81 km, a tutu, and a heatwave: my story of the 2025 Saint-Jacques Trail
Signing up for a race almost a year in advance isn’t really my style. But last September, I eagerly registered for the Saint-Jacques 100K Trail (actually 81 km with 3400 m D+)—after an incredible 50 km experience in 2024, the course appealed to me, as did the date. Plus, traveling from Lyon was easy.
That is… until I moved to Porto.
A bib, a move, and doubts
Life can move fast. A fresh start in Portugal, a new routine. And then a nagging question:
“Is it really reasonable to go back to France just for a race?”
I asked the organizers to roll my entry to the next year—no luck. I understand though: rules are rules. But I mean, not everyone relocates internationally between registration and race day…
After lengthy hesitation—and with very limited vacation days (hello, professional life)—I decided to go for it. A bit of a challenge, partly out of loyalty to this event I really like, and maybe to prove to myself it was still doable living 1500 km away.
A quick road trip to Le Puy‑en‑Velay
I left Thursday evening after work, aiming to reach Le Puy before 9 pm to pick up my bib. Spoiler: I made it. 1500 km on the road—definitely not the most restful day—but at least no sporting effort the day before!
The forecast predicted heat. “Hot pack” mode activated. I didn’t have everything I needed, but along the way I found a saharan cap that met the criteria, grabbed sunglasses and enough to carry 2 liters of water. Ready to go.
Bib collected, a small surprise, and preparing the base camp
Bib pickup was smooth, well-organized—typical race expo village. I stopped by a CamelBak booth but reason (and fuel prices) held me back. I left with my bib, a few Pagès herbal infusions (a change from Le Puy lentils!), and a surprise: I was in wave 1. Not too shabby!
I headed to the hostel to rest, pack, and nap. Wake‑up at 5:45 am, shuttle at 6:15.
Fate (and Porto) in a dawn bus
On the bus, another surprise: a Portuguese guy from Porto sat next to me. We chatted, exchanged contacts—he’s in a local club. Maybe a future collab? Small world; running always builds unexpected bridges.
We arrived in Monistrol‑d’Allier at 6:45 am for an 8:30 am start. Plenty of waiting time, but thankfully the organization allowed access to the aid station used by ultra-runners already on course. And best of all: coffee. At 7 am, that makes all the difference.
8:30 am – Start in the furnace
It was already hot. Really hot. In the first kilometers, we climbed steeply and the pack spread out. Soon we hit singletrack bottlenecks, but nothing insurmountable.
The route was lovely—well marked, not too technical but never monotonous. Shady woods, open fields with views—it felt like a disconnection. The Allier region is beautiful and worth exploring more, on foot or in running shoes.
Excellent aid stations (and my peculiar combos)
UTMB-style organization sometimes gets flak, but not for this. Aid stations were excellent: well placed, well stocked, lively. Sweets, savories, Naak products (bars, waffles, electrolytes), water and coke—everything you needed.
And my personal combo: gingerbread + cooked ham. Strange to some, but gives me a boost every time.
A critical moment… saved by a child and a fountain
One section was really tough: after a long climb, my bottles were dry. Then, miracle—a village with a fountain, and a kid filling runners’ bottles all day. That little hero deserves a medal. Thanks, kid!
Rolling terrain to pick up speed… and a mandatory fall
From kilometre 55 onward, the major climbs were behind us. We picked up the pace on rolling terrain—I was loving it. Perfectly suited to me: no steep climbs or risky descents. I ran, felt good—better than expected—until the fall. Unavoidable! Luckily, I went down cleanly on my side, no injuries—just a reminder to stay focused.
The finish, the tutu, the cathedral, and the lemonade
The final kilometers went by quickly, despite fatigue. Spectators lined the course, and with my name clearly on my bib, personal cheers were everywhere. My tutu (thanks, Miles&Vibes) drew smiles. And I kept moving, fueled by the atmosphere.
The final climb up to Le Puy Cathedral is always special—a solemn, almost religious finish. I crossed the line. No headlamp needed. Mission accomplished.
Bonus moment: meeting a familiar voice
At the finish area, I ran into Nicolas Fréret, from the podcast “La Bande à D+”—one I often listen to on long runs. Hearing his voice in real life was a delightful surprise.
Conclusion: I pleasantly surprised myself
I had two goals:
Earn Running Stones points for my 2026 CCC attempt
Finish without using my headlamp
Check. Check. And even better: I finished 69th out of over 1000 participants. Nice and clean. Only real gripe: mandatory gear. Rain jackets required despite 30 °C, and clearly not everyone followed the rule. When you carry 5 kg of gear while others run with minimal backpacks… you wonder.
But hey. The volunteers’ smiles, the Allier landscapes, running in a tutu under the sun… nobody can take that away.
What’s next?
I love this trail. It’s not high mountain, but it’s terrain I like: rolling, accessible, well organized, with real atmosphere. And accommodations are affordable nearby, which is a bonus.
Will I come back for the 100‑miler? Maybe. For now, I’ll just cherish this adventure—a trail that challenged me before it even began, and rewarded me with feeling alive, free… and not so rusty despite heat and distance.
P.S. If you too want to discover a city differently, come run with me in Porto! We won’t do 81 km, but I promise scenery, stories, and surprises.
