The sun beat down mercilessly on my misshapen head. A hat packed with lumps of ice had helped me reach this point, but these were melting at a furious pace – and then my relief would be over. Thick smoke filled the air and partially obscured the light of the sun, even at its zenith. I was stumbling over pinnacles of karst, the trail having emerged above a thick, tangled jungle.
This was not the first time, nor the last time, that I would have to sit down in the middle of the trail, in the middle of Laos, in the middle of this race. At this moment, I sat because I thought that I might faint. I felt unsteady, and my legs trembled slightly beneath me. Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang was proving to be a massive challenge.
From a secure but somewhat uncomfortable seated position balancing on the karst, I assessed my situation. Was I shaky because I was hungry? Exhausted? Suffering from heatstroke? Or could it be a symptom of exposure to air pollution? There was no way to know for sure. I ate an energy bar, gave myself two minutes of rest, juggled what remained of my ice cubes – and set off again.
The road to the race
Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang changed my life. Or, I guess you could say that I changed my life for this race. We had to do it: Kent and I had been looking for an excuse to return to Laos for years. This was it! So what if it meant we had to quit our jobs early, pull out of another race and juggle family commitments? An uncomfortable transition at work left us wanting a big break from reality.
Two airplane rides and a full day’s travel left us feeling far removed from the reality we’d left behind. We were ready for a new reality in tropical paradise! It was my first time in northern Laos, and I was eager to explore. We gorged ourselves on fresh fruit after short shake-out runs along the Mekong or through the atmospheric center of Luang Prabang.
The Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang race briefing was held in a small courtyard just big enough for all of the runners (and a few curious tourists). In English, Thai and Lao, the organizers reviewed this first edition race course. They also promised us coke and ice at the aid stations – which was exactly what I’d come to ask about!
It was surprisingly easy to sleep the night before this race. After a quick dip in the pool, I climbed under the mosquito net and sank into our soft bed. I drifted off feeling more relaxed than I’d felt in weeks, despite knowing we’d be up again in only a few hours.
We woke up around 3 am and did some last-minute preparations. Donning our backpacks and shoes, we walked from our hotel to the city center to catch a shuttle to the race site. The ‘shuttle’ turned out to be the back of a pickup, so it was a surprisingly chilly ride to the start!
It felt like we were there too early. Ours had been the first shuttle to arrive, and we wandered around aimlessly. Finally finding a few friends, we sat down at a table. I draped the tablecloth over my arms and tucked it under my knees in a vain effort to warm up. This became a funny memory later in the day when I was the hottest I think I’ve ever been!
Finally, it was time to line up for Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang. With just 29 people in the 61k and 25 people in the 96k, it was a small starting corral. The vibe was friendly and laid-back: a very good thing for my pre-race nerves!
Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang 2019
We counted down to go time. As soon as Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang began, one of our new friends took off like a rocket! We found ourselves zipping along in her wake, far faster than we planned to start but feeling fantastic. The early morning air was still cool, and the first 10k was a runnable stretch of gently rolling dirt trails and wide gravel roads. We could use any early speed to offset the inevitable slowdown after sunrise and the start of the jungle trail.
Hot on our fast friend’s heels, Kent and I blazed into the morning. We paused for the briefest of moments at the first aid station, Ban Longlao, gulping water before we plunged into the jungle. There, we left the road behind and entered the first of four hilly loops through the wilderness.
Almost immediately, our pace slowed to a steady creep. The climb was steep and we had our first taste of the jungle encroaching on all sides. But we weren’t alone. On the first climb, the racers started to spread out, but we were often chatting with someone. We even encountered two guys who had accidentally gone round the loop the wrong way!
Slipping and sliding on a foliage-filled descent, we found our fleet-footed friend. She’d taken a branch to the face and was struggling with a dislodged contact. The course was proving to be really gnarly – and we were just getting started!
Declining our offers of help, she pulled over and we sped down, just barely under control. I write ‘sped’ – but we weren’t exactly setting any PRs. There were moments where we were careening downhill at a reckless but unstoppable pace as we slid over damp green leaves; freshly hacked from the trees in an attempt to make a human-sized tunnel through the virgin forest. But there were many more moments when I clung to branches, poised uncertainly above a pit of sharp karst spikes.
We found ourselves back at Ban Longlao a little bloodier and a lot muddier than we’d left it over two hours before. Desperate for fluids, we drank cup after cup of ice water. Our friend raced in, half-crazed with dehydration, and tucked into the watermelon cubes. Gathering our things – and our wits, we all set off into the next section.
