Today I decided a good training run would be from my house in Oberhasli up to Regensberg Castle. Regensberg is a hilltop settlement about 7k away from where I live and includes an incline of around 200  meters. This would help me not only with the whole "running" thing, but also the whole "running up a mountain" thing, which constitutes a large part of the Jungfrau Marathon.

View of Regensberg from Oberhasli

Needless to say, I had quite a journey ahead of me. Plus, it was the hottest day of the year so far. So with my trusty sidekick following me on bike with plenty of water, I headed off.

It wasn't so bad, until The Hill...dear Lord - The Hill.

Aaaaaand recover...

Aaand more hill...

Aaaand more hill...

Aaaand yet more hill...

As I made my way up to the summit of Regensberg, I noticed there were a lot more people around than I was expecting. Turns out I decided to run to Regensberg on the day of their Sommerfest. The area was teaming with tourists and locals, all out to enjoy the sunshine and BBQ'd bratwurst. And then here I come, trotting up the hill, a red-faced, wheezing, sweaty mass of determination in a Room to Read hat.

After running uphill for an hour in 30 degree weather (86 degrees Fahrenheit), public decency was the last thing on my mind. As soon as I reached Regensberg Fountain, without a hesitation, I just dunked my entire upper body in. I don't think the locals or tourists appreciated it, particularly the Hungarian couple who were posing for a picture next to the fountain as I barreled my way in, dunking myself head first up to my torso. But it was so hot. Needs must.

Regensberg Fountain, much more picturesque without me in it

The best part of running up a giant hill, however, is once you get to the top, you get to run back down.

If the marathon was downhill, I'd probably be pretty awesome.

On second thought, perhaps not.

It's All Fun and Games, Until Someone Gets Gangrene

After the rest of the Yak Pack headed back to civilization I decided it was time to settle the unfinished business between Jungfrau and myself. So refilling my water bottle, packing some extra gels and throwing on my headphones, I headed back out for a second adventure.

About 4k into this second run, as per my usual luck, the heaven's opened up and poured down upon me.

RAIN FAIL.

Despite the inclement weather, this run felt a lot easier than the first. Instead of having to stop and catch my breath every couple hundred meters, I was stopping to take in the views and snap some photos. I was feeling fresh and genuinely enjoying what felt more like a jaunt than a mission.  I put this down to going at my own pace, rather than trying to keep up with other people. This is something I'll definitely need to work on by the 14th of September.

Once again I exited the woods and was greeted with a pretty amazing sight:

BOOM!

After 1.5 hours of running, I had reached the moraine - the rocky, slippery trail made out of glacial debris. On the previous day's run, when we reached the top of the moraine we hung a left to bypass the climb across Kleine Scheidegg because of the snow. But, being stubborn, an amateur, and a bit stupid, I decided I would do the whole course, snow or no snow - "to adequately prepare" - I told myself. It didn't look all that bad:

What snow??

I just had to run along to the right side of that little peak there, turn left around it and head down to the finish line. No big, right?

WRONG.

First I made it across the peak, which turned out to have a massive gully filled with snow on the other side, requiring me to crawl along the snow using my hands and feet more than I would have liked half way through a 24k run.  But once I made it around the peak, it should flatten out, right?

WRONG.

Turns out, just beyond that peak is a very precarious and narrow ridge:

Slip towards the left, and you're rolling down a massive hill into a snowbank. Slip towards the right, and you're falling down a bottomless crevasse (yeah, I just said "crevasse"!!), never to be seen again.

NO BIG.

But despite the mountain's best attempts, I survived the ridge, only to turn another corner for precariously narrow ridge number two:

GOOD.

The finish line is just at the other side of this peak, so I can't be too far. How hard could it be?

HARD.

As just beyond this ridge I had yet another surprise waiting for me.

SNOW:

LOTS OF SNOW:

This is where I started to kinda freak out a bit. Here's why:

1. No one knew where I was
2. I had no phone to call for help
3. It was getting dark
4. It was flippen freezing
5. No one knew where I was!

My mind started playing images from the 1993 film Alive, about the rugby team whose plane crashed into the Andes and they survived 72 days in the mountains...

But then my common sense kicked in and I realized the finish line was only a few kilometers away, I needed to man up and just get on with it. So off I went, walking as if I was wearing stilts as each step broke through waist-deep snow.

The tracks of my tears.

Eventually, I made it through the snow and on to relatively solid ground - it was more like mud - but still, not snow. Winning.

With the finish line in sight, I ran up a muddy path, across a train line and eventually made it to the finish line 3 hours after leaving the comfort of my warm, dry hotel room. RESULT!

But the mountain had one last surprise in store for me. As it was a Sunday, and around 7pm, all the trains back down had stopped. So my only option after the conquest was to turn around and run back down the mountain, in the hopes that I make it to civilization before the sun set. The run down took a lot less time as I let gravity do all the work. Luckily, I made it back to the hotel in just under 2 hours and just in time to grab some protein-rich dinner before the kitchen closed.

Unluckily for me, my hotel had a "sense of humor", and made me wear a bib for the whole meal. I told them politely that I didn't need it, but they insisted, for reasons only people fluent in Bernese Oberland Swiss German can understand. In the end I was too exhausted to fight back and exchanged a bit of dignity for a hot meal.

"BUT I DON'T WANNA WEAR THE BIB!!!"

Training: Day 2

For day 2 of the Marathon Training Camp we ran part of the first half of the marathon. Early in the morning we boarded the train to Lauterbrunnen, a picturesque little village in the valley below Wengen.  As we exited the train station, we were faced with the harsh reality of the crime pandemic ravaging this part of Switzerland:

Tragic. 

The run around Lauterbrunnen is essentially flat and entirely on asphalt, but it still posed a problem for me as I struggled to keep up with the rest of the group. I still try to keep up with everyone else instead of running at my own pace - another skill I'll need to work on between now and the 14th of September.

Lauterbrunnen

After about 5k, we came to The Wall. The Wall is a point at the 26 kilometer mark where you go from flat to what is essentially a 45 degree incline within one step. Visually, it's represented by this lovely and informative graph:

  The Wall starts HERE ↑

To the untrained eye (ie. mine), The Wall looks relatively benign, and almost playful with its squiggly lines and Crayola colors on the Jungfrau course map:

Awwww adorable!

But in reality, The Wall is a monster from the bowels of hell. It was immediate. It was steep. Really steep. And it was long. Like, really really long.

The reality of The Wall

The Wall climbs for just over 2 kilometers, switchbacking up the mountain towards Wengen at a very steep incline. We passed numerous hikers headed on their way down who looked like they were struggling not to topple over as much as we were struggling to hoist ourselves up. Luckily, this is where my rugby-player-esque legs come in handy - they may not be able to run long distances very well, but they are pretty good at hoisting my bulky frame up these kinds of inclines. I actually really enjoyed the fast paced hike up this hill more than the flat asphalt run through Lauterbrunnen. And getting to the top made it aaaaaall worthwhile:

Top of The Wall

Like Moses parting the Red Sea, the dense cloud cover parted right down the middle of the surrounding mountains, revealing the village of Lauterbrunnen far below. Now only was it an incredible sight to behold, but it was just as amazing, if not more, to realize that I had just run/ hiked/ walked from there to here.  This gave me the energy I needed to carry on, sporadically turning my quick walk into a slow jog as I climbed closer and closer to Wengen.

"I ran from THERE!?"

At one point a fellow member of the Yak Pack, Craig, who had been running up The Wall - yes that's right, running, had come back down check on the rest of the group. Feeling the love, we ran together towards the "house with red shutters" landmark. Yak Pack organizer Tom said that once we found the "house with red shutters" as we approached Wengen, that's when we should really start running. Not because it was a downhill recovery, not in order to make up time, not in order to maximize our energy usage - but for a far more important reason: "It's where loads of spectators are", Tom advised. And it's true. No runner, no matter how novice, wants to be walking past spectators cheering you on. So together Craig and I picked up our pace at the red shutters, through Dorfstrasse and stopped at the Yak Pack meeting point in the center of Wengen.

This marked the end of the day for the Yak Pack Marathon Training Camp and most people got ready to return home. But I still had a few more adventures in store (due more to me accidentally booking the hotel for an extra nonrefundable night than any desire for additional training).

Training: Day 1

Bright and early, I wake to meet the rest of the Yak Pack attending Marathon Training Camp. There are 10 of us all together at the training camp, out of 26 who are running the Jungfrau Marathon for Room to Read.

We also had the privilege of having Swiss long-distance two-time Olympian Daria Nauer on hand to help out and give us some useful advice about the marathon. Daria represented Switzerland at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics (10,000 m) and the marathon in Sydney in 2000. She has also competed in the Jungfrau Marathon with top 10 finishes. Plus, and this is a big one, she's my friend on Facebook. So yeah, she knows a thing or two.

Daria sharing her wisdom with the Yak Pack

For today's training we would run the final leg of the Jungfrau Marathon from Wengen to the finish line at Kleine Scheidegg, covering a distance of 24 kilometers round trip and an elevation of around 830 kilometers:

Training Day 1: Wengen to Kleine Scheidegg

We left Wengen and headed up towards Allemend. At the top of the hill we came across a ski lift - realizing I had just run up a mountain that, in inclement weather requires a ski lift, gave me a slight sense of accomplishment. Little did I know this was only the beginning...

Once I hit the 1600 meters mark, I began to have some trouble breathing. Like, a lot. My throat burned and it felt as though I was breathing through a cocktail straw. Suddenly, my breaths didn't seem to register with the rest of my body, making it harder and harder for me to recover. "This must be my body reacting to the change in altitude", I thought. Finally, a coughing fit made me stop dead in my tracks as the rest of the Yak Pack carried on, out of sight. I began walking in an attempt to get my breath back.  That's when I turned a corner and came across something that only contributed to my breathlessness:

Not a bad place to collapse

Comin' atcha like Cleopatra

This path carried on for a while, gradually climbing higher and higher until we reached the moraine: a small, rocky, dangerous path. Initially, it's hard to imagine that this is actually part of the marathon, but, according to the Jungfrau Marathon website, it is the highlight where "every runner's pulse beats as high as possible":

Once we reached the top, we stopped for another meeting and to start adding the layers:

Because the rest of the course was covered in deep snow, we opted to head an alternate route towards the finish line. Although this route had "less snow", it still proved to be pretty substantial, and, well, slippery, as I discovered:

"We have a yak down!"

But we all made it up and back in relatively one piece:

"Jungfrau, WE WALKED ON YOUR FACE!"

Enchanté, Jungfrau

After 3 hours and 5 transfers I finally arrived at the site of the Yak Pack Marathon Camp, Wengen. At 1274 meters high, Wengen marks the 30.5 kilometer mark, 11.5 kilometers from the finish line.

I think the journey was picturesque, but I'm not too sure, which leads me to another tip: if you ever see me on a train, be sure you sit in the complete opposite side of where I am, as I have an uncanny ability to always sit on the wrong side of the train to appreciate beautiful views:

Exhibit A: My view of Interlaken

Exhibit B: My view of the ascent to Wengen

I arrived at the Bernerhof Hotel (which, with a massive wooden cow on the roof, couldn't have been more perfect), and acclimated myself to my Marathon Training HQ:

Cosy. Cheap.

But there wasn't too much time to enjoy all this magnificent room had to offer, as I had a village (and a beer) to familiarize myself with! I met up with Tom Monroe, the organizer of the Yak Pack Training Camp and one of those weirdos who loves running ridiculously long ultra marathons, and over a pint of the local beer we discussed plans for the weekend, details about the marathon itself, and tweeted taunting pictures to Room to Read founder John Wood.

And by nightfall I was properly introduced to the beautiful lady herself:

Enchanté, Jungfrau

All My Bags Are Packed, I'm Ready to Go

Checklist before leaving for the Yak Pack Marathon Training Camp at Jungfrau this weekend:

1. Running shirts - CHECK
2. SPANDEX! - CHECK
3. Socks - CHECK
4. Running shoes (very important) - CHECK
5. Plentiful bounty of PowerBars, gels and recovery drinks - CHECK
6. Running pack - CHECK
7. Yoga mat for that all important morning stretch - CHECK

Two half marathons in two days on a snow-covered mountain...

Let's do this.

I'm Moving to Transa

In the 2000 film, Where the Heart Is, Natalie Portman plays a pregnant 17-year old who lives in Walmart after being abandoned by her boyfriend.

I want to do that, only instead of Walmart, I want to live in Transa.

Transa is a Swiss outdoor sport and travel store that is my equivalent to Disneyland.

