Solang 100k 2025

Hindsight sucks

They say hindsight is 20-20. Ophthalmologically, it signifies 100% clarity. For someone who’s visually challenged, when I wear my specs it’s like - Aha! Now, everything is so clear. While penning down these race reports, its hindsight one relies on. And I’m starting to hate it. Why? It provides a mirror. A reality check of sorts. Reflection is the act and I don’t want to do it anymore. Especially when it’s tough, sad or unpleasant. I want to run away. Sleep over it. Not talk to anyone ever. Erase it, it’s over. damn. I want to get over it. Please take this gnawing worm out of my head. I’ll just put it down to bullet points later for the sake of brevity.

Pre race:

- My luggage was stolen on my way back from Europe. All money, shoes, entire backpack – gone. Poverty square one.

- The Asia trail masters finals in Vietnam was cancelled due to a typhoon. My flight tickets, time and resources gone down the drain. Future optimism turns to hopelessness for days.

- Did a recce on the original course under inclement conditions. No use. More on that later. Tried to be a hero by helping one in need. Met with a freak accident which bruised and battered my body. The tetanus injection had me ill. Oh, I broke some bones in my palm too.

- No poles this time. Not possible. I rejected the POP cast at the hospital (due to extra weight) and just crepe bandaged the hand.

- They decide to change the course much prior to race day. No more 4000m climbs. 2 low altitude loop repeats. It’s a bloody road race, I spit in disgust.

Race day:

Started as usual. At a pace not sustainable in ultras. But the mere presence of one of India’s finest ultra racers had me giving a panting early. Proven by the KOMs on several segments. Kalam ( an unsung 48 year old mountain guide from Uttrakahand 4000 m with several ultras under his belt) soon took the lead. Body felt fine, Kailas shoes felt great. Regardless, he took the lead. From Burua village it was all road. Cemented initially, then tar. Across the new Nehru kund bridge. Down to Bahang. Then left, off the highway. A gradual climb starts. Up to Vashisht temple, I run up those with mild effort. Shout my number and scoot. Bow down to the almighty and let the hot water run over my knees, as has become an annual ritual. You have to take me a long way today, I told them matter-of-factly. The climb was fine. Cool weather. Wet trails initially. Notoriously christened death climb. I think I know who gave that moniker. Approaching the clearing, I felt a slight dip in power. Popped another gel. This was non-negotiable, I told myself. After the thach, we run towards the right from where it’s all single-track trails. All the way to Kothi. Single track, sure, but by no means clean. Grass, stones and shrubs are peeking everywhere so one’s got to be vigilant. And slush, of course. 4 or 5 times we cross streams. A slight climb disrupts the momentum. Above the village to Kulang, volunteers are in a tent, directing me to the British bridge. This was missing in the previous few editions. The trail here was really slushy. Dhul-dhul, they say here. No way to by-pass that. I hop gingerly on the extreme ends of the trail. Regardless, the shoes get soggy. Just a few km to drop bag, I assure myself and push on. The British bridge has plates this time, not just a scaffolding. Some click pics here as I run. My broken hand is jarring so, I place my palm close to my chest. It’s a jeep track winding in the mountains where apparently, in the pre-independence days, logs of wood were rolled down. Then it’s a cement surface till Dolma ji’s dhaba. So much has changed. Left, onto the road briefly, I pick up speed. Past Kothi village, back on the old NH, I search for the tent. It’s there. But boys are resting inside. Glug water and yell at them. Rebuked them for not being ready with drop bags or calories. Scoot from there frustrated. Did not even change shoes. Climbed up the Kothi mountain steadily. The sun was out, I murmured a prayer to sun god. I live in a cold region and nothing gives me more joy than the early morning sun on my body. Almost at the top, I briefly glance down. I see Rahul. Damn, how did he cover so much ground? Well, he’s one of the fastest 50k guys around lately and has been training well for this as his A-race. I continue further after the stream crossing and Rahul is gaining on me. Soon we’re side by side. He says something but since I have music blaring, I only grunt back. Briefly, I thought of indulging in a conversation, and maybe demoralizing him but decided against it. It’s too early in the race. Its steep here and I’m rolling my shoulders. This helps me focus away from my burning calves. At the top there’s a tent where we blurt out our numbers to the volunteer. We run side by side for a while. He tries to make a move but I don’t give in. I chase him back. He resigned to being behind, or was it was tactical? Now it’s an ascent along the naala. Slowly ice appears on ground and soon it’s all white. Climbed with purpose, not losing an inch. He was right behind. The climb eases and we have a longish traverse curving to the left. This entire section was covered in snow and Kalam’s footsteps were still fresh. I stepped in between them since it was relatively hard at this stage. This will melt and become a killer in the second loop, I thought. My experience in the Lahaul snow marathon had taught me so. Continued across Patalsu naalah and a brief flat section preceded a steep climb. I yanked my shorts down and peed while hiking. Rahul said he does the same too. Brilliant, I remarked sarcastically. In no mood for banter. Above the treeline, we join the Patalsu path which almost seems like a new mountain. Seeing the Khobi tent, I sprint down the snow. Kch kch. Landing on my heels, running free. Jogta got some nice shots and Hasan was there too. Leaving his clicking duties, he offered me water and coke. Rahul approached panting and collapsed on the ground. Now, let me gun it, I thought and shot off. Aah, the way down was so much fun, I was flying. Slowly melting snow was soft and akin to running down a sand dune. Carefree abandon. Free speed, I yelled, arms dancing. I reached the big painted rock. Down into the jungle, I was flying towards Sagadugh. The Patalsu challenge runners were greeting me along the way. I patted Prashant Vee good luck as I belted down confidently. Make no mistake, it was hurting. My right ankle which I had busted in the TOR (or perhaps earlier) particularly. The Kailas 330 shoe has a hard upper collar, so the ball of my ankle was jabbing against it every time I turn right. And shooting pain. But the left ankle is ok. So, I can’t blame the shoe. I need a shoe change, I thought. Towards Solang, I should have veered slightly right on the grass, but stayed with the markings. Rahul was nowhere to be seen behind. Down the village, I could see kids lined up. They were cheering. So sweet. Wished namaste ji to the elders and pounded down. Reached the dirt road and down to the new bridge. A timing mat was placed here for the Patalsu finish line. I cruised past and spotted Ankush say something. “He’s just about 5/10 mins ahead”. As we u-turn down to adventure valley, I spot Kalam jogging up. Barely a gap. I reached the camp and yelled drop bag, drop bag. It was in the tent and nobody bothered. There were only two boys, both busy filming. F*ckin C*oots I muttered and dashed out. Oh, I shouldn’t have. Tch tch. God took note of this, I’m sure.

I’m starting to think too much of myself. Ego? Almost expected someone there to tend to my requests. But hey, this is an ultra. I need to calm down. 1 minute does not matter. Those volunteers are doing it as a seva. Can’t expect them to wait and tend to me, huh. I wasn’t even first. The past is past. I feel like a spoilt brat, whining. I later regretted my lashing, at no one in particular.

