Tor des Geants 2024 by Minni

 

Tor des Geants 2024 by Minni 🐈

Simple Human Madness

Ah, yes. Another year, another instance of my human disappearing for an ungodly amount of time, leaving me alone with an automatic feeder and a screen full of tiny dots moving across a map. At first, I assumed he had been kidnapped by birds or, worse, voluntarily left to do one of those absurdly long "runs" he seems to enjoy. The latter turned out to be true.

This is my account of what I witnessed as I monitored his adventure through the mystical, ever-changing portal (the "live tracking" page) that my human so generously left open on his glowing rectangle. What follows is a mixture of concern, secondhand exhaustion, and deep confusion over why anyone—let alone my human—would subject themselves to such madness.

The Start: A Weird Decision

At 11:47 AM on Sunday, the little blip representing my human began moving. I immediately assumed he was running to retrieve an emergency stash of tuna, but no—he was climbing mountains. Voluntarily. I was baffled.

He floated through places with strange, magical names—Baite Youlaz, La Thuile, Rifugio Deffeyes—stopping only briefly before continuing his journey. Why? He has a perfectly good blanket here at home. The air is a perfect 22°C. There is no need to climb anything to obtain food.

Early Stages: Okay, But Why?

After a few hours, he seemed to be moving steadily. He reached Valgrisenche (48 km), and I assumed this was the final destination. It was not. I squinted at the numbers. 330 km? This could not be right. At this point, I became deeply concerned. I knocked over a cup to see if he would return. He did not.

Pushing Through the First Night: The Col Craziness

By the time he hit Eaux Rousse (77 km), it was clear that sleep was not part of his plan. The little dot kept moving, sometimes quickly, sometimes sluggishly. I took a nap in solidarity. He did not. He climbed over Col Loson at an altitude so high that even birds would have rolled their eyes. Why does he do this? He does not even have retractable claws.

The Midway Grind: I Begin to Accept My Fate

He reached Cogne (103 km). Still moving. He went up and down and up again—like some sort of cursed, hairless mountain goat. Donnas (147 km) seemed promising, as it was the lowest point on the course, but no. He turned around and went right back up. At this point, I concluded that he had lost his mind. I licked my paw in frustration.

The Second Night: My Concern Peaks

Somewhere around Rifugio Coda, he slowed significantly. His dot hesitated. I sensed weakness. Was he reconsidering his life choices? No. He pressed on, climbing to ridiculous altitudes. I knocked over another cup. No response.

The Decision to Stop: Sanity Returns?

By Gressoney IN (199 km), the dot barely moved. It flickered, stopped, and then—miracle of miracles—turned around. At 2:52 AM on Thursday, my human made the decision to stop. Or maybe they stopped him. 

I purred in approval. This was wise. It was getting freezing cold for my poor human out there. And it had started snowing too on the mountains. Brrr!

Reflections: A Lesson in Priorities

I pondered what had just transpired. Did he win? No. Did he retrieve food? Also no. Did he spend nearly four days in the wilderness only to return home exhausted? Yes. And for what? I sighed and curled up in his favorite chair. Perhaps he learned something valuable. Perhaps he will one day explain this madness to me. But for now, I am simply relieved he has returned.

Conclusion: Never Again (Until Next Time)

The Tor des Geants is an incomprehensible event. My human, despite his clear lack of fur, participated. He ran, he climbed, he suffered, and he stopped. But I know him. I know how he thinks. He will do it again. And when he does, I will be here. Watching. Judging. Knocking over cups.

Minni the Cat 🐈