The next section from Les Chapieux, over Col de La Seign, and down to Lac Combal I’m really struggling to remember what was what. I’m pretty sure I’ve got it mixed up, so I could be wrong. Looking at maps seems to confuse it even more. I believe it was at Les Chapieux though there was a random kit check.
At check in the day before when I’d gotten my race number and tracker I wasn’t required to show that I had everything, it was a random pre-race kit check. They were making sure you had the appropriate required equipment for the race. As I entered a Les Chapieux I crossed the scanning pad, my number registered a “beep,” then I was directed to a woman at a table. The table had a photo of a I think a space blanket and possibly a phone. She spoke English and asked me to present these two required items. I dug deep in my race vest and showed her, and on I went. There were a few more tables other people were at and other items of required kit were being asked to be shown. Races always threaten a mid race check but I’d never seen it before. Kind of a hassle, but I understand the need for it. Many of these items could save your life in an emergency due to accident or change in weather.
From Les Chapieux, 30.7 miles, the descending continues. I recall running down with a French guy from Paris who was really friendly and talkative. As always it seems he was your typical ultra runner, around my age, family, job and fit in training whenever he could! Whether it’s at 4am, 10pm, or taking an extra day off work to get a long training run in, I wasn’t alone in the struggle! The descent was wet and rocky, and considering the darkness, the technicality was high. Probably not a problem in the light, and likely really fun, but it was fairly slow going just to be safe. We wondered how fast the elite runners cover this ground, even at night, as they are known for their insane descending abilities.
Descent down to Les Chapieux was really technical and wet rock, it had rained
much of the day before the start
Back up. Climb up to Col de La Seigne from Les Chapieux
Across the col and back down to Lac Combal
At some point we switchbacked our way up Col de La Seigne, 37.1 miles. At the col (mountain pass or saddle) there was a plastic box looking shelter that was flown in via helicopter and dropped. A handful of mountain rescue workers were scanning runners but also there in case of emergency. We definitely were kind of in the middle of nowhere and access was only by foot or helicopter. I peered into the box and two guys were wrapped up sleeping on bunk beds! I’d assume they were runners, who knows why at this point so early in the race. After the col, down we went.
Soon I could see lights in the distance, the next checkpoint must be there. We’d been in the dark backcountry forever. Up high I made sure to turn off my headlamp and admire the stars, it’d been a long time since I’d been so far from light pollution and the Milky Way could just barely be seen, still not as good as Northern Arizona or the Kings Canyon backcountry though, but best I’ve seen in years. I’d said farewell to the Frenchman I had been running with and picked up the pace, especially as the trail became less rocky. The steepness was subsiding and I could see and hear the Lac Combal aid station at 39.8 miles. No crew here but it was a glorious sight after so much dark climbing!
I settled in refilling my water, eating, messing with jackets, and gloves. It had become a bit windy and I was chilled. A girl next to me asked in English if I knew what was coming next on the course, she had spotted the flag on my number, and we started chatting. Her name was Lotti and lived in the US (Austin, Texas) however I noticed a non-US accent. She was actually German. We talked all things US, as you do, and soon went our separate ways around the aid station.
I motivated and off into the cold I went, the temperature was a good reminder to keep moving. Hood up for warmth, wet gloves on, hoping we’d be out of the wind or at least start warming up running. The trail was a flattish dirt road, well, in the dark it appeared to be! I caught up to Lotti and we ran for a bit, I think in my sleep deprived stupor I actually called her the wrong name, doh! I then joined a guy from Belgium. His name was Pieter, and was very talkative. We both agreed that it wasn’t a very talkative race until now, most likely because everyone was getting tired and needed that mutual help. We had good conversation and seemed to have a similar pace so ran on awaiting the first signs of sunrise as we anticipated crossing the border into Italy.
