Part 3 – A week in the Cévennes – What my shakedown hike before the PCT taught me

It’s been a strange couple of weeks. My start date was set for so long that sometimes it felt like time had stopped somehow, like the beginning of May would never come… until today.

But let’s go back.

After all the headaches of logistics and equipment, what better than a good test hike to test everything: equipment, backpack (almost final configuration), critical items, luxury items, electronics, medical kit… and the rest: muscles, old injuries, mood, strength and cumulative fatigue.

I had been thinking about a couple of trail options for a while but couldn’t decide. Ideally, somewhere in France that I didn’t know well, combining utility with discovery and exploration. I have always loved being a stranger in my own country.

I considered the Tour du Mont Blanc or the GR20 in Corsica, but mid-April wasn’t ideal. And then I realized. I was in the middle of RL Stevenson’s Travels with a Donkey, a classic (coincidence?). So hiking in the Cévennes, following the path of both, seemed to me the most natural and relevant choice.

A good friend to hike with, an amazing weather window, checking my gears one last time, and we were set.

A week. About 240 kilometers. Heading south from the Massif Central (Gévaudan, Lozère) towards the drier landscapes of the Cévennes. Hills, forests, meadows, wind, rain, even snow… followed by a bright and generous sun (our tribute to Vivaldi, or his to us). Stone towns, endless views and even some unexpected companions. The trail had it all. Even without setting up the tent much and with relatively simple food and water logistics, I learned some valuable lessons.

Day One: Reality Check

Yes, I’m the kind of person who always feels like I’m on a mission, even when I’m on vacation. And this was no exception. Limited time meant long days and many miles (34 km on average, sometimes more).

Day one: blisters. A dying nail.

Good start.

Oh, the toenail down…

Luckily, my overstuffed medical bag, the one I almost cut out, turned out to be a lifesaver (saline, KT tape, too many Compeed patches…all justified).

On the fourth day, an old problem reappeared. My TFL, bursting at the end of each day. And yet, we keep pushing. The seventh day ended with 40 km.

Pretty silly, right? I know.

I have had some small injuries as a regular runner, especially when I started without proper training (TFL, Achilles, calf…). So, back then, I did what I needed to move forward: I invested in it. I reluctantly started strength training once, then twice, then up to three times a week. I learned key exercise routines, mobility work, and structured my weeks to balance cardio and strength training.

That work did bear fruit and I also learned to “manage my efforts much better”, make my body last longer, listen to the small messages it sent me and adapt to it. A small price to pay to continue running and covering distances.

Take it easy…

This walk brought me back to something much simpler.

Even with a strong mindset, good training, and solid motivation, your body has a limit. You are never injury-free. Your body is more creative than you think.

Sometimes they are not the big mistakes. They’re the little ones: the extra 3 or 4 km that you know you shouldn’t push. Those have a price.

We tend to get too excited or overly excited.

But that doesn’t help. Not precisely.

In any case, it goes against you.

So here’s the deal: work with your body. Not against.

Overall, no major injuries interrupted the hike, but I did worry about my knee. It was never painful enough to stop me, but it was annoying enough to remind me that it exists. And with 30 pounds (or more) on my back on the PCT, that’s not something I can ignore.

I know that pain will be part of the journey and I accept it. After all, that’s what makes this challenge great. But be smart about it? That’s in my hands. And probably the difference between finishing… or not.

I also know myself: I am stubborn. When I set a goal, I will do everything in my power to achieve it, sometimes at the cost of pushing, pushing, pushing, no matter what.

So maybe this time the challenge isn’t trying harder. Maybe it’s to hold back.

Start slow (I know, it hurts just to write that), take more breaks, take off your shoes whenever you can, give my feet the VIP treatment every day, and keep checking how I’m carrying my backpack. Adjust.

Trail running taught me that long efforts are maybe 25% physical; The rest depends on your mindset and strategy (hydration, fuel, pain management…).

I don’t want the PCT to feel like a punishment. Or some kind of test.

I want to enjoy it.

And, like most hikers, I want to be done.

And that is a great motivation. I will remind myself of this every time I want to push myself for these “little extra 5 kilometers”.

Maybe taking my time is not a weakness, but a privilege. A way to stay connected to my body, and maybe even to myself.

Day 7: Reaching the end of the trail (St Jean du Gard) after a 40km day and challenging elevation…

See how it goes, but as I stand, 4 days before flying to San Diego, one thing is for sure:

I’m very excited!