Fast Running’s Kirsty Reade took on one of the greatest trail and ultra marathon races in the world this September and here’s what she thought about the experience.
Tor des Geants. Here’s what we know. It’s a 330km race around the Aosta Valley, with 24,000m of ascent. You’ve got 150 hours to complete it. There are six lifebases where you can refuel and sleep, plus many refuges and aid stations. And, it will be hard. Those are the facts.
Then there was everything I didn’t know. What would the weather be like? How would the altitude affect me? How would my nutrition and sleep plans hold up? How would my legs cope with relentless descents?
One of the best pieces of advice I was given (by coach Robbie) was not to have a strict plan. To be ready to adapt. Not to stick to an inflexible sleep plan, trying to sleep for 90 mins if it was daylight and I wasn’t tired when I got to the lifebase, but to sleep when I needed to, ideally when it was dark. Little did I know at the start, but adapting the plan would be very much the theme of the race. Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face…
Adapt and keep moving forward
We set off from Courmayeur in the rain on Sunday morning. Having two waves of runners, two hours apart, meant that the start had a fairly relaxed feel and you weren’t crammed in with your face in people’s armpits (unlike those other races on the other side of Mont Blanc). The initial climbing was dictated by the snake of runners and I was happy just to settle in and keep it manageable. So far, so good.
One of the key things about this race is that you quite quickly find yourself up high, close to 3000m. So everybody starts to feel the effects of altitude early on.
You work harder and breathe harder, you feel sluggish, you might feel sick. But then you drop down again and hopefully you feel better fairly quickly. I got through the first night feeling ok, with nutrition plan pretty intact, but into the second day, the altitude punched me in the face. But actually, rather than a haymaker to the face, I think it was a series of light jabs over a prolonged period.
The reason? I hadn’t stayed on top of my hydration well enough, and I had let my nutrition slip when I started to feel nauseous. Add to that the general exertion and fatigue and it was no surprise I was feeling terrible. I had to work to turn that around.
A new day, a new weather forecast
Into the second day the rain stopped, the views opened up and I was absolutely punched in the face with the sheer beauty of this route. It felt like an incredible privilege to be on this journey in the mountains, seeing ibex, chamois, even a marmot, glimpsing snow-capped mountains all around. It is absolutely, hands-down, the most stunning route I have ever run.
The middle section of the race passed relatively well for me. I got back on top of my nutrition and hydration, I started to feel better, I was absolutely loving the route, the atmosphere and the fact that my legs were feeling pretty good (thanks Big Paul T, for my strength and conditioning plan).
We had a spell of running through pretty mountain villages, where the volunteers insisted we try their local delicacies on the aid stations. It’s touches like this that make the race unique and special and I loved soaking up these experiences.
A middling experience
I started to feel very fixated on getting to the mid-way point of the race, which was Rifugio Coda. It’s worth noting that the refuges are some of the highlights of this race. Ranging from small stone buildings to large, almost luxury hotel-like structures with bar and restaurant, all welcome you in and feed you soup and pasta. And some had beds. Actual beds!
At the lifebases you can sleep in camp beds, sometimes in a building, sometimes in a marquee, but always with a scratchy blanket that smelt of ‘other runners’ (you know that smell). But at some refuges they had beds, and that was an absolute highlight. Rifugio Coda didn’t have beds available, but the next refuge – della Barma – did, so I pressed on, buoyed by the fact I was halfway.
Rifugio della Barma just refused to appear. Over sections of ferrata with scary drops and up and down technical sections we went, but it just never seemed to get any closer. This is definitely a theme of this race – for every gloriously runnable section there is a long, bouldery, slow section which will mess with your mind. Eventually I reached it and entered to find about 30 runners, all with 1000 yard stares. 60 minutes in an actual bed never felt so good.
An ultramarathon with good food? Only in Italy
After another good day I got to Gressoney in pretty good shape. It was there that I had the culinary highlight of my trip to Italy – a cheese and tomato focaccia sandwich. I can’t explain how perfect it was in that moment. The fresh tomatoes, the salt, the soft bread, the salt, the carbs, the salt. I think I needed salt.
So I set off feeling good but also over-confident. I started to feel like the end was in sight and I just wanted to crack on and get that next section done. Fast forward a mere 15k with a couple of climbs in and I no longer knew what I was doing. This was my biggest punch in the face.
I found myself standing on the trail in the dark and I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing.
All I knew was that I had to follow the yellow flags. I read what it said on the flag (Tor de Geants) and then, with a sharp intake of breath, said “am I in Italy?”.
I’ve never been that confused through lack of sleep in my life and it was terrifying and something I am keen to avoid happening again. Fortunately I was close to Champoluc, an aid station with beds, so I followed the flags there and had an emergency sleep. If I’d been in a more remote place I could have been in danger, and it was the closest I came to a DNF.
Wall napping at its finest. Short sleeps like this help Tor des Geants runners keep moving forward.
Time for a nap?
After getting going again and after a big ascent to Rifugio Grand Tournalin and then a gruelling, long descent to Oyace I had another short nap. Then it was time for another push to Ollomont, during which the conditions were deteriorating with snow coming in.
After a final sleep I set off into what would be the last day for me, somewhat trepidatiously due to the conditions. On the one hand I felt very privileged to experience some snowy mountain conditions, but on the other hand I was slightly scared about the final section already, let alone with added ice.
From the final refreshment point of Saint-Rhemy-en-Bosses it was essentially one big climb, punctuated by Rifugio Frassati, then one massive push over the top. “Easy”… maybe not.
Col du Malatra at 2900m looking chilly. Photo: Kirsty Reade
All four seasons in a race
Despite being so tired by this point the climb went well, but the conditions were very difficult by time I reached the refuge. I actually started to doubt if I had the courage to get over the scrambly summit in the ice. I was absolutely terrified by this prospect. Fortunately I buddied up with another runner and we took it as carefully and safely as possible, and we made it over just as night was falling.
The Tor flags are yellow for good reason.
It was almost literally all downhill from there and, once we were low enough to be below the snow/ice we could relax and run it in. The feeling that I was going to finish this race was indescribable and there were definitely tears shed. Coming into Courmayeur and seeing my crew (plus Nats, Rosa and Pica) is a moment I’ll remember forever.
The enormity of that journey, everything I’d seen and experienced, and the sense of pride I felt was completely overwhelming.
This was without doubt the hardest race I’ve ever done, the most rewarding and the most beautiful. I don’t think I’ll ever top it. If you’ve got a good amount of mountain ultra experience and you’re looking for a race where you can test your limits in every way, I cannot recommend it enough. It’s an adventure with a family feel and a unique atmosphere and I honestly don’t know how to get back to normal life after doing it. I might need to adapt that plan.
