Written by Doug Fernandez

Earlier this year, I’d finally won my age group (AG) in Boston. Even though I’d run it 4 times, even setting my PR there, the AG win had proven elusive. The Boston AG win was the cap of a project to win as many of the AG in the major marathons in the world (Boston, NYC, Berlin….). I decided I was finished with competing in road marathons, and that It was time for me to hang up my gloves and retire.

I was burned out with the same routine, season after season. Running 9-10 times a week; the track; the tempo runs, strength training, plyometrics and all that good stuff. I either needed to take a break or find something new and different. Maybe hit the trails, run in the mountains, breathe some fresh air and/or simply run for beers and food, stress-free and forget about the competition.

But what I had yet to do plagued me. No matter how much anyone can feel that they have seen and done it all, there is always so much left to do. Some other running projects that have kept my interest include completing the 7-continent marathon club (Antarctica left), Big Sur, The Great Wall of China, Mount Kilimanjaro and Le Marathon du Medoc in France.

Ultramarathoning also sparked my interest. I had run a 50K 4 years ago, but I hadn’t run anything longer than 31 miles. Well, what a perfect opportunity to correct that! But which one? I had always heard local ultrarunners talk about the JKF 50 miler. OK, That’s it!! JFK50 mile here I come!

Ask NOT what your legs can do for you, but what you can do to your legs!!

Why did I decide to run it? ‘Cause it is the oldest and largest 50 miler in the country. Because its location, is not too far from where I live in Richmond, VA (a 3 ½ hour drive), and certainly ‘cause it’s a highly competitive race, ‘cause of its unique combination of different terrain, and ‘cause I am an Army Veteran, and if there was one ultra that I would do, I’d run one that honors our military and our country. The race website tells the races origin story and history:

“The JFK 50 Mile was first held in the spring of 1963. It was one of numerous such 50 mile events held around the country as part of President John F. Kennedy’s push to bring the country back to physical fitness.

When Kennedy was assassinated in November of 1963, most of these events were never held again. The one here in Washington County, MD changed its name from the JFK 50 Mile Challenge to the JFK 50 Mile Memorial in 1964. The JFK 50 Mile in Washington County, MD is the only original JFK 50 Mile Challenge event to be held every year.

Although open to the public, the JFK 50 Mile is in spirit a military race. It always has been and always will be. In 1963, the initial inspiration behind the event came from then President John F. Kennedy challenging his military officers to meet the requirements that Teddy Roosevelt had set for his own military officers at the dawn of the 20th Century. That Roosevelt requirement was for all military officers to be able to cover 50 miles on foot in 20 hours to maintain their commissions. When word got out about the “Kennedy Challenge”, non-commissioned military personnel also wanted to take the test themselves as did certain robust members of the civilian population”

So, after a 2 month break from running and 20 lbs. heavier, my preparation for this race began in earnest the 3rd of June 2017.

Training: My training plan was based on input I gathered from talking to and reading about what other ultrarunners had done for their 50 mile races and from a basic, generic plan that I found on the Runner’s World website. It was a low mileage plan of not more than 80 miles a week at its peak, with some long, back-to-back runs on Saturdays and Sundays.

I ran a total of 5 runs of 30 miles or longer during the summer, mostly on trails. I didn’t feel that I ever got myself in the kind of shape I usually would have before my major road marathons, because I didn’t think that kind of speed was required to run a decent 50 miler. I did minimum speedwork, and ran a few races at the distance of the half marathon or shorter. I also neglected going to the gym or doing strength or core work because I thought that was unnecessary as well, since the race only had a few climbs. Well, I was wrong about all that, and I wish I would have done it.

As I found out, to run the JFK 50 well, you need strong quads, ankles, and glutes for those first 15.5 miles on the AT, and you would need good speed as well once you hit the tow path, all the way to the finish.

One month before the race I drove up to the area (Brunswick, MD), to familiarize myself with the AT section of the course and the C&O canal towpath. There was a free shuttle service offered by Structural Elements. They dropped us in Boonsboro, from where we ran the first 15.5 miles of the route to Weverton Cliffs Parking Lot. That day I found out that the AT portion of this race was not as difficult as I had heard some people describe it in race reports that I read online. Although it was rocky and technical in some areas where you definitely must pay attention and watch your footing, it was otherwise very runnable for the most part.

The following day, Sage, a friend of mine who lives in the area and who has successfully run this race in the past, rode her bike and gave me company as I ran 30 miles on the towpath. She gave me lots of useful information about the race as well.

The Race Course: The JFK 50 mile course is a point-to-point “horse-shoe” configuration starting in a small town in Maryland called Boonsboro and finishing at Springfield Middle School in Williamsport, Maryland. The first 5.5 miles of the race is a good climb that gains 1,172 feet in elevation. It starts on a road surface and joins the Appalachian Trail at 2.5 miles. The course from 2.5 to 15.5 miles is on the Appalachian Trail, except for two miles of paved road between 3.5 and 5.5 miles, where it reaches its highest point, 1732 ft. The AT is very rocky in some sections as it rolls along the mountain ridge. Towards the end of this trail the course drops over 1,000 feet in 1 mile. The AT is followed by 26.3 flat miles of dirt/gravel on the C&O Canal towpath along the Potomac river. The route leaves the C&O Canal towpath at Dam #4 and follows a gently rolling paved country road for 8.4 miles to the finish in Williamsport.

My Objective: I had a difficult decision at first about what my goals for this race should be. I had run over 30 road marathons in the last 10 years. My PR is 2:34:43 from Boston 2014 and I had won the AG in Berlin, Chicago, New York, and Boston. To run the JFK 50 simply to finish and get the medal wouldn’t be honest and true to myself.

Mark Guzzi, a fellow Richmond runner who has run JFK50 15 times once told me that I “would crush it “and that I was quite capable and should aim at setting the 50-59 AG course record. But I am already in my late 50’s, and quickly approaching the next AG decade, and that’s on top of being in the midst of a mediocre, down year. I had no experience running any distance over 50K, nor any idea how to properly train and execute a 50 miler. Breaking that record seemed way too ambitious! But, if you want to do your best, you’ve gotta aim high. Go big or go home, right?

Judging my current fitness level, my goals for the JFK 50 were to finish unhurt, run sub-6 hours and 30 minutes and finish in the top 10 overall. If the race unfolded any better than that, I hoped for a sub 6:20 hours (which would break the current 50-59 age group record of 6:21).

There was also the possibility, that in the process I could roll an ankle, trip and kiss the rocky trail, but I would surely finish the race in under 12 hours, with bleeding knees, carrying my teeth in my pocket, with people laughing behind my back saying “Doug, what a rookie, he thought the JFK50 was going to be a piece of cake!”

My Strategy: I wasn’t sure what my per mile pace should be for the AT section. I thought it wise to be cautious, play it safe and save energy on those 15.5 miles that had 1100 ft. of elevation gain, but at the same time not so slow that I could get trapped behind hundreds of people walking the trail. If I tripped on one of those rocky sections of the AT, or twisted an ankle (which I am prone to do) it would mean game over. The goal was to get off the AT at Weverton Cliffs and onto the towpath at around 2:10 hours.

The plan then was to run a solid 7:00 min/mile pace on the flat 26.3 miles C&O canal towpath section and average the last 8 rolling miles of country roads, when fatigue would start to set in, at about 8 min/mile pace. That would give me a finish well under 6:30 hours, and probably within the top 10. And hopefully, the course record for men over 50.

My Fueling/Hydration Plan: The JFK 50 course has a at least 14 fully stocked aid stations on the course. There was no shortage of food and hydration support. Among other items, there were sports drinks, water, chicken noodle soup, broth, soft drinks, PB&J sandwiches, pretzels, cookies, cakes, sweet items, energy gels, energy bars, and more. I even saw pizza! If you want to finish a 50 miler, you better take advantage of all these provisions offered in all these stations, or else you will pay dearly later on during the race.

Unfortunately, if you are running for fast times and to be one of the first to make it to Williamsport, you need to take in very easy to ingest and digest stuff only, such as water or Gatorade and energy gels. So that was my fueling plan, to carry VFuel gels which I would take approximately every 30 minutes. Tressa, who volunteered to crew for me, would meet me at Weverton Cliffs, Antietam and Taylors Landing, where she would resupply me with 2 or 3 gels tucked in my arm warmers and give me some Mountain Dew. I could supplement with water and Gatorade from the aid stations along the route.

Race day: I made the 3 ½ hour drive to Williamsport, MD on Thursday afternoon, checked into my hotel and had a long night’s sleep. You know what they say, the night prior to the last night before your race is the most important one, as far as sleep is concerned.

The following Friday, I picked up my package at the Homewood Suites in Hagerstown and then stopped by an Italian restaurant close to my hotel and had spaghetti to go. I ate, made my final preparations and I went to bed early to try and get some sleep. Despite the melatonin, tryptophan and Advil PM pills that I took, I didn’t have much success. I was too tense. I finally fell asleep, but woke up around 1 AM. I tried counting sheep and counting from 100 to 1, but without any luck. Apparently, that was all the sleep I was going to get.

I had a very early breakfast, took a warm shower, read the news and then looked up the weather. It was chilly (37 F) and gusty outside. According to the weather forecast, rain would start coming down around 9:00 AM. Not the kind of weather that you want to have if you are going to be outside, running for hours. But oh well, there was nothing we could do about the weather but be tough.

I left the hotel and drove to Boonsboro around 5:00 AM. Some friends got an Airbnb a couple of blocks from the start, and I went there to stay warm, drink some coffee and have my 2nd breakfast. Tressa was staying there. She would drive my car to the points on the course where race organizers designated that personal handlers and crew were allowed. After someone sang the National Anthem and without further ado, the gun was fired and off we went up Main Street Boonsboro.

The weather was cold and windy. There was a group of about 15 runners who quickly pulled ahead. I stayed with the 2nd pack, a few seconds behind. It is a pretty hard 2 ½ mile climb to where we would get on the Appalachian Trail. After 3 ½ miles we ran on a paved road that got very steep towards the end and that is where I started power walking. That’s right, to save energy, I power hiked this hill to the highest point of the course. I did not train my butt and quads in the gym like I should had. I better do that next year!

Our first 2.5 miles on our way to the AT

We were on the trail for good after having reached the highest point of the course, 1732 ft. It was all net downhill from there to Weverton Cliffs Parking Lot. I consider myself a decent trail runner, and I knew that even though I had about 30 runners ahead of me, pretty soon I

could start reeling some of them back in. I just had to be patient and play it safe.

I had a few issues on the trail. I forgot my handheld amphipod bottles at the hotel, so I had to carry this huge water bottle that became very cumbersome to carry. Also, the fanny pack, where I stored my energy gels was moving too much around my waist. I knew I would drop those two items once I was done with the trail. The prescription glasses that I wore so that I could see the trail better got too foggy on me and I had to put them away.

Except for some rocky areas, where you must watch your footing, the AT on this course is very runnable.

But my Hoka Challenger ATR shoes were performing excellently on the trail and I did not feel any of the sharp rocks under my feet as my Garmin 35 kept on hitting every mile in 7:30sh. It didn’t take long before we hit the 2nd aid station in Gathland Gap, mile 9.3. I refilled my bottle of water and kept on going.

After 2 hours of running, I finally reached the Weverton Cliffs switchbacks. This is where the course drops 1,000 ft. in 1 mile. I made it to the bottom in under 2:08, 2 minutes ahead of schedule. I met Tressa there, took some mountain dew, grabbed a couple of gels, dropped my waist pack, headband and bottle, and kept on trucking. The flat towpath was next, and that is where I knew I was gonna catch a lot of the runners ahead of me.

The picture right before the fall. I managed to stay upright on the roughest parts of the AT, only to fall down at the bottom of the switchbacks in front of a thousand people, that was a little embarrassing :-)

Some people feel that the towpath is too boring. Not me. I thrive in this type of terrain. I put my mind into cruise control and let the miles click away.

As I grabbed some Gatorade at the aid station at mile 16, I asked a fellow there, “how many runners do I have ahead of me?”, “At least 20,” he said. As soon as I went over the railroad track, I shifted gears, picked up a 7 min/mile pace and went on Wolf mode, like chasing a herd of elk.

It didn’t take long before it started drizzling, a rain that continued until the end of the race. Once I passed Harpers Ferry, I could feel the strong gusts of wind on my left side coming from the river.

I heard “Go Doug!” a couple of times and wondered how these strangers knew my name? Then I realized my friend Sage, who knows some of the people volunteering at the aid stations, gave them the heads up about my bib #412.

One by one I caught at least 10 runners before I made it to Antietam Aqueduct (mile 27.1). There, I met Tressa for the 2nd time, and she re-supplied me with VFuel gels. I continued my nutrition plan of ingesting a VFuel gel right before every aid station, where I could gulp it down my throat with some water.

The face that I make every time I ingest an energy gel. It shows how much I like them. My plan was to take 12 throughout the race. I only managed to force 7 down my throat.

At Antietam, someone said “Number 12, looking good!” All right, I thought, I need to pass a couple more, and that would put me within the top 10. I could see 3 runners way ahead in the distance. I edged closer and closer until I caught all 3 of them once. One of them was Michael Wardian. “Wow!” I thought to myself, he must be taking it easy today, and probably running another race tomorrow, or I am probably going too fast (he was running a half marathon the next day!).

Though the towpath was getting muddy and heavy, but I was in my zone. I reeled in a couple more runners right before I made it to Taylors Landing (mile 38). Tressa and Sage were waiting for me. I took my last gel, two cups of water, and a coke and kept on going. I told Tressa that I didn’t need any more gels, that I was good to go without them. I had 4 miles to go before I would get on the rolling country roads to the finish, in Williamsport.

Tressa tucking some gels in my sleeve warmers. But they were so wet that they became sleeve chillers.

Aid station at Taylors Landing- they were fully stocked, but the most appetizing thing I could find there was coke.

Some of my cheerleading support on the course. Sage and her kids.

At Dam # 4, I finally left the towpath. I looked at my Garmin, and I had been 5:17 hours into the race so far. My pace was right on target.

I had 1 hour to run a little over 8 rolling, paved road miles to finish the race in under 6 hours, 20 minutes for the new AG course record. I thought that was a pace that I could sustain on that road. But before we got on the road, there was a very steep hill to climb first. A runner caught me there and introduced himself. “I’m David,” he said. “I am Doug” I replied back. I tried to stay with him. He was David Lantz, who later on finished 7th overall.

At that point, it started raining pretty hard. The rain was icy cold, and the wind started whipping. So, there I was, out in the open, with my glycogen reserves totally depleted, fatigued, freezing and trying to dig deep to sustain some kind of a jog. It felt like all of a sudden I was bonking. I tried not to panic. I had done some math in my head, and calculated that all I needed was 8 min/miles for the next 8 miles, and I would finish under 6:20 hours, but I couldn’t even do that. The best I could do was about 9-minute miles, no matter how hard I tried. I also spent too much time at the aid stations, trying to consume some calories, but it was too late. The damage was done.

After being in 6th place overall, I started losing ground on my last 8 miles. Here, # 32 David Hedges passing me at around mile 44. He eventually got 6th overall.

I saw Sage and Tressa drive by and they shouted some words of encouragement. Tressa yelled, “I believe in you”. At that point I was starting to have doubts about myself. The wolf was in trouble.

I was passed by another fellow somewhere around mile 44. He was David Hedges. Now that I was in 8th place, I tried as hard as I could to protect and hang to that position. But it didn’t take long before I was caught by Michael Wardian too. I said to myself, well, so much for bragging later on that I beat Michael Wardian at the JFK 50!

It was a long and miserable death march to the finish. With about 1 mile to go, I got chicked. Emily Harrison, the women’s winner, caught me as well. I had nothing left in me to respond. I looked behind just to see if there was anyone else sneaking up behind me to knock me out of the 10 overall, and I didn’t see anybody. Thank you god!

I looked at my watch and noticed that I just needed that last mile in about 8 minutes to be under a 6:30 finish. That was one of the longest miles that I have ever run. At last I could see the finish line, and said to myself thank you “sweet baby Jesus” as I heard my name on the loudspeaker, “Doug Fernandez from Richmond, Virginia!” I was so cold and shivering that one of the medics there asked my name and I couldn’t even get it out of my mouth. My jaw was frozen.

Approaching the finish, this 50 mile race was finally over- What a relief !! and what a miserable weather.

They had to rush me out of the finish area in a hurry, straight to the warm showers in the school gym just to raise my core temperature. I stayed under that shower for about 10 minutes. It took a couple hours, some cups of chicken noodle soup, some warm food and warm beverages before my shivering went away.

It took a while for the whole thing to sink in. I had run 50 miles. I was 9th overall man and finished in 6:28:45. I also got the men over 50 AG win. But I didn’t get the men’s 50-59 course record. Overall, I was very happy and pleased with my race result, despite the struggles at the end. I learned a few lessons and that will help me prepare better next time.

Top 10 men. I may be a whole generation (or two) older than these fellows, But I am not old, I’ve just been young for a very long time !.

I want to thank the organization of this race and all the volunteers that made this great running event possible, they were superb. I also would like to congratulate everyone who completed this race. Running 50 miles, no matter how fast or slow, is nothing to sneeze at. Last, I want to thank everyone who supported me before and during this race, who tracked me online and who wished me well. Hopefully I will come back next year, I still feel that I have to take care of unfinished business. Now, that I have been accepted to the Tokyo marathon (one of 2 marathon majors I have yet to run), in February 2018, I have to un-retire from road marathons, and continue my training throughout the winter, yikes !!

