Courmayeur buying coke

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Courmayeur buying coke

My running friend, Dr Stanley had insisted we go to the start line early and I reluctantly agreed. Some find this atmosphere exhilarating. But at this current moment, I find it draining. A huge challenge awaits me. To top it all off, one of my water bottles I placed in the freezer overnight has sprung a new leak. As the ice melts in the heat of the day, a small puddle begins to pool around my leg. I hear two women exclaim something in a foreign language as they look me up and down. I make eye contact before turning back to stare at the sea of people in front of me. As the Chariots of Fire song begins, there is more cheering and more jostling of bodies. Not long to go now. At exactly 6. The bells and cheering is deafening. This is UTMB. At the packed start line with Dr Stanley bottom right. Ole, Ole, Ole. The cheering and bells only seem to get louder as we move through the town centre. More cheering and more shouting. The crowd wanted us to run fast and we were the evening rush hour. Hundreds of runners continue to pour out into the town at a frightening speed and I lose Dr Stanley in the rush. I look down at my watch. This is insane. I try to slow down only for more wildly cheering supporters to surge me onwards. As I pass a pub near the outskirts of town, an overexuberant Frenchman reaches out and thrusts a beer in my direction. I recoil in shock. I gave up drinking a while ago. Though the atmosphere was exhilarating, I knew I had to control my pace and slow down. I compelled myself to move over to the right hand side of the path and let faster runners whizz by me. By the time I reached the 6km mark, the runaway train of runners had finally moved through me and I was by myself. Finally, I could reset. Finally, I could get back to my all day pace. When I reached the first aid station at Les Houches, I switched out my leaking water bottle and filled up the spare one in my pack. Problem one mitigated. A bit earlier than expected but resolved none the less. A few more stragglers pass me as I get going again. I knew I was well and truly at the back end of the field but I was unphased. At this point in the race, the most important thing was controlling my pace rather than worrying about my position in the field. The reality was, I had 46 hours and 30 minutes to complete this race so I had to remain disciplined. I was here for a long time, not a short or good time and I knew that. I sharpened my focus towards achieving the first cut off timing at St Gervais by 10pm. I needed to do I can do 11 minute ks. After Les Houches, the gradient sharply increases and you tackle the first of ten significant climbs throughout the UTMB course. Back on pace and away from all the hustle and bustle, I eased into my work. The UTMB course profile — I reached St Gervais at 9. Though some may find this too close for comfort, there are no prizes for going too fast through earlier cut offs if it compromises your ability to finish. Still, feeling some cut off pressure, I got what I needed and passed through. The next cut off timing was Saturday midnight at a French village called Les Contamines. As St Gervais is the lowest point of the course metres , I knew a gradual incline towards Les Contamines awaited me. So far, my legs had experienced a quick flat start, a slow uphill hike, and a steady downhill jog. As I eased into my shuffle, for the first time in the race, I began to pass people with minimal effort. I made good progress in the dark and reached Les Contamines at Although I left Les Contamines in good spirits, this was quickly tempered by a mountain pass called Col du Bonhomme high point metres. The Col du Bonhomme climb has the most amount of vertical in one continuous climb of any of the climbs in the UTMB course. Seemingly aware of what lay ahead, supporters at the foot of the pass waved lights and played music to spur us on and one group even had a large bonfire. As my watched ticked over 35km and I began climbing, for whatever reason, I decided to check my climbing profile. What greeted me was arguably the most devasting news any runner can receive after midnight — A climb of metres over 4. It was a silent, slow procession through rocky terrain towards the top. The top of the pass was humbly marked by a small tent which volunteers intermittently poked their heads out of presumably to check no one had died. It was a rather starless sky and without any rewarding view, I simply coursed over the top and got on with a controlled descent towards the next aid station at Les Chapieux. I arrived into the small village of Les Chapieux at 3. However, I also arrived with a large group of other descenders so the compulsory gear check stand was greeted by more competitors than gear checkers. It was like being at the start line again with more jostling to get to the front of the lines. Some