So, my first DNF in my first 100 miler. It'll get to my excuses momentarily with a full race report, but I thought I would start with a quick thank you to all my friends and family for your sponsorship and kind words both before and since the day of the race. The grand total sits at 2898 pounds, it's a solid total for a cause that means a lot to the family so thanks once more.
So the race. I failed it, which is a complete bugger as it means I'll have to come back and try it again, sponsorship free to make it up to all those who supported my efforts. Chamonix itself was like nothing I've ever experienced before, the race itself likewise. UTMB was meant to kick off at 6.30pm but on the day of the event the start was postponed until 11.30pm. An odd and slightly unnerving time to head into the forbidding unknown of the mountains, but as I would be with two thousand or so other hardy fools I figured it should be ok. And so at 11pm I arrived at the start line to mill around with the other runners until kick off. In typical style the weather that had been so fine all week had turned to a fairly consistent rain and reportedly snow and freezing temperatures in the high passes. Something my training in 35 degrees and 95% humidity had not really prepared me for, so I found myself dressed in all of my cold weather gear on the start line, what would have been a preposterous idea in the warm weather just a few days before.
So, dressed in similar fashion and with similar athletic ability to the Michelin man, we counted down from ten in grandiose fashion to some even more grandiose music, the gun went off and we were off!! And then nothing happened. For us slow back of the packers, honestly we just stood there. It took 5 minutes for me to cross the start line, slow even by my standards. After much milling around it became apparent that the streets were only wide enough for 5-10 people, so with 2500 starting it understandably took a long while to get moving. and it was still cold, and still raining. Anticlimax doesn't quite cover it.
Anyway, we eventually started to move forward at a walk, then a shuffle and then, about 500 metres in I broke into a very relaxed jog aware, I thought, of what lay ahead and desperate to conserve energy. The start was quite fun until I started to be victimised by the crowd. I was wearing a pair of clear oakleys which apparently give me the appearance of Ali G. As pointed out by a couple of drunk brits 'It's Ali G!' they called out with great Wit. Very proud of themselves. Fuck off, I thought, whilst smiling and pretending to think it was all a great joke. A few hundred metres on and about 1.5k into the race, yet another English person called me Ali G. Right this is getting annoying I thought. And then, to compound the impact upon my fragile ego, every bloody French person on the way joined in. 'Ali' they called, mocking my appearance. Where's the support this race is famous for I thought They all looked very happy as they stand there mocking me. A couple of them even waving and shouting 'Ali Nicholas'. I was a couple of Ali's from snapping, when I realised that the French supporters were in fact shouting 'Allez', or 'go!'. I felt a little silly and regretted a few of my more choice responses to the supporters, so head down, a little embarrassed, I pushed on.
The first 10k to Les Houches was relatively flat road and trail so after adopting my customary position at the back of the field I drifted along quite happily at a jog. The first uphill was a steady winding road, back and forth, up and up and quite pleasant. I passed a lot of people on this uphill as I walked at a steady, driving pace. My HK hill walking and running kicking in quite nicely to push me up to Delevret at 14k. The downhill was another matter.
As we started to descend it became apparent that heavy rainfall and 2499 other runner passing before me did not create good conditions for walking down mountains. I attacked the downhill with all the elegance of Kung Fu Panda. My shiny red Salomon SLABS are not mud shoes. The comfort and grip I had experienced on the Mac in Hong Kong summer time deserted me pretty fast in the muddy rainy alps and I managed 3 pretty rough falls going down this first hill. At one point I managed to do something like the splits, pivoting onto my right shoulder, hitting a bump before gliding elegantly down the mountainside on my head. To say it wasn't pretty is an understatement. The other two falls were less dramatic and involved me gliding down calmly on my back, on one occasion I overtook my poles and had a few anxious moments trying to dig them out of the mud on the hillside. Normally I would laugh off the odd fall, it's part and parcel of long distance events off road that when you're tired you have trouble keeping your footing, but these conditions were treacherous and I was a tad worried about what was to come. Anyway, onwards and upwards I thought, 'Allez Kung Fu Panda'.
I arrived at the first at the first checkpoint in Saint Gervais in good order other than my 50% mud coating and I was really surprised to see people queueing at the desk to drop out. I knew I would struggle with this race, but 21k in was not a challenge other than the conditions. Perhaps the organisers were on to something with all of the mandatory gear. I don't think everyone was prepared for his event.
