Campagnac has a population of around 150 and sits on the hill next to my village, Itzac. Its biggest claim to fame is that Judith Keppel, the first £1m winner on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, lived there. For those who don’t watch trashy UK TV programmes, it also has some pretty good wine producers such as Domaine du Barry and Manoir de l’Emmeille.
This little village was the venue of a charity trail run (or walk) with the option of a 12km or an 18km route. In an attempt to drag my bones into the shape they were 12 years ago, I signed up for a half-marathon in Toulouse in mid-October, and I have found myself in a slightly frantic training mode in the full knowledge that I haven’t given myself nearly enough time to get properly race-fit. This run was my first official outing for an age, but I was also intrigued to see what lanes and tracks I’d not already found in my local area.
The event was to raise money for Lupus, a horrid, chronic autoimmune disease in which the body’s immune system mistakenly attacks its own healthy tissues and organs. (I think everyone taking part would have paid more than the €8 entry fee.)
Trail Running Surprises
I went the wrong way within 500m but an organiser spotted my error and kindly yelled out to redirect me: “Madame, Madame. Pas là-bas. Par ici.” Trail runs are usually designed for experience, not logistics. Courses are scenic, varied and safe, and weave through slightly less explored areas (and sometimes in places which are usually off limits).
Being a local runner and dogwalker, it’s quick to get to know the local roads, lanes and paths, but France is so vast that these organised events help you discover unknown routes, and with the added bonus of way markers guiding you along the way. I ran past my friend, Tim’s house, and was tempted to stop for a cuppa before attacking a big hill but I was already breaking the slowest speed time.
Like slow travel, slow running (in my case), allows you to notice details, such as the wide variety of wild orchids that proliferate in these parts, and how church steeples are so obvious above the rolling hills, and what the farmers are up to at certain times of the year (picking grapes on that day).
The circuit soon went ‘off-piste’, and I found myself walking up a barely-there, stoney path through a forest. The course committee had chosen a route that went through interesting spots that locals, let alone running tourists, may not know about (a hidden vineyard path, for example), places which are not mainstream, Insta-overladen or too ‘picture postcard’. This is authentic France, close up.
Views Worth the Effort
The view from the highest point of the race, overlooking vineyards and rolling hills (which have given this area the moniker of the ‘Tuscany of France’) was worth the slog. The expansive countryside, which probably hasn’t changed much in a few hundred years, looked stunning in the morning light. Running events usually kick-off in the early morning to avoid the heat but it is also the best time for the light and enjoying the quiet, still countryside.
My internal gauge, used to running on the flat, felt it was halfway a long way before it was halfway, where much-needed refreshments awaited. A quick Strava (GPS app) check said I had only run 5km. It was tempting to grab a bunch of grapes, still bulging beneath the vines, to rehydrate. I’ve done this on a few occasions when I’ve forgotten my water bottle on long runs.
A cup of water and a piece of cake from the back of a Volvo estate, aka the ‘refreshment station’, kindly handed out by a volunteering grandmother and her grandkids, and I was on a familiar track into the next valley and home turf: my village, Itzac.
Sharing the Trail
Was that the sound of gunshots I just heard?
Sunday afternoons in the French countryside are the reserve of the local hunters, and although I’m not sure how a charity run and a big hunt were scheduled at the same time and place, a big sign alerted us to their hunting ‘grand gibier’ (big game).
This elicited a bit of banter among us runners and a collective word to a young rifle-wielding hunter sitting atop one of the hunting platforms, not to mistake any of us runners for wild boar.
Crossing the Finish Line
I’d realised years ago that trail running course-designers were a slightly sadistic bunch, frequently ending a race with a final uphill scramble to the line. This was no exception, but this last stretch is where we stragglers united over a strenuous last push with a bit of laughter, a smattering of swear words, and chats about which event everyone is doing next—brief but personal encounters over a mutual hobby and something that you don’t get with independent hiking/sightseeing.
Over the finish line, there’s nothing like post-run camaraderie, when everyone is red-faced and sweaty, and shovelling down biscuits to provide just enough energy to walk back to their cars.
Next Running Events?
Up next is the Trail des Vendanges, another one weaving through vines. It seems to be common practice to be offered a glass of wine during running events in France. At mile 25 of the Paris Marathon in 2014, I was offered a glass of red. Will this be on offer next Sunday, too?
For other running events across France: https://chrono-start.com/