SORRY!! Let's go back to December...

In France for the Saintelyon.

My AMAZING hosts. (Laurent, Christine, & Emma)

The Start



The Finish


This is a piece I wrote on the flight from France back to North America for Christmas:

Froid, Fatigue, et Boue. A Fantastique Objectif

The invitation was too much to resist.

While not the longest or most physically challenging race I’ve entered in, the SainteLyon has an element of the unknown that wrecked my logistical head. Starting at midnight, running through the night, in a completely foreign region.

Arriving in Geneva and managing the French to take the train to the lakeside village of Aix-Les-Bain, I was expecting to hail a taxi to the home of my hosts. Dragging my luggage for a 5-week trip home to Canada for Christmas, I was welcomed with the odd exchange of eye contact one has when greeting someone for the first time. I was treated like royalty by my hosts, traditional French food, wine, and deserts were plentiful. The night before the race I was treated to Tartiflette, a dish containing thinly sliced potatoes, onion, bacon, cream, baked in copious amounts of Roblechon cheese.

I had travelled to France from Ireland where I had my my friend Laurent. He was visiting Ireland for “Business English” classes where he was paired with me. To both of our great pleasure we found the common passion between us of ultra trail-running and our “business” lessons were filled with accounts of all-night runs, nutrition for ultras, cross-training stories of ski touring and mountaineering and future outdoor adventures. Never once did we address my “planned” lessons, my new friend always directing our time toward the mountains. Upon his return to France we exchanged information and planned to keep each other updated on upcoming events worthy of our reunion.

A few months later I received word from Laurent of a “fantastique objective” for me to consider. The Saintelyon, a 69km mixed trail run spanning Saint Etienne to Lyon through the Rhone Alps. The race begins at midnight and runs through the night requiring a headlamp or natural bat-like senses. With all the rain the region received the week preceding the race, webbed feet would have been beneficial also.

Laurent’s two friends, Laurent and Olivier, joined us at the house and we drove to Lyon to catch the shuttle bus to the stadium starting point in Sainte Etienne. Registration was interesting as I was missing the required doctor’s note of physical health; with my broken French I explained that my Alberta Health Care card was a “license to run”. They bought it, I’m in!

The hall where we registered and took our time to eat, relax, and get dressed was jammed with wall-to-wall people. Some had brought sleeping pads and bags to catch some sleep while others mingled with friends. Most of my running competitions have been relatively small and I have had the opportunity to find solitude and stay away from the building anxiety/energy of all the participants. Here I was obliged to get my head straight surrounded by 4500 of my fellow competitors, their supporters, the music DJ and the company representatives manning the sponsor village.

This was also my first race where I’ve run as part of a group, let alone a group that I had never had the opportunity to train with. This was a great lesson to me that I need to manage my pace to my requirements. I have always trained alone and recognize now that I need to stick to my guns and maintain confidence in my preparation.

Needless to say, this is all building to the first 15km of the race. From the start I realized that my companions were going to attack the start very aggressively. I was fine on the starting flat section but could feel my heart rate rising as the grade increased. Soon the grade was steeper than my training runs and still my companions were charging up the hills. It was difficult climbing; a steady flow of runners were forcing us to vary our pace and sprint sections to get ahead of the slower runners. In addition to this the trail was an absolute bog with ankle-breaking rocks hidden below the soft muck. With the limited visibility (complete darkness if the runner behind you had a brighter headlamp) you needed complete concentration on the meter of trail ahead. 69,000 meters, one meter at a time would make for a long night. I knew my heart rate was too high and I foolishly maintained the pace, willing myself to believe that I could maintain the effort once we reached the high point of the race.

The aesthetics of the race were beautiful. As we approached the high point, the stars were out and the views to the light of the villages below were stunning. Throughout my travels, I am always amazed to see Ursus Major pointing in new directions. When the trail opened up you could see the glowing serpentine mass of headlamps winding through the darkness. Passing antique farmhouses of stone and raw timbers took us through a part of France I would never see otherwise.

