Marathon des Sables: Post Race Report

Introduction

Back at home in a colder South Africa, I am reflecting on the events of the past three weeks as well as the 18-months that lead up to the 28^th Marathon des Sables (MdS). Attempting to record this amazing experience in words is not as simple as it might sound; however, I recall a conversation with my friend and tent-mate, Brian De Francesca, a few days before the MdS. We were discussing what the MdS means for each of us and agreed that the actual race is merely the reward, but that the journey to the MdS is where the greatest adventure and benefit is found.

It is the journey that has had the greatest impact on me. My MdS journey has seen me lose 30kg’s, go from unfit to fit and live one adventure after the next. I recall starting my training for MdS in 2007, but it was not to be. At the time I was running every afternoon, was playing soccer once a week and was in relative good shape. Then I injured both my heels and it became difficult to walk let alone to run. A visit to the doctor did not end with good news, the prognosis was that not much could be done and that running would not be part of my future. The pain persisted, my inactivity increased and the weight gain continued; the result was that by October 2011 I weighed 107kg’s.

Waking-up on Monday the 12^th of September 2011 and finding that the pain was less, I immediately set-out to ‘run’ around the block. In my mind, I weighed less, and was far fitter then what became evident a few minutes later. I could hardly run 300 meters and when I eventually stood on the scale the reality of how out of shape I was became crystal clear. Something needed to be done, having been active and fit for most of my life, I found my present physical state to be unacceptable. My plan of action included losing 30kg’s to get my BMI too normal, and get fit.              

The Long Road to the MdS

My training program started with walking around the block. The first week I walked the 1,2km distance every second day, the second week I walked around the block twice every second day and so I continued to increase the distance until I was able to cover 6km’s at a time. The progress was slow, and at first I was able to run part of the distance and eventually the entire distance, then by 15 October 2011, I increased my running activities to four sessions per week. The change in my diet combined with the exercise resulted in a weight loss of around 1 kilogram per week. By the end of December 2011 I had lost 16 kilograms, and was running between 47 and 65km’s per week.

Then the MdS dream returned, it was in reach, I could do it. If I took it slow, worked hard and remained disciplined in my training I could run the MdS. In early January 2012 I submitted my entry for the MdS; on the 9^th of January 2012 my entry into the 28^th MdS, to be run in 2013, was confirmed. I made the words of Sir Ranulph Fiennes my motivational motto: “Always train hard and plan with great care”.

Being motivated by my MdS entry I ran my first 17 km road race, the Wits University run, and on the 15th of January 2012 ran my first 5 km fun-run with my beautiful wife Tanya. Since then she has clocked many kilometres with me and has inspired me to maintain my drive forward. Her company during runs had broken the boredom, motivated me and gave us a chance to be together. It felt great, not only was I losing weight and getting fit, but I got to spend some more time with the love of my life.

Week after week I increased my distance by up to 10% and by the end of March 2012, I clocked my first 75 km week. By now I was running 6-days a week with my minimum distance being 10 km’s per day and at least two 15 km runs each week. I felt great, better than I have felt in years. For the first time in my adult life my 10 km time dropped to 50 min. Then it happened, on the 3rd of April 2012 I tore my left Soleus muscle. The injury was a combination of stupidity and arrogance. It took until the end of April 2012 to fully recover.

On the 1st of May 2012, Tanya and I ran our first 10 km race, the Wally Hayward, in Centurion. It was great; we had an absolute ball running the race. We came in together in a time of 1:09:15. During March I started training with some weight on my back. At first only 4 kg’s but by the end of May I was running with a 12 kg load, clocking 5:57 per kilometre on a 10 km run. By the end of May my weight was down to 80 kg’s and I was feeling really great. Average weekly millage hovered around the 70 km mark with at least half of the distance run with weight. I would vary the weight in-line with what my body could manage at any given time, but managed an average of 9 kg’s. Training continued and in early July I was a confirmed 2012 runner in the Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon (KAEM). On the 8th of July 2012 training for KAEM started in all earnest. I put in some extra effort and by the 2nd of August 2012 ran my first 120 km week. This did not form part of my training program but was simply a test to see if my present fitness level would be able to sustain such a distance in one week. As the KAEM is more than double that in distance, the assessment was important, I established a base line. I deduced that an average 50 km training week would be sufficient for the KAEM but would be marginal, and would result in a very difficult and unpleasant experience. I therefore opted for a weekly training distance of 80 km’s.

Throughout August I maintained high mileage, building endurance, however, during the last week I left the weight at home, shortened the distances and worked on getting my heart rate above 140 bpm. It was an amazing week. For the first time in my life I was able to run a 10 km in 45:46, averaging a pace of 04:34 per kilometre. This made me feel the achievement and the hard work of the past ten months was tangible. A week later, on the 31st of August 2012, I had the most difficult 20 km run one morning. At 14 km’s I was reduced to a walk simply because I lacked the energy to run. It was a wake-up call. I realized that no matter how fast or fit you may be, your body will have good and bad days.

