Written by Tom Wright - http://life.tomwright.me.uk

This event report first appeared in the 7th issue of Ultra Tales, the UK ultra running ezine. The magazine is available to download for free.

Ten hours to go. The tent floor cushioned only by a small roll out matt. Kit laid out precisely. RockTape applied to a pernicious right knee and quad. I felt like a kid at Christmas! The excitement escalating over the past months as time flew by and now on the eve of my first 50 mile ultra time stood still. Every second an hour. I closed my eyes, the silence of my surroundings only interrupted by occasional birdsong. Time to relax and reflect. Just under a year ago I had run my first marathon. Why did I now want to run 50 miles? Reason came in the brief solace of The Dragon’s Back race film on a turgid bank holiday train journey from Cornwall to the Midlands. An inspirational quote from Helen Whittaker: ‘You don’t enter something like this if you know you can finish it. That’s why it’s a challenge.’

Going beyond experience, entering the unknown, feeling alive!

Philosophical musings aside, following a humbling experience at the CTS South Devon Ultra I had undertaken a ten week training programme to up my mileage ahead of the Malvern Hills Ultra, but repeatedly got held back by niggling injuries. Several visits to the physiotherapist ensued to loosen aforementioned knee and quad. I tapered two weeks prior with several LSDs (the long slow distance variety) targeting a moving pace of 12 minutes. During the countdown I planned meticulously whether it was choosing race kit, memorising the course on Google Earth or just packing down my camping equipment to be manageable in the confined spaces of Great Western trains.

MHU is one of a number of events organised by Ultra Running Limited. A camping weekend at a historic Midlands castle; impeccable hospitality from Steve Worrallo and his crew; facilities garnished with a medieval touch, that banish the omnipresent portaloo to the dark ages; and a little jog across the scenic Malvern Hills. All add up to incredible value for money and an excellent entry point for 50 mile virgins like myself. Steve provided a memorable experience which epitomises the camaraderie that pervades ultra running.

Personalised race number for my first 50 mile ultra

On arrival at Holt Castle, I was joined by fellow competitor, and camper, Shawn who had travelled up from Brighton. An oak door, more befitting a murder mystery weekend, towered before us. Steve ushered us into his family home and the surrounds became more familiar. Water vats, food station supplies and running paraphernalia spread across the floors. In the vast dining room each table had a bowl brimming with Gu gels. Medieval excess! Registration complete in minutes with no queues, no standing around in trepidation eyeing up fellow athletes. Then we were guided to our accommodation. A tranquil lawn bordered by high shrubs with fresh grass under foot, the castle providing the backdrop, the lawn dropping away to the Severn floodplain below. Facilities included fresh water, electric hook-up, morning tea and toast and a post race shower. All included in the event entry fee of £45! I will say it again … value for money.

My home for the weekend in the shadows of Holt Castle

Race fuel. The penultimate meal of pasta, tamari and nutritional yeast cooked on my newly acquired Trangia

RACE DAY ARRIVES…

5:30am. My pre-race fastidiousness seemed inconsequential come race morning as I frantically packed my kit bag only moments before the race. Two hours restless sleep hadn’t helped nor had my failure to beat the traffic to the luxury wood panelled toilets that morning. Cosy indeed but busy once 100 other runners arrive to register. I boiled up a brew and forced down a large bowl of granola, muesli and seed mix. This was followed by a Beet It shot. My taste buds have genuinely grown to like the earthy sensation beetroot delivers. I only just caught the back-end of the briefing as I took the decision to wear just my mesh vest under my jacket. Showers were forecast and the air seemed warm. I packed a merino layer for the back-end of the course when I expected to be moving slow under the setting sun. A few of my favourite Mule and Cliff bars to mix up with the copious supplies on offer at the stations. Head torch, map, first aid kit as obligatory. Good to go.

I was still struggling with the S-lab buckles as Steve set us off. A mad rush as the top racers, led by a canicross team, set the pace. Time to turn on the navigation for the first part of the course which follows a maze of roads and wound its way through a couple of woods. ‘Recalibrate Compass’ my Ambit spat back at me. How was I meant to do that while running? Nothing for it but to stop. A decision I don’t regret since it saved me plenty of time in navigation later. However this indiscretion came at a cost as I ran beyond myself to catch up the back runners. Having spent the last two weeks of training honing myself to run at my optimal fat burning heart rate I was now hitting my anaerobic threshold in the first mile. For some inexplicable reason I couldn’t get my heart rate below 150 bpm even when running 11 minute miles on the flat. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep? Frustrated, I threw out my rule book and just ran at what felt right.

Over those first few miles, everyone was still grouped so a chance to meet some fellow runners. Denzil, was the one representative of the 9Bar sponsors, and seemed to be out for a leisurely time. A brief chat and we arrived at the first bottleneck at the entrance to Ockeridge Woods. A long queue for the first of four punch points. A chance to stand around and eat some belated breakfast perhaps but I was keen to get ahead of the pack for the next punch point at the far end of the woods and strode out on the downhills. Not before saying hello to Tommy, who was camping next to me and one of the few 85 mile runners (four in fact!). Of all things we talked heart rates. Possibly more of a concern for 85 miles but not a topic I was keen to rekindle. I beat the congestion to the punch point and faced a maze of roads to the first checkpoint at Martley. I passed a runner who had left his home that morning without his kit bag. Steve had allowed him to run on agreement he was meeting his wife at CP2 to get his kit. That was potentially four hours into the race! Hope he made full use of hydration at the stations. The showers were easing and the occasional glimpse of sun already felt warm at 8am.

