India. Week 1: Jack Begins to Run India

Tomorrow arrives in a blink of an eye. Jack and Robbo continued their bromance by sharing a room once more, whilst myself, Fred and Devin have a room for three.

The five of us wake almost simultaneously around 0430. Bright white, fluorescent lights bring the room alive as we all whisper “Good morning” to each other, cautious not to wake our hosts at such an hour. Although, it turns out that Robbo did just that by helping himself into the kitchen / living room / bedroom, in search of a spoon. The presence and phone torch of the Scottish BFG startling the sleeping family, I imagine he back steps out with a diluted Scottish accent: “Sorry, sir. Sorry madam.” As polite as always.

I think it was Peter Kay who had a sketch about waking up at in the early hours to go on holiday — somehow, tiredness doesn’t exist on days like that, nor today as we throw our clothes on, pack our bags, and have them loaded by a prepared Gurmat with all car doors already open.

We drive 15-minutes in the pitch-black from the fairy lit Entsa homestay to Sasamo Check Post, which is as far north as we are permitted to drive as non-Indian nationals. There is a slight anticipation in the air as we navigate the dirt roads, bouncing side to side as we swerve some but not all potholes to the starting line. Not many words are said aside from a few to camera by Jack which are sandwiched by more silence. It’s actually about to begin.

Siachen Warriors is written on a sign as we arrive, the area lit only by car lights, head lamps and phone torches.

Jack is pacing around by himself roughly 20-meters away from the pack, long steps, head slightly bowed, self-talk inevitably going on.

“Gather around, fellas,” we hear as he comes back towards us, “there are some words I’d like to say before we start.” We huddle around. Devin’s camera and microphone arrive before he does connected to a lowly stooped outstretched arm and into the middle of the circle — he captures words from an emotional Jack, his words literally and physically bring us closer together.

Something that I have been telling myself, athletes, and coaches recently is that if we can create something in our minds, we can create it in real life. Being here on the start line of this, an idea that Jack had in his mind over a year ago, is proof to me that this mantra does ring true.

Jack and I go off to find somewhere to sit. He had sent me a breathwork practice on WhatsApp that he wanted to do pre-run. We sit quietly on an old oil drum away from everyone else. Two or three workers approach from behind my left shoulder, at least I assume they are workers, they just stand there probably wondering what is going on. My legs are shaking as I place myself behind Jack’s left shoulder “ensure the neck and spine are long and relaxed.”

His eyes are now closed, and my legs are shaking; I have butterflies in my stomach. “Am I nervous? I can’t be, can I? I have done this dozens of times before. Maybe I’m hungry. I’m bound to be tired. It is flippin’ cold too. Am I delivering this in the right way for Jack? What if my tone and cadence is different to what he is used to? Why does my voice sound weird?” All this noise enters my mind between the silence of my sentences, Jack completely unaware.

We finish the routine in just under five minutes, hug, he starts his watch and he begins to run; just like that, catching us all off guard he has started to run the 4000km length of India. He has been waiting for this moment for so long, this is already one day earlier than planned, he couldn’t wait another moment.

Devin Paisley (C)

We all hop back in the Gurmat-mobile to catch up with him — “s***,” I feel the banana in my pocket that I was supposed to give to him. He’s noticed too and flags us down.

“Banana?” He asks.

“Banana.” I hand it to Devin, Devin hands it to him out of the window.

Ten-minutes down the road, we pull over. Our first stop as crew. Ahead of us, we see the stretch of road that we arrived on, bouncing side to side less than 30-minutes earlier, it is loosely weaving left and right. Behind us, we see the same stretch of road, still loosely weaving left and right, whilst to each side of us, a wall of mountains as far as the eye can see.

Fred intuitively grabs for the speakers (I like this guy!), he hits play: Jumpin’ Jack Flash by Ananada Shankar. This is now our theme song. I double tap the power button on my phone to access the short-cut to the camera and hit record. I start by zooming in on Devin’s drone screen, I see Jack running through the valley from an overhead shot — incredible. I zoom out to my left: Robbo is bopping his hips side to side, fist pumping the air, I pan around and capture the scenery. We watch the video back like hyper school children. THIS IS NUTS.

It is only 0621. We swing by the homestay for a 0730 breakfast where we are treated like royalty once more. Jack with roughly 20km under his belt already. We bid our final farewells to Entsa and the hosts, they bring out five silk scarves. I am now told that they are called Khattaks and are presented during ceremonies as a mark of respect. We all have snow white Khattaks placed around our necks one by one, except for Jack, his is bright yellow and patterned; a special Khattak for a special person or “Golden Boy” as Jack’s sister Grace has jokingly referred to him as a few days earlier.

