Back in December 2022, when I was on India’s southwestern coast, I received an email asking if I wanted to take part in the Himalayan 100-Mile Stage Race in October 2023. My initial reaction was, “No way.” Having made a trek to India just days prior for a yoga retreat, I was reminded of the chaos while traveling to India from the US. However, over the course of my yoga adventure, the allure of visiting India’s northeast to run through the Himalayas took precedence over logistics. Up until this point, my travel to India had been centered around yoga. I had never traveled east for an ultrarunning event and was intrigued at the possibility of seeing the country in a new way.
Acclimating
Our journey to the Himalayan 100-Mile Stage Race began with flights to Delhi, where we had one day to acclimate before we traveled further north to the race headquarters in the Darjeeling district. India is a curious mix of rickshaws, cars and trucks that do not mind their lanes, so that cruising along streets and highways is a cacophony of horns beeping and drivers negotiating narrow passages.
Race HQ
The following morning, we flew from Delhi to Bagdogra, in the Indian state of West Bengal. In Bagdogra, we met up with runners from the United States, United Kingdom and Asia and together, embarked on a 2-hour bus ride.
At the race headquarters in Mirik, we were greeted by race director C.S.
Photo courtesy Jodi Weiss
and his team of sherpas, doctors and photographers. Mirik Lodge, aka Hotel Sadbhawana, was where we shared communal meals—a vital part of our adventure—had race meetings, and later, an awards ceremony. This was also where we were immersed in lots of packing to prepare our five-day bags, drop bags and daily finish bags.
Race Logistics
The race covered 100 miles (160k) over five days, with minimum elevation at 6,358 feet and maximum elevation of 11,929 feet. The ascent and descent totaled 20,000 feet, and the race was divided into distances of roughly 13–24 miles per day.
The route passed through the village of Sandakphu—the summit of the Singalila mountain range—and the small town of Rimbik, through Singalila National Park, and beheld stunning views of four of the five highest mountains in the world along the way: Mt. Everest, Kanchenjunga, Lhotse and Makalu. The final day, the course had us running back to Maneybhanjing, where the race started, before we traveled by bus back to Mirik Lodge. The maze of daily logistics for runners, orchestrated by Pandey and the crew who delivered baggage and race supplies to remote locations, was nothing short of miraculous.
First day start. Photo courtesy Jodi Weiss.
Race Day 1: Maneybhanjang to Sandakphu (elevation 6,600 feet to 11,815 feet)
After an early breakfast, runners and race crew piled into the buses and headed roughly two hours to the race start in Maneybhanjang, on the border of India and Nepal.
What started out easy enough as a jog through town with lots of cheers from the locals, quickly turned into a grueling uphill battle. The steep elevation hit me the moment we started to climb. I began to question if I would be able to make it past mile 3. Just when I thought it was leveling out, the climbing would creep back in. The temperatures ranged from blazing heat to wind and chilly temperatures as the early afternoon clouds swooped in. We passed through the Sandakphu National Park, military check posts and shaded forest. A few hours in, my fears subsided and I adapted, grateful to move and absorb the lush landscape.
Aid stations were staffed by friendly and attentive sherpas, offering three food choices: bananas, sweet biscuits or boiled potatoes, which became our race staples. We were required to sign in on a spreadsheet at each aid station and as the day went on, I developed a routine: scribble and take 3–4 biscuits from a pack, leaving the remainder of the pack for others. Whenever we ran through villages, we had local fans lining the way, cheering us on.
Signing in at an aid station. Photo courtesy Jodi Weiss.
As nightfall set in, the temperatures dropped dramatically. In the night sky, amid an abundance of stars, the full moon was bright. I thought about all of us united by the moon, wherever we were in the universe, which led me to think of my mom and dad who are no longer here. It was one of those moments when the world felt small, more within reach, and I knew that I was moving in the right direction. Momentarily, I felt proud of myself for pushing forward when so much of me felt like I was falling backwards.
The last three miles were a series of relentless climbs near 12,000 feet. We were assured that day one was the hardest, with day three a close second when it came to difficulty. For me, the first three days were incredibly challenging, full of rocky and steep climbs and frosty temperatures.
Runners slept in huts at Sandakphu where temperatures were near freezing, and I dressed in multiple shirts, socks and a puffy jacket while lying under three blankets. We used a hole in the floor as a toilet and had no running water, and yet, when I drifted to sleep that night, I felt open to all that was to come.
