Tag: hiking

“girl dies and becomes”

I closed my last blog post with these words: Next, I’m on to a race in Fiesch, up to the top of Eggishorn. Stay tuned to find out how I survive my highest altitude yet, and how much I enjoy dunking myself in glacial lakes in Bern.

I did not die, but I did feel like I became, to reference Paul Klee art I saw later in the trip at the Paul Klee Museum. 1) I had a great time at almost 10,000 feet and 2) I dunked in the glacial RIVER (the Aare River) three times. Technically I did swim in the lake at Interlaken.

Switzerland was such a special friendship trip. For the sake of focusing and word count, I’ll keep this blog to the race experience.

The Swiss Alps Vertical 10k had almost 6,000 feet of climbing to Eggishorn, overlooking the Aletsch Glacier. When I saw my two friends just a tenth or so from the finish, I yelled out I am going to run. They must have run too, because they still met me at the finish line. Low on oxygen and ecstatic, I cried in April’s arms with the glacier behind us as the enormity weighed on me.

The race started warm at 4,000 feet. Switzerland was experiencing another heat wave. I started in a Faster Bastards tee shirt from my partner, with gloves and a jacket in my running vest. A brief section of the race is on road, then you’re shot into the alpine forest.

Sandy pines and vibrant violet flowers fill my memory of the course. Grazing cows and chalets speckled the route. Every mile had about the same amount of climbing. We were quickly engulfed in quiet, and if you had other runners around, listened to each other’s heavy breathing. There is no accent to breath.

As the alpine forest began to open up, paragliders dotted the skyline. Near the mile 4.5 aid station, their jump station was prepped. Luckily, WOW is also easy to translate across languages.

This race also marked my first gondola ride. I could marvel at how high we climbed on the long descent. At packet pick-up, I mentioned to a Swiss woman how excited I was for the ride. She looked confused. My friend (who crushed the 100 miler!) and I then had to explain how tiny the mountains are in the United States, that we do not have many gondolas. What even is normal.

The race was hard, but never felt impossible. Just steady, consistent, 1,000 feet of climbing every mile. For other runners thinking about this race: it is not technical compared to what I experience on the East Coast (constant little rocks and roots). The route is steep, but relatively smooth. I felt steady on my feet without polls. Topo Mountain Racer 4 shoes were perfect for me. The course does get very rocky in the last half mile (my picture crawling above) because you are almost at the top of Eggishorn, but it is still much easier than say, Mount Adams in the Whites of New Hampshire.

I was the 18th woman out of 34. Average! I’m definitely going to look for more vertical races in the United States. Please send any my way if you have recommendations. I had so much fun, I went and ran up Niesen two days after the race.

Now! On to Baltimore Running Festival half marathon on Saturday. This race demolished me in 2011. I can’t wait to take it on with many years of vert in training behind me.

So as always, stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Wrong Heven Again by Ryan Eckes
  • Aesthetica by Allie Rowbottom
  • Travesties by Tom Stoppard

The Wild Oak Trail

The Wild Oak Trail delivered this weekend – spooky, challenging, and overall, epic. This is described as a wild and free race. Participants follow the official blazes with minimal support. Yet the race director and a few of his friends made the racefeel huge. This weekend had more excitement and support than some of the 300+ entrant trail races I’ve participated in. There is something important about coming together for a love of the earth. A lot of us are rough around the edges, like the terrain.

To bring it together, I’ll recap by noting key moments.

11pm the night before: I’m still awake, refreshing the Facebook page. I want to know that my partner and friends out there had a good second loop in the 100 race before falling asleep. I somehow fall asleep before knowing their fate.

Getting to the parking lot in the dark: Snow is still coming down. I’m hyping myself up by remembering that I ran Bullshit Backyard in worse conditions (33 degrees and pouring rain for 7 hours) and that friends about to show up have done major winter backpacking trips. There are no bad conditions, just bad gear, amiright? I want to be right.

7am: I start reading Gale Marie Thompson’s Mountain Amnesia. The first poem opens with, It seems important to know the name / for this smallish mountain. Chills run through my body as I look out of the van to the trailhead.

8am: We’re off! One of the largest groups ever for this event. There’s a fresh coating of snow after the whirlwind storm that blew through before sunrise. It’s comforting to know that in addition to the trail blazes (and our various backup map formats), we’ll be able to follow each other’s tracks.

