UTMB was the toughest race I’ve ever done. Not because it was the longest or most technical, but because the painfully slow kilometres and the disappointment with my performance left me completely drained (read more about my UTMB here). Yet, the finish line isn’t the end of the story. In this post, I want to explore what happens next: what actually goes on in the body and mind after such an extreme effort? How does recovery unfold in the weeks that follow? And how do you reset mentally to move forward?

The Finish Line

It was 4am when I finally crossed the finish line. The atmosphere shifted almost instantly. For 34 hours I’d been carried forward by the cheers of thousands (literally), calling my name again and again thanks to the bib pinned on my front. And then, just like that, after I crossed the finish line, it was over. I took off the bib, pulled on some warm clothes, and faded back into anonymity. It's the first time I've done a race of this magnitude, and the contrast was striking.

Back in our flat in Les Houches, my support crew and I sat down for a very late dinner (or an early breakfast, depending on how you look at it) before collapsing into bed for a night of well-earned rest. My sleep, however, was restless as is often the case after ultras. My legs were in so much pain that it was impossible to stay comfortable for more than a couple of hours. It’s a very particular kind of pain, deep inside the legs, as if it radiates from within, that nothing apart from time can relieve. The first few nights are always the hardest for me, but the intensity slowly fades after a few days.

This time, though, something new happened: I got sick. A sore throat appearing 2 days after the race was over, night sweats so heavy I had to shower in the middle of the night and change clothes. My suspicion? The sheer amount of contact with spectators. At UTMB it’s impossible not to be swept up in the atmosphere, and I must have high-fived at least a hundred kids along the way. Combine that with eating bars and snacks with your hands, constantly touching your face, and the fact that your immune system is completely battered by the effort… it’s not exactly a surprise I picked something up.

On the mental side, during the first few days following the race, my emotions were mixed. On one hand, I was disappointed with my performance. I had gone into UTMB aiming for sub-30 hours, and secretly (I can now reveal it), my A-goal was sub-28 hours. I know times in ultras are always at the mercy of conditions, and there’s huge variability, but the truth is I wasn’t proud of how I raced. I wasn’t mentally present. I dodged pain instead of facing it and I didn’t put up the fight I know I was capable of.

And yet, alongside the disappointment, there was a sense of peace. Ultras have this strange way of slowing down time. Those 34 hours at UTMB felt like much more. It's a relentless rollercoaster of highs and lows. The intensity is so all-consuming that, once it’s over, I feel an unusual calm wash over me. It’s a state I rarely experience in everyday life. Like many of you I'm sure, I’m often caught in the pressures of modern life, and at 32 years old, I feel the constant drive to progress, to achieve more, to move forward. Relaxing doesn’t come easily.

But after an ultra, that pressure fades. I’ve done the work, I’ve pushed through the suffering, and I’ve reached the finish line. The sense of accomplishment gives me permission to rest, to chill, to enjoy peace without guilt. And that, in its own way, is as valuable as the medal around my neck (or in the case of UTMB, a sleeveless down jacket making you look like a finance bro straight outta Canary Wharf 😭👇)

Food Fest & Minimal Movement

Now let's talk about recovery. For the first few days after UTMB, I did absolutely nothing. No running, no stretching, no yoga or mobility work. Just rest. I walked when I felt like it, but that was about it. Some days movement was just walking from the couch to the fridge, and back. Some people find it hard to step away from training after races, but for me the downtime is essential. My body needs it, and, just as importantly, my mind needs it too.

Another key element of post-race recovery is food. So let’s get a little scientific and talk about energy balance: calories burned versus calories consumed. Over the course of UTMB I burned roughly 14,000 calories. That’s around 5 to 6 days’ worth of energy for an average person compressed into 34 hours. In the meantime, fueling during an ultra is always a challenge, and it’s nearly impossible to consume as many calories as you burn in a race like UTMB. Personally, during the race, I reckon I averaged about 50 g of carbs per hour, which works out to:

• 50g carbs × 34 hours = 1700g carbs

• At 4 kcal per gram of carb, that’s around 6,800 kcal consumed.

So by the time I crossed the finish line, I was sitting on a 7,000 kcal deficit. And that’s only half the story. When the race ends, your metabolism doesn’t magically switch back to “normal.” Recent research shows that in the days after an ultra, the body remains in a hyper-metabolic recovery state. In this study, 2 runners completed an ultra-marathon similar to UTMB, in 32 hours. Researchers found that even at rest, the 2 runners continued burning close to twice their typical number of calories (doing nothing), what is called basal metabolic rate (BMR). And that, for a week. In my case, my BMR is about 2000 kcal per day, which means that my body will continue burning nearly 4000 kcal per day... just resting! Why? Because the body is still working hard: repairing damaged muscle fibers, replenishing glycogen, fighting inflammation, restoring immune function, and more.

