Tor des Géants

Have you ever had a goal or a dream so extreme that it bordered on the edge of possible and impossible, even in your own imagination? But just the thought of it was so exciting, so thrilling, that you would still share it with anyone who asked? Tor was that dream for me. I think I found out about the Tor des Géants when I first found out about ultra marathons, about a year before I even ran my first. I think I googled something like “world’s hardest races” and Tor appeared in an article listing them. After reading about it, and even more so after seeing all the stunning pictures from the course, it stuck in my imagination. It became an ultimate goal, something I would dream about doing, but never sure it would become a reality.

6 years later, I found myself ready to apply for another “bucket list” race of mine, The Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB). I have 5 bucket list races: UTMB, Western States Endurance Run, Hardrock, Zion 100, and Tor des Géants. I had all my qualification points lined up for UTMB, and my lottery odds would be good because it was my second year applying. But then I found out it was the same weekend as a best friend's wedding, so I didn’t apply. In almost the same thought, I saw Tor was the weekend after, so I applied, almost whimsically, not really expecting to get in. But considering the subject matter of this report, we know the outcome of that lottery. Early on the day of the announcement, before I had even been officially notified, a Tor veteran from Massachusetts posted on my Facebook, telling me to get ready. A few hours later I had the acceptance email in my inbox.

Suddenly my summer training priorities shifted. Vermont 100 was no longer my ‘A’ race, instead it was about to be the most absurdly long training run ever. And I was going to have to focus more time in the mountains.

Ultimately I think a couple of things contributed to my successful finish (spoilers):

1. Highest mileage month ever in June. Over 300 miles, with 70% on trail
2. A 25 mile, 10K ft gain run in the White Mountains. Totally punishing
3. A final mountain run 2 weeks out, the presidential traverse, with /u/doderlein

I don’t think I was as prepared as I could have been, but I don’t think I was underprepared either.

What is Tor:

To backup, here is what Tor des Géants is. It follows the Alta Via 2 and 1, circling the Aosta Valley region of North West Italy. The website lists the race as 330 km of distance, and 24000 m (78740 ft) of climbing. This is also probably very short of the real numbers. ITRA, based off the .GPX file provided to them, lists the race as 357.9 km (222 miles) and 25300 m (83000 ft) of climbing. The truth is somewhere in there. For some comparisons, one of the biggest 100 mile races in the states, Hardrock, features 33000 ft of climbing, and UTMB (a massive 100 mile race in the alps) features 32600 ft of climbing. Plus, talking to participants in all three, the trails on Tor are more rugged than the trails of either of those two races. Tor is the real deal, apparently.

Getting to the Race:

So, Kate and I flew into Milan, landing on Thursday before the race (start was Sunday at 12:00), and took the train from the airport into Milan. In Milan we ate gelato, met up with some friends with college, got drinks and dinner and more gelato, and then went back to our hotel. The next morning we got up, got breakfast, and then left to go back to the airport to pickup our rental car. After waiting in a crazy long line and not getting the car we reserved (got an Audi Q3 diesel instead of a VW Tiguan), we left for Courmayeur. Our AirBnB was in Morgex, just 15 min down the road from the startline. Friday night we went into Courmayeur and saw the pre-race festivities. The elite athletes were announced, and then we watched the start of Tor des Glaciers, a 450km race being held for the tenth running of the Tor Des Géants. These athletes would travel much further and much higher than we would, while receiving far less support. An incredibly daunting task.

Saturday was bib pickup, we went back to Courmayeur and waited in line again to get my bib and GPS. Then I panic bought some new gear, a new grid fleece with a hood (I probably wore this for at least 100 miles of the race, so I think it was a good buy), and new lighter microspikes from Nortec that aren’t available in the states (I carried these for all 200+ miles, and used them only once, but given that I had them with me the whole way, I think the expense for much lighter weight was worth it). Saturday night was the athletes dinner where they gave us a rundown on the race, fed us a lot of cured meats and pasta, and then we all held hands and listened to what for some reason has become the song for Tor for last ten years (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbgqdyN4-I4). I made it back to the AirBNB for final packing, and then to bed.

