The MUT 100 Miler was my first major goal race for 2023.

It was also my first 100-miler.

Before we get into the details of my experience at the race I need to set the scene. So let’s start at the beginning of my story with the George MUT.

In 2021, I ran the MUT Marathon. I had never done any structured training, and the race hammered and humbled me. I finished 21st, in 5:46:22. Not my proudest result, but it prompted one of my best decisions. I contacted Erin van Eyssen, and I have been training under his guidance at Flat Rock Endurance ever since.

We’ve worked consistently, and my fitness, performance and mentality have improved. So have my results, with a top-10 finish in every race since joining Flat Rock, including winning the Drakensberg Grand Traverse, and placing 2nd at the Addo Ultra.

My hope was that 2023 would be the year that I set the record straight with this race.

And now that the background is established, let’s get on to the race report. This will be an informal account, from aid station to aid station.

For those eager to know more technical details, keep an eye out for my posts on nutrition, planning, and training.

About the MUT Miler

After many years as an independent event, the George MUT was bought by UTMB.

The MUT by UTMB is now the first UTMB-endorsed race in South Africa, so it attracted local and international elites. It would also be the first year that the event offered a 100 Mile course.

From the announcement of this addition, the 100-mile route was touted as one that would push athletes to their limits as it carved its way through the rugged Outeniqua mountains.

I signed up the day entries opened.

A tough day in the mountains is better than an easy day in the office. *Image: Jared Paisley*

My Crew for the MUT Miler

Brandon Hulley is a good friend, a George local, and an incredible athlete. He was also running the MUT Miler.

His wife, Danielle, was crewing him, and since Brandon and I had similar splits planned, Danielle - along with Brandon’s folks - offered to crew me as well.

This is no small task, and I hugely underestimated the importance it would play for me. The kind words, friendly faces, and well-prepped drop bags made moving through the night a whole lot easier.

If you are thinking about running a Miler, a crew will have a major positive impact on your performance. Danielle, I can’t thank you enough for your help. Normally my girlfriend Steph would crew me, but this year she was running too, on the MUT Challenger.

Race day

Time warps when waiting for a race to start. It feels both too fast and too slow, simultaneously.

But now, it’s 13h50 and I’m in the starting pen.

Around me are the country’s finest endurance athletes. Athletes I admire; athletes I intend to rival. Inside the pen, it’s a sea of nerves.

“Breathe in. Breathe out. Remember how much you want this.” I say to myself.

Everyone is adjusting their packs and fidgeting with their gear. Everyone is eyeing the competition.

I take a mental inventory of when I’ll eat what, and how hard I’ll push where. Amidst the tension, I try to remember the game plan.

Spectators flank the UTMB-clad barricades, an indistinguishable chorus of chatter and cheer, a blur of strangers and loved ones.

Cameras capture every moment, so I put a brave face on. I’m confident. I’m nervous. I’m ready to go.

The watches are set.

Brundle’s voice counts us down and fades into the distance, overpowered by my heart thumping.

3, 2, 1. Finally.

The start of the MUT Miler 2023. Video: Ramon Mellett

Start to Herold Aid Station

The climb up George Peak to Craddock Peak is a constantly steep, muddy ascent. Within the first 16km you climb 1480m and descend 1380m, over a trail that feels like a smoothie bowl.

At the start of the race the excitement is high, but pushing too hard on this section would cripple you later on in the race.

Ryan Sandes and Grobler Basson set the pace, pulling ahead early on, with myself, Gabriel Kriel, Doug Pickard, Brandon Hulley and Omar El-Sawy forming a pack behind them. There was friendly banter and conversation, as we slipped and slip our way up and down the mountains.

By the summit of Craddock Peak, myself, Gabriel and Doug were still together, with Omar and Brandon a few minutes behind. The three of us were through the Craddock Pass aid station in under a minute, and straight back to climbing.

On fresh legs, Craddock Pass is a steep, but runnable climb. My legs were anything but fresh, and as we neared the top, the first twitches of muscle cramps started to dance across my quads. By Keerberg, my legs had seized up entirely. I reluctantly slowed down to deal with my legs and watched Doug and Gabriel climb ascend into the sunset.

Cramping so early on rattled me, and as night fell my mind went to a dark place. How could I compete with my legs in this state? ‘Calm and consistent’ was my mantra for the race. So I calmly hobbled on.

Before the Keerberg summit - a technical and exposed ridge - Brandon had caught up to me, announcing himself with a loud “I was getting lonely!” It was great to be back with a friend. I nursed my cramps with Maurten Gels, Revive Electrolytes and plenty of water as we ploughed onto the Herold Wines Aid Station at 43km.

Myself and Brandon Hulley climbing Keerberg as the sun sets. Craddock Peak is in the background. *Image: Jared Paisley*

Into the night we go. *Image: Jared Paisley*

Herold to Tierkop

The section from Sputnik to Herold Wines was further and slower than I’d thought. I was behind my intended splits when we arrived, and very pleased to see our crew.

Unfortunately, Grobler was also here. He had taken a nasty fall, which forced him to withdraw from the race. A true pity, especially with how strong and focused he was looking.

As cosy as Herold Wines was, aid station stops should be fast and efficient. Being organised ahead of time makes this possible. I have labelled bags for each aid station, with all the nutrition and supplies I need to get me to the next stop. I simply swap out my old stuff for new stuff, grab whatever I feel like from the food and drink provided, and move on.

Brandon and I left Herold together, with Gabriel just ahead. My legs were still prone to cramps but had settled considerably. But now the temperature had dropped, which incentivised me to keep moving quickly.

