Weeks 17-20/2022

End of April and most of May came and went in a blurr. I had so many work issues to deal with, some of them quite demanding, that all the time that was left was dedicated to activities with Toddler and finally crashing out at the end of the day when putting her to bed, especially due to this:

28 weeks

We’ve been hatching a second little one for a while now, and she’s due to arrive at the end of July. Everyone warned me, quite rightly, that a second pregnancy is much more tiring than a first, with a little one out and about. The peak of that, for me, was really after our holidays in Portugal and the whole month of May. Still, we did things.

May brought some sunshine with it, sometimes quite warm, sometimes a bit cold, but all around a great month for going to the park. Parks, plural! We met for a picnic with a friend at the park during Z’s day off and my lunch break at work. After crèche, we stop at the park very often and Toddler has been loving the skate park and improving her bike and scooter riding. She also loves playing in the sand from the beach volley court. We catsat our friend’s cat for a few days and discovered a new park next to their place. We had the first ice creams of the season.

Applauding daddy for the 20km de Lausanne. This is our favourite race: it goes from the lake to the Cathedral and back down to the lake in a really festive environment. Toddler felt it and was applauding the runners enthusiastically. On that day, we walked from home to the train, the metro, down to the lake, and back home again on the same route and she didn’t complain once, even though my watch was counting over 10’000 steps (so she probably did twice as much with her little legs)! The next day, she woke up walking a little weirdly and it took us a while to figure out that she, too, had walked her “20km de Lausanne”!

We went twice to the circus: one in Chaplin’s World, and the other was a show from the local circus school. Toddler spent the whole shows saying she wanted to go and play too. At the end of one of the shows, she went on her own to play on the equipment and the other children came along too.

Our house doesn’t have a balcony and, despite our love for it, has many, many other flaws which are incompatible with family life with two children. So, we have been looking for a new flat. In the meanwhile, we decided to make the most of the little garden space we have been assigned for as long as we’re here. Z cleaned it well, put a sandpit and we’ve had a few evening BBQ, sometimes just between us, sometimes with friends.

In an attempt to take it a little easier on some days, I worked from home. When Z is around, we sometimes go for lunch at our favorite neighbourhood restaurant. The food there is simple, but well cooked. Special mention to the magnificently grilled octopus with caponata, of which I didn’t get a good picture on my phone, but will definitely stay for a long time in my memory.

Speaking of food, a few things I cooked this month that are worth noting: rhubarb crumble pie – I love rhubarb and right now it’s rhubarb season so I’ve made this twice and will make it again – and Bacalhau à Zé do Pipo. This last one I made for the first time in my life, in order to present a portuguese menu with bacalhau to some friends who wanted to try but are not used to eating it. I find that in those situations, it is easier to start with some of these dishes where bacalhau ends up mixed with mashed potatoes, caramelized onions, olive oil all over – especially if children are involved. To go with it, I made Pudim Molotof, which I hadn’t eaten in years! I love this dessert, but it was always made by one of my cousins’ grandmother, whom I hadn’t seen for a long time before she passed away, so making this was also a first for me. It was delicious!

I went to a congress in Lyon for two days. The congress in itself was not as interesting as I’d hoped, but it was still nice to see something different. To walk to the location, we had to cross a beautiful park, which I preferred to public transport despite the heat, swollen legs and a lot of fatigue.

I came back just in time for the Fête des Voisins, and evening in which gatherings between neighbours are promoted all over Suisse Romande. We live in an attic apartment in an old manor house. The neighbours who organised the evening live in the main building, so we got to enjoy the beautiful evening in its court, with the last rays of light shining between the leaves of the ancient linden tree and the sound of the water in the fountain providing the sensory background to some great conversations. We also found that our new neighbours are lovely and one of them was a well known opera singer!

This week [12.11-18.11]

This week was a whirlwind. A tornado. I know I said something similar about the last one, but this one was just the continuation of the last. And the one before that, etc. So, there was not much going on other than juggling work, childcare, chores, … and a sick child again.

Still, a few things worth mentioning.

Running has not been easy to keep up with: with almost no working from home, long workdays, pickups from childcare, evening routines and sunset at 5pm, I haven’t been able to run during the week. Still, I try to during the weekend and toddler likes to run along too. Autumn is in full boast of its colours and it’s a pleasure to run through the woods, and almost forget the lack of motivation and the fatigue from the week.

