Running in Nepal
Training in Nepal:
It’s just like anything else is Nepal, a struggle most days.
But then again the subject is running, and most would agree that no matter the
place running is always a struggle. Anyone who has known me for the past decade knows how much I like to run, and that I'm not exaggerating when I say I love running. But when I say I love running, I don’t mean the ‘it always feels good’ kind
of love. I’m talking about the kind of love that grows with sweat,
determination, discipline, tears, laughs, light bulb moments, consistency,
victory, defeat, exhilaration, disappointment, exhaustion, anxiety, relief, and
I could keep going. I don’t know how it happened or why because I haven’t always
loved running. There was a period of my life when I hated running, but I blame high school hormones. After getting back into running in college (ya
know, in an avoiding the ‘freshman 15’ / I love unlimited cafeteria soft serve ice
cream kind of way), I knew it was going to be a lifelong hobby.
Over the years, I’ve had good and bad races. Even during what I consider my
best race, I had to tell myself with every step (over and over and over) ‘Keep running. Don’t
die.’ because the last thing I wanted was a medic to call my mom and tell her I
died running a marathon. I literally thought I was going to die. My worst race ended
similarly, except the feeling of dying was figuratively and literally. Let’s
just say, at that race, I was defeated by my bowels. OK moral of the story: running doesn't always feel good, but the reward and benefits outweigh the pain.
Before I moved to Nepal, I was terrified with the reality
that I might not be able to run for two years for whatever reason. Now that I’ve
been here a year, I’m happy to report that’s not the case. I’ve been able to keep
a consistent, albeit less rigorous, training schedule compared to when I lived
in the States. I usually run 20-30 miles a week, whereas, before Nepal, I would
run around 40-50. I even ran an 80 miler one week after I dared Drey to eat a
whole orange (peel and all). I said if he ate it, I’d run 80 miles in one week.
So he ate it..I think there was a smile on his face too. I definitely had the worse
end of that dare, but I had plenty of time to run all those miles. The schedule
of a grad student lends very well to long distance training. I loved everything
about my schedule in grad school, I had time to lift weights and run for an
hour if I wanted. P.S. I can’t wait to go back to that schedule!
Don’t get me wrong, I have PLENTY of time to run many miles
in Nepal, but there are many other challenges. To put it frankly, running solo
sucks. Here in Nepal, I run every run alone because no one will run with me. Pre-earthquake,
I looked forward to meeting my running mate, shout out to my bestie Kimberly
Toledo!!, in Pokhara where we’d crank
out up to 13 mile runs around Lake Fewa. One epic run we did was up Sarangkot
and back (a 1,500m elevation climb, about 5,000ft). The motivation,
encouragement, and accountability (not to mention friendships) that comes from
running with people is huge part of the training experience.
A 2nd challenge is laundry. In Nepal
(pre-earthquake), I had to run every two days because I didn’t have enough time
to wash and dry my running clothes. Plus, I was an idiot and only brought one
set, so during the winter season it took about two days to dry.
Post-earthquake, I returned with enough running clothes to rotate between
washing/drying. So I’ve been able to run every other day. On my off days, I
walk for about an hour simply because I have time. I enjoy these walks very
much. I listen to episodes of ‘This American Life’ because, lately, I’ll do
anything to feel connected to America.
A 3rd challenge is related to things I wrote
about in my loneliness blog. I run alone because no one will run with me, but
EVERYONE wants to comment on my exercise routine known as the ‘morning walk’ (even if I’m drenched in sweat). I’m usually greeted with weird stares, cat calls
or where are you going, and shouting kids when I run in Nepal. Some kids will
try and run with me. Depending on my mood, I’ll either wave encouraging them to
run with me or sprint away from them. I’m always impressed by the young girls
who can run stride for stride with me in full uniform, flip flops or heavy
soled shoes, and book bag straps on their foreheads (a traditional way some
women carry their bags and purses).