Written by Eric Grant

After jogging at a decent clip for the first 20 miles, then alternating running and walking for the next 20, I arrive at nightfall in decent condition (considering that the first 100km or 65 miles are all soft sand). I warm up some water and enjoy a meal of freeze-dried risotto, before heading back into the night. The heat of the day—merciful compared to the Marathon des Sables but still in the low nineties (Fahrenheit)—has given way to a pleasant nighttime cool. At the same time, I will no longer be spurred on by an incredible reddish landscape of canyons, cliffs, caves and arches that remind me of the Grand Canyon.

Until now the first four or five checkpoints basically consisted of a Land Rover or two around a campfire and a ramshackle medical tent—tarpaulin stretched over four posts—for those in need. They are only a 160 or so of us at this first official edition of the Jordan Desert Cup. At midnight, however, I stumble across a much larger checkpoint offering the comfort of a closed tent for people to stretch out their sleeping bags. My body is too charged with adrenaline to stop and sleep, so I continue into the night.

Four hours later, I find myself lost. I realize this about ten miles after passing the Hedjaz railway line. I remember the railway because I stubbed my toe on the sand-covered tracks at 4am. (The Hedjaz railway is famous for having suffered attacks by Lawrence of Arabia in 1917-1918. It says so in my roadbook. Or perhaps someone told me. The start of the race was twenty hours ago and it’s now a bit of a blur.)

I stubbed my toe because I’m not wearing my headlamp. I’ve always liked the semi-darkness, the tantalizing shadows, the promise of forgetting reality far from the glaring sun. So I turned off my lamp to enjoy the full moon and the Milky Way—the first time in a decade probably that I’ve actually seen the Milky Way stretch across the heavens like a spotted freeway. You don’t see many stars in Los Angeles.

Then the full moon scampered off with the approach of dawn, the stars bid farewell, and I was too tired even to notice that I couldn’t see where I was going.

“I’m lost,” I say to myself without actually drawing any conclusions from that statement or devising any plan of action. As if somehow I will stop being lost if I simply acknowledge the fact and wait long enough for the aggravation to pass. 

I drink lukewarm water from the liter-and-a-half bottle I received at the previous checkpoint, and refuse to panic.

I’ve been awake now for almost twenty-four hours, and running, slipping and stumbling through the sand for just over twenty. I should know better than to trust my eyesight; I can hardly trust my mind. I’m in a state of… hmm, how to put it? It’s like when you’re out in the cow fields and you swallow those first few psilocybin mushrooms: not quite enough for a full-blown trip, but just right to spot all the others among the cow dung and the weeds.

Okay, perhaps that’s not the best metaphor—what I’m trying to say is that I realize ten minutes later that I am not heading toward a glow stick marking the trail or another runner’s headlamp. No, what I saw as my saving grace was a lamppost. A bloody lamppost.

Which makes me wonder: what is a lamppost doing in the middle of a desert?

After another twenty minutes I arrive at a paved road that cuts across the desert heading north and I know that I am off track.

That, in itself, is not a problem—how far off track is the essential question. How many miles will I have to add to this already inhumanely long race?

My body is strangely electric from lack of sleep and pushing myself beyond several layers of limits—this is only my second ultra and third race since I started running 18 months ago—and I now sense Panic raising its knobby head without any way to keep it at bay. Covering 100 miles on foot is one thing, but getting lost in the desert?...

I am standing on the side of a road, the presence of which, if I bother to think about it at all, makes no sense. I can’t get my mind off this: I’m supposed to be in the middle of the Wadi Rum desert, making my way to the ancient Nabatean city of Petra, and there shouldn’t be a bloody road!

Hitchhiking is not an option. Besides the fact that there are no cars at this hour, it would mean dropping out of the race—and that will not do. Certainly not. Not yet anyway. I’m not ready for that. The 100-kilometer (65-mile) marker should be coming up soon according to my road book, and so will dawn according to my watch, and I don’t want to miss either. I haven’t seen the sun rise after a sleepless night without artificial stimulation for a very long time, and I’ve certainly never run/walked 100 kilometers non-stop in my life.

My mind is a sieve. I feel like David Bowie looks in the movie The Man Who Fell to Earth.

Thankfully there is the landscape, the beauty of nature, the marvel of life, and the occasional sequence of moments suffused with euphoria when I am utterly in the present.

The advantage in my current situation of being lost is that I have no sense of pain. My legs are like blocks of molten rock, disconnected from my body—but otherwise I am strangely electrified. Just as the reality of my predicament is starting to sink in and I begin to wonder if I won’t actually have to quit the race because I’m lost, I notice three bobbing lights in the distance, perhaps a half a mile off to my right: glow sticks hanging off three participants’ backpacks!

This time I am sure. No street lamps.

I cross the road and head in their general direction. I lose sight of them, but I quickly come across a dirt track and a sign post placed by the organization and lit by a cylume stick—I am back in business.

I start jogging, pumped with endorphins and adrenalin, energized by finding my way again and with the approach of dawn. The purple haze of the sky lightens to a tabasco-stained cerulean blue. I wish I could embed the image on my memory forever.

Morning breaks fully by the time I reach the 100-kilometer marker. I take a picture of myself, haggard and wide-eyed—something to look back on, to remind myself that I was actually there... Here... Wherever this is. (And now I can no longer find the picture taken with a disposable 35mm camera).

I pass another milestone at 8am: I have now been in this race for 24 hours. Kilometer 110 (mile 69), or thereabouts. 

I come across a rudimentary tent set up by the organization. Basically canvas stretched over four poles, where runners can rest out of the sun before starting up the long stretch that leads to the next check point: nine miles and several thousand feet up a dirt road that winds its way around what looks like a mix between canyon and quarry. Nine long miles.

Blissfully, however, this marks the definitive end of the soft, loose sand that has been our lot since the beginning of the race. According to the road book, nothing but packed gravel, stone and mountain paths.

I’m all alone.

I sit down, take out my portable stove—a small metallic box the size of a cigarette pack that opens upwards to make space for a fuel table. I heat some water and enjoy a bowl of freeze-dried pasta—something approaching “real food”. I’ve varied my nutrition for the Desert Cup after my experience in Morocco: I have beef jerky, mixed nuts, even cheese in sealed packages. Dry roasted peanuts, my favorite.

I finish breakfast, pack everything away, and head up towards the Rift plateau and checkpoint 10. Or 11. I’ve lost count.

I hear shuffling steps behind me as I my make my way through the canyon, and am soon joined by a lawyer from Geneva whom I met at the recent Marathon des Sables. He is jogging at decent clip and I wonder why he was behind me, until he tells me that he slept for four hours. Evidently it did him a world of good, because I cannot keep up with him and am forced to slow my pace to a walk.

“Hard to tell,” he says when I ask him how he feels. “Both empty and fulfilled.”

As he charges off into the distance, I’m feeling rather more empty than fulfilled. My spirits are sinking rapidly and my mind starts mulling dangerous thoughts. The heat has risen progressively since dawn to a sweltering 95°F and the next aid station has been visible in the distance since I started the climb—but, like a mirage, never seeming to get any closer. The only positive factor is the relief of being on solid ground after sixty miles—a day and a night—of soft, sugary-like sand, with the feet sinking at every step.

I stop and sit down every 500 yards or so. I know this can’t be a good idea—and certainly I can’t expect to cover another 40 miles at this rate—but my legs hurt at every step. I’m beginning to think that I won’t finish. Perhaps I’ll pack it in at the next checkpoint... 75 miles is still quite an accomplishment.

I’m not sure I even want to keep going. I never considered the Marathon des Sables to be cruel despite the hardships—but the Desert Cup is definitely taking on the air of an outdoor torture chamber for masochists.

I keep telling myself, “Wait until the next aid station, wait till the next aid station”. No use making rash decisions—even if I quit, I still have to make to the next aid station… I’m beginning to refuse reality: I don’t have a choice, I can’t stop in the middle of nowhere; yet I can’t imagine facing the two, three, four hours it will take to get there… That’s entering torture territory right there.

Salvation appears in the form of a whistling Italian doctor. I quickly latch on him, struggling to maintain his pace. But I manage to do so, the mind and will once again taking over the body.

We speak of desultory subjects, the miles slip away and we finally reach the end of this interminable winding road and summit the Rift at 11am, Wednesday 8 November.

(The thought briefly crosses my mind that the United States should by now have elected a new president: Bush or Gore?)

Incredible: the panoramic view of the Jordan valley in the shimmering sun, of course; but also, and especially at this point, the mattresses laid out by the organization under a sturdily built open-flap tent.

I don’t move for two hours. I don’t want to move. I can’t sleep but I just can’t move. Exhaustion has put me in a trance, and I feel electrified and exhausted at the same time. But don’t ask me to move. The only thing I do is change my socks, rotating again with the two other pairs I have: one dry in my bag, one hanging off my bag drying. The strategy worked at the MDS and here too, even after more than 70 miles of stumbling through the desert, I have no blisters, or nothing worth worrying about. One addition from Morocco are the gaiters which I had sewn into the soles of my shoes. The same trusty shoes.

Otherwise I just sit there, for two hours, my brain void of all thoughts; if it were a heart, it would be beating at the rate of ten a minute. My body refuses to go anywhere. I realize that I am well within the cut-off time—I have over 30 hours to cover the next 30 miles—and suddenly I know, just know,that I will finish. I know I will keep going to the bitter end. I just don’t know how or what it will cost me. But I am strangely elated. Is this what it means to be zen?

I don’t want to move because the peace I felt after completing the long stage of the Marathon des Sables pales in comparison with what I am experiencing now.

Who knows how long I would have stayed if a sympathetic French mountaineer, Thierry, hadn’t urged me to join him. After two hours, I can finally consider leaving. Or, as he says: “If you don’t leave now, you will end up by dropping out.” So I get up, refreshed, and embark on the 1,000-foot climb along the Rift—and the final 27 miles before the finish line.

After 30 hours of quasi-solitude, it is nice to have company. Actually, “nice” is really not the right word. It turns out that Thierry’s presence is essential. The serenity that filled me at the check point dissipates within a few miles of renewed power walking, and I realize not only the distance still left to cover, which seemed so accessible when I was resting, but also and mainly the time it will take me to cover it. Having a fellow traveler at my side allows me to forget this for a while.

I learn that Thierry has summited the highest peaks on five continents—only Everest and Mount Vinson in Antarctica are missing from his accomplishments—and I can’t help feeling just a little proud to be so far into the race moving along at his speed.

We cover 20 miles together. The landscape has changed from the pure desert of the first sixty-five miles to the mountainous décor of the Rift. Soon we’re even passing through agricultural land dotted with houses.

Shortly before nightfall (nighttime again!) we add a layer of clothes. The temperature has plunged below 50°F, with the wind chill factor making it feel like it is near-freezing.

We reach the next check point as the sun sets, but soon realize that it is pointless to try and cook anything as the wind is blowing in gusts of up to 65mph. I’m forced to add cold water to my freeze-dried chili—obviously it doesn’t mix, and I’m left with crunchy water with chunks of flavorless goo that amazingly doesn’t upset my stomach more than it already is. Leg fatigue I can deal with; stomach problems will drain me of all energy.

Thierry and I follow a gravel path lined with large boulders, through rolling hills spotted with villages and disparate lights. My tired mind plays tricks on me—at every turn in the road, I see figures emerge from the ground like ghosts rising from a graveyard. I even imagine a cable car stretching across the valley. Thierry pokes gentle fun at me, until he mistakes our hobbling shadows for two massive scorpions. We collapse in fits of hysterics.

Though I have no thoughts of quitting, each step is becoming increasingly agonizing. My shins feel like they are on fire, and soon I have to stop every three hundred yards or so to sit down for a minute. So much for dealing with leg pain...

As intense as my suffering may be, however, it seems inconceivable not to finish. I am only eight miles away. One step at time... Never has this common cliché been so true. Thierry sticks with me throughout, shores up my flagging confidence, slows his own pace to match my own, waits every time I stop. Without Thierry, I doubt I would have finished; yet several years later, I will almost have forgotten his name.

We reach the modern city of Petra: a mile to cross it, then we will make the long descent into the ancient Nabatean city.

First we stop at the Hotel Movenpick Resort Petra. We’re not asking for anything in particular, we have no money in any case. We just want a taste of upscale comfort after nearly 40 hours in the desert. How strange, since part of my reason for competing in a race such as the Desert Cup is to distance myself from the comforts and consumerism of society…

Ah, then I realize that actually I am reveling in this sense of contentment comes from deep within me, and has nothing to do with these cushy armchairs on which I fart discreetly.

I’m not sure what effect our spectral appearance has on the hotel guests. There aren’t many—it is nearing midnight—and the hotel manager, bless him, graces us with a smile instead of kicking us out. And here I was thinking we would have to defend our reasons for stopping in his hotel.

Indeed, we have a purpose beyond enjoying a few moments in the hotel lobby away from the wind and cold: we hope to use the bathroom—the comfort of a porcelain toilet rather than squatting in the desert with sand up our asses and wiping ourselves with pages of our road book.

Having settled that matter, I let Thierry go on without me. He’s in far less pain, and with only six miles to go I’ll be fine. Still, I stop at the final check point. The wind has blown away the tent and there is only a Land Rover and a lone representative of the organization to mark the spot. I collapse in the passenger seat of the Land Rover, pop an anti-inflammatory pill, and pass out for twenty minutes.

I wake up feeling manic for some reason. After 40 hours, I am desperate to finish. I check the dashboard: it’s half past midnight.

The wind has dropped and I charge across the plateau and head down the massive 800+ steps that descend into ancient Petra—before realizing that I’ve forgotten my headlamp in the Land Rover.

No matter. The moon lights up the sky like a Hollywood film set, and I climb rather than walk down the steps, careful not to stumble at the last moment. When I reach the bottom—still hallucinating as I see glass scaffolding all along the canyon walls: the moon reflecting off the rocks—I find the way lit by candles.

I shuffle along marveling at this rose-red city built 2,000 years ago, rediscovered in 1812 by a Swiss explorer, Johann Ludwig Burckhardt. I pass the Treasury Temple, the setting for Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, feeling like the first and last person on earth, thinking that no running or travel experience will ever supersede this one: walking alone through candle-lit Petra at two o’clock in the morning.

My father congratulates me the next morning at breakfast—with the news that the US elections are still in the balance due to a recount in Florida.

Written by Steve Hayes - https://stevedavidhayes.wordpress.com

 

So after about a year of knowing about the race being in my calendar and a couple of months of haphazard training, Pete and I left Jersey to commence our trip to Brazil for the 11^th Jungle Marathon. A 260km multi stage running race through the Brazilian Amazon Jungle. Pete had left the booking of flights with me and I’m rather tight so went for the cheapest option. Jersey – London – Lisbon – Fortaleza – Sao Luis – Belem – Santarem. I sold this to Pete by saying that we would see more of the Jungle with lots of short flights within Brazil. I didn’t mention that that also means more potential issues with the plane with all the take offs and landings. He was happy with the plan so the adventure commenced. All flights went without hitch and we only had a small stop over of about 6 hours in Fortaleza. We stayed at a really dodgy B&B in the city that I’d found online whilst in Lisbon. A nightmare to get to and no English spoken so trying to get a taxi and wake up call for 3am proved taxing and worrying but it happened and we made it all the way to Santarem without any issue. We met up with a couple of other runners at Santarem airport which is tiny and were promptly ushered to a waiting taxi that would take Joel from Catalan, Simon from England, Pete and I to Alter de Chao. All good except as Pete was returning the luggage trolley, we drove off! After quickly realising that we were a man down we stopped to let him catch up. Onwards to the little town of Alter de Chao where we started our holiday with a few beers and then dropped our bags off at Joel’s accommodation so we could carry on drinking, eating and sunbathing for the day before getting on the overnight boat to the race start.

A similar boat to the one that would take us to the race start.  A noisy journey

Getting on the boat was nerve wracking and a challenge in itself due to the unstable plank we had to climb to get onboard. The usual race nerves kicking in and eyeing each other up to see how fit everyone was, what kit they all had etc etc. On the boat we put our hammocks up and settled in for a good nights sleep except we were directly above the engine and it was quite warm and very noisy.

In the morning we woke up and were moored on a sand spit in the middle of the Tapajos river. We were to stay there for a few hours for a look around and swim in the river hoping to catch a glimpse of the rare pink dolphins. We didn’t see any but the scenery and the walk were incredible. We then went back on board to continue our trip up the river before disembarking at a charming little village that would become our home for a couple of days before the race start. We were greeted by all of the village school children and teachers singing us a “welcome song”. We listened, applauded and continued on with our gear to a camping area just behind the village houses. Pete and I helped each other put our hammocks up before realising that the tree we were tied to was dead and wouldn’t last long so we moved to a much better spot with living trees. Unfortunately only a few metres from the “Long drop”!! We had a briefing on day one and were issued with our race numbers. We were allowed to purchase food here but didn’t and went for one of our Expedition meals instead.

Day two was much of the same. Chilling out on the beach, a short run around the village, lots of relaxing in the river (until one competitor was stung by a Sting ray and was in excruciating pain) and a spot of lunch cooked by the locals. We had a briefing from the medical team and a bit of survival training from the Bombeiros (army). They told us about the wildlife to look out for, the food we could survive on, where to get water from, how to make a camp and how to make fire. I think most of this was to add drama and give us something to take our minds off the race. It was all very entertaining and we got to hold a Boa Constrictor. Not a pet one but one the Bombeiros had found in the jungle a couple of days previously. Just in case you’re curious, the German chap with the big hole in his foot from the Sting ray went on to win every stage of the race. I think he should be tested for EPO!

 

Me and a not so friendly Boa Constrictor

The night before the race we had a good meal and took our big bags back down to the boat. We were now without luxuries like ipod’s, spare meals, extra clothes and my book. All we had left was what we would carry with us and wear for the next seven days. Rather unsettling but it put us firmly in race mode. One more sleep to go and the race would begin.

