Sierre-Zinal baby!
An early start. This was the big
day. Sierre-Zinal baby! That probably doesn’t mean much to anyone outside of
the small but growing world of Trail Running. Sierre-Zinal is a legendary race
between the two small towns after which it is named. It stretches just under
twenty miles in length while gaining over 7000 feet in height with climbs of
over 33%. It forms part of the Golden Trail World Series in which the most elite
trail runners compete. The record holder and ten times winner is Killian
Journet, the GOAT (Greatest Of All Time).
My friend kindly drove me to the start line in the Rhone Valley. A sign above the trail entrance read Sierre-Zinal in yellow and black. I began to climb. The advice online was to take it slowly at the beginning to ensure you didn’t burn out. I had little choice. My hands were on my knees as I crawled up the steep incline, passing shrines that marked the Stations of the Cross showing the events of Jesus’ life and death. The small Chapel of Saint-Antoine was a good place to pause, ring the bell which echoed across the valley and take in the stunning view below. A man was running up the hill towards me. “This f*cking trail eh?” he commented with a French accent. “Who came up with this?”
“Yes, it’s tough” I agreed.
“It was my papa.” He laughed as he passed.
“Your dad?” I asked
“Yes, Jean Claude, he came up with
this race. Enjoy.” And with that, he ran off.
When I looked it up online, I
discovered that indeed Jean Claude Pont was the name of the man who founded the
race in 1974. He was a Professor of History and Philosophy of Science at the
University of Geneva. He wanted to bring people to the Anniviers mountainscape
while enabling them to “rediscover the virtues of physical effort and regain
bodily fitness by taking on a unique running challenge” He named it ‘The Race
of the Five 4000m Peaks’ as it is located at the foot of the ‘Imperial Crown’
of the Weisshorn (4,404m), Zinalrothorn (4,221m), Obergabelhorn (4,063m),
Matterhorn (4,478m) and Dent Blanche (4,357m).
The terrain was technical with
roots and stones to contend with. A large yellow letter Z was painted onto the
walls every few hundred metres to show that I was on track. Cygales (Cicadas)
buzzed loudly from the pine trees that covered the hillside. Common Wall Lizards
and Blue Winged Grasshoppers dashed across the path just before my feet landed.
I turned a corner and there they were: the five peaks laid out before me in the
most spectacular panorama.
After three miles and almost two
hours I was still climbing. I had reached an altitude of 3000 feet – 1000 feet
per mile. At one point I was climbing a gradient of 33%! The altitude was making it difficult to breathe and my heart rate was
almost 200. My head was fit to burst, and my lungs were sore. Lactic Acid built
up in my thighs and calf muscles every 100m or so, causing me to stop to rest.
Even as an averagely experienced trail runner I was in awe of the athletes that
would be running up this route at the start of August.
I felt like one of the
characters in Virginia Woolf’s The Waves who says:
As the trail began to flatten out after five miles, so the flowers began to appear. A constellation of white, purple, pink and yellow various tones and shades thrown in. White - Swollen buds called Bladder Campion – that popped when squeezed, White Clover, Daisies, Queen Anne’s Lace and Pulsatilla Alpine Fruit that looked like a star exploding. Purple - Allium, Thistle Flower, Spiky Tufted Vetch, Round-headed and Spiked Rampion and Bearded Bellflower. Pink - Rosebay Willow Herb, Alpine Adenostyle, Hairy Smoke or Old Man’s Whiskers, Houseleek also known as Hens-and-Chicks, Rhododendron and Carthusian Pink. Yellow - Creeping Buttercup and Bird’s-foot Trefoil. Mauve - Common Harebell known as Fairies Thimbles due to their shape. Pale blue - Lesser Butterfly Orchid.
These were incredible, but I let out
an audible gasp when I turned the corner and was stunned by the sight of
hundreds of gigantic Lupines; pink, purple, powder blue and mauve, all waving
in the breeze and none less than three feet tall. I couldn’t stop smiling. The
sound of water behind me revealed a waterfall streaming down the cliff and
throwing itself down towards the valley. It was paradise – except that I was
only a quarter of a way into the day’s run and already shattered. Thankfully a
little further on was a sign for Chandolin, one of Europe’s highest villages
inhabited all year round at 2000m above sea level. I stopped to buy some water
and picked up a couple of souvenirs for Gangsta Daughter. I had brought 1.5
litres of water with me, but it was humid and the sweat was pouring down my
head and back. The sun beat down from a clear sky as Red Kites spiralled above.
Seven miles into the run and I
thought this must be the high point. It would now be a pretty straight forward
and runnable section until the last couple of miles when there was a steep
descent. Wrong. The trail continued to climb. I managed to run some sections
but was still having to walk a lot of the more elevated sections. I passed the Hotel
Weisshorn at 2,337m. I was having to utilise some self-talk to motivate myself.
This included a mantra ‘walk when you have to and run when you can’, ‘it never
always gets worse’ and ‘there’s beer at the finish’. My spirits were lifted by the views though and the sound of cow bells brought home that Swiss experience.
My friends were meeting me in Zinal
and I had estimated a five-hour finish time. At this point I was two thirds of
the way into the course and looking at over 6-hours. I pushed on, my legs and
lungs at their limit, but I was still enjoying myself. I willed Killian Journet
to run past so I could get a selfie. I sang to myself in French – songs from my
school days ‘Sur Le Pont, D’Avignon’ and ‘Quelle est la date de ton
anniversaire’. I prayed in French and counted down the miles; sept, six, cinq, quatre,
trois, deux, un.
Finally, I reached Nava at fifteen
miles and began to run downhill. While this felt great, it did involve more
concentration as the trail was strewn with rocks. I picked my way through,
trying to lift my tired legs so that I wouldn’t kick them into my ankles, or
worse, trip over. I still wasn’t managing more than 10 minute miles but I was
closing in on my target time. I decided that under five hours would be a gold,
between five and five and a half hours a silver, while just finishing would be
a bronze. Suddenly the path began to rise again, but soon a long descent
appeared around the mountain ahead of me. I sped up, my knees taking the
pressure. I entered forest and now I was descending at around 20%, pain surging
through my knees and hips, trying to control my descent with my arms out wide,
using the banks to slow my fall. Then Zinal appeared, chalet roofs, asphalt
roads, some people, three figures, a man, a woman and a little girl waving a
flag, a Swiss flag, red with a white cross in the centre. It was my friend and her family. As I approached with tears of happiness and relief (or was it just sweat?) in my eyes, they began shouting ‘Allez, allez, allez!’ –
‘Go, go, go!’ When I reached them, they joined me and we all ran together to
the finish. There was a wooden trough full of glacial water and I plunged my
head and then my feet in to cool them down.
I was completely spent but over the
moon with having completed the course. Being met by my friends just made it
even more special. We went for a meal and a bottle of wine to celebrate before
attending Mass at their church in the evening and then I slept the sleep of the exhausted runner.