Dashed out with the few mins gap on my mind. Underprepared for what’s upcoming. It was hot. Oh yes, a flat section. I saw Rahul entering the camp but via a shortcut. Barely ten minutes. But I registered that. Tried to get some road speed but in vain. Did my best. Climbed upto the road and tried again. My shuffle speed was equivalent to walking speed. Kept at it nevertheless. Kept peering around the bends if I could spot Kalam. No. I had slowed down. The heat was getting to me. The agony persisted. Even hiked a bit. That beat my confidence without a doubt. After the last snow gallery, water was tricking down a pipe. Cooled myself there and rehydrated. Minor relief. But panic was still there on my mind. The gap panic, let me call it so. It was omnipresent. Reached Dhundhi bridge and I could spot the RD, Vishwas bhai. He wanted to know my total distance yet. Never glanced at that screen. I scrolled on my watch and told him what I saw. Then I continued down. From the project building, it was slow going. Just before Palchani nalla (where the actual water flows, Kalam was returning. A minute away was the tent u-turn point. So, the gap was max 2 to 3 mins. As I approached the nallah, I felt the need to download. I squatted on some rock on the nallah and let it out. Rarely have I blasted it such. It was a 5 min continuous loose motion shart (shit+fart). I had barely peed till then. All liquid was emerging from the wrong hole. And a lot of gas too. I had been consuming Medalist gels (thanks Ryota Nakatani) all the while. Zero solid food. It just went on and on. In the end, I felt exhausted. From shitting. That’s a first. It was diarrhoea on steroids. Cleaned up and crawled to the tent. Again coke and water refill. At least here, I should have had something solid but no. Gap panic again. Ran down the downhill section trying to mimic Kalam’s gait. He didn’t really blast it down but was steady and in control. I lost momentum when I reached the bridge where there were volunteers with Vishwas bhai. I requested water. Doused myself. Loudly barked, “let’s go”. The unnecessary show off, sometimes I am.

The gait hastened and I was chasing the RD’s Toyota Hilux returning. A little traffic jam had me weaving in and out. I hope he took note of this. A bloody road race, was my opinion although I had kept it to myself. My legs were tight with lactic acid. Simply could not find my 5^th gear. Came down consistently in the proverbial 3^rd gear and reached camp. Now the atmosphere was different. The leader was sitting on the grass. Somebody was feeding him. Ganesh and Hira bhai came to tend to me. Ankush too. I changed shoes. Into the second-hand Hokas which I picked up from a cobbler in Leh for 750 bucks. With my broken palm, it’s not easy to handle Injinji toe socks. Hira bhai and Ganesh among others were a boon this time assisting me. Thanked them and scooted. 50% done. We are even-stevens. Again, did not eat. I thought I had the lead but was not 100% sure. Clipped at a moderate pace, my mind thinking I’m in pole position. The second lap was damage control. The Hokas felt better on my right ankle and I kept a steady pace. Upto Vashist everything was fine. Then again, my engine was overheating. The climb up this time was draining. Pushed hard towards the end, lest someone caught up. I was nervous. Stopped for a second at the top and took stock. Stretched a bit and regained focus. At the Moridugh station, I stopped even though I had what I needed. Held the volunteer’s shoulder and did some leg swings. Glugged coke. Took off. Steady, still unaware of my position. Filled water at the naalas and thought no stopping till the drop bag at Kothi tent. Was getting tight and rusty. More squatting and sharting. Clearly, this machine is not well-oiled. TOR hungover perhaps. Made it to the tent and this time I behaved well with the boys. I swapped packs. Grabbed a jacket. Took off Hokas and soggy socks. Time for the Injinji compression socks and Kailas EX shoes. Jitu bhai and his friend was really helpful. Changing into a new kit, I felt better. Thanking them, I departed, thinking only one major climb left. Here I was doubly scared. Rahul had caught up with me on the first lap. This time I kept glancing. No way, he’s behind me. Yes way. Halfway up, I saw him again. Darn. Not this time, pal. Past the stream. Up the steep section. Here, I dug deep. I know that I’m struggling, struggle some more. Exaggerated arm movements kept me going. Jogging was out of the question. Pushed past the abandoned gujjar deras. As I was climbing the naala, it was dusk. Refrained from turning on the headlights. Halfway up I glanced back to spot the headlight, far behind in the distance. Damn. I drank water at the next tent. Knew it was the ice section next. Continued steadily on fresh snow, a little above the steps created earlier. It was slow going. Toes pointing outwards, feet moving in a V-shape for maximum traction. Reminded me of those multiple Friendship peak climbs I had done some years back. Only thing, I had no poles now. Pushed till the Patalsu path. Then I ran to Hasan’s tent. I knew here on, I could extend my lead. The leader was less than 5 mins ahead. My fingers were freezing. And of course, my broken left hand was useless. (I recalled “you don’t run with your hands, uh” – Kilian on his Hardrock victory with a dislocated shoulder). Asked Hasan to tighten my laces which he figured out. Very kind of him. Here’s my chance, I thought and went down zig-zagging because it was dark. At the treeline, I could spot a fire. It was too much to the left, I thought. Must be some hikers in the old gujjar dera. Veered to the right looking for the painted rock. And I veered too much. I was lost in the jungle thick bushes till my shoulders. Rarely have I been so badly stuck, precariously dangling from a steep drop. Grasping onto foliage for dear life. A 5 second lapse in concentration and boom. Here’s where the race slipped away from my fist.