A race starting at noon makes for a very pleasant race morning. I got up at a reasonable time and had breakfast, and finished packing. Then Kate and I headed into Courmayeur. I dropped off my Tor bag (a big yellow duffle that would travel from life base to life base, life bases are the major aid stations every ~30 miles), and then I heard there would be snow, and bought some new gloves. In total, that makes 3 panic purchases in Courmayeur, but they all worked out very well.

I activated my GPS and started heading into the starting area around 11:30 when I ran into, John Kelly, Barkley Finisher. I chatted with him a bit, and let him know I was surprised the race didn’t give him an elite bib. He said he had asked but they didn’t go for it. Then I ran into Bob Crowley (https://i.imgur.com/Q8Djfq3.jpg ), a former Massachusetts trail runner, instrumental in the revival of the Trail Animals Run Club (TARC), with whom I somtimes run. John pushed up to the front and Bob and I hung out waiting for the start. Finally, there was the countdown and we were off through the streets of Courmayeur.

Day 1: Courmayeur to Valgrisenche

• Col Arp
• La Thuile
• Col Haut
• Col Crosaties
• Valgrisenche

The days and landmarks all blend together, so I’ll try to do my best to keep things straight. I tried to keep it easy running the first mile on the road to get to the trailhead. I eventually pulled to the side and put on my rain jacket, because it was raining. I think got to the singletrack, and the conga line started. Just absolutely packed single file, we all marched up to trail together. We broke treeline and kept ascending. Finally we were in a large glacial cirque, headed up to Col Arp and it started snowing, and quite hard (https://i.imgur.com/yBQxcsV.jpg ). After a steep climb and some final switchbacks, I reached the first Col. The other side was clear, so I started down to the first aid station (that I can remember) in the town of La Thuile.

La Thuile was a mess, I probably didn’t eat as much as I should have, instead trying to get out quickly. After that it was two more steep and high passes (Col Haut and Col Crosaties)before reaching the first life base, Valgrisenche. I initially didn’t think I’d sleep at Valgrisenche, but that thought rapidly changed after I ate a few plates of pasta. I asked for some sleeping quarters and an Italian man shuffled me to a building where I climbed to a loft area and tried to sleep. I didn’t get much sleep as people kept banging into the area below and having very loud conversations. After about an hour a twenty minutes I got up and left, heading out into the night, for what would be one of the hardest sections of the race.

Day 2: Valgrisenche to Cogne (the longest stretch)

• Col Fenetre
• Col Entrelor
• Col Loson
• Cogne

I can’t remember a lot of specifics here. The first climb was still conga line, I followed the feet in front of me closesly up what I’m sure would be one of the craziest climbs, but I’m not sure as it was all in the dark. I think it was a lot of exposed cliff faces while hanging off ropes. Steep chimneys of rock abounded on this climb. All while I was in some half sleep phase due to the darkness. I think eventually we made it down to a town called Bruil (https://i.imgur.com/D0lWLiA.jpg ). It was frigid cold out and the cold was playing hell on my phone, because when I pulled it from being against my body, the cold air caused condensation to form on the camera lenses on the inside. This ended my picture taking for several days during the race. After a brief stop over at Bruil, I set out again.

The second climb felt endless, so incredibly steep. I finally reached the top and was sure that we must have reached the high point of the course. I was told I was mistaken, because we were about to descend all the way down we had just climbed, and then up again, 300 meters higher. After another very steep descent to Eau Rousse (a town of which I have zero memory), the climb to Col Loson began. Miles 48 - 55, with 5000 ft of climbing, and it got steeper the further along it went. I remember eventually being able to see the col from the bottom of the cirque, and realizing it was still at least an hour away. But eventually I made it to the top, was was elated to know that this was the highest I’d be all race. I could certainly feel the elevation, but I wasn’t totally winded. Finally I could begin the descent to the second life base, Cogne.