Devin Paisley (C)

I have the pleasure of sharing the final six or so kilometres of the day with Jack. Part jog, part walk. Surprisingly, this is only the second time we have spent time one-to-one together in person since we first met one year prior. I will always be grateful for our mutual friend Patrick Montgomery for sharing Jack’s first video on Instagram, without that, I would not be where I am right now, which is in the restaurant of our Day 5 homestay in a tiny village called Rumpste. There are no more than eight buildings in this village, and I have seen more cows meandering the road than humans. The mountains, like visible guardian angels, are still overlooking us.

We conversate about our families, life growing up, relationships, and Liverpool FC. We are both the middle child between two sisters. Such basic, day-one friendship conversations, except we are now having it somewhere in the Northern Indian Mountain ranges as we embark on an 80-day adventure of a lifetime; such is life.

We trot to the finish line to the theme song ablaze, Fred and Robbo creating a tunnel for Jack to run under with their hands clapping together to the beat of the music, Jack aeroplanes in, arms outstretched landing safely into the outstretched arms of Fred, Devin placed perfectly to capture it all.

Day one, done.

A Star is Born

Day two — Gurmat, reliable as ever is ready and waiting at 0445, car doors open, boot now rearranged for ease of access to the essentials, he means business.

Today’s challenge is to begin the climb up Kardung La. High elevation, high altitude, high risk.

Gurmat is in his element. He plays the role of part world’s most knowledgeable trekking guide, part health and safety expert, part head of van organisation, and part mother bear — caring for us all. “Remember to keep drinking water. As we get to higher and higher altitude, you must keep drinking water.”

He also is displaying an unbelievable ability of spotting Jack. He alternates between a meerkat like pose, up tall, head scanning side to side, to turtle like pose, back hunched, chest close to the steering wheel in search of Jack.

“He’s coming.” Before any of us in the van have lifted our heads, he has already hopped out the van, opened the boot, located water or snacks and is ready to hand Jack whatever he needs. He does this every single time.

“Keep drinking water.” He reminds us all both softly yet firmly.

As the day progresses, multiple “G is a legend” remarks are made between us at different times. Robbo shows me his phone:

Robbo: “We will meet tomorrow at 0445, sorry about the early starts.”

Gurmat: “Sure sir. Timing for me is not a problem…… Jack’s mission is much more important.”

This man.

I then share my Gurmat story from the night before. I had stopped at Jack’s hotel to give some massage treatment to end the day. Gurmat was my ride back to the homestay where the rest of the crew were already likely asleep (except Devin — more on this dude’s work ethic another time).

Flying down the back roads of the middle of nowhere, we drive past a tractor, left tyres on the road, right tyres off it and on the dirt. I thought nothing of it, but one-hundred meters or so later, Gurmat slows to a halt, stops and freezes as he lets his eyes adjust to the dark to make sense of what is happening — “They are dumping rubbish into the water.” Clutch in, reverse gear selected, foot on the gas, and expertly reversing on full revs through the blackness to pull up right next to the tractor.

With his head further out of the window than his elbow, he is straining his body as close to the two people as possible. I hear no words but see the two people stop what they are doing. G drives us off slowly.

“What did you say?”

“I told them that this is not the way. This is not the way.” His voice is naturally gentle and light, but his words must have landed heavily. He sounded so disappointed in them.

“They stopped what they were doing.”

We arrive at the homestay shortly after.

New Norms

This adventure calls for growth, to step out of our comfort zones and take in a new way of living. Without detailing too much, here are some of the new norms that we are all embracing:

- Cold showers (or simply not showering)

- Wearing dirty clothes (my tracksuit bottoms have the same coffee stain on from day 2, plus additional accumulated muck)

- Limited internet

- Limited electricity

- Limited working plug sockets when there is electricity

- “Wild” toilets for all toileting needs (we’re in the mountains for 7–12 hours per day, go figure).

- Finding “poo spots” for Jack (and others)

- Seeing each other pee

- Gaseous exchanges

- Waking before 0500

- Snoozing in cramped vans

- Sleeping in homestays and all that brings

- The cold (Jack Faint is many things, but a weatherman? He is not a weather man — “Lads, you’ll be in t-shirt, shorts and sliders all day, trust me. You only need one long sleeve and one pair of trousers.” Yeah, cheers lad).

As the journey continues and environments change, we will be asked to grow through different means — “We will go home different people” has been said more than once already.

Rollercoaster

It is undeniable that this trip would have ups and downs, highs and lows. Perhaps naïve to the nature of the challenge and with no experience in any multi-day ultra-endurance event, it has somewhat surprised me how the energy, mood, health and pain of a single human being can mirror the unpredictable terrain of which he is running through within a single day, let alone a single week.

Day three was a spectacle. Every ounce of energy and mood lay parallel to the climb of Kardung La.

