Ah, the Ladakh Marathon, the event that turns sane folks into oxygen-deprived, sweat-wicking fabric-wearing maniacs! Yours truly ran the half marathon – 21 km distance in 2019. The race was a great experience, but in the last 7 kms, a major uphill steep slope, my mind and body both abused me, and I questioned all about my existence and life choices. Why did I start an activity like running long distances? Why choose a bloody race to run at an altitude of 11,562 ft (3524 m)? Why couldn’t I be the happy one watching Netflix and chilling at home? Why do I travel so much? Do I need to do this self-torture? Is there no other way to keep fitness intact – Yoga please? Why me, God? Why?
Thankfully, I persisted on the slope, thinking that at least I chose only a half marathon. Well, as if the full marathon in Leh was my cup of tea ever! It may be in a parallel universe, and there, too, I can’t fathom signing up for races like the 72 km Khardung La Challenge or the 122 km Silk Route Ultra. I salute those who embark on it, but not me cause the struggle for the half was also so real here for me.
Now entering its 10th edition in 2023, Ladakh Marathon holds a very special place in my heart, just like all runners I know of. I participated in the race twice, once as a rookie runner – doing the fun run and then conquering the half marathon distance with more confidence.
From Mumbai to Ladakh: A Novice Runner’s Leap of Faith
Back in 2017, I was just a novice in the world of recreational marathon runners – a group of people who pay to put themselves through marathon-induced agony. I was happily covering 10 km distance races on the plane lands of Mumbai when I heard mesmerising tales of the faraway Himalayan Land of Ladakh from my brother, who had gone on an adventurous solo trip there.
So, armed with running shoes and a questionable sense of adventure, I decided to book a 10-day lavish solo trip to the land of Llamas in the first week of September. Now, being still quite a novice runner then with only few months of training & some 10 km races, I was advised against choosing my first half-marathon distance to be in the land where altitude sickness is a force to be reckoned with. It doesn’t care whether you are young or old, fit as fiddle or wobbly as a jelly bean, AMS (acute mountain sickness) is for real folks! And so the rookie runner me chose the fun run of 7 km and travel route from Kashmir to Leh, which would slowly acclimatize my city-smoked lungs for greater heights.
Himalayan Odyssey: Exploring the Land of Llamas
The perk of the route was my first visit to the paradise on earth – Kashmir – exploring Srinagar, marveling at the green valleys of Sonmarg, paying tribute to the Kargil war heroes and finally arriving in Leh, where I chilled like a cucumber for a day, taking in the local sights and collecting my marathon swag – a t-shirt and the bib, a prize worthy of a reality show.
Then, for the next four days, I went on the ultimate road trip in my extravagant rented large Innova drive, garnering much attention from locals as being the ‘chic-chic’ traveler (single traveler in local lingo). I covered the deserts of Nubra Valley, crossed the highest motor pass, Khardung La Pass, 17,582 ft (5,359 m) where I felt a bit wobbly for a few moments with lack of oxygen, and doubted multiple times about my running capacity in the Ladakh marathon.
My itinerary had two days stay at the Pangong Lake as a final stop, but then, with the unpredictable weather of Ladakh, I got stuck in Nubra. But what’s an adventure without some unexpected trip twists? I met some Mumbai bikers who not so willingly took me on a pillion ride to the last village of India – Turtuk, peaking my interest in biking adventures.
After an awe-inspiring view of the picturesque Pangong Lake, trying on some cycling there and later freezing to the core at night, I eventually returned to Leh. The last two days in Leh were spent mingling with other runners, who were all boasting about their longer distances, as I felt like a newcomer junior at a veterans’ party. I vowed to choose a two-digit distance for next time.
Battling the Uphill: Fun Run or Fun Struggle
On the race day I put on my Ladakh Marathon T-shirt with most pride and enthusiasm as I did my “fun run,” or what felt like a “fun struggle” for the last 4 kms of uphill battle. It was like the universe was playing a prank on me, stealing my breath with every step. But hey, if I can conquer Ladakh, I can conquer the universe! And that’s how I ended up planning my 21-km adventure in 2019, because why not challenge the heavens and see if they’re up for a rematch?
2019 Superhero: Budget Stays & International Bus Buddies
Ah, 2019 was the year I felt like the superhero of fitness! I mean, I had run my first full marathon, trekked the Kailash Mansarovar, reaching a height of more than 19,000 ft(5791 m), and so then, “What’s next? Oh, Ladakh, here I come!” After all, I had fallen in love with that place like it was a celebrity crush.
But this time, it was not a lavish tour; I wanted to embrace the real low-cost solo adventure. Hostels were to be my home, and public transport was the chosen ride. So after a thrilling Spiti-Kaza trip (about which I will write later), I stacked myself in Manali for two days, where I practiced my final 14 km tryst uphill and booked a seat on an HP Tourism bus for Leh.
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The ride on the bus resembled a special UN Summit, where seven passengers from different nationalities were parked in a 40-seater van. We crossed five high-altitude passes, and this was before the Atal Tunnel made it easy for folks to find Leh without breaking a sweat.