I got into Cogne at I think around 10 PM, looking at the timing. I got as much food in me as possible, Kate taking caring of various needs I had. Eventually I went to sleep again, this time remembering my earplugs and a buff to throw over my face. The sleep scenario here was a very large gymnasium with cots. I threw my large Tor bag on foot of the bed, and slept with my feet slightly elevated, I believe I was laying down for 90 minutes. I actually woke up in a semi panic thinking I had overslept, and then realized I still had 50 minutes, so I actually got up and used the bathroom before sleeping again. Finally I left Cogne around 2 in the morning, with about 4.5 to 5 hours to go until sunlight.

Day 3: Cogne to Donnas + Donnas to Coda / Barma

• Col Fenetre (a different one)
• Hellish long descent
• Pooping off trail
• Donnas
• Meeting with David
• Perloz
• Seeing the lights of the next Valley
• Refugio Coda
• Refugio Barma

This next stretch was supposed to be slightly easier to Donnas. Only one climb over a much greater distance than any of the previous six, and then a very long descent down into Donnas. The climb passed without much excitement and then the downhill began. And it was punishing. 30 km of mostly downhill. And then when I thought we’d get a slight road respite, the trail turned onto some old ancient Roman pathway that wound up and down very technical trails along the edge of a river. It felt like it would drop 50 ft, and then gain back 49 ft, endlessly. I really was not enjoying this section of trail. My feet were also really starting to hurt at this point, and at some point over the previous two days, the mountain air had dried my mouth out, so I had canker sores developing in my throat on my tonsils. Needless to say, these weren’t my happiest miles. Eventually I found a section to pull off, do my business, and then jog it into Donnas. Donnas is an ancient Roman city, so I got to jog in on a roman road, on which you could still see the cuts from wagon wheels. Finally, I reached the life base and was able to dry off. I entered Donnas around 4pm.

Here I switched from my tights which were causing some serious chafing to my Patagonia Strider Pro shorts (from the Vermont 100, representing New England). And I lounged around for a bit shoving pasta in my face. I don’t think I slept here, but I really don’t remember. I also realized why my feet had been hurting. I, stupidly, had put squirrel’s nut butter across the balls of my feet, and that was preventing moisture from escaping, causing maceration. I let my feet dry for awhile, and then at the advice of another runner, I leuko-taped across to hold the skin in place. I would continue to leuko tape that region for the remainder of the race.

I left Donnas around 6pm with a Canadian runner named David. We set off for a quick climb up to a small town and aid station called Perloz. We heard livestock making noises from ground level stables in the town, and at the aid it felt like the entire tiny mountain side town was out, ringing giant bells as we entered. It was a very cool vibe. We then left Perloz, with a slight descent and then a climb up to 7000 ft (from just under 1000 in Donnas) to gain a ridgeline. The ridge was actually also the very edge of the Aosta valley. It was dark when we hit so we saw an awesome sight. To our west were the small and sporadic lights of the tiny alpine villages of the Aosta Valley. To the east was the huge sprawl of urban lights, coming from a town we think was Biella. It was almost like a reminder that there was still a world beyond this tiny valley we were forging our way through.

David and I were getting cold and tired as we worked along the ridge and finally reached our sleeping destination, Rifugio Coda. We asked for beds for 90 minutes and got lead away to this dungeon-esque room. Two levels of mattresses next to eachother, probably 6 across. I was given the bed on the upper level next to a wall. I stripped my shoes off and climbed up and almost immediately fell asleep. There was a space heater on full blast in the room, so the hot air rose to that point, I didn’t even need a blanket to stay warm. 90 minutes later, my foot was shaken by one of the volunteers to wake me up. I think we were in coda from about 1 am to 3 am. David and I set off again into the night. We worked our way through the night, seeing god knows what. I think this was a swampy miserable section. Just after dawn we reached Rifugio Barma, a nearly brand new construction. Walking in I saw hikers eating cake and pie, and I got excited. Then we were quickly ushered to a backroom where we saw the pasta, meat, and broth we knew so well. David and I were spent from the night, so we took another sleep at Barma, this time only 30 minutes, but it was the best 30 minute sleep of the whole race. The room was quiet with just the two of us in it, and there was a big window with natural light shining in when we woke up. It took a bit to get out of Barma but we finally did, setting off into some bracingly cool morning air.

