UTCT 100 - Race Report
The UTCT 100 Miler was a goal race for 2024.
After a DNF in 2023, I felt like I had something to prove - to myself and the community. The word redemption has been tossed around a lot.
And I’d love to write an underdog story. The old tale of no one believing in me as I set out to prove them wrong.
The truth is, the people around me seem to believe in me more than I believe in myself.
I am grateful for this. But delivering on expectations has created challenges of its own.
164km | 7516m D+ | 22:10:06 | 2nd🥈
Every success, and every failure is another brick in the wall. Slowly, I’m learning to trust myself as much as everyone else seems to.
Before I get into the race at all, I would like to say thank you to the crew who made this possible: Matt Clark, Admire Muzopambwa, Steph Rous, Nick Groll, Marcus Hebbelmann, and Sacha Specker. You all volunteered your time and energy for me. Thank you. I hope I get the chance to return the favour.
Photography credits: Sacha Specker, Sam Clark, Zac Zinn, Claudia Robson, Jason Broderick, Steph Rous, Jess Meniere. Squarespace makes captioning individual galleries almost impossible.
I won’t soon forget this. Sacha Specker
How did I train for UTCT?
There was absolutely nothing flashy in the physical prep for this race. I followed a consistent training plan with a commitment to the fundamentals: running, strength, mobility and rest. None of these were neglected.
My running training involved plenty of long easy efforts, and generally two-three higher intensity sessions each week. Track workouts, threshold runs, hill intervals and often a combination. The gym was never neglected. I’ve logged some high-volume weeks, but I reckon I’ve also done more banded clamshells than most people this year. I call this balance.
I took fueling and hydration seriously throughout the training process. Again, nothing fancy, just the basics. I used my training runs and preceding races to test which products, at what quantities, and in which ratios, work best for me. I asked a lot of questions, and made plenty of mistakes in the process of getting it dialed in.
The answer: Precision Fuel and Hydration 90g Gels, water in my flasks and PH250mg capsules to hit my sodium numbers.
I used gear that I have tried and tested, packing as light as possible. The only notable piece of kit being the HOKA Tecton X3 shoes. Which in my opinion are leagues ahead of anything else I’ve worn in recent years.
I’m skimming over these points intentionally. Because as critical as they are, I don’t believe they were what made this year’s run happen.
UTCT 2024 is the by-product of me putting together the mental puzzle of performance and learning how to coax the best out of myself.
So, how did I get my head in the game?
For UTCT, I anchored myself on two points: Stay present. Stay positive.
It’s easy to retreat into your own head, hiding from the hurt. But that means missing out on the moments that make these races memorable. I wanted to experience every ounce that the course had to offer. I made a conscious effort to look volunteers in the eyes and high five everyone possible. I took my mind off the competition to soak in the landscapes, to feel the night breeze, to cheer as the sun rises.
This sounds happy-clappy, but staying present will keep your head in the game a lot longer than trying to tough it out.
You will have negative thoughts. Let them come, just don’t let them stay. When you feel your mind drifting to a dark place, bring it back to something positive. Picture the smiling face of someone you love. Visualise your favourite holiday. Daydream about how you’d spend your millions if you won the lottery. Tell yourself - out loud - that you’re doing great. In my experience, positive thoughts directly translate into a positive performance.
Going into the race I was fit. But more importantly, I was excited. I took a selfie at the start line; something I have never done before.
I was here to race as hard as I possibly could, just not at the expense of having a good time.
UTCT was not an easy race, and it certainly didn’t go to plan. But the right headspace allowed me to roll with the punches. I have worked calming my mind with just as much rigor as anything you’d see on Strava.
Now, for anyone who’s still interested, here’s a recap of the race from, start to finish.
From the start to Hout Bay
This section of the race would set the tone for things to come. And while the race won’t be won in these kilometres, it can certainly be lost. Last year I fell on the back of Signal Hill, suffered through to Platteklip where I was pulled from the race. So mentally, this was a crux section of the route. There is so much energy at the start - cameras, spectators, pedestrians, runners - it takes conscious effort to keep your head cool.
