(Part 1 of 4 of the story of my tryst with destiny in running my first ultramarathon, in the mountains of Ladakh)

Why?

Why on earth would you want to do an ultramarathon in the first place?

And why would you want to do your first ultramarathon, that too a distance of 55 kilometres, in the difficult terrain, unpredictable weather, and the rarefied air of Ladakh? After all, wouldn’t you want your first one to be easier and faster?

But.

There’s always a but, isn’t there? In this case, for a change, it’s a good but.

But there is always a solid reason for an ultramarathoner to take on this challenge.

This is something I learnt from a participant in the 333 kms category ultramarathon in the 2019 edition of La Ultra The High, held in one of the most inhospitable environments on earth, in the high, cold mountainous desert of Ladakh.

“Most runners may not admit it, but they are carrying some pain within their hearts, something which eases as they take these arduous tasks up, having gone through grueling circumstances and coming out changed, stronger, more determined, less broken, more whole, more at peace.” And of course the other participants spoke about running ultras being all about pushing their limits, discovering their true potential, feeling a strong kinship with running as a companion who accepts them whole heartedly, never judges, and who is always there.

I heard them out, but only realized the true meaning of it when I went through the same experience this past Sunday. Or maybe I had been going through this experience since 2019 and only realized it now.

Mom was diagnosed with a chronic respiratory disease in March of 2018, which was rapidly deteriorating, much to the dismay of the medical fraternity that we consulted. Her need for and dependence on oxygen from an external source rose with each passing day, and soon we became helpless caregivers in the face of an illness that had no cure.

Yet, Mom’s spirit soared, she remained strong for each one of us, continued to go for weekly lunch dates with me, and stared at the grim eyes of her own mortality daily. She took the transition to a wheelchair in her stride, as every step on her own meant her lungs would scream for more oxygen and she would be exhausted yet again, gasping for the very air that we all take so much for granted.

The inevitable soon happened in December that year when Mom couldn’t breathe on the maximum oxygen supply at home and had to be hospitalized. One of the last pictures I have with Mom is from December 24, 2018, on a hospital bed, hooked to IVs, central lines and oxygen. Her breathing became more labored, and I held her and hugged her as she said “Baba, I am tired.” I am so grateful for my sister who captured that candid moment, unbeknownst to me. Mom went into crisis that night and passed away two days later.

My world shook and crumbled beneath my very own feet; I was lost, desolate, angry, and for the first time I felt rudderless, flailing around helplessly in what seemed like a vast, never ending ocean. There was a huge, gaping void in my heart, jeering me on, never to be filled. I had lost myself completely.

The past almost three years in Mom’s absence have been laden with responsibilities. The ones amongst us who take Moms for granted, here’s a word of caution. We have no idea what their lives are like till we really put ourselves in their shoes, often only after they are gone. They mask their heart ache, they care unconditionally for their families often putting them first. They are there 24/7 for us, without a complaint or a whine. And their love is like a never ending cornucopia, shielding us from all the pains and sorrows that ever threaten our horizon.

For a fortunate few of us, Moms are priceless, precious, and very loved, and I am so glad I got to experience Mom’s presence and never ending care till her very end. And vice versa.

Perhaps the only thing she never taught me was how to go on when she wouldn’t be around. I guess she didn’t know that time was running out for her as well.

I had to find my own way, often stumbling, scraping my knees, crying alone, gearing myself up, and then learning to live with that pain, knowing that the Mom-sized hole in my heart was here to stay. I stopped looking for a salve, stopped asking when the grief would end, and learnt to find my purpose in life again.

In 2019, La Ultra-The High happened, where I crewed for the very first time. Ultramarathoners from around the world were running distances of 55, 111, 222, 333, 555 kms in the mountains of Ladakh and I got to interview and observe them. And the why question presented itself then.

Why? Why were they subjecting themselves to this run that was touted as “not for the faint hearted?” I got a smattering, a whiff, as I spoke to and heard the runners. But did I really grasp what they were saying? Not till I decided to put myself in their shoes two years later, in 2021.

There is always a “Why” on running an ultramarathon. People may not know it when they embark on this journey, but the experience brings it to the fore, like a diamond that emerges from the coal, having undergone and been polished by hardships, but emerging as the toughest, most precious gem in the world.

“Just you wait,” the distances, the aching muscles, the heart and the lungs whisper, “until you find out what you are made of.”

I decided I would do my bucket list run, La Ultra The High, in Mom’s memory, whenever I was ready. It seemed like a lofty goal way back in 2019, considering the level of training (at least in my mind) that was needed, and I was trying to wrap my head around it. “In Mom’s memory…” Was it to feel her presence in the expanse of nature that she loved? To dedicate every breath to her at that altitude, knowing that it wouldn’t come easy? To hear her tell me that I was the daughter of a strong woman and that I could find my way again while subjecting myself to this feat? I would soon know.

The 33 kms Garhwal Run in March 2020 was a qualifier for the 55 kms at La Ultra, and I set my mind to it. I struggled because of an injury but managed to make it across the finish line with a few minutes to spare thanks to a few special people, like Sailee who paced me in the last 3 kms and encouraged me through the pain and discomfort I felt. I was inching closer, steadily to my dream, but because of the injury, I had to undergo rehabilitation to be able to run again, and was reduced to taking baby steps for two months. If you’ve ever had to experience “taking 5 steps forward, 2 steps back” this was how it felt to me. Yet, to reach a goal you have set, you take everything in your stride.