Day 4: Barma to Gressoney to Valtourneche

• Col du Marmontana (no idea)
• Lago Chiara (pond with grilled meat and polenta/cheesy glue)
• Col della Vecchia
• Niel (glass doors on either side, more polenta this time with meat)
• Col Lasoney
• Gressoney (slept in climbing gym?)
• Alpenzu
• Col Pinter
• Cuneaz
• Champuloc (end of day 4)
• Col di Nana
• Cheneil

Out of Barma, it was actually relatively mild as far as climbing or descending went, though it didn’t feel like it. Somewhere along the way (and this is where memory gets hazy) we reached an aid station that was high up next to a mountain lake. If memory serves, this was an aid that was heli dropped, but I think volunteers must have hiked a lot of stuff in. They were serving either polenta or some sort of cheesy potatoes (there was another aid serving the other). If it was the cheesey potatoes, they were delicious, with the consistency of drying rubber cement. So good. They were also grilling meat on a flat stone they had placed over a fire. So I had my cheesy potato glue with hot grilled sausage and ham and other meats. Definitely a food highlight. We descended out of here to an aid station called Niel. Here there was polenta with meat sauce and more food and Kate managed to make it up to see me, which was a big emotional boost. After eating as much polenta as I could, David and I took off again, hiking next to three runners from the Glaciers race. They looked like had been through hell, and I was not envious of their position. After Niel was a climb up onto what felt like a plateau and then a very long descent through a valley. On this descent we ran through a farm land where I was bluff charged by a baby cow while an old Italian woman seemed to yell at the cows not to bother us. Also along the way we say a helicopter land to evac a Tor runner. Story went that she had been walking downhill backwards for the last 3 miles and the race officials cut her off. The helicopter was called to that aid because there were no roads to that farm house, so no other means to evacuate her apparently. Finally after the long descent and then a winding bit of road or road adjacent trail (I can’t remember), we hit the life base Gressoney at about 8 PM. Here David and I split up to do our own thing, but had plans to leave together. I ate a few bowls of pasta and prosciutto and charged my devices. Then I slept for I think about 90 minutes (or rather was in the cot for 90 minutes). I think this is the lifebase where the sleeping arrangement was in a climbing gym, and the mattresses were all the various climbing pads. David and I met up again and headed off. The section from Gressoney to Valtourneche was a short one, only 34 km.

Out of Gressoney was a steep climb. Over 3000 ft of gain in 3 miles steep. It was hard. And then a descent down and through a ski area on the other side, down to the worst aid station of the course Champuloc. There was very little food here, it was cold, and there was no place to sleep. Getting in here, I was ahead of David so I sat down at a table, pulled my puffy over myself, and fell asleep with my head in my arms. At some point I knew David also arrived, but I didn’t do much. I eventually woke up and looked around, not seeing David. I checked my phone and saw a message from him “taking a nap on the floor” and I looked down to find him asleep on his back with his hat over his face. We slept like this for a few more minutes before leaving, barely eating anything as there was almost nothing there. From Champuloc was another sizeable, though not as steep climb, and then descent to reach Valtourneche at about noon.

Day 5 / Day 6 Valtourneche to Ollomomt

• Leaving David
• Rifugio Barmasse (Meeting up with Bob and Sophia)
• Fenetre d'ersa
• Fenetre de Tzan
• Rifugio Lo Magià (Finding a Roch in a hard place)
• Roch trips balls
• Rifugio Cuney (Bob's ears get double teamed)
• Bivacco R. Clermont
• (dawn)
• Oyace (crepes and McDs)
• Col Bruson
• Ollomomt
• Cheeseburger in Ollomont
• David's blister

I don’t really remember what the Valtourneche aid was like. I think I had my feet looked at, and I think I took a shower. Other than that I know I ate a bunch and felt good. I was ready to leave a David was getting a massage. I asked his wife if he’d be upset if I left before him and she said something along the lines of “no, and I think with these things, when you’re feeling like you can move you should move” so off I went. I had a text on my phone from Bob saying he wasn’t far up ahead and suggesting I should join. I was hiking slowly but well in the daylight, and finally popped up over the ridge of a climb to Rifigio Barmasse where I found Bob and a woman Sophia enjoying some food. Great timing! Bob bought me a sour flavored ice pop which was delicious, especially as it was getting quite hot out, and I set off with Bob and Sophia. We hiked together through two different Cols and descended to Rifugio Magià. Sophia’s stomach had been bothering her so wer weren’t sure if we’d try to sleep at Magià or not. There we found 10x Hardrock veteran and Kroger’s Canteen aid station (Hardrock aid station) captain Roch Horton. Roch said he was having some trouble and asked to join with us. We decided not to sleep at Magià, instead trying to push on up a climb to Rifugio Cuney.

