BEHIND THE BIB #9: UTMB 2026, MY GOAL FOR THE YEAR

THE CONTEXT: THE END POINT OF A TWO-YEAR PROJECT

The UTMB is the race that makes me dream. The one that feeds my passion and my motivation. For what it stands for: crossing 3 countries and circling a majestic mountain. For its fervour: unique, spectacular. For its competition: it draws in every one of the planet’s most remarkable talents. And for its complexity: it crowns complete runners, the ones who best master the different parameters of performance, from physiological versatility to the mental capacity to deliver under pressure.

“The taste was delicious, so much so that the black bread I thought I was eating turned out to be rye.”

This race means all the more to me because, for me, it is a local one. Normally the finals are held on neutral ground. Living in Combloux, 25 minutes from Chamonix, I am lucky enough to play mine at home. This 2026 edition marks my third start in the flagship event and my 4th 100-miler, after UTMB 2023 (10th place), UTMB 2024 (2nd place), then the Diagonale des Fous 2025 (1st place).

I approach that start arch as the finish line of a 2-year project. I was happy with the 2024 race, the one that put me on the podium behind a great champion, Vincent Bouillard, but I knew it was not fully realised. So afterwards I gave myself two years to build the hunger, let the desire grow, fill my pack with new skills and add more cards to my hand.

I took the calendar, ticked every race that scared me most, and signed up: Trail World Championships, Grand Raid de La Réunion, 90 km du Mont-Blanc... The idea was to work on my weaknesses.

As I pin on the bib on Place du Triangle de l’Amitié, what I feel is pride at the road travelled. I feel ready, and calmed by the conviction that this preparation has given me gains that will outlast the result of this UTMB 2026 alone.

THE AMBITION: TRYING TO WIN

“Winning is harder when you have prepared for it than when it simply falls on you.”

To be honest, I struggled to set myself a clear goal in the weeks before the event. Throughout the build-up I held on to the idea of beating the runner I was in 2024. How? By going faster than my 20h22 from back then. That goal served me well: a healthy, effective compass point, because it depended on me alone.

But as the date drew closer, another feeling began to surface: the will to reach higher. Usually more attached to the manner than to the ranking, I struggled to handle and own that intention, which I took for a lack of humility. A conversation with my coach Simon Gosselin – a man of few words, sparing with praise and clear-eyed in what he says – gave me the click I needed:

“I am going to say what you do not dare put into words. You want to raise your arms. Given the work you have done, know that this ambition is now legitimate. I am not saying you will win, but I think you are capable of it.”

From then on everything became simple. As if that exchange had lifted the fog. My state of mind is clear: I am going to try to win. At worst, in trying, I will have grown and added new strings to my bow. Because winning is harder when you have prepared for it than when it falls on you without you having truly considered it, as at the Diag.

THE RACE: MORE HUNTED THAN HUNTER

It all starts badly.

I do not want to play the drama queen, but without being able to explain it, the calm and determination of the past weeks give way to a surprising, even worrying, sense of drifting. As the official anthem plays, my motivation leaves me: I no longer know why I am here, I no longer want to go.

On top of that, the first headwind gusts arrive: after 10 strides, I break my pole quiver. There I am, forced to work back against a herd of possessed ultra-runners to retrieve my poles. Then I accelerate to rejoin the head of the group. The cortisol released by that rush of stress settles straight into my stomach. Discomfort sets in immediately. The first kilometres are fast. Unlike my previous experiences (where nobody dared set the pace for fear of being the reckless one people mock for taking the lead before blowing up), the tempo is quite high.

For my part, I am in a dark place. I do not understand these emotions running through me when I have been waiting for this moment for 2 years... I even consider dropping out at Les Houches. Yet while the brain churns, the legs keep moving on their own. Honestly, it would be foolish not to use them. I pull myself back together. In truth, I realise I simply hate this first section between Chamonix and Les Contamines. It weighs on me. I experience it as a stifling waiting room. And a note to self: one day I will have to solve that mental problem. Anyway. After Saint-Gervais, thanks to the watts passed on by an incandescent crowd.

I FINALLY ENTER MY UTMB.

At the Les Contamines aid station (km 32.4), with Greg, trying to repair the quiver, we lose a few precious seconds on the group of favourites. I come back onto the front athletes fairly quickly, all but one, whom I will not see again for the rest of the race: Ben Dhiman.

On the climb to the Col du Bonhomme, the good sensations are confirmed. I break away and push slightly to try to catch Ben. Without success. I lose sight of him. So I ease off and settle into my own rhythm, accepting that those behind will come back. It is too early to risk chasing hard, and unlike my 3 previous 100-milers I would rather not spend the night alone. I stay with that logic all the way to Courmayeur (km 81.3). In ultra I never look at my watch and I know none of my split times, which people so often work out before a race: I prefer to trust the conviction that I am on my own pace. On feel. And yet the gap to Ben grows at a staggering rate.

Joaquin Lopez joins me 5 hours later, at the Bertone refuge at kilometre 86, just before the Val Ferret balconies. Company at last! And what company... Someone I like, and with whom I built a particular connection in 2024, when we both finished as Vincent’s runners-up. We talk. Naturally, we work together, and we share the effort for a few hours. I finally drop him on the runnable section before Champex (yes, he is a friend, but let’s not lose the plot).

Normally I look forward to the Swiss resort, because I know that is where the race starts and the story takes shape. Yet this time I am in an uncomfortable in-between. I am no longer able to hunt what makes me dream, and I become hunted for something I have already achieved: I struggle to find that extra something, but I stay focused and committed. I know the value of a podium at the biggest race in the world.