Descent from Col de La Seigne, Lac Combal, onwards…
We were both running well and continued to push the pace. Coming from a pancake flat country I was curious where he trained for such a mountainous race. He said he’d take a few days off and fly to the Pyrenees to get vert in and time in the mountains. He also had an extensive endurance background. I knew he’d had to have been a cyclist coming from Belgium! I was correct! And he said he nearly became a professional road cyclist! Considering Belgium has a deep deep cycling history I’d assumed to nearly go pro meant he was damn fast! I can’t remember why he stopped, but he also had been, and still was, a very competitive triathlete, competing in Ironman distance events hoping one day to compete in his age group at the World Championships in Kona Hawaii.
This was a really enjoyable section with Pieter, Lac Combal into Italy.
Soon we were turning off our headlamps and descending into Italy. We could see the Aosta Valley and soon were upon a few buildings making up the Checrouit - Maison Viellie checkpoint at 45.5 miles. It looked to be a refuge in a ski resort. We arrived alone and there were only a couple other runners there. We were excitedly greeted by a few people, happy to help us with whatever we needed, although this time they all had thick Italian accents! What a change! I hit the toilet, we watered up, Pieter whipped out his phone for a sunrise photo of us together, and were soon on our way descending towards Courmayeur. I regret not taking photos the entire race, my phone was buried in my pack.
Pieter and I with the Aosta Valley behind us at Checrouit
The trail gradually descended down what seemed to be a service road. Easy running, it was good, our legs felt great, I was just a bit tired from lack of sleep. I’d been up for over 24 hours. Leading up to the start I sat around all day, I have trouble napping, anxious maybe, but the sleep deprivation, as always, will be my nemesis for these evening starts.
Our gradual trail soon traversed into the trees and we were bombarded with steep, dusty, root laden switchbacks. Oof. This was a thing of nightmares much like the very first descent. We were so close to Courmayeur these can’t last that long, can they? It was brutal, but we kept going, passing those sequestered to a walk in order to lessen the muscular pain. As with all the switchbacks on the course they went on, and on, and on, and on. Finally we were in town.
Courmayeur was the halfway point and my legs were feeling great, that was a good sign! Pieter and I worked our way through town until we made it to the checkpoint at a sports center. He was meeting his wife and I was meeting either my brother or sister in law. Unfortunately we didn’t keep in touch as we entered, I regret this, as we got along great and worked well together. I believe in the end he finished an hour and a half in front of me. Later on in the race I asked my brother to track him to see if I could catch him, it seemed as I was entering a checkpoint he was leaving! I sadly never caught up but have great memories of the bit we ran together and since have connected on social media.
Descent into the Aosta Valley was brutal
At Courmayeur, 47.9 miles, I hung out with Gail for a while and ate little bowls of pasta. I’d have loved to have a full size bowl and a real fork but all I had was a tiny cup and luckily a shitty wooden spoon in my crew bag. Better than nothing I guess! Many races no longer supply cups etc because it is so wasteful. Makes sense to me and I’m happy to get by with less, still a pain in the ass though!
I wasn’t going to, but I switched my shoes as I usually do halfway, which wasn’t at all necessary. My feet were fine and I think if it’s dry I’m becoming a one pair of shoes guy for 100 miles. However looking back a sock change was probably a good idea just in case. My Hoka Tecton X shoes were super lightweight and didn’t have much padding around the ankle and tongue, and I did have to adjust my lacing a bit to lessen pressure on my instep.
I spent a lot of time at the crew checkpoints throughout the whole race. Not what I normally do, as it’s truly a waste of time, but it was really fun spending time with Chris and Gail. Outside of being so grateful for them crewing me, it was awesome just to chat as I hadn’t seen them in nearly three years! They had crewed me in the past, and crewing, many times is much harder than actually running the race. It’s stressful, you forget to eat and take care of yourself, and you are pretty much up all night. They had some great stories about the UTMB bus system as well! I really can’t thank them enough.
Leaving Courmayeur I look up at the mountains. A low pass creates a crazy illusion-like window into the high peaks of the alps. It looks fake, but it’s unreal how beautiful it is. Another moment of “I really should be taking photos” but I don’t! Maybe I should truly consider the Tor des Geants which starts here in Courmayeur! The Tor starts in a week or two and is over 200 miles long with 75,000 feet of climbing. It’s a whole new monster that takes over four days to finish! I got into it a couple years ago but with Covid on the way out, and all the uncertainties of that, I didn’t enter.
