Trans-alpine challenge by doc_s

How many mountains can you run without bending your knee? More than you'd think but sadly not enough. Unfortunately, this is not a bad joke, but it did spell the end of my trans-alps bid for this year- the medics pulled me on day 6 after the knee injury I'd been battling since day 2 worsened. I made it 205km, across 3 countries and more mountains than I care to remember, with about 9000m of ascent and descent.

I shall put a quick summary of what each day included here:

Day 1: 36.30km, 1223 m ascent, 1034m descent

Day 2: 33.2km, 1810m ascent, 1907m descent (it was here my knee injury became apparent)

Day 3: 46.9km, 2252m ascent, 2140m descent

Day 4: 43.9km, 1967m ascent, 1377m descent

Day 5: 29.4km, 1503m ascent, 2098m descent (this day was actually about 5km longer with a bit more climbing and descending due to a recent landslide)

Day 6: 39.7km, 1512m ascent, 1193m descent (it was about 15km into this day that the doctors stopped me and my race was over)

Day 7: 42.2km, 1963m ascent, 1990m descent

Day 8: 33.4km, 1269m ascent, 1123m descent

I won't write an in-depth report of every day, mainly because they have now blurred into one massive mountain in my memory, but suffice to say this was the most exhilarating, exhausting, painful, wonderful, exciting, hilarious and heart-breaking experience of my life. I will be back to complete this race in the future as the alps and I now have unfinished business. This is an extraodinary race, the organisation is second to none, the scenery is breathtaking, the cameraderie amongst the competitors is unrivalled, and the smells and sounds of 500 runners all sharing a gym hall for sleeping space is unforgettable (and not in a good way, at all!), although this was made up for by the hilarity caused by European men's penchant for tiny, tight pants!

I was pretty nervous on the start line on day 1, and couldn't even begin to comprehend how we were going to run across 3 countries but after the start gun went, I just had to get my head down and get on with it. There was nothing too technical in day 1 but I was quite concerned about our pace- were we going too fast and at risk of blowing up before the 8 days were up, or were we being too lazy and just trotting along without enough effort. I suspect in any multi-stage race this is always going to be a worry but after the first day we seemed to settle into a decent rhythm. The end of day 1 had a punishing 7km on the road, and althoughI'm more used to road than hill, even I found this quite a painful experience.

Day 2 was a much more 'typical' trans-alps day, starting with a steep climb to 1419m, followed by a sharp descent to 719m then climbing back to 1332m, and a further summit at 1736m and a final steep downhill to 755km. By this time I was starting to realise some of my assumptions were wrong. I always find it difficult not to be intimidated by other competitors at the start line, and let me tell you the European women are no exception to this- many of them have legs like tree trunks and make Fatima Whitbred look puny. However, this does not necessarily make you fast on hills, and whilst I was scared one of them might eat me for breakfast, I was quickly discovering that I could leave them for dead on a descent. This, my friends, I thought, could turn out to be a fun week. On the final descent on day 2 I started to feel that familiar rubbing sensation in my knee, but can honestly saw I was not overly concerned. At least until we crossed the finish line and within the hour my knee appeared to have seized completely.

I was extremely worried, and despite ice and NSAIDs, thought my race was over before it had even begun. I seemed unable to bend my knee, and although I'm no expert, this is a fairly vital function for getting off a hill. I phoned home for advice, and while I considered my options, all I could think about was the Lodging House Mission, the staff and other volunteers, the clients who visit every day, my colleagues, family and friends who had helped and supported me, and donated so much of their time and money to this cause. Right, I vowed, while there is still breath left in my body and any movement remaining in my knee, I am going to run on. And I did, for probably quite a lot longer than was sensible or necessary.

Day 3 was hell on earth, I discovered that although swelling around my kneecap made it difficult to bend my knee, I could run on the flat and uphill relatively pain-free if I kept my knee straight and swung my leg out and round from the hip. This works pretty well on flat roads, not so well on snowy mountain ridges, as my dragging leg caught on rocks or snow, again, and again, causing me to fall repeatedly. This was bad enough but descending was terrible, there is no way to get off a hill without bending your leg, trust me, I tried for 4 days. Deciding it hurt just as much going slowly as quickly, the strategy was to just grit my teeth and get down as fast as possible. This worked quite well for the first few days, although I did have a tendency to grunt, groan, and turn the air blue if i had a bad landing. Also quit bizarrely, I found I started to complain in a European accent, there were some decidedly Italian sounding oophs as I came down, I can't even descibe it to you, I have no idea what it was all about but i couldn't stop myself. It's amazing how quickly you can limp if you really set your mind to it, on day 3 we managed to come in 11th place, leaving us 10th overall in the mixed category. Despite the pain and tears, this really lifted my spirits as I thought we were much slower than this and I decided that it really was possible to continue. Day 3 and 4 are by far the longest days, and I felt that if I could complete those I really could finish the race.

