At the Tor des Géants 2025, we don’t chase a clock: we embark on a human odyssey where 350 km and 25,000 m of D+ become memories and tough skin. Between freezing nights at over 3,000 m, the fatigue that gnaws at you, and the smiles of the volunteers, Courmayeur becomes a home, the family of the Tor. Here, the mountain strips you of the superfluous, stands you back up, and teaches you to move forward light, humble, and free. More than just a competition, it’s an inner journey that begins with the first stride.
From Courmayeur to the mountain passes perched at over 3000 meters, the Tor des Géants 2025 reveals itself as much an inner journey as a sporting challenge. Through the adventure of Alberto Tristante, advisor at Au Vieux Campeur Paris and passionate about trail running for over 13 years, discover how 350 km and 25,000 m D+ become a human journey, a ballet of doubts, embraced minimalism, freezing nights, radiant encounters, and pure tenacity. A story of family — the family of the Tor — where we laugh about our mini-hills of Bois de Vincennes, where we grit our teeth despite a tendonitis, and where we cross the finish line knowing we’ve just grown.
Calling the Tor des Géants a race is almost reductive. Here, effort intertwines with emotion, performance with humility. The backdrop? The Aosta Valley, its balcony trails, its biting nights, its awakenings to the smell of soup and coffee, and this feeling of being welcomed home. In Courmayeur, no glitter, no giant ego: an entire town whispers “go” to every runner. Far from the clamor of large alpine gatherings at Chamonix, we find proximity, understanding gazes, and volunteering that repairs.
The Tor is the place where you feel both tiny in the face of the mountain and immensely alive among others. It’s a ribbon of 350 km that connects strangers, languages, seasons, tempers, and laughter. And above all, it’s the place where we discover what “continuing” means.
An atmosphere that welcomes you in Courmayeur
As soon as the bib is collected, the adrenaline gives way to a form of acknowledgment: “you are one of us”. The aid stations resemble family gatherings, the logistics are precise, the organization is so seamless that you forget it exists. We set off, headlamp on, with an extra smile and a kilo less of soul. We now belong to the family of the Tor.
Thirteen years for a start: training away from the peaks
When living in the Paris region, preparing for 350 km and 25,000 m of positive elevation gain is a true art… and requires a bit of self-deprecation. The “mountains” become the 25 m of the Bois de Vincennes, looped over and over like an optimistic hamster. On fortunate days, we dash to Fontainebleau to squeeze out 40 m D+ like a reward of motivation. Day after day, repetition after repetition, the body adapts, the mind strengthens. No excuses. Want to? Can do.
Amid the sessions, a certainty takes root for Alberto: “I will traverse the mountains.” Not for the feat, but for the raw freedom that only trail running can offer.
The philosophy of minimum to go far
Long-distance trail is the art of moving quickly with little: carrying the minimum, eating just enough, maintaining a margin of lucidity to read the terrain. An aesthetic of simplicity that aligns with a way of life: stripped down, functional, effective. The pack is light, so is the mind. The unnecessary becomes a burden; the essential, a superpower.
Doubts, abandonments, and a return of fire: the other face of ultra
Thirteen years is a long time. Long like a collection of failed starts, aid stations turned into traps, and bitter awakenings. In the ultra, there is the finish… and everything that precedes it. For Alberto, the flaw often goes by digestive issues. We know the rest: energy dips, the mind follows, and we try to buy ourselves time as the slope has become slippery. We repeat “it will pass,” but it’s already too late.
How many times has he declared, drained: “It’s the final abandonment, I’m quitting ultra for good”? And yet, the next day, a small voice starts to carve a path once more.
When the stomach says no
A stomach bug can ruin an ultra-trail more surely than a storm. Calories no longer settle, each step becomes costly, the horizon shrinks. We then learn the art of negotiating with ourselves: slow down, take cover, push on when the body allows it. Losing time to keep the thread. This is where the tenacity is born that will make the difference at the Tor.
350 km, 25,000 m D+, 105 hours: Alberto’s odyssey
On paper, it’s just a number. On the ground, it’s a whole life compressed into 105 hours, with only 8 hours of sleep. The passes over 3000 m slap at night, the descents crunch in the quads, breath stabilizes, the world shrinks to the beam of the headlamp. Then comes the moment when the knee really protests: patellar tendonitis triggered in the last descents, the pace turns into a walk. Runners pass by, about forty go past. The clock moves away; pride, however, draws nearer.
Because holding on for an entire day with 40 km and 3000 m of negative elevation gain on a burning knee is more than an achievement: it’s proof that you can continue when logic says to give up. The finish line of the Tor des Géants 2025 then becomes a threshold. We cross it a bit battered, but more expansive inside.
Walking with a burning knee, still moving forward
There are days when “running” means “walking fast.” And that is just fine. The goal is reinvented, the tempo changes, but the adventure remains intact. We trade a ranking for a story that remains. We lose places, we gain worlds.
The unsung heroes and precious supporters
In the refuges, at aid stations, in the heart of the night: volunteers hold the beacon. When we arrive dazed, frozen, sometimes grumpy, they place a soup in front of us, a smile, a joke, a bandage. They ask for nothing; they give everything. Often, they are the ones who piece things back together.
And then there is the support that makes the impossible possible. Without Au Vieux Campeur, this adventure could have remained conditional. Thank you for the opportunity, the sponsorship, and for this trust that is priceless when the legs derail.
Without them, the adventure would remain a dream
A bib number is a photo at the starting line. A support network is the entire film. Family, friends, partners, volunteers: the victory is collective, even when the medal is individual.
Want to explore other horizons after the Tor?
When the thighs have forgiven, the call of elsewhere will return. Why not meander among terroirs and landscapes while expanding your knowledge of Beaujolais and Lyon before tackling the incline again?
Need a major change of scenery between desert and tropics? Set sail for a tale of journey from Gobi to Ghana, where adventure changes latitude but not intensity.
For lovers of blue cold and singing crampons, let yourself be tempted by a trekking expedition on the glaciers of Patagonia, the kingdom of wind and ice giants.
If your compass vibrates for the wild life, follow the migration of the wildebeest in Tanzania: another endurance ballet, savanna style.
And for the souls of nocturnal explorers, why not envision a “lunatic” destination on a road trip where the road becomes a landing strip for awakened dreams?
“Thirteen years of training, doubt, and renunciations to finally live the adventure of a lifetime. The Tor des Géants 2025 reminded me that it’s not a race: it’s a journey.” — Alberto Tristante, advisor at Au Vieux Campeur Paris