I met Phil Waudby, an experienced KAEM runner, for a 12 km trail run on the 1st of September 2012. We had a great run at the Groenkloof Nature Reserve in Pretoria. I learned a great deal from him that morning, he inspired me to work harder at it and provided the comfort that I needed to get rid of some of the anxiety associated with running your first Ultra Endurance multi-stage self-support race. He shared some of his experiences, like running from Johannesburg to Augrabies (1,000 km’s), and then taking one rest day before participating in the actual KAEM. He shared some personal triumphs and hardships with me.

During September, I met some other KAEM runners, Clint and Rob, and together with Phil ran various races. These were the most races I had run in a single month since I started running again. My focus, however, is no longer road racing but exclusively Ultra Endurance and Self Sufficiency races, all road races are now training runs, and are done with my full race kit.

I attribute much of my fitness success and speed improvement to following the run-walk-run strategy of Jeff Galloway. My blog entry dated 13 February 2012 provides a more detailed explanation of the Galloway strategy together with some experimental data (http://theroadtomds.blogspot.com/2012/02/running-experiment.html). However, I incorporated this strategy into my training from the start. In the beginning it consisted of 3 min run and 1 min walk cycles, eventually this became a 4 min run and 1 min walk cycle and today I am running 1 km and walking 100 meters. I use this strategy during training and races with great success.

I tried to train as close as possible to race conditions. The majority of my runs were off-road, with 10 kg’s of weight on my back and mostly during the warmest part of the day. For the KAEM I ran in 37 degree Celsius heat, endured snow, rain, hail and cold.  

By the time that I stood on the KAEM 2012 starting line, I had run a total of 2,600 km’s for the year. It was an amazing adventure, full of wonderful moments, great personal achievements and amazing people. A year after I started running again I was fitter, healthier and lighter than I had been for years. By then I had learned that there is one certainty for anyone when you embark on a journey of extreme adventure racing, and that is that you will, from time to time, experience some injuries, and have bad running days, but, that the rewards far outweigh the pain. Other minor injuries included a strained Flexar Muscle, some collar bone pain and some race pack chaffing on my lower back, these were all managed through logical thought, rest and basic first aid care. The RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation) seems to help with most injuries.

The KAEM was an amazing experience where I met great people from all over the world. I learned from some of the most, experienced multi-stage runners and gained the experience that I needed. The KAEM was also my opportunity to test much of the theory that I developed through research during the preceding year.

Upon my return home my wonderful wife, the person that is my motivation, became more involved in my training. We took the majority of our running off-road, running trails every Saturday for between 6 and 7 ½ hours at the Groenkloof Nature reserve, what an amazing time. The trail running made me a much stronger runner, which was better prepared for a multi-stage race. I would run every Saturday with my race pack, loaded with food and water coming to around 10,6kg’s. Mid-day temperatures in Pretoria would come in at around 36 to 38 degree Celsius with a very high humidity level (between 45% and 70%) and the terrain at Groenkloof provides a realistic training environment except for the sand that I would encounter during the MdS.

Tanya and I tested our fitness, strength and general preparation a month before the MdS by running the Addo Elephant 46,5km trail run, both of us with our race packs, Tanya with 5kg’s loaded and me with a 12kg pack. The mid-day temperature peaked at 36 degree Celsius with humidity between 70 and 85%. Unbeknown to me the hills of the Addo would not be that different to what we encountered during the MdS. At Addo our total ascent for the day came in at 1,519 meters with a really intense climb between the 10 and 20 kilometre checkpoints. Over this 10 kilometre distance we climbed 500 meters in total. Unfortunately my angel fell at around the two kilometre mark, injuring her left hand, she continued to complete the rest of the day not knowing how severe her injury actually was. Two weeks after the Addo the orthopaedic surgeon had to re-attach the volar plates in her left hand and at present she is undergoing some painful and very long rehabilitation in the hope to regain the use of her fingers.

In the four months prior to the MdS I ran just over 1,000 kilometres, my average short run was 10 kilometres and the average long run 30 kilometres. My longest long run in the six month prior to the MdS was 82 kilometres and the furthest distance I covered over a 7-day period was 250 kilometres. I also trained six out of every seven days with some gym work, cycling and swimming. My greatest stress, however, in the run-up to the MdS was the difficulties in securing a Moroccan visa.    

After all of this the 28^th Marathon des Sables eventually arrived, the 18-months of waiting and preparing was over and it was time to put all the theory, the training and general preparation to the test and here is what happened.  

