Late on the afternoon of February 13th after resting from our trek to the Marseille sign, we donned our running clothes and rode two buses for an hour out to a different section of The Calanques National Park for another run. We started out jogging in the shadows of a big white rocky hill. The trail gently climbed uphill, and it wasn't long before I was hot enough to fog up my glasses. I unzipped my quarter zip shirt all the way and began to consider stripping to my t-shirt underneath. The trail got steeper, rougher, and rockier. Covering my eyes for even the fraction of a second it would take to remove my long sleeve shirt felt risky, especially since I was wearing shorts--falling on all of those rocks would tear up my already-scarred knees. I kept my shirt on.
Jeff was bounding farther and farther, nimbly zigzagging through the rocks up ahead of me. I was out of breath and sweaty. At a particularly steep section, I paused to catch my breath and check out the view behind me. When I stood still, the loose dusty gravel on the trail slowly shifted under my feet, and I started to slide back down the hill.
"Ahhh! No!" I gasped, and started hiking up the treacherous gravel trail again before I lost more altitude. It wasn't long before the rocky trail became too rough, loose, and steep for even mountain goat Jeff to run up. We scrambled and skidded up, up, up. My glasses kept fogging from my body heat. I was sweating profusely. Jeff was out of sight up ahead somewhere. It was slow going. Plus, I kept stopping to admire the view. Jeff kept stopping to wait for me. As usual when we run together, Jeff was all suave and fit and raring to go, hardly breaking a sweat while I was gasping, drenched in sweat, with crazy wispy hair plastered to my skull. In other words, I was a hot mess.
We scrambled up the rough visually vertical grade up to the rocky hilltop and were greeted by enormous, sweeping views in all directions. The Mediterranean Sea was on one side, with the setting sun melting into the water. Marseille was on another side, visible through a gap in two hills. The big blue sky arched overhead, embracing all of it, even a certain hot mess of an American runner who was a small speck of humanity in the vast rugged landscape, wandering 7,000 miles from home. A strong wind yanked constantly at my humid-frizzy hair, whipping wisps into my eyes. The sun was like King Midas, turning every bit of the landscape it touched to pure gold.
We hike-ran along the backbone of the calanque and down the other side on another steeper, more treacherous rocky grade. Jeff discovered the trail going down the other side of the calanque-hill while he was waiting and waiting for me to catch up to him. As we picked our way down the rocks, my legs trembled with the strain of descending the steep grade. The sun was sliding closer and closer to the horizon behind us, so every time the trail evened out, we broke into a jog. We did not want to scale those rocks in the dark! What felt like one thousand steep switchbacks later, a parking lot came into view and all of a sudden the trail ended and we were running down a steep paved road. My legs were like jelly after all of the prolonged muscle contractions necessary during our climb and descent. But the road was so steep that we were basically forced to fly down it. A sign informed us that the grade was 18%--the steepest road I've ever run down!
The entire run was only 4.2 miles, but it took us 77 minutes! We ran the first mile and the last mile, and scramble-walk-climbed the middle two miles. Mile 2 had 1,000 feet of elevation gain, and mile 3 had 1,000 feet of elevation loss. We covered mile 3 (descending the steep rock face) in 27 minutes. Mile 4 (on the steep paved downhill) was 19 minutes faster! Once I accepted that this was a hike, not a true run, I started to feel better about it. When I made it up top to the view and the wind cooled my hot-mess fire, I finally started to enjoy the rugged adventure. It helped that I took the lead on the way down so Jeff didn't get out of sight ahead of me, so we could actually hike together instead of me trailing behind him, hot mess-stressing about being so far behind him.
We finished at 6pm back at the same bus stop where we started and caught the bus back towards the city. Then we boarded another bus and then rode the metro for a few stops to get as close to our neighborhood as possible. Our legs were tired! Rubbery! Well-used. The bus/metro journey from trail to our neighborhood took an hour. Since we are young and fit, there was always someone who needed a seat on the bus more than us, so we stood in the corner, swaying and gripping the hand holds while the bus swerved, braked, and accelerated through the narrow curvy bumpy streets. Bus rides basically count as extra workouts! My feet and legs were even MORE worn out after that long journey. We stopped to get kebabs again for dinner on our way home because we were too hungry to wait around for fancier food. We were munching spicy sandwichy heaven back in our petit appartement by 7:20pm.
