Grantrail Courmayeur 100 – Big Mountain Magic in the Shadow of Monte Bianco

I took in the scene at the Mont Fortin “aid station”, which was in reality a helicoptered-in congolmeration of folding tables, water containers, and pre-wrapped Italian pastries. Monte Bianco dominated the scene to the due north, rising impossibly steeply out of the Val Veney valley below, surrounded by shrinking and retreating glaciers that still somehow looked as regal as always. The morning sky was clear enough that you could see forever, and there were mountain ranges in every direction I looked, soaring up from the bottoms of valleys, many of them tall enough to be encompassed by snow and ice at the top. One by one runners staggered in across the ridge – many speechless as they took their final grateful steps to a brief respite on the brutal course. I looked at one man sitting down and taking a break next to me, and simply said “It’s beautiful”, resorting to English in a moment like this. He smiled and laughed and just replied with “It’s perfect”, in a strong Italian accent, before standing up and heading down the trail. He wasn’t wrong – in many ways, the 2025 running of the Grantrail Courmayeur was just about perfect. This year great weather, ideal trail conditions, and general stoke all combined in the perfect storm during the second weekend of July in the Aosta Valley – and I was there for all of it.

There was a recent post on the occasionally toxic but always entertaining Facebook “Ultrarunning” group that really fanned the flames of discussion with users online. A member had made the bold claim that there should be no 100 kilometer qualifying races for a Western States 100 Miler ticket. The thesis was that running a 100k is so comparatively easy to running a 100 Miler, that surely there are no 100 km races that are challenging enough to prove one’s worth in eventually running Western States one day. There are many holes in this theory, of course, and we could go on and on and discuss the merits of different length qualifiers for other races (as the comments in the original post did), but to the claim that there are no 100 km races tough enough to test a runner’s mettle for States, the Grantrail Courmayeur 100k simply says: hold my beer.

The Grantrail Courmayeur 100 is the summer queen of technical mountain running in the Aosta Valley of Italy. It takes place on local trails that are rugged, steep, and technical, containing almost 7000 meters / 23,000 feet of elevation gain in about 105 kilometers / 63 miles of running. The 10 PM start from the center of Courmayeur ensures that everyone, even the fastest elites, get to run through the night. The first 35 km that brings you toward sunrise at La Thuile is arguably some of the most technical terrain you will cover in a normal trail race, with multiple stretches of high exposure no-fall zones equipped with chains and metal in the rock. After La Thuile, runners work their way backwards on the infamous Tor des Géants course, before gaining a brief respite by descending on the TMB (which feels like a smoothly paved highway by this point). The first and only opportunity to see your drop bag is at the Monte Bianco Skyway Pavilion, at 76 kilometers in, and to get to your crew or bag you have to climb 800 meters up at an average gradient near 30%. The final quarter of the course feels more like the final half, as you wind your way through the steep and gorgeous cols and mountains surrounding Col de Malatrà before descending all the way back down to your starting point in Courmayeur. You’ve had a great day if you can finish without a headlight on the second night, as the majority of the pack will keep going into Night 2, many using most of the 33 hours of allotted time to finish the course.

The 100 km is just one of the races in a series put on by the wonderful people at TorX and the VDA trailer organization. They are better known as the people that bring you the Tor des Géants 330 kilometer endurance race, but they are growing with their race options both here in Aosta and around the world. There is also a 55 km outing as part of GTC (probably the wisest and most sane option here as it gets you through much of the same amazing terrain but all in the daytime) as well as a 30 km “sprint” that takes you up to the Malatrà area and back down into town. My wife and I have been doing races with these folks for a long time now, and I can honestly say they are all quality people. This is a grassroots organization that has definitely grown over time, but they have done so in a very organic and responsible way. All the people involved love the Aosta Valley so much, and their intent really is to produce quality events that brings both Italians and foreigners to their valley for some of the most amazing mountain running in the world.

My personal story with GTC is a bit of a long one. My French-American wife and I have been spending summers with our kids in the Chamonix area since the first one was born in 2009, and after we got into trail running shortly thereafter it seemed like a logical goal to tackle a few races while we were over here during the prime season. In 2019 we both signed up for our first GTCs – me the 100 km version, and her the more sane 55 km version of the race. Unfortunately I was struck with strange sudden-onset systemic arthritis symptoms a week before the race and wisely chose to not start the 100 km version (my doctor now thinks it was some form of gout acquired from running in the heat and eating too much paté and foie gras, to which I say, “guilty as charged”). The race organization wouldn’t let me drop down in distance, but that year the longer and shorter version of the race were still starting together in the morning, and so we started the races together and I simply ran the 55 km version of the course, technically DNF’ing my 100 km effort but having a wonderful day in the mountains all the same. In retrospect this was a fortunate decision, because even if I had been healthy I had no idea what was in store for me in the 100 km course, and at that point in my running career I would have been very much over my head (even though I went on to complete my first uber-difficult 100 Miler race at Ultra Trails Lake Tahoe later that fall).

