Running WILD
I hurtled a good twenty metres on my butt down the steep slope, vaguely noting that reddy orange mud, twigs and miscellaneous prickly things were shooting up the legs of my little running shorts and popping out the top of the back, like a dangerously explosive baby.
I narrowly missed a high-speed collision with a fat tree trunk, and as I ground to a squelchy halt in a relieved starfish position, fists full of leaves, with heavy rain falling into my eyes, I was just very glad to be in one piece.
I clearly wasn’t the only one struggling in this monsoon-addled terrain. A small herd of very spry Thai runners with knee-high socks, Camelbaks, and hiking poles suddenly burst out of the ferny bracken, shouting warnings to each other, presumably about the death-defying gradient and shifting quagmire of a forest floor. They were the first humans I’d seen in a while. 15 kilometres of jungly trail race had quickly swallowed the 200 or so runners who’d shot off together at the starting gun (twenty air horns! Because… Thailand!).
As the runners came across the mud-caked starfish, they clearly weren’t sure whether to find it hilarious or concerning, so went with both — and laughed and pointed while asking if I was alright — “Okay madam kup?” “Absolutely fine thanks, why do you ask?” I said, nonchalantly squeezing mud out of my eyelashes.
Rude awakening
It had been a surreal day from the off. I was deeply asleep, all toasty and tucked up, when my phone rang… on do not disturb mode, which only ever means EMERGENCY (when you call an iPhone three times you can break through DND mode). I answered it to find a very impatient taxi driver was waiting outside and shouting at me that it was gone 5.30am already. Realised my bloody alarm hadn’t gone off. Oh dear lord. I hurled an armful of kit into a bin bag and ran out the door, pulling on clothes as I ran in the pitch black to meet the driver.
The cab ride to the race start (supposedly one hour) then involved a flood of biblical proportions. We’re talking thigh-deep water, cows swimming on the roadside, a car so badly flooded the driver was bailing water from the inside of the car out of her window, and needless to say, mahoosive traffic back-ups. The rain continued to assault anyone brave enough to be outside. What the hell have we let ourselves in for? I thought.
Short wait to get the nerves properly jangling
We finally arrived at the race start, a fancy resort in the foothills of Thalang, Phuket. Due to the island being largely submerged in flash floods, the start had been postponed by a couple hours while the organisers assessed the safety situation, so we caffeined up and looked out at the sodden mountains with some trepidation!
On your marks
I’m always so chock full with adrenaline on a start line I can practically taste it. The herd stampeded off and I dutifully cantered off with the pack, one earbud in, and the Indiana Jones theme thoughtfully selected by Spotify random, which put a silly smile on my face.
Sea Urchins of the Jungle…
After about a kilometer on a tarmac road, it was time! We plunged into the jungle, and ten abreast turned into single file on a narrow trail.
Kilometre two contained my first big lesson. Don’t. Touch. ANYTHING.
Slithering down a steep section I’d broken my fall by grabbing a branch, which turned out to be no ordinary branch… but an evil, spiny, cactus-esque booby trap. I spent kilometre three pulling spines out of my hand, vaguely wondering if they were poisonous. At about k5, there was an aid station and I waved my porcupine hand at them. They pulled a few more of the biggest spines (giving no sign that I was about to die imminently, woohoo!), and the rest were broken off under the skin, so I plunged on.
Turns out booby traps are not uncommon in the Thai jungle. Other favourites included tiny wiry creepers that sit in the mud just high enough for you to catch your foot and suddenly be pulled backwards, vines above that smack you in the face when you’re concentrating on your feet, INNUMERABLE mud slides peppered with trees like a lethal slalom, sticky oozing sap, and casual precipice drop offs to one side (with a single rope fence occasionally graciously provided), necessitating tip toe pace unless you’re suicidal.
At one point, a single kilometer took me twenty-eight minutes, and I started to wonder if I’d be out of the jungle before dark. I had zero intention of anything resembling racing now — a lot of the course had to be speed-walked/scrambled/slid down/scooted along on arse with hands like paddles, simply to make any headway. One foot in front of the other I reminded myself, progress is progress!