Day 1 – 23km

Described as a short, sharp, shock to the system. A stage that gives you a taste of everything the Jungle can throw at you, including water crossings, elevation, swamps, jungle trails and passing through indigenous villages

I Ran with Pete to start with and until about the last check point before the finish. I seemed to have acclimatised a bit quicker and wasn’t finding the going all that tough (from memory). At times I was feeling a bit quicker so the gap did widen and I finished ahead of Pete.

The day started with a very steep hill that Pete and I had reccie’d the day before when out exploring so we knew we wanted to start off quite quick from the beach so as not to be at the front of a queue heading up the hill. It was tough going but we made it and started running through the Jungle and being overtaken by a few runners. The fun started immediately with twisted ankles galore. It was only 5km to the first checkpoint which took about an hour but I twisted my ankle many times during that period. I was so keen to be absorbed into the Jungle and was looking around at everything and each time I heard a rustling noise of an animal to my side I would look to see what it was without slowing. Unfortunately the ground was so uneven and filled with tripping hazards that every time I looked away I would go over on an ankle. The first water stop was next to a beautiful creek so I immediately filled my water up and decided to bathe in the seemingly cold (32 degrees) water for the mandatory 15 minute break – fully clothed.

 

Some wildlife seen by Pete

On leaving this lovely, clean water we headed straight into a thick swamp. We were told this housed several Anacondas but I was too busy trying to avoid the mud to pay any attention. I upset a couple of camera crews searching for the glory shots by using tree stumps to avoid the waist deep bogs. I was still nice and clean when I exited this section. We had more jungle running but only for a few KM before hitting the next water stop and mandatory break. The fifteen minutes flew by but it was a good opportunity to adjust any kit, tighten straps and take on some nutrition. Pete and I left here together for a bit of road running and some steep ascents and descents in the Jungle before I looked back and asked Pete why his front water bottle holders were opened. I saw the fear on his face as he realised he had left them at the last checkpoint and may have to back track to get them. Fortunately he didn’t take much talking to to get him to carry on and ask the medics at the half way point to radio back and have them picked up and returned to him at the finish. One important point being that Pete had enough water to safely get to the next check point but the other being that the race rules stated we must have 2.5litres of water on leaving each check point. Fortunately Pete had plenty of spares in his pack and a large plastic bladder so the rest of the day would not be an issue health wise or rules wise. He would get the bottles back at the end of the day.

At the halfway point in the village of Takuara we took time out to dunk our heads in a big bowl of water, fill out bottles/bladders, stretch, eat, chat about the day so far and play with a local Macaque which was great. Pete spoke to he medics and sorted his issue with his water bottles.

We left the half way point with about 10km of Jungle running, many more ankle twists and a bit of road running in the heat of the day. The hottest part seemed to be between 11:00 and 13:00 which coincided with our un shaded, sandy road running.   I had twisted my right ankle over 30 times today and was well aware that just one bad twist/sprain could put me out of the race. I twist my ankles a lot and am used to it but it was becoming very frustrating and a bit of a concern. I needed to adjust my focus from my surroundings and the beautiful flora and fauna and start to concentrate solely on me and where I was putting my feet. This certainly took away a lot of the fun but it was going to be the only way I would make it through the race in one piece. Running through the Jungle was taking huge amounts of concentration and I had to slow down to be cautious. It was a welcome relief at times to leave the Jungle behind and join the roads although the extreme heat and weight of the packs made running a difficult task. Power walking became my main mode of transport and got me through to the finish.  I had started listening to American Pie on my ipod (without headphones) as I approached a village and sensed the end. It’s one of my late fathers favourite songs and I was getting a bit emotional when two young kids of around 6 joined me for a run. Now I knew I must be close. They ran with me for about a kilometre and crossed the finish line with me. It was an awesome moment and great to have some company. The medics and race organisers all cheered and Shirley the race director handed me a small cup of cold juice which went down easily.

Today was a good day and took 5 hours and 32 minutes including 4 compulsory 15 minute stops. I think I was around 14^th place.

Check point 1

Hammock up, protein shake consumed and off to the river for a long wash and a bit of stretching. This was quite a short day so I had time for a lot of socialising, emails, even a massage on a broken massage table. My hammock was next to the eating area so I was able to chat with other competitors without leaving the comforts of my bed.

When Pete had come in and got himself sorted we went in search of his water bottles and had a walk around the village. One of the other British competitors – Will, was about to get a “hotshot”. The first of the race. This is where a needle is put in the blister (on his foot) and the blister drained. You then inject a strong antiseptic in between the blister and the raw flesh underneath. This is supposed to be incredibly painful but seals the blister against the raw flesh and thus speeds up recovery. I decided to film Will getting the shot to get some good Gopro footage and we waited for the Japanese camera crew to arrive to catch the action but we were immensely disappointed as Will didn’t react at all. The medics commented on how tough he’d been but without having one myself I was unable to comment. Disappointing!!

 

Will getting his “Hot shot”.  Tough cookie

After the briefing and once I was happy that all my kit was ready to go for the next day, I retired to my hammock at around 19:30 for a good nights sleep

Day 2 – 24km

Described as “You start the stage with a deep river crossing so make sure the contents of your pack are waterproof. Then you enter the Jungle and have a mainly flat course. But be careful, there are plenty of plants that sting and leaves that tear and a huge amount of snakes”.

The 200 metre river swim from the start line wasn’t as daunting as I had thought, especially considering that 12 hours earlier I had been washing myself and my clothes in the same spot and was told to watch out for the Caiman that had been lurking at the back of the boat I was next to.

I had thought through the river crossing carefully and rather than risk swimming or pulling myself along the “assistance rope” with a 14kg rucksack on my back I decided to remove my pack, put it in a bin liner and tie it around my waist with about 2 metres of paracord. I was then able to put on my goggles and swim front crawl across the river whilst admiring the aquatic marine life and hopefully being a bit quicker. Everything went well and I felt great. Swimming was fun and as an English Channel swimmer, not too arduous. I was disappointed though to get to the other side and find half of the field were in front of me. This plan needed a rethink!

 

My technique looks OK in a photo but I wouldn’t recommend it.  Use the rope like everybody else

I ran with Pete to start with again but think I left him at some point. I can’t remember when exactly. It was a fairly straightforward day with bits of jungle and bits of flat, sandy road. Following yesterdays ankle twists I had learned to concentrate when in the Jungle and relax a bit when on the roads. This was working well. I was focused on foot placement and moving a bit slower under the canopy, keeping a close eye on tripping hazards and then could relax a bit more when exiting the jungle. My plan was always (and usually is); run the flats and downs and walk the ups. This plan now changed to walk the ups to conserve energy, scramble the downs as they’re too steep to walk or run, power walk in the Jungle to reduce ankle twists and run the roads. The road running wasn’t easy to accomplish as they were usually quite deep sand and quite exposed so the heat was draining. So now I’m power walking almost everything and starting to feel the effects in my hip flexors.

I don’t remember too much about the day but know I spent a lot of it on my own and eventually teamed up with Alma (ladies winner) and Simon, the chap I had spent the day with before we boarded the boat to get us to the start line. We jogged and walked along the road that would bring us to the finish. I was happy again with my day. I had managed my hydration, salt consumption, food consumption and myself very well and crossed the finish line with the other two in 4 hours and 40 minutes – even quicker than yesterday.

Check point 2

Once again I had a small plastic cup of fresh juice thrust into my hand which was heaven. This had been my motivation for the past hour. The camp was nice and spacious and on the outskirts of a small village but across the road from the local cemetery. I followed my usual routine which consisted of:

• Dig out hammock and lay in situ on floor.
• Get protein/creatine shake ready with water from the locals
• Return to hammock site and put hammock up
• Drink shake
• Dig out dinner for tonight and breakfast for tomorrow
• Head to river for swim/stretch/wash
• Remove and clean all clothes ready to dry for next day
• Stay in river for up to 2 hours stretching and socialising
• Put on recovery clothes (pair of shorts)
• Massage
• Have cigarette
• Prepare for the following day – fill water bladder and bottle.  Move day 3 race food from main part of rucksack to front pack
• Cook and eat dinner
• Send a couple of emails
• Read a couple of emails
• Listen to briefing
• Cigarette
• Put on recovery tights
• Record video diary
• Diazepam and bed

 

The river at checkpoint 2

Pete and I had a good look around the village before bed to check out the river crossing for the next day. Pete had already said that if I wanted to run my own race then I should and if I get across the river quicker than him then don’t wait for him. We listened to the briefing about the following day and cleared up a few queries with the race director about timings. There were a few errors. I spent a lot of time in the river swimming today and enjoying the sunset. There were some nice birds to be seen and it was nice to have time to socialise with medics and racers. You still had one eye open for Caiman, piranha and sting rays though

 

Pre race camp I think

Day 3 – 38km

Described as “This is the toughest and longest stage so far. You start with another deep water crossing before enduring some killer climbs and descents. You will cross the village of Braganca, the second of the indigenous communities in the flona and then Marituba which is the third. You are entering an area of the Flona which has the highest population of Jaguars. Be vigilant. Be ready for stream crossings, relentless hills and a night to remember in our deep Jungle campsite, where armed guides will try to keep the Jaguar away. In this stage you will find the highest hills in the race”

A long river swim today and I was stubborn so kept to the same game plan as the previous day. Something made me not want to run with a pack full of water. I wasn’t sure how well all of my waterproof bags would work and how well the main pack would drain so back on with the bin liner, paracord waist band and goggles. The swim went well and I found clear water without getting bashed around too much from other people’s feet. I came out of the water towards the front of the field but had the hassle of untying everything, taking my pack out of the bin liner, getting my pack on my back etc before I could get going. Still, I was quite happy so far. I kept looking back as I prepared my pack to see where Pete was but couldn’t see him anywhere. I thought he may have been in front. Anyway, as we’d discussed it previously I decided to start alone and set a good pace to begin with along open fields and along sandy roads. A lot of people were heading out very fast so I tried to refrain from pushing myself too much and reminded myself that today could potentially be twice as long as the previous two and the distance between checkpoints become longer and longer, except the first one. I only had to run 4km before reaching CP1 and finding several people that were usually behind me each day – William included. I had discussed with Pete that we thought the 15 minute mandatory stops in the first two days were a good idea and that we would probably carry on with them but once in race mode, all common sense went out of the window so I filled my water bottle up (I hadn’t drank anything from the bladder) and was about to run off before remembering that walking poles would be a good idea given the amount of hills I was about to face. I asked one of the medics to remove my knife from the outside pocket on the back of my pack so I could make a couple of walking poles when I had chance. It wasn’t long before I came to a large tree lying across the path so I set about chopping two similar sized, straight enough branches from it and sharpening one end of each. These would become my companions, my “Wilsons” for the next couple of days.

Day 3 river crossing

Onto the mission in hand which turned into an extremely hilly day out. Most of today took place under the Jungle canopy where humidity is at it’s highest but there was very little runnable terrain. It seemed that if we weren’t going up, we were going down and the hills were extremely steep. It’s very rare that I need to stop for a breather when walking up a hill but these were not normal hills. They were so steep going up that you were almost falling backwards. I was often yo-yoing with other people on the hills and spoke to lots of other competitors but conversations were short as we tried to conserve energy. The walking poles were proving to be vital. The advantage of going up these steep hills was that you were moving a lot slower and could see a lot more wildlife (spiders, webs, birds, butterflies, ants etc).

Everyone was struggling today as it was that much longer than the previous two and as everything was taking place under the canopy, concentration levels needed to be that much higher and the Jungle becomes quite samey after a while. The descents were interesting and good fun but they weren’t an opportunity to make up time or increase your average pace. The opposite if anything. They were so steep that again, you needed all of your concentration and focus not to get into trouble and injure yourself. Don’t forget that we have been advised not to touch any trees due to the animals that could be on them and the thorns. This goes out of the window when you’re sliding down a near vertical hill covered in loose soil and dead leaves with plenty of tripping hazards. If you don’t grab trees and vines you will quickly end up sliding down the hill, out of control and end up in a bit of a mess. Towards the latter part of the day everyone was slowing down and I was bumping in to a few familiar faces, usually on the hills but at the last check point, about 7km from the end I saw a few people in quite a bad way. Today had really taken it out of us and everyone was struggling. No matter how much nutrition I put inside me it didn’t seem to make any difference. My energy levels were very low and even walking at a slow pace on the flat was a huge effort. I didn’t stay long at the checkpoint but had a few minutes sat down and ate a couple of energy bars. I left there on a mission determined to get to the finish and enjoy a swim. Swimming in the river was a wonderful thought that had occupied my mind for most of the day. I was desperate to get to the finish line.

Today took 8 hours and 1 minute

Check point 3

First thoughts about this camp = hugely disappointing. Yes it was in the Jungle with lots of wildlife and armed guards to protect us from the Jaguar but when you’re running all day in 40 degree heat and each day previously you have been basking in a river form most of the afternoon, the one thing you look forward to is a swim. I was absolutely gutted. I asked how far it was to the nearest river and was told 3km (which I later found out was closer to 10km) and I would need to find five other people who wanted to go too as armed guards would need to come with us. Considering that would take a couple of hours each way I decided to stop moaning and spent the afternoon playing with my knife and making some great looking walking poles which would become invaluable on the hills. The camp was great and I settled into my usual routine of emails, food, stretching, massage, waiting for Pete etc.

I slept well again despite the noise from the Howler monkeys and the commotion when the bombeiro’s found a Cobra, a scorpion and a Tarantula

Day 4 – 42km

Described as “This must be the toughest Marathon on the planet. 42km of torture. Enjoy! You will have deep jungle climbs and descents, a 1km river descent followed by 1km in the swamps then Fluval beach, jungle trails and village tracks. It’s got it all. See you at the finish on one of the most beautiful beaches in the Flona, in the village of Jaguarai”.

The start was annoying as we’d been told it was 3km to the nearest river but three hours later we still hadn’t seen it. I loved having a refreshing dip in the creeks and rivers.

This was a really tough day with some brutal climbs and extreme descents. Very tough underfoot and relying on grabbing tree’s and vines to slow the descent – something that was completely against all recommendations but it was either that or skid down on your bum. I spent most of my time in the company of several people. At one point we all started to get stung by something, wasps probably but it was done in typical ambush fashion. The guy at the front and the guy at the back were the first to get stung and then they got to work on the people stuck in the middle, me included. We all screamed “RUN” in unison and so we did just that for about 5 minutes at top speed and then checked to ensure no one was allergic to stings. They had managed to get inside our clothes and down the backs of our packs. Very painful but it made us move fast and took our minds off the pain in our feet.

After a couple more checkpoints, our group became rather spread out and I spent some time with an aussie lady called Rebecca and a Belgian lad named Gavin. There was a bit of sandy road running and I was surprised to be overtaken by a monstrous Brazillian competitior who had pulled out of day 1 or 2 with a badly sprained ankle that turned all shades of black. He had withdrawn from the main event but had grown tired of waiting around for us in the camp and decided to give the marathon a bash. He was doing very well on a heavily strapped ankle and disappeared over the horizon after a few minutes. I’ve seen pictures of him recently on Facebook and he appears to still have his leg in a plaster cast!! We carried on plodding and chatting and trying to stay under the shade of the canopy to the edges of the road. I was counting the miles until we would reach the 1km river descent that had been mentioned at the briefing. I had assumed wrongly and had a picture in mind of a very large river flowing quite quickly. When we came across a bridge over a small overgrown stream with a marshal next to it I was surprised to be told that this was the river descent. It was very narrow and overgrown but quite deep looking. I couldn’t wait so whilst standing on the bridge I adopted my river crossing technique that I regretted of pack in bin liner and tied with paracord to waist. I was overtaken by a few people and the couple I was with had disappeared around a bend in the creek so I was alone entering a very exciting and quite scary part of the race. I was looking forward to the swim so leapt off the metre high bridge into the cool, clear water to start my swim. It was quite deep and very overgrown and “Jungly”. There was a bit of current sweeping me downstream in the deeper areas and on the bend but there were areas where I had to wade through the shallows. I loved every minute but this area was not without dangers and they usually came in the form of fallen down trees and branches lying unseen under the water ready to bash your shins. There were hundreds and after 10 minutes or so my legs were scratched and bleeding in many places. Sometimes you could step over the logs or swim under them but because of the buoyancy of the pack sometimes I had to climb out of the water and over a log only jump off the other side and land on a very solid and spiky branch. I loved the environment and couldn’t stop filming and despite the legs taking a bit of a beating, it was worth it. I caught up with a couple of people I had been running with earlier as we exited the river and entered the “1km swamp” which was not so nice but still good fun. It was thigh deep at times if you didn’t tread carefully but on the whole, not as muddy as I had anticipated and not as long either. I wasn’t looking around at wildlife as I was concentrating on not losing my shoes in the swamp but a competitor just ahead of me got some good footage of a 3 metre Anaconda right next to where we had been wading. On exiting the swamp we had a fair few beaches to run across but it seemed like we were going around in circles with a strange route and not making much progress. We passed many schools during the race, most of them tiny but today, shortly after the swamp we passed a rather large one and the kids had really gone to town on the support they were providing. We could hear a commotion long before we saw the school and had our spirits lifted as we ran passed an army of school children banging drums, shouting, cheering and dishing out high 5’s.

 

Pete and Sarah during the 1km river descent

With all the fun stuff out of the way my focus turned to making good time and getting to the finish asap so I would have more time to rest ready for the big day tomorrow.

