Training Log Archive: Bash

BBC on UTMB
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-23918531

Random scenes from Chamonix today.

We went outside our apartment for awhile to cheer runners who were running right by our place about 500 m from the finish line. Then it occurred to us that we could get cappucino around the corner and cheer them just as easily from an outdoor cafe. Everyone's bib has the name and country printed on it so we could yell out, "Bravo, Didier!" or "You did it, Sara!" The runners would perk up and smile.



It's a pretty nice run through town to the finish line.



We had a farewell Canadian lunch, then bid adieu to Mrs. Gally and Meg-eh, who are heading to Geneva tonight and flying home tomorrow.

Aren't these two cute?



But it was impossible to out-cute Teeny Tiny.



'Bent and I hung out at the finish line for awhile.



Most people ran with family or friends. Some carried their kids across the finish line. Others had flags. There was a lot of emotion.



We saw the last official finishers. And then we saw the people who missed the final cut-off. When I saw these two, I burst into tears.



The man on the left seemed to be helping the other runner, who was twisted over to one side. (We saw 4 people like that. Not sure what was up.) After 46 hours of tough mountain travel, they missed the cut-off by 82 seconds. It broke my heart to think that the healthy man may have sacrificed his race to help another runner - maybe someone he doesn't even know in real life. However, I see they've been given a ranked finish and are listed in the results so perhaps the cut-off isn't 100% strict at the finish. Nice.

Then we watched the awards for overall and age group. As per tradition, the last finishers are brought on stage alongside the overall winners.



Here's a typical sight around town this week. No matter how warm it may get, lots of people find an excuse to wear their fleecy finisher's vests. In this case, certain runners bumped into each other on the street and discovered that they'd both chosen to complement the vest with the race tech shirt.



The men's shirt was made by "The North Face". The women's shirt was made by "The Orth Face".

Exported the UTMB GPX file from Movescount. Note that I was so tired at the end of the race that I didn't get the watch fully turned off so I inadvertently tested its battery life during my bus ride and post-race sleep. I've set the distance and climb to zero to avoid messing with my log stats.

Time was 45:15:22
Distance was 159 km
Climb was 5465 m.

Event: The North Face® Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc®
 

Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc - DNF
168 km, 9600 m elevation gain
Chamonix, France
(GPS track has errors and I didn't turn it off properly at the end.)

Two years ago, Cathy Gallagher announced: "Here's the plan. Next year we run the Canadian Death Race then in 2013, we do Ultra-Trail du Mont Blanc."

My only foray into trail ultrarunning had been the Run for the Toad 50K, and I thought I might try a 50-miler (80 km) in the vague future. UTMB was 168 km (the distance of four marathons) on rugged trails around Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in western Europe, with almost 10,000 m of elevation gain along its route.
Click race course images and then the magnifying glass for larger size.





To say Cathy's plan was a bit of a stretch would be like saying water is a bit wet. Or that the Alps are a bit high or my running shoe collection is a bit excessive.

I loved the idea. My engineering brain appreciated the logic (yes, "logic" - hahaha) of building toward the long term goal of UTMB by working through a series of milestones - the ultra trail races I would need to run to qualify for it. It would be as much about the journey as the destination - and this destination was not just any trail. I've always been drawn to the Alps; I travelled there alone to hike on my 18th birthday, and I've returned half a dozen times since.



Cathy sensibly changed her mind about both races when life got in the way but she came to France with us and had an impressive finish in the 100 km CCC (Courmayeur Champex Chamonix) event.

UTMB is not recommended by *anyone* as a good choice for a first 100-mile trail run, and I knew that. Fortunately, I’m OK with taking on challenges where I might fail. When you’re a masters athlete, the clock is ticking. I’m never confident that I'll be faster or stronger or less injured next year. If I want to try something that may be out of my league, I may as well try it now because it probably won't get easier.

My friend Denise Rispolie, who aced UTMB, said it was more like an adventure race than a 100-mile ultrarun. I knew I could do a 2-day adventure race – in flatter terrain, anyway.

Fast forward two years and seven more trail ultras - two more 50Ks, three 50-milers, one 100K and one 125K (Canadian Death Race). I travelled around North America with friends, enjoyed a Ghirardelli hot fudge sundae in San Francisco, and saw spectacular mountain sunrises. The process of qualifying for UTMB was an excellent adventure.

I convinced my husband Richard Ehrlich to do his first 50-miler last fall to qualify for the 100 km CCC. Our little band of Canadians in Chamonix consisted of Richard, Cathy, Tim Grant and Wanda Prochazka who all tackled CCC while Sean Roper and I entered UTMB.



Various friends and family members joined us.



