If you are a Harry Potter fan, you’ll be familiar with this phrase: I open at the close.
It’s what Harry read on the Golden Snitch that Albus Dumbledore had caught in his first ever Quidditch match, which he bequeathed to Harry as part of his legacy.
Being a Potterhead myself, I knew the phrase. But I never imagined I’d find new meaning to it at a personal level thanks to La Ultra – The High. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me pick up the story where I left it at the end of Part 3, where there were three runners still in the race in the 555 kms category.
With Viren, my fellow traveler, en route to Tanglang-La.
“Norbu, stop, stop, stop,” I said, as we saw this gorgeous sheet of snow crystals on the mountainside on our way up to Tanglang-La, trailing Matthew, Ashish and Jason, our 555 km runners in that order. We took a short break to gaze at the chandelier like creations in awe, before we remembered that we were at “work.” And then of course, we gazed some more.
Life lesson #Umpteen: There is always time to pause, to savor the moment and be one with nature. Life took on its own pace in the mountains, and we had lost track of time, not knowing what day of the week or date it was. Rajat’s Excel spreadsheets on the runners were also devoid of Chronos time. It only had moments etched on them, symbolic of life itself.
The lake at Debring, the 333 U-turn.
An Army convoy was stationed in Debring, the 333 km U-turn point for the runners where we were headed to next. To avoid coming in their way, we took the liberty of selecting a spot to set up the La Ultra flags to welcome the runners a tad bit further than the demarcated point last year. I loved the spontaneity, and the no-fuss with which the situation was dealt with. There was also this nondescript lake, just another breathtaking beauty in the mountains, which was the backdrop of the cut-off point.
We settled down to welcome Matthew, Ashish, and Jason, who made it within 5-10 minutes of the cut-off time of 72 hours. Fatigue was writ large on their faces.
Icy cold winds started to blow across from where we were and one could see Tanglang-La at a distance being enveloped in a blanket of clouds which we all thought could be snow…yet again. The night was about to set in, and the runners would need to climb up the mountain pass the second time around, for at least 20 kms, before making it to the next cut-off point at Lato (391 kms; 87 hours). We all waited in anticipation to see what would unfold next.
Perhaps the Mountain Gods (if there are any) decided that the runners had been put through enough of a test, had proved their resolve, and seeing that they were refusing to buckle down, it was now time to spare them the ravages of further extreme cold weather. The sun was shining bright the next day, and the heat index rose.
I had been observing all three runners on the course.
Between episodes of feeling “great,” and moments of lucidity, there were times when their words would come out unclear. There were also times when there was no talking at all. There would be just a flourish of the hand, acknowledging your presence, or a brief response to Rajat’s check-ins. Rajat knew when to let them just be, and when to engage with them.
All three runners spoke of hallucinations, knowing they were seeing things that weren’t really in existence, with a sense of detachment and acceptance. As a psychologist I found this fascinating. In my clinical practice I had observed that people got sucked into their hallucinations so much that they usually do not know how to differentiate between the real and the imaginary. But these three, they were running on autopilot, eating and drinking often, sometimes at the behest of their crew; they were keeping time, and were also relentlessly moving forward. Jason spoke about shopping centers, fish, and snakes being thrown at him as his objects of hallucination, while Matthew had a whole conversation with Rajat in the wee hours of the morning, when Rajat was nowhere near him in reality.
And On. They. Went. Despite. It. All. Inspite. Of. It. All.
And then, almost imperceptibly, the sequence of the runners started changing, with Matthew still in the lead, but Jason now running ahead of Ashish to take second place. Ashish focused on his plan, with his sight only on the finish line. He had made it amply clear to me when I had interviewed him before the race.
“My competition is with myself, and no one else, and that is what I am setting my mind to.”
That night they climbed up Wari-La the second time over, beneath a glorious, star studded sky, reminding themselves to put one step in front of the other, to return to Serthi for their last cut-off point (495 kms; 113 hours) before they attempted to cross the finish line.
While we trailed them close to midnight, I realized for the first time, how difficult the combination of sleep deprivation, fatigue and breathing in rarefied air was at just 15,000 feet, as I experienced it first-hand. We had been in the car all the time; these guys had been running now into their fifth day and were inching closer to the 495 km mark. How was that even possible?
The game changed the next morning.
Jason climbed down Wari-La, stopped at the guest house in Serthi for 10 minutes, and was on his way to finishing the remaining 60 kms to the finish line at Shanti Stupa. Let me say that slowly again. The guy who had been behind the others for almost four-fifths of the race was now ahead.
He wasn’t just in the lead. He was cruising along effortlessly, with a smile on his face, despite the blisters on his feet, the ulcers in his mouth, and with only 6 hours of “lay down” combined in 5 days.
The sun was blazing that day as we felt sweat trickle down our necks, and the heat from the roads rising up. We were still the lucky ones whose “very tough job” was to sit inside the car and keep the runners’ time and check on how they were doing.
It was now becoming increasingly probable that all three runners would cross the finish line for sure before the 6 AM cut-off the next day. Rajat was confident that they wouldn’t wait until the darkness gave way to the light of the morning. They would complete the run before that.
Did I mention Jason was truly cruising, running a kilometer in 5 ½-6 minutes, despite having run 500 kms thus far?
“How was that even possible?,” my mind shrieked again. I was getting used to this question repeatedly popping up by now.
Nothing extraordinary happened for a while because even the meaning of that word was not enough to justify the amazing feat we were witnessing.
