A landslide victory in Switzerland

Verity Ockenden writes about a training camp incident which provided some valuable lessons and a stark reminder that even elite athletes are not immune to the issues caused by climate change

One fine Swiss morning midway through an altitude camp recently, three Australians and a Brit (me), packed their rucksacks full of electrolytes, spikes and protein shakes and set off for the small Italian town of Chiavenna. It’s a fairly well-trodden weekly pilgrimage for track runners who are training in St Moritz, but what happened next was a lot more than any of us bargained – or packed – for.

The aim of the excursion was to take advantage of the more oxygenated air at the town’s local track, where we would be able to hit some faster splits than would be possible at altitude. It was to be a gruelling morning of work, but we were bolstered by the idea of refuelling with pizza and gelato afterwards.

We anticipated a hot day and as we descended from the cool heights of St Moritz through the winding hairpins of the Maloja Pass, the temperature increased with each curve negotiated. By the time we arrived at the track after an hour of driving, there was little cloud cover and we were hosing ourselves off at the tap after just the warm-up. Bendere did tempo work while Maudie, Natalie and I took on a mile breakdown.

Nestled among emerald mountains and with an azure tartan that perfectly reflected the summer sky, it was a beguiling location that seemed to lure me into a false sense of security as to what I was about to endure there. Surely pain could not be painted on to such a beautiful backdrop, but we managed it, leaving pools of sweat in our wake and jumping straight into the neighbouring river for relief once the masterpiece was complete.

We had each brought a towel and a change of clothes for lunch, and we took our time hunting down and devouring our long-awaited pizza in Chiavenna’s picturesque high street. By the time we left at around three pm (all of us accustomed to taking afternoon naps after workouts), we were becoming weary-eyed and took little heed of the darkening horizon as we sped back up the mountain.

As we rounded the final curve of the Maloja Pass that brought us back onto the Engadin plateau, we were less than 20 minutes away from our apartment when we crossed a small mound of mud that the gradually intensifying rain had driven on to the road in front of us. We thought little of it and carried on, flanked by the rocky…