On Saturday, 172 runners set out on the 100k Huanghe Shilin Mountain Marathon. Without warning, weather swept through the mountainous course, and though race directors called off the race, the competitors, most dressed in thin shorts and T-shirts, weren’t able to evacuate the remote course. In the end, as reported by the New York Times, 21 runners never made it out.
After starting in perfect, sunny conditions a sudden shift brought extremes to the high altitudes of the Huanghe Shilin Mountain Marathon. Hail, wind, and freezing rain unexpectedly bombarded the participants. The race was quickly called off and search parties were sent out, but the conditions were too intense. Runners found a cabin, retreated down the mountain, or connected with rescuers, but not everyone made it. It is an unfathomable conclusion to a race.
I found out about this the next day, and couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what had happened. Twenty-one is a lot of runners to not finish. But to die of exposure and hypothermia? It was more than I could fathom.
It’s a race, it is supposed to be the peak of your training—when you lay it all on the line. But it is also only a race. It is a physical challenge taken with the intent of pushing yourself, finding a challenge, and recreationally searching for personal limits. It is never intended to be life or death. Runners enter races of varying difficulty every weekend and push themselves against a clock to find their best effort on that day. No one leaves the house with an honest question of their safety or life.
After numerous multiday efforts of pushing myself to the brink to simply break a previous fastest known time, I cannot conceive risking everything, let alone being stuck in the midst of an organized and supported race only to be quickly overwhelmed by weather. The Barkley Marathons is notorious for stating “help is not coming,” but you can only carry so much in a running vest. The simple fact that the intense foot race in Tennessee touts a 100% self-extraction rate emphasizes the conditions that runners encounter. The Barkley Marathons was my first organized race in four years, and after 16 self-supported trail records, I was ready for the backwoods of Tennessee. But it rained several inches overnight, and despite a pack weighing more than most other participants’ (because of extra gear), I was caught off guard, shivering with numb extremities.
I have twice feared for my safety in the backcountry, and both were on unsupported endeavors. The backbone of a race fee, aid stations, and the promise of a buckle or ribbon at the finish always eases any concerns when entering an organized race. Both times it was hypothermia I feared, but I was successfully able to fend it off each time. It wasn’t because I was tough or experienced, but that I was expecting no help. Had the same conditions and situation presented themselves in a race my life would have been in jeopardy.
I entered the world of ultrarunning intent on finding a challenge, but not with the idea of facing death. I come prepared to push myself to the brink of personal stamina, but I never expect to run right into the middle of a storm I cannot escape. I run from my demons, but I never expect to join them. Every race or effort is another chance to find a bit of yourself out there, but the 100k Huanghe Shilin Mountain Marathon became a lot more than runners leaving everything they could on the course.
