Tour du Roc, Zinal 🇨ðŸ‡
Two months ago, I completed a 26k trail run in Verbier, Switzerland, with 1,800 meters of elevation gain. It was one of my first significant races after my inaugural 39k trail run in Luxembourg. Despite past struggles with injuries like IT band syndrome and plantar fasciitis, I managed to finish the Verbier run pain-free and ranked in the top 50% of participants. That success gave me a sense of confidence—perhaps too much confidence.
When I came across a 27k trail race in Zinal, Switzerland, I couldn’t resist signing up. This race promised breathtaking views of 4,000-meter peaks like Weisshorn and Zinalrothorn, as well as a challenging 2,250 meters of elevation gain. It seemed like the perfect stepping stone toward my ultimate goal: completing a 50k trail run. What I didn’t fully grasp, however, was how different this race would be from Verbier—not just in terms of distance and elevation but also the terrain and altitude.
Race Day: The Starting Line
The morning of the race, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. My preparation hadn’t been stellar; the seven-hour drive from Luxembourg the evening before left little room for a proper dinner. My "meal" consisted of gas station snacks, hardly the fuel needed for a grueling alpine run. Still, I’d had a decent breakfast and hoped it would carry me through.
The first two kilometers of the race were relatively flat, and I settled into a good rhythm. But as soon as the climb began, the intensity hit me. The trail was steep and exposed, with the sun beating down relentlessly. It felt at least 10 degrees hotter than it actually was. Some runners passed me on the ascent, but I held my pace. That’s when the first signs of trouble appeared: twitches in my calves.
The Calf Cramps Begin
I’d decided to try out compression sleeves for this race—a mistake, as I soon realized. They seemed to exacerbate the cramping, so I removed them at the first aid station. Hoping to stave off further issues, I mixed an electrolyte solution but spilled most of it in my haste. I decided to press on and wait for the next aid station to replenish.
Unfortunately, the combination of heat, altitude, and my poor nutrition choices caught up with me. Between the first and second aid stations, my left calf cramped badly, forcing me to stop on a precarious slab of rock. Other runners had to navigate around me, and while some offered help, I knew the solution: electrolytes. I chewed an electrolyte capsule on the spot, but my right calf cramped soon after. The cramping slowed me down significantly and brought back an old enemy: IT band pain.
Battling Through the Pain
The IT band issue was a direct result of my calves tightening up too much, throwing off my knee alignment. By this point, I’d stopped twice to recover, and I wasn’t even halfway through the race. The climb to the second aid station was slow and grueling, and my confidence took a major hit.
Traffic jam at the slippery descent
The section between the second and third aid stations was the most technical part of the race. It included a narrow, shaded stretch on the north face of a pass, with slippery rocks and a fixed metal chain for support. The constant risk of falling rocks added to the tension. I pushed through, motivated by the thought of reaching the highest point of the race: a 3,250-meter col overlooking glaciers and towering peaks.
Reaching the Summit
The final climb to the col was as rewarding as it was challenging. At 3,250 meters, the air was thin, with only 14% oxygen compared to sea level. Like many others coming from lower altitudes, I struggled to maintain a steady pace. A group of cheerful Spanish runners helped lift everyone’s spirits, cheering loudly as we all trudged upward.
When I finally reached the summit, the view was spectacular. Just 15 meters from the trail, you could touch the edge of the glacier. Surrounding us were five iconic 4,000-meter peaks, their icy summits glistening in the sunlight. It was a bittersweet moment; I’d signed up for this race partly for these views, but the effort required to get there left little time to savor them.
The Descent: A Long Way Down
From the summit, it was all downhill to Zinal—1,800 meters of descent over 10 kilometers. My original goal was to finish the race in five hours, but that now seemed laughably optimistic. The first part of the descent was runnable, and I managed to pick up some speed. However, my IT band pain soon intensified, forcing me to rely heavily on my trekking poles.
Despite the pain, I pushed through, determined to finish. The final stretch into Zinal was lined with supportive locals cheering on every runner. Crossing the finish line was a mix of relief and pride, even though my time was far from what I’d hoped. According to my watch, the race was closer to 30k than 27k—a mystery I’m still trying to solve.
Lessons Learned
Looking back, this race was a humbling experience. It exposed the gaps in my preparation and reinforced some key lessons:
1. Nutrition is crucial: Skipping a proper pre-race dinner and relying solely on electrolytes during the race was a huge mistake. Next time, I’ll ensure I have solid food both before and during the run.
2. Test your gear: Using compression sleeves without adequately testing them in long runs backfired. Any new gear needs to be thoroughly vetted under race-like conditions.
3. Respect the altitude: Training at sea level left me unprepared for the challenges of running at 3,250 meters. In the future, I’ll consider arriving earlier to acclimatize.
4. Strength training matters: My cramps and IT band issues highlighted the importance of maintaining a strong foundation through regular strength workouts.
Despite the setbacks, this race reminded me why I love trail running. It’s not just about the physical challenge but also the incredible landscapes, the camaraderie among runners, and the lessons you learn about yourself along the way. Here’s to the next adventure—and hopefully, a better-prepared one.
