Wednesday, September 18

Perfect Your Downhill Running Form



Want to blow by your competition? Learn how to tackle the downhill.

If you’ve ever woken up with burning quads the day after a hilly race, you can probably blame all the downhill pounding. Although running uphill may feel more difficult from a cardio perspective, going downhill well is challenging—and a lot harder on your body.
Here’s why: Muscles contract in two ways—concentrically (muscle shortens: think picking something up) and eccentrically (muscle lengthens while contracting: think putting that something back down). “Eccentric contractions are much more costly from an energy and wear and tear perspective,” says Dr. Ivo Waerlop, D.C. “Running downhill requires lots of eccentric contraction, especially in the quadriceps and lower leg muscles.” Mastering the downhill with proper form will put less stress on your legs and can help you make up time in your next race.
RELATED: The Upside Of Downhill Training

Form tips for going fast downhill

Lean forward from the hips, not the shoulders. Gravity naturally pulls you downhill. Avoid the urge to lean back and focus on keeping your body perpendicular to the ground. “As you increase speed, move your center of gravity forward with you; not enough and your feet are sliding out from under you, too much and you’re on your face,” Waerlop says.
Use your arms for balance. When running downhill, we don’t need the forward-back arm movement for power like we do on flats and uphills. Although it may look ridiculous in race photos, XTERRA world champion Lesley Paterson recommends flailing your arms out to the side for balance. “It can help give your body the control it might need if speed takes over or a sudden change in direction is needed,” she says.
Engage your core. Think of your abs, glutes and back as your stable base that your limbs work around.
“Circle” your stride. Because you don’t need as much power from the knee drive (thanks, gravity!), keep the feet under the body and don’t overstride. “I often do an almost circular motion—especially if on steep terrain—rather than driving the knee straight through in front of the body,” Paterson says. “It allows more extension out the back and a chance to relax some of the muscles in the follow-through.”
Look down the hill, not at your feet. Waerlop says when you look at your shoes, it induces neck forward flexion and actually facilitates your flexor muscles, which “turns off” the hip extensor muscles (glutes, hamstrings, back muscles)—the ones which help keep you upright and neutral— increasing your risk of falling forward.
Imagine hot coals under your feet. Keep contact time as minimal as possible. “I like to feel as though I am ‘dancing’ over the ground, just lightly touching it with my mid-/forefoot and springing right off again,” Paterson says. This is even more important for off-road running, when you need to be more versatile with where you plant your foot and for how long.

Perfect Foot Position

Think of your foot as a tripod, with the three points being the heads of the big and little toes (at the ball line) and the heel. This tripod needs to be level for the foot to function optimally. If you are too much on your heel, your shins need to slow the descent of the foot, which can lead to shin splints. If you land too much on your forefoot, your calves have to work harder to lower your heel and will exaggerate any forefoot abnormality you have in your gait; this will place additional stress on your knees. —The Gait Guys, Drs. Ivo Waerlop and Shawn Allen

Quick Tip

New (or suck) at running downhill? Descend with your feet turned sideways. As you gain skill, point your feet more progressively downhill.
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Jene Shaw is a senior editor at Triathlete magazine.

  • By Jene Shaw
  • Published Aug. 6, 2013
  • Updated Aug. 7, 2013 at 8:28 AM UTC


  •  

    Tuesday, September 10

    8 Adventure Travel Tips

    by Jimmy Chin
     
    jimmychin_insta_renan
    Planning your great escape? Here are a few travel tips to ensure (well, increase the likelihood) of smooth sailing. Of course, hitting a few bumps in the road can be a good thing. A friend once told me “It’s not an adventure until something goes wrong….”

    1. Stay flexible. Not the yoga kind (although that helps). Plans can change. Buses run late. Luggage gets lost (see #4). Ultimately, the success or failure of your trip from a happiness/fulfillment standpoint will come down to how well you managed the unforeseeables. Remember this: the best stories you later tell will be of the chance encounters, the follies and the unexpected. Roll with it.

    2. Know the customs/culture of your destination. This is part due diligence and part survival skill. At the very least, you’ll avoid an embarrassing or awkward situation. No joke — it can also keep you out of jail, or worse. Remember Michael Fay? While we’re on it, it won’t hurt to learn a little of the language. Just some basic phrases will be enough to make you feel like you’re fitting in, and shows you care enough to try.

    3. Play the guest. Respect + humility. Those two concepts will get you everywhere, in my opinion.

    4. Pack lightly. You may be going for two weeks, but pack like you are going for one. Ditch the four “night out” get ups and the three pairs of board shorts. The extras will only weigh you down, especially if your adventure consists of a significant amount of foot travel. If you can get away with it, pack only what can be carried on the airplane. Nothing is worse than arriving at your destination airport only to find your checked luggage never made it out of Phoenix. Here are some of the essential items that I always take with me.

