The First Run Is The Sweetest
I sat down to write this and my surface told me it couldn’t recognise me because it’s too sunny. Yes that’s right – too sunny. Are you listening, Blighty?
Anyway, after that piece of shameless gloating – the first run. There are countless things I look forward to when we head back here but in the summer, the first run is right at the top of the list. I dream of the mountains when I’m away from them – they have their own vast, all encompassing sound of tranquillity that I have no words for. I can breathe here.
Our amazing summer accommodation is at 1300 metres. We’d headed up to 1800 metres in between bouts of eating on the day we arrived and I hadn’t felt any effects of altitude, unlike last year. However, I still planned to take it easy for the first few days.
I had a small window of opportunity for a short run before the promised apocalypse arrived. Plus the breathless anticipation of a big food shop to come back to – I mean, who could resist?
The trail was quiet, the weather was moody. Through the cloud came the occasional shout from a VTT rider, or a cowbell, but mostly it was the sound of silence. The relief of being back made me want to cry. I’m incredibly lucky that I live near the Taff Trail in Cardiff, with the Brecon Beacons only an hour away – but it’s nothing like this. This is huge, occasionally challenging and it’ll eat you for breakfast if you don’t treat it with the respect it deserves.
I marched up to the top of the Chavannes, planning the stuff I want to do over the next month and testing my fitness a bit. I haven’t done any long distance and almost no ascent since the Pennine Barrier race in June, but my legs seemed to remember what to do.
Last year we stayed down in the village. This time, we’re further up the hill and the climb back up at the end of a run is going to be fun. I bounced up it today like an overexcited Tigger, but let’s see where we are in 3 weeks’ time, when I’ve been beaten into submission.
Sounds perfect