UTD 160 - Race Report
The first climb of the day. Image: Kelvin Trautman.
Race overview:
Position: 2nd🥈
Stats: 166km, 4700m D+
Time: 21 hours 08 min
Shoes: HOKA Mafate Speed 4s
Primary Fuel: Precision Fuel Gels, Snickers, Gummy sweets, Aid station soup.
Primary Hydration Supplement: Precision Hydration 1000 Sachets
Approximate nutrition stats:
75g carbs per hour = Reasonable, considering lower intensity.
13.5 litres total = 650ml fluid per hour = Moderate, for the cooler weather.
4500mg sodium = 333mg per litre = Low, approximately half of my goal.
Getting to the race start is an adventure of its own.
At 06:15 I climbed into a Land Cruiser with 8 strangers. This was our shuttle up the (in)famous Sani Pass. The sun had just started peak above the horizon and the foothills of the Berg were cloaked in mist, adding drama to an already tense morning.
Elias, our driver, paid no attention to the palpable nervous energy. Instead, he candidly explained the archaeology and geography of the changing terrain as we climbed the pass.
“There’ll be an exam when you finish your marathon. If you fail it, you must run again!” he joked.
FYI, many years ago Sani Pass was an inland lake. (I wasn’t going to be running again.)
Elias had names for every twist and turn on the Pass. We drove up through the clouds and arrived at the Lesotho border post to clear skies and a biting breeze. The mist filled the pass below us, ebbing and flowing over the escarpment edge.
Twisting and turning up the famous Sani Pass. Image: Kelvin Trautman
My Pre-Race Routine.
The race was set to start at 09:00, which meant we had some time to kill. I found shelter alongside an old building and sat in the sun, chatting to Grobler Basson and some other runners.
At the start of a race, the runners are nervous, and everyone expresses this energy differently. Some move around frenetically, chatting, laughing, planning. Some listen to music, getting into the zone. Others seem to repeatedly check, pack, and re-pack their kit. Everyone asks, “How are you feeling?”, with “Ya, no, good” or “Ready to get going.” being the standard answers.
My pre-race strategy is to relax. I find a quiet place to sit and run through the race in my head. I visualise the route, the terrain, the flow of course. I anticipate my ideal effort levels, being mindful of where I will push, and where I will hold back. I think about nutrition, and where in my pack my various gels, bars and supplements are found. I imagine - as vividly as possible - how I will feel when I hit a low point. I repeat my mantra: Keep moving. Keep eating.
I’ve done this mental routine hundreds of times in the previous weeks, and this final rehearsal before game time calms me.
Before long, we’re lined up under the arches. The point of no return. Spurge said a few words about the course, but my mind is elsewhere. Chariots of Fire plays, and the bell rings. Let’s go.
Resting our legs before a long day of running. Image: Kelvin Trautman
I broke the UTD 160 course down into 4 sections:
Lesotho.
Twelve Apostles to Sani Valley Gate.
Sani Valley Gate to Crystal Waters.
The Giants Cup Trail.
These were not based on distances, but rather on specific race focusses. Each section had a different plan and approach. The race report has been loosely written under these headings.
Lesotho. Where the air is thin and the trails thinner.
The Lesotho section was a figure of eight loop, punctuated by four summits: Thaba Phinong, 3126m; Mqatsheni, 3276m; Hodgson’s Peak South, 3257m and Hodgson’s Peak North, 3251m. The valley between the Hodgson’s Peaks is called the Giant’s Cup, and when viewed from South Africa you can see why.
We were led out onto the escarpment by a Basotho on horseback. What a way to start the race.
I planned to take it easy through Lesotho, promising myself that no matter what anyone else did I would move at a low intensity. The altitude takes its toll on you and overdoing it here will catch up with you later in the race.
There’s no lead vehicle up here. Just a man on a horse. Image: Zac Zinn
From the start, a small pack formed.
Myself, Tiaan Erwee, Grobler Basson and Admire Muzopambwa ran together out front. On the first climb, Tiaan pulled ahead, running the steep technical terrain up Thaba Phinong and Mqatsheni. It was impressive to watch. I resisted the urge to chase him. He was either exceptionally strong, or he was going to pay for this intensity later.
On Mqatsheni, as we switched from a sharp climb to a steep descent, my glutes started to cramp. This is an issue that’s plagued me at races, but never in training. Resisting panic, I stopped briefly to stretch them out, and then backed off the intensity as we crossed the escarpment to the first aid station. Thankfully, the cramps subsided over the flatter section.
There are almost no trails on the Lesotho escarpment.
It’s rocky, uneven, and hard going. Occasionally a welcomed sheep track cuts a passage through the terrain. Grobler, Adie and I moved together toward the Hodgson’s Peaks, with Tiaan always in eyesight up ahead. These two summits were punchier than expected.
