Henriette’s story is one of obsessive discipline, deliberate practice and a willingness to reject the conventional path. Competitive, fiercely self-reliant and prepared to put in the work when nobody is watching. But there is much more to her story than results.
From obstacle course racing and an early connection with Tromsø that involved her honeymoon, through races such as the Ring of Steel, skyrunning and the World Championships, Henriette steadily built her way into the elite of the sport. A period of serious health issues interrupted that progression, but her return produced a remarkable run of performances – including 6th at OCC and CCC, 6th at Lavaredo 80K, victory at Templiers 47K, a winter Bob Graham Round record of 17:55 across 106 km and 42 peaks, 3rd at Trofeo Kima, victory at UTS 50K, and back-to-back Transgrancanaria wins in 2025 and 2026.
But the results are only part of the conversation.
We talk about leaving a corporate career as an auditor to become a full-time runner, the role Norway has played in shaping her – from the Romsdal mountains and local races to brutal weather and hugely varied terrain.
We also get into some of the less comfortable subjects in elite sport: women’s health and RED-S, body shape and what ‘healthy’ actually means, sponsorship and the freedom to make your own choices, shoe selection, common sense and decision-making, and the pressures surrounding UTMB and the modern ultra-running landscape.
Henriette is refreshingly honest, no BS and unafraid to speak about subjects that many athletes avoid. Through the Ascend Trail, Arc’teryx, her new partnership with Raide Research and the Sufferfest film, she is also building something beyond simply being a professional runner.
An outlier, certainly. But perhaps more importantly, someone prepared to question the rules, take responsibility for her own decisions and find her own way through the sport.
Often described as the world championships of trail and mountain running, it remains the sport’s biggest stage. For elite athletes, it is the pinnacle. A race that demands years of discipline, dedication and unwavering commitment.
Of course, every runner on the start line faces the same mountains and the same distance. But at the front of the field, there is often far more at stake than a finish time. Careers, sponsorships, reputations and legacies can all be influenced by a single day in Chamonix.
The pressure is immense.
At the same time, the sport continues to evolve. Races are getting faster and faster. Training standards are rising. Recovery windows seem smaller. The margin between success and failure is increasingly narrow, and for those who aspire to a top-10 finish at the sport’s most competitive events, operating close to the edge is becoming a necessity rather than a choice.
It is a delicate tightrope to walk.
Every year, some of the sport’s biggest names fail to make the start line. Injury is nothing new. Katie Schide’s absence through long-term injury is one example. Others arrive hoping their final preparations will be enough, only to realise in the closing stages that the risk outweighs the reward. The withdrawals of Kilian Jornet, Jim Walmsley, Tom Evans and Ruth Croft significantly changed what may have been one of the strongest UTMB fields ever assembled.
Then there are the factors no training plan can fully control.
Illness swept through parts of UTMB week. Henriette Albon’s stomach issues before the start were one example, but as the races unfolded it became clear others were also walking a fine line between competing and recovering. Some started with hope and determination, only to discover very early that 2026 was simply not their year. Adriana Moser was one such example.
And then there is a different question altogether. Can athletes still have multiple peak performances in a single season?
Several elite runners arrived in Chamonix after already producing exceptional results elsewhere in 2026. Vincent Bouillard and Courtney Dauwalter had both raced and raced well earlier in the year. Yet UTMB, raced at unprecedented pace and intensity, may have represented one challenge too far. Not because they lacked ability, but because even the best athletes have limits.
The same thought applies to Francesco Puppi and Jennifer Lichter. Both have enjoyed remarkable seasons and both finished in the top five at the 2026 CCC. Outstanding performances by any measure.
But had they arrived completely fresh, fully recovered and without the physical and mental demands of Western States in their legs, would they have finished on the podium? Could they even have won?
The answer is impossible to know. Yet the question itself feels increasingly relevant.
From the outside, the life of a professional trail runner can seem ideal. Your passion becomes your profession. You travel the world. You compete in extraordinary places.
But when passion becomes a job, expectations inevitably follow. Results matter. Contracts matter. Visibility matters. The need to perform creates pressure.
Respected coach Paul Lind once said, “You can only take water from the well so many times.” It’s a simple statement, but perhaps one that resonates more strongly than ever.
At UTMB 2026, Ben Dhiman ran an astonishing time 18:16, and two other athletes also broke 19 hours. Yes, the course was adjusted, but the significance remains. Times once considered unimaginable are now becoming reality. Dhiman prepared for UTMB meticulously and in the process, ran Transvulcania and 90km Du Mont-Blanc as tune ups, he placed 5th and 2nd respectively, I wonder, was there disappointment at not winning both, or, more importantly, where they just stepping stones to the big W at the one that mattered?
Trail running is changing.
The image of ultra running as a relaxed community of dirtbags, hippies and adventurers still exists and, importantly, remains part of its soul. But at the elite level, the sport is becoming increasingly professional, increasingly competitive and increasingly unforgiving.
Miao Yao offers a fascinating glimpse into this evolution.
