Mud, sweat and tears - Running through the night and day in the mountains of the French Alps

As dawn broke on Friday morning 31st August it was still raining in Chamonix and the temperature had dropped. The 10th Ultra Trail Du Mont Blanc, a 168 km foot race circumnavigating the Mont Blanc range and traversing the French, Swiss and Italian Alps, was scheduled to start at 6.30pm. I was ready, but that did not stop the butterflies in my stomach.

Two days earlier, on Wednesday, the race organizers sent an SMS message to all runners warning that "conditions are wintery ! Very cold, high winds and wet.
There will be snow at high points from 1800m to 2000m.
 Beware of the wind chill factor, it will feel very cold! The temperatures will feel as if they have dropped to –10° C”. Yikes, talk about putting the fear of God into you. Jeff Grant, my coach and friend, sent a simple but practical message via Facebook telling me to go buy the warmest gloves I can find and to think of it as a winter run and it will feel warm in comparison. I read and appreciated all the messages of support from friends and family on Facebook.

The start

  They say you should always expect the unexpected, especially where the sport of ultrarunning is involved. I had barely gotten rid of the butterflies when the next SMS message appeared on my iPhone saying that weather conditions were too difficult at Col du Bonhomme, Col de la Seigne and Grand Col Ferret. The UTMB® would be 104 km not 168, and the course will only go through France not Switzerland and Italy. The total cumulative elevation climb would be 6,000m (about 20,000 feet), and the start would be delayed half an hour to 7pm. See the revised course profile below.





I felt a strange mix of disappointment and elation. I had trained for 168km (a little over 100 miles), but the weather was horrible and I knew from experience that it would be a lot worse above on the high passes above 2000 meters. It was surely better to be safe than risk dying of hypothermia in the mountains. The weather forecast proved to be correct, it rained and snowed all night.

But, how was I to run this race? Should I run at the same pace as I planned for the 168km or try to go faster? What about the time cut-offs, how do I make sure that what happened last year, when I missed a time cut-off by 16 minutes after 28 hours on the trail, does not happen again? How cold was it going to get, should I put on all 4 layers as the organizers advised?

Standing at the back of 2000 plus runners that evening as the announcements were made and the stirring music of UTMB struck up, I felt as if I was about to embark on an epic adventure. The gun went off and the throng of runners from 75 nationalities surged forward. It was cold, wet and dark. Some people chatted, others were quiet. I worried that my pack was too heavy (it was about 12 lbs), and my back was a little sore. Too late, the race was on. What is it like running in the dark on mountain trails with rain, wind and snow? A little spooky. For one thing, the visibility was extremely poor. Even with strong head lights you could not see more than a few meters in any direction. Every time I stopped at an aid station my hands and feet would get very cold and I would lose all sensation in my finger tips, even with the hand warmer pouches I put in each glove.



Majestic!



Although disappointed about the decision to reroute UTMB, it was completely understandable given the harsh conditions. Imagine having 2000 people up high in the mountains in a howling gale. The night passed quickly. I did not listen to music and did not speak to anyone other than to acknowledge the many volunteers and supporters that braved the weather to cheer, clap, ring cowbells and sing.

With the rain and the thousands of runners churning up the trails, many areas became mud pits. Coming down the mountain into the town of St. Gervais was comical or very painful, depending on whether you were wearing the right type of trail shoes and how strong and confident you were at descending. People were slipping, sliding and falling all over the place. No doubt that some runners would have sprained their ankles or worse and be forced to drop out.  

 

At first light on Saturday morning, I stared up the huge climb from Lavillette at 1000m to the peak of Bellevue at 1912m. A climb of 3000 feet straight up! It finally stopped raining. I had been on the move continuously for 12 hours, running the flats and downhills and hiking fast on the steep climbs. Now, for the first time my energy waned and my pace slowed dramatically. That’s when I slapped on my headphones and turned on my ipod. As if by divine intervention the very first song was “Don’t Give Up” by Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush.

don't give up
'cos you have friends
don't give up
you're not beaten yet
don't give up
I know you can make it good

This took me completely by surprise. I did not compile a special playlist for this race. It just happened to be the song that was playing. It could not have been more perfect. I took it as a good omen, and woe and behold found the strength to pick up the pace again. 

At Les Houches, my “crew” were there to meet me. My crew being Glen, Isabelle and James. It felt so good to see them, and after a change of clothes, some jelly beans and crisps (chips), I was good to go. On the way out of the aid station I bumped into a woman who was crewing for her husband. She told me that I only had one fairly small mountain to climb before going downhill all the way to Chamonix, which turned out to be completely wrong. Chamonix was still 31km away, but I figured it would be no problem to cover the distance in 5 hours or so. Wrong again. More like 8 hours!

The song Sweet Mother by Prince Nico Mbarga had me in tears. I thought of my beloved mother, who died 20 years ago. As I listened to the lyrics I felt a surge of enormous power. It really felt as though I had the power of two people, and I literally flew up the trail for the next 20 minutes.

Two miles from Chamonix I spotted someone I recognized from the online running blogs. It was Bryon Powell, founder of irunfar.com and author of Relentless Forward Progress, a superb book on ultrarunning. I called out his name and he jogged over to say hello. We chatted like long lost friends even though we’d never met. I am an admirer and he was very amiable and a nice guy. He started to video me and then suggested that I should run the last mile to the finish. I told him I wish I could but my legs had long ceased to listen to me. In any case, I decided to give it a go and started running. As we entered the town, people going about their business would stop and cheer, calling out Bravo! Bon courage! I felt so pumped that all the feeling of fatigue disappeared. 

Half a mile to go, I looked round and did not see any other runner. Then I saw my friend Chris running behind me and videoing.  200 meters from the finish Glen, Isabelle and James were there, cheering like mad, as were hundreds of spectators. Isabelle had the Nigerian flag in her hands and together with James ran with me to the finish line, which I crossed just under 24 hours from when I started. What a way to end a glorious adventure in the alps!