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Contact us. Your newsletters. I eventually became a journalist — a job which in my case means regular visits to ski resorts. It was painfully clear she had little experience, and even less desire to treat us with any respect. On arrival, we were allocated our staff accommodation — store rooms in a basement — while our manager installed herself in a hotel bedroom on the top floor, far away from her minions. To complicate matters, it became apparent that our chef had a drinking problem. Before the hotel opening, head office staff came to inspect the property — hardly the ideal night for our chef to embark on a pre-dinner bender. Shortly after sitting down for dinner with the head honchos, I found him slumped over the hob — wine bottle in one hand, lighter in the other. Two colleagues devised a plan: tell the head office staff our chef was feeling unwell before excusing themselves and cooking the dinner themselves. Staff became increasingly despondent. My fellow hotel host had to move into an apartment because her basement bedroom was infested with bed bugs. One morning we found him collapsed in the lobby and wearing his ski boots, after deciding to ski downstairs at 3am. After my fellow hotel host and I complained, our manager responded by accusing us of incompetence, and we were fired. Head office eventually relented, and decided to send us to a resort in the Three Valleys area of France, instead. After driving for hours through a snowstorm, we reached an isolated stretch of road. I remember thinking, as we were bundled out of one car and another, that the whole situation resembled some kind of bizarre hostage swap. There was a packed calendar of booze-fuelled events for seasonnaires, so it was hardly surprising that hook-ups were common. I was joined by my boyfriend now husband , who worked as both a chef and a security guard, which involved nightly patrols of the hotel. One evening, well after the bar had closed for the night, he caught the barman having sex with a guest on a couch in the hotel bar. The worst thing was that this particular woman was staying at the hotel with her husband and two teenage children. My abiding memory? Unfortunately it was Christmas Day and parents had been invited to join their little darlings for festive games. One of the most unpopular employees was our resort manager — a six-foot monster whose combination of shaved head, permanent scowl and mood swings earned him the nickname Psycho. When a guest parked in his space outside the hotel, Psycho took it upon himself to slash his tyres, before swearing staff to secrecy as the police arrived. He spoke to us as though we were something stuck to the bottom of his ski boot, but one particularly peeved seasonnaire got a rather wonderful revenge. Our hotel was on the banks of a frozen lake and one morning we woke to find a rude message to Pyscho, written in the snow, in super-sized writing, alongside the outline of a penis. Each letter was 10 metres high. Sadly, my season came to an end after I was diagnosed with bronchitis — my accommodation was an unheated room in the basement, and flurries of snow would blow in through the cracked window. You work hard and party hard, and you can ski or snowboard for free for five months. Mon 21 Oct Log In. Pictured is the Snowboxx Music Festival in the Alps. By Julia Buckley. February 25, am Updated October 7, pm. Most Read By Subscribers.
We even included some of our favorite food spots around the area, like La Cantinetta - Canazei and Hotel Col di Lana so you can get the best taste of Canazei.
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Photo by Martina Valmassoi. Out of the three races I was doing, this race was by far the scariest and furthest removed from anything I had experienced before. It is a true beast of a race, where the climb feels never ending, the altitude is enough to send you just that little bit dizzy, and the descent is an all out, lean into it, move your feet fast, and pray you find solid footing with each step kind of descent. For me, Dolomyths Run was all about pushing my limits and running a race I was proud of. After the race I had for Marathon Du Mont Blanc, I had my mind set on forgetting all kinds of race plan, going hard from the start, and just seeing where that got me. The blessing of the struggles I had experienced so far on the trip was that this time around, I really was able to forget about everyone around me and what anyone else would think. What that approach equated to was a whole lot of beautiful pain before one of the sweetest finish lines I have ever crossed. About m in to the race; 2. At the top of Passo Podoi; 3. Sruggletown in the patchy snow; 4. The second climb up Antersass. Start lines are always chaos and this one was no different, however an extra layer of chaos was added by finding out after already warming up that the race was being postponed 30minutes due to weather and the course altered slightly to avoid the summit. We finally got underway, with all athletes wearing masks to start which is a bit of an odd feel. After the initial jostling for space on the road I went into tunnel vision right from the beginning. The first 6km were all on ski slopes, so nothing too technical, just a grinding climb gaining m to get to Passo Pordoi. I covered that in around 48minutes and in 22nd position, but with a few girls just in front of me, which I was happily surprised by. Then we hit the section from Passo Pordoi to Forcella Pordoi. In training I would cover this section just laughing at myself for