The Trail

We hiked 8 miles into camp (the itinerary suggested we would be running… right). I tried a bit of a walk with my new best friend but my legs were tired from the hike and I was supposed to rest for the marathon. Instead we opted for lying around camp chatting. It was a lovely day, nestled in a small valley, surrounded by mountains on the edge of a river. Across the river were terraced farm lands and other relics from Incan times. A family of Llamas was doing their part to keep the grasses down around the ruins.
In the hours before dinner the porters set up for the gift giving ceremony. We had been asked to bring gifts for our support staff; you might not be surprised to learn that most people donated cotton running shirts and used running shoes. They separated all the items then created piles that had equal numbers of most items. For the ceremony itself the staff randomly drew numbers and was given the corresponding pile. The whole process was entertaining, especially when the oldest porter won the pile with the trendy pink high heels.
Darkness came early but dinner came earlier. Most people retired to their tents shortly after the meal, hoping to get a full night sleep before our 3 am wake up. Conditions were perfect for sleeping; the evening was cool but didn't require the 15 degree liner I ordered last minute from amazon.com. The sound of the river just outside the tent was a perfect lullaby. The sky was clear allowing me to study foreign constellations during my many potty breaks.
Breakfast was available immediately after we awoke. Pancakes, which are very similar to crepes, wrapped around a banana...I ate two, a big bowl of porridge and all the instant coffee and coca tea you could stomach. As it turns out I dislike Nescafe, even with chocolate and sugar, but you wouldn’t have known that watching my slurp down cup after cup.
On the hike to the start line we passed numerous people on their way to work (presumably farming and weaving). There was little conversation at this point, all our concentration was on the trail. Although it was still reasonably flat and the footing was reliable there were too many rocks sticking up out of the trail with the clear intention of tripping us all. We had a few minutes when we arrived at the start line, I used the time to pee and saw a shooting star as I squatted. There was much debate after about what I should have wished for, some thought finishing the race, others argued for money, I wished for continued control of my bodily functions. Perhaps it was the timing of the wish, or the fact that most of the group had experienced some digestive distress at some point on the trip, but it was the only thought that occurred to me when I saw the star.
Promptly at 5 we took off. The first 3 miles were described as "the most runable (a word my spell check hates)" and that was intimidating. The first control gate, located at mile 3, wouldn't open until 6 am so we took the miles at a fast hike. It was guaranteed to be a long day, times for this course range from 5.5 hours to 12.5 hours. It quickly became clear why a marathon could take so long. The course fluctuates between 8,000 ft and 13,800 ft of elevation. The lack of oxygen slowed us down, that combined with the stairs made for a virtually unrunnable course (even with two n’s spell check doesn’t think this is a word). The trail consisted of narrow, uneven stairs with rocks jutting out at dangerous angles, along cliffs that offered a quick route straight down the mountains. You couldn't take your eyes off of them or you were guaranteed to trip. Stairs up the mountains and stairs down the mountains. No oxygen to feed the muscles and no breaks in the work they did.
We started with a steep climb. We tried different ways of moving up the mountain. Step-together...a few quick steps then rest for a few...move slowly with short rests...move fast with long rests... Do as you please, there was no fast way up the mountain...unless you happen to be a local. The people who crossed this path every day were rather adept at it.
The views were breath taking, sunrise over mountains and valleys. Some mountains so tall they were covered with snow. Getting so high you could look directly at clouds on neighboring mountains. Flora and fauna like I've never before seen, changing with every micro climate. Stairs so steep you had to sit down and scoot onto the lower steps to descend and use your hands to climb up.
The sun rose as we climbed. The air was still cold but the sky was clear, promising a warm day. I was so relieved to finally reach to top of the first, and highest, peak. The victory was short lived however as I realized that downhill posed its own set of problems. As it turns out oxygen is still necessary, even to descend. The hill was steeper on the way down and the rocks were still irregular and pointy. At the bottom of the first peak we were greeted with the glorious sight of our first aid station. I grabbed a peanut butter sandwich for the road, ate a banana and refilled on water. The banana didn't sit well and prompted me to eat the sandwich in hopes of settling my stomach. It was successful and I avoided the bananas at the only other aid station.
