When I first heard about the Skyrunning World Champs going to Chamonix for its 2014 edition, I knew I had to go. Come on, it’s like having the soccer World Cup in Brazil, maybe a once in a lifetime opportunity! The dates were not ideal for me though, since it would take place only two weeks before Ronda dels Cims, the tough, insane 170K race that makes any mountain runner shiver. A race that I’m happy to call my ‘home race’ and that I’ve been recceing all year long since I live in Andorra.

So from early on I chose to see things differently. Just being part of the festivity would make me happy and sharing it with my wife -who would run the 23K Cross, her first race ever- even better.

This is why on our first day in Cham’ -the cool, trendy way to say Chamonix for us Frenchies!- I head to the mountains. No taper in mind, just the will to go up and tag a peak or two. The long ascent of Tête de Bel Lachat makes me realize how this place is different from others. The hail storm even adds something mystical. I stand on top of this 2,276m peak only to face the massive, mighty Mont-Blanc above 4,000m. The narrowness of the valley and the fast progression of the clouds accentuate the contrast, giving the mountain some indescribable motion. I feel like a kid. I feel awesome.

The following days are easy ones. Catching up with our great Aussie friends Leeah and Matt, meeting up with some adventurers to present Pokapu (a project I’ve been working on for the last couple of months, that will create the most comprehensive database of iconic routes all around the world)… I love sharing visions and ideas with other mountain lovers. It gives me so much energy!

Thus when I wake up on Friday at 2:30am I’m feeling great. After a copious breakfast and a quick stop to pick up the Aussies, here I am, heading to the starting line with 1,300 other runners. It’s not even 4am and Chamonix already looks like an über busy anthill! The stress is rising when I realize that the corral is already filled with two thirds of the participants. Damn!

My fear is confirmed a few minutes later. I’m forcing my way up towards the entrance of the first single track hoping to avoid bottlenecks, slaloming between cars and runners -hikers?- who already walk using their poles on the paved road outside Chamonix. Call me a douche if you want but a 49% DNF rate can find some explanations here.

The first ascent is weird. The agitation at the start disturbed me a lot and I’m grousing about everything. Runners cutting switchbacks -on the way up guys, really?!-, gels already dropped on the ground, a more than overcrowded pack… until I raise my head. The first lights of sunrise adds enough clarity to magnify Mont-Blanc. The scenery is utterly beautiful. I switch off my headlamp to enjoy the natural, warm light of the first sunbeam, cruising over the rocky slope of Brévent. The magic is back.

The next 13K are nice. An easy downhill over fire roads then back to nice single tracks up Tête aux Vents. The sun is up now and it’s pretty challenging to stay focused on the trail when the surroundings are this beautiful! The descent down Le Buet is rocky and fairly technical -as I love- so I manage to pass a couple of runners. The sensations are great and the frustration of the start is now way behind.

But hey it’s an ultra, right? After euphoria comes doubt. The steep start of the long second climb starts messing with my brain. I’m suddenly feeling weak, tired. Runners get to pass me with ease. What am I doing? Am I paying for my early effort at the start? I’m trying to stay focused and look around me.

The Glacier de Tré-les-eaux and Mont Buet are standing in front of me in all their beauty, reminding me that pace is insignificant at this point.

I’m just getting so much energy from these mountains that I’d better make good use of it! With Ronda dels Cims in mind, I gradually move up to Col des Corbeaux thinking that one step at the time is always better than no step at all! From this point we enter Switzerland for a while.

After Col de la Terrasse I tackle the long, snowy descent down Col du Passet. Hard at first, I start enjoying running again, even managing to put my ‘lugging’ winter practice to work on the steepest slopes. So much fun! A nice, 4K technical trail to Loriaz follows. Many ladders and iron steps fixed to the rocks make my progress slower, which doesn’t displease me!

The rest of the descent to Vallorcine is bitter. Endless. The pace is decent but I’m feeling so tired after 50K. The course is tougher than I thought.