  

Pre-Race Activities

The Marathon des Sables is not merely a multi-stage race spread over 7-days, but it is an event that is spread over two-weeks. A large part of this event comprises traveling to and from the actual race. For me it all started out in Pretoria, South Africa. I flew out of Johannesburg on British Airways to Heathrow, London where I spent half a day and a really great evening with a KAEM friend and fellow runner David Ball and his family. His patient wife Helena, obviously being used to having a runner in the house, was mostly unfazed when my carryon bag for the flight to Morocco was sorted on her kitchen table, while David and myself spoke about our adventures in the Kalahari.  I decided to take my gaiters, running shoes and race-pack with food as carryon luggage and the rest would be checked-in. The essential things that would allow me to run the race would be secure, a really great decision, as upon arrival in Morocco a fellow runner was missing a bag with all of his essential kit. After much scrounging a kit was assembled for him from various runners who brought additional kit.

That evening Helena prepared a great home cooked dinner, the last I would taste for a few weeks, and after dinner we retired to watch a DVD of two Australian friends, Cas and Jonesy, making history by walking unsupported from the edge of Antarctica to the South Pole and back. The visit and good conversation was over too quickly, as it generally is, and after a good night’s rest I was up early to shower and dress for the journey to Morocco. David and I were dropped off at the station close to his home, and David took the time to travel with me on part of my journey to Gatwick, thanks for everything David, you guys were great. See you at Augrabies in October!

At Gatwick airport, in the Giraffe restaurant, I met for the first time, some of the runners with whom I would spend the next week and a half in the Sahara desert. We eventually travelled by charter flight from Gatwick to Quarzazate in Morocco. I met more MdS runners on the plane and was amazed by the people with whom I would have the honour of running the 28^th Marathon des Sables. There were real adventurers; individuals who have swam the English Channel, a Brit that rowed up the entire length of the east coast of America, and numerous individuals who have previously ran the MdS and/or other really amazing races. But there were even more really great individuals who were adventurous by heart and for whom this was a first. For them the excitement was balanced by some apprehension and a little fear. I listened in awe as these great men and woman told their stories of why they were running the MdS and came to realise that everyone has a story, and a reason for doing this.   

After arriving in Quarzazate we had a final luxury night living in the Berbere Palace Hotel, a really great supper and an early morning rise to start the six hour bus journey that would take us to round two kilometres from the start line. Here the Moroccan military transported the runners by military truck into the Berbere tent camp or bivouac. What a sight this was. For around 18-months all 330 UK runners with me had been dreaming about this camp, this event and this experience. Arriving at the camp brought with it excitement and some level of apprehension; at this point it became very real. Some pre-race arrangements had seen runners arrange themselves into tent-groups of eight runners each.

As I stepped off the truck, Brian De Francesca was there to meet me with our tent number. Until the end of the charity stage tent number 124 would be my home and I would share this with seven really great guys, six of them I have briefly met during the preceding two days. We were a highly unlikely group, an American, an Australian, two Irish guys, three Brits and a South African. Thinking back on the time we spent over the eight days in the desert I have only fond memories.  

There was a real team spirit amongst all from the word go, it so happened that we all seemed to share the same sense of humour and that tent 124 could be heard laughing virtually all the time. I would stand outside the tent from time to time listening and without a doubt it would be tent 124 that laughed not only the most, but the loudest. For me this was such a great relief, I am usually the loudest in a group, but this time around I was merely one of the guys. Some friendly competition developed between Brian de Francesca, Ulich Burke and Michael Burke, and would continue with some humorous moments over the next week.

As we settled into our tent the first sand-storm hit and we were forced to hold onto our tent, the sandstorm was followed by a very light rain that lasted for a few minutes. Brigid Wefelnberg a friend and fellow runner I met during the KAEM came to the tent to share some of her MdS experiences. Having completed the MdS three times before, her information was eagerly tapped into by everyone. We all keenly read our race books that were given earlier on the bus. As we settled in for our first, and somewhat cold, night in the desert, training, running, food and general information was shared amongst my new found race friends.

As we woke the next morning a busy but slow day beckoned. The MdS organization gave us breakfast as they did dinner the night before and I continued to be impressed by the quality and efficiency of the organization in setting up camp, medical facilities, communications and something that is very important to all runners –provide us with really good food. After breakfast the administrative process started, our kit, food and mandatory equipment was inspected, we had our medical reports and ECG’s scrutinized and received a flare, our tracking sensor and a water and medical card. Having our official race tags in hand we were now officially ready to stand on the start line the next day. Most of the remainder of the day and early evening was spent packing and repacking our race-packs. No matter what the conversation started out as, all conversations inevitably returned to what will follow over the next few days. As we sat down for the last pre-race meal provided by the MdS I had to compliment the French on how they do things in style. Here in the middle of the Sahara desert, sitting in our running gear, the French served an amazing meal with an excellent red wine, a 2009 Bordeaux. Not to be outdone by the French I dressed in a black bowtie for dinner every evening.

