27 Miles for My 27th Birthday
/I am not exactly sure how I want to tell this adventure. On the one hand I want to do it real campfire style (which I am fond of) with accentuated details and on the other I want to tell it just based on the numbers. I think the latter is because I just finished reading The Wealth and Poverty of Nations (For the first time after about 5 attempts, Sorry Dr. Brooke if you’re reading this). So, I have decided I will tell it both ways, but in the first I will “try” not to use any numbers and in the second “try” to use only numbers. It will be an interesting way to look at the same story from different perspectives but also as the audience you will appreciate certain perspectives more than others. If you get the chance, please do, comment on my FB page, the Running With Josh FB page or the blog on which perspective you liked most and why!
The Omens
If you have read some of my firsts posts since I have been traveling you will understand the importance that the themes in the book The Alchemist have meant to me during my trip. One of the main themes is “omens” (don’t read more into that than what it is). The book focuses on the universe speaking to each person, the person just has to learn to listen to these omens. I have tried to do that my entire trip, although the focus has waxed and waned. However, and I talk about this a little in my last post, this story is definitely one that had to do with some omens. First, I took a bla bla car from Figueres, Spain to Grenoble, France; this is my no means a short journey. I meet the driver, Abdel he is important to the story, and his girlfriend at the train station and we begin our journey. From meeting people around the world I have discovered that there are a few things that say the most about a person before you ever hear them speak; In my opinion it is their shoes and their accessories (piercings, bracelets, watches, scarf, hat, etc). Upon looking at Abdel before he even said anything I knew he was a runner (if you think CrossFit is cultish you have never been to your local running group). I felt like I was in Fight Club and I knew he was too because of the scar on his hand, but instead of a scar it was his watch and shoes. I’ve learned though not to jump straight in to the conversation you want to have because it can fizzle out or not develop fully if you haven’t warmed a person up, so I thought I would save it for a lull in the conversation later. Well finally after an hour or so the conversation settles and we kind of relax and he does that thing when you’re driving for a long time and you reengage your focus where you grip the wheel at 10 and 2 and straighten your arms and back momentarily (cross culture body language). I thought, now is the time. So I ask about his watch and if he runs. Boom, we hit it off (drink the Kool-aid people). If that isn’t an omen enough just wait.
He starts telling me about the running club in Grenoble that he is part of, later found out that he was kind of the founding member and current leader (just wait there’s more). He then goes on to say that at the end of the month there is a huge race that takes place across the mountain ranges of the city. This got me super hyped, so I took note of everything to look up at a later time. If you read the last post that pretty much sums up all the build up to the Thursday before the race when I was dead to the world.
Disclaimer
So, the stuff that happened since so many of you gave me your advice. Which I want to take a second, thank you very much. The feedback was brilliant. The best advice came from many of you which was “listen to your body.” As an athlete and coach I think I have become well tuned in to the way my body feels and what it means I need. I would not have ran that race if I was not certain I would finish it. Nothing was set in stone until Sunday morning, this gave me ample time to listen to my body but also the Universe. When I left to go to the city Saturday afternoon I was feeling reinvigorated and after destroying some Dominos Pizza I felt near divine. But again, thank you for your concern, and know it was not a foolish decision but one based on pushing my body’s limits day in and day out for almost 6 years now.
