This is an article by invitation. In June 2023, Delhi-based ultrarunner, Shikha Pahwa, participated in the year’s edition of UTMB Mozart 100. She was the lone participant from India and completed the race in 19 hours, 56 minutes and 39 seconds. Herein is Shikha’s account of the run; in her words:

The UTMB Mozart 100 was not on my radar.

It happened by chance.

My plan was to go to Italy and I was looking for a race in or around Italy on very specific dates. The only one I found was Mozart 100 in Salzburg, Austria.

Seen on the race website it looked like an extremely scenic run (this was where The Sound of Music was shot after all). City roads, mountains, river, vast green fields, it had it all; enough to tempt me. Plus, the date was perfect. Looking at the distance options, as usual, I scrolled down to the longest one; 105k it said. Doable I thought. The cut-off was 22 hours which should have made me curious as it seemed liberal compared to some other races but I took it at face value. I knew this was a race with some crazy elevation but what I ignored or rather didn’t understand was the extent of trail and the grade of trail involved. I signed up. It appeared a done deal.

I started training around three months before the race with focus more on mileage. Since Delhi is flat, training for elevation is a challenge. My trainer Krishan Tiwari trained me like he had for the Ladakh runs of the past. There was a lot of resistance training to give the climbing feel, some walking-running with a weighted jacket, in addition to strength training and consecutive long runs. All this in the Delhi summer was completely draining and combined with my regular work, it exhausted me 100 percent. But that’s how ultrarunning (and training) is – never-ending runs irrespective of time, weather and terrain.

Fast forward to race day. I reached the start point at 4:30AM (5AM start). With 700 participants arrived, the place looked like a festival! None of my earlier ultra runs had witnessed such a big crowd and they all looked like experienced trail runners. I was very intimidated and what got me really worried was the one common thing all of them had – trekking poles (the ones used for trail running are light and collapse to really small dimension for ease of carrying).

That was when it hit me that I may have got myself into something I wasn’t ready for. Forget getting poles, I had never used them! I was a 100 per cent road runner, so poles had never been needed. The one trail run I did attempt had featured a technical trail and it had ended up with me injured and a DNF to my credit. I therefore had no fond memories of trail. But now, I was at the start line of my first international race and there was no turning back. The race began and the first few kilometres were flat. It seemed to go well until I saw an arrow indicating a turn into the bushes. And there it began – not flat, not straight…just pure rocky trail.

It was a narrow path and the whole lot of us going up on it. So, we had to form a queue. Wherever there was the tiniest space on the sides, some runners would overtake. Gradually the fast runners disappeared from view. Still, more and more people kept overtaking. Their training showed in the way they moved; smooth steps, almost without much thought. Me on the other hand watched every step, holding on to branches to pull myself up where the step was too high. Around four or five kilometres into the trail I realised that I couldn’t keep using my hands for support. I needed to find my version of trekking poles. I picked a stick fallen on the ground. It took me a few attempts to find the right one; right height, weight and grip. It wasn’t perfect but helped. My free hand was still used for extra support of course. 

Given 5000 meters elevation for the race, the climbs were intense. This was just the first one, there were eight or nine more. In my mind I assumed there were five in all. I don’t know how I got that but it threw me off when they just kept coming.

Climbing up was hard and although there were faster runners, there were many around me proceeding at a pace similar to mine. So, I wasn’t all that slow. Where I did really feel disadvantaged was in the downhill sections. Usually, downhill is where I make up for lost time (and that’s because I had done mostly road runs). But here it was much slower than the climbs. It was also terrifying as one wrong step could send me rolling down the rocks or into the rocks or worse. The other runners just ran down as I would on road. It showed how experienced they were. I took my time and went as slowly as I needed to go. Others overtaking me at this stage, didn’t matter at all. I was quite okay coming in last as long as I finished without injury. Besides, somehow, I was managing to catch up with the same people on the next climb. It showed, my training did work after all. 

