Robert's Big Adventures

The following are some pictures from Robert Sandoval's Marathons

To The Bottom of the Earth and Back by Robert Sandoval

Antarctica, which has the fascinating reputation of the ‘Last Continent...’, has persuaded runners from all over the world to brave a trip across the world’s most turbulent body of water, the Drake Passage; to a land of extinct volcanoes and mountain peaks; lost explorers and isolated scientists, penguin rookeries and whale sightings; all for a chance to run those crazy 26.2 miles.

Upon arriving to Antarctica on the Russian ship the Lyubov Orlova, surrounded by huge icebergs, the temperature is around 10 degrees Fahrenheit. The crew from Marathon Tours had already been dropped off at Maxwell Bay to lay out our course on King George Island. This marathon is like no other; although it is above freezing, the wind was howling fiercely. At the beginning of the race I was a little warm, but that quickly changed as it was raining through half the race. There are no paved roads here. Everything is dirt. Because of the rain and melting snow and ice, there were mud paths that you wouldn’t believe. It was tenacious mud. It was shoe sucking, toe soaking, foot gripping, sticky, sink-hole mud. It’s the kind of mud pigs would wallow endlessly in the enduring mile long slop pits, if it weren’t for the bitter cold.

But mud was not the only challenge. There were the unending hills. They were relentless; slowly they sap the life force from the legs, leaving them rubbery, feeble, and weak. Even within the first few miles it became apparent that these hills could not be tamed. I noticed many runners; mindless wretched creatures, suffering in untold agony with every step. One misplace foot would spell disaster. Often the icy, muddy hills or both would grind people to a slow cautious walk. But wait, there’s more… there was the wind. It was an evil wind. It would whip ones already broken body, pelting it with shards of icy cold rain. The wind would sometimes blow directly down the course, adding to the burden of kicking up treacherous, wet icy hills. The cold gale inflicted a shoulder cramp early in the race. I would often reach up with my left hand to my right shoulder to massage it while running.

Water flowed freely across the course. There were huge puddles nearly the size of ponds to the sides of the course. They would drain directly across the path. Crossing the small streams proved to be a challenging feat of timing, coordination, and skill with fatigue compounding the difficulty. I observed small holes in some of the ice bridges; this was formed by some hapless runner’s foot unexpectedly falling through the ice. I would tread lightly in these areas as my feet were already wet and numb enough. While it may seem as simple as putting one foot in front of the other for 26.2 miles, the world of the marathon is a complex, funny, strange and fascinating one. Such is my brief account of “The Last Marathon”. We’ve been to the bottom of the planet. We’ve run the hardest marathon course most of us will ever encounter. We’ve seen a continent with a landscape that resembles more of the moon than anything we’ve seen here on Earth.

Although my goal of completing the Antarctica marathon was accomplished, I had one last thing I needed to do before I left this mysterious yet beautiful Continent. That was jumping off the gangway into the middle of the Antarctic Ocean. The water was beyond freezing, it was snowing heavily and before I could jump I had to wait for a large block of ice to float out of the way. It was odd to see such a line of people in bathrobes waiting to jump in. There were two defibrillators present and ready during this activity. The next morning the ship’s crew gave out the Polar Plunge certificates. The certificate read: “This certifies that on the 9th day of March in the year 2010, 53 courageous fellow marathoners plunged into the frigid and icy waters of Paradise Harbor, in the Southern Ocean.”

I waited anxiously for two whole years for this trip to think that in two extraordinary weeks, it was all over. After my Antarctica adventure, I can now take home fond and lasting memories of what I call, a once in a lifetime experience. I’m looking forward to many adventures still to come.