And Then There Were Three

(In case you haven’t already done so, here’s where you can catch up with Part 1 and Part 2 )

 “It’s never about the distance, or how much and how long you run. It’s about tackling the La Ultra each of us have within us that matters.”

I have heard Rajat say this more than once. And I saw these as not merely words when I saw it unfold in front of my eyes.

In different ways, the runners from the 55 km through to the 555 km category expressed the shift they felt within themselves. They came face to face with the silences, mostly because of the lack of connectivity with the world due to the limited phone networks in some areas. There were, of course, those mountains, the inclement weather, the rarefied air, beyond all of which lay a test of their own will and strength, and how far they could go, how deep they could dig.

The layers finally start coming off. For all of us.

I had been sitting in the car for hours on end, often waiting by the roadside for the last runner to pass so that we knew everyone was accounted for. The mountains stood resolutely, towering over you on all sides, like a dark mirror nudging you to face those deep, dark fears, those questions about your life which you had shelved away for a distant (hopefully never) future, dreading what they might bring up to the surface. And you had no choice but to turn inward, to look at those reflections, to hear answers being echoed from deep within, goading you to live authentically, fearlessly, with humility and a commitment to not just the self-preserving you, but to others around you who mattered.

The “brokenness” made its presence felt, and all you could do was let it engulf you, let it hold you in its grip, till you look at it, unflinchingly in the eye. That’s when you realize that in the brokenness is a beauty and a strength that you had never experienced before. It reveals you in your truest form, however uncomfortable this newness is. The transformation is underway.

Yes, the mountains have a way of shining a light on your deepest thoughts. During the course of La Ultra, I heard other people share similar thoughts, as I myself went through a metamorphosis of sorts.

Where was I? Oh yes, the cutting down to size of the human condition.

When you are in the middle of nowhere in the dark hours of the night, staring up at the Milky Way, you feel suitably dwarfed, insignificant, and humbled. We found ourselves parked once again on the side of the road close to midnight, somewhere near Wari-La top at an altitude of 15000 feet. I asked Norbu to turn off the headlamps of the car so that the sky could be seen in all its glory. The silence was all pervading, as I looked up at what seemed like a sheer blanket of twinkling lights, only to be distracted by the sight of a few shooting stars. How can we even dare to think that we are larger than this cosmos? And back into the race, we were soon going to know whose word was final, who would catch us by surprise yet again.

It was day 2 of the run, and I looked up the weather forecast  for Wari-La, the next mountain pass the runners across all the categories (55, 111, 222, 333, 555 kms) would traverse: Cold, high of 3C, low of -5C, 0% chance of precipitation. So far so good. We would be spared the trauma of what transpired at Khardung-La, we safely assumed. Were we wrong!

As the runners went up the mountain, there was a blizzard, which meant that the last 4 kms of the roads leading to the top of the mountain pass were icy and slippery.

Grit and perseverance started shining through as Amit, the only participant in the 222 kms category out of a total of 9, made it to the finish line within the cut-off time of 48 hours.

You see words like “mind over matter” come to life when runners persist despite their body giving them signals time and again that maybe it’s time to stop, be it because of fatigue or an injury that was threatening to flare up and make it difficult to move on.

Shikha, who was attempting the 222 kms this year, after having been the fastest female finisher in the 111 km category in 2018, was someone who garnered immense support through the race with her sheer will power and quiet determination. Having managed the previous cut-offs till South Pullu well, and reaching the 173 km despite an injury to her shin, she was hopeful of finishing the remaining 49 kms. Till the blizzard at Wari-La happened and the remaining distance seemed daunting to traverse due to the weather conditions. The injury was also rapidly worsening.

Gregor whose generosity I spoke about in my earlier post, rose to the situation and supported Shikha on the course, being by her side, encouraging her to go on.

There comes a point when the body reaches its limit and the mind eggs you to continue, to push those limits further, when even reason fails and you want to just keep ploughing ahead. Till you just can’t go on because the target keeps getting more and more distant, and the physical body is breaking down further with each step. Feeling crestfallen, Shikha finally decided to stop at the 215 km mark, a mere 7 km short of the finish line.

But here’s the thing: the heart and mind don’t give up. You see growth in setbacks, a deeper resolve to come back and take care of unfinished businesses the next time around. You don’t see non-completion as a failure but as a testimony of just how much potential you have to keep on marching forward, stronger, with each step being surer next time. Dreams were negotiated with, and expectations were tempered.