runners simply went right through the gear check claiming to have been checked already which I doubted as I recognised some who had entered around the same time as me. I patiently waited until I was asked to show three things — my wet weather jacket, mobile phone, and emergency blanket. A bit grumpy for the experience, I moved along only to wait in further lines to fill up my drink bottles and an even larger line for the only two male toilets at this location. I headed out into the night again and began the slow climb upwards. Already the course had an unrelenting feel to it. I coursed over the top of Col de la Seigne at 6. Col de la Seigne also marked the border between France and Italy and I could see the Italian town of Courmayeur in the distance which was about the half way point. And though the sunrise provided a much needed energy boost, this was soon drained by the rocky ascent up Col Pyramides Calcaires and the wild challenging descent. The rocky slate path resembled a jigsaw of ankle wobble boards and I was amazed at those who thundered past me with minimal care for ground stability. After negotiating the unstable rocky terrain of Pyramides Calcaires, I arrived at the Lac Combal aid station at 8. With increasing tension in my legs, I decided to stop and have my first rest. I pulled out my reusable cup and spork and had hot noodles for breakfast to prepare for the day ahead. After a short 10 minute break, I set off and was back on task again. I had to continually wet my hat in the nearby mountain streams to keep cool as I ascended the sharp Arete du Mt Favre climb before Courmayeur. The ensuing descent into Courmayeur was brutal and probably the steepest descent of the whole course. The trail through the forest was particularly dry and dusty and I began to appreciate why other runners were sporadically coughing as the dust built up in my throat. I had a drop bag waiting for me at Courmayeur and nothing else. I arrived into Courmayeur at The vast majority of athletes seemed to have their own support crew so I sulked off looking for scarcely available seating and table space. I was tempted to curl into a ball in some far off distant corner but dutifully coerced myself to top up my drinks instead. It was uncomfortably hot and stuffy inside and I started to feel lightheaded. I began to crave icy water but there was no ice anywhere. No ice, no gelato, no pizza, no support crew. What a miserable place this was! I packed up my stuff and headed back outside into the ever increasing heat. Post hitting the wall and running past Refuge Bertone. The climb out of Courmayeur towards Refuge Bertone is not for the faint hearted. It involves just under metres of climbing over 5km about 2. Throw in the European heat, sleep deprivation, 80km on my feet, and 18 hours on course, and I began to unravel. I was hot, I was unsteady, my head was blurry, and I began the awful process of self-diagnosis. Do I have heat stroke? I was in trouble and I still had just under km to go. I wanted to be in a better place but in reality, I was in deep shit. I had to accept my situation, stay calm, and problem solve. I was sleep deprived and overheating. The LiveTrail app had predicted a hour finishing time for me but this was becoming increasingly unlikely as I was just making cut off times. I realised that I had to do the hardest thing that any runner can do — slow down. The reality was, I was going too fast for the conditions. There was no viable way to cool myself other than slowing my pace. But I made the commitment to not pass anyone in a forced nature. I also committed to simply finishing and put aside any time goals. I was still within cut offs so I was still in the game. There was no need to panic. I often pride myself in taking the run deep into the latter rounds and I needed to do this again. If I had to win by points decision in the 12 th round then so be it. If I had to win ugly, then so be it. But I was determined to fight until the 12 th round. I also narrowed my short term focus. I had 20 Euro in my bag for an emergency. This was an emergency. I had to get to the top of Refuge Bertone and buy some coke with ice. Coke and ice would be my saviour. Initially, I was easy pickings. The hyenas circled and some even attacked. A South African competitor bemoaned the state of NZ rugby as he left me in his wake. Half way up the climb, I encountered my French friend, Frank, sitting on a seat on the side of the track. I was gob struck. This guy had the cardiac engine of a Ferrari and last I heard he was way ahead of me. Come have a coke with me at Bertone. Just get to Bertone. I motioned for him to join me but he seemed stuck to his chair. I just had to keep going. I also began to pass more stationary resting runners and I began to realise that there were others who were as bad, if not worse off than me. I arrived at Refuge Bertone at 1. I asked for a coke with ice. I settled for just the coke