeks later?

Tuesday 24 September 2013

Trail of Herts: When a 55 miler turns to a 60

Trail of Herts: a 55 mile trail race from Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire, heading down to London via The Chilterns Way, Hertfordshire Way, Chain Walk, canal and riverside paths and where sticking to someone who knows how to read maps is the answer to finishing this race.

It's 8:20 am in Berkhamsted cricket club, Cliff King, the race director is giving the inaugural security briefing of the first edition of Trail of Herts. In front of him are about 40 trail runners anxious to hit the trail. For some it will be their first ultra, for others it will be an add-on to an already long list of ultra running accomplishments. For us, what should have been a "training" run to prepare for the Endurance Trail, 103km at the end of October and our first 55 miles will become a "survival" run where "stalking" someone (like Mick likes to call it) will be the key to see the finish line.


8:33 am, the race starts with a flat warm up section before giving us the first taste of the Chilterns Hill, there are very happy marshals guiding us through the trail and road crossing. We hit our second hill, we are quite far back and there are not many people around. In front of us is Glyn and Anna, Glyn is this cool dude with a lion crown who ran the Grand Canal Union and some other crazy races, and with Anna, they run marathons pretty much every weekend! This thou, will only be revealed after 2 long miles where 10 of us got lost twice before reaching the first checkpoint and when 5 of us decided instinctively to stick together and count on Glyn to guide us through the rest of the race with his map skills and with Anna spotting these damn markers with her eagle eyes.

 After checkpoint 1 and our not so fun lost experience, we are already having trouble finding the next path, this moment feels hostile and quite stressful for me, while Mick is so chill! We've only been on the run for 10ish miles (should have been 9) and I have a feeling that this challenge will last for God knows how long...note to myself: funny how being lost and counting on others gets me out of my comfort zone. We finally find the trail and carry somewhat steady until a junction, we all stop, not sure where to go as what's in front doesn't look like what's on the map.The worry creeps in, one wrong turn can lead you 4 miles away from the original path (which is what the lead group ended up doing).


Glyn and MapMan discussed of the road, while I find myself in a vicious spiral of negativity, this uncertainty added to the pains I'm getting all over my left leg is the right cocktail for a DNF!   I'm not feeling it at all, I need a distraction but there are no hills or rocks to play with,and we keep running and braking...you get to pass under very nice big old bridges thou, this distracts me for a while, that and Anna's conversation :)


After a while, I can't control myself any more. I need to say something but I don't want to let anyone know how maybe they feel too. So I look at Mick and he sees it, he could feel something was wrong as I was limping and making faces, but had no idea of how bad it was in my head. He listens to my pain, ignores my moody comments and tell me all of these nice things, to which my mind answers by running to the next 10 miles with better...attitude! 35 miles to go.

We are now on our way to Hoddeston, the trail is following the Chain Walk and passes on the border of Hertford, it's a mixture of typical English country side (large fields) and small forests.  We passed the half way mark of the race but still looking at the map and searching for markers. It becomes a game which Anna wins with her eagle eyes. MapMan is very good at reassuring Glyn that we are on the right track. It's a nice feeling, we feel very comfortable in the little group but wonder how others are doing hoping they are not alone. We are now in Box Wood which according to the map is close to checkpoint 4, but we are still running searching for it. Anna and I agree that this was the longest 7 miles of the race at this point! When we reach it, the volunteers are ever so welcoming with warm smile and with so much attention that it lifted the mood of everyone.
I need to pee thou! it's hard to stop for it when you are in a group and when Mick keeps telling you to keep up because who knows how we could find our own way around this route...So instead of just do my business, I know have to wait till each checkpoint, let the group there while I find a nice tree or bush, do my business and be joined back on time.How fun is that ladies heh?

We leave the checkpoint and follow the river trail to Enfield. The back pain has moved to my left foot and knee. For some reason, it's easier to run than walk, which...doesn't really help when the plan was to do 25 min running, 5 minutes walk strategy. The river path is nice, full of willow trees and so quiet and I attempt to distract myself from the little voice like Mick told me to. I'm so focused on this that I don't realise the group is splitting. Glyn and Anna stopped and tell us to carry on, they will catch up. I hope so, Anna and I had decided to finish together as we were the first 2 ladies. Funny enough, we had argued who would cross the line first, 15 miles in the race. I was convinced that she would be first, as I was debating if I was ever going to finish this not so fun training run..... I check up on Mick. He doesn't say much about his pain, but I know his feet are hurting, his knee has been bothering him for the last month. Everyone looks like they having some internal debate with themselves too. Mick tells me it's part of the deal, the longer you run, the more you get to challenge yourself both mentally and physically, welcome to the ultra world....Ick...it's not very welcoming then is it?

