Conquest of Paradise UTMB - 01/09/2017

And now I’ll just go; and only worry about the events that lie ahead of me. Day by day, one by one. It is the here and now that counts. What comes next is uncertain in any case.

Learn from Yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. - Ueli Steck

2,537 runners and supporters cram themselves shoulder to shoulder into the square outside the iconic Eglise Saint Michele in Chamonix.  A rainbow of mountain runners in brightly coloured outfits, hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of kit and bundles of nerves.  Flags from a dozen different countries flutter above the masses as we wait under cloudy skies wondering what lies ahead for us.

The MC whips up the thousands of spectators lining the streets into a noise which seems to echo off the mountainsides which surround us.  Huge screens show the focused faces of the elites down at the front, the finest collection of trail runners ever assembled for this fifteenth edition of the most prestigious trail race in the world. 

My stomach churns, I stand for a view of the start, and realise I am stood next to Nicky Spinks one of my trail running heroes.  The first strains of Vangelis' Conquest of Paradise are heard, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end and we all know there are only seconds to go.  I think of the physical and emotional investment I've made to get to this start line and it all seems condensed in this one moment.  My eyes water and I try to keep it all under control but it's overwhelming.  The helicopter buzzes into view and then at last we're off under the arch as the anthem rings from the PA.  I have dreamed about this moment for a long time. 

Walking at first and then finally running through Chamonix as the field thins a little, the noise of cowbells and shouts of 'allez', 'bon courage' and 'good luck' in so many languages rings in our ears.  I look desperately to catch the faces of my family and finally I spot them and they spot me, one of many special moments.  This is it, I'm doing it, the greatest start at the greatest trail race in the world, what a rush! 

Seeya back here in three countries time!

Prelude

The forecast had been poor all week with the first sign of trouble being a diversion of the PTL route (the longest of the races which make up the UTMB festival) during the week.  The days before race day spent in my rented chalet looking out the window at stairrods hoping for a glimpse of Mont Blanc, checking kit, drinking tea, passing time and refreshing the browser for a forecast.  I had been worried about the heat in this race and now it looked like it could be cancelled or curtailed for snow which would be gutting to say the least. 

The uncertainty did nothing for my headspace and my family (Bobby, Mum, Dad and Rach) and friends (Dave, Pip and Connie) showed amazing patience with me as I wasn't great company whilst I waited for news.  A ride to Chamonix for kit check was a welcome diversion and it was amazing to see the big race operation in full swing and rub shoulders with Jeff Browning one of the elites.

Kit checked and ready to roll!

It wasn't until the morning of the race that the news came that the route was to be changed only slightly to miss out two specific points at Pyramides Calcaires and Tete aux Vents, what a relief!  The UTMB is a mountain race after all and the route is often changed dependant on conditions and has been severely curtailed before (to only around half distance in 2010).  It was good that the challenge would be undiminished.  After the change, the route would be 104 miles (around 3 miles shorter than expected) with over 31,000 feet of ascent.   Relief then turning to a reality check, the weather forecast was -10C, wind and snow above 2,000 metres, that's cold!  An extra baselayer was added to my kit for the race.  

Chamonix to Courmayeur

First stop Les Houches and the first climb.  As everyone filed upwards I realised how far back in the field I was.  No matter, plenty of time to catch up and besides its more fun running past people than the other way round.  Pip, Dave and Connie were waiting for me in their custom fan shirts here (nice touch Rach) a quick stop for a hug and onwards to St Gervais loving every moment.

We arrived in the dark and drizzle in St Gervais after three hours or so on the forest trail to an incredible welcome with crowds out in the rain drinking and soaking up the atmosphere of the race.  I arrived with masses of others and it was pretty chaotic as people made their first proper pit stop ahead of a long climb.  The station was a scrum and I had to elbow my way in to refill my bottles and wolf down my first of many bowls of salty noodle broth before heading off into the night.

Head down now climbing, climbing for hours.  Through Contamines and La Balme climbing higher and higher focused on the first major summit at Col du Bonhomme.  As we climbed, the temperature dropped, rain turned to snow which the wind blew into clumps on our legs.  No spectators or clunking cowbells high on the mountain, just an endless snake of thousands of headtorches marching upwards. 

Taking a drink close to the summit, the altitude combined with my effervescent salt tabs and blew the top clean off my flask emptying half the contents straight into my eye!  The flask was now completely unusable as the valve was lost in the process and I was glad I had a spare waiting for me in my bag at Courmayeur.  

Soon after I reached the Refuge at 2.30 am, through my one good eye I saw two hardy souls in down jackets who scanned our bar codes and shouted at us against the wind not to rest and to keep moving down off the exposed col.  I'd climbed well to here, gaining over 800 places from the first checkpoint.