I arrived at the checkpoint in 1:17 (7.5 miles). That was on schedule, but accounting for the several minutes spent sorting my watch I knew I had run a good 30 seconds ahead of my projected pace which could hurt me later. The station was staffed by the two very enthusiastic women. In their 70’s they were sprightly and full of joy for every runner as they handed out goodies galore. I filled my bottle and moved on quickly.

First good view of the Malvern Hills still some 10 miles distant. I was so absorbed with the view I went a little wayward here!

After several miles of road it was a relief to hit fields. We would now be following the Worcestershire Way to the hills. As the early signs of the baking sun broke the clouds I stripped off my jacket only to realise I now had no choice but to run in my mesh vest. Not the best fashion statement and all those hours spent internet shopping for the perfect trail tank redundant! This was the longest stretch of the course with a few big hill climbs ahead. The Malvern Hills were still a dark shadow on the distant horizon. Hugging the perimeter of a furrowed field I contemplated how overgrown the Worcestershire Way was. At the end of the field I climbed a gate and jumped straight into a pool of thick mud. Wading out I saw all the runners I had passed before the checkpoint taking the correct and direct line across the field. Navigation error number one! Irritated by this I kicked hard down the next incline and was soon on my own again. Ankerdine Hill was a power march. I tailed a runner who jogged the whole way. Wondered if he would still be adopting that tactic on the really big hills? Over the prow and I took several wrong turns into tightly knit paths overrun with wild garlic. Doubling back several times I finally resorted to the road which Steve had said was acceptable and seemed to keep my GPX happy. With two navigation issues in only two miles, I realised I would need to keep my concentration. One way I like to stay focused is posting photos to Instagram. I find typing a few words as I go along keeps my motor neurone skills in check. Doing this on the coast path in training has also done wonders for my spatial awareness! So I snapped away and let the photo queue build for the next available 3G.

The navigation was clearly becoming a challenge as runner’s appeared from all directions over the next few miles heading into Suckley Woods. Here my Ambit excelled and I rarely needed to refer to the map. The terrain was varied and stimulating. Farm tracks; wooded root strewn trails; and rugged dried mud fields. My tactic of speed walking on the ascents and running fast descents seemed effective as I passed a number of runners. Until I got holed up behind some horse riders on the long downhill to Longley Green with little room to overtake. The horses looked jumpy so I bided my time waiting for space on the track. Pace disrupted I kicked hard to the village. There was one more really long road and track climb to The Beck and then it was downhill all the way to The New Inn checkpoint.

Checkpoint 2 at The New Inn beckons as does the Worcestershire Beacon looming in the distance.

The checkpoint was quiet with just a few supporters hovering. The sky felt like rain so I donned my jacket, only to take it off again a few minutes later as the sun reappeared. I refilled my drained bladder and bottle. Grabbing a few more gels I was on my way. Over the road, through a gate and a smile for the photographers as I tackled the buckles on my pack. A few steps and I realised I had left my bottle behind. So back I went to the station. The staff looked confused but had a chortle at my foolhardy blunder. Best of all it meant I got to pass the photographers again so this time I got my hair in order and gave a big thumbs up!

Photo copyright Summit Fever Photography - www.summitfever.co.uk. 

Finally it was time for the Malvern Hills proper. North Hill loomed in front of me. It would be up hill all the way to the Beacon at 425 m. First came 100 steps which were far tougher than I expected and a long gradual march up the hill to find the next punch point. For the first time in an hour I saw a few runners ahead. The Beacon looked menacing with a grey cloud hanging over it. The wind was refreshing. The climb was slow, the legs muscles burning.

Dark clouds gathering over the Worcestershire Beacon at 425m - the highest point of our journey.

Approaching the last climb to the summit a figure appeared over the rise, leaping like a mountain goat as he speedily hurtled towards me. Two (soon to be three) times champ Daryl Carter was clearly on a mission to beat his own record. Impressive and inspiring seeing him fly past as I snapped a photo and gave support.

Daryl ‘Daz’ Carter makes it look easy on his way down from the Beacon

Now to find that last punch point. At first it wasn’t clearly visible. I doubled back to the summit and found it just tucked down the hill to the right.

On the summit - Worcestershire Beacon.

I had been making headway on two runners ahead and with a long descent off the Beacon I was ready to put my downhill training to good effect. My calfs however felt differently as early signs of cramp hit. I paused and stretched a little then moved on at a less enthusiastic pace. As I wound around the hills, avoiding tourists and the occasional wayward dog, many runners passed heading back up the course on the return leg. With the mix of relay runners and soloists I had no idea where I was in the field but reckoned 30 runners passed by. I was starting to resign myself to the fact the return journey was going to be very long, slow and lonely.

Down to CP3 at the Malvern Hills Hotel

It had been a hard first half and when I rolled into the checkpoint at Malvern Hills Hotel I was feeling tired. Not the fresh state I had intended. My stomach was giving me a bit of nausea so I tried some peanut butter sandwiches. Hard to chew but washed down with a cup of coke they sufficed. Support at the turnaround was enthusiastic and encouraging. Steve was there checking everyone was OK. My waning energy was bolstered by the discovery that the jelly beans were vegetarian. A welcome change to Gu gels. I loaded a couple of handfuls into my pocket, briefly donned my jacket till I warmed up again and was on my way. A few family members had shown up to cheer me on and we walked together up the first climb having a chat and catch-up. This allowed my heart rate to finally settle down a bit. After some family snaps I said my farewells for now, as they agreed to meet me again at the next checkpoint, and was off back up the hills.

