UTMB!!!

Our first brush with UTMB (Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc) was on the way to one of our GTA (Grande Traversee des Alpes) experiences in 2008.  We rode in a bus with the race director as he took a detour to Chamonix so we could meet one of his friends, Dawa Sherpa, who had just finished the race in 2nd place.  Dawa won the first edition of UTMB in 2003 and subsequently held the course record for many years, something I did not know until just now as I was looking up his race history.

Being briefly at the UTMB finish line 14 years ago perhaps planted a tiny seed in my brain about maybe coming back someday to run it myself.  Luckily I applied toward the end of the "2 misses and you get auto-entry" lottery process (no longer in place).  After 2 misses and one auto-entry which happened to be in 2020 (and we all know what that means), I was given the option to pick any of the following 3 years to run.  Much appreciation for the flexibility!

2021 seemed too soon to travel overseas, so 2022 it is, and hope for the best.

The rest of the intro = an ongoing sciatic nerve issue, multiple excellent lead-up races, covid-halted Bighorn, and a bunch of superb climbing training.  Ups and downs (literal and figurative), a lot of little things that could go wrong, culminating in a left calf muscle that hardly activated for ~3 weeks before the start of the race (although it didn't stop me from ascending mountains).  I was finally able to do a proper heel lift a couple days before UTMB and considered that a good sign.

Our friend Bryan stayed with us at our AirBnB in Les Houches, and we worked our way into town on Friday afternoon to drop off our Courmayeur drop bags.  Then we wandered over to our favorite bakery for a last-minute treat and small rest before gearing up to brave the start line madness.  Over 2600 runners in a trail race is quite a lot!

John and I stayed back from the main mass as long as we could, taking the opportunity to grab this fun photo:

The perfect place to sit - it's even protected from the light rain that fell occasionally:

John says I sure had my mouth open a lot at that point (perhaps explains the post-race soreness on the roof of my mouth).  It's almost time!

I pegged a runner to follow through the starting arches, which turned out to be a good choice.  Bandana Head and I managed a good line along the edge of the back of the pack:

The music swelled and at some point there was a "GO!" and we were off, walking slowly forward.  After passing through the starting gate, the street was lined with many, many spectators cheering us on.  Between the choice of music (Conquest of Paradise), being in France, and all the women and children wishing us well, it was almost like going off to war, or so I imagine...

The whole thing was over-the-top ridiculous and silly and it made me laugh and laugh!

John watched on the big screen:

It rained on us for the first and last time as we walked/ran through downtown Chamonix.

The first miles along the streets and bike path were surprisingly not too much of a madhouse, happily.  We had room for 3-4 runners wide and didn't hit any bottlenecks.  I'd started far enough back that everyone was going the same general pace, walking the uphills and running (at a solid, moderate pace) the flats and downhills.  Phew, that was one less thing to be concerned about.

Coming into the first aid station I detoured behind the church to use the water fountain instead of braving the aid station.  I had to wait for a guy to finish getting water for his dog, no worries.  It turned out there were plenty of volunteers at the tables ready to pour water, another thing I didn't need to be concerned about.

Time to climb!  It's a big, steep ascent to col de Voza, and then more climbing from there.  I was really glad to have done most of it twice already, once with our friends on a hiking trip and once on a scouting mission with John.  Really helpful to know in advance just what you're getting into on that one.  Basically, it's steep.

On the way up I met a guy named Josh from Colorado and we had a nice chat.  We continued to run into each other occasionally that evening, always happy to see a familiar face.

One glitch - everything came to a stop on a short trail between two road sections.  There's a small opening in a fence that is only wide enough for one person at a time, and that was enough to cause a big backup.  We bunched up, stepped up the hill one foot at a time, and wondered why this hasn't been fixed by this point.  Surely we could just run around on the road to avoid it?  That was the one and only bottleneck of the course (at least for me).

More climbing.  The sunset on the hills, through the clouds, was spectacular.  Wow.

