Week 14/2022

After a glorious week, full of sunshine and blooming signs of Spring, the beginning of April hit us hard with a few days of snow and much, much cooooold.

There was a huge amount of work and few possibilities of doing outdoor activities, except for the usual runs to the park, where we have to go almost every day if we don’t to other things.

Even though it was the usual huff and puff, there is one huge highlight for this week. It was the week we helped Toddler separate from her pacifier.

We gave Toddler a pacifier when she was a baby for many reasons, the strongest ones being reducing the risk of SIDS and preventing her from sucking her thumb (my siblings and I sucked our thumbs and my parents severely struggled with getting us to stop it).

Initially, our goal was to get her to stop using the pacifier when she turned two. At the time, the terrible twos were in full blast. We didn’t feel that she was ready for that step, and neither were we, even though we had managed to reduce pacifier use mostly to the moments of falling asleep. So, when she turned 2.5 and we found that we had reached the end of the tunnel with the terrible twos, we decided on a date and we started preparing ourselves and her for it.

Here is what we did:

• We decided on a story in which the Easter Bunny would come down through the chimney, take the pacifier for other babies who might need it and leave her a gift.
• Around three weeks before the date, we started talking to her about what was going to happen and stuck to our story.
• We told our friends and Toddler’s educators at the crèche and we made sure she overheard us telling people about it. On one hand, it consolidated the story and, on the other hand, we made sure we were holding ourselves accountable (because we knew it would be a challenge for us too).
• On Friday, the day before the due date, we brought the crèche pacifiers home. That evening, we had decided the Easter Bunny would drop by and leave a gift too, before coming the following night and taking the home pacifier (the one she was attached to the most). Like this, we made sure she had a realistic idea of what was going to happen.
• We left the crèche pacifiers in the fireplace with a little carrot for the Bunny. The next morning, she came downstairs to find a puzzle with a panda and a book. She spent the whole day playing proudly with her new puzzle.
• On Saturday evening, I let her get into her pyjamas with the pacifier and told her that after that, just before her milk, we would go and put the pacifier in the fireplace. And so we did. She cried a bit, not wanting to let go, so I told her she could put it in the envelope I had set out when she was ready. A few seconds later, she took it, put it in the envelope and fell into my arms, crying. I might have been crying too.
• I took her to have her milk bottle and to sleep, which was very hard for her. She cried for her pacifier for a long time before succumbing to fatigue and finally falling asleep. I was prepared for it, and stayed with her for the whole time she took to get to sleep.
• The next day, she came down to the living room very excited to see what the Easter Bunny had left her and was over the moon to find a doctor’s briefcase. She liked it so much, she slept her nap with it and made everyone in the house her patient a few times.
• The next two days, she still asked for the pacifier, but as time passed the questions were less emotional and more matter of fact. Now, a full month after the event, she barely mentions her own pacifier, but really enjoys giving her “babies” and other real babies theirs.

The takeaway from this experience is that, despite their young age, Toddlers embrace challenges quite bravely, as long as they are prepared and are accompanied with empathy and care in navigating their difficult emotions. Even though there are many challenges with which we struggle in raising a child, I am definitely proud of this particular challenge and of its outcome, I must say!

running log #21 – Trail das Andorinhas

A couple of days after coming home from Japan, I flew again to Portugal, to visit my home town for a week. I’d heard about this trail race that is on its third edition in one of the villages, organised by a local sports group. It’s called Trail das Andorinhas (andorinhas means swallows in Portuguese) because it runs along Barragem das Andorinhas, a small dam that was built decades ago.

On its 3rd edition, when the event was born I had already moved to Switzerland. So, when a while ago, a family friend had told me about this trail, telling me how it ran past the little lake, the mossy paths, the dry, dusty hills and up to the mountain with an eyeful of the granite reign, I was envious. When I booked my trip home and found that the trail was happening that week, I didn’t even blink.

There were two trail distances: 15 and 25km. I challenged my brother and an old friend who would also be in town to come along. They challenged me back: we had no option but to run 25km. As we say in Portuguese, ou vai ou racha (something along the lines of you either sink or swim).

Fast forward to the start line, when we all meet bleary-eyed on a Sunday morning which promises to be very hot. Me, after my week with two days travelling back 8 time zones, working two days and flying to Portugal only to arrive at 1 a.m. on the night before the trail. My brother, a personal trainer who was in very good shape but had never run past 12km. My friend, a keen triathlete who had been off training for the past year. Finally, his girlfriend, who was the only one of us who was prepared and ready to rock.