We started at a decent pace, while keeping things controlled. Anele and I led through Signal Hill, but soon the pack rejoined, and we ran closely together toward Kloof Nek. My focus here was on maintaining moderating my effort, eating to plan, and getting to Kloof feeling fresh. I did a great job of this - even snapping a selfie on one of the climbs.
I hit Kloof Corner feeling fresh, and the energy of the Cape Town community lining the climb was electric. The faces are a blur, but the feeling is indelible. With the spectators behind us, it was time for the adventure to begin. Cresting Platteklip the course unfolded itself in front of us, with Simons Town bookending the view as the sun set over the ocean.
This was a mental milestone for me, as I’d passed the point of my DNF last year. And I still felt great.
Christiaan Greyling, Aleksei Tolstenko, Jérôme Vanderschaeghe and I ran together to the Table Mountain aid station. The night was hot and humid, and I was drenched in sweat by the time I arrived. The volume of fluid I was losing would prove to be a problem sooner than I realised. I refilled my flasks with water, munched some watermelon, and quickly got back onto the course. Aleksei and I were out first and ran within a few seconds of each other over the top of the mountain.
By the time we crossed Corridor Ravine, my stomach started to protest. It began as a stitch and progressed into a tight knot. I could move, but it was a battle to get fluids and calories in.
Soon the discomfort caused nausea - which would hang around throughout the race. In fact, well into the week after the race. I like to think I have my nutrition dialed in. And generally, I’m like a garbage bin, and can eat anything, anytime. Not today though. I will go into some more detail on this in a separate post.
On the Llandudno Ravine descent, I pushed a bit and took the lead. It was too early in the race to be making any moves, but I wanted to see how Aleksei would respond.
Steph was ready and waiting at the Llandudno Aid station. So was my coach - who was crewing Naomi Brand. By this point my clothing had been soaking wet for hours and was starting to chafe. I switched flasks, grabbed a few gels, complained about my stomach and asked for new shorts to be delivered to Kalk Bay. Oh, the pampered life of an ultra-runner.
Suther Peak hurt exactly as much as I expected it too. My stomach wasn’t letting up, and I gagged down gels as I marched my way up and over the peak. I could see Aleksei’ light not far behind. Being chased sucks, and I am still getting used to the feeling of being in the lead pack. As we started the descent, I was tired, but still well within my limits. The nausea was my main concern. Like a boxer who’d taken a few punches to the head, I started to play defence. Aleksei caught me going through the harbour, and we arrived at Hour Bay together.
Again, no food for me here. Just a change of shoes and a good lubing up of my chafed bits. I think Erin was starting to get concerned about my lack of carbs. I was still above 60g per hour, but below my 90g per hour goal. They sent me into the night regardless. Only this time, I was joined by my pacer: Matt Clarke. His despicably impressive bleach blonde mullet would be my guiding light for the next 66 km. Matt, sincerely, you’re an absolute champion.
Hout Bay to Simons Town
Aleksei took the lead out of Hout Bay. Now at this stage, I was ahead of my goal time. And I had promised myself to race the clock and not the competition. I could have pushed and stuck with him, but likely, I would have blown up later on.
With 60 km on the legs, Blackburne Ravine quickly took my focus off Aleksei and back onto myself. From the summit of the climb, it’s downhill through to Silvermine, and we moved about as well as expected. This section through to Kalk Bay seemed to pass by quickly and was largely uneventful.
Run, eat, repeat. I had to hike a few runnable sections while I force fed myself, which undoubtedly cost me some time. Still, we arrived in Kalk Bay ahead of schedule.
Nick and Marcus were crewing from here to Noordhoek. I changed my shorts at Kalk Bay, which was truly heavenly. The chafe was serious, and I reckon without this wardrobe change my race could have been over. Success in ultras often comes down to how well you can take care of yourself. If you have a problem, fix it.