Mile 1-7: Tucked behind a group of Canadian runners with a friend. We’re both strong climbers, but after hearing how hard this trail is for months in the lead-up, we’re both conservative in our goals and starting effort. Around 4 miles in, I verbalize that we’ve had many delightful false flats – so far, the trail is reminiscent of a longer Bobs Hill (in Catoctin), which we both feel confident on. She validates my assessment and I can tell we’re both getting much more confident.

Mile 10: I’m still running with a small group of Canadians and we’re all generally very hype, so we approach the water crossing at Camp Todd with enthusiasm. We debate the merits of taking off our shoes. I share that folks that started on Friday for the 100 distance said the course was very wet after the water crossing, so removing your shoes would be futile. Most of us get to the river, grab the safety rope, and plunge right in.

Mile 10.5: The friend I spent the first climb with trots past me after we left the Camp Todd aide station. I knew it might be the last time I saw her, and I famously said “I’m going to walk while finishing my sandwich, maybe see you later!” She scurries up the mountain with ease. It is always feral girl fall in the wilderness.

Mile 13ish: After finishing my sandwich, climbing for a bit with another talented local female runner, I had been sharing some miles with a Canadian runner. We were having a good time, but nausea was coming on strong. The PB&J was too much. I said something like, “I’m going to get quiet. I need to focus on not vomiting.” 

Mile 14-15: The terrain transitioned to about a 20-30% downhill grade for much of this descent. Rain, warmth, then snow in 48 hours turned it into slop. I trotted down at my own pace, working to keep my back straight and shoulders down as best I could on my least favorite terrain.

Mile 16: I’m alone and thinking about how strong I’ve felt so far. I could have never done this without excision surgery, hysterectomy, and all the other medical support during the worst of my endometriosis. 

Mile 17: I’m back with the Canadian runner and he remarks that I seem to be doing much better. I am. One of the challenges in these long efforts is to not let a tough moment derail your day. I kept my forward motion when I wasn’t feeling well, and it passed. 

Mile 19: Not quite realizing we are on part of the trail nicknamed Chin-Scrapper, we plod up the steepest climb of the day with focus and resolve, checking in on each other when we hear foot slips on the muddy snow and leaves.

Mile 21-23: We’re on a fire road! We can open up our legs! We are so shocked and thrilled that we have this treat, we check the map multiple times. It’s still raining, possibly freezing rain (both our hat brims are frozen), when we hear footsteps behind us. Another woman is flying down the road. We all exchange words of encouragement before she disappears into the mist ahead of us.

Mile 23: My running buddy says we are supposed to have one more major climb before the finish (see mile 19 note above). I say that mile 19 was pretty steep, but we can’t remember where this infamous climb is, so we decide we’ll take it as it comes. I’m also looking back for Jeremy to catch us at the end of his 4th loop. Based on time, he can’t be too far behind, but we are moving faster than I expected. He ended up getting 3rd overall in the 100 for his massive effort, but while running, all I could do was wonder.

Mile 25: My running buddy points out an exceptionally shaped tree. This is a native trail marking – trail trees, culturally modified trees, that have been modified by indigenous people as part of their tradition. I have been thinking about belonging and am once again reminded that the earth has been stewarded for many years before us.

Mile 26.5: We run into Aaron about to finish his 7th loop! He’s a Maryland runner that started on Wednesday in the 8 loop, 200 mile effort that only a handful of people have finished since 1988. We have an encouraging exchange and continue with some haste to keep going to the parking lot. The final stretch of the trail is rather rocky and slick for my taste, especially on tired legs, but the hard climbs are over.

Finish: 7 hours and 45 minutes. Taking it comfortable while still making a point to trot as much as possible, I came in under my conservative goal of 8-10 hours. I packed food, water, and a headlamp like I could take 12-14 hours, based on everyone’s terrifying descriptions. The Wild Oak Trail is not easy, but the earth rewarded any one that took it on with its climbs, smooth descents, and varied fauna. 

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Mountain Amnesia by Gale Marie Thompson
  • Belonging: A Culture of Place by bell hooks
  • History of my Breath by Kristin Kovacic

Stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.