The last 13km was mainly on sandy roads so the average pace improved but it was now the hottest part of the day and going was tough. Thankfully as we ran along a road between villages we passed over a small creek. Being fully aware of the benefits of cooling off, we all decided to go for a quick five minute dip. Many didn’t but I’m so glad I did. It was probably my happiest moment of the day and probably would have knocked 20 minutes off my finishing time. We eventually made it to Jaguarai village and assumed we were close to the finish so started emptying water over our heads to cool off. I had spent most of the second half of the day with Rebecca and Gavin, struggling to keep up with Rebecca’s relentless pace. It seemed we weren’t quite as close as we had hoped and still had a few km to go along deep sandy roads to make it to the finish. This was a huge relief. Walking past a small bar (shed) advertising Cerveza took all of my willpower. At this stage a local came past on his motorbike but got stuck in the sand so I volunteered to help him by pushing him out. From a distance it could have looked like I was just holding on and being dragged through the sand. Stupidly I used up a lot of energy and didn’t even get a thanks. The next time this happened I just left him there.

The creek that Rebecca, Gavin and I went for a dip in.  Well worth it!

Arriving at the checkpoint was great as it was a tough day out but I was still only half way through the race. I was holding up well though with healthy feet – It’s very unusual for my feet to be healthy during a race.

Today took 7 hours and 30 minutes

Check point 4

As promised, this checkpoint was on a sunning beach and I spent most of my afternoon in the water stretching, giving myself a good “sand scrub” and cooling down. I cleaned my clothes, sent some emails and massaged my own legs as the queue for the masseuse was too long. I got all of my stuff out of my bag ready for the big day and put my dinner and the next days breakfast in a pile in the sand underneath my hammock. Unfortunately a couple of hours later I realised they had gone missing and there were some groups of suspicious looking locals hanging around. Thankfully, Sarah, a lovely competitor who had been forced to withdraw from the race and Richard a Kiwi who had too much food offered me their meals. Thanks both. I couldn’t have finished the race without your help.

 

Indulging in a bit of “self massage”

Day 5/6 – 108km – The long stage

Described as “The long one will have an early start (04:30). 108.22km of Jungle, village trails, river crossings, swamps and some fluvial beaches. This stage will either make or break you. If you don’t arrive at CP5 by the cut off at 15:30 you will be caught in our dark zone and have to stay at CP5 until daylight of the next day. The pain is worth it. The finish line is on a spectacular beach at Ponta De Pedras.

This day started early and fast with the front runners having every intention of hitting CP5 before 15:30. If you didn’t hit check point 5 at approximately 60km before 15:30 you would have to stay there until the following morning before resuming the run. Great in theory but the race clock didn’t stop and I must have been feeling a bit competitive. The reason for the enforced overnight stop was that the next three hours of Jungle was densely populated with Jaguar and the organisers didn’t want us in this part during the night.   I was stuck somewhere in no mans land, with the front runners moving quite quickly but with a realistic feeling that I would not be able to sustain that speed and would not make the check point before the cut off. I really wanted to but didn’t think it would happen. I continued with a small group though and made good progress along several beaches but got caught in a swamp and no markers to follow. We were approached by a local on a motorbike who was putting glow sticks on trees to mark the route. Better late than never I suppose. For the next hour or so, a small group of us were neck and neck with the motorbike rider as he tried to put the markers out and manoeuvre his bike around swamps and beaches. We couldn’t go faster than him as we didn’t know which way to go. I have no idea how the five people in front of us managed.

There was a lot of sandy road running through this stage and a lot of high concentration jungle running. We passed several villages and interacted with kids on their way to school. The day became very hot and there was a distinct shortage of water crossings and drinking water. After about 35km a few of us were starting to suffer badly with heat exhaustion and although at a T junction the markers pointed to the right, instinct and a few jovial noises forced us to the left. After a couple of hundred metres we were faced with two of the front runners and a crystal clear, cold looking creek. I proceeded to ditch my pack and jump off the bridge into it. It was heaven and I could have stayed in there for a long time. Unfortunately the race continued and after about five minutes we topped up our water and continued on a 5km loop that would eventually bring us back to the same creek. The 5km was tough but at least we knew what lay in store for us. The thought of that cold 32 degree water encouraged us along the long, sandy and somewhat monotonous roads in 45 degree heat.

After the creek we only had about 9.5km of sandy road running to get to the cut off check point and about 2.5 hours to do it in. We were probably covering a kilometre in about 10-15 minutes so it should be in the bag. We made it to the next checkpoint about 20 minutes ahead of the check point, completely elated but in a bad way. My legs were like jelly and I was seeing double and triple of everything. I could barely get my water bottle in the direction of my mouth. I was writhing around on a giant plastic sheet lapping up any water that had run off mine and other peoples heads. I just couldn’t get enough. God knows what my body temperature was at but I was not in a good way. I was told we had to be out of the checkpoint if we wanted to continue. This was disappointing as on the race brief (detailed above) it only stated that we had to be there by 15:30, not gone by 15:30. Never mind, I filled up my water and continued on as a group of 4. Erik from Belgium, Rebecca, Simon and me. It may have been five so sorry if I’ve forgotten anyone. We all left that check point in a bad way as we had thrown everything at just making the cut off. It took several hours of steady staggering, consuming lots of food and water and lots of salt tablets before I would feel normal again. This was the dangerous bit. Being in the Jungle as night descended. At about 18:00 I started to feel normal and either my speed increased or the other three slowed down but I ended up exiting the Jungle on my own and then spent the next hour or so on my own running along roads to get to the next CP, slowing only to dig my head torch out when I really needed it. I had held off and let my eyes adjust to the darkness for long enough and now I needed light to keep an eye on the trail markings. Even after the next CP there were still another 50 odd Kilometres to go and it was already dark. I had no intention of stopping and after a quick swim in the river at the checkpoint I filled my water and carried on with Mark (a lovely English competitor who was doing very well) and Simon (also doing really well). This was an interesting check point as I caught up with quite a few people that, like me, had flogged themselves to reach the cut off and then struggled to make it to this check point so a few people were seeing medics etc. I had blisters and knew that my feet were in a bad way but didn’t want to take my shoes off for fear of not getting them back on.

So started the long trudge from one check point to another with Simon and Mark. Details of this part of the race are foggy due to tiredness and it being dark and a few weeks ago but I’ve done my best to recap the interesting bits. We weren’t running much but power walking. We passed Alter de Chao, the starting point of our boat trip up the river to base camp and it all looked very different at night and took a bit of navigating around the coastline. We passed the familiar area of beach where Simon and I had fallen asleep a week previous on our first day in Brazil and got sun burnt. Once we had passed this almost familiar village we were on our own in a very quiet part of the race. The route hugged the coastline with Jungle on our right and river on our left but we often had to enter the river so our feet were constantly wet and sandy. Going was quite tough and there were often obstacles to climb over and lots of wildlife as it was now night time. Spider eyes were prominent everywhere and glow yellow on the trees and bull frogs were everywhere and the size of small footballs. Going was tough but it was all progress and we were going in the right direction although it was quite disorientating as there seemed to be head lights in the distance to our right and to our left but we continued following our little blue strips of tape.

There were a number of river crossings on this stage which we hadn’t been warned about and as it was very dark, these were quite unnerving. We were a long way from the previous checkpoint with no idea where the next one was and the three of us were entering very wide and deep stretches of the river with no assistance, marshals or safety boats in sight. All we had in the way of reassurance was a long rope leading into the darkness with glow sticks tied to it. We entered cautiously and started pulling our heavy, rucksack laden bodies along the rope and through the inky river until we could see trees on the opposite bank. A bizarre and surreal experience that I would not liked to have done on my own. Several more of these followed with one of them being walkable, with the water coming up to chest height. As our head torches shone into the water we could see lots of little fish but not much else. In the shallows near the mangroves and shrubs it all felt very “Croccy” and I’m surprised we didn’t see any Caiman. I wasn’t looking too hard and was quite happy to be a bit ignorant.

After a while we were joined by a few more runners so were now a group of six(ish) who continued plodding along the waters edge and following the strips of blue tape tied to the trees quite happily until the strips disappeared at the waters edge by a steep bank. Always when I was in the lead!! We all stopped and searched the area for more blue tape but didn’t find any. We back tracked a bit but nothing. Some people decided to sit down and relax and others tried searching everywhere. There was a lot of blue tape in the area but it didn’t lead anywhere. After about half an hour, Alma, the leading female and I entered the dark water to swim around the headland, guessing that the route may join up again around the corner. We swam for a few minutes until we could clamber out onto the bank and then we climbed up a small but vertical bank with me giving Alma a “Bunk up”. Once we were up on dry land we walked together in all directions looking for a trail or a footpath. After about ten minutes we found nothing and I was a bit concerned that we may get lost so we found our way back to the river and started the swim back to re-join the group who still had no luck finding a way forward. One of the racers was using his head torch and his whistle to try and get attention from someone and eventually a small motor boat turned up with a marshal on it who told us to get on board. I was reluctant as I didn’t want to get disqualified and he was offering to assist us. I just wanted him to point us in the right direction but he didn’t speak much English and kept insisting that we get on the boat. We all agreed that we should but we were reluctant. We got on the very shaky and unstable boat and started a small journey. It wasn’t long before the skipper had managed to crash the boat into a tree and the whole boat shook and made some crunching noises. After a few more minutes we were taken ashore to find Dan, one of the medics who had been stranded on this beach waiting for us for about a day and half with no English speaking company, no radio contact and no idea what was going on. It became apparent that there was supposed to be a rope from one side of the river to where Dan was but someone had forgotten to put it out. They had been keeping an eye out on the opposite side of the bank and had picked the racers in front of us up fairly promptly but had failed to see us for some time. Dan offered to give us any medical treatment as I think he was quite desperate for the company. He even offered to look at Gavin crotch chaffing. Reluctantly and to Dan’s disappointment we filled out bottles up and headed off fairly quickly to try and make up any lost time. Once again, he was alone and stranded on his small stretch of beach.

From memory we had another river crossing and more trudging along beaches and we had a long stretch of straight jungle path. I remember us all power marching along it in double file at a good pace. We weren’t out of breath but we were pushing it and no one was speaking. Everyone was tired and we were desperate to reach the next check point which we did. It was on a fairly deep and wide river and across on the other bank was a fair amount of civilisation. No people, just street lights. On this bank we saw the two large support boats that we had started our journey on and then stumbled across Shirley the event organiser and several marshals and medics sleeping in the sand. We spoke to them for a while, refilled water bottles, received some race instructions from Shirley and then cracked on after a short break. We were told to follow the beach all the way to the next check point with the river on our left. We did this for an hour or so and tried to calculate the distance to the finish. We were joined by a dolphin to our left although we couldn’t see it. Every so often we would hear it’s blow hole expelling air and it seemed to be guiding the way. It was a starry night and there were a few shipping lights in the distance. We continued to follow the blue tape and walk along the edge of the water where the sand was firmer. After a while, once again, with me navigating we realised that there was no blue tape and we were on a sand spit with water to our left and to our right. We carried on walking and it curved around to the right, creating a sort of swampy pond on our right and the rather rough river on our left. We then hit a headland that was strewn with car sized boulders littering the waters edge and a cliff face above them marking the end of the headland. Still no blue tape but we had the organiser’s instructions and thought we should venture around the coastline. Opinions throughout our group differed somewhat and people reacted in different ways. Some wanted to back track, others wanted to sit down and sulk. I went around the headland first for some distance and returned to tell Mark and Simon that I had seen some footprints. I wanted a second opinion and so Simon, Mark and I clambered over many of these boulders for what seemed like a lifetime, going in and out of the choppy and dark river, constantly looking for the illusive blue tape. It was treacherous and we really didn’t think that it could be this way but we had to rule it out so carried on clambering until we came across a small sandy bay with footprints from runners!! This was perfect, just what we needed but unfortunately they disappeared and we couldn’t find them again. Absolutely Gutted!! After walking around in circle on the little beach for a while we decided to retreat and see what the others were up to. Most had been searching around for blue tape to no avail. We joined up after another mammoth rock climbing section (four times now I had climbed over these boulders ducking in and out of the river avoiding huge frogs and rats) and back tracked to the last blue tape. It was strange as there was tape along the waters edge on trees and poles of wood but also some higher up the beach along the tree line. We followed both and entered a small area of forest but couldn’t find any paths leading over the headland. We found signs of civilisation, a small hut and some chairs but no people and a couple of dogs came running out barking. They calmed down quickly and became our companions. Alma decided to go back to the last check point which I wouldn’t do so we scouted around a bit more and gave up. We were very tired so five of us (Simon, Mark, me and two of team Belgium, Gavin and Tom) lay on the sand with our two pet dogs using our packs as pillows and got a bit of shut eye for about half an hour until Simon warned us that the weather was changing. He’d seen the starring sky disappearing beneath thick cloud and we felt a few spots of rain as the wind picked up. We decided to get closer to the tree line and put up our hammocks as it was nearly 5am. We thought it best to get a proper sleep under shelter for an hour and see if the lay of the land was different when the sun came up. From 5am the howler monkeys woke up and made a hell of a noise so we didn’t really get any sleep. We woke at 6am and put our hammocks away and went for a wander with our dogs in the hope that something would become glaringly obvious. It didn’t so we had a walk along the beach until we saw a small boat that approached us. It was a marshal and the Belgian film crew that were getting footage of some of the Belgian runners. Two of which were in our group. We explained our predicament but no one seemed to be able to offer assistance. I walked out to the boat to waist depth to use the on board radio to speak to Shirley but became aware of a large shape at the back of the boat. More likely to be a Dolphin or Manatee than a Caiman so I wasn’t too worried but tried radioing Shirley to inform her that there were no markings. I was getting rather annoyed at this point. I returned to the beach and saw that some marshals were approaching us from the headland that we had walked around during the night. We walked to meet them and irately complained about the lack of markings. We were then escorted around the headland going in exactly the same route that the three of us had been a few hours earlier in the dark. It was a lot easier in the day light. When we reached the small sandy bay, we continued around yet another headland filled with boulders and then another and possibly another one before it opened up onto a nice long sandy white beach that looked like it hadn’t been visited for months. We continued walking along these pristine beaches for an hour or so chatting/moaning amongst ourselves at the lack of tape and wondering how the five runners in front of us had found their way without any markings. Perhaps they had removed them! The mind starts doing silly things when you’re tired and you start trying to blame others or looking for excuses. The beaches were stunning though and you couldn’t stay mad for long. The wildlife was starting to wake up and we stopped when we saw a family of Coati’s venturing down to the river for a morning drink. I filmed what I could with the GoPro but the footage isn’t great. We saw a few other bits of wildlife and some wonderful birds and got excited as we knew we were making good progress and were nearly at the finish line meaning the back of the race was broken and we could have a nice 24 hour long rest. We crossed the finish line together with big hugs and smiles. Three very happy runners.

Today took 24 hours and 40 minutes

 

The type of terrain we had to clamber over at night with no markings after 2o odd hours of continuous exercise

Check point 5

Again, as promised, this check point was at a fantastic beach with lovely swimming. It was a big deal to get this far as it was only about 08:30 in the morning and I would be here for 24 hours and only had one short stage to go. I could relax, which I did.

I did the usual routine but at a more leisurely pace. I had a great hammock spot, close to other competitors but with an amazing view of the river and sunset later on. I spent lots of time in the water and sending emails, saw a few monkeys in the trees above my hammock and an Iguana. I had to see the medics about my feet as they were now extremely painful. They took pictures as they said they were the worst they had seen so far. I didn’t think they were that bad really. They’ve been worse. I had blisters on the outside of each heel that needed draining but as it was the last day and I was doing this for the experience and the memories I requested the notorious “Hot shot”. When asked if I was sure as I didn’t really need one I said yes and braced myself for a lot of pain. All I can do is say that William who had the hot shot at the end of day 1 is one tough cookie. To say that it was incredibly painful would be an understatement. I had large blisters under the balls of both feet which were covered in hard skin and so couldn’t be drained. These just had to be padded and taped up but I couldn’t go back in the water until the following day and had to keep them sand free which isn’t so easy when you’re living on a beach. My feet were still hurting a lot but I knew some pain killers in the morning and adrenaline would get me through. I had a nice lazy afternoon reading emails, taking lots of pictures and chilling out, cheering in the other competitors and waiting for Pete who didn’t turn up before I turned in for the night.

 

My swollen and blistered feet.  I look happy though

 

Me enjoying a cigarette and half a bottle of Cachaca I found on the beach

Day 7 – 24.5km

 Pete and I at the start of the last day.  Happy boys

Today was joyous and filled with excitement. With only a short run to go and all along beaches there was nothing to stop us. It would be painful due to my feet but I just wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. Everyone was happy on the start line and wishing each other luck with lots of hand shakes before the final group countdown from ten and then we were off, traipsing across beautiful white beaches. The front runners took off at an alarming rate and I was quite happy positioning myself in around tenth place. I knew this was my standing roughly in the whole event and didn’t want to go slow and come 11^th or 12^th. I was desperate for a top ten finish. The route was nice, passing lovely beaches that started to get a little busier as we got closer to Santarem. We had a rough river crossing a few KM into the day so were wet from the start but that was welcomed. The half way water point came quite quickly and was well under halfway so I filled up my water and carried on without too much of a rest. I had settled into a rhythm with Alma, the leading lady and a very impressive 22 year old from Latvia. We ran pretty much the whole stage together, chatting to make time go quicker as we overtook and yoyo’d a couple of other competitors. We had a good time and spoke a lot about home and what we were looking forward to at the finish. Beer was usually quite high on my list of priorities. We stopped to take pictures and film a weird looking caterpillar occasionally but became aware about 5km from the end that it was getting very hot and we were low on water. I ran out first so we shared the remainder of hers and then got some from another competitor who seemed quite happy to shed some weight. I couldn’t believe how much we had drunk. We were very conscious of how little we had, about 100 millilitres shared between the two of us for about an hour and we knew that heat stroke could well terminate our race so close to the end. We entered the river a couple of times to cool off to fend off the heat but we need drinking water and decided to start drinking the river water at the next river crossing which we knew was about 3km from the end. As we swam across the river we took on a few cautious mouthfuls and I filled my water bottle to keep us going. Some tropical stomach bug wouldn’t end my race and I could deal with it later. The last 3km went on forever as we were flanked by a Japanese camera man who told us we had 500 metres left. After about a kilometre we rounded the bend to see another long beach and no finish line. We asked him again to be told 400 metres!!! This was not encouraging at all. I’m guessing they measure distances differently in Japan. After a while we rounded a corner and could see the finish line outside a bar and set amongst a lot of people on the beach. Alma asked if we could run to the finish so we started a fairly adventurous sprint but the finish line was still a way off and the sand very soft. I was knackered and in shock when she turned to me and said “can we go faster”. No was my speedy response. We crossed the line together to lots of cheers and some nice sorbet. Beer would have to wait for a few minutes. My lovely clay medal was placed around my neck and a horrible picture taken for Facebook. I then headed for the bar and chilled out afternoon and evening drinking beer, eating plenty of food and sharing tales of the race with other competitors.

Today took 3 hours and 24 minutes

The entire race took me 53 hours and 47 minutes. I finished in 10^th place

  Pete and I at the finish    Me and Alma at the finish

I was over the moon to finish and in such a good position but disappointed that it was over and that I would be spending the night in a hotel rather than on the beach. Pete finished not long after me so we had a few beers and headed to the hotel in a coach for more beers before heading off to a lovely restaurant for a meal and even more beer. We then returned to the hotel for a pool party before getting to bed in the early hours for a couple of hours sleep before our 3am flight. We slept in but managed to get the plane on time thankfully and started our long journey home.

The whole experience was fantastic and is highly recommended. I loved almost every minute. It was well organised on the whole with good information provided before the race and good briefings throughout. The organisation did seem to disappear a bit towards the end with an absence of trail markers and English speaking helpers at the check points but the Medics did a wonderful job and one of the local helpers named Junior was an absolute star. Not just because he distributed the emails!

What went right for me?

Everything really. I acclimatised well, my kit performed perfectly and my food was just the right quantity. More to do with guess work than intelligence.

From bottom to top, I wore Inov-8 mudclaw shoes which performed very well. Injinji liner socks and drymax socks over the top. The liners are toe socks and I wear them so that my silicone toe guards on my little toes are held in place. I wore my trusty Compressport calf guards which barely left me but now need to be replaced as they’re ripped to shreds, my Montane Trail shorts (tight cycling short type things) and an old OMM running T shirt that I’ve had for a couple of years. Unlike most racers I didn’t have any chaffing at all. I lubed up thoroughly each day. I had a small buff around my wrist which was a godsend as I would soak this in water at streams or empty my bladder onto it if we were near a checkpoint and put it around my head to cool off.  I had one change of socks which I put on for the last day but I made sure I washed all of my clothes out thoroughly everyday (except in the Jungle camp). I carried a pair of Julbo sunglasses but didn’t use them until the last day so probably wouldn’t recommend any. I carried an Inov-8 32 litre pack with a 2 litre front pack for food and essential kit. The pack is now ripped to shreds but it is well used and I would replace with the same. I carried a 2 litre Source bladder on my back and had a 500ml water bottle on my front for electrolytes and quick filling from water drops. I’ve just returned the bladder as it was leaking a few days ago when I went for a short run, my first since this event finished almost a month ago. The penny has just dropped whilst I’ve been typing this that the bladder was probably leaking during the last day of the event, hence why I ran out so quickly!! D’oh!                                         I used Expedition Meals as always for breakfast and dinner and survived on a carefully balanced mixture of energy gels, powdered energy drinks, Jerky, energy bars and nuts.

For the evenings I slept in a Hennessy hammock which was fantastic. A wonderful way to sleep and something I plan to use more in the future. Around camp I would just wear a pair of shorts and my flip flops. At night I would put on a compression top and my 2XU compression leggings to reduce any swelling and aid circulation/recovery.

What would I do differently?

I would probably take Chicken tikka Expedition meals for breakfast as I wasn’t a fan of Porridge and strawberries after the first day. I would probably take my walking poles as they don’t weigh much and would be much comfier than the wooden ones I made and would give me less blisters on my hands. I wouldn’t take my pack off for water crossings. There’s no need, the water drains fairly quickly. I would have put new insoles in my shoes. I usually wear Formthotics from my Physio for my flat feet but these ones were quite old and had worn very thin on the balls of the feet so no wonder I had blisters there and still have tenderness.

Would I do the race again?

No. I’m not in the habit of repeating races as there are so many out there and life is too short.

Would I do another Jungle race?

Absolutely!

 

View from the Plane

Written by Peter Wright - http://peterwrightblog.tumblr.com/

Background

Back in 2007, around the time of the birth of my first child Joshua, I completed my first ever road marathon. It had been one hell of a journey to get there, littered with constant aborts (not even getting to start line) due to injury. Fortunately, and with the aid of an amazing physio called Lisa Mann,  I was able to get it done.

Fast forward to 2011, around the time of the birth of my second child Leila, and I had piled on the baby weight. It came to a head one day at work when I was forced to carve a new notch in my belt. In reaction, I needed a target, so I entered the London marathon again. I completed it, and had a shocker of a day, but was able to draw on sufficient mental strength and doggedness to get it done.

What came next was interesting, when I was persuaded to enter the 2013 Marathon des Sables.

Initially, I had plenty of doubt as to whether I was capable of doing it, but set about the task with dedication to training and smashing out PBs for various distances during the build up. I also entered the land of the Ultra, completing events such as Druids, Pilgrims and Country to Capital. By this time I was hooked on such events, due to the sheer challenge and the amazing people I  met during them.

During the beginning of MDS I probably didn’t believe in myself enough, and held back a little too much, being very much risk adverse to the heat. However, this changed as the event progressed, and I was very happy with an eventual top half finish and a great performance on the long day. It was an epic experience, shared with amazing people, and one I would wholly recommend.

Towards the end of 2013 I reflected on what had been a life-changing year, and decided I definitely needed more of the same. More targets were needed, and they had to be tougher, capable of testing the mind to its limits. 100-mile events were somewhat iconic and appealed to me, so from late 2013 to August 2014, I completed the Winter 100, Lakeland 100 and Ultra trail du Mont Blanc. I should probably add that I wouldn’t recommend doing the latter two so close together!  

 

Picking the Jungle Marathon

In 2014, a good friend planted the idea of the 2015 Jungle marathon, a six-stage multi-day event taking place in the Amazon rainforest - think MDS, only in the jungle. I had a lifelong ambition to visit the Amazon, so figured why not combine it with running. So, that was 2015′s target well and truly fixed.

In terms of events, the end of 2014 became a bit of a write-off when I suffered tendonitis, which kept me out of action until March 2015. I had probably overdone it in 2014, so the rest was much-needed. It also meant I had to withdraw from the Spine race 2015, which was annoying. However, I was persuaded by Steve on New Years Day to enter the Dragons Back, which was in June 2015. This was perfect timing for me, as it would give me time to recover from injury and get ready for the event. It would also, in theory, put me in great shape for the Jungle event.

Unfortunately, in May I went through a very difficult time and found myself out of work for the first time since leaving school. I decided Dragons Back was still a good idea, and would be the solution in rebuilding my self-esteem. What better that a glorious multi-day ( and bloody tough, at that) ultra event.

How wrong I was, when I decided to DNF at the end of day 1.

Outwardly, I blamed the recurrence of the injury for the DNF, which was causing some discomfort. In truth, it was a convenient excuse. The real issue was that my head simply wasn’t in the game, and in my experience such events are probably more about mental strength than physical. The one day I did complete was very tough, and I am looking to going back one day.

Time always heals though, and with the support of my amazing wife we refocused on the Jungle marathon. I say ‘we’ at this point because she knows what makes me tick, and she helped me get back in the game for this event.

The next few months were dedicated to getting as ready as I could, and with a month to go I had a good confidence-building run with Steve at the Snowdonia 50 event, which again I would wholly recommend.

I was now ready for the Jungle.

The Build-Up

Thursday

After a long journey from Jersey - which involved six different flights - we finally arrived in Santarem, Brazil. From there, we took a taxi to the small town of Alter de Chao, which was where we would be boarding the boat to the Jungle. We spent the day chilling in the town, enjoying a few beers, eating, swimming and anticipating the forthcoming event. We also met fellow competitors Simon and Joel, who were from the UK and Spain respectively.

At around 9pm we were allowed to board the boat (on a very unsteady plank) and join the hustle and bustle in finding a suitable spot to hang our hammocks. We would be on this boat for the next 11-12 hours, so a few hours sleep in the  would be necessary. Sensibly, we positioned ourselves right near the noisy engine, so that evening’s sleep was not the best!

The boat eventually left at around midnight, so there was a bit of time for a couple more beers. Also, we made our way back into the town centre of Alter de Chao, where we indulged in a bit of people-watching in what looked like a very tight-knit community.

 

Friday

We woke up at around 6am, and we had a small planned stop at a sand split in the middle of the Tapajos river, where we were told that there was an opportunity to see pink dolphins. Unfortunately, we didn’t see any, but we took the opportunity to stretch our legs and have a swim.

At around 8am we boarded the boat and continued on with the journey, and by 10am we arrived in our base camp destination, which would be our home for today and Saturday.

Upon arriving we were warmly greeted by the local villagers, including many school children who sang songs and held ‘Welcome’ banners.

We were then shown to a wooded enclosure near the village, and found a suitable location to tie our hammocks. Steve and I initially targeted a very dead-looking tree, before deciding that it would probably be a good idea to switch location, lest we plummet to the ground in the early hours!

Despite our considered preparation, I had a minor bed-related disaster when one rope pretty much snapped at one end of my hammock. Luckily, and with the help of Steve, gaffer tape (borrowed from Mark) and spare rope (provided by Shirley), we were able to come up with a solution which would prove strong enough for the rest of event.

The rest of the day was spent hanging out and getting to know our fellow competitors. It was easy to strike up conversation, and I found everyone very relaxed and sociable. Steve and I were camping close to Mark, Will and Sarah, and we also got to know fellow UK competitors Brook and Andy. Once the hammocks were up, we had the mandatory kit checks, medical checks, and went down to the beach to collect our race numbers.

 

As would prove normal throughout the event, bedtime was at sunset, which was around 7pm. There was little point staying up beyond this point, since you would invariably get bitten by something. The Hennessy hammocks were very comfortable, the trick being to lie diagonally across the hammock. I found that I was waking up frequently during the night, but easily drifted off again. As thought, a silk liner was more than sufficient in terms of warmth, and most of the time I didn’t even need that!

 

Saturday

The following morning started with the race briefing, which included a detailed presentation, safety information and practical demonstrations by the Bombeiros (Army).

The practical demos mainly consisted of survival techniques, but I also had the opportunity to hold a boa constrictor, which had been captured by the Bombeiros a couple of days before. I’d never held a snake before, but the correct technique was demonstrated, and it proved to be easy enough.

Earlier that day, Mike (from Canada) had enraged this same boa when he was invited to pick it up during the initial presentation. Having not been informed about the correct way to pick it up, he did so a tad too aggressively, resulting in the boa going absolutely nuts. Mike did very well to control that situation, and fortunately by now the boa was slightly more docile.

After lunch, Steve and I explored the local area surrounding the village, and located the beginning of the race course. We decided to do a 30-minute out-and-back exploration, which included a nice 10-minute lung-buster of a hill at the beginning. That would be fun the next day with a 14kg pack in tow!

Also, we had our first exposure to the dangers of this new environment. While we were enjoying cooling off in the river, one competitor was stung by a sting-ray. It looked bad initially, but he was fine after good treatment from both the medics and the locals. The same guy went on to win the race, so there must be something in these stings!

Later that day, we had the final medical briefing, were given the opportunity for Q&A, and then dropped our luggage bags on the boat. From this point onwards it would be all about self sufficiency, and we would need to survive with what we had decided to pack in our race packs.

The rest of the day was spent chilling, socialising and anticipating. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow to start - this adventure had been two years in the making!

 

The Race Begins

Sunday – Stage 1, Distance 23km

The race notes described this as ‘A short, sharp shock to the system. This stage gives you a taste of everything the jungle can throw at you’.

Shirley mentioned at the previous night’s briefing that this would be a very difficult stage, and the day did not disappoint in this respect.

As planned, I started the race with Steve. We’re good pals, and generally run at a similar pace, so we figured that it would be good to try and do this event together. That said, we were both here to run our own races, and since we were facing so many unknowns we knew this may not be the case.

To CP1 we were looking at 5km, and it started with a steep jungle climb over trail, followed by some very runner-friendly jungle trails. Steve and I were soon turning our ankles inside and out, Steve probably more than me, so we cut out the excitable chatter and focused on getting to CP1 ankles intact. It was unforgiving terrain, with vines, roots and pot holes everywhere. In addition, there were sharp branches and razor sharp plants. You needed your wits about you, and concentration was key.

At CP1 there was a creek which we were encouraged to get in and cool off. For the first two days, a mandatory 15-minute rest had been enforced at all checkpoints, with the aim of helping competitors and ensuring they looked after themselves. So at this CP I just jumped in the creek and cooled down with many others.

Then it was on to CP2, where we encountered our first swamp and I quickly lost my left leg thigh-high in swamp. Steve then targeted a good route through, so I just followed his lead. After careful negotiation we passed through it. So far, so good.

CP2 to CP4 was mostly jungle trails with a few brutal climbs thrown in. Upon leaving CP2 we soon encountered a particularly brutal steep climb. As we reached the summit Steve asked where my water bottles were. Shit. I had one of those flashback moments, and realised I had left them at CP3. What a prize tit.

My first thought would be that I would have to descend back to CP2 and repeat the ascent. Race rules state you need 2.5 litres of capacity on you, but as luck would have it I had my bladder in my pack, along with side soft flasks, so I had more than enough water and capacity to get to CP3, which was the village of Takura. All I would need to do here is switch to a different water strategy for today. The race organisers were concerned on my arrival at CP3, but I was able to assure them I was suitably hydrated and okay for the rest of the day. Fortunately, at the end of the day’s stage I was able to retrieve my bottles.

Having front bottles was key for me so that the race pack weight would be more evenly distributed. In addition, I found the benefit of front bottles was that you always knew how much capacity you had left, so it made water management a whole lot easier.

Upon reaching CP4 I was certainly feeling the effects of the combined heat and humidity. I was very appreciative of the 15-minute mandatory stop, and inside I knew it was time to calm things down slightly until the finish. I knew I had not been getting enough water in, so this was something I would need to pay more attention to moving forward. Salt-wise, the trusty S caps were going in every 30 minutes, and given that I sweat a lot this was entirely necessary. At around CP4 I had a chat with Steve, and we decided to do our own things. I was struggling to keep up with him, and he certainly looked like he was acclimatising better than me.

I found the final push to the end of this day’s stage difficult. I was starting to struggle, and even when trying to hold back I was going slower than I wanted. It was like hitting the 18-20 mile wall of a road marathon. To me, it felt like a tight blanket of pure heat, and quite claustrophobic. On the plus side, my feet felt good, and everything physically was in working order. It was going to be a simple case of allowing my body to acclimatise to this new and very alien environment. In addition, this was only stage 1 and for multi-day events I knew from previous experience that consistency would be key.

Local children greeted me before the end of the stage, and I was able to run over the line with them, which was uplifting and a great way to finish.

Upon arriving at the end of the stage it was the usual drill, assuming you finished in daylight and actually had time to tick all the boxes, which were as follows:

·      Get complementary juice from Shirley

·      Find camp and hang up hammock

·      Take off race kit and switch to shorts/t-shirt

·      Locate river and cool off while washing clothes

·      Dry clothes by hanging on hammock

·      Eat, socialise and send e-mails

·      Get bag and kit ready for the following day

·      Attend race briefing for following day

What was evident at this camp in particular was the amount of bullet ants that inhabited it. Nasty-looking things, I’d heard all about the effect of their stings, which rather aptly is meant to feel like being shot. Great care was definitely needed when walking around, and my trusty crocs were very necessary.

Hopefully, the sheer ugliness of them would scare the bullet ants away, but I feared not.

I managed to find Steve once I’d sorted myself out, and we explored camp and the local village. Back at the finish, we witnessed Will having a ‘hot shot’ on one of his blisters (more about hot shots later). Steve and I were hoping for man screams and good GoPro footage, but Will turned out to be hard as nails. I also managed to get my water bottles back - I would not be repeating that mistake again in a hurry!

At the end of the day, and during the race brief, Shirley assured us that the following day would be easier, but that it would start with a river crossing. I’d been looking forward to the river crossings, so went to bed eagerly anticipating this.

Monday – Stage 2, Distance 24km

Today was billed as ‘Starting with a deep river crossing, and then entering the jungle for a mainly flat course. Care would be needed, since there were plenty of plants that stings and leaves that tear, and a huge amount of snakes’.

Fortunately, by the end of today I had seen none of the latter. However, the plants and leaves comment was bang on, relevant to all parts of the jungle.

Before the river swim, I decided to get my pack within a strong bin liner and attempt to swim across that way. Within my pack I had everything stored away in dry bags, so was confident that all contents would remain dry should the bin liner leak.

The race started, and It was all hustle and bustle getting in the water. I hadn’t done much in the way of swim training before the event, but figured it would be quicker to swim than use the rope. I was hopelessly wrong, and by two thirds of the way across I felt the energy I was expending on swimming wasn’t quite reaping the rewards in distance covered.

I then switched to using the rope provided. I was catching my breath big time the other side, and the crossing was tougher on the lungs than I thought it would be. I was with Steve, so we de-bagged and headed off into the jungle. However, I felt quite sick and fatigued from the start, and wanted to play today safe, so I encouraged Steve to push on ahead and run his own race.

With this particular event and terrain, you’ve got enough to concentrate on without any added pressure of playing catch-up or feeling bad about holding someone back. It was the right call, and we both knew it.

