It’s been more than three weeks since I’ve been back from Ladakh, after running my self-supported 100 km ultra-marathon on 6th September 2022. I have sat in front of the laptop, waiting for the words to translate into furious typing at the keyboard, but I just caught myself staring at a blank screen. Whatever words emerged seemed so frivolous, not doing justice either to the magnificent experience that I had just had, or to the beauty of the journey that I had been on.
How do you summarize a journey that has shaped you in so many ways?
A silence has descended upon me since my return because Ladakh, its breath-taking landscape, and my run had changed me in so many ways. I was still trying to put words to what that inner transformation felt like and how it had changed my life in so many wondrous ways.
Leh, Ladakh stands at 11,500 feet above sea level. Cold, desert mountains, with rarefied air, the blazing sun on clear days, and less than 50% oxygen at higher altitudes such as the mountain passes, at 17,000+ feet that I was hoping to make it to. All these make it quite a challenge to walk, let alone run in. And attempting a 100 km long run in that terrain felt like a crazy goal for me.
“Why not do this in the plains?” I was asked by concerned friends and family.
“What’s the challenge in that?” I would respond. I guess that’s what dreams are made of, and this was a dream I had started working on a few months ago.
When I ran 55 kms last year in Ladakh, I had sworn that I wouldn’t do another ultra-marathon. Ever. Again. As they say though, never trust runners when they say stuff like this.
Before I knew it, my eyes were set on a 100 km target for this year.
But, why, you may still ask.
Because I needed to feel alive, I needed to work towards something to keep me energized, to make me spring out of bed every day. I needed a direction to continue going towards a goal that I cherished.
So, let’s start from there. Dreams, and a sense of purpose. And how they fuel us into action and in a subtle way, cause a metamorphosis that takes a while to reveal itself in true form. What’s indisputable is that we are left changed forever.
I started out by asking how far do you go when you run a 100 kilometres.
This was my journey, these were some of my milestones.
1. Having a purpose in life: For most of us, life is about the job we do, the family we take care of, and a few other things beyond that. Purpose, on the other hand, fuels us, makes us set goals, brings focus and discipline that help us to attain those goals, and gives a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. For me this year, the 100 km ultra-marathon was that purpose.
2. Hope: It’s not just a feeling or an emotion, but a belief in my abilities, in setting goals, and finding pathways to achieve those goals. I had never run anything close to this distance even in the plains, but I wanted to train for it. I was told in no uncertain terms that I was under prepared, but that didn’t stop me from forging ahead. I guess it really challenged the Dilliwali in me. All you have to do to get me to do something is to tell me I can’t do it. After all, what’s the fun in dreaming something if it doesn’t feel challenging enough or isn’t fraught with obstacles?
The resolve to train for it became all the more strong because I definitely wanted to attempt and complete a 100k.
“How about we settle for 75 kms,” I was asked.
“How about we target 100 kms and see how I do,” I replied.
I was waiting to see what would unfold but in the meantime, the purpose and hope influencers came in the form of the All In Running team: Chetan, my dearest friend and running coach; Nakul, the creator of All in Running and a seasoned running coach himself; Tarika, the amazing nutritionist and wellness coach who changed my relationship with food and effected a huge shift in my body image, and made me a stronger, well fueled runner; Shiv, my strength training coach who worked on building overall strength in the body to make me a more powerful runner, and their trusted physiotherapist often called as the “Messiah for runners, the one with the magic wand,” Dr. Chandan Chawla of Ability Physiotherapy who crafted the most brilliant mobility routines for me which finally helped me to run pain-free. The holistic training program came together beautifully, and gave me a structure and a rhythm to follow every day. And I could tell the difference in my performance as the weeks rolled by. I was running stronger, faster, more efficiently, and longer.
3. Discipline: I would wake up at 4 AM in the summers to start running by 5AM, thanks to the Delhi’s sweltering heat. While I complained a LOT about the heat and humidity in the monsoons, I knew there was no option but to head out the door, on every single training day. In the dark, cold winter months, while the neighbourhood was snoozing in bed, I would be out the door again. And repeat that over the rainy season as well. The morning walkers would comment on how they have seen me every season, come rain, sun or cold. The discipline would trickle down to other aspects of my life too: Work, eating meals, and getting to bed on time.
4. Working through obstacles: Stress, hormones, life, weather would all come in the way initially. Hormonal changes in me were bringing about hot flashes which made running in the heat and humidity even more difficult. Not to mention the insomnia and the mood changes. Being a psychologist, I could see it from a distance and that helped me kick in solution-focused strategies. Yes, I would moan and complain about how hot it is, how humid it is, how my body temperature was rising so rapidly due to the heat, how I would lose patience, how frustrated I would become. But none of these stopped me from stepping out for a run. Ever. And so I mastered the art of persistence, stubbornness and resilience as I worked through the roadblocks that often came my way.
5. Put your best foot forward: The only mantra I had was that I would give my best at every training run. And I realized that when you are motivated, when you engage in encouraging, optimistic (but realistic) self-talk the best foot automatically strikes forward. And then the momentum just builds and before you know it, you have won the day.