As we walked to tent 124 and retired for the night the reality of what laid ahead was totally unknown to us, it would, however, become very real within the next 12-hours. The 28^th Marathon des Sables turned out to be one of the toughest in years, according to Rory Coleman, an MdS veteran running his 10^th consecutive MdS and some other “old-hands”. The MdS format changes reached deeper than simply a stage reduction, it comprised a total event overhaul, or so it seemed, and saw experienced MdS runners withdrawing at various stages throughout the race. Looking back at the race in terms of figures, provides some idea of what we were about to face over the next seven days: Jebels and Hills comprised 15% of the race totalling 35 kilometres, Sandy Terrain comprising dried out river beds, dunes and sandy mounts totalled 111 kilometres and represented 48% of the total event distance while salt flats, plateau’s, dried out lakes and tracks came in at 17% with a total distance of 39 kilometres. The remaining 46 kilometres or 20% was rocky and stony terrain. Over the next seven days we would assent 4,629 meters in total, in temperatures ranging between 15 and 39 degree Celsius (although some reports of 50 plus degrees are doing the rounds) and run at an altitude between 627 and 941 meters.  

And here is what happened.

Stage 1

Our tent was up early, self-sufficiency started and breakfast came out of our own food supplies. It was quickly eaten, and then the final preparation started. The gaiters came on, the back-packs tightened and everyone’s anticipation built. I had a first of many media interviews, and found myself sharing my story about why as a 44-year old South African I was running yet another desert. This interview made it onto the official MdS website as the article for the day: http://www.darbaroud.com/en/stage-journal/portraits/65-d575-afs-genis-pieterse.html Soon enough we were standing on the starting line. Patrick Bauer stood on the Landrover, briefing the runners on the route, announced the birthdays for the day and wished us good luck. For those of us who don’t speak French the translator gave us a summary review, which we had to accept as being a true version of what the race director said. Then the count-down started, ACDC’s Highway to Hell played loud and Patrick gradually counted us down from 2-minutes, and then the moment arrived. The MdS has started and I am taking my first step of this epic journey that stared 18-months earlier.

It was surreal; I could hardly believe that a dream that started so many years earlier is in the process of becoming a reality. I savoured the moment, the people around me, the scenery and found myself running amongst the Facebook faces that I have come to know during the preceding months. Around the halfway mark I ran past, last year’s winner. I remember the shock, was I misreading my pace and am I running to fast? I must have rechecked my Garmin Fenix ten times before I realised that my pace was spot-on and within my race objective. After a quick hand-shake and thumbs-up I continued onwards.   

The distance for stage one was longer than the usual acclimatization distances of past years. The day comprised a cross section of terrain, but fresh legs and a well-rested body meant that the day didn't feel that physically demanding for me. What became absolutely clear, however, was the heavy psychological toll the Sahara would take on me and others. The scale of this place is vast which means that you could easily see 4 to 8 kilometers in any direction. I was introduced to this about 6 kilometers from the end, as I came over a hill the end was insight, our bivouac was beckoning me, rest and water was within reach but the terrain that separated me from the end meant that at my steady pace I would take 1 ½ hours before I would reach the end.

It was glorious to reach the end and I felt great. On the way to tent 124 I ran into Bridget and exchanged a few words, she also had a great day but stated that it was tough. Back in the tent there were some blisters, but the most severe was Andrew Stanley who totally dehydrated and could not eat or keep fluids down. Dean Gerrard and Michael Anderson also had a rude awakening and were reconsidering their race strategy. As I walked through the camp the effect of the first day became clear, there were many casualties and the line at the medical tent seemed to be growing as the day drew to a close.

My research and KAEM experience paid off and my role in the tent was set. I would share recovery advice, medical experience and hopefully we could get Andrew back on his feet for the next day. As the night progressed he made a gradual recovery and around 22:00 was able to keep fluids down. Dinner in tent 124 was always interesting, food would be shared, with Michael Burke always trying to shed some more weight, but the conversations would inevitably end up in a good laugh. I have to say thank you to my tent mates who made every moment something that I will treasure for the rest of my life.

The night was warmer but very windy and as always the next morning would arrive too soon.                 

          

Stage 2

During Patrick’s morning briefing the news was shared of fellow runners that had to withdraw, amongst them was the winner of the previous year. The reality of this formidable challenge dawned on all of us; it is real and the danger of not making it to the next day a real risk. As we set-off  once again to the sound of ACDC’s Highway to Hell we were blissfully unaware of the day that lay before us. The reality of having three Jebels in one day would, however, become very apparent soon enough.

At CP1 I met Mohammed Belemlih from the Moroccan Ministry of Tourism who was instrumental in getting both Sanet Nel, a fellow South Africa who now lives in the Netherlands and myself the permission to run in Morocco. Without his commitment and effort both of us would still be waiting for our visas. As we left CP1 the day was already getting very warm and the sun really intense. Three of my tent-mates Andrew Stanley, Dean Gerrard and Michael Anderson had decided to take it a little slower and we ran together up to CP1. Dean and Michael started out of CP1 first but Andrew Stanley and myself stuck together until halfway to CP3 when he had recovered from the ordeal of the previous day which allowed him to pick up the pace.

