Carnets de Claire #4 – MCC – UTMB with Team Adaptive

Ecotrail: the start of a new chapter

Before returning to the heart of Chamonix, here are a few lines to tell you what led me to this fabulous adventure.

On March 16, 2024 at around 11 pm, after 11:35 hours of effort, I completed my first 80 km, the Ecotrail de Paris. I finish this race by crossing the finish line on the^1st floor of the Eiffel Tower.

I cross that finish line transcended by emotions, transported by the magic that sport gives me. For the^{1st time} in my life, I raise both arms in the air, without fear, without anxiety. I’m raising my two arms in total insouciance of my difference. A unique insouciance so powerful that no evil can touch me, no torture can touch my spirit. The magic of sport is stronger and offers me extraordinary deliverance. I cross the finish line in a state of total fulfillment. After 11:35 of surpassing myself, I’m happy to have reached the end of this race, but anxious to return, after such a parenthesis of freedom, to the reality that haunts me.

My husband and parents are at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower, and I’m getting into the elevator to go back down. Will they understand the emotion I’m feeling? Will they understand the power this sport brings me? I ask myself this question until I meet their eyes… I let my tears flow, leaving all my questions in the elevator. I let my tears of relief flow, my tears of suffering, I let them flow into my mother’s arms. Tears that have to come out without words, a kind of freeze frame in which everything is finally said.

My father arrives, my tears continue. My parents have carried me so much since I was a little girl that my emotions are overwhelming. There are no words strong enough to describe the strength they’ve given me. My husband arrives, holds me tight, so protective and reassuring, as he has been since day¹. This emotion is a shot of extraordinary happiness and gentleness. I return home soothed, my body tired but charged with endorphins. I wake up the next morning to find this photo of me with both arms raised. For the first time in my life, at the age of 37, I can tolerate this image, I can tolerate looking at my cut upper body. I manage to look at this photo without feeling sick. I’m aware of the harsh way I look at myself, I’m working on it and this photo marks the beginning of a new chapter.

The need for a new sporting challenge

I tolerate this image, but I don’t accept it. I’m secretly afraid of returning to my daily routine, afraid of being confronted once again by all the gestures that bother me, afraid of being confronted by questions, stares… To overcome all my fears, I have this immediate need to immerse my spirit in a new sporting challenge, a new adventure that will carry me forward and guide my daily life.

The day after my 80 km, I tell my husband: ” Honey, I want to race in the mountains and I’d like some poles. I want to give myself that propulsion and balance I’ve been missing. I want to feel like a two-armed athlete. ”

I ask him if he has any ideas on how to make something for me.

He replies: ” Better than a DIY project, I’m going to contact Boris Ghirardi, a leg amputee after a motorcycle accident who has surrounded himself with professionals to develop an extraordinary running blade. He’ll surely be able to put you in touch with the right people to develop a suitable stick“.

I think for a moment and reply, ” Okay…let’s dare to ask! “

Meeting with Boris Ghirardi

Here I am in contact with Boris, a man of such kindness and benevolence as I have rarely come across in my life. A man of such rare and precious commitment. After several exchanges and a few confidences, Boris quickly grasped the importance of running in my life. A month later, he asked me to join his adaptive team to take part in the MCC by UTMB, a 42 km race from Martigny-Combes in Switzerland to Chamonix, with 2400 meters of ascent.

The Adaptive Team

What is the adaptive team? 12 disabled athletes illustrate thatadaptability and resilience open the way to surpassing oneself.

The team’s project? Promoting inclusion and diversity through sport. Proving that every difference transforms the impossible into the possible through sheer willpower and mental strength.

Accepting to be different

Literally amazed by this proposal, I said a BIG yes without the slightest hesitation! I then embarked on a new adventure combining sport and disability, my two greatest permanent challenges… This commitment secretly shook me up for a few days. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been fighting to be like everyone else, fighting not to be pigeonholed as handicapped, and suddenly I agree to join a handisport team.