Looking at my projected splits right before the race start, I couldn't figure out what I was thinking with this section.  I was pleased to hit Les Houches early, and I expected to be later into St Gervais than in my notes.  Even with the strong climb to the col, it's still a circular route to start the downhill and then it takes a while to get down.  Especially since I didn't want to do anything crazy like bomb down the steep stuff.

I tried to glide down the best I could and use my poles aggressively.  Gotta protect the knees and things.  Eventually I had to stop to dig out the headlamp (that should have been on top in my pack) before continuing down toward the lights below.

Coming into town, immediately the crowds were back in force.  Allez allez!  You can do it!  Such enthusiasm.  Possibly mixed with alcohol.  I started laughing again, couldn't help it.  I mean, we're just running in the mountains.

The flow of the race course worked well, bringing us around to the aid station in the town square where we had plenty of room to get resupplies before jogging back on the street amid the boisterous well-wishers.

John and I had accidentally scouted the next section of the course with our friends, so I expected the singletrack and steep climbs and some downhill.  Time to get into "train mode" within a line of runners, and actually that didn't last overly long before we were back on a bike path.  It was a quiet night mixed with occasional raucous enthusiasm and music from spectators.

I got into a groove up the short climbs, using my poles like I was cross-country skiing.  That seemed pretty effective for keeping up the speed-walking.

I had hoped to make up some time into les Contamines, and that worked according to plan.  The first several cutoff times are rather aggressive, no room for taking it too easy off the bat.

Coming up to the aid station I found John, yay!  He quickly told me that he wasn't allowed inside the runner's tent, and the crew side didn't have access to water refilling.  I took the Spiz Nalgene from him to fill and stepped inside the ridiculously packed tent to figure out how to do it.  Water in the Nalgene and in my bottles, forgetting my poles briefly so I had to go upstream to retrieve them, finding John again and a bench in the corner where he could help me finish the resupply process.  We really wanted to get out of there, can't argue with that for motivation to keep moving!

As our friend Robyn would say, "That was a sh*t show"

Thank you John, see you in Italy tomorrow!

The race markings led us in one big circle, around and then under the road and finally back into the quiet darkness.  Back to the enjoyably cool night trekking generally uphill along a creek.

There was loud music playing ahead of us, something different than the normal boombox style, more new age-like, in the direction of Notre Dame de la Gorge.  When I got there, it turned out that Hoka was treating us to an amazing experience.  We walked through a tunnel of lights turning different colors, following alongside a giant field of colored lights making patterns to the music.  Totally surreal!  Very special.

Wow, that experience alone made it worth getting here.

Then it was time for more "for real" climbing, going up an old Roman road into the mountains.  John and I had been here for the GTA and we're used to going up this in the full sun of the afternoon.  Cool darkness is much preferred.

And then - even better!  As soon as I cleared the woods and started across the open field, all of the headlamps ahead of us were visible far into the distance, switchbacking up and up and up toward the col du Bonhomme.  An incredible snake of white amid total blackness.  I believe that without knowing it, I had been looking forward to this for a long time.  So cool.

The aid station partway up had a water tank with multiple spigots, and I continued my trend of futzing around a bit with my bottles and a Spiz baggie.  At least I was skipping the rest of the aid station and not losing any additional time (I tried one piece of chocolate at one point and my stomach clearly told me not to do that again - liquid calories only, please).

I did spend a couple minutes getting on my wool top, buff, and overmitts.  Perfect for the chilly overnight air on a beautiful night.  Thank you for no rain!

From there it's a steep and rocky climb, and I let quite a few racers go by me instead of trying to maintain a pace that was more than I wanted to push.  No worries, there was frequently a lesser route on the side that I could use without being too much in the way most of the time.

Then hey, there's the first col!  Excellent.  The traverse to the next col is rather technical and continues uphill, just not nearly as straight up.  The line of runners finally spread out a bit by the time we started down the other side, which was nice.  I was moving better (on average) on the descents while still being gentle on my legs.

The last time we were here (during the GTA), there were trails crisscrossing the countryside as if herds of sheep stampeded straight up and down the mountain every day.  This was not a good impression in our minds, imagining all the UTMB runners flying down the slope, cutting whichever switchback they saw fit.  However!  The organization has greatly improved the situation since then, thankfully.  Now there are ribbons across most of the potential switchback cuts, and runners respect them.  The trail is beautiful and buff and easy to follow.  Much appreciated.