Through town I go, as I mentioned I lost Pieter at the aid station, his company would’ve been very welcomed as the day progressed. Soon I’m once again going up. Up a deceivingly steep road through a neighborhood and soon back on the trails. More switchbacks, and they once again are relentless and steep, but as with all the climbs so far I’m feeling great. Too steep to run, I weight my poles to get extra momentum as I hike my ass off passing people left and right.
In my garage I’ve got an old shitty Reebok treadmill we bought 10 years ago for £50. Nothing fancy. It’s got a really short deck, tops out at 8.8mph, and has two incline settings. Flat, or you can manually rotate a bar to drop it to a super low, maybe 3% gradient. Not nearly enough for mountain races that routinely have 25% gradient climbs. So, I stacked bricks under the front of the ‘mill and achieved about a 20% gradient. I managed quite a few hikes on this, adding a 20 pound backpack, and hiking at 4 - 4.5 mph. I started with 30 minutes. Then bumped it to 45. And soon progressed to over an hour hiking. I wasn’t sure how this would translate to the race but obviously it worked extremely well. The entire race I was passing people with ease on the climbs. My modified treadmill and also my Nordic ski background, knowing how to properly use poles, had blasted my climbing fitness and ability through the roof! There’s nothing worse in these races than turning into an ultra zombie shuffling uphill!
We soon were above tree line after so many dusty rocky switchbacks and came upon the Refuge Bertone at 51 miles. The sun was beating down and it was good to get fresh water and a bit to eat. This stop had limited aid so I spent little time here, took in the views, enjoyed the sun and on to the next.
The singletrack seemed to be traversing high up a huge valley in and out of the trees we went, across glacial fed streams below waterfalls. A very runnable section this was but the heat of the sun was wearing on everyone. Moving alone I struggled to keep running, as I’d catch people I’d slow down to their pace rather than pass. It was an excuse to go slow that I’d naturally take advantage of without even realizing it. I think I lost quite a bit of time here where I could’ve been more effective running on the smooth trail. The sun was out in full force now and I regretted forgetting to put sunscreen on at Courmayeur. It works wonders at keeping the body cool. From Refuge Bertone it had been beautiful running with epic scenery and I’d been gradually going down the valley wall. Now more switchbacks, but not nearly as bad as the others I’d experienced.
This section to Arnouvaz is probably awesome with a fresh head and legs!
At the bottom of the valley I arrived at Arnouvaz, 58.7 miles. A full checkpoint sans crew access. Food, water, motivate. The temperatures weren’t really all that bad but at elevation the sun was now everyone’s worst enemy. Out of Arnouvaz I went, I recall a nice shady area along a babbling creek, excellent place for a nap! However across the creek up yet again, the fun is over.
Descending to Arnouvaz, far top right corner the Grand Col Ferret
As with all the climbs you could never see the top. They switchbacked like mad and seemed to always crest over the climb just enough so you couldn’t see the finish of it, false summit after false summit. This one was brutally steep. The sun beat down as we climbed the Grand Col Ferret. A string of people clambered up the wicked gradient plodding one foot in front of the other. Exposed, going up to higher altitude, I could feel it in my lungs. That all being said, my legs felt decent. I still could drive my poles in and quicken my pace power hiking up, passing people. My head was in a cloud though. Sleep. An overall tiredness was consuming me.
Relentless and unforgiving in the sun, Grand Col Ferret.
Switchback after relentless switchback I could soon see what I hoped was the top. It appeared to be a pass, a col, and I hoped it was not a fake. Luckily as I turned the corner I saw a guy scanning runners and a white sign saying “Grand Col Ferret!” Time to go down.
And down we went. A steady decent over semi technical terrain I tried my best to keep running. I passed people as they walked a bit, they passed me as I walked a bit. My head was in a funk and I was struggling to motivate. This was ALL extremely runnable terrain. With a fresh head it would be super fun! Just the right gradient, but my head said no. My legs didn’t even hurt like so many people’s did! Finally after a long struggle we came upon a fountain with spectators and could see the bottom of a valley. The water was a relief, as was knowing we were close to the next checkpoint.
