Himalayan Challenge Marathon
Day One: 39k climb into the clouds (cumulative gain of 2750 m)
Jacqueline Windh / 03.11.2013
None of us really knew what to expect on this first day. How much should we try to run this big uphill, or should we just hold back and walk? Were we dressed warmly enough? (Or were we carrying too much?) How would the altitude effect us?
Following our two hour bus ride from Mirik to Maneybhajang, then an enthusiastic reception from the villagers (this is the 23rd year that this race has been running, so it’s a big thing in town!) which included a band with drummers and a dancing bagpiper, the race started, an hour later than scheduled, at 8:15 am.
The route was flat for the first 400 m or so - then the 39k uphill started. The first three km were paved, then we moved on to a very rough cobblestone road which climbed relentlessly from race start at 2010 m (6600’) to Sandakphu at 3600 m (11,815’) - oh, other than the 510 m (1700’) descent mid-route, all of which we would have to make up again of course.
The fast runners started running, and a few of them kept that up most of the way up. The UK’s Martin Cox had made a dinner-table bet that he would run the route today in under 4 hours. Not many of us believed him, but he quickly took the lead, using running sticks to help propel him up the hill. One the hill started, though, most of us switched to either a fast hike or alternating hiking and jogging. The cobblestone road was rough for running - not your European kind of cobblestone! - but rather a more random mosaic of rocks or irregular size and shape, fitted together into a sort of road. I think the road was even worse for the members of the press in jeeps than it was for us racers….
The climb just kept going and going. In previous years, racers have had to deal with heat on this first day - but for us, the weather got colder and foggier. I was pleased to make the first aid station at the 3k mark in 35 minutes - but then it was another 40 minutes until I reached the 4k aid station. I hoped that the earlier one had been more accurate - otherwise I might be on the route 10 hours or more! But it was only 20 more minutes to the 6k aid station, and then only 10 more minutes to the 9.5k aid station. Oh well, if measurements en route are approximate, it is good to know that early on!
As the climb continued, the group became more and more dispersed. Although in previous years, racers had suffered in the heat through this section, for us the weather got progressively worse: increasingly cold and increasingly foggy. I must say, it was pretty cool to be looking over the edge of the ridge into Nepal that whole way up!
I followed the UK’s Jerry Nathan for a while, then caught her when he stopped for a big black bull snorting and pawing the road in front of her. I gave the bull the evil eye, and we got past him safely. Jerry left me behind - I thought for good - on that downhill section, but then I came across her stopped on the road. Turns out she has a cow phobia, and she’d backtracked to wait for someone to go with her! I accompanied her back up, but the cows had already left the track by the time we got there.
We’d been warned that the climb was steepest at the end, and when I reached the 34k aid station, it was definitely already very steep. Five km to go, I thought - but Spain’s Jesús caught me right at the station, and he asked the attendants how much further. “One and a half hours!” the man blurted out - and then, “One and a half kilometres!” Jesús believed the kilometre estimate whereas I figured that if we were now at the 34k mark and the end was 39k, the hour estimate was more accurate.
But ten minutes up the trail I passed one of the race photographers, and asked him how far, and he said 500 m more. Minutes later German racer Barbara Seidel came jogging back down, without pack, to accompany her husband Andreas to the finish, and she shouted encouragement to me, telling me that it was only 300 m more. So it really was only 1.5 km between the 34k aid station and the 39k finish!
I was quite cold by then, and happy to round the last bend to find Assistant Race Director Mansi (Mr. Pandey’s niece) and other support staff there waiting for me. I hadn’t really known ow long it would take me to do this stage - I figured it could be anything form 8 to 11 hours - so was very pleased to come in in 7:30. Martin Cox missed winning his bet by a hair’s breadth, finishing in an astonishing 4:00:39 (which organizers rounded up to 4:01). Norway’s Marit Holm was equally impressive, taking first female and second overall in 4:55, and Dan Dosedel (USA) was third in 5:08.
About fifteen minutes after I came in, around 4:30pm, the sky opened and an unexpected downpour hit. I was so glad to be in before that, but felt horrible for the racers still out there. It’s dark in this part of India by 5pm, so some racers finished very cold and wet in the dark, and a few were picked up on the road and taken up the last part of the mountain by Jeep.
The organizers were impressively prepared to take care of incoming racers - on the lookout for altitude sickness, hypothermia, and just plain exhaustion. They sat us each down in a warm hut as we finished to make sure we were OK, gave us our drop bag of warm clothing to put on immediately, then released us to go to our rooms or to the food hut. I chose the food hut, and sucked down three bowls of soup. My hut-mate had gone out hard. She had run well, but had arrived cold and dehydrated as well as suffering from the altitude, and had gone straight to bed at 3pm. I found her still there when I arrived from dinner to go to bed (at 5:45pm!), still cold under a mountain of fleece blankets and feeling nauseous.
I helped her as much as I could. But I was very impressed when the race doctors came by an hour later. They knocked on every racers’ door to see how everyone was doing very proactive medical care - and were able to help her out with anti-nausea tablets (and by sending me back out from my warm sleeping bag, into a raging fog-storm-wind like I have never seen before, to fetch her some soup!).
That fog wind roared through the night, battering our hut and repeatedly blowing the doors open so the wind passed right through… delivering me nightmares of what racing conditions would be like tomorrow. This was supposed to be the only location in from which you can see four of the five highest peaks in the world (Everest, Kanchenjunga, Lhotse and Makalu, all over 8000 m) - but I didn’t even think about hoping to see them. I just hoped that we would be able to get out on the trail at all.
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