And I took this very seriously... For a solid week I went absolutely berserk with food. Breakfasts started with croissants and pains au chocolat, generously layered with Nutella and jam. Then came bread, butter, cheese and cured meats (the perks of staying in France after the race 😉). And throughout the day, I simply ate whatever I felt like, whenever I felt like it.

I normally eat quite clean, and I pay close attention to my nutrition throughout the year. That's what makes me feel good, recover and perform better. But I also have a healthy relationship with food. And part of that relationship is acknowledging and enjoying these post-ultra hunger windows. For me, it’s a unique time where I can, and should, eat without guilt. I know it’s temporary, and I know my body needs it. That balance makes it all the better throughout the year. After about a week, I’d had enough of the free-for-all and naturally drifted back toward my regular diet, with just a few cravings thrown in, here and there. The key is not to force it. Just listen to what the body is asking for.

Returning to Movement

First, I must say that I didn't have any niggle or injury after the race. My feet were pristine. No apparent issues with joints or tendon. But anyway, the return to training was gradual and I started small. After 10 days of complete rest, came the first run: just 20 minutes on flat pavement, no watch-checking, no set pace, or looking at my HR. Just moving. My legs felt like sandbags (pretty normal after such a long break) but it felt good to be out again. Normally I’m slighly quicker to return to running after a 100-miler, but this time I simply didn’t feel ready sooner. And that’s okay. Just like for food, I believe it's important to listen to your body after a race.

From there, I increased gradually: 30 minutes the next day, then 40, then 60. All easy runs, zone 1, around 5:30/km (see the table below for the full 4-week details). The progression was deliberate. The body is an extraordinary machine which can adapt to almost anything. But it’s also quick to forget. Come back too soon, pile on too much volume or intensity, and you risk setbacks that can delay your full recovery by weeks. And that frustration can be far worse than simply being patient in the first place. In particular, I find that my tendons and joints are sensitive and I pay close attention to any signs of overtraining. I'd rather be too conservative in the first few weeks. I resumed back to normal training the week after, with a total of 70km and 760m of elevation for 6h20 of running. The week was breakdown with 4 easy runs and 2 speed sessions.

In terms of strength training, I was supposed to start again gently after 10 days, but was travelling for work, didn't have my usual set up and frankly didn't feel like it. Once again, no pressure. My first session was only 16 days after UTMB. Some gentle isometric exercices. Plank, wall sit, leg bridges, calf hold. The idea is to get moving again, engage joints and tendons without the higher impact stress of dynamic movement. I repeated the same easy session on day 19. By day 23, I eased back into a more classic strength routine: leg press, bench press, shoulder raises, lat pulldowns, plus some isometric work. On day 26, I went through the same session again.

As I write this article, I'm 4 weeks after UTMB and I feel back to normal. My daily energy levels are where they were before the race, I’m ready to push the pace again in speed sessions, and I feel strong enough to get back to lifting heavy in the gym.

Setting New Goals

In the days immediately after UTMB, the idea of running another long-distance race was unbearable. The mental toll of those 34 hours, the hardcore grind throughout day and night, and the disappointment with my result, left me completely turned off by the thought of going long again. That’s unusual for me. Normally, I cross the finish line and the day after, I'm already thinking about the next challenge, something bigger, something harder. This time, I wanted the opposite.

My first instinct was to scale things back and keep it fun. I signed up for the Arc of Attrition 40k in January 2026. Shorter, faster, less technical. A race I could look forward to without pressure. After a couple of weeks, once the sting of UTMB started to fade, I thought: okay, maybe a 100k next year would be good. On a faster course, less technical. And then, not long after that, after being hyped up by Magnus Midtbø’s completing Norseman, the thought crept in: why not another 100 miler? Here we go again...

The difference this year is in the type of race I want to target. Rather than slow grind through huge climbs and endless technical descents, I want to focus on faster, more runnable ultras. Events with less elevation, and terrains that allows you to move with rhythm. For the 100k distance, I’m looking at something like Ultra X Scotland Single Stage or the Moors Traverse®. For 100 miles, my top race would be the West Highland Way. And if I can’t get in, the Beacons Way Ultra is high on the list.

Because what broke me at UTMB wasn’t the distance, but the painfully slow grinding kilometres in the high mountains. Don’t get me wrong: I love that kind of terrain, and I’ll be back to it, no doubt. But for now, I need to reconnect with speed, to rediscover that flow I lost during UTMB, and to rebuild my confidence in races that feel more fluid and less suffocating.

It’s a strange place to be for me. Since I started running in 2020, my trajectory has always been upward. Each race stronger than the last, every time a big step forward. UTMB was supposed to be my biggest success. And although many lessons were learned, it's what I consider to be my first setback. And I want to respect that. I don’t want to rush into the next big thing out of pride. I want to take my time, learn from the experience, and build back smarter.

Because what I've just learned the hard way, is that sometimes progress isn’t about going bigger, steeper, or longer. Sometimes it’s about slowing down, resetting, and finding joy again. So that when I return to the mountains, I'm ready not just to survive them, but to thrive.