In retrospect we should have known that the Jebels were going to be really tough when Patrick stood at the foot of the first wishing the runner’s good luck as they started out on what would be the first and very rude awakening of what a Jebel really is. Thinking back on this I am still not totally certain whether this was a good luck gesture from Patrick or a pre-emptive farewell. The ascends that followed for the rest of the day were difficult and intense, but at the summit of each the most spectacular view would await us. This gave many of us the opportunity to take out the cameras in an attempt to capture the moment. However, as wonderful as cameras are, they fail to capture the awe, the emotions we all feel and the effort it took to be there at that moment.

The Jebels were not only high, representing some effort in reaching the top, but once on the summit required much care and technical proficiency to traverse. Descending the Hered Asfer and Joua Baba Ali Jebels brought out the child in virtually everyone. Sand dunes had blown up to the side of the mountain covering the rough terrain with sand. This meant that running down the sides was relatively easy and great fun, for those without a fear of heights anyway.

At the summit of the third Jebel, the Et Otfal Jebel, one could once again see the end, but due to a very technical decent reaching the bivouac was no small task, and it felt as if the end would never come. This psychological effect seems to be a characteristic of running in the Sahara and is definitely at the core of the MdS.

I eventually reached the end of a tough day. As I entered the bivouac the effect of stage two was very evident. There was much activity around the medical tent and as I made my way through the Berbere tents saw many a runner nursing battered feet. I had a short chat with Bridget who confirmed that it was a difficult day, even for an experienced runner like herself. I dropped my bag, ate some biltong and made my way to the e-mail tent to let Tanya know that I was doing fine. I recall writing to her that this race in the Sahara is brutal. Standing in-line, waiting for a terminal to open, it became very clear that there was consensus about the difficulty of stage 2.

The usual routine followed an attempt to clean away as much sweat and dirt, although doing so with wet-wipes is moderately successful at best, followed by some feet maintenance and dinner. Throughout the tent the e-mails received to date was read and re-read, and before we knew it darkness had set and the end of another day had come.    

Stage 3

The usual morning routine followed as the sun rose in the Sahara. As we were preparing our feet, kit and food for the day, the Berbers removed our tent. In this place noting is permanent and most definitely not that which you call home. To ensure that the tents are in-place at the next bivouac point the Berbers need to leave with the tents before the runners start the stage, so every morning our home would disappear in a matter of seconds, and we would be left getting ready in the open. It is experiences like this that makes the MdS so special, it is not merely a race, it is an adventure. Part of my morning ritual would entail looking at photos of my wonderful wife and daughter which I keep, appropriately, in my survival pack.  

Standing on the start-line, waiting for Patrick to set us off for the day, I knew that this was it. My strategy had been to get through the first three days with as little as possible injuries, and in as good a physical and mental shape as possible. From experience and research I knew that the first three days in any self-sufficiency multi-stage endurance race is the most difficult, so getting through it greatly improves the odds of completing the event. For me the 3^rd stage represents a tipping point, after this there would be a long stage and a full day of rest, but, today still had to be completed without injury and before the cut-off.

Stage three would be mentally far more taxing than physically. A profile review of the stage showed that the first 17 kilometres was relatively flat varying with no more than 20 meters overall. Then we encountered the very sandy Ras Khemmouna Jebel, although not very technical the 163 meter climb spread over a distance of 2,7 kilometres was made difficult due to the amount of sand, but as before the view from the top would be spectacular to say the least. The mental stimulus of the climb was a welcome distraction from the monotony of the preceding 17 kilometres. The ascent was relatively easy and after the initial steep descent the terrain levelled out with a more gradual gradient. This took us all the way to around the 30 kilometre mark where I met-up with Eric Doyle from Ireland. I had met him at the hotel for the first-time and had shared the military truck journey with him. Although we only had some brief exchanges up to this stage, this larger than life Irishman, is an instantaneously likable person. He was having a particularly bad day due to his feet and together we, and some other runners, covered the final eight kilometres in fairly good spirit. Adventure stories were shared along the way which made the eight kilometres home melt away.          

As I crossed the line, hearing the beep from my race transponder the first part of my race strategy was in the bag. I had made it through the first three days in relatively good shape. I had enough energy in the tank to continue running if I had to, had no new injuries, the two small blisters did not have any significant impact on me as the pain was insignificant. I was, however, somewhat concerned about my heels, and in specific my right heel. The pain that I have become used to over the past eighteen months had progressively become more intense over the past three days. I think the amount of sand played a significant role.

Back in tent 124 my tent mates were in good spirits, however, some hard work was lying ahead on the next day and preparation, reviewing personal race strategies and maintenance was now a priority. The prevailing view was that success in the long stage would put the race in the bag. Blisters were treated and after dinner everyone was in their sleeping bags. As darkness fell the jokes became less as one by one we fell asleep.