So, maybe by this point you’re thinking, there has to be a
positive. Yes, there is. The positive is that the main paved road is very accessible
from my site. Besides dodging trucks and buses, this has made running very easy
for me. I’ve heard other volunteers say that their sites are very difficult to
run. Their only option is to run up or down because their house is situated on
a steep slope. One volunteer told me she runs circles on a part of the dirt
road that is semi flat. I’m SO thankful I have a nice running surface, and
depending on which direction I take, I have hills or flat terrain near my
house.
Pre-50k:
This year I turned 31. It was a very uneventful day spent in
village, but I had the idea that I wanted to run 31 miles (at once) during my
31st year of life. So, I did a bit of research and found a race in
Nepal. I registered to run a 50k (31 miles) (http://annapurna100.com/)
in the Annapurna mountain range. It was supposed to happen in February, but was
canceled due to political instability. Now the race is tomorrow, October 10th,
and it’s still happening despite a fuel crisis stemming from, once again,
political instability. I thought for sure it would be canceled, but we are
having our race briefing today, so it’s still on! It’s the eve of the 50k, and
I’m a bundle of nerves having never ran this distance let alone a trail race of
this distance. Oh yea and in the HIMALAYAS!! I looked at previous race times to
see what to expect. The times range from 5 hours to 10 hours – that’s a pretty
wide range. The number of people running has dramatically decreased because of
the fuel shortage, so it’ll be an intimate race for sure. My training plan has
been minimal at best. I still ran every other day, and did one two hour run.
That run ended up being about 16 miles, so I’ve only ran half the distance of
what I’ll run tomorrow. I’m just going with the philosophy that less is more.
I’m bringing my camera, so if anything, I’m hoping for some amazing views and
pictures of the Annapurna range. My nutrition plan is simple. I’ve packed a quart
sized bag of strawberry flavored corn flakes, some crushed up ramen, a small
pack of Oreos (this is actually for the giant milkshake I’m going to consume
afterwards), and a camelbak for my water supply. Apparently, there is food
and water on the course, but the website mentions that getting lost is
probable, and everyone must bring their cell phone. Ok, that’s a little
worrisome.
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| Map of the course provided on the website. |
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| All the gear
57k:
The race started at 6am, and I was all jitters. I’ve never
ran a race with so much gear, and I felt really awkward and weighed down. It
started off with a countdown and whistle, conveniently right outside the hotel
most of the runners stayed at the night before. The race entry fees were used
to support the Nepali athletes and running in Nepal, a worthy cause in my
opinion. The race was broken down into four divisions: Nepali male, Nepali
females, foreign males and foreign females. In the Nepali division, there were
maybe around 20 males and two females. That left five females
(nationals and foreign) total.
In the beginning, I hang back because I don’t know what to expect
really except that it’s going to be a long day. About 20 minutes into the race, the group I was with and I
start our first climb. I have heard you want to walk most of the hills to save
your legs, so I was so relieved that we were (a) all together in a group and
(b) we were walking the hill. This hill turned out to be a mountain. We never
really stopped climbing in elevation. It was so fun though, we were all
chatting; exchanging names, reasons why we were running this race, who knew
Nepali language, what country we were from, etc. By the first check point, I
think around 1:30:00, we were spread out and some members of the group had
gotten lost already, although at that point I didn’t know if they took a wrong
turn or I had. I kept on the dirt road, which later found out was the correct
way.
|
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| Beautiful view of the World Peace Pagoda |
I wasn’t too concerned about the lost time. I was just glad to be
reunited with the group. That’s when the stairs and pain began. In Nepal, they
don’t have national or district level programs that regulate how trails are
built. Most of the trails traveled during this race weren’t switch backs, they
were a mix of hundreds of vertically placed stone stairs, slippery (red and
green) compacted soil or stone, roads that were made of crushed gravel to
softball sized stones, and a tiny half mile of paved road around 44.5k. This made the course very technical, and made me realize just how inexperienced and clumsy I am running on trails.