    5. Have a connection. If you don’t have one, find one. Tap into the 6 degrees of separation and find that friend of a friend living in or around your adventure destination. This is particularly helpful on trips to foreign countries where tourists are targets and hustlers are rampant. You’ll want someone you can trust advising you on the best places to eat, stay, explore, etc. If you don’t know ANYONE, make a connection. Stay wary and on guard, but don’t be afraid to make friends. Not everyone is out to fleece you.
     6. Document the trip. Take photos and keep a journal. You may think you’ll remember every last detail, but once the trips start adding up (and hopefully they will) you’ll be thankful that you have some old pages to pore over and photo galleries to click through. And when the grind starts wearing you down again, pull this material out to get motivated for your next adventure. (Read my journal entry after surviving an Avalanche.)
    Did someone say pack light?7. Know your strengths and limitations. You can’t just decide one day to climb K2 and go do it the next. While it’s absolutely okay to try something new on your next adventure trip, you might not want to make Half Dome your first rock climbing experience. And even the most seasoned mountaineer needs to train before tackling an Everest. Do yourself a favor and brush up on the skills needed for your adventure and work some fitness into your daily routine.
    8. Aim high. This is adventure travel, not R & R at a beach resort. Challenge yourself. Try something new. It could turn out to be your next passion in life. (That’s how I found surfing.) If you’ve made the commitment to adventure, make the commitment to get out of your comfort zone at some point along the way. Trying something new, getting humbled is always exciting and makes for the best trips. A good schooling and little suffering along the way of an epic adventure can make the daily challenges of life back home infinitely more manageable when you get back.

    (Here are some more thoughts on Leaving Your Comfort Zone.)
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    Minimalistic Fuelling



        
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    As far back as I can remember its always been very rare to cycle or run with a group of athletes who don’t have some form of colored drink in their water bottles or some spare change for that awesome sugar stop at the petrol station at around the half way mark. It seems that dependency on some sort of fuelling has not become just a necessity, but also the norm and I battle to find an athlete that even has the confidence to exit home without his or her fuel stash for fear of hitting the dreaded wall.
    Now before you think here comes another weirdo who advocates keeping it all natural and only train and race on water, which I admit I am ;-) , I am also the director of an endurance supplement company which provides fuel :-) .
     
    So how is it that on one hand I market endurance supplements yet on the other I am giving you a hard time for using them? It’s quite simple, supplements have a time and a place when they are suitable but they are not something to be completely dependent on. In actual fact the less dependent you are on a supplement the better the effects when you do use it. 
     
    So firstly lets talk simply about how your muscles get their fuel to function. Muscles need energy to contract and this is done utilizing a chemical called ATP (adenosine triphosphate) which is primarily produced by our mitochondria. Carbohydrates, Fats & Proteins all get converted to ATP under a variety of conditions. Carbohydrates are more easily converted when exercise is done at a high intensity while fat is converted at lower levels of intensity. Protein is not a nutrient that is generally used to power muscle activity. Simply its a poor form of fuel and primarily used more for tissue repair.So lets keep the focus on carbohydrates and fat. 
     
    Glycogen (natural carbohydrate stores) is the quickest accessible fuel in the body and a person who has topped up glycogen stores will be able to provide anything from 90-120 minutes of energy to their system while performing at a high rate of intensity. Fat is a longer access path, but a truly desirable one as a gram of fat has twice the power as a gram of carbohydrate. Have you ever seen fat fall off a grill into a fire, it bursts into flames, this is very similar to what happens in your body, it fires the muscles extremely well when harnessed, it’s an incredibly strong form of fuel and if you are efficient at using your fat stores it will see you a long way. 
    Now the next question is how do you tap your fat stores? This is really dependent on the type of athlete you are, what you consume before and during exercise and the rate of intensity you are performing at.

    Fat requires oxygen to be properly utilized (aerobic level of activity). If you can picture someone racing at a high intensity and he can barely breathe well then you are not tapping into your fat stores as you are not able to take in sufficient oxygen to be utilized for fat conversion. In this case glycogen will primarily be used. At this high rate of intensity an athlete will on average see 90 minutes of fuel, if he is really in a good condition up to 120 minutes of fuel. Lactic acid build up takes place at the same time that glycogen is primarily used and its really very difficult for the general athlete to sustain an incredibly high rate of intensity for such a long period of time. So what actually happens is a combination of glycogen and fat become your energy sources, as pace will land up varying.
     