We stayed in for the rest of the evening.
Pictures: I didn't feel like carrying our camera on this run, so I just used my little budget cell phone for the pictures. It doesn't do as well with dramatic light differences and shaky hands, but it was lightweight and got the job done.
We hike-ran along the backbone of the calanque and down the other side on another steeper, more treacherous rocky grade. Jeff discovered the trail going down the other side of the calanque-hill while he was waiting and waiting for me to catch up to him. As we picked our way down the rocks, my legs trembled with the strain of descending the steep grade. The sun was sliding closer and closer to the horizon behind us, so every time the trail evened out, we broke into a jog. We did not want to scale those rocks in the dark! What felt like one thousand steep switchbacks later, a parking lot came into view and all of a sudden the trail ended and we were running down a steep paved road. My legs were like jelly after all of the prolonged muscle contractions necessary during our climb and descent. But the road was so steep that we were basically forced to fly down it. A sign informed us that the grade was 18%--the steepest road I've ever run down!
The entire run was only 4.2 miles, but it took us 77 minutes! We ran the first mile and the last mile, and scramble-walk-climbed the middle two miles. Mile 2 had 1,000 feet of elevation gain, and mile 3 had 1,000 feet of elevation loss. We covered mile 3 (descending the steep rock face) in 27 minutes. Mile 4 (on the steep paved downhill) was 19 minutes faster! Once I accepted that this was a hike, not a true run, I started to feel better about it. When I made it up top to the view and the wind cooled my hot-mess fire, I finally started to enjoy the rugged adventure. It helped that I took the lead on the way down so Jeff didn't get out of sight ahead of me, so we could actually hike together instead of me trailing behind him, hot mess-stressing about being so far behind him.
We finished at 6pm back at the same bus stop where we started and caught the bus back towards the city. Then we boarded another bus and then rode the metro for a few stops to get as close to our neighborhood as possible. Our legs were tired! Rubbery! Well-used. The bus/metro journey from trail to our neighborhood took an hour. Since we are young and fit, there was always someone who needed a seat on the bus more than us, so we stood in the corner, swaying and gripping the hand holds while the bus swerved, braked, and accelerated through the narrow curvy bumpy streets. Bus rides basically count as extra workouts! My feet and legs were even MORE worn out after that long journey. We stopped to get kebabs again for dinner on our way home because we were too hungry to wait around for fancier food. We were munching spicy sandwichy heaven back in our petit appartement by 7:20pm.
We stayed in for the rest of the evening.
Pictures: I didn't feel like carrying our camera on this run, so I just used my little budget cell phone for the pictures. It doesn't do as well with dramatic light differences and shaky hands, but it was lightweight and got the job done.
I risked my life to take this selfie--nearly tripped and fell on my face in the brief distraction.
The trail: my ankles ache at the memory, haha.
The rocks were so dusty and loose! It was like climbing an avalanche.
One of my view rest stops.
Foggy glasses, feet sliding backwards in gravel, sunset over Marseille.
The trail we took UP was marked with these green dashes. It was like a treasure hunt, looking for the next green dash. They were sometimes tricky to find. When we climbed down the other side, we followed blue dashes.
Almost to the top!
The view from the top.
Marseille from on high.
Facing the golden sun
Running up there was like being on top of the world--the wind made it feel even higher than it was (we were only 1200 feet above sea level). I loved how we could see the curve of the land--it made the view feel bigger.
Pure gorgeous sunlit drama.
Gold.
Marseille
Wild hair: mid-run selfies were a calculated risk on those rocks. But the GOLD!
Down we go.
The sun was setting and it was quickly getting chilly in the shadows.
We climbed down that.
The trick is to maintain four points of contact at all times. In other words, walk on all fours!
Running up high along the Mediterranean was pure bliss.
So was this meaty sandwich with grape juice.
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