Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 124, November 2019 | Page 33

TRAIL RUNNING
races to qualify and then make it through the lottery is
years of training and racing. Then you are finally there,
in the beautiful valley of Chamonix, standing with
your race gear and pack, a little terrified and a ‘lottle’
nervous.
The music and atmosphere of the start is electric and
there are thousands of supporters watching. The start
is obviously very slow, with 2600 runners winding their
way through the narrow Chamonix streets. Luckily,
the first 8km to your first water point in Les Houches
– where my amazing supporters, my wife Tash, sister
Mia and daughter Ava were waiting – is flat and on a
pretty open road. This is also the last flat you will see
for the next 160km!
The support from spectators was something I doubt
I will ever see again. Every single person you pass in
every town cheers you on with “Allez, allez, bravo!”
and running through towns or past houses at 2am,
there are people offering runners water and support.
(There were even a few pubs offering beers, but I
reluctantly had to pass.)
Climbing Legs Needed
Your first climb is about 700m up and then 900m
down, and it is just a small taste of the non-stop
climbing and descending that you will go through for
the rest of the race. The checkpoints are very well
organised and stocked, and a bit different to what I
have previously had: A variation of salami, cheese,
bread, chicken soup, crackers, chocolate, cake, Coke,
energy drink, water, coffee and tea at each major
stop. The soup with noodles was great, and later in
the race, it was the only thing I could look at without
wanting to be sick.
The scenery was just incredible. Photos simply don’t
do the scale of those mountains justice! My favourite
part of the race was the first morning at about 58km in.
After climbing for what felt like most of the night – for
those who have done SkyRun, it was like doing Bridal
Pass twice, and you also pass 100s of sleeping runners
along the sides of the trail, but I didn’t want to sleep yet
- I eventually got to the French/Italy border. Fortunately,
no passport checks at 2516m above sea level. And
then, the sun coming up over the valley and mountains
is something I will never forget. How does a guy from
Pretoria end up here? Absolutely breathtaking!
After a few more climbs, you then descend... and
descend... and descend into Courmayeur, the halfway
point. (That’s 78km done!) I did the descent a little
bit too quickly, I think, probably because I knew my
family would be waiting for me, and by the time I ran
into the checkpoint my quads felt a little bit wobbly. I
was ecstatic to see my sister and Ava waiting for me
on the sideline, and after some hugs my sister told me
Tash was waiting inside the checkpoint.
I walked into the chaotic checkpoint, spotted Tash
waving to me, indicated to her I was going to grab some
food before joining her, then I gave her a big sweaty,
happy hug and plopped down on the bench. Having
done this before, my wife lied and told me I looked good,
and started to help me change my clothes and force
feed me, before shoving me out the door with some
tough love. (I had spent longer than I would have liked
there, about an hour). Side note: Thank you, Wifey, for
the fantastic work you did, changing the batteries in my
headlamps, filling up the food in my pack and literally
cleaning my 78km feet with wet wipes!
Respect the Mountains
After leaving the halfway, with morale raised, you
climb about 800m, just to get you back in the groove
again. It was really hot at this point, and I was falling
asleep on my feet under the blazing sun, stumbling
a few times. Emotionally, this was my lowest point of
the race, so I lay down in the cool of the shade, set
my alarm for 15 minutes from then and fell straight to
sleep. I woke up 10 minutes later and felt great, so I
got up and carried on, a lot cooler.
Just before nightfall, there was a sudden storm at
the top of Grand Col Ferret (101km in), with freezing
rain and small stinging hail. I whipped on my rain
pants, and fortunately I had put on my jacket while
climbing, as it gets cold very quickly when you are
above 2400m, but I was soaked and freezing for a
long while, struggling to use my hands at all, feeling
miserable. As always, the mountains show you who is
boss up here.
One of the mistakes I made in the race was that I
swapped my waterproof and very warm gloves at
halfway for my thinner ones. However, others obviously
had it rougher than I did, because many runners were
in the medic tent with space blankets on at the next
checkpoint. This is where my problems started, though.
I wanted to wait until the next checkpoint before
changing my wet socks, but there must have been
some sand in there, too, as my feet were shredded
by the time I swapped them for my spare socks, so I
had many blisters by the time the second night came.
Note to self: Next time wear gaiters!
The second night I also started having extremely vivid,
sleep deprived hallucinations, and for most of the next
morning, too. Nothing horrible, fortunately, most of
them I knew weren’t real immediately, and some were
so real, I could actually hear them, before realising
they weren’t actually there when I got a bit closer or
had a second look. What amazed me the most was
the detail in them, but you acknowledge that you are
having them and you keep on going.
I had a great opportunity to sleep when I got to La
Giete (137km). You walk into the checkpoint and it
is pitch dark in there, with many cots and sleeping
runners. My whole body said sleep, but I wanted my
blisters looked at, and the medic said it would be
best if I carried on to the next major stop in Trient at
142km, where there was a podiatrist. Just another
5km, what is that between friends? So I put on my big
boy pants, filled up my water and limped on.
Painful Experience
By the time I reached Trient, my blisters were so big
I had named them, and we had developed quite a
33