Running Up the Col du Galibier, Slowly!

The Col du Galibier’s famous for torturing elite cyclists in the Tour de France, but not so much for muppets like me running up it in hats advertising sausages… On Sunday we pulled our motorhome into a parking spot at the bottom of the southern side of the Galibier pass (at the Col du Lautaret), and once I’d had a brew, I went outside and peered up at the pencil-thin lines of distant road in wonder. Could I run up there? I paced about for a good while thinking about it. The tiny motorbikes blasted across the mountain in front of me before rounding a bend and appearing later as a single pixel on a distant slope, seemingly endless miles away.

Pulling out my phone and firing up maps.me, I could see the incline wasn’t that steep – mainly 6% to 7% – and the top of the col was only 5.5 miles away. I could see that the northern approach to the col (not visible from where I was stood) is about 11 miles long at the same incline, so I’d be taking the easy way up from the south, if I could get brave enough to have a go!

Looking north up the Col du Galibier

In theory it was do-able for me, although the top of the col’s over 8600 feet, and I was a bit nervous about the thin air and cool temperatures up there. The Zermatt half marathon I’ve been training for these past few months is higher, steeper, and more miles of uphill, and is less than 3 weeks away now. So, I **should** have been able to get up Galibier or I’m shortly in for a painful shock in Switzerland! That said, Zermatt’s an organised run with medical support, drink stations and lots of fellow runners, while this one would be me alone. And in the past four days I’ve run two other hilly half marathons, so maybe I was pushing it a bit?

Col du Galibier in Mid June

Cutting to the chase, I ran up there yesterday, a pretty great way to spend a Monday morning and I’m really proud of myself for nailing it. I took water in my backpack, stuffed in some spare clothes and a bag of figs (which went untouched), pulled on my finest meat-industry-supplied hat from a previous Tour de France caravan, and jogged off, trying not to look upwards too much. After running with earphones the other day for the first time, having to press them back in every ten steps, I’d popped my phone in the top of the bag on loudspeaker instead. That way I could get me some uplifting tunes (Chariots of Fire, Rocky Theme tune, some Take That ballads – I’m not ashamed!) and still hear the traffic, bob on.

The arrow marks the spot where I’m jogging through epic scenery, about 1.5 miles in. Beats plodding the backstreets, that’s for sure.

On the way up I’d a few cyclists for company, and the occasional set of BMW motorbikes snaking past, but otherwise the narrow strip of tarmac was quiet. The further I got up the hill, the better I felt. The combination of music, scenery and sedate pace were enough to keep me steadily plodding on, one foot in front of the other, as the miles went by. Snow appeared at the side of the road, a few feet thick in defiance of the sun. In one place a section had slipped, dragging enough rock onto the road to see a JCB clearing it, high in the sky. I jogged past as quickly as I could to let them carry out.

About a kilometre from the top, I heard a clapping sound and turned to see a workman giving me some encouragement. I doubt he knew how much that helped push me, but I raised a clenched fist to try and say ‘thanks fella’. With the sound ringing in my ears and arm hairs stood on end, I rounded the last few hairpins to see a collection of cyclists and bikers stood looking out at the view – the col! Topping out, I jumped about it a bit with my arms in the air like a fool, but I’d checked my watch and was predictably short on miles. To get up to the 13.1 miles (21km) I wanted, I ran a mile down the northern side of the col (as spectacular as the south), turned round and, with a lot of effort now I have to say, struggled back up to the col.

A very happy me at the top of the Col du Galibier, woo hoo!

Over the top again, I messed about getting some photos and video, and then just took it all in. I’d 5 miles left of easy downhill running, with snow-capped mountains, blue sky and glaciers for company. The banging tunes were working a bit too well, and I had to deploy my patented cry-wiper meat hat to remove a few tears of joy! Woo hoo! What a run.

A little sprint at the end!

Made it!

In terms of massive physical achievements, it wasn’t anything compared to what my peers do back home (one of em’s running a 95 miler about now, another did a hilly marathon last weekend etc), but in terms of me getting nearer to Zermatt, and a small celebration of losing almost 14Kg of weight to get here, that run was priceless to me.

One final ask, if I can: this training run’s part of my training for the Zermatt Half Marathon on 7 July 2018, which I’m running for the British Lung Foundation. To find out more or donate a quid or two, please click here or on the screenshot below. Thanks guys.

Cheers, Jay