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.

running log #15

I lost my rhythm for a week. We had visitors, we went to a marriage im the weekend, there were world cup matches… bref, priorités. Not that much running. In the meanwhile, the running club had a summer camp, so that when Tuesday came, and everyone was recovering from one thing or other.

This session was a really gentle run through the forest. A little too soft (I did not have 50+km on my legs from the weekend). However, I’d been having bladder issues since the beginning of the week (which, later in the evening, landed me in the emergency room), so it wasn’t so bad that we took it easy.

So, that was it, basically. A sweet, soft run through the forest. There was chatting. There was time to appreciate the late afternoon sun shining through the leaves. At some point, we even had to run on our toes to dodge hundreds of baby frogs that were jumping around!

• Pain (bladder) 7/10
• Scenery: 9/10
• Training benefit: always better than 0!

running log #11

Back to Tuesdays with the club. I’d missed the last two Tuesdays because of life stuff, and I was happy to see everyone again.

We started off slowly, chatting. I’d had a long day, as is often the case on Tuesdays and I was tired. I distracted myself by chatting with the people in my group. I noticed that though I was feeling tired, my heart rate was quite low, which is what happens when I am actually, truly, fatigued. It takes double the effort to get the heart rate to working mode.

So, off we went, through the forest. Raymond, the president of the running club, has been setting up a trail route in the forest and we tried it out. We crossed a river, then a steep climb in which we mostly walked, and a fast run down to starting point.

By now, I’m feeling energised, so the way back through the forest to the meeting point was much lighter.

• Pain: 2/10
• Fatigue: 6/10
• Number of times I thought “is this over yet?”: 1
• Scenery: 8/10

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 #9

It was so hard to leave the house today! It was pouring outside, there was laundry to do, fruit and veg basket to sort out, a long day to wrap up… I stood for 5 minutes at the window, watching the rain fall and deciding if and where I was going.

I drove down to the lake and decided to run for 20 minutes and head back. There is a race on Saturday, so no point in overdoing it (convenient).

Those 20 minutes were long. There was nobody at the lake. I ran. Looked at the watch, negotiated with myself, looked at the watch again. Gave myself permission to take pictures when I hit 20 min. Realised I had a stomach cramp which I haven’t had for ages. Didn’t feel tired, just unmotivated.

At 20 min, I stopped.

There was a sun setting. And a rainbow.

And then I was good. My motivation came back, a little energy too. I had decided to do some accelerations, which are good for short runs before races, so I hit those. I pushed myself, because there is no point in doing these if I don’t get my HR to rise significantly. Time passed by quickly, and I was soon back at the car, glad I came out and satisfied with my “bipolar” run at the end of the day.

running log #8

Today’s run was special.

9 years ago, I lived for a few months in Kandersteg, a little village in the heart of the Swiss Alps where there is a world centre for scouts. At the time, mostly because of my scout life, I already loved nature, mountains and outdoor activities. But Summer’09 was a turning point. I spent the summer hiking all over the surrounding mountains, I met people from all over the world, and many of the projects that I took on in the following years were sparked by this experience.

I remember so well being gobsmacked by the Gasterntal valley, half an hour up from the Kandersteg valley, following the Kander river in direction of the Kanderfirn glacier, where it comes from. I hadn’t been there for a long time, so today, after a busy weekend with meetings and General Assembly at the Scout Centre, I headed up towards the valley.

Just out of the centre, I ran up some fields where cows were resting in the sun. I got two shocks while trying to close the electrical fence, but I only realised they were shocks when the second one hit me! The cows stared at me. I ran past them and they didn’t budge.

Then, I followed a path into the woods and started climbing. At this point, even very early on into the run, I had to walk because the path was so steep. I kept my heart rate up by hiking as vigorously as I could.

Following the Kander river, after 15 minutes of a steep climb, the terrain flattened out again and I ran through some nice shady woods, appreciating the milky colour of the river. I turned left and passed the restaurant at the beginning of the valley that doesn’t even have electricity (or at least, 9 years ago, when I ate there for my “Pinkie” graduation*, it didn’t).

And this is where you get hit in the face by this:

It’s the rocks, it’s the spring flowers having a festival on the grass, it’s the snow on the peaks, the clouds contrasting in the blue sky. It’s so perfect that it’s ridiculous.

Encouraged by the view, I kept running. I stopped for pictures when I felt like it. Ran again. Stopped again to watch two mother ducks swim away with their 6 or 7 little ducklings in a pond. Listened to the 4 or 5 waterfalls crashing down melted snow from mountains all around. Stopped to take pictures. Ran again.

After a few km on the flat path, I ran into a leafy forest and started a slight climb with sneak peeks to the Doldenhorn. When I realised that I was running a little late, I turned around and headed back. Until this moment, no fatigue, no pain, just pure enjoyment, running and taking in the views.

Heading out of the forest again, even though I kew what I was going to find, I couldn’t avoid the feeling of being hit by the scenery again. I even said something out loud. Afterwards, at dinner, someone told me that, invariably, when hiking out of the forest and facing this view, everyone falls silent. Even the kids.

I took 5000 more pictures before running back to where I came from. Usually, I don’t like to do linear runs where you have to run through the same path twice to get back to the starting point, but here the view is so stunning, that you cannot get enough different perspectives.

Then, I went back down the steep, rocky part, always along the Kander river, practising my downhill running in tricky steep terrain with loose rocks, branches and even steep steps lined with wood and stones.

Back into Kandersteg, I ran through the campsite of the scout centre and back to the centre, happy that I brought my running gear yet again and that, after a long, busy weekend, I could go out, have a run, and have all this beauty as a prize.

*the volunteers at the Scout Centre are called Pinkies because they work in pink t-shirts.

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