The climb to Cuney was intense, especially as Roch narrated his hallucinations to us. He said he could make the glaciers pop off the mountains and fly like butterflies, and he could make the lights of the runners on the switchbacks flow like water. He also pointed out to Sophia all the faces in the rocks we were stepping over. Roch was not in a good place.

We reached Cuney, and it was similar sleeping accommodations to Coda. We were all placed on mattresses in a row, I was next to a wall, then Bob, then Roch, then Sophia. Apparently Roch and I fell asleep right away, and started snoring, much to Bob’s dismay. Sorry Bob.

We were woken up after 90 minutes and were a little slow to get out of the rifugio. All of us struggling to move against the cumulative fatigue of 160+ miles in our legs. From Cuney we started more climbing to get to another mobile bivouac aid, also next to the smallest rifugio on the course, Clermont. This was one of the coolest rifugios to me. We reached it in the early hours of the morning, while it was still well before dawn, and it was really small. Only a narrow kitchen on one side, and four levels of mattresses on the right. I sat down next to Roch on the bottom bunk (no one was sleeping here), and ate a plate of pasta and then sort of collapsed sideways in the fetal position before being woken up by the rest of the crew. We set out into the darkness again.

We climbed in the dark up to Col Vessona and then began the long (2788 m to 1360 m) descent to Oyace where Bob’s crew would be waiting for us. We hit Oyace just after day break sort of a bit strung out, so Bob, Sophia, and Roch were already there when I made it in. At the aid station, Bob’s crew had smoothies, PB filled crepes, and McD’s cheeseburgers to eat for us, and there was the standard aid station food. I tried a smoothie, and it burned like crazy on the sores in my mouth, so I finished one but didn’t partake in a second. I then had a bowl of pasta with olive oil and cheese, and then lied down on my back with my feet up on the bench. After a brief respite, we all gathered again to hike to Ollomont, just one climb and descent from the final life base.

In Ollomont, I showered, and had my feet looked at again. The shower was bracingly cold. Kate also managed to score me a cheeseburger from a food truck which was there. It was not your standard cheeseburger, featuring some sort of Italian cheese and being on what felt like focaccia bread, but it was still very delicious. Also, David rolled in to the aid not far behind me, pulled of his sock, and discovered a plum growing out of the side of his foot. Somehow, he had developed what might be the largest blister I’ve ever seen and he couldn’t even feel it. So he went to have his feet treated as well.

Eventually our group of four (Bob, Sophia, Roch and myself) gathered and we were told we had a section where we could make up some time between Ollomont and Saint-Rhémy-en-Bosses. There was one climb and then a relatively flat section.

Day 6 / Day 7: Ollomomt to Courmayeur

• To Saint Rhemy Bosses
• The shit show collapses
• Rifugio Frassati
• Col Malatra
• Sunrise
• Crossing the shitty field
• Reaching the Utmb trail
• Rifugio Bertone
• Final descent
• Finish

We made it up and over the climb, Bob coming up with some numbers on how we should do to stay comfortable in our time limits. We had a little over 24 hours to finish the race, with a 50 km section left (and we had all seen ~50km take 24 hours or more in previous sections). But after the first climb we all did something amazing. We ran. Bob told me to take the lead, and I set a slow jogging pace along nearly flat fireroad for nearly 20 km. (Well it felt like running, apparently we were moving at about ~20 min / mile, but 3 mph was well faster than the 2 mph we’d been averaging up to that point). But as we “ran” my feet started to hurt more and more. The blisters on my heels were just so painful. I couldn’t speed walk because to do so would mean landing on my heels, so my walking was this weird walk with an attempted midfoot strike. Not pleasant. Not to mention that my forefeet were also numb / on fire all at the same time. At some point David caught up to us (and so did a dude I had been yoyoing with all race named Cal, maybe. I don’t remember specifically if Cal was there or not). Our group continued through the night, making it down off the trails we were on, winding through city streets arriving at the last major aid station of the race, Saint-Rhémy-en-Bosses, and then it felt like everything fell apart.