The day itself ended up being one of the easier days of the event. To the final checkpoint it was mostly jungle trail, but there were not many ascents, so it was relatively straightforward in keeping a consistent pace. That said, I did start to feel very tired again when the heat rose at around 10:30, so was once again feeling heavy-legged for the final hour of the stage.

Along the long and winding road to the finish I got chatting to a nice Belgian chap called Eric, and we were talking tactically about how we were both easing into the event. In truth, I didn’t feel like I was coping at all well, but the conversation put a positive spin on how I was feeling.

I made the finish round at 12-ish, which was a psychological boost and left plenty of time for the usual post-race routine and plenty of R&R. My feet were still in good shape, and once my body temperature cooled down I felt very good physically as well. Today, on recommendation from Jon in Guernsey (a previous competitor of the Jungle Marathon), I dug out a tomato cup a soup as a pre-dinner snack. It was absolute heaven in a cup.

I also found a trusty bag of biltong in my food sack, which I’d forgotten about, so I would be gnawing on that for the remainder of the race. Biltong proved a good alternative to some of the other snacks I had, so that was also a welcome boost.

I spent quite a bit of time with Steve and other competitors chilling in the river, and we also checked out the start of day 3, which would begin with another, slightly longer river crossing.

At sunset I retired to my hammock, knowing from Shirley’s briefing that we would be facing a tough day tomorrow with the toughest of the climbs during that stage. I felt positive in my mind and physically good as well. The only issue was getting used to the combined heat and humidity, and I really hoped I would feel more consistent tomorrow.

Tuesday – Stage 3, Distance 38km

The briefing notes stated that ‘You will have some killer climbs and descents, and you will be crossing a community with the highest population of jaguars, so be vigilant. Be ready for stream crossings, relentless hills and a nighttime to remember in our deep jungle campsite, where armed guards will try to keep the jaguars away. In this stage you will find the highest hills of the race.’

I liked the statement about being vigilant, and assumed my small penknife and newly acquired jungle sticks would be sufficient for this purpose. I also hoped the armed guards would try their hardest in terms of keeping things out of camp.

Today was the longest day so far, and for those who were recording distances some had it down as longer. The day turned out to be brutal, and very eventful.

The stage started with a river crossing, which for some reason I attempted in similar style to the previous day. This time the bin bag leaked, so I had the added weight of a soggy bag to contend with. Also, I couldn’t seem to swim in a straight line, and eventually one fellow competitor just shouted over “Why don’t you grab the bloody rope?” That was a good idea, and from that point on I would be using the ropes since it was far quicker and easier.

The contents of my bag on the other side were fine since they were in good dry bags. I threw away my split bin bag, and moved onto CP1 feeling decent enough. Today was the first day of non-enforced checkpoint stops, but I decided to take 10 minutes at CP1 for good order. I was glad, I did because the slog to CP2 was absolutely horrendous. It was up and down through the jungle all the way, and there really were some killer ascents and descents. The descents were equally tough because you really did have to grab hold of something to steady you, and that left you open to grabbing something you shouldn’t.

I felt stronger today and made it into CP2, certainly feeling the effort of the previous leg but coping very well. I left CP2 with a spring in my step, running and marching purposely in equal measure. Then, I encountered a slight problem.

Throughout the jungle trails there were often fallen trees to step over, climb under and climb over. Some were too high to climb over while being too low to effectively crouch under. In such situations it was hands and knees quickly again increasing the risk of bites of cuts. The particular tree approaching was a simple step over, but I decided to step on it and jump off. On landing my right ankle went straight into a pothole and my full body weight twisted right.

The agony was instant and extreme, and I had to grab a nearby branch to prevent myself toppling over. Luis, my Argentinian friend, was just behind me and was very concerned with what he had seen. Our communication methods were basic, but I assured him I needed to carry on and walk it off.

Inside I felt sick, since I could feel the fattening around the whole ankle. Thoughts of ‘DNF’ flashed through my mind, but I tried to cut out the negative thoughts and just focus on getting to the next checkpoint and speaking with the medics. That said, I didn’t want a decision to be taken out of my own hands, so would need to put a positive spin on that conversation when it happened.

The journey to CP3 was depressing since in my head I knew this wasn’t a routine twist. At this moment in time, I realised just how much this event meant to me, and how badly I wanted - and needed - to finish it. The eventual arrival into CP3 was through a village called Braganca, and it couldn’t come soon enough. Medics advice (after a tiny lie about the pain being a bit less than it was) was to keep my trainer on, take painkillers, push on and elevate at finish. Ice would not be an option at the jungle camp, so the plan was to get in and assess it from there. However, there was still a good 20km to go today so needed to get my head in the game for that.

At the CP, I was gutted to see Sarah there with her ankle elevated. She had turned it very badly early on Day 1, and she had shown amazing grit to push herself this far, but the pain had become too much, forcing her to withdraw.

I left CP3 faking positivity with an equally fake spring in my step, and then went back to limping when I was out of sight. CP3 to CP4 was very tough, and proved to be one of my toughest experiences in the entire event. The heat was rising, and there were gaps in the canopy, which resulted in a searing heat and oppressive humidity. It was also all jungle trail, with climb after climb and descent after descent, each slightly more challenging than the previous.

I’d taken plenty of water from CP3, and was feeling the need to stop regularly and soak my buff. Often I would stop where there was any hint of shade and just try and regulate my body temp. My ankle was very weak, and I was turning it outwards every time I lost concentration, which was becoming more and more frequent.

For what seemed like an age I continued, and eventually came into CP4. Jack, one of the medics, saw me into CP4 and looked concerned. I think he’d heard a few stories of a few of us looking pretty fucked!

I took a good 20 minutes at CP4, and the medics were on hand to pour water over us in an effort to get our body temperatures down slightly. I ate and drank plenty, and then pushed on to the end of this stage.

There was still another 7km to go, but I was assured there was only one beast of a climb remaining. The heat and humidity was very intense, and it was the trusty game of ‘one foot in front of the other, then repeat’. Weirdly I started singing to myself at this stage also - even more weirdly it was a Lionel Ritchie song that came into my head. I still don’t understand that one - best put it down to jungle madness.

Eventually, I came across a stream, so carefully negotiated myself across a very slippery log (fun with the ankle), and then took a steep jungle climb and began the final 1km push into camp. Before camp, I had the rather quirky Japanese cameraman asking me questions, filming me and following me. Its safe to say I wasn’t really in the mood, but consoled myself with visions of him getting devoured by a huge jaguar or a giant snake.

Reaching camp was a total relief, and a victory in itself given the events 20km back. It was a huge lift to see familiar faces at camp, and from memory Steve was in his pants oiling himself up. This would be a familiar sight throughout the event. I decided to try and get my hammock up and admin sorted before taking a look at my ankle.

It was tricky finding a spot given that I was at the back end of the pack today, but Mike was fortunately at hand, and put my hammock up for me while I sorted my ankle. Sure enough it was very swollen all round, so elevation and anti-inflammatory was all I could do today. Cody offered me some tablets, which I gratefully accepted. It was extremely painful, but as far as I was concerned if it was no worse in the morning I would be good to go.

The main thing is that I could put weight on it, even if it did hurt a lot when doing so. The medics took a look, but once again I told a little white lie with regard to where it hurt specifically and how much. All I needed was a short-term solution, which equated to a combination of strapping and painkillers. I figured I’d worry about everything else once the event was done.

Sleep actually came very easy, but what was great about tonight was that we were in the deep jungle, and the sounds of the jungle were simply amazing. Once I was in my hammock I was frequently disturbed by commotion around me as giant spiders were seen or jaguars and even pumas sighted. It was all very exciting, and certainly a different way to spend an evening!

It was one of the highlights for me, drifting in and out of sleep listening to the sounds of the deep jungle. At around 3am I needed the toilet, so took myself to the ‘hole’, which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, looking very nervously over my shoulder as routine business was performed. On the plus side, and during the short walk to ‘the hole’ I discovered that my ankle was not any worse, so I knew I would be good to go for stage 4.  

Wednesday – Stage 4, Marathon Day (Distance 42km)

The briefing notes today had this down as the toughest marathon on the planet.

The tactic today was to get some light strapping on, which Vicky (one of the medics) helpfully sorted for me. Second was to find some sticks from the jungle floor from the start for added support, which were easily sourced.

By now, the morning drill was easier and the bag was getting slightly lighter. Generally, I was sorting everything before bed, so it was just a case of getting up, eating breakfast, getting dressed and sorting out water. Everything else was where I needed it to be.

Before the start I saw Sarah, who had withdrawn injured the previous day. She had this determined look on her face, and said she was here to do a marathon and that’s exactly what she would do. Her ankle was in a very bad way, and I had nothing but admiration for her. This particularly inspired me at the time, and as it turned out I would spend a large part of this day with her.

The day started with a very long jungle trail, so my newly acquired walking poles were helping me with much-needed support. What struck me today was that the field quickly spread out, and before long I was on my own, moving at a decent enough pace. I quite liked the moments of being solo and just listening to the sounds of the jungle.

Yesterday was particularly hot and humid, but today there seemed to be a good blanket of cloud cover. This was particularly welcoming, allowing a good, strong pace early on.

The jungle floor was the usual minefield of hazards, so focus and concentration were definitely needed for this initial part.  

After a couple of hours I arrived at a water station, where I quickly topped up and moved on. Others were cooling off in the stream, but I found it cooler today so there was no need for that. Just after this point I met Sarah and we moved along together well, chatting and approaching the long combined 2km river and swamp crossings. Now this was great fun.

The 1km river stretch came first, and by now I had given up on the bin liner approach. The river was lovely and cooling, the only issue being the constant battering of my shins on hidden logs and twisted roots below. Sometimes you could make them out, and sometimes you couldn’t. Along the river we would have to climb over fallen trees or swim under them.

Apart from my bag momentarily getting stuck as I tried to swim under, it all went fairly well, and Sarah and I were actually overtaking a few other competitors. I particularly loved this part, and it was just what I had imagined the jungle event to be like.

After the 1km river came the swamp. At the end of the river there was a slight respite from the water, and I noticed some people de-bagging from the dry sacks. I don’t think they realised that the swamp was coming up. Getting through it was slower and took a lot longer. It was relentless and smelly, and also a lot tougher on the shins and ankles, because you could not see what you were about to walk on. This was not good for my ankle, but the pain on my shins and knees as they took a relentless battering kind of took my mind off that.

After a while I just accepted the unpredictable battering that would await each ankle, shin or knee as I waded through. Upon (eventually) exiting the swamp, we disturbed a wild pig, who fortunately seemed more scared of us and just glared at us from the jungle. We’d heard that these things can charge at you, and that escape is best sourced by climbing a tree. I was in no mood for tree climbing, and didn’t feel at my most agile, so was happy to leave the pig in peace and move on.

We soon arrived at the checkpoint, so I took the usual time to fuel up and get ready for the next part. The next section was one of beauty, along stunning beaches and views of the river. It was still relatively cool, so I just absorbed the sights, felt happy in the moment and kept moving on.

I was with Sue for a small part after leaving the checkpoint, and before long we ran through a village, where loads of school children were there to greet and high-five us. That was great fun, and one little lad even gave Sue and I a flower each, which was very touching.

After the village I was moving at a good pace, and soon caught up with Sarah. I spend most of the day with her from this point, and it was good just chatting. The rest of the day was to be a mixture of track and jungle trail. Given the time of day, the heat was now rising, and during the latter parts of the day I got in the habit of carrying extra water so that I could at times cool off by soaking my buff.

At one point during this stage I came across fellow UK competitor Will, who looked like he needed cooling down, so I was able to baptise him at the side of the road. Will had a good tactic of covering distance early on before the heat rose, and he would then slow it down and manage his body temperature accordingly.

From this point it was a case of following a dusty track with a few modest climbs. I saw the day out with Sarah, and we were both very happy to make it to the finish at around 4pm.

We would be staying on a stunning beach, so I found a suitably scenic place to hang my hammock, and then had a much-needed wash. I hadn’t had a wash the previous day, so this was extremely welcoming. Steve was already in the water, and was at hand to take the piss out of my builder’s tan. Love that guy!

After the day before, when I finished close to darkness, it was nice to have the time to catch up with everyone and have a good wash. It was funny to see Takashi Okada, a crazy professional Japanese wrestler, come in. He was carrying a massive backpack (must have been 20kg+). He was very popular with the bombeiros, and shortly after getting in he had his Spider-Man mask on, striking a pose and getting involved in pictures with them all.

Geoff, Sue’s husband, also came in late on, and this was the last day for him since he had entered the 4-day event. The guy was an absolute athlete since he had been out there for an awful long time during those 4 days, and had limited time for rest between the stages. He’d carved it out, and I was chuffed to bits for him. I made an effort to stay up for a bit so I could help him put up his hammock. Geoff and Sue would more than repay that favour at the end of the long stage.

Tomorrow was the long day at 108km, and we had to get started at 04:30, so it would mean rise and shine at around 3am. Andrew (one of the medics) had heavily strapped my ankle, and it now felt very supported. I certainly needed this for the huge distance that was coming up. I felt pretty confident of getting a good pace going, doing my own thing and trying to make the afternoon cut-off. It would be a big ask, but certainly worth a go.

Thursday – Stage 5, Distance 108km (58km covered to CP5)

As per the briefing notes, this was ‘The long one’.

The day started with the mandatory force-feeding of porridge. I made the mistake of porridge everyday at MDS in 2013, and I’d done it again. At least I’d left the macadamia nuts behind this time.

We were off at 4:30, and the head torch had been dusted down for this first part. The first section through CP1 and CP2 were straightforward by all accounts, and the terrain was quite manageable, being mostly dust track. During the darkness I saw plenty of creatures, mostly in the form of spiders and snakes. You could see eyes of spiders everywhere. Since I felt good, and it was cooler by jungle standards, I was not taking too long at the early checkpoints and pretty much sailed through both of those.

The fun for me started after leaving CP2. After passing through a very picturesque beach, I entered the jungle, where I started following the yellow tape. This was proving hard since following pale yellow tape in a jungle of many shades of green can be quite tricky. Also, the marking seemed slightly more casual than previous days, and I kept missing turnings and having to backtrack and pick up the trail. I figured the fault was probably with myself on account of being very tired, plus I do have previous form for getting lost in really obvious situations.

Anyhow, I pushed on through what was an endless maze of jungle. Eventually, I took a 5-minute sit down to get some food and high-5 powder on board, and that was when Luis arrived on the scene. It was good to have some company since I had been on my own most of the day so far, so I carried on with him.

Before long, there was an almighty smell of cat’s piss, and a very clear long growling sound close to my left-hand side. A jaguar. Although I wanted to see one, I was not about to part the branches and peer in. I looked behind slightly nervously, and Luis said “Jaguar”, and indicated that we should move on swiftly. Sounded like a pretty good idea. About half an hour later I had the same thing happen again, but this time on my right hand side. Weird!

After another 30 minutes, that part started to make sense when we bumped into HenriqueandMarlon walking towards us. There was significant confusion between all of us, and after much debate Luis and I realised we must have somehow turned back on ourselves during one of our many corrections on missing tape markings. I was gutted, and figured this was probably going to cost me at least 2 hours and that pretty much ruined any chance of making the cut off. Also, it was getting very hot and humid, and I was using up my water very quickly.

We needed to crack on and get to the next stage, but because of these errors there was now a long way to go. Luis was slower than me on the descents, which were very steep and treacherous, but I waited for him. I felt a strong sense of camaraderie towards him, and could see he was pleased to see I would be sticking with him until we got out of this jungle maze. Eventually, we made the checkpoint and Luis and I hugged it out. That part had been an adventure.

The heat was very extreme today, and this was becoming a greater concern to me. At this checkpoint the medics told us that many people were getting lost and were having heat-related problems. This was becoming an issue for everyone involved.

Also, the distance to the next stage was an incredible 19km, which was a huge distance given the heat, not to mention half of it being very difficult jungle terrain. I was assured that there would be a mid-way water stop, but I still took 4-5 litres out with me. What followed was a very steep ascent along a track, and then more ascent and descent through the jungle for two hours.

Upon leaving the jungle, Luis and I turned left onto a road for the final 10km to CP4. I saw Will sat at the side of the road in the shade and decided to join him. I was not feeling good at all. Luis pushed on, and I wished him well. Will told me there was a truck moving up and down the road delivering water, but unfortunately it never showed up. I was not out of water, but I was consuming it quickly and becoming concerned.

Temperatures were up to 45c, and my body temperature was rising. I was sticking with Will, who was encouraging me to stop regularly. I was elevating my feet and lifting my top up, and basically trying anything to release body heat. It was ridiculous, and I was having to stop every 15 minutes. Eventually, after another enforced stop I tried to get up, and saw black spots and felt very dizzy. Will took one look at me, and told me to stay down. He could hear some music not far down the road, and went to investigate, seeking water to cool me down.

Shortly after he returned, and I was relieved to hear that he had found a stream further up to the left. This, bizarrely, was near CP4, but the race route dictated that we had to a right-hand turn and a 5km loop before we could check into CP4. Regardless, we decided to cool off in the stream before the loop, and Will pretty much ordered to get in the stream. I remained there with Will for a good hour, and allowed my body to cool those vital degrees.

Before entering the stream, I was basically talking bollocks, and in strong denial of just how bad things had got. Will was an absolute legend, and made sure I stayed put for long enough to get my body temperature down and re-hydrate. After this, we pushed on together and completed the 5km loop to CP4. By this time, I could talk sensibly again, and I kind of sensed that Will was keeping a careful eye on me in that respect!

During this loop, I was gutted to see a truck go past with Sue and Richard sat in the back. This meant they had withdrawn from the race, and I really felt for them. They’d both put so much into the event, and I know it was not a decision that either would have taken lightly. Today had been brutal, and I had just had a very lucky escape myself.

