Editor’s note: Thanks to HOKA, Tempo contributor Liam Mahoney recently made the trip of a lifetime, experiencing the HOKA UTMB Mont-Blanc in Chamonix, France.

“Hey man, do you want to go to UTMB?” That was the question Mack from Tempo asked me over the phone. Title sponsor HOKA was offering to fly someone over to experience race week – to take some photos, shoot some video and put some thoughts together in writing. I remember putting my phone down afterwards and just sitting there for a minute. I was still processing the question, but obviously I already knew the answer. I was heading to Chamonix to cover the Super Bowl of trail running, UTMB. 

My first thought, after the initial excitement, was that I probably should get some elevation in. I started studying the courses for the week and trying to get my head around what I was actually about to experience. I would definitely consider myself a runner, and since moving to Melbourne I’ve loved exploring the seemingly endless number of routes around the city. I’m not completely inexperienced on the trails, but they’re definitely not my forte. Most of my time in the mountains had been spent preparing for a 50km run at Ultra-Trail Kosciuszko, so the idea of heading to the French Alps to photograph the biggest trail running event in the world was pretty surreal.

We arrived in Chamonix on Sunday 23 August, just as the town was starting to ramp up for the week ahead. The first race, the PTL (the Petite Trotte à Léon, “Leon’s Little Walk”, drolly named after a local baker and mountaineer who has been involved with UTMB from the start) was due to start the following day. It’s a 300km self-supported mountaineering race for teams of two or three, navigating an extremely challenging unmarked course with 25,000 metres of elevation gain.

Settling in to Chamonix, the first thing that hit me was the mountains (duh) – giants usually only seen on postcards. Walking down the main strip in town, past hoards of people, cages and restaurants, your eyes are always drawn to the mountains. Mont Blanc sits above everything. Even in silhouette, the main peak is instantly recognisable.

The town already had major marathon-week energy. Runners were everywhere, every other person was wearing UTMB merchandise, and you could hear accents and languages from all over the world.

Beyond the fact that the town’s population scales from 9,000 to 100,000 during race week, it was obvious pretty quickly that this wasn’t just a town hosting another running event. 

Chamonix seemed to attract anyone with an obsession with being outside. Runners, mountain bikers, climbers, hikers, paragliders. Everyone seemed to have their own reason for being there, but the common thread was pretty simple: get outside and move.

I was thrilled to be a part of it.

The town becomes the stage

By Monday afternoon, the town was properly humming. We’d finished some of our HOKA responsibilities for the day, and the first of the 40km MCC (Martigny-Combe to Chamonix) runners were starting to make their way into Chamonix.

Each race’s finishing stretch takes runners through roughly 500 metres of the centre of town, meaning the course runs straight past people sitting down for dinner, walking their dogs, having a coffee or just wandering around taking in the mountains.

From Monday onwards, there was a slow but constant flow of finishers coming through. And every time someone appeared, you’d hear it. A faint roar would start somewhere down the street, followed by cowbells and a chorus of “ALLEZ!”, “BRAVO!” and “LET’S GO!”

People sitting outside restaurants would put their cutlery down, stand up and start cheering. People walking through town would stop and turn around. Then, just as quickly as it started, the runner would disappear down the street; everyone else would sit back down and go about their day.

Then it would happen again, and again.

It was one of the things I found most fascinating about UTMB. Trail running is usually a pretty solitary sport. You spend months training on your own, often running through places where you might see a handful of other people, if you’re lucky.

UTMB in Chamonix was different. Thousands of people were here to watch the runners, spectating a sport that is normally experienced in isolation from the trail, not the sidelines. Here, the spectators watched for hours at a time and, in some cases, across multiple days.

During one of the HOKA APAC conferences, I heard someone describe the week perfectly: “Chamonix is the stage. The race is the plot. The runners are the actors.”

This really stuck with me, because that’s exactly what the week felt like. 

There were hundreds of individual stories playing out across the mountains. There were people chasing a result, people trying to finish their first race, people returning after years away, crews sacrificing sleep to get their runner from checkpoint to checkpoint.

