UTMB reveals. Different approaches. Different goals. Different experiences. Yet, within the score of peaks surrounding Chamonix, along some of the world’s most celebrated trails, every athlete, every human being is given the chance to discover something more about themselves and their relationship with running. In Mike Kratzer’s case, those realizations crystallized in a withdrawal embraced with serenity: one that carried something of the feeling of a finish line, despite his decision not to physically cross it.

It was a choice made in accordance with his own nature and his understanding of running, offering a different reading of a week defined by the impulse to push body and mind beyond their respective limits. Yet that process is never compulsory. It leaves each individual free to take from the experience what resonates most deeply with their own sensibility. Such was the case for Kratzer, an athlete and creative whose relationship with the world is deeply intertwined with music.

Thanks to Icebreaker—one of the brands Kratzer officially represents—we spoke with him as he took stock of a journey that began and ended with the same desire: to discover what running can give back, and to understand fully why he runs in the first place.

For someone like you, who looks at the world and at the practice of trail running through a deeply personal lens and all-around sensitivity, what does a race like UTMB reveal? 

“For the last ten years, I didn’t want to participate in UTMB because I didn’t really like the way it was structured. It didn’t have much to do with my own idea of trail running. But I’m not getting any younger, and I thought that, at some point, I wanted to have experienced a race like UTMB, TDS or OCC. At the same time, this is where everybody comes together. It’s almost the one opportunity each year to have all your friends in the same place and share the trails together, which is what I love. UTMB itself is too big to really appeal to me, but within this huge event you can still find your own niche. You can find places like the one where we are right now, where people who share the same spirit come together. You can participate in UTMB while still showing that there is another way of being in the mountains and practising this sport.

For me, running has always been about myself. I have goals, but I’m not obsessed with reaching them. I simply love training, and in a way I need something to train for. If the training has been good and the race doesn’t work out—as happened this time, because I DNF’d—I can still look back at a great summer of training and at all the wonderful people I met along the way. I discovered that I simply didn’t enjoy this kind of racing. You’re constantly hiking up and down, and everything seems slow. That’s not how I like to run. Physically, I felt great, but at some point I thought: this has been a good experience until now, but there’s no reason for me to keep doing it for another ten hours if it isn’t giving me anything back. I’m really happy with the decision I made. Everyone who finished has my absolute, total respect. It’s crazy to me that people can find joy in that kind of suffering.”

You recently said, in a special feature for Athleta, that through running you had become “the governor of your own life.” What does it mean to govern yourself—and your choices—in a race like UTMB? And, at the same time, how do you govern the decision to withdraw?

“I think there is a point in a race where you have to make the decision to keep going. But for me, this wasn’t a low point. I simply wasn’t finding any joy in what I was doing. That matters because, for me, the point of running—even when I’m suffering—is that there has to be some kind of outcome from it: joy, fun, something that gives something back to me. I looked back at the previous hours and realised that I hadn’t had a smile on my face once. At that point, I would rather stop, recover faster and be able to race again in a couple of weeks, healthy, than force myself to finish simply for the sake of finishing. My health is more important, and I didn’t have anything to prove. There was no urgency. It was simply a moment of being able to say to myself: well, this is just not for me.”

Considering your relationship with music, what kind of soundtrack—what kind of melodic score—did you feel or hear accompanying you throughout this experience? 

“This time, I felt and listened to a lot of garage and uptempo punk: things that are easy on the ear. I was trying to take my mind off the terrain, so I wanted something that could simply be there in the background. Nothing complicated, nothing that required concentration or that I had to be particularly mindful of. Sometimes you just need some noise. Usually, during races, you find other people and start talking to them. But a lot of the people doing this race were French, and either they didn’t really speak English or they didn’t particularly want to talk. At one point, I think I spent something like seven hours on my own. After five hours, I just needed some noise, something else to be there with me.

Music can also become a kind of treat. You tell yourself: okay, I’m going to make it to the next aid station, and after that I’ll give myself twenty-five minutes of music. Then I’ll turn it off again and enjoy the silence. It always depends on the moment. This was only the second race in which I’ve used music. It was very long, and there wasn’t much happening because the climbs themselves were endless. For the 125 kilometres, it took me around twenty-six hours. I tried to sleep at one point, but it was already too cold, so I had to get up again to avoid becoming hypothermic. That was probably one mistake I made: not sleeping during the day, when it was warm, and instead trying once it had become dark and cold. You live and you learn.”

You are here in Chamonix also representing Icebreaker, with whom you are taking on a broader role than that of a talent. In what ways are you trying to make an impact on the brand you have represented here in Chamonix as well? And what fascinates you most about its identity?

“I was using Icebreaker long before we started working together. In the mountains, you can’t wear cotton: if it gets wet, it’s a serious problem. I had always worn Icebreaker as a base layer, and whenever I went into the mountains with less experienced people, one of the first things we would do was check whether they had the right gear. For me, merino has always been a necessity. I also travel a lot, and merino doesn’t start smelling quickly, so you don’t have to wash it constantly. There are very practical reasons why this partnership makes sense to me: I actually need and use the product. We started talking around three years ago, and this year the partnership became official. What interests me now is the possibility of making practical clothing that also looks good. I like brands that feel relatable rather than loud: brands that aren’t constantly chasing whatever the newest thing happens to be, but instead have a solid foundation of their own. I think Icebreaker has that.”

Before UTMB, we had the opportunity to delve even deeper into Mike Kratzer’s vision of running. Click here (https://athletamag.com/en/a-running-soul-mike-kratzer/) to revisit our dedicated editorial feature.