World Trail Challenge, France. Race Report

On Sunday, July 12th I had the opportunity to represent
Canada at the IAU Merrell Sky World Trail Challenge 68km.  The event took place in Monetier Le Bains, a small village shadowed by mountains in the French Alps.  The World Trail Challenge hosted by the IAU (International Association of Ultra runners) was part of a public race taking place at the same time called Trail des Cerces,  55 invitational runners and 1300+ public runners.I arrived with my wife Heather on Friday morning July 10 to Monetied Le Bains.  After over 24 hours of traveling and a leap forward in time by 6 hours I was instantly refreshed by sweet clean alpine air.  Heavy tired eyes popped wide open with awe of mammoth mountains in every direction I looked, some with barren wind scorched peaks and some still holding on to patches of snow.  “What three of these mountains would I be running up and over?” I thought to myself with nervous excitement.Friday came and went with meeting the other Team Canada Members Glen Redpath, Jack Cook, Jen Dick and Petra Graen and Manager Armand Leblanc.   Saturday morning, after a wonderful breakfast on the hotel patio with a million dollar view, I went for a jog to stretch the legs.   I ran the first 3 km of the race course.  This was a steady uphill and beginning of the first major mountain climb of the day.   This climb would not stop until the 22 km mark.  I did this run at a very relaxed pace however my heart and lungs did not get the message.  It was hard to disguise the fact that there was less available oxygen in the air to fuel my body’s muscles.  My heart was pounding and my respiratory rate felt doubled for the effort.  I ignored my body’s want to go to a walking pace and get caught up in the beauty that surrounded me.  Other teams were out for a morning run as well, Germany, Nepal, Sweden, Norway,
France.  I smiled and waved to all a came across and wondered who was feeling like me and who was just cruising along effortlessly.  “What would tomorrow be like?”  My run did little to give me any confidence and haunted my thoughts as I tired to encourage my body to sleep that night.  Sunday morning came quickly, 3 am.  I must have watched every minute pass on my travel alarm clock.  I forced down my own special pre-race meal (a.k.a natural peanut butter and honey mixed together) followed by the rest of my routine.  4:30, I walked with my Wife and the rest of the Team Canada to where the start would be for the days 68 km mountain odyssey.  Over 1300 runners were milling about waiting for the 5 am start.   The energy and excitement was truly amazing.   With the standard good luck handshakes and hugs (and a good luck kiss from my wife) the IAU runners were brought to the front of the group of the 1300+ runners.  The countdown from ten seconds, in French, began.  What lay ahead at 4:59:50 AM was blackness and the thought of trying to encourage my body and mind over three massive mountain climbs to a finish line and of course the “finisher t-shirt”.  The starting bell went and thus the race began.  I opted not to wear a headlamp and was forced to follow the scattered beams of light that did little else but show how much dusk was being kicked up by 1300+ runners jockeying for position on a narrow section of double track.  Cool clear weather was predicted for the day with a 5 am temperature, I am guessing about 5 degrees.  I quickly found a comfortable pace and was very content on not pushing myself.  I knew it was going to be a long day of climbing and was not interested in making it miserable.  I accepted that my breathing and heart rate would be higher than normal and settled into the first task of the day, a steady 22 km climb to the top of the first mountain summit,

Galibier
Pass.   The first climb went well; at 19 km was the first aid station.  Note: there were only 3 stations over the 68 km course.  At the top of