 ...We reach checkpoint 5 where nice chocolate cookies and cool doggies along with cheerful volunteers shows me that this is also part of the ultra world and it is actually worth the pain. I wait till I see Anna and Glyn and hear myself telling Mick to rally me,  the cookies must have hit a spot because I can actually carrying on...as long as I'm running. Mick, Anna and Glyn catch me up to follow the river which leads to the Grand Union Canal. After 2 miles in, I realised I've been wanting to pee for a while but the river path even thou is nice to run on, has bikes and people so...how do you pee?..where where where....Can't believe not finding a spot to pee can be such a "traumatic" experience. I feel bad, super bad, I want to go home and it feels so far away...
We find a small bush along the canal, and I gain my sanity again. Anna and Glyn are quite far, I'm happy to see her go, she will finish strong. With my sanity back on track, we attempt to have a discussion about the places we just ran and naturally slow down to a walk... my groin hurts,slowing down is making it worst. I hear myself moaning again, Mick whispers encouragements and stick to my side, never letting me go lower in my vicious cycle. He tells me to just run and not worry about the strategy or his own feet. He is so understanding but find it crazy that the only way for me to feel better is to run and not walk...so twisted!  I keep repeating to myself, it's only 16 miles away, just 16 miles so much so that we rally Anna and Glyn. A bike is coming towards us...I can't slow down so I pass them quickly. Something clicks in my head, I'm now on some sort of survival mode, I'm going faster, a part of me has enough and just want to go home, and this part has overcome everything else. 13 Miles to go

Mick catches me up, telling me to slow down, I try but it's stronger than me, we soon reach checkpoint 6, I barely speak, I need to go, I just need to go, I tell Mick to rally. As soon as he is at my side, I speed up, I have no clue where this is going and when I'm going to crash and he is worried that I won't last to and ask me slow down. I'm getting frustrated again because the canal path is not straight forward and I need to stop and look at the map, arrh everytime we stop it hurts me so bad...the canal is bigger, the environment more residential and industrial, we reach Hackney Marsh but we are looking for Hackney Wick. Note to myself: really need to Reece the route before a race!
I'm praying that we are on the right trail as there is no marker, we carry on running when I turn around and see no one behind. Anna is out of sight,...what have I done? 7 miles to go

Last check point, the guy says it's only 5 miles away, just go up the bridge and carry on straight...ya right, if it was that easy heh? We stop again to check the map and ask a cyclist the way...home...we follow his recommendation and just run, as fast as possible  in these conditions. Thoughts of that guy who physically crash 300 yards before the finish line in this legendary American race creep in.  I look back, hoping to see Anna, Mick tells me I'm first woman, and to just slow down that we are ok. He hasn’t get it thou, I don't care about the place in the race, I just want to go home...suddenly we see two runners in front of us, it's number 9 and 10 spots, they are running but we are flying past, where is the finish line? I get a call from Cliff wondering where I am...I'm also wondering where we are and why we are not there yet...when suddenly...out of nowhere...the end of the trail. Finally! Home is almost there....ah it's over.

In a blur, I thanked Cliff for organising the race and the marshals and just sat there. I can't believe I won...where is Anna? I so wanted to be here with her and share the joy. So much so that even thou we want to go home, we stay until they arrive, because I know that without them, we would not be here right now,... probably still lost between checkpoint 3 and 4 or else.

What a day! 12 hours, 60 miles of England sights discovery with it's country side, canals and rivers paths. 12 hours of a gruelling one to one with a body and a mind that have a "mind" of their own. 60 miles of counting on others to lead the way. What a race! what should have been a training run finished in a competition with oneself. what could have been a DNF ended up in winning a trophy. How more swirly can I be?


