Eventrac News

The Transalpine Run- Final Day

23 Jul, 2024 02:54 By:

Niederdorf im Pustertal to Sexton (Italy):  33.4km

After yesterday’s stage, both Jody and me were feeling a little leg weary. My meniscus was causing some trouble after the full out effort in finishing third, and had required some skilful physio, late last night. Jody had also been able to run faster than his usual pace in my absence, so was feeling a little tired.

I decided to continue with Plan B, as Jody and I seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to go our separate ways. Still, I had resolved to cross the line with him, come what may. I was feeling a little grumpy at breakfast (trying to find an Internet in the Alps to send a blog has not been easy!) and wondered if I should just take it easy. On the physio’s couch just minutes before the start, the girl who was taping my knee said ‘you aren’t supposed to be so relaxed before the start!’ The truth was that I was half asleep. Only when the Road to Hell started to pump out once again over the sound system (a clever Pavlovian ploy?) did my blood start to course.

The start was, as usual, full of good humour and the lucky 400 or so runners left in the mix (plus a few who had rejoined the race after dropping out) sauntered off towards the hiking trails, which led us once more up in to the stunning chalk trails of the Dolomites.

Framed by the picturesque lunar landscape, which was dominated by the Drei Zinnen geological towers, (which reminded me of the Torres in Patagonia) we ran, limped and romped towards our final destiny. Judging by the high spirits at the start, I suspect people were feeling a little elated in the most part but then most of us were in denial about the actual state of our bodies.

Today, I went full out, knowing that I could win a stage and needing to prove it to myself. Running hard for the hills, I built up a lead that would be hard to reduce as we hit the foothills in to the mountains.
This time, I concentrated hard on the markings, as I tightened the screw on my weary muscles, making them climb the 2,405 metre ascent to Dreizinnenhutte before getting technical on a fast freewheeling descent towards Sexton. The crowds lining the route were incredible, tingling cowbells, sounding horns and shouting things in Italian and German, which were just whispers in the wind by the time I had gone past.
Crossing the line first, eight minutes ahead of the overall winners, it was not elation I felt but an intense satisfaction. The TV crews present turned their attention-quite rightly on the yellow jersey winners. After stopping for a quick drink, I turned and ran back up the trail to find Jody, some two hours behind and we ran the final few miles back towards the finish. A legitimate finish.
Neither of us was disqualified and we had both got what we came for. As the sun beat down on this small Italian town, we were able to enjoy the party atmosphere, watching the runners perform their signature dances, which they had obviously rehearsed. The Brazilian girls, who we had met on the first day, and the second and the third, had gathered a posse of dancers to perform a little ritual samba. Now there was only one thing left to do, which was head to the bars and enjoy the rest of the summer sun.