Sadly, our friend Veronica Jarlehag was unable to use her CCC entry this year for medical reasons but I know she’ll get there eventually, along with her husband Mike Brown.

As adventure athletes, we're accustomed to doing our thing in relative obscurity. When we race somewhere, almost no one is aware of the event, and if locals notice us, they don't know what we're doing. A few of them might be impressed but the majority think we’re crazy. Our parents can’t even brag much about our exploits because their friends’ sons and daughters do respectable, mainstream road marathons that sound more impressive.

By contrast, UTMB is a week-long festival of trail running that takes over an entire region. It’s been called the Superbowl of trail running but to me, it felt more like a Star Trek convention. The event brings together thousands of ultrarunners and their families and friends. The town is crawling with fit-looking tourists. People carry their groceries home in Salomon Skin Packs and wear compression calf sleeves to lunch. No one thinks you're weird, and there’s no need to explain anything.

Local businesses offer discounts to runners and post mandatory gear lists on their walls. High quality trail running gear spills out of store after store. You could arrive without luggage and buy everything you need in a couple of hours – which is exactly what a Canadian acquaintance had to do after her rental car was robbed on the way to Chamonix.

It was night-and-day different from our usual experience. Locals and other tourists were impressed to learn we were runners. They knew exactly what was involved in the event and thought it was cool; they were excited to have it pass through their region. For one fleeting moment in our adventure sport careers, we were rock stars. We puffed our chests out. We got respect. We got 15% off on outdoor gear.

Richard, Cathy and Meg went to Courmayeur, Italy on Thursday so they could be well rested for the 9 a.m. start of CCC on Friday morning. Back in Chamonix, I stayed up late, hoping to sleep in before my 4:30 p.m. start. Alas, I was too excited. Wonderful. All week, I’d had trouble sleeping in the right time zone, and the previous week at home had been bad too – an all-nighter while I managed Wilderness Traverse Race HQ and a couple of 4-hour nights as I rushed through “to do” lists before our departure. Caffeine would be my friend. For future pre-race sleeps, I think I’ll need to start experimenting with sleeping pills.

Sean and I had been told to arrive very early at the start to avoid getting caught behind 2400 racers. There were tales of people taking up to 10 minutes to cross the start line and getting trapped behind long line-ups on single track climbs. Sean is a good runner who aims for good results, and I’m a slow runner who worries about cut-offs so we both wanted to be there early. Heather Brown kindly offered to take our drop bags to HQ so we could do that. When I arrived 90 minutes before the start, the square was already crowded with racers and their families.





I joined other runners sitting on the pavement and noticed Sean several rows ahead of me; he had arrived 2 hours in advance. He’s a red speck in upper left of this photo hiding from the sun under his Canadian flag buff.



We didn’t want to drink too much of our race water, and we hadn’t arrived fully hydrated since we knew washroom breaks would be out of the question. The hot sun in the town square fried us like eggs on a sidewalk. With 20/20 hindsight, it would have been better to arrive later, hide in a shady spot and take the penalty of crossing the start line late. Sean eventually had to drop from the race due to overheating, and I felt a little light-headed for hours after the start.

As 4:30 p.m. got closer, there were speeches and introductions. We all stood up. We held hands. We cheered heartily for things we didn’t quite understand.



Here’s the view behind me in the square – most of the field. That sure didn’t last long! :)



Two minutes before the start, loudspeakers started blaring “1492: Conquest of Paradise”, the song that accompanies some of the UTMB videos.



Before the event, I’d found it a little melodramatic - like “Chariots of Fire”. I would hum the tune and run in slow motion as a joke. But as the opening notes played at the start line, I surprised myself by bursting into tears. Wow, I was really here after two years. I didn’t know how my race would go but I’d earned the right to stand at the start surrounded by runners from around the world while spectators waved flags and cowbells and cheered themselves hoarse in a dozen languages. What a ridiculous high for a very average athlete! It was a little taste of what it must feel like to compete at the Olympics or a major world championship.

Then we were off!



The race travels through Chamonix on roads. There were thousands of spectators in the first few kilometers, cheering and leaning out from behind barricades. They took photos and video and stuck out their hands to high five us. Armed with GoPros and smartphones, the runners did the same.







Yes, it was congested enough that I had time for a selfie!



Outside of town, we turned onto double track trail toward Les Houches. Heather was there, as planned. I was still near the front of the field because of my early start position so it was no surprise that I got passed by hundreds of runners during the first hour. I looked forward to cooler nighttime temperatures that would give me more energy.