Getting There
Back to the story, Saturday after working I biked in to the city to save $$$ and to have transportation to the race, more on that later. I talked to my hosts about biking and they were like yeah it is pretty far but its basically all downhill. I was like yeah yeah, heard that before… It was literally all downhill, I could have not peddled the entire way and made it to the city limits. Is that the “Josh Moore Way” though? NO. So I continually tried to see how fast I could go downhill (it was beautiful, one of the things that helped me feel reinvigorated I’m sure). I get to the city and immediately have a checklist of things to do, I had to get all the supplies I would need for the race food, water, electrolytes, a bag, a hat, sunscreen, etc. Then I had to find my Airbnb, check in (which was an ordeal in itself, the language barrier was strong with that), begin hydrating, roast some almonds and sunflower seeds. In the midst of all this biking around through the city of over half a million, getting stuff from here and there, I am trying to figure out how the bike lanes work because sometimes they just end or they go with traffic then against so I am totally lost, I hear “JOSHUA.” In an instant I thought to myself not many people here have that name, I only know one person in the entire city, and I hope that is for me. So I turn my bike around and sure enough it was Abdel and his girlfriend. It was at this moment that I was entirely sure I was in the right place. I mean I crossed in front of another street that they just so happen to be walking towards the street I was riding on. It was only a few seconds of a window for them to see me. Then also to recognize me (Its a statistical anomaly). I stop and chat with him, he gives me a few last minute pieces of advice and I ask him some questions I had been melting over all day. One of the biggest things was that I only brought one bag into the city (with my clothes for the race) but I just bought another bag (for the race, it has a camelback) so now I had more than one bag but I did not want to carry more than one bag over the course of the race. So I asked if there was anyway he knew someone who could bring me my bag to the finish for me? He said yes of course. BOOM! The Universe was conspiring to help me.
The goodies
Pizza Time
So it is finally 9pm and I have hammered out all my errands and plotted the logistics for the next day, and it was time to reward myself with some good ole pizza (if you don’t know that this is my favorite food, you don’t know me). I make a B line straight to Dominos, full disclosure the pizza wasn’t as good as an American Dominos but still exactly what I needed, because the place I have been staying at is borderline vegetarian, I’ll talk more about that in a later post. I ate two slices on the spot, saved the rest for when I got back. I hopped into bed and drifted off into sleepy town.
And We're OFF
BONK BONK BONK BONK BONK!!!!!!! My alarm blares at 5:20, I remember leaning up scanning the room and doing a deep sigh then throwing the sheets and started getting after it. On race days I try to do a big meal before the race (longer races only half marathon +) so I smashed some calories, gathered all my things and headed off into the wee hours of morning with a head lamp and a bike. The roads were near empty on my ride to a small village just outside the city. Being from Mississippi, when I ride my bike places the distance is the only indicator of how long it will take me to get somewhere, foolish…. I was not in Mississippi anymore and the ride to the village was entirely uphill, I realized just how uphill the next day when I retrieved the bike. A short ride that gave me time to settle in and find Abdel turned into a crunch to get there in time, I was working some hills. I arrive, with minutes before the start of the race, lock my bike to the tree and begin searching for Abdel. I’m standing on the edge just scanning the participants, to no avail, then I hear that sweet sweet Moroccan voice, “Joshua!” My heart fluttered, I ran to him, he pointed me to his girlfriend so I could give her my bag. I wasn’t able to find her, then boom the race starts. Seeing how I wasn’t “technically” signed up for the race I didn’t want to jump into the front with Abdel, but also I did not want to be stuck in the rear, so I hopped in around the second half, several hundred had already passed me. While I meshed into the participants I began scanning the crowd for his girlfriend, lucking a short ways up I found her. I handed her the key to the lock which I had tied my bike and bag to and asked if she could bring my bag to the finish, she obliged (LIFE SAVER, thank you Caren). From the start of race until a long time later it was entirely up hill (not basically, I mean entirely). I was able to jockey for position for the first bit but we quickly went from roads to fields, to trails, to a single track that snaked up the mountain, and once you were on the single track there would be maybe one opportunity to pass each mile, and even then you would only pass a few people so not really any point to kill yourself to pass. However, people did it regardless and then I would stare a hole in the back of their head because they almost killed the both of us, for what? to be get passed by me again once we got off the trail, yeah thats for what. This scenario’s danger was heightened by the ground which was covered in large stones (no seriously, there were large sections that you were only walking on stones) added to the fact that on one side was a mountain wall and the other a cliff that you could see the hundreds and hundreds of other people behind you. If one stone fell it could kill someone, which, many stones fell over the course of the race, I do not know the word they yell, but I know when they yell or you hear a whistle to cover your head and be alert. OH, I almost forgot the other thing, everyone has these walking sticks that are basically like ski poles (I don’t know the word) and they are just swinging em around and it causes them to take up much more room than there is to give on the narrow road winding up, which again makes passing even more impossible. However, I eventually got around the group that was holding everyone up. I made some aggressive strides to put distance in between me and anyone behind me, just so I could have the peace of mind of not being impaled in my ankle by a walking stick.
