UTMB 2024 – A Husband-and-Wife Double Act
Just five years ago, the 176km, 10,000m ascent UTMB was not only out of my comfort zone, but out of my imagination. In the intervening time, it hadn’t moved into my comfort zone but I’d decided it was possible. I’d also decided that my focus should be on getting round within the cut-offs. And I had spent too much time and money on entering this to DNF!
Too right, Matey!
After a couple of days enjoying the unique atmosphere of Chamonix during race week – there are eight events – Friday, August 30th came along and the 2,700+ runners lined up for the 6pm start.
[Wendy]: Last minute panic: no obvious way into the starting area and the minutes are ticking by. Hasty goodbyes, take cares and don’t go mads before M disappears into the throng. After ten minutes, the text “ OK in start area”. Phew.
[Matt]: My focus during the first few stages was to keep my heart rate down, which I did more or less, mainly in the interest of protecting a tight hamstring rather than staying calm. I also wanted to stay well hydrated, 2 half litre flasks full all of the time and even a third on the hotter, uphill stretches. I got through Les Houches and the first of the nine significant climbs before testing out the facilities at Saint-Gervais-les-Bains (14km).
My focus was having an evening meal at the proper time and then getting about 6 hours’ sleep. I have packed the permitted 30 litres of support paraphernalia into a little wheelie bag and am scurrying to the bus station, regretting all the while that I didn’t bring a headtorch. At ten to five, I board a bus for Courmayeur which fills to capacity. We are driven up a winding road and enter the Mont Blanc tunnel. A first for me. That Support Crew bus ticket is looking good value already.
While a little chaotic, the crowds through Les Contamines (31km) were wonderful as I donned my headlamp and used my poles in anger for the first time. One of the special moments of this race came soon thereafter. A run through the Hoka “Tunnel of Light” was followed by the climb to Notre Dame de La Gorge which was like a Tour de France mountain stage, the path narrowed down by huge numbers of spectators. Smoke flares were lit and the noise became almost unbearably loud.
The climb then on up to the Col Du Bonhomme (no. 2) was pretty uneventful, as was the decent to the Les Chapieux (51km). Here there was a surprise official Kit Check – yes, I still had my smartphone (switched on), my emergency blanket and one extra litre water carrying capacity – before I tackled the real slog over the Col de la Seigne (no.3), descending a little only to climb again to Arrête du Mont Favre (no 4). Then the descent to Courmayer (81km) where I was due to meet Wendy and collect my drop bag (insurance against Wendy oversleeping, poor bus services, etc).
In the Sports Centre I pick my way through a sea of sleeping bodies, buy a coffee and a breakfast sandwich and settle down to look at Matthew’s GPS Tracker and the Live Trail app. After an hour and a half, the tracker dot has not moved and I am thinking about wandering over to the info desk to register a concern. Matthew texts: “Very slow uphill”. The 70km low point (familiar from many 100km races) has just kicked in. Matthew arrives and admits to feeling very tired and we retrieve all the caffeine-containing goodies from the suitcase and drop bag. Most of the food on offer looks unappetising but a change of shoes and socks appeals. I slather talcum powder on M’s feet – thank you, Tom Whittington, for this Top Tip from Wasdale Head.
I had decided to stop here a while to top-up my physical, mental and energy stores and so changed my shoes, had a 15-minute nap but sadly couldn’t stomach any hot solids. I did manage some soup and took a couple of just-in-case salt tablets.
Meeting up with Wendy also gave the chance to reassess my water and energy intake. I was drinking OK and the empty wrapper count confirmed I had been eating but not a huge amount. I believe eating became difficult due to the rising temperature and increasing tiredness, but I took off with a flask of flat Coke and caffeine Voom bars.
Happy that Matthew didn’t need to hear the “You can’t drop out now” speech I had rehearsed earlier, I re-pack the wheelie bag and make my way back to the bus stop. Once on the bus, we queue for 90 minutes to get to the mouth of the tunnel where we hit the regulation 50 to 70 kph and enforced vehicle separation which keeps traffic flowing under the mountain.
Slowly climb from Courmayeur past the Bertone and Bonetti Refuges (no. 5) and then up from Arnouvaz (101km), climb number 6 and the last of the big ones. The route was different from the one I had recce’d in June which may or may not have made it more interesting. However, while it was great to do this open mountain leg in daylight, it did mean that it was in the heat of the day. With roughly 700m ascent to go to the Grand Col Ferret and being tested hard both physically and mentally, I joined a wonderful “train” which gradually grew to about a dozen runners. As we reached the Col I fist pumped the French driver and his Belgian first mate. They both smiled and I felt I had done my bit for European harmony.
Furthering good international relations, I helped a guy struggling to replace his headlamp batteries in the dark. It wasn’t immediately obvious to me what he wanted as seemed to be speaking Chinese. I found myself speaking German to two French guys so I don’t think I could really trust myself on that score. Irrespective of language, there was a great feeling of camaraderie throughout the race and I was grateful for the company of a British couple, and a Swede with a Scottish accent who led a few of us through a boulder field just past Champex-Lac.
Returning to Chamonix bus station, I quickly board the next coach to Orsières. I am driven for an hour-and-a-half in air-conditioned comfort through the heart of the French and Swiss Alps in glorious sunshine. The bus ticket really is exceptional value. And the UTMB is turning out to be the easiest race supporting I have ever done, logistically at least.
