The Ultratrail Tour du Mont Blanc Race Revisited

2007

“The 10km is a race. The marathon is an experience. The ultra is an adventure” (Bryan Hacker)

Murdo McEwan

The Ultratrail Tour du Mont Blanc Race (UTMB) is undoubtedly a Big Adventure in almost every aspect. Very different from a “Turn up on the day, pay £2, run for an hour, eat a Mars Bar afterwards” kind of event. Each has its undoubted attractions. But with the UTMB there is the strange dichotomy that while for each of the individuals taking part it is a monumental undertaking, each individual is himself a very small part of a very large gathering. There are a few events which are longer in distance, but they generally attract only a tiny handful of participants. UTMB combines Big Distance with Big Numbers and ~ for very good measure ~ throws in some of the finest scenery in Europe.

I was fortunate to have my entry accepted in January. This gave me almost 8 months to prepare myself physically and, almost more importantly, mentally for what I had let myself in for. We would be circumnavigating the Mont Blanc massif in an anti-clockwise direction starting in Chamonix (France) on Friday 24 August at 18:30hrs.; then round through to Courmayeur (Italy), over to Champex-en-lac (Switzerland), and on to finish back in Chamonix prior to the 46 hour cut-off limit on Sunday 26 August at 16:30hrs. This is now the 5th year of the event, and each year the organisers refine things slightly with the benefit of experience, and plus feedback from participants. The major change this year was the increase in distance by 5kms, from 158kms to 163kms. No great significance in terms of kms, but in terms of miles it brought it up from 98½ to just over 101 miles. Most of this extra distance was effected by having an extra loop in the early stages which would take us down (see later!) to the town of St Gervais, via La Charme, then ascending again to rejoin the previous route near Les Contamines (@18 miles). The extra loop added another c. 1,500ft of descent and 1,500ft of ascent. Again, no particular significance in this except that with a total ascent of 29,200ft we would now be going up a bit further than the summit of Mt Everest from sea level, rather than previously doing a little bit less ~ and, by descent, going all the way back down by the same amount. Added attractions………… Added concerns……..

One consequence of it now being a “full” 100 miles is that American interest in the event suddenly mushrooms to the extent that several of their Top Guns make the journey across. This includes Scott Jurek, Karl Meltzer, Hal Koerner, and Dean Karnazes. Between them they have numerous world class wins and records to their names. They will be taking on all the winners of the previous four UTMB races – Dawa Sherpa (2003), Vincent Delebarre (2004), Christophe Jacquerod (2005), and Marco Olmo at 58 years of age in 2006. Likely front contenders amongst the 95 strong British contingent include Mark Hartell, Stephen Pyke and Alun Powell. It promises to be a battle royal at the front end ~ and the press releases / marketing hype are making the most of it. The Ladies race also promises to be a trans-Atlantic tussle between last year’s winner Karine Herry of France, and Nikki Kimball of the USA. All this front runner excitement was somewhat academic insofar as I was concerned, but I thought it would be nice if some of their talent could rub off on me. If only! In any event, though, I feel it is an enormous privilege for me to be fit and healthy enough to be on the start line (an achievement in itself) in the company of such individuals, and to be surrounded by so many like-minded people. No Mickey Mouse costumes or token “Celebrities” here; it’s all pretty serious stuff. There will be 2,319 of us on the start line, including 174 ladies. 44 different nationalities will be represented. c 70% are French, down to 2 runners from Iceland, and solo entries from countries as diverse as Morocco, Finland, Liechtenstein and Turkey.

