In the interest of orderliness, I will begin with some differences between racing in Switzerland and racing in the United States. First, in Switzerland, the races begin in the afternoon, presumably so the participants can enjoy a good night's sleep. In the U.S., races begin before dawn, presumably so that by the time the participants truly wake up, they are finished with the run (that's how I look at it, anyway). Secondly, in Switzerland, they have race(s) -- that is, more than one. So in this case, the smallest children could run at 12:45 p.m. with their parents, then the next age group, and so on. Furthermore, the races are different lengths. If you are a poussin or poussine (which is a child under nine, but I think translates literally as "chick") you run 1 kilometer. If you are a VI Femme or Homme, as Eric and I apparently are (I'm not sure what "V" stands for, but I have a sneaking suspicion that is may be "vielle/vieux," which means "old."), you run 11k (in this race -- others are different distances). So, Johanna and Lucas, being "ecoliers" (schoolchildren), ran 2k at 13h45, which is what they call 1:45 p.m. around here. Eric and I didn't run until 15h30. All of this made for quite a long day. The saving grace was that the race began and ended less than a kilometer from our house, and Eric and I actually passed our house THREE TIMES during the race (more about that later).
We were totally prepared for this race. Johanna and I walked her course, we ate a good breakfast, and we showed up half an hour early. Drew, who would have been our cheerleader and photographer, had gone to France to play soccer with his buddies there. (This, incidentally, is why most of the pictures we have are of Eric. We only have them because his friend from work was on the course, and Eric was the only member of the family that Francois recognized.) What we were completely unprepared for was the third important characteristic of racing in Switzerland, which is that with racing, as with so much else, the Swiss are NOT KIDDING. At 1:30 p.m., the poussins took off for their loop, and the second those little chicks were out of the way, the ecoliers jammed themselves into the narrow starting gate and spent the next 15 minutes jockeying for the best position. Johanna and Lucas, not understanding that elbowing, shoving, and stepping on toes are Swiss race etiquette, were quickly shunted to the rear of the scrum, and when the starting gun went off, they lost more ground in an effort to avoid trampling younger children (which is also perfectly acceptable, apparently). In case it's not already clear, this is why I seeded myself way in the back for my race! Given the bad start and the fact that neither alien offspring seemed to be feeling well, they finished okay. Johanna was fourth in her age group, and she now knows to bring a cattle prod when we run the Escalade in two weeks. We won't share the places of any of the other runners in the family. Suffice it to say, while we were initially disappointed by Johanna's place, her finish looked better and better to us as each of the rest of us completed our course.
So, the ecoliers portion of the festivities out of the way, we returned home briefly, then zipped back to the starting line for the old folks race. My stomach was churning with nerves. I don't usually get nervous before a race, but seeing how speedy the school children were, I had some serious apprehension that I might well be dead last in my race. I know someone has to be last, and I know that it's a blessing to everyone else if it's me, but that doesn't stop me from fearing it, all the same. Just before the start, an elderly man asked me how many times we ran around the course. I told him I thought it was twice. He said, "Do you mind if I ask someone else?" (He was clearly correctly interpreting my lack of French acumen to translate into a lack of acumen in general.) He did ask someone else, and then informed me that no, we would be running the course three times. This was bad news, because I had practiced the course and knew that there was one long and steep hill. Now, one long and steep hill in an 11k is no big deal. Two hills, which is what I had been anticipating, is a bigger deal, but still not a problem. Three long and steep hills, however, begins to look like a pretty hilly course. The other minor issue was that I had told Eric that the course was two loops, and, since he was up towards the front of the pack, I had no way to correct the misinformation I had provided. If there's anything worse than a third long and steep hill, it has to be a surprise third long and steep hill.
The gun went off, and everyone back in my neck of the woods shuffled along until we could cross the starting line and begin to run. I will spare the reader a blow-by-blow, and offer some impressions instead. One yells, "Allez! Allez!" or "Courage!" to runners during a race. There is no water on the course (Francois informed us that of course there wouldn't be for such a short race). 11k is at least twice as long as 10k (at least that's how it felt to me). We actually ran one small loop four times, and the big loop with the hill three. I was not last, and I even passed some people on the hill of deja vu. The winners of the race (about the top 20) lapped me. No elderly ladies lapped me, but some certainly finished the race before me. Eric says he narrowly outsprinted a woman in her 60s near the end. Eric was a little irked about the three hills, but I think he has forgiven me. Look how great he looked at the end.
Especially as compared to me! If I look tired, it's because I could barely get a breath by this point.
Upon reflection, Eric and I concluded that the reason the Swiss are so fast is that everyone in this country is in good shape to begin with. They walk. They bike. They ski. No one needs to enter a race as motivation to get in shape or lose weight. The people who are racing here are people who take running seriously and are truly competitive. That's certainly not a bad thing. Another not-bad thing about the Trans-Onesienne was that rather than being given a t-shirt, participants were given a commemorative jar of local honey, donated by the Geneva Apiary Society. As much as our family loves honey, that was a wonderful souvenir for us. The best thing about the day, though, was something that we found to be the same in Switzerland as in the United States. The running community in both cultures is made up of truly friendly and "gentil" people who are encouraging to one another and enthusiastic about sharing their love of the sport.
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