UTMB has a 46-hour time limit, which is generous for 168 km, although the elevation gain is more significant than most races. The catch is, there are 12 time cut-offs along the way, which is much harder than beating one time cut-off at the end. You can’t have a slow section, then make up time when you feel better. One strike and you’re out. Organizers often design cut-offs based on splits from past races, and that usually favours people who start out fast, then slow down significantly. If you’re a runner like me who doesn’t go out fast but doesn’t slow down as much as some, early cut-offs in ultras are stressful. The first time cut-off was only 6 hours into the race, and I really didn’t want it to be over before midnight on the first day!

I’d picked a finish time of 43.5 hours out of a hat because I needed a plan – any plan. For the Death Race, I’d estimated a 22-hour target based on detailed analysis, and it worked out. At UTMB, I simply chose a number that gave me some cushion over the final 46-hour cut-off. Only half the starters would finish by that time so it was optimistic but I’d be crazy to aim for 46 hours. Using past race results and UTMB pace calculators, I estimated a target arrival time for each leg. Any resemblance to reality or even the realm of possibility was purely coincidental.

I arrived in Les Houches right on schedule after an hour of racing. Between Les Houches and St. Gervais, we did our first climb and descent – up 750 m, down 1000 m. Yup, these were steep mountains – and that one was just a baby Alp! I pulled out my poles and used them for the rest of the race. I held my own on the climbs here and passed a few people on descents. Of course, the best runners were now well ahead.







Whenever we passed any settlement, children leaned out for high fives, adults cheered or shook cow bells . Some had huge bells that required two hands and full body shimmying to ring them.

“Allez, allez, allez!”
“Courage, Canada!”
“Brava!”
“Bon courage, Barbara!”

(They were good at reading race bibs.) Something about the word “courage” shouted in a French accent made it feel as if we were doing something truly important as opposed to a crazy endurance event.





Until I downloaded my photos, I didn’t notice this ARWC Tasmania shirt. Maybe I’ve heard of this guy.



We arrived in St. Gervais near sunset to be greeted by crowds, cheers and a frantic drum band. There had been water earlier but this was the first full aid station - water, hot drinks, salty noodle soup, bread, cheese, sausage, cookies, fruit, honey cake, sweet unrecognizable bars broken into pieces, and more. It took me a couple of aid stations to get into a routine. Some things were more appealing than others. Soup was especially good – salty, warm and hydrating. The sausage went down well. The honey cake was way too dry. In retrospect, I should have eaten more of my own food since it would have been faster than experimenting.





My GPS did something weird, leaping to a few random points and adding 8-9 km to my distance to St. Gervais. Although I normally rely on it while running, distance was the least useful piece of information in this race anyway so I stopped watching it even though it worked pretty well after this. I watched altitude and time constantly; that was all I really needed. I carried a course map, elevation profile and pace chart and referred to it after each cut-off to remind myself what was coming up next and how fast I needed to do it.

There were rolling hills after St. Gervais to warm us up at the start of the biggest climb on the race course – from 810 m at St. Gervais to 2443 m at Refuge de la Croix de Bonhomme over a 23 km distance. As darkness fell, I donned my BashBlaster headlamp and a Buff. Les Contamines, the location of the first time cut-off, was about 2 hours away and only 360 m higher. I’d arrived 10 minutes behind schedule at St. Gervais but wasn’t worried yet.

Coming from the North American ultrarunning culture, where people in my part of the pack are usually friendly and often funny on the race course, I noticed the lack of interaction between runners. Sure, we were all working hard but that was true in the Death Race too. Maybe the variety of languages prevented people from being social but the atmosphere was serious and quiet. Toward sunrise, I started playing leapfrog with Elaine, a British woman, and we chatted briefly whenever we met. It felt almost strange to express my thoughts out loud.

Mostly, though, I was alone inside my head. In spite of that, I wouldn’t bring ear buds if I did this race again. It felt like a solitary experience (even though I was surrounded by 2000 people!) but I can’t imagine listening to music or podcasts. There was too much to process, and I was too busy. What was amazingly helpful was taking a minute to read texts at each aid station. I’d thought it might be nice to hear from a few friends and family but I had no idea how much their words would swirl in my head, and how useful and timely their advice would be. I had also signed up to receive texts about Richard’s and Sean’s progress in CCC and UTMB, and I was excited to see how well they were doing.

I got to Les Contamines 30 minutes before the cut-off, which took effect upon leaving the aid station so I only had a cushion of 20 minutes when I left. That was OK. I was aiming to beat the finish deadline by 2.5 hours so I knew I’d be cutting the earlier cut-offs close.

I thought we’d done some climbing before but this is where things got serious. Whenever it seemed like I’d climbed pretty far, I only needed to look up to see headlamps snaking up the slope well above me. Nope, those weren’t constellations!