When the start gun went off and we started running, I immediately started paying the price of the adventures of the last week. My brother shot off with all his mighty fitness power and I began to worry. Would I be last? Would I run in my home town only to end up not finishing the run or to cut the finish line hours after everyone else? My heart rate started shooting up, my legs feeling heavy and I was having difficulty in gaining any sort of rhythm.

So, I decided what I always decide on a trail (even though I’m not that experienced) – to let it go. If I can’t run, I know how to walk. And I can enjoy the scenery. I swallowed my pride and slowed down, much to the frustration of my little brother, who was able to explode and run up hills and mountains without breaking much of a sweat.

Thus it went for the first 10km. I ran or hiked, managing my own rhythm, enjoying the first views in many months of my “native habitat”. I ran with some people who I’ve known for years and even met a family friend who I’d heard of all my life and didn’t remember meeting.

As it tends to happen a lot in the mountains in Portugal, the markings for the trail were a little confusing, so we ended up catching the wrong route up the mountain. I was lucky, though, because some people were so lost that they ended up running 5km more that intended.

Finally, 2h into the run, I reached the peak.

Knowing it was mostly downhill from there, I took my time in the aid station, where there were all these goodies that you would only find in a Portuguese lanche: croissants, quince cheese, bolacha maria and… Super Bock! I left the Super Bock for the end and wolfed down some quince cheese squares, fruit and lots of water, making sure that I wouldn’t finish with an empty tank as in Montreux-Les Rochers de Naye.

Then, I started running down. Or, should I humbly say, dancing down? Because that is what it felt like. I still had a lot of energy from my management in the uphill section. I was on familiar terrain and running downhill is one of the things I do best. I quickly left my uphill running mates behind, including my brother who started having knee pain, and feeling like a little mountain goat, headed out through the dusty tracks lined with ferns and mato, these very prickly bushes that you find in the mountains in the North of Portugal.

On the way down, I mostly ran. In the uphill sections, I hiked a little. I crossed a guy who overtook me on some sections and who I then overtook. This happened a few times and we finally realised that we were going to be dealing with each other until the end of the race so we’d might as well just know each other’s names. For the following 9km we cruised, chatting a little, one running further at one point, the other one overtaking at another point, motivating each other a little when the other was down.

At the 19th km, there was the last aid station. From there, there was a little downhill run, and a significant portion uphill. I ran through a little village with its café central. In front of it, a few men sitting on the chairs in the porch commented on my running and made some remarks about my legs. This would normally leave me mad and embarrassed, but having been away for so long, and being so much in the spirit of the race, I laughed and said bom dia! and trotted off thinking that all this trail had been a sort of local cliché.

This trotting uphill and past the village had me on my last bits of energy, so I had an energy gel and braced myself for the last 3km, which had some of the nicest spots in the race…

(not the best picture, because… you know, running; but you get an idea)

… and also some obstacles!

The last km was long, around the lake and seeming like it would never finish. In the end, my new friend and I were just relieved to find the sports field and crossed the finish line together.

Then, I stretched, had some water and waited around for my brother and my friend, who came in after me. I’m not really competitive, but I was (not so) secretly pumped that I beat them!

This was my first time running past half-marathon distance and I was quite proud of my achievement. However, what really made me happy was to run with people that I love, in my home town, in the natural setting that I love so much and with all the little quirks that make me chuckle because they are just yelling typical portuguese.

 

running log #20

While I was preparing my trip to Japan, I really wanted to run a long trail through its forests. It ended up being difficult to organise with the little time I had and with all the things I wanted to see. However, I still managed to sneak in a little trail on a hiking path around the little temple town of Koyasan.

I had decided to run the Nyonimichi trail, one of the hiking paths around Koyasan. Centuries ago, female pilgrims weren’t allowed inside the town. Like the men, they walked from all over Japan, moved by their faith, only to arrive at Koyasan and not be allowed inside the town because they were women. So, they walked the paths in the mountains around Koyasan, making offering and benefiting from being as close as possible to their spiritual epicentre. I am not at all Buddhist, and what took me to Koyasan was curiosity, but this story moved me and I chose the trail because of it.

The map for the trail came in Japanese. I got it from the tourist information office on the day before. A very nice Japanese man gently told me that the trail was 16km long and that it was too long. I told him it would be ok. He gently insisted. I said OK, I’ll do the short one. He shrugged, probably thinking I was another stubborn tourist. He was right.

