On the 26th May I said an emotional goodbye to my husband and kids and set off on a journey to the start line of my first ever Marathon, in the Nepalese Himalayas. It took 2 Airbuses, 1 propeller plane, and a hairpin turn Jeep journey up to Ghandruk, the small village from where I started the 5-day trek up to Annapurna Base Camp, and also where I said another emotional goodbye, this time to the prospect of a hot shower for a few days!
I carried my 13kg pack all the way up to altitude, my logic being that it would make the run back down feel a little breezier. I was also slowly working my way through a stash of chocolate and flapjack bars, lightening the load as I went.
The views I saw on the way up never got old. It was awe-inspiring traversing ancient trekking tracks and I soaked it all in. It was physically tiring; there was a lot of climbing, which I had anticipated being hard work, but it was actually the downhills that really affected my knees and quads. I felt shaky finding my footing with all the weight on my back, over and over.
I took mental note of the terrain and had a niggle of concern that this would be very hard to run on but overall, hiking was satisfyingly enjoyable, as the pace was manageable and I had done 8 weeks of altitude training to help me cope with the thinning air the higher I got. I was very lucky to not get ill, at any stage of the journey.
I felt homesick and lonely at times. Ironically, I felt loneliest when I was with the group I had arrived with, who tended to very quickly veer towards their native Nepali in conversation. I felt happiest when I roamed alone and when I made fleeting connections with other people on the trek up to Annapurna Base Camp, which promises wrap-around vistas of the Annapurna Mountain range as it’s reward.
I reached Annapurna Base Camp alone on Day 5, just in time for the last bit of blue sky I’d see until the morning of race day, which would fall on Day 7 of the trek. The mountains literally made me gasp out loud, it was such an incredible feeling to have made it, and to be in their presence.
The next two days were probably the toughest of the whole trip…
A fog had chased me up the mountain path and although I beat it to base camp, it had now crept in and settled, making for very cold and damp conditions, dipping below zero at night. There wasn’t a lot to do at base camp with the mountains hidden, so I did a fair bit of marching back down and up to base camp to keep warm and active.
At this stage, I thankfully made a connection with another Brit who was running the marathon, and he joined me on one of my mountain marches down to the tiny village below base camp, a 2-hour round trip to drink a hot cup of Masala Chai! Very British!
Race day evening, by this point I hadn’t washed for 5 days, and it was so cold at night I was sleeping in all my remaining dry clothes. I was tired, smelly, tetchy, hungry for a cheese and pickle sandwich, and still really quite homesick. I just wanted to start running back to civilisation – I kept telling myself every step I would take the morning of the marathon would be a step closer to home.
Race day morning came, and miraculously, the skies cleared too. Up at 5am, I spent what must have been a little longer than I thought convening with Annapurna.
I somehow quickly ran out of time to have packed my bag and handed it to the lovely crew of Sherpas that would follow us with our luggage, and completely missed the start line at 7am!
Running the first 2-3k, which was a gentle slope down on a fairly decent trail, I caught up with a few of my fellow runners, and thought I might come across some more, but I held my position somewhere near the back for the remainder of the race. The race had me cover the hardest terrain I’d ever run on, with long stretches of dry-stone staircases, boulder-laden trails, questionable bridges, river-crossings, and an hour-long foray into a jungle area during a thunderstorm, which became slippery really quickly. The temperature at base camp was a chill 3 degrees, a bit like the start line of a British winter cross country, but as soon as I descended into the vegetation of the mountains, temperatures rose high into the 30s.
The impact of the downhills on my toes was unbearably painful by the halfway mark and I was mindful of not mis-stepping and injuring myself, as the only way out of the Himalayas with an injury is by helicopter, and that was one form of transport I really didn’t want to try out on this trip!
The only points at which there was anything resembling a path, was for a few 100 metres maybe once every 5k or so, when I’d reach a village. All the villages on route had been set up as check points, with a warm cheer and welcome from it’s inhabitants, sitting under umbrellas to protect themselves from the glaring sun and handing out fruit, juice boxes and cups of red bull!
I hadn’t really comprehended the elevation profile of the race when I’d looked at it at home, but after the first descent from 4100m to the bottom of the valley, I would then climb back up to 2300m a total of 3 times. For context, Ben Nevis is approximately 1300m at it’s peak. Add to this the terrain and altitude, my 6/7 hour finish-time prediction was out of the window early doors. I just knew I had to get to the end.
The final 5k was the flattest bit of the race. I’d managed not to get kicked off the side of the mountain by a donkey or yak, fallen off a bridge or tumbled to certain death on the edge of a cliff. All I had to do was run, and now that there was finally a path I could run on, I forced myself through the pain to do just that. I cried a bit and gave myself some stern words too. I’d been running for 9.5 hours by this point.
I was joined by Mira Rai, Nepalese Sky Runner and all-round legend for the final 500m, encouraging me to “run sister, run, strong finish, sister!” Through a lot of tears the finish line finally came into sight and I’d done it. I’d run the 2nd highest marathon in the world. I was the first British woman to do so.
Would I do it again? No. This is definitely a once in a lifetime challenge and I achieved my goal of fundraising a ton of money for a charity close to my heart. I wouldn’t say no to ultra trail or fell running closer to home; I think what was probably hardest for me was knowing just how far I was from the kids. But they’ll grow up one day, and maybe they’ll even want to join me on an adventure like this themselves. Jon, my husband, too. So I don’t know… Never say never, I guess!
Thank you to Hillingdon AC and all it’s members for their amazing cheerleading, financial support, the training and sponsorship. It genuinely means so much.