Should’ve been way faster going down this!
Made it. La Fouly, 67.4 miles. The sun had worn me down, I was tired of eating sweet food, I wanted a meal of some sort, the tiredness was overwhelming. I was exhausted. Everyone looked it. At La Fouly people were napping. I tried to eat, or find something to eat that I actually wanted to eat. I forced down watermelon, oranges, broth, noodles. Nothing was appetizing. I chatted with an American from Louisville Colorado, then with another guy from outside of Los Angeles. People looked like shit.
Seeing people napping I thought about it. I’d considered naps before, actually at
Western States 100 in Lake Tahoe I’d been super tired all week, hanging on to jet lag after 28 hours of travel door to door, at mile 50 I suggested to my friend Brendan I may have a nap. Well, him and the other crew members, totally ignored my request and moved me on! Probably the right decision, he did the right thing as a crew! But here I felt so tired, fuck it, I decided to have a nap! I’d never done that, I’d seen people have great success with it, but it just seemed stupid to nap during a race! I set my alarm for 5 minutes. I put my head down. I woke after four minutes, before my alarm! I had fallen asleep immediately and woke rejuvenated! WTF! I talked to the Americans again, we were complaining about the limited food options (both being vegan), they commented on my positive demeanor, and I was off.
I felt fantastic! Who knew a 4 minute nap would have such enormous benefit! I charged on to Champex Lac! The course was extremely runnable so I ran and felt great. Passing people left and right, through tiny Swiss villages with kids handing out water and food to the runners! Of course I threw high fives and shouted “merci beaucoup!” smiling the entire way. I was following a beautiful river with crazy silty glacial waters charging through it. I looked to see insanely beautiful peaks reaching to the sky, once again like Courmayeur, they looked fake. This place was magical!
This section was glorious, thanks to a nap!?
It was still easy running but I’d climbed up a bit and was traversing above the river valley if I recall. I was sure Champex Lac was close.
Soon I arrived at Champex Lac, the next crew point at 76.1 miles. I met with my brother Chris who said they nearly missed me having some issues with the shuttle system being so crammed and I had changed my pace so much. I pulled that on them the last time they crewed me at
Superior Sawtooth 100 in Northern Minnesota, my first 100. Emotions change dramatically during these races, you’ll go from a deep low to a super high high. You hit that high and flow, you run your ass off while you can! After hanging out for likely way too long I was off. The area was beautiful and I was running through town and soon along a lake. Everyone was cheering, clapping, and encouraging all the runners along.
I settled into a decent pace and soon heard shouting from a black car. It was a couple I had met during a previous 100 in England! You meet all sorts of people during these races and create an odd bond while running, then usually you’ll become social media friends, and surprisingly, more often than not, you randomly bump into them years later. You really get to know someone as you suffer together ticking off the miles.
I met Jake and Nikki while racing the
Thames Path 100, it follows the River Thames from London to Oxford. Initially just Jake, we ran together for a while, but later on his wife Nikki was pacing him. Anyway, I hadn’t seen them since the race but saw social media posts from Jake that Nikki was running the OCC, Osieres - Champex Lac - Chamonix, 42km I believe. Earlier that week I surprised them by getting on the course at Argentiere and cheering her on, fortunately Jake was with her at this point as well as their daughters! So, they were returning the favor and caught up to me on course! They turned around and pulled off ahead of me to offer words of encouragement, it was really, really cool! The ultra community is really rad like this.
Shortly I was out of town and on to the next checkpoint, Plan de l’Au. This would be just a run through, scan, and keep going. We were in a rural area still seeing houses and walkers, and I was expecting a steepish climb. One of three until the finish. Everyone says this is where the race begins, after Champex Lac. I had thrown out any expectations and was enjoying the run now. I had in general felt really good the entire race but I realized shortly after the start that “racing” was kind of out of the question when you start in the middle of 3000 people!