Earlier in 2026, she won CDH at HOKA Val d’Aran in 13:04:34 without using poles. Her reasoning was simple. She now views races around the 100-kilometre distance, CCC included, as fast-running events rather than traditional mountain ultras. To prepare, she focused accordingly. She even used Sierre-Zinal, a brutal 31-kilometre mountain race, as a speed-focused tune-up before CCC.
A former CCC champion herself, Miao went on to battle fellow former winners Toni McCann and Yngvild Kasperson for third place, later admitting it was a day of real struggle.
That, perhaps, says everything.
The barriers are moving.
Just as the four-minute mile, the two-hour marathon and now the sub-20-hour UTMB once seemed out of reach, the moment something is proven possible, expectations shift. Athletes adapt. Coaches adapt. Training adapts.
The new standard becomes the starting point.
So where does the sport go in 2027?
Many elite athletes have already responded by racing less. One or perhaps two major targets have become the model. Everything else is planned around arriving at those races healthy, fresh and fully prepared.
Yet exceptions still exist.
Rachel Entrekin’s 2026 season has been extraordinary. Victory at Coldwater Rumble 100, third place at Chianti behind Courtney Dauwalter and Yngvild Kasperson, outright victory at Cocodona 250, and then second place at UTMB.
It is difficult not to admire such achievements.
But it also raises another question.
Is it sustainable?
Rachel may be uniquely gifted. Some athletes appear capable of recovering and performing at levels others simply cannot match. Yet history repeatedly shows that athletes who burn brightest often do not burn longest.
That is not criticism. It is observation.
Perhaps the biggest story from UTMB 2026 is not who won, who lost or who withdrew.
Perhaps it is that the sport has reached another turning point.
The demands are higher than ever before. The competition is deeper than ever before. The rewards are greater than ever before.
But so too are the risks.
As trail running enters this new era, the question may no longer be how fast athletes can go.
Instead, the more important question might be this:
How long can they sustain it?
And in the pursuit of ever-faster times and ever-greater performances, what is the true cost of repeatedly going back to the well?
Yngvild Kaspersen’s win at CCC 2026 remains one of the most elegant demonstrations of restraint, patience, and self‑trust the sport has seen. By contrast, Ben Dhiman’s UTMB victory, was a masterclass in pressure, assertion, and deliberate intent. Together, they form a perfect study in contrast – two champions, two approaches, both equally valid, both equally brilliant.
The Yngvild Paradox: Doctor and Runner, Runner and Doctor
Yngvild has always carried a dual identity. A doctor. A runner. Two demanding worlds that often collide. She has openly admitted she struggles to decide which one defines her more – whether she is a doctor who runs or a runner who is also a doctor. That tension has shaped her career as much as her training.
Her trajectory since CCC 2023 has been anything but linear:
• 2025 Western States – 5th place, a breakthrough performance.
• 2025 CCC – DNF, a reminder of the sport’s brutality.
• 2026 Chianti – a brilliant run, showing her spark was still there.
• 2026 Western States – stopping just 2 miles from the finish, agonising, heartbreaking, human.
These are not the results of someone lacking talent. They are the results of someone balancing two vocations, two callings, two versions of herself.
CCC 2026: The Masterclass in Letting Go
Her approach to CCC was almost shockingly relaxed. No pressure. No expectation. She wanted to enjoy the day, run freely, and finish with a smile. That was it.
Yngvild ignored the front, she settled into her happiness zone, she ran her own race.
By Champex-Lac, she was outside the top 10 and 23 minutes behind the lead. Any analyst would have written her off. Any commentator would have assumed the podium was gone.
But Yngvild wasn’t analysing. She wasn’t commentating. She was running.
And then she switched on Pac‑Man mode.
Her legs felt great. Her stride opened. Her confidence grew.
One by one, she began to eat up the runners ahead – just like Pac‑Man clearing a screen. The gap shrank. The race changed shape.
Ahead, Miao Yiao and Toni McCann, both former CCC champions, were locked in a fierce battle. It looked like a two‑woman race.
Until suddenly, Miao Yiao came into view. Yngvild passed – calm, composed, assuming nothing.
Then Toni appeared. Yngvild passed again – sharing a handshake, then time‑trialling to the finish. Nothing was taken for granted, she learnt that lesson at Chianti – head down, push on and work hard.
It wasn’t just a negative split. It was a clinic in pacing, a study in control, a lesson in emotional discipline.
One of the greatest second‑half performances the sport has ever witnessed.
Ben Dhiman: The Opposite Path to the Same Summit
Dhiman’s UTMB victory was built on a completely different philosophy. He laid his cards on the table early. He placed pressure on himself. He embraced expectation. He ran with intent, aggression, and clarity.
Where Yngvild floated, Dhiman forced. Where Yngvild released pressure, Dhiman applied it. Where Yngvild trusted the day, Dhiman shaped it.
Both approaches worked.
Both produced champions.
Both produced masterclasses.
Two Victories, Two Lessons
Yngvild teaches the value of patience, joy, and trusting your body.
