Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc crew race report 2017

 UTMB 2017- Chamonix, France 

It all seems so surreal now that it's over, but UTMB was nothing short of a dream. The Ultra community is still all so new to me, but extremely impressive none the less. Race check-in was when everything really started to get real, and I realized what exactly I was in for the following evening. After a long train ride from Paris to Chamonix, we finally made it to race check-in. This is where Andy had all of his mandatory gear checked, got his BIB and pre-race photo taken. I impatiently waited outside (impatient because anytime I was left alone I had the fear of getting lost, and no one spoke English—this fear eventually passed). Once race check-in was done, we headed back to our AirBNB, which wasn't a very far walk, to try and get some sleep. We then started preparing everything for the race start. Andy spent the evening anxiously making sure his pack was full of all the mandatory gear, food, Tailwind, and full water bottles. I, still a little bit in shock, was nervously staring at this map and bus tickets thinking to myself, How the hell am I going to manage to do this alone? There were five aid stations where I was allowed to assist Andy, all of which were pretty spread out, and in three different countries. Andy tried to make it easy for me by writing down how many miles were between each and tried giving me a time frame that he'd arrive at each (which we'd soon find out that the weather conditions would have made those time frames COMPLETELY off). We eventually went to bed, and I told myself I was just going to have to figure it out. Race day was finally here, and we didn't get much sleep because of nerves, and well we still hadn't exactly adjusted to France time (we never really did). We headed into Chamonix for breakfast, where we ran into Tim and Helen Christoni, had a quick breakfast and chat about race-day nerves and then headed back to our place for an attempted nap. I had no problem sleeping, but Andy was a different story. He tossed and turned, thinking about the race and nervously wondering if he had everything he needed. Once we woke up, race-day rituals started, and we were off to the start line. I'd only been to a few Ultras, and let me tell you this start line was absolutely incredible. Nothing like I had ever seen. We kept anxiously checking the time, realizing we were only minutes away from the start. All the professionals lined up at the front, and everyone else had to figure it out. They counted down (in French, of course), and off went the runners. I immediately got choked up thinking how amazing this experience was going to be for everyone involved, and was so thankful that Andy picked me to stand by his side during this amazing race. I must say he was a little ambitious picking me, a crewing rookie, to be his crew chief for such a big race. The weather was brisk, and I of course didn't pack any appropriate pants for the conditions I was about to endure. The race was off, and Andy anticipated being at the first aid station where assistance was allowed (assistance being me) by 10:30 p.m., which gave me exactly four hours to eat dinner, buy some pants and jump on the bus to head to Les Contamines. This was Mile 20 for Andy, and he arrived almost exactly on time. I, on the other hand almost missed him. The bus I was on stopped at St Gervais, which was just a place for spectators to see their runner pass through, and to switch to the appropriate bus to Contamines. Since Andy had already come and gone through that aid station, I anxiously tried to scramble onto the bus heading to Contamines (side note: this bus had already gotten lost and was behind schedule). What was supposed to be a 45-minute transport turned into two hours. Once I finally got onto the bus to Contamines, the amount of traffic up into the aid station was horrendous. It was now around 10:24 p.m., and Andy was scheduled to arrive at 10:31 p.m. I knew it was crucial to make it to him (as he was going to need that Red Bull). We finally made it to the top of the aid station, and I immediately ran to the assistance tent where they had to scan your assistance ticket and let you in. The aid station was absolutely packed with TONS of people, and when I say tons I mean at least 100+. I had no idea how Andy was going to find me. So I scrambled and pushed my way through to the entrance of the tent where the runners came in and hoped that he'd see me. Within minutes, there he was bright-eyed, with the biggest smile, and looking like a million bucks. I figured out, very quickly, that everyone assisting in this race had