In 2021 we were back in France for the summer, training for our two big events of the year – I was running UTMB at the end of August, and my wife was tackling the 330 km Tor des Géants for the first time in September. I opted out of running GTC this year, my coach preferring me to do something a bit shorter at the Trail du Tor de Fiz in France, but she crushed the 100 km race that year and I was able to crew her and follow along. In 2022 she returned again for the Tor des Géants, opting to run the faster 55 km version of the GTC race as part of her preparation, while I was trying to shake off a nagging injury and preparing for my first go at the Petite Trotte à Léon later in August. In 2023 it was more of the same, with her preparing for her third consecutive Tor des Géants, and me being the idiot preparing for my second consecutive PTL. We both started the 100 km course, but I had no intent of finishing, being both quite sick with bronchitis and fighting some knee tightness. We had a magical night on the first technical 35 kilometers of the course, and I stopped in La Thuile while she continued on to finish the big loop for her second time. You should be able to see why in 2025 when I showed up to the start line healthy, reasonably fit, and ready to go I was delighted – I would finally get a chance to check out the 100 km course in its entirety, and being signed up myself for the Tor des Géants this year it would also give me a big training boost and more practice on some of the Tor trails.

Part of the magic of this race for us is the extended Tor and GTC family that assembles in Courmayeur around these two events. We have spent a lot of time racing, training, and relaxing in this valley, and every year our network of friends and chosen family gets a bit wider and larger. Walking through Courmayeur in the days before the race is like a homecoming in many ways – we see friends we haven’t seen throughout the year and we share and swap the same old stories about the trails and adventures that we have been through together and that we have experienced since the last time we saw each other. This has become especially important since the founding of the Tor de Lucas organization, a scholarship meant to honor the memory of our dear friend Lucas Horan, who had his own network of friends and chosen family across Aosta Valley just like us. This year we even got to spend time with one of the previous recipients, Vicky, as she was here for the race in Courma with other friends from the Bay Area. It’s these social connections that make this sport so sweet, and we are beyond grateful to have so many dear friends scattered all over the world.

All in all I had an epic day out on the course and was very happy with my execution, performance, and positive experience along the way. My main goal was to keep moving steadily and consistently, and to keep eating and drinking as I circled around these steep valleys one by one. In my mind this was really a specific training stimulus for Tor this September, and so I was looking for my “Tor gear” that I would spend a week in later this year – the pace and effort that kept me moving sustainably on technical trails while still taking care of my needs and making sure all of my systems stayed online. I started very fast (for me) out of Courmayeur, with the intent to get ahead of the traffic and not get bogged down on the early technical sections like Maureen and I did in 2023, and while this was successful I very nearly overextended myself on the first climb up and over into La Thuile. There were moments in that stretch where I was seriously questioning my choices and openly pondering how I was going to keep this up for 100 kilometers, but I soon was able to downshift and find a more appropriate speed and effort with which to keep moving.

I climbed smoothly and steadily, lacking some of the uphill speed I had during my super fit UTMB year in 2021 but also feeling much more solid, strong, and durable. Oftentimes I would get passed on the bottom of a longer climb by runners initially going faster, only to catch up with them near the top due to my consistent pace and approach. To me this is the key to long multiday efforts like PTL and TOR – you always have to keep moving, and if you can meter your effort to make sure that is happening then you will steadily make progress through the course.

While out there running I was reminded of what an often solitary event these European mountain runs are. Sure, I don’t speak Italian so couldn’t really converse with many of the locals, but even then there is much less talking in races over here than the California counterparts that I am used to. Part of it is cultural, I think, in that people are there to focus on their efforts and the race and maybe even take it a bit more seriously than we do in the States, and part of it is likely just governed by the sheer technicality of the course. There are many parts where even a minor loss of focus can result in a trip or a fall, and so many folks opt to go inward and direct all attention on the task at hand. I was thankful for a German runner that struck up a conversation as we approached the intimidating Pavillion climb, and we hit it off in English and enjoyed each other’s company on and off until the finish line. Finding a few folks like him to pass the hours (and days) in Tor will surely be one of the keys to my success.