The excitement was palpable and infectious, as we all geared up for the epic moment of seeing three out of the five runners who entered the 555 km category cross the finish line. It was finally happening. The naysayers had been silenced; and the hopeful, optimistic ones amongst us were already celebrating. We were celebrating human conviction, courage, fortitude, strength, and the ever shining life force coursing through those bodies pounding the roads.
Jason crossed the finish line in 120 hours and 19 minutes. He had been on his feet for 120 hours (5 days!) and 19 minutes. I’ll give you a minute to let it sink in. With 12 hours to spare for the cut off, with the soles of his shoes having actually been burnt and melted, Jason had literally set the course on fire.
Jason crossing the finish line, setting a record for being the first individual to complete 555 kms at La Ultra - The High. (PC: La Ultra - The High)
Matthew strode in at 123 hours and 35 minutes.
Matthew proved that distances didn’t matter. It was what the mind set itself to do that made all the difference. (PC: La Ultra - The High)
And close to 1 AM, Ashish, along with his cheering crew holding a flag of India, came in at 126 hours and 18 minutes.
Ashish, crossing the finish line, made India proud! (PC: La Ultra - The High)
History had finally been written. Truly, if ever there was an appropriate time to say #EPIC, this was it.
The finish line, as it turned out, didn’t mean it ended there. I had started tracking their story in the weeks preceding the event, and but the real stories had unfolded in the last 5 days. Especially in these last five days. Including after the race was officially over.
Matthew spoke about how it is never about the distance one runs, but something beyond the physical form which makes one succeed. I had only written about it based on what I had heard from others. But the true meaning and import sprung out just now after having seen these brilliant, focused individuals at play.
It was their minds at play, as they deployed many tools to bargain with the demons inside the head, ready to rear their many ugly heads and tell you to stop. When self-doubt sprung up, they would silence questions like “Why are you doing this?” “Is it worth it?” “Are you sure you have it in you?” by digging in deeper, with conviction, fearlessness, and a self-belief so strong that they would embrace whatever challenge came their way.
“Don’t let your body rule your mind. Your mind has absolute power over everything. Keep positive, surround yourself with optimism, and stay focused on the goals ahead. Believe and achieve.” I read Jason’s many posts on Facebook where I found his words etched to inspire others. When someone asked him what made him smile even at the 495th km mark up and all the way to the end, his response was disarming:
“The thought of pizza after the run.”
This was joy at its purest.
Ashish had stayed with his plan of finishing the run; of resting when the body needed it, and pushing when he felt the surge within. He had worked on his sleep patterns, nutrition, physical and mental training, the commitment to himself, and the many people cheering for him across India further fueled him on.
It wasn’t always the mountains, it wasn’t always the weather, it wasn’t about the distances, or the long days on the road that mattered to these three. The obstacles and the ways to overcome them were both within.
A Facebook post from Jason on the importance of the crew in completing the 555.
All this would not have been possible without the crew that supported each of these runners. They paced them, cooked for them, provided psychological support, were their voice of reason. They taped the blisters on the feet, gave them manual therapy, made sure they were well fed and rested, and so much more that I was not privy to. All this when they themselves were short on sleep, having been subjected to the harsh weather conditions, and finding no schedule to rest or take care of themselves. The runners were their priority and they were steadfast in their commitment.
Such were these incredible individuals who had volunteered their time for two weeks, been away from work and home, who had no idea what transformation was in store for them.
I had seen it with my own eyes. The humbling that I have spoken about throughout, the focus shifting from “me” and “I” to “you,” not even “us”; finding joy in the success and victory of the runners, forsaking comfort for them, seeing their success silently as their own without saying a word, and knowing that somewhere in not bragging about all that they did for their runners, they actually ended up doing so much more – not just for the other but for themselves. Such was their own personal victory, their own sense of accomplishment, which some may not have been realized yet.
I know it is still sinking in for me.
Did I get answers to my questions on “why” these runners took on this challenge of participating in one of the cruelest ultra-marathons? Somehow it didn’t seem as important anymore.
What mattered was “how” these individuals showed us that nothing is impossible; that there is more to the indomitable human will than we know of. That there are discoveries we make of ourselves every moment when we face challenges and obstacles. That the power of the mind is truly limitless. That failure is just a mere word; it’s what it teaches you that matters, acting as the spring in your step. That reflecting on the self in the expansive lap of nature teaches you more about yourself than any book or individual could; because in you the questions arise, and in you reside the answers. That love, care, and support go a long, long way.
The layers I had spoken about earlier, had peeled off, in one way or the other for most of us. Whether they were about oneself, and/or in relation to someone else. We found ourselves in silence often, wondering if life had taken on a different meaning after this trip, and what was in store for us after. Would the mundane still feel that way, was that calmness that had descended here to stay, would things that once excited us continue to do so still, or would they seem insignificant and unimportant? Would we live genuinely fulfilling lives, and was there now a fire in the belly that would only get more stoked with each breath we took?
Only time would tell.
Typically, when things come to an end, when you cross a finish line, when a story comes to its conclusion, you look for closure. In this case though, the opposite happened—for me and for everyone who was a part of La Ultra – The High, edition-X. Our minds opened up to a whole different way of being, one where impossible had no place in the dictionary. Maybe it’s because my soul has bottled up the stillness of the mountains and taught me this above everything else: find your place in this world and hold steady. Then, no comings or goings will disturb your peace, not even that of time.
I opened at the close.