And up we went. It wasn’t very steep, but it was deceivingly relentless, not to mention the worst part, technical, rocky, uneven. I was picking my way through what seemed to be a dry river bed, although it wasn’t, there was no way to get a good consistent pace going. Really annoying. I was still climbing well but with no way to shut off my brain it grew tiresome and draining. Then after a seemingly endless rocky up we were at the top. Nope. We just crossed the actual stream bed into more climbing, however much less technical. Ugh.
We traversed and relentlessly went up with the trail above just out of sight. You think you’re to the top and it just keeps rolling. All of this was very runnable but when you’re tired it’s just enough of an incline to nudge you to walk. Some refer this gradient as “douche grade,” not being a huge fan boy of the sport I’m not sure where the name came from, but for some reason it was fitting! From a distance I could see a few runners gathered and stopped at what appeared to be the top. I was right! I joined a few other guys for a brief stop and a look at the scenery. Then through some trees and going down. A few minutes later we arrived at a barn, La Gliete, a quick checkpoint scan, into the barn where there was water and other drinks, out the barn and onto singletrack. This was all grazing land for cattle so there were random cows out and about despite it being fairly high up. I don’t recall much of this descent but it was fairly friendly most of the way, not too steep. Towards Trient, the next crewed aid station, it did turn into steep, rooty, dusty switchbacks as was a very common theme as we dropped out of the high country back to civilization.
More spectators, more cheering, meant we were really close. I recall passing under a train line, through a tunnel, and through town a bit into Trient at 85.9 miles. I met up with Chris and Gail and chatted for way too long once again! That section took a lot longer than anticipated and I was hoping the next two were much friendlier and less technical. As we chatted I craved an actual meal, something substantial in my belly. I was tired of the usual race-fare; sugary engineered foods, coke, fruit, broth, noodle soup, coffee…. I really could go for some salty chips but as I mentioned earlier the aid station food wasn’t up to snuff. I perused the selection and finally gave in. I grabbed a handful of cheese and some baguette.
For quite some time now I’ve been eating a plant based diet. No meat, no dairy. At one point the doctors said I had extremely high cholesterol and should be on medication. I was confused that someone who lived such a healthy lifestyle needed medication. There had to be a better way rather than paying to solve a problem, in order to create other problems, ie medication. After talking with an old friend in Tahoe he recommended trying to remove meat and dairy from my diet. I’d never considered that. So I immediately did. Within a few weeks my cholesterol had reduced by 1/3! Since then I’m sold, and for 99% of the year I do not eat meat or dairy. 99% because while traveling and certain situations, there are cool unique foods I want to try, or there just is zero options available I’ll eat whatever. For example, snails in the south of France or cheese pizza at a bar in rural Minnesota. In general in the UK the majority of pubs now have 2-3 plant based options which is fantastic. Races are the other exception.
The fat bomb in my stomach quelled the sugary hollowness and I was feeling a bit better. Bedsides, this wasn’t velveeta I had eaten, we were in France! The cheese is exceptional!
It wasn’t dark so must’ve been early evening. I said goodbye to Chris and Gail and off I went on to the final climb, and switchbacks it was, just as before. These were a bit more friendly but rather than being technical I remember a lot of big step ups, rocky staircases, and of course the relentless sneak peek at runners above. I remember darkness falling for a second time and trying to see headlamps above and beyond with hopes of the top arriving. Up, up, up we went passing people as I’d been doing the entire race on the climbs. My legs felt great on the ups, I just battled the mental exhaustion. You’re so tired but you feel good physically. It’s so frustrating because in the moment you go slow, knowing you can go faster, but you default to slow. In hindsight you look back and think “why didn’t I go faster!” I could’ve, should’ve, but my brain is trying so hard to get me to stop! However stopping was never an option, I decided that before the start. Unless I have an injury or accident that forces me to stop I was going to finish.
