The View from the Wall

Jetlag = Netflix time. Needing this cheesy adorable chickflick romcom so bad.

A kingdom cannot be built in one day and strategy takes time, effort and evolution. We also often need a benchmark to understand how we can improve or produce better results the next time round.

The title is a bit of a misnomer, as I would never compare trailrunning to war per se. But, it is an art, or rather, there’s an art to it that takes time to hone and tweak as your out there banging your legs and pushing your body and mind to the limits in what often seems like a battlefield.

When I got “lucky” this year again by getting the ballot for the HK100 in 2019, I wasn’t quite sure how to react. There was slight disbelief (I was hoping not to actually get it and instead wait till 2020 to do it again) and yet a sense of reluctant exhilaration. So many people I knew, were disappointed from not making the ballot, how could I possibly complain about it? The slight hesitance was from the fact that I had actually gone through it this year and it wasn’t pretty. Perhaps that’s one reason I haven’t as eagerly written about it. I was so drained from the experience that in a way, I wanted to take a break. That was on top of the fact that after moving back to Hong Kong, there were a whole lot of things that decided to cram themselves into my life in one go and I had to spend some time juggling them all until they could somewhat operate on their own.

But back to the virgin HK100 and as a matter of fact, my virgin 100km anything. It had also presented itself as quite the surprise because only one of my friends, MC, had got the ballot so she was the only one that had been training towards it. The rest of us just got a bit lazy although we still kept up our general fitness. That was until a month before the race, around Christmas, when I received the notification that I had a slot. ONE FREAKING MONTH. The first thing that came to my head was, “no way, there’s no way I’ll be ready for my first 100km race in one month, especially during the holiday season”. I was having a great time indulging in my Christmas to New Year’s belly and to ramp up training for one month with no sort of guidance or direction towards this masochistic event was not my type of fun.

Unfortunately, I’m a stickler for tough challenges, so at the very last minute, before my spot would be given up, I filled in the registration and literally closed my eyes and held my breath as I pressed “submit”. So that was that, the deed was done.

Enter the war room i.e. chaos. Looking back in retrospect, I can see all the things I could have prepared better for, yet in that short amount of time, I knew that I had done more or less what I could with whatever I had. In other words, I was pretty much going to wing it. Despite that, I was surprised to find that there were some very supportive friends who were determined to be there for me, even squeezing time in to drop by CPs before and after a mutual friend’s wedding. During my best and my worst, I am so incredibly grateful for these trail angels (as Scott Jurek would call them) who were there to mentally drive me on.

My first 100km journey was far from being an easy one. My only real longer distance training was my running camp in Chiang Mai, and even then I barely survived, having succumbed to a bad stomach bug. So that was already my first weakness – the lack of training. I had no time target either, the goal was merely to finish. Then, because my friends who were supporting needed to know my timing and estimated arrivals at CPs, I quickly put together some sort of 20 hour goal so as to not waste their time, even if I knew I was unlikely to stick by it.

During the race, the first half actually went surprisingly well and I was going at a good pace. There was no longer time to fear, it became a routine – move, fuel up at check point, keep moving. My lack of experience for longer than 50km races, however, meant that my nutrition was a bit all over the place, and while I can more or less sugar up to blast through my usual shorter distances, this pretty much crippled me in a 100km distance. By kilometer 83 I was literally crawling and was incapable of consuming anything. Liquids, solids, everything refused to be absorbed by my body. Physically drained, I knew everything was mental now. Once the mind gives up, that’s it, it would be all over.

Battles are often not won because of numbers, or the best army available. Guerrilla warfare has often seen its successes due to unconventional tactics focused on mind strategy. The final few kilometers, also the most difficult ones as the HK100 is a “back heavy” (most of the elevation takes place in the second half and for the slower runners also mainly in the dark) race, so when all else fails, it’s time to go rogue. So there I am, miserably throwing up bile every few hundred, relying on my poles to support my dead legs and willing the mind to go on. I was ready to literally crawl to the finish if I had to.