My feet were on fire, so I went to medical almost immediately to have them looked at, Kate coming along to help me out. David was falling asleep on his feet, so he went to try and nap. Bob, Sophia, and Roch pushed through to try and keep moving to reach Rifugio Frasati, the rifugio before the last pass, Col Malatra. After I had my feet looked at I went to try and get someplace to sleep and was told that there were no available beds, so I ate some pasta and then fell asleep in the corner of the large aid tent on the bench of a picnic table.

Side story from David on this aid station. He did get to sleep, and told me later that there were beds, and that most of the aid station volunteers were drunk and that’s why they didn’t have good account of the bed numbers. He also said that when he popped out of his sleeping area, he saw two volunteers making out, one of whom was a woman from Australia. She said something like “yeah mate, you totally got this, almost there” to which he replied “really, I mean there’s a good 12 hours or more left that I’ll be out there” and she then replied back again something like “Nah mate, you’re good!” and then slapped him on the ass before going back to making out with the Italian man who was the other volunteer involved in this scenario.

I woke up on my bench, cold and tired, and gathered myself and set off alone into the night. The climb from Rhemy to Frasati was from 4500 ft to 7700 ft, alone in the dark. I put on some headphones and listened to some podcasts while trying to stay away. Trekking through cattle fields, past quiet farm houses, on narrow trails above sheer drop offs where a slip could mean rolling downhill 1000 ft. It was an ordeal to go through in the middle of the night. It took me about 3 hours, but I reached Frasati in the dead of night, and exhausted. When I stepped into the rifugio’s mud room, Sophia was headed out the door with a smile on her face. She excitedly told me that she was making a push to the finish, because she said she had the timing right that she could hopefully see her friend win the Women’s race for Glacier. I was impressed simultaneously both with her attitude and her friend’s spectacular ability. Meanwhile I took my shoes off, and put on the “hut slippers” (crocs) and went in. I stepped inside to a weird whirlwind of activity. Runners sprawled everywhere, gear strewn about, people collapsing at tables, others trying to collect themselves. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to sleep or not, but someone (maybe Bob?) told me I should because the sleep accommodations were amazing. I found a volunteer and told them I wanted to sleep for half an hour. I was given a room where I was the only one in it, with four beds. The room was cold, but there were two very heavy and thick comforters on the small bed I was assigned. I curled up in the bedding and fell asleep almost right away. I was woken up by a volunteer half an hour later and groggily trudged back to the main room. I shuffled about trying to chug coke and eat pasta, both trying to fortify myself for the final push as well as delay it with as many excuses as possible. I steadied myself to face the night when all of a sudden David walked out of the sleeping areas. I decided it’d be better to head out with someone, so I asked him how much time he thought he needed. He said 10 - 15 minutes so I said I’d wait for him. I ate and drank a little more before putting my shoes back on, and then David and I headed out into the night, for the last time. The climb from Frasati to Col Malatra was not particularly long, only about 1200 ft of elevation gain. We wound up timing it really well, and wound up hanging out in the pass with a bunch of other runners for about 20 minutes or so, waiting to watch the sunrise. The sun rose over the peaks of the mountains in the distance and we began our final push for the finish.

