Postscript.

This is what seven days without a shower looks like. It’s also the face of true happiness and contentment.

Two weeks ago today I was lining up alongside my fellow adventurers at Everest Base Camp for the start of the Everest Marathon. Little did I know the shape that was to about take. I’ve been asked if I underestimated the race. I’m not sure that I did. I think it’s more that you can’t even begin to fathom what the reality is until you’re actually living it. In much the same way I had no way to understand the profound impact the entire experience has had, and indeed is still having, on me. 

I’ve been home a little less than a week. To say I’m going through a bit of culture shock would be an understatement. On the one hand, I feel a tremendous sense of gratitude. It is but by the accident of birth, that I am allowed the life I have. Over the course of three weeks in Nepal I witnessed, and indeed, experienced, to an extent, what it means to live in near isolation, in one of the world’s poorest countries.

We learned what it meant to live without electricity and running water for days on end. You want to take a shower? Sorry. That’s what baby wipes are for. You want to wash your hands? Use anti-bacterial lotion. You need to brush your teeth? Go find some boiled or bottled water. You want to go to the bathroom? Be grateful for that handy bucket inside your freezing cold room or tent. The alternative, in the middle of the night is much worse than that. How about laundry, phones, TV? Now you’re just in dreamland.

And yet, our merry band of extreme runners, trekkers, crazies, whatever you want to call us, was most certainly pampered by Nepali standards. We stayed in the better lodges along the way. Our food while boring and consisting nearly entirely of starches was cooked specifically taking our sensitive Western stomachs in mind. We had a staff of 17 to accompany our group of 25. They took care of us morning to night, for pennies on the dollar. And I do mean pennies.

It was only after we were safely back in Kathmandu I found out our porters, the men charged with carrying our things around from lodge to lodge got paid just under $20USD for the entire 2-week trek. Twenty dollars to carry 70lbs of lugagge every day on their backs up and down some of the most technical terrain you’ll encounter on this planet. That translates to less than $1.50 a day.

Meanwhile here we were, struggling just to carry our own weight up the mountain; to put one foot in front of the other; to not fall off a cliff.  

The terrifying part in all this, however, is the incredibly high number of people who rely on this kind of back breaking work to live. Whether it’s carrying trekkers equipment up and down a mountain, or simply carrying the supplies needed to stock every day life in the villages that dot the Khumbu, it’s mind-boggling to see. Even garbage must be brought down on somebody’s back.

It truly brings home the reality of living in a region with literally no roads, no motorized vehicles. There is one path up the mountain. There is one path down. It’s one that can only be traversed on foot. One village is so isolated from the other that often times people living in one village have no idea how to get to the next one just a few miles away. The higher up you go the lower the likelihood of phones working, so communication with anyone outside your immediate vicinity is extremely limited. 

And yet, there is a certain ‘romance’ to the simplicity of it all. The Sherpa people who inhabit the Khumbu Valley are some of the kindest, most selfless I’ve ever met. There is no sense of discontent or resentment against us, which truth be told, is a bit surprising. It’s life stripped down to the absolute basics. Their Tibetan Buddhist philosophy—evident everywhere you go in the Himalayan mountains—clearly guides every aspect of their lives. 

Contrast that to how we, in the so-called ‘First World,’ live. Our lives carried out in a constant hurry. We seem to be stuck in a culture of one-upmanship. I’ve got to be honest. Coming back to the bubble I live in here in Chicago has been somewhat disheartening. The excess, and obsession with trivialities is turning me off. Here I am just grateful for a hot shower and a flush toilet, when a month ago I was debating what purse to splurge on next. 

I don’t mean to come off as judgemental. After all, I’ve got a pretty big mirror to look into. As the days pass I’m sure I’ll resume my ‘normal’ life. I just hope I don’t get completely sucked back in. 

I guess what I’m saying is: In the years to come, as I look back on my three weeks in Nepal, I hope to say that it is thanks to this experience, that I achieved, not only one of my greatest personal accomplishments, but also, that I became a better person.