After returning from the World Mountain and Trail Running Championships in Chiang Mai, I felt like I was on an emotional roller coaster. I was exhausted from jet lag and the adjustment to reality and frustrated by my injury and lack of running. But I took time off to reflect on my experience and to put my thoughts into words.
In this blog post, I will share my experience in Chiang Mai outside of the race, my race performance, and my national identity as a Cambodian-American. This post is long, but I hope it will help answer the question “How was your trip?” and provide insights into my experience in Chiang Mai, Thailand.
Chiang Mai and Race Week Atmosphere
The whole week felt like a big blur, but I’m still speechless. What a fantastic event and incredible atmosphere! At the Singapore airport, I met some members of the New Zealand team and chatted about their trail running experiences (the first sign I was outmatched and ill-prepared, lol).
When I landed at the Chiang Mai airport, it started to feel real. I was greeted by race organizers and took a shuttle with members from Team Ireland and Canada. Got to the hotel and met my teammates in the lobby. This was also the first time I met my teammates.
There were 10 of us plus our coach. 8 of the 11 total were French Cambodian, 2 were from Cambodia, and I was the lone individual from America. Quite the melting pot of different backgrounds (and language barriers – we somehow managed this well) but our bond to Cambodia was our connection (more on this in the next post).
The most exciting part of the week was the opening ceremony. This is when everything hit me at once. It wasn’t the Olympics, but it’s probably as close as I will get to the Olympics. The parade of nations was a march around a block with 40+ participating countries with over 1,000 runners and team officials. What capped off the incredible night were the fireworks and confetti.
The uphill race on Friday kicked off the racing weekend. No one on the Cambodian team participated, but we watched live streams throughout the day. Saturday was the “long” (80km or ~49.7 miles), and “short” (40km or ~24.8 miles) trail race. 5 teammates competed on Saturday, 3 for the long trail race and 2 for the short trail race. I joined our other teammates in the crowd and spectated. It was a long day, but I am proud of how our team fought hard. We gave it our best, and that’s what matters the most!
Outside the race festivities, I enjoyed spending time with the team over food and drinks (Cambodians love to eat no matter which part of the world they reside in, haha). I was impressed by the diverse food options in Chiang Mai. The Nightlife was busy but not overwhelming. Every night felt had a similar routine: eat, drink, walk, and sleep. But the adventures we had were quite the opposite!
I am overjoyed by my team’s performance. Seeing each runner cross the finish line brought the biggest smile to my face. I didn’t care about our placement. We may not have won any medals, but I hope we inspired the next generation of Cambodian runners. And one day, I wish to see a Cambodian runner on the podium at a World Championship.
My Race Performance
Sunday was the last day of racing, and it was my turn to toe the line. The classic uphill and downhill races included a junior division (under 20) and a senior division. There 5 remaining teammates (including myself) who competed in the senior division, 3 females and 2 males).
The opening ceremony was also a glimpse of the “competition.” The quotations are necessary because the other competitors were way above my league. I was completely outmatched. My chances weren’t helped by the fact that I rolled my ankle four days before the race during the course recon. I apologize if the photo is unpleasant; you can tell it was severe when my ankle turned visibly purple.
I knew I was going up against professionals, and maybe ignorance was bliss during training. As I looked up competitors on Strava and read their bios, my confidence level was shot, and my anxiety skyrocketed. Road running speed and trail running speed are very different, but there were quite a few guys who have quite the resume on road races. One guy was a 62-minute half marathoner and European trail champion. Another was a 2:17 marathoner and ran in the U.S. Marathon Olympic Trials.
Adding to the anxiety was the warm-up. I remember looking at the Uganda squad very focused and in great form. They just saw their junior men’s team sweep the podium. They were motivated, and so were many others. I got to the back, and before I knew it, we were off!
It was 80 degrees and humid, like Houston. I was running hard, like a 5K, and noticed I was at 5:00-5:15 per mile pace near the 1km mark. I was going as hard as I could (or so it felt), and I was still getting dropped. I started the climb solo shortly after. Maybe 1 mile into the race, a Belgian runner caught me and eventually passed me. My teammate and I were the last 2 in the race.
I was struggling. I started pushing the pace too soon and gassed out. I was walking uphill with my hands on my knees. It was 1,463ft of total gain within the first 5km or ~3.1 miles. Even though I was walking, it felt like I was running.
It took over 31 minutes to get through the next 2 miles and reach the halfway mark, which meant the descent was coming soon. I have done some challenging road marathons, but there was nothing more excruciating than going up those hills. The elevation grade was mostly between 10%-25%, but there were a few stretches well above 30%.
My teammate caught up at the halfway mark. We got some water and started the descent together. I wanted to be cautious with my sprained ankle. I remember where I rolled over my right ankle, about 1-1.5 miles into the descent. I tried to avoid repeating my mistake and risk not finishing the race. It hurt as I shifted my weight to prevent loose rocks. The steep descent meant my body wanted to propel itself forward, but I had to keep it under control. And in some cases, pull back and fight gravity.
I eventually passed my teammate, survived the descent, and picked up my stride through the finisher chute. I grabbed the Cambodian flag and lifted it proudly over my head as I crossed the finish line. Relieved the race was over. Elated to represent Cambodia. And proud of myself for getting out of my comfort zone. I still have so much to learn and am eager to improve. However, I still need more time to recover.
Rushing into training will not fix anything. It will only create more problems. Taking time off can and should be a good thing. It’s moments like these where you learn to appreciate what you have. I have taken the time to reflect on my appreciation for running and what it means to be Cambodian American.
Final notes
If you’ve read both posts, you may want to open another bottle of wine or refill your glass 😊. Thank you for taking the time to read my words. I believe in being open and honest about my training, including the challenges I face physically and mentally. These challenges may feel unique to me, but I hope someone can connect with my story and find it helpful or inspiring. If this blog can help even one person, it has fulfilled its purpose.
I know that one day the darkest moments will pass. My mother’s generation survived genocide, so I know that I can overcome anything that comes my way.