The Ambit altimeter was pure gold in keeping me focused and realistic. It was hard to pass people on the climbs and descents. Sometimes it was completely impossible but other times, there was room to get by, maybe by taking a longer switchback or clambering over rocks by the trail. I had to decide when it was worth investing the extra effort to pass. I felt fairly strong and rarely got passed by this point. Partway up the climb, we passed through the La Balme aid station where I made the departure cut-off by 22 minutes.



We kept climbing to Col du Bonhomme, crossing a snowfield on the way. Sometimes we were just following markings on off-angle rocks. I was grateful for the dry weather and light breeze. In the coldest part of the night, I wore arm warmers with my short-sleeved shirt, a featherweight Salomon Fast Wing Hoodie jacket and a light toque. Sometimes that was too much but on top of the mountain passes, the jacket felt good. In colder, windier or wetter weather, I’d want a lot more on, and I had it with me just in case. You don’t mess around in the Alps.

After almost 11 hours, a long, steep descent brought us into Les Chapieux near the 50K mark. I’d passed 200 people since St. Gervais, and I arrived 50 minutes before the time cut-off. Looking at my splits, the wheels came off the bus here but I don’t know why and may never figure it out. I apparently spent 18 minutes in the aid station, although I perceived it as 10 minutes. In future, I would set a target departure time and look at my watch frequently, as we do in adventure racing. I remember feeling sympathy for other runners sitting on benches staring blankly into space with their mouths open. I thought I was doing better but maybe not. The 8 hours before this were quite difficult so maybe we were all a little shellshocked.

I left the aid station with 32 minutes cushion. Then I spent awhile lined up for the single washroom cubicle shared by men and women and finally gave up. This event doesn’t bring in a bunch of porta-potties; they generally make do with public facilities, of which there are very few. I sat down with some other runners at a closed cafe to check my maps and pace chart. (Why didn’t I do that in the aid station during my 18 minutes??) Then I headed out of the village. A few minutes later, I noticed that I didn’t have my poles, and I had a moment of panic. Virtually no one does UTMB without poles; I think I would have to drop out without them. Back to town (arghh!) where thankfully, I found them at the cafe.

According to my Ambit, it took me 35 minutes to get through this village, counting the aid station, futile washroom wait, map check, pole incident and the clandestine washroom stop I made up the trail. I had squandered my good performance on the last section and now had only 15 minutes cushion on the cut-off.

Hindsight is wonderful. I hadn’t signed up to get texts on my own race progress since I figured I would know where I was. However, if I had, I would have known my rank was improving. Even better would be detailed texts from someone like Valerie Meyer, who was doing great analysis on my Attackpoint log. I think if I had known that I was moving up even though it was a hard effort, it would have lit a fire under me. I’m not sure what my problem was but my sleepiness a few hours later was probably related to my complete incompetence here. The irony is that I passed another 72 people between Les Chapieux and the top of the next climb, even with all the time wasted after the aid station. That would have been good to know too.

We climbed gently on a road then followed a trail of snaking headlamps to get over Col de la Seigne (2516 m). It was dark and foggy at the top but I could see that we were high on a rugged mountain route. Wandering off the well-marked trail would be a really bad idea.

As we descended, the fog turned mauve, and jagged peaks appeared above me. What a magnificent way to start the day!





I was loving the spectacular mountain wonderland but as soon as the descent became less technical, I started nodding off and weaving around the trail. The aid station coffee I’d planned to rely on had been a pale imitation of the real thing. I popped caffeine pills and chocolate espresso beans but my sleep deprivation over the past two weeks was a powerful force.





I got to Lac Combal and checked out of the aid station 15 minutes before the cut-off with my brain still fuzzy.



I checked my texts to learn that Richard had finished CCC in his target time (yay!) and Sean had dropped out almost 3 hours earlier at this aid station. That hit me hard – one argument for *not* getting texts while racing.



Other than sleepiness, I felt surprisingly good. Two months earlier, I’d had an ankle sprain that hampered my training and led to nasty heel pain that fortunately stayed away until after I’d stopped racing. My feet in my favourite Salomon Speedcross shoes were blister-free and relatively pain-free. What *did* bother me was the same sharp pain in the lower left shin that I got at Oil Creek, minus the related top-of-foot pain. By the end of UTMB, my lower left shin was swollen and bruised, which was weird since it felt like a muscle/tendon problem. I’m sure it has something to do with altered running gait after repeated ankle injuries but I’d really like to figure that out.





We climbed up to the gorgeous Arête du Mont-Favre. I kept looking at rocks and considering whether to take a short nap (the grass was cow-poopy) but we were still in the cool shade.