    This just demonstrates the importance of pacing yourself during an event in order to ensure you are able to spare as much glycogen as possible by using fat as the primary source of fuel if you are able to. The above is just a general idea of how the concept of fuelling works based on intensity.
    Now lets throw fuel or supplements into the picture. If an athlete is performing at an extremely high intensity for longer than a 120 minute period you will want to try and spare the glycogen levels by consuming carbohydrates which are co-utilized for fuel as opposed to glycogen only. A percentage of glycogen is spared but not continual sparing, it will still deplete in time. The carbohydrate intake will just extend its rate of depletion, and the sugar to the brain will give that “feel good” feeling which assists performance perception. A carbohydrate dependent athlete actually has to have that brain feel otherwise he goes downhill :-)
     
    Fat on the other hand is an unlimited resource, you could easily do 50 marathons on your fat stores alone, even if you are lean its incredibly powerful. There are some issues with using fat though. The first is most people are carbohydrate lovers, and the brain will be magnetized towards sugar intake :-) and the second is that he rate at which fat is burned for fuel is too slow to support an extremely hard effort. 
     
    The issue of wanting carbohydrates during exercise can obviously be resolved easily by consuming carbohydrates during exercise, however if you still want to harness your fat it would be in your best interests as an athlete to train your body to utilize fat as a fuel source at a higher rate of intensity which can be done. That way when your glycogen stores are depleted and fat becomes your sole fuel source you will not have to slow your rate of performance down too much in order to stay in a zone where you don’t bonk (hit the wall). 
     
    What are the advantage to becoming a fat efficient athlete:
    1. Definitely you will  notice a difference in body composition and lean muscle mass which will bode well for performance as you might be at a very optimum race weight which previously might have been too heavy.
     
    2. Health – Preventing the excessive carbohydrate cravings and endurance athletes truly do fall into this trap of excessive sugar cravings post exercise. This causes pendulum swinging of blood glucose and insulin levels and you do put yourself at risk later on in life for weight issues, cholesterol or diabetes. Pendulum swinging leaves athletes especially endurance athletes eating inconsistently, I see it often. Lindt Chocolates become the order of the day. 
     
    3. Performance – I can tell you this, you will start to perform far more consistently when you are fat efficient. The longer the event the far better you will manage. Your nutrition worries will be quite easily sorted and your focus will be mainly on effort. You will become an expert at managing your training and training nutrition where your energy levels will be far more balanced. When an athlete experiences sudden dips in energy levels its a terrible feeling and leaves you feeling fatigued and weak, however when you are fat efficient these peaks and troughs are so much closer together on the height scale that you don’t go through that personal hell most athletes tend to find themselves in at some point in a long endurance event.
     
    4. The dreaded bonk – What bonk??? seriously if you are fat efficient chances of you hitting that wall are so slim. The transition from glycogen depletion to fat fueling is so transparent you wont feel it as much as an athlete who really has to have his glycogen because he is not fat efficient. 
     
    5. Time – Yes you will have more time :-) . Imagine waking up in the morning and having a cup of green tea then going out on a 3 hr run or a 5 hr ride and all u needed was water. No prepping your food intake or bottles etc and having to stress about things that much. 
     
    6. Save Money – Yes, you will save a lot of money. OK, the fact that I own an endurance company means you will buy less of my product as you will use it more sparingly :-) . However your health is far more important to me and I mean that sincerely. No need to live on a supplement, use it when you need it. You will also save money on food expense. If you are fat efficient you definitely wont eat as much as you do when you are pigging out on carbs and Lindt chocolates ;-) . You eat less frequently so its a savings. I have run the numbers and even though carbs are cheaper, lets face it sugar is cheap you will save. You will also save on medical bills in the long run ;-) .
     
    So how do you become more efficient at utilizing fat for energy. Its actually quite simple, BUT I will say this you need to be consistent and disciplined. It also takes time, its not something that changes overnight but with time you will notice differences in your ability to fuel efficiently and you will start to find a zone of awesome balance, without the big roller coaster ups and downs experienced by most endurance athletes.
     
    How do I become a fat fuel efficient athlete?:
    1. Nutrition, Nutrition Nutrition 
    I cannot stress nutrition enough. It does not help to have a very high carbohydrate diet, especially consuming carbohydrate foods which cause blood glucose spikes. You are doing yourself a complete disservice not just from a performance point of view but also from a health point of view. The way to naturally become fat efficient ie: burn off fat through proper nutrition is to reduce your carbohydrate intake, and when you do consume carbohydrates ensure the timing of consumption but especially the types of carbohydrates that you consume. Ensure they are stability carbs and not those that send you on roller coaster rides, so stick to low GI carbs its far better, only use higher GI carbs post hard workouts, unless you are racing.
     
    I always tell people if you want to use and lose fat you need to learn how to eat fat. Its amazing how many people avoid fat, however fat is good for you don’t be persuaded into thinking the opposite. Paleo is a very big diet path these days and I don’t object to anyone going the low carb high fat route, I actually do myself however with slight modification.
     