Monday 2 September 2013

Trail Etendard: fuel over mind

It’s 6 am on Sunday 25/08/2013, at the edge of the canal, 45 pairs of legs are waiting, eager to stumble upon this first edition of Trail de l'Etendard: a 63 Km trail race joining Bourg d'Oisans to Saint Sorlin d'Arves in France.
The night before the small village had been drenched down and we had all wondered if today was going to be the same...but little time is left to debate. Laid in front is a flat road section offered to us as a warm-up by the river Romanche. All we can see is the dancing headlights and all we can hear is the sound of the water and chatter from runners around us. Warm-up is over as soon as we reach the forest path; in front of us is the first 1000m climb to Villard Reculars, sleepy village nested below the famous ski resort village of Alpes d'Huez.
This is a tough 5 km climb as there is already a significant gap in between runners, no one dare talking, we are sleepy zombies climbing up that mountain searching for the first rays of sun. My sleepy head is not registering anything and I feel like a turtle moving up so ever slowly that I wonder if I'm last!
The climb is never ending, no rest allowed unless you decide to hang around the first CP. No one really does thou, we all want to reach the summit as we know the 12 lakes are eagerly waiting to play. Second CP on the border of Alpes d’Huez, village is still asleep but the volunteers are trying their best to cheer anyone looking gloomy. Again,I don’t stop; I want to carry on as there is another 1000m of ascent to reach the Col Blanc CP. I haven't eaten anything for the last 2 hours, but I don't realise it until...I’m struggling to run on these darn shallow ascents made of road and tiny fields. Looking up,  I wonder where Mick is, I wanted to race with him as this is my "A" race and wanted to do a good time. Feels and looks like, I’ve made a mistake with my fuel and the motor is just not going strong…To distract me from my poor performance I decide to take pictures :) as usual in these moments I forget that this should be a race and just breathe in the grandeur of the mountain.
I finally reach the Col Blanc CP, the volunteers are so cheery but are looking at me a bit concerned…I’m not looking great, a volunteer who saw me at the first CP wonders if I’m going to make it . In my right hand one volunteer forces a cup of tea with sugar and fizzy water, in the other hand a sweet lady put a piece of Pain d’Epice, a piece of butter cake and waits for me to eat, telling me that I won’t be going anywhere unless I put this in my motor! I dutifully start eating, scared that I won’t be allowed to carry on. As soon as I finished with the tea, I’m handed a glass of cola. It all looks strange to be taken care of by unfamiliar faces, but heh, at this point I know my chances of doing great have dissipated so why not?  I finish the two pieces of cake on top of the two drinks, ask if I’m allright to go, get a tap in a back and there I go, hoping to the lakes.
At this point, we are less than half way from the finish.The path is made of different types of rocks, big ones, tiny ones, shiny ones, by then the sun is up, kissing my face and making the lakes shine so softly. I hear a voice, so I decide to follow while searching for the tiny flags put to guide us in between these rocks. But the voice is now behind me, shoot! Did I get it wrong? No here’s another small flag and the descent to the GrandMaison Barrage. The voice had it wrong and looks moody. I attempted to cheer the voice up while trying hard to slalom between rocks and high grass. We reach Col du Couard and a massive torrent. The path is now made just of high grass and funny looking floor leafs.The voice and I missed the flag leading to an “easy” passage of the torrent so we end up finding our own pass. It is quite exhilarating to be in the middle of a torrent, hoping not to fall and toboggan slide the rest of the way while trying to reassure the voice! The voice belongs to a 64 years old kind gentleman,  after we cross one, we both struggled to pass the other massive torrent and our butts are now all wet, but heh! It’s refreshing and feels so good on the legs and at least...we didn't toboggan slide!
We reach the “dangerous” passage leading to the Barrage, it is made of sliddy rocks and dirt. On one side you have your shoulders brushing the cliff, on the other side, your feets are struggling to not go down this "nice" deep slid ( I didn't take a picture, in case you suffer from vertigo!)  We decide to walk it and stay together until one of us has enough and run. It’s nice to have a bit of company. He tells me to eat, so I obediently do so as I realise that I am actually feeling better since the “forced gluttony” of LacBlanc PC.We talk about my island, about trail and soon enough we reach the road leading to the Col de la Croix de Fer. The road is a shallow ascent which everyone seemed to be walking it. Stubborn as I am, I ran it until I couldn't anymore and decided to hop/walk until the CP, leaving the gentleman behind. There I find out that we are now more than half way, 43 Km and there is only 20 kms to go. Some grumpy runners moan about it and so in an attempt to cheer them up I decide to sing a kiddy french song about kilometres, which makes everyone laugh and give me the opportunity to get ahead of them hihi! I run the piste until I see this massive ascent, its HUGE! I can’t even see the end of it! My my! I look back looking for the grumpy runners 1 &2 wondering if they feel the same, I see their face and give them a big encouraging smile and start the long ascent to Glacier de l’Etendard. The path looks like a big rock which had his heart  broken into pieces and laid there. I can feel the pain but the smiles of tourists and encouraging comments they give makes me want to just carry on. So I pass the refuge de l’Etendard after eating some nice “chouquettes” from there, and begin another dreadful shallow ascent to the Glacier. At this point, I'm running with Benoit, a cool dude from Belgium but living in Mick's hometown. From there, we can see on the other side of the lake (le Lac Blanc) other runners going towards Saint Sorlin.
It makes me think that we are almost done and so I start running thinking that soon after we reach the end of the lake, we are going to the finish line. But I'm sooooo wrong! I should have really study the profile because not only we reach the end of the lake, and there is no turning point, but we are climbing towards a glacier! This affect my poor mind, and at this point, I just don't want to run anymore!Benoit tells me to eat, that he had noticed that I haven't had any proper fuel since the HUGE ascent, so I eat half of my Cliff Bar while I let Benoit disappear in the horizon. Where is the darn turning point? By the time I finish eating, I reach a big rock in the middle of nowhere, there is a control point with a dad and kid, they are telling me that this is the turning point and I don't have much left to do. It doesn't make me feel better because we are carrying on going up and I wonder how far do I need to go on before I reach the point where I saw the other ones...why do the mind pay attention to these types of details?! Why do

