Indomitable Planet
Preface #
There are times when you tend to think that nature turns against you. Whether you are planning to go out for a dinner or run a
half-marathon along the greatest glacier of the Alps, it’s free to gather clouds, fetch some fog and split rain on your head
extensively. The thing is, it doesn’t really care about your plans. Just remember, to see a little rainbow you always need a little rain.
Startline #
I’m standing at the start line of the Aletsch half marathon, known for its 1000m of altitude gain and scenic views of the greatest glacier in Europe, the
Aletsch glacier. There won’t be any scenic views today, it is raining and mountains are
covered in fog. There won’t be any half-marathon either. The rain watered the trails and turned them into mud. To run the
whole course is too dangerous so we do only 13.3k with 500m altitude gain. Whoever ran something reckless knows, where ones
mind wanders at this point. I am in the crowd and I think about the crowd. I am part of the crowd.
“These guys around me. Mountaineers. I heard of them. Lean runners, dark brown beards covering 80% of their faces. The rest
has fine tan and looks irritated from the wind. I am a tourist here. I’m lost.”
The horn wakes me up and we kick off. I follow the pack
at 4'30. At 2000m above see level, it feels like someone gently hangs on your waist and pulls you
back. We ran out of the village, the tarmac is over. Forest, mud and first hill are upfront.
“Let them go. They are running too fast.
Your plan is to run at 5'00 anyway.” This is too tempting to ignore. I forget the watch. Better to run by my guts, when in doubts.
3 km #
I don’t need to wait for it anymore. The pain is here. The rain, the mud and the hills are were it lives and now it wants
my body. So I embrace it.
“It’s ok, You can take it. I’ll run outside, while you make yourself comfortable in me.”
By the top of the hill I catch up. Some people are already walking, they took off too fast.
Descend. During my training runs I imagined how I’ll pick up my pace and hop from rocks, landing on a dry welcoming trail.
Except there is no trail. The rain turned it into half meter wide mud creek long time ago. I have these ice hockey thoughts now. I am driving my racing car dressed into slicks during the rain. My shoes are not made for it, so I am sliding and fighting not to fall over the cliff.
I am in the air now. I’m flying. My hands push the mud and I save myself.
"Gush that was close! If I play it this way I ain’t gonna make it. Tactics, I need tactics!” I am a grass seeker, the self proclaimed fighter of mud on my soles. I get rid of it wherever I find a piece of alpine lawn. My rebellion is
flourishing. I make it to the first station.
6 km #
“Hopp! Hopp! Hopp!” - the supporters encourage, but most them look astonished by my “naked” outfit. Indeed, wearing just a tank top and racing shorts is ridiculous here.
I think the pain had enough of me and left me looking for other daring runners. I ease in. Me and the world are even now. Euphoria is what comes, when pain is destroyed. The real race starts now.
9 km #
Tarmac. My territory. I pick up my pace. I’m doing 3’40 now. I glide past the runners that took me over during the muddiest spots. They can’t do anything, I’m unstoppable now. Or am I naive?
11 km #
I hit the wall here. I’m not out of fuel. The trail got vertical and tarmac is long gone. Nobody’s running here. We are all fartlek practitioners now. I walk 10 steps, I run 20, then repeat it all over. I think I wanna vomit here and there, but that’s just a delusion.
13 km #
“Common! It’s just 300 meters left!” - an old man screams. I wake up and burst out. Last stage is always breathless, you just push, like a drag racer, risking your engine to explode.
13.3 km #
I flash through the finish line into salvation. Another life lived, o’er reborn, my eyes opened, my mind empty. Time to go and cheer 17 hundred runners behind me.
Later #
That day I saw a double rainbow.
“Cause if you’re willing to go through all the battling you got to go through to get where you want to get, who’s got the right to stop you?”
—Rocky Balboa