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| Have to follow instructions on the signs |
Maybe it is because I don’t have any videos or pictures that I myself took during the race. Or maybe it’s because it was such a grueling physical and mental challenge of a race, but I have been having a hard time coming up with what to write to recap my experience running the Ultra Trail Du Mont-Blanc (UTMB). I never had a true goal time for this race like I usually do with some others. Obviously, finishing is a good goal as the race normally has a 65% finishing rate of those that start. But it is helpful to have some idea of time so that you either don’t go too fast and burn out well before the finish or go too slow and wonder how much faster you could have gone if you put more effort into it. It may help to give a short description of the race.
UTMB is a 168 Kilometer (104.4 mile) race that runs
counterclockwise beginning in Chamonix, France and circles 168 kilometers
around the tallest mountain in Europe – Mont-Blanc (15,781 feet) by going
through the Alps in France, Italy, Switzerland, and then finishing back in
Chamonix. The race (according to the
tracking) gains 32,000 feet and loses the same during the course of the
run. The altitude ranges from 2,700 feet
above sea level to 8,300 feet. The
terrain ranges from asphalt in some parts going through small towns to
ridiculous technical rocky alpine trails, but is mostly run on trails.
The climbs and descents are very steep and usually technical (rocky,
rooty, etc). The race begins at 5:30PM
and runners get 46 hours to complete the course. The winner will usually finish in around 20
hours and 20 minutes nowadays.
Obviously, with a 5:30PM start, anything over 27-28 hours will force you
to put your headlamp on again and run during a second night. For the vast majority of runners, this is the
reality. To give you an idea, I finished
309th overall out of 1,578 that ended up finishing. It took me 35:23:48 to finish the race so I
finished a little before 5AM on my second night of running. In fact, only 57 runners finished before
8:30PM on Saturday! An interesting breakdown of the finishers: Nearly 35.7% of the finishers this year did so in the last 3 hours of the race. Another 35.6% finished between 38 and 43 hours, averaging about 100 runners each hour. So about 71% of all the runners that finished the race, did so in OVER 38 hours! You are required to
carry a certain amount of specific gear because we are running over mountain
passes and if bad weather or an emergency situation occurred, it is easy to die
if you don’t have the proper emergency equipment (warm waterproof clothing,
emergency blanket, stock of food and water, etc.). You can see the mandatory
gear list here. http://www.ultratrailmb.com/page/143/Equipment_advices.html
So because I had never done something this difficult, I
wasn’t sure exactly how “fast” (or slow) I could be expected to finish the
race. My fun rule of thumb for races I
do is to take what the winners finish in (if they are elite runners – not small
town races that elites never race at) and multiply that by 1.5. Then sometimes I’ll add extra time if I am
out of my element, high altitude or a course I know is much harder for the
everyday person. I figure that out by
looking up race reports people write or looking at some people’s times and
comparing it to other races that I have done.
My research here led me to believe that I should be able to finish in
under 36 hours. For this race, that is
averaging a 20:41 minute mile including any stops along the way. Speaking of stops along the way, a strategy
that it seems many Europeans took with this race was to sleep. There are three aid stations on the course
that have extra cots set up to allow runners to get some rest. There are certain rules set up for that but I
don’t know the specifics. You could also
rest at a medical aid stop as long as no one needed the cot for treatment. Or, you could do what I saw others runners do
which is to just sleep on the grass or on a large boulder on the side of the
trail! Basically, it’s a strategy
because taking that 1, 2, 3 or more hour break may allow you to move better
later in the race. If you take a 3 hour
nap at 2AM on Sunday morning, you may feel completely refreshed and be able to
run fast during the day once the sun rises.
And you certainly can run faster when you have daylight, rather than
just a headlamp lighting your way up and down very technical mountain
terrain. But my own strategy is always
to keep moving forward. I know that once
the sun comes up I can usually run well.
So if I sleep, I’ll just be further back before I can run well
again. Or, maybe I’ll finish the race
before the sun comes up and being done quicker without sleep is better than
being done slower with sleep in my opinion.
The race has been notorious lately for having bad
weather. In 2010, the race was stopped
midway through then restarted the next morning because of dangerous conditions.
In 2011 the race was delayed by 5 hours because of very harsh rain,
snow, and wind. In 2012 the race was
shortened to 100K because of extremely dangerous snow conditions on many of the
mountains. 2013 had perfect
weather. I was looking at the weather
forecast from multiple meteorological sources the week leading up to the
race. It started out saying rain Friday
through Sunday. Then on Tuesday, it
rained heavily for about 12 hours or more but the forecast for the race turned
to just rain Friday and no rain Saturday.
It basically stayed that way up until race day and the organizers were
comfortable with those forecasts and planned to run the race with no
changes.
So now for the recap.
Evening race starts are still weird.