Dhiman teaches the value of assertion, self‑belief, and embracing pressure.
Yngvild shows that sometimes the best race comes from letting go.
Dhiman shows that sometimes the best race comes from leaning in.
Together, they remind us that there is no single blueprint for success in trail running. The sport is too wild, too unpredictable, too human for that.
The Takeaway
Whether you run like Yngvild – calm, patient, joyful – or like Dhiman – bold, committed, intense – the lesson is the same:
Find the approach that lets you be fully yourself. Then trust it all the way to the finish.
The sport has changed. It is faster, more professional, more demanding than ever before. The margins are razor‑thin, the pressure unrelenting, and the calendar packed with races that push athletes to their absolute limits. In this new era, even the best in the world may only get one truly exceptional race in a season – one day where preparation, physiology, psychology and luck finally align. Yngvild Kaspersen and Ben Dhiman reached their peaks through completely different philosophies, yet both reveal the same truth: in a sport this intense, brilliance is rare, fragile, and fiercely earned.
For years, UTMB has been the gravitational centre of trail running, the place where the sport’s limits are tested, stretched, and occasionally shattered. But every so often, a performance arrives that doesn’t just raise the bar; it rewrites the expectations of what is possible. Ben Dhiman’s 2026 victory is exactly that moment.
To understand the scale of his achievement, you have to rewind the clock.
The Sub‑20 Hour Question
Not long ago, the idea of breaking 20 hours at UTMB felt mythical. Pau Capell famously attempted it during the Covid era, running his solo “Breaking 20” project. It was bold, audacious, and – at the time – borderline unimaginable.
Then Jim Walmsley ran 19:37:43 on the full UTMB course.
Just like the two‑hour marathon barrier, once one athlete proves the impossible is possible, the entire landscape shifts. Suddenly, sub‑20 wasn’t a dream; it was a requirement. If you wanted to be in the top 10, you needed to be flirting with 19-hours X minutes.
In 2025, Tom Evans pushed the frontier again, clocking 19:18:58 on an adjusted course. And right behind him, a certain Ben Dhiman arrived in Chamonix in 19:51:37, announcing himself as a future problem for anyone with podium ambitions.
2026: A Race Reshaped Before the Start
UTMB 2026 was chaotic before a single step was taken. Kilian Jornet withdrew. Jim Walmsley withdrew. Tom Evans withdrew. The race lost three titans in quick succession, but the field was still stacked – Vincent Bouillard on the back of a CR at Western States, Baptiste Chassagne, Hannes Namberger, and a dozen more capable of winning on their day.
But the absence of the usual giants did something subtle: it changed the psychology of the race. The script was no longer (kind of) predictable. The hierarchy was no longer fixed.
And into that vacuum stepped Ben Dhiman.
He didn’t hide. He didn’t hedge. He didn’t offer the usual “we’ll see how the legs feel.” He said he was here to win – not with arrogance, but with the calm certainty of someone who had gone away after 2025, studied the problem, and rebuilt himself. Word from his camp suggested he had increased his climbing volume by 30%, sharpening the one area he felt had cost him the win the previous year.
He was on a mission.
A Tactical Masterpiece
What unfolded over 18 hours was one of the most controlled, intelligent, and fearless performances UTMB has ever seen.
The Early Breakaway
Dhiman ran with the lead pack through the opening hours, but around La Balme he found himself alone after speedy transitions in the feed zone. Pushing alone he expected the race to catch up, they never did. By Les Chapieux he had already carved out a meaningful gap over Baptiste Chassagne.
This was not a reckless move. It was a calculated one.
The 90km Solo Time Trial
Once in front, Dhiman committed. For more than 90 kilometers, he ran alone — no pack, no drafting, no psychological shelter. Instead of letting the solitude eat at him, he used it as fuel, stretching the elastic bit by bit until it snapped.
Hammering the Descents
His biggest weapon? Downhill aggression. He attacked descents with intent, choosing specific sections to steal time. It was biomechanical efficiency married to bravery – a runner who trusted his legs, his preparation, and his instincts.
The Broken Pole
On Grand Col Ferret, disaster struck: a trekking pole snapped. Lesser athletes lose minutes; Dhiman lost none. He went “Gandalf style” with a single pole, kept his rhythm, and still produced an incredible split time from the summit to Champex-Lac — under two hours.
Crew Efficiency
Dhiman spent 9 minutes 23 seconds in aid stations, this is arguably one of the most impressive and key stats. Just like in Ironman, when transition is a sport in itself, Dhiman has looked at speedy no nonsense transitions as free time – incredible!
A Year-on-Year Transformation
His splits compared to 2025 tell the story better than any adjective, of course, one has to keep in mind the adjusted course, nonetheless, impressive reading.
Les Contamines: +3:53
Courmayeur: +31:26
Champex-Lac: +1:05:04
Vallorcine: +1:25:31
Finish: +1:35:08
This wasn’t a marginal gain. It was a reinvention.