    An endurance athlete putting in around 20 hours or more of training a week will find that time for glycogen replenishment on a low carb high fat diet might be a little longer than usual and this is because of frequency of training which will ultimately lead to fatigue and decreased levels of performance. So I generally recommend two types of modifications and either one is actually OK.
    My preference is to increase carbohydrate intake dependent on training days, time and intensity based. As an example on a single training session day my carbohydrate intake could be around 75-100 grams of carb intake, but on a double session day it could go as high as 175-200 grams. With experimentation over the past 12 years I have found this to work best for me, however some of my clients require as much as 300-400 grams and some can get away with less. Each person is unique and my advice would be to deplete carbohydrates slowly and then find that point where you feel performance and balance is achieved. The type of carbohydrates consumed and the timing of those types of carbohydrates are also significant.
     
    The second method is what is called periodization so this could be following a low carb high fat diet for 6-8 days, followed by a carbo-loading period of around 3 days. This still allows the body to be fat adapted so that even during exercise your body will be trained to utilize fat very efficiently. The problem with periodization is of course timing, if you get it wrong especially before a race you might land up in trouble and flat. The second thing is that when you are consistent on a diet and you suddenly make a change expect some digestive issues and some discomfort. Some athletes still like it, I tend to avoid it. I rather focus on fat efficient eating based on the kind of training day and I find this to work best.
     
    2. Training If you want to burn fat during exercise then you need to train accordingly and this means watch your fuel intake before and during training. The only reason to take on supplements during a training session is to for three things.
     
    1. Very long hard session and you need to keep your glycogen stores topped up as you have another session shortly after.

    2. The intensity and duration of the session is very high and without a supplement you will not achieve your session goal.

    3. Training your gut (You cannot race on a supplement you have not tried, tested and gotten used to and I always recommend setting aside one or two sessions a week to mimic race nutrition to ensure you have it down packed). 

    My advice is quite simple, and this is what I follow which works for me, but time periods will vary for many people depending on how efficient they are and how good their nutrition and fitness levels are. 
    • Up to 2 hrs of even a very hard session there is no need for fuel water is sufficient. However you HAVE to ensure a quick intake of carbohydrates and protein immediately afterwards in order to start the recovery process right away. Secondly you need to then consume a proper recovery meal which I suggest is balanced, complex carbs, protein and fat. A hard 2 hr session will deplete glycogen so you want to recover for the next. If your next session is only a few hours later than you might want to pre-fuel or fuel during this kind of session.
    • Long Slow Sessions -Whether cycle, run or swim, if this session is at a fat burning intensity then DONT fuel it with anything except water, if you are able to. Confidence will come with time, BUT the worst thing you can do on a session like this is take in gels or other spiking carbohydrate products because you are completely mitigating your ability to burn fat and you are most likely just gaining weight as opposed to losing.
      Make these session productive. I have done many rides of 5 hours or more on water alone, even 36-40 km runs BUT I have been doing this for years and my body has become very adapted over time to using fuel as fat at these intensities. People often ask me whats low intensity and that really needs to be perceived effort, or within a comfortable HR zone. As an example, my run pace over 36km’s on water can be 4:40 pace BUT for someone else it might be way to hard and they would need something slower. Some of the elite athletes I deal with can run on fat at 4 minute or just sub 4 minute pace which is incredible, BUT that is a very comfortable pace for them and they are in a fat burn zone. Last week I did a 5 hour water ride at 31 km’s/hr average, but just to demonstrate that I did not weaken as I often get told but you battle to finish without proper fuel its not actually true. On the way out on this out an back ride, I was averaging only 27-28 km/h on the way back I had to ride significantly harder to average out that pace but was fine. I was still within my limits. 15 years ago if I tried something like this even for a 2.5 hr ride I probably would have hit the wall so bad someone would have had to come and fetch me ;-) .
      So I understand there is a start to this, it is a process but in time you will definitely become a fat efficient athlete.
    • Now lets say its just NOT possible for you to go on water, you are not adapted and not confident. It’s quite simple. Fuel yourself on your session BUT with a difference, fuel with non-glucose spiking products. Something that’s low to medium GI something that keeps your insulin levels low enough to ensure you are still burning fat yet making your brain happy and there are products that allow you to do this. 32Gi Endure I have to mention is exactly designed for that. It releases glucose at a slow enough rate making your brain happy and allowing you to still tap your fat stores. The other thing you can do is only take on water for 2 hrs and then introduce your nutrition so that your body has moved into a fat burning zone before you start consuming and this is done by many elite athletes, until they can increase the time on water.
    • Lastly I don’t suggest water training like this every single week and every single session. Start with a one or two and slowly build up, remember you need to recover you need to also understand what your next workout is and you need to fuel yourself accordingly.
    In conclusion I just want to emphasize that at first glance maybe you think this is crazy or not for you, but I can tell you from personal experience and from the many people I deal with on a daily basis, this is certainly the direction to take, not just from a performance but from a health point of view. Remember baby steps get you there it does not happen overnight.
    Get stuck into this journey and you will never look back.
    Good luck
    m :-)

    Thursday, September 5

    UTMB 2013 - Anton Krupicka's Review About the Race

    No unfortunately I decided not to join the race this year. This has been on my list this year but due to something that came up I decided to drop this race. I could have still push to join it, but it was just really impossible for me to be there. Looking at the finish time of my friend who joined the race, I though it was a right decision that I did not push to be there. With my training and how I perform in some of the races, I am not too sure if  can really make it. 

