The Trail Quillan run has been on my to-do list for years. This year, I finally did it.

The run starts and finishes in Quillan, down by the Aude river, but goes a way up high onto tracks above the cliffs where Griffon vultures roost. They have a history of occasionally eating people who fall in the Pyrenees. I had paid for the post-race lunch and was determined to not be lunch.

Last year 96 people completed the 28km event. This year there were over 300. It’s good to see it becoming so much more popular, but that growth did cause a bit of crowding on the tracks. I started at the rear of the field so most of the first stage up to Ginoles and then steeply uphill to Coudons was picking my way past other runners, as opportunities arose on the narrow trails. Ginoles is a pretty village and climbing up the track above there gives the first gorgeous views back over the lowlands with morning sunshine and remnants of night fog. Those first stages are on ancient routes that connect villages, and are sometimes still used by pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela 1000 kilometres away in Galicia. For me, this run was a pilgrimage of sorts, a chance to learn something about myself and the world.

Above Coudons the route reaches a peak at 1200 metres. It’s so high above the river valley! I stopped to take a photo or three. I saw snow-covered peaks further into the Pyrenees. I was feeling relatively strong at that point, perhaps because I had included plenty of Wellington hills in my preparation in recent months. I felt able to stride it out for the next stage on forest tracks along and down to the Chalet de Carrach. From there the track descends steeply down to the Belvedere du Diable above a spectacular gorge. This is where the devil got me. Before the steep descent, a marshal cautioned me to take care. Très technique! If only I had heeded his advice. There were ropes to hold onto and I used those but I was clumsy in my haste and at a big step down I rolled my left ankle and bruised my foot. Ow! I was able to continue the remaining 11 km to the finish but it was sore on any uneven surfaces. (Nearly the entire course is uneven surfaces.) I was not able to run freely. I reckon that added 30 minutes to my time and meant that many of the runners I had passed on the way up to Coudons ended up passing me.

The bruising in my foot played on my mind. I fell into the trap of self pity and that thought pattern may have limited my speed more than the physical injury did. Endurance sport is so much about the mental game.

Crossing the Aude river on a footbridge between Belvianne and Cavirac brought me back onto what I think of as my home territory. I know the tracks up and down Bitrague peak so well. It’s a long climb to the peak and I was slow. On the descent down Bitrague to the old castle I could hear a band of drummers welcoming runners back into the town. As the sound got louder, my spirits lifted. There’s something about drumming – what is it? It gets right into you and can make you prickly all over. The louder the drumming, the better I felt. I finally ran across the old bridge, through the Place de la Replublique, and on to the nearby finish line. My friend Paul was waiting to cheer me on in the Place de la Republique.

I enjoyed this event. My bruised foot and slow time don’t matter at all. It’s beautiful country and I would happily do it again.