It was a relief to then drop down briefly to Chapieux before another climb back up to altitude at Col de la Seigne and the border with Italy. This had been a spectacular highlight on our hike of the TMB last year and it was a relief that the weather relented enough for the first signs of daybreak to appear over the mountains approaching 6am. 

Here for the first time the spectacular Italian flanks of Mont Blanc revealed themselves, glaciers tumbling down to us at the Lac Combal aid station in Val Veny.  Despite the cold of the morning it was a great place to rest briefly in such a peaceful, beautiful spot to enjoy more noodles and some coffee.  Over a third into the race now legs feeling good and still climbing the rankings after my slow start.  I reflected on a cold night with a fellow runner who turned out to be James Noble, a fellow Scunthonian and my cousin's chiropractor!

Spectaular as it was, it was still cold in the shadow of the mountain so I left James there as much to warm up as anything.  I could sense Courmayeur and half way where I knew Bobby and Rach would be waiting.  A hot meal, friendly faces and a change of clothes was all the motivation needed to high tail it down one of the most mind blowing trails in the world under the shadow of snow capped spires and glaciers via Mont Favre and Col Checruit to the valley floor.

Courmayeur to Champex Lac

I arrived at breakfast time in gorgeous sunshine, Bobby, Rach and hordes of families and supporters had had a very early start after a restless night to get there on the supporters buses.  I was now a little weary after the long night but the warm sunshine and friendly faces gave a big lift.  Bobby helped me change into a whole new set of clothes, lube up (oo-er!) and replace the useless bottle.  I decided to take a proper break here, take stock and get some calories in, pasta and coffee hitting the spot.  I was ahead of my 40 hour schedule and could spare a few extra minutes, in the end perhaps too long a stop at 37 minutes.

Next obstacle to head for Switzerland, starting with a climb to Refuge Bertone and down to Arnouvaz where I would see the girls again.  Feeling refreshed I headed through Courmayeur town and attacked the next climb well passing lots of runners, but trouble was looming overhead.  Dark grey clouds were building along with the wind as we headed for the famous Bonatti Hut and it was here that I broke out my overtrousers just in time for the rain.  I ran for a while with my Strava buddy Alex Cooke before eventually he left me looking strong.

The atmosphere at the aid stations was changing now as the race entered its second phase.  Excitement and anticipation had been turned for some now to gloom as the burden of weather, fatigue and discomfort combined with the knowledge of just how far there was still to go.  I was still feeling pretty good though (despite increasingly sore feet) so in some respects this helped as I moved through the stations more quickly so as not to get pulled down by other people.

All wrapped up at Arnouvaz

As the weather worsened up high, the glaciers disappeared behind the cloud and the trail became increasingly churned up and slippy. These wet conditions would continue for the rest of the race adding even more spice to the challenge.  Underneath the mud were sharks, unseen boulders which you would occasionally clip or kick giving the toes a painful battering which over time would take an excruciating toll.  Whilst we'd not been high for that long, it was a relief to descend again from Bonatti out of the cloud to Arnouvaz for another short break and to see Bobby and Rach again.

Leaving Arnouvaz and heading for the storm

It felt like they'd only just arrived but I had to say goodbye again after a quick break, this was the end of the road for them as the TMB heads high from here up to the pass at Grand Col Ferret and on into Switzerland.  You could see the clouds were clearly leaving snow on the side of the mountain and looking up at the climb it made an imposing sight.  The conditions were worsening and I wondered whether the race was at risk as exhausted runners headed into a snowstorm in one of the most remote places on the route.  I could do nothing about it but batten down the hatches, wrap up warm and head upwards into the storm.  Spectators coming from the opposite direction looking very cold shouted Forza! as we passed. Still gaining places although the climbs were biting now as the legs were feeling increasingly stiff, I eventually reached the Col in a freezing whiteout at 3.15 pm.

Then a long descent in the clag to La Fouly catching and passing Alex en route who was feeling cold. At the station I received a surprise message from one of my trail buddies Paul Brown on the big screen as I slurped down a welcome warm coffee and cookies, thanks mate what a class touch. The video and calories gave me a seventh (or was it seventeenth) wind for the next section to Champex Lac, a big milestone on this epic route and the point I truly started too believe that I might just be able to pull this off.

Crewing is hard work! The queue for spectator buses at Courmayeur...

Rachel and Bobby were having an epic of their own, fighting hard to reach me at Champex but trouble at Mont Blanc tunnel and with the buses had thrown several spanners in their works.  I was flying now and they were crawling.  The Livetrail app showed they were on schedule to miss me by 15 minutes so they text that I would see them at Trient instead.

