The Great Tibetan Marathon in Ladakh, four kilometres above sea level, is the most adventurous of all endurance runs.
They say that the long-distance endurance sport, the marathon, commemorates Pheidippides, a Greek soldier. He ran about 40 km from the battlefield of Marathon to Athens with the news that the Persian army had been vanquished. As soon as he’d delivered his news, the poor fellow collapsed and died of exhaustion.
Pheidippides wouldn’t have stood a chance if he’d tried his hand at the Great Tibetan Marathon. He’d have had to run 42.195 km, 3,800 m above sea level, in blazing sun, through steep descents and slippery pastures, deep sand and treacherous scree.
“The Great Tibetan Marathon has been rated by Forbes magazine as being one of the toughest in the world,” said Nazir Rah, whose company Mountain Adventures organised it this year for the third time.
It’s the first adventure marathon in India which, most runners complain, is otherwise a dull place for marathons. “Most of the other marathons in India are city-based,” said Rah, “this is the only one that’s located in some of the most spectacular scenery in the world.”
Set near Leh on the Tibetan plateau, the race begins at Hemis, the largest monastery of the region. Passing through precipitous valleys and rolling fields, across the Indus and back again, the marathon finally ends at the foot of Spituk monastery.
The last seven kilometres veer off the road, winding through a whitewashed Ladakhi village on the banks of the Indus. All this while, runners get tantalising glimpses of Spituk sitting atop a hill dwarfed by the mountains around.
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“I can’t climb 30 steps without hyperventilating — how on earth will the runners run 42 km?” I gasped, labouring up the precipitous ascent to Spituk. The rarefied air rendered the view breathtaking in the truest sense of the word.
“That’s why we advise runners acclimatise well before competing,” said Jiten, one of the organisers. “Even then, we have two teams of specialist European sports doctors, two ambulances ceaselessly patrolling the route, and a truckload of oxygen in case someone needs it!”
The view from atop Spituk had been well worth the climb. The endless stretch of desert was broken by bands of green on either bank of the Indus, with the occasional patch of mustard adding a dash of colour.
The sun shone hotly in a cloudless sky. Perfect, I thought, for a snooze under a tree… but for running? Those marathon runners must be masochists. Or maybe the 130-odd people who’d signed up for it didn’t really know what they were in for.
“At the end of the day, you’re pitting yourself against nature,” said Rah later that evening, “so your mental strength is as important as your fitness level.” Ashok Nath, a Bangalore runner, concurred: “Marathon running has a lot to do with your mind — there’s no way you can run 42 km on your body reserves, you have to be strong enough in your mind to want to finish the run.”
Reaching the finish line, said Matt Barrett, a British race official working with the Danish Athletic Federation, was really the only thing that mattered here: “In adventure marathons, the time you take to finish is not quite as important as the act of actually running the full course,” he told the runners.
What motivated them to run at all, I wondered. Different people had different answers. Most spoke of the sheer exhilaration of challenging their bodies so hard, the sense of achievement at the finish line.
Some, like Delhi-based Chetan Mahajan and Vandita Dubey, were participating in a marathon after a hiatus. “We’ve a 15-month-old baby, and thought training for this marathon was a good way to regain our old levels of fitness,” said Vandita. “I began running at 30,” said Trausti Valdimarsson, “to quit smoking… Now I run for the joy of it!”
The day of the marathon dawned, cloudy and cool. At the start point in Hemis, lamas blessed the runners in a beautiful benediction ceremony. The Ladakhi runners ran to get some extra blessings, while the Icelanders exuberantly posed for pictures.
The doctors cautioned everyone to keep well hydrated. “We were at the Great Wall Marathon in China, where some runners collapsed and needed IVs. Conditions here are tougher,” said Dr T Maurer.
The race was flagged off by the erstwhile king of Ladakh. As the runners made off on probably the most adventurous run of their lives, all that remained for the bystanders to do was reach the finish line and wait for them to show up. They all did. “I loved the fact that everyone was so obviously enjoying the run,” said 29-year-old Nishchal Pai.
Most of the runners who were seeing the route for the first time were bowled over by the beauty of the Ladakhi landscape. Heedless of mundane details like time, some even stopped to take pictures!
Trausti won the men’s full marathon with a time of three hours and 44 minutes: “I’ve run 50 marathons, and can safely say this one’s been the toughest, but also the most scenic,” said he afterwards. Maricruz Lopez from Mexico won the women’s race.
At the finish line in Spituk, I watched runners come in. They looked hot, tired but excited about finishing the toughest marathon in the world. This was a moment of truth for me.
The Icelanders, Americans, Aussies and Indians who ran the marathon were regular people who were game for a challenge — and they’d achieved something they’d remember for a long time. They’d risen way above their aching muscles and tired ankles — for a brief moment on the Tibetan plateau that day, they’d tasted eternity.