My first Ultramarathon
This was my best opportunity to get my first ultramarathon under my belt. Close to home, I would be “running” the hills of Kathmandu — a total of 58 kilometers. Would I do it again ? Absolutely…
Underneath the scorching mid-day sun, I was climbing up the hills to my next Checkpoint (Cp) “Solid Rock” where daal bhaat was waiting for me. But right here in this moment, I was thinking to myself “Why do I do this to myself?” This question has always found a way into my head in all of my previous races. But this time it was different — I was not even halfway through the long gruelling 58 kilometers, and already my head was revolting against me under the sun.
My body, on the other hand, seemed to be in relatively good shape. I had not pushed myself too hard in the initial stages, and I felt good. Still, I was a long way from the finish line. In the build-up to this run, I had raced the first three stages of the Kathmandu valley rim, each about 30–35 kilometers. I recall struggling to get to the finish line in the first stage, but progressively I had run better and felt more in control during the latter two stages. By now, I also had two Fishtail marathons under my belt, so I was experienced enough to know what it feels like to run 42 Kilometers. But anything over 42 was unknown territory, and so I had started off slow. “Walk the uphills, and jog the flat and downhills” — was the name of the game. I had drawn up a tentative time it would take me to get to each of the CPs, and at around 6 hours, I got to CP-3 — so far, so good. Around 30 kilometers done and another 28 to go.
As I gobbled down the remarkably tasty daal bhaat and coke, I was grateful for the rest. The next bit of the race would be a big climb until Chandragiri, and I knew my time and body would suffer here. The idea was to keep moving, hydrate, and rest up briefly if I had to. This indeed would be a long climb; I felt good, though. Apart from a few two-minute timed stops along the stairs, I kept moving. The head had settled down too, no longer was it revolting against me. Perhaps the forest and the cool wind had a calming effect on the head unlike the scorching sun. As I kept up the pace, I started passing through the CPs one after the other. I also made sure I hydrated, ate fruits, and gruels at each of the CPs. “It’s all downhill once I get to the top of Chandragiri until the next CP at Nagarkot,” I thought and smiled. I could try to jog a bit downhill. And I did do that or at least I tried because the downhill was steep and unforgiving on the knees. A combination of stairs and steep downhills were hurting my knees, and it felt like I was running downhill but not really. Still, I felt I was going great as I had already passed the 42-kilometer mark and I felt strong. There was no doubt in my head, and I felt strong enough to get to the finish line, even if it meant I would have to walk the rest of the way.
The day had begun turning to dusk as I reached Nagdunga CP, and I got my headlamps out of the bag. Another 12 Kilometers to go, and then I can bask in the glory of having finished an ultramarathon. Running in the dark is something I have not really done often, and I did get a bit scared, as the section from Nagdunga to Kalu Pandey would also include a forest area. Thankfully, I had the GPS route on my watch so I knew I would not wander off. Also, the markings on the trail had been great, and if I followed those I would be fine.
I met with other runners somewhere in the forest, and that actually calmed me down a bit. It was also wonderful to run in the evening because it felt like I had to stick with the pack, which allowed me to maintain a healthy pace towards the final leg of the race. When I look back at the race, this final 12 km stretch running in the dark with a pack was the most focused I had been in the entire stretch. I barely got time to think, and it was about matching up stride to stride with the ones ahead of me. So I barely got time to think about how tired I was or doubt myself. Running in the dark was actually a blessing in disguise.
14 hours and 52 minutes after I started at 7 in the morning, I was crossing the finishing line. 58 kilometers done.
I remember back in 2016, after my first half-marathon, lying down with my brutally sore body and thinking — “How does one run a half marathon, and then run another one half marathon — and get to marathon distance?” I had done one better; I had run a half marathon and another one and some more.
