If time is the greatest healer, then I probably need a lot longer to think about Trail Verbier St Bernard X-Alpine.

I’m also going to refer to it as TVSB as otherwise I might get writer’s cramp just with the race name.

How it started

Let’s just start with one thing. The alps are beautiful.

Verbier is a little different to Chamonix, the place that ignited my mountain dreams. It’s 500m higher up than Chamonix and much more of an open valley with houses and chalets concentrated all the way up the slopes rather than just on the valley floor.

That probably makes it less attractive as a location. But with the additional elevation, you can see further, and wider.

You even have to get a gondola from the train just to get up to the “village”. And despite being only days until the race of my life, it still felt like a village.

Half the shops and restaurants were closed. It felt like we were some of the only people to know about this sleepy winter village struggling through summer.

But with the ski lifts and our VIP pass (you get it from staying at a hotel in the village), we were able to roam up to 2000m on both sides of the valleys and eat at two stunning restaurants/refuges.

I even did an impromptu course recce when we missed the last cable car down…

All in all though, I was pretty good as I watched the race village slowly being built around our stay at the Experimental Chalet.

I ate well and rehydrated as the temperatures continued to rise and rise, especially as we dropped into the valley for bib pickup in Chables. The queue into the impressive community sports hall was snaked outside but cowered in the small amount of shade at 11am.

Inside, I was once again embarrassed and regretful that I don’t understand many languages and speak barely one. But as is one of my favourite things about travelling, I got through with pointing, gesturing and the sheepish “merci”.

Number 385 was neither a good omen or otherwise. And while I searched for cosmic meaning among the sponsor booths, I also declined to buy an official t-shirt with my name as it felt like tempting fate. How right I was…

Final countdown

This was probably the first race over a half marathon that I’ve had to pick up my bib on race day and also attend the race briefing a few hours later.

TVSB started at 10pm so there was plenty of time between pickup opening at 10am and briefing starting at 5:45pm but when you have a 140k race hanging over your head, the least logistics the better.

It might also take your mind off the impending efforts but for me, it just meant I was constantly trying to work out where I needed to be, when, and whether I had water with me.

Leave hotel at 5pm, cable car down at 5:15pm, walk to centre, attend briefing at 5:45pm, leave at 6:15pm for cable car back up and dinner at 6:30pm.

Dinner was tomato gnocchi and a coke from La Pergola, an expansive yet wonderfully basic Italian restaurant near our hotel which seemed to be one of the few places open all the time.

All runners through the TVSB weekend were given wristbands and it was a fun game to see who was in my race. Turns out that all the ones smiling, and definitely those having a beer or wine were not.

The only other X-alpine runner we spotted was already finished before my food turned up and headed out the door to get ready. Soon enough it was my turn, and I was stood in the hotel room looking at the various ridiculous things you need to run ridiculous runs.

I was pretty happy with my assorted kit and even happier that it all fitted in a simple enough way that I could walk out of the room and down to the start in no real discomfort.

By now, the main street of Verbier was a teeming mass of people, lights and noise.

We were 20 minutes from the start of the race and couldn’t find the bag drop anywhere. My girlfriend was carrying my mandated dropbag up and down as I followed in a bit of daze.

I couldn’t tell whether I was ultra-ready (pun intended) or just not mentally astute enough to take in the enormity of the events unfolding in front of me.

As I left my girlfriend and walked into the pen, showing my ribbon and staying towards the back, I think it was probably the former.

Just over 1,500km of training in 2023, arguably my most dialled-in nutrition and hydration plans for the race and kit that I was 98% happy with. I looked and listened down the starting funnel, taking it all in.

It was a jovial, party atmosphere among the runners and spectators, the skies darkening while the headtorches and streetlights seemed to get brighter, and the sounds from the announcer got louder.

I remember fighting back tears as they read a passage from If by Rudyard Kipling and then continuing as Europe blared out with their literal final countdown.

There were doubts then that would come back to haunt me later but I didn’t have time to think about it.

In no time at all, we were off and heading up the slight hill out of town. My plan was to run to at least the first “real” hill, mainly to get out of the sight of any crowd before starting to walk, and I managed it pretty well, tucked to the right of the crowd in the off chance anyone was watching the webcam, and so that I could say goodbye once again to my girlfriend.

I was due to see her again in nearly 40 hours…