    With an intention of trying my luck again next year, I want to keep a copy of the analysis of this great runner for my personal reference.

    utmb_start
    Photo: Salomon Runinng (Damien Rosso).

    I dropped from the 2013 Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc in Trient, Switzerland on Saturday morning—139km and 17hr after the start in Chamonix, France, but still 29km from making it all the way around the mountain. Curiously—despite the DNF—UTMB was one of the most pleasant, even serene, racing experiences I’ve had out on the trails. However, sometimes a few pieces of gristle are all it takes to bring a halt to our silly ambitions, and, if you let it, completely transform your outlook on the day. I’ve tried to not let that happen, but I’m a competitive bastard, and it takes constant attention on my part to keep my perspective firmly situated in the much-vaunted “bigger picture”. Sometimes you really want to win the fucking race, though. Or just finish, even. And when you don’t, it’s disappointing. Big surprise.

    Like anyone, I’d heard all the stories of UTMB’s rampaging opening pace and over-the-top starting line pageantry, so in the days—months, even—leading up to the race, I continually reminded myself of the need to begin conservatively. I’ve ruined at least three 100mi races in my career by being overzealous in the first half, and I desperately wanted to avoid that here. I knew I was fit; success was going to come down to a matter of attentive race-day execution.

    Upon arriving in Chamonix three weeks ago, objective number one was to preview the  track by running from town to town around Mt. Blanc. Doing so allowed me to experience the entire course, but I also aggravated the backside of my right knee—the one that I hyperextended and whose fibula I broke two years ago—on the 20km/5000′ drop from Gran Col Ferret into Praz de Fort in Switzerland. Obviously, this section alone wasn’t the sole culprit—injuries are typically the result of accumulated stress—but I knew this long, gradual, fast-running downhill would likely end up being the deciding factor in my race two weeks later (and it was). Of course, in compensating for my locked-up hamstring I also managed to inflame my left achilles tendon.

    I took three days off after the tour around the mountain and was extremely fortunate to meet Graeme Waterworth—a physio from Boston running UTMB—for a pair of extensive rehab sessions before the race. This all helped a great deal, and I did the best that I could to willfully squelch any doubts I had about the soundness of my legs, but if I was being honest with myself I knew my wheels weren’t entirely 100%.  Racing 100mi through the mountains as hard as you can is all about irrational confidence and optimism, so I didn’t have much use for acknowledging any chinks in the armor.

    UTMB’s format presented me with many new race logistic wrinkles—mandatory equipment that required wearing a race pack, a 4:30pm start time, running through an entire night, etc.—and I came out the other side pleasantly surprised to have thoroughly enjoyed all of these things. Wearing a pack made the 5-6hr gaps between crew access almost trivial as carrying 20-25 gels at a time was a non-issue; I never even came close to running out of fuel. The afternoon start meant that I slept like a rock the night before, essentially with zero nerves (with American pre-dawn start times I usually only get an hour or two of fitful snoozing). And running through the entire night was a total blast—my lighting system worked flawlessly and I never got drowsy, only ingesting caffeine from the odd gel and a few ounces of Coke along the way. In fact, I almost preferred the night—I found it much easier to stay present in the moment when your world is essentially defined by the beam of your headlamp.

    I’ve never experienced anything like the race start. Electric doesn’t even begin to describe it. Sure, it’s part Euro dance party, part claustrophobia, part melodrama, but beneath all that is a palpable sense of everyone being in this thing together, all striving toward the common goal of getting around the hill as quickly and efficiently as possible. It’s hard to find communal activities with that much positive energy bouncing around and I think it’s important to not trivialize that. It’s pure craziness, in the best possible sense of the word.
    Despite that, I found it quite easy to quickly settle into a reasonable, comfortable rhythm. For me, it’s easy to be conservative when the pace is clearly ridiculous. It’s usually harder for me to maintain that patience, however, after the initial energy has died down but dozens of kilometers still remain before the real racing begins. During the couple kilometers of road before hitting the trail I fell in with the TNF triumvirate of Mike Wolfe, Mike Foote, and Jez Bragg. Once we funneled onto the trail, the humid early evening air of late summer, long shadows, and jockeying of pack running all immediately transported me back to early-season cross-country races in high school. The positive vibes were sky-high for me.