On the way to Leh, HP Tourism has a layover in Keylong, where I decided to do a “quick” practice run with a senior French gentleman.Well, running uphill at 10,000 feet is no joke! While the Frenchman glided like a mountain goat on caffeine, I was gasping for air and inventing new moves to conquer the slopes. Confidence? Crushed. But hey, it is not the Olympics that I was participating in. So take the 21 km as a fun run – said my mind, my heart and my lungs.
Marathoners and Moonwalking: A Ladakh Half Marathon Experience
Leh was the base camp, where I stayed at a hostel buzzing with marathon runners and tourists. We shared meals, swapped stories, played crazy card games and planned wild post-race escapades. I was blown away by the young runners from Maharashtra gearing up for the full marathon. On race day, we set off from the hostel, ready to conquer the Himalayan Cold Desert.
The Ladakh half marathon, a scenic 21 km of running bliss, was like running through a postcard. Winding roads, ups and downs, and the majestic brown mountains with their snowy crowns as your audience – it felt like jogging on the moon. The first 10 km were like a breeze, but then my lungs and legs decided to stage a mutiny. I had to channel my inner superhero to avoid transforming into a professional walker. Remember, there’s an art to sipping water and energy drinks during a race, and I had mastered it like a boss.
Around the 10-km mark, speedsters started overtaking me as if I were a statue. I had given up on setting any speed records. So, I turned into a cheerleader, waving to the other runners and motivating my body to cover small distances.
The Last 7 Kilometers: Slow-Motion Ascent & Race Against the Camera
Now, the Leh marathon route has a cruel twist – the last 7 km is like a stairway of hell reaching heaven, if heaven were located at 11,564 ft. Most runners gracefully transition into power-walking mode because running uphill at that altitude is like trying to do mathematics in your head while reciting a literary piece. I, too, gave in and started a dramatic slow-motion ascent. I walked, jogged, gasped, and gave up on life as we know it.
But then, just 500 m from the finish line, I saw the race photographer. Panic set in – I couldn’t be immortalized in a photo as a walker! So, I channeled my inner Usain Bolt and sprinted towards the camera. Those few seconds felt like my heart was auditioning for a role in a horror movie. The last 500 m were a rollercoaster of emotions as I approached the finish line. Fellow runners become comrades, and you cheer each other on.
With sheer determination, I sprinted to the finish line, breaking all my personal time records. Well, I broke them in the wrong direction – I took more time than ever for a half marathon. But then, I wasn’t the last woman running; I was part of the exclusive “slow runners” club.
Post-race was a like an episode out of ‘Tarak Mehta ka Ultah Chasma’ with me becoming ‘Jethalal’ post exercise. I tried to stretch, but it felt like I had worn an iron armour, making any bends impossible. And to top it off, the uphill trek to my hostel was like a scene from a disaster movie, where a friend had to actually carry me up for the last 50 meters to dump me in my room. That day, I mostly rested and had a dinner party with my fellow co-runner buddies because, of course, I had plans for a Duathlon just two days later. Call me crazy, but I wanted to test my fitness peak at 11,564 feet, that’s being like an addict who couldn’t get enough of her dope.
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Half Marathon, Duathlon, and the Wonderland Wonderings
So, I did take part in the duathlon – but in the shortest category – 20 km of cycling and 5 km of running. To my surprise, it was mostly kids and me. The pros were busy with their 50-km or 100-km cycling. I tried to compete with the Ladakhi kids but quickly realized they were also on a different level and lungs. So, I embraced the slow pace and enjoyed the stunning views of the Himalayas.
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Then, there was also an offer to go trekking with the older French runner, who had completed the half marathon when I was still on my warm-up lap. I had to politely decline because, let’s face it, half marathon, duathlon, and trekking, what am I here to prove that I am some Wonder Woman? Well, no, I am just a humble human. Instead, I hopped on a scooter to ride through the mountain roads along with two European globe-trotting motorcyclists and explored the La Marayu monastery and Suru Valley, soaking in the serenity of nature. Overall, it was another of soul satisfying trip in Ladakh.
As for the Ladakh marathon, I haven’t mustered the courage to return post 2019, but I know I will someday. It’s the most exhilarating and confidence-boosting event I’ve ever experienced. And cherry in top is getting encouragement and appreciation in form of a nice article written about your journey by a very accomplished author of Gujarati literature Swati Merh in a Gujarati newspaper. Well that’s some fame I managed to draw while losing quite a lot of breath.
And so a disclaimer: Ladakh Marathon is not for the faint-hearted; it requires months of intense fitness routine and mental determination to cross the finish line at 11,564 ft. Having said that, sure, there’s nothing like the exhilaration of crossing the finish line and receiving the medal, akin to the feeling of conquering a terrain where even a simple walk can be as challenging as a tightrope walking over hot coals. Now if you are not a runner, you can still be part of the cheering squad and enjoy the beauty of the region. We sure need cheerleaders badly when our lungs are bursting to the brims.
Final Word – Ladakh Marathon is not just another race, but an experience that humbles you. You can have nothing but gratitude in your heart for having the able human body, mind, and blessing of nature that allows you to access this wonderland. I am certainly going to run there again, but maybe next time, I should hire a Sherpa to carry me up those slopes!
Hello from the gentleman, hope to run it alain next year
Yes let’s run next year 🙂 Thanks for reading