In the 8 months leading up to the event it almost goes without saying that many hours were spent in training. Runs tended to be in hours duration rather than miles covered. Typical runs were of c 3 hours with c 4,500ft of ascent and descent. A short run would be 2 hours. Longer runs tended to be c 6 hours to c 10 hours. Many people would be doing much more than this, or would be counting in miles rather than hours, and doing anything up to 150 miles per week. I didn’t have the time or the physical energy to be doing anything like that. It’s really up to each individual to work out how much he can handle. Overtraining can easily lead to injury and layoff. Better, I felt, to be a bit on the conservative side. Many (almost all enjoyable) trips to the high Scottish hills: Cairngorms, Lochnagar, Mamores, Nevis range etc. Anything with hills and trails to reasonably replicate the terrain the race would involve. But Scottish hill weather can be fickle. One day in early June in driving rain and near zero visibility had me descending off the Cairngorm plateau down to the western shore of Loch Etchachan. Fortunately my compass reading / navigation was spot on. Several weeks later I was back. This time descending the main track from the summit of Ben Macdui down to Loch Etchachan. I looked across to what had been my line of descent. Did I really get down that? And in one piece? Hmmm……. Scary………..

And so to the 95 mile West Highland Way race on 23 June. A great event, to which I am very attached ~ but so much a cosy “family affair” of just over 100 runners compared to the scale of UTMB. WHW went very much to plan and I felt pretty good throughout the journey; a great boost to morale and positive vibes. Three weeks of relative rest followed. Then the plan was to revert to four weeks of pretty intense activity prior to taking it easy for the last two weeks leading up to UTMB. But, with three weeks to go, I felt absolutely stuffed to the point of exhaustion. Another intense week would in all probability lead to injury / lay off. Also at this point, huge self-doubt was creeping in. I generally felt fine after my 3 hour runs, but the thought of doing ten of these one after the other non-stop became mind-numbing. The enormity of the undertaking was gnawing away at my self-belief, and sapping my confidence to the point of destruction. I voiced my concerns to trusted friends who would know what I was experiencing – themselves no strangers to Big Runs. They knew exactly the turmoil I was going through. Focus on the positives; focus on what I’m good at; focus on the feel-good factor when passing people. Their words of wisdom and advice were to bounce round my head for much of the race.

Various aims, objectives and targets came into play – the overriding one being to finish, to complete the journey. Then there was the challenge of bettering last year’s time of 32 hours 37 minutes. Not so easy with the extra distance and ascent / descent this time. A host of other targets ~ some wildly optimistic and, for me, unrealistic. Others were more minor ‘box-ticking’ type successes along the way.

I’m now getting registered and officially logged in. Registration is, like everything else, a Big Process. A bit like snakes and ladders. You pass through various stages. If everything isn’t to their satisfaction, you go back to the beginning again. Firstly a check against my passport to check that I am indeed me. (We have to carry passports for the duration of the race because of passing through different countries and in / out / in the EEC). Then I have the compulsory kit check. Full length leggings, waterproof top, 2 torches, 2 sets of spare batteries, whistle, hat, survival blanket, crepe bandage, 1 litre minimum water supply, food reserves, and a 20 Euro banknote. The banknote is a deposit for the electronic chip that is fitted to my fluorescent pink coloured wrist band. Another innovation this year. The wrist band is the same as those you get when going into hospital for an operation, and is very carefully fitted onto my wrist ~ not too tight, not too loose. This will be on my wrist for the duration until I complete, or until I pull out. Upon return of the electronic chip I will get my 20 Euros back. As we reach each checkpoint we are to wave our wristband over a screen. It makes a beeping noise which records our arrival. This in turn updates my progress on the race website www.ultratrailmb.com for all to see. And Jo has signed up for a text messaging service, so that the beep will also trigger an automatic text message to her mobile phone telling her of my arrival at such-and-such a checkpoint at such-and-such a time. All very clever stuff. Finally I get my goodie bag which includes a distinctive olive green coloured polartec race T- shirt. (My prize for getting this far in the proceedings!). Needless to say, before the day is out there will be hundreds of folk wandering round town wearing their new olive green shirts.

Tomorrow is race day and I am scheduled to be as docile as possible. It is spent eating croissants and large bowls of porridge whilst packing, unpacking, rearranging, repacking and generally fiddling around with my kit many times over. I’m not that nervous or scared by it all ~ nothing like 3 weeks ago. Kind of resigned to my fate. And I volunteered to do this for pleasure…………….