At the col, a young woman ran over and hugged me. “We’ve been waiting for you!” It took a second to realize that it wasn’t a mistake. This checkpoint was staffed by the local Rotary club, and I recognized several people from “A Chacun Son Everest”, the charity I was running for. I chatted with the Chamonix Rotary president, Yann, and took a photo of their CP for my Dad, also a past Rotary president. They pumped up my motivation, and when I mentioned that I needed a quick nap, they said, “No, you must not sleep. It’s only 9 km to Courmayeur.”





After taking a few photos, I snuck a kilometer down the trail and curled up on a rock in the sun. I didn’t fall asleep but just closing my eyes for 4-5 minutes did the trick. Suddenly, I was back in the game. The scenery was spectacular, and this was the kind of trail I’ve always dreamt of running. A helicopter filmed us here but I'm not in this clip. This is exactly what it felt like though!


2013 Ultratrail TV - Ultra From Sky UTMB by UltraTrailMontBlanc

Unfortunately, I hadn’t made it easy for myself. Courmayeur was the one place we could send a drop bag, and Heather planned to meet me. Now that Sean was out of the race, I didn’t know if she would still come. I’d made a list of things I was going to do, including a change of clothes and shoes. It was supposed to be my one long stop in the race but not anymore; I would be fighting the cut-off.

I got to Col de Checrouit where they told me it was 4 km to Courmayeur and almost 800 m down. I rushed past the water station without stopping so I could start the steep descent. My phone rang. At $2/minute, this was a sound from an alternate universe. We Canadians texted or e-mailed each other. Nobody phoned. Don’t let this be a telemarketer…. “Hello?”

It was Heather. She and Sean were waiting at the bottom of the hill in Courmayeur. I needed to come down *fast* to make the cut-off. It was great to talk with her since I could explain my plan for a barebones stop so I could make the cut-off. Once I’d checked out, I wanted to look at the map and pace chart to see what my chances were for the next cut-off, then I’d decide whether to go on. I was almost 2.5 hours behind my plan coming into Courmayeur. This would be my 5th time cut-off but there were 7 more to go, and it wasn’t looking good.

I raced down the hill, passing a few runners. I could hear someone coming up behind me as I approached another runner. I pulled off the trail but the faster runner said, “No, he must let us both pass!” The runner ahead jumped aside, and I stayed off the trail, saying “Please go ahead.” The faster runner shook his head and slammed his poles to the ground emphatically, stabbing me right in the middle of my foot. “No, women must go first!” OK then. (Ouch.)

When I got to the village, the flagging tape led us through random passageways and alleys. Like professional cyclists, we were on treacherous cobblestones. The tip of my pole got caught between a couple when I was flying along, and I tripped over it and went down hard on my forearm. I stared at it in horror, thinking I’d broken it like my friend Angus. A Japanese runner, also dashing for the cut-off only 12 minutes away, stopped and gallantly reached out his hand. I took it, figuring that either he would pull me to my feet or I’d find out for sure that my arm was broken. Nope, not broken. I later found large, severe bruises on the front and back of my right forearm and on my hip. It could have been a lot worse.

Heather and Sean were both there – so nice to see them and very kind of them to help! It was quite structured. I checked in with 10 minutes to go, then we had to pick up my drop bag and go to a designated support crew room. I reviewed my “to do” list and identified two urgent tasks; we didn’t have time for anything else. Heather refilled my water and stuffed food into my pack as I pulled it from the drop bag. The volunteer came by to tell us they were closing down early. Seriously? I had to race upstairs and across a gym to get to the check-out. There was no time to visit the aid station and get any food, let alone the hot meal they provided here. I was in and out in 6 minutes.

Once I was outside, Sean and I looked at the map and cut-offs. I figured I could make the next one at Arnuva in 5.25 hours but I had major doubts about the tighter cut-off at La Fouly 4.5 hours after that. Hmm… I decided that I was lucky to be there. It looked like the race might defeat me but I was not going to quit when there was still hope.





It was now very hot, and we had a steep 800 m climb to Refuge Bertone. We met a number of racers who were backtracking to drop out in Courmayeur. In total, 146 people dropped out or were cut off there. Another 300 people had left the race before that point.





In the relentless heat, I moved sluggishly as I got drinks and waited for the washroom at Bertone. (Another thing I missed at Courmayeur - and it's hard to find a private place along this race course!)



The next section to Refuge Bonatti was one of the most beautiful trails I’ve ever been on. The Mont Blanc massif towered over us on the other side of a small valley.





