It matters little what we get from the work we do, if we mean by that riches, power, or prestige (often it matters nothing at all!) But it matters absolutely and eternally what we become by or in the doing of it. -John Ruskin
Sitting on the edge of the lateral moraine of the Khumbu Glacier, Mt Everest in view.
The Everest Marathon was a test of will, of strength and endurance of the mind as much as the body. It’s the highest marathon on earth covering miles of rugged terrain crossing glaciers, glacial moraines, rivers, suspension bridges and despite trending downhill also included some brutal climbs. I live here in Riverside at 780 feet above sea level and would begin this race at 17,500ft at the foot of majestic Mount Everest. The race itself tested me in ways that no other athletic feat up til now ever could, it stripped me down to a breaking point and left me staring face to face with my inner self, peaking into the engine that fuels my core. One core lesson I learned, or got to learn all over again however was that our life experiences are far more beautiful and robust than we could ever imagine. Our plans and even memories, at best, are just a sketch of the real experience and so it’s exciting to prepare and then throw yourself onto a path that will ignite your spirit as it unfolds.
Celebrating with my nephew after making it to Everest Basecamp
I spent a year training and preparing for race day. I made sacrifices and gave everything I could to prepare myself and what I received in return was an expansive and fulfilling journey; so much more than just a morning run. It was filled with struggle, beauty, connection, strength, culture, friendship, fun and growth. There’s enough in my memory to write a book but I’ll try to capture core aspects in this short blog post and I hope if you’re reading this you’ll be inspired to take a journey of your own.
The Why
I found myself in a place where I felt the need for focus. I was floating in some areas of my life and I knew that while I worked through these things it would be helpful to set a goal, like a heading on a trek to pull me forward in a positive direction. It needed to be physical so that I would be forced to take care of my body and make decisions that would lead to a healthier lifestyle. It needed to be big, to be scary, to be hard so that my training would be engaging and it needed to be exciting so that my commitment would not waiver. I was eating at my friend Devi’s restaurant, it’s an Indian food place called Namaste Indian Kitchen on the corner of Jurupa and Magnolia. Devi is from Nepal and my wife and I got to travel with him through the country for 45 days while we were on sabbatical. I mentioned to him that I was thinking of running a marathon in the mountains and he immediately said, “what about the Everest marathon!?” That was it, I was in. After reading about it, it had all the things that would drive me. A race in a far off country, deep in the Himalayas at high altitude. It scared me and I wasn’t completely sure I could do it but decided that in the worst case I wouldn’t run or finish the race but I would have tried and gotten a great hiking trip as a consolation prize. Now the road was set, the goal was clear and I began to train.
The process
Ancient Tibetan carvings could be seen throughout the valley
You can’t train for altitude without being at altitude. I had looked into hypobaric chambers but unfortunately for me I didn’t have the budget to buy the equipment so I figured I would strengthen my body as best I could and then planned to arrive in the mountains 2 or 3 weeks before the race to give my body time to adjust. I began running in the Box Springs mountains here in Riverside. There’s a trail called Two Trees that leads to the Spring Trail and then up a service road to the cell towers above Moreno Valley. It’s an 8 mile loop and about 2000 or so feet of climbing. At first I barely made it up the Two Trees trail and that’s where the mental training began. I felt ridiculous. Setting a monster goal in the Himalayas and yet there I was training at low altitude in the desert and struggling. I gave myself grace, “you’re doing well, just do better than yesterday and you’ll get there.” I was running at 5am in the dark because it was summer and baking hot as soon as the sun crested over the summit of San Gorgonio. San G was one training goal, to run the whole trail to the summit, an 18 mile round trip with 5000 feet of climbing. I actually only had three goals.
My nephew, Mason relaxing in the freezing waters as I cold plunged for leg recovery.