As the vestiges of first light dawned on Tai mo shan, I knew that I was leaving the dark behind. With a final breath, I bounded all the way down, cried a little when I realised there were a couple more wee hills to do (any uphill at this point was painful), and collapsed when I crossed the finish line to find I could still embrace a bronze man for my sub 24hr time. Every little win, no matter how small, counts.  

Looking forward, I’m hoping that the previous experience and having more time to prepare (including having another 100km from OTW under my belt) will allow me to enjoy the race a little more. I’ll always say that with a grain of salt however, as who knows what nature might throw us. The memory of freezing temperatures, icy conditions and hypothermia from the HK100 in 2016 is still fresh in the minds of many runners. Nature is the one thing we should never underestimate. Regardless, my goal is to better understand trailrunning in a strategic art form, “art” in the sense of the “art of war” in my road to another individual 100km – looking at aspects from detailed assessment and planning to my strengths and weaknesses over different terrain and conditions. This is another reason I love trailrunning, it is never as simple as strapping on your shoes and going out for a run; it always ends up being something more significant, about ambition, about adversity, about freedom, about self-discovery, about good times and bad – basically life in a nutshell.

“In my darkest hour, you are my shining light”.

*Back to the writing grind after a hiatus and there are lots of race reports and foodie reviews to catch up on, so let’s take it back to where we left off…*

After a week of Chamonix trail explorations (where I managed to even lead some routes as a second year return veteran), elite runner encounters (oh yes I got my photo op with Kilian after standing in freezing rain for an hour) and mountain region gastronomy, my mind had settled into a happy zone. To imagine that I had another race coming up was unfathomable at the time and although my knee had been faring decently, I wasn’t sure if 45k was going to help with the recovery. At this point I was asking myself whether this back to back weekend racing was a good idea in the first place.

However, I was committed and after my performance at Ultraks, I felt ready to take it up a notch so off I went to start this little local race in Annecy where the registration site was only in French. Lesson 1 from signing up for this race – be aware of the risks, especially if it’s a race in a region whose terrain you’re unfamiliar with, you don’t speak the language and it’s a small race with minimal race organisation. If everything goes smoothly then you’ve lucked out but in an emergency you’ll be safer if you can communicate with the locals or if the race organiser is well-experienced with dealing with international participants. Clearly I had enrolled myself in a race that would be usually outside the comfort zone for non-French speakers and as luck would have it, the weather was the extreme opposite of I saw when I visited Annecy around the same time last year.

Remember the blue lagoon coloured waters and summer beach vibes as Maria and I cruised a small motorboat across Lac D’Annecy last year? Now replace that with ominously dark clouds and cold rain – that’s what I was up against. Always the optimist, I delighted at every patch of blue sky I saw the day before the race, believing that it was an indication of better weather to come, knowing full well that it was unlikely to be the case. To top it off, I even suggested renting bikes and taking them round the lake, which ended up being a terrible idea since it ended up being around 30k with a number of tough (with city bikes) ascents on one side of the lake and had us ending with a 5k sprint in a torrential downpour. Hence we have Lesson 2 - killing your legs the day before a big race is not a good idea.

Our dinner plans of a having a romantic soiree by the canal went belly up after the cycle, upon which we just wanted to find somewhere close to our Airbnb, in other words, the restaurant downstairs. Despite it being “off season” in Annecy, all the top restaurants were fully reserved for the night, including the one downstairs, so we were lucky that after some begging, they let us eat in the bar area with food that came from the same kitchen. Lesson 3 – Make dinner reservations in advance at holiday destinations!

On the morning of the race, we were both up early and through googlemaps I had figured out that there was a bus that would get us to Sevrier just on the main street so we kept our fingers crossed that the online timetable was accurate. One participant actually drove by and asked for directions to the race and we told him but never thought to pick us up, but then another woman drove by and asked us to get in the car, which was extremely nice of her considering it was a cold and frisky morning. She was only doing the 10k downhill race so as I approached the race site, I started to get more and more nervous. What was I getting myself into? Oh and Lesson 4 – make sure you can easily transport yourself to and from the race venue. Trust me, the return after the race was quite a logistical challenge…which isn’t ideal when you’re cold and half dead after a grueling experience.

Looking around me at the start line, I noticed the small crowd of participants and realized that I was clearly the odd one out who wasn’t from around the region, which made it scary and exhilarating at the same time. But I didn’t have time to think much before MC bid me a quick farewell and we were off. Once again, there was no relief for the legs and the uphill began on the road through the village and straight up into the forest. The climbs were relentless and steep at times but I tried my best to keep up and spent much time alongside an Italian woman who was very consistent with her uphills. It was a bit chilly but manageable, until we started hearing the thunder roar overhead. In my mind I pushed my legs to move a little faster but they felt heavy and as the rain started to fall when I reached CP1, the ground started to get muddy and slippery, making it more difficult to navigate. Upon reaching the summit, visibility was almost zero and my shoes were literally playing stuck in the mud. I squinted to make out where the markers were and then I saw a cow chewing them up!

Then suddenly, I felt painful little pricks on my skin and for the first time I encountered hail! I didn't even realized what the little white balls were until I saw some runners in front of me halt under some trees and beckoned me over to shelter with them. So there we were, trapped on a mountain in a hailstorm and the only thing we could do was wait for it to stop. As the hail eased we started off again, but by this time, the terrain had turned into mush and quite dangerous. I was lucky and very grateful that two brothers who had come over for the race in Paris kept a lookout for me and helped me through the difficult sections. Lesson 5 – don’t be afraid to seek help and stick to others so if you run into trouble or get lost, you would be in a group.

The remaining kilometers seemed to take forever as we meandered through the forest trails. At the final checkpoint, we were told that due to the dangerous and stormy conditions, the race was being rerouted and will be now less than 45km. I was relieved and it gave me that extra motivation to go a bit faster and finish up. I was so ecstatic when I made it back to the village road but was quickly disheartened when a volunteer steered me towards a path up into another hill again. Seems like the race directors decided that since the weather had cleared up again, the distance could be increased again. Fortunately, the final hill was a steep but short one and another runner in front of me joyfully turned back and shouted that we were almost done. I found another spurt of energy and lugged myself through the final stretch and to the finish line. The Parisian brothers had left me to go ahead and so I waited for them to finish to thank them for their help. Never have I felt happier to complete a race (why does that sentence sound familiar?) Am I allowed to say “Chapeau” to myself? Haha. On the other hand, that’s the very reason I’m so addicted to trail races, they are always challenging and unpredictable, exactly as life should be!

Sweet Tooth Alert! + Luxurious Chocolate Mousse Recipe

For about two weeks, I’ve been having insane sweet cravings. No reason whatsoever. Then two days ago, all of sudden, none of the sweet things I bought satisfied me. It’s an odd phase I’m going through and I’m wondering if my body is reacting to low sugar levels or something of the sort. I’ve always been a person that loves my desserts but this sugar craving is heading towards a whole new level and intensity...hahaha

Breaking into the Boys Club

I met RC a few months ago after I tentatively started doing the tougher trails in HK and attempting to follow a speedier group. After latching on to them and finding their pacing similar to what I was looking for, I became persistent about joining them for future training. So that was how I started tagging along to Mount Parker with RC and GF, who always welcomed my participation and coordinating to meet up with them if we had signed up for similar races. 

It was only much later that I realized their training consisted exclusively of guys and that’s when I began to wonder if it had been a bit presumptuous of me to relentlessly annoy them with “let’s train together” or “could you please invite me to join you for group training”. Despite my shameless hounding, after several scheduling conflicts, I finally made it out with RC and his trail buddies who have been training for the HK168 race. As I was still recovering from a long and packed Saturday, the plan on Sunday was to take it relatively easy and make an early exit after Pat Sin Leng, especially if I was feeling tired and couldn’t keep up with the boys. They were all welcoming when I arrived, but I felt just the slight tinge of group trepidation knowing that they had to deal with some possibly slow and weak random girl they’ve never met. I wasn’t feeling that confident or comfortable myself, and was already planning the early exit in my head so as to not be a burden on the group.

The speed was brisk and there was barely a break as we went straight up and across PSL, the boys keeping a close eye on timing as they wanted to make sure they could make the tight cut-off times that had been provided for the race. I had to mentally keep telling myself “shut-up legs” and silently chastised myself for doing that hilly 15k on Friday and racing on Saturday morning. The lack of fresh legs definitely wasn’t helping and one of the guys kindly stuck with me as I struggled on the unfamiliar and uneven terrain of shiggy and loose rocks on the long journey down towards Luk Keng. Eventually I managed to find my balance and keep pace with them but the over excitement caused me to trip and fall on some rocks, causing some open wounds. “Crap”, I was thinking - now that’s what the boys didn’t want to have to deal with, some klutzy girl who now expected to be coddled over her bleeding leg...

But what I’ve learned from trail running over and over again is that it makes one tough. So all I did was clean the wounds quickly, picked myself up and kept going until we reached the restaurant for our quick lunch. 

At this point we were about 12k in and the minibus parked right there was extremely tempting...Early exit? Hmmmm...No way I was going to quit now though, this challenge with the boys had me hooked, I was really enjoying the wildness of the trails in the New Territories and this was pushing me hard in the right way. After all, I need to show them how tough a girl can be too! The fast and efficient lunch gave me the rest I needed and the ladies in the restaurant were so motherly and nice. One saw my wounds and brought me fresh aloe vera to apply and another dug out plasters for me. 

So I marched on, and the guys, who were a bit distant from me in the beginning seemed to warm a little as they discovered my tenacity. I wanted as much to prove to them that I wasn’t some little weakling they expected and that very determination fueled me more. Even with the wounds stinging, I was able to keep up with their pace, whether it was uphill, downhill or running along the undulating mountain ridges. Before I knew it, the 12k had snuck into a 20k which then snuck into a 30k and before I knew it, I had ended the day with a 40k.

The Fine Line between Adrenaline and Fear

Over the past year, I’ve come to realise how much harder it is to get into trail races. Rejection is never an easy pill to swallow but as ballots have been introduced for popular races due to increasing participation of runners with a restricted number of slots, I’ve found myself getting rejected more often than not. So, when I failed to obtain an OCC spot this year (which I failed to obtain two years back but managed to get and complete the race last year), I decided to still make a point to travel to Chamonix after falling in love with the region from my visit last year and instead do some research into other regional races that fall around the same time but did not have the same stringent entry requirements.

I narrowed it down to three potential races I could do – 1) Matterhorn Ultraks in Zermatt, 2) Trail Semnoz Tour in Annecy, 3) Swiss Peaks in the Valais region of Switzerland. Eventually I picked the first two based on the distances I wanted to try and my travel itinerary. As I was planning to enjoy my second week of my break in the South of France, I didn’t want to be stuck with the pressures of having a race at the end of my holidays, which was when Swiss Peaks was held. Also, it would have been more expensive to do two races in Switzerland since everything is pricier in CHF!

One other major factor I had to consider was the extent of my recovery. Although I had been diligent in my training over the summer, I haven’t bounced back for long, my knee was still bothering me on the downhills and my body was still experiencing some imbalances, especially on uneven terrain. The big question was whether I was ready at all again for a trail race and what distance I think my legs could handle at this point in time. It was like doing a race for the first time again – mentally I was uncertain and far from confident of my fitness. All I hoped was that by doing and being able to complete the races while enjoying the landscape would bolster my confidence on the mountains again.

So with this simple mindset, while everyone chatted noisily on about the big UTMB fanfare, I quietly signed up to these two lesser known races, the first, being the Matterhorn Ultraks 16km, which also had distances of 30km and 46km, but which I didn’t want to push myself too much on yet, since I heard that the races were quite tough, particularly due to the elevation. I had also planned to arrive in Zermatt on the Friday, which meant I had less than 24 hours to acclimatize for a race which would take me over 2000m up the mountains (the longer races also meant more vertical).

