Running Whilst on Holiday

I was heading out to the South of France with the family, knowing how difficult it will be just to keep the training going when balanced with the needs of the children, the interest of new places to visit, the heat of the sun and the temptation of fine French wines and pain-chocolate…But there is a half-marathon to prepare for in September and I don’t want to trade this sensation of mounting fitness for the terror of not being up to it on race day.

We flew to Perpignan, hired a car and drove inland towards the Pyrenees, following the course of the river Têt. We arrived at our destination – the tiny French village of Finestret, near Vinça in the district of Languedoc-Roussillon. The village is so small it doesn’t have a bar or a shop and worst of all – no Boulangerie! So breakfast croissants have to be fetched from Vinça, a good 4km run away. None-the-less, it is a beautiful village at the foot of Mount Canigou, which is a focus for the Catalan people. There is the Church of St. Columbie, inevitably La Mairie and a mountain stream running through the village with a waterfall and pools deep enough to swim in.

I managed to run every other day, mostly on the road to Vinça, which was fairly flat. Every time, I met the same old French man on his bike both on the way out and back. We ‘Bonjoured’ and smiled to each other every time. The road took me through peach and nectarine groves and the fruit looked so tempting, especially on the way back. I honestly didn’t scrump any but bought many kilos from the farm shops and they were the most sumptuous and juicy peaches I’ve ever tasted. I ran several times with my eldest son accompanying me on the bike that belonged to the house and once with my partner, Pete on the bike. As a coach of professional athletes, he found it impossible not to give me constructive feedback about my running style, which was very helpful of him, except for the fact that he tells me I need to do more hill work. Great!

My long runs took me firstly up the hill to the next but one village of Estoher and when I say hill, it is actually the mountain road. Two weeks later and my Achilles tendons haven’t yet forgiven me. It was a lovely run though, between 8 and 9am but the gradient never let up at about 1:4 the whole way. All my runs were early, before the sun got too high; top temperatures over the two weeks were 38 and 39 degrees in the afternoons. I saw many locals, including fruit pickers and they all called out in French, some with encouragement and others with funny comments. “Plus vite! Plus vite!” (Faster, faster!) When I got to the top, an elderly gentleman in the beautiful village square called “Il faut aller au Canigou!” (You must run up to the top of Canigou!)

But the best run of all was the day before we left. I went out with my son on the bike and we found the low road to Vinça. It wound firstly through peach groves, then through woodland, and then along a track which was bordered by olive and nectarine trees. We ran through the beautiful village of Sahorle before finding the back road into Vinça. We bought croissants and baguettes, which my son put in a rucksack on his back and then we returned home the way we came. You know those runs when you are fit enough to feel you could run forever and wouldn’t mind trying? Well it wasn’t quite one of those but it was great anyway!

The holiday was the best and most relaxing we have had as a family. The twins being 7 and more independent makes a big difference – we actually did some sunbathing this year. And the running was terrific. I realise that I run partly to be out in nature and that this part of the world is certainly some of the most beautiful countryside to run through. I highly recommend it.