I tried to stay up a little later, closer to midnight or later so that
hopefully I could get at least 9-10 hours of sleep and be less tired during the
race. I got about 9 hours of somewhat
restful sleep. After breakfast of
scrambled eggs and a fresh baguette, I walked around here and there but not too
much. I looked over the weather forecast
again and decided I didn’t need as much very cold weather gear for the first
night but packed it in my half-way drop bag in case I thought I may want it for
the second night. I put all my gear into
separate ziplock baggies and shoved them in my race pack. I stayed in a house with Aleks and 6 other
runners (3 ran a 119K version of the race a few days earlier and 4 of us were
running UTMB). We all were ready to head
to the start at around 4:45PM. However,
I had a feeling I didn’t pack my thin running tights and when I was 50 feet
outside the house, I checked my pack to make sure and they weren’t there (and
they were required gear which means if they did a random check for it, I could
be disqualified from the race for not having it). Turns out I left them on a chair outside
drying from being washed the day before.
Disaster #1 averted. I catch up
to the group and we walk to the bag drop-off for the halfway point in Courmayeur. I take out my small video camera to get the first of many videos when I notice the battery about to die so I hand the camera off to Aleks because I don't have to carry around that dead weight. Then we take a few still photos and head to the
start. Chamonix is a small little
ski-town and it’s amazing how they can pack the 2,500 runners and spectators
there. When we see how far back the line
of runners went, we’re shocked. There is
no way we can position ourselves correctly for this race. It’s too packed. Keila Merino, one of our housemates and an
incredible runner (way, way faster and better runner than I am) sees a small
street we can go down to cut into the line of runners instead of lining up in
the back. Unfortunately, when we get
there, a metal fence about 4.5 feet high is set up. However,
we are able to successfully jump over it although Keila did fall. Well it turns out we
jumped the fence and were lined up right behind the pros!!! While Keila can hang with them (or at least
right behind them) Sky (another amazing runner) and I went back a little behind
a tape barrier because we know we didn’t belong that close. I think the other runners appreciated
that. With 15 minutes to go before the
start, the rain begins. At first, it’s a
light drizzle but then it starts coming down hard. Now everyone is getting out their rain
jackets. Perfect. . . Soon enough they
start counting down each minute before they start playing the UTMB theme song,
“Conquest of Paradise” by Vangelis. Then
they do the 10 second countdown (in French obviously) and we’re off.
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| Sky and me walking towards the start |
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| Eric (who finished the TDS) pointing at Keila and Juerg |
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| Housemates running UTMB (Sky, Keila, Me, Juerg) |
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| Aleks' video of the start |
The first 5 miles of the race is essentially flat and on asphalt or very easy wide open trail with a
couple small hills to run or walk up. The
rain keeps coming down and getting harder.
I’m running fast, between 7-8:30 minute miles. In fact, even though we had a 3,000 foot
climb and then equal descent on extremely muddy and slippery trail, I was averaging a 12:40
minute/mile pace through the first 13 miles.
Sure that doesn’t sound fast but that is a 22 hour finish for this
race (good enough for top-10)! The rain alternates from downpour,
to light drizzle. Somewhere along the
way, I think around mile 7-8 I felt a very slight pain just below my knee. It was more a dull pain than anything but
just noticing anything bad, no matter how minimal it is at this early point in
the race is never a good sign. Sometimes
they work themselves out soon enough and there’s nothing I can do about it now
so I just continue on, hoping for the best. I take my rain jacket
on and off about 3 times as the rain alternatives from heavy shower to light drizzle. When I get to
the first aid station, I just go right through it since I have plenty of water
in my pack. Once we get to the first
real climb, I take out my Trekking Poles.
I don’t put them away until after the race is over. The first climb takes us up Le Delevret,
around a 2,500 foot climb and a longer descent.
The trail was full of water, mud, and was so slippery that if I didn’t
have my poles, I don’t know how I would have made it to the top. Then on the way down, the poles saved me from
completely wiping out multiple times because the slippery mud and grass trails were
everywhere. There was no avoiding it. In fact, there were a few
times where I went slightly off trail because the mud was so deep or slippery
that it was safer to go in the taller grass on the side that wasn’t completely worn out by
the runners in front of me. I saw many runners fall on this section. Eventually,
we get down and it’s time to put the headlamp on.
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| Up the first climb in the rain |
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| Near the start of the second climb |
The next section is a steady climb where it is possible to
run but a fast hike is better for me since it’s still uphill so why waste unnecessary
energy to gain not much speed. Then we
soon hit the real mountain trail that will take us up to the peak of Croix
Bonhomme. This section was when I
realized just how hard this race would be.
It was still raining at the 31K mark but was starting to lessen. I took off my rain jacket at the aid station,
got some hot noodle soup and readied myself for a climb that was just
insane. In about 8 miles we climb 4,600
feet, with half of it coming in the last 3 miles. The entire climb, I would keep looking up and
see headlamps way up in the distance snaking back and forth the switchbacks
up the mountain. I always thought that
the furthest I could see was the top.
But as I would climb, I would see headlamps further up and away. I would also look behind me to see just how
far up I was and the huge line of runners and their headlamps illuminating the
way. In my preparation for the race, I had planned for long climbs. I basically told myself that each climb will
take 2-3 hours and to just keep moving and don’t worry about it. The climbs will eventually end. This climb lasted 3 hours and we were
climbing over some serious rocky territory.