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| Stairs from hell. |
Back to the initial set of ‘stairs from hell’. As we climbed, I still felt I had a sense of humor. Cracking jokes with the others, and grumbling a little. We finally reached the almost half way point where we rewarded for our efforts with tikka and PB&J sandwiches. For PCVs reading this, it was like a PST HUB day, when we’d freak out over the peanut butter and Nutella the staff brought as a treat.“OMG, I haven’t had PB since last HUB day (or in my case, TWO days ago)!!!” It’s kind of an I-wanna-be-a-big-fat-jerk-and-eat-the-whole-jar kind of feeling, but then you politely make two cracker sandwiches with a thick wade of PB or Nutella and move on. Anywho, at this moment in the race it was just as glorious. Just the energy I needed, since I was basically out of food already.
Energized and camelbak refilled, we were off again. It was
a decent, and I felt like I could fly. I thought my legs were going to be
noodles after the stairs, but I felt great. This is when I teamed up with my
new friend, Dave. As we chatted and ran, I learned he was from the US and
living in KTM. I’m super jealous of his life in Nepal because he has his own
place and easy access to more than Momos, samosas, other oddly shaped fried
things, chow mien, chow chow, biscuits (cookies), and dhal bhat. We had a good
rhythm of running the downhills and flats and walking the uphills. We chatted
about running, jobs, PC, the race, Nepali language…it was so much better than
running alone. We crossed cool foot bridges, a couple scary landslides, small
villages, women cutting grass, men carrying bamboo, kids playing, lots of dogs,
a few more check points, small rivers, rice fields, and the whole time my body
felt really good.
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| Cool foot bridge. |
We finally came to the paved road, and knew the end was in
sight, but not knowing the course I again wasn’t sure what to expect. At the
end of the short half mile of road was the 40.5k check point. I felt good, but
my knees where starting to hurt pretty badly. The guys at the check point told
me I was in 2nd place (female). I was a little surprised because after getting
lost, I had no idea what place I was in. I had just passed another female runner from Sweden on the road, but other than we had barely seen anyone since the half way point. Dave and I
started doing the math, and I was like we only have about 10 miles left! My
mind went straight to road race mode and said, ‘we can knock this out in 1.5
hours.’ Hahaha…hahaha..ha. Silly me.
There were more stairs, like two hours’
worth. The steady running and good feelings ended abruptly. My foot was
cramping a little and it started to rain. I was having to repeat a mantra I
made up ‘go khusi go’ over and over and over. I had to pretend I was walking
the stairs to my old house over and over again. Like I was walking up the
mountain with a bunch of ladies from the women’s group-slowly and one foot in
front of the other. I thought about how this pain is temporary, but that pain
that my dear friend in village is experiencing right now, may last the rest of
her life. We passed a male runner (and volunteer in Nepal woot!) from Columbia.
He was running the 100k. He told me he didn’t think he was going to make it the
whole way, and I tried to offer support, but was struggling myself. He did
indeed finish the whole 100k. :)
We reached the top of the stairs at Dhampus. This is where
the story gets interesting. It’s like when they tell you the first 20 miles of
a marathon are a warm up and then the last 6.2 are the race. I had seven miles
to go, and my legs, knees, and feet were in rough shape. Dave and I started to
take a wrong turn, but were luckily intercepted by a group of Nepali runners
that had gotten lost taking that same turn. They told us to turn around. The
Nepali female runner was in the group. So now it was 1st and 2nd
place females together. I didn’t feel good about this though because I figured
she had been lost for a while, and I was just lucky enough to pass them at the
right time. These feelings passed when they left us in their dust just as
quickly as they approached us.