The problem I was having was eating. I was falling behind on calories, and it was clear that my goal nutrition plan was off the rails. Anything solid was out of the question, but the PH gels were still going down. So, I focused my attention on getting one mouthful of gel down every 20 mins. This took precedence over focusing on pace. I let Matt Clark worry about that.
We crossed Fish Hoek beach, and at the far corner a colleague of mine, Tomas Wells, had come down in the early hours of the morning to cheer. For a moment I thought I was hallucinating. The slopes of Elsie’s Peak give you a chance to look back and spot any approaching headlamps. We could see two at the far end of the beach, which meant we had a 15-20 minutes lead. Good, but not enough to get comfortable.
Blackhill came and went without much fuss, and before long we were on the tar road toward Redhill. This was where an old friend entered the chat: my left ITB. This little niggle has kept me honest since MUT in 2022. Uphills are fine, but the flats and downhills were starting to hurt more than they should. Perfect timing with a long, gradually descending section of road ahead.
Simons Town to Noordhoek
Simons Town to Kommetjie was the hardest bit of the race for me. On paper, this flat section should offer some respite. We ran and ran, but it felt like no progress was being made.
My knee was aching, my stomach hurt, I was nauseous. And Jérôme seemed to be getting closer while Aleksei slipped further away. I was getting into a dark place, and I had to snap out of it. The only positive - which was a big one - was the landscape surrounding us. The sun had just started to rise, and the light over the Misty Cliffs coastline was sublime. Sacha Specker had also arrived and was photographing us as we ran. I focused on these small things, saying out loud how lucky we were to be where we were.
I didn’t immediately feel better, but I stopped feeling sorry for myself. Kommetjie was a few blocks away, and here I had plenty of friends waiting to cheer me on when I arrived. Shout out to Komm Surf for the new mug, and to Anderson for completely ignoring me. Noordhoek beach wasn’t going to be easy, but at least it would be pretty. The sand was soft, and the sun was heating up. In front of us, the last substantial chunk of vert loomed: Chapman’s Peak.
I did my best to tell myself that “it’s not actually that bad”.
My parents live in Noordhoek, and they were ready and waiting at the aid station. This was one of many moments that has made UTCT such a special race for me. Thank you for coming down, it made my morning. There was someone else waiting at Noordhoek: Adie. After racing the PT55 on Friday, he had still volunteered to pace me through to Alphen. It was a brief but sincere goodbye to Matt, sweaty hugs for everyone else, and we were back on the trail.
Nick Groll had said something to me at Kommetjie that was looping in my mind as I left Noordhoek. “Jérôme is very motivated to catch you.”
Ok then, let’s dance.
Noordhoek to Alphen
During an ultra, you often get a second wind; a welcome burst of energy that seems to come out of nowhere. This did not happen on Chapman’s Peak. I worked for every inch of this ascent, with Nick’s comment nagging me every time I slowed down. If I wanted to keep my position - or have a chance at bettering it - I was going to have to dig deep. What was really gnawing at me though, was how much the descent was going to hurt my badly inflamed ITB. My downhill gait was atrocious.
I hopped and winced my way toward the contour. But, like before, I was sticking to the golden rule: keep moving.
Apart from Sacha, I hadn’t seen any photographers of media teams for a while. But waiting at the crossroads of the contour path was a UTCT cameraman. And just like that, the spotlight was back on. It felt like we’d rejoined society after surviving in the wilderness. I wasn’t quite the same person as when I left Kloof Corner.
Truthfully, I haven’t watched the live recap on YouTube (yet) but I hope I looked better than I felt. It was a good old run-hike-run scenario, with Adie leading the charge. I caught a glimpse of Jérôme shortly after we crossed Alfie’s pools. A good reminder to stop dawdling and get to the finish. I’ve heard the Alfies to Alphen section of trail described in all shades of awful by previous Miler finishers. Vlaakenberg being a notoriously vivid death march. Mercifully, I didn’t find it all that bad. I was over 130 km deep, so everything hurt, but no worse than expected.
