The details are already vanishing into the shadows of the past. This is why I try and write up things as soon as possible because I think the details are what makes it more interesting. This could be a giant mistake as often I go too far in excruciatingly minute detail and that’s borderline unreadable. See: Antarctica.
But because of a number of issues, I’m late pulling this one together. So here’s a fuzzy memory recap of the Kathmandu Urban Marathon. I want to say part of the fuzziness stems from a sinus infection I’ve picked up courtesy of the dust/pollution/whatever in the air that I’ve been sucking down lungfuls of over the past few days. But the truth is, the mind like the body is getting up there in years.
Originally I was just going to post a photo gallery but I thought maybe I’ll add in sections of the race for a bit of commentary and then highlight some pics along the way. Sound ok?
The Pre-Race Prep:
The bus was scheduled for 6:45 AM to take us out to the start area. I must confess, I never really looked at the course map. I wasn’t sure there even was one available but somebody said it was on the website. I shrugged, figuring it wouldn’t have made a whole lot of sense to me anyway. Was I supposed to turn right or left on Swayambhu Marg?
Hours later it would really matter that I wasn’t even sure where the start/finish was. I knew it was at some military army training camp because of the sign I snapped upon arrival but I when lost on the course and trying to googlemap it offline that wasn’t much help.
Before the race really, REALLY started, Eddie quickly went over a few details. We’d start with 6 loops around the track and then head out into the streets of Kathmandu. He reminded us that at the various temples we should go around them clockwise out of respect and tradition and he said this included the Monkey Temple that we’d climb up to. “After many, many steps…” and the other staff agreed, “many, many steps…” and they all laughed, somewhat maniacally?… and Eddie continued,”you then go around the stupa clockwise.”
“Oh, you’re serious?” I said aloud. I thought about those 365 steps they showed us on the tour and figured they must be joking. “No, I’m serious. There’s a lot of steps,” Eddie warned.
He wasn’t kidding, folks.
More on that in a moment.
The Running of the Kathmandu Urban Marathon:
The race was definitely… unique? Challenging? Surreal? A game show nightmare? Rewarding? All of the above? I’m not sure what adjectives to use or in what order so I’ll try and let the photos job my memory and my articulation. It’s an emotional event, filled with highs and lows, both figuratively and literally.
Getting out onto the roadway proper from the 6 loop track start, I quickly realized this was shaping up to be like a bunny slope level parkour-lite adventure.
Ducking and weaving over cracked, crumbling sidewalks amidst pedestrians, it felt easier to be ducking and weaving over slightly less cracked and crumbling roads amidst cars, trucks, motorbikes, and the occasional sacred cow or bull.
It would get worse.
We turned onto a packed dirt trail that devolved quickly into a mud pit. I mentioned this in my quick recap of this race but it felt like something out of Wages of Fear or Sorcerer. And more than a few times I invoked George W. Bush’s review of Trump’s inaugural address — that’s some weird shit.
Throughout the opening miles I’d been trading the lead with two other guys – a local Nepal runner who’s name I didn’t catch and a French ex-pat living in Russia by the name of Arnaud. The local Nepal guy took off from both of us foreigners, picking his way along the muddy shoulders like he was floating over it all. It was really something to see, albeit I missed a lot of it as my head was down scanning the roadway for obstacles and thus trying not to trip and fall and die.
Eventually we emerged from this muddy crucible strengthened by the challenge. Back on, I guess some would call them roads, I was able to close the distance to the leader and Arnaud was right behind me. Again we were trading the lead depending on who could find the best footing through the potholed terrain while also navigating around traffic, be it four-wheel, two-wheel, four-hooved, or two-footed.
We found our way back to the cremation riverside area and had to climb the stairs to continue. This was NOT the 365 stairs at Monkey Temple — that was still to come. But you can see in the above photos the red flag course markers. A lot of time was spent putting those up by the organizers, something like 2800 of them over the course. They kept some in reserve which they needed as locals apparently kept stealing them as souvenirs… I found out later the first five runners or so were better able to get through traffic than the organizers on their bikes/cars so they couldn’t always be ahead of us to replace the missing route markers. This partly explains why we got lost in a few places.
In fact, I very nearly missed a turn right here and were it not for Arnaud coming up behind me and grabbing me by the wrist to lead me onto the bridge out, I would’ve definitely missed it.
We soon found ourselves on a (relative) straightaway, with relatively flat roadways, and relatively light traffic. That’s kinda my relative jam so I was able to take the lead here and keep ahead for a good while.
Eventually it *seemed* safer to run on the sidewalk and while cars and motorbikes and trucks were removed from the equation, other wheeled obstacles were thrown our way.
That’s an ice cream vendor above I cane very close to buying one while I waited for an opportunity to pass him.
Actually I knew these roads fairly well from my early morning runs this week. I am also not above admitting I was tempted to go back to my room and flip down for a few winks… but that felt too much of an Aesop Fable involving a tortoise and a hare.
Round the back and I’m tempted once again by an entrance to my hotel… but carry on to snap a photo with the newly opened Run2Day store operated by Gobi and others in the area.