Getting to the aid station is a bit emotional. The crowd is cheering like crazy and my body shivers. I’m just a guy running yet people encourage me, chanting my name they can read on my bib. Makes me wanna cry. I give some ‘Merci!’ here and there, trying to refocus.

This sudden, powerful flow of emotion gets to me the wrong way. Starting the third major climb up Col des Posettes, I’m ‘not there’. I’m feeling empty. Why am I doing all this? Just make a phone call and my wife could come pick me up at Vallorcine. I had early thoughts about dropping out before Coll des Corbeaux but now I’m hitting the wall big time. I sit on a rock for a good ten minutes. I don’t want to fail. But I have no energy left. Or have I? I hike maybe twenty minutes before sitting again. More emotions well up inside me. I’m thinking of my little 6yo Emma who asked me to bring her back my finisher medal and I made the promise to try and get it.

“Move. Just F*cking Move!” I remember telling myself. “At least for this one climb!”

And here I am, moving again. It ain’t pretty. But I gradually make my way up the Col. Energy is back when I see the ridge heading to Aiguillette des Posettes. Back to alpine scenery after this ugly yet hard ascent in the forest! I’m passing runners, my body’s working again! I fought my demons and this time, I won!

The descent is long but I feel fine. Coming at the next aid station -Argentières- I make a mistake. My GPS is already showing 66K out of the 80K we’re supposed to complete so I’m convinced that I’m at Les Bois -7K further- about to start climbing up Mer de Glace. I try to save some energy and hike the flats instead of running. One, two, three kilometers and still no climb! It’s even going down! When I realize my error, it is a bit late. I start running again only to get to the aid station a couple of minutes later. Sounds trivial but stupid enough to mess again with my brain!

Anyway I’m at the bottom of this last climb that will lead me to Montenvers and Mer de Glace. Still not thinking about Chamonix, just taking one step at the time. I’m feeling weak again but no matter what, I’m gonna get up there! The ascent is desperately slow but easier than expected. A runner tells me that we must be somewhere between 150-200th place which I find hard to believe. We’re going so slow!

We’re finally leaving the forest to get to Rochers des Montets. Mer de Glace is right over there! The path is craggy and multiple ladders are here to help. Between the trees I start looking down on that spectacular landscape. Unfortunately, the glacier has retreated a lot over the last twenty years and I only see rocks all over the place. Makes me sad. We’re really screwing things up with mother Nature.

After a quick stop at Montenvers, I’m thinking I’m done with climbing. This segment is a bit blurry in my head and I forgot the extra 300 meters to get to Plan de l’Aiguille. But more than the amount of vertical, it is the overall distance that bothers everyone. With 79K already completed, it’s more than obvious that we’ll pass 90K instead of the 80 we’d planned for…

Fortunately the balcony heading to Plan de l’Aiguille is really nice. Chamonix is in sight so the chance of finishing is back! A last stop to refill the bottles and only 6K to go over a steep trail that slowly transitions into long, endless switchbacks in the forest. My body is responding surprisingly well and I even start chasing the runner in front of me!

The entrance in Chamonix is, well, crazy. I know I’m gonna cross that finish line after all these mixed feelings all day long. People are sitting on terraces cheering us all. I’m flat out, having reduced the gap to less than ten seconds.

I’ll not pass the guy though (I’ll learn after the race that he was also chasing another runner six seconds ahead of him), but finishing an ultra this way is fantastic. Some people must have wondered why on hell these three guys crossing the line six hours after Luis Alberto Hernando -the new SkyUltra World Champion- were sprinting at 4:30 min/km but this is how it is. Hard ‘til the finish, giving it all.

I finally cross the line after 16:56 hours, 92K and almost 7,000m of vertical in 128th position over 1,300 runners, falling in the arms of my lovely wife, tears of joy mixed with overall exhaustion. Such a fine line between ups and downs. Pushing your own limits further. Indulging the illusion that, at some point, you can move mountains.