Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc - 2019

Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc - 171,6 km / 10070 m D+
(own measurements: 176.84 km / 9780 m D+)

I chased a dream for 10 years. That is a long time in the manner of developing an idea, a desire. I can frankly phrase it this simple: I had never been waiting for anything in my life as long as for the UTMB.

The question is fair, why I did not try to enroll earlier. But it’s complicated. There’s way too many factors that has to be right for one to be on that special start line.

I remember an advice that I had been given around 2010 about the UTMB races: “there’s shorter races in Chamonix to try...” Well, not for me. Going incomplete circles around Mont Blanc or around anything for that matter, is contraproductive, or even - in a way - useless in my eyes.

But let’s fast forward to December, 2018. Finally, the time has come. As usual, the pieces of the puzzle randomly fell into their place. My name was on the list for 2019, full distance, the whole deal. As I never had the pleasure to do anything simply, the months of the preparation happened to became the toughest time of my adult life. I balanced a full 9 to 5 job job and a masters graduation process, along with a PhD application process, and the organization of my wedding. I simply had no time for training. As the summer evolved, I put my faith into my muscle memory, and into my willpower, that had been induced by the 10 years of  craving I had for this race. 6 days before the race, the ambulance rushed for me, as I had a serious case of indigestion. I was fortunate, that nothing major happened, only I was damn weak during the last days before the race. In ultra distances however, nothing is carved into stone. Only a few things certain at the start, the rest is developing as the race does.

30^th of August, 2019.

5:30, Friday afternoon,

Chamonix - Place du Triangle de l'Amitié.

Moments before the start

I’m having goosebumps, as I stand in the steadily mizzling rain. 2700 people are packed around me, everyone at the peak of months, if not years of serious training. The most famous ultra-trail race in the world is about to start in 30 minutes.

French, then English speech comes from the organizators about the importance of the sport, and how it holds together nations, continents, cultures, and religions, and brings peace into our world. The excitement and the impatience of the crowd is perceptible.

Vangelis comes, the small square is filled with the epic masterpiece from the Conquest of the Paradise. I suddenly start crying, my tears are running down on my face.  All the waiting, the stress of this year, and the many ones before as well are exiting through my tears, and I can’t stop it, I just let it flow. The whole deal is so inspiring, so unearthy. Then we are suddenly off. I can’t run, we are just walk along in the beginning.

Then we start to jog. A warm-up session, the first 8 kilometers. Then comes the first climb, just a reminder of what we are signed for. From the top, I see the first sunset of the race, and the view of the Aiguille du Goûter in the distance. 

Sundown from the Le Prarion

Then down to Saint-Gervais (21 km/955m D+). The streets are absolutely packed. I guess everyone is out, the whole village. The atmosphere is electric. We are soon plunged back into darkness, and climbing slowly ever higher. Later comes another village, Les Contamines (31km/1580m D+). I feel weak and overwhelmed. After the village, the slope gets steeper though, and I feel more alive by the minute. After La Balme I start to find my place in the crowd, and got my mind set to the task. On serious alpine terrain, at night, with one single purpose. Hours into the race I finally became focused. One would say I got myself warmed up, after 40 kilometers. The downhill to Les Chapieux  is technical and care is needed not to make a mistake. Unfortunately I’m not that careful apparently. Near the village, already on safe ground my ankle twists in a hole on the side of the road. It’s a simple twitch, I can correct the movement somewhat, but only to end up my knee twisted instead. Never happened like this before. The pain is excruciating, and a blunt wake-up call in silence of the night.

Carefully I descend further down to reach the CP, and take a little rest after the obligatory equipment check (50,1km/2910m D+). After a brief streching, I get seriously cold, so I must continue into the darkness. The pain remains with me bluntly, but not distracting me on uphills. Slowly I find rhythm again, and climb seemingly effortless and fast - in fact faster than all the others around me in the last 500 vertical meters to Col de la Seigne (60,4km/ 3870m D+). There’s a heli passing with the television crew on board, filming the participants, and the sunrise above the col, as the beams of light floods the ground, and embraces us. The beauty is heart-warming, and the arrival of the new day is most welcome.

