What 3 Years of Racing CCC Has Taught Me

My journey to CCC began in 2019. It was my first time racing at the world-renowned UTMB series’ 100k race. I found myself in the back of the top 10 in Arnouvaz, and crept up to 8th by the end of the day, finishing in 13:44. I left proud and hungry and felt like we were just getting started.

In 2021, I was shocked when I came into the Champex-Lac aid station in 3rd place. I passed 2nd place on La Tête aux Vents, taking 2nd in 13:04. This was a massive result for me at the time and was incredibly validating after years of progression in the sport of ultrarunning. I left proud and hungry and felt like we were just getting started.

I think some people were surprised when I said I wanted to return to CCC a third time. Usually, CCC is a race people pass through on their way to “la grande boucle”, UTMB. People don’t usually stick around.

When I took 2nd in 2021, I knew immediately upon finishing that I wanted to come back and do it again in 2022. I didn’t see that result as a sign to back down and move on to the next thing; I saw that result as a sign to double down and level up. There was more to wring out. This time, I wanted to achieve mastery.

The Goal

The year the previously established course record had been set by Miao Yao, the course was rerouted for bad weather and didn’t run the standard Tête aux Vents climb at the end. (To my knowledge, I believe there also was a bit more road descent on the Switzerland-side that year.) As I set my goals for 2022, I worked off Ragna Debats’ 2019 splits, as it was the fastest time recorded on the full course with no re-routes. In 2019, Ragna absolutely ran away with it in 12:10. I figured aiming for this time would put me in a great position to win.

Looking up to this effort as my guide, I believed I could shave about an hour off my 2021 time. That meant everything needed to be run about 8% faster. I’d say 8% starts to fall outside of the category of marginal gains. That being said, the things I did to improve my time significantly didn’t require a proportionate increase in effort. In other words, it was a work smart and not hard situation.

First, I needed to assess what went right in 2021 and required no change at all. For me, those items were:

rock solid nutrition
early arrival to Chamonix for lots of workouts and long runs on course
nothing-to-lose mindset

The room for improvement category was:

risk taking—making tactical race moves at the right time without fearing a blow-up
a build that prioritized it within the year (rather than coming off of WSER like in 2021)

The real question was, would those two items account for the hour I wanted to take off my time? Would something as simple as a risk-taking mindset propel me not only to go out hard, but to continue hard late in the race over La Giète, Les Tseppes and La Tête aux Vents? This was something I asked myself again and again in training. And believe me, I had plenty of time to think about this. A whole year to be exact—a whole year of staring at that trophy on my shelf wondering if I could simply do it again, let alone improve my performance by such a wide margin.

The Rise and the Fall

The year shaped up well—after settling into our new home in Flagstaff, AZ, I kicked off the season at Transgrancanaria in March and ran well, taking 2nd. In May, I won the 65k at Innsbruck Alpine. I came home and got COVID which was a minor setback for a week or two, but then as I got back in a good groove, I was smacked down by an even bigger setback. I was starting a long run in the Grand Canyon and took a bad fall on Grandview. I hiked out, got 8 stitches across the front of my kneecap and had my longest break from running in 17 years. (11 days.)

All of June was detoured to focus on healing my knee and getting back to running. At the start of July, Cordis and I went out to celebrate my progress with a multi-day fastpack on a 70-mile section of the Nüümü Poyo/JMT. On day one, I took a bad step and fell again, re-opening the whole wound along the stitchline. We wrapped it up tight and turned right around, getting to the ER at 1am where they told us we had two choices: stitch it up and send me out on crutches with 4 weeks off running, or leave it open, keep it clean and get cleared by a doctor before running. (You can guess which option we chose.)

I made a personal decision to focus on keeping the wound clean and getting back to training with it wrapped up. There was no pain in the knee—it was just a wound so gnarly it seemed to grimace at me with a jagged smile when I looked at it. I just had to manage it and keep it clean.

After leaving the ER, I ran a 90 mile week. I figured that either things would work out to be able to do CCC how I wanted to, or they wouldn’t. Either way, I wasn’t going to take this lying down.

When we flew to Chamonix on July 17th, my suitcase contained a whole grocery bag full of medical supplies I needed for my wound. I remember my first run in Chamonix felt unstable and hesitant. Each root and rock felt like an opportunity to fall and bust open my knee yet again. But I thought back to my plan: it was either going to work, or it wasn’t. And I was willing to take some large risks to have a shot at still making my dream happen.