A slower pace in this race was not a concern, I just needed to be fast enough to reach the various cut-off points along the course within the set deadline. Failure to do so was an immediate disqualification from the race. So it had to be planned in advance and I had asked my everything-ultrarunning guide Dr. Rajat Chauhan (founder and race director of La Ultra The High) for help. Everything-ultrarunning because he had answers to all the questions, I had about long distance running in the past few years, especially when it came to the whole “ mental preparation’’ bit. He was kind enough to go through the route map in detail and advise on how to pace myself to make it to the finish line in time.

Going one step at a time and pushing myself mentally, I kept moving ahead. Because of the terrain my feet kept twisting to the side. Luckily no injuries there. I did trip three times along the way which gave me bruises on both knees and hands but no internal damage. The bigger problem came once it got dark. Finding my way with just the headlamp required a lot more focus but the fatigue and bruises weren’t allowing me to do so. The downhills looked even more dangerous in the dark. I was left alone after everyone ran down. To make it worse, my headlamp started acting up. It suddenly got dim and I had no backup. It looked like it could die at any point, so I quickened my steps and hoped for the best. Once I got down, there were some people around so I could see better. 

The official race distance was 106 kilometres and according to my watch it wasn’t far. Then I spied a road ahead and an aid station; I could feel the finish coming up. Looking for signs of finish, I started to jog. The road turned into the trees again and up we went! Some more up and down and we returned to a road again. The GPS was off because 106 kilometres was already done for me. Now I could see some signs of finish and hear some people in the distance. Finally, I was closing in on the last stretch and some twists and turns in the road. I found a place to put my stick down. Then, I saw my sister cheering for me, then running behind me and I finally saw the finish line. My watch showed 109 kilometres. It wasn’t a distance I hadn’t done before but this terrain made it ten times harder. It was more of a mental race for me, especially since I wasn’t prepared for it. I was way out of my comfort zone, so a rank of 420 out of 700 and being the only Indian participant felt great. 

(The author, Shikha Pahwa, is a Delhi-based entrepreneur and ultrarunner)

This is an article by invitation. Earlier this year, Jeevendra Singh completed the 2023 Spartathlon, a footrace traversing a mix of road, trail and mountain path for 246 kilometres. The race held in Greece follows in the footsteps of the Greek messenger Pheidippides, said to have run from Athens to Sparta to convey news of the Greek victory over the Persians, at the Battle of Marathon in 490 BC. The race is among the most famous ones around. It is also a challenging race. Jeevendra completed it in 32 hours, 49 minutes and 16 seconds. The following is his personal account:

I grew up in a village near Agra. My father worked with Indian Railways and he was posted at Tundla. Growing up in a village meant living an outdoorsy life. I was into sports during my schooling years. I did my engineering degree from Lucknow and through campus placement found myself at the Pune office of UBS. From there I moved to Singapore, Poland and finally to UK, in 2015. Initially, I lived in London. I was following an unhealthy lifestyle. My health deteriorated mainly because of the stress that accompanies work at an investment bank. I piled on a lot of weight.

I decided to take charge of my life and took to running. The solitude of running helped me heal and gave me much-needed ` me time.’ My running was largely recreational. I started participating in running events with the aim to raise funds for causes such as cancer research and the fight against domestic violence, among others. I did a few marathons including the Athens Classic Marathon, marathons in Marrakesh, Peru and San Francisco. I even ran a marathon wearing full cricket gear to raise funds. My aim was to run a marathon in every continent but I gave up that idea when I became aware of climate change and realised that flying just to run a marathon, was not the correct thing to do.