When I got to Refuge Bonatti, I didn’t have time to get water because I only had one hour to do 5 km of technical trail to Arnuva with 130 m of climb and 330 m of descent. I’d have to push very hard to get there before the cut-off. (The people around me who pushed for it were on the bus when I got there so I probably wouldn’t have made it.) Richard and Cathy did this section in 52 minutes on much fresher legs, not counting the aid station - and the aid station was the problem. I’d already missed the one at Courmayeur so I was falling behind on taking care of myself. I was carrying food but not enough to get through the race. If I made it to Arnuva within an hour, I would have to skip the aid station again in order to check out on time. No water or food, and the next cut-off at La Fouly looked tighter than the one at Arnuva.

I knew then it was over. If I can eat and drink, I can go a long way but I was just running too close to the wire. Instead of sprinting desperately toward Arnuva, I did a brisk hike while chatting with Peder from Denmark, a former adventure racer – one of the few conversations I had during the race.



I sent a text to people who might worry when my status changed to “stopped racing”. We got to Arnuva more than 30 minutes after the cut-off with other runners still coming in behind us. Other than Courmayeur, this was the place where most people abandoned or were cut off – over 100 people.



When I was cut off, I’d made it 95 km with about 5500 m in elevation gain in 24 hours. I had 22 hours left to go another 72 km, which should have been possible but unfortunately, that’s the challenge of intermediate cut-offs.

Of course I would have liked to cross the UTMB finish line; I'm insanely jealous - and proud - of my friends who did. But it was still an incredible experience – the event itself and the two years leading up to it. One third of UTMB participants failed to finish this year’s race, and the success rate was lower for Canadian runners – and this was in perfect weather and trail conditions. For someone like me, it was always a long shot. I didn’t take it hard.

I’m super proud of Richard’s performance at CCC. He trained diligently with Coach Derrick Spafford and finished his first 100 km on a very difficult course within a few minutes of his target time. Well done. As a bonus, he ran with Cathy, who got us started on all this, and Tim joined them later in the race. For me, it was all worth it to see him race well on this tough course and have virtually no pain in the knee that had surgery.





Would I do it all over again, even if I knew I wouldn’t finish? Absolutely. Would I *literally* do it all again, i.e. apply to the lottery, train, fly to France in another year? When I stepped off the race course, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t but a few hours later, I was already thinking about what I would do differently next time. When I saw Sean and heard that he plans to return, that inspired me further. Looking at the splits now and seeing how it unfolded, it sure would be nice to have a mulligan on that bungled aid station at Les Chapieux and to prime myself with a stronger sense of urgency.

I haven’t decided for sure but I will be looking for another ultra soon to keep my legs moving. I already have enough qualification points to apply to UTMB 2014 but if I were to postpone to some future year, it would become a big project again. Hmm…

Thanks for your support, interest, advice and friendship. It makes all the difference.

And... I don't think I'll have time to post much tomorrow so here's the scoop for anyone who wants to follow along.

Mrs. Gally, WandAR, Tiny and 'Bent start CCC in Courmayeur, Italy at 9 a.m. on Friday morning (3 a.m. in Toronto, i.e. 6 hrs earlier). Their cut-off time at the finish is Saturday 11 a.m. France time.

STORM and I start UTMB in Chamonix at 4:30 p.m. (10:30 a.m. in Toronto). Our cut-off time is Sunday at 2:30 p.m. France time. My target time is noon, not long before the cut-off. STORM is aiming to finish in the wee hours, which means you may be awake at home to see him finish.

Our progress will be tracked here.
http://utmb.livetrail.net/coureur.php

You can search for runners by surname, first name or bib #.

CCC
Cathy Gallagher 5162
Tim Grant 5289
Wanda Prochazka 6230
Richard Ehrlich 6223

UTMB
Sean Roper 2976
Barb Campbell 2542

There are 3 views on the upper right of each runner's page. One shows you where we are on the elevation profile. One shows our location on a map, and the other shows the checkpoints in table format. It's pretty good.

You can set up a Favourites list by clicking on the star next to the runner's name on his/her page, then you can see all of us here.
http://utmb.livetrail.net/favoris.php

Kinda cool to see WandAR on the list of female race favourites in CCC - the only one in our group to hit the big time! I'm sure she is surprised but she has been building up her international resume.

Supposedly, this North Face site will have live coverage after UTMB starts.
http://www.thenorthfacejournal.com/category/ultra-...

And there should be some WebTV here of a couple of aid stations and the finish line.
http://www.ultratrail.tv

It's mandatory that we all carry phones to receive texts from the organization. I can't speak for the others but feel free to send texts that I promise to read only on the long uphills but no answers until after the race.