In some ways, I’m glad I couldn’t see what it looked like around us in the
dark. I don't know if it was getting higher in elevation (above 8,000 feet) or the nearly three hours of climbing, but I was starting to get tired towards the end of the climb. Thankfully, the end of the climb eventually came. The downhill was tricky as well
but I was feeling less tired and made it into the next aid station.
Right before we go into the aid station they had an inspection point
where they checked every runner for their waterproof jacket with a hood and for
a cell-phone. That was the only
inspection point I saw on the course.
Right after that, I passed a Petzl battery change station and figured I
might as well get some new batteries into my headlamp as it will mean I will
not have to worry about running low in an emergency of my own if it happened
later on. After that, I head into the
tent, grabbed some food and more hot soup and then listened to some guy say
that this course is harder than Hardrock 100.
To me, Hardrock 100, a race in Colorado that has a similar elevation profile of this race and a lot of technical running, but takes place at an average altitude of around 11,000 feet I think, sounds much more difficult.
The next section was loooong. It was 15K (9.3 miles) between aid stations
that had food/water. It started on a
long uphill road section at first before we got into a steeper trail
climb. I didn’t recall from the
elevation profile that it was supposed to be a long climb but it’s when I
realized again that every climb here is long.
Even the short ones are as long as some of the longest climbs on other trail
races I’ve done. At the top of this
climb, I see some sort of booth and realize that this is where we are scanned
at Col de la Selgne and enter Italy. The
downhill was somewhat runnable but changing from rocky to not rocky and
sometimes there were multiple tracks to run on but they would mysteriously end
and you’d have to go to the other track next to it which was usually a little higher or lower than the track you're currently on. Some parts were slippery and because it is
during the night, it’s just hard to know what’s coming up. Finally, I make it to the next aid station. I grab
some more soup and these cut up bars that remind me of Rice Kripsy Treats. They seem to be some rice cereal held
together by some type of sugary substance.
One bar has chocolate while the other has apricot. They are delicious and I eat them at every
aid station I see them. They also had
single serving apple sauce which was very refreshing. I decide that this is a good spot to take my
5-hour energy drink. I only use this
during a race when I’m feeling tired during an overnight section. It works for me probably because I only use
it 2-3 times a year.
This next section had a short gravel section to run before
it starts a climb and while running ahead, I catch up to Sky. We chat and she tells me Keila decided to
drop out at that aid station we just left. Her knee
was hurting her before the race from doing 3 hard 100-mile races in about 6
weeks, with the last one that she did hurting the knee badly only two weeks
earlier. And she had one more 100-miler
to do the week after UTMB. It’s called
the Grand Slam of Ultra Running by doing those four events and she puts UTMB in
it as well. Her main focus was finishing
the Slam so if she felt trying to finish UTMB would prevent that, she would
drop out. I’m amazed that not only did
she start, but that she made it to 64K (nearly 40 miles). She’s one tough runner. She would have continued but she would not
have been able to drop out until she reached the 77K mark because there is no
transportation out from the other aid stations in between, unless you want to pay for a helicopter rescue! So Sky and I chat as we run and then hike
uphill. By the time we reach the next
aid station, the sun is ever so slowly making its way up the horizon. Sky has to use the restroom so I go on ahead
to a 2.5 mile downhill section that loses something like 2,800 feet. This part is so steep and is filled with
switchback after switchback. The course
has some obvious cuts before some of the switchbacks turn and I decide to
take a few of them. I’m glad I took the
downhills at “Running with the Devil” hard in preparation for this race because
it paid off. I never felt that my quads
were hurting or soon to be hurting. I wouldn’t say
I took these downhills fast though, so that’s partly a reason my legs felt ok
too. Finally, at the bottom I reached
Courmayeur where my drop-bag is. I can
finally change my muddy socks and see how bad my feet are.
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| Nearing the last of the downhill into Courmayeur |
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| In the town of Courmayeur |
The Courmayeur aid station is in a school. When I arrive, it’s filled with runners and
their crews and there are very few spots that I see where I can sit on a chair
or bench and take care of changing clothes and getting prepared for the next
half of the race. I finally find a chair
next to the wall at the far end. I sit
down and begin unpacking my bag and getting things out of the drop bag. Then it’s time to take my shoes and socks off
and see how bad things look. My feet are
completely waterlogged and trenchfootish.
I have a lot of dirt hard packed and stuck in between the creases that
resulted from the waterlogging. I have
some wetnaps and begin to clean my feet off.
Then I spray on some anti-chafing new-skin before putting on new
socks. My feet do feel much better. Then I change shirts, replace the batteries
in my headlamp, put sunblock on my neck, face, and ears, then seemingly take
forever figuring out what I want to take with me and what should go in my drop
bag to be picked up after the race. Then
I wander around trying to figure out where to go when a security guard tells me
in Italian (and points) to go upstairs because I have no idea what he is saying. I
enter through the doors to an enormous cafeteria. I grab a bowl of pasta with tomato sauce and
sit at a table eating and looking at one of the course guide books left on the table and focus on
the elevation profile of things to come.