I then embarked on trail running, starting with a half marathon in the south of England. I moved to ultra distances in trail running, attempting a few trail races in the mountains of Lake District. I love trail running and since 2018 I have done only trail running. Living in London and running around on roads and pavements takes a toll on you. Don’t get me wrong, London is one of the beautiful cities in the world with lot of green areas. Yet the city running was becoming monotonous for me. So, when I stumbled on to trail running and did my first trail race, which was the Beachy Head half marathon in the beautiful Seven Sisters Cliffs near Eastbourne, I was hooked to it. Purely because being in nature triggered the genetic memory, we all have in us. Being in nature, moving on your foot for hours in these beautiful landscapes gives our body and mind that experience which our ancestors naturally had thousands of years ago. Also, for me being in the country side triggered the happy childhood memories I had with my grandparents and uncles in my village back home in India. Slowly I wanted more and more of this. Moreover, I believe in continuous progression. Therefore, I wanted to see if I can run longer than a marathon in these landscapes. That’s when I decided to do my first ultramarathon, the Grand Tour of Skidaw, which happens in Lake District, UK. It was a 70km-long race in challenging terrain but the views and scenery were breath-taking. I never looked back after that. From there i moved to 50milers (I did three of those) and then to my first 100 miler in 2021.

In 2020, the world came to a halt due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Once the lockdown was lifted, I did a run from Buckingham Palace to Windsor Castle, a distance of over 50 km. In 2021, I did the South Downs Way 100, a 100 miler. There were many elite athletes at the start line and that was quite inspiring. I wanted to do well. I ended up in the top 20, covering the distance in 19:10:39 hours. In August of the same year, my mother passed away. I hit a low and lost my motivation to run. Slowly I resumed running and realised that it was helping me heal. I wanted to take on something challenging. I decided to do Spartathlon. To my mind it was a journey that would help me go inward and deal with my grief. I had the South Downs Way 100 as a qualifying race. The qualifying time required to enrol for Spartathlon was a 100-miler race done in 21 hours. For Spartathlon, I did much of my training on the pavements, roads and parks of London. For exposure to trails, I travelled to Lake District where I ran in the lower mountain ranges. But the days leading to Spartathlon were extremely stressful. My wife’s father was ill and I nearly contemplated missing the race. But my wife asked me to go to Greece while she flew to India to be with her parent. Radhika, my wife, is a lifestyle and nutrition consultant. She helps with my nutrition plan for day to day living and also for races. She is a qualified yoga teacher and mental health coach. Except my running, she coaches me for everything else.

I flew to Greece. The race day started well after Radhika called me to say that her father had improved and was likely to be discharged from the hospital. At the start line of Spartathlon, I was the only Indian runner. It felt good to be around super-fit elite athletes. I did have a few minutes of doubts but quickly brushed them aside. Over its first few miles, the race leaves Athens, traversing through the city’s suburbs and stretch of factories. After 13 miles, we hit the coastline. There are 75 check points along the route. Every check point has a cut-off time. We were expected to hit the 50-mile mark in nine and a half hours. The start of the run was tough as temperatures were quite high and I got dehydrated leading to stomach issues. I reached the 50-mile mark with just 15 minutes to spare and that was not good. I felt stressed and doubts began to creep in. I kept saying the words: stay calm and cool. I was doing this race solo without any crew. I reached the 100-mile mark. I desperately needed a reset. At that point I ran into Graeme Boxall, an accomplished ultra runner and one of the nicest fans of the sport in the UK. He is ever present at track ultras volunteering or crewing for runners. He has given so much of his time and energy to the sport. I had met Graeme at a few track ultras earlier and got to know him. When he met me around the 110 km-point in the Spartathlon race, I was in a pretty bad shape. His encouragement was just what I needed to come out of that bad patch. He was crewing for another runner. Graeme gave me a recovery drink and helped me reset. I changed my clothes and set out.

As I progressed into the race, my stomach situation improved. Also, the temperature started to lower. Further, the buffer between my arrival time and the cut-off time, started to increase. The night was clear and running through the vineyards and olive farms laden with silhouettes, was like a dream. For nutrition and hydration, I switched to soup and Coke. Then came the uphill mountainous stretch. It was quite tough but at the top I felt a connection with my late mother. The descent was tougher than the ascent. The path downhill was laden with loose rocks and scree. I decided to walk down instead of running it. As I started to descent, I began to feel better. For the next 20 miles my pace was quite good. I crossed many runners along the route. At dawn I was running through vineyards in Tegea. The route was headed to Sparta. It started to get warm. This time, I was careful with my hydration. The last stretch was mostly downhill. At Sparta, people were very passionate about the race. As I kept running, I heard them shout: Bravo. The city was packed with supporters cheering for each and every runner. There were children and youngsters running or cycling with us. I met a woman who had been volunteering for the race for the past 41 years. Just before the finish line, I stopped before the statue of King Leonidis and then, finally hit the finish line. In my mind, the 246 km race was split into three phases. The first phase was Be Calm, the second phase was Curious (it was mostly through the night) and the third phase was Confident and Belief.