By now, making the cut off was an impossibility, so when we finished the stage really did not matter. I now made sense to make sure we finished the stage in good shape and high spirits. We both decided to have our dinner at CP4, and as luck would have it I had two cup-a-soups left, which I was happy to share with Will. This CP was located at a lovely Brazilian lady’s house, and she was at hand to provide us with boiling water for our food.

After this, Will and I pushed on in the dark for the final 9km to CP5. Along this route there were plenty of spiders and snakes to step over. We made it to camp at around 9pm, and it was a case of getting the hammock up asap and to get some rest. Today, I been a 60km day, which had tested me to my limits and put me in a situation I had never been before.

However, I’d made it, and psychologically tomorrow was only 50km, so this was a massive positive. Surely it couldn’t be as bad as today…

Friday – Stage 5, Distance 108km (50km covered to finish)

Sleep came very easy the previous night, which was not at all surprising given that the limits had been well and truly pushed. I had packed my bag the previous night, so got up at 5:30am in anticipation of a 6:30 start.

It was slightly strange-looking around camp, since it was only partially full. Those not there had either withdrawn or made the cut off and pushed on. I was glad not to see Steve, since that meant he had made the cut off. I knew he had a good chance of that, because I asked after him at CP4, and it certainly sounded like he had a good chance of making CP5.

Since the previous day had taken me so long, any thoughts of a highly placed finish had firmly left my head, and it was all about getting this 50km done and hopefully making it to camp as soon as possible. In my mind, once we reached the end of stage 5, the finishers medal was in the bag and the chances of me not completing the event non-existent. This was because the final stage was a 24km flat course along a beach, so the ‘easiest’ stage of all.

That said, there was a massive task ahead, and I was taking nothing for granted, based on the worsening state of the ankle and the previous day’s issues with the heat.

I started the stage with Luis, Joel and Steve, and tried to match their pace through the jungle trail. Again, it seemed very hot , even at this early hour, so my initial focus was to get some good mileage cleared early on. The jungle trail was the usual affair of hostile terrain and some vicious climbs and ascents just when you need them least.

By the end of the trail and 2 hours in, I decided to take 5 minutes rest so as to get some fuel in, as well as some High 5 powder. I then continued on my own, and subsequently joined a road which took me to a beach, where I found CP6. Just before this CP, I passed a coach and there I saw Enrique and Andy, who must have withdrawn the previous day. They were pleased for me, and I could see no hint of self pity in their eyes. Top guys, but that was the mark of every single competitor who had made it out to this event. Everyone knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park, and accepted many of the risks and potential DNF reasons were out of their hands.

I took 10 minutes at CP6, and pushed on. At Alto Chao a Brazilian lady came running down and with a sign and showered me with confetti. That was such a nice gesture, and it really filled me with positive energy. I was well on the way to CP7, and feeling very good. Soon enough, I came across the first of many river crossings. It was all slightly strange, and it all seemed to be a merry-go-round of competitors going one way or another.

At one stage I saw Brook (who must have been a good hour ahead of me) going the other way, so assumed I had to follow some kind of loop before doubling back on myself. Onwards, I pushed and caught up with Christoph and Aussie Steve as I crossed another river. I left the shore with both of them, and before long we came across Mike. He knew he should have been significantly ahead of us, and helpfully pointed out that we may have missed CP7. We certainly had, but all looked baffled as to how.

We had to double back for half an hour until we located CP7 and then reverse and continue to CP8. These types of things absolutely destroy you when you are tired and you have to factor in extra mileage. That said, it could have been worse, and soon enough we were back on track, and being very careful following the route.

After some time, we reached what looked like another huge river crossing, but this time there was no rope. A boat was midway across, and the guys on board were waving their arms. The crossing was huge and deep, and there was no way I was swimming across that with no rope. We then remembered that this was the part where a boat was supposed to take us across. That was the boat, but in true comedy fashion it had broken down. Fortunately, the small media boat offered to take us across the river to CP8.

At CP8 we came across Dan, one of the medics and a great bloke. The poor guy had been stranded at this CP for well over a day, and looked like he needed some company. My feet needed drying out as well as sorting the odd blister, so Dan offered to sort this, and administered a hot shot to my blister. I had some dry clean socks in my bag, so put them on in an effort to keep as dry as possible.

I then left the CP with Christoph and pushed onto CP9. There was now only 20km to go, and the end of this stage was in sight. The march onto CP9 and CP10 were comfortable and mostly flat. CP9 to CP10 had its challenges when we had to clamber across quite a few boulders along the beach. However, after all the monotony of the flat beach before, this it was a good bit of fun to do some climbing. On route to CP10 it was clear that we were going to make that at sunset, but would probably have to do CP10 to the finish in darkness.

The head torch came out, and Jack, another medic, said the distance was 4km and a case of following the coast. Sounded simple enough!

We left, but everything became very tricky in the dark. It was hard to follow the tape and/or footprints, and there were no glow sticks out highlighting the route. During this stage, a huge blister that had formed on my right sole burst, leaving me in absolute agony. I needed the use of Christoph’s poles to move forward for a short while.

After 2 hours of this nonsense - and remember it was only 4k - we were lost in the dark. Christoph and I were bickering a little by this point, and had different theories on which direction we should head in. The only thing we really agreed on was that we should stick together. Eventually, we were able to pick up the trail, and knew we were on our way to the end of this stage. I arrived at the finish, and saw Sarah, Sue and Geoff - a a sight for sore eyes. The previous 48 hours had been so very hard physically and mentally, but I had made it.

Geoff and Sue were absolute legends, and sorted out my hammock for me while I had my feet seen to by Amy. The poor girl had the unfortunate task of washing my feet and smelling my toxic odor. Next, I wanted to get an e-mail to Rachel just to let her know I was OK, so I took care of that.

I then had my dinner, and just sat up chilling around camp. I was absolutely buzzing and full of adrenaline. There was no way I was ready for sleep, and I spent a few hours seeing in other competitors and just reflecting on everything.

There was an element of sadness since I knew this was the last night, and I was getting very used to this way of life. I stayed up with Sarah until just after midnight hoping to see Carl come over the line, but admitted defeat at 12:30 and retired to my hammock.

I lay back, content, and looking forward to the final day - and a beer!

Saturday – Stage 6, Distance 25km

I was up and about quite early, still wired from the previous day, so decided to get my feet sorted by the medic, Amy, early on. I then had a look for Steve, and we sat for 30 minutes exchanging harrowing tales of the previous 48 hours. It was good to see him, and the fact he’d made the long stage in around 24 hours meant he should be assured of a very deserved top 10 finish.

We found out that the race start was pushed back to around 10-ish, so there was plenty of time to chill out and get ready for the final push. I viewed today as a bit of a fun run. I decided to run as much as I could, since prolonged injury post-race didn’t really matter to me, and I had a plan to eat and drink solid throughout October and into November if necessary. By now, the pack was as light as it was going to get, and after taking a teary farewell picture of my crocs (the wife would be pleased), I was ready to get started. It was a great atmosphere at the start, and after the usual countdown we began.

I got off to a hobble-like start, but before long was in a good running routine. Today was all beach, it was flat, and we had a few water crossings thrown in. I spent most of the run doing my own thing and thinking over the whole event. I had numerous conversations along the way with fellow competitors I was either passing or being overtaken by.

Given that we were on the beach we were exposed to the heat, which again seemed to be in the 40s. That part was tough going, but today the finish was the finish, and a cool beer awaited me. The finish into Santarem came sooner than I thought, and after clambering over a beach wall I suddenly saw the finish line. After a very unexpected wobbly-lip moment, I composed myself and ran for the finishing line.

It was truly amazing to cross the line, and Shirley was on hand to place my clay medal around my neck. Sue and Geoff were there also, and to my right was a packed bar with some very ecstatic competitors who had finished before me. Steve was quickly on hand to congratulate me, and remove my pack for me. It was then time to have a beer with the rest of the jungle family, with who I had shared the most amazing, tough and uplifting experience.

Post-Mortem - what I would have done more/less of

In my opinion, the way to train for this event is to do plenty of off-road, uneven terrain, and the majority of my training was done this way. I also ventured out into the local woods and found plenty of steep climbs to get stuck into.

I found such climbing to best replicate the type of climbs we would be facing in the jungle. Building in circuits and repeats of these climbing sessions came in very useful.

Getting loads of road-based mileage in does not really do anything to replicate the type of surface you will be running on, so it’s best to get your ankles used to unpredictable terrain.

In the last couple of months, I introduced either longer back to back runs, or running morning and night. Given that I work full time, I didn’t really get to do as much as I wanted, but it was the most efficient use of time to do it this way.

With regards to the pack, I only really started ramping up the pack weight with a month or so to go. Its obviously very important to train with full pack weight, so you can get used to the feel of your pack, test your hydration strategy and be confident you can access everything you need to whilst on the move.

Finally, factoring in building up your core strength is vital since the terrain, ascent and descent will test the limits. I had a very good PT, Ryan Hodgson, leading up to this, and I put a lot of effort into core stability work in the months leading up to it. When I suffered my ankle injury, this core strength definitely saved the day.

With regards to heat I live in Jersey, and we have no heat or humidity chambers of anything like that, So I simply hoped for the best and planned to adopt the tactic of easing myself in.

So, in summary I wouldn’t do less of anything.

With regards to more, I would have started trained with the heavier pack at an earlier stage of the training, and at least 2 months before.

Of course, I would have trained more, but I have work and family commitments, and given that this running gig is a hobby I was pretty happy with how I prepared.

Kit choices – What worked for me

Below is a summary of my kit list:

Clothes

I used a tried and tested combination of a SS top (X-Bionic), compression shorts (2XU), pants (X-Bionic)m x-socks, calf guards (Compressport), buff, cycling gloves and Inov8 Mudclaws.

The kit was great, and the only relatively unused kit I had were my debris gaiters and sunglasses.

Pack/Hydration/Medical

The OMM32 pack and front pack were tried and tested, and worked for me. I went with front bottles so I could distribute the weight. I also found having front water bottles useful, and more beneficial in managing my fluid intake. I also used soft flasks, and stashed these in the OMM side pockets.

There is a lot of mandatory medical kit. Foot care is essential, so talc and vaseline is necessary in my opinion. Hand sanitiser gel and a strong suncream is also a must.

Camp Kit

You cannot go wrong with the Hennessy Hammock. A great piece of kit. A silk liner is all that is required to keep you warm at night.

You also need something for your feet, so lift flop flops are fine.

Not much is really needed in the way of spare clothes, but a light pair of shorts and a short sleeved top are useful to have.

 

Food choices

I had a variety of Expedition meals for breakfast and dinner, bringing one of each per day.

The dinners worked, and I went for a variety of curry-based or pasta-based ones.

Porridge didn’t really work for me, although I forced it down. In hindsight I’d probably have taken a couple of porridge options, and added a few more dinners (to have as breakfast) instead.

With regards to in-race nutrition, the best policy for me is variety whilst being comfortable that the snacks you have selected work for you and have been tested.

For me, this is why training with full pack weight and performing long back to back runs is very important. This way you really get to know roughly how many snacks you need to consume, say per hour, and roughly how much distance you cover per hour.

By keeping a training log of these simple stats, you can do a much better job in planning your race nutrition strategy.

Would I recommend the event?

Absolutely.

I wanted a challenge and I certainly got one. The event is very tough.

However, the whole experience was second to none, the jungle environment fascinating and the camaraderie among the competitors and medics amazing.

Would I do it again?

I think so, yes!

Written by Mimi Anderson - http://marvellousmimi.com

The Jungle Ultra is a 230k self sufficiency staged race over 6 days in the Jungles of Peru.

Peru is a country I have always wanted to visit and to be given the opportunity to race in the Jungle was a great excuse.  Although I did have my worries, lots of bugs, snakes and for me the worst fear were the river crossings, but if you don’t confront your fears they will never go away and will always be a hinderance – time to take a step into the unknown.

I met up with Debbie,Tobias, Kevin, Steve and Chris at Heathrow where we had different short haul flights to Madrid, then continued our journey to Lima together and were split up for the final flight to Cuzco – now our adventure was about to begin.

My marvellous friend from South Africa Guy Jennings at arrived the day before, but was waiting at Cuzco along with some of the others for the long bus trip to base camp.  We clambered into our mini buses and set off on a six hour journey, travelling along twisting and narrow mountain roads, with stunning views at every turn.  There were occassions when the road disappeared into the valley below (I kid you not!) I had to close my eyes otherwise I would have got out of the bus and walked.

We stopped off at a village to stretch our legs, what an amazing place it was, full of colour, buzzing with activity and the most wonderful coffee shop I have ever been too, camps coffee (you know the liquid stuff) and hot water from a thermos flask, but tasted delicious.  Guy bought some local bread and cheese which was extremely yummy.

Over 6 hours later we arrived at the base camp in the Cloud Forest which joins the Andes Mountain range with the Amazon basin and Manu Park, 3,400 meters above sea level, it felt like standing on top of the world.

It was dark and the rain had started to fall which didn’t make getting our luggage out of the mini buses down the camp very easy, thank goodness for my dolly trolley.  Our homes for the next couple of days was to be two men (or women) tents; I shared with Debbie who like me talks a lot so you can imagine when everyone was tucked up in their sleeping bags Debs and I continued to chat! (we did do it quietly promise!)

I’m not a huge fan of bugs and creepy crawlies so you can imagine how I felt when I had needed a pee in the middle of the night – I lay there trying to think of something else, when this didn’t work there was nothing for it but to grab my slipslops and head torch and head out into the unknown!

Having searched around a bit I found a nice spot checked there was nothing nearby , all clear, time for a pee (with head torch off so I didn’t attract any unwanted visitors) You know those moments when you want things to happen quickly in case a snake decides to come a bit you in the bottom – this was one of those occasions when I peed for Britain – on and on and on………..good grief, it was a relief to get back into my sleeping bag in one piece feeling quite smug that I had been so brave

The following day was kit and medical checks and collecting our race numbers.  My number was 101 which made me giggle as I thought of the TV programme Room 101 where you can send something you don’t like down the rubbish shoot – perhaps I would be doing that with my number at the end of the race, who knows.  From where the tents were pitched to the breakfast hut was a downhill walk along a track then steps, this was easy and no one gave it a second thought, the way back however was a different matter, I would find myself having to stop at least twice coming up the hill as I couldn’t breath.  Much to my relief everyone else was having the same problems with the altitude.

Backpacks had been packed and repacked, weight shaved where possible until there was nothing more I could take out to make it lighter, starting weight was 10kg which I was very pleased.  On the start line the locals had made each of us wonderful bracelets out of Huayruro seeds, a good luck charm. For me they bought back lots of wonderful memories as my father used to have thousands similar seeds which for betting in card games.

Just before the start myself and Helen walked up the road (not a road by UK standards) to have a pee, both agreeing that running up this for half a km at the beginning of a race wasn’t going to be easy or pleasant.

After a few words from the local Mayor it was all systems go…..well the legs worked but the breathing couldn’t keep up so I found myself walking and running, not the way I usually like to start a race, but I needed to get ahead of as many people as possible as the next section was single track and I didn’t want to hold anyone up.  On a positive note I was running with Guy who is usually way ahead of me – poor man had to put up with my endless chat for the next 10k or so.

Leaving the road we headed into the Cloud Forest along single track which was beautiful as it meandered down to the river below.  At one point the track became extremely narrow and I was worried about loosing my footing and falling, probably best not to look down.

As we got closer to the river the track became steeper but the scenery continued to be amazing.  Much to my surprise and shock I got stung on the bottom by a kamikaze wasp, OUCH – not sure what I had done to upset it.

We reached the river in good time with only Drew and Tobias ahead – not that I was being competitive! grabbed some water then clambered up the mud slope out of the river bed and proceeded to stagger up the steep track to the “road”  Guy who is like a mountain goat (even with his two hip resurfacing operations) was way ahead of me and didn’t seem to be puffing or panting, unlike me who sounded like an old train as I heaved my body upwards occasionally stopping to take in the view (ha ha!)  It was a huge relief to finally reach the top and get my breath back.

The last 21k of the day was downhill along the road.  Let me describe the road.  Its full of huge holes, rocks, landslides, waterfalls flowing down and over them so not difficult running but I didn’t want you to think we were running on a lovely tarmac surface!  My breathing became easier with every step, beautifully coloured butterflies adorned the roads, waterfalls were beautiful and there were different coloured flowers at every turn, it really was a beautiful run.

I arrived in camp in a great time and 3rd overall for the day, a good 34k.  Guy unfortunately had to take it easy on the last section as it played havoc with his hips (he beat me easily on all the other days).

Camp that night was at 1,600m above sea level at a lodge called Cock of the Rock which is the name of one of their local birds.  We were spoilt with a wonderful dip in the river, showers (very basic) and the hammock station was under cover in case it rained. The Woolley Monkeys thought it would be fun to try and nick our food!

Putting up my hammock for the first time wasn’t as difficult as I had thought it would be – luckily for me Drew knew how to put them up so he did help me.  Later that night once all the hammocks were set up the supports started to come away which had Tobias not noticed would have resulted in a domino effect!  RD and crew called and eventually everything was sorted, time for bed.  That night I froze, I don’t think I have ever been so cold in a race before (not even in the Arctic) I had no more clothes to put on so I wrapped myself up in my flysheet which helped a bit; for once I was relieved to see the sun come up.

Day 2 – 32km

Getting dressed this morning wasn’t very pleasant as all my kit was still wet from the day before and I was struggling to get my body temperature up – my teeth were chattering so much I thought they might wear out!  Drew very kindly lent me his lightweight down jacket which instantly made a huge difference enabling me to eat my breakfast without chattering teeth!

