Trail des Aiguilles Rouges – 52km ‘Ultramarathon’ in Chamonix 

Steph & Phil: Aiguilles Rouges Trail - done!

3am should really only be seen on a big night out, so when the alarm went off on Sunday 27^th September on a dark, drizzly Chamonix morning, I very nearly just rolled over and went back to sleep. I felt like I hadn’t slept at all! It was only the promise I’d made to Phil the night before to give him a lift that made me drag myself out of bed. Packing my bag with energy drinks, mini pitta sandwiches and a lot of Torq bars, my main motivation was how nice it was going to be to lie on the sofa that evening, knowing that the whole thing was over and done with.

Meeting Josie, Phil, and Tim en route, the coffee started to kick in, along with the familiar pre race flutter of nerves and furious faffing: rearranging clothes, bags, head torches. Somehow between leaving the house and getting in the car, I’d already managed to lose my sunglasses, which had been on my head when I’d left. Not a good start.

The Trail des Aiguilles Rouges is a 52km mountain ‘Ultramarathon’ around the Chamonix Valley. As we arrived in Vallorcine, the atmosphere started to buzz and nervous excitement replaced the overwhelming pull of being snuggled up in bed. At the start line, we joined the 650 other competitors trying to keep warm in T shirts and running tights in the now increasing rain.

The gun went off at 5am and the crowd surged forward for a surprisingly fast start: this was more like my 10km pace! Josie took the lead, weaving in and out of the crowd. Wondering how the hell we were we going to keep this up for 52km, I decided to follow anyway. Josie had run this part of the course in training so I trusted her inside knowledge and ran alongside her for the first couple of kms on mellow, mainly downhill roads.

Then we hit the bottleneck. The trail narrowed to single track and competitors entered the woodland around Vallorcine, where the route steepened and became suddenly slippery and treacherous in the rain. Crawling to complete stops at points, while runners negotiated tree roots and rocks, the frustration was palpable, with everyone jostling for position. It was impossible to overtake – no wonder the pace had been so fast to start with. I felt frustratingly close to the back, looking up the hillside ahead at the snake of head torches bobbing through the woods, all of which seemed to be moving so much faster than us. Pacing yourself is important, and I knew it would all spread out eventually, but at this rate, it was going to take forever to get round.

Sunrise came as we were half way up the Berard Valley and suddenly it felt as if the race was really underway. Still frustratingly slow at points, I wanted to pick up the pace, but tried to force myself to conserve energy and not waste time and effort trying to get ahead of people. Only two hours in, and we still had a long way to go! At the Berard refuge and food station, I chose not to stop. Overtaking perhaps fifty people who’d paused to refuel, I suddenly found myself more in my zone, surrounded by people who were ‘running’ (walking fast uphill with poles!) at a pace I was more comfortable with.

The Col de Salentin was shrouded in clouds, and the wind and cold picked up as we drew closer to the summit. Phil caught up behind me, and we walked together for 10 minutes before he went on ahead, looking strong and fast, and clearly keen to up the pace too after the frustrating start. Coming down over the col at over 2000m, the mist cleared to reveal a beautiful early morning mountain view. With the relief that the worst climb was over and we had a long descent ahead to recover, I was suddenly in my element. Energy bars and the first mini sandwich already on board, I found myself really enjoying the descent, nipping down the steep hairpins and feeling agile and full of energy.

The long traverse through the Aiguilles Rouges national park was the easiest part of the race: undulating, but mainly downhill, across Alpine meadows all the way to the next refuge (Moede-Anterne). I bumped into Phil again here, but again chose not to stop. I figured my water would last me to the top of Brevent – the next stop, and I still had a full energy drink. It was a risk, but I was on a roll! Overtaking another big group of people, I started to get the feeling I was creeping towards the quicker racers, and the spectators were getting more and more encouraging. Long distance mountain running is a man’s world, and as a girl, you get extra encouragement and cheers! I love it.

My legs still felt strong as we doubled back on ourselves, continuing down the valley, to the start of the climb up to Brevent and the Aiguillette des Houches. As the weather cleared on the peaks, the Aiguillette looked a seriously long way away. I tried not to think about it and concentrated on running smoothly downhill, using my poles efficiently, and trying not to let my feet hit the ground too heavily. For me, it’s all about staying light, bouncing from step to step, and making everything feel so much more effortless.   

Relaxing after the event!

As I climbed up Brevent, I could feel myself bonking. My breath was coming hard, and in an instant my legs went from feeling lively to suddenly heavy and stiff. I knew I’d almost finished my water supply and was kicking myself for stupidly not filling up. Forcing down another energy bar, I started to feel really knackered and sick. Risking it, not quite knowing how far I was from the Col, I downed most of my remaining energy drink, which gave me an instant boost. Helped by the friendly face of Ann at the top of Brevent, it all suddenly seemed ok again. Jim was at the rest stop, where I filled up on water finally. He’d lost Jeroen much earlier and we ran together for a few minutes. Over 30km, with the two main climbs over, we were into the final 3^rd with a long downhill ahead of us. The end was in sight!

The crowd at the top of the Aiguillette des Houches were amazing. It was great to see a few familiar faces, and the cheering got me up the last section to the summit. All I was thinking was ‘downhill – yey’ and ‘go carefully, you’re tired!’ One girl put a lump in my throat – ‘Allez les filles! You’re doing amazingly, well done. Honestly, I’m so proud of you. Go girl!’

Far from being a relief, the descent all the way to Servoz was brutal. Nearly 15kms of steep, slippery, relentless downhill: easier on your lungs, but harder on your body. Switchback after switchback on loose, rocky, narrow trails with dangerous drops either side. One wrong foot could mean serious injury. I made good time, but by the time I caught up with Phil again coming into Servoz village, my knees were shot and I was trying not to limp. Feeling a niggling old injury flaring up, I tried to run without putting any weight on my leg. Knowing I was pushing myself hard, I stopped at the rest station in Servoz and filled up on coke and another sandwich. The salty ham and pesto combination gave me a kick, and with the knowledge that I was only 8kms from the end, I knew I’d make it, even if I walked the whole rest of the way.

The end felt tantalisingly close, but the unexpectedly cruel final hill nearly broke me. Phil and I suffered it together, not speaking, but sharing the pain of the steep path that wound up from Servoz through Vaudagne. The ground underfoot was loose earth: it felt like walking through quicksand, and our bodies had already been pushed beyond our normal limits. An old man at the top of Vaudagne cheered us on ‘It’s only 4km to go’.

Those 4 km were painfully hard. My knee was killing me, and I winced with every downhill step. But as we finally approached Les Houches, the cheering picked up, only 2kms to go, only 1km to go. Phil had gone on ahead. I couldn’t keep up any more, but the guy in the yellow T shirt, who’d been running most of the way alongside me, stopped as we hit the road and the final few hundred metres to the finish. ‘We’ve done this together, let’s finish it together’. Coming into the last lap of the Les Houches lake, all the pain in my legs disappeared, and I ran the final stretch feeling nothing but the amazing buzz of completing the longest run I’ve ever done. As I crossed the finish line, I burst into tears, and swore I’d never do anything so stupidly hard again.

Five minutes later, when I realised I’d knocked an hour off the time I’d hoped for, and finished 5^th in my category, it was a whole different story. Anyone for the CCC next year?