Running an Ultra in a Third World Kountry

50 kilometers, or 31 miles, is about how long I used to be willingly to drive to get that oh-so-special-sandwich I was craving. And I would think nothing of it because, hey I was in a car and no matter how long it took, I could sit comfortably and listen to my comfort music. It is only now, after training for and running in my first ultra marathon, the Fuego y Agua Ultra and Survival Run, that I realized just how far 31 miles is, and makes me question my old habits to drive so far on a whim. Would I have been willing to drive that far knowing just how much effort it would take to go by foot? I doubt it.

The view at dawn's first light, of the volcano I would eventuality climb

 As I learned, running an ultra marathon is not something you just get up and do; the actual race starts months in advance with your training schedule, lifestyle habits, and nutrition. In other words it requires a strict fitness regiment and a huge daily intake of food…neither of which I could do, living as a peace corps volunteer in Nicaragua. In the months leading up to the race, I didn’t have what one calls a “fixed work schedule”, and my meager budget didn’t provide enough food for what my stomach was now demanding as payment for more frequent and longer runs. So, you do what you have to do when living in a third world country, and adapt. Not packing as many carbs and protein as you want in order to bulk up? Remember those who give you free food and make a point to always walk around their house and strike up conversation around mealtimes. Want to keep your ipod? Leave it at home. Don’t want to burn as many calories? Well, then wake up at 4am and run before the sun comes up. While this also helps you beat the constant 90 degree heat, it also causes a whole new set of problems: avoiding stray dogs. Teddy Roosevelt famously said, “Talk carefully, and always carry a big stick.” Well when it comes to not getting bitten by street dogs, I say, “Walk quietly, and always carry a big rock”. After all, a rock is a lot more comfortable in your hand that a stick. By following these tips, I wasn’t in peak condition, but as the Nicas say I was “mas or menos”. 

Santa Domingo, the last leg before Maderas

 The race itself was on the volcanic island of Ometepe, situated in the middle of the Lake Nicaragua, the largest lake of Central America and home to one of the only populations of fresh water sharks in the world. It is only accessible by ferry, and the approach is breathtakingly beautiful, with the islands two volcanoes, Concepción and Maderas, towering over you, with the former still being active. Despite being a big tourist destination, the island is remarkably undeveloped, and away from the islands two ports, the island is largely wild and untouched by external influence, covered with jungle, natural springs, waterfalls, and local coffee, banana, and tobacco farms, all of which turned into natural obstacles along the run.

The hike out of the crater, with my running partner Jake

Because the run also included a 70 km survival run, and a 100 km ultra run, the race began at 4am, underneath a beautifully clear, starry sky. It was so light, that during the few stretches of running along the road, it wasn’t necessary to run with your head lamp on, although most chose to keep theirs illuminated. From an outsider’s point of view, it must’ve been quite the sight to see, with hundreds of little islands of light, cruising along through the darkness towards an unknown goal. It wasn’t until the sun showed its head almost two hours into the run, that we realized just how beautiful the surrounding landscape was, being dominated by untouched volcanic beaches, banana farms, monkeys, and the ever looming presence of either volcano. The constant view of the volcano was a non-stop reminder of the challenge that lay ahead, the last obstacle. 

For the 50 km race, the ascent of Volcan Maderas started 32km from where we started. Or 40km if you made my mistake of turning the wrong way. It was during the couple of kilometers before the base of the volcano, as it grew bigger and bigger in front of me, that I began to question myself. Can I make it another 20km, with an ascent and descent of 1400 meters? Even in ideal conditions with a fresh pair of legs that can be a daunting task. But it was in asking that question that I realized what makes these types of races so appealing to a lot of people, including myself: You are constantly challenging yourself to see just how far your body can go, pushing your limits physically and mentally. There is no one else to rely on but yourself, and it’s up to you to keep putting one foot in front of the other. You could be cursing to yourself along the entire run, but the second you cross the finish line, the realization of what you accomplished kicks in, and you’re already thinking of what your next race will be.

The Aid Station and Lagoon in Maderas

The view from of volcano Concepcion and the rest of the Island of Ometepe from atop Maderas

 And by deciding to keep putting one foot in front of the other, I was rewarded with some awesome scenery. The gods were happy that day, giving us a cloudless sky, which offered beautiful views of the whole island. And who would’ve guessed there are some secret gems hidden in the crater of Maderas: a scenic crater lake and a natural “jungle gym” that blocked our path down. The trees in this section along the rim of the crater grew so close that their branches intertwined to form a natural climbing barrier. What made the jungle gym so entertaining for me, was the thick mud on the ground that would steal your shoe if you weren’t careful. In this scenario, I was brought right back to childhood, playing “Don’t touch the lava”, trying to keep my feet as far from the mud as possible by shimmying through the trees. Momentarily, I was no longer the weary twenty four year old struggling to finish a run, but an eight year old boy, swinging on the monkey bars.  

Peace corps 50km Runners: Jake, Aly, Maggie, Jake, Myself

Some very happy volunteers, who ran the 25 and 50km raes

9 hours and 37 minutes after starting, I crossed the finish line, with my good friend Jake. I was weary and dirty, but nothing could’ve stopped the excitement I felt. Do I think I’ll ever step up and do 100km? That remains to be seen. But you can bet that this certainly wasn’t the last ultra I’ll be running.