At Trient, I FINALLY meet the transcendence that belongs to ultra-trail, the treasure island, that flow where you no longer feel the fatigue because you are running for something that makes you deeply dream. Yes, at kilometre 144. It is never too late. Simon and Greg tell me the splits are very good. Not having looked at my watch once until then, I had no idea. Suddenly I feel an immense boost. Ben is achieving something historic and I want to be part of it: I want to help him break the record by giving him my best and stopping him from easing off.

“A proper slap in the face.”

On a cloud at the thought of that fine time, I am guilty of overconfidence 11 km later, at Vallorcine. I think the die is cast and the positions settled. I almost celebrate, and I forget my water flasks. I pay for it all the way to La Flégère, flirting with severe dehydration. I also ease off on the last descent, thinking Caleb Olson far behind. At the Floria refreshment stand, when I am told he is less than a minute off my heels, I think it is a joke. A proper slap in the face. Never again will I be caught being that casual.

I had pictured myself enjoying those last few hundred metres in the streets of Chamonix. Embracing every second. Slapping every outstretched hand. Meeting every gaze. All to show my gratitude to everyone who came out to support me. Nothing of the sort. I have to finish sprinting. I accelerate. I put in everything I have left. I run on guts. I want to be Ben’s Poulidor. When I understand that second place is mine, on the last bend, I let go. The joy is ecstatic. Shorter, admittedly, but more intense. I glance at the clock. It says 14:35.

THE LOOP IS CLOSED. I HAVE JUST GONE AROUND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OF MOUNTAINS IN 18h47.

THE VERDICT: PLENTY OF SATISFACTION, A HINT OF FRUSTRATION

As I write these lines, I still struggle to take in what happened. I also struggle to pin down my emotions. Down, most likely, to the tiredness and the lack of clarity that come with the hormonal drop. I am torn between the satisfaction of having delivered a fine performance, which puts me second behind an athlete I admire; and the frustrating sense of not having given everything, or rather of having missed the moment, the one where I should have taken the risk of closing on Ben even at the cost of blowing up.

“I am torn between the satisfaction of having delivered a fine performance... and the frustrating sense of having missed the moment, the one where I should have taken the risk of closing on Ben even at the cost of blowing up.”

As tradition demands, as with every Behind the Bib, it is time for the round-up! From this legendary race, I take away a great deal of positives:

1/ Our ability, with my team, to prepare so as to arrive in shape when it counts. And to do so while defending that “less but better” philosophy – with a measured training volume aimed at preserving the candle and always keeping room to progress. A committed approach in a world where “always more” and the mirage of short-term success from a very (too) generous mileage can do damage.

2/ The ability to deliver on the day, under pressure - essential in a sport where you get only one or two chances to shine in a whole season.

3/ Emotions multiplied by the incandescent fervour of everyone standing at the side of the trails. Thank you. And well done. What a thrill you gave us.

4/ Consistency of effort and steadiness in believing, all the way through the race. Early on, from the Col de la Seigne, I understood that the fate of the race was not in my hands. If I finished first, it would be because Ben had lost. Not really because I had won. Even so, I stayed committed, and I fought for every second, because nobody is safe from a bad patch.

NUTRITION: MY FIRST UTMB WITHOUT DIGESTIVE TROUBLE

Supported by my friend and nutritionist Jocelyn Guillot, along with all the teams at Näak, I took a real step forward on nutrition in an ultra-trail this summer.

Until this year, most of my races were marred by digestive problems. So much so that I would start expecting them to turn up sooner or later. A self-fulfilling prophecy: I thought about it so much that, inevitably, at some point they showed up. The cause? No gut training. I almost never ate in training. I gradually built that in this year, until making a real step change thanks to Jocelyn (known as “le J”) this summer. From now on, no long run or quality session (intervals, fartlek, hill session...) below 50 g of carbohydrate per hour.

For the first time, I stood on the start line with relative peace of mind, knowing I had reduced the uncertainty on that front.

• Simple and effective in the working phases, at around 70 g/h all the way round: 1 flask of Näak Drink Mix Boost (40 g of carbohydrate) + 1 Boost gel (30 g of carbohydrate)

• Indulgence and comfort at the aid stations, with two recipes prepared by Alexandre Brasset, my business partner and chef at the Alexpérience restaurant (we deny ourselves nothing): a sweet potato velouté lifted by smoked bacon; and an apricot soup, refreshed with mint. Best aid station in the game.

WHAT’S NEXT: MORE RESTAURATEUR THAN ATHLETE

First there was that podium, magical, the next day. Among two-legged creatures aching but happy to have climbed onto it (with difficulty). On it, I had the chance to unveil a pair of dungarees designed by Back Market, for “special occasions”. The touch of singularity? An outfit made entirely from upcycled textile kit, including the race T-shirt I wore at the Diagonale des Fous to cross the Cirque de Mafate.

Then, once down from the podium, and from my cloud: resting, for a long time. To digest this UTMB but above all the whole build-up before it. Those phases of assimilation are, from my point of view, crucial in making sure the level of form reached for the race soon becomes a baseline to build on.

For my profile, resting does not mean “doing nothing”, but rather “doing things at my own pace”, in a world other than trail running. Over the coming weeks I will therefore get more closely involved in our restaurant project, Alexpérience, in particular to shape a trail-and-gastronomy offer for groups (if you are passing, come and say hello!). I also plan to spend a few hours on the bike, before possibly setting my sights, from early October, on taking part in the SaintéLyon.

Thank you if you have made it to the end of this read. Putting my race reports on paper helps me anchor the lessons. So thank you for keeping this project alive. And above all, well done on your endurance!

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