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When I first found out that I’d be racing the CCC by UTMB, excitement and nerves hit me at the same time.
The CCC isn’t just any race, it’s one of the most iconic and challenging ultra-trail events in the world, part of the UTMB World Series, crossing through Courmayeur (Italy), Champex-Lac (Switzerland), and Chamonix (France).
It’s 100 kilometres with 6100 metres of elevation, technical descents, and breathtaking mountain passes, all at altitude.
And that’s where my first challenge began:
I live in Currumbin Beach, right at sea level. Beautiful? Absolutely. Ideal for altitude training? Definitely not.
So the question became; how do I prepare my body for thin air when I’m surrounded by the ocean?
I started researching places above 2,000 metres, thinking of going to Italy or France for a short training trip. But the costs were too expensive and I knew three days at altitude wouldn’t be enough. Proper adaptation takes at least 10 days, often more.
That’s when I called my dad, who lives in Barcelona. He’s not a runner, but he loves the mountains and used to hike when he was younger. Within a few days, he came back with the perfect idea, a place high enough for altitude, full of trails, and quiet enough to train in peace: El Valle de Benasque, in the Spanish Pyrenees.
So we turned it into a family mountain holiday. Everyone came along, while I trained, they enjoyed the valley. It felt amazing to combine family time with serious training, especially for a race as meaningful as CCC.
Benasque is a hidden gem in northern Aragón, surrounded by jagged peaks, glaciers, alpine lakes, and endless trails. It’s part of the Posets-Maladeta Natural Park, home to the highest mountains in the Pyrenees including El Aneto (3,404 m).
The lower valley sits around 1,500 metres, and from there, trails climb up into true alpine terrain steep, rocky, wild, and breathtaking. The landscape instantly made me feel small but alive, the way only big mountains can.I signed up for AllTrails to plan my routes and make sure I wouldn’t get lost once I got out there.
On the first couple of days, I took it easy 10 km with about 500 metres of elevation gain just to get used to the terrain and my surroundings. The trails were magical: forests of pine and birch, crystal-clear streams, and tiny villages tucked in between mountain ridges.
But on the second day, I got a bit overconfident. I decided to go long - 33 km with 1,931 metres of elevation gain, reaching 2,600 metres at my highest point.
Big mistake.
By the end of that run, I felt awful, dizzy, nauseous, even vomiting. My legs were heavy, and I had no energy. It took me 5 hours and 28 minutes, but it felt like double that. Back at the hotel, I had a pounding headache and barely slept that night.
Later, I learned that all my symptoms were classic altitude sickness, a reminder that no matter how fit you are, altitude humbles you fast.
The next few days were all about recovery and smart training. I reduced my distance but focused on consistency.
On day three, I ran 12 km with 1,200 metres of elevation gain, reaching 2,300 m, and felt much better. I made sure to drink more water, use electrolytes, and eat enough especially fats and carbs to fuel my body. Nutrition became just as important as the running itself.
By day four, I was feeling strong and confident again, maybe too much! I decided to attempt the Marathon of the Tuca, a 42 km loop with 2,100 metres of elevation gain and a high point at 3,039 m.
It turned out to be one of the hardest runs I’ve ever done. The trail was hot and brutally technical. I’d planned to finish in 5 hours, it took 7 hours, and I managed 38 km instead of the full marathon. My breathing was laboured, my nose dry, my lips burned from the sun and wind. But it was also one of the most beautiful experiences of my life; alpine lakes, snow patches, rocky climbs, and even the sound of small rock avalanches tumbling nearby.
That day, I learned what mountain running is truly about: respect for nature, resilience, and presence. You can’t fight the mountains; you adapt, breathe, and move with them.
The next day, I rested completely. My body needed it. Then on the sixth day, I explored a ski trail that climbed to 2,800 metres. I felt much stronger, though above 2,500 m, my legs still got heavy and I had to hike instead of run. Near the summit, a storm rolled in hail, wind, and thunder and I turned back, soaking but smiling.
By the end of eight days in Benasque, I had logged 116 km, with 6,180 metres of elevation gain and over 19 hours of training at altitude.
I could feel the difference in my breathing, my recovery, even my mindset had shifted. I wasn’t just training my legs anymore, I was training patience, humility, and adaptability.
Two days later, I arrived in Chamonix, ready to taper before race day. I did a few easy long runs and one day took the lift up to Aiguille du Midi (3,800 m) just to test how my body handled that kind of height. It still wasn’t easy, but it felt manageable.
And on race day, all that work paid off. My legs felt strong, my lungs steady. I didn’t feel dizzy or sick. I could just run, focus, and enjoy the journey around Mont Blanc, one of the most unforgettable races of my life.
Training at altitude isn’t just physical, it’s deeply mental. You have to let go of control, listen to your body, and trust that adaptation takes time.
It’s about patience, humility, and learning to slow down so you can go further later.
If you’re planning to race, hike, or travel somewhere above 2,000 metres and you live at sea level, here’s what I’d recommend:
I’m grateful to be an ambassador for Wild Earth, which means I’m always equipped with reliable gear and nutrition to take on any adventure. Here’s what I packed and recommend for anyone training in the mountains:
Those eight days in the Pyrenees changed the way I see running and training. It wasn’t just about preparing for a race, it was about connecting with nature, testing my limits, and learning that growth happens when you step outside your comfort zone.
When you stand on a mountain ridge, surrounded by silence and sky, you realise how small you are and how powerful persistence can be.
Altitude teaches you to breathe deeper, move slower, and never stop believing in your body’s ability to adapt.
If you ever get the chance to train or explore at altitude take it. It will challenge you, humble you, and remind you why you fell in love with running in the first place.
Not sure what gear you need for your adventure? Chat with our friendly team of Outdoor Gear Specialists in-store or online today, and don’t forget to share your adventures with us on Instagram by tagging @wildearthaustralia in your next post.