Summer love: enjoying the view from here

I recently fell in love, all over again. No, Rob needn't be jealous as there are no men involved. I fell back in love with the Alps. It is Summer and the view from here is wonderful. There is a great soundtrack to go with this blog. As I don't know how to embed it, and to keep my sister happy (she is a lawyer with internet/ copyright background) please just open up this link and run it in the background.

We The Kings, "The View From Here"

After over 2 years of living within these spectacular mountains I hadn't noticed, but I had slowly begun to take them for granted. They are a constant backdrop to all my training and can be a companion, diversion, challenging coach, practical joker or even ferocious foe (like early season this year as I descended in a hailstorm off the Col des Aravis) as I ride, run, swim, ski, work, play or otherwise live in and amongst them. Most days I take active notice of something new, changing, interesting or groovy as I travel through their domain. However with mid-season training becoming more specific, time at a premium as I juggle family, coaching and training demands, my comfort and familiarity dulled my early sense of constant wonder. It took a minor change of scene, changing up the training a bit, a good race or two and some wonderful quiet "girl in mountains" moments to rediscover just how much I love this region. 

Since the disastrously timed bout of bronchitis just before Ironman Zurich, I have raced twice, both times in the southern alps of France. The first was Alpe D'Huez, this year for the court distance race (1.2/30/7) before deciding to take on the mythic Embrunman (3.8/188/42.2). I'll do a race report for Embrun separately as it definitely warrants it, but for now I can summarize it as interesting, hard, hot, odd, beautiful and a bit bizarre.

However Alpe D'Huez was a chance for me to see how I was going 11 days after Zurich. It was also an opportunity to head off to the mountains by myself for a few days as Rob was working and the kids had an overnight randonnee in the Aravis.

Still smiling high on the Alpe

I drove from home on race morning thanks to the very civilized 2pm start time. After registering and getting organised up at Alpe D'Huez I rode down the high narrow road past Villard-Reculas to the start line at Lake Vernay. The water was a very manageable 17o this year (vs 14o last year when I raced the long course here) and despite getting fairly effectively worked including an eye watering elbow in the nose, I had an ok swim. Once out of the water, it was hot and a bit windy. I earned my first ever drafting penalty about 500m from the base of the Alpe kicking up in earnest as I was riding about 5m behind one rider (7m rule here) despite packs of over 10 riders passing me cms off each other's wheels :-/. Anyway... I had a much more positive experience on the 21 hairpins of Alpe D'Huez that make up the final 14k of the bike course. Coralie Lemaire and I passed each other a few times before I finally got away from her in the final 5k. Despite being a clear competitor, her partner, who was leapfrogging her up the climb by car, cheered me on every time I passed and poured water over me to cool me down a few times when he had set himself up to do so for her. Très sympa, appreciated! After serving my penalty which was just a short bonus run at T2, I headed off feeling great for the 7k around the Altiport on top of the Alpe. For the first time this season I passed lots of guys on the rolling mountain trails that make up the loop. Unfortunately only one woman was within range, but I finished a pretty solid 9th overall and 1st masters woman.

Given I had been pretty unwell just a week earlier I was happy with the race as it showed I was getting back to form. However race day was eclipsed by the following 24 hours. That evening I drove over to visit some friends in a chalet back in the Vernay valley. It took me longer to drive there than it had to ride there in the morning as at sunset, the mountains were simply spectacular. I kept stopping to take photos and just suck it in. The road and villages stuck precariously to the edge of precipices, colours richened and then softened, lakes and rivers decorated the valleys as they reflected the last of the day's light before the sky slowly merged with the mountains and all faded to shades of dark blues. 

Huez village at sunset

I'll take the high road

Late light, Villard-Reculas

Shades of blue

The next morning I got up late from my accommodation right by the transition area (thanks Tamsin) and decided to put on my runners and go and investigate the mountains above the village. I headed out with no time, distance or speed objective, just to enjoy for as long as I felt like, as long as I was back home in time to collect the kids from their adventure in the evening. In the end I felt like running all morning and some of the afternoon. I found my way up onto the mountain bike and hiking trails around the high alpine tarns that in winter make up the cross country ski area. The area reminded me a lot of the Western Arthur Range in Tasmania. Although it is clearly without the pristine, wild element that remoteness and access difficulty allows SW Tassie as I ran under ski lifts and gondolas full of mountain bikers headed up above me for another run. Still, I saw very few people once high up above the resort and enjoyed the trails with just my own footfall to listen to. Luckily I only had a bit of battery left in my camera, so although I got to take some pictures to share, I then just enjoyed the views without feeling the need to frame them, cutting them back from lifesize to view or display later.