Everyone had their own reason for being there. And Chamonix was the stage for all of it.

Trail as a spectator sport

On Thursday morning, I headed out to the nearby village of Vallorcine to find a spot to watch the OCC runners come through. It was my first proper chance to get out of Chamonix and into the alps, and I was pretty keen for some real mountain time. My trip involved a short train ride out of town, followed by a ride on the Télécabine de Vallorcine gondola and a 20-minute hike to one of the spectator zones.

I arrived about an hour before the first runners were due through, but I knew I’d found the right spot. There was already a small crowd starting to form.

And the view was ridiculous.

I was so much higher than I’d been in Chamonix, and rather than being surrounded by buildings I was encircled by mountains. Trails rolled through the hills in the distance, disappearing around ridgelines and reappearing somewhere else.

While we waited, the atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed. People had brought hiking chairs, food and speakers. It felt less like waiting for a race and more like a communal mountainside picnic.

There was the usual international mix of languages and accents around me. People chatted, ate, listened to music and enjoyed the view.

Then, somewhere in the distance, you’d hear it. A few faint cheers. A cowbell. Then another. As the noise got closer, everyone’s ears would prick up. People stopped what they were doing, grabbed their cameras, moved towards the trail and got ready to cheer.

Then the runner would appear. The atmosphere would completely change.

People were screaming, ringing cowbells and running alongside the runners for as long as they could. Then, just as quickly, the runners would disappear around the next corner and everyone would settle back into their chairs and wait for the next one.

There was one group in particular that was impossible to miss: a loud and passionate group of Norwegians, draped in national flags and wraparound Oakleys, who could probably be heard from the other side of the valley.

They were following one runner in particular. “JØRGEN! JØRGEN! JØRGEN!” they cheered to fellow Nordmann Jørgen Jevne. I ended up befriending them on the train back to Chamonix later that afternoon, where we celebrated the day over a few warm beers.

What struck me most was how committed people were to spectating. These weren’t people who had wandered out of a cafe in Chamonix because they happened to see a runner go past. They had taken a train, a gondola and a hike into the alps, carrying food, chairs and speakers, just to watch runners pass through for a few seconds.

And this was just one spot. There were countless spectator zones scattered throughout the mountains, with people making their own little events out of watching the race.

HOKA and UTMB

Before coming to Chamonix, I knew HOKA and UTMB had a healthy and ongoing relationship. But it’s one thing to know that on paper, and another to walk around town for a week and see HOKA everywhere.

HOKA was founded in the French Alps in 2009 by Nico Mermoud and Jean-Luc Diard, and the first HOKA prototypes were presented in Chamonix. Nico Mermoud also knows UTMB from the competitors’ side of the start line, finishing third in the race in 2007.

During my stay, I was interested in Nico and his commitment to the event as well as the brand he founded. Throughout the week, I kept seeing him around town. He wasn’t hidden away somewhere, appearing only for the big moments. He was just there, wandering around, talking to people and soaking it all in like everyone else. He’s still a passionate trail runner himself, and seeing the founder of a global running brand so immersed in the community made HOKA’s connection to the sport feel pretty genuine.

The first brand event I went to was an APAC runners gathering, where we heard from people involved in the story of both HOKA and UTMB. One thing that stuck with me was hearing Catherine Poletti, one of UTMB’s founders and its chairwoman, talk about the race as a symbol of friendship between France, Italy and Switzerland. 

That idea was pretty hard to miss throughout the week. The race crosses three countries, but somehow everyone ends up back in Chamonix together. Runners, supporters, volunteers, brands and locals. It’s a pretty unique event in that sense.

My days with HOKA were constantly changing. Some mornings started with a product-focused run or a shakeout. Other days involved a short hike to one of the many HOKA activations around the town and valley. In between, there were talks from HOKA’s product and brand teams. There was always something happening.

One of my favourite activations was up at La Flégère, where HOKA had set up a watch party on the side of the mountain. There was a bar, a restaurant and a livestream showing the crown race, UTMB Mont-Blanc, while runners came past in real life just metres away. People were happy to sit up there for hours.