I’d only been in Chamonix for about 4 or 5 days before I needed a pep talk from Koop (my coach, Jason Koop.) Arriving at this special place I’d been dreaming of all year, in suboptimal form, had me feeling like a mess of self-doubt.

I’d spent a good chunk of the year thinking that meeting my goal required me to arrive in Chamonix a whole new athlete. I’d get off the Flixbux in Cham Sud a whole 8% better! Thriving! Fearless!

Koop said something on that call that stuck with me and lives on as a Note on my iPhone, like all my favorite ideas do. “The desired race outcome might feel like a reach, but the path there isn’t a reach at all.”

It was then that I realized I’d spent a good chunk of the year thinking that meeting my goal required me to arrive in Chamonix a whole new athlete. I’d get off the Flixbux in Cham Sud a whole 8% better! Thriving! Fearless!

In reality, I look back and see a classic storyline in ultrarunning. What are you able to do within imperfect circumstances? The answer is simple. Roll up your sleeves and take the next step in front of you. Don’t focus on the past, focus on how your present step can set yourself up for a better future.

So I did my tedious knee exercises. I kept the wound clean as it healed. I worked daily with our team physios to make sure I was moving properly after the fall and not developing any compensating movement patterns. I trained. I got my confidence back.

After a few weeks of this rhythm, I was confident I could do what I wanted to do at CCC. At the time, I was trying to avoid talking about the knee at all. After that second fall in July, I really never spoke of it again. This was because I wanted to eliminate any asterisks or excuses from my ability to put together my best performance. I wanted to step up to the startline with no pesky emotional weights lurking on my shoulders. I wasn’t interested in going out and having a nice day on the course, I was interested in putting a specific, full-throttle performance together, the one I felt like I’d been dancing around since 2019.

I felt calm and routine race week until I got electric with energy putting my gear together. It hit me like a lightning bolt. I listened to my pre-race playlist which I called, “making something great.” When I Will Survive came on, it was go time.

Go on now, go, walk out the door, just turn around now, ‘cause you're not welcome anymore. That’s right fear, we’re talking to you. You think I'd crumble? You think I'd lay down and die? Now was my chance to fight back and to do what I’ve been dreaming of all year.

Race Day

Early Friday morning, we arrived at the start in Courmayeur, Italy with rain and storms on the forecast. I had been practicing a mindset that I could win no matter what the circumstances were, no matter who showed up and no matter what the weather was like. So I focused on this, and felt deep inner confidence about whatever the day was looking like, because I knew it was going to be a good one.

strava-route-ccc — For the full data breakdown, my Strava data is HERE.

From the start, I focused on positioning well out of town and onto the first climb. The amount of men that went out hard (hundreds ahead of me, though 37 would remain ahead at the end) made it hard to tell where I stood in the women’s field. I wanted to run 1:26 from town to Tête de la Tronche (the first 4,000ft climb out of town) and I hit my split perfectly. I felt in sync with the effort and confident about what was ahead.

I knew a number of women would go out hard, especially because a lot of the big contenders in the field were moving up from shorter races. As far as ultra-distances go, I felt like I was the most seasoned ultrarunner in the top of the field and knew I would leverage that in the later miles.

Things flew quickly through Bertone. Just after Bertone, I fell into stride with Nepalese runner Sunmaya Budha. She and I would continue to work together for the next 25 miles. We had a great rhythm going, working through the carnage of men who’d gone out beyond their means.

It was raining. I wondered if they’d re-route us. I was in my rhythm of having a gel every 30 minutes, and filling my two 500ml bottles with one water and one drink mix per aid station. I feel rock solid with my nutrition and it’s been exactly the same without fail for a few years now.

At Arnouvaz (mile 16, 5,700 feet of climbing elapsed), the aid station workers made us put our rain jackets on before leaving the aid. Sunmaya and I worked together and climbed up 2,500 feet in the rain to the top of Grand Col Ferret, passing a couple of women. On the other side of the pass, I tried to create some distance between Sunmaya, but every time I created a gap she would fill it. On the descent from Grand Col Ferret, the rain had now stopped, but it was slick with mud so I pulled out my poles to make sure I didn’t take a fall. This made my descent split into La Fouly slower than planned, but some sections had also been faster so I was still on my projected pace.