Time for a quick family photo with my Dad and little bro, Ocean. A chance to catch my breath too!

The call of nature beckoned so I had to get off the path to avoid the large crowds of tourists. I went several hundred yards down a side trail looking for a private bush. A detour and a steep scramble back to the official track. Among the runners still heading south I passed Shawn and his buddies from Southend doing high five slaps as we went. It was consoling to finally see lots more runners and share encouragement and even guide a few who seemed to be going wayward. This time the climb to the Beacon felt good. I kept my stride short and just pushed my way up knowing that once over the top I could really stretch out again all the way down to the checkpoint.

Second climb to the summit of the Worcestershire Beacon

Hill walkers were gathered on the summit. I stood there for a minute soaking up the refreshing breeze and admiring the views. To the west the horizon stretched deep into the Welsh heartland. I hijacked a tourist for a photo and was on my way revived and raring to go.

Back on the summit with the views stretching west into the Welsh borders.

A few little punches of cramp but nothing I couldn’t run off. I had always felt uneasy about an out and back course but everything felt very different the other way. I also found I could use what I learnt on the way out to influence when I walked and when I ran on the return.

The lee side of North Hill was sheltered and baking, the trail rugged and loose. Not dissimilar to Cornish mining coast even if the bedrock was several millennia older. For the first time I felt my nausea was more than just an awkward tummy. I knew I had no dehydration issues but I hadn’t applied sun cream and had been exposed in my vest all morning. Perhaps this was the first onset of heat stroke? At the bottom of the steps I shook my head under the well. Cold fresh Malvern spring water. (Ed. with a little flavouring of rabbit droppings - as observed by Daz!) Onward to the checkpoint through the arid orchards. Hardly felt like the spring days we have become accustomed to these last few years. Family had just arrived at the New Inn ahead of me and fortunately they bore sun cream. The supply of food at the station was still impressive. Again I went for coke and moved on. I had been keeping a watchful eye on my average pace which was still sitting just below 12 minutes. If I could maintain that 10 hours might be possible. I knew there were a few long descents to come where I could claw back seconds and then ease off on the gradual ascents through the woods. However my left knee was starting to ache and causing some issue on the speedy downhills. I just kept telling myself I could run it out and gritted my teeth.

As I traversed the edge of Raven’s Wood I was amazed to see another runner in front of me. I had briefly seen Louise Staples, last year’s ladies champion, as I had left the New Inn checkpoint but otherwise I had been running alone for several hours. The runner was moving incredibly slowly and looked in considerable pain. He confirmed he was fine and just in need of a new “spine”! I wished him well and moved on. As I passed the Talbot I threw some gel wrappers in the bin only to see my family sat there supping cold shandies. I drooled. It was exciting seeing them getting in the spirit of the race and enjoying chasing ahead of me. The pubs on route probably made that very enticing! They confirmed another runner had gone through only minutes ahead and moving slowly. I was still feeling nauseous but my legs were good and any former cramp was long gone. The watch still sat just below 12 minutes.

Ankerdine Hill - a notorious climb. One last power walk! This time I found the designated path for the Worcestershire Way and marched up the steep climb. It was brutal! However, At the top I was rewarded with that other runner. He was moving much slower so again rather than striking up conversation I pushed on.

Just a few more fields to go to reach the last CP. Photo copyright Summit Fever Photography - www.summitfever.co.uk. 

Up and down a few fields and into Martley. The elderly ladies were still operating the station full of spirit and ready to help. What strength and resilience they showed to be there for over 12 hours always ready to offer a helping hand. Incredible!

I finally said my farewell to my family and quickly moved on. Their presence had really helped over the back half of the course and given me incentive to keep pushing on to the next checkpoint where I knew they would be waiting.

This was the business end of the course. At 25 miles I thought I had blown my race and would be staggering home at nightfall. Over the last 3 hours I discovered that was just a state of mind. It had passed. 7.5 miles in 90 minutes. Could I make it? I showed my intent running hard out of the pub car park and off up the hill. As I rounded the bend I looked at my watch. I was not on the GPX course. The surroundings were not familiar. Yet I was sure I had run down the same hill into Martley earlier in the day. I pulled out the map. Indeed there was a junction at the bottom of the hill which we had come in on. I raced back down to connect with the correct route realising that this last section could be a navigational challenge. I needed to maintain concentration. I ran hard but couldn’t sustain it. I settled on running 5 minutes then walking 1 minute. The pace had crept down to 11:55. A few convoluted sums and I estimated that gave me a window of just over 4 minutes. However, the misguided route out had been 25.5 miles and I had already gone wrong and while doing my sums I had again wandered down the wrong road! More backtracking. An extra mile would mean I had 8 minutes to make up which would require 10 minute pace. Could be done but I was really starting to hurt. That was a little demoralising. In my exhausted state I was overanalysing somewhat!

A few other runners helped considerably over the last few miles. Two chaps kindly opened a gate for me. I hope they appreciated I was on a mission as I said little else but thanks. Two runners, reduced to walking, waved me up the very last hill which urged me on further. I really pushed hard down the last farm track to the main road. Crossed the furrowed field. Climbed the gate. One more field to go and then the driveway. I looked at my watch. 9:59:57! My heart sunk a little as I knew 10 hours was gone. Then I realised I had actually gone under 10 hours for 50. I always start an event with two goals in mind but never make them public. The first is my realistic target, the second my dream target. Ten hours was my dream target for 50 miles and I had as good as done it!

Just a case of keeping some running form together on the last quarter mile down the drive to the Castle. Steve was there to greet me with the largest finishers medal I have ever seen. The weight of the medal alone forced me to collapse on the grassy bank in the shade and gather my thoughts and regain some strength.

Half the man I was when I started out that morning! Photo copyright Summit Fever Photography - www.summitfever.co.uk. 

Certainly the largest finishers medal I have ever earned! Malvern Hills Ultra done.

As if his family hadn’t done enough already, Steve’s wife then offered me use of the family bathroom to take a warm shower followed by a piping hot bespoke vegetarian chilli. This was washed down with a couple of local ales from the bar as I joined Steve at the finish to cheer in a few fellow runners.

Finishers vegetarian chilli. The best ever and much needed to replace the 7000 plus calories I had burnt during the day! My finishers mug in the background which now sits pride of place in our cupboard.

I finally collapsed in the tent with only one thought on my mind … 100 miles!

My official time was 10:05 and I came 14th out of 65 starters. View official results.

Written by Debbie Brupacher - http://macrunningadventures.blogspot.fr/

In the days before the race we have been asking each other why we came to do this race.  I wasn't quite sure but I think it is so many reasons.  I guess I wanted to do something special on my birthday.  I like to celebrate my birthday and wanted to find an experience I could do while doing it.  I searched for a race in November and came across the Nepal trail running site.  From there the manaslu trail race.  It looked amazing I my interest was quirked.   The thought of taking part wouldn't go away.  I thought the aspect of being in the Himalayas, a place I always want to go, was amazing and that I could take part in a run at the same time was the cherry on the top.  If i am honest with myself I think from the first time I read about the race I knew I was going to do it.  The only problem was that it was in the middle our busiest time at work ...budgets! Somehow I managed to convince my boss that I would be able to make it work and got the time off to participate.  

Stage 1 Arughat (600m) to Machha Khola (900m) – Distance : 25km   Time: 4:07

Our bags waiting to be transported by the porters

Nice clean shoes

 The start of the race was very unusual. It was Tihar,( also known as Diwali in India  and popularly known as the "festival of lights”) and the villagers wanted to bless us before we started.  A group of men from the village played music and all racers walked together behind them to the holy place.  Once there, each runner was blessed and given a scarf and a red dot or tika as it is called, which is a bright red mixture of rice, yoghurt and vermillion powder.   From there we walked back to start, one group photo and with a bang of the gong, we were off.  The run out of Arughat was relatively easy, flat runnable trail but it wasn't long before it turned more technical.   This was a shock to a number of people as they had not expected this type of terrain, for me it was very similar to the terrain of the Swiss Alps where I had done most of my training, so I felt at home and it was great to be running again after so many days travelling. 

The trail goes through amazing landscape, following the Budhi Gandaki River.  Although relatively flat the trail does have some small steep ascents and descents, it passes forests, a few waterfalls, crosses many suspension Bridges and in the horizon the beautiful Mount Shirangi/Sringi Himal  (7187 m) appears.    I ran through beautiful little villages where the whole village would be outside to cheer us on and the little kids would run with us, some for a good 1km or so.  Very often the kids could speak some English and I remember having wonderful conversations with them as we ran along the trail.  These were special fun moments!

Written by James Adams - http://www.runningandstuff.com

I'll start from the beginning of the running bit, which represents a small proportion of the whole MDS experience. I'll return to the other bits during the course of the report. 

Day 1 - Dunes Day 34k

We arrived at the start by coach, which is unusual as normally we would have camped the night before at the start. This was not going to be a normal MDS year. The flooding had cancelled the first day and was hanging over the rest of the race. We were all just relieved to get to the stage where we could actually start running.

Some way into the sand dunes, everyones enthusiasm for running had diminished

Day 1 was meant to be day 2, the dunes day. This involves at least 17k of running/hiking through sand dunes and about the same distance over tracks. The dunes day is probably the second most feared of the MDS stages (after the long day) at it is over the hardest terrain and tests ones ability to keep sand out of their shoes. The fact that we were starting with this without the 20 mile “warm-up” the day before didn’t really faze anyone, we were just so relieved to be able to start running.

The coach did not take long to arrive at the start point. We were all pushing our heads against the windows of the coach to try and see the dunes that we will be crawling over in a few hours. Finally they came, from a distance they looked quite intimidating. They were bigger than any I had seen before (in Wales) and were much more golden than I imagined.

The start line was farcical. Patrick Bauer and a bad translator bumbled through the course changes which involved very precise bearing measurments (most runners did not have a pen) and the helicopter roared above us and drowned out the sound. I thought this helicopter was here for saftey reasons, it's presence was actually stopping us being able to hear whatever the race director was saying. I wasn’t planning on winning, so I’d have to rely on following everyone else.

After too much pomp and ceremony the race finally started, 2 years and 3 weeks since I signed up for it. A horn went and we all staggered forward over a rocky path towards the big dunes that we’d been looking at for hours.

Waiting for the French to show up

I find the starts of multi-day races very amusing. We are all running with backpacks, frontpacks, things strapped to our arms, legs, shoulders and waists. Everyone is wearing varying levels of clothing and tubing that could mistake the scene for a school play about robots were the kids have made the costume. One of the most important “rules” for multi-day racing is to test all of your kit lots and lots before you actually use it in the race. No one ever does.

The first few miles are a melee of people dropping bottles, adjusting straps and rearranging stuff in their bags. I quickly discarded my front pack as it bounced around and had to carry my water bottles in my hands as they kept hitting me in the face. I didn’t really have a sense of the direction I was running as there were too many people around.

