News & Pictures

By now I'd developed a coping strategy.  Every day I'd start last. Right at the back, and not pass through the start line for 5 minutes or so after the gun.  I wasn't at all worried about my time, just to finish the race, get some training benefit, and have some enjoyable moments.  Then I walked, at a fast, consistent pace, all day.  The serious guys ran, many alternated jogging and walking, and many just walked.  The number walking increased daily as muscles wore out and, mainly, blisters grew. By starting at the back I enjoyed the fact that no one went past me, and my consistent pace meant that I passed other racers throughout the day.  I never stopped during a stage, except at checkpoints, to pick up water and, when it was really hot, to get some shade for 15 minutes or so - to do otherwise at times would have been to risk heatstroke, as many found out to their cost.

 This way, I'd typically go past 2-300 competitors during the stage, and arrive back at camp feeling relatively fit.  What really made the race easier for me that expected, and to the extreme annoyance of my tent mates, was the complete absence of blisters or other physical problems.  I guess my tent was typical.  Of the 7 of us, I had no problems at all.  Two had the most horrendous blisters throughout, resulting in a painful hobble around the course for many, many hours more than those that had good feet. One was injured before arriving, so could only walk slowly, one had severe intestinal problems for a couple of days and lost many toenails, and two others had more 'normal' blistering at a manageable level.

 Others were not so lucky, or did not look after themselves so well.  Competitors linked up to saline drips were a common sight, and many a tough man was seen weeping during 'corrective surgery' to their feet in the doctors' tent.  One managed to get lost in the desert overnight, and several were whisked away to the nearest A&E for heart-related issues. 

 Overall, one had the impression that most people were so determined to finish that they'd risk almost anything to get round. Indeed, in the official list of penalties - you are allowed two drip sessions and even two plaster casts, before you are withdrawn.  This race could never be run in the safety-conscious UK.  A severely dehydrated man collapsing, being given 5 litres of intra-venous fluid, and then going back out to race, just wouldn't be allowed to happen here, and perhaps this is part of the popularity of the event.

 Day 4/5 was the day most people dread.  A 52 mile section, where you can run through the night. Psychologically, this daunted many racers but, as you are given 34 hours to complete it, I just broke it down in my mind to 2 days.  I did 30 miles the first day in my usual fashion, then stopped to eat and sleep for 8 hours (yes, ok, this is a bit lazy for an endurance race - most competitors stopped for an hour or two). I carried on at 04.30 in the morning, finishing about 12.00 before the day got hot, and 8 hours before the cut-off time. 

 For those who finished this section in good time or in one piece, the remainder of the race - 26 miles, then 13 miles, seemed almost an anticlimax.  The challenge had already been confronted and conquered.  We had a day's rest, then two relatively short days to go, and it was getting cooler.  However, for those with injuries, it just got worse.  For them, hobbling in to camp in the evening, and probably having had little rest on the way round, they had perhaps 10 hours to eat, repair their feet, see the doctor, sleep, prepare their feet, eat again, and set off the next morning.

Diary