Vietnam Mountain Marathon 2013

I discovered the Vietnam Mountain Marathon while researching events in Asia.  I was going to be in Myanmar for 3 months, so wanted to have the experience of Asian trail racing while I was in the region.  The VMM was run for the first time this year.  What a great event.

I arrived at Hanoi after a short flight from Yangon for my first trip to Vietnam.  Hanoi has the high energy buzz of many of the big Asian cities.  It seemed a communal city, with families spilling into the street, chatting with their neighbours and enjoying the cooler evening air.  

Trying to cross the road in Hanoi with dozens or even hundreds of motorbikes, cars and buses, was a revelation.  After standing by the side of the road for 10 minutes waiting for a break in the traffic that never came, I followed a local who just wandered across the road with barely a glance.  The motorbikes, often laden with people and goods, just parted and went around us.  The buses were less accommodating, but you just needed to avoid them.  

Tickets had been arranged through the race organisers for the night train to Lao Cai in northern Vietnam.  I was given a berth in a cabin with 3 other runners as the train chugged, swayed and bumped out of Hanoi and into the night.  

Arriving in Lao Cai early on Friday, we were collected by bus and taken up into the hills towards Sapa in the Hoang Lien National Park.  This is about as close to China as you can get in Vietnam and the valley falling beneath it is overshadowed by Vietnam’s highest peak, Fansipan (3000 m).  Sapa almost feels like a little European mountain village, with fir trees, steep lanes and narrow 3 and 4 story buildings.  It is a big hiking centre, so well equipped for travellers needs.

Just beyond Sapa is the magical Topas Ecolodge, which was the HQ for the race, the finish line and where many of the participants got to stay.  Topas sits on a ridge that cuts through the valley below and, in the misty half light in the morning, you could make out the dramatic surrounding mountains.  On one side of the ridge, there were rice paddies and steep banks on the other.  

The Danish connection with the race was strong, with the race director being Danish, Topas being a Danish tourism company as well as the event being sponsored by the Danish Embassy and Novo Nordisk who make medicine to treat diabetes.  In the end, a number of the place getters were Danish runners.

There were about 170 athletes and about 30 supporters assembling for the race.  We enjoyed a sociable relaxing day on Friday at the lodge mentally preparing for the day ahead and trying not to get intimidated by the mountains all around us.  There were three races: a 21km, a 42km and a 70km.  All of them hilly and technical.  

I shared a tent with Yosu-san from Japan.  He had to rise early on Saturday for the 4am start for the 70km.  I had a sleep in until 5am, after which the marathon runners had breakfast and took the bus to the start of the race.

 

It was a fairly small field for the 42km.  But it included Vietnam’s “running man”, the guy who ran alongside the Arsenal bus for about 10km on their recent tour of the country and became a local hero and an overnight internet sensation.  A small group of local police attended the start and guided us down the road and onto the trails.

This took us into jungle trails that connect the little villages that are sprinkled around the hills.  It felt like the boggy patches of the Hillary Trail in the Waitakeres in parts, with sucking mud and rocky rooty single track trail.  However, there ain’t any bullocks in the Waitakeres.

These places are off the hiking routes and my guess is they are rarely visited by non-locals.  People observed us with shy curiosity, and little kids would watch in amazement, as we ran through their villages.  The life up in the hills is clearly hard.  Rice paddies are critical to the local food chain and we would often pass people carrying 30kg packs of rice from some difficult to access paddy.  They were probably going for kilometres and were hardy people.  

The local hill tribes each have their own particular identity, dress and culture, preserved probably over hundreds of years.  Exotic names like the Black Hmong, the Red Dao, the Tay, the Xa Pho and the Giay.  This was one of the highlights of the whole experience, getting to interact with these people.

The first stage was pretty tough, humidity was high and I was losing a lot of water.  Hydration became an important part of the race, particularly as the day got warmer.  Out of the jungle, we were now into open spacious valleys and the tracks improved and the humidity seemed to lift.

The third stage was the tough one.  A 7km climb up along one of the hills leading up to Fansipan, it was almost shadeless and the air heated as the sun was beating down.  I dipped my head in the river to bring my core temperature down and at this stage I was really struggling.  

I came to realise that my training for this race hadn’t been great.  Living in Yangon meant my training was mainly confined to treadmills.  Hour upon hour in hotel gyms is not the same as being up in the hills, but this is not uncommon in many Asian cities, where going for a run outside can be a real effort (potholes, rabid dogs, crazy traffic, temperature etc.).  

Stopping to catch my breath on the hill, I looked up to see Mamma sitting on a bank looking at me.  She patted the ground next to her for me to sit down.  We shared a few moments together as her family gathered about us.  

I continued the slog and then I cleared the pass and I knew that there were no more big hills.  There was 12km to go and it was all downhill.  Tricky, awkward and technical downhill, but at least no more defying gravity.  The trail laced through more villages and rice paddies, through areas that were almost like the alpine valleys in Europe.  Lovely little flowers and waterfalls coming down from the hills around.  

We were warned at the race briefing that the plastic ribbons that marked the track were considered collector’s items by the local kids.  Laying the trail in the days before the race, many of the markers were gone the next day.  This required the organisers to go through the trail again the night before to put more up.  

This was pretty funny and added to the challenges that this race threw up.  Navigation skills became paramount as forks in the trail opened up at regular intervals and you had to divine which route to go on.  The tell tale signs became little fragments of the ribbons that the kids had failed to completely remove from the trees and bits that were left on the ground.  Almost everyone got lost as a result; me only for about 200m, but others for kilometres.

The final stretch took us onto the gravel road to the lodge and a warm welcome from my fellow competitors as I crossed the line in 7 hours 25 minutes.  

The rest of the day was fantastic.  We sat around enjoying the atmosphere at the lodge as the last of the marathon and the mid pack of the 70km came in.  The final 70km runners arrived in the dark and everyone came out to cheer them on to the finish.    

The prize giving was the next day in Sapa.  The rain that had been predicted for race day came the next day and forced the prize giving inside the local People’s Hall.  Then the bus back to Lao Cai and the train back to Hanoi that night.

This was a special race experience and an adventure from start to finish.  The journey getting there, the race and the great hospitality and company afterwards.   All to be recommended.