I care so much about not being where I wanted to be?! I pass a cute couple and asked them if they are going to Saint Sorlin, they laugh and say that's too far away for them to consider...I smile and think, it can't be, I only had 20 kilometres to go...10 kilometres ago...right? But the energy of the bar start to kick in and because I'm not sure of where I am on this trail, I start to run and reach a pretty cool snowy path, so I do the "Mont Blanc slide"( butt slide) and feel much better. The path is now the one I had seen when I was on the other side of the lake, it's a one track going up towards l'Aiguille Rouge. I can feel the downhill to Saint Sorlin coming up, so I run towards it, passing more tourists puzzled to see me and telling me I'm the first lady. Hahaha! no I say, I'm the last one with a big smile of my face. Who cares right? the scenery is so nice and the people so great, why should we care which place we finish? So I go down on the ski slope, killing my knees with wishing-my jumps-were-gracious thoughts but knowing that I must look like an elephant trying to ballet dance. I reach another control point, the man tells me that I have 1.5 km of piste left and then I'll reach the field path to the finish line. I'm relieved, I'm almost there. I do the 1.5 km very quickly as there is nothing to see, and reach the field path  but wait! what's this?...too late, in front of me was an electrical wire for the cows, but I didn't see it and tangled myself till it broke and have my face laid flat on the ground (no cow poo) !!! Ooops sorry farmer! I get up, brush off the dirt and blood and wonder how the other runners managed to see this thing! At least the people after me won't have to worry about it! right? So I carry on the downhill, the path changes from field, to road, to forest trail, to field again in the space of 4 kilometres, it's amazing! I can't believe my eyes, my feet can't have enough of it, I want more. It's funny how knowing you are on the end of the line make running easier and your spirit high, 2 small kids start running with me to the end of a road and I'm feeling grateful to be living a moment like that. I reach another downhill cowfield wondering where is the finish line when it suddently turn and there it is: the finish line with everyone looking and the microphone blaring my name. I feel like a superstar ;) and I thank everyone for cheering up so loud. I can't believe it, 11:20 and some seconds ago I was a zombie searching for sunlight, I now feel like a soldier at the end of the battle cheering for every moment of the way. 
Writing the panic button entry had made me reflect on mind over body. Writing this one made me realise, that fuel plays such an important part and in this equation of mind over body that I'm really grateful to have had all of the volunteers and other runners around me to tell me to eat as without them, I would still be a zombie stuck in one of the CPs!
11hours 40 mins and some seconds, 63km and 4100m of ascent, not bad for a sunday run ;)

Tuesday 20 August 2013

The panic button

One week before the "A" race: you know that  race, the one you've prepared for ages, the one you set yourself to give it all. For me, it is the trail de l'Etendard. A 63 km, 4100m of ascent in the beautiful mountains of Savoie, France.

