Moody grey clouds hung low over the steppe. Life-giving rain showers sprinkled down on the verdant, undulating landscape. A group of horses raced one another across the vast horizon, and we had two young pups for company. My favorite scent in the world rose from the grass to tickle my nostrils once more. We were back in Mongolia – and running the Bogdkhan Mountain Trail!
I was destined to love this race. Mongolia is one of my favorite countries on Earth. When we first visited in 2015, I felt ready to abandon our other plans and just move there. So I was super stoked to be back to run the 64 kilometer Bogdkhan Mountain Trail!
Road to the race
The race was scheduled for the last Sunday in July, making it easy for us to travel there. We took a train to Beijing after work on Friday, slept in the city, then flew over the desert to Ulaanbaatar the next day. I was already over the moon on the flight: listening to the sound of a language that seems to softly tell secrets while gazing down on the Gobi. A short taxi ride later, we were in the center of UB and I was positively giddy.
But we had to hurry! We were late for the race briefing. But that didn’t stop me from sneaking a few pictures in Sukbaatar Square en route. Finally at the check-in, we found our good friend Sungsik and made a new friend in Carol, the race director. She’s a famous (and fast!) ultrarunner, so I was really delighted when she went out of her way to talk to us. Indeed, she was so friendly that, at first, I thought she must be mistaking us for other, more distinguished runners!
We also met a little yellow bus full of runners from Singapore who were also cordial. But we couldn’t linger: we were starving from not haven had a proper meal all day. So, after the briefing, we hit the town. Now, one of the wonderful things about UB is that it is chock-full of vegan restaurants: savvy chefs having correctly identified a need in an otherwise veggie-less landscape.
Bellies full, we went home to sleep – but not before a good sit in the window. I watched the dynamic sky above and city life below. It stayed light until late, thanks to that endless sky. When darkness fell, a TV tower lit up like a Christmas tree was the tallest thing for miles around.
We prepped our race vests with race snacks that had arrived in the mail in our new home at the very last minute. There was talk of what the next day held and some reminiscing about our previous trip and then a great night of sleep.
Bogdkhan Mountain Trail 2019
We woke up long before dawn and headed to the square to meet Sungsik. On the shuttle bus ride to the Bogdhkhan Mountain Trail start, we caught up until both boys fell asleep. Then I gazed out the window at the loveliest landscape on Earth; the mountain looming closer and closer and the sky slowly brightening. I spotted the starting arch in the middle of a grassy plain long before we reached it.
It seemed to take Kent ages to wake up and gather his things. But when we finally set foot on the steppe again: that smell! Once again, I was intoxicated by the strong, sweet herbal smell of wild sage that we’d experienced last year in Kazakhstan. I knew these two countries were similar in more ways than one!
It was such a delight to revisit Mongolia in a new season. What a transformation it undergoes! All was brown and yellow under a vast blue sky in springtime. The first day of our first trip was so cold that we wore every piece of clothing we had. It had also snowed – in May! On this visit, the hills were a rolling emerald sea in summer; the green made brighter by thick, low-slung, grey clouds.
Kent made conversation while I frolicked around the starting arch. A beam of sunlight briefly illuminated the scene at sunrise. As the racers gathered before the start, I was surprised by the large number of female runners. There was a big group of ladies, all dressed in yellow uniforms with Mongolian flags – a national team? We also met a famous male Mongolian ultrarunner as we waited for the beginning.
There was a brief round of speeches, including one that reminded me about doing a pre-race kora. So while all the other runners assembled for photos (and much to Kent’s chagrin), I peeled off to run three times around the colorful assembly of sticks, stones and prayer flags nearby.
I made it back to the starting line in the nick of time, just as our new friend Carol blew an air horn to signal the start of the 2019 Bogdkhan Mountain Trail. We were off. And damn, were we really off! It was a fast and furious beginning.
Right off the bat, about a third of the racers began sprinting into the open plain ahead of us. And we pounded the trail right behind them. I led our charge, plunging headfirst into the epic landscape. Breathing heavily, Kent caught up to me to ask if we weren’t starting too fast. ‘I think this is our 5k pace – or better,’ he said. He wasn’t wrong!
