On a cool November night at the end of last year, people nearing Beaune’s famous hospital – the 15th-century Hôtel-Dieu, also known as the Hospices, are right to wonder exactly what I and about a hundred other runners with headlamps are doing, gathered in the Place des Halles.

On the weekend in question (always the weekend of the third Sunday in November), the Burgundian town of Beaune, my adopted hometown, comes alive with celebrations surrounding the oldest charitable wine auction in the world – La Vente des Vins des Hospices de Beaune. Throughout the ages vineyard plots have been bequeathed to the Hospital, whose domain now totals an impressive 60 hectares. A few months after harvest, barrels of prestigious premiers and grands crus from these vineyards are sold to the highest bidders to raise money to help finance numerous hospital projects. Each year this event draws not only wine enthusiasts from all over the world hoping to purchase an elusive barrel of fine wine, but also people eager to participate in the resulting festivities. Last year, the auction celebrated its 165th year.

On the night in question, a definite autumnal nip and light rain are in the air, but despite these conditions, nothing can dampen the merriment exuding from the incongruous group which I am part of for the evening. Gathered near the Hospices, people of all ages partake in various stretches, lunges, and squats. Then, from deep beneath the slender spire of the famed Hospices, a bell strikes 6 pm, and we are off! The heads of those at the front of the pack bob, and steam rises from the peloton of people behind as we exhale hot air into the chilly November night.

This is the start of an organised run around the historical town centre. It begins with a lap of the stunning interior courtyard of the Hospices de Beaune, with its distinctly ornate tiled roof — a once-in-a-lifetime experience for anyone wanting to channel their inner Harold Abrahams running around the cloisters of Trinity College, Cambridge, in Chariots of Fire (minus the cheering scholars, and perhaps not as fast). After running around the town’s central Place Carnot, filled with Vente des Vins revellers, we continue up onto the 14th-century Ramparts which encircle this ancient town, along cobbled streets, past the imposing Romanesque Cathedral of Notre-Dame, before finishing up at the Porte Marie de Bourgogne.

This “footing nocturne,” or night-time jog, is the first in a line of sporting events organised to coincide with the extremely popular annual local wine festival. The main event of the sporting line-up is the half-marathon the following day. I myself had signed up for the 10km run, for which the night-time run would prove a perfect mise en jambes. So, while most people eased into their first glasses of Chardonnay and dozens of escargots, I had eased into my lycra with a view to offsetting the weekend’s excesses with some cardio.

The Saturday of the Vente des Vins weekend is always the busiest day by far, and last year was no exception. People flock into the town from all over. Merry groups of friends elbow up to the stalls that crowd the central square, serving wine and local specialities, and a heady smell of garlic hangs in the air—mais bien sûr! As well as the wine festivities, people come to Beaune that day to take part in one of two runs: either a bucolic 10 km run, for which I am destined, or, for the more experienced, a half-marathon. Both thread their way through the hallowed Burgundy vineyards of the Côte de Beaune: 5,000 people in total take part.

As I make my way to the starting line of the race, I stop for a few minutes to witness the fierce competition of the cork-pulling contest, then finally join the throng of runners belting out a rowdy rendition of the “Ban Bourguignon.” This celebratory local song involves hand-waving and la-la-la-ing to an easy-to-learn tune, which is sung merrily on repeat throughout the weekend.

The route for both races remains the same every year and takes me through the premier cru vineyards of southern Beaune. This appellation is lesser known to the wine world, yet coveted by locals because the prices of these wines have not soared like those from neighbouring villages. The track then weaves slowly upwards on a gentle incline to the vineyards that produce some of Victor Hugo’s favourite wines—first of all the premier crus of “Les Petits Épenots,” shouldered by “Les Grands Épenots.” The road then descends to the picturesque village of Pommard, with its distinct square bell tower, before I—and all those running the 10 km race—switch back north on a steep track cutting up to the Beaune premier cru vineyards of “Clos des Mouches” “Les Champs Pimont” and “Les Aigrots,” before beginning a satisfying descent back into the town itself.

Those more tenacious than me, who are taking part in the half-marathon, continue briefly south to the famous Pinot Noir–producing village of Volnay before heading east through premier cru vineyards into the village appellations of Meursault. Here, the golden leaves of the Burgundian autumn—which give the Côte d’Or its name—have started to fall. At this point the grape varietal switches: this is now the terrain of highly sought-after, elegant, mineral-driven whites and row upon regimented row of Chardonnay vines stretch out as far as the eye can see. The mud-splattered runners then veer west up into the beautiful village of Meursault, famed for its concentration of world-renowned wine domains, all conspicuously nestling behind gates with modest name plaques. Then they pass the Meursault premier cru plot of “Les Cras,” continue along the road that hugs the gentle slopes of Monthélie and follow the road north back into Volnay, emerging on the other side of the village into the premier cru vineyard of “Les Fremiets.” Just a few steps further takes them back into the Pommard appellation and straight through the highly prized premier cru vineyard of Pommard “Les Rugiens.”. Thighs now burning, they zigzag upwards on a tight hairpin incline to the Beaune premier crus of “Clos des Mouches” and “Les Aigrots,” and then, with relief, downwards through “Clos des Avaux” and back to Beaune: a usually sleepy town now enjoying one last bacchanalian convulsion before its winter hibernation. The final stretch of both runs takes us past the Beaune premier cru vineyards of “Les Grèves,” “Les Toussaints,” “Les Cent Vignes,” and finally Beaune “Clos du Roi,” where gathered crowds clap us towards the finish line.

As you can see, the route of the run is a who’s who of great Burgundian vineyards.

Weary from my weekend’s sporting activities, I am happy to have finished both runs and to have earned a bottle of local wine for my pains—but most runners take home much more: incredible memories and the certainty that they will never look at the Burgundy section of a wine list in quite the same way ever again.