Tor des Sportswash
What the Ford happened at the 2024 Tor des Géants?
Some quality virtue signalling
I placed fourth at 2023 Tor des Géants in 72hrs and a few minutes, a time that had won it in previous years. Even if I was doubtful I could do any better, straight away I wanted to go back for 2024.
I really ruddy love the Tor. The romance of the challenge, the cruel beauty of those big bad lumps, the Wild West atmosphere and the fact many of my best frenemies love it too. It's becoming an annual get-together. #OuchyFun
However, I would have no crew and my non-running life has changed significantly this year, impacting my training, sleep and, well, me, a lot. So I didn't think I was in shape to better 2023 – a race, tellingly, I spent almost entirely with other runners. Though I thought I could compete in the top 10 again. Then came the curveball. Two weeks out from the race, I learned the Tor had a new "partner", Ford.
Sportswashing
I do my very smelly sportswashing two-three times a week, but this is a different type. Sportswashing is a government or company trying to distract people from the bad things they're doing by putting money into sport to make themselves look good. It dates back at least to Nazi Germany and the 1936 Olympic Games and nowadays over £4bn is ploughed into sport by high-carbon companies (full report here), which includes trail running, not least Dacia and UTMB, on the other side of the Alps from Courmayeur.
The Green Runners and I signed up to Badvertising’s Game Changer Sponsorship Pledge (GCSP), attempting to rid sport of alcohol, gambling and high-carbon (HC) sponsors. GCSP defines HC sponsors as fossil fuels, the banks that fund them, airlines, airports and car manufacturers.
Car manufacturers are the more awkward one, because most of us own vehicles. But there's a huge difference between making reasonable, often reluctant, car journeys – because that's the system we're currently in – and being part of an industry responsible for 18% of global emissions yet being deliberately slow to decarbonise.
"A full phase-out of the sales of ICE [fossil fuel-powered] passenger vehicles is necessary for the industry’s decarbonisation progress to be compatible with the 2050 net zero emissions future," says 2022 Greenpeace report, Automobile Environmental Guide. Yet that year, the world’s 15 largest traditional automakers sold a 55.5 million ICE vehicles (94.4% of total car sales), compared to 3.3 million zero-emission vehicles. Ford aren't the worst, or the best. But they sell over 90% ICE vehicles and 37% SUVs. (Yes, they also make EVs, but they legally have to.)
Yes, races require sponsors, but most get by without sportswashing money. And yes, events require extra transport, but that doesn't mean allowing high-carbon companies to promote polluting products by associating with trail running – ironically in the very valley that suffered devastating floods in July, needing hundreds to be evacuated from beautiful Cogne by helicopter. We know extreme weather is strongly linked to climate breakdown (UTMR was also cancelled and Wildstrubel hugely affected).
This isn't just a few nutters yelling into a dustbin. “I urge every country to ban advertising from fossil fuel companies," said UN Secretary General António Guterres in June. The Hague has just passed a law banning advertisements promoting fossil fuel products and Edinburgh has done likewise, including ICE vehicles.
Sportswashing gets a thumbs down from us, folks
There's a key difference between being a provider or supplier and being a sponsor, a commercial relationship. The Tor called Ford a partner, which could feasibly be either, so we emailed them. Six times. They finally replied, with a carefully curated email, making the relationship sound ambiguous but more like a supplier/provider arrangement, mentioning needing specific vehicles for the terrain.
For various reasons (not least financial and child care), I had to make a decision. So though I felt uneasy about it, I decided to still go to Courmayeur. There didn't seem to be enough there for me to boycott the race. The handful of friends I confided in all urged me to run – and consider protesting. There’s more than one way to be an activist and I debated this a lot with myself. I suspected that while not running was the more principled thing to do, the latter might provide images and content for media and be potentially more impactful.
When I get to Courmayeur (and no, I didn’t fly), it’s clear the Ford relationship is a commercial one, with branding all around town. I feel pissed off. And sad. Partly why I love the Tor so much is because it used to feel like everything UTMB wasn't. But it no longer feels that different. The pre-race ceremony included locals in traditional costumes dancing around a Ford car, which felt particularly tasteless. It wasn’t the same race I signed up for. I felt bad for other runners too, who’d committed to the running holiday of a life-time with an organisation they felt good about, only to find out late in the day the event holds very different values.
Let the tea games begin
A race-morning, mid-kettle boil, power cut, should in no way arouse suspicion about my flat mate John Kelly. Neither should the "special gpx file" he created and shared with me.