The Swedish team was very helpful and friendly with me. They kept a seat for me at dinner, among many other friendly gestures. I am right now in the process of recovering both physically and emotionally. The race was quite demanding. I want to continue doing trail and mountain runs. More importantly, I want to be a much better athlete.

(The author, Jeevendra Singh is a runner who works with an investment bank in the UK)

Some events leave a deep impression.

For Ashish Kasodekar, this was the case with a project he undertook in late 2021.

Starting November 28 that year, he had run 61 marathons over 61 consecutive days. The venue was Pune University. A route had been fleshed out on its campus and eight loops of it was equal to a marathon. Few would have doubted Ashish’s capacity to complete the project; he is among the best-known ultrarunners from India. What amazed Ashish and fuelled his motivation for those two months was the support provided by others who turned up to run and keep him company. In November 2021, the pandemic was still a recent phenomenon and restrictions hadn’t been relaxed fully. Yet people arrived. Their presence gave Ashish, who was running the same five kilometre-loop for two months, something to look forward to, every day. He recalls that in that period, never once did he require a morning alarm to wake up and go to the venue. The motivation level was that good. “ It was the most beautiful thing in my life,’’ he said of the project, which showed him what a supportive human community meant. For the purpose of Guinness Records, the number of days and marathons was kept as 60 (the previous record at that time was 59). The additional one day of running was a case of testing himself after the 60 day-period.

From the impression this project left in Ashish’s mind, was born another – a quest to link a low point in geography to a high point. Initially, he imagined the run on a grand – maybe even, audacious – scale. He could try running from the Dead Sea in West Asia (it is bordered by Jordan, Israel and Palestine’s West Bank) to the Himalaya in South Asia. At over 1400 feet below sea level, the shores of the Dead Sea represent the lowest elevation on land on the planet while the Himalaya hosts its highest peaks. He also saw in the play of words framing the project, a segway to addressing the issue of mental depression, a condition spoken of as perhaps the most widespread problem of our troubled times. “ I wasn’t expecting anyone to be cured and feeling high at the end of such a long run. I was hoping, I could convince people to enjoy the running and enjoy the passage from a low point to a high,’’ Ashish said. Physical activity like running is known to release endorphins that contribute to an improved sense of well-being. As Ashish’s project encountered reality, the angle around mental wellbeing, survived. The one attempting to connect Dead Sea and the Himalaya, stayed still born. There was a reason for it.

Ashish progressively realized that the route spanning half a continent, was a political minefield. He would be running through countries that had experienced conflict or were still trapped in conflict and by the time he reached Pakistan, there would be the frosty, unpredictable ties between India and Pakistan to negotiate. True, a project of this sort may help set a new tone for politics and understanding between people but the variables over such a long and volatile route were too many. For instance, at the time he thought of the project, Ashish didn’t have reason to worry excessively about the Levant. By October 2023, there was full scale confrontation between Israel’s armed forces and Hamas.