    In Les Houches, at the base of the 2500′ bop up to the Col de Voza, the Wolfepaw and I finally trotted past Nuria and Emma—the lead women, both of whom I’d been sharing a house with for much of the time leading up to the race—at the base of the steep stuff and settled into a nice rhythm of easy jogging and purposeful hiking. Unsurprisingly, I could already feel the hamstring tightening, but I knew there wasn’t really anything I could do about it so just pushed it out of my mind. We were effortlessly passing loads of people and I generally felt great, especially as we ascended into cooler temps.

    By the top of the hill, I’d gapped the Paw and was even beginning to catch occasional glimpses of Seb and Miguel far up ahead, so I didn’t feel any need to be going any faster. The downhill into Saint Gervais (21km) is weird. It doesn’t really look that steep, but it definitely feels steep, and awkward. It’s at just the most awkward grade where one still employs a real running stride, but doing so imparts some serious pounding on the quads. It felt awkward when Joe and I recced it and it felt even more so now with a gimpy hammy.
    Town was a blur of screaming crowds, but I do remember passing Seb in the aid station. I was surprised to see him that far back, and, unfortunately, he wasn’t feeling well and would drop at Les Contamines. The trail from Saint Gervais to Contamines rolls gradually up the valley, and there’s very little hiking in this section except for a couple short, steep bops. I remember getting a little annoyed and worried about my hamstring, but soon enough I emerged into the madness of the Contamines aid station, the first place to see my crew. I chugged two bottles of water, Joe traded my sunglasses for headlamps, informed me that I was 12min off the lead (Julien Chorier), stuffed my pack with gels for the next five and a half hour section to Courmayeur, and I was off. I gained a little boost from seeing Timmy leave the aid only a minute or two before me, but I was most excited to get to the real climbing at Notre Dame de La Gorge so I could do some hiking and de-stress my hamstring.
    Crowds in Contamines 30km. About 12min off the lead. Photo: Bryon Powell/iRunFar.
    Crowds in Contamines (30km). Still about 12min off the lead and in 20th place or so. Photo: Bryon Powell/iRunFar.

    I caught a couple more runners on the run to the base of the climb, but once on the hill I really started moving through the field. Notre Dame was a magical scene with campfires and burning stumps lining the bottom of the hill. I saw my friends at Buff a little ways up, which provided another boost, and once the real hiking started at the La Balme refuge I was so excited to finally be on my preferred terrain of alpine singletrack.
    Marching up to the Col du Bonhomme. Photo: Salomon Running (Damien Rosso).
    Marching up to the Col du Bonhomme. Photo: Salomon Running (Damien Rosso).

    Before I clicked on my headlamp, I caught up to Kiwi Vajin Armstrong, tapping away with a pair of sticks. Vajin is always uber-positive and here in the middle of the night on a mountain pass in France was no different. He’d missed his crew at Contamines but was cheerily headed to Courmayeur with his back-up lights and without his preferred energy food. We chatted briefly, wishing each other luck, but most importantly he gave me some unexpected but very encouraging news…passing him put me in 8th place (up from 32nd only 20km earlier) and he claimed within 6min or so of the lead. Good to know, especially since I felt my efforts in the alpine were even more comfortable than the lower-altitude flat running we’d been doing.
    I reached the summit of Col du Bonhomme at 9:06pm amidst a thick fog, but Dave James (there reporting for iRunFar) confirmed that the leaders had come through at exactly 9pm and Timmy was only a minute or two up. I caught another runner on the moderately techy, 15min, ascending traverse over to Croix du Bonhomme and then began the 1000m vertical drop to Les Chapieux at 49km.

    The top half of this was a blast—lots of rutted cow paths to choose from—and I passed Timmy here and caught up to Jonas Buud, but the bottom half was an endless stretch of long, sweeping, gradual switchbacks that wrecked my hamstring as Jonas disappeared back into the dark. By the bottom I was cramping in my hip flexor from the compensation, but it was impossible to be in a bad mood with the atmosphere at the aid and the fact that I could see three lights stretching out on the 30min of paved, runnable uphill to the base of the Col de La Seigne climb.

    I didn’t actually catch anyone on the road, but once we hopped onto the gradual uphill trail that leads into the steeper switchbacks heading up to the Col, I passed Jonas and easily caught up to Julien who was running with two others. Julien tucked in behind me, leaving the other two behind, and we quickly bridged up to the leading duo of Xavier Thevenard and Miguel Heras. And just like that, I was in the lead group of UTMB.
    Upon reaching Xavier and Miguel, the pace slackened noticeably (Xavier was in front setting the tempo with a pair of sticks, with Miguel hands-on-knees dutifully marching behind) and I was happy to settle in to what felt like a very casual effort. In our quartet, it seemed that Miguel and I were climbing the strongest as we were constantly having to rein ourselves in from clipping Xavier’s heels and it seemed like Julien was sort of reluctantly tagging along, like if he were on his own he’d be climbing a touch slower. For my part, I didn’t care if we started walking on our hands; Miguel and Julien were the two guys I was probably most concerned about leading up to the race and as long as I was within reasonable contact of them, I was happy. Of course, Xavier would actually go on to win the race.