And then came the number that will echo for years: 18:16.29
Not a course record – the route was adjusted – but even with conservative corrections, his performance sits somewhere in the 18:50 to 19:10 equivalent range. That is off-the-scale running.
Trailwithben on Instagram HERE provides a nice breakdown and analysis, he estimates the time to be 18:55
The Benchmark Has Shifted Again
Dhiman didn’t just win UTMB 2026. He has changed the sport and most certainly has changed the UTMB for future years.
The question “Can anyone break 20 hours?” is gone. The new reality is harsher, sharper, and more electrifying:
To win UTMB in 2026, you must run sub‑20. To contend for the podium, you needed to aim for 19:30. And in 2027, the frontier may be sub‑19.
That is wild progression – but it’s also the natural evolution of a sport where athletes learn from each other, build on each other, and chase the ghosts of performances that once seemed impossible.
Ben Dhiman has become one of those ghosts.
His 2026 run wasn’t just a victory. It is a statement, a recalibration, and a warning to every elite trail runner preparing for 2027. And notably, when asked by Dylan Bowman on Runfreetrail ‘Can you go faster?’ the answer had no pause, ‘yes!’ – Dhiman comments that running solo allows the pace to drop in the latter stages, had he had someone pushing him, there was more to give… And on that note, roll on UTMB 2027!
Early in 2026, Shane Ohly made an announcement that Ourea Events would cease trading.
With events such as The Dragons Back Race, Cape Wrath Ultra, Northern Traverse and Skyline Scotland, this news was a bombshell to the UK and worldwide run scene.
The dust has settled and while Ourea Events will not emerge from the ashes, the future of Dragons Back and Northern Traverse has been secured by Ultra-X, and Skyline Scotland will be saved by UTMB. The Cape Wrath Ultra will disappear, but a new event, WRATH (by the SPINE team) will see a non-stop race in 2027.
I catch up with Shane and discuss what has been a very difficult time.
There’s a long-standing idea in the running community that races should be cheap. The logic is simple: running itself is simple. Put on a pair of shoes, head outside, and run. So when people see an entry fee for a trail, mountain, or ultra race that feels high, the reaction is often the same.
Why does it cost so much?
The truth is that the world those expectations came from barely exists anymore. Years ago, many races were small and local. They were often organised by running clubs or small community groups. The courses were modest. The participant numbers were manageable. Volunteers handled most of the work. Costs were relatively low, and so were entry fees.
Those races still exist in places, but the sport around them has changed dramatically. Trail running, ultrarunning, mountain racing and skyrunning have exploded in popularity. Courses have become longer, more remote and more technical. Participant numbers have increased. Expectations have risen. And alongside that growth has come something unavoidable: responsibility.
Modern race organisation carries real obligations.
If you put hundreds of runners into remote terrain, often in extreme weather and over difficult ground, you cannot simply mark a course and hope for the best. Safety is not optional anymore. It’s a requirement.
That means medical teams. It means coordination with mountain rescue. It means risk assessments, insurance, emergency plans and communications systems. It means trained marshals, sweep teams, and logistics that can respond quickly when something goes wrong.
All of this costs money.
Then there are the physical elements of the race itself. Start and finish areas. Timing systems. Course marking. Aid stations. Equipment transport. Permits. Land access. Environmental management. Insurance. Staffing.
Even a single-day race can involve months of preparation. Often a full year of planning. And that’s before considering the scale of many modern events.
Large trail races now operate almost like temporary cities. Hundreds or thousands of runners, staff and volunteers moving through remote areas across dozens or even hundreds of kilometres. Everything must work. Everything must be safe. None of that is inexpensive.
Now consider multi-day events.
MDS 120 Morocco
Races like the Marathon des Sables or the Dragon’s Back Race take the complexity of a one-day race and multiply it several times over and then add some! Every additional day means more logistics, more transport, more staff, more food, more safety coverage, more accommodation, more contingency planning.
Trofeo Kima – Italy
A week-long mountain race is not just a race repeated seven times. It is an expedition with hundreds of participants. Costs scale quickly. And with that scale comes risk, financial risk.
Race organizer’s carry it all – permits, deposits, infrastructure, insurance, tracking, staff contracts, transport bookings, equipment hire, maybe even helicopter cover – most of these costs are committed long before the first runner even registers.
Running races today are not informal club gatherings. They are businesses. That does not mean organisers are making huge profits. In many cases, margins are incredibly tight. Weather can disrupt events. Participation numbers can fluctuate. A single cancellation can create massive financial losses.
Which brings recent events into focus.
Cape Wrath
The closure of Ourea Events surprised many runners. Their races, including the Dragon’s Back Race and the Cape Wrath Ultra, were often described as expensive. But when you actually look at what those races involved, the pricing begins to make sense.
Multi-day racing across remote mountains with extensive safety systems, complex logistics, transport of participants and equipment across long distances with camps, food, communications and medical support – this is expensive.
Events like that are extraordinarily complicated to deliver safely. Perhaps the bigger question is not whether those races were expensive. Perhaps the question is whether they were ever truly priced to reflect what they actually cost.
