Last day in Italy

Goodbye, Valle d'Aosta 

Sunday marked the last full day of a long, sometimes exhausting, but incredibly rewarding trip to Europe. During the last week I had grown particularly attached to Courmayeur, and bid my personal goodbyes to all of the things I was going to miss — the light-hearted and friendly locals, the delicious thin-crust pizzas, and of course all of the mountains. So many mountains, so little time and energy in life to visit them all. But I felt like I had a good run during this trip. 

 On Sunday morning, the Tor des Geants held its final awards ceremony. It seemed like most of the town turned out to spectate. The friendly woman who ran the desk at our hotel even shut down the front office for a couple of hours to stand in the crowd and cheer for runners. All of the finishers gathered to parade down the main street of Courmayeur. This photo is a picture of Beat with his friend Dima and Dima's girlfriend Karen. Dima and Beat traveled together for some time during the 2011 Tor des Geants, which is how they became friends. Dima, whose full first name is Dmitry, is a Russian who lives in the eastern United States. He teased Beat about finding the only other Russian Dmitry to partner with in this year's running of the TDG. After the race we also got to spend a little time with Beat's 2012 Dmitry, a soft-spoken software developer who just moved to New York.

Afterward, Beat and I met Ana for our promised gelato celebration. Ana succeeded in finishing the 2012 Tor des Geants despite multiple setbacks, including her sprained ankle before the event. She stoically kept at it, and arrived at the finish line on Saturday morning. Although Ana and I vowed to each eat a liter of gelato together if she finished the TDG, in the end we both chickened out. I was about to head out for an afternoon hike that 33 ounces of heavy cream and sugar would have likely sidelined, and I think Ana was just too tired to eat more than a normal portion. But the gelato was delicious. I had cherry and Nutella-flavored scoops on a cone. This is another thing I will miss about Courmayeur. 

Because I was still dealing with frequent leg cramps, I told Beat I wanted to do something "short and easy" for my afternoon outing. The problem with climbing mountains in Courmayeur is the complete absence of anything resembling "short and easy." But it was my last day in Italy, and I just had to visit one more mountain. I chose Mont Cormet, an 8,200-foot peak that towers directly over town. I set up this timed photo to illustrate what hiking above the Aosta Valley usually entails — the "trail" shoots straight up the mountain slope on a 50-percent grade. Even at a snail's pace, my leg muscles were on fire. No wonder they've been cramping so much. As I climbed closer to the peak, I encountered some difficult terrain including traverses of extremely steep avalanche gullies, scrambles beside cliff bands, and navigating around a maze of large metal "nets" presumably constructed to prevent rockslides from tumbling all the way into town. During that section I had one mile that my Garmin registered as a 57-minute-mile. So much for short and easy. 

During the climb, I thought about Beat's effort in his two European races. The PTL was 290 kilometers with 22,000 meters of climbing. The Tor des Geants was 303 kilometers with 24,000 meters of climbing. In the context of my 57-minute-mile, the numbers were difficult to fathom. And yet, by grinding away at it one kilometer at a time, he'd managed to accomplish the impossible-seeming big picture. Runners have different agendas. Many are experimenting with how fast they can go, but some of us are genuinely more interested in discovering how far we can go. Beat just took his running farther than he has yet, and it was enlightening to observe the ways in which he became stronger as he went. His body seemed to adapt to his increasing demands, and besides his feet, he had relatively few physical issues. As for his feet, he admits he made a couple of misjudgments in the early miles of the PTL that resulted in him having to work hard to mitigate the damage for the remainder of PTL and all of TDG. But Beat's personal distance experiment went farther toward confirming a theory I've long held about endurance challenges — that beyond the limitations of our own minds, our individual potential is unimaginably extensive.

Perhaps someday I will return to these mountains to test this theory on myself. Until then, I will look back fondly to the striking beauty and the muscle-grinding terrain that necessitates 57-minute miles.