My Friday arrival in Zermatt gave me some time to prep for the environment, and I found it nice to be travelling alone so that I had the flexibility of basically doing whatever I felt like doing. After managing to check in early to my room, I ventured out and decided on the fly to hit Gornergrat at 3130m straight out to test my reaction to the altitude. Initially, I felt a bit lightheaded as I stepped out onto the trails so I took it slow, taking my time instead to enjoy the surrounding glacial landscapes. Without having planned any specific routes, I just hiked and explored various paths, only looking for signs to the closest bahn stop once I felt suitably acclimatized to the environment and was ready to leave. In fact, only mental discipline based on the fact that I had a race the next day kept me from spending more hours on the trail. It was incredibly relaxing to just move at my own pace with no pressures of time or place.

But I digress…the next early morning it rained and I started to get slightly worried about race conditions. Fortunately, the 16km started at 10am, a couple hours later than the 30km and 40km races so by the time I had packed, moved to my next hotel and walked down to the race site, which was situated conveniently by my new hotel, the sun was high and the skies were blue. Going solo, I didn’t know anyone at the race, so I just milled around enjoying the clear views of the Matterhorn in the distance and nosily listening in on a conversation of what to expect on the route until I suddenly realised 15 minutes before the start that I had left my water bottle at the previous hotel! Ooops! Luckily the hotel was also quite close so I zipped back just as they were doing housekeeping and managed to retrieve it. By the time I was at the race start again, the runners were already lined up. I was thinking it would be a bummer to be stuck in the back but fortunately we were placed in carrels based on bib numbers and I ended up somewhere in the middle pack.

As a result of the last minute panic, I had barely enough time to catch my breath again before the countdown began and we were off! The first few kilometers were a steady and gradual uphill after running through town, all on concrete road where it was easy to go a little too quickly only to find there are no flat sections to recover. I tried to not focus on the effort of my calves and instead tagged my peripheral vision to a few runners that appeared to be similar to my pace and made sure I didn’t lose sight of them. This tactic allowed me to push just hard enough without blowing up but it also made sure that I didn’t slow down too much. I had also overheard during my nosey episode that once we turned into the trail, it would be difficult to overtake as it was quite narrow.

We entered the forest trail after about a 4km relentless uphill and despite my already heavy thighs I was able to follow the traffic flow and move into the rhythm of a run as the trail flattened out. It was nice to finally have some relief and keep moving along or a couple kilometers before we hit the next ascent. This was the push up to Sunnegga at 2,260m, which brought everyone near me to a halt. The ascent was fairly steep and several poles were being unraveled for the haul up, including mine. Luckily, the weather was staying dry and we were now getting eye level views of the top of the Matterhorn, which was amazing. I forced myself to keep moving and managed to overtake a few people during this section of the climb and was finally able to celebrate with an endorphin high as the Sunnegga checkpoint came into view.

I did a little internal “whoop” and skip as I ran into the checkpoint but did not stay for long as I was feeling rather fresh. I only refueled with a few orange slices and a cup of coke before heading off again. A slight downhill from Sunnegga led us through a small village and across a bridge before the next ascent towards Riffelalp. I noticed that some of the runners I had kept in sight were still going at around the same pace as me and I didn’t feel the need to slow down yet so I kept a steady pace while also consciously sipping away at my nuun solution. What I’ve discovered during an ultra is when I’m feeling quite good in the middle of the race, I start forgetting to look after my nutrition and once I do that, things start to go downhill, so this time I tried to make sure I was getting the intake I needed, even if I didn’t feel like I needed it.