I had decided on a strategy to push through aid stations for the first half of the race, generally it's nice to have the support but I have always found it too big a temptation to stay in the warm with a nice cup of tea and biscuit rather than the horrible cold darkness of the mountains. So I manned up a little bit and pushed on. The next 10k to Notre Dame Gorge was a nice mix of walking the uphills and running the flats and downs and I really started to enjoy the race. My only issue at this stage was the cold, I'd got pretty wet with my falls and sweaty with my michelin layers, so every time I stopped the damp conditions had me shaking uncontrollably. I was pretty worried but decided that as I was warm when moving that was the best strategy and if I could get through until morning I should be ok in the sun. So on I went up the climb to Croix Du Bonhomme and bugger me was it a big one.
I walked up and up, sometimes in single file for two hours. It just went on and on, but I felt good and started to pass people. Not one of two people but hundreds of them. There were a lot of strugglers on this one and there was a steady stream of people passing the other way, decided for their own reasons and because of their own demons that enough was enough. I think the late start and the weather had more of an impact on this race than even the hills, but that's my opinion. The psychological impact of such changes cannot be underestimated in a mountain hundred miler. Although I was passing many people at this stage at will, I develop a battle against my own nemesis. A 65 year old man, perhaps older, much older who walked and ran carrying two big wooden poles. We yo, yo'd for about an hour passing one another until the station at La Balme where I left him for good, sitting, looking relaxed with a cup of tea. Bloody impressive effort.
The descent to Les Chapieux was equally treacherous but I Ku Fung Panda'd down the hill, somehow avoiding any more heavy falls and keeping a modicum of pride in tact. I'm not sure I could have handled anyone asking me if I was ok again as I lay looking at the skies. I cracked in a few glasses of coke and a couple of energy gels and moved on. It was now day time and the warm weather I had hoped for had not materialised. I'd passed a good few hundred people now according to my twitter feeds that I checked later. A pleasing effort and I felt good as I walked strongly towards the summit of Col De La Seigne, through the snow fields. It went on, and on and on some more. I'd always thought the hills in HK would be good preparation for any race but I realised at this stage that these mountains were really somewhere else. As was the weather.
On the way down Col De La Seigne it started to warm up a bit and the footing was much more secure, the gradient a little lighter. I started to feel much better about the descents but I was still a little chilly and shivering each time. I passed by Lac Combal aid station and headed up the next big hill, the Arete Du Mont Favre, a beautiful hill that looked a little like Telly Tubby land, green mounds and a lovely little alpine stream trickling down. I have to say, some of the views and experiences of this race were up there with the best I have ever seen.
This was when the wheels came off. I felt fine going over the top of A Du MF but as I headed down the other side, what should have been a beautiful downhill became one of the most painful experiences of my running life. My right knee simply gave out and for the next two hours I hobbled my way down to Courmayeur, feeling a deep sense of despair as I saw the race going away from me. The final descent to Courmayeur was incredibly steep and I must have been passed by a couple hundred runners, all filled with the urgency and energy I once felt as they headed on down to town, desperate to beat the cut offs. It's the experience of the back of the packer, the race is against yourself and lack of ability, whether you can beat the time limit as opposed to the other competitors.
It's always been a personal battle that I have won, I've never failed to finish a race before and I've always pushed on, but this time I could feel it slipping. So I dropped a load of drugs. That's always helped, but even my monster 75mg diclofenics had no impact and I couldn' walk. I sat down on a bench, overlooking courmayeur and with tears in my eyes I texted the girlfriend who I knew was waiting to see me there. 'C'est finis'. The 6 month dream was over.
So I hobbled down to Courmayeur
I collected by belongings, had my wrist band cut off, had my race number cut up and got the bus back to Chamonix.
My knee has cleared up really well since the race so I am assuming it was my quads that blew up, but my lungs have been more problematic. I was having some breathing difficulty during the race that I had put down to raw fear and cowardice, but it seems that it could have been something more. I developed a mighty chest infection which some horse drug sized tablets are helping with and also some drugs to deal with an infection in my big toe, developed after all of the tough descents drove the nail into the toe itself. In fact, the ordeal in an Italian A&E one evening was probably more scarring than the UTMB. Or the UT, which was what I completed. So until next year, I'll be Not the UTMB Man.