I set off as early as I could. I wanted to have time to digest the Japanese breakfast I had at the temple, but I didn’t want to leave it for too late because the temperatures were going up on that day. When I headed off, it was already hot.

Shortly after I started running uphill, I saw a bear warning. Now, in my usual world, bears are in zoos, in parks or in movies. I wasn’t prepared for this at all and stopped to thing about what I’d do. Turn back? No, my mind was set that I would be running. I have a big run coming up and I need to keep fit. Try to run behind someone? Not a chance. There was no living soul in earshot and I didn’t cross anyone for a few km. So, I did what you do. I searched for an app that would simulate bear bells or at least a radio… and I found one! A few minutes later, I carried on running with a jingle every 5 seconds to warn bears that I was around. In reality, it ended up triggering all these thoughts of how I would react if I were to cross paths with a bear, which lasted for the most part of my run.

A few km into the run, I find this. Of course, I’d completely overlooked the possibility of signposts being only in Japanese. I quickly tried to figure out which one was mine using the map from the tourist office and carried on with confidence. A few minutes later, I notice familiar landmarks and realise that I had just run a closed loop, completely off my supposed track. I went down into the town again and found the next part of my track using the map and entered the main part of my run, through the forest.

It was a beautiful run. There were ferns, mosses and cedar trees. There was dry ground, steps, straight little paths with tree roots I had to be careful not to trip on. I walked uphill when it was really steep, I ran swiftly when it went downhill. I didn’t cross a soul until 7km or 8km. There were shrines, ponds, houses. I heard the birds and the insects and felt the light breeze cooling off my sweaty neck and arms. Most of the run was in the shade so it wasn’t as hot, but it was still very humid.

At one of the shrines, I came across a group of Japanese hikers. Well equipped with their boots, bâtons, cameras, hats and techy clothes, they were having their lunch and relaxing when I arrived with my european face glowing red from the effort of running uphill, dripping sweat in my leggings and bright yellow t-shirt, wearing noelaborate equipment other than my watch. I didn’t even have a bottle of water.

They politely sneaked some looks, while I politely smiled. We exchanged some impressions. Them, in fast Japanese. I, using gestures. We seemed to understand each other, or at least each one was happy with what they understood. We waved each other off with enthusiasm and I ran down the hill.

When I reached the cemitery, I took a wrong turn and ended up doing a few more km than I should. At this point, it was getting late, and if I carried on I would’ve run around 20km by the end of the run, so I decided to take a shortcut and use the rest of the time I had for sightseeing.

Running while visiting new places makes you discover things in a very different way, which I’m really enjoying.

• Pleasure: 8/10
• Pain: 4/10
• Heat: 8/10
• Scenery: 8/10
• Adventure: 9/10

running log #18

A few years ago, around the time I moved to Switzerland, I went on a hike with some friends. We started off in Montreux and hiked up to Les Rochers de Naye. At the time, it took us all morning and the beginning of the afternoon to hike the 13km (1700m uphill). At one point, we were overtook by a guy that was – get this – running up. I remember we all commented on how crazy that was. It seemed worlds away from what we would ever be able to do.

Well. Today, I was that person.

But it was not easy. No. The mythical Montreux-Les-Rochers-de-Naye race was the hardest race I have ever done.

It started off quite leisurely at Montreux train station. We started running flat and about 800m in we started running uphill. I was feeling quite fresh even though I haven’t been training much. We soon got onto a little forest path that follows the Chauderon river. People in front of me were slowing down on uphill sections and it made me control my pace. It was fresh, there were magnificent waterfalls and leafy, lush vegetation.

Out of the forest, we hit the road and carried on uphill until the first aid station. By now, it was getting warm (yesterday was the hottest day of the year in this region and I don’t even need to check the statistics because hot days have been rare). Some sections were so steep or just so long that we had already begun to alternate running and walking. So had everyone else.

After the first aid station we started running downhill. This was the fast section of the run. I was feeling light and with energy. We began to have views over the lake. Everything was beautiful. There was an accordion player in one of the aid stations. I danced to its music. People laughed and cheered. It was magic.

Then, we started climbing again. We were on the road, but it was steep and long enough to make it difficult to run all the way. I gave up running and decided to walk, keeping up a fast, regular pace. It was the best decision. Thank you to all the years of hiking with scouts in the August sun in the roads and plains of Portugal. I event taught my friends the “passo escuta” (you run for 20 steps, you walk for another 20, and so on).