To complete 3 back to back loops of Two Trees (24 miles and 6000 or so feet of climbing) to run San Gorgonio and to do a 10 minute wall sit. I also knew from reading about ultra running that I needed to do strength training so I joined my friend’s gym in Colton called Balance Point Crossfit. I would go there 2 to 3 times per week, run 3 days a week on the trails and then mixed in Yoga and recovery training that I learned from Mike Iasspara at Fun Yoga Studio by UC Riverside. I also mixed in some cold plunging with my friend Ron which is an experience all to itself but I’ll save that for another article! I should add, for those of you that don’t know me, that I played soccer my whole life, was a college athlete and semi-professional soccer player post college. I have a strong history of physical strength, distance running and competition but at this stage in my life, my late 30’s, I had fallen into work habits and a lack of consistent exercise so this kind of schedule was not easy for me to adhere to. What I struggled with the most was removing alcohol from my diet but with a big enough goal I was 99% successful with that. My first time up San Gorgonio I strained my calf pretty good and fought with that recovery as well as mental set back for about a month before I could get back to trail running. Eventually I would complete all of my goals and though I wouldn’t say I was in the best shape of my life, because my college days are pretty hard to beat in this aging body, I was certainly in the best distance running shape of my life.
Arriving in Nepal
Me, Mason and Devi standing above Namchee Bazaar
View from a cafe in Durbar Square, Kathmandu
The plan began to take shape and I would end up traveling with my nephew and Nepali friend Devi; a few weeks later I would meet up with my Dad and English friend Paul. Kathmandu is a wild city, dense, polluted, noisy and engaging. You can’t walk down a sidewalk or cross a street without paying full attention as the roads are often hazardous and cars and motorcycles are constant. We decided, for the adventure, that we would take a jeep to the trail head rather than plane. It was a 9 hour ride on rough roads out to Salleri and then another 9 hours on extremely rough mountain roads to Surke. We bounced and shook the whole way there and I was fascinated to learn that all of these ridges and valleys for miles on end were populated with tiny villages and hillside homes. There were men at work hand carving stone to pave the roads which, come the rainy season, will turn to pools of mud. There is so much more to say but I promised a short article so I’ll move on. We arrived in Surke and began what would ultimately become over 100 miles of hiking, 70 miles of training runs and then a marathon to cap it off! I tracked much of the activity on Strava and my stats showed 55,000 feet of elevation change in the month of May, for an active and adventurous person this was an ideal trip.
View at the base of Thok-La, crossing the river
We climbed through village after village, watching the landscape change and feeling the oxygen in the atmosphere get thinner and thinner. The valley is fascinating with breathtaking views in every direction. There are constant caravans of donkeys and yaks, boulders hand chiseled in ancient tibetan and colorful monasteries that contrast the very rudimentary and utilitarian dwellings. The valley is changing as tourism and climbing has brought more money but many people still live a fairly primitive existence. Cooking on wood stoves, hand washing and hang drying clothing, growing their own food and heating water on solar heaters. The bathrooms are primitive, often just a hole in the ground or elevated wooden structure with a plastic pan in the middle. Of course there are tourist hotels with comfortable amenities but that is certainly not how the locals live.
The Marathon
Morning of the Marathon
My tent at Basecamp covered in snow
The day of the marathon came and I was nothing but excited. Standing there at the starting point, surrounded by the tallest peaks on earth, trail runners from all over the globe and feet planted on a glacier was one of those moments that are difficult to believe even as they happen to you. The sun was warm on my face and I removed my buff and down vest, the clouds were clearing and it was shaping up to be a beautiful day. I felt strong, prepared and confident and was itching to get moving; preparation was over and now it was time to perform. The race began and the large group of runners slowly began to filter on the single track trail. You cover a few hundred yards of rock and ice before hitting some large boulders and the first climb up onto the lateral moraine. I skipped over and around a few people looking for small windows of opportunities to get in front of the crowd without obstructing anyone. The trail often splits into two or three mini trails that have been cut by herds of yaks so it wasn’t difficult to navigate around people hopping up around the various obstacles. Before long I had made it into a pack of local runners and we were navigating the large boulders of the moraine between Basecamp and Gorak Shep. I was amazed at the speed and confidence of these runners, moving swiftly across rocky and unstable terrain. We turned down a steep 30 yard section and the sun was now at our backs casting a shadow in our path, the next thing I knew I was going down hard. I had stepped in a fresh yak turd with the full weight of my right foot and both feet flew out from under me, somehow I planted into another boulder and was back up and running without even losing my place in the pack! The guy behind me was shocked and yelled, “hey are you ok!?” I looked at my right hand, just a bit of blood and a small scrape on my knee but other than that was good, I gave him a thumbs up and kept on moving. I then looked down at my left elbow and there was poop smeared from my wrist to the tricep so as we bottomed out in this section and the trail got sandy I reached down grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it into the poop to at least dry it out and get some off.