My final push home would be in mid-morning heat, and cooling was a key strategy for me. At each aid station I stuck as much ice as I could, in any pocket or pouch available. Ice under my cap and in the back of my pack really paid dividends. I think that arm sleeves filled with ice would have been a good idea for future races too.
Alphen was where the UTCT energy truly kicked in again. There were people everywhere. My calves were cleaned, and an iced towel was wrapped around me. Sheena (the Addo Ultra Race Director) fed me handfuls of watermelon. Steph replenished my nutrition, while Colin shovelled ice into my pack. My coach stood stoically alongside my dad, saying nothing, but observing order in chaos.
I felt like roadkill going into Alphen, and a racehorse coming out.
Alphen to the finish
Newlands Forest is my home turf but knowing what’s to come is a blessing and a curse. At this stage I realised that unless Aleksei blew up, it would be unlikely I would catch him. Still, I pushed harder leaving Alphen, using the momentum from the aid station to increase my lead on Jerome.
I was moving well on the uphills, but the downhills were agony for my knee. Particularly anything with steps. And in the forest, steps are about as abundant as trees. Despite being a beautiful afternoon, the forest was quiet, and I fell into an oddly calm rhythm as the kilometres slowly ticked by.
Somewhere past Nursery Ravine, Hugo Deck - the UT100 winner - came tearing past me. For a split second his Terrex kit made me think it was Aleksei. This jolted me back into focus, and I picked up the pace toward UCT.
Entering the University, there’s an immediate contrast between forest and concrete. It defines the final chapter of the race: the home stretch. The sun was scorching, and I dunked myself in the university fountain en route to the official aid station. Moments later, I was once again surrounded by people: Brundle, Sean Robson, Flo, Josh and of course my die hard crew, Steph, Adie, and Colin. Like with Alphen, ice was packed in every nook and cranny, watermelon forced into my face, and I was promptly set on my way.
This was the first point in the race that I felt like I’d made it. I knew now, without any doubt, that I would finish.
There was just the small matter of the Blockhouse climb to deal with. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. It was slow, but steady, and the emotional breakdown was minimal. In my opinion, someone needs to rent a Kloof Corner crowd to flank the slopes of the Blockhouse climb. This is where a moral boost is truly needed.
Now many people would have you believe that after the Blockhouse you’re home free. Those people are liars.
The climb around Oppelskop is actually the final uphill hurdle. But, waiting at the apex is a sight for sore eyes: a view of the finish line. After being cast out to the mountains for the night, home is within reach. I locked eyes on the prize, and forgot about my aches and pains.
A camera man joined me for the final push down to Tafelberg Road, past Dead Man's Tree and along the jeep track to the Gardens Rugby Club. It felt like I was flying, but in truth it was more of a hurried hobble.
How does it feel to finish the UTCT 100 Miler?
For months I had been visualising those final few hundred meters. Running off the trails and into the suburbs. Rounding the bend and being ushered into the pre-finish chute. Hearing the announcer as I ran out into the race village and crossed the line. There’d be some high fives, hugs and hopefully I wouldn’t trip. Oh, and don’t forget to look fast for the photographers. I might have to speak on camera so I should wipe the dirt off my face too.
I’d imagined it all but was completely floored by the reality.
Hundreds of supports with hands extended, cheering incoherently for someone they barely know. I ran a loop around a mountain, and was being welcomed home with enthusiasm that far exceeded my effort. Steph even got in there for a sweaty hug, which is entirely out of character.
They say running is a team sport, and I am starting to see why.
Even now, a week later, I’m battling to express my gratitude.
I didn’t win the UTCT 100 Miler. I took second place.
I ran a race that I am proud of, and delivered on my promise to stay present from start to finish.
Strong competition made me work from start to finish, and in 22 hours and 10 minutes, I gained exponentially more experience. Over two years, the UTCT 100 Miler has kicked me down, and then lifted me back up.
But like they say, whether you win or lose, move on.
I’ll be doing just that, taking December to cycle, hike, camp, take photos and eat ice-cream.
To reset before I refocus on some daunting goals in 2025.