Trail de l'Etendard Route View

But I've hit it. The panic button, the one which makes everything fall apart. I'm sure we've all been there, we pressed it and fell in the black hole of self-doubt.


Why? I should have no reasons for it: I had faced the unknown when running the Mont Blanc back in July, I know what I am about to face. I've carefully prepared myself to make it feel like an "organised" run in the mountains where nothing can faze me.This time, it felt like the expectations set seemed reasonable. Like when you tell yourself: no worries, you've done the race before, or nah, you'll be fine,you've completed the distance, or/and no sweat mate, you've trained hard, put the hours in, change your diet...all and all, it will all work out!

Darn! stupid button!

For ages, everything seemed fine. Training was going according to Mick's plan, experimenting with low carb diet was not as traumatising as I first believed, I had been able to keep that little voice at bay.  But as I sit there looking through the window of the Eurostar, reflecting on the last few weeks effort, this little voice shout outs: for this race you need to run better than ever before. That's it, nothing else, no ugly thoughts telling you that you can't do it, just that : you better run better.
And as the mind impregnates these words,and start looking for reassuring thoughts  only one thought prevails : I'm not ready. I'm one week before the race and I haven't ran once last week, I had painful runs the week before, and next week looks brutal.  Fatality comes crashing down: there is no point, this is never going to work the way others are going to expect it. These expectations are so high, what was I thinking believing it's ok!




What felt like an eternity later: Reason started kicking in, asking me if I was going to feel this way every time a race is about to start?! So dramatic! There must be a reset button after you hit the panic one, how and when do you hit reset?

So I decided to try a few things I've read in the past and made fun of (sorry) Breathe:in this short laps of panic, I actually held my breath for so long, that the guy beside me started to panic! So at each deep breath, facts started flowing in: I'm a runner, I love the mountain, I have prepared, it's all going to be fine.
Physical Check up: Then I checked myself up. No pain, legs don't look as I've lost any muscle! I can still go up the stairs without breathing hard, I've walked alot without being tired. And you know what, you don't loose physical fitness because you stop running for a week, even 2 weeks, especially if you are doing other activities such as biking or shopping ( yes shopping ladies!) so there! hum...ok, I feel a bit better
Mental Check Up: As Stuart Mill aka UltraStu says: it's all in your mind! If I take this race as a journey goal where what I want to accomplish is getting to the end, then I just need to complete the race and I'll be ok! It doesn't matter the way I would feel before, during or after the race, if I've decided it's a journey goal then so be it! screw the bigger expectations! Now if I take this journey as a "bad ass journey", then mastering  self doubts is the battle and acknowledging that confidence tempered with humility is what makes the difference between a good finish and a bad one, then so be it!


So...it's now less than a week before the race, if I get lucky I might get to run tomorrow, if not then heh! at least I've looked at the course profile and I've decided that I'll start the race as a bad ass journey and will see if I finish it this way or if I get to finish it as a journey goal. As I am reading others' blogs and finding out about their journey, I can see that we all have one thing is common: We all freak out at one point in our running journey, but it looks like the key is finding our own ways to reset our mind and think that whatever the little voice says, I've signed up for that race, and whatever it takes I'll finish it!


Sunday 4 August 2013

Destinations to run before we die: Reunion Island


Before calling myself a runner I used to have a list of places I wanted to visit before I die.

Since I'm a runner, I now have a list of the places I want to run and race before I die and well, I thought I would share it with you and see if you knew other places I was missing out on. I've split this list in different posts so don't worry it won't be super long and you'll have time to comment :)

Destination 1: My Island

http://www.reunion.fr/en/

OK, it's not mine per se, but it is where I am from ;)


Reunion Island is a volcanic island with a sleeping volcano Le Piton des Neiges, its highest peak (3070m, 10,070 ft), an active volcano La Fournaise and 3 calderas: Cirque de Salazie, Cirque de Mafate and Cirque de Cilaos.