It was a lovely calm drop into Les Chapieux.  The first thing I found there was a gear check where they asked to see my headlamp (on my head), my phone, and my rain jacket.  Easy peasy.

Our friends Kathy and Bob were watching the live feeds and caught a screenshot of me coming into the aid station, too funny:

I tried a bit of fizzy water, and that seemed really nice (my stomach concurred).  Seltzer at all races from now on, please!  :)

Time to see something new!  Up until this point I had experienced most of the course, either recently or during the GTA.  I've been curious about the climb from France over to Italy, now I had the chance to check it out up close.  It was dark for most of it, and it turned out to be a basic long gradual climb along a big valley.  Still, I considered this hike to be a special one.

Initially on the road and then on the trail, we wandered through a cow field and across the creek we'd be following for a while.  I saw quite a few people sleeping along the side of the trail, some looking quite comfortable and others simply sprawled where they fell, it seemed.  I'm grateful I can usually handle sleep deprivation reasonably well, at least early on in longer races.

Bright lights ahead and above us were fascinating, indicating a somewhat roundabout and back-and-forth path ahead.  Also apparently somewhat down and up.  Runners were still climbing past me, at least at a slower rate and velocity by this point.

The sky brightened and soon the hills around us were visible - so pretty!  We just missed a helicopter passing over the col at the top.  I imagine a few people waved at the camera for that.

Finally the top - and we were into Italy.  I said "grazie" to the bib scanner and started down the other side.  I tried sneaking peeks over to the left to try to figure out the added climb in this section, but mostly focused on the trail (and rocks) in front of me.

Soon the course markings led us away from the main trail and onto the newer detour.  I found a rock to sit on in order to, I'm going to say, mix and drink some Spiz?  Probably also to stash the headlamp and put on my hat and shades.

The extra climb didn't take long, and soon I was getting scanned at the top of the next little saddle.  But wait!  The rescue team right at that moment called "stop!" and I was told to stay there because there was a helicopter coming.  Soon other runners piled up behind me and the volunteer was having to explain that no, he would not scan anyone in advance, we all just needed to be patient.

Well, I didn't see a lot of patience in that crowd.  People started fussing about not making the next cutoff and what was he going to do about that?  He said he would call down to the next aid station and make sure they had extra time.  I was like, we have so much time, it's really not going to be an issue, but it felt like people just wanted to kvetch about something since they weren't happy about being made to sit there.

The helicopter flew in and dropped off some rescuers.  They retrieved an injured runner who was hobbling but able to walk a short distance.  The helicopter flew in close and they all loaded up for the flight out.  Pretty neat to watch.

Perhaps 10 minutes had passed.  We were given the all-clear and everyone clambered to have their number scanned.  I reminded the course official that he had done mine already and started to take off, while a woman tried to stop me -- ??  Excuse me lady, but I was here before you and as I just said, my number was already scanned.  Phew, I didn't expect an unruly mob in the middle of a 100 mile race.

I took off downhill, which normally would be my strength, except this section of trail is crazy rocky and challenging.  I started to see how that runner might have hurt himself.  No need to put myself in the same situation.  I picked my way down and didn't mind at all letting a few people hurtle themselves on past.  If anyone had been sleepy before, this whole thing woke everyone the heck up!

Eventually the trail improved and normal downhilling commenced.  Back to being reasonably spread out along the course.  We landed at the next aid station at Lac Combal and I made quick work of a water refill.  Also, there was still plenty of time before the race cutoff.  I kept those extra 10 minutes in the back of my mind just in case I needed to play that card later down the road.

While run/walking down the road, I marveled at the tall rock dam ahead of us.  What is that thing?  On the next climb up a trail, I could see it was a giant moraine from a long glacier that had retreated way up a valley across the way.  What a moraine.

My legs were still climbing OK, except my right shin started acting like it wanted to cramp up.  That's a new one.  I babied it, taking care not to stress it too much or step in a weird angle, and it never full-on cramped.  Just twitched and talked to me all the way up the mountain.  