Ashish’s project didn’t die. Instead, after his run at the 2022 Badwater Ultramarathon in the US, Low2High (as the project came to be called) got underway in a different format. To begin with, there appeared to be no problem accessing the Himalaya in India or Nepal. So, the aspect of “ high’’ was trouble-free. “ Low’’ demanded reimagination. For the lowest point in geography, Ashish decided to search within India. West Asia’s Dead Sea was thus replaced with Kerala’s Kuttanad, which is officially the region with least elevation in India. Located in central Kerala and long famed for its paddy cultivation, Kuttanad is among the few places in the world where farming happens four to ten feet below sea level. It was decided to run from Kuttanad to Umling La in Ladakh, which at 19,024 feet is currently the highest motorable pass in the world. It was also decided to cover the distance in 76 days, so that the finish coincided with India’s 76th Independence Day on August 15, 2023. Alongside, an app was designed whereby in a repeat of the community support Ashish had enjoyed in his project of 61 marathons in 61 days, a host of people who downloaded the app were visualized aggregating 76 lakh kilometres in their daily exercise sessions. The ambitious figure of 76 lakh kilometres didn’t have to come via running alone. It could be from walking, jogging or cycling – the idea being to create a mutually engaged, supportive ecosystem for the duration of the project. The punchline was: be together, achieve together and celebrate together, all of it couched in the larger paradigm of a nation being fit if each one is physically fit.

Ashish’s own target of 76 days to project-completion required him to cover 55 kilometres every day and repeat it daily without a break. Given his background in ultrarunning, both seemed doable. Prior to this project, Ashish had – among major events – run the 333km and 555km races of La Ultra The High, Brazil 135, Badwater 135 and the 61×61 event at Pune University. Ashish commenced Low2High from Kainakary in Kuttanad, on June 1, 2023. Traditionally, that is the day when the south west monsoon hits India, the southern tip of Kerala being where it manifests first. In 2023, the onset of the annual rains (Kerala has two seasons of it every year) was tad delayed. But the pre-monsoon build-up was palpable and the early days of the run were wrapped in heat and humidity (pre-monsoon-Kerala can be quite humid). As Ashish ran northward, the monsoon slowly caught up from behind. The first rain he experienced on the run, struck in Karnataka on June 11; it poured. He did 50-55 kilometres in that weather. Ashish’s daily schedule was simple. He would start running by about 6AM; after 10 kilometres he would take a tea-break, after 21 kilometres there would be breakfast. Lunch was at around 1.30PM. He would conclude his run by 4PM. It was a mix of running and walking. By 10PM, he would go to sleep.  For the first 25-30 days, he covered roughly 60 kilometres every day.  Twenty three days after starting from Kainakary in Kuttanad, Ashish reached Pune, his home town.

Each place he passed through, left an impression. Kerala was generally clean with good local roads to run on but irritated in the early stages of the journey with its heavy traffic. In Maharashtra, traffic made the Thane-Ghodbunder stretch tough. “ Haryana was action packed. Everyone wanted to know what I was trying to do,’’ Ashish said. There were minor physical problems. After 40-45 days of running, one evening, there was pain in his leg. It was tackled. For three days, in the wake of that leg pain, he opted to walk 50 kilometres. He had an ice bath every day. The support team traveling alongside in a vehicle found a place to stay and secured the ice. His support team included his younger brother Amit, Rishikesh Gaikwad and Harikrishnan Damalpati. Every 15 days, Ashish did a medical test. Electrolyte levels and kidney functioning were checked.  Along the way, there were social engagements too. Ashish and his team distributed 35 fitness kits (each contained items like footballs and skipping ropes) to various schools; they also gave talks. By the time Ashish reached Punjab, the heavy rains that caused havoc in Himachal Pradesh in 2023, had happened. His route had to be reconfigured here and there depending on road condition and which roads stayed open. He reached Umling La on schedule, on August 15, having covered 4003 kilometres in 76 days. Notes kept by the team show that almost half the distance covered was on NH48. Second was NH3 with roughly 450 kilometres. The notes also reveal the team’s frustration with traffic at various points.

Project Low2High lived up to expectations. Except perhaps in one department – the app found roughly 8000 subscribers and their cumulative mileage was quite short of the 76 lakh kilometres originally envisaged. However, the real take away from Low2High is the template and ideation (for example, within Kerala itself, runners could imagine linking Kuttanad to the highlands of Idukki). As Ashish pointed out, his interactions with people during the journey told him that when it came to fitness, everyone from an IT professional to a truck driver, faced the same challenge of not having the time for exercise or lacking motivation for the same. With an engaging journey for central theme and the model of a community motivated enough to keep him company, he believes he can contribute his bit to get people moving.