“Any idiot can run a marathon. It takes a special kind of idiot to run an ultra-marathon” (Alan Cabelly)

Race start. I’m well positioned. Not in the front line with the elite, but not too far back in the throng of 2,319 fellow travellers. We’ve listened to 40 minutes of speeches encouraging us to be brave, to respect the environment, to respect each other, and many other exhortations (all in French). At last the hooter hoots, and we’re off! I’m feeling good (though I have certainly felt better), but by no means invincible. No one – even the best – can be sure that they will complete the distance. But I’m now looking forward to what’s in store ~ a great frame of mind to be in. In many ways for me there is no competition against these other people, just against the distance. Can I complete it?

“No matter how well you know the course, no matter how well you may have done in a given race in the past, you never know for certain what lies ahead on the day you stand at the starting line waiting to test yourself once again. If you did know, it would not be a test; and there would be no reason for being there.” (Dan Baglione)

We’ve left the crowds of Chamonix behind and are trotting en masse along a delightful woodland trail for the 5 mile section to Les Houches where I am greeted vigorously and vociferously by Saltire flag waving Bev and Bobby. Whilst this certainly gives me a personal boost, I’m soaked with sweat already, and the journey’s hardly begun. A bit of self-doubt creeps in. In the excitement of it all, have I blasted off too quickly, to be paid for later?

But, gaining altitude, on the first 2,600ft ascent, it cools. That’s good; I had been banking on that ~ a small victory. The weather is superb with Alpine views fit to die for. I focus on the splendour all around me and without giving it much thought or particular effort am soon at La Charme summit (501st position). The St Gervais ‘extra loop’ beckons, and has been well flagged up as being a steep and continuous 3,000ft descent. I look down at my feet. Just in front of my toes are the twinkling lights of St Gervais. Not so much a descent as a knee jerking, toe crunching, near vertical drop. I’ve planned to play it gingerly. Others flow down at great speed. I trot, reasonably relaxed, the whole way. Many pass me. I don’t worry about it. Emerging into the clamour, noise and bustle of St Gervais (12 miles; 571st position), I have accomplished my first “target” ~ to get here without putting the torch on. That’s good for morale. Been on the go for nearly 3 hours; 12 miles covered; 3,100 ft ascended; 3,800 ft descended. A fairly typical training run / duration. But this time it’s only about a tenth of the journey. Mustn’t think about it in these terms.

It’s now dark. There’s a few bits on the flat, but for much of the next 12 miles we will be ascending (c 5,000ft in all) the whole time to the summit of the first of our 8,000 footers, the Col du Bonhomme. It gets cooler, but what an evening! The ¾ moon is almost orange; the black jaggedy profile of the mountains; a ribbon of meandering head torches spelling out the route to the Col. Mostly brisk walking; running wouldn’t be much quicker; very difficult to pass folk on the narrow rough track, and even rougher off it ~ would use up loads more energy. Cross a snow field cautiously. The terrain is increasingly rough and bouldery. Grey and brown predominate the ground colours. But occasionally there’s a splash of purple. A clump of harebells. The further up we go, the deeper the shade of purple seems to get. And each group seems to be a cluster of six to a dozen flower heads. And we runners / walkers - we too seem to be moving in clusters of six to a dozen in number. Maybe it’s a group preservation / safety-in-numbers thing that we and harebells have in common. I wonder if anyone’s done a study on it. And I wonder what other folk are thinking about as we progress along. With my mind thus occupied, and having not paused at all, I’m now at the Col du Bonhomme (@8,000ft), having passed through La Balme checkpoint (453rd) en route.

Then it all kind of goes wrong. We still have to ascend a bit from the Col. That’s okay. But the descent is a nightmare. Exhaled breath in the cold air is steaming up my specs. giving thick pea soup clarity on where my feet are going. Stumbling downwards, jarring toes, others flow down in carefree abandon. Take my specs. off. No longer looking through thick pea soup, but find it just as hard to focus on the ground. I choose the wrong rock to land on. It gives way. I fall over. Rolling down the hill. Pass several folk. Right elbow whacks on a boulder. I come to a sudden stop. Lie there dazed. Not sure what damage might be done. Other guys stop. In fact all the guys around me stop. They’re all French, but I can understand the concern in their voices. Am I all right? My poles? One is located up where I fell. The other has travelled twice as far as me. We’re re-united. I’m okay. Continue down. Reflect on the incident ~ decide that the positives outweigh the negatives. I’m not badly injured after all; and what a great bunch of guys. They all stopped and helped to sort out my predicament. No passing by on the other side and pretending not to notice. Great camaraderie; fellow spirits on this wide ocean of a journey.

