”How do you feel?” said a French gentleman in broken English. This is the first thing I remember after waking up on the side of the trail. I was less than 13km from the UTMB finish and had fallen asleep some 30 hours into the race.
My journey to this point in time was epic… not just the race experience itself but also getting to the starting line prepared to tackle the 103 miles and 30,000 feet of elevation gain required to circumnavigate Mount Blanc. I was fortunate to be able train in the Sierras on summer weekends as I live in Sacramento where my daily run only gains 33 feet of vert. My summer build up to the race included pacing my friend John at the Tahoe Rim Trail 100, Donner Party Mountain group runs, and a ton of solo exploration in Desolation Wilderness. I even patterned a Squaw Valley training run based on ultra-runner Tim Tollefson’s Strava run on Mammoth Mountain. I was prepped and stoked for the adventure.
UTMB was my first European and big mountain race. I had finished Western States and Superior but knew that UTMB was the next level. My wife and I decided to make this a vacation race and included my father in-law and two mother in-laws along for the ride. We had a fantastic time touring Brig in Switzerland on the way to Chamonix.
Fast forward to race day…we were notified the day of the race that there were slight changes to the course due to bad weather conditions. In hindsight I should have packed more clothes and changed my crew locations to adjust to the conditions. UTMB already requires a massive amount of gear to be carried the entire route and I had thought that this would be sufficient along with one drop bag in Courmayeur, Italy. The race start was amazing as the “epic-cinematic-soundtrack” music played loudly while thousands of spectators cheered on. As we entered the first climb, professional ultra-runner Emelie Forsberg gave me a high five as she was cheering all the runners along. I enjoyed running through the small villages and seeing spectators both young and old along the way yelling, “allez allez”. Their passion for the sport is awesome!
I will never forget the bonfires and European punk rock music playing as I started the first major climb up Bonhomme. The weather was cold and the rain was on and off throughout the entire race. It snowed on me two separate times over the two nights of running. The first night I realized that my waterproof gloves were not waterproof. I struggled with keep my fingers warm by blowing on them and clinching my fists as I descended the big mountains. In the back of my mind I knew something was wrong because I was using more of my mental energy getting through these cold patches. I even recall telling my wife in Courmayeur that I used up a lot of my strength just to keep warm during the night.
The race section from Courmayeur to Arnouvaz is fantasy book beautiful. By the time I reached Arnouvaz the weather took another turn and race organizers were requiring runners to put on all of their waterproof gear for the jaunt up Grand Col Ferret. The trails were muddy and the rain turned to hail and then snow by the time I reached the top. An eastern European runner was taking pictures at the snowy top and laughing as I was freezing my ass trying to get down to warmer conditions. Clearly he was trained up and prepared for the conditions while I felt like I trained in Death Valley. I was exhausted as I arrived in Champex Lac to meet my crew but I was still passing other runners. At that point I felt that my pace was on point to meet my 36 hour finish goal. Looking back on that moment I should have tried to take a short 20-30 minute cat nap.
It was pouring rain as I left Champex Lac to start the final three climbs. About half way up the second climb I started to fall half asleep and would wake myself up by picking up my pace. Then I started to enter a “dream like” state. I was imagining that I had run this exact same section of trail before even though it was my first time and somehow I recall the downhill into Vallorcine was a blast.
This is where it gets fuzzy after Vallorcine…I had thought that the next aid was Flégère so when I reached Col des Montets and heard the volunteer say it was, ”7 km to pleasure”, I thought it was all downhill to Chamonix. I know this sounds weird, but I was in a foreign country, the dude spoke English with an accent and I was tired…I was disoriented. From that point on I ended up running in a small loop several times as I had thought I saw a marker down the trail and then I would follow the marker up the hill. I was lost and even another runner followed me! At some point a volunteer that only spoke French said, “Flégère” and what I made out if it from the other runner that was with me was that we didn’t go to the Flégère aid station and were headed in the wrong direction. The rest is history.
I awake to a team of four people trying to assist me, all of them don’t speak fluid English. I say I’m cold and the next thing you know they put the emergency blanket on me, take my temperature and blood pressure. Pretty soon I am in a stretcher. By the time I come around and ask to walk out to the next aid they said it was too late.
Bummer. I thought they would ask me if I was dropping from the race or cut my bracelet as they do in the states. The next thing you know they roll the stretcher down a quarter mile to a clearing and a rope drops from the sky carrying a dude. Yes, I am taking my first helicopter ride…They attach the rope to the stretcher and placed a cover over my face (scared me more than the ride) to “protect it”. All the while, my pulse was being read from a machine tucked in next to my shoulder so I can hear the pinging getting faster as they lifted me up. My doctor was also hanging in a harness next to me smoking a cigarette as we pulled away from land. The Heli ride was short as we were close to Chamonix. They placed me in an ambulance and transported me to the infirmary. As the doors to the ambulance swung open I saw my wife in tears alongside my mother in-law. That moment made it all sink in. What the heck happened that it came down to this?
It is likely I was in the initial stages of hypothermia even though the doctors never said what was wrong with me. The UTMB staff were very professional and work very efficiently. However communication was a challenge- but that makes sense since we were in France, duh. I was fine and they let me leave after they fed me crackers and we hung out for an hour. As I exited the infirmary it hit me… I was a DNF, my first DNF. I of course then did a little stride by the pathway to verify I was ok. There were runners still finishing and I wish they could have helicoptered me back to the spot so I could finish too!
I cannot understate the love and support I have from my wife and family! I am so lucky. Here’s to the journey back to Chamonix.