My 100km struggle in an Indian desert
The first time I ran a hundred kilometres was at the Rann of Kutch in Gujarat, India, during a trail race called Runtherann. The Rann is a vast salt marsh in the Thar desert. The salt sounds deliciously crispy underfoot, but sadly the route does not remain on it. After about 10k (but it may be more), it takes you through rugged, rocky terrain where only thorn bushes and cacti grow.
Around forty competitors decked out with all their compulsory gear lined up for the start. The kit included two torchlights with extra batteries, the capacity to carry at least 2 litres of water, a compass, a whistle, a phone (which I could not use because there wasn’t any network), and many other things. It was my first time carrying so much during a race.
I thought I was ready, but I wasn’t.
At 15k, I had to stop. My right leg was hurting. I tried stretching a few times, but it did not improve. I remembered what God showed me earlier in the week about trusting Him. A verse came to my mind: Psalm 50:15
“Call on me in the day of trouble. I will save you, and you will honour Me.”
So I called on Jesus and asked His help. The promise was clear that He will rescue me, but I needed to trust Him and not myself. And then I need to honour Him. So, I started to walk, and soon I felt decent enough to run.
The first 56K happened in daylight. Around 35k, I met up with Sree, another runner, who accompanied me until the end. I think that he was also a blessing from the Lord. We became acquainted during the long dark hours of the night as we tripped over stones, pushed through thorn bushes, and avoided giant cacti. I held the GPS (provided by the organizers) in one hand and a flashlight in the other. It felt like this was going on forever.
Another row of thorn bushes with seemingly no way through. Look at the GPS; move a little left to be right on the arrow. Push through the thorns and try to avoid getting punctured. Step on yet another loose stone that retaliates with a kick against the ankle. Up and over another small rift; follow yet another “trail” that fizzles out to nothing. Pain in my leg, call on Him, trust, be bold, be strong for the Lord my God is with me. Another row of thorn bushes.
We didn’t run until the sun rose again. We walked fast when we could, but often a kilometre would take 25 minutes. Luckily the cut-off time was 30 hours. Navigating through the thorn “minefield” kept us occupied, but often the darkness and the silence felt thick and oppressive. Every time we reached an aid station, it felt like a homecoming. There was light and food, chairs to sit on, someone else to talk to. But we had to tear ourselves away before we became too stiff to move.
Once we got lost and started going in the opposite direction on the trail. Luckily I realized that when I saw a familiar shape in the path on the GPS. We probably did one extra kilometre. We found someone who was aimlessly wandering around. He was one of the runners who ran out of energy, and his torch batteries were finished. He could not coherently answer any questions. We asked him to stay on the route and told the attendants at the next aid station. Later we heard there were others who couldn’t make it, as is normal for this type of race. He did not finish but was otherwise okay. Luckily this time no one crossed the border into Pakistan as we were told happened the previous year.
While my own two legs carried me all the way and across the finish line, these legs were sustained and healed by my Friend. Even though my food and drink were energy-rich, the energy that I needed to complete the race was from Him.
When we finally crossed the finish line 24 hours, 48 minutes and 11 seconds later, it was with deep gratitude for God who helped me as He promised.
You may ask if I will do it again. No. Probably not. Once should be quite enough, thank you.
Keep running
Stephan