With about 30km left to go I knew I wasn’t going to reach my time goal. I had abandoned my strategy and knew I was expending too much energy. Laurent and Olivier had gone ahead and I knew that Laurent wouldn’t achieve his time goal by staying with me. I encouraged him to go on and reach his goal but he wasn’t going to leave me to run alone. This was hard on me because I felt I was holding him back and but pressure on myself to keep a pace I wasn’t comfortable with. To both of our luck, at the next aid station was Olivier who had decided to drop out of the race as he had put too much into the first half and was cramping. He had either a 3-hour wait for a bus to Lyon or could push on 5km more to the final relay transition where he could catch an immediate bus. Laurent finally listened to my pleas to take off once he knew I could continue with Olivier. I was very happy to have Olivier for the next 5km and knew that I could complete the final 25km on my own.

With a quick change into warm, dry clothes and a renewed constitution about my situation I took comfort in my cocoon with the cold, crisp air nipping at my shell.

What made the final 30km of the SainteLyon very interesting was that Olivier had almost no English and my French is less than poor. We soon found common expressions to keep us going: boue, rapidment, lentement, courir, marche, mange, allez, allons-y, fatigue. Soon Olivier had abandoned his plans of abandonment and we would support each other to the end.

Sunrise was beautiful. An array of deep reds, oranges, and pinks started to glow on the horizon and we knew the finish was coming. Passing runners throughout the streets of Lyon was motivating knowing that no matter how much you’re hurting, someone is in more pain that you. Evil, selfish thinking but comforting nonetheless. In the morning light, the old, winding cobbled streets were hypnotizing, distracting us from the pounding of our toes on the steep urban downhill.

Seeing the 5km remaining sign as we were approaching The Rhone, we were filled with adrenaline and really started to pick up the pace. The thought of getting out of soaking clothes (the second set of the night) and promise of shower helped us to conquer the ridiculously straight, flat final 5km. Supporters along the final stretch helped us with updates of remaining distances and kind cheers. Seeing the sign for the final 200m, rounding the final corner to a huge number of supporters, kept our legs pumping into the Stade du Lyon and the finish line. Entering the Stade and knowing that the running was over sent an emotional chill through the body, a euphoric dizziness.

It’s definitely a unique experience running through the night in the French countryside. C’est fini.

Rocking jeans and rentals in Chamonix on an impromptu ski day.

Connemara

When we got back from Portugal we had the opportunity to explore a bit of Connemara, the mountains and beaches just to the west of Galway. We stopped at Kylemore Abbey, checked out the peat bogs, walked abandoned beaches, and picked bags of delicious wild berries.

Take yourself back to the days of yore (August) and imagine me writing this:

Yeah! Mom and Dad arrived today! Kelly and I surprised them at the airport after they were delayed dealing with the traditional Mieske family custom of lost luggage. They were promised their luggage would be delivered to Galway within the next day. We took the scenic route back to Galway, following the coast road, showing off our favorite surf spots, beaches, and small towns. We stopped in Doolin for their first Irish pub experience and weren’t disappointed. The seafood chowder, mussels, and Guinness lived up to their reputation. With Mom dozing in and out of conciousness, we made our way through the Burren National Park and into Galway.
Now I’m at work for the rest of the week and the three of them can enjoy Galway city and the Aran Islands until we head for Dublin and Portugal on Friday.

Portugal

Okay, again take yourself back to August:
Back from Portugal on the weekend, we had an amazing time. Mom and Dad’s luggage arrived on Friday night and after a 15 minute repacking job (and realizing some things were stolen, grrrrrr) we were off to Dublin. Found our B&B, had a nice pint in a pub then to bed for our 5:30 wake up call.

After some technical difficulties and turning the flight around back to Dublin, the ground crew fixed the plane and we were really off to Porto. Our bags actually did arrive and we hopped in the car and headed south to our town of Pedrogao (Ped-RA-go), halfway between Porto and Lisbon. The house that we rented was right on the ocean and the beach spanned for miles.

Just inland from the beach were miles and miles of pine forests, great for running.

We had a fantastic week touring around central Portugal. We spent a lot of time on the beach, at the markets, and touring around the small towns. The wine was great, the Port even better, but I think I was the only one who loved the Portuguese food.

Jenn, this post is just for you....hope it doesn't give you nightmares!!! Take a good look (laugh) because it's limited time viewing...I swear it doesn't look as bad in real life!!