The dog that was trailing Jasmine on Day 1 (fondly christened “Indie”), was found running alongside Cassie when we last sighted her. It is our guesstimate that Indie would have run more than 100 kms by then. We didn’t see her again though. In hindsight, I should have requested Rajat to deploy a separate crew car for Indie, La Ultra’s first canine ultra-runner for this special edition😊. Who knows what potential she would have tapped into, lost in translation with all of us, but again showing that anything is possible amidst the beauty of nature where silences speak more than words ever would, and where deep connections form, and hearts unite.

Meanwhile Cassie and Nischint both pulled out of the 333 category due to the pounding by the weather, compounded by hypothermia, fatigue, exhaustion, and sleep deprivation.

Around the 260 km mark , we were now left with four of the original five 555 kms participants still in the running.

A little digression.

Now that the race is over and we have the results, I can tell you that the thoughts I had at the start of the race were probably the same as what most people including, dear Reader, you had about this category.

In the first place, who were these guys who were even thinking of attempting 555 kms in 5.5 days? And how many, if any at all, would finish?

Some guessed zero finishers. The optimistic, hopeful ones amongst us said maybe, just maybe, there would be one or two.

Time would tell.

But let me first introduce you to these amazing individuals.

Jason (Australia): Is one of the strongest social change agents and influencers I have met. Having struggled with clinical depression himself, he now uses ultra-running and fitness to encourage people to become mentally and physically fit. He completed the 222 kms run in 2018 at La Ultra.

Matthew (USA): Now lives in Bulgaria after having engaged in a soul-searching expedition around the world for two years and realized that one needs to have a raison d’etre other than just working to earn a living. He and his partner, Cassie, passionately run ultras, and came to Ladakh a month before La Ultra to train in the mountains. He completed the 333 kms run in 2017.

Praveen (India): The twinkle in Praveen’s eye, his passion, enthusiasm, and his commitment to whatever he does made an impact on me. The want to do more was so strong, that you caught yourself making his dreams your own. He completed the 222 kms run in 2018.

Ashish (India): His running spans only 5 years, and Ashish already had the most dramatic finish at the 333 km race in 2018, when he crossed the finish line with a mere 31 seconds to spare. His simple response to my question of why 555 km: “You need newer challenges to test yourself, and here I am again.”

I was looking forward to seeing these runners on the course and observe how the days would pan out for them.

(Above (L-R): Matthew, Ashish, Praveen, & Jason, the 555 km participants.)

We were now on our way to the Tanglang-la mountain pass, and then onwards to Debring  at a distance of 333 kms mark, where 72 hours was the cut-off time for the runners to get there.

There were crew cars tagging each runner and I was in one of them.

I hopped out at one point on the ascent to speak to Matthew, who was, at the time, in the lead by almost an hour.

I might have walked just 200 meters with him but that was enough for me to feel the effect of the altitude and the reduced oxygen. And here he was effortlessly walking-running on Day 3 of the race. We talked some, as I wanted to gain an insight into how he was feeling. It seemed like a casual conversation two friends would have over coffee. There was a smile, an optimistic attitude, and a preview of the lessons the mountains were teaching.

“What’s been the biggest challenge so far, Matthew?” I asked him.

I was expecting a reply around the difficulties he may have faced along the way.

“Cassie not being able to finish 333,” he said instead.

I would later learn more about why it wasn’t about the distances, or the ascent, or the weather that most of us would have expected him to talk about.

 “See you, Divya. It ain’t so bad, right, walking up the mountains?”

He and I laughed. 280+ kms and he was as spirited as if he had just begun to run.

At this point, Ashish was in second place, Praveen third, and Jason fourth.

How and why were these runners in the 555 kms category gunning so strong, when other runners in the shorter distances had found it difficult to continue?  Was it really the weather? The mountains? The distances? I would soon find out as the days rolled by.

Word came that Praveen had decided to pull out of the race somewhere around the 280 km mark.

And then there were three…

 <The concluding Part 4 coming up shortly>

When The Mountains Allow You to Pass, Will You Soar?

If you caught Part 1 of my experiences at La Ultra—The High, you’ll know that at the end of it, the race hadn’t started yet, but I was already on a never-before high. Moving on...

When you’re in the middle of the mountains, everything else gets dwarfed. Time, that vast canvas stretching across the past and the future, ceases to cast its shadow on you. You feel greatly reduced in proportion against the towering backdrops, and you find yourself turning inward, reflecting on life and whatever else matters. Soon, the insignificance of the self transcends to relating better to others; people become closer, and however long you may have known them, you start addressing them with their first names, wanting to know more about their life stories and finding ways where you can connect better, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

And in all this, as you make your elaborate, well-thought out plans, the mountains stand stolidly and smile at you: bring me your plans, your spirits and your strength, and show me how high you can soar.

