A Tor des Géants debrief from commissioning editor Kirsty

I found myself in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, with no idea where I was or what I was doing. My mind drew a complete blank. I knew only one thing: it was all about following the yellow flags. So that’s what I did, in the hope it might all come back to me. I looked at one of the flags and it said ‘Tor des Geants’ on it. I thought to myself, “that’s a race in Italy. Could I be in Italy…?”

This isn’t an extract from one of VP’s new terrifying mountain memoirs. It’s one of many disturbing moments of sleep deprivation I experienced during my Tor des Geants (TdG) race last week. TdG is a 330km race in the Aosta Valley with 24,000m of ascent. Runners have 150 hours to complete it, and the clock never stops – there are rest stops (life bases) with beds and food approximately every 50k and it’s up to you how long you stop for. I think it’s fair to say that I had misjudged the amount of sleep I should have allowed myself before the ‘yellow flag’ incident.

TdG was a VP family affair for me. Dad, Jon Barton, took care of all the driving and was generally a safe pair of hands and voice of reason. Mum, Allie Bailey (There is No Wall | Adventure Books by Vertebrate Publishing), was head of crew, deciding where they’d meet me and what I’d need. If you’ve read her book you’ll also know that she is something of a mindset expert, which would prove useful. Aunty Elise Downing (book forthcoming in March 25) did all the legwork sourcing great snacks (she seemed to produce various baked goods from nowhere) and generally putting up with the brunt of my demands with good humour. Her initiative would also come in handy. Krystal and Rich were also part of our VP on Tor gang, cementing their place as part of the family. Elsewhere, high achieving cousins Damian Hall (In It for the Long Run | Adventure Books by Vertebrate Publishing and We Can't Run Away From This | Adventure Books by Vertebrate Publishing) and Sabrina Verjee (Where There's a Hill | Adventure Books by Vertebrate Publishing) were off running their races and demonstrating that the elites operate at a very different level in these events.

Robbie Britton ( 1001 Running Tips | Adventure Books by Vertebrate Publishing) had coached me to get to this point, and given me a lot of very useful advice (“don’t cling to a rigid plan” and “eat a lot of Haribo”). Renee McGregor (More Fuel You | Adventure Books by Vertebrate Publishing) had also helped me plan my nutrition, and it was her I turned to when the altitude started to affect me on the second day and I couldn’t keep anything down. She patiently asked me questions and concluded that I’d basically let lots of things slip slightly and I was operating at a high level of effort and tiredness in an environment that puts a lot of strain on you. When you put it like that… I got back on track with her advice and Allie’s help.

TdG is a rollercoaster of a race. One minute you’re slogging up a hill for four hours, wondering how you’ll ever be able to continue doing this, and the next you’re rewarded with the most incredible summit views, you begin descending and you think that this is the best moment of your life. The trick is remembering how the descent will feel while you’re in the uphill slog.

It’s also a rollercoaster in terms of tiredness. Despite the obvious mounting fatigue, a sleep of as little as five minutes really can help you feel kind of good again. And a sleep of 90 minutes felt luxurious, even if it was in a camp bed and you were covered with a blanket that 20 other runners had used before you. I definitely had some extremely tired moments (see first paragraph), with hallucinations of Pierrot clowns and words written on rocks, but it is incredible how a relatively short sleep can reset your mind and legs.

When the lows hit, the prospect of seeing crew was a massive motivator to keep going. At one point on night four, I had pushed on when I really should have slept and the section was very tough, with some big climbs involving ferrata and scary drops, and I felt completely traumatised by the time I reached the next life base, where my crew were. I had to sit on a wall and take a minute. It’s hard to understand what those moments feel like unless you’ve experienced them, when you’ve been through a very dark time and then you get spat back out into ‘normal life’. I’m generally a very cheery runner, but at that moment I felt very fragile.

Elise Downing had an uncanny ability to pop up around the course holding exactly what I wanted to eat. Salty cheese and tomato focaccia, pizza, chocolate croissants, potato focaccia. This bodes very well for the refreshment options in her forthcoming book. She also fashioned cushioning made from socks for my backpack straps when they started to rub. This innovation got some admiring glances from runners and volunteers alike. She also showed great initiative when I couldn’t find my wet wipes and was desperate to wash my face, pouring water onto the small towel I’d been using to clean my feet for the last five days, saying “just use that”. Which I did.

As you’d expect through such a long race – it took me six days – there were many highs and lows. The biggest highs came from experiencing such a beautiful landscape and finding yourself surrounded by 3,000 metre peaks, feeling like a tiny speck. I saw ibex, chamoix and even a marmot and I passed through incredible mountain refuges and communities who were all keen for you to try their local pastries, cheeses and meats. Every single hiker, farmer or family you met on the trail were incredibly supportive, offering a “forza” or “brava”. There’s a real sense of local pride about this race, and I don’t know if we have that in the UK in the same way.

The lowest low came on the final day. Snow had come in and we knew that it would make the final climb over Malatra (2,925m) challenging. By the time we reached Rifugio Frassati (just over 2,500m) the wind was whipping snow across the col horizontally and ice was forming under our feet. I started to doubt that I’d have the courage to do the final scramble. Even with ice spikes on, it was difficult to get purchase on the icy rock. I buddied up with another runner, Rachel, and together we just took it easy and stayed safe as we negotiated steep switchbacks, then a rope section, then a ferrata section. The relief I felt as we reached the summit was immense, but it was so cold that we had to press on.

Then there was just a matter of about 20k of easier running to the finish. A few tears were shed as the enormity of it started to hit me. I thought I would be in bits on the finishing straight but a combination of a horrible, technical last descent and a couple of painful falls had offset my dewy-eyed sentimental state with a fair amount of anger. But as I hobbled towards the finish line at 1 a.m. and saw Jon, Allie, Elise, Krystal, Rich, Damian, my friend Nats and her two very good dogs, Rosa and Pica, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy or so proud. It was a VP family affair and I don’t know if I could have done it without them.