I felt really inspired to keep up with the locals, so we continued our headlong dash into the openness. It was the beginning of an interval that would last around 30 kilometers! And it was wonderful, right from the start. That glorious feeling of freedom!
The Bogdkhan Mountain Trail race course roughly followed a road at first – if you could call it a road! It consisted of two tracks through the grass that frequently petered out or splintered. But runners were free to go anywhere they wanted, so we streamed across the plain in small groups rather than one large pack. The 64k cohort of approximately 70 runners quickly spread out, divided into roughly two groups. We were at the back of the fast pack.
Kent and I chatted as we ran, despite being slightly breathless from exertion. The rolling hills in every direction were positively perfect for running. It was very happy times.
We were entranced by a pack of four horses joyfully running around together for no apparent reason other than fun. Next, our curiosity was piqued by a man running nearby with a long furry tail (on closer inspection, a fuzzy pair of ears too!). We passed a few people, including two women (yeah, I noticed – and said hi).
At some point we were joined by two playful pups. They ran in our midst, sometimes right on our heels and sometimes with other runners – always looking absolutely adorable and running with the kind of wild abandon that can only inspire anyone who sees it.
It seemed like no time before we encountered the first checkpoint – and indeed it was! We’d made the first 10k in under an hour. Unlike most races, absolutely no one stopped at this aid station. We could see a table with water on it off to the side, but, not needing any ourselves, we followed the example of the racers ahead of us: we slowed down ever so slightly to allow volunteers to scan our bibs, and raced on!
The first 30k section of Bogdkhan Mountain Trail was a continuous but gradual uphill. We were able to run full-tilt, so I thought we should. The doggies came too. Sungsik surprised us by running up alongside, carving his own path through the fragrant grass.
The smell never seemed to fade, tickling my nose delightfully as I ran, breathing hard. The grass was so alive! All kinds of little plants in every shade of green, complete with flowers and insects. Grasshoppers jumped out with every step, racing us across the steppe.
After running side-by-side for a while, I slipped into the lead and we passed a few folks. Gentle hills, a few dwellings, soaring birds overhead and animals dotting the landscape here and there in herds. Sungsik surged ahead, our canine companions in tow.
The second check-point flashed past much like the first (although I noted that Kent said it was at 17k on his watch rather than the 20k we’d anticipated). We crossed a highway leading to a large, permanent village. Our journey across the steppe continued.
There were bones in the grass, sometimes whole skeletons! Crows flew up in clouds, cawing loudly. The sky remained dark and overcast – but the weather that had felt cold when we were standing still was perfect for running!
I dashed on, pausing at one point so Kent and I could choose our dream horses from a big herd. By now, Sungsik and the tailed runner were the only humans we could see in this vast landscape. Even they were just tiny spots bright against the grass.
On the first small climb of the day, we caught Snow Leopard and asked him about his cool costume. Then we blazed downhill into a herd of cows. There were three similar small passes, each marked by a stone cairn. On the crest of the third, we began to turn towards the mountain.
The speedy Mongolian man we’d met at the start caught us here and we all admired the monastery we could see in a clearing on the mountain slopes. I was waiting a little for Kent now, encouraging him onward and, hopefully, out of the bad mood he’d been stuck in.
Manzushir Monastery and Bogdkhan National Park are popular places, and we saw a lot of campers in the forest. We also shared a gravel road with cars briefly. Ahead of the main aid station, a volunteer welcomed us by waving a big red flag – one of the same ones we’d been following across the grassland!
That was a very friendly sight – and so were the bananas! They seemed completely out of place and absolutely miraculous here. I devoured at least two while Kent, acting in form, opted for a cup of mystery soup. Sungsik was here, refueling and cheering us on (gosh it is nice to have friends in a race!). He told us that the dogs had followed him all the way to this point, although they’d since disappeared.
He set off slightly ahead of us on the Big Climb. Our ascent of Bogdkhan’s Tsetsee Gun peak had us covering 600 meters in 6 kilometers. It was not overly steep, but tough nonetheless. After 30k of real running, it felt odd to slow to a hike. I kept asking myself if we were doing it right.
