24:07:13 from Courmayeur to Chamonix.
My first CCC was slower, rougher, and more technical than I expected — and exactly the kind of race that makes me want to come back.
Finisher.
Bib 4750 · CHN · 20–34M · UTMB Index 461
1746 → 977.
My lowest position came early at Refuge Bertone. From there, I moved steadily through the field for most of the race, reaching 975th at Vallorcine before finishing 977th.
1:36:32 stopped.
How the day unfolded.
CCC on Strava
Courmayeur → Champex-Lac → Trient → Vallorcine → Chamonix
I thought I knew what 100K felt like.
I had finished Kodiak 100K before, trained consistently through the summer, and came into CCC expecting a hard but manageable day.
What I underestimated was how much the terrain changes the race. The climbs are long, but the real cost came from the descents: rocks, roots, awkward footing, and hours of eccentric loading that slowly took away my ability to run.
Stay controlled. Keep eating. Don’t race the first half.
The opening hours felt familiar: climb steadily, keep effort under control, eat real food whenever possible, and avoid spending energy just because the legs still felt good.
I never felt like the race was going wrong early. That was part of the trap. CCC keeps accumulating fatigue quietly, especially through the technical descents.
The race did not break me in one place. It took pieces of my legs all day.
This is where the race became real.
By Trient I was already much more tired than I expected to be.
The accumulated climbing was obvious, but the bigger problem was the downhill damage. My quads were losing their ability to absorb impact, and technical sections that should have been runnable started costing more and more energy.
I could still move, but the margin was gone. From here on, every climb, descent, aid station, and clothing decision mattered.
By Vallorcine, I was emptied out.
The goal became simple: keep moving forward. Pace mattered less than avoiding long stops and continuing to make progress.
This part of the race taught me how different late-race trail running is from long training runs. In training, even six-hour days had rarely pushed my quads to this point. CCC exposed that gap immediately.
I could climb. I could walk. I could barely descend.
The last four hours were the hardest part of the race because the thing that should have been fastest — downhill running — was no longer available.
My feet were painful and numb, and over roughly the final 20 kilometers my stomach began cramping when I tried to run harder. Walking reduced the discomfort, but it also meant watching the clock move much faster than I did.
The technical trail into Chamonix felt endless. Rocks and roots that would have been manageable fresh became obstacles that required concentration one step at a time.
24:07:13.
I finished CCC in 24:07:13. It was far slower than the race I imagined beforehand, but the finish meant more because of how much had to be managed just to get there.
I came away with a much clearer picture of what I need to improve: downhill durability, eccentric strength, late-race running economy, foot management, and the ability to keep eating and moving when the race stops feeling smooth.
What I would change next time.
Not just elevation gain. Long, technical downhill volume on tired legs needs to be a specific training target.
Shoe fit, swelling room, socks, and foot care matter more once the race goes deep into the night.
The goal is not simply surviving six-hour long runs. It is still being able to run after many hours of climbing and descending.
I want another shot.
CCC showed me exactly where I was strong and exactly where I was not. That makes the next training cycle much more interesting.
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