But I’m way behind any kind of schedule. Stagger in to Les Chapieux (30 miles; 522nd) feeding station. Meet Jo very briefly. She’s been here for 2½ hours. Her bus leaves in 5 minutes. At least we do get to meet, and she’ll know I’m (relatively) in one piece. Wolf down some potato noodle soup; but may as well press on rather than linger. The next 8,000 footer (Col de la Seigne) beckons, to take us all the way back up again, starting with c 3 miles of minor tarmac road. Switch off the torch. Stride along passing loads of folk and being guided by the stars and moon. What a sight. A rare privilege indeed. Morale has bounced right back.

Col de la Seigne (@ 8,250ft; 36 miles; 455th). Now another descent a la Bonhomme. But this time it is neither so vicious nor so long. The pre-dawn light is almost on the horizon. Compared to others my descent is on the slow side, but not pathetic. Next checkpoint. Bleak Refuge Elisabetta (39 miles; 468th) . More potato noodle soup, and quickly away. Flat terrain now alongside glacial Lac Combal. It’s not really light at all, but light enough to progress along without using the torch. I run it all, and pass several weary walkers. Great to be away from the near vertical descents in the dark. A new day is starting. Now a 1,500ft climb to Arete du Mont-Favre checkpoint. By craning my neck upwards I can see the checkpoint tent up on the skyline. Brisk walk up to get there (42 miles). Not far now to Courmayeur – which will be almost half way; a major watering hole, and meet up with Jo. I’ve mapped out the route in my head, but this next bit got omitted. There’s a huge arc of a descent and then ascent which hadn’t come into my mindset. Grrrrr. The euphoria gets a bit of a kick-in-the-teeth. But it is pleasant enough going ~ how gracious of me; the views are majestic.

Half way down the 4,100ft descent I pause at Col Checrouit Maison Vielle checkpoint ( 430th ). One of the highlights (for some folk) of the race is that there’s a belly dancer performing here. Unfortunately for me it is 07:25hrs, and she’s not on duty yet. But folk further back in the field will get a welcome distraction. Should take their minds off their self-suffering. With no belly dancer to look at, I see one of the (very few at this hour) spectators looks kind of familiar to me. “Excuse me, are you Lizzy?” I ask tentatively. She is indeed. Lizzy Hawker ~ Great Britain’s winning lady in this event 2 years ago, and current world 100km champion. Brief chat about mutual chums, and I’m on my way down, all perked up.

Drop down into Courmayeur (48 miles; 401st) feeling good. Jo’s there, and all organised (as always!). She’s sussed out where the loos are (very important!), and the feeding area ~ so we can manage a reasonably quick turnaround without wasting valuable time. Change from night time mode of thinking to day time mode ~ it’s the start of a new day, just forget that we’ve been on the go all night, it’s been and gone. Word has been buzzing around that many of the front runners have been wilting; and I too am wilting a bit on the long relentless 2,600ft climb from Courmayeur to Refuge Bertone. A muscle in my left calf which started niggling on the very first climb c 12 hours ago is still niggling. My damaged elbow is throbbing. And my quads (thigh) muscles now feel like they are seizing up with all the descending / ascending that they’ve been subjected to. Am I totally falling to bits? There’s no medical facility for many miles. Various options are analysed during the ascent. A) Self-massage of the quads B) Do a few stretching exercises to try and loosen up the quads. C) Just continue and see how it goes. D) Go back down to Courmayeur and get medical attention. E) Go back down to Courmayeur and drop out.