We were again running on “douche grade,” and running I was! At some point we passed a checkpoint at Les Tseppes, 146km, a few people in the dark scanning runners as they pass. Other runners came and went, headlamps could be seen behind and in front in the distance, soon the trail was rolling up and down singletrack on our way down. It was totally silent other than the random “mooooo!” or “clang, clang” from the cows grazing up high. In the far distance behind us I could see the valley floor and the lights of a bigger town, I had no idea what it was but the lights gave me some sense of depth perception in the blackness of night. I came upon a runner, “Juan Carlos” it said on his race number, next to the flag of Spain. He seemed to be stumbling a bit, having trouble finding a decent line through the rocks on the trail. He must’ve been really messed up, as you get sometimes! Hallucinations had to be all around him he was running so randomly! I was waiting for a good time to pass him and had slowed down to his pace.
Passing people had been awkward the entire race. Maybe it was a language barrier or more likely a cultural thing but people kind of elbowed and forced their way around you. There was no “on your left” or “can I pass” chit chat. Some people would step aside and wave you by but this wasn’t until later in the race.
Descent to Vallorcine I ran with Juan Carlos
After a while of getting tired of being stuck behind this guy I started to make an effort to pass and noticed the reason for his poor condition. His headlamp was low on battery and he couldn’t see! He was using my light to see! I pulled out my spare light and offered it to him, maybe it was his spare he was using, but he declined!? Well I can’t just leave him, so without saying anything I stayed with him so he could see. Fortunately the trail became a rocky service road with a fairly obvious smooth line to follow, then into the same steep, dusty, rooty singletrack switchbacks that announced we were taking the final descent to the valley floor.
It was frustrating being slowed down as I’d made that mistake before during the
Arc of Attrition 100 last January in Cornwall (link goes to my race report). I’d stayed with another runner to help him from getting lost. The Arc course was known for difficult night navigation and two heads are better than one, however, I lost a significant amount of time doing this. But, one thing that makes these races great, is that most people are willing to help others out which is pretty cool. So no real complaints from me.
We could see the lights of Vallorcine, the final crew checkpoint at 92.7 miles. We weaved through town a bit and into the aid station we went. It’s funny, after the race I went through the video footage and every one I’m walking into the checkpoints! Lazy me. Knowing I was on camera I would’ve ran! Ha ha ha! I met Chris and Gail here. I wanted it to be a quick stop and get this monster done. I was in good spirits as always, talked briefly about the previous section, ate, and left. I had no idea of what to expect for the final climb and descent into Chamonix.
Thanks to the photographer who took this! Vallorcine. Chris on the far right, Juan Carlos to the left.
Out I went into the dark, and for quite some time we ran through town. It was flattish with a gradual uphill slope. Dirt roads, bike path, neighborhoods. It went on for a long time. Then we came to a road crossing. There were course marshals here stopping traffic and making sure runners made it across safely. This must be the road that goes into Argentiere where we were staying, and then on to Chamonix. I crossed and a race official scanned my race number. Along a road and once again up we went. Switchbacks, huge uneven rocky steps, and more switchbacks similar to the past, the trail here continued to get more technical on the way up though. This was new. And not all that welcome. A consistent power hiking pace was again difficult to maintain and frustrating. The higher I got the more scrambling seemed to be involved, I put my poles away to use my hands more to get a safer feeling purchase on the rocks. The steady uphills later relaxed a bit and in the darkness the trail blended in with all the rock slabs. I was picking my way through this rock field trying to find the best line and it was really really frustrating having to slow the pace down. I bet this is really fun when you’re fresh and at least can see outside of the orb of light from a headlamp. And the views must be spectacular. In the distance I could see the reflective flags marking the course, then every so often WAY off you could see a headlamp or two traversing the mountainside.
Rocky switchbacks up from the valley floor to La Tete aux Vents from Vallorcine.
I could see a brighter set of lights on top of a small hill ahead. It must be the checkpoint at La Tete aux Vents, 97.5 miles. If I remember correctly I strolled in to a few mountain rescue guys scanning race numbers in front of a big expedition mountaineering tent, they all said unrecognizable words of encouragement in French, I said “merci” and on I went. It was fairly flat now, still moving over really rocky slabs, high step ups, occasional scrambling, and along some sort of body of water, probably a tarn high up in the mountains but in the dark I couldn’t tell. We began to traverse and gradually descend along the the side of the mountain. Headlamps could be seen still traversing far ahead. Everything was feeling really good, legs check, head ok, stomach solid. I wanted to go faster but mentally struggled to overcome the consistent pace I had going. I was still having issues choosing the quickest line through the rocks.