Galibier
Pass I paused for a moment to enjoy the vastness of the mountain range that I was now standing/running on.  It was beyond breathtaking for more than one reason.  I was looking forward to the 6 km downhill but as the descent started the trail became very steep and rocky.  In stead of my normal flying self on the downhill’s approach to trail running I was gingerly trying not to tumble down a mountain.  It was very hard to be frustrated because this was truly a very special place to be running.   The steepness leveled out after a couple of km’s but the large and jagged rocks remained, it was definitely hard to find a good rhythm.  The course descended into a beautiful alpine valley covered in a blanket of green peppered with yellow and purple wild flowers.  With the sun slowly creeping over the tips of the mountains, the new days light ignited all the colours and made for an incredible canvas with the focal point being a worn single track winding through the middle for as far as the eye could see.  I was hoping to have a nice section of flat running to make up some time at the bottom of the 6 km decent.  Sadly, the downhill part met abruptly at what seemed like a 45 degree angle with the next mountain climb, the
Col des Rochilles.  It was about 8 km’s to the summit.  This also marked the beginning of the “too steep for me to run” climbing and was forced to a power walk and a quick shuffle when the mountain trail leveled out for brief moments.  These steep climbs made my cardiovascular system go into overdrive and slowed my pace even more.  I was quickly rewriting my minds memory of what it meant to run hills.  It is hard to describe the sensation this type of running had on my body, it was very tiring but not stressful like doing intervals.  My body could find a maximum level at which it could function reasonably well and just maintain it.  Unfortunately that maximum was very minimal.After, what seemed like days, I finally summated the
Col des Rochilles and began another rocky descent down the opposite side of the mountain.  I was out of fluids at this point and I still had a tough 6 km to negotiate before I could refuel.  My legs had begun to move slowly towards survival mode.  Damn it, I thought.  It felt way too early to be feeling like this but really I had never done anything like this.  For me survival mode usually just means a higher level of concentration to move forward.  It means my brain yelling at my legs to keep moving forward and don’t get sloppy.  Added to the all ready high level of concentration needed to descend, I was now complicating my mental battle.  During this downhill I passed by my first two glowing green glacial lakes and wanted nothing more than to stop, cool off my legs, and drink until my belly hurt.  A group of hikers enjoying the lake in broken English (I was wearing a Team Canada singlet) said 10 minutes to water and food.  This pushed me to pick up the pace a little, I was so trusty.  10 minutes turned into 20 which eventually turned into arriving at the aid station in about 30.  I am not one for grazing at an aid station; usually I don’t even use them.  My wife is typically at aid stations to give me a new bottle, gels, and encouragement.  After 20 kilometers of no aid I felt no pressure to hurray.  I stuffed myself with a selection of dried fruit, Coke, water, and refilled my pack.  The break made me feel rejuvenated.200 meters of flat running post- aid station abruptly ended with a switchback disappearing into a pine forest and reappearing as high up as I could see well past were the trees stopped growing.  By squinting I could barely make out little bright colours moving along the barren mountain side.  This would be mountain climb number 3 and the steepest, longest, and highest of the day.
Col des Beraudes topping out at 3000 meters.  My survival mode teetered towards a death march but my brain kept barking orders at my legs to keep moving.  The occasional “F bomb” would slip from my mouth every time I would come up and over a false summit only to find another wall climbing to the sky again.  During one of my “unhappy” moments a runner I had caught up with turned around and laughed. We continued to laugh together at how ridiculously tough and extreme the day was turning out to be.  This runner was from the German team but called home
Southern California.  It was nice to have company and have someone to talk to.  I kept his pace to the summit of the Col were we were greeted with a man playing an accordion and about a dozen people cheering us over the toughest climb of the day.  Once again I had become dangerously low on fluids and energy.  I was exhausted and not to happy about the level of concentration that would be required to get me off this mountain.  The descent off of
Col des Beraudes was by far the most dangerous part of the day.  A couple of sections were so steep that ropes had been permanently placed on the trail to help runners/hikers repel the sections that were beyond.  This descent was very heavily littered with jagged pieces of shale.  It was very hard to walk on let alone run.  Pieces would move and slide when you stepped on them.   The next few kilometers were more a traverse then decent.  My uphill arm seemed to spend most of it’s time touching the slope.  The mountain descended at a very extreme pitch that was making my tired and clumsy body very uneasy.  A loose piece of rock or trip would make for a quick trip down to the barely visible bottom below.  The shale occasionally turned into patches of wet and slippery snow with the same consequences as the rocks.  I seriously felt like I should have had an ice axe.Two “small” 1-2 km climbs later and I was finally descending to the bottom of the
Col.  Once again, I was long ago out of any fluids.  Surprisingly enough my legs felt good going downhill.  Was I getting use to this style of mountain running?  I turned off the breaks and let gravity take over.  It felt great to be running after what was hours of walking.  Arriving at the aid station (the FINAL aid station) I once again went into grazing mode.  Out of the aid station and ready for the final 15 km push to the finish I was feeling great.  For 3 km I followed a mountain river on soft dirt trail.  What a treat from the hard rock over the past seven hours.  I was convinced that I would now be following the river for 15 km to the finish line.  It was not to be.  A race official pointed me right, and away from the river.  Once again I was immediately climbing.  I heard the official say “last hill”.  Hill, I thought.  Everyone has been saying mountains all day so hill is good, right?  Wrong!  Officially this last climb was not a mountain summit for some reason.  I am not sure why in retrospect because as I found out it was a 5-6 km climb.  Like the wind stopping for a sail boat I was once again moving at a crawl.  Survival mode again I told myself.  I latched on to an Italian and another German Runner and followed the train to the top of the last hill.  Language was not need to understand that everyone else felt like me.  The lack of not moving to a run or a shuffle for a flat section said it all.  After all walking on a flat section gave the back and legs a rest and delayed the time it took to start climbing again.  I refrained from dropping anymore “F bombs” and just had to laugh and I had company with this.  Seriously, what else was there to do?At the top the Col de Buffere an official, in broken English, said 8 km all downhill to the finish.  I was so excited to hear this, it felt like I had rockets attached to my bright red Salomon S-lab shoes.  I flew as fast as I could down the mountain (oh sorry, hill).  At the start of the descent I could barely make out the village were this long journey started over 8 hours ago.  I could not run fast enough.  My legs, once again, felt amazing and I was pushing myself to get off the mountain.   A lifeless summit quickly turned into alpine grass, then to small trees and shrubs, then pine trees and the sound of a roaring river.  The bottom of the climb, finally!  One kilometer to go and it is flat, I heard.  I once again picked up the pace to responsive legs.  How is this possible?  I thought.  Who cares just go with it my brain was calling out.  I could see the finish area with hundreds of people standing around cheering.  “Go
Canada” followed me all the way towards the finish line.  I was handed a Canadian flag with 100 meters to go by the Team manager and I waved it very proudly as I crossed the finish line in 9 hours and 10 minutes.I finished as the top Canadian, 22 out of 55 for the World Championship Runners and 77 out of over 1300 overall.   And, the proud owner of a finisher’s t-shirt.

What a day.

Adam Hill