“Mischief. Mayhem. Soap.” Fight Club

Better late then never I guess. I just wasn’t in transcribing mood the last couple of days, so after some gentle reminder emails I sit down and get pen to paper. Sorry. Fingers to keyboard. Whatsoever.

Before I even knew about mountain running, trail running or whatever you want to call it these days I knew about this competition leaving in the valley just outside Sierre and heading up to Zinal. This race is something exceptional. The history, the fallen favourites and the surprise winner’s just sum up how tough an unpredictable this course is.

Just after I found out that I would be staying in Europe I signed up. There is probably a so called “bucket list” somewhere deep in my head. Sierre-Zinal must have been extremely close at the top of this list.

Sun behind mountain. Always good for pictures.

Friday late afternoon I met up with Seb in Hamburg and the two of us headed down south. Hendrik came to Heilbronn and after a couple of hours of sleep later we headed down to the Valais region of Switzerland. Everything went smooth and race day came fast.

A star-struck Hendrik and I made our way down the scenic valley for the race start. As the buses scrambled through one switchback after another it seemed to me like the opening ceremony to a great day. We arrived just outside Sierre. I met Stephanie Howe. Last year we raced together in Ecuador. It was nice to meet her on the other side of this world. Not much talking as the two of us were already psyched for the start.

You want my number, baby?

The Dixie band just stopped and the race countdown started. Around the corner and up the road we go. The usual hectic sorts itself out after a couple of meters. The climbing is severe right from the start. If you have a closer look at the course profile as well as the very informative blog posts set up by Sage and Hendrik you will get the notion. This thing is sharp. The continuous switch between running and power hiking was tough for me. It is very hard to find some sort of a rhythm in the first part. I tried to switch off and get that fight mode on. Pretty early but necessary.

Evening sun on the mountain. Always good for pictures.

The first “flatter” and runnable part just put a smile into my face. A proper stride instead of small run-like steps feels good. The trails are pure joy and make you forget the soreness and the agony as you continue to go up and up.

I don’t want to bore you with an overly long post about the greatness of the course. I recommend you to check Doug Mayer’s Run the Alps website and read his piece about Sierre-Zinal. Everything he says is true. Spot-on.

I never really cramp. This course made me cramp. After approximately half way my calves got cluttered. As I got stronger and stronger the longer the race went my calf’s did not agree to my brain as I tried to run harder on the uphill’s. A really weird feeling, which I never had before. I drank. I ate lots of gels but I couldn’t get the two dudes to loosen up a bit. So I went on waiting for the downhill to come. And the downhill came. Unbelievable. Uniquely insane. I just shook my head in absolute disbelieve. After Canazei I thought I got my downhill running in check. This thing is another level, though.

Race Morning sun behind the mountain. Always good for pictures.

And there was asphalt. The last meters. It felt great. Relief and joy. I’m in Zinal. Just a couple of meters and I’m home. I check the watch. It looks alright. I knew that this race is going to be hard to a time goal was not really there. Less than 4 hours was the very loose goal. I got it with a 3:44.

As I sit down to get a massage I don’t know if I should be happy or not. This race is unique. This race has character. I was part of it. I ran well and that’s it for today. I’m happy and I know that I want to come back. Merci Sierre-Zinal!

Tune of the day: Cyril Hahn – Perfect Form (Henry Krinkle Remix)

Little hommage by myself for the hosting nation. (P: Seb Heinrich)

The word “picture-perfect” really hits the note. (P: Seb Heinrich)

Probably still the original signs from the first edition. (P: Seb Heinrich)

Back to back long runs on the weekend just reminded me that the most beautiful part of this world is just in front of the door.

I have a strong desire to explore new places but hovering around my neck of the woods continuously staggers me.

Tunes of the days: I was listening to heaps of good music over the weekend. Totally like the new Moderat album. To pick out one song is hard but I go for Bad Kingdom. Also a long forgotten classic popped up on my ipod. Ata Kak’s Daa Nyinaa is just so funky. Make sure to check the video. This is how you need to execute a proper soul train.

It is the first chance. 11k into this race I have the first glimpse of a chance. On top of the Piz Boè I’m sure that this is the finale of an incredible climb.

What started 1:45h ago in the little resort village of Canazei seems to be the end now. The entire vertical is over. I take as much coke as I can get. At 3.152 meters oxygen is rare. My mind doesn’t really need it at this time of the day. Way to cruel and steep has been the first part of this Dolomiti Skyrace.

Just a couple of hundred meters on asphalt through the town and then it was straight up. Up to the sky. As close as possible.