I retrace my history and realize that the intense psychological work of the last 18 months, thanks to the unfailing support of my sister-in-law Hélène, trained in NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming), is bearing fruit. Hélène with whom I’ve spent long hours analyzing and confronting my biggest demons. Hélène with whom I spent long hours going back in time to understand my suffering and tame my body. Hélène with whom I built a new stage, a new stage that finally materialized in my integration into this adaptive team and my acceptance of being different. I’ve always been in deep denial about disability, and I’ve always wanted to be treated like my brothers and sisters, like my comrades.

I couldn’t stand the idea of being in the next box, surely not for fear of being wronged.

Through Boris’s words, I instantly understand that this team is a unique opportunity to push myself , and that I must go with pride! I understand that this adventure is an integral part of my journey towards body acceptance. I understand that I have to accept that I’m not like everyone else.

Accepting support

By taking part in this race as a disabled athlete, I can be accompanied by a guide/race assistant.

I immediately said to myself, ” No, Claire, you’ve got both legs and both eyes, so you can run on your own, so it’s irrelevant to take on a guide. “

Torn by the option presented to me, I decided not to let my self-inflicted demands get to me, and offered myself the opportunity to be accompanied. I decide to offer myself, for once, a practical and logistical comfort to avoid any annoyance in my movements, notably in the management of my never simple one-handed backpack.

Arnaud, a friend and great runner with solid trail experience, happily agreed to become my guide. Very happy at the idea of sharing this race with Arnaud, I systematically feel obliged to justify having a guide myself, I don’t feel legitimate. This feeling takes me back to the rigidity I’ve always imposed on myself. This rigidity scares me with its nameless coldness. Why so demanding? I think back to the benevolent spirit of this adaptive team, which comforts me and lets me take a little responsibility myself.

Preparing for MCC

I’m euphoric at the idea of running my^1st mountain race and start my preparation at the beginning of June with unfailing determination. My greatest joy are my long weekend outings, 3, 4 then 5 hours. Long interludes alone between the city and the forests of the Paris suburbs. Long interludes during which my difference fades away to make way for peace and serenity. Long interludes during which my difference gives me a powerful mental boost. I train for week after week, always with the immense joy of putting on my sneakers and setting off to disconnect my mind. I run with a smile on my face, relieved to rediscover these moments that belong to me and reassure me. Jen needs it.

After 8 weeks of specific training, I’m just 2 days away from the race.

The emotion of inclusion

My husband and I arrive in Chamonix, where we meet some of the adaptive team for the^{1st time}. Julien and Travis tibial amputees, Pol born with hemiparesis, Vasu right leg amputee with no possibility of being fitted for a brace and who will be running the MCC on crutches! Sophie in remission from breast cancer. A group rich in humanity and simplicity.

I find myself at the heart of this team and am immediately gripped by emotion. It’s a special emotion to be part of a group of such strong personalities, all of whom have been knocked about by life. I’m gripped by a sense of deliverance at being able to show my body as it is, without limits. I surprise myself by being able to be just me. I haven’t even run the race yet, but part of the challenge has been won. The diversity of our team and the strong spirit of inclusion transport me into a new world, without stereotypes, a world where every difference makes you unique and stronger.

I experience every moment as a kind of^1st time:

• ^1st time I don’t feel alone in my difference within a group.
• ^1st time I’m not alone in this suffering, sometimes so powerful it borders on the irrational.
• ^1st time that I feel integrated in all normality.

It’s a wonderful feeling.

D-Day – It’s off to MCC!

D-Day… on the start line, the entire adaptive team is introduced by one of the trail’s greatest “speakers”, Ludo Collet, with incredible recognition and respect! Our team is welcomed with exceptional enthusiasm. We’re all very moved, and everyone is immediately immersed in the story and battle of a lifetime.

A relentless climb

That’s it, I’m off, it’s off to a great start. My guide Arnaud had warned me that it would be uphill for 4 hours. He wasn’t kidding! I can confirm that it’s going to be very, very steep. We start the climb and 10 minutes later, the sound of all the runners’ sticks is ringing in my head, violently reminding me that I can’t afford this balance & propulsion.