By now we were running in cloud, with only meters of visibility. Abruptly, on the way down from Hodgson’s Peaks North, we ran past Tiaan. He was re-lacing his shoes. His feet and ankles had been abused by the unforgiving terrain. From that point on, Tiaan would be chasing us to the finish. At times putting some real pressure on us to keep moving.
We crossed the Lesotho border post an hour ahead of the predicted leader’s times. The effort has been conservative. The pace was still reasonable. The Lesotho section had gone to plan.
Adie, Grobler and I crossing the Lesotho escarpment. Image: Kelvin Trautman
Twelve Apostles to Sani Valley Gate
Down Sani Pass, up and across the Twelve Apostles. Through Salt & Pepper aid station. Drop down and cross the river. Squeeze through a drain under the road and tackle a short steep climb before reaching our pacers at Sani Valley Gate, 60km into the race.
Grobler, Adie and I were still together as we descended Sani Pass.
Now, you can absolutely tear down Sani Pass. But if you care about your quads, you absolutely shouldn’t. We ran at a conversational pace down the pass, and across the Twelve Apostles. I can confirm it was conversational pace because we chatted all the way. In fact, we chatted all the way through the night.
A conversational pace down Sani Pass. Image: Dan Grinwis
Wrapping around the Twelve Apostles. Image: Zac Zinn
Anyone who dot watched would know that we ran as pack for the first 100km.
This wasn’t planned. It just happened that we all moved at the same pace. And we recognised (at least I did), that running together was more efficient than running alone. Like a trail running peloton, we would trade the lead, pulling and pushing each other along. It seems I am destined to run 100 Milers with one half of the Bergskaap crew. No complaints.
Anyway, back to the race.
Recently, Em Robertson, from the Trail Culture podcast, asked me about my highs and lows on UTD 100 miler. The Twelve Apostles was a high point. This is trail running perfection to me: a rollercoaster of single-track winding through pristine Drakensberg foothills. After conserving yourself in Lesotho - and getting abused by the tough terrain - this is a section where you get to open up a bit, and actually run. Plus, as you drop in altitude you start to feel a lot stronger.
We arrived at the Salt & Pepper aid station well ahead of schedule.
So much so, that the aid station hadn’t been fully set up yet. The volunteer had seen us coming, and rapidly unpacked everything he had on the ground. “It’s my first time!” He said, apologetically, as he fumbled with the scanner. The water hadn’t arrived yet, so Coke would have to do. This entire encounter lasted less than 2 minutes. And this is why I love our sport. Even when it’s organised, it’s unpredictable.
Leaving, we caught a glimpse of Tiaan on the ridge behind us. We picked up the pace to increase the gap. “Out of sight, out of mind”, were Grobler’s words.
Sani Valley Gate to Crystal Waters
Tash and Colin van Den Bergh were my crew at UTD. Colin would pace me, with Tash crewing us both. Then at the end of the paced section, Colin would help with crew duties.
They live in Durban. I live in Cape Town. I didn’t see them before the race.
When I left for the race start, I left all my nutrition, with instructions, on the bed at the BnB. I slipped the key under a pot plant and trusted that I’d see Tash and Colin at 60km. And there they were.
A quick foot lube and sock change, and we were on our way.
Gabriel Kriel was pacing Grobler. Gabriel and I had run about 120km of the MUT course together the year before. So, we all knew each other. Our trio now had two new members, and it felt a big group run. Still too early in the race to be thinking about making moves, I had to remind myself this was a race.
The pacing section was a network of gently rolling farm and forest roads. A few impolite uphills here and there, but nothing truly substantial. This section of trail would be blazing fast on fresher legs. Hats off to the UTD crew for marking these trails so well. There were plenty of chances to go wrong, but we never did.
As it got later, the weather got worse.
We spent many hours running through the rain. This was tolerable when moving, but I would leave aid stations shivering after sitting down for brief periods. Your body burns calories to keep warm, so conserving heat means conserving energy. More incentive to keep going, I guess.
For me, this section of the race was run on autopilot. Intentionally. I let Colin and Gabriel pace, navigate, and drive the conversation. Running 100 miles is as much about mental endurance as it is physical. This ‘brief’ mental holiday would be essential for the hard work that was to come.
The Giants Cup Trail.
At 100km we ran into the Crystal Waters aid station. We’d been running for 11 hours 40 minutes.
And this is actually where the race starts. The first 100km of a miler are about not digging too deep; they’re about moving responsibly, and saving something for the homestretch. As the saying goes, “Be a coward in the first half, and a hero in the second.”
Crystal Waters was as far as our pacers could go. Colin and Gabriel had done a stellar job of keeping our momentum through the farmlands. Saying goodbye meant we’d have to start opening and closing farm gates for ourselves.