It was early October, 2023. “ So, what’s next?’’ I asked as we reached the end of our chat, at his house in Pune.

“ I would like to try the Barkley Marathon,’’ Ashish said referring to the race in Tennessee, rated as a difficult ultramarathon with a history of few finishers. 

(The author, Shyam G Menon, is a freelance journalist based in Mumbai)

This is an article by invitation. Corina Van Dam, or Cocky as she is popularly known in Mumbai, is a football coach, a long distance runner and a triathlete. She has participated in a number of races and triathlons across India. She has also taken part in endurance swimming events. She was recently at the Vinfast Ironman 70.3 World Championship 2023 at Lahti in Finland. Here, she writes about her experience at the event.

As age category winner in Ironman 70.3 Goa in 2022, I was eligible to register for the Vinfast Ironman 70.3 World Championship 2023 in Lahti, Finland. I dreamt of participating in a world championship when I was a young girl but never thought that this dream would come true at the age of 58…!

My development from athlete to triathlete has been an organic one. I have always loved sports and through the years (and the accumulation of age) I had increasingly started loving the volume of work-outs rather than the intensity. The longer a practice or race, the more interesting I found it to be. However, in order to not finish last in the world championship (which was my goal!), I had to increase the intensity of my workouts and speed / pace in the different elements. To cut a long story short…, though I had an excellent cycling coach in Abishek Avhad, I had not been able to cut a substantial chunk of my race time when it mattered. But the success that I celebrate is that I finished as nr. 141 out of 161 in my age category (mission accomplished!).  And although I feel a bit ashamed that `my fans’ celebrate me as if I am the world champion, I am proud that I have been able to finish in a world championship surrounded by excellent athletes while enjoying the event to the fullest.

The challenges that I had to overcome prior to the race, were ‘swimming in a wetsuit’ and the thought of swimming in ‘cold water.’ With my Ironman (IM) travel mate Ritesh Thakkar, I took advantage of the public open water swimming spaces in Helsinki, where residents of the city dip in the water for their morning swim. I was so relieved when the water appeared to be ‘only’ 19.5 degrees Celsius cold. The Ironman practice swim in Lahti gave me the confidence that I would manage this leg. It seemed easy: no loops, no mass start, buoys with numbers and a finish line that could be seen from a distance. However, I was seriously intimidated by all those athletic bodies in shiny black wetsuits. The three women from Singapore said to me what I thought of every other athlete present: “ We hope you’re not in our age category…!’’  I received another shock during the bike check-in, the day before the race. While I checked the simplest Scott road-bike in, the poor thing was surrounded in Transition 1 (T1) by equipment from a different family: TT bicycles, carbon frames with disk wheels, aerodynamic helmets….

As we were commuting from Helsinki to Lahti by train, we tried to do as many of the activities on the day of our registration, such as the welcome dinner and the Parade of Nations, so that we could meet other participants. I represented the Netherlands and I joined the group of Dutch people lining up behind the red-white-blue flag. As during an Olympic Games opening, we walked through Lahti Stadium which is situated at the bottom of three spectacular ski jumping hills (with a swimming pool at the landing) and waved at everyone who wanted to wave at us. The commute also gave us a chance to talk to ordinary Finnish travellers, IM participants and their families from different countries. During one of the trips – a special morning train from Helsinki on event day (like the Tata Mumbai Marathon train but only with triathletes) – we sat with the family of Steven McKenna, one of the professional triathletes. We could not get enough of listening to stories about his preparations and attitude towards the sport.

The world championship was held over two days. The first day was for us, women. From my first step in Helsinki Central Station to the last in the evening, I was surrounded by vibrant female concentration, power and energy. Countless were the moments that I felt emotional.

Not the least, when the professionals were being introduced to the audience and lined up for the race. After the Finnish national anthem, we could hear a pin drop in anticipation of the race start. And there they went… the pros, our role models, kicking off the long-anticipated event.