Catch you on the other side!

Check-in day! CCC runners could still check in today, and registration opened for UTMB runners as well. This meant a loooong line-up. Considering how many thousands of runners they need to process and the number of steps involved in the check-in, they do a good job. It took a little over an hour from entering the line-up to heading out the door.



Mandatory gear check - one of the stations.



I'm not going to be alone out there!



It's not my usual kind of race. Off-trail navigation is strictly prohibited and carries a penalty.



The wildlife concerns are a little different here too.



A bunch of us went to lunch where support plans were discussed at length. It is not easy for support crew to get around the course nor to support more than one person. I'm set up to do the whole course unsupported with just my drop bag at the 60K mark but I'm hoping that at a few points, I'll be able to get moral support, a few friendly words and some help for my sleepy brain with my aid station checklists.

TDS finishers were coming in as we went to lunch. The winner finished around 10 p.m. last night so these were my people. :) Seeing this helped me visualize an experience that I would really like to have on Sunday!





This young guy was so happy, waving his poles in the air a moment earlier. No idea who he was but I got teary.





I finished off the day with a reception at the headquarters of A Chacun Son Everest, the Chamonix charity for which I am running.



They organize outdoor adventures in the mountains for kids with cancer. The organization was founded by a physician, Christine Janin, with an enviable adventure resume; she was the first French woman up Everest, the 2nd woman to complete the Seven Summits, and the first woman in the world to reach the North Pole without mechanical aid or dogs.

Dr. Janin: "At the beginning, I visited children in hospitals to tell them about my expeditions; but very soon, I wanted to go further... I wanted to talk to them about their illness as if they were climbing a mountain of their own, with the summit being their recovery. And so... the association "A chacun son Everest" was born. My idea was for the children to take the leading role in their recovery rather than to be an audience for my adventures. [We take] children on a week’s programme concerned with conquering their mountain. Our aim is to help them take up normal lives again and prove to them that they are capable of the same things as anyone else. With the support of medical professionals our approach becomes part of the remission process: by giving the children goals to reach, we enable them to believe in the future again, and see themselves as children who can realise their dreams and pursue their ambitions, and not just as children who are ill."

Very cool idea, and we were fortunate to meet a group of energetic teenagers who were enjoying the program this week. Our small group of runners received nice tech shirts (nicer than the race shirts!) and posed for a few photos. I wish I'd been able to understand more of the speeches.



While I was there, 'Bent, Mrs. Gally and Meg drove through the long tunnel under Mont Blanc to get to Courmayeur, Italy for the night. They are starting CCC at 9 a.m. tomorrow. STORM and I start UTMB here in Chamonix at 4:30 p.m. (It's 6 hrs later than Toronto time.)

Attackpoint UTMB pre-race soirée tonight. Here are the racers - STORM, WandAR, Tiny, 'Bent, Bash and Mrs. Gally.



And our friends and family! Myka, Mrs. Tiny, Teeny Tiny, Mike, Browner, Meg.

'Bent and I ran on riverside trails with fantastic views of the Dru on the way out. My foot felt fine on flat trails. Sure hope UTMB is flat! ;)





Then 'Bent got all his mandatory gear together including photo ID and a 20 Euro note. (This is our cool loft apartment, btw.)



Then Meg (Mrs. Gally's friend), Mrs. Gally, WandAR and 'Bent headed over for the CCC race kit pick-up and gear check. Very efficient for a race with over 2,000 entrants.



Mr. Gally, I told Mrs. Gally that you wanted proof she was in France and doing fine. She said you would already know that if you checked your Mastercard bill. :) The good news is that Mrs. Gally has a brand new, high-tech 12L race pack, although there is a story that she can tell if she wants!

Tomorrow afternoon I will attend a reception with officials and children from A Chacun Son Everest, the charity I'm running for. They help children with cancer "reach their own Everest" through kid-friendly mountaineering trips and activities. I wanted to confirm that I'd sent them an RSVP. Sure enough, I'd written, "Je suis excitée!" No *wonder* I never heard from them again. :)

UTMB is often referred to as the "Super Bowl" of trail running. Now that I'm here, it seems more like a Star Trek convention. People wear Salomon Skin Packs to go grocery shopping, the definition of casual wear is shorts with compression calf sleeves, and it's not unusual to have trekking poles at your restaurant table. We all look completely normal to one another, and nobody thinks we are crazy. In some ways, this is awesome but it feels weird to be considered "mainstream" all of a sudden!

'Bent and I had a 2-day pass for all the lifts in the Chamonix Valley so today we took the lift up the west side of the valley to Brévent. The skies around Aiguille du Midi on the east side were crystal clear this morning - even better than yesterday.