Luckily, where we were going, there would be no more gates. It was almost time to rejoin the Giant’s Cup.
I repacked my bag, gulped down 500ml of PH 1000, and dunked a cheese roll in a cup of soup. What I really wanted was a pizza.
By now, the wear and tear was starting to show.
In my case this was pain in my right foot and a grumpy left ITB. For Grobler, it was nausea. We left Crystal Waters as a pack. Ahead of us was another long section of gravel road before we hit the Giants Cup trail.
I was shivering again, and picked up the pace to get warm. For a couple of kilometres I was alone, but soon Adie joined me. Grobler didn’t. His stomach had turned, and he had to slow down to troubleshoot.
I have huge respect for the way he handled himself: resting, recouping and still finishing the race.
My legs were tired, but I was excited to get back into the mountains.
The Giants Cup is a spectacular section of trail. The trail goes over and through a series of hills and valleys, flanked by the impressive southern Drakensberg. Unfortunately, we ran this section in the night. In pouring rain. So our visibility was severely limited.
The climbs are steep, and the descents sustained. Connecting the two are fast flowing contour paths. I enjoy the variation that this kind of terrain offers. But as the kilometres ticked over on my odometer, my sense of humour started to get tested.
I hit my low at Castle Burn. Suddenly, the notion of 40 more kilometres - punctuated by three substantial climbs - seemed a bit idiotic. Eat, drink, keep moving. That was the plan, and that’s what we did. And we moved reasonably well. Especially because there was always the threat of Tiaan in the back of our minds.
Is that a headlamp?
This threat proved very real at the Mzimkulwana Aid station. Adie and I had just sat down for a cup of soup, when over a distant hill we saw a headlamp. We left our soup untouched, and hit the trails. From personal experience, I know how much momentum you can summon when you see the competition in front of you. It can dramatically change your mindset. I didn’t want to let that happen.
In the dark, our headlamps would be visible to Tiaan as we climbed up and out of the Mzimkulwana valley. Even though it hurt, we couldn’t look weakened. We needed to move quickly up the climb, and we did.
Adie, more than me, managed to take this momentum with him. I wanted to save something for the final climb. I let Adie pull ahead as we descended into Cobham, telling myself I’d catch him on the next climb. Thinking critically, this was a mistake.
I arrived at Cobham after Adie. But at least Tiaan wasn’t anywhere nearby. Seconds after I sat down, a volunteer shouted “he’s coming”. Apparently they’d seen a headlamp on the trails. From calm and to chaos, hunter to hunted.
Running away from ghosts.
I needed to go. Now. I threw everything out of my pack, grabbing two flasks of water and two PH90 gels. There was 18km to go, and I wasn’t stopping again. In that moment, I decided that I wouldn’t give an inch without a fight. I am okay with losing, if I know I’ve done everything to prevent it.
I ran out of the Cobham aid station. I ran the entire climb. I ran everything, chased by a ghost. It would turn out that Tiaan was still about an hour behind us. The knockoff effect was that Adie had to up his pace to keep his lead. I could always see his headlamp, I just couldn’t reach it. Colin was waiting for me at Sani Valley Gate - the final aid station. But I ran right through. This was a race, after all.
One final push.
If I’m honest, I neglected just how tough the final 8km stretch would be. This section of hard packed gravel, and undulating hills hurt a lot more after 155km than it did when we first passed through this section at 60km. I ‘should’ have been able to run a lot faster than I did.
The final few kilometres route took us through a series of farms roads. Our day was ending, just as the farmer’s were starting. I ran through a herd of cows on their way back from being milked. They weren’t too impressed by me plodding along their path, and lazily made way.
Glencairn Farm was now in sight. Over the microphone I could hear the excitement as they welcomed a the winner of the Ultra Trail Drakensberg 2024 home.
I make no excuses; I was as good on that day as I have ever been. But Adie was 7 minutes better.
And after sharing 150km of trail with him, I was (and still am) truly happy for him. If I hadn’t needed my poles to keep going, I might even have clapped.
The face says it all. Image: Sportograf
Finish line footage by Tash van Den Bergh
A few closing thoughts.
I have more than a few closing thoughts, but you’ve stuck around long enough, so I’ll keep this brief.
I finished UTD 160 feeling incredibly grateful. I find myself in a community of people who inspire, challenge and support me. It’s a powerful combination. I’m new to this sport. And every time I line up to race, I learn something. These lessons aren’t always pleasant (UTCT 2023), but they are always valuable.
It is amazing to me how profound a long run through the mountains can be. And I hope to compound these learnings for years to come.
Thank you to everyone who has plays a continued part in helping me figure things out.
(That means you too Steph. No doubt you put up with the most.)
The Ultra Trail Drakensberg 160 podium. A proud moment. Image: Grae Holliday.
An extended thank you to my coaches and sponsors for getting me race ready:
