Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB) 2017 race report

I finished Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB) in 36 hours and 39 minutes.  I came in 447 out of 2536.

Background 

The Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc is a 170km mountain running race. It boasts over 34,000+ feet of vertical climbing and 34,000+ feet of descent. It starts in Chamonix, France,  in the Alps, at the base of Mont Blanc and goes into Italy, then Switzerland before returning to Chamonix. You must carry a lot of mandatory gear. This includes a cell phone, rain jacket, long-sleeved warm shirt, beanie, buff, whistle, 2 headlamps with extra batteries, a cup, 1L of water, food, pants, rain pants, warm gloves, waterproof gloves, emergency blanket, and an elastic bandage.  

We arrived in Chamonix by train and I got us off at the wrong stop. Of course, Chamonix would have 2 stops. Google maps to the rescue. It was pouring rain and we hurried down the crowded streets to meet our AirBnB host. The apartment was cute and in a nice area, 5 minutes away from the start.

There is an extensive check-in process. You bring all your mandatory gear to the check-in. They then give you a random list of 6 items. You put the items in a tray and someone inspects them. If they don't like something or find it doesn't meet the specs, they won't let you continue.  Then you get your bib and tracker. We also got bus passes for Lauren so she could go to 5 aid stations to see and help me.

The weather was really getting worse. The day before the race we received a mass text saying that they might have to alter the course. The alternative was terrible, it looked more like 2 out and backs and didn't go to all 3 countries. Rumors were circulating they might cancel the race. Luckily the next day the decision was made to change 2 minor aspects of the race and add a new section at the end. Still a loop, still 3 countries, still 106+ miles and still 33,000+ feet of vert.

We started at 630pm on Friday. Imagine thousands of runners packed into the tiny streets of Chamonix. After the race started I probably didn't cross the start line for 10 minutes. Then it was a slow walk for another 10 minutes down the center of town. Thousands of people lined the streets all reaching out for high fives. I neurotically thought about how dirty someone's hand would be that gave 500 high fives and stayed in the middle of the pack. Easier to avoid the awkwardness of not high fiving.  After a quarter-mile, we started trotting and finally, we were running.  There is no organization to how the runners are lined up at the start, with the exception of the professionals, and so I spent a couple miles passing hundreds of people. It was crowded, everyone walked the slightest uphill and people busted out the trekking poles (pussy sticks) immediately. So the beginning kind of sucks. It was a mostly downhill dirt single track and then we get on the road while we would pass little communities. After some gentle miles, we started our first climb. It was a standard ski mountain climb, steep but runnable in many areas and so I continued to make up time. I was feeling good and enjoying the views.  We descended down into St. Gervais and I refilled my water and ate a couple pieces of baguette (when in France…). It was dark now and I was running by headlamp. It was brisk but not freezing and occasionally there would be slight sprinkles. Around mile 20 I arrived at the Contamines aid station. Minutes before on the descent I had taken my eye off the trail for a second and tripped, flying off the trail, down a steep embankment, only to be saved by a small tree. Lesson learned early on, focus Andy, Focus. Lauren was waiting for me at Contimines. I drank a Red Bull, refilled my water and ate more baguettes. It was great seeing her but sobering realizing it would be another 30 hard miles before I saw her again. And off I went into the night.  So started the first significant climb, to the top of Bonhomme. Around mile 22, it really started raining, it was getting quite steep and the mud was everywhere. I stopped and put on my rain jacket, gloves and pulled out the pussy sticks.  The ascent turned quite technical with large step-ups and rock formations. We were in a cloud and visibility was quite poor. The combination of a headlamp and cloud basically blinds you because the light reflects off all the moisture in the air.  A large conga line had formed. We were not moving fast and it was getting cold. Around 6500’ elevation, it started to snow. At the top, we were treated to basically whiteout conditions. Luckily, the other side of the mountain was much nicer, the snowfall decreased, and mud disappeared. It was a beautiful single track that I was able to run down quite fast and regain some lost time. At the bottom was Chapiuex aid station. I decided I needed a little caffeine so I tried some Coke for the first time in 10 years. What's the saying about don't try new things on race day? Either way, the Coke worked and I shoved some more baguettes in my mouth and got out of there. It was warm and the carnage was starting to add up, exhausted runners lay everywhere. I looked at my watch, 31 miles down with 10,000’ of vert! Let's start climbing again, 19 miles to Lauren.  The climb to Col Seigne was hard. Again, we were faced with snow and limited visibility.  When you can't see more than a couple feet ahead of you it's difficult to charge. After Col Seigne we dropped down just to climb to Mt. Favre. I know this only because the map told me. Conditions were bad and I was just trying to get through it. What the two summits did was keep us all in the snow for an extended period of time. To be positive though, the wind was not that bad yet.  We then started descending into Courmayeur. As we dropped into that Italian valley the clouds parted briefly and I got my first sunrise. Probably the most beautiful part of the race. Lots of technical downhill and my quads were starting to feel a little trashed. Courmayeur was the mile 50 aid station and where you could get your drop bag. Lauren was there and she helped put a smile on my face. But I was starting to suffer and knew that I was going to start struggling. I recharged my watch, switched iPods, drank a Red Bull and ate a huge plate of pasta (when in Italy…).