“It’s very hard in the beginning to understand that the whole idea is not to beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants you to quit.” (George Sheehan)

But having just come up c 2,000ft by now (I’ve been ascending continuously all this time, my eyes glued to the heels of a Frenchman immediately in front) there’s no way I’m going down again, so D and E get rejected immediately. Try option B, but the tweaky calf muscles squeal with displeasure at this, so I go for C and press on through Refuge Bertone checkpoint (51 miles; 347th) on to Refuge Bonatti. Walking along quite happily. Maybe should be running more on these fastish bits, but don’t want to aggravate the calves or quads. The assortment of wild flowers is amazing, and the mountains to the left are crystal clear in the bright sunlight. All those Aiguilles. A much more evocative word than Needles, as in the Isle of Wight.

Refuge Bonatti checkpoint (55 miles; 355th). “Hello, Murdo; how are you doing?” (My name and nationality are on my race number.) What a nice friendly greeting! I look around. Several folk are slumped exhausted at the benches. Others are asleep on the ground. For all my aches and pains I can’t be nearly as badly off as them. “Pretty good, thanks.” And, indeed, I do feel pretty good now. A quick drink and kit sort-out, and I’m away ~ the race film helicopter buzzing around disturbing the peace, quiet and ambience of these tranquil surroundings.

More running now for the long descent to Arnuva ( 58 miles; 350th) – a much more major checkpoint than Bonatti, with full medical aid in attendance. The calves and quads are no worse; decide, on balance, to press on. And somehow, mentally, I’ve turned a big corner. “Only” 43 miles to go. Still quite a long way, but I’m starting to feel that it is surmountable; and last year I really enjoyed this next stretch. The huge ascent to Col Ferret looms (@ 8,323ft the highest point on the whole course) and I’m ready and willing to tackle it with the mantra of Lance Armstrong, and Jez’s words of motivation, buzzing round my head. “I like hills”. I seem to be striding while all around me are plodding laboriously. Col Ferret (314th) Goodbye Italy. Welcome Switzerland, and 10 miles of gradual descent. Haven’t really been paying any attention to time-on-the-clock. On arrival at Courmayeur I had been about an hour behind last year’s time which had been rather depressing – though I had done the ‘extra’ St Gervais loop this time - so I’d rather shoved the time factor to the back of my brain. However, a few rough and ready mental calculations indicate that I’m now catching up on last year’s schedule; and if I can finish the relentless grinding descent to Trient (still many hours away) in daylight, that will be a major boost both to morale and to time.

Spurred on, and approaching La Fouly check (66 miles; 301st). “Murdo!” Jo is here, and Bev, and the aforementioned Jez. What a great boost and unexpected bonus. But the next check / watering hole is 10 miles away so I stoke up on a couple of bits of Swiss chocolate and more soup. The soup is dispensed from an amazing receptacle just like a witches cauldron in Macbeth. Can’t dally, though, and I’m soon off. The weather is fabulous; the scenery superb; lush Alpine meadows; languid grazing cattle with tinkling cow bells; lots of cries of “Bravo!” from people out and about enjoying the sunshine; criss-cross the river several times on the gradual descent. Who could fail to be uplifted and inspired by the surroundings? What a great place for a run! I’m now crossing one of the wooden slatted bridges along with another runner. It wobbles violently up and down, completely out of sync with my footfalls. Glad I’m not feeling sick or it could be messy. Pass through the sleepy village of Issert. The fields all have irrigation taps; I resist the urge to have a head shower under one of them. Gradually passing folk in ones and twos, but – to put me in my place – two guys out on a training run, and nothing to do with the race, go bounding past me uphill on the long haul up to Champex-Lac. This reminds me that though I’m progressing well enough, the pace is pretty pedestrian. Not surprising, as the 1,000ft ascent through the woods to Champex-Lac seems to go on and on and on.

But once at Champex-Lac (76 miles; 261st) it is all very slick and well organised. Jo and Bev are on hand to help with shoes and shirt change. Uninterested in food, but gulp down some Complan, I head off positively towards Bovine. Bovine – reached via a 2,250 ft jumbled rocky ascent crossing glacial meltwater rivers and making tortuously slow (but constant) progress – is a remote hill farm that must have one of the most panoramic views in Europe when it’s not raining, which is probably most of the time. There’s a breathtaking vista of Alpine peaks as far as the eye can see round for c 270 degrees. Several folk stop to take photos. I check in (81 miles; 215th) then enjoy the scenery while progressing the last 10 minutes up to the high point before starting the long long descent to Trient.