More beautiful views!

Another bib scan at the top, with a sign describing the remaining distance to Courmayeur in kilometers to go, plus ascent and descent numbers.  Only 10 (or maybe 20) meters of climb, great!  Also, not true!  For some reason, the rolling nature of the trail bugged me and I probably gave an audible running commentary (as it were) every time we had to climb some more.  Good thing John didn't have to listen to that.

Finally downhill for real, and I passed a bunch of people before pausing to drink some Spiz.  Then I continued on more carefully to give it time to digest.  Overnight digestion had been easy, but it was warming up and that usually translates to challenges for my stomach.

I moved quickly through the aid station at the top of the lift and started toward the huge drop into town.  I'd seen some advice about not running too hard down to Courmayeur, and that sounded prudent.  Also - for me, no question I wasn't going to charge down this hill.  It was super steep, with big steps, and a whole bunch of sand and dust.

Lots of help from my poles, letting groups get ahead of me so the air might clear out, and taking things gentle.  In the middle of the descent I came upon a guy with blood on his face.  He'd run into a branch or something, sat for a while, and now was slowly making his way down.  At least he still appeared to be in good spirits.

I heard runners coughing, giving me more reason to try to stay in the gaps and let the wind take the dust away.  That would have been a good time to put my buff around my neck and use it to cover my mouth and nose.  Shoulda thought of that.

Finally down to town and the site of the most major aid station:

Hello John, yay!  I almost made it here by morning; without that ~10 minute hold for the helicopter, it would have been right at noon.  He was carrying a drop bag, which turned out to be Bryan's (so Bryan wouldn't need to retrieve it afterward, helpfully) and I still had to grab mine on the way into the building.  One more loop at an aid station, while John worked his way inside (showing his crew pass to gain entry).

Wow, look at all of those people!  The place was packed.

We found a lovely corner on the deck, in the shade and with a breeze.  Inside was way too hot, although eventually we were gently told we were actually supposed to be in there and we promised to gather our stuff and move.  Since our stuff was all spread out, we efficiently worked through the various pieces until we were done with everything and I could just get out of there.  Much appreciation to the volunteer who was kind enough not to press the issue.

Sock change and foot wipe, yay!  Also, that tickled  :)  Good timing for a foot cleaning after the dusty descent.

John walked me out - see you in Switzerland!  A couple runners and I worked together to figure out the course markings through town amid the tourists and crew people walking around.  Eventually we were speed-walking up a street and toward one of the biggest, baddest climbs of the race.  In the sun, on a warm afternoon.  Let's do this thing!

Oof, that was steep, steep, steep.  Saving grace was the shade as we were mostly in the trees.  I already figured I'd get passed by at least 100 people on this climb.  Then partway up, right at 90 minutes after my previous Spiz serving, my body came to a halt.  Bonk time!  I clawed my way up to a spot where I could sit on a rock in the shade (with some glorious wind), mixed up my next serving, and gave myself some time to drink and recover.

Other runners sitting near me tried to figure out from their altimeters how much further to the top.  It sounded like a lot, but once I got going it really wasn't too bad.  Still, I was super happy to get to Refuge Bertone and the next aid station.  Can't argue with the views from up here.

I tried more fizzy water in my bottle, which turned out to be too much.  I know this because the bite valve would start whining and then water would spray sideways.  At least it was water and not soda.  I ended up drinking frequently until the pressure calmed down, which was probably good anyway for staying hydrated.

Time to move!  The next section was truly rolling, small ups and downs, relatively easy trail, and a good place to make up time.

Somehow I wasn't stressing over the cutoff times at all.  Normally staying 45-60 minutes ahead of the cutoffs for the entire race might be a problem for my psyche and I'd work too hard to try to get away from them.  This time I was much more "zen" about the whole thing - first of all, I'd make it or I wouldn't, and each section was a gift.  Also, I started to trust the race directors and the amount of time they were giving us.  As long as I kept moving, played to my strengths (descending and getting through aid stations relatively quickly), and kept climbing as steadily as I could manage, the clock was on my side.

