UTMR #DNF

The alternative title to this should possibly be “the anatomy of a DNF” or “a study in failure”

Admittedly I probably entered the UTMR stage race this year for the wrong reasons. I had failed on it before so I had to go back, right? I had got a deferred entry from the previous year after volunteering as a race marshal, so it would be a waste not to use that entry, right? So, I entered and feigning a cheerfulness that I did not feel I dutifully lined up on the start line already feeling tired from a poor nights sleep the night before the race (not unusual) a poor nights sleep before getting an early flight (again not unusual) but also several other poor night’s sleep in the lead up to it, all the time the enormity of the event and my woeful lack of fitness playing on my mind. Its fair to say training had not gone well, moving house and moving jobs had meant that for nearly month in the early summer I had barely run a step and for the rest of the training time available I had tried to concentrate on long slow hilly plods as per conventional ultra training wisdom would have you believe is necessary.

 I’m not sure hanging out with other ultra runners before a race is too hot an idea either as they tend to exchange stories about their ultra race epics and you sit there quietly, realising that your race tally for the summer has been 3 half marathons, some extremely slow walk/jogs in the mountains and mega doses of ferrous sulphate for anaemia. If I have ever felt out of place somewhere this was it. Finding out that you are struggling mid way through a long event is one thing but going into it knowing that you are not fit and well prepared is another matter entirely. There’s definitely a difference between nervous anticipation and total dread.

Did i bring too much race food?

Race kit

And extras in case of snow

Kit check

I realised by mid-July that I had to hurriedly get myself in shape for the race if I was actually going to do it but by mid August I had totally discounted it in favour of an enjoyable holiday exploring the trails around Zermatt rather than yet more training and route recces. Much as I love running in the mountains and being in the mountains training was becoming a bit of a grind if I’m honest and it seemed to be taking up all my weekends and, probably the true root of the issue, I was tired. The idea of running the UTMB has been firmly etched at the back of my mind for quite a few years as my ultimate target race but it’s easy to see how the mission to collect enough race points through doing other equally long hard races such as this one to be able to enter the race ballot, not even the race itself but the ballot for the race, could start to be all consuming in terms of time, energy, holidays, money etc. This target now seemed more further and further away than ever.

The start

Anyhow there was no backing out now, so I lined up in the early morning darkness of Grachen and immediately everyone else seemed to be setting off at a pace I found hard to live with. I stuck with it and followed the line of runners along the narrow trails and paths alongside what I could make out as dew covered meadows in the early morning half light and through narrow forest trails by the light of head torches carefully trying not to trip over tree roots, rocks or be impaled on the spikey end of a trek pole of a careless fellow runner.

I wished I had taken the time to stop and take a photo of the tops of the mountains appearing in the morning sunlight as it was a glorious sight but feeling unbelievable slow and sluggish I was too worried about being left behind and missing a cut off time and so I kept moving. I only stopped moving in order to help haul a runner out of a ditch into which he had managed to somehow fall and was firmly wedged in lying on his back like a beetle with its legs in the air. Fortunately for him it was a dry ditch. And I stopped to assist a runner who had been stung by a bee or a wasp but there was little I could do to help.

The first section of the stage along the Europaweg had been sadly abandoned after a recent rockfall had closed the path which was a shame as this trail is something worth experiencing. Instead, we were directed down the hill into the valley joining the tracks and roads passing through little farmsteads along the valley floor at Herbriggen. And I was walking already. On the flat and on the down hill I was walking. This was not good. And I as started the climb from Randa it went from bad to worse. After losing yet more places on the climb I eventually reached the bridge. Too tired and depressed to worry about the bridge crossing I pushed on to the checkpoint at the Europahutte only to see the girls from Deeside already coming down the hill some considerable distance ahead having checked in and had their food and drink at the checkpoint. I stopped at the checkpoint and had a slice of cake and pondered my options, one of them being to head back to Randa and either walk or jog back to Grachen the way I came or to get the train from Randa. I went back down to the bridge and against my better judgement I decided to cross it. It was swaying quite a bit due to other runners trying to run on it (which the race organisers had specifically instructed against) which as you can imagine I enjoyed greatly, Not. I suspect my voice may have been a couple of octaves higher than normal at this point as I gripped the railings at the edge.

That bloody bridge!

The Matterhorn coming into view

At the other end of the bridge I again wondered about following the path back down to Randa but decided to carry on to Taschalp. The path was great, it was a glorious sunny day, not what the weather forecast had been predicting and the views were amazing as the Matterhorn loomed into sight however I was moving so slowly as I plodded along from orange route marker flag to marker flag. There were some little tunnels that we had to pass through and an interesting concrete structure which had a projecting overhang with the concrete spalling very badly. I felt there was more chance of that landing on someone’s head than a rock fall. There was also an interesting stream crossing involving stepping on pegs hammered into the rocks. And then I was at Taschalp.  From Taschalp I knew the path was pretty easy going (I was still unable to run much of it though) so I had another slice of cake and carried on. And I spotted a marmot, the sighting of this gorgeous little furry creature was easily the best part of my day. It was all I could do to resist grabbing it and sobbing into its fur like some sort of alpine teddy bear.

I was also reminded about the other joy of walking at the back of the field, no not the ignominy, but  people trying to have a conversation with you mid race when you are at your least chatty and really can’t be bothered with small talk. Walking. Cake. Chatting. I felt like I had stumbled into a coffee morning not a race.