I should have reapplied my lube earlier. I waited to get to the aid station to reapply and by then the ass chaffing was painful. Oh well, the pain helped keep me awake. Off I went up another big climb. This is where the wheels came off the train. My legs started feeling weak, not tired, but lifeless. I was moving, but without many purposes and for the first time in the race was getting passed. At Bertone, I was so tired. I had some easier miles ahead of me and couldn't get into any sort of positive rhythm. I just forced myself to keep moving forward and played with negative scenarios in my head. I attempted to turn it around multiple times, however, none of my mental tricks worked and I just sank deeper into the darkness. At mile 60 it started raining hard and was very cold. Flurries of hail and Snow came and went. I had a 2 mile mostly downhill section to the aid station, so I figured I'd push through and change gear in the comfort of a warm tent. I was cold and wet when I entered Arnouvaz aid station. I had a big climb ahead of me and judging by the weather it would be very cold. I put on my long sleeves thermal shirt, rain jacket, beanie, buff, and got out my warm water-resistant gloves. I then went to eat. As I grabbed some baguettes I was told that we had to put our waterproof pants on as well or couldn't continue the race. Apparently, conditions were so extreme at Col Ferret they wanted us wearing everything. I started worrying they might delay us leaving or worse cancel the race and so I got out of there fast. This was a huge mistake as I didn't take in enough calories and in hindsight was already operating at a deficit. About 400’ into the climb the snow started and it did not stop until I was on the other side at the bottom. It took me 4 hours to go 9 miles. I wanted to quit so bad. The funny thing about quitting when you're in the middle of a blizzard on the side of a mountain, you cannot. Lie down and die or keep moving. I choose the latter. At the top, the wind was 60mph and icicles were growing sideways on the course flags. The downhill should have been a nice bomb, but I was out of gas. I stumbled into La Fouly aid station a broken man. My only saving grace was that I knew I would see Lauren in 9 miles. They had vegetarian soup and I sat and had 2 bowls with 10 pieces of baguette and started to feel reborn. The energy returned and I charged down the Swiss valley eager to see Lauren. In my mind, once I got to her I only had 20 miles to go. 20 miles is just a little jog in the park as we all know. My math was wrong and a new level of pain cave was in my future. I managed to reengage my legs and push up the hill to Champex La aid station (mile 80) where I met Lauren. This aid station was incredible. They had live music and delicious-looking food.  I drank a Red Bull, ate a bag of Fritos, and had some soup. Three more climbs and 26 or so miles. Energized and motivated I took off. Darkness was coming and as sunset number two finished I put on my headlamp. It started raining hard again or maybe it never stopped.  This mountain had by far the worse mud of the whole course. I cursed and moaned. So bitter that I couldn't move faster. Fuck I finally felt good again and was sinking in mud. The downhill was worse. Unable to ski down due to the technicality of roots and rocks I slowly made my way down. But I made it and still felt good. Lauren was anxiously waiting. My tracker had stopped working and it showed me motionless off the side of a cliff for an hour. Red Bull, cookies, baguette and off I went. Only two climbs to go! I was 90+ miles in and the fire was lit. I attacked that mountain like I had fresh legs. At the ridgeline, I was running fast to catch a group ahead and had a good trip. I went flying off the side of the mountain but was able to grab ahold of some plants and long grasses. Self-arrest successful, but a little scary. The downhill was muddy, but something clicked and I figured out how to run down it. I embraced the mud. Don't