What else can you do with tupperware??!!

Sorry for the lack of blogging everybody! This summer has been busily rolling along and I’ve been neglecting the site.

Summer has been a madhouse so far. Kelly went back to Canada for 3 weeks and I stayed here to teach and work on my masters. While she was away I got in some hiking, surfing, rugby and lots of cycling.

Kelly returned to a job at the university doing a research project on the treatment of high blood pressure and writing a paper on high altitude medicine. Unfortunately, at the beginning of July Kelly injured her ankle in a tag rugby game. She damaged ligaments, tendons and her calf muscle and followed all of that up with a blood clot later in the summer. So… lots of time in hospitals, in a cast and on crutches. It has been 7 weeks now and she is still on crutches and in a cast. 2 more weeks at least…

Practicing sitting still...thank goodness for a removable cast!!!

Otherwise, the summer has been great!! Here are some highlights of the Irish summer so far (other than work and masters)

Ring of Kerry – 180km cycle around the Ring of Kerry in a day. The weekend after Kelly destroyed her ankle we were set to head to Kerry with a group of friends for a charity cycle. Poor Kell was limited to crutching around and drinking wine with her girlfriends.

Glencoaghan Horseshoe – Had beautiful weather for a big hike in Connemara National Park with a group of friends. Lots of elevation gain and loss, great rock, amazing trail! Will go back for sure.




Achill Island camping – Surf trip up to Achill Island with a gang of friends. Beach camping, pubs, roast meat on the BBQ, and some great coastal hiking.


Momma Oldring visit – Although we’ll take her under any circumstances, it was really nice to have her help out when Kelly got out of the hospital. Not only the company for Kelly while she was laid up (not really, the active little beaver) but she was constantly cooking, cleaning, and making our lives a general pleasure during a very stressful time. She was lucky enough also to catch the end of the Galway Arts Festival and the beginning of Race Week. The city was buzzing with visitors and the streets were packed.



Summer BBQ’s – Lots and lots and lots of meat roasted.

Tag Rugby – Irelands version of softball or coed soccer. Two social nights a week, playing non-contact rugby (with flags instead of tackles). Every season they have a fancy dress night and our theme was “Fame”. Oh yeah, we won the league.

a little aerobics on the pitch!!

Our team captain Eddie

This guy is not on our team but clearly deserves a spot on the blog...hilarious!!

So. For five years Kelly has been laughing at my hilarious wit and basking in my intellectual prowess. To celebrate our 5th anniversary, we found some flights to Italy, YEAH! Our original plan was to find a 4 day backpacking trip but when Kelly destroyed her ankle she felt that she couldn’t do a long distance hike with a cast and crutches. She wanted to but the doctors said no.

So, we flew into Treviso, just north of Venice, rented a car, and headed north into the Alps. After our first pizza, cappuccino and gelato we found our B&B in the tiny village of Nebbiu (pop. 200). That afternoon we went for a nice drive to check out the area.

That night we asked our host for any recommendations for dinner. He mentioned 2 options and we opted for the one closest to our B&B, The Sky Bar Trattoria (Or Ski Bar Trattoria, depending on where you read their name). As soon as we walked in the owner came up and welcomed us with open arms. We didn’t have a reservation but he found us a table anyway and was excited to have two Canadians visiting. As there were no menus, the owner simply asked us what we wanted. ???? When we paused he suggested either the traditional pasta starter followed by a meat dish or he would bring us samplers of typical dishes and a main meat dish (vegetarian for Kelly of course). We opted for the samplers and he proceeded to bring us 4 starters each with a light red wine to suit the dishes (everything from pancetta, olive plates, ravioli with beet root, pasta with pancetta, polenta with mushrooms au jus, ). It was really nice, as he’d come to the table to talk about each and every course; it’s ingredients, it’s connection to the local people and what specific area of the north it was from. When we were just about stuffed he brought the main dishes, a beautifully baked cheese for Kelly and deer for me (I had it finished before discovering it was Bambi), again, with a different wine to suit the food. With no menus, amazing plentiful food and bottomless wine, we began to be concerned about the bill. I knew I had about 120 euro in my wallet and Kelly had another 50 so we hoped we could cover it without Visa’s help. After desserts, cappuccinos, and aperitifs I went to pay the bill. 65 euro. Total. For the best dinning experience of our lives!! That’s 2 starters and a bottle of beer in Ireland!! (Okay, slight exaggeration). Needless to say we made a reservation for the next night, how could we turn our backs on such a great experience?