At Champex Lac there was a great turnout of support again and we were treated to more clonking cowbells and shouts of 'Bon Courage Matthieu'. 

The aid station resembled a military field hospital, thousand yard stares abound as we all contemplated our second night out.  I always thought that this would be an important marker and the place I would be most likely to withdraw.  I now had a big objective though to get out of there and bag the next climb, to reach Bobby and Rach at Trient and surely there would be no DNF from there with less than 20 miles to go...?  I left Champex feeling tired but determined in the failing light with the next climb soon underway.

A little confidence starting to grow for the first time but that was all about to change.

Champex Lac to Chamonix
I've never been out two nights before and I had no idea how my body and mind would react in the hours to come.  As soon as it got dark I immediately felt very tired as if it was the middle of the night even though it was only eight or nine o'clock.  My memory of the section to Trient is blurry as I fought the urge to stop and sleep in the forest. 

I had a few wild hallucinations in the woods as the torchlight and shadows played tricks on my now battered mind.  Strange shaped rocks turned into animals, an old lady with a stall on the side of the trail turned out to be just a runner adjusting his pack and poles and my blood ran cold when a two legged beast straight out of a nightmare came bounding towards me which turned out to be just a runner with his headtorch round his waist so as not to blind the racers.  I remember passing through the barn at La Giete and a never ending descent to Trient but outside of that not much else.  It was a relief to get there at close to midnight, but I was in pretty poor shape, babbling at Rachel like I'd been on an all day booze session.
   

Bobby and Rach did a great job of patching me up here despite being exhausted themselves.  They were concerned about my state but never let it show.  I took my second long break here to try to get back on track, piling down some of Pippa's home made brownie and even more coffee. 

My feet were now quite painful and when I changed my socks I half expected to find a gore fest but was surprised to see they looked in pretty good shape despite clipping every tree root and rock since Champex.  I left feeling much better and thankfully the sleep monsters were left there too.

Climbing, climbing again still passing the odd runner but spending more time alone now as the field had thinned.  A trail zombie putting one foot in front of the other making relentless forward progress no matter how slow, but I knew only an injury would stop me now.  If there were 20 more climbs to go it wouldn't have made any difference.  Fortunately there were only two. 

Vallorcine came and went where Bobby and Rach piled more calories into me before heading off to Chamonix to sit out the remainder of the freezing night.  Despite the cold, Rach was tired enough to manage 40 winks on a park bench after both being turfed out of the only open café in Chamonix.  For me it was another climb to Col du Montets before finally descending back into the Chamonix valley after leaving what seemed like an age ago. 

Despite being so close there was still space to squeeze in a cruel final climb up to Flegere through the woods and ski runs where my second sunrise of the race revealed a spectacular inversion.  For the first time, that incredible view of Mont Blanc and the spectacular Aiguilles revealed itself.  Only a descent through the clouds remained and I paused to savour the moment and took my only photograph of the race.

The finish line is down there somewhere!

I was proud to push all the way down to Chamonix.  The closer we got, the more people appeared on the trail out supporting the race before breakfast.  Every one of them giving words of respect and encouragement.  It was an amazing feeling to run these last few miles knowing I was going to achieve my goal.

In my mind I had envisaged finishing in bright sunshine with crowds three deep cheering me home.  But I had arrived too early for that!  No matter, the most important people were there as Pippa (pushing Connie) and Dave ran the last few hundred metres with me whooping me home.  Then the church came into view and the arch where this epic adventure would end.  Mum, Dad, Rach and Bobby were all there shouting for me and so was Sally Shelton another friend who had set her alarm early for my arrival.

Pride happiness sadness pain fatigue and pretty much everything else in that face!

I tried to drink it all in and savour those precious final few yards but after being out so long it was then all over so quickly.  It was the most incredible feeling to cross that finish line in a shade under 37 and a half hours and one of the proudest moments of my life.  It feels like every emotion possible experienced all at the same time and turned up to eleven as you round that final corner.  Experiencing these feelings is one of the reasons people run hundred milers.

After a brief pause for some piccies all that remained was to pick up my coveted finishers gilet (nearly worn out already) and sleep.  

Not another step, not even to the bed!

Thanks again for all the love and support during the race and over the last few years from so many family and friends.  It's an incredible feeling to get this done and its still sinking in.  Its been a long road from my first marathon four years ago.  I admit to feeling a little lost now with my goal no longer staring me down from the distance.  I don't know what's next right now but I'm sure another adventure will capture my heart in time.  Until then, 'bon courage' to you all whatever your challenge is....

I can just about watch this film without blubbing now...