There is often an expectation that race organisers should keep entry fees low, almost as if races are a community service rather than a professional undertaking. But if you organise a race today, especially in remote or mountainous terrain, you are operating a business – you have to be. No business can survive if it consistently prices its product below its true cost.
The running community may need to confront an uncomfortable reality. If we want well-organised, safe, professionally run events with excellent logistics, that comes at a price.
If we want medical coverage in remote mountains, that costs money. If we want reliable course marking, well-stocked aid stations, experienced crews, proper safety oversight and seamless logistics, that costs money too.
None of it appears out of thin air.
Of course, no one is forced to enter a race. And that’s an important point. If a race entry fee feels too high, the trails are still there. The mountains are still there. You can run the same paths any day of the week for free.
But if we choose to participate in organised races, especially the kind that now define modern trail and ultrarunning, we need to understand what it actually takes to create them.
Behind every start line is a year of planning. Behind every finish line is a huge operational effort. And behind every race number is a long list of people, equipment, safety systems and infrastructure working to make sure runners get through the experience safely.
UTMB
Running may be simple.
Organizing a race no longer is.
And perhaps it’s time the community fully recognized that.
When news broke that Kenyan trail running champion Joyline Chepngeno had been banned for two years after testing positive for triamcinolone acetonide, the reactions were swift and polarised. On one side: condemnation and disbelief. On the other: questions about fairness, context, and whether the system designed to protect clean sport actually confuses athletes into mistakes.
Let me be clear, there is no place for doping in any sport, however, the Chepngeno and Angermund cases should and must make us think deeper.
Chepngeno admitted she received an injection in July, and the drug in question – a corticosteroid widely used for inflammation – sits in one of the sport’s murkiest regulatory zones. Under the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) code, triamcinolone is banned in-competition, unless the athlete secures a Therapeutic Use Exemption (TUE). Sounds simple enough, but in practice the rules are anything but. The case raises bigger questions: Was she naive? Did her team fail her? Was Salomon right to sever ties so quickly? And is WADA’s own ambiguity part of the problem?
“Chepngeno may have taken the injection for a genuine medical issue – inflammation, pain, or recovery – but without the right paperwork, timing, and guidance, it became a career-altering violation.”
Kenya’s Reputation and the Weight of History
Kenya has long been under the microscope for doping violations. In recent years, its athletes have faced increasing scrutiny, with dozens of cases making international headlines. This history frames Chepngeno’s case: even a whiff of doping from a Kenyan runner is quickly interpreted through the lens of systemic abuse, rather than individual misjudgment.
But this framing risks oversimplifying. Many Kenyan athletes operate in environments with limited medical oversight, inconsistent education about anti-doping rules, and managerial structures that prioritize racing and prize money over compliance. Chepngeno may have taken the injection for a genuine medical issue – inflammation, pain, or recovery – but without the right paperwork, timing, and guidance, it became a career-altering violation.
The Role of the Manager/ Coach: Protection or Neglect?
A professional runner’s manager/ coach, in this case, Julien Lyon, is more than just a race scheduler. They are, or should be, a gatekeeper for the athlete’s career:
Pros of strong management:
Ensures the athlete understands what substances are permitted.
Helps navigate the dense bureaucracy of WADA codes, TUE applications, and medical clearances.
Provides financial and legal protection when mistakes happen.
Balances competitive demands with athlete health and long-term career viability.
Cons or failures of management:
When managers are absentee or focused solely on performance, athletes are left vulnerable.
In many Kenyan cases, managers are foreign-based agents whose primary incentive is to get athletes on the start line, not to invest in their education.
A lack of day-to-day oversight means athletes may trust local doctors, clinics, or informal advice without realizing the implications.
Chepngeno’s admission that she did take the injection suggests honesty, not deception. But it also signals that no one around her flagged the risk. A competent manager should have either prevented it or ensured the correct exemptions were in place. If the manager’s job is athlete protection, this could look like a potential failure? **
“The Sierre-Zinal race organisation has announced that it has banned Chepngeno’s coach Julien Lyon and his Milimani Runners team from future competitions. It has also, according to the statement, ordered Lyon to ‘fully reimburse prize money, accommodation costs and administrative fees arising from the case – including reputational harm – owed to the Sierre-Zinal Association’.” – (c) Runner’s World
Lyon also coached the 2022 Sierre-Zinal men’s and women’s champions, Kangogo and Chesang, both of whom were later suspended and stripped of their titles for doping.
In response to Sierre-Zinal, Julien Lyon via Instagram stated: “Finally, I must respond to the serious and defamatory accusations published by the Sierre-Zinal organization. These statements are completely unacceptable. I am already devoting significant energy to restoring the facts and I have no intention of giving up.”**
Update September 13th:**
Julien Lyon has responded with a clear statement on Instagram, read HERE.
Let me be absolutely clear: • I had no knowledge whatsoever of the use of this substance. • I have never, in any way, encouraged or tolerated such an act. • I have always fought against doping and I will continue to do so.