The next day, after a lazy breakfast, we went up to a refugio that our host recommended. Situated at 1600m Kelly had a beautiful patio to read her book, bask in the sun, and drink coffee while I went for a run. We had an amazing lunch then headed to a lake to cool off. The weather was beautiful, hot and sunny in the day with a thundershower in the evening or during the night. Unfortunately the clouds came a little early that day so we went for a cappuccino and a gelato beside the lake. Pretty rough.





Our B&B host was an absolute wealth of local knowledge. He directed us to refuges, great running trails, and obscure little villages.

Sunday morning, after another lazy breakfast (and another breathless, air-sucking, high-altitude run) we made our way towards our next accommodation, stopping at interesting little villages along the way. This village, , is known for its murals and traditional way of living. It was a fantastic place to take photos of the local people, smiling and enjoying a social Sunday afternoon.








Cortina is a beautiful little town, 8,000 people in the summer but balloons to 30,000 in the winter season. Seeing all the ski lifts and terrain its easy to see why. The town itself is a really posh mountain town (host of the 1978 Winter Olympics) and it was really fun enjoying a cappuccino, window shopping and checking out every outdoor shop we came to.



After Cortina, we headed to the pass where we were to catch the cable car up to our next destination, Refugio Lagazoui (2752m), perched on top of a high mountain cliff in the heart of the Dolomites. We spent the afternoon in the sun, having lunch, playing cards while enjoying mountaintop cappuccinos and cold beer. Unfortunately the clouds rolled in and we missed what could have been a spectacular sunset during dinner. C’est la vie.

The cable car up to the refugio

Euro style his and hers hiking gear!!!

View of the refugio from a nearby peak

But sunrise would be a different story. I awoke at about 4am to use the bathroom (darn cold beers and wine) and out the window was a gorgeous view of the Big Dipper and the sun peeking up in the distance. I went back to the room, grabbed my camera and tripod and headed out to photograph. I thought I’d just snap some quick shots and head back to bed but the sun started coming up and I was mesmerized.

look for the big dipper!!

Let it be known that even though we tried to have a slow weekend, Kelly managed to crutch a million miles through hilly, cobblestone villages, mountain trails and endless outdoor shops. She’s got calloused hands and a strong leg that should be in the Olympics. If crutching were an Olympic event, no question she’d medal.

We had a nice relaxing day on Sunday, slowly heading back to Treviso. Nice pizza lunches, more gelato (and more gelato) and some grocery shopping (parmasean cheese, coffee, polenta and dried mushrooms) on our way to the airport. At the airport we barely made the flight, as the check-in agent wouldn’t let Kelly on the plane without a doctors note. They held us back until about 10 minutes before departure while this agent sought permission from Ryanair. I guess we were luck y that the departing agent in Ireland swept us through without a note or we would have missed our holiday. The good news is that in all the rush and chaos at the Treviso airport the agent forgot to charge us the 25 euro check in baggage fee.

We’ll definitely go back (the flights work really well from west Ireland). It was great to go and see the area, getting an idea for the adventuring possibilities when we revisit. Multi-day backpacking, via ferratas (special climbing routes), high runs, wonderful people, plus amazing food and drink await our return.

Yeah! Mom and Dad Mieske arrived today! Kelly and I surprised them at the airport after they were delayed dealing with the traditional Mieske family custom of lost luggage. They were promised their luggage would be delivered to Galway within the next day. We took the scenic route back to Galway, following the coast road, showing off our favorite surf spots, beaches, and small towns. We stopped in Doolin for their first Irish pub experience and weren’t disappointed. The seafood chowder, mussels, and Guinness lived up to their reputation. With Mom dozing in and out of conciousness, we made our way through the Burren National Park and into Galway.
Now I’m at work for the rest of the week and the three of them can enjoy Galway city and the Aran Islands until we head for Dublin and Portugal on Friday.