It’s not too steep, but mainly through forest, and over many tree roots waiting to catch the unwary. Those not in the know (e.g. me last year) think they’ve reached Trient when hitting a road and a cluster of buildings. Afraid not – this is about half way. It now gets steeper and steeper, and darker and darker; but I manage it (just) into Trient checkpoint without using the torch. ( 85 miles; 208th) Another small victory and ego booster, just like @ St Gervais c 24 hours ago. Trient is, I feel, the liveliest most party-atmosphere checkpoint of all. Half of the large marquee is given over to tables and chairs for the locals enjoying a drink or three. The other half is where we come in, eat, drink, effect running repairs on body / kit, then depart again. We’re basically the actors on stage providing the entertainment. So, as I trot in, the Master of Ceremonies announces my arrival over the sound system “Merdoo McCooen”. My full registration details and progress to date are flashed up on screen for all to see (no data protection here!). Next thing I know and a slightly crackly Scotland the Brave is blasting out over the sound system. Dressed in my tartan shorts and Saltire flag vest I duly oblige by giving a short (and very badly executed) jig to great applause and lots of cries of “Bravo!” I heard afterwards that an Australian runner was similarly serenaded, to the strains of Waltzing Matilda.

Now it is out into the night, and the last relentless climb of 2,500ft ~ the steepest on the whole course ~ to high altitude Catogne check, and the border back into France. I ascend briskly enough with three Frenchmen. Several others start just afterwards, but we soon leave their torches well in our wake as we progress zigzagging up without pause. Just near the high point we see a guy lying prostrate beside the trail. With 4 torches pinpointed on him he wakes up and mumbles that he is okay. @ c 6,500ft altitude it’s a pretty dumb place to have a snooze, I reckon. Remote Catogne – just a small tent with a manual race numbers check, so no instant signal flashed through to the race website. It’s strange, but tonight the moon (again brilliantly bright) is white coloured. Quite different to the orange of last night. Now down down down to Vallorcine. There’s a lot of head torches hereabouts, but I seem to leave them all behind ~ what a contrast to the Col du Bonhomme descent. I guess that others are getting tired and slowing, rather than me getting quicker. However, to put me in my place, a couple of guys shoot past me from nowhere and quickly disappear ahead. Completely different league.

Vallorcine (91 miles; 196th). Only 10 miles to go, and only some relatively minor climbs left. It’s certainly not The End but for the first time there’s a real sense of being able to “smell” The End. No more knee-jarring descents, and no great likelihood of a nasty tumble. But one runner is lying prostrate on a bench with two medics tut-tutting over the state of his horribly mangled feet. Another sits staring into space, as if he’s asleep but with his eyes open. By way of contrast my feet are A1 fine – totally blemish free; and I’m feeling as frisky as a flea. Aren’t I just so lucky?! Moreover, their weakness seems to give me added strength. I’m feeling great, and on a roll. The various aches and pains and self-pity have receded right into the background, and I set off again just as the guys I left behind on the descent come in the door.

It’s uphill, but an awkward gradient. Too steep for running (at this stage of proceedings), but a bit too gentle to walk the whole time. I stride along. No sign of any torches ahead until I pass one slow moving walker just before the Col des Montets. The lights of the Chamonix valley are now spread out ahead. I know what’s in store. I know the underfoot conditions. I know the twists and turns. Running confidently I hit the final checkpoint, Argentiere, at reasonable pace. (95 miles; 193rd). And a great surprise awaits me here. Mr. Motivator himself in person, Jez. “Hey, Murdo, you look great; other guys ahead are ripe for passing. Go for it!” So I’m on a chase and heading for home. What an adrenalin rush!