From now on, I am already reflecting on concrete solutions: implementing more regular out-of-competition testing, even if it represents a significant cost that must be discussed with our partners, and developing closer, culturally adapted medical support in Kenya. I deeply regret that Joyline may have felt left alone with her pain and doubts. She had my full support, and I regret not being even more present for her during this difficult time. I want to ensure that Milimani Runners athletes feel supported not only in their sporting careers, but also in their health, their choices, and their education. – Julien Lyon via Instagram
The Sponsor’s Role: Salomon’s Swift Rejection
Salomon, Chepngeno’s sponsor, moved quickly to cut ties. On one level, this is understandable: brands cannot afford reputational damage in a sport that already battles questions of integrity. Corporate zero-tolerance policies are often blunt but clear: fail a doping test, and the contract ends.
But here lies the ethical dilemma. Was Salomon protecting the sport, or protecting its image? By severing ties without nuance, the brand effectively punished Chepngeno twice: once through lost income and again through public rejection. A more responsible approach might have been suspension pending investigation, or supporting her with legal and educational resources.
Sponsorship is not just about exposure and winning; it’s also about athlete welfare. When brands abandon athletes at the first sign of trouble, it signals that their investment was never truly in the human being, only in the results.
A Contrast: The Case of Stian Angermund
The difference in how Chepngeno’s case was received becomes starker when compared with that of Stian Angermund, one of Norway’s most successful trail runners. Angermund also tested positive in 2023 for the diuretic chlorthalidone.*
Yet the public response to Angermund was notably softer. Many in the trail running community rallied around him, framing him as a victim of circumstance, a clean athlete caught in an unfortunate situation. His protestations of innocence gained traction, with commentators and peers stressing his reputation, personality, and history as evidence of credibility.
On February 10th, 2024, the trail running world was rocked by news out of Norway – the two-time World Champion, Stian Angermund, had tested positive for the diuretic chlorthalidone. via Freetrail here.
Chepngeno, by contrast, has not been afforded the same sympathy. Instead, her case was quickly folded into the broader narrative of Kenya’s doping crisis, with far fewer voices offering the benefit of the doubt. This disparity speaks volumes about how nationality, reputation, and public image shape perception. Where Angermund’s case was seen as an anomaly in a clean career, Chepngeno’s was framed as part of a pattern – even though the substance she took is far more medically common, and her admission suggested transparency, not deception.
Sponsors and Double Standards
The sponsorship response reveals this double standard even more starkly. Salomon cut ties with Chepngeno almost immediately, distancing itself without nuance. In contrast, sponsors and partners in Angermund’s case were slower to act, with ‘some’ showing signs of support while the investigation unfolded. The messaging was different too: in Angermund’s case, words like uncertain, unfortunate, and out of character dominated coverage; in Chepngeno’s, the language leaned toward guilty, systemic, and Kenyan problem.
This isn’t just about corporate crisis management – it reflects deeper biases. Western athletes with strong reputations are given space to argue their case, while Kenyan athletes are too often treated as disposable. If sponsors only invest in results but not in athlete welfare, the sport risks reinforcing inequities that mirror global power imbalances.
WADA’s Ambiguity: Is Triamcinolone Doping or Not?
Here lies the central confusion. Triamcinolone is not an anabolic steroid. It is a corticosteroid — widely prescribed to treat inflammation and injury. In many medical contexts, it is routine and even necessary.
WADA bans it only in-competition, unless a TUE is granted. Out-of-competition, it is allowed. The catch? Athletes often receive injections or treatments without realizing where the “competition window” starts or ends. Did Chepngeno’s injection fall within the banned period? Did she even know the timing mattered?
And yes, I understand that the athlete has a responsibility to know and understand WADA rules.
The World Anti-Doping Code states the roles and responsibilities that athletes have in relation to anti-doping. So, athletes must: know and abide by the Anti-Doping Rules, policies and practices. be available for testing at all times.
The ambiguity sends mixed messages: if a substance is dangerous or performance-enhancing, why is it allowed out-of-competition at all? And if it is medically justifiable, why is the TUE process so opaque and burdensome, especially for athletes in countries with limited infrastructure?
Instead of clarity, WADA’s rules create traps. Athletes are told they are responsible for every substance in their body, but the system seems designed to catch technical errors as much as intentional cheats.
Was Chepngeno Naive?
The answer is complicated. On the surface, yes: admitting to an injection without checking WADA guidelines suggests a lack of awareness. But deeper down, her admission looks less like naivety and more like honesty. She did not hide the treatment, nor attempt to deny it. She took what may have been a routine medical step, unaware that it carried career-ending consequences.
The real naivety may not be hers but the system’s – assuming athletes across all geographies, languages, and economic realities can navigate a code written for those with legal teams and medical advisors.
Does Julien Lyon and Salomon have a responsibility? **
Financial and Moral Implications
For Chepngeno, the fallout is severe and many of you will say, good, that is how it should be.