We hit the last check point at 45km. I choked
one last PB&J down and took off. Our pace quickened as we descended down to
the finish in Hemja. I could see the Nepali female in front of me, and she was
walking the occasional inclines. I knew she was tired, but so was I. On one
slight hill, we passed her. I told her in Nepali to come and run with me. She
was also running with a male that looked to be pacing her at the end. She
didn’t respond to me, so I kept going. It was way too early to pass, and I
expected to get passed by her later. I was ok with this, in fact I wanted it to
happen. Not because I’m some kind of martyr, I just didn’t feel right winning a
race knowing she had gotten lost way longer than me. Plus, the whole reason I
wanted to run (besides running 31 miles at 31 yrs) was to support Nepali
athletes, especially female. Side note: I think Nepal’s effort empower females
through running is fantastic!
As I expected, on a downhill, she flew passed
me. Ok, so don’t get me wrong, we all have a competitive edge,
and at this stage of the race, I was having a lot of internal turmoil over what
to do. Dave was picking up the pace, and I was following suit. Maybe I can
catch her, out kick her at the end. No no no. That’s not what I want to do. But
maybe…It would feel so good to be 1st, but then I would feel awful
about the effort she put in and getting lost. Then I fell. Hard.
I was air born and then hit the ground so hard my head made
contact. I screamed out in pain and frustration. The Nepali female, her pacer, and
Dave all stopped. I yelled and told her (she was pretty far ahead still) to
keep going. Dave helped me up and suggested we walk to the finish. I felt so
much rage and adrenaline and pain, but no way was I going to walk - it was the
last mile. We started running again, and I felt like I’d hyperventilate. I
couldn’t catch my breath. After a few minutes of slow running and wheezing, I
shouted, ‘I didn’t even want 1st place, I just wanted to finish
strong, and now I can’t’. And then it was just a bunch of $&#^$!!!
Mother%&$^*#!! AHH why@&#^$#! I think I tripped a little again, and
shouted at God to give me a break. I kind of regret saying all that because the
whole race was so awesome and surreal, but the surge of adrenaline was out of
control. In that moment, I felt like I ruined the whole experience, but I kept
running (and whimpering a little). My knee loosened up and finally the stone road turned into a
paved road and then the finish line.
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| The finish. |
We were greeted with claps and whistles. I couldn’t believe
I finished let alone 2nd place. I immediately cried, and the Nepali spectators
laughed – just like village. It was comforting in a nothing changes kind of
way. :) The
race director was a little concerned about my head because there was blood on
my hat, but I couldn’t have cared less. I was so happy it was over. My good
friend Craig was there at the end to take pictures, and he also filled the roll
of medic to see if I had a concussion. I didn’t.
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| Oh, I'm bleeding? It's cool. |
On the way back to the hotel,
I sat in the front seat with Chechi Sherpa, the 1st place female. We had to speak all in
Nepali because she never learned English. This was her first 57k race as I had
suspected, and she confirmed my prediction that she had gotten lost three times.
She then, quickly changing subjects, pulled out her smart phone and showed me pictures
of her nephew. She was more excited with the opportunity to visit with her
younger sister and family in Pokhara than she was to run the race – so it
seemed. I regret not getting a photo with her. We said our congratulations and
parted ways. Chechi didn’t come to the award ceremony, but she won 40,000 Rs
($400) for 1st place running in 10:19:57. That’s two months’ worth of my stipend in Nepal,
and the average family makes approximately $2/ day, she made 200 times what the average Nepali family earns in a day.
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| Chechi Sherpa, 1st place female |
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| The awards ceremony |
The foreign division received trophies and certificates. The trophy is one of
the best I’ve received next to the ceramic jug with XXX printed on it for a
Moonshine 5k I ran in TN way back in the day. During the award ceremony, I was
on cloud nine from the race, but more so from the energy of being around runners.
It felt so good to exchange stories and laugh with other runners. This is the
best part of the running community. It seems that the ultra-running world is
even smaller than the road racing world because people knew friends from other countries. I think I’ll keep this up, and use it
as a way to travel and see exotic places. I hear New Zealand has amazing ultra-marathons...
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