The first 3k was along a rocky track. Much of the terrain is the same, flat dirt tracks with little rocks strewn all over the place. It’s a bit like running through Shepherds Bush only instead of rocks it’s broken bottles and litter. It was fairly easy to run on now but once it becomes harder to lift your legs these rocks become really painful.

We then hit the sand dunes, everyone was really enthusiastic and still running up and down quite difficult inclines. I think the rain over the previous days had made it a bit easier, steps would form in them where others had placed their feet and it was like running up stairs. There were cameramen everywhere and often you’d almost run into them, they didn’t make any effort to get out of the way.

I worried before this race that the dunes would be impenetrable. I had a vision that I’d try to get up them and just sink, however they were much easier than I imagined. They were still tough and some of the downs were very steep. This is where everyone’s gaiters get tested.

The gaiters are probably the most thought about piece of kit for any MDS runner. The measures taken to avoid getting sand in your shoes is the most thought about thing in the whole race. I’d super-glued silk ones on and added a huge amount of gaffer tape. I’m not sure how well they were working, it is something you never know until the end of the day. Every time I ran down a sand dune I’d feel sand hit the backs of my legs and slide down, I had no idea whether it was getting in. I’ll just have to wait.

The sand dunes came to an end and we hit the first checkpoint. At each checkpoint you are required to run through the timing sensor and have your card stamped for bottles of water. Normally 2 were on offer but most were just taking one, it wasn’t too hot at that stage. The route then took us onto a fairly uninspiring long straight track. Time to pick up the pace, or so I thought.

The temperature picked up a bit and I’d describe it as an uncomfortably warm British summers day. I was told that bone dry heat is not too hard to run it and that humidity would not be a problem. The first rain in the MDS for 15 years however made humidity a problem and I suffered.

The track was flat and not too rocky, there was no reason why I shouldn’t run the lot of it and run it well. As soon as I started running at any kind of pace I was stopped by coughing. I had hoped that some dry air would clear my cough (there was no medical basis of this hope). The moisture and the sand just made everything worse.

I’d run-walk-run-walk for about a minute at a time but the length of time I could run got smaller and smaller. I eventually gave up and started to walk the whole time. This was incredibly frustrating, not just for the day in question but for the rest of the week. I was still kidding myself into thinking the cough would go away, if only it got hotter. I had written off today and was ready to go for it the next day.

Having no expectation of finishing well I thought it would be a good opportunity to take pictures and admire the scenery. I don’t normally get the chance to do this as I’m looking at the floor trying not to trip over. I had spent the last few months mocking the majority of people who do this for approaching it as a trekking holiday. This was now the only way I could do this race. At least there was something to look at on this day.

I plodded over the line in about 5 hours, I didn’t really enjoy it because I don’t like walking. I later joined another queue for the doctors and told them about my cough and asked for some codeine. They informed me that by taking it I’d then fail any dope tests and would be eliminated from the race. Looks like I was in for another few days coughing to get the medal for this.

The coughing seemed to get worse once I stopped. There were so many frustrating things about this event, my own condition being only one of them. Because the route had completely changed we had no idea what was coming up tomorrow, if anything. Whereas normally everything is decided long in advanced and we know what is coming up, this time we had no idea. Rumours would be rife, my favourite was that they were going to make each day longer to make up for the lost miles on the first day. Another was that the race was going to keep the same distance each day, another was that the race had just ended. I started to think about the last one and wish that was true.

a rare shot of me running

Message after day 1

"Marathon Des Aster - bet simon already had that pun. I'm feeling pretty low now. just walked 33k in 5 hours and feel like ive been hit by a train. my throat infection got worse and the humid sand dunes nearly finished me. The doc said te only thing he can give me would break the doping rules.
I cn't run without coughing and wheezing, i had 2 coughing fits in the run and get them every nighr. i hope it gets better but probbaly wont. the long day could be very long. On the positive side i get to take lots of pretty pictures and wathc the wildlife, bugs and ants mainly.
I had high hopes for this race but now i just need to finish. its going to be a long week. Badger seems to be enjoying it though.
you may have heard the 1st day was canned cos of floods. this was the dunes day and wasn't too hard terrain wise. Id have liked to have run a bit of it.
Anyhoo, ill stop moaning now and try to barter for some codene, which is illegal but im not that bothered.
hope you have a better week than im going to have".

The Flood

The heat hit me as soon as I got off the plane. We spent a while in a queue to passport control and I could feel the sun slowly cooking me. I wasn't suprised by this, someone did mention that the desert can be quite hot. It was around mid day and I was looking forward to running in this heat. We stayed in a 5 star hotel for about half a day and then set out in the morning for a 5 hour transfer to the point in the desert where we were to start the race. On the way there it started to rain very heavily. I thought 2 things, one was that this obviously happens all the time in the desert and the sunshine will get rid of the water and secondly that this is a very local and short lived rain storm and once we got into the desert proper we would be in the baking bone dry sunshine. I was wrong on all counts.

The rain continued for hours and hours, the coach journey took 8 hours and none of us could believe what we were seeing. The coach would stop for the occasional toilet break and the wind and rain would make this very hard. Finally as night was falling we arrived at the point in the road where we were transfered to army trucks and sent bouncing over the rocks of the desert, still pouring it down. After about 20 minutes of spine shattering driving we arrived at the first camp and did not quite know what to think of it.

There were 100 soggy tents in various states of collapse. We were told just to find anywhere that was dry and sleep there rather than being assigned a tent. The floor of the desert is not good for drainage and all of the water that had fallen was still sat on top of the surface. Each bivouac only had dry space for 1 person and even that was shrinking. We all scrambled to find somewhere where we could put our stuff and for it not to get wet. This was difficult because the water was still moving in. Some started to dig moats around their sleeping areas. Only half of the Brits made it to the camp that night, half were stopped by flooded roads and the other nationalities didn't even set out.

I was bracing myself for a night where I'd probably wake up soaking and have my kit ruined before I'd even start. We all went to the food tent to have our pre-race rations of bread and pickled cabbage and then stood around in the soaked sand and laughed at the whole predicament. Then a word got around that we were being taken out of there to a hotel not too far away. This was a relief to some but a disappointment to others. I wouldn't have minded staying, it would have added to the "challenge" of this race.

The flooded Bivouacs. We struggled to find a spot that wasn't wet

The next few days in the hotel were really frustrating. We'd wake up each day and not know whether there was a race to run. We were told that the organisers were plotting another course but could not guarantee that there will be one. The most frustrating bit was not knowing. There was the realistic expectation that there would be no race.

Day 2 – 36k

We were told in the morning that we were going to run a 36k loop along trails. Though I wasn’t feeling any better I still hoped for a good day. Alas it was not to be. Day 2 went exactly the same as day 1 minus the sand dunes. Read that again if you want.

Message after day 2

"This is no fun. today went pretty much like yesterday, i ran for a bit, coughed then walked for hours. Its really frustrating. stage 3 was a loop of about 36k back to where we started. they are having to put the course together day by day. tomorrow is the long stage which should be 80k but i can't see that happening.
If it did happen I'm going to take a long time. Legs are a bit sore now from all the walking though the terrain is not that bad. 60% is trails like you get in lanza/watford. there are quite a few dunes. The desert all looks the same after a whil, maybe cos we are staying in the same place. maybe we'll go to a running track in marakesh and do 200 laps tomorrow?
Anyhoo, still hoping i can run tomorrow for a bit at least. might trade some antibiotics for a spag bol later. Its quite warm but no where near as hot as it should be.
Have a pint for me in the wargrave tomorrow for me serpies, I'll probably still be walking in the dark.
Not dead yet."

STUFF YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THE MDS PART 1 - TRAINING

I constantly got asked (and still do now) "How do you train for something like that?" My response was that I run marathons and ultras most weekend and had already done something similar but harder than this. I also would get asked about the heat and I said I was planning on running for a week in Lanzarote with jumpers on and all the kit to try and simulate the heat. It pissed it down all week in Lanza, I can't decide whether that was a week well spent or not.

When you sign up to the MDS your name and email address will be sold to a multitude of unscrupulous companies who try to extort money from you by playing on your fear of the heat. I got dozens of emails about running in oxygen deprived chambers, saunas and all sorts of aclimatisation things. These are very expensive and unessessary. Though I didn't experience the heat in all it's glory I never met anyone, vet or otherwise who said these things were worthwhile (unless of course they had a vested interest).

This race is not nearly as hard as is made ou by the organisers or the press generally. Most people finish. Though I can't comment on how to run a great race I did feel that I was more prepared that most for this. Many of the other competitors had barely runa marathon before. For me this this sums up up this whole event. The majority of the people here are not those who love running and want to take that to another level by takling something really tough like a 150 mile run through the desert. Instead most of the people are here to get a medal and then go back home to say "Look what I did" and probably never run again. It's a shame.

Despite feeling better prepared than most (though much more poorly) I would in retrospect have gone about the training in a different way. Something like this;

18-12 months to go - Start practicing your queueing techniques. In total I spent 24 hours in a queue in the 9 days of this event. 1 hour at Gatwick,2 hours at quazzazatte while the officers got confused by passports, 1 hour for hotel check in 1 hour waiting for idiots who were late for the coach, 1 hour again queuing for second hotel, 2 hours queuing for kit checks, 6 hours locked in a courtyard in a hotel while everyone else registers (all nationalities) because New Balance insisted everyone was there to hear Patrick Bauer announce the race was on (something we already knew) just so the DVD can show us all cheering, 1 hour waiting for the coach to get out of there, 30 mins each day queueing for water at the start of the day, 30 mins each day delayed start while the french turned up later and Patrick and his bad translator spoke for ages telling us nothing, 3 hours on the last day waiting for the coach to take us out (The brits are first in, last out), 2 hours at airport. I make that 24.

I would suggest buying lots of things from the Post Office, on Thursday morning in a run down area so that you are in amongst all the Giro crowd. This is all about time on your feet and the mental preparation of standing around.

Scary Rain Clouds

12-6 months to go - Develop Queue manovering skills and introduce static standing. In the race to minimise time on your feet you will need to develop some queue pushing in skills that the French competitors seem to have a natural born talent for. It does not help to be British when you are in a queue in the desert. Go to crowded bars with obnoxious arseholes (Anywhere in the City, Camden, Soho or Shorditch should suffice) and try and get served. Try and distance yourself from any thoughts of empathy for the others around you, they'll do the same to you. If you manage to get drunk you are doing fine.

The standing is key here. Each day you are tormented by a comedy double act of Patrick Bauer (race organiser) and a really bad translater as they read out the list of those who have dropped out, tell you (incorrectly) how much water is at each stop, point out (vaguely) if there are any deviations from the road book and remind you to keep your running number in full view. It is quite difficult to keep the number in full view on the raidlight packs. It is quite easy to keep it in full view on the New Balance packs. Hmmmmm.

