See Venice… and run

When we think of Venice, art and gondolas usually come to mind first. A few months ago, as I searched for a race that would coincide with my sporty sister’s visit to Italy, I stumbled across the search engine finishers.com. A night race quickly caught my attention: Venice Night Trail. It was on April 5th, and alongside 5,000 other runners, I experienced a waking dream…

 ✔Our journalist Charles-Emmanuel participated in the CMP Venice Night Trail and shares his race experience with you.

Venice. Like thousands of travelers before me, I fell in love with the city on my first visit in 2017. To me, Venice was synonymous with the Art Biennale and enjoying coffee on terraces while watching boats gliding along the timeless canals. Now, I also hold other images in mind: strides of varying speed in the night, alleys, bridges, headlamp shining from my forehead. The pain of those last kilometers won’t tarnish the memory of this trail in Venice…

|  A Sunday runner

If the hundreds of race volunteers are as punctual as clockwork, I am certainly not. That’s because I’m a Sunday runner. I’ve been running for pleasure, with varying intensity, for nearly a decade. For me, jogging serves several purposes: first, to get me away from screens, which I spend too much time on between work and leisure; second, to feel the joy that comes once I’m in motion; and third, to tap into the creative “inspirations” that running often triggers in me. Among others. I more or less know my pace over 10 kilometers. However, I hadn’t participated in a race since a 10k in Laval nearly a decade ago. Suffice to say, I had forgotten just how exhilarating it is to line up at the start with thousands of other people. The enthusiasm turns into competition for me. Casual 10-kilometer runner or not, I aimed for my training pace on this 16-kilometer course. Except that.

| 5,000 runners in a bottleneck

Equipped with our headlamps, we made our way to the starting line. I’m wearing my AS Velasca jersey, dubbed the “most artistic club in the world.” Fearing the cold, we were among the last to join the group. Mistake. The first few kilometers were extremely challenging. With only two start waves, the second was incredibly dense. There were many walkers as well. I made the mistake of not accepting this slower pace. I passed, I braked, I diverted, I restarted, I sped up, I went through the grass. The race against the clock had begun. The start was in a “wide” area of Venice, its tourist port, but the two kilometers before entering the city’s narrow alleys didn’t suffice to disperse the pack. We were even held up for several minutes in a street leading to the city’s narrowest bridge. Indeed, this bridge only allows one person… to cross at a time! Seconds ticked away without us. After passing this stage, the racehorses were unleashed! I took off like a madman. My phone-timer showed an undeserving time per kilometer and I still had my 1h30 goal in mind. I thoroughly enjoyed surging through the pack, zigzagging through alleys. But I was going too fast. I knew it. I am incorrigible.

| Flashes

The bridges came one after the other: 51 in total. This is why the race is classified as an urban trail. The organizers mapped out a route all around the island of Venice. The first neighborhood encountered, Cannaregio, was splendid. Dashing through this maze of alleys was exhilarating. The tourists were absent, and the beauty of the north was ours. Well, not entirely since the circuit wasn’t closed off. We had to be mindful of pedestrians. Volunteers were present to streamline everything, helping us navigate. They constantly pointed out the two or three steps leading down to the boats on the narrow docks, covered with slippery algae… Thanks to them! Kilometers flew by. I was still in good shape but continuously overexerting myself. I took in as much air as possible to compensate, but my legs wouldn’t hold up. Numerous restarts due to slowdowns and the bridges were gently “eating” me. Yet, I didn’t allow myself to slow down.

| San Marco square

Once past the Arsenal, Venice’s historic shipyard built in 1100, the little group continued to the Biennale gardens. We were already halfway through the race. Despite the fatigue, we didn’t want it to end. Shortly after the eighth kilometer, I barely paid attention to the only water station of the race. I drank half the cup, throwing the other half on my face. However, I was dehydrated. I hadn’t drunk enough during the day, barely half a liter… Coffee doesn’t replace water. Another mistake I would pay for! St. Mark’s Square was one of the race’s highlights. Normally full of tourists from all over the world, it was empty. Monumental in elegance and refinement. A grand moment. The rest was less majestic.

| Three kilometers on your knees

The little voice is always right. It tried to tell me I was going too fast to maintain this pace to the end and finish in style. That I never ran for this long. While I had overtaken many from the start, I now saw runners passing me. They seemed light, while I felt so heavy. My stride slumped. My knees bore more and more of my weight, and I had no resources left. I forgot I had slipped raisins into my pockets. The bridges positioned on the docks opposite the island of Giudecca became harder to cross, and I realized my legs weren’t up to the pace I stubbornly kept pushing. By the thirteenth kilometer, the exhaustion hit hard. It was harsh. A severe energy crash. We exited the old city and headed back to the port for the finish. The tarmac and wider roads were less invigorating than the narrow alleys, which seemed to literally pull us along. I was suffering. As the last kilometer loomed, I was overtaken by yet another fellow runner. I turned to him and confessed, “I see stars.” My legs were like jelly, and I was indeed seeing white spots in my vision. Kindly, the runner refused to go ahead and waited for me. We laughed together. I regained strength. An endurance and cycling enthusiast (I would find out after the race), Roberto reminded me that while the mind sends signals, the body can still endure. “So, I can push even harder?” I asked with a smile, recalling the article I wrote a few months ago on the central governor theory. We finished together, smiling. It was over already. It took me 1:41 to cover the 16 kilometers. Far from the dream of 1h30 and the fantasy of 1h25. But no disappointment, only pleasure! I found my sister at the finish line. She was thrilled with the race too. We shared stories. I ached all over. We laughed. The two kilometers back to the apartment on foot felt like eternity…

“I’m a Sunday runner, but I crave to relive those race sensations again, especially when they’re as unique as this night trail in Venice.”

And next time, I promise not to start too fast. Or maybe not.