But slick stones and roots, sticky mud and the first vert of the day made hiking feel more efficient, so I stuck to it. Still, this was no walk in the woods: I was full of energy and hiked hard, measuring my effort by my pounding heart and heavy breathing.
Almost as soon as we started on this climb, the nature of the trail changed completely. All the steppe tracks merged onto a well-defined single-track trail. This trail ran through dense pine forest. It was a beautiful new ecosystem, and I felt lucky and inspired all over again.
Earlier I’d reminded Kent that I’m a steppe pony and that he’s a mountain goat. This change of pace was a time for his strengths to shine – and they did! He stayed close on my heels for the entire ascent.
At one point, he requested a de-hydration stop, and we pulled off some kind of perfect timing, because we were the only people around to spot a deer! It actually seemed to approach us at first, so we had a good look at it before it bounded, gracefully and effortlessly, deeper into the forest.
Afterwards, we continued to climb, anticipating that we would meet the race leaders. About halfway up the mountain, we found them! A pair of local guys running together, another speedster in third place and an absolutely amazing woman tearing it up in fourth place! A further four Mongolian women followed in the top ten, plus the two expat friends Kent met at the start! Just before Tsetsee Gun summit, we encountered Sungsik and our new Mongolian friend, racing one another for the top position in their age category.
We emerged from the forest into a cloud. But with strong winds whipping over the mountaintop, the fog was briefly blown away and we were treated to a view of the rocky peak! We ran towards it, but alas, did not get to the very tippy top. We were scanned and turned around by some friendly race volunteers just shy of the highest boulders.
Determined to do a great job on the descent, this was an opportunity to pick up the pace again. So we ran, heedless of the mud, and things quickly got pretty slippery and sloppy! The first person we saw on the way down was the inspiring older gentleman dressed all in white who we’d passed at the start of the big climb. After a long gap, we found all the other racers in pairs and packs (plus some hikers) and we cheered them on their way up.
Although the rooty, rocky terrain made the going pretty tricky, we still flew down compared to the ascent. Soon I was happily munching bananas again at the aid station, sampling a barley energy ball and refilling my pack with Pocari (yes!). We were the only runners at the CP at the time, so we had a chance to chat a fair bit with the volunteers.
After a few minutes of lingering around the snacks table, we set off uphill again. We were now completely on our own, with a large gap both ahead of us and behind us. Good timing, because I needed to recycle some fluids myself. Hydration success at the Bogdkhan Mountain Trail, thanks to my favorite sports drink and the cool weather, I’d wager.
This climb, through thick, damp grasses and flowers, eventually led us back into the forest on the flanks of Bogdkhan. Here we followed red and white plastic ribbons through the trees that, unbeknownst to us, Carol herself had placed only an hour or two earlier.
Climbing strongly, albeit at a hike, we soon emerged from the forest on a grassy hillside overlooking a pretty and pristine valley. Kent had taken a tumble on the big descent and was moving gingerly on the slippery, slanted mountain slope. We couldn’t put our feet flat or even straight, so we moved slowly through this section despite the negative gradient.
It had been raining lightly on and off since the mountaintop, but now it began to rain in earnest. Already tucked into my jacket, I pulled up my hood. We dipped back into the forest briefly, Kent cursing every climb over a fallen log, and then out into the open again. On a dirt road far below, we could see the ant-like figure of a fellow runner, and a vehicle! It was the next aid station! It blasted its horn at us in a cheerful greeting.
The going was good again, so I rolled downhill, pulling Kent in my wake. We stopped just long enough to say hi and for Kent to fix his shifting insoles. Then I coaxed him to run the road between the hills. Although he’d been struggling, we both got a surge of energy from eating our second bars. We chatted our way up the final climb describing our favorite songs and scenes from different musicals.
We stamped determinedly up another heavily sloped, flower-filled meadow; weaving our way through knee-high grasses and sliding on the moist, steep ground. Objectively, it was tough going in the wind and rain, but morale was high. Our pace was consistent and we never faltered.