and went back outside. All the tables and chairs were taken so I slumped to the ground next to a couple of dogs lying in the shade. A few people eyed me suspiciously but I was too tired to care. After 19 hours, 88km, and metres elevation gain, I was no longer human. I was as good as a dog for all I was concerned and arguably the dogs looked better. I sprawled out on the shaded ground and drank my cold coke as I kept a look out for Frank. By the time I finished my coke, there was still no sign of Frank. I had to keep going. I extracted my carcass off the ground and went up and over the final climb at Bertone metres. As the gradient flattened, I felt myself lift off the ropes. I was back in the fight. I just had to stay in it now. Making use of the flat ground past Refuge Bonatti. Descending towards the Arnouvaz aid station. As the caffeine and glucose kicked in, I began to feel better. I remained disciplined around not forcing any passing and running at a speed I could handle during the heat of the day. I dipped my hat into every stream crossing and every waterfall provided a natural baptism of sorts. I stopped at the next refuge Refuge Bonatti and purchased a can of cold orange soda. I arrived at the next aid station at Arnouvaz at 4. It also marks the border between Italy and Switzerland. It was time for the Switzerland experience. It was another tough climb meters in 4. After purchasing another cold coke at La Peule a refuge in Switzerland , it was more steady downhill running towards La Fouly. I arrived in the small Swiss village of La Fouly just after Saturday 8pm total distance of km over 26 hours. By now eating was getting challenging. I stuffed whatever could fit into my mouth cheese, salami, pretzels, and water melon , prepared my head lamp, and kept going. Although it was a good 7km downhill gradient from La Fouly to Champex-Lac, the path was incredibly rocky which meant running was almost impossible in the dark. Despite this, I seemed to feel much better as the conditions cooled during the night. And though the climb into Champex-Lac was pretty nasty really steep with never ending switchbacks , I arrived at After km and 29 hours on my feet, I was ready to receive some divine aid and a total body transformation. My hopes sunk. A bit numb, I headed towards the now familiar hot food selection. I filled up my reusable cup with pasta and left the stuffy tent and sat outside to contemplate the meaning of life what lay ahead of me. Another night. Another day. After eating in silence I went back into the tent to exit when low and behold, Paul was standing right in front of me! Talk about mixed emotions! After eating what I could, I sculled down some more orange juice and took some chips for the road. I kept the same running gear on but I changed into a new pair of socks though neglected to lube my feet…. I left in high spirits buoyed for the next two significant climbs ahead of me. Feeling the strain near the top of Grand Col Ferret. Leaving Trient around 4. The twin climbs after Champex-Lac and Trient are the one two sucker punch that occupy most of your night i. These climbs are difficult enough on fresh legs but after more than km and 7 metres of total climbing, they occupy another stratosphere of suffering. The first climb is a by now, casual metre climb over 5km which softens you up. A lot of this section is up rocky terrain with the sound of water falls in the background. When we finally reached the top, the blackened sky above smothered the scattered lights of the Swiss city of Martigny below. During the descent, we happened to bump into a Spanish runner who also had limited English. However, empathetic for the amount of suffering this poor guy has gone through to get to this point, I simply give him my spare head torch. When we do get to the next aid station at 2. The gist of the ensuing conversation was that he really liked my head torch and wanted to keep it for the rest of the run. After leaving the woolshed, Gabriel merrily continues on his way whilst Kamil and I keep running together. We arrive into Trient just after 4am. Kamil was keen to have a rest whereas I was keen to make up as much ground as possible during the night before the sweltering heat of the day. I downed a Red Bull before the Les Tseppes climb hoping it would give me wings. But within minutes, I was dehorned and neutered. By now, any remnant of calf functioning was gone and I had to literally haul myself up using my trekking poles and upper body strength. As I climbed, it seemed like bodies were littered everywhere along the track akin to a silent massacre. Some held a thousand yard stare whilst most were in the fetal position sleeping having succumbed to the second night and overwhelming fatigue. I managed an awkward descent along more rocky terrain and arrived in Vallorcine at Sunday 7. However after km and metres of climbing over 37 hours with no sleep, I was reduced to the