The start of the next climb belied what was to come. A simple, dirt trail threaded its way up between low bushes and shrubs. It was open enough that when we rounded a bend, we could see other racers ascending behind us.
These views were short lived. Once again, we were ducking branches and weaving through the trees of the forest. Although it was a bright, sunny morning with nary a cloud in the sky, the forest was sometimes quite dark. Old growth blocked out the sky and the sun.
The Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang course was exceptionally well marked – but it needed to be. We’d begin our jungle loops on use trails that would end in a thicket of lush, Southeast Asian rainforest. Someone had been through that forest before us with a machete and a roll of plastic ribbon. There was just enough room to squeeze through the leaves with an eye on your feet.
Though humid, the cover of the forest provided some cooling shade. But on the way down from our second peak of the day, we emerged into some open farmland and got roasted by the midday sun. It was about time for an aid station!
This much-needed stop was my favorite aid station of the day. Ban Nongtok was completely unlike Ban Longlao: it was set away from the main road in a clearing below a cliff. Friendly volunteers were happy to pour us cup after cup of coke. We took the luxury of ducking into the shade of the tent, just for a moment.
Leaving, we were in for the toughest climb of the day. This one was completely exposed. No trees; no shade. The trail went right up the cliff in a series of vertiginous switchbacks. And this during the hottest time of day!
Although we’d only just stopped at the aid station below, I suddenly found myself shaking and needing to sit down. But my dizzy spell was short-lived, and we were soon on the move again. The landscape got more and more extreme as we neared the top and we were soon threading our way through or balancing atop jagged and treacherous rock formations.
Finally, we crested the peak and began to descend on the other side. Trees leaned in, offering a bit of relief. The karst gave way to boulders and then dirt, so we dialed up the pace. I felt excited because the next section promised to be rolling, runnable terrain. We’d had to navigate the last section slowly and carefully, but we were about to let loose and make up some time!
But first it was time for another aid station stop – and time to rediscover the deliciousness of dried apple slices! Then we ran off into the forest again. After Ban Panor, we had both the cover of trees and the shadow of the mountain as evening approached. In the cooler air, I felt like anything was possible.
However, the rolling section I’d anticipated turned out to be nothing like I expected. It was hard. Maybe the hardest section of Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang. Broken branches and fallen leaves hid gaping holes in the jagged rocks. In other places, we performed terrifying balancing acts, leaping from one sharp rock to another in the small circles of our headlamps. One wrong step could result in a nasty gash – or worse. I tried to rein in my runaway imagination as we tread carefully.
In the end, the worst part was the ants. At dusk, they appeared in their millions. Every single time I brushed a branch or a leaf – which was very nearly every step, mind you – I acquired a mass of wriggling, stinging ants. There were big ones, small ones and a variety of colors as well. I screamed, I swore, and I cursed these ants. We couldn’t go even a few meters without needing to wipe our faces and limbs and reset. I abandoned all my principles and began furiously crushing the ants as I swept them from my skin. I could have cried in frustration as this went on and on for what felt like hours. Progress was slow.
Volunteers called to us from the next aid station, deep in the forest but lit by a cheerful fire. We didn’t pause at Ban Xiengmouak for long, because the ants were everywhere even here. But this little stop served the purpose of encouraging us. And, after a little while, the forest trail widened and eventually became a dirt road. Now, finally, we could really run!
It was not only easier terrain, it was also a gradual downhill, so we were able to fly. After doing so much slow, arduous hiking, it felt really good to stretch our limbs and go!
We ran out of the darkness and into the light of a village. People were making merry inside, and we could hear music and laughter inside shops and homes. Motorcycles passed from time to time, and we saw a few children playing with course markings that they’d re-purposed for fun or for fashion. We very nearly missed the 61k turnoff with all our gawking!
Back on the main road, we continued to run steadily downhill into the night. It felt just right: cool, dark and good for a smooth pace. Easy running. Until it wasn’t. I felt a sudden tightness in my chest and slowed to a walk. The pollution, perhaps? I felt a little anxious, and once again found myself seated in the middle of the trail. I tried taking some deep breaths. Kent was happy for a bit of a break too, so we took it easy for a little while, walking and talking our way down the road.