I get myself a second helping of pasta after seeing the uphill
stretch that is next! Then I fill my pack with water,
grab some Pepsi to put in my water bottle which I took from my drop bag and
headed out walking on the streets of Courmayeur before shortly heading uphill
on streets that lead us to the trail.
And up and up we go. I saw a trail sign that said Grand Col Ferret
8 hours. I knew this climb wasn’t to the
Col Ferret and that this would be coming along later. The Grand Col Ferret is the highest point on
the course and from the aid station on the bottom to the top, climbs about
2,700 feet in 2.7 miles. However, I’m
far from that now. So I look at my watch
and it says I’ve been running for 14 hours so as long as I get there in 8 hours
or 22 hours of running, I’ll be happy, even though the estimate for hiking
based on signposts is much, much slower than racing. But it was something for me to focus on to at
least know I’m not going to be going even slower than hiking and who knows how
long I would spend in aid stations up ahead. Once at the top, the next 12K was basically
run along the ridge line, a sort of balcony across the mountain before a short (but
really long because everything in this course isn’t short) drop into the aid
station before climbing up the Grand Col Ferret.
Unfortunately, this relatively flat section was some of the
most painful for me. From the mud and
dirt in my shoe, or maybe it was that and something wrong with the socks I put
on at Courmayeur, I developed some bad chafing across the top inside part of
both feet. I also had some chafing and a
blister on a couple toes of my left and right foot. Climbing uphill didn’t seem to bother it much
but going downhill or running on flats I felt the pain and it was difficult to
ignore. I decided I had to cave in at
Arnuva, the aid station before going up to Grand Col Ferret. I asked a volunteer where the medic tent was
so I could get treatment for my feet.
She said first I must eat and drink and then I can go to the medic
tent. Once in the tent, there were many
people in there getting various treatments.
Getting blisters pooped and feet taped up and physio done on cramped
muscles or people just sleeping. I told
them my predicament and asked if they could put some bandages over the
chafing. They said they could not do that
because they thought the bandage may crease while running and cause more
blisters. Instead, they rubbed some
cream onto the area and I said I wasn’t sure what was causing the chafing;
whether it was some dirt in the shoe, or in the sock, or something else. So they put cream on the outside off the sock
too. When I put my shoes back on my feet
felt better. But I doubted that they would feel better for too long.
I stocked up on what I needed for the 14K section until the next
refreshment stop and headed out for the climb up the Grand Col Ferret. One thing is for certain, this climb had
fantastic views. I was climbing well and
my feet weren’t bothering me. The climb
took a while though that was expected. Close to 90 minutes for just 4.4K in
distance. To put it in comparison, I can
run a 5K in around 19 minutes. When I
got to the top, I couldn’t believe it. I
was expecting more to climb. It was a
bit windy up there and the views were awesome.
This is also the border crossing into Swiss territory from Italy. Woohoo! Entering another country! Now came the 10K of running down to the next aid station. This part should have been easy, as it wasn’t
very technical and was in the daylight.
But my feet were starting to bother me again. I stopped once to put some bandages on my
toes. I stopped again to spray some
Newskin on my feet. Then I just
continued to slowly run down. I don’t
remember why but I didn’t stop for long at the next aid station La Fouley. I was in, ate soup and more food, filled up
my hydration systems and was out in about 8 minutes, making sure I had enough
to get the 14K to the next aid station.
On this 14K journey, the first half or more was downhill
which was really a pain for my feet but then it went uphill which I liked. However, I was feeling low on energy towards
the end and was wondering where on Earth the aid station was. A few non-runners going the other direction
told me different things. The first one
told me that once I exit the woods and cross the road the aid station is right
up ahead. Another told me I had 1
kilometer to go. After I pass the road,
someone else says I have another 1K to go.
As I get more frustrated I just keep moving, albeit slowly. Eventually I reach the aid station Lac Champex-Lac.
I took my time at this aid station. Even more than the official time of 30
minutes read. First, my feet were
hurting a lot. Second, I was feeling low on energy. Third, I had to use the restroom. So first things first, I get some soup and
some pasta. Then I eat some of those
Rice Krispy like bars. Then I make my
way to the restrooms. There’s one person
on line for the three stalls. A couple of
minutes later, I can go in but they are out of toilet paper! I have toilet paper in my pack, but my pack
is back in the tent and the tent is somewhat chaotic. I have to walk around all the spectators in
that area of the tent first before getting to my pack where I have my own
toilet paper in case I have to go on the trail.
I head back around the spectator area and now there are three people in
line! Arrgh! I chat with the person in front of me and it
is the announcer for this lively aid station who I spoke with as I
entered. He was telling me I was doing
a great job and at the time, I was in 391st place and since it was
the first time running that race, it was good.
So I tell him now that I see him in line for the restroom that I hope he
has toilet paper because it was out of stock.