Although I had visited the area a few times before it had always seemed too busy and commercialized to really shine, criss-crossed with lifts and topped with standard order concrete ski condos, bike and ski shops, restaurants and bars.This time I left knowing I had experienced some of what it was that makes this place so popular, away from the crowds and infrastructure. A great sporting location in a physically spectacular region. 

No planned destination. Paths heading somewhere worth checking out

Alpine tarns / lakes

A world away from the concrete of the resort village

Stopping to smell the flowers

Running on high

Back at home in and around Les Aravis and since down in the Embrun / Briançon region of the Alps I have kept this more fresh eyed perspective and enjoyed anew the Alps in summer each day. Whether driving through, from my bike, with runners or swimmers on, visiting old towns, forts and castles or just picnicing by a river or lake with Rob and the boys we have delighted in the variety of shapes, colours and cultural offerings of the French Alps. There are many great places in the world, however I feel truly privileged to call this high corner of France home just now and have the opportunity to explore and get to know it better. Like a love renewed with some quality time together, I am appreciating the view from here.

I hope you too have the chance to look around you and find a great view to love whether in the fresh snow of Canberra, a crowded summer's coast somewhere in the northern hemisphere or some busy, bright, colourful city. Enjoy.

DNF.

Disappointment

DNF. Whatever you had hoped, a DNF (Did Not Finish) spells disappointment for pretty well everyone. For every athlete a specific place or finish time may be a great achievement or well below expectations relative to their own capability and hopes. However nobody trains for and starts a race with the expectation of not reaching the finish line.

I have been proud to consider myself generally a very consistent athlete. I always seem to be able to use all that I have in me on race day. Variable factors impact me like anyone else, weather, injuries, flat tyres ... but I have always got to the start line in good shape and finished even if it didn’t mean the fastest I could, would, might have if XXX didn’t happen. I was proud of giving it my best, right to the end, even if it wasn’t my best ever day. Not this time. 2k into the run a few weeks ago I pulled out and handed my number back to the race officials. DNF. My first ever.

I was at Ironman Zurich, supposedly my "A" race of the season as I was hoping to put down a really solid time on a relatively fast course. I would be helped by the fact it was not too far from home, reducing the impact of travel, and on similar terrain to that I train here; alpine lakes, rolling country roads and a flat run around the lake. All was boding well a week out. I was swimming my fastest ever in training sessions, my run which had been strangely "off" for the first half of the year seemed to be coming back both in training and racing (at the Annecy OD a few weeks ago I ran just 50s slower than my best OD run) and my bike was solid as ever. 

On the day I drove to Zurich I knew something was off though. For months I had been pleased that my immunity held up well despite the triple whammy of iron-distance training, kids coming home with bugs from school and less sleep than I would ideally get. However as my training volume reduced in the pre-race taper, when I should theoretically be recovering energy, I finally let a lurking lurgy in. My chest was tight and my head a few kilos heavier than normal thanks to the hammers that were operating on the inside of it. By the Friday before the race it was clear I was sick with more than a 24 hr nasty. Despite sleep, Vit C, garlic and zinc I was getting worse not better. The night before I was finally no worse and so, ever optimistic that I had done enough to hold it off, I had a chat to Rob and decided to race and give it my best. I knew that I wasn't well but I didn't want to believe that it was too bad and preferred to hope that it was just me being oversensitive prior to a big event as can happen. As a single mum M-F of two young children due to my husband's work schedule, and as an athlete mid-season, I know I can't afford burying myself in a sickness hole that is too deep or takes too long to climb out of. I therefore started the race with more awareness of the possibility of a DNF than ever before. Still, I knew I was fit and prepared for the event, was experienced at this distance and that my body would do all it could on the day when asked. On vera! Let's go and see.

Liam patiently waiting for Mum.

In the first brawl of the swim I struggled getting my breathing to settle as I coughed underwater and tried to hang onto the feet heading past. Crap! Missed them. As it was a pros only start 5 mins ahead of the masses, I was quickly left behind with a couple of weaker swimmers from the pro pack to lead around with no drafting help for most of the 3.8k. 7mins slower than I had hoped, I exited the water and got onto the bike, still hopeful that out of the water I would be better off as coughing up green gunk there becomes a liability to anyone trying to draft me, more so than to me as it was in the swim. 