The course today was to take us into the Jungle proper which I was very excited about.  First we had a 14k road section (remember what I said about roads!) which lead us to a large village where all the locals came out to cheer us on, the children waved flags and ran up the street with us.  The 2nd CP was just before the left hand turn into the Jungle.  I topped my water bottles up and headed down the jungle path.

I have to admit I was feeling rather excited, what would I find, perhaps a snake or a large hairy spider!  The going underfoot was muddy, the track was covered in a layer of fallen leaves and I had to watch my footing as there were roots that stuck up from the ground.  The canopy overhead hid many amazing birds and bugs of all sizes.  The hugs would drop onto your arm as you ran past a low hanging branch, these had to be removed quickly before they decided that you were dinner!

Quite happy in my own little world,  looking around, listening to the sounds of the jungle I had my first WOW moment.  The most beautiful large butterfly I have ever seen fluttered past me and danced around my head.  It had florescent blue coloured wings.  I remember stopping dead in my tracks for what seemed like ages looking at this stunning insect, eventually managing to get a picture of it but sadly with its wings closed – still beautiful.

To my surprise about 3 km further down the track was CP3 which was supposed to have been 10k from the last CP, either they were in the wrong place or I was going very fast!! (as it turned out the CP was in the wrong place – shucks!)

Heading towards the final CP of the day took longer than anticipated, the jungle was warming up and humidity levels were high.  There were lots of water crossings, in fact at one point I had to wade down a river which was lovely and cooling on the feet.  For the first time I saw long lines of large ants carrying leaves, quite an amazing sight.

It was a huge relief to see the CP.  I was low on water feeling very hot and bothered, but after replenishing my bottles I didn’t hang around as I just wanted to get finished, it was after all only 6k to go.

Having left the CP my energy levels were low so decided that I was going to enjoy the last section, not put any pressure on myself, take photos and take in the scenery;  this I did and loved every minute, even did a bit of singing!

Every competitor had to go through the same routine on arrival at camp; take shoes and socks off and soak our feet in a mild solution of antiseptic to avoid our feet becoming infected, I quite enjoyed this as it was 10 minutes of sitting down chatting!

The camp we were staying in belonged to the rangers, no hammocks tonight but very large 4 man tents; Once my pack was safely put into my tent Guy and I went down to the river for a dip – Well I say a dip, Guy just got in, where as muggins here took ages to get myself into the cold water but it was worth the wait as the cool refreshing water washed over my legs.

Race briefing for the next day was due to start at 6.30pm, unfortunately at about 6pm the heavens opened it the rain came down, no one in their right mind was stepping outside their tents.  Our tent sprung a leak in the roof so being girls of many talents we taped it up – brilliant.  However the rain continued to come down, the tent roof began to bow with the pressure of the water all hands on deck as we pushed the tent roof upwards causing gallons of water to fall to the ground.  Poor Helen moved round the tent as the night went on to get away from the water which seemed to be spookily attracted to her and in the early hours of the morning one of the tents collapsed (thankfully on one was inside at the time)

Day 3:

Todays start was delayed by an hour due to the heavy rain, but as soon as it stopped and the sun made an appearance the temperatures rose as did the humidity levels.

The first 5k was a lovely run, the last section along a very fast flowing river.  My heart rate was pretty high at this point, not because of the running but because to cross the river we were to be put in pairs on a zip wire, not something I was particularly looking forward to with my fear of water.

On arriving at the CP our numbers and times were taken and timing was then stopped until we reached the other side.  Guy was great and gave me a big hug as he knew that for me this was a big challenge  and I had to fight hard to hold back the tears.  Finally it was time for Kenny and myself to go.  The harness was too big for me so I was a wee bit concerned that I would fall out of it, but they assured me everything was quite safe.  Once on my way across it wasn’t quite so bad, but I did have to laugh or it would have been tears of fear falling down my face!

Once on the otherside  I was extremely relieved and continued on my journey.  The stage today was known as Logging as we were to go through the local logging routes.  The devastation these cause to the jungle is unbelievable, mud up to our waists, slipping and sliding everywhere (I don’t think I have ever been so muddy before) and each time I got covered in mud there would miraculously appear another stream or river to cross.

As I ran along another fast flowing river towards the final CP of the day my heart rate went sky high, at some point I was going to have to cross this river and as far as I was concerned there was no way I could wade or swim across it was far too fast flowing for me.  I thought my biggest nightmare was about to come true, I was terrified, how was I going to do this, I had to cross the river to finish the stage, even telling myself to man up was going to be a problem.  The CP guys were cheering and waving their arms about as I ran towards them, all I could do was burst into tears when I reached them saying I couldn’t go across the river, I would drown if I did.  My fear of the fast flowing water had fuddled my brain, not enabling me to think properly or remember what had been said at the race briefing, there was in fact a boat to take runners across – you can imagine my relief, although even in a boat it wasn’t very pleasant.  Once on the otherside of the river I kept going, but mentally it took me a long time to get over what I had just been through and I did pathetically find myself crying for the next half an hour for no reason at all.

Mud was everywhere, I slipped and slid my way along the course and at one point starting singing “mud mud glorious mud” – now I know how a hippo must feel!

Arriving in camp was glorious.  We were privileged to be staying in a local village who later that evening put on a wonderful display of music and dance together with some fantastic food. During the ceremony they passed around a small fish for us to sample that had been cooked in bamboo in its own juices, absolutely delicious.

I slept like a baby that night, the only thing I remember waking me up in my Hammock was Guy who kept on prodding me.  I thought nothing of it until the following morning when he said”christ woman, for someone so small you snore very loud”  OOPS! (it was I would like to add the only evening I snored!)

Day 4

All the runners woke early to prepare themselves for another day.  I had slept like a baby but apparently no-one else had enjoyed such a blissful nights sleep in their hammocks due to a certain person snoring!  I did wonder why Guy kept on to wake me up during the night, I just thought his hammock was FAR too close and wished he would stop being so restless – ooops!

Todays stage was lovingly known as “The Lull” and was a mere 26k – simples! FAR FROM IT

In all the races I have done this stage has to be the hardest.  Not only because of the route but as it turned out we did 10k more than we were supposed to have done. On my notes for this stage all I have put is “HORRID”

I was excited about today,  we were privileged to be running in Manu Park which usually isn’t opened to members of the public unless they are with an official guide; boy were we in for a treat.  Because today really was tough my mind seems to have blocked a lot of it off, but from the village we meandered down tracks towards a CP at the river where our time was stopped while we waited for the boat to come and take us across; a great time for a chat and photos.

Once across the other side of the river the timer was started again and we continued our journey into the heart of the jungle.  The going got tougher and tougher and the distances seemed to take forever.  Myself, Dominic and Henrik were all running fairly close to each other which was great and lovely to have the company, especially as the tracks were becoming narrower and a bit hairy in places.  Running wasn’t too bad but we did have to watch our footing and try not to trip over roots.  On one occasion we had to carefully maneuver around a wasps nest and a large number of very large ants which of course ended up all over our backs but thankfully we were all able to wipe them off each others packs or it could have been quite nasty.  We stopped not far from the river to look at the amazing shapes and beauty of the trees, they really were quite stunning.

The track now really did become extremely narrow, so narrow that in one place it had collapsed leaving a gap which had to be crossed.  Sounds easy but when you looked at the distance you had to fall it was pretty scary. The only way across was by hanging onto a vine (felt a bit like Tarzan at this point but not as nimble!)  I didn’t like this section and if I’m being completely honest it terrified me as pulling yourself across wasn’t easy.  Thankfully the three of us helped and supported each other.

Eventually we saw the river, hurray not long to go now.  We clambered down to the boat which took us across the river where we then had to climb up to the CP using a rope for support.  Muggins had slightly lost the plot at this stage as it had taken far longer than anticipated to get to this point and as I climbed to the CP I had a camera thrust in my face…..not good timing, especially when you think you only have another 2k to go and we are told that the finish is a further 10k away………….you can imagine what we all said!

At this point I needed to have 5 minutes away from everyone.  The CP staff were fantastic and their usual cheerful selves but unfortunately it wasn’t what I required at that particular point in my journey.  Having filled my water bottles I left the CP and waited just round the corner for the boys.  Dominic followed fairly quickly but Hendrik decided he wanted to spend a bit longer.  We were joined by the South African photographer Theo.

We followed the red marker flags further into the jungle discussing how far we thought we had actually run and surely this must be longer than 26km – either that or we were going much slower than we thought!

The next section was by far the toughest.  Two hours later we kept thinking the finish must be just round the corner, but no sign of life could be seen or heard.  Then came the hill – well it wasn’t exactly a hill it was near vertical muddy slope and it went on and on and on and on.  Poor Theo spent his time trying to prevent his camera getting covered in mud, for every step taken you would slide down about two and any branches that were available to hold onto for support were yet again covered in bloody ants!  I would stop every so often to admire the view (get my breath back!) and make sure that Dominic was ok as he had fallen behind.

Getting to the top was a fantastic and a great sense of achievement, surely we must be nearly there?  If there is an up there is always a down and yes, the down was just as bad and as long as the up. However, we got very excited when we heard voices coming towards us, yippee we are nearly there.  NO ….it was some of the crew bringing us extra water.  I was fine but Theo had run out and had been sharing mine, so great timing.  We asked how much further to go and they said one and half hours!  WELL a bit of a muttly moment; we were not happy bunnies.

Just over 9 hours later we ran to the outskirts of a village, I didn’t want to get excited at this point just in case it wasn’t the finish, but then more people appeared, more noise and clapping and I ran to the finish line followed by Theo taking photos.  I have never in all my life been so relieved to get to the finish of a day, a day I thought would never end.  Physically I was fine, but mentally it had broken me.

The crew as always came to my rescue, sorted out a shower and feet then I felt fine again.  It was good to see everyone finish today, great running by all and proud to be part of such a great group of runners.

Once again I slept like a baby, although I didn’t snore!

Long Stage 65km

The long stage had been shortened because of the extra 10k that we had done yesterday, although personally I would have been happy with the original distance.

The first 15k was uphill, through the village we had been staying near, encouraged and supported by all the locals who had come out to wave us on our way.  The route took us over a bridge and towards the next village where we would find CP 2 located on the river.  There was now 45km of running along the river with well over 50 river crossings – not something I was looking forward to.

Having sorted out my water bottles I continued along the river and met up with Kenny who was taking stuff out of his shoe.  I waved chatted briefly and continued on my way knowing he would catch me up.  The first river crossing wasn’t too bad and I felt extremely brave.  Kenny overtook me and I waved him good bye.  I was enjoying the scenery and even managed to spot an otter like animal coming out of the water.

The next river crossing looked slightly more of a challenge.  slow flowing water to begin with, fast in the middle then slow again.  Panic set in at the thought of having to cross this, but to my delight I saw Kenny standing in the middle of the river waiting for me – how marvellous was that.  He knew I had a fear of water so had waited for me instead of going on, that was a truely wonderful thing to have done and something I will never forget.  We stayed together for the remainder of the day, two mad Scotsmen exchanging stories and laughing.  Running along the river was wonderful, we saw abandoned lorries, locals fishing, washing their clothes, or just out for the day having fun.  Invariably I would fall over in the shallow part of the river and always in front of witnesses – very embarrassing!

At one point the branch of a tree caught my pack and as it twanged off hundreds of biting bugs landed all over me, it felt as though I was on fire as they bit into me.  Kenny was trying to get them off, hands and body were going into weird and wonderful positions in an attempt to get the little critters off me and prevent any further bits, the easiest solution was to get into the river and splash water all over me – horrid.

On leaving the river we re-entered the jungle then back towards another river where we were ferried across for the final climb up to the village where we were staying for the night.  A fantastic day, great company, amazing views and quite simply a WOW day.

The following day was our rest day and we were treated to archery, dancing and songs from the villagers a wonderful experience.

Our last morning and we were all up extremely early ready for the start – the sun hadn’t even come up at that stage!  The last day is always a mad dash and I really didn’t think that my legs were capable of dashing, but as always my body surprises me and I felt fantastic.  We ran through farmers fields, over a bridge and through the large jungle town of Pilcopata.  The whole town had come out to see us cross the finish line which was fantastic and extremely emotional.  I had finished, completed a race I never even thought I would have the courage to start, but once again I proved to myself that I am capable of more than I think I am have begun to conquer my fear of water.

This is a race you must try, its an awesome location, great crew and organisation, plus you will have the adventure of a life time.  What made it so special for me was the wonderful group of people I was with, each and every one of us got on and shared this great experience whether a runner, medic or crew.  I was very proud of my friend Guy Jennings who after not just one but two hip resurfacing operations fought his way back to fitness and came 3rd overall, a moment I will never forget.

I have missed out so many things in this report and haven’t found the words to describe some of the wonderful things I saw and experienced but I hope it gives you an idea of what happened during my wonderful week in the Jungles of Peru.

Written by Sharon Wells - https://shazruns.wordpress.com

Well it all is a blur now. Last night  I completed the 100k Jurassic Coast Ultra (61 miles according to Garmin), never at any point did I think ‘I’m a knackered runner get me out of here’ and I didn’t fall over so I think I can count this as a success.

Friday night hubby took me to Exmouth to catch the coach to the start. We sat in the car waiting for it to arrive. There was a gaggle of Hi Vis bodies loitering nearby, eating Pizza and watering a tree! I scanned the group. Not too many beards, that’s good (FYI serious ultrarunners all have beards-fact) but hang on a minute I can only see a couple of females, oh dear and not a white hair in sight on anyone. At this point I could have run for the hills. Shaz what have you done? Whatever were you  thinking? You are out of your league with this one? ****!

I slithered reluctantly from the car and boarded the bus, shut my eyes and got some kip.

On I arrival, I peed, registered, listened to the pre run briefing and peed again. 2:07 we were off.

Obviously it was dark and the trouble with that is you can’t see anything and I find this means I listen to my body’s complaints. Oh my did it complain. The right Achilles spent most of the first 10 miles moaning. It kept ouching and I persistently told it to shut up and then it would behave and the knee would start. I settled in to a nice rhythm behind a gentleman who was running a consistent pace. I am sure this was really annoying for him, but it was working for me and the group behind me. This lasted for about 4 miles until he needed a comfort break, slightly embarrassing when I almost followed him!

I was very glad when the sun started to make an appearance

Not sure what the sunrise was like after this, which is the trouble with running West in the morning!

The first part was pretty much flat, but some of the terrain was tough, slippery wooden bridges, narrow paths, tufted grass and then we came to the shingle beach………..

1 mile of this, tough but actually gave my legs a break as only walking was possible. Please note, not a soul out there, spent most of the 100k unable to see any other participator! This was at a quarter the way through, then the hills started to come, with the hills comes the scenery

Then it got tougher

Finally at Golden Cap the highest point on the South West Coast, but surprisingly not the hardest hill! Still can’t work out why this is! Fantastic view, but unfortunately, I thought it was drop down from here in to Charmouth then Lyme Regis just beyond. It seems not some blaggard had moved Charmouth 5 miles away! Nooooooooooo.

Finally I was at Charmouth, from here a mile on the beach on these

not sure how I got to the end of this section with my ankles still in one piece. Madam joined me on this stretch for a bit which was such a boost. Half way mark on schedule ish at 6.45 hours. Here I changed my shoes and more importantly my socks. Grabbed some food, a coke and then headed off towards Seaton.

The next 7 miles were on the undercliff, I did not enjoy this part at all, mud, tree roots, hills, steps, humid and airless among the mini tropical rain forest! In a minute I will be at the golf club I kept saying to myself! Finally after what seemed like hours and yes probably was I got to the Golf Club and as I crossed the course I prayed I would not get taken out by a rogue Golf ball! That would be my luck, survive the undercliff get killed by some one in check trousers!

As I dropped down in to Seaton hubby drove by, he had been loitering in a lay by. (I’m sure there is a law against that) More fuel taken, and off I trotted to meet my hero and new best friend who had foolishly volunteered to run the rest of the course with me! Such a lift to see him oh and to use the loo and pop some painkillers.

Then off we plodded, my new running buddy and I. The trouble about the last part is we knew what was to come, the positive part was we knew what was to come! So passed the next few hours, up and down to Beer, up, along and down to Branscombe, up and down to Weston beach and then up and down to Salcombe Regis, before dropping in to Sidmouth where I was thrilled to see my Metafit instructor, friend, fitness guru and sports massager! With her lovely black lab Indy. 75K done.

On we plodded my companions and I, chatting. I’m not 100% certain I was making any sense! The hard part was over now, just a mere matter of getting to the end, and trying to fuel. I was incapable of eating anything so relied on gels and masses of water and coke to get them down, far from ideal.

Next stop Budleigh Salterton, my poor family had spent hours in this car park, poor hubby he was with Madam who had no 3G signal! I am surprised he didn’t throw her in the sea with some rocks for company!

Now I knew I could get to the end, 10k to go, but not going to lie, everything hurt, especially my knees when on stony terrain, much walking done, every hill sapped my energy. I willed the Geoneedle to appear and finally it did. We dropped down on to the Seafront, Madam joined us for the last 1 mile. The wind picked up, blowing against us, I wanted to walk, but refused to be seen struggling, where is the finish?

Finally I was there. 61 miles done. I was greeted and congratulated by the organiser, I apologised for my sweaty snotty hand shake and hoped he had some hand sanitizer nearby! I sat letting it sink in. I felt rough. I wanted to cry but absolutely no energy left even to do this. I gave my hero a big sweaty hug, thanked his wife for the loan of him and sat some more.

So I got the Tshirt-very nice it is too

It is starting to sink in that this was an accomplishment, especially when I have just read that out of 200 entries 157 turned up (walkers started 10 pm Friday night) 7 of them were part of a relay team. 95 got to the end! I was one of those. Wow

A well run, organised event by Climb South West, it must be a logistical nightmare but all ran smoothly. Checkpoints full of friendly marshals who filled my pack and tried to feed me. Well done to the organisers.