    Our walk to the top of the hill was very nice. Unlike Col du Bonhomme, Col de La Seigne was crystal clear with brilliant stars and nary a breeze. Although the four of us were literally always within an arm’s reach of each other—usually closer—not a single word was spoken the entire way up, nor on the descent to Lac Combal and the Arete Mont Favre climb. Out of the Lac Combal aid, Miguel assumed the pace-setting duties and Xavier must’ve lingered longer in the aid because he didn’t catch back up until the descent off Mont Favre down toward the aid station at the Masion Vielle refuge.

    At the beginning of the Mont Favre climb, Miguel sort of awkwardly stumbled and I found myself in the front, so I set the most relaxed tempo possible that wouldn’t have been comically slow—I was determined to stick with my plan of patience. Miguel and Julien seemed content to just follow. On the downhill, however, I purposefully went even more easy so as to baby my hamstring. Finally, a couple of minutes before Maison Vielle, Julien asked to go past and the four of us immediately launched into a much more frantic pace on the rest of the (now steep, tight, and dusty) descent into Courmayeur, the de facto half-way point at 78 kilometers.

    I again quickly chugged water and re-stocked gels with my crew at Courmayeur, and with nothing better to do, jogged out of the gym in the lead. Miguel caught up a few seconds later and we navigated our way through the silent streets of town toward the 2500′ grunt up to the Bertone checkpoint. Once we hit the trail I let Miguel take the pace as he seemed determined to push the pace on this hill and open a gap on our pursuers of Julien and Xavier. I could hear Miguel breathing heavily and thought it was a little early to be going so hard, but my effort felt easier than Miguel’s sounded, so we marched our way up the dark switchbacks in tandem, reaching Bertone together and continuing on as such for the rolling traverse over to the Bonatti refuge. A pit-stop and a headlamp battery change at Bonatti allowed Miguel to push out a temporary gap but I easily caught back up on the descent to Arnuva, where I led us in to the aid station (95km).
    Following Miguel on the climb from Courmayeur to Bertone. Photo: Salomon Running/Damien Rosso.
    Following Miguel on the climb from Courmayeur to Bertone. Photo: Salomon Running/Damien Rosso.
    Thus far, everything about the race had gone remarkably to plan. While our pace was steady, it felt easy, so I was pretty sure we didn’t really have that substantial of a lead, which was fine with me. I knew it was still so early and the real racing was yet to begin. Despite being determined to not push until at least the far side of Grand Col Ferret (100km)—and ideally not until Champex Lac at mile 76—I immediately gapped Miguel at the foot of the Col Ferret climb. The top third of the climb was increasingly windy and foggy and I gradually felt myself getting a little nauseous as well. I slowed my pace even further as I fished around in my pack to don a jacket and then I kept it there in an effort to keep my stomach happy. I was in the lead of the race but still had 40mi to go so didn’t see any need to be pushing the pace at all. I veritably strolled to the top of the pass then, nearly missing the check-in tent in the fog, and started down the other side, happy to get out of the cloud and into warmer air.

    When I stopped about 10min below the summit to restow my jacket, I was unsurprised when a headlamp came cruising by me—despite deliberately taking it easy up the hill my hamstring was again noticeably checking my abilities on the gradual downhill grade. I was surprised, however, that the new leader was now Xavier and not Miguel. I couldn’t really push in pursuit on the rest of the gradual descent into La Fouly, due to my hamstring, but I was a bit surprised when Bryon Powell informed me there that Xavier had grown his lead to 5min. On the flat road through town, though, I had some very encouraging pep in my legs and was still extremely optimistic about my chances of catching back up once we got to the 1500′ climb up to Champex-Lac.
    In the Fouly aid station, 111km. Bryon Powell lurking. Photo: Ian Corless.
    Leaving the Fouly aid station, 111km. Bryon Powell lurking. Photo: Ian Corless.

    The next 4-5mi over to Praz de Fort are a continued net downhill, and all the running was taking a real toll on my right hamstring. It was super frustrating that I couldn’t push because of a simple mechanical glitch in my leg, and when it came time to start making a move on the climb to Champex I found that my left achilles was now also predictably quite overworked from compensating for my hamstring.
    Praz de Fort (117km) and a stack of firewood, just before daybreak. Photo: Jordi Saragossa.
    Praz de Fort (117km) and a stack of firewood, just before daybreak. Photo: Jordi Saragossa.