I’m thrilled about the forecast of British weather, clag and muzzle keeping me cool on that first climb as the tea denier and Francois D'Heane push on ahead. So many other familiar faces around, including my great pals, Double Paddy Buckley Round record-holder Ajay Hanspal, two-time Tor runner-up Galen Reynolds, rivals from last year Gianluca Gealti and Cornel Buliga, Tor regular Andrea Macchi, and it’s great to see affable US legend Seth Swanson (ask your parents).
Pretending to be friends with my frenemies
John and Sabrina Verjee were especially keen to have runners follow the course markings, not a Tor tradition, and the memo seems to be working. I can't remember the order now, but I spend significant portions of the day running with John and with Galen. The key at this stage, for me anyway, is to not think about racing others. Just try to move optimally and remember this is what I LOVE doing.
When the Canadian and I reach Rifugio Deffeyes (28k), we’re surprised to see an emotional Cornel, who was looking so strong. He explains he'd just been disqualified for being assisted outside a crew point. That's against the rules, but the Tor’s usually so lax on things like that and a time penalty seems a fairer option.
Some of the toughest climbs and most testing altitude hit you early and the night is cold. Three times I can't feel my fingers. Breathing is hard. Progress is slow. It’s beautiful. I’m sad to see Galen unhappy on Col Loson. He since says that I tried all my best lines, including "What we do in life echoes in eternity". But it doesn't work. I too feel shook up and nauseous, which is very unusual for me, at Cogne (104K). I have a good 20-minute sit down to get some Alpro choc pud in. I see Sangé Sherpa behind me a bit but otherwise the rest of the night is on my own.
My dad jokes became too much for Galen (as planned)
Despite the cold night, Donnas (149k) is horribly warm as ever, the tarmac torturous. Towards the epic climb to Rifugio Coda I spot a runner behind, climbing powerfully. It’s Finland's Max Moberg, who joins me for the night. Tiredness is definitely kicking in and we sleep 15 minutes at Neil (190k).
Refreshed, we try to match D'Heane's split to Gressoney (204k) out of curiosity, but predictably fall short. The endless climb up at dawn is cold, but it gets light just at the top where a huge male chamois is silhouetted just above us. We see someone climbing hard behind us and feel annoyed at our leisurely progress. A sprightly Beñat Marmissolle passes us before Champulac (220k) where Max wants medical attention and I push on.
I catch up with sleepy Andrea Macchi near Refugio Grand Tounadlin, who I assume is fifth. After being social for a time, I push the downhill hard to gap him. Halfway down I start to regret that, but also don't want to give up my hard-earned advantage.
Leaving Valtourneche (237k) I’m actually in fourth, which focuses me. But the day is heating up as I head up into the section of the route that stays at altitude for longest. I cause confusion at an aid station wanting water to tip over my head, think I remember seeing lots of little blue butterflies and how ace it all looks in the afternoon sunshine. I feel sore, sleepy, slow, but happy. Allie Bailey’s race mix (thankfully sans Biffy Clyro) is working a treat.
Evening of day three, descending to Oyace in the gloaming
What am I doing again?
I see no other runner and often forget I'm in a race, finally descending to Oyace (274k) in the glorious gloaming. It's dark in the woods and I fail to switch headtorch batteries properly and repeatedly feel I’m off route. I'm getting confused. A sure sign I need zzzzs. I try to sleep at the aid station, but it's too warm.
The endless ascent to Col Brisson seems confusing in the dark, just so repetitive, mentally rather than physically torturous. I can't remember why I'm following the little yellow flags and genuinely think I'm having a prank played on me, stopping to fire up various mapping apps on my phone. Finally I meet two old Italian men in a shed. Then the col. Then the long winding descent which has me constantly feeling I'm off route and that I’m meeting helpful locals (there are none).
Towards 2,920m Col Malatrà, the Tor's final, breathless climb
Then suddenly, as happens every year, "Evil" Martin Perrier arrives. I haven't seen another runner for about 20 hours, so it's a shock, especially as I thought he was ahead of me. I like Martin, he's full of zeal, says he rested for seven hours and was going to quit. Then he's gone. Was he really even there? I finally get to Ollomont, the final life base, knowing Andrea isn't far behind and I should leave before him to have a chance of 4th place.
There’s 11-12 hours to go and only one major climb. I take it well, though I feel frequently confused. Though I've done all of this twice before I can't believe how endlessly winding the descent is and have that constant feeling I've gone off course. It's steep and I’m wobbly. I sit down for a third sleep, knowing the headtorch behind me should wake me up.
