I am sheltering in the big tent, under one of the three gas patio heaters. To be fair, everybody is hiding inside. The Drielandenpunt Trail will start in five minutes, but it’s freezing outside and the sun isn’t up yet. Today we’ll be running 50 kilometres and climbing more than thousand metres. Every moment we can be warm is a bonus.
Freezing or not, as soon as we’re off, I’m happy. Running in the cold is my thing. I don’t like heat. I don’t mind this cold. I’ve got three layers on and two spare layers with me. I’ll be fine. There is another benefit to the cold; the trail is nicely frozen. Fast. A couple of weeks ago, it was a mud fest. Today the trail is uneven, uncomfortable, but runnable. Well, for now. These early hours it’s still freezing. In the afternoon the temperature will rise above zero degrees celsius.
Dutch HillsI love running here in Vaals. It’s one of the few places in the Netherlands where you have hills. Serious hills. We’ll be climbing 1.250 metres today. That’s a lot for my country. Although, my country … Vaals is where the borders of Belgium and Germany join the Dutch border. This place is called the Drielandenpunt, which translates in Three Countries Point. So we’re not only running through the Netherlands, we’re running through Belgium and Germany.
Last year I ran here a lot of times, to prepare for the UTMB CCC, the race around Mont Blanc. But this is the first time I am racing here. New paths, new trails, new feeling, as the trees are all white from the frost of last night and the puddles are black, frozen. Plus, normally when I run here, I am all on my own. This morning we started with two hundred trail runners.
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I took up my usual spot at the back, but as soon as we were off, I started passing people. I know it’s still far, but my next race is the Chianti Ultra Trail in Italy. That’s six weeks from now. Today I regard as a test. Brendan Lombard, my coach, ran the Chianti Ultra last year himself. The downhills are pretty steep, so the idea is to attack the downhills today to get my quads ready for that race. I added attacking the climbs to that plan. I want to know how far I get, before the wheels come off the wagon.
I admit, I’m in awe of this race. Or better said the distance. It’s been a while since I’ve ran 50 kilometres. Five months to be precise. The UTMB CCC was my last ultra, and I didn’t finish that race. I stepped out, after 56 kilometres. Overheated. At least that’s one thing I’m not afraid of today. With my gloves on, beanie and buff I’m pretty comfortable. Not hot, but not cold as well.
For that I’m running too fast. Fast for me, as my kilometres tick away between five and a half and six and a half minutes with a single peak of 7 if there is a lot of climbing to be done.
It feels nice to run a small race again. We’ve only just started, but everybody is spread out already. Most of the time I’m running on my own, with a few people in sight in front of me, and a few footsteps audible behind me. To be fair, this is how I like to run. Just me and nature. The white frozen grass, the brown mud, the golden leafs of the trees and the orange sun, slowly rising in front of me. What better way is there to wake up on a Sunday morning.
Last year, preparing for my Spring races, I was running a lot of kilometres. This year, the focus is on strength training and high quality sessions, as Brendan calls them. Less kilometres, but more intense ones. I know my body likes making kilometres, so I’m curious how I react to this approach. So far my legs are doing very well today. Last year when I ran here, I was hiking up the hills, now I’m running up. Okay, it’s more a slow shuffle, but still … My hiking poles are still in my quiver.
Frozen pitfallsThe only struggle are the fields. Cows have been walking over them, when the fields were still mud. They sank away deep in the field and now all those holes are frozen. Every hole feels like a pitfall, ready to trip you up. As I need my ankles in one piece the rest of the season, I decide to walk over the fields. That gives me the time to take in the scenery; the rolling hills, with the small, old houses and farms in the distance, that look like a picture from a history book.
After thirty kilometres my legs start to tire and I have to walk more and more when we go uphill. Five kilometres later running becomes a struggle. Another five and I’m done. I wanted to know when the wheels came off the wagon. Well, the answer is forty kilometres. I have another ten to go, but I’m done. Strangely enough, this is where I hoped for as well. Chianti will be suffering, so I was hoping to suffer today. To get used to it.
At the last refreshment post, I fill my soft flask with Coca Cola. This is the time for some caffeine magic. When I leave the post, my right knee hurts. I haven’t noticed anything so far, but now bending it is painful. I know this pain. It’s not a nice one, but one I can walk with. I take my running poles out of my quiver and start to hike. First slowly, but as the knee warms up again, I increase my pace.
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This is the moment for my mantra: Run if you can. If you can’t; jog. If you can’t jog, walk, but keep on moving.
The frozen paths are gone now. What is left is mud. Slippery mud. Where I can, I shuffle, but most of the time I’m walking, as my right iliopsoas is now also protesting. Runners from shorter distances are joining our trail. Some run, others are walking. These last kilometres are mostly uphill and most runners are just like me, fucked.
As long as they walk, I can overtake them, because walking is still something I can do. When we’ve done a long, steep climb, I hear the speaker. A photographer, hiding behind the trees, is encouraging me to run to get a good shot. I push myself and start jogging again. When I pass him, I see the finish. It’s just a few hundred metres, so I run on.
When I pass the line, I check my watch. Five hours and 42 minutes. I was hoping to run this race in six and a half to seven hours. That’s not bad. Not bad at all. I definitely have more work to do for the Chianti Ultra, but I’m on the right track and above all I enjoyed a beautiful race. Even if the wheels came off the wagon a bit too early for my liking.