The view from the bottom
Settling In
I fell into a small group that was moving nicely and so I decided to stick with them, we climbed into the clouds (honestly I have the pics to prove it). Then in a fell swoop (and it was so beautiful, if it wasn’t so fun to run down I would have stopped to take it in) we emerged from the clouds onto a grassy field high in the mountains, the clouds were skimming across the grass like rocks on the water. You couldn’t see me that 50 feet in front of you, but you could heart the commotion of everyone experiencing the same awe and rush of running downhill in such a wonderful scene. After that we did a little climbing before the first aid station. It was at this moment I was going to see how strict their enforcement was on me being allowed to get water or food. Turns out, pretty strict. I managed to get someone to hand me a bottle of water and I refilled by pack and chugged the rest. I made haste while I could, the ground was layered with dirt and the incline was not very steep. Things quickly changed, I arrived at the trail to summit the highest mountain in the Chartreuse range. This trail was entirely rock, not just any rock, jagged rock that was loose. It is a wonder a rockslide didn’t happen that day. So imagine that context but it gets worse. Not only was the environment already a perfect hazard, they decided to have two lanes of traffic on a single track trail, one lane going up and one lane going down. Now, I don’t know if you know anything about gravity, but the way it works is that it is much easier (and faster) going down than up. Now imagine one lane of people trekking along with their poles and sluggish pace then going in the opposite direction are people sprinting downhill (often uncontrollably), oh and don’t forget the sharp, jagged, loose rocks. I told myself it would be wiser to take that part slow because it wasn’t worth it twisting an ankle.
Chamechaude
I want to describe what the top looked like, but words don’t do it justice so just look at the pics and watch the video, INSANE! I stayed up there for probably 10-15 minutes, I did a little stretch, I thanked God for an amazing view, I shed a few tears (a lot). Then I began making my way downhill, I started at a slow shuffle watching my step as I went, then a fast paced walk, then more of a trot, then a healthy jog, right into a 5k running pace, eventually I was sprinting and I had no clue. I was just following the guy in front of me, looking at his heels, listening to his commands. It is strange how much coordination you can muster up in a situation like that. Every step has to be precise, balance perfect, right down to the angle in which you land, and you have fractions of a second to do this. This is the opposite of overthinking. Go run down hill full speed on rocks, I guarantee you won’t think a bit, you just DO. The next long bit is really kind of a blur of long downhills and long uphills. I think we did a few more summits after that one, but none were even close to as severe.
The picture above this one was taken where the white circle is...
Hitting the Wall
The aid stations came and went, I didn’t even bother to try and get water. The uphills were hellacious but I never let anyone pass me. From the beginning of the race until the end no one who passed me stayed pass me. The only area I was significantly weaker was the downhills. My ankles and quads couldn’t handle the impact. I remember running for what felt like an hour downhill. I didn’t realize a person could be so annoyed at the sound their own feet made when they hit the ground. I wanted to cut them off… When we hit flat surface, which we did only a handful of times, people couldn’t touch me. They were still on that trotting pace, and I felt almost compelled to open up my stride to at least get down towards marathon pace. I blew past the competition, passing dozens at a time and even more when I’d skip the aid stations. We came out onto another summit that was insanely beautiful (see pic), but I didn’t stay for long, I was ready to be done, I was hitting the wall.