Courmayeur to Mont Cormet, round-trip distance: 9.4 miles
Total climbing: 4,377 feet
Total time: 3:48

After the TDG

Looking toward Mont Blanc (Monte Bianco) from the Italian side

The day after Beat finished the Tor des Geants, he was predictably wrecked. Also predictable, for a person whose body had carried him so far over so many days, was the way he didn't fully believe he was done. One minute he'd be scheming about running 22 miles out and back to the iced-over pass that the TDG skipped, and the next he'd unintentionally doze off over an empty pizza plate. In making travel plans, we'd opted to stay through Sunday's awards ceremony. So we had two more days in Italy. Although to a much lesser extent than Beat, I was feeling fairly worn down myself. But, like Beat, I figured my body had handled these daily mountain outings just fine thus far. Why wouldn't I be able to continue indefinitely?

Before we came to Italy, I had ambitions to fast-trek the Tour du Mont Blanc trail on my own over three days. I only planned to do this if Beat ended his race several days early — mostly because the minimal support I could provide Beat in the Tor des Geants was more important to me. Not that he really needed it — but I did hate the idea of not being available if things went bad out there. So I never did get to see that much of the TMB route during this trip, but on Saturday I set out to explore a small section from Courmayeur, traveling toward France. My legs felt sluggish, and there were flashes of muscle pain and cramping in the first steep miles up to Delorme. As I climbed, I revised my expectations to the Maison Vielle refuge, only about three miles and 2,500 feet of climbing from Courmayeur. I was going to turn around after that. But as I gained elevation, the day revealed itself as the most perfect kind of bluebird — warm and brilliantly clear. Sunshine and mountains are really the purest source of energy there is.

Although I've only seen sections of the Tour du Mont Blanc trail, and even then mostly in fog and night, I have to say — this has to be one of the best sections of the whole route. A long, rolling traverse crossed the slopes above a glacier valley. It was blissfully runnable, which I tried despite cramping legs, and also bikeable. I think I actually started drooling when this guy rolled by — as much as I love hiking and running, wheels still hold the deepest affection in my heart. I mean, look at that — all that scenic singletrack. The trail was deceptively steep, and it would be a tough ride. But maybe someday I'll come back with a bike.

I crossed up and over L'Arp Sup Vielle and chatted with a two men from New Zealand who claimed they were on a "weight loss trip" and that the abundance of French food along the TMB wasn't helping them in their quest. "Wait until you go through Italy. Italians make really amazing food," I replied. "Don't tell us that!" they proclaimed. They were also noticeably distraught when I told them the gondola down from Delorme didn't appear to be running that day. "You mean we have to hike the whole ten kilometers into Courmayuer?" they moaned. Funny guys.

I wasn't ready to be done just yet but didn't want to descend too far on the TMB, so I cut over on a side trail that continued climbing up the ridge, even though I had no idea where it went. I thought I might climb about 500 feet to a better viewpoint. But the trail kept going up, and became continuously more rugged. Eventually I was crawling across boulders above 8,500 feet elevation and thought, "Huh. I must be climbing a mountain."

Mont Fortin was the name of the mountain, a little peak at a modest 9,050 feet elevation — little, but rugged. The route, marked with yellow paint, wrapped around the boulder field on a steep face, still ice-slicked despite the rapidly warming temperatures. Some of the terrain left me a little sketched out, and I nearly turned back three times. But if I looked around, I always I figured out a better way around the obstacle that was tripping me up, and continued to the top. The panoramic views were worth it.

Enjoying the last of my Reeses Peanut Butter Cups at the top. Of the six packs I brought with me to Europe, I saved these for a special occasion.

The ruins of a stone building, possibly a former refuge or bivouac on a ledge atop Mont Fortin.

An equally tempting traverse down into the next valley over. If I had a map with me and had a clue where it went, I likely would have taken it.

So many incredible views. Since I told Beat I was going to go for a short hike and now looked like I'd be out for nearly seven hours, I texted him with this as an excuse.

