La 6000D - 65 kilometres of French trail

Rule number one: Don’t go into the mountains without a rain jacket. What could I have been thinking, leaving my new rain jacket behind in my room? Well, France was in the middle of an amazing heatwave for one thing, I’d watched the weather forecast three days ago, and I don’t like carrying stuff I probably won’t use. So the weather, rather than the huge climb to the glacier, turned out to be my story of the day.

By 5.45am I was on the start line for the 6am start and it was raining, lightly but steadily. Oh well, I thought, that’s the rain out of the way. It was so warm and humid that I wouldn’t have put on my jacket anyway. It was quite pleasant in fact to be cooled a little for the early kilometres. After loud emotional music and a baton of fire we were on our way, following a wild river. People surged but I ran slowly.

La 6000D is an iconic French trail race, a 65 kilometre event in the huge Paradiski area involving a climb from the ski town of Aime to the Chaupe glacier and back in a loop, taking in many ski resorts, a bobsleigh run and the promise of a run through the snow. There is more than 3000 metres of climbing and the same amount of descent, hence the name (D is for dénivelement). We had to carry trail running crampons for the snowy trail on the glacier and I used hiking poles for the first time. We were over 1500 starters. That’s huge for the ultras I’ve done but normal in France apparently.

The opening kilometres were not that interesting, undulating and passing through some ski resorts, with mountains all around but we weren’t climbing them yet, in fact the opposite: we seemed to do a fair bit of descending. It was very crowded. Then we reached the bobsleigh run, the first major feature of the race and only recently introduced into the race. It was built for the Albertville Winter Olympics in 1994. This was a strange experience, running through a half open tunnel, and it was not as steep as I would have expected, lucky for us as we were running up it.

We continued through ski terrain, chairlifts always in view as a bit of a scar on the landscape, but the mountainsides were nicely green and there was plenty of forest. We climbed and fell and with much cloud cover we were protected from the heat of the sun. I was mostly running but many people were already walking; I would pass lots of people on the uphills only to be passed on the descents.

After 20 kilometres we reached the first aid station, at Plagne Centre, the base of a ski area. I was curious to see what it would be like - I expected tables and chairs and a feast. It wasn’t quite like that, more a tent and no seats, but the sustenance was fine. I ate pieces of marble cake, banana and raisins. Then onward and upward. The climbs were getting longer and steeper and after a while there was a little snow by the trail. We passed a lake.

Then the serious climbing started. I could no longer run and anyway we were all caught up in a long conga line. I loved using my new hiking poles. In the whole day I probably would have seen fewer than ten runners without poles.

At Roche de Mio (2681 metres) near the second aid station there were clusters of spectators, including the family from my AirBnB home, and it was great to see them. I thought we were much nearer the glacier than we actually were; at this point we had only done 26 kilometres, after five hours. From here there was a swooping descent, bad news as we would only have to regain this height later, but the views as far as Mont Blanc were superb. I was pleased not to be noticing the altitude at all except if I tried to jog, so I didn’t. 

Following that descent we embarked on the real climb to the glacier. Runners, all walking, stretched along ahead and above I could see people like tiny ants, moving along where I had to go too. I hiked strongly and passed lots of people on the rocky ground. Nothing grew here, it was all rocks and snow. Quite bleak. The clouds were closing in and there weren’t going to be any views from the top. In fact the summit of the glacier (3047 metres) was uneventful and I had to ask another runner if this was it.

About five minutes into my descent the weather really came in. For some moments I could not see anyone else but I could see the trail so that was ok. There was a very steep bit through snow and I fell over. Yes the snow was cold but my body was still warm. Then it started raining heavily. I remembered I had no rain jacket. Then I could hear thunder. Then someone mentioned 'la grêle'. They were not wrong, they correctly identified hail. Then there was lightening. Just as I was thinking to myself it was not good to be on top of a mountain with metal hiking poles in a thunderstorm, someone yelled out to us not to put our poles in the air. The gondola for taking spectators up the glacier appeared to have stopped running. At a point where I expected to see runners coming along the trail in the opposite direction there were none (I learnt later that they had paused the race for those not already on the final glacier climb).

I was very suddenly absolutely frozen. I was also the most scared I have ever been in the mountains. Only for about ten seconds, though, because I reckoned the storm would soon be over. I put on my fleece, but even when I stopped to do that I got colder (because it was a lot of messing around taking off my cap and vest and getting the fleece out of my vest pocket) and I wasn’t sure it would be much use in the rain. However it did give me a little warmth. I had no feeling in my hands (but I was gripping my poles ok) and I had an odd sensation around my shorts: I had to keep checking I was wearing them because I felt as though I wasn't! We had lots of snow patches to cross but we didn’t use the crampons because the snow kept alternating with proper trail.

After maybe half an hour we emerged from the cloud and were high above a green valley. We had a lovely gentle descent and the sun was trying to peep out. The views were fabulous, and not a ski lift in sight. Part way along this trail there was a huge hold up. We had to cross a tributary of the river in the valley and because of the storm (I found out later) it was a raging torrent, a real waterfall. We had to cross using a rope and very slowly on slippery rocks. I felt quite nervous but there was no alternative.

