The final stretch to
the summit of Golep
Kangri, at 5,995mE
E
HE LADAKH MARATHON in northern India is billed
as the world’s highest race. On reading this,
interest piqued, I investigated further and
discovered that the event weekend also includes
the Khardung La Challenge – a 72km ultra, with
a peak elevation of 5,370m above sea level. More
than 80 per cent of it is run above 4,000m and a
decent portion of that is above 5,000m. Half of
the route is one continuous climb; that’s almost
a marathon’s worth of ascent, to heights that can
do serious mischief to your body even if you’re
not attempting to run marathons up them.
I couldn’t resist.
Ladakh is situated in Jammu and Kashmir,
India’s northernmost state; perched right up in
the corner between Pakistan and Tibet, smack-
bang in the middle of the Himalayas. It’s so
remote that simply getting to Leh – the district
capital, and the town that hosts the Ladakh
Marathon – is half the challenge.
The trip took us (my wife had entered the half
marathon) a week and involved many hours in
packed buses on roads that could be generously
classed as horrific. Think rough gravel on
hairpin bends – with a 2,000m drop to the valley
f loor – in a rickety bus, occasionally overtaking
other vehicles on blind corners at stupid speeds
while passengers vomit out of the windows.
However, one good thing about taking the
long, slow route was that it allowed for long and
slow acclimatisation before we arrived in Leh,
which sits at a lofty 3,500m above sea level.
Another was that even with the near-constant
fear of imminent death and all that vomiting,
the scenery rolling by outside the windows was
a privilege to behold.
We arrived in Leh a few weeks before the race
to continue acclimatising, and started training,
slowly. It was nearly a week before we felt
comfortable running in the thin mountain air,
and a good 10 days before I could run on hills
and cover longer distances. But once that first
bit of acclimatisation was behind us, I was ready
to take to the hiking trails for training.
Most people come to Ladakh for trekking;
and if there’s a place on earth more strikingly
beautiful in its simplicity than the arid Ladakhi
Himalayas, then I’d dearly like to see it. My
routine was to hike out into the wild during the
day, pitch my tent and then set out for the hills
in my running shoes. It was bliss.
Day after day, I would end up perching on a
rocky outcrop or hilltop, completely alone;
overlooking vast reddish-brown valleys, which
gave way to the cooler blues and greens of
meadows below, where rivers and streams
snaked along valley f loors. Jagged peaks
crowned with snow towered at the edges.
Ramping up my pre-race prep, I joined an
expedition to climb a 6,200m peak, Kang Yatze
II. The experience was beyond my wildest
dreams of what I could achieve in Ladakh. I was
feeling fit, strong and better acclimatised than
I’d thought possible. I told myself that this was
good enough; that the race didn’t even matter.
052 RUNNERSWORLD.COM/UK SEPTEMBER 2019