I had to return to the sketchy traverse on the way back down. There were only a few fields of snow left on the mountain, but they were rock-hard ice and any falls, while not fatal, would have really hurt. I took my time.

Then back down the TMB. I tried to run to make up time, but the legs were angry with me again. Still, I was bursting with energy. Mountains and sun. That's all I need (and peanut butter cups.)

Courmayeur to Mont Fortin, round-trip distance: 17.2 miles
Total climbing: 6,829 feet
Total time: 6:37

Tor des Geants, day five

Dressed for the weather above Rifugio Bertone — temperatures in the 30s and 20-30 mph winds

It was a cold night. I could tell even curled up in the back of the rental car, because my 40-degree-rated sleeping bag wasn't enough to break the chill. Beat and Dmitry arrived at Valtournenche, kilometer 236, at 5 a.m. and informed me that they planned to eat and run. However, once inside the tent, we learned that the race organization had paused the race, citing extreme weather on the higher passes. I strove to eavesdrop on the volunteers' Italian chatter, but the most we could make out was 110 kilometer-per-hour winds and repeats of the word "Malatra," a high pass that was still a day away for Beat. We guessed there was lots of new snow on that pass. 

TDG racers lining up for the restart in Valtournenche

Beat and Dmitry took advantage of the suspension to grab an unplanned nap, while I lingered in the tent to continue to eavesdrop on conversations I couldn't understand, and also chat with another American runner, Dan from Bellingham, Washington. Dan had way too much energy for 5 a.m., let alone being a Tor des Geants racer at 5 a.m. He was panting at the gate like an Iditarod sled dog, almost manic with a desire to be released. It was actually humorous to watch, as he was also too exhausted to realize he was full-on rambling at a rather impressive rate of words per minute. Finally, just before 9 a.m., the volunteers announced the race was back on. A few dozen runners who had backed up at the checkpoint lined up for the restart.

A typical "side street" in Valtournenche

Valtournenche is an strange village. There essentially was no available land, but people built a large town on the mountainside all the same. Several ten-plus-story buildings are stacked up the hill like a staircase, and many of the residential zones are only accessible by stone steps. Just for fun, I followed Beat and Dmitry up the trail out of town, but within five minutes I felt distressingly bad. My breadsticks-and-jam dinner didn't really hold me over, and I'd been up for more than four hours with no breakfast. My blood sugar was so low that I felt dizzy and my legs were wobbly. I was tripping all over myself on the stairs, and finally had to announce to the guys that I couldn't keep up so I was turning around. Indeed, I was a pathetic case.

Rifugio Bertone

Somehow I got the car back to Courmayeur and crashed hard for the afternoon. It's been a while since I've been so tired. I was less tired after I finished UTMB. It's humbling to me because what I chose to do this week was a fraction of what the Tor des Geants demands. And yet I was shattered. I took two or three fitful naps, but always woke up after fifteen minutes or so, drenched in sweat, with harrowing memories of the last scene of some terrible nightmare. These naps were far from restful. In one of the nightmares, I found a bunch of infant kittens floating in a toilet in a checkpoint restroom. Most of them were dead but two were alive and I rescued them, but I was so upset about it that I didn't even know what to do. So I just ran around the checkpoint asking volunteers if they had any blankets for the kittens, and no one would help me. It was horrible. I rarely have nightmares, let alone about something so random as kitten homicide. I must have been really overtired.

Mont Blanc, or Monte Bianco in Italian, covered in a fresh layer of white

The nightmares and the weird naps left me feeling almost feverish, and I genuinely had to get outside. It was after 5 p.m. so I set out for a "short" hike up to the ridge above Rifugio Bertone, where I hoped to catch the sunset. It was a beautiful evening but cold, deeply cold. By the time I ascended above timberline, the ambient temperature must have been near freezing, and winds were blowing around 30 miles per hour. I thought about all the TDG racers out there fighting these conditions, adding yet another layer of difficulty to the battle. And indeed, there would be more late drops from respiratory infections, and most racers had to deal with painful coughing and bouts of mild hypothermia.