Close to the last aid station, a headlamp appeared behind us. I called out, thinking it could be our fast friend catching up with us. After a few tries and no response, we realized this runner couldn’t be anyone we knew. A quiet, solitary stranger. And, Kent was quick to point out, a girl.
I suspected that I was in first place, despite the long, crazy day we’d had. The appearance of another female racer was just the motivation I needed to get back up to speed. I forgot my worries, found a new source of strength and burst into a quick clip.
We dashed through the familiar aid station at Ban Longlao without stopping, my competition hot on our heels. We picked up another runner: a Thai man who’d been waiting there for some company. The three of us ran on, chased by a fourth, speeding towards the finish.
Although we couldn’t speak the same language, it was nice to have other runners with us again. The three of us took turns leading the way, pointing out hazards to one another. We even tried calling out again to see if whoever was chasing us wanted to join our little group.
Then it was Kent’s turn to struggle. With just a few kilometers left to go, he began to slow down. I’d turn over my shoulder and see him far behind. He reported feeling nauseated and dizzy, but he responded to my begging and pleading with a last minute burst of speed. We plunged into a river and exploded out of the forest. The finish line came into view at the top of a steep paved road!
It was a classic conclusion. We joined hands, ran hard and finished the race alongside our companion! And I stayed on the finish line, whooping and hollering for the women who came in second place a few minutes later. I hugged her and thanked her for pushing me, keeping me honest.
Everything that happened after the race is a bit of a blur. I remember being delighted by my green first place lanyard – asking a dozen times if I could keep it. But I don’t remember getting home or how I managed to get cleaned up afterwards.
The following day, we met a big group of international racers and new friends to head back to the venue for the awards ceremony – and a trip to the famous waterfalls! This was a very, very happy day in my life.
Lessons Learned
Covered in bumps, bruises and bloody scratches, we continued to look like we’d been through an ordeal for many days post-race. We felt tired too – this was our second race in March! Despite their closeness in time and locality, the two races were nothing alike. This 61k race had taken us 17 hours – whereas we’d run 70k in 10 and a half hours two weeks earlier at Dalat Ultra Trail!
But it was exactly the kind of adventure I was seeking. I remember thinking a lot about how people pay big money to get out into earth’s still-wild places with guides – and how lucky we were to be doing an extended version of that on our own. The majority of the trails appeared freshly made, just for us! It was a very intimate jungle experience.
I was delighted to finish without either fainting or barfing – both distinct possibilities at times! Winning the race, well, that was just the cherry on top of one delicious cake. And I could never have done it (finished or won), without the help of some amazing people.
Speedy Lulu had us start hard and fast, which set up the success of our whole day. The strong Thai runner who chased us to the finish brought out the best in me. And of course, there are the innumerable and invaluable contributions of Kent. Husband extraordinaire, who never stops amazing me with his resilience and is forever helping me find the humor in literal and figurative darkness.
Inspiring surroundings certainly helped, but I should probably also ascribe credit to the extreme heat – which made it a tough day for fast competition. Many thanks too, to the race organizers for providing us with life-saving ice cubes and Dr. Coke. Finally, I also thank my lucky stars that we didn’t go in for the 96k, which featured even more punishment on the karst and a bunch of truly inspiring women who would have left me in the leaves.
I’m proud of this race! Not just because I somehow found myself in first place, but because I struggled. I struggled and overcame. Granted, this was not my toughest race ever – but it was definitely up there! I experienced nausea and maybe heat exhaustion, and I think the pollution affected me too. Ants turned me into a crazy person for nearly 6 kilometers. But at no time did I think about stopping. And I was more than capable of running throughout the race – minus the most technical karst bits.
Which is not to say I ran Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang perfectly. Objectively, 17 hours is an unreasonably long time for a 61k, even a tough one. I could have ran more, and faster, than I did. Especially on the final two sections that were more or less flat! I’m still working on my descending skills. Heat and air pollution frequently throw me for a loop, and this race was no exception. But most of all, I need to work on not looking like such a nerd in my race photos!
Honestly, the takeaway is that this race was a joy: it was a real privilege to run around the wild, jungle-y mountains of northern Laos. It was a lot tougher than I expected, but I had an unexpected victory and made an unexpected friend. And the freedom of a post-contract getaway race worked wonders on my spirit.
Coconuts, companionship and cavorting around the jungle sound like your kind of thing too? The second edition of Ultra-Trail Luang Prabang will be held in February 2020. Head here for more info – and happy trails!