Tarzan time
The Thai runners picked up and dusted off the fallen starfish and showed me how to use the vines as natural ropes to abseil down the steepest bits. Having gone from aiming to touch NOTHING due to the impaling incident, I started to use the abundant bamboo and creepers to slither my way down the mountain like a chimpanzee learning what hands are for.
I came across the 10km mark feeling like I must have been at LEAST 14km in, and couldn’t believe there was half of what I’d already done, still to do.
I’d gotten to a river (about the 5th water obstacle I’d faced at this point) — pretty wide, pretty fast-flowing, and could see no other runners whatsoever in sight, nor any markers.
I trotted up and down the river bank looking for clues for a good five minutes and for some reason that children’s book We’re Going on a Bear Hunt popped into my increasingly agitated mind. (Can’t go over it, Can’t go under it, Can’t go around it, Got to go through it!)
Eventually, a farmer wandered out of a straw hut and solemnly pointed straight across the river, and up the seemingly vertical hillside on the other side. Wondering if he was taking the piss (because to be honest, he could have pointed at the top of a tree at this point and I’d have obediently reached for the lowest limb) I made questioning swimming motions at him and pointed at the river. He nodded sagely.
I saluted back, offered him some Haribo, took a deep breath and clambered into the river. Luckily it was only waist deep (ONLY haha, to think at the beginning of the race I was merrily leaping over puddles thinking I’d try keep my trainers dry), but lordy, the bank on the other side was ridiculous. I was very wet, so was it, and we basically just slid against each other for a while (two steps up, three back down), until I threw dignity to the wind again and decided it was a hands and knees job, and began clawing my way upward.
Light at the end of the tunnel
Over the crest of the bank and through an eternity of further snakes and ladders trails, there was an aid station with an actual rare English-speaking human who said I was only 1.5km from the road, and I did an internal happy dance. My hammies and calves were stretched to pieces after lamentably little training, and my soaking wet and extremely mud-laden feet had become at least three times heavier than usual.
I finally made it to the road, at the same time a bunch of girls only doing the 5km run (there were three different distance options) daintily popped out of a bush on the other side of the road, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, looking at me as if I’d crawled out of a ditch… and to be fair, they weren’t wrong.
I tried to race them and their fresh, non-mud-handicapped legs for a few bends in the road but in the end let them go get their battlefield-eschewing victory.
I was determined to pick up the pace as I approached the finish line and cross it with as much dignity as I could muster for someone who strongly resembled a hippo’s bathtime plaything.
For some reason known only to themselves, the race stewards held up the finish line tape for me to… I guess pretend I was the winner (? quizzical eyebrow) which felt pretty silly, nice, and actually a tiny bit moving all at the same time. I burst through it feeling quite the intrepid (utterly shattered!) survivor.
Medals, baby food and banana leaves
I kept zombying forward using the last bit of leggy momentum, and a monkey shaped medal was looped over my head and something resembling baby food in a squeezy drinks carton pushed into my unresisting hand.
I don’t know what was in the baby food energy mix, but I perked right up, then found the most amazing snack tent with little rice packages wrapped in banana leaves, and jelly pots with fruity jelly and kidney beans (what a combo!).
The pièce de résistance was a hose down in the corner of the steamy football pitch, with three hoses provided instead of the classic shower (because who’d want to do anything so ordinary after such a weird and wonderful day?!). I basked, hands aloft, under the hose, creating a black/brown sludgey oozy puddle as the original colours of my clothes and trainers started to come back.
Every exposed part of skin was scratched up from 3.5 hours of tangling with the gnarly jungle (I knowwww, 3 plus hours for a 15km race!! Don’t judge me!), and one toe was agony from inadvertently kicking a recalcitrant rock (didn’t need that toenail anyway). I would honestly say this event is up there with some of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But what an insanely, extraordinarily cool experience and sense of achievement. One more kidney beans jelly pot and it was time to hit the road, hopefully to make it home without the need for an ark.
Any takers?
A huge thank you to the organisers, who must have some admirable familiarity with this wild terrain!! I would 100% recommend anyone with a bit of a screw loose to come and join next year! https://www.thanyapura.com/resorts/phuket/blog/thanyapura-trail-run-2022/ .
Funds raised go to local conservation projects — protecting endangered species. Who’s with me? :)
