So maybe you've done a few Vasque races now, and you're feeling warmed up. 30 miles or so along the South Downs seems like a stroll in the park? A 40 mile stomp around the Peak District has become merely a pleasant way to spend a summer afternoon? As for the Fellsman, pah. The climbs are only a couple of hundred metres!
The UTMB could be for you. It's not terribly different to doing the four races needed to qualify for the Vasque series. The only real difference is that in the UTMB you do them all in one go. OK, with maybe a teeny bit more climb just for good measure - the total ascent and descent over the 103 miles is slightly more than the height of Everest.
Well, if I'm honest, my thought process hadn't been quite like that – it was more a case of staggering to the end of the Fellsman and realising, slightly to my surprise, that my legs hadn't fallen off, my heart was still beating, and I hadn't - quite - reached the outer boundary of human endurance. It was curiosity more than anything else that made me put my entry into an even longer race.
It turns out that there are a few other small differences to the races I've come to love so well over here. The start of many a British trail ultra can be somewhat – how can I put it – understated. A flat-capped Yorkshireman glances at his watch in a misty dawn and pronounces 'Eeee... 'bout time ah reckon. Off ye go, then. Ah'll put t'kettle on when thee gets back 'ome'.
There is a bit more hype on the start line of the UTMB. 2300 nervous runners herded into a fenced-off compound, crowds cheering, flags waving, helicopters shuddering overhead while a big screen shows close-ups of quaking competitors and the loudspeakers blast out inspirational music.
From my starting point way back in the throng it took several minutes just to cross the start line and for the crush to ease sufficiently to allow our constricted shambling to break into a trot. For the next hour I pulled gradually forwards, hopping and dancing around to nip past people on the narrowing path.
The first pass has around 3000 feet of ascent, and I stomped gaily up it, still passing folk. They were beginning to thin out as I reached the top and dropped down again to the next checkpoint in the valley below. All that height gained – and now we had lost it all and had to start again! A 4500 foot climb the next one. 'You're about 20th' a kindly chap told me as I passed. Whoa! That was much higher than I thought I ought to be. It occurred to me I had been running fairly fast, and I did still have more than 90 miles to go.
It was getting dark anyway. I calmed the pace down a bit and bimbled on up the next pass, aiming just to enjoy the running. It was a lovely clear night. What I remember most from that night is the lights; the little pool of frosty blue from my headtorch picking out the stones and occasional cobalt flash of a gentian in the track ahead; the bright yellow glare of the reflective markers; the swaying dancing stream of torches following behind as I rounded a hairpin and looked back; the pinpricks of stars wheeling overhead. And finally, from above, the welcoming lights of Courmayeur spread out across the tarry blackness of the valley.
Nearly halfway, and it hadn't gone too badly so far. I had dropped down a fair number of places through the night, but I was still far higher than I had ever expected to be. On up the next hill, the night sky beginning to fade just a little. As I rose above the tree line the path flattened out, contouring along the side of a valley. It was a beautiful part of the course, with spectacular views as the sun gradually warmed the snow-crowned Mont Blanc massif on the other side of the valley. Humbled by the great beauty of the mountain, it felt a privilege to be running free amidst such splendour.
At the head of the valley we climbed out of the cool shade and into the hot sun on the Col du Grand Ferret. Frankly that felt considerably less like a privilege, for it was tough work on a sultry morning. I had to take my pleasure from the challenge of pushing myself on upwards instead, and managing to pick off a couple of the runners who had overtaken me earlier.
From there to Champex I could have been running the race alone. There must have been runners not far ahead, but I saw none, and those behind weren't catching me. Champex seemed to take an age to come though. I hadn't had a chance to come out to make a reconnaissance of the route, and although I had glanced at the map and profile of the course I hadn't taken much of it in. Most of the time, I hadn't the faintest idea of what I would see round the next corner. A nice runnable descent into a shady valley? A checkpoint with cool drinks and welcome food? Or a painful steep rocky downhill to jolt the knees? A heat-drenched slog up yet another unending pass? It made it much more of an adventure not knowing what was coming next.
Eventually, after a long climb through woods that I hadn't remembered at all from the map, Champex turned up, and with it a welcome respite for a few minutes to bolt some food. Then on once more. Only 42 km to go! Barely a marathon – I was pretty much on the home straight. Climbing through thin sun-spattered woods towards the next pass I heard voices ahead. A group of runners were ahead of me, and I was gradually catching them. I soon overhauled a couple of them, more slowly passed the third. Just one more ahead. Head down and a bit more climbing, and another glance up to check on progress. Head down again. Hmmm, hang on a minute – those legs ahead were considerably more shapely than the others I had just passed. Not as hairy either. They must belong to Lizzy Hawker – there wouldn't be any other girls this high up in the pack.
It was good to see her. We ran together for a while, until I could no longer match her remarkable pace and she disappeared off into the distance again. Not far to go now though - but the organisers had saved one last challenge for the end, adding a new 2500 foot climb to the course on the last leg. It nearly did for me, for by now my legs really were hammered. The climb itself wasn't too bad, but the subsequent traverse was on uneven, rocky terrain that was tough going.
Eventually the last checkpoint appeared. Downhill from here to the finish – another 3000 foot descent. Glancing back I could see another runner not far behind. He was running well, catching up fast. I lengthened out my stride, though I didn't hold much hope of holding him off the way my legs were feeling now. My increased pace did let me catch and pass another runner though, much to my surprise – but I guess everyone has pretty sore legs by that point on the course.
The descent seemed to go on forever, for the path traversed the valley side and only lost height slowly. Then, suddenly, it dipped, and there we were on the outskirts of Chamonix. As I turned onto the main street, I saw behind me the runner again. He was flying. I desperately took the pace up again... but just 300m from the finish line he sprinted past. Could I really manage a finishing sprint after 103 miles? My legs said no way, my mind said well you might as well see what happens, and I gave it a go. With the crowds cheering us both on I caught him with 50m to go, only for him to respond with a last gasp that saw us cross the line together in a photo finish for 16th place.
I had really just come out for the twin joys of spending time in the mountains and of taking on a bit of a challenge, so I was surprised and delighted to get a decent placing into the bargain. Jez Bragg and Matthew Davis weren't far behind me - but luckily we do have the girls to keep us humble. Lizzy had finished 20 min ahead of me to win the ladies race several hours ahead of her nearest rival. In the even longer 'Petit Trotte a Lyon', Mandy Calvert had been in the first team home that wasn't all male, and in the 50 mile 'CCC', Lucy Colquhohn also took first ladies place with another staggering margin of victory. Us lads have some catching up to do.
If you are thinking of giving it a go yourself next year, don't hesitate. It's an amazing experience, and although it is tough, you might just surprise yourself. You definitely won't regret it. Go for it!