By the climb up Dizzy Heights, I had caught Gabriel. Brandon had slowed, wanting to save his legs for the more runnable sections to follow.

From early on, I had imagined running most of the race with, or close to Brandon. As it happened, Dizzy Heights would be the last point we were together. But Gabriel and I would be spending a lot more time together.

Tierkop to Oakhurst

After Dizzy Heights the trail levels out, and Gabriel and I made good time toward the Tierkop aid station.

Tierkop was a mental milestone for me because from here we had a comparatively runnable trail all the way through to Wilderness (100km) and on to Oakhurst (120km).

This was good news because this entire section would be run at night.

I enjoy running at night. It is a peaceful, simple, meditative time. All that exists is what’s illuminated by my headlamp. At least in those moments.

Gabriel and I had long conversations as we moved through forested trails, snaked around the George Dam, and jogged through sleeping suburbs and along winding bike paths. We crossed rivers and waded through frigid swamps. We even crossed paths with a wild pig on the road behind Wilderness.

The trails flowed, and the kilometres ticked by. It was the sections of road running that were most taxing for me. Notably, the downhills, which pounded my already aching quads. The night wasn’t easy, but I never felt any major lows.

We arrived at Oakhurst together, shortly before the first light. This was the last time we’d see our crews until the finish. What lay ahead was going to be the toughest section of the race: Bergplaas.

Oakhurst to Bergplaas

As we climbed up forested slopes from Oakhurst, the sun broke the horizon. Dawn always provides a welcomed morale boost.

Caffeinated Maurten Gels ups the ante even further. With my mood enhanced, our pace quickened.

The trails gave way to a gravel road, which we ran most of. Although Gabriel and I had spent the night together, both enjoying each other’s company, this was after all a race. And the finish line was getting closer and closer.

The Bergplaas aid station arrived sooner than expected. Picture perfect, perched atop a ridge, in the most remote corner of the course. I was a bit envious of the crew that got to spend their weekend here.

The final challenge was here, an unknown section of formidable wilderness. Gabriel and I left together and descended into the valley. He was quicker than I was on the steep descent. My quads were done, and the gap slowly grew.

By the first sustained climb, it was clear that he had a bit more juice left in the tank than I did. As competitive as I am, I felt no desire to chase. Only to run my own race, at the pace that I could sustain.

Bergplaas to Tierkop

Ask anyone, and they will quickly tell you about how remote and rugged this section of the course is. Normally, those are two of my favourite words; I thrive on being in places like these.

The landscape is vast, with technical lines cut high on steep rocky slopes. There are no easy miles out here. There’s no cellular reception either.

These are the unspoilt recces of the Outeniquas. I was alone. I was hurting, but my heart was full.

Still, I lost my sense of humour a few times during this section. I love the mountains, but after 140km, it was a chore to keep moving.

And there was one climb in particular that every athlete will remember.

I knew it was coming. I just didn’t know how much it would suck.

It’s the climb back up to Tierkop from the lowest point on the valley floor. It’s now aptly named ‘Satan’s Buttcrack’.

It was here I saw photographer, Jared Paisley. He’s a good friend of mine, and also one of my favourite photographers. So naturally I had to put on a brave face and look good for the camera. At least, that was my intention.

Run, hobble, walk, curse. After what felt like an eternity, Tierkop was in sight.

Climbing out of ‘Satan’s Buttcrack’. Bergplaas stretches around the very back valley, toward the right of frame. *Image: Jared Paisley*

Tierkop to the Finish

There are a plethora of things to eat at the Tierkop aid station - including carefully selected race nutrition in my own drop bag.

I chose a cup of Coke and a piece of boerewors. I didn’t touch my drop bag.

As I ran out of the aid station and down toward the old dam, I regretted my dietary decisions.

At Tierkop, the 42km and 60km routes converge and share the same final stretch to the finish. My stomach voiced its disapproval as I politely squeezed past slower groups from the shorter distances.

I needed to find an unofficial ‘pacer’.

My plan was to secretly use one of the other runners to pull me along. Someone whose pace I could match. I found my guy just before Tonnelbos. Whether he knows it or not, I’m unsure, but he set the pace, and I kept up.

By now, I had climbed well over 7000m. My balance and reflexes had left me a while ago. I slipped and slid down the well-churned muddy slides that were once trails. As long as I was going forward, things were all good in my books.

Henry’s Hill was the final stinger, although it came and went easier than expected. It was all downhill from here. Downhill running, I mean. My quads winced and protested, but down we went. I had wanted a sub-24-hour finish, but would now settle for sub-24h30.

The end was in sight, the barricades lined with people. I squeezed out every last drop of energy I had and flew across the finish line. Ok, perhaps I wasn’t flying, but I moved a lot faster than I had in the last few hours.

In 24 hours and 28 minutes, I had done it. I had finished my first 100 Mile race. 164km. 4th position, the places ahead of me well-earned by considerably more experienced athletes. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

After the race

So, what do you do after running 100 miles?

You hobble around the finish line, hug some people, high-five others, and babble about how you feel. Everyone is willing to lend a hand, people bring you food.

I imagine it’s what being a toddler feels like. It’s glorious.

Not long after finishing the MUT Miler, I was sitting under a tree, surrounded by close friends, partially delirious, covered in mud, and eating a Spur burger. Gratefully exhausted.

I will happily run 100 miles again and again for moments like these. And I plan to do exactly that, starting with UTCT in November 2023.

So does this result mean that the score is settled with the MUT?

No.

There are still a few distances to race at this event, as well as three more places to climb on the Miler podium.