The "balcony trail" was spectacular!  Best views yet; I don't even know how it's possible but the scenery just kept getting better.  Glaciers, vertical streams and waterfalls, high peaks, colorful rocks, and a valley far below.  Wow, wow, wow.

The route passed by Refuge Bonatti and I went looking for a race official to scan my bib, but another runner said there was no one there.  Just an opportunity to buy drinks and get water.  I would have loved to have known that there was water available here (and I suppose I should have guessed as much) instead of carrying extra up that hill back there.

More rolling trail, ever-shifting views across the way, and eventually a short drop to Arnouvaz.  Right about the time I was getting weary of actually running, it was time for another big climb.  Can't argue with all the variety, that's for sure.

Water refill, an actual bathroom for once (I'll sit for that!), warily starting out toward the huge ascent ahead of us.  I tried to figure out where we might be going, occasionally getting glimpses of runners way up high going this way and that.  Hey, all I had to do was find the next col and I would accomplish my next goal of making it to Switzerland.  Happily, it was much cooler than the previous upward haul.

I got better at tackling the climbs, which usually started out straight up, by taking small quick steps and not making any judgments on my speed or ability.  Just keep moving.  Typically that would help me get into a groove and eventually I was climbing more strongly.  As the race went on, I lost less and less time on the uphills as other people slowed down.  I'd step aside to let someone by and more often they would decline the offer.

Have I mentioned the views?  I stopped a couple times to take it all in, the whole upper end of the valley with so much going on.  Just, wow.

Several runners and I chatted about where we might be going.  It was supposed to be a col (a saddle) but it looked like everyone above us was going to the top of a mountain?  I suppose it will be obvious when we get there.

Except a cloud bank of windy fog rolled in as we were nearing the top.  I looked off one edge and said "nothing to see over here!"  Everyone paused to put on more clothes and rain jackets.  We walked to the left and then somehow there was the col, a wide area with a safety team doing bib scans.  Thank you for being here, y'all!

We ran for a while on dirt roads, watching the course markings carefully in the fog (although I don't think there was any way to get off track).  Lower down the scenery opened up, completely different on this side - a green, lush and open valley with dirt roads off in the distance.  I had a flashback to day 2 of the GTA when that race went into Switzerland too.  Looked just about the same.

There was another bib scan at a small farm before we started along a singletrack traverse.  That thing went on for quite a while, side-hilling and slowly dropping.  Actually, some of the drops were short and steep and slippery.  I was again so happy to have my poles, thank you poles!

After who-knows-how-long, the trail finally turned down switchbacks toward the valley floor and I could hear people cheering us on as it got dark.  Time for a headlamp.  Maybe La Fouly aid station is coming up soon.

Nope, not soon.  The trail got better, including some doubletrack and eventually a street.  Moving ahead through the dark, it felt like I was making good progress but not sure where I was progressing toward.  Some people walking told us, "un kilometre" which I think was just the standard distance between us and aid stations because we heard that multiple times.

Finally!  An aid station.  And I was still surprised at how many people were packed in there - for some reason, it continued to amaze me every time.  Water, water, go.  Back into the quiet darkness.

The map showed a gentle descent along the river for a few miles before climbing up to Champex Lac (and John!).  I wasn't looking forward to 8 miles of boring try-to-stay-awake bike path running, but happily it wasn't that at all.  There was (in some order) a bike path, some rocks, some nice road, some weaving and short climbing, a railbed-looking section, and a narrow trail along the side of a steep hill.  It even had cables to hang onto, as the drop to the right felt fairly straight down (to the river below).  Much more interesting than a simple bike path, thank you!

Somewhere in here I passed Josh, the runner I'd chatted with way earlier in the race.  He was still moving, and I believe he ended up finishing even though it was over time.  Way to keep at it, Josh!

The run through the next town was also interesting, with cobblestone sections, narrow alleys, and course markings attached to all manner of objects.  People sleeping in yards.  Finally the bottom and the start of the short climb to the lake.