All the while, I was running scared. Gap panic, gap panic. I barely smiled. Hardly said a word. Nature – a setting where I revel, absorb, soak in the beauty – I saw none. In races I have waxed poetic on sunsets, dew on flower petals and the kind. This time, I barely noticed anything. Blank. Mouth open. Deep breathing panting. Can’t push by hands-on-knees. One is broken. Feels like a knife is jabbing in there. Head down, push, head up, repeat. Groan. That’s all I remember. There was no joy in this race. I don’t know why. I approached it as a road marathon. My mantra - Stay in second, stay in second till the end. Wait for the right time and gun it. I could see the leader’s headlight. What’s 3 minutes in a 100k? Nothing. Did I wait till too late? Maybe not. I was scripting a story with about 12k to go. Alas! That few seconds of brain fade, shut the door for me.

If only I stuck to first principles. When you don’t see markers, turn back. Retrace your steps. I had even loaded the gpx file on to the watch the previous night, but never turned it on. Attitude. The map feature on my watch showed me the route I took on the first lap. On glancing, my messed-up brain was telling me that’s the Dhundhi road – don’t go there! For no particular reason, I heard flowing water and decided to follow it. I wasn’t thinking straight. I had run out of calories. At least, there’s water here. I wont die soon. Such was my haal.

Did a death-march hike upwards and I was in snow territory again. Oh shoot. I had retraced back to Kothi top. Threw in the towel here and sat next to the bonfire. The boys were surprised, sympathetic and finally encouraging. I warmed my fingers, contemplating what to do. I had to go down on foot. No other option. Creakily decided to move. The race was not on my mind anymore. Again, traversed to Khobi and down towards the big rock. This time I saw some volunteers. They were snug in the tent. Decided to go on. Realized where I screwed up. Instead of going down, I went left into the jungle. Did another loop just to be sure. Damn. Eventually, was on the path down to the village. Reached Solang and headed towards the camp. Deserted. Sat and pondered. What now? There is a dreadful road section. But why am I here? If I quit, I can give a valid excuse (like many elites do) and gain sympathy. I’m not here for that. Beggars do that. I had set out to do something and in the larger scheme of things, I better complete it. My conscience will not forgive me otherwise. Trickled out with calories stocked. I’m going to erase the next bit from this report. I saw Rahul on his way back near café BRO and he was genuinely concerned for me. Said I’m okay and wished him good luck and a strong finish. Up to the bridge. The climb up to Palchani nala was dreadfully slow. It was cold and windy. My body moved with no motivation, no drive. Back on the road down, I tried to push but the legs did not cooperate. Poor form, my gait was rusty. I craved trails. Finally a little bit towards the end and I jogged it in. The finish arch was visible. Such a low feeling, rarely have I experienced. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t bitter. I felt cheated. Crossed the tape without any theatrics. I looked heavenwards and blurted out “why me?”. Some answers I will never get. Karma. God gives, God takes. I couldn’t stop shaking my head. Such is life. Onwards and upwards.