He then tells me they just refilled the bathroom. Perfect!!! . . . So I waste 5-10 minutes
waiting in line for a bathroom; although it was worth it because I did have to
use it. When I finish (they had a real
sink in this portable restroom trailer), I head back to my bag and look once
more at the food options. I notice some
type of dessert pastry. It has tiny
blueberries on top of a light pastry dough and some eclair cream. I try one and it was like I just ate a piece
of heaven. So I eat three more. I sure do love this Swiss aid station! So after eating a lot, I walk out but really
need all my chafing issues taken care of.
The medic area is about 200 feet away from the tent so I pop in there
and thankfully, it was relatively empty.
It was a small room in a small building.
One participant was passed out on a cot.
Another was getting his feet looked at.
I needed some bandages on my neck and lower back because the bandaids I
had on weren’t doing the trick any longer. I also
wanted them to put a bandage on the top of my left foot because the chafing was
getting worse. It took a while, but not
that long before the wonderful medic did all of that. She even gave me some
additional bandage to take with me in case I needed something else. I also changed the sock on that left foot in case
it was something related to that.
So I head on out of the aid station on a fast walking pace
to make sure my food is digesting and all the bandages are ok. Lake Champex was beautiful and to my
left. I really would have enjoyed
dropping out and joining the spectators that were hanging out here in beautiful
weather and scenery but by this point, I would have wasted so much time racing that I might
as well finish the race, right?! I
continue walking for about a mile while we enter the next trail and I notice my
left pinky toe is really bothering me.
It feels like a blister. So while
I find room on a big rock on the side of the trail to take care of this, I decide it’s time
to take care of everything I need from my pack right now. I have a huge blister on that toe. So I put a bandaid over it, hoping that takes
care of it. I also put a bandaid on the toe next to it just in case since it didn't look great either. I take 3 electrolyte pills
and one Tums. I take 2 Tylenol. I take out my iPod shuffle. I drink some Pepsi from my bottle, get my
pack back on and start walking for a minute.
I notice that the bandaid on my toe is working great, all the bandages
from the aid station medic are working perfectly, and I am starting to get a
boost from the food from the aid station.
So I start running. The course
turns to an uphill (which means probably 2 hours of climbing). I start hiking fast. The music is really giving me a mental and
physical boost. The rush I’m getting is
incredible. Nothing can stop me on this
section. I’m passing a lot of people with fervor. The
course gets more technical but that isn’t slowing me down. I’m loving it! We then head into this huge open farm on the
side of the mountain with a ridiculous amount of cows. Some cows are blocking our trail and we have
to go around them. Other cows are
jumping on each other. I don’t want to
get in the way or on the bad side of these beasts. I also look carefully where I’m
running/hiking because where there are many cows, there are many cow
pies! We finally start heading
downhill. I’m wondering if I can get to
the aid station before I will need my headlamp.
I pass people and in some parts under the trees, it is a little dark but
I don’t want to stop. There is a group
of three people in front of me and they are moving at a decent pace. I could pass them but I use this time to control
my effort. After maybe 10 minutes, they
stop to all put their headlamps on but I keep going. About 5 minutes later, I stop to put on my
headlamp. By the time I continue, they
almost catch up to me. We head down some
really big steps on the trail; big enough that I have to carefully step down
because they are pretty big drops between each step. I have a few guys on my tail but when I ask,
no one wants to pass. We finally get
close to the bottom and have to pass over a massive bridge. It’s a little bouncy but pretty cool to go
over. Then we get into town and have
roughly one half mile on asphalt to the aid station in the city of Trient.
I tried not to stay too long at this aid station, but
apparently I stayed 19 minutes. I think
I was just trying to make sure I was fueled and good to go onto this next
section. I just had two more climbs and
descents to do and I would be done with the race. Just 28K (17.3 miles to go) and 6,000 feet of
climbing and even more in descending. How long could that take?! That’s a question I didn’t want an answer for
at that time. In fact, I was so tired of
racing at this point. It's a little after 9PM at this aid
station, so I finally use my phone and I e-mail Aleks and tell her, “I am so sick
of this race. 2 more mountains to climb. 18 miles. Hopefully done before
6am“. She responds with a quick word
and good luck. I ask where Sky is,
hoping that she’s still on the course because it is possible I she passed me
when I was in Courmayeur and I never caught up with her. Or she was behind me. Aleks said, “She left Champex-lac at 20:41.
She stayed there for almost an hour. Did you nap? I saw that you were there for
30 mins “. No, I didn’t nap. That was me eating, waiting on bathroom
lines, and getting my neck, back, and feet taped up in medical aid. After leaving the aid station, it soon turns
into the trail and the steep climbing.
I’m still doing well passing people on the climbs. This trail is steep and has many quick switchbacks. After a little over an hour, I get near the
top and am feeling great about getting there in under two hours. The trail begins to slowly descend at a
gradual grade. I turn my headlamp off a
few times, stop and stare up at the amazing amount of stars in the clear
sky. It was awesome. However, the downhill section then began a
series of negative feedback which while not leading to me getting hurt, or
DNFing the race, really slowed me down and was physically and mentally
destabilizing. I was not out in the open. It was more in the woods but still downhill and then steep. The downhill section
coming up looked ridiculous at night.