The Europaweg

The Matterhorn,Klein Matterhorn and the Breithorn

As I neared Zermatt the Matterhorn, Breithorn and other 4000m peaks all came into view in all their magnificent snow capped glory and after what seemed like a long descent I plodded into Zermatt and reached the finish. I sat for some time and stared blankly into my soup totally undecided about what to do now. This all seemed light years away from my mountain adventures of two weeks ago when I felt as though there was no where on the planet I’d rather be and that I could just keep moving through this mountain landscape forever. Despite the stunning scenery and the fantastic atmosphere of the event I was just exhausted.

Zermatt

The final straw was another poor night’s sleep and yet again the joy of room share, something i struggled with before. If I’d managed to have some down time and relax, maybe read a book and have a cup of tea, after dinner I might have been able to fall asleep. I’d rather have 6 hours of quality sleep than 9 hours of staring at the ceiling but lights out was deemed to be 7.45pm with me having little say in the matter so that was that. I barely slept. And so the final nail was hammered into the coffin of my UTMR race.

I always thought if I was going to have to pull out of the race I would be inconsolable but strangely that was not the case. I merely shrugged my shoulders and went in search of apple strudel in Zermatt. They say love and hate are opposites but personally I think they are simply different sides of the same coin. I would say that the opposite is indifference and that sums up a how I felt. Indifferent. The result wasn’t entirely unexpected so I couldn’t really feign anything like disappointment. For most of the summer I had thought I would probably not start the race and just go and volunteer again and what training I did do probably lacked focus for this reason, but I kept prolonging making the final decision to drop out until it was eventually too late.

I am not sure the whole “time on your feet” idea for training runs totally suits me either as I’ve done quite a few very long runs this summer and I’ve never felt so slow and unfit. I was definitely fitter earlier in the year from faster marathon based training when the heavy snows brought by the so-called “beast from the east” had ruled out long days in the mountains. Maybe that is all in my head, but then isn’t that half the battle? If you feel fitter and more confident then aren’t you going to run better? I was certainly missing the intensity of speed work, hill reps and shorter races.

On the plus side though I was in Zermatt. Happy me!! That did somewhat alleviate the disappointment as I'm not sure there is anywhere else I would rather be. I checked into a hotel, dumped my bag there and headed off up the hill to see some of the race which involved a wee cable car trip and a hot chocolate at the Gandhutte before going up to the glacier. On heading up the hill I was decidedly dizzy, at one point having to grab hold of a railing to stay upright. I put that down to a combination of fatigue and anaemia though it did cross my mind that maybe not starting the race today had turned out to be a good idea after all. Running at altitude with anaemia is never really going to work either as your body fights with the lack of oxygen.

I got to the mountain checkpoint in time to see the 170k runners come through, some looking happy and strong, others decidedly not smiley or chatty and I was in the right place to assist a DNF in the 170k, a French runner who as far as I could work out reckoned that he had got food poisoning the night before the race and was a bit dizzy and wobbly so I walked back down the mountainside with him and got him safely back to the station in Zermatt so he could make his way back to Grachen. 

Skorts for blokes! :-)

The following day I woke up to heavy rain and a low mist shrouded the valley and the town. I lay in bed reading for a while before deciding to get up and explore Zermatt a bit more. I wandered through the old town taking photos of the rickety wooden chalets imagining what Zermatt was like before the draw of the Matterhorn and other 4000m peaks had started bringing people into what was a tiny alpine farming hamlet and turned it into the busy tourist centre it now is. I also managed to get a look inside the church. There was a classical music festival on at the time and the orchestra were rehearing their performance of Mozart for the evening. I managed to sample local delicacies such as Rosti and an amazing “nut tart” which I think I established to be pecan all accompanied by some nice glasses of wine. 

The race was a great opportunity to catch up with some friends, it was brilliant to see Keith, Ant, Debbie and of course Richard again so for that reason I’m very glad I went and the evening after the race is always entertaining but my failure to finish niggled at me and i am sure this feeling will increase as time goes on. 

I had seen this race as a step towards gaining the much coveted UTMB points and usually I adapt well to stage races but not this race. For some reason not this race. Maybe when I’ve put some time and distance between myself and this race I might feel differently and want to go back to try again but I don’t think it will be any time soon, certainly not next year. The UTMR is a fantastic event, it totally lives up to its billing “bold, beautiful and brutal” and I would definitely tell anyone to have a go at it if they like the look of it, it is friendly and brilliantly well organised and there can be no criticism of the race itself but for some reason I struggle very badly with it. Maybe its purely a case of being psyched out by the event, after all I changed my training from something that worked to something that obviously hasn’t purely because I didn’t feel I was doing enough long runs of 5 hours plus. I regret doing that. Maybe too, the anaemia took a greater toll than i realised. It is well and truly back to the drawing board with training, health and fitness.

The final checkpoint at Hanigalp

Hanging out with the Deeside Runners

Grachen at sunset

170k race winners

Tired race organisers chilling out

Happily I always have Fife AC hill running captain and all round legend at hand to provide the pep talks and stop me getting depressed. It’s the final SHR “counter” next weekend at Ben Resipol and Jocelyn won’t allow me to weasel out of that one!