Why trail running is energizing rather than exhausting — I stand by this theory. 

This grassy, rolling ridge above Val Sapin is one of the few "runnable" trails close to town. I was feeling more energetic, and also fairly chilled, so I broke into a jog and then a full run as evening light crept up the glaciers of Mont Blanc. It was breathtakingly beautiful. The bad energy I'd accumulated earlier in the day melted away. All it took was another healthy dose of elevation.

The village of St. Rhemy en Bosses

Thursday was another night of short sleep as I prepared to meet Beat in Ollomont, but ultimately missed him because he was unexpectedly fast into that checkpoint. One of the most surprising things I observed in the Tor des Geants is the way Beat seemed to grow stronger as the miles and climbing stacked up. He was still in a lot of pain with his shredded feet, but as long as his body was pumping out endorphins, he was climbing well and even occasionally running down hills. His splits were becoming harder to gauge because already he was covering ground faster than he had late in the race in 2011, and continuing to improve on his improvements. Because this race came directly after the beatdown of the PTL, it seemed as though he had descended into the depths of physical depletion and discovered that the bottom was actually just the other side of a sphere, then emerged into new sunlight, healthy and strong again. He'll beg to differ with this convoluted theory, but this is how it appeared to me and other observers — he was getting stronger. Maybe longer really is better.

Beat and Dmitry travel the final 10-kilometer gradual road descent into St. Rhemy.

I was already planning to meet him at the 303-kilometer checkpoint, St. Rhemy, when I learned of another race rumor that Col Malatra ultimately proved to be impassable, and race organizers planned to end the race there, thirty kilometers short of Courmayeur. I frantically researched the situation as best as I could at 4 a.m., and learned that dangerous ice conditions coated the steep trail to the pass. Mountain guides set out to chip steps into the icy snow, but determined that the trail could not be safely crossed without winter equipment such as an ice ax and crampons, which no TDG racer had. About sixty frontrunners had made it into Courmayeur, most who crossed the pass during the realitive warmth of the day. But already at least one racer had been injured during a night crossing, badly enough to be helicopter evacuated from the pass. There was no way to safely manage the 300-plus runners still making their way toward the finish, so the hard decision was made to move the finish line to St. Rhemy.

Beat and his new friend Dmitry cross the finish line

The final miles into St. Rhemy were a gradual dirt road descent, something that must be a mental battle of boredom for tired runners. For me, it was a pleasant early morning walk. I sauntered up the trail and intersected Beat about four miles from town. He too had heard the news that the race was ending in St. Rhemy, and, in learning the punishment was about to end, his brain shut down the endorphin production. His was in a world of hurt and not happy. I made the mistake of misjudging the length of a climb, and received a long and stern lecture about the demoralizing powers of misinformation. I don't blame Beat for his mood. I also can't hide my crankiness when I am in pain.

Beat signing the famous poster that all finishers sign. 

Still, (most of) the crankiness dissolved the second he crossed the finish line. Beat finished 166th of 630 starters and 392 finishers, not a bad result for a 2012 PTL finisher. I asked him if he was disappointed about missing the last pass and final thirty kilometers into Courmayeur. He said no, because he'd already finished the TDG twice. Plus, the thirty kilometers over Col Malatra is almost a victory lap at that point. While parts of it are steep and the pass is high, there is nothing particularly challenging about that section of trail (unless of course it's covered in ice.) "Once you've reach St. Rhemy, you know you can do it," Beat said. "So it feels like the finish already, in a way."

We also learned that Beat is one of 18 people to have finished all three runnings of the Tor des Geants. He said this means he has to go back next year for a fourth. Oi.

Courmayer to ridge above Rifugio Bertone, round trip: 9.5 miles
Total climbing: 4,219
Total time: 2:37