After a few km on this road, we went into a forest again. It was a soft faux-plat (this means that it is a very gentle climb) that we could run, so we did. My thighs started feeling tight from the effort. At this point, we were about 9 or 10km into the run.

We soldiered on, running when we could, walking when we couldn’t. Spirits were high. We were a team of four. Normally each one runs their own race, but for some reason, the four of us stuck together today and helped each other out during any difficulty. It was a good thing we did, because at 5km to the end of the race, things began to get hard. Really hard.

After an aid station where two of our mates got a kiss from their husbands, we started climbing again. Really climbing. In the sun which was now high up in the sky (it was around 11h30). One of our mates began to get discouraged, saying she’d had enough. It was taking us much longer to reach the km signposts by this point. 4. I tried to distract her by talking about whatever silly thing I could think of.

Then, a forest path that was quite steep. It was fresh, but the climb was making my thighs and lower back yell. I drank some isotonic drink at one of the aid stations that didn’t go down well. Or maybe I was just getting too tired, I felt a little nauseous.

3. I started lagging behind. I can’t remember what happened between 3 and 2. I remember just thinking of putting one foot in front of the other. I breathed. I accelerated when I could. I slowed down when it was too much. Walking, always walking. We were beyond running at this point.

2. A little bit of flat. I tried to run a little. My body seemed to say “really”?

Then we reached the last aid station, 1 km before the finishing line. Normally, 1 km is a relief. You speed up. You get your last bout of energy and you just hammer it down. Well, not on this race. On the last km, 17.8 km after you’ve been hiking and running uphill and you just want it to be over, because it was good but now you’re tired and you could just lie down right there and then, you still have the hardest climb ahead of you.

Which also has the most beautiful views over the Lac Léman, the French Alps and the surrounding peaks of the Alpes Vaudoises.

The last few meters were just… painful. I felt sick. I was tired. I was hot. I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. We crossed many people on this last bit. Hikers, people from the shorter race who were still coming up as well, people who had reached the top and were running down, families who were just visiting the beautiful Rochers de Naye. Every single one of them encouraged the runners who were still struggling up and when you are on your last bout of energy, every word of encouragement counts.

Then, the climbing stopped and there were a few meters of flat. We turned the corner, and there it was, in all its glory, the finish line. And my mates, waiting for the last two of us to arrive so that we could cross the finish line together.

• Pain: 10/10
• Pleasure: 10/10
• Scenery: 10/10
• Challenge: 10/10
• Will I do this again? You bet I will! 10/10

*My polar marked 17.81km, but the official race distance is 18.8km. I think that during the time we spent in the forest I might have lost GPS signal and the automatic calculations are incorrect.

running log #16

After a week under the side-effects of antibiotics, a lot of work and lack of sleep, deciding to go out running was really not on the top 5 of things I felt most like doing.

However, we know that once that barrier is won, we always feel bettet after a nice run. Knowing that just under an hour’s drive we can find very sweet landscapes to run in helps.

We headed out from the little village of le Pont, on the shores of Lac de Joux, following this hiking suggestion. When we started running, it seems like my legs and the whole of my lazy body started screaming “What are you dooooooing?!”. When we started climbing uphill, it just got worse. So we hiked as fast as we could be motivated to do. I took pictures. We chatted. Sometimes, we ran. Others, we hiked really fast to get the HR up.

After a little while, we arrived at Dent de Vaulion. From there, we could see the Gros de Vaud to the East and the Vallée de Joux with its beautiful lake to the South.

We headed down, running swiftly and with much more energy than in the beginning. We ran through the cool, green, leafy forest, tackling stones and tree roots all along the way. I like this kind of path because you are always focusing on what you are doing and can’t afford to be distracted with anything else.

After the forest, we ran back through the fields of grazing cows, with their bells dingling in harmony to the end of the afternoon sun.

• Pain: 4/10
• Number of times I thought “is this over yet?”: 10000 in the beginning
• Landscape: 9/10
• Gratefulness for kicking our bums out of the house: 10/10

running log #13

This weekends challenge was a trail planned by me. Switzerland has an emormous network of hiking trails, most of which are runnable, so I chose a sweet 13km trail not far away, with enough ascent (600+) for it to be slightly challenging for me and for my friend B’s first trail experience.

We headed from the village of Vallorbe, near the border with France. We climbed up through the road, and missed the turn into the parcours vita. This meant we had to hike up the road for a while. B was surprised with how little running we could do on the ascent. On the flatter parts that I tried to run, I felt my thighs seizing up, so I took it down a notched and focused on hiking.