I would suggest attending any local Punch and Judy events or other childrens shows which involve standing up, craning your neck and trying to comprehend mindless drivel. I hear the Chuckle Brothers are doing a world tour next year.

6-3 months to go - Doing it in the heat, with back pack and introduce form filling. By now you should be able to queue for 2 hours comfortably and your head should have similar rotational abilities to an owl. Now is the time to step it up and do the same things in heat and with the kit on. Perhaps take a rucksack onto a tube train in rush hour and crane your neck a lot. You may get hauled up by the British Transport Police for this and may have difficulty explaining all the vasaline and freeze dried food in your bag.

To do this race you will be required to fill in a lot of forms. Mediacal, Admin, Security, Media, Insurance, Passport Control etc etc. If it's been a long time since you were in school then this wrist breaking activity may seem a bit daunting. Don't panic though, there are plenty of ways of exercising your wrist. Try signing up to market research panels where they send you stuff to fill in each month about your attitudes to baked beans or your preferences for types of tree in some park you never go to. Alternatively do what I did and sit some marketing exams. Not only do you get some intensive 3 hour sessions of hand writing but you also get valuable practice in reading and writing absolute drivel. Plus you get some funky letters to add to your name. I'm now James Adams B(Econ)Sc, MSc, CIM, Dip Digm, MRS Cert. My business cards are on sheets of A3.

Now is also the time to cut down on your alcohol intake and general frivolous spending, not because it will help you in the race but because you will soon be billed for £1500 to pay for half of the race.

3 Months to go - Do some running (optional). Most people don't bother with this bit but are still fine.

Stuff you should know about the MDS part 2 - Equipment and food.

I discovered 2 universal truths about this when I got out there in the desert, both were given to me before I went out there but I disregarded them anyway and went ahead. The first one is that everyone takes too much food. The second is that no one has ever figured out how to drink through those bottles with the straws sticking out of the top.

My pack weighed about 9kg, this was on the light side especially for a Brit. The lower limit is 6.5 kg and some of the elites were bang on that. Mohammed Ansul had a pack that was even less and had to add a couple of cans of red bull to get the weight up. All of his compusary equipment fit into a tiny pot and his food was all crushed up nuts.

My food consisted mainly of nuts, bombay mix, some sweets and expedition meals. The expedition meals are suprisingly calorific, each with 800 cals and weighing only 130g. I also took Beef Jerky, energy drink sachets(which don't count as calories in the registration process) and some Kendal Mint cake but the latter was dumped on the second day as it was too heavy. During the course of the week people will be ditching food. Burning 5000 calories a day you are only required to take 2000 per day. This is enough, you may as well accept that you'll be burning off fat.

My Kit

I used a raidlight 30L rucksac with a frontpack. This is what 90% of Brits use and it does the job ok. The front pack takes practice, especially when it's full. I got rid of mine near the start of the race because it kept bouncing up and down. I also used the bottle holsters and those bottles with the straws sticking out of them. I didn't even take them out of their packaging till I got out there. I asked others who I was sharing a room with how exactly you are supposed to drink out of them but no one could. In the end I just cut off most of the straw and used them as normal bottles, having to take the lids off whenever I'd drink. I was tempted to take a bladder with me but worries about what I'd to in the case that it broke.

I decided not to take a sleeping mat with me and only took a very light sleeping bag. I'm still not sure as to whether this was a good idea. The bivouacs are laid on the desert floor with no clearing for rocks and stuff. You will bascially sleep on a blanket laid over loose rocks. With only 1cm of soft material seperating you from rocks it can be very uncomfortable. I struggled to sleep anyway because of the cough, I imagined that I'd be able to sleep on anything after the days exertions.

One piece of equipment I would recommend would be the all in one tyvek suit. You look like an idiot when wearing it at home but lots of people out there wear it. I found it was really good at keeping the sun off me in the day and was a useful extra layer in the night. It gets quite cold in the desert at night. I took a 7 degree sleeping bag which was fine with the suit.

Day 3 – The “Long” Day – April fools day.

There were rumours going around the British camp that the French organisers like to play tricks on us on April Fools Day. Practical jokes such as pissing in the water or moving direction signs were the most common rumours. I was already convinced that this whole week was a joke and wasn’t really worried.

This is the day (or 2 days) that most of the entrants fear. Few people run this far at all let alone in the middle of a week of hard running. There is a 36 hour cut off for covering about 50 miles. It seems like crawling but so many fear it.

The night before we were told by our concierge to expect a run of “between 70 and 80k”. I had doubts they could do a long day as the weather was still unpredictable. Later on at night we were told that the actual distance was going to be 91k. This was the longest the MDS have ever done.Despite still being ill I was looking forward to this. This was going to be the bit I enjoyed more than the other stages.

It started really well. I had started near the back this time but was making good progress at getting though the field. For the first time since I’d been here I felt like I was running through a desert. There was still some residue from the rain but the whole run was punctuated with things to see rather than a track against what could have been a TV studio backdrop.

Start of a sand storm

I was determined to keep running for longer today as I wanted to take advantage of the “rest” day tomorrow. All those who can finish this in one day get to spend a day at leisure. All those who cannot have to suffer all week.

The first 40k was really nice. The weather was picking up and the course consisted of windy paths through trees (yes there were many more than I expected) and large salt plains against a glorious rocky backdrop. This is what I paid my money to do. The feeling of actually running is a desert probably kept me going for longer than I could do on previous days.