6. Mindfulness: Running, especially in nature, makes you engage your senses in every way, if done right. My mind would quieten down every time I would run. Nature has a way of soothing the most frazzled nerves, and hence running outdoors is my preferred stress buster. I would pay attention to the cadence of my feet; listening to the birds chirping, or the everyday sounds of a bustling city or a quiet forest trail; eyes fixed right ahead, taking in the beauty of the surroundings, catching the rising sun, and sometimes even seeing the moon in the wee hours of dawn; pausing to pet the friendly neighborhood dog, Chameli; taking in the early morning smells of incense in peoples’ homes, and of course the food they cooked! Freshly made paranthas, toast, and the tadka (seasoning) in most Indian homes are my absolute favorites. See, I pay close attention 😊
7. Endurance: Initially even 5 kms would seem like a lot. But as the mileage increased, the ability to endure the long distances increased. You learn to push through fatigue and distress, you learn patience, forbearance, and the commitment to reach your destination while enjoying the journey and the process too. When you are pounding the road for hours on end, the state of flow is so blissful. You hit the wall, you get a second wind, and you continue despite of, inspite of…
8. Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional: This has been one of my favorite quotes for a while now. My threshold to bear pain and distress increased significantly during my training. What would seem to be easy triggers to derail me initially stopped triggering me over time. I could tolerate more distress, the stressors got muted, and I could feel a certain strength and fortitude within that I never knew existed. The immunity to physical or psychological pain was building up slowly and steadily, and the bringing forth of the diamond from a piece of coal is something I could relate to. Bring on the pressure and the stress, I will take it on with a smile.
The time had come to finally be in Ladakh for the 100k ultra. I was nervous. The goal was daunting. But there were lessons waiting to unfold on the race course for me. More on that in a bit…
I could barely eat the breakfast on the morning of the race day. I couldn’t put a finger on it. Was it race day nerves? Excitement? A tinge of self-doubt which I know every runner goes through when they have set a large goal ahead of them? I couldn’t tell. I was a bundle of energy, good and everything else all morphed into one, I concluded. I caught myself just staring into space as I ran my finger along the rim of the steaming hot cup of lemon ginger honey tea I was sipping on.
“Jeet ke aana, ma’am!” (“Win the race and return triumphant, ma’am!”) is what Sonam, the ever smiling, omnipresent server at the hotel’s restaurant said, at least four times that morning. 😊
I told him that I would remember his words when my body and spirits would be flailing along the course for the next 24 hours.
Tunnu ley, the very trusted driver of the car that would be crewing for me was waiting outside as we made our way to it. Twenty four litres of water, food, gels & electrolytes, first aid kit, oxygen tank, warm clothes, change of clothes, extra pair of shoes, and everything else I could think of for the next 24 hours keeping in mind the very variable weather of Ladakh was packed in the car. We set off for the start line in a village called Chuchot Yakma, and all I could think of were the many reasons I was doing this run, reaffirming my faith in myself.
And as I started running, it was the most spiritually humbling experience I can think of, when you feel so dwarfed by the mountains and the expansive sky around you, that any hint of ego or self-importance fades away. The lessons started pouring in yet again.
9. The big “Why” of running: Why was I subjecting myself to the long distance under such harsh conditions? The reasons were several. I wanted to see how much I could push myself, how much I could achieve of the latent potential that was undiscovered till now; had I become stronger as a person, both physically and mentally? Was I capable of achieving more than I had ever dreamt of earlier? And then of course there were external but very important reasons: Running for my mom who struggled with a lung condition that took her away from us close to 4 years ago; every breath was in her name. For my friends and former patients with spinal cord injuries who were left paralyzed and would never be able to walk again. For Buddy, my dog who was so calmly waiting to recover from a foot he fractured 6 weeks ago. And for my god daughter, who was born the day after I landed in Leh. I needed to finish this run to bring solace to my heart since I missed witnessing her birth and being with her. And of course for Sonam, who looked at me with so much earnestness and sincerity that I would have not liked to disappoint him.
10. We are tiny specks in this mighty cosmos: I was once again awestruck by the sheer magnitude and magnificence of the mountains. They were fierce, yet gentle, daunting yet encouraging, and demanded such respect that you are left with no choice but to bow your head in front of them. They are not entities to be conquered but are bestowers of a deep wisdom that you have to be open to receive. Running 100 kms across the length, breadth, and height of these mountains helped let go of so much of the mental trappings we accumulate that you end up feeling lighter and less complicated than when you started out to be. There is a humility which seeps in which leaves nothing but immense gratitude in your heart.
11. Know thyself: There is no competition along the way, there is no beating your personal best and obsessing with the tracker on your wrist. There are no cheerleaders rooting for you. You are with yourself, dealing with your own demons inside the head, dealing with pain and fatigue, and tired legs. And you deal with them on your own, and you get to know yourself so much better. Of what all you are capable of, and where one is still work in progress. The observations about the self have never come in such greater frequency than in a situation like this.
