Two hours and a bit done. Seventeen kilometres or so and I am flying. Racing downhill. Jumping over roots, avoiding rolling rocks. Managing not to slip on the gravel. This is fast, this is fun. This is trail running at its best. This is the Trail des Celtes, part of the Trail Alsace Grand Est, by UTMB.
It is just a training race on my schedule, but one I have been looking forward to. A year ago I went to the Vosges Mountains in France for the first time and fell in love with this area. Single tracks, easy climbs, fast downhills, technical downhills and a few seriously steep climbs. The Vosges Mountains is the place to be for a trail runner. That’s why I’m toeing the startline of the Trail Alsace today.
Fifty kilometres are awaiting me. Fifty kilometres from Barr to Obernai. Fifty kilometres and 2.000 metres of altitude. That’s a lot, but not too crazy. At least for me. I have done the Chianti Ultra Trail earlier this year. That was 75 kilometres and 3.000 metres of altitude. That gives me the idea I will be okay today. Plus, I have the UTMB CCC coming up. That will be double the distance and three times as much altitude. So today is a good moment to see how my legs are.
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I have to admit, races in line are not so much my thing. That has to do with one thing; the long wait for the start. At the CCC I sat in the cold on a curb in a sleeping Courmayeur for two hours, waiting until we finally could go to the start. But today is different. The bus left Obernai at 6:15am. Fifteen minutes later we were in Barr. And now, seven in the morning, the countdown is already happening. It’s time to race.
I can’t say I am really awake. I have to admit that loud music, clapping, and a race announcer yelling at me first thing in the morning, is not my ideal way of waking up. Maybe I got too old for that. However, running is, and I can’t wait till I am in the forest.
I will be there as one of the first. Okay, one of the first few hundred. For some reason I am in wave number two. There are five waves today. That means the field will be spread out nicely. No traffic jams. That’s generally the problem with big races, but this looks good.
The start is as frantic as always. I am starting almost at the back of my wave. I prefer to play pacman, as my coach Brendan Lombard calls it. Begin slowly, start eating up the people in front later. But those who stood behind, me are racing past me in the narrow streets of Barr. Some trail runners dive into a side street. Looking for a place to lower their pants. Racing nervous.
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After a couple of minutes the yellow, beige, terracotta and green painted houses, with wooden facades make way for hills full of vineyards. This is the area where your Rieslings and Gewürztraminer wines come from. French dry, white wines, with a big German influence, as the border is never far away and has changed time after time.
Cobblestones have become gravel and now gravel becomes a forest path. Still wide enough for all of us to run on. Or better said to hike on to. The first eight kilometres, the first hour of this race, is uphill. The best way to spread a field apart. It’s not what I am good at. I am a diesel. I have to warm-up slowly, but today there is no time. Nor will there be at the UTMB CCC. So my body better get used to it.
The good thing is, it’s still nice and fresh. I love running in the cold. Another reason I am feeling happy. But there are so many. The view over the little village when we just ran through the vineyards was beautiful. Now that we are in the forest, the world has a thousand shades of green. This is my happy place. This is how I like to wake-up.
And it’s a good thing I’m awake, because there’s a small technical descent waiting for me. Not too crazy, but technical enough to have to concentrate. The reward comes shortly after, because halfway down is the aid station of Mont Sainte-Odile. I am in and out quickly. But where I normally skip the first aid station, I now pick up some sausage slices, half an energy bar and a piece of cake. It’s a lesson I’ve learned at the Chianti Trail. No matter how many Naak gels and waffles I eat, if I don’t put any real food in my stomach I am getting hungry. And a hungry me, is a cranky me.
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That’s why I am running with a henna tattoo on my arm. A smiley, an @ symbol and a little devil. It’s my mantra for today. Smile at your demons. At the Chianti Ultra Trail I was cranky for the last 35 out of 75 kilometres. Today I want to keep reminding myself to smile at my negative thoughts.
Not that I have any so far. The downhill after the aid station was fast and fun and led us past Château de Dreistein. The climb towards Château du Birkenfels and Château du Kagenfels wasn’t too complicated and had a lot of runnable sections in it.
But the best thing of all, are the downhills. Finally downhills for ultra runners with long legs and big feet. Size 48 (UK13) feet. In the Alps paths are small. Often too small for me to put one foot next to the other. Here, on the gravel paths, I can. And I can take long strides as well. In the cool shadow of the trees it feels like I am flying.
The thing is, I am a runner. Above all. I know trail running is a combination of hiking and running, but some races it’s more hiking than running. I like races in which it is the other way around. Well, the Trail des Celtes is precisely that.