The way up to the second peak was just as hard as the first. The terrain was similar...tall brown grass all around. This ascent had the added excitement of multiple false summits. You would be positive you had made it to the top, and then one more step would completely change your surroundings. Suddenly the remaining portion looked as long as what you had just covered.
When we finally reached the top it wasn't as rewarding as I hoped. The descent was considerably more treacherous than the previous one... This was a pattern that would continue throughout the run, the trail continued to get harder and harder, steeper and steeper. And while we gained oxygen we grew more fatigued. Time flew by easily while we had to fight for each mile we logged.
The trail was gorgeous between the 2nd and the 3rd peaks. We were now in a "cloud forest", the surroundings were lush and the air was moist, a welcome break from the hot dry air. We were also seeing more hikers and campers. They looked utterly stunned as we ran. I made it a point to run as fast as the trail would permit any time there were witnesses, this usually resulted in a good wipe-out as soon as we passed them. There were more parts that could be run (this is where I admit that I did not run the entire trail…I ran all that could be run, and rolled my ankle twice and banged up my knee trying to run parts that couldn’t be run, just to prove they had to be walked…that’s dedication).
I had never run more than 14 miles prior to this event. So by the second aid station, mile 17, my mind and body were in a place they hadn’t been before…and they loved it. I was falling all over myself as I attempted to fill my bladder with Cytomax and more water, I couldn’t stop laughing at myself as I dropped everything multiple times. My running partner, Rich, sat down to eat when it became clear that we would be there for a while. I entertained our porters with my incompetence until they managed to wrestle my pack away from me and fill everything themselves. And then, with much assistance from the porters, we were off, stumbling down the mountain.
Eventually, we came to a point in the run where there were a lot more camps than we had seen previously, and a lot more potential for wrong turns. The campers cheered us on and pointed us in the right direction…we hoped. My partner pointed out to me that we had been running for a long time without seeing anyone, hikers or other runners. My overly confident self was not the least bit concerned with this, we were told the trail would be obvious, and if I was on it, it must have been the obvious choice. The ground was covered in leaves so all my runner-tracking skills went right out the window.
Still unsure of our trail, we ran into what must have been an Incan ladder (how on earth did they transport things along this trail?). These were the steepest stairs on the trail, 10-15 feet (I really have no idea, I was somewhat delirious at this point, and had been for the past few hours) straight up. We had to use our hands to climb up it, and they call this a run. At the top we started trudging along only to be stopped by a curious looking fellow who wanted to know where we came from. I pointed to my left and stammered “we have been so many places today.” He didn’t look satisfied by my response.
We were in the glaring sun now, shuffling through gate like ruins. And there it was, Machu Pichu, thousands of feet away (more stairs). It was a glorious sight; enhanced perhaps by fatigue, the sweat in my eyes and a shortage of oxygen (I may never have enough oxygen again). To commemorate this moment, I yelled “That’s how I know we are not lost!” There was not a dry eye in the crowd. I do have a way with words.
To continue the tradition the trail was again very steep, narrow and surrounded by sharp cliffs. I had already rolled my ankle twice and I was not in the mood to risk going over the edge, so I did what any reasonable adult would have done. I sat on my butt and scooted down the stairs, yup, and there are witnesses. Sadly most of them had only hiked up from Mauch Pichu so they didn’t understand the fatigue I was experiencing, nor did they think I deserved the right-of-way. They looked at me like I was crazy, not realizing that this humbling act was motivated by a strong desire to live to the end of the race. And I did live to the end, but it was much further off than I could have imagined, and somehow required us to run up more stairs. The finish line was in the Machu Pichu ruins, on a narrow stairway with a small cliff to the side, naturally. We still had to hike a mile to get to the bus that would take us to Aguas Calientes, a town located on a very steep hill. With the exception of the road the bus uses, all the other streets in the town are stairs. It was a rough town to maneuver the days after a race of this sort.