The course hits a ski slope. The climbing starts with proper ascending. Just a couple of minutes in the race the competition already spreads out. No real surprise with this topography. The slope does not wind. It is straight up. Not much of a twisting and turning. 1.900 meters of ascending need to be done somewhere I guess. Some people are standing along the course and shout. They have enough time to spot who’s passing them. The pace is already gradual. From the slopes we head over to some trails and up to the Passo Pordoi (2.239 m).

At the registration runners had the chance to drop poles. Since my early family holidays in south-tirol some centuries ago, I haven’t used a walking stick or poles. Scared by the youtube clips and images of the race I play it un-cool and leave some jogging-sticks with the organisers. I should have taken them straight from the start.

I grab my poles at Passo Pordoi and rush on. As I pass the Fausto-Coppi-Statue I feel driven. In terrain like this the poles are the help I really need at this point. Some Tifosis cheer us on. No one in this competition looks smooth and relaxed at this time. Unreal steepness marks the faces. I look up and what I see tells me to get the A-game out. Dig deep to go steep.

Left to right. The twists leading up to Forcella Pordoi Refuge (Picture: Flo Reichert)

There are certain points in competitions that outline them and give them a character. The twists up to Forcella Pordoi Refuge (2.829 m) certainly is what people in the running scene recognize. Small loose rocks, ice and snow are under my Brooks. Going up the turns you know why this course is famed for being durable and true skyrunning material.

In the last few days the snow hasn’t really melted. The summer heat of the valley did not made it up there. The organization did not have a choice. They digged a tunnel through the massive ice field. Flo already told me about the course. He checked it the day before. “Mind your head!” he said with a grin. As I hit my head in the middle of this tunnel I have to smile. Funny enough he had the same incident during his passing. The brain doesn’t certainly work to the fullest when you’re in “infight mode”.

No rocks and stones anymore. At least for a small bit. Running through snow after ascending for so long isn’t easy. Just when the running part is over the climbing part starts. Climbing in the actual sense of climbing is what you have to do here. Some ropes and just about some steps in a granite wall. Up that and on to the next. Welcome to the Dolomites. Welcome to skyracing Italian style. Prego!

Finally I stand on top of Piz Boè. The sea is just about 3,152 metres under myself.

I eat. I drink. There is no real need for me to rush at this stage. After two toilet stops with an upset stomach It took me way to long to arrive here. I look around. The Sella-Group is just too scenic, to impressive to be real. This mountain-range just defines the dolomites for me. What a view. What a day. The sky cleared of and gives me the chance to soak in the atmosphere. The raw beauty of the dolomites knows how to impress.

I head on. Straight down the mountain. Technical running at its best. Once I loose the fear of falling, I don’t fall anymore. Jumping down gaps. Running down ice fields and finally running over rocky trails to twisty single trails. What a fun downhill. I feel recovered and probably the first time in mountain running I understand how to run downhill effective and fast. I also feel that fear is the wrong ingredient for a fast downhill performance. I pass more and more runners. It feels good to let loose and lean forward. The overtaking certainly helps.

Just a bit later I arrive in back in Canazei. The last few meters on solid tarmac ground. The thighs feel incredibly bad. I don’t care. The finish line is crossed and I’m delighted. Delighted that I did not fall. Delighted that I run so well going down. Delighted by the experience.

It takes a very certain fitness to be good at races like this. The intensity of running such steep uphill’s is a special one. I haven’t figured out completely how to do it efficient and fast. I meet Florian and Tara at the finish line. We just shake the heads in disbelieve. Another great race. Totally fun. But now we need pizza. A lot of pizza.

Tune of the day: Roman Flügel – More & More & More

Noteworthy Interweb Links:
La videoclip
Ski-Alper Gallery
Photo Gallery & More & More
Runtramp – The Dance
Race Summary

Picture: Helmut Junkel

So I might as well race that thing.

With about 5 minutes drive from my current workplace there weren’t many arguments not to run that road 10k on Wednesday night.

Still tired from Dolomites Skyrace and the runs early in the week this was the best way to get a quality speed session in. I warmed up for 30 minutes and went straight to the start line.

As expected I had a tough one. The course didn’t do me any favour. It was a slow race with some climbing. When I passed the 5k sign I made a quick calculation in my head and found out that this was already my 50th kilometre for that week. Not bad. Overall a tough but worth run. Despite jogging 38 flat I won the age group. The winning time of a high 33 shows that the course was not a fast one.

A quick cool down in the evening heat and straight on to the great cake buffet. Wednesday night racing. You gotta love it.

Tune of the day: Jeru The Damaja – Ya Playin Yaself