UTMB: the first 32 miles. When you do not finish the race but still manage to have a brilliant experience

At the end of August I ventured to Chamonix to attempt the iconic Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB) race.

The short story: I was too slow. The race is not one for racing snails. This was clear almost from the start as I scraped through the first few cut offs with only minutes to spare. After 40km this became a brutal way to race, especially with another 130km ahead. I had to decide whether I should continue to desperately chase after minutes and seconds and most likely be timed out eventually anyway, or should I accept the situation, get myself comfortable and at least enjoy the experience. I chose the latter and consequently timed out after 51km, 11hours and 20minutes after leaving Chamonix.

Learning that you are too slow for the race that you started is a problem that you cannot fix on race day, unlike many other problems that are thrown at you during ultramarathons. You must accept defeat – this time – put the work into it and try again. If you want to.

Of course it is always sad not to finish a race, but in all honesty, I had a blast out there and once I made my decision the night in the Alps was incredibly beautiful, so there is really nothing to regret or be disappointed about.

The long story

I gained a place in the 2024 UTMB race by a huge stroke of luck. In 2023 I was due to race the Cape Wrath Ultra but a friend’s wedding clashed with the dates. I deferred Cape Wrath to 2024 and suddenly had a convenient gap for a race in the middle of May 2023. I signed up for UTS50 (Ultra Trail Snowdonia 50K distance) in Wales. It was a good starting point for a future UTS100 attempt (the 100 miles option). Since these races belong to the UTMB group they award so called Running Stones and an index value upon completion. People collect stones and an index so that they can put these into the annual lottery for three popular races that take place in Chamonix at the end of August: the 57km OCC (Orsières via Champex-Lac to Chamonix), the 101km CCC (Courmayeur via Champex-Lac to Chamonix) and the full 176km circumnavigation of the Mont Blanc massive, UTMB. Especially UTMB is a bucket list race for many trail runners and all of these races are massively oversubscribed.

I have been equally fascinated and repelled by these races for quite a while. Without going too deeply into the controversies about the group’s business practices and ethics in the recent years, for me personally it was always the crowd size that made me quite anxious. For the week that these races are happening thousands of people gather in Chamonix and the footage makes it look like a cramped, loud and mad experience. Quite the opposite to what I enjoy on a trail run, or generally in life. Nevertheless, it is difficult to deny the draw of a good circumnavigation and the races have the reputation of being fantastic and quite special.

By the time the lottery for the 2024 UTMB opened I had my two wee Running Stones from UTS50 and a 100mile index value from the North Coast 110 which I had completed in October 2022. Technically I could have applied for any of the three races and in hindsight maybe I should have started with OCC to gain experience. I chose UTMB mainly for two reasons: I thought that I would not get picked! The more stones you have the higher is your chance in the lottery and people literally run UTMB races all over the world to collect as many stones as possible. My second consideration was that IF I opted for OCC or maybe CCC and IF I got through those, I would definitely want to have a go at UTMB and then I would feel the pressure to prioritise UTMB races in order to collect more and more stones. I did not want that. Therefore, my thinking was: apply for UTMB, see what happens, then close the chapter.

Against the odds I was picked in the lottery. There was another moment of soul searching whether I REALLY wanted to entre the race and to experience that whole circus, especially when I saw the race price tag and the cost for accommodation in Chamonix. However, I thought if I decided not to go, come August I would watch the race footage and I would always wonder…what was it like to be there? What was it like to be in the race…? I decided to go for it. Camping was possibly not the most comfortable option for pre-race sleeping arrangements, but it was the cheapest and I managed to get a space on the Glacier d’Argentière campsite, a place I 100% recommend. Argentière is a lovely village, close enough to Chamonix but removed from the madness. And transportation through the valley is dead easy as well as free on the train.

