Chianti Ultra Trail, wine before the race and other excellent decisions
Beatrice Lessi
You would expect the wine at the finish line.
You cross, medal, hug, and then someone hands you a glass of Chianti. That would make sense.
But no.
At the UTMB Chianti Ultra Trail, the wine was at the start. When I picked up my bib number. Just sitting there, casually, with the race logo on it, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.
And honestly, in Tuscany, it probably is.
It already sets the tone. This is not just a race. This is an atmosphere.
You run straight into a postcard
The course is almost unfairly beautiful.
Rolling hills, endless vineyards, those tall, elegant trees you see in every Tuscan photo — cypress trees. They stand like quiet guards along the roads.
You go up, you go down, you turn, you climb again. It’s what I would call a nervous run. Always changing rhythm. A lot of gravel roads, never really letting you switch off completely, but also never overwhelming you.
And that’s what surprised me.
I’ve seen other UTMB races. I walked parts of the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc course over three days just to understand it. I’ve run the Mozart 100 in Austria.
They felt harder. More brutal in places.
Chianti feels… runnable.
You don’t have endless technical single trails where you’re stuck tiptoeing between rocks. Most of the time, you can actually run. Properly run. And that changes everything mentally.
It becomes joy instead of survival.
The start line is already a party
One of those moments you don’t expect to feel so much.
Everyone gathered. Music. Energy building. And then the presenter gets the whole crowd moving, hands clapping in rhythm, thousands of people syncing together.
You feel it in your chest.
And then — my favorite detail — there’s this big guy, half naked, dressed like a Viking, big belly out, standing there giving high-fives to every single runner.
It’s ridiculous.
It’s perfect.
Only in Italy.
Running in Italy is a different sport
Italians don’t just “attend” races.
They participate with their whole personality.
They shout, they encourage, they comment, they flirt, they joke. You run past villages and it feels like everyone came out just to see you pass.
Even the logistics become part of the experience.
We were lucky. We found a small, beautiful hotel near the start where we could change in the warmth. Real warmth. Not the usual freezing pre-race chaos.
We had what I can only call a second breakfast there. Calm, comfortable, almost like we were cheating the system.
A little VIP bubble before going back into the crowd.
And then, of course, the shuttles. The conversations. The easy chatting with strangers as if you’ve known them forever.
If you’re Italian, you have a natural advantage here.
If you’re not, you can still try. It works surprisingly well.
Running together
This time I ran with my husband.
He was my pacemaker, officially or not. Quietly keeping the rhythm, helping without making it a “thing”.
And it made a difference.
I ran the half marathon distance and finished third. A podium I didn’t overthink, didn’t chase too hard, but somehow everything aligned.
Good legs, good mood, good company.
And maybe… good wine before the start (not for me, because I am a teetotal).
Would I recommend it?
Yes.
It’s one of those races where you remember how good running can feel.
Beautiful, social, alive.
And slightly absurd — in the best possible way.