A guy caught up to me who was moving fairly fluidly through the technical sections. He had his poles out using them to help lower himself on the big step downs of talus. I copied him, deploying my poles, and picking up my pace mimicking his line choice. It was good. We started to pick off runners as we descended. With me behind him he was reluctant to slow and with him keeping pace I was forced to keep going. It was a good situation especially as we were so close to the end.
The traverse began to go up a bit, around a corner, and I recall a steep open ski slope looking climb. The other runner I was with was French, we exchanged few words, just being together was motivating for both of us, as our paces were similar. I remember looking to the side and seeing huge rock faces upslope of us, no idea the extent or even if they were real. This late into a 100 miler the head begins playing tricks. Many people begin hallucinating, unfortunately I never have had that experience, maybe that’s a good thing though implying I’m doing something right. I could see the various structures associated with a ski area; lifts, random buildings, and also the terrain implied it, shortly we were entering a lit tent where we were scanned. Going through there was a random selection of drinks, hot and cold, I think a small variety of food too. Nothing spectacular though as we were so close to the end. La Flegere, 99.4 miles, was the final checkpoint. From here I expected a long descent into Chamonix and the finish!
The final long descent.
Descend we did. Straight down the ski slope we went. It was steep, persistent, and gravelly underfoot. I slipped out a few times but fortunately didn’t fall. We kept a solid pace for this late in race. Both of us obviously had strong legs as we caught runner after runner who had been crippled by blown quad muscles and reduced to a demoralizing walk to the finish. The consistency of the ski slopes grew tiresome and I was ready for at least a change of gradient. Since we were running it came quickly, we entered the tree line, and the same set up as we’d seen before, dusty, steep, rooty, rocky, relentless fucking switchbacks!
However, with good legs the fun began! We quickened our pace and we hopped back and forth, up and over the roots and rocks. Smiles grew on our faces. The fastest and most fun line was easy to spot as we zipped along downhill. We caught people walking who went out too fast and flew by fueled by the excitement of being done. The final down to town truly went on for miles and we rode that high the entire way. We popped out of the switchbacks onto a wide path. The descending continued but with a few small climbs as well. We reeled in more and more people, some followed and ran with us, others hobbled along.
Nearly 7 miles of downhill
We dropped into town and off the trails, I was still unsure of how far in town we had to go. Shortly we were running along the river path and I started recognizing shops and bars in town. We passed a few more people as we ran by the sports hall where check in and the expo were located, now unfortunately all torn down. There were people scattered about cheering us in, most likely waiting for runners they knew. In the heart of Chamonix we zig zagged a few streets until we came into the finish line chute. Lined with fencing and blue carpeting we picked up the pace as the finish line arch came into view. It was done. 106 miles, 33,000 feet of elevation gain. I spotted Chris and Gail waiting for me and got hugs from both of them.
We jostled about as photographers took finish photos. Then wandered up to turn in my tracker. I had ran UltraTrail du Mont Blanc. The largest, most competitive 100 miler, and bucket list race for many.
It was great to have family here to help out, it’s so nice to see familiar faces at the aid stations. I’ve done enough of these without crew to be able to go on just fine but it’s just a lot more fun.
As I normally do I’ll compile a short post about what worked and what didn’t work for the race. I need to type it out as all my notes are scribbled down on paper. What’s next? Well I’m currently signed up for the Arc of Attrition in Cornwall that takes place the end of January, 100 miles following the coast path. I raced it last year and excitedly signed up again. I’m not 100% sure I’ll do it but since they’ve got my money…… otherwise nothing planned as of yet! I will likely be in the lotteries for Tor des Geants, Hardrock 100, and maybe Western States100. I qualify so may as well try!