I had four days before my race to find my bearings. Two other Westies, Saki & Tom, were also based in Argentière and we managed to spend a little bit of time together. Having friends in town was definitely one of the highlights of the trip. I also went to a social run, an environmental talk and a film screening organised by the NNormal community, strolled over the Expo and cheered on runners in the TDS and OCC races. I had expected that Chamonix would be rammed 24/7 but it was quite different. It was busy, but did not feel as manic as I had expected. If anything, it felt like a really happy and friendly place. And Argentière in particular felt like home very quickly.

The days flew by so fast and by Thursday afternoon I had my race bib and soon enough it was Friday 30^th August 18:00.

The UTMB starter pen was an odd place! There was not really any particular move to assemble until about 17:00. Then there was a distinctive shuffle and people were trying to line up as close to the front as possible. There were no rules or restrictions and apart from runners there were crew members and spectators all squashed together. If you ever wanted to get that UTMB start experience without entering the race, you could totally line up with the rest of them. In the days leading up to the race I had been dipping in an out of anxieties and race nerves. I wanted to complete the full loop so badly and have a brilliant experience, but in the starter pen, at the height of the UTMB circus I finally managed to calm down. This was my first time running in the Alps, I concluded that whatever the outcome, I would be ok with it.

There was a little congestion through the streets of Chamonix and towards Les Houches but nothing too dramatic, and I had the impression I was running well and I felt good. After Les Houches came the first climb: approx. 800m up to Col de Voza, then 1000m down to Saint Gervais. I underestimated this climb. Compared to everything that was coming afterwards this first bump really did not look like a troublemaker, but the beast was steep on both sides and took me longer than expected.

The first cut off in Saint Gervais, 13 miles into the race, was at 22:00. I thought 4 hours for a half marathon with one big climb would be fine. I did not expect that I would have massive time to spare but hoped for at least half an hour. I got into the checkpoint 21:45, refilled my bottles, grabbed a couple of bites to eat, rushed to the toilet and was on my way again. I was rattled! Loads of other runners were still around me, I had overtaken quite a few on the descent. I felt I could not have done any better and yet it simply would not be good enough. I had developed stitched on the downhill and felt bloated and uncomfortable coming out of Saint Gervais. I was back at being a bag of nerves, all stressed out. The stretch to Les Contamines was in theory runnable, with a gentle steady incline. I knew that I had to run this part to build a buffer and I could not run. Every time I increased the effort I started to feel nauseous, so I did what I do best in those situations and speed hiked. And that was not enough. If I ever stood any chance of completing the race it was blown on this section.

The Les Contamines cut off was midnight and I made it there with 10 minutes to spare, just re-filled water bottles and was on my way to La Balme. I had lots of snacks on me, so did not even bother to look at the checkpoint food or considered a toilet break. On this next section I slowed even more as the gradient got steeper and steeper. I was certain that I would miss the 2am cut off at La Balme but I arrived at 01:52 with a big question of what to do next.

Trying to beat cut off times by minutes was a brutal way to run a race and far from enjoyable. Since Saint Gervais I had been holding on for dear life and was panicking. I was convinced that the next checkpoint at Les Chapieux would be the end of my race. Between La Balme and Les Chapieux I had to climb up to about 2400m. That seemed like a lot of effort only to be timed out at the other side. Part of me considered to just stay at La Balme and let the time tick over and be done with it all.

But it seemed the adventurous part of me was still alive and kicking. It was not like I had anything better to do that night and the chance to climb to 2400m seemed more like a rare opportunity than a chore. Maybe I could even make the cut off. The race was not over quite yet. So I quickly grabbed some broth, managed to pour half of it into my mouth and the other half over my shirt – always a sure sign that things are unravelling during a race – and rushed out of the checkpoint.

As I climbed, I contemplated what I should do with this race. Clearly I had gone into it naïvely and had expected it would be like so many other races where I managed to plod through at the back. I had also thought I would be able to bank enough time to have some power naps here and there later. If – by any miracle – I could scrape through all cut offs that would mean being on the go for 46.5 hours without a moment of respite. That was neither sustainable nor save. If I wanted to run UTMB and do a half decent job of it, I would have to go away and put more work into it, but for now I was not fast enough.