Stage 4

The morning of stage four was no different to any other morning, our tent was taken at a moment’s notice by the Berbers, food was quickly eaten, our morning water quota drawn and preparation was well underway for the long stage.

At the start Patrick made the usual announcements which included birthdays, withdrawals, a route overview and some emphasis was placed on the three cut-off times for the long stage. There was a cut-off at CP3 and CP4 and the end. I immediately set my interim race objectives for the long stage, I had to get through the two CP’s with cut-offs as quickly as possible, and could take it easy after that as the 34-hour overall cut-off was more than enough.

My left heel was feeling better but my right heel was really uncomfortable and paining more than usual. Post race x-rays back in South Africa identified two spurs, one on each heel, as the cause of the problem. These had gradually developed during training and were now becoming a real problem. I did, know from experience, that if I kept my pace around the 4km/h mark that I would be able to manage the pain for a considerable distance.

Halfway to CP1 I came across Eric, his feet were not in the best of shape and he had some pain that made running difficult for him. Again we spent some time together, exchanging stories and getting everyone’s mind off the pain. As we went through CP 1 Eric was looking better and we sat down to do some feet maintenance, Sanet Nel was just leaving as we came into the CP. We refilled our water bottles and set-out to CP2. The climb out of CP1, to cross the Zireg Jebel was moderately difficult with a 147 meter climb spread over a 4 kilometre distance. Eric looked good and I pushed on leaving him behind on the descent. I caught up with Sanet, the fellow South African runner, at the 2^nd checkpoint. She was feeling the effects of the first three days, and was taking some time-out to recover. We had a brief discussion and decided to push-on through the next two checkpoints. As both of these had cut-offs getting through both as quickly as possible became our priority.

At CP3 it was evident that we wouldn’t be making CP4 before dark. The officials issued us with glow-sticks that we attached to the back of our packs and we got the headlamps out before pushing-on to the final checkpoint with a cut-off time. Reaching CP4 was a relief, there were now 30-odd kilometres left to the end and about 22-hours left within which to complete the distance before the final cut-off. It was time for dinner and a little rest, as with all good things the hour spent at CP4 went past too quickly and we were on our way. Now started the dunes, the green laser pointed the way and our headlamps lit the area immediately ahead. The trek through the dunes is difficult enough at the best of times but at night is gains another degree of difficulty. My fellow South African experienced some difficulties as her dinner did not go down as well as she had hoped. Our pace slowed-down somewhat as the day’s effort started taking its toll. We agreed that if she needed to rest a little that this could be done at the last check-point.

About 3 kilometres before the last check point (CP6) I pushed on with Sanet slowing down a little more. It was already a difficult day, and as I passed through the last CP the end was now obtainable. It was hard work to maintain a constant pace. At about five kilometres from the end I had to cross another sole destroying flat stretch, but, here the desert did what she does so well for those who respect her, she rewarded me. Halfway across this flat the sun slowly started to rise and the beauty around me was overwhelming. I stopped to take some more photos, something that I have done regularly throughout this and other events. This seemed to invigorate me, and the last four kilometres melted away irrespective of the sandy mounds, with camel grass stretching out for about a kilometre before I could reach a relatively flat hard surface that would take me to the end.

I clearly remember the feeling of relief, satisfaction and elation crossing that finish-line. My heels were in excruciating pain, the right one lasted only the first 12 kilometres and the left for 18 kilometres, after which the only way I could continue was to drink Myprodol pain tablets, something that I hate doing at the best of times. I went through an embarrassing number of Myprodol’s taking two every four hours. The pain relief these provided seemed to last for about two hours after which the pain gradually increased until I take the next two.

But, now I am in the bivouac, it is over, the long run has been done and dusted, what is left to do is, eat, drink lots and lots of water and rest as much as possible. The day was spent sleeping for a couple of hours at a time, then waking-up have a few laughs with the guys and sleep some more. The e-mails that arrived were eagerly awaited by everyone and a visit to the e-mail tent to send some words of thanks and assurances that I was ok was done during mid-afternoon. The mood in tent 124 was light as usual and the laughing and joking reached new heights. I think we all realised that the Marathon des Sables, the toughest foot race on earth was nearing the end and it became very obvious that we could do it. What remained was a marathon, a distance that was little more than the distances covered on day one and three, and nearly half of what we have done during the previous stage. Distance became only a number; it had no meaning anymore, and as a result its ability to intimidate ceased.

We had our dinner, took care of our blisters and continued to savoir the rest that a day off our feet afforded us. During the day I had visited another runner that I met at the Augrabies, the French runner, Patrick Moyen who was completing his eight MdS, he was in good shape and looked remarkably strong. I was, unfortunately, unable to find either Eric or Sanet.