no common courtesy. The shoving, pushing, and scrambling was necessary in order to get where you needed to be. So, I quickly became that rude American, because all I cared about was getting Andy to the finish. At Contamines aid station he had Red Bull, a kiss, and he was off. I wouldn't see him again until Mile 50, and these next 30 miles he was about to "run" were 30 excruciating miles. Lots of steep climbs and treacherous weather conditions. Seeing him off, knowing what he was in for, hurt my heart just a bit, but I was confident that he'd do it. Back on the bus I went, and by this time it was pouring rain (me still in shorts, dumb American). This ride back was just as terrible as it was there, but I finally made it back to Chamonix. It was pouring rain, I had no umbrella, and I was in shorts. The mile or so walk back to our flat was bone-chilling, and I thought to myself the entire time "I can't wait to get in that bed." Finally, I arrived and it was 12:45 a.m. I attempted to sleep but wasn't very successful because I was so anxious about making it to the next aid station on time (as the busses weren't exactly trustworthy on time frames). Courmayeur was in Italy, which meant I was headed to another country, and Andy was expected to be there at 7 a.m. I arrived at the bus stop with an extra hour for travel time, and off I went. I made it to Courmayeur at around 6:15 a.m. They were very strict on assistance here, and wouldn't let any assistance in until 10 minutes before your runner was supposed to arrive. So I sat outside the doors (freezing none the less), and waited. Side note: I never got pants because everything in Chamonix was closed, and by the next morning I needed to be in Italy by 7 a.m. and nothing was open when I was headed to the bus stop (darn!). 6:50 a.m. rolled around, and they finally let me in. I scurried to the entrance of the runners and there was Andy, again, right on time. He was starting to feel a little loopy here; I could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. I encouraged him to eat some pasta (Italy's finest), and gave him his Red Bull. He still had some drive at Courmayeur, and was in and out. I sent him off with a kiss, and he asked, "When do I see you next?" Mile 80, and Champex LAC, which was now Switzerland. "30 more miles baby!" He was off, still with a little true Andy Glaze spunk. I headed back to Chamonix, and this was going to be my last long stretch between aid stations. So I slept and took a shower. Both were very much needed. Sleep first, of course! I slept about 2-3 hours, showered, then headed back to the bus stop. It was going to be a long, long night. Champex was the longest bus ride, and I arrived two hours early. This was the aid station in Switzerland, which was very welcoming and HUGE. Live music and food for the assistants. I sat and waited, checking Andy's tracker neurotically. Finally, around 6:10 a.m., just shy of 24 hours from the race start he arrived. Completely exhausted, empty tank, and not my spunky Mr. Glaze. He proceeded to tell me about the awful weather conditions which included high winds, relentless rain, snow, and endless muddy trails. I immediately wanted to comfort. I won't forget when Andy told me that he fell asleep while running and almost fell off the edge of a cliff because come on, does your girlfriend really need to hear that? I was a wreck the rest of the race, worried and stressed more than ever. He had some veggie broth, a few chips, and a Red Bull. He stayed at this aid station longer than usual, which I enjoyed, and then off he went. Again, wondering how much longer until he saw me next. 90 miles, which meant just 10 short miles, and by short I meant LONG, extremely long. On the bus ride to Trient, I made some friends from England. They then shared dinner with me at a restaurant in Switzerland just below the Trient aid station. We arrived here two hours early as well and wanted to stay inside where it was warm as long as possible. We ate, drank, and laughed until we were the last ones standing in that restaurant. They thought it was hilarious that I didn't bring pants (side note: pants in England actually means underwear, so when I explained to them how I had no pants, they laughed and curiously wondered where they were and why I had none). I obviously meant trousers (the correct term for "pants" in England, but don't worry I continued to say pants for the remainder of my stay with them. Just for entertainment, which we desperately needed. Andy was expected in Trient at 10:47 p.m. I headed to the entrance of the aid station around 10:15 p.m in hopes they'd let me in early as I was freezing and had no pants (HA!). Relentless, they made me wait. So, I stood right in front of the check-in, and let them know I was still there, impatiently waiting. They let me in. 10:30 p.m., 17 minutes until Andy! 17 minutes came and gone. It was now 11 p.m., 13 minutes past the expected time. This gave me a panic attack as I knew he'd fallen asleep on the last climb and almost fell. So back to the check-in, I went to check his tracker. Stopped, no movement at the top of his last peak before descending to me at Trient. No one spoke English and could understand my worry and frustration. I paced the entrance of the runners’ tent, anxiously looking for Andy. No such luck. My heart was racing. I felt nauseous and was thinking about how I was going to manage to be in this country by myself (so dramatic I am, maybe it was the lack of sleep). The UTMB medics were coming in and out of the tent with concerned, determined looks on their faces. Panicked as I was, I thought they were looking for me, Andy's assistant. I just have checked that tracker 15 times, every 3 minutes or so. Asked fellow runners how the conditions were, and if they'd seen anyone fall or get lost. One man, from London, told me everyone was behind their scheduled time. This soothed me, slightly. Until 30 minutes late hit, as he hadn't been late to any aid station thus far. True panic now set in. I felt like someone was sitting on my chest. Finally, at 11:18 p.m., there he was. I was the only one standing at the entrance of that runners’ tent, he immediately saw me and waved. My heart sank, and I immediately embraced him. If only you could feel the amount of relief I felt when I saw him. The tank was empty, and he was completely out of his mind. Muddy, wet, and exhausted. The entire descent to me was muddy and impossible to safely hike. Lots of mud skiing, if you will. I kept him close to me this entire aid station, as I needed him, as much as he needed me. The emotional rollercoaster of this race was really hitting home at this point. After a Red Bull, lots of cookies, and words of encouragement he was off. It was really difficult for me to send him off. I felt the tears fill up my eyes, but couldn't let him see. The only time I was truly thankful for the darkness and terrible weather. I needed to be strong for him, and I was. I tried. Next aid station, Vallorcine Mile 95. This was the last assistant tent for me, the next stop was Flegere, and then the finish. He made it there fairly quick. 2:25 a.m., and he had found his drive again. A new fire was lit under his ass, and he was ready to finish. A Red Bull was all he wanted. He quickly drank it and was off. "See you at the finish," I said with a kiss, and off he went. An anticipated finish of 6:56 a.m. was what the tracker stated, so I hurried to the bus, as it was a two-hour drive back to Chamonix. We arrived to Chamonix around 4:30, and it was COLD, freezing cold. Luckily, I stole that blanket from the Trient bus stop. It was my only saving grace. I made my way to the finish line, picked a seat, and wrapped up. Two and a half hours until he arrives! Here is where I was filling in all Andy's family and friends on how he was doing and when he'd be finishing. I was getting excited, anxious to see him cross that finish line. Continuously checking his tracker. At 5:52 a.m. he made it to his last aid station, and it was all downhill from there. 4.6 miles to the finish! I kept saying that to myself in hopes that Andy was thinking and saying the same thing. Delirious at this point, anything to make it through. Anything to stay awake! Finish time changed to 7:10 a.m. per the tracker. There I was standing waiting for him to come down the descent into Chamonix. I was on FaceTime with Hayden for about 30 minutes prior to Andy's arrival so he could see his Dad finish this incredible race. Hayden must have asked me about 15 times, "Is that him? Is that him?" We talked about everything from his loose tooth, to Japanese Beatles, to testing each other with our simple addition (side note: I'm terrible at math, not my strong suit. Luckily Hayden knew all the answers). FINALLY, there he was. Flying down into the small town of Chamonix. I mean I've NEVER seen Andy run so fast. I was proud, excited, and ready to capture that moment of him crossing that finish line. He waved to Hayden on FaceTime. Hayden and I followed him to the finish. HE DID IT, well we did it, and it felt so so good. Andy Glaze is a 2017 UTMB finisher, and he has the vest to prove it. No buckle though. Side note: you're not a true crew chief until you've crewed this race. I can take on any ultra now, BRING IT ON. 

 

Congratulations baby!

Written by Lauren Glaze