When we entered the forest again, it seemed like we were nearing the crest of the hill. But it was a false summit. We climbed some more. I felt hungry, and I was growing slightly concerned about being down to my last snacks with still over 10k of Bogdkhan Mountain Trail to go. After everything that had preceded it, this climb felt hard near the end. I kept tripping and my legs felt tired for the first time. I had to keep reminding myself to run. We caught up to a group of Korean hikers who’d taken a different route to descend from the summit (I was properly encouraged by their familiar cheers of ‘fighting!’), but another runner caught up to us.
There was some confusion at the real crest. Had we missed the aid station? Or just mis-remembered when and where it would be? Eventually it appeared – or rather, they appeared. The final CP was simply a couple of volunteers standing in a clearing. We showed them our numbers and ran on.
Shortly thereafter, we pulled over for another pit stop. With so many hikers in this area, I decided to step into the forest and try the standing pee technique I’ve heard so much about. It went incredibly poorly. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say I was soaked. Yet another bodily fluids misadventure. At least it was raining, Kent pointed out to improve my perspective. Within moments of this utterance, it suddenly and completely stopped raining.
Much merriment ensued as we sped downhill. Kent had me laughing out loud remembering other such malfunctions. But the joking was pretty short-lived. While I was definitely slowed by the thick mud and constantly tripping on roots, Kent was well and truly on the struggle bus.
He told me both that he might faint and that I should leave him. Which helped me remember that I’d stowed a packet of chips from the race briefing as an emergency snack. We shared this, and I think it helped. I tried not to annoy him with my good mood, and stuck to reminding him that it was tough for me too.
Despite all of this, the 8 kilometer downhill seemed to fly past. There were lots of hikers heading in either direction, but we hadn’t seen any runners in a long while. At one point, we became concerned about this, because we hadn’t seen any ribbons since the top of the hill. But we rationalized that there was only one way to go now, and that was down to the city.
Emerging from the forest, we could see UB spread out before us – and our destination: Zaisan Hill! Energized by the view (and the proximity to the finish line!), we began to run in earnest again. I ran faster and faster as the trail turned into a tarred road: an easy downhill. Kent ran too!
There was just one more climb up the back of Zaisan Hill. Kent kept gesturing at me to get going, but I would stop every few steps and turn around and clap for him. The white statue on the hilltop loomed larger and larger overhead, and I was cheering my heart out. Above, we could hear others cheering for us. I reached for my husband’s hand, and we ran through the Bogdkhan Mountain Trail finish tape together.
I was overjoyed. Volunteers rushed to hang carved wooden ‘medals’ around our necks. It had been nine hours and 40 minutes of some of our best, most consistent running ever! And that during our first experience with rain and mud! It was a true victory, and made me really happy. This is what we love. This is what we do. It’s who we are.
After lurking around the monument for some photos, we descended the 600+ steps to the city streets, where we were presented with still more souvenirs! The coolest race presents ever, actually: our names in traditional Mongolian calligraphy! We met Sungsik and Carol, congratulating each on a race well run.
Lessons Learned
I knew happiness played a big role in ultrarunning, I just knew it! From the moment we arrived in UB, I was sublimely happy to be back in a place that feels like home to me. Nothing could get me down; it felt like the whole weekend was a dream come true regardless of the outcome of the race. And I felt like that translated directly into both a great mindset and a strong body for this race.
But the race results were quick to come out, and we had achieved something great: a top five result for both of us, according to ITRA! Although I’d been 7th among the women and 20th overall, I knew we’d done well for ourselves. Our effort had been strong and consistent – definitely good enough for a new personal best. Bogdkhan Mountain Trail was a finish to be proud of! Perhaps especially for Kent, who had hobbled through with a twisted ankle and many more mental struggles.
And, even more importantly, we’d gotten to return to Mongolia. It was a country that had always looked like it wanted running, and now we’d ran there. We’d gotten to explore a new place (Bogdkhan National Park is something special) and revisit old haunts. What more can one ask for of a summer weekend? The happiness lingers.
I would highly recommend the next Bogdkhan Mountain Trail – but I think it was a one-and-only, alas! But why not go explore Mongolia anyways?