I rode ok on the first lap through the cool weather and rainstorms passing a few girls and on track for a solid but not sensational ride time, but I still hadn't been able to get my breathing properly settled, and couldn't quite slot into top gear. By the start of the second lap I knew that trying to finish the marathon would likely bury me physically and certainly wouldn't deliver the PB or even top 10 performance I had set myself up for. So I decided to turn it into a long training day and hoped I could finish at least one lap of the run (10.55k) so that I knew all the course, had finished a solid run off the bike and didn't put the fatigue into the legs that would stop me racing elsewhere once I was fully well. Unfortunately even this plan unravelled as 2k out of T2 I couldn't breathe and was coughing more and more. Time to head back and hand in my number to the officials before I got too far away from the finish area and had a long walk. 

End of lap 1, going ok, just not feeling great

Even though I had known for a couple of hours that this was a likely outcome, I still felt absolutely terrible as I pulled off the course next to my friend Esti who was there cheering a crowd of friends on, including me. She had really helped me try and recover prior to the race as I was staying at her place, but now had to console me as I gave up. Despite personal disappointment, I really felt I had let down my friends, husband and kids, coach and others who support me either on course or from afar. Esti, and the others there on the day; Em, Justin, Rob and the boys, said just the right things at the time to help me deal with those feelings of failure to them. Thanks guys! I really appreciated your support, even more so given that it wasn't for a great outcome. Jackson at least did the family proud having a good Ironkids race while I was out on the bike. Well done little roo!

So what happens if you DNF at an ironman? I had never thought of it before. Firstly at the event, make sure you let officials know you have pulled out. At a recent trail running event in my home valley in the Alps a number of people pulled out of the race at night, didn't tell anyone and as a result initiated a search party response while they headed home oblivious. A tri course is not so dangerous to manage, but race organisers are responsible for athletes on course so it is important to let them know you are no longer on it. Secondly, even though I hadn't finished the full course, I had still raced more than 6 hours so needed to get some food, drink and warm clothes on. The food area wasn't yet ready for the flow of athletes expected a few hours later, but still I got some fruit and drinks, my dry clothes bag and then headed home as soon as I could get my bike out of transition to hopefully kickstart a fast recovery.

Mentally I had to manage the disappointment of a major goal not being reached. As I watch the Olympics now, many more athletes will likely have to learn to manage disappointment than the delight of success. Only 3 athletes/teams generally get medals, yet many in each event will have been physically and mentally prepared to aspire to such heights. I think that the difficulty of any goal increases its value, so that when it is achieved (and hopefully for mine still will be) it is even sweeter for the knowledge of how hard it has been to get everything just right to get there. At least I don't need to wait 4 years to my next opportunity! As I got full blown bronchitus after the race I also know that I did the right thing pulling out of the race rather than risking my health further. 12 days later I had just about fully recovered and was able to go to Alpe D'Huez to race the CD triathlon there, finishing a solid 9th (1st masters). Importantly for me too, I didn't get so sick I couldn't look after my kids properly during that time. 

A really interesting experience was the physical / muscular recovery post Zurich. Although I was unwell, and didn't train for a week or so after the race, my body recovered after the swim and bike legs really fast. I felt hugely different to the way I do usually after a full ironman. It just illustrated to me very clearly that the real muscular damage and deep fatigue that comes after an ironman is really the result of pounding the pavement pre-fatigued in the marathon. 

Enjoying every finish. Jackson at Zurich

Now a few weeks later I get to sign up to the legendary Embrunman which includes a stunning alpine lake swim that starts in the dark following a lit kayak, +5,000m climbing in the 188k bike course including the Col d'Izoard (at 2,360m) and a hilly marathon around the town and surrounds. Not a place for PBs! An amazing race though and one I couldn't have put into my schedule this year if I had finished the race in Zurich and was still in recovery phase. Another long day to plan for and a top 10 place to aspire to. After always receiving a finishers t-shirt/medal/... from every race I had started, and really only ever getting excited by place or time goals, not the finish itself, I now have a new respect for the act of crossing that line at the end. Nothing is certain in long course racing. Finishing is a privilege hard earned. 

If you do happen to DNF along the way in your journey (figuratively or literally), I hope you find that is a step on the road to eventual success and hopefully an opportunity to respect your achievement and savor the moment even more fully next time you cross that finish line.

À bientôt
Christine