I was thrilled to participate with 2000 other participants in a women’s only race. As female triathletes in India, we are always surrounded by male participants. Often, there are only a few women present and I have been in races where I was the only one registered in my age category. I cannot describe how exciting it was to stand at the starting line with 160 women of my own age: wrinkles, grey hair peeking out from under our green swimming caps and singing and dancing to the music in our tight wetsuits that showed our trained and toned bodies in all their glory. Of course, I panicked when the swim started, as I always do. This time my contact lens moved when I jumped into the water. I immediately realised that if I lost it, I would not have any replacement or glasses for the rest of the race since the start / finish (the ‘Finnish finish line’) / Transition 1 and Transition 2 were all in different places. Shubham Vanmali, one of India’s great ultra swimmers and a recipient of the Tenzing Norgay National Adventure (sport) Award once told me that cold water amplifies fear. I did not allow this to happen. I managed to control myself and started enjoying the swim though my timing was not as it could have been.

The cycling route was one loop through a rolling landscape. We crossed forests, meadows, and a few villages. The roads were closed and we just had to pedal without fear for upcoming traffic or potholes. Of course, there are always too many hills and there is too much head wind. After 30 kilometres of cruising, the road made a sharp bend and an awful hill showed its ugly face. At the sudden start of the climb, I approached another athlete and joked: “ I did not see this coming.” It happened to be Maitreyi Bokil and we both laughed. I managed to overtake a few triathletes but have especially learnt to recognize the sound of TT bikes closing in on me from behind. After the race, I kidded that I had overtaken 10 cyclists and had been overtaken by 100. Since there were many (younger) age categories that started behind us (the 55–59-year-olds), it did not matter. But of course, it always hurts.

With the run, in sight, I was relieved that I had completed the riskier activities (being caught by fear / cold during swimming – one female triathlete died during the swim – or a mechanical issue while cycling) which can end one’s race prematurely. The half marathon was fun. As on the cycling route, the residents of Lahti were sitting in front of their houses with their families, cheering us on. They sat in their foldable chairs, ringing cowbells or banging pots and pans with spoons. The run was two laps and it was painful to see athletes keeping right and head towards the finish while we had to start our second loop. When I used a hill to consume one of my LEAP gels, I heard my name and Ketaki Sathe flew past me. Wow! My running time was the same as during my last triathlon event and my overall timing was a carbon copy of Ironman 70.3 Goa in 2022.

It is a good practice during Ironman races that every athlete is as welcomed as the winner among the professionals is. With 15,000 volunteers, all 6000 participants received the support that we needed. After the race, no idlis or upma but pizza, hotdogs, ice cream, muffins, chips and Coke….! Race day was party time.

The next day, I had a chance to watch the 4000 men racing. I thought I would have a quiet day but as it happened, I had to run up and down Lahti to see the professionals start their swim, run to T1 to see them finish and start cycling, run back to see Ritesh start his swim 2.15 hours after the professionals started (take pictures for his family at home), run to the road to see the professionals heading to T2, run back to watch Ritesh finish his swim and transition in T1 (another picture), and in a hurry run to the finish to watch the pros completing their case…  I walked 23 kilometres as recovery, the day after my race. But it was great to watch without pre-race day tension, cheer the Indian participants on and experience the race as spectator from the first to the last finisher.

I had an unforgettable time as amateur / tourist, but it became clear that I am in no position to compete with the best in my age category at a world championship. Participating has been a humbling experience. It has shown me how privileged I am that I had learnt swimming, cycling and running from a young age so that I could participate in a race like this. I could also afford to pay for the registration, flight and accommodation which is not the case for many of the age group winners in India and others in the Global South. For now, the Ironman World Championship remains an event for the privileged ones. And this privileged one needs to step up if she wants to be more than just a tourist at another Ironman 70.3 World Championship.

(The author, Corina [Cocky] Van Dam works with an NGO. She lives in Mumbai.)