However, the one big mistake I would say I made during this race that I was only mentally prepared for a 16km when the final mileage was about 20km. After Sunnegga, my mind was already ready to finish up the race and as such I almost have no clear memory of reaching the next checkpoint at Riffelalp. Additionally, I started to get a bit distracted as we started to run into those that were doing the 30km as the routes merged near the end. So for me, the second half was just a blurry mix of more strenuous climbs before a long descent that kept my still recovering left knee under quite a bit of stress. I was able to mostly run the downhill but some of the hairpin turns made me nervous and held me back from going too quickly. I was also starting to feel the fatigue of the additional mileage and as a result was no longer so disciplined in fueling myself anymore, hoping instead to reach the finish line faster. In hindsight I should have been more patient because all that got me was into cramps during my last couple kilometers and almost crippled me as I ran into town again. After all, there is a bit of pride involved and everyone wants to look good and strong finishing right? I literally had to bite my lip and force myself to ignore the cramps as I sprinted the final 200m across the line!

It felt as though I had just finished my first trail race again…it had been so long since my knee had left me broken and unfit. I was elated and more so to find out I had finished ahead of many local/regional participants, as well as a Taiwanese and two Japanese runners in my race (we were the only international runners for the 16km). It may still be a while to go before I’m in top form again but it’s important to start somewhere and rebuild confidence on the trails and in the mountains again. It’s frustrating to have to constantly hold back in fear because of injuring my knee again but at the same time I don’t want to risk being torn away from one of my biggest passions again and as such, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Sometimes I’ve realised that you need that “me time” to recover and conquer the demons in your head. There are no friends to support you, no one to care and only strangers on the journey with you.  It is then that loneliness becomes your freedom. For me, the race and time alone in Zermatt did just that, making me whole again and making it an experience in my life that I won’t ever forget.

There is a Light that Never Goes Out

Anyone whose an indie music lover would’ve recognized the title of this classic by The Smiths, one of my favourite tunes. That’s the first line that came to my mind when I read about trailgod Kilian’s latest race victory. It remains mind boggling what this guy does every day and every week, there’s no stopping him! Kudos to all the finishers after him though, especially Robbie Simpson, who was a mere 15 secs behind KJ. 

When I read about such races, it really substantiates how I feel about trails and running the mountains. I may not be the fastest or the strongest runner but as RS has said: “Mountain racing is so unpredictable...On the road, whoever has the best times previously normally wins, but in the mountain races there are so many uncertainties - the weather, the terrain, the steepness of the climb. Every mountain is different.” That unpredictability is what makes it so exciting, fun and challenging, when you acknowledge that the race is not against others but against yourself, both mentally and physically.

This past race season/year has been a tough one for me after the highlight of the OCC last summer. Before going through my acl and meniscus surgery, the only time I had been admitted to hospital was for a broken arm when I was about 10, so this was just about the most serious injury I had ever had (luckily), so it was a bit of struggle to adapt and figure out how to deal with it on my own. Then, I was disappointed in having to pull out of all the races I had signed up for. However, I like to think that every experience makes us stronger, so since I’ve started hiking and running again, I’ve slowly but surely built up my strength and confidence from square one. It still fascinates me how easy it is to lose everything you’ve trained for with a single injury and how long it takes to get back to even where you were before. Guess that’s why they say Rome wasn’t built in one day and yet the collapse of an empire can happen in the blink of an eye. 

HK’s Highest Peak

To be honest, I don’t actually remember if I’ve ever done Tai Mo Shan of all the years I’ve lived in the +852. My memory completely fails me and when I did it this past weekend, it felt as though I was doing it for the very first time anyways. At 975m, it’s no easy feat on a hot day (or when it’s cold and laden with frost). Once again, it was a tag-along trip with JL who was training for the OXFAM trailwalker with a couple of her teammates. I’m impressed with the number of groups I saw along the Maclehose who were braving the heat to train, so I felt a sense of accomplishment after conquering stages 7 and 8, where the climbs passed through Needle Hill and Grassy Hill before finally reaching the TMS summit. Thank god for the gentle meander down to the TMS snack kiosk where I had the BEST ice lolly ever!

BLISS

That feeling when you’re out in the wild, seemingly miles away from the city and all that surrounds you is nature’s calling.