Stage 5

Standing on the start line for the final stage of the MdS I learned with some degree of sadness that Eric had not made it and had to withdraw from the race a few hours after I left him, but this big friendly Irishman will be back to claim his medal for the MdS in the future, of that I am convinced. Sanet came to our tent earlier to say that she made it and was still in the race, it was some good news as she had worked hard to get to the MdS and had taken risks to get to the start line.

The long stage was brutal with the leading lady also having to retire from the race. The MdS never seems to stop claiming victims. If there is one piece of advice I can give any future runner of the MdS, it would be to never let your guard down in the Sahara. The sun is relentless which means that hydration must be your top priority at all times, the terrain is tough so maintaining your feet and legs are critical if you are to have any hope of completing the race. Eat, drink, rest and maintenance is your ‘job’ for the time you will be out there, take it seriously.    

As the race started the usual ACDC Highway to Hell played, and we were off; the final stage has now begun. What separated this group of runners from the coveted Marathon des Sables medal was a distance of 42,2 kilometres.

The route was not physically challenging, but what it lacked in physical challenge it made up for in mental hardness. Flat and drawn-out open spaces is so mentally paralysing that, irrespective of how fatigued I might be, the sight of dunes or jebels elicits feelings of excitement.

About five kilometres before the last checkpoint Michiel Hoefsmit and I crossed paths, as we have not yet had an opportunity to spend some time together, we made use of this last opportunity. We would end-up staying together until about one kilometre or so from the end. We made our way through the last set of dunes for the official 28^th MdS and as we exited the dunes we saw a flare arching into the clear sky. It took us about ten minutes to reach the checkpoint and as we approached a second flare went-up. About three kilometres past the checkpoint we came across Kenneth Dalglish who had lost consciousness and was being attended to by the medical staff. He was having a bad day and was first assisted by other runners, who had sent-up flares, and then by the official MdS medical personnel. He was totally dehydrated which resulted in blood glucose levels and blood pressure problems. Being about seven kilometres from the MdS finish line, Kenneth was nearly home, all he needed was some company, a few sticks of real South African biltong and water. Michiel and I provided the company, my backpack supplied the biltong and I shared my 32Gi energy drink with him. As we reached an old abandoned village on the top of a hill one could see the end, it was now only about six or so kilometres away. The three of us pushed onwards and speaking about our families kept all our minds off the monotony of the last few kilometres. Kennet, a cancer survivor and serving British soldier, was particularly concerned as he knew his wife would be tracking his progress. The time he lost while recovering from his ordeal, would mean that she would now be worried, with about three kilometres to go he wrote a message for his wife and daughter on some paper, at the end he would show this to the web-feed camera.

            

By now we knew that Kenneth would be ok, he is a fighter that was close enough to the end, and as with his cancer treatment, won’t give up now. Michiel picked-up the pace and a few seconds later after a final few words with Kenneth, I followed.

As I ran across the finish line my tent mates were waiting on the finish-line to provide their final support. As Patrick hanged the medal around my neck with the customary hug and right-left cheek kisses the reality of the achievement hit. The medal was of secondary importance, the feelings I felt were firstly the satisfaction of having completed this remarkable journey, and secondly the wonderful realization that it had met all my expectations, and in particular my expectation that such an event would build a bond of camaraderie between the participants. My tent mates being there at the end, having all completed this event was a testament that something wonderful had happened, a group of relative strangers had found a commonality of ‘hardship’, victory and achievement and were collectively sharing in each other’s journey.     

Self-sufficiency was now over and once again we were given dinner by the organizers. The food was great as usual and the customary beer and wine option was supplemented by ice cold coke. I had my first coke in about five years, the sugar rush of this ice cold nectar, quickly picked me up. A few of us expressed how nice a second coke or beer would be and after retiring to our tent Andrew returned a little later with ‘takeaways’, somehow he organised those second beers and cokes, I’d rather not ask any questions as to how he was able to do so, once again super thanks for that second coke Andrew.

After dark we were all summoned to the finish line where the last runner was about to bring the 28^th MdS to an end. The last runner receives more support and exposure than the winner, and it was wonderful to see and feel the vibe of a thousand runners cheering on the last few. This is the spirit that makes the MdS so special. A few days later Rory Coleman said something very true, the MdS does not have to be the toughest, it only has to be the best.

Then, after inviting the last runners in, we were spoilt with a short video of some of the highlights of the race followed by a rock group flown in from Canada. As the night progressed runners slowly retired to their tents to savour their individual victories and the little that was left of the MdS.

Charity Stage

After breakfast supplied by the MdS the charity stage started, the start was slow with substantially more runners simply walking. After a kilometre the dunes started and this would last for another seven or so kilometres. Along the way the spirit was jovial with Patrick making his way through the runners speaking to people along the way.

As we arrived at the end of the charity stage we handed back our flares, and transponder. The local kids would line the way asking for whatever a runner is willing to part with. Unused gel’s, energy bars, sweets, energy drinks and even equipment is accepted with admiration and appreciation.