Oh my goodness, that's a steep little thing.  Time to get the climbing legs back in gear, yikes.  Thankfully it evolved into less-steep switchbacks.  Oddly (although, not really considering how long I'd been awake), I started seeing buildings where there were only trees.  I had to look closely at some strange wood art along the trail to verify that yes, that was indeed really there, confirmed later by Bryan.

I wanted to pause for a minute to do...something... so I looked for a place to sit.  I identified a curved root sticking out of the side of the hill that might work, but it was higher up than my legs could handle and instead of sitting down I ended up missing and sliding into a pile on the ground.  Oops.  A runner came by with the comment, "nobody saw that."  The result was a scratch and bruise on my arm, plus some laughter on my part.

Runners ahead of me asked a spectator how much further, and instead of the normal "one kilometer" we were told that it's just right there.  Cool!  Apparently that meant another ~4 switchbacks up the hill.  I'll take it.

Hi John!  We're in Switzerland!  This was the start of the final three big sections of climbing, with a crew aid station before each one.  I was mentally geared up for doing some work for the next few hours.

First a quick stop at Champex Lac.  I started using my little cup to drink seltzer at the aid stations (instead of filling my bottle with it), that worked better.  Sitting down made me quite tired, almost making me want to sleep.  On the trail I was much more awake, so it seemed like I should get back out there.

Thank you John!  Earlier he had taken a picture of the pretty lake we would run around (in the dark, for me):

Some other photos John took while he was waiting for me - the giant crowd inside the aid station:

They briefly ran out of fizzy water and pulled out a single Soda Stream.  Good idea but apparently they didn't have the manpower to keep up with demand:

"Not Kilian"  :)

I headed out and around the lake, into the woods and eventually around a corner into a big valley.  I'd chosen the previous aid station to take a look at the topo on John's phone, which turned out to be good timing.  The course made a huge U-shaped turn around the valley, crossing two big streams and climbing up, up, up.  There were runner lights across the valley and way up high.

This is a bear of a climb, rocky and steep.  I'd heard about one challenging ascent toward the end and I was really, really hoping this was the one and not something worse later.

It seemed like a good time to get out my iPod, so I had a few podcasts to focus on while doing a bunch of work up the hill.  Thank you, iPod.

Topping out, the next section was going to be a "wherever the trail takes me" thing, as I couldn't quickly decipher the topo map and decided not to waste time on it.  Cows and fields, nice wind, town lights down below, a bit more climbing and then a long, steep descent that passed by tree after rooty tree on the side of the hill.

Somewhere in the middle of all that there was a refuge that we walked through, hello there!  Back into the darkness and more descending.  I was still moving relatively OK on the downhill, still passing people (and still having to ask to go around many of them).  I almost always made room or stepped off the trail to let people pass on the uphill, but apparently that courtesy wasn't a common thing.  Ah well, I can say "pardon" over and over as many times as needed.

I couldn't quite figure out the topography but it seemed like we passed a wide col (with a road on it) and started along a flat section above Trient.  It was getting light out on the way to the big downhill stairs toward town.  Goodness, those are some tall stairs.  The bridge over the road was pretty cool, at least.

Way down and then a bit back uphill, and I made it into Trient.  Hi John!  I was feeling a bit bedraggled and slow at this point, until I pulled out my time sheet and looked at the numbers for the upcoming sections.  Whoa, I didn't have a lot of time, it seemed.  Had I miscalculated?  Were the cutoffs assuming we would speed up in daylight?  I gotta go.

That lit a small fire under me, as I now believed I could finish this thing but I better make sure I do the work to get there.  Two more big climbs, hopefully my legs were up for it.

Apparently they were!  The next climb was helpfully straightforward and I powered right up, not even losing too many places in line on the way.

Starting down the other side, I passed a couple guys who might have recognized me from all the back-and-forth we'd been doing.  They called to the group ahead "runner coming on the left" and people started getting out of my way.  Pretty funny, and thank you both!  Perhaps all of my work making sure I wasn't impeding anyone on the climbs finally paid off a little.