When weeks get intense like this, we have learned (the hard way) to not overbook all the weekends. Last weekend, I spent some time batch cooking for the week, and it really helps having some leftovers in the fridge, especially for the busy first three days of the week.

Last weekend I made feijoada, a favourite in this house. Other batch foods we have on heavy rotation: lentil and vegetable bolognese, spinach and salmon lasagne, butternut squash and chickpea stew (based on this recipe). Sometimes, I find myself in a rut, so I’ve been looking for recipes to add to the list.

I have been trying to increase my reading time for years. It’s always been on the top of all my to-do lists in the last decade or so, and it’s the one I’ve most failed at. So much, it will probably be my sole goal for 2022, and I have already started. I downloaded an app and started registering my efforts with one of the books I have wanted to have read for almost a decade but failed miserably.

This week, Toddler threw a major tantrum in a store. One of those tantrums where you are the parent all the other parents secretly sigh with relief that they are not in that moment. One of those tantrums where toddlers throw themselves on the floor, punch it furiously and howl… all because you did not allow them to climb up a descending escalator. I used all the skills in my possession to deal with the situation, but the one who really saved it was a very kind and funny store employee, who distracted her with a few funny faces and a ball with a pikachu keyring inside it. It feels like the positive side of major toddler meltdowns is entering a secret society made of random acts of kindness from fellow parents who know exactly where you are. And for every judging or condescending look I’ve ever received, I have received countless more winks, shrugs or sympathetic smiles saying discretely “don’t worry, you’re not alone in this, keep strong!”

This week [22.10-28.10]

This week just flew by. I had a huge cold and felt very tired, sleepy, just bleh. For half of the week, I catsat for a friend who has a white, deaf cat named Darwin, who likes to drink water from a tap.

The grandparents were here for a few days and we let them have as much Toddler time as possible. We took them around a few classicToddler-friendly places, including Sauvabelin and Signal de Bougy. Toddler climbed all the stairs of Sauvabelin Tower on her own. Later that day she went to her first birthday party and discovered Smarties. The look on her face was priceless.

Symbolic play is definitely here to stay! With legos, dolls, tractors, beans, sand, water… she keeps busy all day, with her made up or imitated routines, sometimes in Portuguese, sometimes in French.

My mum brought me some quince from Portugal, where they were abundant this year, contrarily to here. I was beginning to worry that I wouldn’t be able to keep one of my favourite Autumn traditions. They did come, and so I made some quince cheese from almost 3kg of quince, which I am happily giving away to my favourite people here.

My head was all over the place this week, so there wasn’t much reading, watching or listening worth mentioning. However, I did manage to run a bit more, one of those runs a very yummy workout at the end of the day by the lake, which made me feel good. (The outdoors pictures in this post are from the end of that run).

I had lunch twice with people I didn’t know very well, and they were both unexpectedly surprising discoveries of interesting colleagues!

This week [15.10-21.10]

It was a sunny Autumn week this one, so there are plenty of outdoors highlights! Yay!

Starting with a day off at the end of last week to hike a little and eat a fondue in the mountains. Some people thought it was hilarious that we took the caquelon in our backpack instead of a few sandwiches, but not carrying a 13kg Toddler in the backpack had us feeling quite luxurious.

I’m trying to ease back into running a little more, and I enjoy the afternoon runs with Toddler and Z pedalling along. On this particular run, there were some nice hills to climb and a stop at the park. On the return, Toddler asked to run as well and ended up running her first 500m. We were gifted with a beautiful sunset.

The Lavaux never gets old, especially during bright, sunny days. We held a picnic with some friends and walked for a little stretch through the vines. We have been here countless times, but we have never, ever walked this hike from one end to the other, for several reasons, ranging from wine sipping, to pregnancy, babies, toddlers and visitors not suited to big hikes… but we love to come back each time and see how the views change with the seasons.

With the beginning of the week came a huge cold, which hit the Toddler first, then me. Thankfully, I have not lost the sense of taste, so I could enjoy the pasta bake I made earlier in the week, the papas de sarrabulho and Almendrados my parents brought with them, and the nice meals we are making for them, including the unmissable papet vaudois and choucroute garnie.