After the steep descent the trail became about as tough as it had even been through out the race. I think a large section here wasn’t even trail at all, just flagging over undulating and incredibly uneven cow pasture. Mont Blanc loomed huge in front of us feeling like I could almost touch it (https://i.imgur.com/aNYSycg.jpg). Finally we made our way onto some of the UTMB trail and it smoothed out greatly. Another hour or two of jog / walking and I made it to Rifugio Bertone, the final rifugio. David was already sitting and eating. I was told that there was about 45 minutes to over an hour to get to the finish, and I had about an hour to finish if I wanted to go under 144 hrs (exactly 6 days). I decided that was as good a goal as any, so I told David I was gonna push for it. I used the bathroom, laced my shoes up extra tight for what I was told was a technical descent (all feeling in my toes subsequently disappeared), and bombed it downhill. I passed another MA resident on the way, Dima, who told me I had (I think) less than a mile and a half to the finish. I kept running (actually running) and found myself off the trails and running down through the streets of Courmayeur. Then I was at the bottom, and turing left on the final stretch of road. The street was lined with people cheering. Runners already finished and their crews. Volunteers from early aid stations. The residents themselves of Courmayeur. It was a terrific feeling, running through the street, knowhing my journey was done.

I was on the final yellow carpet leading to the finish (https://i.imgur.com/3Kj78Jb.jpg). Then up and over the ramp, through the finishing portal. I signed the giant banner that all finishers signed and then found my friends. Bob and Roch had finished only minutes in front of me, and David came through only a few minutes behind. The first thing I did was take my shoes off, and then found that Kate had bought me some flip flops. I lounged around the finish are for awhile soaking in the sites (https://i.imgur.com/545KF7s.jpg), while drinking beer, and Kate got us a calzone. We made plans to meet up with the Run the Alps folks (the owner of which is originally from NH) and our compatriots for dinner, and then Kate and I went back to Morgex for a nap and shower.

Post race:

Dinner was delicious, beer and pizza, and then an early bed again. The next day was the awards ceremony. All the winners of the races were announced, then all the finishers of Glacier were announced by name, and then all the Géants were announced by name. I proceeded down the walkway and then was given my finishers shirt. We then all sat down for the group photo (https://i.imgur.com/Xqda5py.jpg) and then held hands and sang the song again. 565 finishers who made the journey around the Aosta Valley.

This was amazing race. Probably the most amazing race experience I’ll ever have. It’s so much beyond anything else I’ve ever experienced. Almost everything was perfect. The biggest most beautiful experience, a tiny life time crammed into 6 days. I couldn’t have done this without my wife Kate helping me and encouraging me all along the way, and I’m forever grateful. I’m not sure she’d ever let me do it again, but if I could do it again, I would in a heartbeat.

Final Bulleted Thoughts:

• There are many ways to combine bread, broth, cured meats, and fontina and I love them all
• Japanese runners have the coolest gear. Saw some https://answer-4.com packs out there, which just look so awesome.
• On Japanese runners, there was a team from Japan out there who had completed the insanely difficult PTL a week or two before. A 300km run high in the Alps, which is as much mountaineering as running, and is not considered a “race” but a challenge just to be completed
• The scale of this race is insane, more climbing / descending per mile than Hardrock or UTMB, on harder trails, for more than twice as long
• Italians liiiiiiiiie. Oooo they lie. Not with ill intent, but anytime I asked “how far until…” or “how many kilometers” I got back an answer in hours or minutes, and I could ask five groups, get five different answers, and have none of them be close to correct.
• I wish I had snagged a pizza at a life base or had asked Kate to get one, because some people did and it smelled amazing
• I’m a huge gear nerd, and was freaking out about all the sweet euro gear in all the stores in Courmayeur. I could have spent $$$ out there
• I wish I had taken more pictures, but I was worried that my phone was permanently busted when it fogged over the very first morning. Maybe I need to find a better way to transport my phone
• My pack (Black Diamond Distance 15) was borderline too small for the gear I brought, yet was so much larger than some of the tiny packs I saw some people wearing.
• The La Sportiva Akyras are not fast or nimble shoes, but they will protect your feet and hold up to abuse, I wore them for all but 30 miles of the race.
• Buffs are awesome. I used one to breathe through when air was dusty, to cover my head and ears when it was cold, to cover my head, neck, and ears when it was sunny, etc. Awesome piece of gear.
• I weighed about 10 lbs less when I got home
• I really like gelato
• video is here: https://youtu.be/mfX5wc2y7TQ unedited, just all thrown together and uploaded
• full imgur album (https://imgur.com/a/Tz3dTrk )