We’d heard word that Blandine was far out front and that we were running in 2nd and 3rd. Being that this was Blandine’s first time stepping up in distance to the 100k, I didn’t know if she’d be able to hold the effort. All I knew was that I felt sure of where I needed to be. Sunmaya and I were hitting all of the splits to run about 12:10.

The way CCC often plays out, after Val Ferret, you’re either climbing or descending the whole time. There might be five ladies all together on the first climb, four on the second climb, etc. The way many of these UTMB races play out, it becomes a last-person standing situation. Between Blandine front-running and Sunmaya and I running in stride, I felt like this process-of-elimination race scenario was still a realistic possibility.

abby-champex-lac-ccc — Photo by Mike McMonagle

Sunmaya and I worked together on the fast miles in and out of La Fouly. At the base of the climb into Champex-Lac, I finally put some distance on her. I ran into Champex-Lac aid station (mile 33.4, 9,877 feet of climbing elapsed) in 2nd place, feeling exactly how I expected to feel: like I’d been running (almost) as hard as I can for 6 hours. I chugged a can of Coke, took two salt pills, got a pat on the back from Koop and I was outta there.

In total during the whole race, I took 6 minutes 24 seconds of aid time. Probably 3 minutes of this was from Champex-Lac, which makes sense as runners have not seen crew for the first 33.4 miles. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sunmaya come in behind me and leave the aid before me. I let her go and finished chugging my Coke—a classic debate between rushing out of the aid and doing what you need to do to take care of yourself in that moment.

Sunmaya built a gap on me on the La Giète climb, ultimately running what has got to be one of the strongest Champex-Lac to finish segments ever recorded in CCC. She closed on Blandine and made some major moves to do so.

Champex-Lac to the finish was a blur of effort. I don’t remember much to be honest. My mind was blank and purely focused on forward progress. I remember the sun coming out, feeling steamy and humid after the storm. The light after the storm was stunning. I remember feeling like I was still running so fast. I was hitting all of my splits to run 12:10 – a time I thought would win, but I was still in third.

The effort felt so honest, the thought of being disappointed to be in third didn’t even cross my mind. I was doing exactly what I came for: wringing out every last drop to put together my best CCC possible.

I saw Koop next at the aid in Trient, (mile 43.5, 12,500 feet of climbing elapsed) chugged another can of Coke and took two more salt pills. Our turnaround in Trient was quick. Cordis, outside of the aid cheering, was in his stern-cheering mode. If you ever hear him yell, “C’MON AB.”, that’s the serious cheering. There’s a period after it, not an exclamation point. We save the love for the finish line (if you’ve ever watched a live stream of my finishes, you know we do.) Mid-race, we’re scrappy. Not wasting any breath. All-in, together. I’d set a high bar for myself and Cordis and Koop were holding me to it.

descending-into-vallorcine — Photo by Raphael Weber for adidas TERREX

I saw a big group of my teammates clanging cowbells at the base of the climb out of Trient which was rejuvenating. I felt like I was moving slowly, but I was still a few minutes early to my split climbing into Les Tseppes, which surprised me. The numbers were good. Because of this, I might have eased up a little too much and been a little too gentle on myself, but that’s part of riding the wave of a hard effort. When I ran CCC in 2021, I experimented with basing the effort on splits. What I learned that year was that some splits would come out ahead, and some splits would come out behind. What mattered was that I hit a reset button in each section, with a fresh perspective for what was ahead.

Descending into the final aid in Vallorcine, I saw Leah Yingling and Mike McMonagle. Leah said, “do you want to know what’s happening behind you?” And I responded, “should I?” I’m glad she made the executive decision to tell me what was happening behind me–loads of women running fast on my heels–because it kicked me into focus. Because I’d been using time to frame my goal, I hadn’t even considered how many other women might be capable of running these times.

Getting into Vallorcine (50 miles, 14,970 feet of climbing elapsed), I chugged my final Coke and got my final bottles from Koop. It felt surreal that I was already here this early—the sun still felt so high in the sky. I felt in some ways like I was still settling into the effort and wasn’t ready for it to be over so quickly. It was time to turn all those faucets to the right. We gotta empty the tanks.

First up was the gradual, obnoxiously speedy climb from Vallorcine to Col des Montets. (My split was 25:00, only about 2 minutes faster than what I’d done in 2019 and 2021. It might not seem like much, but hey, if you do that math it’s exactly 8% faster. It all adds up!)