I quickly pass two who are walking, then another who is running half-heartedly. Then for a while there are no torches ahead. My own torch batteries are dying. I’ve carried spares throughout, but don’t want to spend time changing to new ones now. Calculate, and hope, they won’t expire completely before The End. Another reason to proceed nippily. Through La Lavancher, passing another at speed. Be sure to give him no chance to come back at me. Through Les Bois, taking care on all the exposed tree roots; don’t want a big tumble now.

“When you are 99 miles into a running race, your brain is not the same brain you started with”. (Paul Huddle)

Too true! What a contrast between what’s buzzing round the head now compared to when on the start line. The lights of Chamonix are ahead - over the river; under the road; past the tennis courts; two more places gained. Then it’s into the home straight, a Cooks tour round the town centre streets to the Place du Triangle de l’Amitie where the whole adventure started 31 hours and 41 minutes ago.

No enormous crowds, but an amazing number of people to cheer us in @ c 02:15hrs on a Sunday morning; even including the Race Director herself, Catherine Poletti. She graciously poses for a photo with me, though I’m sure she has matters of greater import on her mind than the hyper-excited-kid-loose-in-a-sweetie-shop beaming in self satisfaction beside her. Turned out to be a great picture of her, but a dreadful one of me.

It’s handshakes and embraces all round with others who are finishing. Some I recognise from many hours back; others are more recent. There’s a mutual recognition and appreciation of the journey we have all completed. The shared experience of having achieved something a bit extra ordinary.

The winner finished hours ago. He will already have had a well earned snooze. But the tail end heroes will still be out for another numbing 14 hours. Jo and I are back in the Place du Triangle 14 hours later watching the last arrivals. The winner is on the podium and has received his well-earned awards. The final heroes stagger to the line. The winner descends from the stage, and helps them mount the steps to huge acclaim. The First and the Last, united in their respective achievements. Vangelis music is blasting over the sound system. A very emotional moment.

For myself it is time to reflect on what went well (Do again), and what didn’t go so well (Back to the drawing board). Plenty of positives: Completing the journey; managing to pull through the bad spells; good ascending throughout; feeling strong and positive for the last 43 miles from Arnuva, and passing lots of folk; avoiding unnecessary dithering and time wasting @ checkpoints; suitable clothing and kit throughout; finishing in 187th position in 31:41, against 197th in 32:37 (over a shorter distance) last year. Then there are the negatives: a) Descents in the dark through the first night - need to do some appropriate night training runs. b) Food intake. Whilst I kept pretty well hydrated with fluids throughout (including soups and Complan), I hardly ate any food at all. In fact total food intake (in bits and pieces along the way) came to c 3 bananas, a medium sized bar of plain chocolate, and (reluctantly) two small cupfuls of pasta. Hardly enough to keep a mouse going! I need to give some thought to, and would benefit from some advice on, this important subject. Having said that, I wasn’t particularly wanting food, and didn’t suffer at all from stomach cramps / sickness like a lot of folk.

Of the 2,319 folk who started the race (including 174 ladies), 1,437 (including 95 ladies) completed the full distance within the time limit. And the elite runners, mentioned at the start of this write-up - how did they fare? Mixed fortunes indeed. Scott Jurek pulled out @ 48 miles when in 14th position; Karl Meltzer pulled out @ 85 miles when in 12th position; Hal Koerner pulled out @ 48 miles when in 9th position; Dean Karnazes finished in 47th position in 27:36; Dawa Sherpa finished in 5th position in 23:00; Vincent Delebarre pulled out @ 60 miles when in 5th position; Christophe Jacquerod finished in 6th position in 23:40; Mark Hartell pulled out @ 48 miles when in 227th position; Stephen Pyke pulled out @ 30 miles when in 141st position; Alun Powell finished in 8th position in 23:51. Nikki Kimball won the ladies race (19th place overall) in 25:23, nearly two hours ahead of second placed lady Monica Aguilera; Karine Herry was 3rd lady in 29:06. Age and experience reign supreme, however, with 59 year old Marco Olmo winning the race for the second year running in 21:31, well ahead of 2nd placed Jens Lukas in 22:23, and third placed Nicholas Mermoud (who had lead all the way for the first 76 miles) in 23:30.

What an event! What an adventure!
Murdo McEwan; August 2007