It was a lovely, shaded run down on a decent trail.  Even a road for part of it, before dropping down to Vallorcine on another trail, and I pushed the pace just a little.  Hi John!  He was surprised to see me so soon.  I was happy to make up a little time and give myself more cushion for the final section.

On the way into the aid station:

Waving to the camera - hello world!

John helped me turn everything around one last time, while I probably complained about how heavy my pack was.  So heavy!  I guess my shoulders were getting tired too.

OK, let's get started on the final big climb!

John and I had pre-hiked this section of the course and I was quite pleased to know what I was getting into.  The first part was an easy speed-walk up to a col, no problem.

Then... try not to look where we're headed.  That final climb is a doozy, especially with full-on sunshine heating up the side of the hill.  I was relieved to have plenty of time, and I used it to pause occasionally and hide in the shade to cool down.  Spiz digestion had again gone well overnight, and now it was helpful to drink less at a time and bring my heartrate down to let my stomach work for a few minutes.  No bonk today!

A bunch of us slowly crawled up the side of the mountain.  Even having been here before, I was still surprised at how it kept going and going.  2000 feet is not insignificant, for sure.

Finally to the top!  With splendid views of Mont Blanc, it was good to be back almost to where we had started.  We're doing it!

A webcam that I was unaware of at Tete aux Vents (and yes, it was windy, a nice countereffect to all the warm sunshine):

We carefully picked our way down the first drop, through a bunch of interesting rocks.  A bunch of runners stopped at a little creek crossing, while I was ready to attack the upcoming traverse.  You can see the Flegere aid station from 3 kilometers away, but each time it appears again it doesn't seem much closer.  Again I was happy to know this section from a training run.

As we were about to crest one of the small hills along the way, a runner behind me muttered something about being almost there, and I laughed and said we are very much not.  Just keep on moving.

On the last bit of traversing I got stuck in the middle of a big bunch-up of people, and a couple guys started audibly fretting about how we had only 5 minutes to make it to Flegere and we were about to get cut off!  No, truly no, we had over an hour.  I tried to explain this but still felt a lot of anxiety around me.

In the middle of all that we absorbed a group of backpackers.  One couple was American and we got to talking.  Turns out they were on their final day of the Tour du Mont Blanc trek and somehow ended up in the midst of the UTMB race.  Not the best timing for them, but they had enjoyed all of the rest of it.  Apologies for all this craziness right now!

We all walked across the patio of a mountain café (very funny that the trail goes right through it) and over to the ski area.  One last short but steep hill to power up...

Coming into the Flegere aid station, hi to my friends and family!

I took a couple extra minutes here to sit in the shade and drink some seltzer.  Throughout this whole section I was very glad I'd done the previous work to have plenty of time remaining.  I couldn't imagine stressing about cutoffs here.

One final big downhill, starting with a stupid-steep drop right out of the aid station, then a road, then a trail with about 27 switchbacks and lots of roots.  Finally, shade from trees, thank you.  The sun was particularly bright and hot that day.

I passed a guy bandaging up a nasty-looking blister on a little toe, and another guy who couldn't hold up his head.  Both were getting help, although I briefly considered offering to tape up the 2nd man's head like we had done with Dave during Cowboy Tough.

Down, down, traversing and dropping back to Chamonix...

John reported later that a fun samba group performed while he was waiting for me:

View of the big white mountain:

Earlier in the day, Bryan made his way up and over this interesting bridge over the street.  Just one more little obstacle on our way to the finish line:

Bryan on the bridge over the river, going into town:

Go Bryan go!

Sometime later, I arrived.  Bryan and John were waiting - why aren't you in bed already, Bryan?  It was sweet that he waited for me.  Spectators, cheering, back into the midst of the crowds of fans.

It's still silly, but it's also really, really cool!

I turned the corner to the final approach and was surprised by the big roar from the crowd.  Wow!  Thank you all, that was amazing and so much fun!  What an experience.

Yay John, we did it!

Live long and prosper, y'all:

My biggest fan and hugest help, thank you husband!

I'm so grateful for the chance to run this race, thankful to my body for managing to cover the entire course, and impressed with the race organization and everything that went into putting it on.  It's big and crazy, and so worth it!