lowest denominator and felt completely empty. I was also panicking and not thinking straight. All this suffering for nothing. I became angry at Paul for not having any coke. In hindsight, I was so fatigued it was like I was drunk. As I laboured my way through the course in the increasing heat, strongly finishing competitors began to pass me. As the heat increased, my pace further decreased. Only to discover, that it had completely dried up within a week leaving me further demoralised. I started to crave slushies and began to fantasize that either Paul or my wife Courtney would be at the top of the next hill to greet me with ice slushies. Alas, the only thing to greet me was more heat and despair. I eventually arrived at I sculled back two water flasks in quick succession and made sure I left with topped up water bottles this time. From La Flegere, I had 7km left and 5 hours to do it in. I attempted the maths in my head and it became clear that this race was now mine to lose. I was incredibly tired and running was no longer automatic but forced. I really had to concentrate on each foot placement. I was also very conscious that I was only one ankle sprain away from stuffing this all up. By now, my feet also felt like sandpaper having neglected to lubricate them when I changed my socks back at Champex-Lac more than 12 hours earlier. As I near Chamonix again, the rapturous and boisterous cheering returns. So I do. Despite all the struggle, difficulty, and despair, all I can do is smile. Once again Dr Stanley has beaten me to the finish line and my wife Courtney is also waiting there having successfully completed her CCC km. Brutal but beautiful. Running is medicine. Keep up to date with my latest blog posts! August 30, Categories: Mile , Europe. Col du Bonhomme during daylight hours. The final climb at La Flegere. The view from the top of La Flegere. Approaching the UTMB finish line. Keep updated Keep up to date with my latest blog posts!

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Courmayeur buying coke

Day two — the tortoise and the hare. As he was on foot and we were mostly carrying our bikes it was only to be expected that he would say his farewells and trot off into the distance, on the flat and descents we would easily be quicker. Only then the front shifter on Sannys bike jammed. Did I mention Val Veni is spectacular? We said Hi again. In the kids fable, the sure and steady tortoise eventually beats the impetuous hare. In real life, there was no such doubt as to the winner of the race. As we started the push up from the valley floor towards the Youla bowl we waved him off and could only wonder where he finished for the day…. Starting in the high alpine, the trail gently curved along the hillside, under the peaks used for the skiing Freeride World Tour. Eventually the trail started to swoop through thinly spaced trees, gradually thickening, but still keeping the fast and pumpy feel. The briefest of climbs at the Col Checrouit passed without changing gear before Courmayeur appeared below us. Hard breaking, hanging off the back of the bike technical riding followed before we were spat out across the river from Courmayeur where the trail finished with some urban descending through narrow cobbled streets and down flights of steps. Pizzas all round….. Tick, Tick, Tick. On the descent into Courmayeur the free hub had started to occasionally stick meaning I had to keep pedalling to stop the chain dropping into the spokes, not a good thing less than half way round. Now, part way along Italian Val Ferret, I discovered there was enough friction in the hub to stop the wheel free turning after only a couple of rotations. There was nothing for it but to start pushing and humpfing the bikes up to Col Grand Ferret….. Lucky cows. The map showed the dashed black line would eventually rejoin the road just outside La Fouly, it was an easy choice to keep going. The trail did put forward a pretty good case. Fitter, happier and more productive. We arrived in La Fouly at , hungry. With the in-built navigation system that suggests mountain bikers share more DNA with pigeons than most, we instantly found the village shop. Sanny was all for pushing on down the road to Champex, but he was still feeling fit and had ridden the trails here before. I was not and had not, so was making the argument for stopping, happy to have the longer day tomorrow. Only where would we stay in La Fouly? It seemed foolish to resist…. Skip to content. Tour du Mont Blanc day 1 ». Tour du Mont Blanc day 2 Posted on 16th August We stopped and faffed. Saying Hi as he passed, the Andorran caught up. Meters Climbed: Meters Singletrack descended: ….. The Elena refuge had closed that morning. Meters Climbed: Meters Singletrack descended: …. Meters Climbed: Meters Singletrack descended: Posted in Chamonix ride , Road trip , tagged hut to hut biking , multi day trip , Tour du Mont Blanc.

Courmayeur buying coke