Almost There, Almost There
After the last aid station I knew I was skimp on water. I was down to my last few gulps, with no clue how far to go. Then I saw a sign and knew I was in the last hour of the race, I can make it come on. The uphill was fine, but then it turned into over a mile sprint downhill. My quads were burning, my ankles already weak, I stopped for a moment to stretch because I could feel my muscles on the brink of locking up, and when that happens its over. Thats when a french guy asked if I was okay. We had a little convo, he encouraged me super hard, and ran with me for the entire downhill. Then we came out onto the city streets, time to turn the jets on. I knew it was not far between me and the finish, I just had to go for it. My lips began tingling (super dehydration), my legs were on the verge of seizing, I was redlining (going past my limit) hard! The course ran through alleyways of the city lined with cafes and restaurants, a myriad of people sitting outside. By this point they had probably seen plenty of runners and the encouragement was fading, so I made some hand gestures and rallied an applause of “Bravo, Bravo, Bravo.” It was all I needed to make it to the finish. At the finish I burst into the athletes area (again only for runners and I did not register), I just needed water. Dear god get me some water!!! At the moment I stopped running I was immediately aware of how sore I was. Until that point it felt like it was mainly dehydration, but when I stopped I could barely walk. I was dead.
DONE
I indulged in some oranges and water and maybe a coffee or two (I’m an addict, I know) until Abdel arrived. Once he arrived he showed me they were handing out ravioli and other goodies. Then we hung out with his friends at the race until everyone finished, and a few even received awards. After the race we went for some celebratory drinks. I learned more about his running club and some of the dynamics of the group. It was refreshing to see that runners no matter where you are from have a lot in common. They were hilarious, welcoming, and more than helpful. They invited me to dinner as well (we smashed some burgers) so that I didn’t have to eat by myself while I waited on my couch surfing host. So, HUGE shout out to the Courir a Grenoble, they are incredible athletes and the exact type of runners you want to meet in a foreign city. Lastly, they helped me find a bus that would take me back to Saint Nazaire, the village where the race started. Because I had to retrieve that bike I mentioned earlier. Eh, but that was a problem for another day. Well, actually it would be a problem for the next day. I got the bike, biked all the way back to the city, got a pizza to go, and caught the next train back to my host village. I arrived, took a serious nap and woke up with my legs feeling like led pipes. All in all, it was a heck of an adventure, one with amazing views, tough times, awesome people, and full of rewards.
Now for the story by the numbers
- Hours slept the night before 6
- Miles biked to the start of the race 9
- Elevation gained on that bike ride 300 meters (almost 1000 ft)
- Minutes before the race started once I arrived 6
- Elevation gained in the first 5 miles 1100 meters (over 3600 ft)
- Liters of water drank 2
- Gels consumed (double doses) 2
- Miles running like bananas were my walking sticks 1.4
- Gummies eaten 5
- Fistfuls of almonds, sunflower seeds, and salami (Special trailmix) thrown back 13
- Miles ran 26.25 (I am just going to go ahead and say 27 because of all the other factors)
- Feet of altitude gained throughout the race 9,300ft
- Feet of altitude lost throughout the race 10,000+
- Roughly 1,000 floors of climbing that is climbing the Empire State building roughly 8 times
- Ankles rolled 3 (one twice)
- Powerades chugged 1
- Times I said “Pardon” or “Merci” between 82 and 12,000,000
- Views that actually took my breath away 3
- Hills that took my breath away 3
- Chocolate croissants stuffed in my mouth 5
- Melted snickers walled almost whole 4
- About of times I laughed after I threw my banana peels down and imagined someone slipping on them, countless
- Keys to my bike lock lost 1
- Keys that came with my bike lock 2
- Total time of the race 7 hours 21 minutes 33 seconds
- Regrats, ZERO, not even a single letter…
With all that said, the race was really tough on my running shoes, and I only brought them and a pair of boots. SO... with my birthday coming up, if you want to help contribute to get daddy a new pair of shoes check me out on Venmo or PayPal just search for Moorejoshua007@gmail.com
Thanks everyone for the support!
Look forward to next time,
Josh Moore