In one go, you start your run in a sugarcane field, meet up giant bamboo trees
St Suzanne Trail


  Go up to a forest type like trail with waterfalls, rivers, and root trees. With temperatures changing like the clouds in the sky.









And finish your day by follow the beach path trail for a rewarding dip in the Indian Ocean Lagoon.
 
 

Races

You have the infamous Diagonal des Fous, a trail race of 162 km and 9643m of ascent, in October, loved by Kilian Jornet, who won it twice!


Diagonale des Fous Profile
If the kilometres are a bit too much, you also have la Cimasalazienne in August a trail run of 53 km with 3700m of  vertical gain, covering the 3 calderas. It's a beautiful route where you will come across some of the best canyons and nature jewels.
View of Mafate Caldera from Salazie Caldera




















More: the other Grand Raid de la Reunion, le Raid 974, a 101 km with 4500 m of vertical gain, in July. This route crosses the west side of Reunion, with beautiful views of the Ocean and 2 of the calderas. You have the 53 km shorter option with as much as vertical gain that you could also attempt.

So this island is a concentrate of every thing you could wish for: weather, trails and rewards!


So what do you think?

Best time of the year to go there: March to November as it is the winter. Days are shorter but you get a nice not too hot weather. From November onwards, it's the summertime with loads of rain and hot temperatures
Places to Stay while there: The South West side as it the less raining side
Foods to die for:
Fruits: Ananas Victoria (Victoria Ananas), tiny bananas, goyaviers, letchis, longani,
Meat: sausages from Salazie, boucane from St Suzanne, duck from le Tampon
Meals: Rougaille saucisse, boucane bringelles, vanilla duck, carry tijaques
Deserts: Anything you fancy from the Patisserie
How to get there: You can either take a plane to Mauritus and another to Reunion Island. Or you arrive in Paris, and take a plane to Reunion.
Recommended minimum time to stay: 3 weeks





Tuesday 23 July 2013

Glynde to Eastbourne and back: Trailing out on the South Downs Way


It's time, the South Downs Way trail is calling, it's been waiting for us for 2 months, since we attempted to run the South Downs Way to Eastbourne but due to sickness we had to cut it short.
The sun is hiding behind the clouds but the warmth is at the rendez-vous. We are at Glynde Station and are making our way to our first ridge of the South Downs Way.20 miles away Eastbourne sea is waiting. We cross the A47 and soon climbs to join the South Down Way trail.

First Hill of the day
I'm surprised, my mind is blank, I have no apprehension of the heat,... last week's lesson seems to have done me good and the fact that it's not hot yet is helping too. There is no whisper. We cross fields of lamb, cows and wheat. We enjoy the views from both sides of the ridge. I feel like we are on the back of a sleeping dinosaur, going up and down its spine.

From the left side of the dinosaur

You can see Seaford on your right, and infinite fields from your left. The sun is playing up with the clouds  and we are going up and down the ridge until Alfriston. It is a nice cute village with tiny local shops where quietness and birds' song welcome you open arms. There we cross the small bridge and run flat to Litlington, another small village with a nice pub The Plough and Harrow. and when available a CAKE stand!


Hill just after Litlington

Check out the Descent/Ascent to Westdean
7 miles in with not much heat and the wind is sweet. I'm trailing out, my eyes are closed, we just finished climbing another staircase of roots and trees and and I let myself go. My feet caress the groundm I can feel the sun kissing my skin.



I should have kept my eyes open thou...we've missed a turn and I don't recognise the trail. We stop and look for an opening, I'm sure we need to go down.  We are on top of Westdean but where is the trail? I can feel it, we carry on walking until we find an opening and there it is: the descent to Westdean below the tree lines. The descent is marvellous and we have no regrets to not have follow the south downs way for this bit.



Up the staircase to the Park
We go up a deep staircase reach a small wall before descending towards the Seven Sister Country Park. The air is a mixture of sea air and...lamb poop. It's a bit hotter but the wind is chasing the heat, and somehow makes is enjoyable. The whispers are hiding away, it's seems easier to follow Tanya's advice when the sun is hidden behind clouds!





We are now on top of the Seven Sisters'Park. The views are impressive and even thou the path is filled up with tourists, their sound is covered by the sea wind blowing in our ears.