Day 4 was a much better day for me, my knee seemed no better but also no worse. I could see the swelling was increasing but it wasn't any more painful and I felt much more energised. I ate a lot more as I bonked towards the end of the previous day, and this, combined with my renewed hopes of being able to finish, kept me going through the full day. I felt I was getting better at compensating for my knee and we finished 9th on day 4.

Day 5 had a lot of descent and I knew fairly quickly I was in trouble. It wasn't uncommon for me to have a bit of a crisis of confidence in the morning and it seemed to take a couple of hours for the knee pain to settle to a dull roar, during which time I'd be having an inner battle about whether I could continue. Eventually the painkillers seemed to kick in, and my strategy was to take another one 5 minutes before main decsents but on day 5 things really started to fall apart. It was the first day I felt pain continuously and as soon as we reached the first hill i was in tears. Crying and running at altitude is a fairly tricky skill, and not easily maintained! The frequent falling was starting to affect my nerves, as well as Brendan's, and I'm sure he was probably demented by my constant moans, groans, and not so quiet sobbing- this was not going according to plan. After we got over the finish line I just slumped into a deckchair in tears, and a first-aider got me an ice pack and gave me a good cuddle to comfort me a bit. I had to think hard about what to do- again I phoned home and asked others for their advice. Brendan made it clear he thought it was time for me to stop, and my knee was now swollen to about twice the size of the other one. I can see in hindsight withdrawing would have been sensible, but I am not a quitter, and I couldn't help but feel I'd be letting everyone down. So I decided to go on.

Day 6 was over pretty quickly for me, it started with a half-marathon on the road and it quickly became apparent that I could no longer run. I tried different techniques but my leg still hurt badly and I knew I couldn't finish. I decided to stop and waited by the roadside snivelling onto Brendan, for the arrival of the first-aiders. They told me I needed to walk to the first checkpoint but also helpfully suggested that they had seen me every day 'you are very brave, yes, and very tough. F*** the time, go slow and maybe you can do it'. This was the red rag to the proverbial bull and I leapt at this slim chance of being able to finish. Yes, I thought to myself, maybe I can limp or hop the next 3 days over the alps to the finish line, perhaps it can be done. Brendan was furious and I wobbled on for another few miles until I reached a crew member. Brendan had run on and asked the guy to get a medic to have a look at my knee, and that was it, game over. I knew they wouldn't let me continue, i knew I was being stupid and stubborn and I was right. I can tell you that getting the 3 blisters drained from underneath my toenails, was less painful than the decision to stop, but I knew there was no more I could do. A minibus full of other walking wounded came and picked me up and that was it, trans-alps over. I have no idea what the total drop-out rate was, but of the 76 mixed teams that started, only 46 finished and I am proud that despite injury we held 10th position at the end of day 5. I hope to return in the future, better, faster, stronger, and with two fully-functioning knees!

I formed a very attractive cheer-leading gang with some other wounded soldiers and we cheered the rest of the runners on for the next couple of days. Watching others finish was difficult, but I felt proud for them and any dissappointment I felt was washed away when I saw their faces as they crossed the line. And so the Simpson ministry of funny runs is now officially closed, i hope normal service shall be resumed shortly, although I suspect I have a long road of physio ahead to get me fixed again. I want to say a big thank you to everyone who helped and supported me through this, esp the sandyford staff for all their hard work with the fundraising, everyone at the LHM for keeping me going even when I wanted to give up, to tobias for telling me I was the fastest limper he'd ever seen, to the medics for their kindness and cuddles, to the other runners for sharing my laughter and my tears, to the crazy spaniard who always found time to stop and blow me a kiss, to Brendan for towing me uphill and supporting me when I crashed back down, to Matt for putting up with me and to all of you, for the advice, for listening and for sharing your stories too. I hope my next trans-alps dream will have a happier ending but I can thoroughly recommend this rcae, in my opinion there isn't one bettter.