Why I Won’t Run Tor des Géants

At Least Not Yet

TOR won’t leave me alone. It rattles around in my head and has nestled itself in my heart. But if someone asked me today whether I would like to run it myself, I would answer with a resounding NO.

(Official photo by TorX / Stefano Coletta)

A note in advance: This article might not age well. I am constantly changing and growing — as a runner and as a human being. I have no idea where running or life will take me. What feels true today may look very different tomorrow. Given the fact that TOR is constantly on my mind, all the following might be obsolete one day soon.

What the Tor des Géants Really Is

For those who’ve only heard the name in passing: the Tor des Géants (TdG, or simply “TOR”) is not just another ultramarathon. It is a 330 km journey through Italy’s Aosta Valley, with roughly 24.000 meters of elevation gain and more than two dozen mountain passes, many above 3.000 meters. The cut-off is 150 hours. Sleep is optional. Suffering is not.

Since its first edition in 2010, the TOR has become a true legend and a myth in ultrarunning. Runners speak of it with a mix of reverence and longing. It is much more a trial than a race, demanding more than most of us can imagine giving.

I’ve been close to it, twice. Supporting my wife Lisa in 2021 and our friend Juliane just recently in September 2025.

Would I lie to you?

Walking Beside the Giants

I know what it takes. I also know what it costs.
And I would not run it myself. For the following reasons.

Reason #1: I Don’t Believe I Could Endure It

There are races you can bluff your way through. The TOR is not one of them.

I’ve watched faces harden, bodies crumble, spirits flicker and collapse. The deeper the race goes, the clearer it becomes: the TOR strips you bare. If there is weakness, it will find it. If there is hesitation, it will magnify it. If there is doubt, it will be over too soon.

And when I look honestly at myself, I don’t yet see the strength to withstand that kind of storm. Neither physically nor mentally. While I am willing to suffer for my love of running, the TOR demands a level of sacrifice that goes far beyond what I am ready to give.

(Official photo by TorX / Nicolo Matteucci)

Reason #2: The Damage It Demands

Juliane described the TOR as “self-inflicted bodily harm.” She was right. By the finish, she was a different person, moving inside the shell of what was left. Lisa, too, broke into her separate parts before she somehow made it to Courmayeur.

Pain is part of the contract in endurance sport. We all accept it. But the scale of damage at the TOR goes far beyond the ordinary bargain we make with our bodies. It is undeniable, sobering and often lasting.

It wasn’t so long ago that I decided to be kinder to myself — especially to my body. Running is a tough sport, and it’s easy to get carried away and run further, faster or more often than is sensible. However, my goal is to avoid injury and continue running into old age. I don’t always succeed, but I don’t want to abandon my newfound awareness of my bodily limits lightly.

(Official photo by TorX / Roberto Roux)

Reason #3: The High Mountains Are Unforgiving

I know my limits in the mountains. When terrain becomes too exposed or conditions too harsh, my body goes on alert. Sometimes I pass through, sometimes I turn back. That instinct has kept me safe.

Now imagine moving through that same terrain — narrow ridges, loose rock, steep, exposed descents — on the third night without sleep, with legs that no longer obey. At the TOR, such stunts are not exceptions. They are the rule.

I respect the mountains enough not to gamble when I know the odds are poor. I also know this changes over time. With more experience in the mountains comes more confidence, more calm, more security. But I am simply not there yet.

(Official photo by TorX / Nicola Biagetti)

Reason #4: The Investment Is Total

When I prepared for Western States, the sacrifice was immense. Training and planning consumed everything for months. And that was for 100 miles.

The TOR would demand even more. Every part of life would need to bend around it: time, energy, focus, relationships. To attempt it without that kind of commitment would be reckless. Right now, I am not willing to go all in again at that level.

Reason #5: The Call Hasn’t Come

And yet, all of this — the doubt, the fear, the calculation — would vanish if one thing were true.

Because I believe every runner, at some point, hears a call. Not to every race. Just to certain ones. It’s not logical, not strategic, not something you can plan. It’s a summons. A voice that leaves you with no choice but to step forward.

I have felt it before. Lisa and Juliane felt it when the TOR called them. When the call comes, it silences the objections, erases the hesitation. You do it because you must.

So far, the TOR has not called me. And until it does, I will not go.

As Steven Pressfield writes in The War of Art:

“Our job in this life is not to shape ourselves into some ideal we imagine we ought to be, but to find out who we already are and become it.”

Running the TOR is not part of who I am today. Maybe tomorrow it will be. Maybe never. I’ll know when the call arrives.

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Everything Not Running

Somewhere along the line, we all signed up for the same silent agreement: thou shalt always be productive. Every minute should be maximized, optimized, or monetized. Otherwise, you’re lazy. Broken. A wasted human.

It’s funny because my life is full, meaningful, busy, exciting. And still, there are days when I accomplish… nothing. Not in a Zen, meditative way. Just flat-out nothing. And instead of shrugging and moving on, I immediately interrogate myself like a disappointed manager: Why weren’t you producing, citizen?

The classic move is to brute-force it. Like in training: even when you don’t feel like lifting, you can always drag yourself to the gym, or in my case mat in the living room. The problem? That works for squats and hinges. It doesn’t work for writing, creating, thinking. Forced output is like microwaving a frozen pizza at 2 a.m. — technically food, but also technically a terrible mistake.

What I seem to lack is an off-switch. Not sleep — I’m already excellent at that. But an everyday off-switch. Something gloriously pointless: binge-watching an entire season of a show I’ll instantly forget, or listening to a podcast with no “takeaways” and without meanwhile doing something else. Or, god forbid, just sitting still and doing nothing.

Maybe I should train that muscle. To remind myself that hours or days don’t always need to add up. Some can just dissolve. Evaporate. Be beautifully wasted.

Because the only thing more exhausting than being productive all the time… is feeling disappointed that you aren’t.

(Hanging out with the masters of unproductivity)

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On Repeat

I literally know nothing about ASIDHARA except that they are a young band from the UK. Nevertheless, I immediately fell in love with their intriguing mix of thrash metal and hardcore punk.

‘The Battle Hymn of Il A’Tir’ is an epic hymn full of great riffs and blasting beats, with an overall ‘Kill ‘Em All’ vibe that makes the 6+ minutes of the song fly by like a jet plane. Oh, and I had to boomer-like Google “A’tir”. It’s obviously a character from the Stargate universe. There you go.