August 15th saw the runners and their crew assemble in Shenam Hall in Leh for an orientation by Rajat. He spoke to them about the course and the distances they would run: how unpredictable the weather conditions could be, necessary precautions they needed to take while running in the mountains, the checklist of the mandatory gear; criteria for being disqualified were also made amply clear. The medic teams who would be trailing the runners along the entire distance through the 5.5 days were introduced.

As for me, I had teamed up with Abhishek and Kunal, two hyper-energetic but super-Zen people behind the camera as I interviewed the runners. Together, we were also strategizing a documentary on La Ultra – The High, with a focus on the human spirit, strength, and mettle that we were sure to see as the races began. Abhishek had been with La Ultra for a few years now and knew the ins and outs of how the days would unfold.

On 16th morning, the runners and the crew left for Nubra valley, about 160 kms from Leh where the start line for the 111, 222, 333, 555 km runners was. Norbu, our trusted driver had been driving Rajat and his crew for the past 8 years and knew exactly what needed to be done along the way.

As I got accustomed to the hair pin bends up the ascent, watching the sheer cliffs on the sides, I realized how true the locals’ belief was about the majestic mountains:

“You don’t climb these high passes, these mountains let you do it.”

And one could only surrender to the mountains, hoping that the road ahead would take one where they wanted to go. And in that surrender, a calmness pervaded.

Om Mani Padme Hum, the Buddhist chant played on the car stereo and I felt myself relax further. Conversations in the car flowed, punctuated liberally with humor and jokes from Mukul, one of the core crew members, as we drove past freshly painted mile markers for the run. Before we knew it, we had reached Nubra Valley. I had hoped to see a clear star-studded sky in the night, but what welcomed us were ominous looking clouds and a slight drizzle.

Rajat called for a meeting of the core crew team, and I, for the first time, got a sense of the scale at which preparations were done for the event. Folders were distributed, minute-by-minute movement after the start of the race was discussed with each core crew member, and responsibilities were assigned.

Everyone was on board immediately, and I realized why there was such a strong sense of commitment among the crew to Rajat. His passion and invested energy towards La Ultra, his “third child” as he has often called it, was infectious. I was only just getting to know the crew and but even these initial observations gave me clear indications of what more would gradually unfold. It was also what it meant to them at a personal level, and what it revealed about them.

The morning of the 17th saw us milling with the runners in their camps as they went through the mandatory health check-ups before they stood at the start line that evening. Energy levels were high, with just a hint of nervousness here and there as a slight drizzle started to come down as the day progressed. Overcast skies, rain, and a 6 PM start seemed daunting to a few participants, not knowing what to expect at the mountain passes.

Mentally, I had told myself that I wanted to get out of my comfort zone. I wanted to be in the middle of the action even though that meant being on the road through the next 5.5 days, with no idea when and where we would get to rest and most importantly tend to nature’s calls. No, really, this was a serious concern, especially for me as a woman 😉. And boy, did I have to get out of that comfort zone!

Abhishek having been associated with La Ultra for a few years, I asked him how tough it would get, especially since I would be tagging with him and Rajat to observe the runners on the course. In response, he made me “sign” a disclaimer on video about not getting angry or slapping him if he woke me up in the middle of the night or wee hours of the morning while we drove through the mountains in Ladakh. The fun quotient was only getting higher.

The start line for the 111, 222, 333, 555 kms runners at La Ultra - The High

The locals of Nubra valley greeted us at the start line with tea and biscuits, dressed in their finery to pray to the Gods and to wish us all well. As the countdown to the start drew nearer, the clouds turned darker, and the rains grew heavier. Nevertheless, at 6PM the runners were on their way.

Who would have thought that the next 40 kms of the course would see rain pour down on the 35 runners? It was soon cold, wet, and dark. The stillness of the daunting mountains and the silences of the valley made me wonder what effect it was having on the runners.

The night promised to be intense and I chose to be in the car with Rajat and his team to see how he managed emergencies, the runners on the course, and took important decisions along the way. We were trailing the last runner on the course, pausing on the way to cheer them, or just check in on them as they maneuvered the course.

Mountains aren’t to be trifled with. Knowing the extreme weather conditions and what high altitudes do to the body in terms of Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS), High Altitude Pulmonary Edema (HAPE), and High Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE), there was a fully equipped Army ambulance, and two medic cars trailing the runners.

