Run Your Race: Ferdinand Airault's Record Setting Win at Canyons 100mi

April 25, 2025 – Canyons 100 Miles – Win & Course Record – 16h20min

I wake up with low HRV. Not ideal. But I know it doesn't mean much. I've performed well in these conditions before—like in Jersey City when I set my PR. Still, I don't feel at my best that morning…

First, there's a "freeze alert" — gloves, arm sleeves, windbreaker… I grumble a bit. I like running light and warm. Then, from the first few kilometers, I know this won't be one of those "easy flow" days. So I'll have to be smart. Be careful. Be present.

I start running with Ales, a Czech runner. We fly downhill — about 3'45/km in the first 5K. I know the course, I'm confident. I let him lead, testing him without burning out. He tells me he did UTMB in 24–25h. I realize he's solid, but probably going too fast for his own level—and maybe for mine, too. On a big climb, I let him go. My strategy: "Run when you can. Hike when you must." I alternate power hiking and jogging, switch muscle groups. I think UTMB. I think long-term.

Two others pass me: Ben Quatramoni and Tommy Sullivan. Tommy looks pro. But I stay confident as I have a bit studied the field and their UTMB Index is below mine. Except for a Colombian guy who placed 15th at UTMB, though he never ends up being a real threat this day. The point: know your opponents, but don't obsess over the numbers. Focus on your race.

I maintain a good pace. I actually want to train my power hiking for Chamonix, so I hold back. I know I'll catch up later. Trust your plan, believe your training, let it go and go with the flow. Eat, drink and move. That's exactly what happens.

The goal is simple: efficient, relaxed running. Eat and drink consistently. A big gel every 20 minutes, Maurten 320 at every aid station where my crew is allowed. I try to stay calm with them—talk a little, avoid stress like at Black Canyon. Even if it takes 20 seconds more, that ease pays off.

But after Foresthill (around 40–60K), I slow down. Muscle soreness kicks in. Feels like my first 100-miler. Which is odd—I've trained so much more this time. But yes, running always hurts. It will always hurt.

Negative thoughts creep in, "What if I don't catch up? What if it's not my day?"

Each time, I recenter.

I look at my watch. Time is moving slowly. So I break it down, "One-quarter done. Not bad."

Another rough patch, "I probably won't even podium…"

Refocus. Here and now. I eat. I breathe. I think of my friends, of Fanny, of my coach.

But also of my parents, and my little sister Hortense. Even tho they don't really like or know the mountains / the running: This is a team project.

As the Milimanis say in Kenya: "Make us proud."

I can't seem to speed up. I'm doing 5'20/km on flat sections. I try to push more on climbs. If I hold a 6'00/km average, I can finish in 16h and keep a 1-hour buffer to win. Nasal breathing. Low heart rate. Relaxed shoulders. Running light. With peace. Eat, drink & repeat. One step after the other until the next CP.

At Driver's Flat, I'm in 4th. First place is 20 minutes ahead, second is 15, third just 5. I tell myself, "They won't all get their pacing and nutrition right. I will. I'll pass at least one."

Goal A: Top 3 = UTMB ticket.

Fanny and Sylvia hand me another Maurten. I know the plan. Stick to it.

But I realize I forgot to tell my crew to grab one of my headlamps. So I have to stop, dig into my pack, switch it on. Luckily, I rehearsed that move during training. No panic. Just a lesson: brief the team better next time.

As I turn on my light, I remember what I told a friend, "I'll start really racing once the night falls."

Boom. I feel good. I pick up the pace. I remember doing that climb with Cyril during recon. Let's go. I catch Ben. We chat and agree to work together. In the night, we alternate: he pushes me, I pull him. We may be a bit slower than if I were alone, but we're way more efficient.

Eventually, I surge. I drop him. Then he catches up. Strange rhythm. I feel strong. Maybe I am not going that fast, maybe that headlamp stop cost me precious seconds. Maybe not. Doesn't matter. Stay present. Mindfulness. Accept the pain, the errors, the doubts and move on. Quick mental scan. One more gel. Go.

Ben is better on climbs. I'm stronger on flats and downhills. I've become more balanced. That's promising. But for UTMB, I need to work on poles and climbs. Good news — I love that.

We move well. We plan. Estimate when we'll catch the 3rd place. I already imagine a shared finish. But Eric told me, "You're not here to be nice. You're here to give your best to win."

I push. He follows. He pushed harder, we laugh, we move and It's fun. I'm finally enjoying my race.

Cool 100km. Almost there. My pacer should be waiting. I shout: "Anthony!"

I've never seen him before. Instead, I hear Fanny's voice.

She sacrificed her rest—before her own race—just to crew me. Gratitude.

A kiss. A new Maurten. Flask switch. A final sweet word. And off I go with Anthony - my new guide, my new friend. I know he will be crucial in this journey.

We don't know each other but strangely we are talking like old friends. Time flies. So do the miles. He tells me, "If we push a bit more on the climbs, we'll catch him in an hour."

I say: "Let's go. I can run the climbs, bro!"

We laugh. We talk about everything. I really like him. The pain vanishes. We're playing.

A headlamp beam up ahead. "That's him," Anthony whispers.

Three… two… one… We attack. He's alone. No pacer. He doesn't respond to our cheer. No matter. We're here to race. To give our best. That's what respect looks like. And at this moment I have a deep respect for this guy alone. I was at his place during QMT, during Black canyon and I know what it feels to be alone when others are in group.

I've trained. I've failed in past races because I didn't have a pacer. I know what it feels but it's a good lesson.

Not this time. This time — I'm here to win.

We pass him.

I'm floating. I'm thinking of Ludo Pommeret, the king of late comebacks.

Of John Ellis, my first mentor. Of everyone who taught me how to thrive in the final miles.

One question remains…

12 minutes… 7 minutes… 5 minutes… "Go go go Antho!"

We climb harder. Run faster.

2 minutes. I skip an aid station. I've eaten enough. I want to fly.

And then… we see them. Emkay and Tommy. Walking a steep climb. They look quite tired.

We catch up. I greet Tommy — I'd high-fived him at the start saying "See you later" when he passed me first, maybe he didn't trust I would come back.

Anyway, he ran strong. I'm proud to catch him. It was hard and it's the last time I trust an UTMB index hahaha

We pass. Then push harder. They won't come back.

Final kilometers. Focus. I down more caffeinated gels to stay sharp. The Maurten CAF & Precision CAF. Thanks to The Feed!

I think about my ankles. Stop the negative thoughts. Stay present. "The past no longer exists. The future isn't here yet. All that matters is now. And I'm great."

Final climb. Final kilometer. We give it everything. Anthony pushes even more. Looks like we are racing a 10k!

The finish line. The banderole. We raise our arms — together.

We didn't know each other 4 hours ago. We lived a lifetime since then.

Fears. Laughter. Happiness.

Victory. Course record. Immense joy.

Lessons Learned

• Steady fueling and pacing takes you far.

• Trust the training. Stay present. Focus → Refocus → Re-focus.

• Break the race into segments. Celebrate each mini-win.

• A well-prepared, briefed crew is gold. (Don't forget to mention the headlamp…)

• You can be kind — but you're here to give your best. That's respect, too.

• Race-day assets: patience, grit, presence, faith, hunger.

• To work on: climbing strength, more tempo runs & fast 50Ks, ignoring judgment, becoming more of a "killer" without losing the magic or the play.

Next stop: UTMB.

Glute strengthening, yoga, daily meditation, poles and climb training, recons with Romain, mental prep with Eric. Magic, discipline, joy. Let's go.

Photo Credits: Cody Bare