The Ladakh Marathon, or The Greatest Run in the Universe (Part 1)

Okay. Just to be clear, I didn't run the Ladakh Marathon. I ran the Ladakh Half-Marathon. The latter doesn't sound as dramatic so I didn't use it in the title. I wanted to make the distinction clear because one of my greatest pet peeves is the general lack of understanding among fledgling runners about what actually constitutes a marathon. Case in point: a former professional colleague once completed a 5k and went around saying that he was a marathon runner. Dummkopf.

I'd wanted to visit Ladakh for a while, but didn't like the idea of going all the way there just to sit in a cab and be driven around the usual string of sights. Nor did I particularly relish the thought of doing a motorcycle trip or a bike ride from Manali to Leh as is common with so many tourists. So when I turned up at the Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon Expo in January 2017, I was more than a little excited to see a booth run by Rimo Expeditions advertising their Ladakh event. I broke the habit of a lifetime and actually picked up a flyer, promising myself that I'd do the run if my schedule permitted it.

It turned out that my schedule, ably supported by the multitudinous professors who rejected my hard-written PhD applications, did indeed permit my participation. And so, in July 2017, I screwed my courage to the sticking place and registered for the half-marathon (I didn't qualify for the full because I didn't already have a full marathon timing under my belt).

I invested in a running coach. My experience at the SCMM wasn't bad, but I did have one too many uncomfortable experiences along the way with nagging injuries and inconsistent running. With most of the Ladakh run happening above 11,000 feet and on inclined ground, I didn't want to take any chances.

And so, at the end of August, I found myself cursing the poor quality of the passenger's waiting area at Delhi Airport while en route to Leh. I reached Leh after managing a window seat on my Vistara flight and being (only slightly) disappointed by the view: the Zagros mountains as seen from an aircraft window beat the tar out of what you see flying over Ladakh. Hard to believe, perhaps, but true.

Touchdown Leh, and the air was oh-so-thin!

I'd heard about altitude sickness from two broad categories of people. The first were Ladakh 'veterans' who'd been there dozens of times, taking the same old pictures of Pangong and the horribly annoying selfies at Khardung La. These people could very easily have OD'd on Diamox, given the quantities they'd recommended I pop. I (not so) guiltily wish they had. The second were Ladakh 'veterans' who'd been there dozens of times, taking the same old pictures of Pangong and the horribly annoying selfies at Khardung La. These people never took Diamox and were not terribly averse to highlighting (usually in loud voices) their lack of need of bottled Oxygen at Khardung La or wherever else. They also seemed to be immune to altitude sickness, at least as far as their unverified stories went.

My taxi driver told me to sleep it off all day and drink a lot of water. I slept all afternoon and thought I'd have dinner in the hostel mess that night. Alas, the call of momos was too loud and I ended up walking 2 kilometers into Leh to satiate my rumbling tummy. Big mistake. I got lost on the way back and barely made it to the hostel before my head felt like Bertie Wooster's on the morning after the Boat Race. Altitude sickness is real, kids (I didn't take any Diamox, but spent the next day relaxing in the hostel and reading Ice Station Zebra).

No, this wasn't on the same day.

Okay. Ladakh is so beautiful. I got Leh'd, yaaaaaaaar. Nada nada. Whatever.

I tested the waters by running up to the Shanti Stupa. There aren't a lot of hills where I stay in Bangalore, but I'm generally comfortable running on inclines whenever I've had to. This time, I wasn't comfortable. At all.

I ended up using 'practice' and 'acclimatization' as excuses to take a bunch of photographs instead of running any further.

With Hrushikesh Palande, volunteer with the Ladakh Ecological Development Group (LEDeG), and the peaks of Hemis National Park in the background.

I gasped. And gasped. I gulped down air like a drowning man. Nothing worked. I had to stop several times in between, completing what couldn't have been more than a kilometer and a half in about 15 minutes. Is this what the half-marathon would be like? Curses.

My next run was a little more ambitious, and more than a little foolhardy. I decided to run up the road to Khardung La. Just so we're clear, I didn't run all the way to Khardung La. I just ran on the road that leads there for about 6 km or so.

With views like these, could you really blame me for wanting to run?

Having left my cell phone (primitive Apple technology) in the hostel, I don't really know how far I ran. Unlike my previous attempt at the Shanti Stupa, this run was mildly easier. I still gasped and gulped, but with a little effort I managed to get pretty far out.