Not long after we had a big climb to the Col de l'Arpete at 2337 metres. And at the top we had only done 40 kilometres. It was a fairly endless slog, punctuated by an aid station. And speaking of toilets, there weren’t any. It was all very public. This climb was sapping but you could see that everyone was tired. Just before the top was a lovely round lake. I kept my wet fleece on for ages, long after I could comfortably have taken it off. Well at least it had been worth the effort of carrying that. Fat use my crampons had been.

Eventually we started to descend for real. Much of this was in the forest but it was a bit too steep for my liking. I was glad of the poles for getting me into a good downhill position and they helped me relax my upper body. And so we undulated along, dropping down towards the valley and then inexplicably climbing again. We passed through a couple of major ski resorts where there were really vocal crowds. That was wonderful, and they must have been doing that all day long as there had been earlier races too. But it started raining again. Then the sun came out and it was hot. The last aid station had brie and crackers which were perfection.

I thought it was about time to be done but the forest continued for a long time. I was playing cat and mouse with the same people, some of whom I had been with all day. I witnessed some vomiting and heard many strange sounds of fatigue around me. We emerged onto a sealed road alongside the gushing river, the Isère, and I thought this must be close to the finish. There were numerous nice little name placards at various points along the river, but no sign of Aime itself, then I was finally happy when I saw a signpost to the showers for runners as this must surely mean we were near the race HQ. After many years of running we crossed a bridge and were back in Aime. But we had to run the entire length of this vast metropolis (population maybe as much as a few hundred). At least I was going to beat twelve hours. I could not believe how long this had taken.

And then, as usually happens, I was done. 11hours 43 minutes. I held my poles aloft in triumph. It was a wonderful moment. As it turned out I finished half way up the women’s field and hundreds of runners didn’t finish at all. I think they stopped the race during the storm so many people would have missed some of the later cutoffs but I was not affected.

I was greeted by the other couple staying at my house and we had our race beer together. I ate a small part of the plate of pasta we were given. Then I went home to bed.

Race to the Stones 100k, England

While I was running this race, and writing my report in my head, I was sure I would be focussing on the heat and little else. It was certainly a hot day, in the high twenties, and I thought of writing about the brutal heat, the unexpected heat, the blazing sun that reflected off the fields, the heat that didn’t diminish as the day wore on (and the sun didn’t go in until after 9pm when I was almost done), the heat that was clearly responsible for my slow pace (because there could be no doubt that I was well trained for this event). But then everyone I spoke to who had run the race before told me how lovely it was and they were right, it was a lovely run on several levels. That’s what I choose to remember.

The organisation was the best I have ever come across, especially the aid stations, which they called pit stops and which had both great food selections and very enthusiastic staff who made me feel I was reaching the finish line every time I arrived at one. Unfortunately I was so delighted by the food available at the second pit stop after 22 kilometres that I ate far too much and had indigestion; for the rest of the race I don’t think I ate enough.

Almost every kilometre was marked and there was a marker at one kilometre before each pit stop. I found these helpful. At each pit stop they had a sign telling how far to the next one and an elevation guide for the whole course. So you didn’t have to memorise everything.

Most of the route was along The Ridgeway, Britain's oldest footpath. It is basically an elevated path alongside farmland, where you can see the very typical English patchwork of fields in all directions, sometimes a rutted wide track, sometimes stony and sometimes single track. From time to time there were villages to pass through or farms to pass, country roads to cross and patches of woodland. Quite a few gates, too, and one stile. There's one famous part where we ran a dead straight line through a field and you could see a line of runners stretching into the distance. Lots of people stopped to take photos here.

 My favourite stretch in hindsight was the part alongside the River Thames which took us to Goring, the only town on the route. This part was flat and at the time I found it hard work but the river looked so cooling.

There were few landmarks as we couldn’t see the White Horse and the other famous sights near the path, apart from an amazing crop circle at kilometre 92. And I’m not at all convinced that the race route did justice to the stone circle at Avebury (the stones in the title) because I only saw two stones. But it was unceasingly pretty despite the radiating heat.

At first the race was crowded - we were sent off in waves of about 200 and I was in the third wave - but by the second pit stop I noticed a lot of people were already walking and well before half way I would sometimes not see anyone for several minutes. There were about 900 people in the non-stop version I was doing plus the same in the two day race, and we were all mixed in together. I chatted with a few people but mostly ran alone, and I often found it lonely work. I think I was in quite a bleak place mentally for a long time and I had to do a lot of self talking to keep myself on an even keel. This was undoubtedly caused by the heat. 

I had no idea if I was running well or not. My marathon time was about six hours, which sounds slow but I was trying to pace myself, and I think this worked. I never had that feeling of being completely drained, and while I walked a lot I never walked for very long at any one time. 

The route was undulating with some distinct hills. I had read several accounts of the race beforehand and the accounts were so different they could have been describing different events so I was not sure what to expect. In the end I found the route less dramatically hilly than I anticipated and the downhills were all very runnable, admittedly I have been practising downhills.

