The summer of ‘24, I turned a long-cherished dream into reality: 60 consecutive days of trail running across the Alps. What began as an idea to follow the iconic Via Alpina (Red Trail) soon evolved into something far more personal—a zigzagging, improvised route that led me through hidden valleys, over snow-dusted passes, and into the heart of Alpine culture.

Starting in Trieste in mid-June, I faced an unusual amount of snow at higher elevations and technical terrain that demanded flexibility. So I crafted my own path, weaving through lesser-known trails that matched my rhythm—and rewarded me with unforgettable vistas, spontaneous hut friendships, and the quiet magic of high-altitude solitude.

The Adventure Behind the Scenes

• Logistical chess: Securing huts ahead was essential (summer weekends fill fast!), but I danced between preparation and freedom—too much structure would’ve clipped the Alps’ wild wings. A trail runner’s paradox: planning enough to survive, but not so much that the mountains lose their magic.

• Sole survival: Replacing my shoes every 500 km became a ritual, with fresh pairs mailed to remote villages.

• Human connections: From hut keepers to fellow wanderers, the Alps gifted me stories as vast as the landscapes.

This journey wasn’t just about endurance—it was about listening to the mountains and letting them guide me. Below, a visual chronicle of the peaks, people, and fleeting moments that defined those 60 days.

There’s a quiet magic in the way the Alps reveal their wild hearts—not just through peaks and storms, but in the eyes of the creatures who call these heights home. This summer, amid the exhaustion and euphoria of my 60-day run, it was the unexpected meetings with animals that carved deep grooves into my memory: chamois at dawn, eagles overhead. But nothing stirred me like the horses—those gentle giants who paused their grazing to watch me pass. In their eyes, I saw the mountains’ quiet welcome.