12. The silence within: And then the thoughts start falling on the wayside, and you realize the beauty of the silence that descends within. When you run in the night, it’s quiet and dark, the moon is resplendent in all its glory, a sheet of stars is shining overhead, and you see the faint outline of the mountains next to you. A natural peace and tranquility find their way into your being. And you realize the futility of the mind, and how easy it is to turn inward to experience a state of bliss.
The climb up to Tanglangla Pass
13. Resilience: At the 71st km I had a dizzy spell and fell. I was at an altitude of about 16,000 feet, the exhaustion was beginning to kick in, and the remaining distance was a steady climb up to the mountain pass. I thought it was the end of the run for me because I was clear that I would not put my health to any extreme risk. I asked to pause the run (even though the clock kept ticking) to eat and rest for a few minutes rather than panic and stop right there. I needed to assess myself if I could go on, without giving into emotions. And move forward I did. I was off again to complete the run without any more hiccups. This resilience, the ability to fall, get up, and move on is something that will serve us well our entire lives.
14. Cognitive flexibility: You need to shift gears, or course correct when the situation demands it. We need to roll with the punches to experience life without getting bogged down. And so when the weather demanded that we change the course at the 84th km due to zero visibility caused by a snow blizzard, rather than feeling defeated or calling it a DNF (Did Not Finish), we chose to change the path to reach the target distance. The challenge was still there for the tired legs but that added to the fun. I am so glad we completed the 100 kms, because the view of the mountains was just even more spectacular towards the end of the run on the changed course.
Tunnu ley, Me, and Chetan at the start line.
15. Gratitude: On reaching the 100 km mark on a solo run, you are not distracted by cheering people or high fives because, well, there is no one around you. In that moment, it is just you expressing gratitude to the core crew for being with you across the distance, through the day and night. They were attentive to what I needed, when. Chetan would cut fruit for me at meals, walk next to me in the night rather than a tad bit ahead to see what lay ahead, made sure I was fueled well, and was in good spirits with his encouraging words. They both made an amazing cup of black coffee on a camping stove at 11 PM at night. Tunnu ley would drive right behind me at night, at a painstakingly slow pace to ensure that there were no dogs waiting to pounce on me along the way, and also on the climb to the mountain pass, because the breathing was becoming labored.
I can’t thank Chetan and Tunnu ley enough because I wouldn’t have been able to do this without their support… And then there is gratitude to the mountains for letting you pass, to the body that helped you accomplish this dream that you had dared to dream. There are tears of joy and there is a thumping heart that makes you feel more alive than ever. Mission Accomplished.
“Sonam, mein jeet ke aa gayi” (“I’m back and I won, Sonam!”) is what I announced at dinner when I met Sonam. His smile was beaming as he made sure I ate well.
I had finished the 100k run. But this was not the journey’s end.
I caught myself staring into space again, reflecting on the 24 hours that had gone by. I was back in that now familiar blissful state of flow, savoring every moment, in the here and now. I was tougher yet vulnerable, more restful and centered, more tolerant and accepting, and thriving in the ability to let go of what was coming in the way of my joy and happiness. I was less sensitive to slights, external stressors, irritants, and more confident of my ability to deal with whatever life throws my way.
One of my favorite memories from the run was to turn the head torch off in the pitch dark night and see the moon and the stars above. I always, always look for the North Star, because in my own sentimental way I feel Mom’s guidance as a symbolic representation of it. It has taken on so many meanings for me since then: of purpose, guidance, hope, a sense of constancy.
I called this 100 km my North Star run, where I was guided by my True North to find my calling and my purpose, for it had the steadfastness to steer me in the direction that led me to a path of making me realize my true potential. And it only seems apt to quote from a blog about this that I wrote earlier:
O Dhruva (North Star)
How will I discover wondrous things if I don’t wander?
But also, I wonder, how will I know I won’t get lost if I do wander?
How will I know what lies beyond the horizon,
If I never leave the shore?
But how will I know I’ll find my way back to the shore,
If I am unmoored?
How will I know who I am,
If I don’t find out who I am not?
What will it take for me to part the sea of confusion,
And find the land of clarity?
Is it you that is my North Star,
Or is it me?
Will I shape my experiences and emotions,
Or will they shape me?
Do my relationships dictate how I am,
wholesome or a jumbled jigsaw puzzle?
Or do I make relationships what they can be?
Will I have the courage to take on the world,
And not be weighed down by expectations, of my own or of others?
Will I able to gaze upon the limitless sky
And find that unblinking, brilliant fixed point to guide me?
What will it take for me to lose that which holds me back?
And what will it take for me to find myself?
I look at you, Dhruva,
And I realize, all I need to do is look at myself,
To look within.
For, it is not just the questions that reside inside me.
The answers all spring from within too.
Because the darkness-dispelling light is within me.
The answers have never been clearer, and the light has never shone brighter. I am blessed and humbled. But most of all, I am.