The worlds cruellest Ultramarathon. (A
story about an epic fail)
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It all started on a mountain top in Sierra
Nevada range in the south of Spain, just under a year ago, with a face book
conversation with Rajat Chaugan from India.
Rajat: “Are you coming to la Ultra next
year?”
Me: “No, I am not really interested in
repeating 222 kms in the Himalaya, I have done that.”
Rajat: “What if I made it 333 kms then?”
Me: “Sure!!”
And so it was, Rajat had managed to entice
me into another Himalayan ultra-running adventure in spite of having decided to
move on and do other things. In fact, I had already agreed with my close friend
José Luis Rubio that we would climb a Himalayan Peak during the summer.
However, the 2 objectives were completely compatible and we decided to get to
the Ladahk valley early, climb the Stock Kangri mountain at 6153M, rest for a
couple of weeks and then run La ultra, the High 333, with José crewing for me.
Our respective families would meet up with us when we come down from the
mountain and then we would all be involved in the race. What could possibly go
wrong with such a perfect plan?
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La Ultra. The High.
After coming down from the mountain we all
met up with our families and had an extended 2 week rest before the race
started; this was all too short but it was great to meet up with old friends
from the 2012 edition and make a few new ones. The day before the race started,
we had to go to the Nubra Valley and get ready for the race.
The race started at 10:00 pm and followed
the Nubra Valley until the fork in the road indicated that we turn right and
head up to the Kardung La pass at 5400M. The climb was steady but relentless and
I spent some time running with a few of the others, John Sharp, Jup Brown and
Jason Dunne, enjoying the conversation whilst it lasted but both John and Jason
stormed ahead which left me for the most part running on my own, as Jup was
running a little slower.
As I got higher the temperatures dropped pretty fiercely. At North Pullu I had a down jacket waiting for me and I eagerly grabbed it whilst Molly Sherridon made me a hot drink. We were later told that the temperatures were between – 5 and – 8ºC ….. and I can believe it. I remember a moment when Alex exclaimed that he was developing frost bite and had to get into a support vehicle to thaw his hands out. Personally I didn’t have problems with the cold as I had good clothes.
As the dawn broke I found myself running on and off with Sato. He seemed to be having a bit of a tough time, as was I, especially as we were both over 5000M at this point and the hypoxic conditions meant that any physical effort took a lot out of us. We both slowed to a power walk and soon Sato left me behind. I had learned long ago that fighting the altitude was useless and I opted for a pace that didn’t leave me exhausted. There was still a long way to go.
As I got higher the temperatures dropped pretty fiercely. At North Pullu I had a down jacket waiting for me and I eagerly grabbed it whilst Molly Sherridon made me a hot drink. We were later told that the temperatures were between – 5 and – 8ºC ….. and I can believe it. I remember a moment when Alex exclaimed that he was developing frost bite and had to get into a support vehicle to thaw his hands out. Personally I didn’t have problems with the cold as I had good clothes.
As the dawn broke I found myself running on and off with Sato. He seemed to be having a bit of a tough time, as was I, especially as we were both over 5000M at this point and the hypoxic conditions meant that any physical effort took a lot out of us. We both slowed to a power walk and soon Sato left me behind. I had learned long ago that fighting the altitude was useless and I opted for a pace that didn’t leave me exhausted. There was still a long way to go.
When I got to the summit Sato was in a car
resting and didn’t look too well. I greeted him, ate some food and then said my
farewells; Satu was soon to be retired from the race on medical grounds. A
great runner but the altitude is cruel.
As I descended I soon became much more alive
and upon hitting the 4800M mark I found myself running again. At this point Kim
Rasmussen from Denmark caught me. We ran together for a short while but he was
going stronger than I and I let him go. There was still over 250 kms of race to
go and anything could happen.
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Upon reaching the Goba Hotel checkpoint in
Leh I had a short rest and then ran comfortably down to the village of Spituk.
Here the run ran alongside the main road and the dust thrown up by the trucks
was really unpleasant. I pulled the buff over my mouth and nose and just pushed
on, hoping to get onto the back road as soon as possible.
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The climb up to Tanglang la was pure
delight and the same sensation that had invaded my body whilst climbing Wari La
invaded me again. I soon caught up with Kim who was having difficulties so I
shook his hand, hugged him and wished him all the best, it was a race after
all. The atmosphere was electric, with everyone congratulating me and wishing
me well. We soon made the summit and with just 24 kms to go I settled into a
gentle but happy trot using the gradient of the hill to aid my advance. At this
point I thought it was all in the bag. How could I possible thing otherwise, I
felt great, I had a 2 hour lead over Kim, what could possible go wrong?
The first 5 kms coming off the top were
enjoyable in spite of some heavy trucks throwing up a lot of dust from the track
that they were slowly converting into a road, but then the track crossed an
open section of mountain with a strong, cold cross wind.
Upon reaching the support car I climbed in,
just to get warm again but then things got very quickly and alarmingly out of
control. I started shivering and then went into deep, uncontrolled convulsions.
Jose quickly took control and covered me with every available sleeping bag and
item of clothing but by then my body had gone into shock and I was all but
paralysed, except for the uncontrolled convulsions. The medic Razwin arrived
and took over, he put even more layers on and measured my temperature; 37.5ºC,
half a degree above but I still couldn’t stop convulsing. After a couple of
hours laid down during which time Kim had passed me it was obvious that I
wouldn’t recover in time to finish. Jose made the actual call to quit. I didn’t
argue with him, I knew I was beat. At 318 kms, at 5000M, with only 15 kms to
the end I was well and truly beat, I couldn’t even stand up. Out of it. There
was nothing I could do.
So Kim Rasmussen became the first and only
person in the world to cover 333 kms in the Himalaya in hypoxic adverse
conditions in a single stage foot race. He did it in 71 and a half hours. My
sincere congratulations go out to him as he is a genuinely lovely person and I
am happy to be beaten by him. He deserved to win.
And finally a race account could not be
finished without a special mention to the crew and to my family. They had kept
me going during some very tough times, and Jose, especially had made sure that
every detail had been taken care of in order to keep me going. In the end I
failed, I came so close yet the finish line may as well have been another 333
kms away for I was simply unable to make those last few kms.
So, I now have unfinished business out
there. In many ways that is a good thing; it gives me something to work on,
something to focus on, something to spend the next year dreaming about for I
now just have to go back. And finish.
Cheers!
Mark
Very good Mark
ReplyDeleteYou unt Woolley
DeleteMark, Inyectas Veneno con el relato. Algún día!, algún día la correré!!!. saludos!
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