Financial: Two years off the circuit means lost race earnings, lost sponsorship income, and a gap in her career at what should be her peak. For athletes from Kenya, whose entire family and community may rely on those earnings, the consequences are devastating.
Moral: Her reputation is damaged, regardless of intent. Once branded a “doper,” the stigma rarely fades, even if the violation was technical rather than malicious.
For the sport, cases like this erode public trust. Fans are left asking: was she cheating or simply careless? For sponsors, the financial risk increases – which in turn makes them more likely to cut ties at the first sign of trouble. And for Kenya, each case deepens the perception of systemic doping, even if the reality is far more complex.
What can be learned from this?
Contextual Justice: Not all violations are equal. Intent should matter as much as presence. Athletes like Chepngeno, who admit to treatment rather than hide it, deserve proportionate, not punitive, responses.
Clearer Rules from WADA: The line between therapeutic and prohibited must be made clearer. If triamcinolone is truly performance-enhancing, ban it outright. If it is a legitimate medical treatment, streamline TUEs and ensure athletes understand the timelines.
Better Athlete Education: Federations, sponsors, and managers need to invest in training athletes on what substances mean, how to apply for exemptions, and what to do before accepting treatment.
Stronger Manager Accountability: Managers should be held to professional standards. If their athlete tests positive due to negligence in guidance, they too should face consequences.
More Responsible Sponsors: Brands like Salomon should balance integrity with support. Cutting ties instantly might protect the logo, but it abandons the athlete. Support through due process would show real leadership.
Conclusion
Joyline Chepngeno’s ban is not just the story of one Kenyan athlete caught out. It is a case study in the tangled web of responsibility in modern sport: the athlete trying to heal, the manager who should have protected her, the sponsor that walked away, and the global regulator that still speaks in gray areas.
Was she naive? Perhaps. But more importantly, she was failed by a system that claims to protect athletes but too often punishes them for being human. Until WADA, managers, and sponsors share the burden of responsibility, athletes – especially those from vulnerable contexts like Kenya – will keep paying the highest price.
Update 12th September, Joyline Chepgneno posted on Instagram the following:
Final Note:
This article and post is designed to give a perspective to make the reader ask questions. To be clear, I am completely against doping, there is no place for doping in sport. I am well aware, for some, this article and words may make you angry – that is okay. Feel free to respond and counter with good debate and argument and be polite and professional.
** edits September 13th.
**Julien Lyon has taken exception to certain points raised in this article. Quoted below.) I stress that as a journalist, I am entitled to the right to freedom of opinion and expression, including the freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive, and impart information and ideas through any media, regardless of borders. As stipulated in article 19 in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. However, it is important to be fair and allow all viewpoints to be considered.
“Several passages mention my name and attribute facts and responsibilities to me that are inaccurate and damaging to my professional reputation. For example: – You state that “the Sierre-Zinal organisation has announced that it has banned Julien Lyon and his team” – however, I have not received any official notification of such a decision, and no sanction has legal standing at this time. – You write “this looks like a clear failure,” implying that I failed in my duty to protect the athlete – this value judgment is not based on any objective evidence and constitutes a serious attack on my professional integrity. – The phrase “Lyon has history” suggests I have a track record of misconduct, which is defamatory. I therefore request that you either: – immediately remove these passages, or – publish a right of reply that sets the record straight.”
Of course, Julien Lyon, like anyone who reads this article, has a right to reply and the comment section is open for this.
Episode 232 of Talk Ultra is a Petter Engdahl Special. After making the podium of OCC in 2021, Petter focussed his attention on the 2022 CCC – He won in a course record time. And now he has followed up with a dream victory at Transvulcania by UTMB. We talk in-depth about his training and preparation for these two incredible performances.
Importantly, go to iTunes and subscribe so that you automatically get our show when it’s released we are also available on Stitcher for iOS, Android and Web Player and now Tunein. We are also on Spotify too.
Our web page at www.iancorless.com has all our links and back catalogue.
Please support Talk Ultra by becoming a Patreon at www.patreon.com/talkultra and THANKS to all our Patrons who support us. Rand Haley and Simon Darmody get a mention on the show here for ‘Becoming 100k Runners’ with a high-tier Patronage.
Episode 231 of Talk Ultra has a chat with Tom Evans after his 3rd place at UTMB. Shane Ohly tells us about ‘Classic Rock’ and Speedgoat co-hosts and tells us about his UTMB.
Importantly, go to iTunes and subscribe so that you automatically get our show when it’s released we are also available on Stitcher for iOS, Android and Web Player and now Tunein. We are also on Spotify too. Our web page at www.iancorless.com has all our links and back catalogue. Please support Talk Ultra by becoming a Patreon at www.patreon.com/talkultra
In the last 4-days I have had around 10-hours broken sleep. That is the reality of working on multiple events during UTMB week.
It all started though the week before, arriving in Chamonix on Thursday to join the adidas TERREX team for a full 10-day UTMB extravaganza. It was my 3rd time at UTMB with the TERREX team so I was under no illusion of what was ahead – amazing friends, quality time with athletes and crew and once the TDS got underway, little sleep.