At some point, we cross back into France, although I didn't think of that at all. There were tons of switchbacks but it seemed like there were these big
flat rocks placed vertically on the trails and it made navigating this section
so difficult. I also figured since it
took me a little over an hour to get to the top, it should take me 40 minutes
to get down or even less. This downhill
seemed never ending. At some point I saw
a trail sign that said, “Vallorcine – 2h00”, so 2 hours before reaching
Vallorcine, the city with the next aid station.
Well a trail sign that said 2 hours for slow hikers means maybe an hour
or less for me running. But I was
running downhill slow and I’d already be going downhill for at least 10 minutes
so how could I still be so far away?
This was a big mental blow. The
course widened out at some points but only to show me wet, muddy, flooded
areas. Then it started going steeply
downhill again. Finally, I was able to
see some city lights but they were way down below and far out. I just thought it would take another hour to
get there. The process continued until
we finally exit from the trail but I notice I’m still rather high up. We go around some abandoned building although
I notice a big bag of fertilizer up there.
Then there were some more switchbacks to get us down lower and I’m able
to hear some cowbells being rung by hand (not from being on a cow) and some
cheering. Then I get to a path that I
can see finally leads me down to the town and aid station. They had some big fires going outside the aid
station. After about the same amount of
time to go down as it took to go up, even though the downhill distance was shorter and DOWNHILL,
I’m exhausted but I go into the aid station in Vallorcine.
Knowing that I have just one more climb to do, I try to
settle myself down, make sure I get enough food, water and have some energy for
this last climb. I thought I knew what
the climb would be like because I hiked up to the final aid station with Aleks
and Sky the Wednesday before the race.
Although the hike we did from Vallorcine to La Flegere turned out to be
the OCC (51K race course), we knew that we would just have to hike up a little
higher and come down into the aid station according to the elevation profile. So in my head, it would be a similar hike,
just a bit longer. No big deal. At the aid station, I take a 5-hour energy
and try some coffee. Although unlike coffee already brewed at other aid stations, here they used instant Nescafe and the volunteer put about a tablespoon in a small cup and filled it 2/3rds with hot water. It was pretty disgusting but I still drank about half of it. Now it’s midnight. I
think I have hopefully no more than 5 hours left of the race to do (~11 miles)
but hopefully much less than 5. I have
two bowls of soup and have bread to dip in the soup. I look around and everyone is exhausted. Before I get more exhausted myself, I e-mail Aleks again letting her know I’m at
Vallorcine and then quickly head out before she has a chance to respond. I walk along the flat course which seemed
familiar but not exactly the same as the hike Aleks, Sky, and I did on
Wednesday. After about 15 minutes, I
decide to put some gloves on because my hands were getting cold and I change
the batteries in my headlamp to make sure I have good light for the final
climb. As I’m doing it some random
person comes walking up to me holding a scanner and scans my bib. This has happened a few times during the race
where some person scans our race bib that isn’t at an official checkpoint. I don’t know why they do it. Maybe to make sure people aren’t cutting the
course, though I’m not sure how that is possible with checkpoints at the top
and bottom of mountain passes. So I
continue on the gradual incline and then flat section near the main road. I’m then scanned again before I cross
the road. As I’m crossing the road, I
look up and see where the runners ahead of me are climbing. At this point, I curse and am knocked down a
few steps mentally. The section they are
having us climb was a section that Aleks and I hiked on Monday, but we came
down this part. I knew pretty much what
to expect and I wasn’t happy. It is a
very steep section of switchbacks. Then
it turns into rocky tundra terrain. No
use complaining about it though so I just keep cursing and moving forward. I knew where we eventually had to go. At least I thought I did. Once we get to the
top, which is the La Tete Aux Vents, the course profile shows us descending a
little into the final aid station, La Flegere.
So once we finally reach the La Tete Aux Vents, I see lights down below
us to the left which I assume is the La Flegere chair lift and the aid
station. What is that saying about
“assuming” things? For whatever reason,
we never head down that way. We keep
continuing on forward. Down, up,
straight on ridiculously technical (rocky) terrain. At night, and being up for 40 hours or so
(racing for over 33 hours) it was incredibly difficult to navigate. And I had absolutely no idea how much further
we had to go before reaching the aid station.
I couldn’t see or hear anything that looked like it in the
distance. I just kept seeing headlamps
way out ahead. This was
demoralizing. But what am I going to
do? I’m on basically a balcony of a
mountain. I did think that maybe I could
put my warm clothes on, get out my survival blanket and take a nap until
daylight? But I honestly just wanted to
be done with this race and section. So
we keep going. For about 2-3 miles of
this section before the aid station, I was following a British person and I had
no intentions of passing him. I could
have but I was moving slower and slower and getting in worse shape so I just
stuck with him as the company was good and we enjoyed complaining to each about how miserable this section was. Then
we started heading down some difficult rocky terrain. At some points, because the rocks were
slippery, we went down some using our butts instead of stepping or jumping
down. A few people passed us the last
mile here as we were being more cautious.