being stupid enough to try to get up it quickly. In short, it took me 37minutes to cover those 2km, and all I can remember is hitting the super steep section in the second half feeling like my head was floating away from me and I was moving backward. It brings a whole new meaning to hitting the wall when the trail in front of you literally looks like a wall too. To my surprise again though, I only got passed by 4 women on this climb. I tried to stick with anyone that came past me but my legs just had nothing more to give. We hit the Forcela Pordoi and it cruelly flattens out for some fast running on legs that have just climbed for over 80minutes straight, and on snow to boot. This was the kind of snow cover that is patchy and unpredictable, where with each step you might hit solid snow, or you might hit a loosely covered hole, or you might just hit rock that is only slightly covered in snow. I slipped and slid and fell my way through the snow sections before climbing again. It was easy to tell why they had done this, as visibility was so poor I had trouble seeing far in front of me at all and I was very glad to have done the course and this new deviation in training so I knew where I was going. There was more snow to navigate with a short descent me hitting a hole in this section pictured below , before climbing to the second peak of the race, Antersass. Doing a massive climb, followed by a short steep descent, only to start climbing on steep and technical rock again was brutal. The good thing about this climb though is that you know once you hit the top, it is all downhill from there. I hit the downhill and did my best to follow the line Stian and Anders had showed me. Within a few hundred metres I had passed two of the women who had passed me on the climb and was gaining on a third. Even though I was making up ground finally, I did not feel anywhere near as coordinated as usual, it was like my brain would pick ne place for my foot to go and my foot would pick another. Fatigue and altitude were combining to make this already scary descent even more petrifying, but at the same time running down something as steep as Dolomyths is so much fun. Type 2 fun for sure, but the exhilaration is real. When I finally caught the next woman in front of me Caterina, we became friends after the race I was starting to lose steam in a big way. Even though I had approached her at a much faster speed, I told myself it would be better if I just sat behind her and followed her line down off the technical stuff before passing her later. There was around 6km of fast, mostly smooth downhill to go from here, and it was all I could do to stare at the shirt of Caterina and let the gradient carry me down. I imagined a rope between me and her so she was pulling me along as a way to keep going. Part of the problem was that because I am not used to the steepness of the terrain or the altitude I had struggled to get in enough of my nutrition to keep me going strong. So even though I ran into the last aid station right on the back of Caterina and there was only 3 fast km of downhill left, my brain saw the cups of coke, and it was like something snapped. I came to a stop, grabbed a couple of cups, walked the 30m from the table to the bin off in the distance drinking the coke, and then after a deep breath and telling myself that I CAN get to the finish line, ran on. By the time I was running again Caterina was long gone, but I was still worried someone behind me would be finishing fast and come past. I tried to lean right into the downhill and not think about how I was feeling or how much each step felt like my legs were hollow and had no muscle left. There is one more tiny little climb with around 2. The top of that was a really big relief though, because it is so close to the finish then. I ran the final stretch like I was running for my life, chasing down any guy I could see. When I hit the spot where I knew there was around 1km to go, I looked at my watch for the first time since the top of the climb and saw it just tick over to and vowed I would break The all out sprint that followed was one last awesome reminder from my body that there is always more to give, you just have to find the thing that enables you to let it out. I ran through the streets of Canazei, onto the finish carpet, and across the line in full sprint, with my breathing sounding like a freight train and my form probably all over the place. But I did it, crossing the line in There is only four other finish lines in my life where I have been so destroyed but so happy at the same time, and like all the others this one will be etched into my memory forever. My only wish would have been to have someone there to share it with. If it goes bad, you need a hug and someone to remind you it is just a race. If it goes well, you are still an emotional an exhausted mess that needs a hug or at least a high five. I facetimed coach, he is always my first call after races, and had a little celebration with him before going to buy myself a few scoops of Italian gelato and mingle with the other incredible athletes. Plus, to be able to debrief with and learn from Stian and Greg before being safely dropped off in Annecy at 1am the next morning was an incredible end to a day I will never forget. Safe to say, I was destroyed at the finish line. Strava file Here. Race day photos by Jordi Saragossa. Next Post: Annecy - The Interlude. Race Report: Dolomyths Skyrace. Aug 27 Written By Simone Brick. Golden Trail World Series Distance: Simone Brick.
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