Jack, for the first time is absolutely beaming. His stomach is happy and so is he. He is referred to as a mountain goat by Robbo as we are fixated by the pace that he is trudging up the pass, steep inclines are eaten for breakfast by Jack Faint. At each pitstop, he is either popping his head in through the van window with a smug smile and a sarcastic remark about us looking tired sat in the van, powering past us in his own world singing along to his playlist of choice or leaves a refuel by dancing up the hill, trekking poles in the air. We are bedazzled.

Then we reach the top. Which means we must come back down; his mood and energy follow the decline.

He is a shadow of the man just an hour or so earlier. He is cold, wet, tired, hungry — his knee and hip begin to bother him.

Pitstops are now moments where Jack sits silently in the front seat of the van, head in his hands or where anger overspills at the fact our campervans are still hundreds of kilometres away — we can’t cook on demand, he can’t have a warm shower, nor can he power nap in comfort. On top of these frustrations, we are now having to find reputable homestays for the night. The Star of Gurmat has given up his driver’s seat for Jack whilst he stands in the cold rain in hopes of better signal to see what availability we have in the next village.

We find beds for the night, food, and a shower of some sort in our tried and tested Palam Hills hotel in Leh. We open Week 1 presents from Grace and our friends and families. Jack is beaming again, brought back to life by his thoughtful younger sister and some home comforts.

The rest of the week tells similar fluctuating tales; like another upset stomach (and all that comes with it) on day seven, which Jack describes as like a washing machine before quietly murmuring “Come on you c***” to himself for motivation, he stands upright after being bent over with his hands on his knees and continues.

Throughout it all, Jack does what Jack does best and battles on, leaving us all in awe of him.

Being Awestruck

Our surroundings change yet stay the same as we go through the days. Mud pie mountains transition into snowy Stollen cakes; mountainous walls fixed within touching distance by our sides are re-sculptured into ebbing and flowing rocky, flowy sand-like dunes across barren desserts, some greenery begins to make itself seen too.

Day five leads us through a valley, our road parallel to a noisy river (a perfect snooze spot on some rocks for me, Fred, and Robbo). We climb from 3000m to 4000m slowly until we start to curve upwards through hairpin turns akin to those seen on Top Gear. We weave higher and higher, occasionally I look to see how far we have come, the view gets better every time.

Day five is a lighter day for Jack (a 40km walk) after pushing through some substantial pain the previous day.

“Let’s do the last 5km together lads.” He suggests. “A lads hike.”

The finish line comes, we are shoulder to shoulder, power walking the final 100m in unison, we turn around to yet another view that is the most amazing view I have ever seen (until that point). Again, I find myself shaking my head at where I am at, Devin points out the mountain range in the far distance that I thought were clouds “We came from there”.

What the hell man.

Robbo is crying as he looks at the view, I hold his head into my shoulder, I am welling up as I type this.

This is truly the most incredible thing that we have all done in our lives. Thank you Jack Faint for your approach to a bad diagnosis; for turning pain into purpose and creating these memories for us.

Day six — more of the same. The views continue to be the best that I have ever seen. Every time we turn a corner, the configuration of the mountain’s change, a new version of the view reveals itself, the clouds are our neighbours up here, they are within touching distance. There is life here too, horses, donkeys, goats, pikas (gerbil looking things), snow cocks (chicken looking things) and these cool grasshoppers that make a clicking noise as they fly.

With 10km left of the morning, I strip off out of my warmer layers — “I’ll join you, Jack”.

We plod through the latest version of views that are now the best that I have ever seen. We are talking life, whilst intermittently laughing at where we are. “This is living. This is life.” I spin my body 360˚to look at the scenery. We are running either side of the white lines in the middle of the long straight road, it’s safe to do so, we can count the number of cars that have passed us in recent hours on one hand each between us. If we were to stand still, turn off the music, and cease the conversation, there would be only the odd soft gust of wind for noise (or clicking grasshopper) — awesome.

The Week Ends

“Ah mate, I could be sat in a classroom teaching, but I’m here!” smiles Fred at 0720, we’ve been on the road around 90-minutes at this point. The journey so far has consisted of me pressing my head against the window, mouth wide open, eyebrows raised, forehead wrinkled, and neck at an angle that shouldn’t be possible as I try and see the top of the jagged rock face next to the van.

More “wow” moments.

I start to notice how happy I am. At the next stop, I voice note Jill — coach, mentor, and friend. I’m walking away from the van in the direction of travel, I thank her once more for her and Sarah’s help through the Intuitive Psychology Association, for facilitating practices for me to figure out how to choose a life for me that feels more aligned and purposeful. I turn around and see another incredible view — I see the boys laughing as they prep food and drink for Jack, I hear music playing; I think once more about how amazing this all is. I can’t help but cry. It’s been an emotional year or so for me. I stand looking at it all, tears dripping down my cheeks, the boys are waving at me, I hear “Jord! Jord?! Is there a good place for Jack to have a s*** up there?!” I’m now crying with laughter as I run on to find a poo spot for Jack.

I love this trip, man.