But that's OK because there is a fantastic view of the Mont Blanc massif from this side of the valley! (The Aiguille du Midi, where we went yesterday, is the pointy summit on the left.)





This is the summit of Mont Blanc at 4810 m. Now that I've seen it, I'm even more blown away by Kilian Jornet's glacier runs and speed records on the mountain.



The view looking down the other side of Brévent is pretty nice too, although the clouds had started to roll in. This is one of the areas that the PTL race passes through.



Today's highlight was seeing a few mountain sports close up! First of all, mountain biking - a taste of home. Gondola up, bike down. Sovijarvi, if you're out there, the fellow in blue is on the Finnish Ultrarunning team, and he is doing TDS tomorrow.



Then we saw these people getting dressed on the summit. They had GoPros.



...And they had wing suits!!



We had a good chat with one of them, a transplanted Californian. He explained that it was "150 meters to impact" but if they flew 50 m out from the cliff, they would have 1500 m to the valley floor following a very steep slope. A passing tourist wondered if he could rent a wing suit but the Californian patiently explained that they have to be custom made for each person. (Also, I imagine you need lessons?!!!) They were waiting for good enough visibility to jump, and they could only access the air space until 10 a.m. according to local regulations. When the clock ran out, they packed up their wing suits and sadly rode the gondola down.

As for 'Bent and me, we're seriously tapering. We did our daily workout at the café at Plan Praz, the mid-station on the lift.



This was a great area to watch parapentistes. Leanimal has mentioned how fascinating Weeanimal finds them. Well, me too! I could sit and watch them fly all morning.





We finally did a little uphill hike to see where they take off. They come up the gondola with big packs, like the guy on the right. Then they spread them out and carefully line up the ropes and use the pack as the seat.



They take off really quickly with just a little bit of running.









Good thing the morning was so nice because the afternoon was not! Every time the weather changes (approximately every 10 minutes), 'Bent and I rethink our clothing choices for our races.



Rainy weather gave us a perfect excuse to check out the race expo. Sadly, I'm not impressed with any of the race shirts other than the Official Buff, which I bought. I will probably *have* to buy a shirt anyway to commemorate this experience. Yesterday we saw people walking around town in nice vests that said "UTMB Finisher" and we wondered where we could buy ones that say "UTMB Starter"! Apparently, we can only get those at the finish line.



In the evening, Myka bravely joined us for an evening of 70s-vintage mountaineering films in French. Reinhold Messner was speaking English but being dubbed into French. My head hurt by the end but it was interesting to be reminded of how mountaineering films have changed over the years.

Jet-lagged night of bad sleep so we were almost relieved to see clouds early in the morning. Yup, we can stay in bed without missing anything. But then this happened.



So we rushed to pack some warm clothes and hurried over to the Aiguille du Midi lift that goes from Chamonix (1035 m) to a Lord of the Rings-style lookout at 3842 m. Phew, not much of a line-up yet.



I took a million bazillion photos today but I'll keep it brief. Fortunately, some clouds rolled in or I might still be up there snapping away. It's another world up there - cold and snowy with a high altitude that made us feel dizzy. There were a lot of stairs up there so we even did some altitude training - a little too late, of course.







One of the cool things is that mountaineers use the Aiguille du Midi as the start/finish of climbing expeditions. It is not far from the summit of Mont Blanc, which is the highest Alp. There are also some spectacular peaks and faces around the Mont Blanc massif - a lot of famous climbs like the Grandes Jorasses and the Dru. We saw a few mountaineers up there.





The mountaineers have their own special exit from the lookout area. This reminded me of touring the complex at the top of the Jungfrau with Hingo, T. Rex, JayXC and the Lambs.



'Bent insisted on going highlining even though he could have injured himself so close to his race!



We got off the lift halfway down at Plan de l'Aiguille. One of my favourite features of Europe is that restaurants are conveniently located all over the place in the mountains.



We did some hiking and climbing around - amazing trail network.



'Bent is looking relaxed and ready for CCC.



I, however, continue to look like a complete goof.



Myka and WandAR made it to town today and took up residence around the corner from us. Tonight we went to see the start of the first UTMB event - La Petite Trotte à Léon (PTL). Teams of 2 or 3 travel an unmarked 300 km course through the Alps and are self sufficient. It's a great event for adventure racers! To qualify, one member of the team needs to complete the full UTMB or Tor des Geants.



Out of the huge crowd of spectators, two more Canadians appeared!



The race started at 10 p.m. Lots of cheering, filming, photography and smiles. This is the smallest race by far so I can only imagine what it will be like to start with 2300 people on Friday!