Near the French border, we go back into mountain trails and it was much nicer. Mont d’Or, our aim, was actually just about 1km into France.

We got to the top, and enjoyed the view into the Swiss plateau. There was even a rainbow and lightning. The weather was hot. We were to busy enjoying the scenery to care.

On our way down, we let go into the descent, using our muscle strength to support the impact of the speed and weight on our joints. When the path levelled a little, we could feel our knees and thighs wobbly. This is when you run the risk of getting injured. As you are tired, you have less balance and can easily trip on a stone or a root and fall. And fall I did, twice.

It was a good session and this idea of running the easy hikes around the area pleases me a lot.

• Pain: 5/10
• Number of times I thought “is this over yet”: 0
• Fatigue: 6/10
• Scenery: 7/10
• Challenge: 6/10

(My watch doesn’t seem to have a great GPS. For this reason, on the way up, it started tracking the route halfway through and only recorded a quarter of the ascent!)

running log #10

Today was a milestone in my life as a runner. Oh yes it was. It was the day that, during a race, I had to go find a tree. And it was not because I needed to pee.

I’ve heard quite a few stories about runners who had stomach problems during races. At first, I was surprised. Then, I laughed at the hilarious situations that some runners found themselves in because of their intestines. Finally, I felt lucky that this didn’t seem to affect me. Until today.

It was a hot day, and the race was due to start in the afternoon in the sunny region of Valais. I caught the train at lunchtime and had my lunch on the train (pasta, hard boiled eggs, tomatoes – never again). Then I caught the funiculaire up to the little village of Venthône, where the race starts and heads up to the Bénou (the dialect for Bisse Neuf). Bisses are irrigation canals that take water from the mountain streams down to the prairies and the farms. There are many walking paths along the historical bisses of Valais and this race follows one of them.

I met up with “my” kids and ran the kids race, which was only 1 km. At this point, I felt a little cramp in my stomach, but thought it would pass once I started running the longer race. When this one started, it headed straight up into the forest, climbing steeply until 5 km.

Because the first km of the race are so steep, everyone was walking. Even so, it was really hot, it was strenuous, it was challenging. By this point, I felt a little nauseous and my stomach was cramping. I didn’t give it too much thought, because sometimes I have stomach cramps (though I haven’t had for a long time) and they usually pass after a few minutes. I thought it was the effort.

So, when I got to the highest point of the race, I drank some water, stopped for a few seconds, breathed and thought that, as it was all downhill from there, I should be fine soon.

But no.

10 seconds into the descent, I knew there was no escape. I had to find a tree. So I found a kind of rock-tree spot and, there, I wasted 10 precious minutes of my race. From my “throne”, I could see all the people running by. But I didn’t even care anymore.

When I finally got back into the race, I was alone. No one in front of me, no one behind me. To this moment, I don’t even know if I came last. With all the competitive spirit completely gone (also a little bit of my pride), and because I was still feeling queasy, I headed down slowly, trying to forget my stomach, and at least enjoying the view. I chatted with the volunteers at the ravitaillements, I took pictures of the waterfalls and the pretty path along the bisse.

When I ran back into the village, the kids were waiting for me and ran with me to the finish line, hooting with laughter when I told them about my adventure.

It was not my most glorious moment, but apparently it is something that affects a large number of runners. So, I am not taking my food intake before a race for granted EVER AGAIN.

In the end, to cap it all off, instead of a medal, the finishing prize for everyone was…

A cheese!

• Pain : 10/10
• Embarrassment: 10/10
• Ability to laugh at myself: 10/10
• Scenery: 10/10

running log #7

Today’s run nearly didn’t happen.

As a very unnatural runner, I set myself up to avoid having the slightest excuse to skip a run.

So, I signed up for a running club, I prepare my running gear in advance, I ask for lifts the night before, I plan runs with the boy. Even these running logs keep me motivated – if I don’t run, I can’t write about it and I’ve been enjoying that.

Today, it was running club day. However, all my lifts were unavailable. There was a busy day to get through. Plenty of excuses for not running. Nonetheless, I stuffed my trainers in my rucksack and told myself I would figure it out.

After work, I got the boy to mind my bags at the music school he’d be playing in the evening and headed out through Lausanne city centre.

I ran down to the lake, making up my way as I went along, through streets I don’t normally pass. There were parks full of people enjoying the afternoon sun, terraces full of apéro-goers, Lausannoise going home from work. I ran by the lake, stopping to take pictures because it is always beautiful.