Descending Thok-La Pass
The next 10 miles were great, I felt good and only saw Nepal flags on the race vests. I wanted to keep my heart rate at or below 160 throughout the race and was running right between 155 and 160 so I resisted the urge to speed up even though the adrenaline was urging me to move faster. I knew there was a long way to go so despite feeling good I paid close attention to the heartrate on my watch. At the first and second checkpoints I was the first place foreign runner and was moving at the pace I had planned for, so far things were going great, the landscape was stunning, the sky was blue and the running was hard but not outside of what I expected it to be. I had to pee but I didn’t want to stop so I slowed to a jog and peed out of the bottom of my shorts while I kept moving. I was on a mission and nothing was going to stop me. I came down Thok La Pass which is a gnarly descent, the terminal moraine of the Khumbu glacier. I was flying down the pass, jumping from boulder to boulder and leaping off of rocks down the trail. I had looked forward to this section and it did not disappoint! There was a guy up ahead and though I was moving at a rapid pace he wasn’t getting any closer, those Nepali’s can run! All of the foreigners, including myself, were geared up with vests, food, water, emergency supplies…the Nepali’s were in shorts and t-shirts. I hit the second checkpoint, well, what was supposed to be the second check point. I looked up and nothing was there so I looked up again to scan the area and my left foot locked into a pot hole, leg locked straight and I was going down again. I played soccer my whole life and got pretty good at falling. 
As soon as I felt myself going down I tucked my left shoulder in, did a front roll and popped right back up still in stride. “Take the warning Andrew, strike two.” I told myself. I knew at any moment an ankle could sprain or break, one misstep and this race (not to mention several day hike out of the valley) would be over. I was coming into the stretch before Dingboche which was a nice steady downhill. We were approximately 10 miles in and I passed a Nepali female runner, she looked tired and was running with nothing so I offered her an energy gel and some of my water. She happily accepted and we ran together for a bit. Only a few minutes later my torso locked up, shooting pains with every breath spread across both sides and my lower back. I slowed to a walk, in shock at the intense and sudden pain that came out of nowhere. I tried to drink a bit of water and it made me gag, I took some deep breaths and the pain was too strong I shallowed my breathing. The next 10 miles were an absolute beast, the pain wouldn’t go away and my body wouldn’t accept fuel. I even tried self-induced vomiting in case it was something in my stomach from breakfast making me sick but nothing was helping. The mental battle was as bad as the physical one. My body was freaking out and so all the voices in my head were on high alert. “Why is this happening? How do I make it stop? This isn’t fair. You can’t run like this. You have to run. You’re not going to win this race.” I was on the verge of tears. All of this training and preparation as well as significant investment of time and finances; it wasn’t supposed to go this way. I kept cycling between positive messages, “it is what it is, deal with it. Keep moving no matter what. You’re not moving at the pace you could be, so what, give what you got however much that turns out to be.” I told myself I had signed up for pain and there it was.