It’s a privilege and honor to work the TERREX team, I have seen them grow and grow in the sport and the ethos of #oneteam personifies what goes on before, during and after every event. Just look at the finish line footage of Emily Hawgood crossing the line to take 6th place at UTMB. The whole team was waiting, they surrounded her and unplanned, went into a frenzied bounce fest to celebrate not only an incredible run but an incredible team effort. No other pro-team does this and it’s noted by all the other media… The TERREX team are doing something very special.
You may well say I am biased. And I am not going to deny that I have a professional and working relationship with the brand. However, this is a choice. Working with the team management, the media crew and the athletes is a dream come true and one that is immensely rewarding.
adidas had once again rented multiple chalets and one huge chalet would act as a base for meeting up and all meals. The chalet had three chefs who provided meals for the entire team and in so doing, dietary needs could be looked after and the need to try to find a restaurant in Chamonix was removed. Physios were literally ‘hands-on’ every day from morning and Charlie and Robert managed the day-to-day team plans.
My emphasis pre-racing was to recorded Season 2 of ‘The Chamonix Tapes’ and provide some photo content.
UTMB week may well be what you, the fan or follower sees. But as in all these scenarios, the reality for UTMB 2022 started at the conclusion of UTMB 2021. It’s a 12-month process of building and planning.
This time last year, Tom Evans missed UTMB and instead underwent surgery not knowing if he would be able to run professionally again. However, he there and then set the goal to target UTMB 2022 as a main goal and target. He would put all the processes in place to make that happen. And oh my word, look what happened… He completed the podium with an outstanding and awe-inspiring 3rd place.
But with all the highs, the TERREX team also has lows.
TDS did not go to plan, 4-athletes hovered around the podium for much of the race only have dreams taken away. That is racing. There are no guarantees.
Sabrina Stanley, after meticulously planning and preparing for UTMB had her dream shattered even before the start of UTMB with a positive Covid test. There are no words to help here, just the unity and backing of oneteam.
Toni Mccann placing 5, Martin Dematteis placing 10th and Kim Schreiber, Jeshurun Small, Dioni Gorla, Deborah Marti and Anna Hahner all having solid runs. The team was back on track.
CCC was up next and it’s fair to say that myself, and the whole TERREX team were quietly confident that Petter Engdahl could produce something. Little did we know then that the Swede who lives in Norway would light the fire of the UTMB.
He blazed a trail that made the competition look on in awe as he not only won the race but set a course record. Abby Hall from the USA once again had a stellar run placing 3.
Remigio Huaman, Stephen Kersch, Taylor Nowlin and Yngvild Kaspersen all brought the three stripes home and, on each occasion, the team was waiting with hugs and applause.
The big dance, UTMB would conclude the week. The 171km loop through France, Italy, Switzerland and concluding in France has 10,000m of vertical gain, rugged terrain, variable weather and is arguably, the most competitive ultra of the year. This year, the event was off-the-scale with over 2700 participants and goodness knows how many fans and spectators.
The event is now huge! The TERREX team had Pablo Villa, Luis Alberto Hernando, Tom Evans, Emily Hawgood toeing the line and sadly, the omission of Sabrina Stanley due to Covid. It’s with noting here that a listen to ‘The Chamonix Tapes’ with Tom Evans provides a great insight not only to the event, but how to prepare for it is a ‘must’ listen. The race, despite a quality line-up was always going to be about Jim Walmsley and Kilian Jornet and for much of the race, this was the story. Jim had the lead, lost it to Kilian and and in-form Mathieu Blanchard. Kilian put the hammer down for the win against Mathieu and behind as Jim faded Tom Evans put his plan in action. He left Zach Miller who he had traded run steps with for many an hour and hunted Jim.
With Jim caught, Toms head went down, all the processes were put in place and the Brit placed 3rd in the greater ultra in the world! Tears were shed by all… It’s difficult to put into words the emotions of the finish. Tom walked in, somewhat mind-blown about what he was about to achieve, he held hands together, covered his face and then stood stock still and saluted the world. Job done! The TERREX team were in pieces with emotion.
Hours later, Emily Hawgood arrived at Col de Montes, the TERREX team lining the climb to give her one last big push to the finish. Eventually the finish came and a 6th place. Surrounded by her team, the worlds media were amazed at the unity of the TERREX team as they celebrated en-mass the success of one of their own.
This is the oneteam ethos, victories may be individual, but they are not possible without what goes on behind the scenes. We all had roles, but flexibility is key. Athletes became crew, office workers became car drivers, and everyone became a supporter both in a physical and mental capacity.
Once again, it was a real pleasure to be immersed with the adidas TERREX brand and follow closely the whole process that makes a race and team come together. We use the word family and without a doubt, the TERREX team is family. We are all #unitedbysummits
I spent much of the week with Stefan Durst but a huge thanks to Pfefferminzmich – Rapha, Andy, Yannick, Vinz and Christian.
IAN CORLESS 