At Orsières, which isn’t on the race route, we are transported to Champex-Lac, on a service bus. There are few seats, so most of us stand with our 30 litres of luggage for the 20-minute journey. I settle down in the supporters’ waiting area, have lunch (sausage and chips and a glass of white) and strike up conversation with a ski instructor from Les Menuires. She is supporting her brother in the race who is about an hour ahead of Matthew. I learn some of the secrets of biathlon racing including how athletes make the switch from hard-effort skiing to stock-still shooting. As our runners approach we make the opposite swap: from lazing around and gabbing, to quickly finding some space to set out our stalls of energy foods, spare T-shirts, and filled water bottles.
Matthew strides in looking, and I think feeling, a bit better than at Courmayeur. I offer a cup of a coffee and some chips which he accepts and consumes. A change of T-shirt and just as he is ready to go, we see the coffee and chips for a second time. I clean him up as best I can and see him on his way. Then I clean up the floor, re-pack the suitcase and make my way to the bus stop. That roll of kitchen towel certainly earned its place in the support kit.
About an hour after leaving Champex-Lac darkness fell and we entered the second night. Conversation turned to hallucinations. An Australian runner told us that she sees the ground as moving Astroturf. Someone else said they saw each rock and tree as a mugger or even a bear waiting to pounce. Rather more tamely, I first saw trees as wooden carvings, or people looking like something out of Transformers, with old-style TV sets on their shoulders for heads. More worryingly I later began to see runners up ahead stepping on to the deck of a wooden mountain hut and then disappearing into it. The mountain huts never materialised.
A return on the service bus to Orsières and back on to the comfortable coach for a 40-minute ride to Trient. There is a long uphill slog (in my terms, at least) to the pink church and the checkpoint tent behind it. Dinner time. Only raclette on offer to eat but a fine selection of alcoholic beverages. Knowing that I have plenty of time to sober up, I succumb to a liqueur coffee which nearly knocks my head off. Fall in with a group of UTMB staff, who are entitled to unlimited, free refreshments. Compliment them on the organisation of the event. They come to Trient every year on their night off during race week because it is the “best party”.
The focal point of the checkpoint is the DJ who is playing songs that all the helpers sing along with at enormous volume. Matthew walks in and we bellow at each other above the music. I find him some “real food” – bread and cheese – but what he would really like is baked beans or soup and noodles, neither of which feature in the 30 litres. Just gone midnight and he is on his way again. I reassure him that there are now only two climbs to go – out of Trient, and out of Vallorcine. “See you in Vallorcine, Husband!”
I saw Wendy again at both Champex-Lax (129.5km) and Trient (146km) both of which were followed by brutal sections: a couple kilometres of the aforementioned boulder field between Champex-Lac and Trient, and a 33% 1-kilometre climb out of Trient.
The final meet-up with Wendy was at Vallorcine (158km) and I was back on a bit of the course I’d recce’ed. Given my state of mind at this stage, this clearly was a worthwhile exercise. Extreme tiredness was kicking in and I guess I wasn’t walking in a straight line, as a fellow runner, quite unprompted, advised me to open up my phone and use 5 minutes of blue light to keep myself awake. On the penultimate hill I think this helped me physically, but mentally I wasn’t in such a good state: I was convinced I was leading a group along the path and was continually surprised that some thoughtful person had flagged the route.
Matthew texts me: “Where are you?”
[W]: “At Vallorcine. Where are you?”
[M]: “Non town side of station”
[W]: “I’m at the checkpoint. Are you OK?”.
[M]: “Yes”.
Well, not that OK, as it turns out. Matthew weaves his way into the checkpoint tent, finds me and asks: “How did I get here?” I diagnose sleep deprivation and low blood sugar. I give him two squares of Kendal Mint Cake and lead him to the camp beds in the rest area. I promise to wake him in 20 minutes. After 15 minutes he comes out and asks me if he has been up and down the hill. There is no short, simple answer to this question so I feed him another two pieces of Kendal Mint Cake, hand him his poles and tell him that he has recce’ed this last bit. “Where will I see you next?” “At the finish.”
Eventually I regained my normal mental state (I’ll be the judge of that) as we hit the ski-run up to the last feed station at La Flegère. I had a drink there and set off down the winding path through the woods for a relatively uneventful, if speedy, run in…
Yet another bus ride as dawn is breaking and a walk back to the hotel. I hang up a few items of wet race clothing and survey the mound of uneaten supplies. I settle down for a couple of hours’ sleep. Live Trail estimates that Matthew will cross the line at about 9.30am. I return to the finish area at about 9 and scout out a good vantage point. I am just debating whether to get a coffee at the patisserie when at 09:21 Matthew appears. He still looks a bit dazed but he is running. He’s done it.
Overall, a wonderful, unique but brutal event – particularly a couple of very rocky stages and the climb out of Trient. This was several levels of difficulty above my first 100 miler last year – the North Downs Way – in terms of not being allowed to have pacers, the total time on feet (39 hours vs. 22 hours) and the ambient daytime temperature (ca. 26 degrees). I had never properly hallucinated before, either. It took a couple of days for it to sink in that I had actually done it. Not too surprising since it had been in my sights for at least 18 months.
That’s probably enough for now, but if you want more details (including video) you can find them on Live Trail. Of course, if anyone fancies giving it a go, you know I’d be willing to bore your socks off.
Matt & Wendy Lynas