Sunrise at Col de la Seigne

Then comes the little and unexpectedly rugged circle around the le Pyramides Calcaires. On the way down to Lac Combal my knee start to hurt again, and I slowly losing speed. As a consolation, the scenery is mind-bendingly beautiful. The next downhill to Courmayeur is so steep, my knee hurts more openly then ever – I am actually in serious pain by the time I reach the town (80,1km / 4600m D+). But there’s absolutely nothing to do. I am only halfway.

The mighty spire of the Aiguille Noire de Peuterey. The level surface in the foreground is the morane of the Miage glacier.

The italian Val Ferret, with the Grandes Jorasses guarding it from above.

Gathering strom clouds at Arnouvaz

After yet another world-class depot service at the CP, I leave the town behind under the burning hot sun. Up-up and up again, to the Bertone Hut (84,9km/5416m D+). I’m in pretty bad shape, starting to doubt my chances to finish. Sun continues to burns all the way to Bonatti Hut (92,3km/5696m D+) and further on, but the route leads through the most amazing scenery still. Down to Arnouvaz (97,4km/5801m D+) my knee problem seem to stabilizes: I’m in pain, but I can surpass it if I walk carefully, and watch every step ahead. I am way behind my pre-set schedules, in fact even the cut-off time is quite close. At the beginning of the third monster-climb of the route - up to the Grand Col Ferret - my achilles starts to hurt on my other leg - I guess it comes from the unbalanced loading I am giving to my legs since last night.
Clouds are gathering since I left the Bonatti Hut, and finally it reaches a breaking point: an enermous  roaring crack of thunder marks the next obligatory equipment check. The storm looks like rushing down from the Grandes Jorasses itself with a single purpose of bury us all into darkness. The wind is picking up speed with every passing second, then comes another crack, and rains and hails like there’s no tomorrow. I can barely fit my raingear on time. Many participant are fleeing back down to the valley, as the lightning starts to flash around us. Few of us continues as fast as humanly possible after 100k on steep uphill, only to keep our bodies warm. To our surprise, the Col comes soon enough, as well as the thunderstorms’ end (102km/6555m D+). 

Grand Col Ferret (2490 m), after the storm. 

The downhill into Switzerland is again a walk for me, and a rather slow one. My shoes are soaking wet, so there goes another comfort. The remaining 68 kilometers in wet shoes is awful lot anywhere, let alone high in the Alps. At this point comes the second sunset, only to find me miserable, soaked and cold somewhere high up in the Swiss Alps. While the darkness completes itself around me, I’m doing some calculations with my speed and the remaining road ahead. I think I'll be just fast enough to keep myself ahead of the CP-cut-off times. But there’s no way I am quiting. Well before the start I made up my mind, that I won’t stop trying to finish no matter the discomfort, the sleep-deprivation, or even the pain itself. I prepared my mind to be ready when it comes. And it’s here, on full throttle at the edge of the second night.  

To top that, the next village, La Fouly just never comes. When it finally does (111,7km/6753m D+), it’s so damn cold in the darkness, that I have to take on literally all the garments I’m carrying. Then up to Praz de Fort I sleep a lot during walking, but it’s not really productive for either activity. Finally Champex comes (126km/7320m D+), but I’m still way behind my schedule.
I balance at the very edge of something miserable all the way till Trient. It’s the deepest hell of the second night, the terrain remains unforgiving as ever, and I’m still in pain, only now I’m fighting my mind that wants to shut down the system and go to sleep. All I can do is stay awake and move forward. Even fueling loses it’s priority, I’m totally going on sheer fat for a while.

The village of Trient is a heart-warming sight. Slowly the sun comes up, and the first time since the thunder I’m not that cold anymore. I manage to do a rather fast climb out of Swiss territory, followed by a very slow and painful downhill to Vallorcine, France:  the last village to cross before the end  (153,2km/9070m D+). The sun shines through some serious-looking clouds, carrying the threat of another thunder while I leave the village, but that proves to be a false alarm. Every single person I meet cheers and encourages me, which is still absolutely epic. 

I literally jump on the last climb to give it all I have left, but I loose every power little above the half-way mark after 15 minutes in or so. There not much left in my body. My mind insists not to lay down on the ground, so I have no choice. The last top, la Téte au Vents greets me yet again with the colossal sight of the Mont Blanc massif, her glittering white crown unbelievably high above the valley. Down at the bottom is still not Chamonix though, but Argentiére, which means I still have a long way to go, and not exactly just down the hill. The next good 3 kms till La Flegére (163,8km/9943m D+) gives me the last kick, it’s boiling hot under the sun, I even run out of water for the first time in 40 hours.