I could resign myself to the simple fact that I can’t hold 2 sticks, but I don’t accept having to bow to this resilience. I feel a sense of injustice and enormous frustration. I don’t accept the prohibitions imposed on me by my severed body. This singing of sticks makes me angry. Tears roll down my face, my throat tightens, my mind tangles. I endure this anger, plug in my headphones, flood my ears with loud, energetic music to disguise the sound of sticks torturing me. I go back into my bubble to protect myself, to continue my race and go and find this unconditional freedom.

We’re climbing all the time, with no respite and not a hint of flatness. I grit my teeth and think for 4 hours. The altitude challenges my heart, but supported by my guide, buoyed by my husband’s extraordinary encouragement, buoyed by the crowd, I savor how lucky I am to be here. I run with a freer spirit, crossing places out of time. My mind is out of time. I think of Vasu, who is doing this same run on crutches! For him, I’m moving forward. I think of my childhood friend Victor, who overcame bone cancer in his leg at the age of 8 and still suffers every day from a body damaged by his illness.

After 4 hours and 20 minutes of climbing, I arrived at the Col de la Balme. A quick refreshment and off I go again. Feeling good, I begin the descent, which is so rolling that I realize I’mstarting the descent to the finish. Surprising as it may be, I don’t like the idea of arriving too quickly, I don’t like the idea of seeing my moment of freedom come to an end.

Taking the time to get off

The finish line is always a very strong feeling for me, torn between the joy of having surpassed myself and the anxiety of finding my aches and pains again. In the middle of the descent, I was overtaken by several runners, who logically wanted to get there fastest. But that’s not what I’m looking for in this sport. Every mid-race announces the beginning of the end of the party.

So, yes, I’m taking my time to enjoy it longer. I smile to think that I’m making the pleasure last. It may seem a little “crazy” to think that after 35 or 40 km, you want to stop the tempo and go on and on… But that’s exactly how I feel when I feel the finish too close. I’m enjoying this^2nd part of the race without any pressure whatsoever. I observe the descent techniques of my guide, who is often right in front of me, and I take advantage of the descent to observe the beauty of the natural surroundings.

I take advantage of this descent to think of the sweetness of this moment. I think of my husband, my children, my parents, my sister, my brothers, my sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law, my nieces and nephews, all of whom support me on my journey. Yet I feel a strong sense of injustice towards my family, and jealousy sometimes takes over. I look at them with love, but also with a gigantic desire to be able to enjoy myself with my own two hands.

I’m aware of this feeling and running has the power to alleviate it, running has the power to take me away from these difficult thoughts. The longer the miles go by, the more my frustration becomes an escape. The longer the miles, the more I tolerate my difference.

The descent to Chamonix took on a special dimension when I suddenly realized that, through our adaptive team, I felt recognized as a disabled athlete. I’m proud to show that, despite differences of any kind, trail running is accessible, the impossible doesn’t exist and only determination and mental strength can carry us to the finish.

An emotional finish line

I reach the center of Chamonix with profound energy and joy. I decide to live this arrival with all the endorphin and adrenalin these last few hours have brought me.

I can hear my husband’s voice, as rich in emotion as ever to feel him by my side, I can hear my guide telling me over and over again to enjoy this moment that belongs to me, to savor this moment after such a self-transcendence. I run the last few metres with a smile on my face, my body relaxed, my mind unrestrained by anything. I arrive on that blue carpet and cross the finish line bare-armed, proud to be me, taking on this body with sincerity.

I collapse into Boris’s arms, tears of joy welling up… Boris who offered me this trip to the land of inclusion I’d never visited before, a magical land in which I’m simply me. OoooH! but WHAT a sensation!

I finish this race with a shower of stars in my eyes, my heart gripped by the absolute freedom I’ve come to seek.

Thank you to Boris Ghirardi, thank you to the adaptive team, thank you to my guide Arnaud, thank you to my husband, thank you to my children, thank you to my family and thank you to the whole UTMB team for making our P’tit truc en plus shine….

Read more