    As a result, I couldn’t run this climb nearly as hard as I would’ve liked—and had the energy to do—and I could sense that my ability to actually race was rapidly disappearing. I ran into the Champex-Lac aid tent with Miguel right on my heels, but it hardly mattered, I could only gimp so fast at this point. In an attempt to change the stresses on my legs and hopefully off-load my achilles a little I stopped to quickly change shoes in the aid station, swapping out 110v1′s for 110v2′s with additional heel lifts inserted.

    Miguel and I exited the tent together and he was obviously hurting but still had the energy to give me a knowing wink and wry smile as we left the station. Miguel was the competitor I spent the most time with during the race, and it was a pleasure to run with such a wily vet, especially since our previous tandem racing experience had been cut short at Cavalls del Vent last fall where he had succumbed to the rain and cold. I was especially impressed with his UTMB performance this year, since I had been witness to just how much effort he was putting forth so early in the race (Courmayeur). On the run through the streets of Champex along the shore of the lake, though, my hamstring wouldn’t let me stride out enough to match his pace.
    Hobbling out of Champex. Photo: Joe Grant.
    Hobbling out of Champex. Photo: Joe Grant.

    However, the true hobbling didn’t start until we crested the hill on the edge of town, and the course went gradually downhill for the next couple of kilometers on a wide, smooth fire road. Miguel disappeared into the distance, and I had a minor case of deja vu as this was exactly where my hamstring had been the worst on my tour around the course two weeks earlier. On that particular morning, Tim Olson’s wife Krista had dropped me with ease in this very same spot.

    The Bovine uphill is sections of flattish trail punctuated by much steeper pitches that would normally deliver you at the summit in quite a hurry. Not so today. The steep terrain was murder on my achilles and I soon found myself actually walking backwards up the hill on the steepest inclines. I stopped several times to loosen and re-tie my laces, trying in vain to find some way to make my achilles operable. After what seemed like ages, I finally made the summit and started down the other side, but now, of course, my hamstring was in total rebellion and my downhill progress was pathetic. This was doubly frustrating because even with ~25k’ of descent on my legs, my quads were still rarin’ to go. Javier Dominguez finally caught up to me on the descent as I was stopped to re-tighten my shoe laces—I couldn’t believe that it took so long, but I guess that’s just the way the game goes in the late stages of a 100mi. No one is moving particularly quickly (though I thought he was running impressively well on the downhill at that point).

    Eventually, I limped the rest of the way down the hill into Col de Forclaz where Kilian and Emelie’s encouragement couldn’t even heal things, and then just before Trient, Julien came running by (putting me in 5th place) looking like he was on his way to recovery from a bad patch. Once I finally gimped into the aid station, I stopped for a long time to get my hamstring and achilles taped in a last-ditch effort in at least being able to finish. Of course, things were far too gone for taping to do much of anything at that point, and once I left the aid to test things out I knew I was done. The medical person there was concerned about my inflamed achilles and the possibility of rupture if I continued on it, especially since I was now compensating like mad for it.
    Leaving the Trient aid station (139km). Photo: Trails Endurance Magazine.
    Leaving the Trient aid station (139km). Photo: Trails Endurance Magazine.

    And that was my race.
    Ultimately, the decision to drop wasn’t even really a decision. Now, even with hindsight four days later, I have no regrets about it (especially given the states of my hamstring and achilles now, post-race). If I were to have a do-over on my whole trip to Europe, the main thing I would change is touring around the mountain in, say, four days instead of three, so that the stress on my body wasn’t so high.

    There is no doubt that I’ll return to Chamonix in the future to give UTMB another go, probably even next year. There are a lot of things about the race that I find to be a big turn-off, but there’s no denying that it is the pinnacle in 100mi mountain racing in terms of international competition and profile. All of this talk about a 100mi “championship” in the ultra community is really pretty redundant in my eyes, because UTMB already exists. I feel the course is very fair—non-technical, not at high-altitude, but enough climbing to keep it honest. The organization accommodates entry for top athletes. The only real issue with it, I think, is that it falls about two weeks too late on the calendar. According to pretty much everyone I talked to, the weather notoriously turns crappy the last week of August and is predictably brilliant in the few weeks leading up to that. We lucked out this year, but as the past five years have shown, this year’s weather was an anomaly.
    Finally, a tip of the proverbial hat must be given to Tim, Mike, and Rory. Tim and Mike certainly didn’t have their best days on the hill, but they soldiered on with grit and determination and found a way to get it done, yet again. And as other’s have already noted, Rory’s run was most likely the performance of the year on the women’s side.

    As for me, priority number one is to get healthy, and I’ll make a determination about UROC once I get home to Colorado next week and see how my legs are responding to some running again. Thanks for everyone’s support and following along, I’m as (probably more) aware as everyone else what a rough go this summer has been on the performance front for me, but I don’t plan on stopping trying any time soon.