try and avoid it. Look for the biggest deepest section and plant your foot right in it. Trying to go around it or looking for the places with the least amount of mud doesn't work in a 100-mile race. I didn't wear gaiters and even still the Hokas kept the mud out. And just like that, I was at Vallorcine aid station. The last spot I would see Lauren before the finish. I felt strong and was impatient. I quickly drank a Red Bull and was out of there. I didn't even fill my water bottle. I wanted to keep the momentum going and failed to think about the future. The last section had been changed due to the inclement weather and I was given poor intel from an aid station. I underestimated it and thought I could just fly through to the end. Only 10.5 miles to go and we all know 10 miles is nothing. The first 3 were slightly uphill and easy. Then bang 1000 feet of vert over less than a mile. My legs were screaming in pain. How deep can we explore that pain cave? This might be a good time to also mention that for the last 18 hours of the race I had been hallucinating. They started mildly but at this point had progressed to almost every rock, stump, or leaf looked like something else. Moss on rocks became faces and boulders became couches. I saw a man lying unconscious on the trail only to realize it was only a puddle of water when I attempted to help him. Back to the trail. We got to the top of the first climb and then began rapidly descending down the other side. It was steep, the trail was poor and a cloud had moved in limiting visibility. So here I am basically blind and hallucinating, 102+ miles in and have to start class 3 climbing down rocks. I was displeased to say the least.  We descended over 1000 feet and then started climbing again. I was thirsty and out of water. I was hungry and out of food. I was so close to being done and yet couldn't see the end. This climb went on for about 2000 feet. It seemed never-ending. I would have drunk from a stream if I found one. Standing with my mouth opening trying to drink rain is not effective although I attempted it. Then in the distance, I saw a building and light. The hope returned and I arrived at the last aid station: Flegere! I drank 40oz of water, ate 2 cookies  and had a Coke.  It was all downhill from there. Very steep at first and then a nice switchback single track of technical bliss. Exactly like Vivian Creek. For a moment I was home running my mountain. The sun was rising and I shed the headlamp.  I followed my legs down as fast as they would take me. Hitting the bottom I had 1 mile to go. It was 7am and people were still in the streets cheering me on. As I rounded the last turn Lauren was there with Hayden on FaceTime so he could see me finish. Done!  It cannot be understated how lucky I am to have a woman that will stay up 36 hours in order to make sure I am successful. I will never be able to fully thank her enough for her hard work. I am also making her write a crewing report.

Sidenotes

Very few people speak English at UTMB. Basic French is helpful at aid stations. You'll be around people all the time but you cannot speak to them. Good thing pain and suffering is a universal language.

The aid station food was incredible. Yes, they had salami and cheese, which is weird, but all the other normal American aid station food was there. They actually divided it into a salty and sweet section. Don't be scared about not getting proper food.

Petzl and Garmin both sponsored the race. At multiple points in the race, Petzl was standing by with hundreds of charged batteries. All I had to do was go up and exchange mine for a new one. Garmin was also set up at multiple aid stations to help you charge your watches. Also very convenient.

The whole race is in meters of vert and km of distance. So either set your watch for km and m or learn to do a lot of math while delirious.

Instead of a buckle, you get a vest.

Salomon is the Nike of France. Everyone wears it casually. '

Smile or you're doing it wrong