Alpine Running Meet Lizumer Hütte, September 2016

by Oliver Blaydon

Flights to Innsbruck approach down a wide valley which allows a fantastic chance to look at the mountains on either side of city. Within an hour of landing you can be in a hut 2000m above sea level full of grand thoughts of skipping over the peaks. This is how five of us felt as we casually limbered up for a "quick few miles" before dusk to prepare for some serious athleticism on the first meet of the AAC(UK)'s running group.

Alpine running meet at Lizumer Hütte
photo John O'Connor

Three of our group had Alpine experience, I was not one of them. Within two tenths of a mile I had begun to walk up what I would normally call a reasonable slope; I just couldn't get any air in, even a usually gentle pace felt like a sprint to my lungs. This is the major difference between trail running in the UK and mountain running in the Alps. The other is your perception of good pace. A nine mile run involved a moving time of just under two and a half hours, the total time for the exercise was nearly five hours, including a lunch stop and other breaks. Ordinarily I'd expect to complete that distance over the South Downs in 90 minutes. An ascent of 1,800 metres in three miles was fairly typical and often over scree or small rocks.

Of course, the descents have the same profile and this is where alpine running becomes worth the pain. Not only are the descents incredible fun and a true release after the climbs, but the sheer technicality of the surface tests your concentration, ability to predict balance and speed over the ground. It's a tremendously variable surface: within half-a-mile you can move from rocks to tracks sunk into the turf to rutted pasture and all the while the surface is hard so your ankles need to absorb turns, uneven surface and pounding.

Day three involved a cable-car ride to the top of a mountain overlooking Innsbruck to allow a downhill run back into the city, The initial two miles were along a traverse around two feet in width and a steep drop to the right, Two of our group decided to take a more accessible route but, despite a little vertigo, I chose to stick with our most experienced alpinists. Irrationally, running the path felt far safer than walking. Running a path that seems to teeter on the edge of a mountain, with a cable bannister along its length is a wonderfully peculiar way to feel involved with the landscape; a dramatic way to explore a dramatic place.

But the joy of running through a beautiful and moving environment is something else, even in a group. When you're running through the mountains you feel alone in your ability to complete the day's activity. The sparseness, with its absence of roads, shops, homes and other signs of human permanence, mocks the so-called self-sufficiency of the trail running I'm used to. Here, even with four other people, your awareness of the vertigo, consequences of hunger, thirst and injury feel so much more apparent. The risk of moving as fast as you can creates a far more visceral thrill!

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