Then, I started climbing back from the lake, up to the starting point. Running uphill in Lausanne is a challenge, but I cheered myself on, watching my heart rate go up and knowing it would be over soon.

In the end, it was a lovely run, with a bit of everything. Not long, but enough for me to feel pleased with myself and to happily join friends for dinner before Z’s concert.

The good thing about running is this: you just need your gear and you’re set to go just about anywhere!

• Pleasure: 6/10
• Pain: 2/10
• Number of times I thought “is this over yet?”: 2
• Motivation: 6/10

Running log #5

Yesterday was the Grand Prix de Berne, a ten miler that weaves through the Swiss capital’s city centre. When we got there, it was really warm; the sun was shining and we started worrying about the heat during the race.

We met up with some friends, collected our goody bags and got changed. We hung around for a bit and then started to warm up. At this point, I felt my legs heavy and when my heartrate started going up, I just felt like leaning up against a tree and sleeping a nap. How on earth was I going to run 1km, let alone 16?

When we started running, there was a strong wind making the trees swish and sway and there were many tree particles flying around that got into our eyes and our throats. There were also many, many people. Because of all this, the race started off slowly, which was good for me, as it prevented me from jumping the gun and frying up long before the race was over.

We went through the historical city centre, and then there were a few km along the neighbourhoods on the riberbank. At this point, I started picking up speed. I felt good, and whenever I was feeling tired, I looked at my watch and found that I was actually going faster that usual and gave myself permission to slow down.

There were many supporters on the street, cheering, playing music on boom columns, brass bands, rock bands, capoeira musicians, you name it. This takes your mind off your thoughts, gives you rhythm and energy.

After a few miles, we started running up into the zoo forest, which was lovely and refreshing and took my mind off the climb. When coming out of the forest, I realised we were around 8.5km, my time was rolling well and it was downhill from there until 10km. So I started sprinting.

And then it started raining.

Actually, pouring. There was lightning, thunder, hailstone, and big, large drops of never ending rain. We started climbing back into the city and at this point I only worried about staying focused. I had random thoughts about Noah and the Ark. The only time I started getting discouraged (because my feet were wet and my trainers wheighed a ton), one of my friends took over and gave me a squeeze on the shoulder.

At this point, my timing was so good I knew I could aim for 1h30 if I didn’t die down on the climb in the last 2km. So I took an energy gel from a volunteer, ran as fast as I could down to the bridge, and got ready for the climb.

Because I knew I only had under 2km till the end, the climb was bearable, albeit long. I still had some fight left in me, so I managed to overtake quite a few people. The last km started downhill and then was flat, so I started speeding up again.

I turned a corner and saw a banner named “Ziel”. It took me fraction of a seconds to realise that actually meant finish line, and then I sprinted off until I was under it.

What a lovely race! The storm was a little too much and in the end of the race I was really cold so we had to run back to the hotel as fast as we could to hit the warm shower. However, the beauty of the race and the liveliness of the Bernese made up for all that, and it is now up in the top of my favourite races ever!

• Pleasure: 9
• Pain: 2
• Number of times I thought “is this over yet?”: 0
• Motivation: 7
• Ambiance: 10
• Scenery: 9

running log #2

Today I “ran” my first trail. One of the guys in our club organised an outing in his native village up in the Jura Vaudois. I’d never run up a mountain before, so when I woke up this morning a thought crossed my mind that I should probably have different shoes. So I went and bought some trail shoes. I’m so glad I did: I would have probably killed my feet, my joints or fallen on my face while running down the mountain, but with my new shoes I felt like a little mountain goat with a grip on every rock.

So, we started off running. 10 seconds up the road and I was already walking. I realised very quickly that it was so steep that I could actually keep up with those who were running by just walking fast, while saving more energy. So, walk I did. Whenever I felt that I was lagging behind, I picked up the pace and ran a little, but I only had to do that when the path levelled out a little because no one was able to run much up the steep hills.

When we got to the top and started running down, my thighs started bugging me, so I tried to not force myself too much. I was able to keep up with my mates anyway, so I was pretty happy. We ran back down all the way, making the most of the wide paths and being really careful not to trip in the steep, irregular forest.

Overall, I loved this run. All the years of hiking payed off on the climb, and all the months of running really helped while coming down. Frequently, during our hikes, we get really bored during descents, so I think we’ve just found the mode that suits us best! I cannot wait to try another trail run!