[Essay] The wind of the 170km UTMB I ran through smelled of kindness for someone.

In August 2015, I was running in Chamonix, a town at the foot of Mont Blanc in France.

I only ran about 30 meters. But the wind blowing through those 30 meters smelled of the 170km loop around Mont Blanc, the days of challenges that led here, and kindness for someone.



The beginning of it all was that day, a day that no one in Japan could ever forget.

March 11, 2011. The Great East Japan Earthquake.

At the time, I was working as a nurse on a hospital ward. The moment I felt the earthquake, I ran to the lounge where patients were gathered drinking tea. The shaking grew stronger and stronger. I held a patient in a wheelchair with my left arm and a patient walking with a cane with my right arm, desperately supporting them so they wouldn't fall. The shaking was so intense it felt like the wheelchair would tip over.

When the shaking subsided and it became possible to go home, I returned. Our home in Kanagawa Prefecture didn't suffer major damage, but the television news continued to show tragic images that I will never be able to forget.

The tsunami that swallowed everything and took everything away. I am sure I am not the only one whose mind cannot let go of those terrifying images.



While watching such news, my husband said:

"Japan is a country with many earthquakes, and the risk of tsunamis is high. Typhoons come, and there are floods. Natural disasters can happen at any time. If a disaster strikes and I am fleeing, would I be able to help if an elderly person was struggling to escape? If a child separated from an adult was crying, could I save them?"

I remembered the patients I had held in my arms the moment the earthquake hit.

"I want to be tough so that I can survive myself, and on top of that, save as many people as possible, even if it's just one person. For example, enough to carry an elderly person on my back to safety. Enough to run while carrying a child. That is what I want to become."

My husband was just as shocked by the terrifying images as I was. On top of that, he made the choice to train himself in preparation for an emergency that might come someday. I agreed and told him I would support him.



From that day on, my husband started by running in the neighborhood.

Although he was in the track and field club in junior high and high school, his event was sprinting. Moreover, he had been away from track and field since graduating from high school. He didn't push himself, starting with short distances with the goal of being able to continue.

And so, his daily jogging continued and became a habit.



Then, one day about 10 months later, my husband suddenly brought a magazine to me and said, "I'm going to enter this."

It was an article introducing a sport called trail running, which involves running in mountainous areas, and it featured a race called the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc (commonly known as UTMB), which could be called the biggest in the world of trail running.

UTMB is a trail running race that traverses the mountainous regions spanning France, Switzerland, and Italy, surrounding Mont Blanc, the highest peak in the European Alps. The total distance is 170km. The cumulative elevation gain is 9,889m. The time limit is 46 and a half hours. In other words, it is a race where you climb higher than Everest while running the equivalent of four full marathons.


The magazine featured vast meadows and towering mountains that looked like the world of "Heidi, Girl of the Alps," beautiful glaciers, and athletes running through harsh mountainous terrain.

"You're going to enter this?!"
"Yeah. I want to enter. I want to try entering."

He had only been jogging for 10 months. He had been able to continue, but only to the extent of running in the neighborhood.
And he wanted to go straight to the world of "Heidi, Girl of the Alps" for 170km? I couldn't imagine it.

"You want to enter this?!"
"Not right away. But I will take on the challenge."

So that he could help someone someday. That was why my husband started training.

My husband decided that to aim even higher and become a stronger version of himself, he would choose a more grueling path.

What started as something for the sake of someone else became his own dream as he continued. It was truly a challenge to himself.



He was aiming for an ultra-harsh race held in the mountains of a far-off foreign land.
It didn't feel real enough to call it a challenge, but my husband was serious.
In that case, I would support him.

From this day on, my husband's challenge to enter the UTMB began.



First, the challenge of domestic races began.



In April 2012, he completed the 30km East Tanzawa Trail Race.
He successfully completed his first trail race. After finishing, he had cola-colored hematuria and called me in a panic. "I think it's myoglobinuria," I said as a nurse. It seems he had considerable muscle damage from his first race. In addition, he injured his knee ligaments and ended up in a state where he couldn't walk normally. I realized that various knowledge and techniques such as taping and shoe types were also necessary.
His knee didn't heal for a while, and 2012 became a year of rehabilitation. It was a race that taught us the severity and depth of trail running.


In July 2013, he completed the 100km Ontake Ultra Trail.
His first 100km completion. The longest distance he had run up to this race was 30km. I was anxious about suddenly increasing the distance, but he was able to finish. The soil underfoot was hard, and the course had poor footing. The next day, his body ached in various places, he was walking like a robot, and the damage to his knees was significant. It was a race that made us think about how to run on courses with poor footing and how to run without damaging joints.


In October, he completed the 71.5km Hasetsune.
Hasetsune is a prestigious, traditional race, and a famous race that every trail runner in Japan knows. It is a big, aspirational race that people who start trail running set as their first goal. My husband was happy to have completed it.


In July 2014, he completed the 100km Ontake Ultra Trail.
After completing the previous Ontake Ultra Trail, the burden on his body was great and he was exhausted, but this year, he managed to avoid walking like a robot after finishing. It seems his body is getting stronger.