Traversing the ridges near Mont Fortin, with a commanding view of the Monte Bianco massif and the hanging glaciers all around, I was reminded of a fascinating conversation Maureen and I had with a glaciologist that was also running the 55 km course in 2019. He was explaining how much research was being done at the time on the large Glacier de Miage – how it was effectively dying, and how they were trying their best to figure out how to prevent the upper section from being disconnected with the lower section, which inevitably would lead to certain glacial death. If it was a sad sentiment six years ago, it was truly disheartening and dire to stare out at the glaciers today. In the 16 years we have been coming to the Alps we have watched the large glaciers recede and start to die, and I could very clearly see the decline in the Glacier de Miage since my memories of the race a mere six years ago. It makes me ponder what is to come for the massif and these valleys – what will it be like when the glaciers really are shadows of their former self, the steep valley walls bare granite instead of ice and snow? It’s now happening quickly enough to see marked differences summer after summer, and it’s not showing any signs of slowing down nor hope of reversal.

After making the initial adjustments during the first night and settling in on my all day gear on the descent into La Thuile, I continued to run a disciplined and efficient race. I stayed on top of my hydration and nutrition, which I think more and more is the most important key to success in long mountain efforts, after working with more and more athletes and running more and more of these big efforts on my own. I kept my aid station stops brief yet efficient, always looking for the intersection of getting a bit of a rest without wasting too much of that precious “zero speed” time out there. I was overjoyed to see Maureen and the boys at the Pavilion aid station stop, and it was her key advice to treat that 76 km mark as the mental “halfway” point in the course that allowed me to pace myself so well and have enough gas left in the tank to finish strong. I was pulled over the final cols by memories of my dear friend Lucas, and savored a few minutes at his memorial plaque near the Col Entre Deux Sauts, watching the sun set behind Mont Blanc and taking comfort in knowing that he had a wonderful perch high above the valley where he could take solace too. And once over the Col Sapin I was lured by the beats of obnoxious 80’s music, selected by the one and only hype man Ivan Parasacco, knowing that even if I was still 7 km away on course from Courmayeur I was close enough to hear the party, and there was no stopping me now. I jogged across the finish line just a few minutes past 24 hours, getting darn close to my A goal of completing the 105 km course in a day, and easily making the 28 hour Western States qualifier cutoff time. I signed the finisher poster (#EBQB4LIFE!) and shuffled back to the hotel, ready for a shower and some solid food that was not broth with orzo soup or a chocolate covered waffle.

In many ways this race was a capstone to a transition I have been making in my running over the past few years. In 2021, I was pretty dang fast for an old guy – I could run a fast Canyons 100 km on Northern California carpet, I turned in a 36 hour UTMB which was good enough to get me 316th place, and I mainly focused on seeing how quickly I could move through trails and through the mountains. This year’s GTC was an absolute blast, but I’m just not that fast anymore. However two rounds of PTL along with lots of backcountry efforts and pushes (as well as the passage of time) changed me a little bit. Today I am not as interested in going fast as much as I am in seeing just how deep and technical I can go. How much focus can I command for an extended period of time? How long can I execute under pressure without one of my systems failing and the wheels coming off the track? These questions will really come into focus as I return to the valley in September of 2025 for the Tor des Géants, a challenge likely greater than anything I have tried before. PTL had its own set of challenges of course – the navigation, the off-trail terrain, the lack of support and aid stations – but I always found safety and comfort knowing that my teammate Sam was right there beside me. One of my biggest fears for Tor is not actually the physicality of it, nor the severity of the terrain, but the potential for isolation and long stretches by myself out there. However I also know that is why I come to these mountains – to hear the first chirping of the birds in the morning, to hear the utter silence of the trees in the middle of the night, and to hear the footsteps of the bouquetin high above the cliffs when you are passing just below. I know that if I can complete the big loop around Aosta Valley, I will emerge with an even greater understanding of this magical place, and for that opportunity I am incredibly grateful.

2025 GTC 100k – Strava Link

Mat has moved back to Berkeley, California, since spending two full years in the Alps, but is currently slowing down for the summer in the hamlet of Le Buet, a few kilometers from the Swiss border and just far enough away from the hustle and bustle of Chamonix. As a coach, he loves helping other runners get ready for runs, races, and big mountain objectives, especially ones in the Alps. Check out Flowstate Running to learn more if you are interested.