On 18 April 2026, I became an ultra-trail runner after completing a 50+ km section along the section of the Kathmandu Valley Rim. It took me 15 hours to scale the distance that has almost 4700 meters of elevation gain. The route was 'interesting'.
The race began at Godawari. Before the start, I saw many familiar faces and got introduced to some unfamiliar faces. We cracked jokes about running. Some 60+ years old uncle was running with us with full enthusiasm. Someone said, "The pain of running this trail is less than staying home with your wife." We all knew that the road ahead was going to be tough.
The race began, the first leg was to go to Phulchoki, the highest hill surrounding the Kathmandu Valley, standing at an altitude of 2,762 meters. The starting run (walk) was breathtaking, breathtaking in a literal sense.
Very quickly, I realised that this day would be long. It took 2 hours, and the distance covered was only 8 kms. There were 46 kms left.
Then came innumerable downhills and uphills—and more downhills. The distance between runners began to stretch. Some real runners surged ahead toward the next hill. I settled into my own pace and continued.
For much of the early part, I was alone, with only the hot sun overhead.
Crossing halfway took me 5 hours and 30 minutes. By then, I was already exhausted. Then the climb toward Pharping began.
The wheat fields were beautiful. The hills beyond looked stiff and distant, each kilometre coming with more effort than the last. Then, as I approached Champadevi, it rained heavily. That was when a sense of unease set in.
From this point on, I was mostly alone. It grew darker and darker. I switched on my torch and kept moving—running, walking. I caught up with two other runners, and we stayed together through the dense jungle until the end.
The climbs became tougher. The cold air chilled the sweat on my body. By now, I had been moving for 12 hours. Pain had come and gone multiple times. The goal had simplified: reach the finish line.
We took a short rest at the top of Chandragiri. I checked in with my family and told them I would be late. The descent to Naagdhunga was brutal.
We finally crossed the finish line at 11:03 PM. It was the moment I had been working toward. I made it before the cutoff. I felt great.
This run is another benchmark in my journey. Along the way, the mind kept returning to simple ideas.
Suffering is not the enemy—it builds resilience.
Learning to take some pleasure in discomfort is perhaps the only antidote to it.
Step by step, even the “big” becomes manageable.
Persistence—no explanation needed. Just keep going.
More than anything, I realised how much is shaped by the mind. I chose to experience the run as something to be enjoyed. For this reason, perhaps, I felt this run was less painful than my last 30 km run.
The trail reduced everything to its simplest form: one step, one breath, one decision at a time.
It taught me that pain is inevitable, but how I respond to it is a choice.
Somewhere along the way, I introduced myself to myself as an ultra trail runner. I built that identity.
My takeaway:
ReplyDeletePain is inevitable, but how I respond to it is a choice.
"The pain of running this trail is less than staying home with your wife."
Bravo ultra trail runner-Keep it up