Finally, I think I see the aid station.
The problem is that I see it is a couple hundred feet higher than where
we are! How did that happen when the
profile looks like we should be descending into this aid station? Well, it is what it is. We climb the last few switchbacks into the
aid station and I take a much needed seat.
La Flegere. The final aid
station. Only 8K (5 miles) more to go.
They had soup at this aid station but I didn’t want
any. They did have hot tea. I had two cups. The food choices though were very poor
here. Thankfully, they had those Rice
Krispy Treat like bars. I ate three of
them. Then I sat down and e-mailed
Aleks, “Going to leave La Flegere now. Not sure how fast I will be. That last
section absolutely destroyed me. I can't believe it was part of the race.
Packing my stuff and leaving. Hope the terrain is quick”. So that’s what I did. At about 3:35AM on the second night of
running, I got my stuff ready and headed out for the final 5 miles. I recall a runner asking a volunteer in the
aid station how far to the finish and she points to the sign that says 8K to
Chamonix and she says it should take under an hour. I laugh to myself saying I highly doubt I can
do it in under. I’ll be happy in under
two hours! So down I go. And just as expected, it’s incredibly easy
and fast terrain. Like running on
clouds. Well, maybe not. More gnarly terrain and switchbacks to
navigate. I’m hurting in a lot of places
now. Not muscular soreness. I think things are just being overused like
my left shin bothering me, that spot under my right knee (patellar tendinitis)
that I got at mile 7ish, my feet are hurting, the blisters and chafing are
hurting. I’m heading down and down but I
feel like I am not actually moving lower.
The town seems so far away. And
that may not even be Chamonix but a different one (Argentier?). The only way to get the pain to stop though
is to keep pressing forward. Each step forward
is one step closer to the finish. Soon
I’m done with the switchbacks and seem to be running on a more wide open trail
heading in one direction at a gradual decline.
But I still don’t know how much more to go. My watch died not long ago and I had no more
charge left in my charger. So I couldn’t
tell how much further I had to go although it wouldn’t matter. I have to keep going forward. People have been passing me here and
there. I don’t really care. I know I’m getting closer. Finally I see an underpass to go
through. I hope this is what takes me
out of the trail and onto the city streets.
It does!!! But how far do I have
to run before I get to the center and the finish line? It doesn’t matter. Just keep moving. There are very few spectators out but there
are still some people. Whenever I pass
them, they applaud and say good job or “Bravo”.
I very slowly keep moving at a jog that is probably not much faster than
a walk but it’s still faster so I’m not walking. Then I see Aleks! I have no idea what I said here. Probably something like “I can’t wait for
this race to be over. How far away is
the finish line?!” It wasn’t that far
away but they really make us take the indirect way to get there. Aleks says the finish is near the “Super U”
market that we have gone to so many times.
But I can’t picture it in relation to where I am. So I just follow the course barriers and
markings and she runs with me. She asks
if I want her to run with me to the finish or get pictures of me
finishing. I tell her to get some
pictures. So she breaks off and takes a
shortcut to the finish line. I remember
being here at 5AM on Thursday awaiting one of our housemates, Harald Zundel to
finish his race, the TDS (119K). There
aren’t many spectators out cheering for runners as they are heading to the finish. There are still some though and even though
they are probably there to cheer on their friends, it’s great to hear them
cheer for me as I’m coming in to the finish.
I wish I could tell you what was going through my head running down that
final stretch into the finish line. I
really have no idea. It was a huge range
of emotions. Most of which was
relief. Happiness that I’m done and do
not have to go any further (except to pick up my drop bag and walk back to the
house!). Joy that I finished a race
that I really thought prior to running it, that I had as good a chance as
anyone out there to DNF (Did Not Finish).
Thrilled to be done in under 36 hours, something I kept in my head all
race. Unhappy that I wasn’t able to run
faster the last 8K. Not necessarily
speed, but just so many things hurting.
Annoyed that I had the chafing issues and wondered if I could have
finished many hours faster. Just stunned
at how tough that last climb was in the dark.
Most of all, as mentioned earlier, so happy to be finished.
So after a couple pictures at the finish line, I walk 10 feet to
pick up my finishers prizes, a very nice Polartec vest, a UTMB pin and
sticker. Wooohoo?! Then I go to the food table to get some
post-race recovery food. They basically had
similar things to what was at the aid stations.
However, they had some recovery drink that I took and also cans of
Heineken, which Aleks made me take for a picture (and studies show beer is a
good recovery drink so long as you aren’t dehydrated). Then we go walk to bag-drop pickup. The town is spookily quiet. It’s about 5AM. I go in to get my bag and speak to the
Frenchman inside about the race and where I’m from. He was telling me I have to do UTMF (Ultra
Trail Mt. Fuji) in Japan next. I was telling
him that at this moment, the only race I want to do is the one to my bed. After that, it was about a half-mile walk to
the house. I took my shoes off outside
and somehow made it up the stairs inside.
I went to the bathroom to shower and when I took off all of my bandages,
I was laughing at how bad everything looked.