The busses were waiting for us and as they filled we were on our way back to Quarzazate. The bus journey felt even longer this time around and after six hours on the road I arrived back at the Berbere Palace Hotel.     

Post Race Activities

My roommate for the next two days, Stuart Rae, had already secured our room. It was absolutely great to have a shower, wash my hair and put on some clean clothes. Afterwards I met up with my tent mates for dinner. Some of their wives and other family members had flown-in for the occasion and we had a great time just relaxing and enjoying each other’s company.     

The next morning after breakfast Brian and I walked over to the Hotel Flint to collect our ‘finisher’ T-shirt and buy some additional MdS buffs etc. I visited the local market and bought a few trinkets for Tanya and Arielle. After returning to our hotel we spent the rest of the day next to the pool with Andrew, Dean, and Michael. It was really great just relaxing for a day.

I ran into Jay Close and Ian Calder at the pool area, Jay’s feet were bandaged and he was suffering from cellulites. I felt his pain and lift my hat to him for showing the tenacity to complete the MdS. 

After dinner it was auction time, the MdS charity would benefit and I was happy to part with my money. Patrick brought his race director jacket and put it up for auction. This was the item I was after and with a little luck on my side the bid closed on me. It now hangs in my study and I reflect fondly on my time in Sahara each time I look at it. The fundraising for the evening came to a close when tent 125 challenged tent 124 for a ‘boat race’, thanks guys, you were the neighbours to have in the desert.  

We were up early the next morning and flew out on a Monarch charter flight back to Gatwick. Throughout this event there were many more individuals with whom I had the pleasure to spend some time with, actually to many to mention, but that is what the MdS is about. If you walk away from this event without having forged new relationships, made new friends, and maybe extended a helping hand to someone else, you were doing it wrong.      

An hour after landing I was at the offices of Brand Fuel, a business that belongs to my friend David Ball. Time was spent talking to some of his staff members on running a multistage endurance event. Within his company there is a competition between some of the staff members with the prize being an entry into the 2013 Kalaharie Augrabies.   

When I eventually arrived at my hotel the news of the Boston bombing had broken. It was sad to think that such a positive event would be the target of such a cowardly act, but the London marathon a week later showed the resilience of the running community.

    

I was relieved when the plane lifted off at Heathrow, I couldn’t wait to get back home to my angel, Tanya and Arielle my baby. Arriving home was absolutely wonderful, it was great to hug my wife and hold my daughter, see the dogs being happy to see me again and just to fall back on our bed. Tanya and Arielle listened patiently as I relived many of the adventures that I had in the Sahara.

Closing Thoughts

The toughness of the MdS, I think, is found in the cut-off times that apply throughout the race, combined with the psychological effect of being able to see two to three hours in any direction. I deliberately stated this in time and not kilometres in an effort to try and relate the real effect of what those flat open spaces have on your psyche.

I followed my five rules religiously and it stood me in good stead, these were:

Rule #1 - Run with the Desert – this is a concept that I learned during the KAEM. It simply means that I will only do what the desert tells me to do; I won’t fight her or try to conquer her but rather submit to her subtle guidance. A hill might be her way to tell me to walk, a downhill an opportunity to run and a tree or bush that throws a shadow might be her way of saying – “take a rest”,

Rule #2 – Pursue Efficiency – here it is a matter of running when it is relatively effortless to run, and walk when the effort of running outweighs the benefit of running. Seek a way to use energy as efficiently as possible,

Rule #3 – Savour the Moment – take many photos, feel the sand, taste the desert wind and embrace the heat and the cold. Enjoy the hardship, the pain and the struggle for it will soon pass. Remember that if it was not for all these difficult times the victory would be hollow. Laugh a lot; enjoy the race, the company and the competition,

Rule #4 – Strategically manage all my Actions – manage everything, my feet, my hydration, my heart rate, my food intake and my rest. Don’t just do, think, and

Rule #5 – Make Great Friends – take the time to get to know the few MdS runners that I will have the opportunity to spend some time with.

The reality is, that looking back on my time in the desert I could have run a little faster, I am confident that I could have shaved about five hours off my total running time and improved my ranking, but that would have come at a price. I would not have had the opportunity to spend the time with some of the great people that I did, and many of the special moments, and photos that I have taken would have been lost for ever. I am, therefore, really grateful for the time that I had in the Sahara, and content with the balance that I was able to achieve between competing on the one hand, and savouring the experience on the other.

But there is something that I am really grateful for, and that is that I have a really supportive wife that entertains my passion for running in deserts, combined with all the preparation time and work that goes into something like that. Having a supportive family, in my case my wife and my daughter, is something that is such an integrated part of the event itself and is something that should never be taken for granted. The MdS medal that was hung around my neck is as much theirs as it is mine, thank you to the both of you.