I had my fair share of drama before the race. Once I decided to enter the race I booked a room in a pub which seemed to be handy to the start line at Lewknor, a village near the only stop the London-Oxford bus makes outside the two cities. I booked online in January for the July race and relaxed; two days later I got an email from the owner saying she had double booked the room but could offer me a "very small single"; it sounded like an attic storeroom, cell or such! After I had issues with my booking for another race (the one I’ll be writing about next) I reconfirmed this booking and it sounded ok. Except that I would have to walk almost four kilometres along the A4 from the bus stop to reach the hotel and then back again on race morning to get the shuttle that would take me to the race start. The pub was not quite where I had thought.

The walk turned out ok as there was a pavement along this busy road. But when I reached the hotel the owner, quite a grumpy woman, had no record of my booking and said she had promised the room to a friend. I begged not to be sent away and she said "Yes, your nearest option for tonight would be in London. I’ve had about 50 people call today asking for a room.” She gave me the room when I told her how long ago I had booked it and reconfirmed. It wasn’t a cell at all, it had a nice bed and a view of the garden, an ensuite and coffee. The owner was grumpy because she had once taken a group of runners to the race start but had forgotten one of the women in the group, who had then posted a very unkind review online; she clearly had it in for the race. I heard her muttering to one of the locals hanging around that I was expecting her to take me to the race start, which was not the case at all. But she cooked a very reasonable bangers and mash (and peas) for me, and her husband made me a honey sandwich as takeaway breakfast. 

I allowed plenty of time to walk to the shuttle bus stop and I got there exactly when the bus from London (that the shuttle was meeting) arrived, which was ten minutes ahead of schedule. The shuttle loaded up and left for the race, so it was lucky I had got there early or I would have had to walk another two kilometres. I still had 100 kilometres to cover that day.

I remembered all this while I was running, reminding myself I had already done extra. When I came into half way, where people in the two-day race were stopping for the night, I didn’t feel like I wanted to do the same again. I wondered if I was undertrained. The problem is that you cannot run more than 50 kilometres at one go during a training block because you need too much recovery afterwards that would disrupt the training. So I wasn’t undertrained, I was just having to respect the distance. I was revived by eating some pieces of cheese wrapped in plastic and very sweaty due to the heat. Delicious. I had wanted to sit down at my rest breaks and have a proper rest as I had no time pressure but there was never anywhere to sit! The only option was to sit on the ground and I wasn’t going to do that because getting up would be too difficult. So I barely sat except for about a minute on two occasions. 

I was pleased I remembered both to drink at the aid stations and to fill my bottle, since I often forget to have a drink at the aid station when I carry a bottle, and I was remembering to drink between the aid stations which were up to 12 kilometres apart. I drank to thirst but I was sure I wasn’t drinking enough, although I went to the toilet twice and I didn’t get the hot face sensation I get when I’m dehydrated.

All day I ate a lot of sweet things, chocolate bars (yay, they had Twixes at one aid station), fruit, Nutella sandwiches and crisps (bliss - two packets). I drank Coke and Ribena and water. I mused on how the race could afford such generous food supplies, and I think it was because the race entry didn’t include any merch: no T shirt, drink bottle or other junk.

I was counting down the kilometres from about the 30 km mark. I thought of other long races, especially the SaintÉlyon 72 km on similar terrain. The kilometres passed slowly. I worked on my mental state. I could see that sometimes I was running when others were walking. I played cat and mouse with one particular pair of guys for hours. You could just tell that everyone was struggling.

There was a wonderful long downhill in the final kilometres as we ran to the Avebury henge, 1500 metres from the finish. I had hoped to finish in daylight for no particular reason except to give myself a challenge, even though I had my head torch in my backpack and I did not actually know what time it would get dark (in my four days in England I had not yet gone to bed after dark). I missed by minutes, so I got to the stones in rapidly fading light, did my circuit and put on my head torch to cross the final field to the finish line. 

I loved the finish, with lots of spectators clapping and ringing cowbells. I felt a hero. Then I collapsed into a chair. I only had a rough idea of my time but I knew I would be happy with it. It was not long after 10pm. There was plentiful food at the finish: pizza, hot dogs and chips (both sweet potato and regular). 

After eating I wanted to lie down and sleep, as I wasn’t scheduled to leave until the next morning. I was suddenly very cold. They had a big shed with mattresses. I had put on my sweatshirt and raincoat and tights but I was still really cold and I shivered as a I lay there; I think it was because I was still wearing my sweaty race clothes but there was no way I could imagine having the energy to take them off. I went and told the medical staff that I was cold; they had run out of foil blankets but they said I could go and lie in a tent. Amazingly the race had organised about twenty individual tents and they let me have one of them. I was still cold but I managed to sleep for maybe three hours. Later on I sat in the sun (yes, sun again at 5am) to watch the constant stream of finishers and dozed a few times. Also I enjoyed some more food courtesy of the race: breakfast including hash browns, sausages and bacon. 

When I looked at the results I found I had finished in 14 hours 21 minutes and I had won my age group by over an hour. So not too shabby really.