At this point I’m pretty much on my own. Because of various starts/stops and turns and switchbacks to see if I was still on course, I have no idea if I’m in the lead, in third, in the running at all. But I persevere. And this is where things get a little… wonky.
Well, wonkier than the new normal of running in Kathmandu. You see that temple way up on the hill in the next photo? You have to squint but it’s there… far, far in the distance, way, way up on the hillside.
That’s the nicknamed “Monkey Temple.” That’s the one at the top of 365 steps. That’s where I have to get to.
Supposedly you take the 365 steps and will have good fortune for the next year. I don’t know if the blessings apply when one is cursing everyone in sight as I was doing.
You ain’t kidding, bub.
Anyway, I go around the stupa clockwise like I was told and don’t see any route markers. So I go around again. And I veer off looking at the other stairwells that spoke off from the top but don’t want to go too far for fear of having to retrace my steps. I see nothing. I try wandering, again clockwise, around the area searching for the route marker flag. This is truly an Amazing Race moment where I just can’t see what I’m supposed to do next. I ponder if this is that game show’s Detours — a choice between two options, each with its own pros and cons. In this detour, entitled TRY OR CRY, the TRY option has me keeping circling, systematically, growing ever more frustrated in not being able to find the freakin’ flag. in CRY, well, I just break down and let it all out.
I think I did a combination of both… and then, as I sat down to ponder how in the hell I was going to get back, I saw fluttering in the wind a pink-ish flag buried amidst the trinkets of a souvenir stand. I rushed over and…
Back on course. Down the shorter staircase to the other entrance of the Stupa and onto a downhill winding road. After all the time wasted at the top, it felt good to be moving a bit… even if I was pretty wiped out from the 365 climb.
The course took me back onto the city streets proper and eventually into Durber Square and a large touristy marketplace…
To get across the next intersection, we had to climb the pedestrian flyover. Of course we did… because that’s how we got to the third picture of the sidewalk being out of service and warning seemingly that if we tried to text and walk at the same time hugging the roadway we’d most likely die. Very comforting… but I saw the next route marker ahead so, may fortune favor the idiot!
I got super lost at a roundabout intersection around mile 23. The route markers just stopped with this one:
I quickly glanced down each spoke of the roundabout to no avail. Ultimately I decided my only option was to try running down each one, one at a time, to see if I could spot a flag. I thought I should go clockwise — that’s the Nepali way, right? Turns out it was the very last spoke I tried, or conversely the very first one if I had gone counter-clockwise. I found out later, as I may have mentioned above, that they had a lot of flags stolen here and were trying to get people to remark it during the race — but a few of us were too far ahead apparently.
The Big Finish
Once more on track, I was thrust back into the narrow streets and the storefronts and the hustle and bustle of daily life in Kathmandu… right at lunch time. I stumbled smack dab into the middle of a large festival square where a huge chariot was wheeled in for, um, google search says Rato Machhendranath Rath Jatra festival. I was glad to see the large structure and while circling it I was able to spot the next route marker and carry on… at least for a while…
I was desperate for water and had missed several proposed water spots. It had been something like 20K or so since I had had a drink. But I spotted some volunteers setting up and was able to grab a bottle there…. I was told I was getting close and I just kept trying to move forward. Slowly, ever so slowly, I carried on…
Rounding a corner, I saw the large iron gates of the military school and glanced at my watch — I was a little short of 26.2 miles and thought maybe I’d missed a turn but no time to argue that point. They opened the gates and into the secured area I went… to then be told I needed to complete one final lap on the track to hit the distance. That seemed to match up with my Garmin so once more round I went. That lap felt ever so much longer than it did this morning.
Into the home stretch and a few steps more…
And DONE!
Turns out I wound up in first place in 4:09:42. As there was only one bus back to the hotel, I just hung out with all the finishers who arrived, one by one, over the next few hours. Arnaud suggested I run in with Reda. as that last lap is mind-numbing…
…and a group of us later ran in the last runner who was doing her first marathon ever — tough pick for your first but she did it.
In the end, the race was a challenge and an adventure. I survived. We all did. And it was something else, indeed.
I’ve never done this but Arnaud asked me if my Garmin had the elevation profile because his watch died on him. I figured out how to get it via my iPhone app. This is the chart — guess where the Monkey Temple was?
I’m headed to the airport here shortly to fly home longly… it’s a reverse of my trip here, so 3 hours to Kunming, a 10 hour layover, a four hour flight to Shanghai with a three hour layover, then a 13 hour flight back to the US of A. I’m feeling pretty sick and light headed so water will be the drink of choice on the flights.
As a final side note, I thought this morning I’d head back to Monkey Temple and climb one final time the 365 steps to ensure good fortune.
I went up 354 steps and was stopped at a ticket booth where a guard tapped this sign:
Now, I suspect they figure you’d have to be an idiot to climb all that way and then not pay whatever the toll was they wanted to charge to finish the climb. Well, I showed them just what an idiot looks like. I saluted and waved and turned around, slowly walking down those steps one last time. Joke’s on them, huh?
—KSH
April 28, 2018
Nepal