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The trail keeps going up and down. Fast downhills are followed by technical climbs. Technical downhills are followed by easy climbs. Never a dull moment as there is always another castle to see. The goal of this climb is Château du Hagelschloss, a ruined castle dating back to the 3th century. The goal of the descent is Château de Rathsamhausen and Château de Lutzelbourg; two castles close to each other, halfway the race.
When I reach them, my legs are still feeling good. I started this morning with legs that weren’t completely fresh. Only three days ago I did a three hour bike ride. The idea was to use this race as a test for the UTMB CCC. I only have one climb to go; up to the Heidenkopf. If I still feel like this, I will push. Just to see how good I am.
A wide gravel path, with a lot of loose rocks, covered in bright green moss, leads us to a single track through dense forest. This has to be the steepest climb we’ve done today. Fallen trees are blocking the path. Red paint on them is screaming for attention. But so do all the large, protruding tree roots. It’s now step for step. But those steps feel easy. Today is one of those days I am good. Physically, mentally.
On top of the Heidenkopf stands the Mundel Turm, a high, narrow tower. From the top you should be able to see Strasbourg. But I’m not interested in going higher anymore. I’m just interested in going down. Back to Obernai. Back to where I stepped into the bus to go to the start, 4,5 hours ago. Which means I’ve done 32 kilometres in 4,5 hours. I’ve climbed almost 2.000 metres in 4,5 hours. From here on, it’s just downhill. This could be fast.
We’re running over a dried grass single track. I’m passing runners in front of me, whose legs are tired. Mine still feel fresh. Some others, who dare to run harder downhill, are passing me. It suddenly feels like a race. Everybody who has something left in the tank, is flying.
Then disaster strikes. On a small forest path the outside of my foot lands on a rock, the inside is in mid-air for a moment. Then my ankle folds in a way that it anatomically cannot. I hear a tearing sound and it feels like the outside of my ankle is on fire. The next time my right ankle hits the trail, I’m on the ground. Screaming. Holding my ankle.
Runners behind me stop. Inform if I’m okay. I tell them to run on. Nothing looks broken. I stay seated for a couple of minutes. My ankle is still on fire. When the shock wears off, I slowly get up and carefully try to see if I can walk. It’s painful, but I can.
A few minutes later I try to run. I don’t feel any support on the outside of my ankle. It’s wobbly. I check my watch. The next aid station is almost ten kilometres away. Going back isn’t a lot shorter. Carefully I try to run again. It doesn’t feel stable, but what can I do?
I manage to run one kilometre. Then I roll my ankle again. Same ankle, same unnatural bend, same pain. Again I sit down. Defeated. More runners stop. But what else can I do then move on? I’m in the middle of the forest. There is no road. No exit.
With the help of my running poles I hike on. When I hit a flat road, I try to run again, but the pain is getting worse. One of the runners I’ve passed before, offers me to tape my ankle. We try, as good as we can, seated next to the path, on dry leaves, which stick to the tape.
With the extra support I start running again. But the further I get, the worse the pain gets. The tape that was giving support a couple of minutes ago, feels now too tight. To be honest, even my shoe feels too tight now. Again I sit down. This time to take the tape off. A big bump has formed on my right ankle. My whole foot is swollen.
Limping I cross a road. A handful of spectators is clapping. I contemplate asking them for a ride, but decide to walk on. More spectators now. They are all cheering me on. Thinking I’m struggling because I am tired, but I am not. I am in pain, but full of adrenaline and energy. I would have flown by here, if I could. But I can’t. Tears are popping up in my eyes. I swallow and look at my left arm. The smiley and the demon are both laughing at me. I’m afraid the demon has won.
The hike to the aid station feels like ages. When I am finally there, I get offered a camp bed. A few nurses look at my ankle. Tape it. I get offered a couple of red pills against the pain. Calls are being made and 45 minutes later I am in an ambulance, on my way back to Obernai. Just not in the way I hoped.
In Obernai I am carried into the First Aid tent. A doctor looks at my ankle. Tests it. Nothing looks broken, but my ligaments are probably torn. A direct x-ray isn’t needed. That saves me another trip per ambulance to Strasbourg. However, I do get an appointment for the next morning at the clinic in Obernai, more painkillers and a pair of crutches.
Half an hour later, with the help of Sara, my wife, I limp back to our hotel. Promising myself to come back one day and complete this super fast and super fun trail.
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The next day the x-ray confirms the doctor’s suspicion. Nothing is broken. A week later, when the swelling is finally almost gone, an ultrasound shows that I indeed have torn my ankle ligaments. No trail running for the next eight weeks. Being in shape for the CCC is going to be a challenge.
