Antarctica Marathon in Magical Realism

I like to think I am so fucking tough, which is not always a strength. The past twelve months have been the most extraordinary and most painful year of my life. So much activity, and I just kept going with it, even thriving on it. Now things have slowed down, and I am just starting to process everything now. Now that I have more time, of course I’m procrastinating on everything. Need to get it all down in hopes of getting unblocked.

After the US Championships, I had about a week of heads-down work before flying to Buenos Aires with A. This trip was my gift to him, he had a dream to travel to Antarctica and run the marathon there. We spent a few (magical) days in Buenos Aires, met up with the marathon group for a champagne reception, then flew to Ushuaia in Patagonia. From Tierra del Fuego we boarded our ship, the Akademik Sergey Vavilov, and headed to Antarctica.

The Vavilov is a Russian research vessel, built in Finland during the Cold War, and now commandeered by a Canadian owned expedition company, One Ocean. The ship’s crew were all Russian, and then the staff were a mix of Aussie/Kiwi/Canadian/British. Full disclosure, this structure of this type of trip is basically my nightmare. Each morning there was a call to breakfast and everyone had to eat at the same time. If you were not at breakfast, they would come to your room assuming you were seasick. There were scheduled activities (lectures about the terrain and animals, videos like the Spirit of the Marathon series, etc.) pretty much every hour of the day. We had meals three times a day so for a least three times a day and all the tables were communal, so we had to chat with people at least three hours a day, or go hungry.

So many people:

Snowed in:

On top of that, I was super-stressed about the marathon. Minimal training, harsh terrain, strict cut-off time, and A’s unpredictable ankles made me super nervous about whether we could even finish. Traveling to Antarctica was very costly, to the point that if we didn’t get it done this year, I didn’t know if we’d be able (or want to) make another bid. All the runners seemed so gung-ho, everyone wanted to talk about training plans, races they’d done, times, etc. They wore their activewear and sneakers around the boat (and the airport, and the reception, ugh) proudly. Other than that, things were really good. The air, so crisp and clear. The water, so incredibly beautiful. I could watch that water for hours.

I’m a sailor’s daughter and pride myself on never getting seasick, but the Drake Passage and Beagle Channel are notorious for being one of the roughest crossings. Our suite was on the top deck which made for some wonderful views, but also the worst if you are prone to seasickness. Everyone on the boat was wearing patches, and even A took some Dramamine, but I decided to chance it. In a weird way, I felt like I’d be letting my dad down if I got seasick or took “sissy” medication, which put even more pressure on me I think. But anyway, it was a smooth crossing and I had no issues. (Okay, a lot of people did get sick, even with patches, but A and I were both fine so I pronounce it a victory.)

After a few days we started seeing signs of land, the first for me was teams of penguins flying past us in the water. It was wonderful to see. They are so graceful in water, but so awkward on land. I relate to that.

We landed at Neko Harbor, and had an expedition to Half Moon Island to see the penguins and seals. For each expedition, we were transported by zodiac to land which was quite a process.

Each time we went out I put on leggings, snowpants, overall waterproof pants, two or three pairs of wool socks, a wool undershirt, tech overshirt, one or two down parkas, a waterproof coat, big boots, and a hat. It made it so tough to move.

Each time we headed out or came back from land we had to dip our boots in a sanitizing bath so that no wildlife/seeds/mud would be transported to/from Antarctica. On marathon day we had to vacuum our gear bags, shoes, coats, clothing etc. to ensure nothing was brought onto land. Worth it!

There is a colony of the Chinstrap penguins there, with just one Macaroni penguin among them. (Just like Happy Feet!) The penguins en masse are very cute but very stinky, and poop so much that two people on the trip fell through the top layer of ice and got stuck in the guano!

This poor girl is NOT kneeling, her whole lower leg is STUCK in penguin shit!:

You are not allowed to approach the penguins, but the penguins can approach you. (Kind of like Chelsea Clinton?)

Cuter:

The next day was the marathon. A laid out our gear, packed and repacked everything, and generally spazzed out. I slept like a log (I get especially good sleep on boats - I love to be rocked) but I think he had a pretty sleepless night. We woke up and it was pissing rain. Even though I knew it was summertime for Antarctica, I hadn’t imagine running in the rain and hadn’t really packed the right gear. I put on wool socks, leggings, special gore-tex tights to stop the wind, wool undershirt, tech overshirt, windbreaker, and then waterproof coat/pants/boots over everything. We had to bring all our own nutrition/hydration and gels or anything in a wrapper were strictly not allowed on the island. We just did carbopro mix with various gels mixed in for extra energy. It worked fine.

Here are everyone’s bottles lined up at a rest stop:

I didn’t want to wait around in the rain for ages, so we took advantage of everyone else’s Type A marathoner personalities and took the second to last boat. On the way there a woman was acting strangely and started shaking and crying coming down the gangplank to the zodiac. They got her to the boat, but she had a complete panic attack meltdown and had to be walked back up to the boat. Not the most auspicious start, but it got better from there. We had a briefing on the course, which had to be changed last minute due to some parts of the original course being out of commission due to snow and mud-slides. We were now doing six loops, from Uruguay out to Russia Base, then to China and back. (Most countries have research bases on Antarctica.)

16500km to Murmansk, Russia? Hmm…

This was maybe the smallest race I have ever done, so the start was a little anticlimactic. I think a horn blew and then we just went. Rain was coming down steadily on us at first, and most of the terrain was rocky, muddy gravelly. We didn’t have to trudge through snow or run up ice, which I had heard had happened in previous years. Just the hills, the mud, and the rain. The hills weren’t bad, on the steep ones we just walked, and then a glorious run downhill. With all the loops we started to get into a routine of cheering on people as they ran by us, and vice versa. I think at first they thought we were a little crazy, but then most everyone got pretty into it. Around lap 3 we hit the halfway mark, and knew barring anything crazy, we’d make the cutoff with some breathing room.

At one point we were passed by a Porsche Cayenne SUV emblazoned with the China Base logo, going about 6 miles an hour. Some of the scientists had the window open looking back at us, so we yelled “Ni Hao!” and waved. They slowed down and chatted with us for a bit in English, and it was a really nice moment. Antarctica is a cool experiment, so many different nationalities existing and working together in the name of scientific inquiry. I love that.

Felt great until about 75% into lap 5, by then it was a slog. The wind was crazy (like 30 or 40 miles an hour I think) and my feet were tender from the rocks everywhere. It went quickly, until the last lap which seemed to take foooooorever. The wind was so strong, my core was fine but my feet felt heavy and my hands and nose felt frost-tastic. At the last turnaround near China base, there was a pack of very large diving birds that must have had a nest nearby the way they kept storming the roads. It was super-creepy but we made it through without being pecked. And then we were in the homestretch! Turned the corner, slight downhill, then the long straightaway up the hill.

Wooohooo!

Yeah!

Our handlers helped us get dressed in the waterproof gear and boots, and we walked down the hill to the zodiac. On the way back, it hit me all at once.

My first marathon after my dad died, and what a spectacular one. I tried to hold it in, but tears were streaming down my face before long. I cried silently, feeling so small in the midst of such majestic beauty. Then the rain and the salt spray mixed with my tears and somehow made it all okay.

I like to think I’m so fucking tough, and I am, mostly.

Last updated May 29, 2015