I would sleep in the super modern, über comfortable tents with suspended hammock sleeping.
I would eat their bounty of PowerBars and trail mixes.
I would drink from their state of the art hydration packs.
I would use their disposable and hygienic camping toilets.
I would learn German by reading their library of travel and trail running books.
I would stay in shape by riding their bikes and using the indoor climbing wall (yes indoor climbing wall!).
I would stay warm in their trendiest North Face and Mammut fleeces.

I have clearly put a lot of thought into this and, given its behemouth size, no one would ever find me.

Transa, Ich ha di gèèrn.

Painful Flashback

In William Shakespeare's play Julius Caeser, Caeser is warned by a soothsayer to "beware the Ides of March", prophesizing Caeser's assassination and the downfall of the Roman Empire.

That phrase could have also applied to me earlier this year.

On the Ides of March 2013, after a night on the town with my friends, as usual I was running late for my night train home. As I approached the train at full pelt, I suddenly felt what I thought was someone kicking an empty beer bottle into the back of my leg. I turned around to see that no one was there, and there was no bottle or other projectile at my feet. My next step would quickly, and painfully, reveal what had just happened. I felt a pain shoot up from my calf to my hamstring and collapsed on the ground, hardly able to move. Luckily, someone held the train doors for me and I winced my way onto the double-decker and slowly lowered myself down into a seat sandwiched between two drunks.  My walk home from the train station that night included an excruciating 45  (usually 20) minute walk (if you can call it "walking") home where I shuffled along, shrieking as every step sent a shock up my leg.

Deep down I know what happened, but I didn't want for it to be true, so I didn't look at my leg until the next morning.

I don't think it's supposed to be that color...

Yup, I had torn my calf muscle. Not during a super-endurance mountain challenge, not during some crazy crossfit exercise that had me running with barbells through fields. Nope. I had a few gin and tonics, a boogy on the d-floor to some inexplicable German hip-hop and was running for the train home. And POP goes the calf muscle. Being new to Switzerland (and completely broke), I still hadn't sorted out medical insurance, so I had to self-diagnose with help from the internet and friends who studied physical therapy at uni. Luckily, I brought my old crutches from the UK and had an ace-bandage in our First Aid kit. I was down and out for about 2 weeks unable to move or leave the house, and in a lot of pain. Like, A LOT of pain.

Since this episode, I have made it my daily routine to do a few minutes of yoga every morning. Nothing wild or too crazy, just 10-15 minutes doing the sun salutation - a bit of 'downward dog' is a miracle worker for the calves and hamstrings. No matter how lazy or tired I feel, I remember this image and the pain in my calf and I make sure to stretch those badboys really well. The last thing I need is to have another "pop" while out on a run in the middle of the woods where no one knows where I am!

Even without having been injured like this, I would highly recommend doing a bit of yoga in the morning - it only has to take a couple of minutes, and it really gets the blood circulating and wakes you up better than any coffee or, dare I say it, Red Bull, ever could - give it a shot!!

Sun salutation - image courtesy of www.innerpath.com

To Russia, With Love...

Sooooo... according to my blogger audience stats, my second highest pageviewing country after Switzerland (which, let's face it, is blatantly me) is.....

RUSSIA.

So, to all the Russians out there:

Я люблю вас

Running in Rain: More Fun Than The Title Suggests

Today's training had me doing a 90 minute run at my own pace. At this stage in my training, I actually enjoy these kinds of runs and I was looking forward to it - that is until I stepped outside to see that the miserable Swiss weather did not feel like letting me have two enjoyable long runs in one week. It was absolutely chucking it down.

Oh well, nothing I can do about that. I can't exactly ask the marathon to be rescheduled on account of rain, so better get used to it.

And it was awesome!

There is something about train running in the Swiss woods in the pouring rain that makes you not want to listen to your headphones and just enjoy nature's soundtrack instead. The deeper I got into the woods, the louder the rain got, but less of it fell on me as I was being protected by a thickening canopy of branches and leaves overhead. I took turns and trails I've never been on, passing row after row of neatly and orderly planted pine trees, trying my best to avoid puddles and just enjoying the act of running, which for me is a first.

It's going to be a good day.

Not the worst place to train

The perils of trail running - this trail was completely flooded out. Time to find a detour!
(Apologies for the blurriness, camera was all steamed up)