It’s the week after UTMB CCC and I have to say, I haven’t shaken off the disappointment of my Did Not Finish yet. It’s sweet that my friends try to cheer me up, but this one is going to hurt a little longer. Simply, because it wasn’t just a race.
Okay, I’m the first one to say a race is just a race. It doesn’t define you. There are good days, and bad days. You can have the best preparation period ever, you can be in the shape of your life, but that doesn’t mean it will all come out on race day. There is something like the shape of the day. Sometimes it’s there, sometimes it isn’t. It’s elusive. That’s why you’re not your race result. A great race doesn’t make you a great person. Neither does a bad race make you a bad person. A race is just a race.
More than a race
Except, except when it isn’t. Some races are more than a race. Some races are the finishing touch of a year of suffering. A year of putting everything aside. A year of sweating. Doing everything, to be able to stand at the start, and make it to the finish. And when that doesn’t happen, it hurts.
This race, this UTMB CCC, was that race. This race should have been the highlight of my running year. Every time I was feeling down, every time I didn’t feel like training, every time it was raining, snowing, freezing, I thought of that magical finish line in Chamonix. Arriving there, holding Sara in my arms under that iconic UTMB finish arch, gave me the motivation to go for a run.
For one year, I tried to work less and train more. Which in our case meant Sara had to work more, because we run our company, La Scimmia Yoga, together. It wasn’t just me sacrificing my time with friends and family, it was also Sara sacrificing here spare time. Her holidays, because the last two years we haven’t been to the beach to relax, we’ve been to the mountains to run (me) and work (Sara). Every Wednesday I went to the South of the Netherlands, or to the Ardennes in Belgium to run. Leaving the work to Sara.
Painful irony
Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to run, but I’m also happy to see friends, to go to the movies, to read a book. But all that had to wait, until I crossed that magic finish line in Chamonix. And now, I didn’t. It’s been a long year. A very, very long year; without a happy end. And that hurts.
The irony is; at the start I knew there was a big chance I wouldn’t finish. Not because I wasn’t prepared, but because I got injured. I’ve never felt so ready as for the Grand Trail du Saint-Jacques, my final test for the UTMB CCC. That had to be the confirmation that I was on the right track. That I just had to dot the i’s and cross the t’s. And that’s where it went all wrong, that’s where I torn my hamstring.
RELATED: Grand Trail du Saint-Jacques; my first DNF
Two wrongs almost make a right
Yet, that wrong almost became a right. Almost. Despite two months without running, due to a torn hamstring and pulled stomach muscle, my legs were fine. My abs were fine. My nutrition was fine. Mentally I was fine. Everything seemed to fall into place at the right moment. Everything, except the heath. The only thing I couldn’t control, the only thing I couldn’t prepare for, during a wet, cold Dutch summer. And it was the heath that got me in the end. And that hurts.
I know, this doesn’t define me. I’m still the same guy. I know I made a wise decision. I could have pushed on, but that wouldn’t have been safe. I had to sit down a couple of times during the day, feeling dizzy. I hoped to be better at night. I was; until the climb up to Champex-Lac. I felt dizzy again. Alone, at night on a mountain, in pitch dark, is not the moment you want to feel dizzy. Wise isn’t always nice. But I promised Sara to be wise. I did.
New races coming up
There are new races coming up; Camins de s’Arxiduc on Mallorca (Spain), Chianti Ultra Trail (Italy), Rotterdam Marathon (Netherlands) and Trail des Celtes (France), races I’m looking forward to. Yet, they don’t have the same magical finish line as the UTMB CCC. So, I’m not done with that race yet. I’ll be back. And if I don’t make it next year, I’ll be back again. And again, and again, and again. Until I cross that line, with Sara in my arms.
Keep on running, keep on dreaming.
Photo: Sportograf