At about 1 AM when we reached Khardung village (40.7 km mark), there was one runner in the ambulance, and three more who either opted out or were pulled off the course because they were unable to push forward due to AMS and/or hypothermia. The walkie talkie buzzed between Captain (Dr.) Shashi, Dr. Tvisha, and Rajat, as split-second decisions needed to be made to evacuate the runners to a lower altitude and under medical care. They were on their way to Leh soon.

It was not just the runners that were beginning to intrigue me but the behind the scenes action by Rajat and the crew and how such incidents were being managed with such equanimity and promptness in the dark hours of the night, and wee hours of the morning.

As we proceeded towards North Pullu (57.2 km into the run) the rain turned to snow, posing significant challenges to the runners. What I witnessed at the cut-off point at North Pullu around 4AM seemed more like a war zone with the crew attending to the runners. Some needed help to change into a dry set of clothes because their hands were numb, others to get into a sleeping bag to bring their body temperature back to normal, or be given something warm to drink, or being told that they could not continue further because they didn’t make it there within the specified time limit. There was a calmness in the midst of chaos that always caught my attention.

Later on, Rajat shared with me as we got back on the road, that one of the runners was soaked to the bone and didn’t have a dry set of clothes to change into. So he told him to get rid of all that he was wearing, get into the sleeping bag to stay warm, and later when a dry set of clothes was needed, Rajat dug into his own bag, and gave him his…underwear.

“You did what?” I asked, in disbelief.
”Yeah, you heard right,” said Rajat nonchalantly. And with what I had seen happen all night and morning, onwards we marched, on to the next thing that needed attention.

Did I tell you about the dog that started running with Jasmine who attempted the 222 km race? She joined the race at the 12 km mark and started running with Jasmine at the 21.6 km junction at Wari-La fork. They continued to run together for the next 50 kms till Rajat had to tell Jasmine that she would be unable to make it to the next cut-off point at Khardung-La because her pace was slow. Jasmine was drenched and cold, and respected Rajat’s decision as she hopped into the car with us. The dog meanwhile tagged along with another runner, through rain and snow and up the mountain.

I had interviewed Lukasz from Poland who was participating in the 555 kms category and had learnt that he had quit his job to train for La Ultra. This was his moment, he had said. He looked confident, nimble on his feet, and determined to finish. When Lukasz reached Khardung-La (72.8 kms) he had missed the cut off time (8 AM) by a few minutes, was hypothermic and could barely walk fast enough. My heart broke for him as he repeatedly asked Rajat if he really couldn’t continue. He hugged Rajat, expressed his love and gratitude, and said he would come back stronger, better prepared next year.

Later, when I asked the runners who got a DNF (Did Not Finish) in the Khardung-La café what they would like to eat or drink, I saw their dejected faces reflecting on what went wrong and how the months and years of training for this event fell through the cracks. Were they playing their mistakes in their head? Feeling the loss so acutely of not crossing the finish line? Or were they figuring out ways to move forward, having learnt from what went wrong and what needed to be corrected? Only time would tell when I would hear them again a few days later.  

The runners waded their way through snow and slush and we found our cars skidding at the mountain pass with no snow chains to see us through. This snow was unseasonal, said Norbu, as we pushed our car that was stuck in the snow through existing car tyre tracks to help us move forward.

It was cold, probably -15C at Khardung-La, but the human mind was able to bypass that and be there in service to others who needed help. That large family I spoke about earlier, was growing even larger in times of adversity. I heard the story of Gregor, who gave away some of his gear to fellow runners to move on, when he was pulled off the course. “It was my pleasure. I couldn’t finish, they could,” said he. The human spirit was resplendently shining through.

(PC: La Ultra- The High Crew)

From Khardung-La to South Pullu the next cut-off point at 87 kms (11AM), the snow and the cold wreaked havoc as the runners were slowed down considerably, and some had multiple slips and falls throughout the course. This night tested their nerves, their physical and mental strength and those who made it to the cut-off at South Pullu were met with their cheering crew, their own personal crew cars, some warm food, and hopefully some rest.

The sun was finally out as the participants of the 111 kms category further went ahead to Shanti Stupa, the finish line of their race in Leh. Only 10 out of the 19 runners made it in the cut-off time of 20 hours for this category, amidst cheers from the La Ultra team and onlookers. The 222, 333, 555 runners had an additional 4 hours to make it to the cut off point at Shanti Stupa before they proceeded onwards.

As for us, we were exhausted with having not slept for close to 36 hours, but were glad that the runners who were still on the course were safe, moving forward with conviction, pushing their limits, and giving their all.

24 hours done, 108 hours more to go. What was in store for us?

What would happen to the 222, 333, 555 km runners (and the dog)? If the mountains allow them to pass, will they soar?

More on this in Part 3.