Basically, I made my peace with the race and from this point I relaxed and really loved the whole experience. Climbing up to Col du Bonhomme and the Refuge de la Croix du Bonhomme was so enjoyable. I became much more aware of my surroundings and how the rock formations changed the higher I got. The night was mild and pure magic and I was so happy that I had decided not to stay in the last checkpoint. I also became more aware how many people in my vicinity seemed to have trouble. There were people napping by the trail or retching their guts out. I felt sorry for them. Once I had started to relax and go my own speed the feeling of dread and nausea had shifted completely.

On the descent to Les Chapieux small groups of people came my way, climbing up towards the refuge. At first, I thought they were very eager hikers, it was getting close to 5am by now. Then I noticed they had race numbers on and I realised these were PTL runners. La Petite Trotte À Leon was the first race that had started during UTMB week and participants had just over 6 days to cover a 300km route. They had to be in pairs or groups of three. It is much more a mountaineering adventure than a race. I greeted them with a joyful “Bravo!” and “Bon Chance!”, these people were real mountain goats and I had so much respect for them.

The cut off at Les Chapieux was 05:15am. Coming down the mountain I thought I would miss it by 10 or 15 minutes. I arrived at 05:20! If I had realised it was so close I probably would have done a little less greeting and cheering and a bit more hassling on the descent, but I am not sure if making that cut off would have been the better outcome. This was the end of the line for me. I had covered 51km (just a little less than 1/3 of the course), some 2800m elevation gain in 11hours and 20 minutes. I thought that was not too bad for a first race in the Alps.

Yes, of course I was sad that I did not get to see the full route and did not get to the finish. I was especially sad that I did not even make it over the next climb into Italy. But there were some hard truths that needed to be accepted and scraping through by the skin of my teeth would have been a harrowing race experience.

This way I was back in Chamonix on Saturday afternoon to see Katie Schide throw down a new course record. On Sunday I treated myself to the touristy experience and went up to the Aiguille du Midi, marvelled at glaciers and afterwards I cheered in the last UTMB finishers and watched the closing ceremony (if you can call it that). The following day I took a little trip up to Col de Balme and waved down to Trient, another place along the race route I did not get to see.

Would I give the race another go?

I was a bit shocked that I seemingly had overestimated my own abilities by so much? I am usually not that far off the mark. So, was UTMB simply out of reach for me? Other people could do it, so why not I.

I have since concluded my estimation was off mainly because I had no idea what to expect. I had never been in the Alps, never raced there. This was all new. I now have a better idea what the race is like and what I need to work on and I have concluded it is not unachievable. But it will take time.

And there are a few realities. Trail running is a fast-growing sport and it will probably just get harder to get a place in any of the UTMB races. Also, these races are very expensive, so I will have to weigh up any entry carefully. They also involve international travel and as someone who has at least one international trip each year to see family that is an important environmental consideration. All my running will also have to be sustainable when it comes to my own health. Yes, I can always improve and challenge myself, but I am also at an age where I won’t produce my fastest times and craziest race results anymore. Is a UTMB finish something that I WANT or something that I NEED? And are there actually many, many other races, often cheaper, often closer to home that will challenge me and give me the same sense of achievement?

Nevertheless, there are no regrets. I had a wonderful experience in Chamonix and at UTMB. Going into this I was quite anxious about the crowds, the race, the size of it all, but – as so often – you build it up all scary in your head and when you get there it is actually good fun. I came back with a positivity surge from all the buzz and cheering loudly for other people and celebrating them. Yes, I did not finish. And yes, it was because I was too slow. Mountain running is hard. This time the mountain won, but I managed to make my own adventure out of it and have fun.