At the starting line, Everest Base Camp
Coming through Lobuche at 16,000 ft
I was there, in the moment, recognizing the moment as it unfolded. “Here you are, in the race, whatever happens just don’t finish this race thinking you could have given more.” At about mile 15 I came across the female runner from earlier, she had stopped at a store and was snacking on something. As I ran passed her she yelled at me, I didn’t know what she was saying but she jogged over and offered me a redbull type energy drink. I didn’t want it but I knew I needed energy and I figured I couldn’t possibly feel worse than I already did so I thanked her and drank it down. Amazingly after about 15 minutes the pain went down a notch or two! I was so grateful to her and it was a beautiful moment of connection, of giving and receiving; just small gestures but for me in that moment it was everything. Mile 20 came and the first major climb was in front of me. One runner from Norway had passed me but I was still in 2nd place out of the foreign runners. It was about a 500 foot climb over less than a half mile so it was steep. I took 5 or 6 steps and then would stop, 5 or 6 more. Every time I moved my body screamed at me and when I would stop my mind yelled to keep moving. I heard music coming from below and a group of teenagers came walking up the trail, one of them carrying a guitar. They had a speaker playing some modern Nepali music like John Rai or something. As they walked past me I had my hands on my knees, the kid with the guitar looked me in the eyes and asked, “have you had enough yet?” I laughed. It was like throwing gas on a fire and was just what I needed. I stood up and replied, “this mountain won’t break me” as I pushed on to the Tengboche Monastery.
The Tengboche Monastery
Post race hanging out in Namchee Bazaar
The descent from the monastery was a very steep 2.5 mile section, I had run it a few weeks prior and flew down with what felt like wings. This time would be different. I struggled to keep moving but the downhill was a welcome reprieve and I knew once I hit bottom the crux of the entire race would be upon me, an almost 3000 foot climb covering the last 4 or so miles. I passed a group of teenage girls who decided it would be fun to run with me. It was a narrow trail and two of them ran alongside me yelling and laughing. I tried to focus on the floor so as not to trip on the stone steps, tree roots and loose rocks. One of them got too close and as I looked up to not bump into her I rolled my right ankle hard on a loose rock. I pulled up limping and took the weight off my ankle. Again, thanks to soccer and countless rolled ankles I knew it was one I could continue running on but it hurt like hell. I reached the bottom, crossed the suspension bridge over the river to the cheers of many walkers and people taking breaks before they began the climb. At this point I was broken. I was 23ish miles in, hadn’t drank anything besides the energy drink and hadn’t eaten any of my energy gels besides the one before my torso had turned. With the big climb ahead I pulled out my camel back and dumped the water out, I wasn’t going to drink it so I figured I might as well lose the weight. I heard cheering behind me at the bridge and thought it must be Sam. Sam was from Belgium and had a sub 3 hour marathon time, he was fit and I figured if anyone was going to catch me it was going to be him. As he passed me he was struggling as well, he had run out of water so I gave him one of my full bottles. We wished each other luck and I slowly lost sight of him up the steep switchbacks. This section was pure grit, grinding out every step with the mantra of “leave nothing in the tank.” I pushed physically and mentally pushed doubt out of my mind. The end was near and would make sure that I ran a race I could be proud of regardless of the setbacks. As I neared the top a runner from Ireland passed me. I was really hoping to at least take 3rd so I was bummed when I saw him coming but I was proud of him as well and wished him well as he pushed on. On the final 2 mile stretch I saw two Nepali runners up ahead and used them as motivation to push just a little bit harder. One of them sped up and pulled away but I ended up passing the other and finished just a little bit ahead of him. I finished in 4th place out of the foreign runners and 23rd out of 216 total runners.
Looking Back
I can’t be anything but grateful for the chance to have had this experience. 5 weeks in Nepal and a full month in the Himalayas with my friends and family was a joy. I will carry these memories with me for the rest of my life and my world has been opened once again to new challenges and landscapes. I proved to myself that I have what it takes to set a big goal and follow through. Looking back on the hardships of the race makes it almost sound like a negative experience but it wasn’t at all, it was just what I went for and then some! I’m proud of myself for giving it my all but I think I’m most proud of the impact this journey had on my nephew. He’s since ran two half marathons and is training for a full marathon. Prior to this trip he hardly ran at all. Opening his eyes to a wild adventure in a foreign land and inspiring him to run has turned out to be one of the best outcomes from the journey.
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