I went to the cinema for the first time in 2.5 to see the new James Bond. I am not exactly a huge JB fan, but my friend who challenged me is, so I happily joined her for a Monday evening film with popcorn. I was disappointed with the film, which was definitely not the best JB and especially with the ending, but happy for the evening off!

With my parents here, the Toddler is chirpy and on her best behaviour and it is a joy to see her talking her head off, playing with her grandparents, showing off all her toys and enjoying having all the attention.

This week [08.10-14.10]

My plan is to write my weekly roundups from Thursday to Thursday. Thursday is my day off – from work – I have The Toddler all day. I am, of course, overly optimist about the amount of stuff that I will get done during her naptime: cleaning the kitchen, taking care of the laundry, admin, reading, sorting out pictures, writing. Most of the time, if I get to take care of numbers 1-3, I am lucky. This week, though, we planned the whole day out of the house. No cleaning, no laundry – I was dreaming of a quiet after-lunch read in the park, soaking up the sun… but alas, I was rewarded with a 30-min nap instead of the usual 2h. So no reading, no writing and here I am writing this on a Sunday.

We went to the parent-child gym we usually go to in the mornings. We’ve been doing it since she was just a few months, and it’s always been very adapted to her age/motricity level, her level of interest and of interaction. Notably, these last few weeks she’s been showing a special enjoyment and engagement with the activities, gestures, the monitrice and, especially, the other kids, about whom she talks at home. During this Thursday’s session, she jumped off a step on her own for the first time. Jumping is one of her favourite things these days.

I have been struggling to get back into a running rhythm after the holidays and a few health bumps that slowed me down. Last weekend, after a cooking spree, I went for my minimum-service 5k run, with Toddler and Dad keeping me company on the bike. Like this, I really don’t care about time, speed or distance; running is just the motion you go through while having a nice family moment. We saw the cows, the fields, the sun setting in the hills.

The next day, we went to cheer for Dad, who ran the Trail de la Vallée de Joux. We ate takeaway lasagne on the grass near the finish line, cheered for the runners passing by, and Toddler accompanied Dad in the last meters until the finish line. I must admit that one part of me wants to keep running so that I can do that too. Also, I miss the trails and the races. But I definitely need to run more than 5k a week.

I have not done much cooking with last weeks pumpkins yet. I did use half a butternut squash in a vegetable pot pie based on this recipe, with leek, cauliflower, white beans, red and yellow peppers and a bunch of green beans. The Toddler did not especially like it. She preferred the spaghetti with chicken, carrots and peas I made later in the week and that M. said was portuguese mum food… because it is. I never made that before becoming a mother. Sometimes, I think there must be something in the genes, because we eat hugely varied menus at home, but any kind of typical portuguese homecooking, including feijoada, arroz de cabidela, grilled octopus or codfish, will have The Toddler asking for seconds and thirds.

This week, we had a babysitter over for the first evening since The Toddler was born. We went to a concert in a local association that has a jazz programme. We were surprised find ourselves amidst a much, much older public – we were definitely outliers – which we didn’t mind, since being young outliers is something that happens to us less and less… almost never, let’s be honest. Anyway, the concert was fun, the drummer used a martelinho de S. João in one of the songs, which was hilarious, and we will definitely go back for some more concerts.

Reading was a rare event this week, with me falling asleep a few times over my book just before bed. I did start watching Scenes from a Marriage, after reading interesting reviews on it. It’s in line with my attraction to complex human emotions. I have only seen the first episode, but I am looking forward to watching one or two more this week, and also getting on with some knitting.

running log #23 – in my hometown

Póvoa de Lanhoso is a little town in the North of Portugal, in the heart of the Minho region, a small distance away from Gerês. I moved there when I was 11. Though I wasn’t born there, most of my family comes from there, a significant portion of my friends is there, and I spent my teen and early adult years living there or doing stuff with and for the community. So, in the end, it is mostly this place that I think of when someone asks me where I’m from.

This little run is nothing to write home about in terms of performance (not that any of my runs are, come to think of it). A few days after the Trail das Andorinhas, this was mostly a recovery run. I headed out of my grandparents’ house not really knowing where to go. I felt like avoiding the town centre, so I ran towards one of the outer villages.