Seven Sisters'Park View
10 miles to go until Eastbourne and the 7 sisters are waiting.
I'm emptying my head of all thoughts of work life, routine and planning the following week. It's a hard thing to do to push it all out. So I am trailing out, the same way people pass out or black out.  I am not forgetting where I am nor do I see the dark, as my heart skips to the trail beat and my steps run the trail flow. None of the cliffs sisters are the same. Your first sister cliff starts with a relaxing flat and shallow descent, no holes, nice grass. Its other face thou, is a tourist playground with happy faces and cute message.

First Sister Cliff
The second sister has a deeper descent, some holes, less grass and its other face doesn't have any tourists drawing. You keep undulating...by the fourth sister, your quads are now feeling it, you pay much more attention to your footing and tummy tucks as the descents become more and more demanding. By the last sister, you are thankful for the wind pushing you up and slowing you down, while refreshing you all along.



It's beautiful, the clouds colour the sea of different shades of blue, the cliffs are not white nor yellow and the choices of trail paths are indefinite. You are now in Burling gap, with its nice National Trust Cafe and parking lot. We decide to stop for a toilet break and a nice Tango. We have time, only 7 miles to go until Eastbourne seaside. We enjoy the views and the company of others, we lock eyes and share a moment of plenitude with the nature around us.

An air of South of France
Belle Tout Lighthouse tucked in between sea trees which are making the trail looking like South of France, is longing for us. We reach the lighthouse and are now making our way to up towards Beachy Head pub. The descent to Eastbourne Sea is close by.
1 mile left before the trail becomes a seaside promenade where the sound of the waves is mixed with laughs of kids... 20 miles with no whisper... Welcome to Eastbourne.

View of Eastbourne from Beachy Head Pub


Day 2:It's 9 am, we are ready to go back. After a nice breakfast at May Day Cafe, an OK night of sleep at Victoria hotel we are heading back towards Beachy Head Trail.

Happy Mick!
Breakfast of a champion
There is no clouds in the sky, a small sea breeze caches my hair, reminding me that she will be with me throughout the whole way back. We can already feel that the temperatures won't be like yesterday. Eastbourne seaside promenade is already buzzing of locals and tourists alike enjoying this exceptional weather. We walk to the trail, enjoying the fact, that we don't have to sweat too much yet! our ascent towards Beachy Head and the lighthouse begin. We run all we can as we don't want to get struck by the heat. Little whisper is waiting, but this time I'm ready for it. We don't stop until Birling Gap. It's HOT, I wet my buff with cold water, do the same with my neck and my shoulders. I'm ready for you whisper. The last sister becomes sister one, she is a soft ascent, warming your muscles up, getting you ready for her others sisters. Sister Cliff 5 becomes number 2, her descent becomes a steep ascent but your reward is her floral design:

One of the sisters' floral design
Yesterday ascents become descents and vice versa. I close my eyes on each ascent. You have to try it, it's the best feeling in the world. Obviously don't do it on a narrow path or when there is loads of people around! But here, by closing your eyes you show how vulnerable you are and so the trails guide you to this peaceful place where you can walk up a hill faster than you ever thought you could. You are no longer in a challenge with that hill, you can embrace it and release any tension.


Core Cooling


We are back on first sister, and Cuckmere River Beach. It's 11:30 am, the sun is up high, and we are sweating. The water is so mesmerizing that we run down to the pebble beach and decide to have a strawberry break and a cool down. Water is looking like the Mediterranean beach and it's soo tempting. We decide to take a dip. The water is COLD! but it cools down our core and we feel contempt. I would like the time to stand still, the waves are kissing the pebbles, the sound is so calming
Take a deep breath, take a picture...I wish we could lay there all afternoon but we still have 10 miles to go and Titine the car is waiting for us. I wet my buff again, drown my fully clothes self one more time and trail out to Alfriston. 

The White Horse
It's flat,... there is no wind. Sweating...we reach the churchyard looking for fresh water. It's on the side of the church. Another wet buff, cooling head and mind. We walk up towards Jerry's Pond, crossing more lamb poop land, before arriving to White Lion Pond. It is the last descent to the car, I'm going to enjoy it, I won't be closing my eyes as the trail becomes a broken road but I will make it last as I don't want to go back to reality, back to the city where work is life and trail is a round of a park. But just 5 more days, trail and I'll be back to your arms.

If you want details of this gateway, please check the route page :)