Episode #1
This is the story of an Alpine Ultra Trail, and a return to myself. A desire to find time again: 35 hours of running in my own company, and 3 years of desire for a 175K that is said to be "beautiful, brutal, audacious." Believe me; I'm not here to suffer, transcend, or prove anything. The story is committed, but peaceful and observant.
The ultra Tour Monte Rosa attracts me, and here I am at the start this 02/09/21, 11000+, 175K and 35h outside, another story of numbers...but I suspend the rhythm. 4am, everything starts now, and it's at this moment that I activate the break. Private.
I'm going to extend the past months. I'm going to observe them, to see their transformation over the hours, when the first dawn comes. Tomorrow morning, where will I be: K110, 120, 150? In 4 hours, France's schools will be back in session. For the past 4 months, I've slowed down my frenzy and am training for an Ultra. The volume has thickened, my speeds slowed, and my mind has been working. Week after week, meditation and visualization have solidified my unknown.
Inner landscape, cemented and expanded universe, step by step. My diet has returned to its roots: seeing in time, seeing the base, the sustainable, the depth. As my concentration has grown, I have re-purified my diet towards its ketogenic foundation. Accustomed, but dilettante, and serenity has also grown: goodbye to sweets for 2 final months towards 100% keto. We'll see each other again, pastries. Holyfat has been with me for almost a year, and harmoniously blends flavor and sustainability. D-4 weeks, I'm getting used to consuming it in long/medium-long sessions. Incredible, fascinating journey to see the body respond, appreciate... and develop a non-enlightened zenitude. Sustainable: that seems to be the word. 4 hours, I'm off to find myself.
Episode #2
The hours tick by, and I relive the past weeks. The "preparation" and its rain, cold, and minor aches and pains; yet forgotten. Admittedly, a bad knee has been acting up since the K30 – an absolute first in my years as a base runner (rather than a long-distance runner). The joint increases by 5% every 20 km: precise, and worrying.
But is this the game of ultra, my good Suzette? In my opinion, no; but I'm preaching in hostile territory. Ultra running for painful hyper-transcendence, nothing to do, I can't do it. It will undoubtedly come. For the moment, the very present merges the past: I am a pass and my June bike ride. I marry a scree slope, or Orion on the Taschhörn; and my July "prep" trail. I pause, and look.
Oh, nothing long, but permission to watch. Light wind, sweet alpine chill: side pocket, lemon macadamia, and a midnight Tea-Time financier. My first British break at 2,800m, Holyfat on the water bottle, and the azimuth of the K120. It will still be dark there, but I'm planning a bar—same stamp, cocoa, salt, and MCT oil.
My legs are surprisingly spinning after 21 hours of walking. Three weeks ago, I started a final block of sessions on an empty stomach only. Guilty pleasure, I sometimes indulged in a bite of almonds...and a touch of agave - but at <60 to 70% max HR. I'm making Holyfat a system, now in action as well as in need of pleasure. Back to the sacredness of the pure moment, I have to set off again; it will have only taken 45''.
The Saas-Fee valley is sleeping, the best hours are opening; no pain, oh yes, knee. Since 9 p.m., I haven't suffered a drop in energy, and God knows if the sun was nasty from Zermatt to Zermatt (K37-K61), on asphalt (K61-K85), or on the way back up to Törbel (K98). Digestion is purring, literally. I must be lucky – that's all I can see. Slow movement but sustainable movement, steady and settled pace: a strange analysis of ME in motion. Not stopping when you're on such a good path.
Episode #3
And then, everything breaks. Suddenly, abandonment looms: knee on alert, pleasure at a loss, suffering from the handicap. Physically hindered, stuck in desire and the sadness that invites itself. I knew I was fragile at the K100s of the ultra world, here I am, a victim of myself at the K130. What is the food of pleasure then? How can we find a taste for life again? Ridiculous drama of the athlete! " We chose to be here. No? So let's run happy! "
Darcy Piceu, US ultra legend, knows all about it. So quickly, find a flavor or a placebo, by opening your relief bag: and above all, above all, immediately get back to your routine. Change from head to toe – clean underwear, an altar shining to Your Glory. Find yourself ready to go again, and pull the pin on a snack or bar. Because no, noodles trigger the fatwa. Happy humility from the worst "hot meal" of an entire life. Since then, a plaque has been discovered: "Here lie the most disgusting farfalle in Switzerland. May their souls rest in peace, it all started with good intentions."
And everything... got back on track. This is how the story of a Monte Rosa could have ended. Day broke, and despite 12 snacks and Holyfat bars, my liver isn't dancing a jig. It's completely square. With 15 days to go, I increased my omega-3 intake a little, going for avocados and other fatty fish, but without forcing nausea. Coffee or Bullet Proof green tea slung over my shoulder, the memory of these delights still follows me to the souvenir breaks: it's 2 p.m. I glimpse the final steep slope, and realize that in the last 5 hours, I've just accelerated like never before. Miraculously? An inner eucharist with a sense of zen, which I've never suspected. I'm arriving, soon.