Chamonix, under the shade of Mont Blanc

On the way down at the actual last slope I try to push it a little a few times, but my knee firmly declines my efforts. At one point I got my phone out to check how far is the valley bottom, only to drop it down accidentally 20 meters into the pinewoods – I had to scramble down a steep slope to retrieve it, took at least 10 minutes.

But all that is not important anymore, as everything get washed away by the blissful feeling when I got a glimpse of the first paved road, then the first house. Finally, just like in a dream, I’m pushing on through the streets of Chamonix. People cheering, saying my name, like I wasn’t the 1200^th person already...It’s so inspiring.

My wife waits for me at the last bridge crossing, at the Av. du Mont Blanc and greets me with a huge smile. I don’t think I’m aware of my surroundings at all. We change a few words, and cross the bridge together. I’m not sure if she is allowed to run the end with me, so I say goodbye for a few more minutes, and I get myself together  to jog the last few hundred meters along the high street of Chamonix, between the cheering crowd. I’m in tears by the time I reach the statue of Balmat, turning left and right on the crowded streets. Then comes the last turn, and I head for the gate. And just like that, it’s over. Loitering there for a little while, and savouring the moment, then I oblige to my body and get out of the way to sit for a while, by the shade of the trees, chatting and drinking cold orange juice with my wife.

The elevation profile of the course

Sitting under the shady trees, looking at the other finishers, and just soaking in the atmosphere of this legendary venue - I felt a whole coctail of emotions. Only thing was sure that deep down a whole dam just broke in my heart. In a way, completing such a dream is always a great responsibility. It carries the future possibility of even greater plans and dreams to come. That is what happened with me, what I just did right there at the Place du Triangle de l'Amitié under the gathering clouds on one sunday afternoon.

The Aiguille du Midi, seen from Chamonix

The classic distance of the UTMB holds the proud title as one of the toughest 100 miler races with a good reason. The route is scenic, epic, and unbelievably beautiful, but at the same time cruel, too. It punishes, rewards, teaches, not necessarily in that order. 

There's no proper way to prepare for that terrain and those conditions anywhere else outside the Alps. In general above avarege alpine training is a must, and coming from a generally flat country with no sizeable mountains like I do it's quite hard to come by.  

I'm not gonna oversaturate the reality, I honestly ruined my legs for a month at least, but I was prepared for that possibility. I decided way before the race what sort of risks I am willing to take while on the course, and that was still easily within range. On the 'last' 120k my injury was a main bottleneck of my movments, even so on the last 75k both of my legs were affected. To top that, the thunder and that soaked feet I recieved as a goodbye present from Italy, was just the cherry on top.  

Apart from those, I had no trouble refueling most of the times, as I settled for the basics. Fresh bread, cheese, some salami and a cup of broth to wash it down, with an occasional orange as dessert. Nothing fancy stuff, but I passed the last 75k from Arnouvaz with good digestion, without problems at this end of my system. After sunday evening's dinner in Saint Gervais, I finally blacked out around 9pm, after being awake 62 hours straight from friday morning.

To say I was not fast, is an understatement. I finished at the very end of the field, leaving only an hour in the cut-off time. It was not glorious, nor pretty, but it felt so good most of the way, just to be there, up in the mountains, participating in this epic event. I was so delighted to be a part of all this, to be up there between those legendary mountains, to see all those new places, and to battle with my limits once again.  

A huge thanks must go to each and every single individuals who supported me on this journey, but first and foremost my wife, who took on this journey with me and supported me all the way, even crossing half of Europe twice in a week, to help me chase down my dream. And obviously a ton of thanks going to Julbo, for providing the bib, and for the greatest sunglasses to wear on the road. 

daniel

Highlights-video of the event

For the gear-fanatics: 

Sunglasses: Julbo Aero - UTMB edition

Vest: Black Diamond Distance 8

Poles: Black Diamond Distance Carbon Z

Shoes: Hoka One One Mafate Speed 2.

Watch: Suunto 9 Baro

Torches: Black Diamond Spot on the first, and  Petzl Nao+ on the second night.

Clothes: Icebreaker pants and tops, Compressport and Lorpen socks, Eider raingear.