My feet were a mess. My left
pinky toe had an enormous blister. The
top of my feet were so scraped and chafed it hurt just looking at them. My back and neck looked bad and to top it
off, my arms were sunburned because I forgot to sunblock them. But overall, after 35+ hours of running, I
think I looked fine. I was awake and
alive, so that’s a win. I was expecting
the shower to be more painful than the race but after the initial sting, I was
fine. It sure felt incredible to clean up.
Then I brushed my teeth.
OUCH!!!! 35 hours of eating gels,
gummies, energy/snack bars, sweets, and 20 hours of Pepsi are probably not what
many dentists would recommend before brushing.
Some of my teeth were extremely sensitive and painful. I was pretty sure I had at least two cavities
(fast forward a week and I went to the dentist and just had some enamel worn
away a bit but no cavities, yet). Then I
got dressed into some warm pajama clothes.
Aleks brought me some baguette bread with Nutella and cheese
(surprisingly good combination) and my icepack and I iced, ate. Then I stretched, and rolled and then I went
to bed. It was probably around
6-6:30AM. My sleep was not so
restful. Because my body was on fire
from the race, most movements hurt and woke me up. Also, since I was so depleted on calories
over the course of the race and my body still burning energy as if I’m running,
I was hungry after 3 hours. So at about
9:30AM, I got out of bed. I hobbled
downstairs to the kitchen to see Juerg and pretty much sat down at the kitchen
table in a complete daze. I may have
been in this state more or less for a week after the race. Still in disbelief that I did it and I think
not sure what to do next. In some ways,
I just need to fully soak in the accomplishment. Or focus on something else. Eric came up and Aleks came down and we were then
tracking Sky, who was still on course.
After breakfast, we went out to watch other runners come in while we waited
for Sky. She probably still had another
hour to make it so we split up. Juerg
and Eric went to a café near the finish while Aleks stayed out cheering and I
went inside the dining hall for the athletes to get my finishers banquet
meal. It was much needed and a fantastic
meal. I go back outside and relax on a makeshift concrete bench next to Aleks
and cheer for all the runners coming by.
After a while, Aleks sees Sky coming!
So I call Juerg and Eric and let them know. Then I hobble / run along with Sky and Aleks
and then split away to the finish and await her longer run around before she
reaches the finish. After she crosses,
gets some pictures and receives her finisher awards, we take some nice
finishing pictures together.
 |
| American Rory Bosio finishing in 23:23 and 14th place overall |
 |
| Sky finishing UTMB |
Post-Post-Race:
I did not really catch up on sleep on the days following the
race. I slept a good 8 hours on Sunday
night but had to get up for the shuttle to the airport early enough. I didn't sleep on the plane because I was
watching good movies. I got about 8
hours sleep into Tuesday but actually woke up well before my alarm and walked
to work. That entire week though I felt
pretty sluggish and a few people said I appeared “out of it”, in somewhat of a
daze. I’m sure some of it was the
overall mental and physical tiredness from the race. Some was probably attributable to finishing
that race and just being in a state of strange happiness of accomplishment and
disbelief. And finally, some may be just
what do I do next? That Friday night following
the race I went to bed at 9PM. Saturday,
9:30PM. I cheered on Keila Merino as she
couldn’t sleep in like I was doing because she was tackling (and completed) the
last leg of the Grand Slam up in the Wasatch Mountains. As for
all the race pains, the chafing, the tendinitis in my right patella, etc. The blisters drained and the chafing went
away quickly with the application of A&D ointment. My knee though has persisted. I ran Saturday in humid weather and I felt it
a little during the run but more so after the run. So I took another week off. I tested running Friday, 2 weeks after the
start of UTMB and it felt much better. I
ran again Sunday just 6 miles mostly on the gravel bridal path and it felt
ok. So now what? Well, I’m still in a state of disbelief. But I have some goals that I may want to give
a go sooner rather than later. There is
a 100-miler in October (Tesla Hertz 100) local to me (Long Island) that I may
go for a Personal Best in, maybe sub-19 hours, although it’s 104 miles because
it is 10x 10.4 mile loops. I also want
to break 5 hours on the Knickerbocker 60K in Central Park. For me to enter into either of those races,
will be a game-time decision based on the weather forecast. Looking into next year, I will enter the
Western States and HardRock lotteries.
If I get denied from both, I may run Massanutten 100 since I have
guaranteed entry from being at the top of this year’s wait list, and completion
would give me an entry into the 2016 Western States lottery and 2017 Hardrock
lottery.
The UTMB trip was an unbelievable success. In the two weeks since the race I wonder if I
could have gone faster if I didn't have the chafing issues. But the fact remains that when you sign up to
run UTMB, the odds are the weather will be a major factor in your race. So yes,
the 4.5 or so hours of rain to start the race impacted my performance. The trip to Chamonix was one I will never forget and the experience running UTMB will give me more strength to pull from in future races and great memories of perseverance to accomplish some silly race goals. But it certainly could have been worse. However, regardless of how my race turned out, I met and got to know some incredible people
during the trip and had fun sharing the adventure with them.
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