The other side of Malatrà and the home straight
It was probably only 2-3 mins, but I'm pleased to be woken by Andrea. "Let's get some food," he says. And I follow his yellow shoes and complimentary Tor tats on his calfs in the dark, finally locating a hut where we have very welcome soup and bread.
Next is the weird flat bit where I've lost my mind last year, but thankfully this time I have company and it's getting light. Cruelly the Tor saves the best running for the very end, but neither of us are moving very heroically. I grab fried pasta at the final aid point, Bosses, and though Andrea leaves before me I catch him up. It's a glorious morning and we don't think there are any runners close ahead or behind, so we settle in for one of the most enjoyable race finishes ever.
We've both done a bit better than this before and though 4th place seemed really important yesterday I don’t really care today (4th and 5th are both top five without being top three.) I’m going to be nearly four hours slower than 2023, but without crew, my race prep and running less with others, that’s about right. Andrea develops quite the nose bleed, which adds a little last minute drama. I want him to finish ahead of me now. I have a cunning plan...
📸 Marlene Jorrioz: The gorgeous balcony run with Andrea before the final descent
Since 2019, when I was first galvanised by Extinction Rebellion (XR), I've waved a flag about a bit at all my A race and record finishes (except the 2024 Spine Race where I was too tired and forgot). First it was an XR flag my kids made me for a birthday present, but though it's a very precious to me, I'm not sure the message is clear enough. So the amazing people at Just Stop Oil sent me a couple of bespoke options (and their message is simple: just stop new oil and gas licenses in the North Sea – as IPCC scientists and the UN urge). Lately my attention has turned more directly to sportswashing and I had a new banner made saying "Stop Oily Money In Sport". At the last minute, I designed and ordered a Ford-specific T-shirt, too.
Just round the corner from the finish I put on my new T-shirt on and get my banner ready. When I get to the ramp, I drop my poles and pack, and hold up my flag. The announcer reads out my banner, but stops short at the T-shirt.
I hadn't thought about what to do after that, other than perhaps race staff wouldn't want to interview me like last year. I didn't want to make things any more awkward for the people there, so I thought it would just be simpler if I turned around and walked off the way I'd come (I later elected not to attend Sunday’s award ceremony either). On reflection that seems ruder than intended and I’m sorry if anyone at the Tor was offended.
I'd never protested about an event while being at the event before and I'm not naturally confrontational. Protest however is necessary sometimes and by definition causes disruption. And this stuff feels too important not to make some kind of stand on.
I don't have any real beef with the Tor. I have a beef with Ford.
These companies can't be allowed to get away with prioritising their huge profits while knowingly making the planet worse for my children's generation and yet pretending they're the good guys.
I'm hugely grateful of all the supportive messages I've received, both publicly and privately. This stuff can feel scary and lonely.
I don't know if I did the right thing. But I know that broadly I am doing the right things. I just want my children to know I stood up for them.
I really ruddy love the Tor. I would go back for a fourth run in a heartbeat. But not if they still have a high-carbon “partner”.
Things that worked (mostly from sponsors)
I wore the new inov-8 TrailFlys the whole race, only changed socks once, and while my feet were mildly sore by the end as I'd expect, the daps gripped well and I had no blisters. My pack, recently repaired by RENOV8, is no longer available but has survived three Tors and almost every training run in between.
The Altitude Centre rented me an altitude tent again, which really feels like it makes a real difference to me.
After a previous watch let me down at the 2022 Tor (and 2023 Spine Race), the Suunto Vertical, which I've been using for a year now, did not. I gave it two five-minute battery charges and finished the race with 22% battery left. Plus detailed maps, I use HRV a lot, but above all it's dependable. They're the most ethical watch company by a long shot, too.
I was reluctant yo move on from the NAO+, but Petzl’s NAO RL is a genuine upgrade. It's light, powerful, great battery and comfortable. I've used it for Spine, Barkley, Tor and it's been superb.
Leki poles did their job yet again. I used to use a different brand, but these are more robust, comfortable and user friendly.
Veloforte Chews. Amazingly, I still want these even when I've gone off sweet stuff. Indispensable.
33Fuel Premium Protein Powder. Been using this, especially for recovery, for years and years.
Pepsi, pasta, Alpro choc puds and crystallised pineapple.
Voicenotes from Allie Bailey. These were predictably entertaining and hugely supportive, albeit including, “Don’t fuck this up” (the kind of talk I need sometimes).