The more time I spent around HOKA, the more I started to understand how deeply connected the brand is to this place. That connection became even clearer when I sat down with Steve DeKoker, the company’s senior director of Global Sports Marketing. 

Steve was incredibly passionate. We got along straight away as he talked about his background in running; he had started as a track runner before moving deeper into the trail space with HOKA.

At one point he described UTMB in a way that put the whole week into perspective for me.

“This is the Masters golf tournament. This is the Tour de France. This is the Champions League final. This is it for trail runners,” he said.

That helped me understand something. I’d been calling UTMB the Super Bowl of trail running since I found out I was coming, but hearing it from someone who works at the highest level of the sport made me realise just how big this place actually is.

This is the mecca.

Steve also talked about HOKA’s approach to developing trail products. I’ll leave the tech chat out of this as I’m sure it’ll be covered elsewhere. What I found most interesting was that the conversation wasn’t really about shoes.

“It’s not just about building good, best-in-class trail running events,” he explained. “For me, it’s a bigger conversation about building the sport of trail running.”

That message from Steve stuck with me. How can a brand like HOKA actually help build the sport of trail running? I kept thinking about all the individual stories that exist within the sport, the athletes, the races, the supporters and everyone in between. If a global brand like HOKA can help bring those stories to a much bigger audience, surely that’s a pretty good place to start.

Running in Chamonix

With all of the work commitments throughout the week, I never really found the time to properly disappear into the mountains for a run. Instead, most of my runs started in town. I’d head out the door and make a loop of whatever trails I could find, picking up elevation wherever possible and seeing where I ended up.

And honestly, every run felt like an adventure.

Chamonix has pretty much everything you could want. An athletics track for workouts, fire trails climbing out of town, technical singletrack, long paved roads for a tempo session. You can walk out of your hotel with a session in mind and, five minutes later, completely change your plans because you’ve spotted another trail you want to explore.

One morning I headed out for a short 3 x 2km session, with a warm-up and cooldown either side. I’d packed a few extra gels, which turned out to be a good decision, because halfway through my warm-up I decided I didn’t want to turn around.

I kept exploring. The trail started climbing through the fire roads on the edge of town, eventually taking me up to a beautiful old stone-arched railway bridge. I stopped there for a moment, took it in, then turned around and headed back through the forest. Eventually I made my way back into town and started the session, finishing my final 2km rep around the athletics track.

It was a pretty normal training session by most standards. Except I was doing it in Chamonix, during UTMB race week. Every run had some version of that same “holy shit” moment: “I’m running in Chamonix!”

Final morning

On my final morning, I headed out for an easy hour before packing up and leaving town.

Somehow, I found myself on the end of the UTMB course just as the runners made their final descent into town, making their way towards the finish after 174 kilometres around Mont Blanc.
Some of these people had been out there for more than 36 hours.

I was jogging along for an hour before breakfast, while these runners were finishing an adventure that had taken them through the mountains and across three countries. It was hard to fathom what they must have seen, experienced and gone through to get to that point.

I watched them come through the finish; then I kept running. “Okay, I need to come back to Chamonix,” I thought. 

A week in the mountains

By the end of the week, I realised UTMB wasn’t really just a festival of trail running. It was a celebration of the outdoors, of the human connection to the mountains and the desire to spend as much time as possible exploring what they have to offer.

The people who sign up for these races are obsessed. They commit months, sometimes years, to getting themselves to the start line. They travel across the world to run through mountains they may have never seen before, knowing full well that it’s going to hurt.

But that’s what makes it so special. There are limitless stories to be told in trail running. The stories before the race, during it, and everything that happens afterwards.

The runners are the actors. The race is the plot. And Chamonix is the stage.

Everyone has their own story. I came to Chamonix to document those stories, but I left feeling like I wanted to become more involved in them myself.

I think for now I’m still a road runner at heart. But there’s something pretty addictive about heading out without really knowing where the trail is going to take you.

Get out of the city. Find a mountain. See where you end up.