Col des Montets is always a beautiful and emotional moment for me. It represents what I love about Chamonix, the drama. You round the corner to see the Aiguilles looming above Chamonix and get one final burst of energy from your crew in the parking lot before the last climb. In 2021, I could hear the screams from my team all the way down on the road when I moved into 2nd place. You can feel the energy of this part of the course in your bones.

Koop told me two things at Col des Montets, and I was surprised how much they both motivated me. One was, “Everyone is running fast today. You just have to run even faster.” And the other thing was, “now is when all of your emphasis on mentality pays off.”

Back to my original question, would risk taking and the inherent confidence required to take risks be enough to pull me through gutsy splits on these hard final climbs? Yes. Yes, it was.

This is where my meticulous knowledge of the course paid off. I knew not only my own PRs on every segment to the finish, but also historical splits, and most importantly what slightly unreasonable splits I would have to pull off to keep a gap behind me to 4th place. This helped me break down the goal into something I could fathom, rather than it simply being a vague, “go as hard as you can to the finish.” The splits provided structure to what I believed was the necessary effort to sustain being on the podium.

abby-tete-aux-vents — Photo by Margaux le Map

40:48 from the parking lot to the top of the climb (where it goes by the small tarn.) 37:40 from there to La Flegère. Every second counted. The big, rocking boulders and unforgiving terrain in this section draw out every last weakness in you. I saw a video of myself running this and I look like a wounded animal being chased—my legs would collapse a little too deep into a knee bend, my elbow flying out to the side in an attempt to balance, yet all things considered, still moving quickly. I was communicating in grunts to friends and spectators along the trail. Blandine and Sunmaya were now far ahead, but I knew what I came here to do and I was doing it: emptying myself.

I ran through the La Flegère aid without stopping, knowing Jazmine Lowther was hot on my heels (the last I’d heard, she was 4 minutes back) I turned on my headlamp. Koop popped up to cheer in the darkness on the switchbacks to town. 32 minutes to Les Nants–a decent split. (Actually the fastest I’ve run that split.) Okay, I think I’ve got this in the bag.

I crossed the Metal Bridge of Doom into town and Robert was there to give me the beta. He said Jazmine was 1 minute back?! He said he’d yell when he saw her. But as I ran along the river, making the final turns to the finish, I realized I wouldn’t be able to hear him over the roar of the river. All I could do was give it everything, trust my body and get to that finish line.

The energy of town was unreal as always, hundreds of people lined the streets with arms outstretched for high fives. It was a race to the finish. I skipped the fanfare to first secure the finish.

12:12:56. Relief. It was over. Running back out for high fives in the beautiful finish chute, my favorite scene in the world. Reuniting with Cordis, the best partner I could ask for. We did it. This is the moment I was waiting for!

I had cut 52 minutes off my time from last year, missing Ragna’s full-course time by just two minutes.

Blandine and Sunmaya had not only flown under that time, but even under Miao Yiao’s time from the re-route year. I see this as a stunning example of just how much the sport is growing. Not only did the podium fly, but the rest of the top 10 women did as well. The top 10 women all ran faster than my time from second place last year. Really let that sink in!

CCC-podium-2022 — Left: Sunmaya Budha, 2nd place. Middle: Blandine L’Hirondel, 1st place. Photo by Ian Corless for adidas TERREX

Not only does this illuminate how much these competitive fields are growing, but how we’re capable of seeing more in ourselves when we watch someone go before us. When the bar is raised at the top of the field, the bar gets raised for all of us.

It was also a reminder that I can only control myself. I can’t control who else shows up and delivers a world-class performance, let alone know how many other women are capable of doing so. My goal in returning was to wring as much out of myself as possible and master this course. Of course I dreamed of a win, but having that goal leveled me up exactly as much as I hoped a win would.

The win wasn’t the goal, the leveling up was the goal—the professionalism and mindset and attention to detail required being able to not just deliver one world-class result, but to continue to do so consistently.

Putting myself in the most competitive scenarios is without a doubt what has allowed me to grow the most as an athlete. For any athlete hungry to break out at an elite level, I believe this is the best way to do so. Don’t practice winning; practice problem-solving, risk taking and making moves.

Since 2019, this race has been my beacon. But the finish line doesn’t end here. There is no finish line. Only the process shaping us as much as possible.

I leave proud and hungry and feel like we’re just getting started.

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