Trans Alpine Run: A Journey Beyond Limits
The Transalpine Run is a multi-day stage race through the Alps. 8 days. 3 countries. 150 miles. 51,000+ feet of climbing. 🏔️🏃♂️ I just wrapped up the Trans Alpine Run, and honestly, words don't quite cover it. We climbed the vertical equivalent of Mount Everest nearly TWICE.
The human body is an incredible machine, but multi-day stage racing teaches you that the mind is the real captain of the ship. I recently stood at the finish line of the Trans Alpine Run after crossing through Germany, Austria, and Italy. Looking back at the data, the numbers look like a typo: 150 miles on foot, over 40 hours of moving time, and over 51,031 feet of climbing.
If you told me on day one how deep I would have to dig, I might have hesitated to lace up my shoes. But stage racing doesn't happen all at once; it happens step by grueling step.
The Highs, the Lows, and the Ultra in the Middle Every stage of this race carried its own distinct personality. Stage 1 was an introductory shock to the system, serving up 27 miles of technical singletrack right out of the gate. But the real crucible arrived on Stage 3.
Stage 3 was a monstrous 33.2-mile ultra packing 9,354 feet of technical climbing. By mile 28, after navigating intensely technical descents that shattered our quads, the course handed us a final parting gift: six miles of slightly uphill gravel road to the finish. It was a pure mental battlefield. After 3 days for serious running, pushing through that finish line in 8 hours and 35 minutes altered what I thought I was capable of enduring. However, Stage 5 presented the most difficult mind-game. Already intimidated by the first 5 miles and the slope of that relentless climb (4,140 feet of climbing or 828 ft/mile), staring in the dark almost broke me. I know we can do things together that are much harder, or impossible, alone. Two amazing runners in our group kindly agreed to let me tag along that morning-words can’t express my gratitude.
Dancing with Mother Nature
As Stage 6 approached, our run of glorious weather faded. Freezing rain and sleet at the summits forced course re-configurations on Stage 6, turning a long day into a lung-burning uphill sprint. On Stage 7, after a 4 am wake up call and bus trip to the start, we stood around in the pouring rain. Once we started running, we found ourselves scrambling over exposed wet rock in a freezing downpour, hands gripping slick steel safety cables. In those moments, your world shrinks down to the next two feet in front of you. Your focus isn't on the finish line hours away; it’s entirely on staying upright and moving forward. I’m not the biggest fan of open-air exposure in the mountains and distinctly remembering at one point that I was grateful for all the clouds since there was a feeling of being on a sheer cliff. At the highest point, we learned the stage had been stopped as the weather continued to deteriorate. We still had to descend a slick, muddy, steep mountain side before the improvised finish line. These types of descents can make the medial (inner) sides of my knees hurt. It was at this finish line while trying to warm up that I thought I wouldn’t finish. My right knee hurt! This was the first time ever at any race that I cried- so close to the finish, only one stage to go but this type of knee deep inner pain required me to stop running in the past. Could all the recovery I could do and one night’s sleep get me to the finish line? A daunting Stage 8 with over 490 feet/mile of climbing loomed ahead.
Crossing the Border toward the Finish Line
The ultimate reward waited for us on Stage 8. The bad weather departed as we crossed into Italy, Martin, the race director, planned a diabolical day of climbing but treated us with the most beautiful, flowing, runnable technical downhills of the whole course. Flying down those trails with a week's worth of fatigue locked in my legs felt like flying. You knew the finish line was close and you knew you would complete the journey! This stage race was a stark reminder that we are all capable of surviving far more discomfort than we think. A massive thank you to everyone who shared the trail, supported me from afar, and pushed through the tough miles beside me. The legs are empty, the shoes are trashed, but the cup is completely full.
The Final Toll: 150 miles of breathtaking singletrack, 40 hours and 12 minutes on your feet, and an earth-shattering 51,031 feet of vertical elevation gain. From wondering how finishing could be done to the exhilaration of the finish line. This 8-day stage race taught me so many lessons about mountain running and about myself.
-Dream Big, Do Things That Seem Impossible, Exceed Your Own Expectations-
