2015 Eiger Ultra Trail 51km
Grindelwald is a small town
in Switzerland. It is not a store where Harry Potter got his wand. It
sits beneath the Eiger's north face, best known for the clothing brand
worn by pretentious hipsters in vanagons. The Eiger Ultra Trail 51km and
101km are billed as tougher than the North Face Solo, presumably
because they add an extra km. Or so I thought. This bad boy spanked me
harshly, and I'm still sore days after.
Ten minutes into the run, we came across a few llamas. You knew when you're in for some serious hills when the locals have to import animals from the Andes. The large crowd of runners filed into the single track trail, and we slowly made our way up the first major climb. A horse wanted to join in but this isn't the Tevis Cup so the equine was disqualified. Rounding out the animal farm, local cows cheered us on, one giving my arm a lick for good measure. She was probably enjoying all the salt I'd been sweating out. So, moo-ving on....
The next few climbs and descents were uneventful. We crested Grosse Scheidegg and watched the sun come up the valley. By 9 AM, I was over 3 hours into the run and had barely covered 10 miles. At the next summit, my right quad reminded me that doing a hundred burpees and a hundred weighted squats are not enough to climb the Alps. It cramped, but just before the summit itself. Luck was on my side as the subsequent 1000 ft descent was easy and fast.
Third aid station in and I took my first break after assembling my own beef and cheese sandwich. Real cheese. What came next could be called a death march, but the pain reminded me that I was still alive. By now, both quads were resonating in stereo with cramps. I was forced to stop every few minutes and work my elbow into my thighs to loosen things up for the next few steps. My neck nearly cramped from constantly craning up to peek at the summit and down to watch my sad tired feet. Relief on reaching the crest was short lived when I saw that the Faulhorn summit was up another steep trail to where a misguided Swiss had built a hut.
The descent was at times as slow as climbing. I only realized how technical the trail was when I wanted to go faster but couldn't without breaking a leg or the conga line in front. I flew down other parts, at one point doing a Superman after tripping on a rock. I wrapped my stars and stripes bandana around my wounded hand barely slowing down.
Reaching open trails, I descended to the final aid station in the valley, passing a couple dozen runners in the last few hundred meters. The final slog up the valley was hot, teased by the ice cold river just out of reach.
My daughter met me for the final km, to remind me that I was now slower than an 11 year old girl. Good thing for her we weren't in the US or she'd have had to run the last mile instead of just a km. Uli Steck, the guy who set the record for speed climbing the Eiger, designed this course. As evidence, the last 1 of the 51km run includes a 300 ft climb in about 300 meters. With cheering crowds chanting something in Swiss that I imagine is "give up you silly old man", I muscled up the hill like a little girl and beat my kids to the finish.
Neary 10 hours after starting, I was finally done, proving that I am average, at least average among the starters of the Eiger Ultra (but not so ultra that we're dumb enough to try 101km, Ethan) Trail. This was harder than my previous 50 milers and nearly as hard as Quicksilver 100km, again proving the superiority of the metric system.
And the race has its own song!
Ten minutes into the run, we came across a few llamas. You knew when you're in for some serious hills when the locals have to import animals from the Andes. The large crowd of runners filed into the single track trail, and we slowly made our way up the first major climb. A horse wanted to join in but this isn't the Tevis Cup so the equine was disqualified. Rounding out the animal farm, local cows cheered us on, one giving my arm a lick for good measure. She was probably enjoying all the salt I'd been sweating out. So, moo-ving on....
The next few climbs and descents were uneventful. We crested Grosse Scheidegg and watched the sun come up the valley. By 9 AM, I was over 3 hours into the run and had barely covered 10 miles. At the next summit, my right quad reminded me that doing a hundred burpees and a hundred weighted squats are not enough to climb the Alps. It cramped, but just before the summit itself. Luck was on my side as the subsequent 1000 ft descent was easy and fast.
Third aid station in and I took my first break after assembling my own beef and cheese sandwich. Real cheese. What came next could be called a death march, but the pain reminded me that I was still alive. By now, both quads were resonating in stereo with cramps. I was forced to stop every few minutes and work my elbow into my thighs to loosen things up for the next few steps. My neck nearly cramped from constantly craning up to peek at the summit and down to watch my sad tired feet. Relief on reaching the crest was short lived when I saw that the Faulhorn summit was up another steep trail to where a misguided Swiss had built a hut.
The descent was at times as slow as climbing. I only realized how technical the trail was when I wanted to go faster but couldn't without breaking a leg or the conga line in front. I flew down other parts, at one point doing a Superman after tripping on a rock. I wrapped my stars and stripes bandana around my wounded hand barely slowing down.
Reaching open trails, I descended to the final aid station in the valley, passing a couple dozen runners in the last few hundred meters. The final slog up the valley was hot, teased by the ice cold river just out of reach.
My daughter met me for the final km, to remind me that I was now slower than an 11 year old girl. Good thing for her we weren't in the US or she'd have had to run the last mile instead of just a km. Uli Steck, the guy who set the record for speed climbing the Eiger, designed this course. As evidence, the last 1 of the 51km run includes a 300 ft climb in about 300 meters. With cheering crowds chanting something in Swiss that I imagine is "give up you silly old man", I muscled up the hill like a little girl and beat my kids to the finish.
Neary 10 hours after starting, I was finally done, proving that I am average, at least average among the starters of the Eiger Ultra (but not so ultra that we're dumb enough to try 101km, Ethan) Trail. This was harder than my previous 50 milers and nearly as hard as Quicksilver 100km, again proving the superiority of the metric system.
And the race has its own song!
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