What it’s like to report on 24 Hours of Le Mans – motorsport’s ultimate test of endurance

The Isle of Man TT has the risk factor and the British Grand Prix has historic value, but 24 Hours of Le Mans is in a league of its own. Covering it was one of the toughest professional challenges I have faced

It’s known as the “ultimate test of endurance” in motorsport: the 24 Hours of Le Mans, in which teams of three drivers battle through the night on an unforgiving public road circuit at speeds of up to 215mph.

But nobody ever considers what that ultimate test of endurance means for the lucky journalists covering it. I use the word “lucky” deliberately, because there is no other race in the world that offers the same thrill as Le Mans. The Isle of Man TT has the risk factor and the British Grand Prix has historic value, but Le Mans is in a league of its own. It is the pinnacle of endurance racing: we see the automotive industry’s biggest names in the isolation of the dark of the night, amid a festival atmosphere for the 280,000 in attendance.

Drivers compete behind the wheel for up to four hours at a time before handing their car over to a teammate to pick up the next stint. The sparkling Aston Martins, Ferraris, Porsches and race-winning Toyotas return 24 hours later battered, beaten, dirty and often completely broken.

That also sums up the feeling of every reporter who attempts to take on the full 24 Hours of Le Mans. Having done so three years ago, deep in the bowels of the pit lane, I jumped at the chance to cover the prestigious race once again. But I did so knowing that it would mean a reunion with the toughest challenge I have faced professionally.

Covering such a race requires the kind of meticulous planning that goes into competing in it: do you risk trying to sleep at all? When do you go for the first double espresso? Are carbohydrates the secret to maintaining good energy levels throughout or should you depend on a regular sugar rush? Not a stone was left unturned this year, with the painful memories of 2016 resulting in a plan perfected to the point of designating the optimum time to brush my teeth. It’s not all glamour this job, you know.

But none of this can replace the thrill of actual reporting, and thankfully the race delivered. A late catastrophe for the lead car, drama until the end of the final hour and conspiracy theories begin to swirl. At that point, there’s not a sugar rush in the world that can rival the feeling of covering the greatest race on the planet, and once the dust finally settled 36 hours after the previous day began, the ultimate test of journalism endurance had been conquered.

Yours,

Jack de Menezes

Deputy sports editor