Abhilash Tomy in second place but old injuries act up

The 2022 Golden Globe Race (GGR) took a twist recently with British sailor, Simon Curwen, who was leading, opting to enter the Chichester Class following damage to his boat’s windvane in the Pacific Ocean. With this, South Africa’s Kirsten Neuschafer has become the new race leader although she is still separated by a significant distance from Simon.

Indian sailor, Abhilash Tomy, currently in second place (after Simon Curwen shifted to Chichester Class) is not far from Kirsten. An update from January 27, 2023, available on the GGR website and which disclosed the setback suffered by Simon, mentioned that Kirsten and Abhilash are apart by just 50 miles. The race is still far from over; the participants have to cross Cape Horn at the southern tip of South America and sail up the Atlantic Ocean to Les Sables-d’Olonne in France to complete the solo, nonstop circumnavigation of the planet they set out to do.

The current edition of GGR had commenced in early September, 2022, from Les Sables-d’Olonne. It is a repeat of the original GGR of 1968-1969, in which Sir Robin Knox Johnston of the UK became the first person to do a solo, nonstop circumnavigation in a sail boat. Onboard technology levels in the 2022 GGR are pegged to near similar levels as prevailed during the first race decades ago. If the nonstop nature of the race is breached for some reason, then the participant can continue in the Chichester Class, named so after Sir Francis Chichester, who sailed solo around the world (from west to east) with one stop at Sydney, in 1966-1967.  On January 30, the GGR website while confirming Kirsten Neuschafer as the new race leader of 2022 GGR, informed that Simon Curwen would be heading to Chile for repairs. The news of his opting for Chichester Class has been posted on Simon’s Facebook page as well.

Since race commencement in September, there have been drop-outs due to damage to boats and one incident of a boat sinking. There were fifteen men and one woman as participants at the start of the race. As of January 31, 2023, three men and one woman remained in the main competition with three others continuing in Chichester Class. The lone case of a boat sinking – it occurred in the Indian Ocean – had seen the current race leader Kirsten Neuschafer and Abhilash Tomy move to the aid of the stricken sailor, Tapio Lehtinen. Kirsten effected the rescue, a feat that won her the Rod Stephen Seamanship Trophy from the Cruising Club of America.

Abhilash Tomy was a participant in the 2018 edition of GGR. That time, his boat was rolled over and dismasted in a storm in the southern Indian Ocean. Besides damage to the boat, the mishap left Abhilash with serious injuries to his back. He was eventually rescued in an effort that featured maritime assets from India, France and Australia. Later Abhilash had to undergo surgery and extensive rehabilitation following which, he worked his way back through walking, to sailing and flying planes. Since retired from the Indian Navy, he returned to the GGR as a participant in the 2022 edition. The initial phase of the 2022 race was tough for him as he had to deal with the mental trauma of sailing the seas leading to the region of his 2018 accident and get past the area. Unfortunately, while in the Indian Ocean, he suffered a fall on his back and his old injuries have started acting up under the rigors of solo, nonstop sailing.

When one is alone at sea, one has to do everything aboard the boat oneself and this entails long hours of staying awake and working. The GGR website said in its update of January 30 that Abhilash – he had a recent instance of steering by hand for 12 hours during a gale – has been enduring “ back pain and numb limbs.’’ He spoke to doctors who gave him exercises to regain control of his leg; the medical team has also advised him on pain treatment. He will be resting for some days before returning to his work. However, given he won’t be racing during this time and would be sailing under reduced sail with a view to keep the boat comfortable, it may temporarily make his progress slower and the route longer than that of Kirsten.

“ Abhilash is safe and does not require any assistance and is in complete control. He knows he must rest now, so the pains do not return again. GGR is closely monitoring the situation,’’ the event website said. Abhilash is the first Indian to sail solo and nonstop around the planet in a sail boat. He achieved it in 2012-2013 as part of the Indian Navy’s Sagar Parikrama project.

(The author, Shyam G Menon, is a freelance journalist based in Mumbai.)