In September, he completed the 120km Joshu Hotaka Mountain Skyview Ultra Trail.
It was his first 120km race, and the first time the race time exceeded 24 hours. Beyond the distance, he learned for the first time the harshness of continuing to move his body for a long time, over 24 hours. The course was set with European trail races in mind, and it also served as mental training for the UTMB. It was a very steep path, but he was able to complete it.



And in 2015, he finally entered the UTMB and was selected.

Finally, the stage of his dreams. The day he could really challenge the UTMB was coming.


In March, he completed the 72.5km Izu Trail Journey. His physical condition was good, and it was a race that encouraged his challenge to the UTMB. In July, he completed the 100km Ontake Ultra Trail. It is one of the races that helped my husband grow. Completing the course he was used to running for the third time, there was no major damage, and it gave him confidence for the UTMB.


My husband gradually gained experience in domestic races, gradually increased the distance, and trained.
Including small races, he had completed over 10 domestic races, and the total distance exceeded 680km.

Besides races, he didn't neglect his daily training. Mt. Fuji climbing training. The "Hell Lake Yamanaka Training" that my husband created, which involves running from our home in Yokohama to Lake Yamanaka. (This seems to be quite tough). He was also careful about his diet and health management. Taping methods to protect joints, measures against blisters on his feet, and running methods that put less strain on the body. He learned and experienced many things.



In August, we traveled to France, feeling elated.



Chamonix, the town at the foot of Mont Blanc where it was held, was buzzing with excitement, like a festival.
Colorful flowers were decorated on the balconies of stylish buildings, and flags fluttered against the backdrop of glaciers.

To cheer on more than 2,000 runners, the starting point was crowded with many people.
I also waited for the start on the roadside. My heart was pounding.

I never thought that I would actually participate in an event in a distant country that I had seen in a magazine photo that day.

The start was signaled with a great cheer, and I desperately looked for my husband among the 2,000 people.

There he was! My husband noticed me too, and we high-fived as a send-off.

Please, let it end safely without any major injuries or accidents.
Wishing for that, I returned to the hotel and stared at the GPS attached to my husband (worn by all participants for safety to track their position), the UTMB map, and the time schedule my husband had made in advance.

My husband was moving, albeit slowly. It wasn't going exactly according to the time schedule, but he was moving. While I was left alone at the hotel, even though there was nothing else I could do, I spent an uneasy time, my heart pounding and restless.


On the second day of the race, around noon, we were supposed to meet at an aid station (a place like a rest area) in Courmayeur, Italy, which is the midpoint of the race. I took a shuttle bus for families from Chamonix to Courmayeur. The scenery visible from the bus window was a beautiful European meadow that I thought I might never see in my life.

I waited for my husband in Courmayeur. Runners arrived one after another.

He came, my husband came. He was tired, but his eyes were still shining. His knees seemed to be okay too.

To be honest, the inside of the aid station was very smelly. People who had been running for about 90km almost without sleep or rest were gathered there. It was a smell like sweat, fatigue substances, and socks worn for days. While I was talking to my husband, there was a sudden loud thud, and when I turned around in surprise, a female runner who had been resting had collapsed on the floor. People around her called for medical help, and she was carried away on a stretcher. I witnessed the harshness of the journey.


"Even if you can't finish the remaining half, there is meaning in having challenged it, so don't push yourself too hard."

My husband laughed at my words, saying "I know," and said, "See you at the finish line in Chamonix!" and ran off again.


I stared at the map at the hotel. My husband was getting closer to the finish line little by little. When there were about 40km left, the feeling of "I want him to finish now that he's come this far!!" became stronger, but I was the one who became emotionally unstable alone, thinking, "40km is almost a full marathon!! Does he still have one full marathon left?!"



Unlike my feelings, my husband was calmly getting closer to the finish line little by little.
I thought it was about time and left the hotel. He had reached a position where he could finish soon.
I waited for my husband on the roadside near the finish gate.

He came! My husband came!

In the UTMB, finishing with family or friends is permitted.
I ran up to my husband, who was running, and ran the remaining 30m with him.

Cutting through the wind of Chamonix, I, who had run 30m with my husband who had run 170km, aimed for the finish line together.

My husband raised both arms, made a victory pose, and crossed the finish gate.

I cheered and couldn't help but hug my husband.

He hadn't taken a bath for days, and he had run 170km without sleep or rest, so he was a bit of a mess, but my husband was shining. That was also the shine of my husband's kind feelings that had become the trigger for running in the first place. Just as he had said that day, my husband had become quite tough.

"Good work. Congratulations on finishing!"

At my words, my husband smiled shyly.



Watching my husband's challenge up close, I learned two things.

The first is that what you start for someone else can sometimes become your own goal. I learned that kindness for someone can lead to a challenge for yourself and help you grow.

The second is that a big challenge is a accumulation of small challenges. First, start with the challenge right in front of you, within your reach. If you do that, a big challenge will be waiting on that extension.



In 2020, the world has changed completely.

Overseas races are, of course, canceled. Most domestic races are also canceled.


Even so, my husband is running.

It goes without saying that it would be better if the day never comes when my husband's toughness is useful, but even so, my husband is running today. Especially because it is an era like this.