What I learnt about preparedness and mental fitness from the Mont Blanc Marathon

Written by: Jen

This race was our second ever marathon. Not your typical choice with over 2,800 meters in incline and some technical tracks. We were seriously nervous.

A lot can happen inside of 42.2 kilometres, but one thing was very clear: This was going to be the toughest challenge we have ever taken on.

We arrived in the Chamonix region two weeks before the marathon. Our first race, the Great Ocean Road Marathon, was only 4 weeks earlier.

Since my running journey began with a humble 5k lunch-break-run in September last year, I knew that uphills were my weakest point. To say that the 2,800 meter incline of the Mont Blanc Marathon was intimidating is a massive understatement.

On my first one-hour run after arriving in Chamonix, I tackled the mountain behind our AirBnB. Or rather, the mountain tackled me. I got up to 300 meters incline, and I was exhausted! We only had one week to adjust to the hills before the pre-race tapering would begin. In each of my training runs, I went back to face the mountains. Each time I thought I must have gone up 400, 500, 600 meters. But when I checked my Suunto watch at the end of each run, the truth was far from that. I never exceeded 350 meters incline.

If you knew me well, you would know that I like to be perfectly prepared. Whether that’s in business, organising dinner or preparing for a marathon. And that’s what made this race so confronting.

To be okay with the uncertainty of what’s to come. That weird feeling in your stomach that wants you to stay safely in your comfort zone. I had to learn to trust the process, trust my training and show up at the starting line anyway. I had to convince my mind that the only option was to finish.

So there I was, nervously awaiting the start at 7:00am, with no real idea of what was about to unfold.

The next 9 hours and 3 minutes became one of the most extraordinary and challenging things I have ever done. We ran through forests, up and down hills and mountains, and through small towns where locals were cheering us on from the sidelines with cow bells. Sometimes I didn’t run at all. The uphills forced me to hike, slowing down to a pace of more than 20 minutes per kilometre. Then, near the highest point of the race, I met Sean from Ontario who became my hiking buddy for a while. The conversations distracted me from the pain in my legs. I was getting desperate when I ran out of water way too early between two aid stations, and was overjoyed when we crossed a fresh, cold waterfall. Not long after, I felt emotionally overwhelmed when one of the volunteers said something in French that I interpreted as ‘the marathon is 46 kilometres instead of 42’. If this were true, I knew it would add another gruelling hour to the race due to the difficult terrain. All I could do was keep going.

Jamin was tracking me via GPS and was waiting for me at the final stretch. He had already finished two hours earlier and was there to welcome me when I was not much more than a sobbing mess — at least that’s what showed on the outside. But, on the inside, I knew I was a finisher. And that’s all that counted.

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