We spent last week with my whole immediate family, which amounts to only six and a half people, in beautiful Chamonix, high in the French Alps. The occasion for this happy gathering was so that my brother could run the CCC, or Courmayeur Champex Chamonix, one of the races of the famous Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc. It’s 63 miles long, over two full marathons, but with 3.7 MILES of elevation change. In short, it would be an insane hike for a normal person to do in a week. Cat and I did what we do best to help him prepare for this insane endeavor: we cooked lots of good food. Stir fry, Greek salad, pasta with my dad’s famous meat sauce, tartiflette, a local dish of potatoes and ridiculous amounts of melted cheese, and copious amounts of wine to wash it all down. The wine part was less of a race preparation measure and more of a sanity keeping measure in having 3 generations cooped up in a small house for a week.
Rowan, the half person, is my awesome 1 year old nephew. He loved all the attention afforded by lots of family and limited space, and especially loved us making funny faces at him and feeding him things we weren’t supposed to. He obviously pulled these glasses off nanoseconds after this picture was taken.
On the day of the race, we woke up early and drove Chris through the 7 mile long Mont Blanc Tunnel, to Courmayeur, a town on the Italian side of the mountain. We sat in a small café and drank coffee to the amplified sounds of annoying hype men in 3 languages and bad techno music, and cheered Chris on as he attempted to empty his bowels before the race. 
The race had 1900 participants leaving in 3 waves, Chris being placed in the first wave as he’d been included in the prestigious list of “favorites”. After three national anthems and a warning that the weather might be really shitty, they were off at a faster pace than I run my 2 mile jogs at. We cheered him on and then made our way home to reload the tracking website all day long. While we relaxed, he ran, and ran, and took some cool pictures, and ran some more:
He seems to be taking it well.
A rest stop high in the mountains.
A poor soul had to be rescued by helicopter.
We electronically followed him do the most grueling thing of his life from a couch, eating a nice lunch, relaxing, and taking copious naps. He hovered around 80th place, making headway on the uphills and falling back on the downhills. He told me after the race that “Those fucking euros are fucking crazy on the downhills!” which was funny because I thought everyone participating was fucking crazy regardless of nationality, including my dear brother. In the evening we prepared a picnic and camped out to meet him at two of the later checkpoints that were accessible by road.
Chris was happy to see me, but especially Rowan, who’s on my back at this point.
We met Chris and gave him some snacks, cheered him on, and drove to the next point we could meet him at, when the weather turned horrible. Dark, rainy, and in the clouds, he approached the last few hills.
Beautiful views of the weather going south.
At the last stop, we had our picnic, drank more wine, and milled about with the other supporters waiting for their loved ones. Chris showed up later than planned, and all he had time to tell me was, “I’m so ready to be done with this shit…” as he jogged toward the last mountain. We drove home and did more internet refreshes before heading to the finish line. I drove the car as close as I could get, crossing barriers and going backward down one way streets to avoid my brother taking any extra steps I could once the race was finished. He arrived 15 minutes before we were expecting him, limping slightly and saying “that was the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever done”, finishing the race in 15 hours, 35 minutes, and 47 seconds. He got 63rd place, which is amazing for someone who doesn’t train at altitude and had never run a race that long.
Holy shit, brother, you’re amazing.
The next day, he was understandably more excited about his performance, but said he doesn’t expect to run another race that difficult for a long long time, if ever.
Working title for my next post: I’m Not Funny Enough to Come Up with Anything Good. Cat, HAAAALP