Race Day 2: Sandakphu (elevation 11,815 feet)
With an early wake up, we were back at the mess hall. Indian food was on the menu with breakfast consisting of corn flakes, porridge, toast and an Indian-prepared version of eggs and bread. Lunch included rice, red lentil dahl, roti and naan bread, vegetable rice and a choice of meat. Dinner was similar to lunch, and sometimes included pasta or noodles, along with tea.
Sky shades at Sandakphu. Photo: Nate Dirvin
The course on day two consisted of a 10-mile out-and-back, which was described as rolling hills but were steep uphills and downhills on loose and rocky terrain. The highlight was that we didn’t have to pack (or unpack) as we stayed in our frigid huts for two nights. We started day two where we had ended on day one, which we learned was the race flow for each day.
On day two, as the runners trekked forward, I slowed down and stayed back until I was alone on the course. Since my dad passed away, there’s been so much movement around and within me. On the trail, with an expansive sky as the backdrop, I wanted life to slow down. I was tired of exerting energy, forcing movement and living by a to-do list. I was tired of making decisions. On the trail, which was well-marked with red arrows leading the way, I put one foot in front of the other. It was nice not to have to think. It was nice to be in a routine: start, finish and repeat.
Race Day 3: Sandakphu to Rimbik – Mt. Everest Challenge Marathon (elevation 11,815 feet to 6,350 feet)
The afternoon prior to embarking on stage 3, Pandey hosted a prep meeting for the Mt. Everest Challenge Marathon. We’d be starting off with the same 10 miles as the previous day, followed by a rolling, 8-mile out-and-back section to Phalut, before descending the downhill section, which race organizers warned would be treacherous.
Goats on the trail. Photo: Nate Dirvin
We started out at daybreak, and the air was brisk as the sky opened to shades of blue. The 10 miles out to Molle, the checkpoint, were familiar and uneventful, and on the 8-mile out-and-back section, we intercepted wild horses, yaks and roaming goats. After arriving back at Molle and crossing a military base, the trail shifted to sharp downhill, complete with deep ruts and endless steps which led us into the quaint and picturesque town of Rimbik. We moved from austere, desert-like terrain full of narrow passages and plummets to tropical vegetation full of dazzling flowers.
Around mile 18, I intercepted Jeff and Laurie, both of whom were accomplished marathoners, and along with a sweep, we navigated the relentless downhills and continuous stairs as a team. The lodge we stayed at for the next two nights had a shower and a real toilet, which was welcome and exciting after days without either.
Jodi and Nate post marathon finish. Photo courtesy Jodi Weiss.
Race Day 4: Rimbik (elevation 6,350 feet)
Day four was a short run day for us, with 13 miles on road which were mostly downhill with a climb leading us back up to 6,560 feet. With sunny and warm temperatures, this day started with a late breakfast and our run beginning at 9 a.m., versus our typical 4:30 a.m. wake-up call.
We finished the day at Palmajua, and then were bused back to Rimbik, all of us in awe over how long the bus ride too— close to an hour—and how far it seemed we had run, even though it was only 13 miles.
The Himalayan 100-Mile Stage Race was different from other events. While running was something we did each day, it was not the sum of our adventure. We shared daily meals and stories and immersed ourselves in the local culture. There was time to get to know one another and experience our surroundings.
The author running with Tibetan flags. Photo courtesy Jodi Weiss.
Race Day 5: Rimbik to Maneybhanjang (elevation 6,600 feet)
On the final day, we were bussed back to Palmajua, where the race concluded. Our trek consisted of 17 miles on road, with a long uphill section through lush countryside that turned into a long downhill with views of four of the world’s tallest peaks. We were greeted by plush landscapes as we made our way down to congested Maneybhanjang, where our journey had first begun.
In my day-to-day life, I have little time to process, mourn or adapt to my new reality without my parents. Air, space, sky and mountains enabled me to slow down and acknowledge that I am not the same person I was earlier this year.
School children greeted us at the finish line, draping colorful embroidered scarves around our necks and cheering for us. It was hard to believe we were finished.
Race finish: Laurie Copeland, CS Pandey and Jodi. Photo courtesy Jodi Weiss.
After lunch, we began our 2-hour bus ride back to Mirik Lodge, where we ate dinner and attended the awards ceremony. Listening to everyone articulate their version of our journey was both meaningful and fun. The next morning, we boarded buses back to Bagdogra airport and flew back to Delhi.
Afterthoughts
In a world that is full of so much chaos, confusion and pain right now, nature and its spiritual richness and renewal were a great reminder of the rewards that await us when we are willing to turn off and tune in to the grandeur around us. This adventure was a great reminder that our most challenging journeys are often our most fulfilling ones, if we are willing to step out of our comfort zones and go the distance.