I was taking a picture of this field when a tiny dog came furiously barking towards me. I’m not really afraid of tiny dogs that bark, but a lady across the street reassured me that it wouldn’t bite. Then we recognised each other and chatted a little about her daughter, who had been my scout.

I carried on running, and because before I wouldn’t normally walk up to this place for any reason, I ended up randomly running through a few places that I wasn’t familiar with.

It was the end of a sunny afternoon, the light was golden, the shadows were long and the sky was a unique shade of blue. Summer afternoons in Minho.

Then I ran back home, to be greeted by the cat and to quickly have a shower before having dinner with my friends and their dog.

Running wasn’t really my thing when I lived back here. Now, it makes me discover places, some of which I have known forever but rediscover with a new speed and a new perspective, and I quite like it.

a day at the beach and running log #22

In the end of July, I was at home in Portugal for a week. Jo, my dear friend, took a day off work to spend with me and it was lovely. We went to Esposende and Apúlia, the beaches of our childhood. We didn’t know each other when we were kids, but these are the beaches that people from our hometowns usually go to.

It was windy and cloudy; too cold to go in the sea, as it usually is on the coast up North. So, we walked on the beach, smelled the breeze with its special smell of sargaço and had one of my favourite lunches of this year: grilled sardines, steamed vegetables and roasted pepper salad, with a bottle of green wine. Food from home.

What does this have to do with running?

Well into the afternoon, we headed back to Braga because Jo had her last fitness class of the year. Because the gym where she usually goes to was under construction, the classes in July were outdoors. The instructor had challenged her start running as a warm-up in those sessions, before doing a tabata workout in the park. For this session, I tagged along.

The thing about Jo is that, much like me a few years ago, she doesn’t really like running and seems to think that she won’t ever be any good at it. Now, I know what that feels like, but I also know, from my own experience, that that is not really true. So, we’ve been talking and I’ve been telling her how difficult it was for me in the beginning.

Funnily, the running path we followed on that day was exactly the same path I started to run on a few years ago. We started off slowly, but Jo picked up some speed. I told her to slow down a bit so that she would be able to run farther without being too tired. What she doesn’t know (but must have figured out) is that I couldn’t have run much faster either because I still had all those sardines and wine in my belly!

Away we went, until we reached her instructor who got us on our tabata rota:

While I can still outrun Jo (for the time being), she totally kicks my bum when doing sit-ups (check out my feet lifting while I struggle to sit) and I’m not even going to mention the push ups. I was a bit destroyed when we finished this little tabata session.

Then, we ran back home. By this point, Jo was tired of running, so I did my best to encourage her to look up and keep going, and she did!

 

In total, we ran almost 5K (nowadays, Jo is able to run 5K without stopping!), slowly, easily, and with sardines still swimming around in our bellies, but it was a jog at the end of a special day that made me very happy!

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 #19

I am in Japan! Freshly arrived, with two ambitious pairs of running shoes in my suitcase, I was wondering if and when I would have the courage to go on a run. After all, I’m on holidays, so hanging out with my mates and eating weird, delicious new things is a lot more fun.

However, tired from all the walking and visiting in the rain, my two mates headed home to relax before dinner and I tried not to think too much when lacing up the trainers.

I headed out into the street and… it started pouring down. There is a huge storm in Kyoto, and local people are facing landslides and evacuation all over the hills surrounding the city. Apparently, I was the only crazy tourist who, being used to winter running through the forest back in Switzerland, throught that running was a sensible activity to do.

So, I went to the Kyoto Imperial Palace Gardens and did a few laps. I felt light and energetic, no pain from Sunday’s race and, apart from the start, no signs of jet lag.

After a tour of the Imperial Palace, I still felt like running, so I ran across a few more streets and ran around Nijo Castle, which was closed.

This is the first time I am running while travelling and I really enjoyed how you can breeze through the streets, crossing people and places on their busy daily life, passing by sightseeing spots, but also crossing local, hidden streets where life happens.

I saw workers going home from work, tourists leaving the castle, restaurants setting up for dinner, people having drinks, people getting soaked by passing traffic,… in such a new place where I don’t even understand what is written on the signposts, I spent most of my run just looking, observing, processing.

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.