Like Covid. As a patient who got infected with it, and a mental health professional who was taking care of the onslaught of the pandemic on the lives of several people, there was chaos and busy-ness all around. My training took a back seat, no organized runs happened in 2020, and La Ultra was soon inching away from my horizon, and looking like an indistinct possibility in 2020 at least.

In November that year, I decided to start training with renewed vigor, hoping La Ultra would happen in 2021. The pandemic had taught me quite a few lessons: rolling with the punches, embracing the uncertainty and unpredictability and still taking charge of my life, taking time out for myself to finally pursue my dreams. But most of all, tapping into my endurance potential, both physically and mentally had me all charged up.

I have been blessed to have the support of friends who take it on themselves to make sure my dreams come true; that I was prepared to take on the arduous task of an ultramarathon, that my training was holistic in every way, be it the number of hours I put in, the mileage I clocked per week,  the strength training I needed, tempo and interval runs, nutrition, stress management, getting good quality sleep, and most of all dealing with the out-of-the-blue challenges on the course with a sense of control and equanimity. Chetan has been several friends rolled into one who committed to making my 55k run a dream come true with his training plan all set in place for me. I could see it happening as I saw the transformation within and outside me as I trained with commitment, dedication, and persistence, through the winters, summers, monsoons, and in-betweens of Delhi.

Only for La Ultra to be canceled in 2021 yet again as the deadly second wave of Covid hit.

The second wave took with it a few very close friends and loved ones of people close to me, leaving me numb and in shock.

Vaidy’s loss was one of them. He was one of my biggest supporters and cheerleaders, a wheelchair marathoner himself, and a visionary when it came to the rehabilitation of people with spinal cord injury. The reasons for running this ultramarathon were slowly growing exponentially, and Vaidy’s words of “Always look ahead” (Aaghavendiyatha Paaru)” guided me to take a decision.

To do my own solo run on the official course, because I was double vaccinated, and most importantly, because I realized life shouldn’t be made to wait, fears can’t rule us forever, and dreams need to be lived in full glory, even though there never may be that auspicious, opportune moment. I had waited long enough.

The date was set for September 19th to attempt the 55 kms in Ladakh. The spring in my step increased with each day’s run, where life revolved around the training plan, and I had only one goal in sight: My first ultramarathon.

The focus it brought with it was incredible, even if I say so myself. Everything from nutrition, to managing stress, to mobilizing and strength training, to meditations and visualizations, to setting process goals, learning from setbacks & failures were all here to teach me something valuable. I finally had a purpose to wake up energized each morning, life wasn’t running on auto-pilot anymore. The adrenaline coursing through the veins brought joy, strength, and a vision to make this dream a reality.

And the day was finally here to leave for Ladakh: 5th September 2021, with enough days to hopefully help me acclimatize for the ultra-marathon on the 19th. Yet, one can never be sure and confident what the mountains can do to you, and so feeling humbled and in awe, I landed in Leh, and breathed the cool, crisp mountain air that I had dreamt of for two years.

You get a taste of the altitude when you lug your bags to the taxi stand, and that itself seemed to make the lungs scream. Hmm. Point noted. You have got to take it slow and easy. And to affirm that fact, when we checked into the guest house, the owner advised us to stay in our rooms for two days, and hydrate well. Our rooms were on the 2nd floor, with 32 steps to climb.😊 So after about 8 steps, I needed to pause because I was winded. This should reeaallyyy be fun.

My room overlooked the vibrant fruit, vegetable and flowers garden, which as I observed over the next couple of days was tended to by the entire family who owned the hotel and resided in the same complex. The mountains surrounded us on all sides, and the clear blue sky took on the cloak of lifting the most sagging spirits, and there was silence. Nature has a way of calming the most frayed nerves I realized.

The connect with the mountains was only beginning to get deeper, as I gazed at them over the next few days. In their steadfast silence and dominating stature, there were life lessons that were unfolding, and I was ready to become a student yet again.

I have heard Buddhists say that beautiful landscapes and views are considered sacred and spiritually important, because they coax even the most distressed mind to come into the present moment. They bring about a sense of calmness, new perspectives, ideas, missions, insights, meanings, and whatever else we may need if we truly want to become aware.

Haven’t we often heard ourselves gaze at picturesque views and say, “How surreal!” There is a seemingly apparent reason behind it. Pristine, untouched nature reminds us that we need to step out of our fixed notions, that life is set in structure and form, in our to-do lists, our media presence, our calendars, our rush to the next destination, our visions for ourselves, our futile search for happiness and wanting to be loved. Life is so much beyond all this: It’s vivid, playful, colorful, inviting us to explore the depths of our own beings, in silence, and in introspection, and in the emerging of our true selves. Reality is so layered and multi-dimensional, and yet so uncomplicated and simple. If only we brought out our beginner’s minds to grasp its true meaning.

Those life lessons and more, how I prepped for the run, and how did the actual race day go, in my next post. 😊