We hit a minor sand storm going through one of the passes. There was a huge salt flat in between two gebels. The sand hit me but it was fine, I started to feel good about the day and ran on. There was a checkpoint after about 40k which was partly hidden. I did the usual stamping thing and carried on.

I prematurely got excited about how far I had run and that I was not coughing yet. I was at the checkpoint for 40k in about 5 hours and thought I could get this whole thing done in about 12 which would be a vast improvement on the previous days. I wasn't too bothered about my times or positions anymore, I had come expecting to finish in the top 100 just by running most of it. But, like most of the field I was reduced to walking large sections of it. For the first time the sun started to make it hard work and we headed out of the checkpoint into a long straight stretch.

My previous excitement turned to frustration as soon as I jogged out inot the open terrain. I inhaled my first lungfull of sand and had to stop to cough it out again. I spluttered on like a car on it's last legs but to no avail. It was like having shards of glass in my lungs and making my lungs do more work than was essential was very painful. I tried putting my buff over my mouth but that just restricted my breathing which had the same effect and the sand was already in.

I had kidded myself on both days previously that this would not last for the rest of the leg and each time I was wrong. I was the same here, as soon as I get this flat windy bit out of the way I'd be fine. Obviously this did not happen.

I walked along as many people walked past me. I had not done any walking training as I had not planned on walking any of this and was abysmal at it. There is a technique to walking which I did not have and the dozens of people walking past did, kicking up more sand as they went by. I had several coughing fits where I'd have to stop and hold onto something and cough, one time I coughed so hard my nose started to bleed.

I sat down on a ledge facing the runners coming past and tried to stop the bleeding. I watched a small pool of blood and snot form right underneath me and then insects gather round to feast. Didn't look very appetising to me but I guess there is not a huge amount of food in the desert. By chance I looked up to see the Ansul Brothers running straigh at me and then passing either side. They looked very comfortable running and I could not get a "well done" out in time. They started 3 hours after me and this was the first of a succession of runners who cruised past me. I had hopes of being in this 50 at the start of the race but now I was looking at last 50.

The nose stopped bleeding and I continued, being overtaken by faster walkers and even faster runners. Hopes of getting this done before midnight had evaporated, unlike some of the moisture that was still in the air. I had some time again to admire the scenery and it really was spectacular, there was a huge ridge to my right which I would normally love to have a go at climbing. It looked like we were going to go round it but then as the sun was starting to disappear behind this magnificent piece of geology I saw the path and a line of walkers heading straight into it. Fuck.

It wasn't the biggest or the hardest climb I've had to do but the idea of getting myself up any vertical distance seemed a struggle. As I started to climb I saw the 2 Chris's, people I was sharing a bivouac with. They were both doing quite well in the race and I new at this point I was at least in the top 3rd still, despite the walking. As we climbed into the dark pass we switched on the glow sticks that we were provided with. The climb was horrific. There was no sand in this crevice but the effort of scrambling up was still so hard to take. I would climb on my hands and knees and then have to stop every few seconds to try and extract oxygen through some pretty violent coughing. My legs were trembling too. I had to stop and plan the next few steps of any climb, taking into account what would consume the least energy and oxygen so that I could at least get to a higher place and stop again. I would have to think about where to place my hands, what I could grab hold of and where to fall if I needed to. I fell several times. Fell runners do a similar thing when bounding down hills at lighting pace, they carefully (but very quickly) consider where exactly they are going to plant their foot each time. The costs of getting it wrong for them could be broken legs but they take that risk because those races are won on the down hills. I had less time pressure but the cost of getting this wrong for me was that I'd still be in this crevice come sunrise.

There was no one else around me while I was making this climb. It almost felt like people were standing back to watch. I could see glowing at the top of the pass but luckily there was no one immediately behind me for me to fall on. I can't remember how long it took or how many times I stopped or slid back down. I do remember getting to the top, falling down on my knees and thinking about whether I'll make it to the end.

I spent about 10 minutes sat at the top looking back down at what I'd just climbed up which is probably a silly thing to do. I looked back down on the short but significant climb that just nearly broke me, I should have turned the other way, like when someone gets pulled out of the water, the first thing you do is make sure they are facing away from the water while you do all the other stuff. Stops them panicking. I'm glad I was facing back down though as I saw a chap skipping up the rocks. I was not hallucinating at this point, it was in fact one of the elite runners. He got to the top in a fraction of the time I did, stopped to say hello, asked me to activate his glow stick and then skipped on. It was only at this point I looked the other way and saw what was coming up.

Absolutely Fucking Exhausted

I watched the glow stick bounce down a path similar to the one I had just climbed and then continue and join this amazing line of other glow sticks that spread as far as the eye could see. It was a spectacular sight that I tried to get a picture of but it wouldn't come out. A photo wouldn't have done it justice anyway, it was truly amazing.

I was drawn in like a moth to a flame, wanting to join this army of glowing walkers lifted me out of despair and got me climbing back down onto the sand. The next 10k or so were over sand dunes.

The next few hours were also incredibly tough but for a short while I managed to forget about the discomfort I was in and concentrate on moving forward. My head torch would show the grains of sand flying across my head, it would also reflect against the others ahead of me. If I turned my head to either side I could see nothing, there was no life here, nothing for the light to reflect off. The sand dunes varied in height and incline, some were much easier to get up than others. I think I was still coughing but by this stage I think it had become an inconscious action. I no longer had to think about coughing, I was just doing it.

The tops of the sand dunes are concave, like volcanoes, which means you can't see what is immediately beneath. I'd be looking ahead at the huge line of dim light ahead and when I'd start climbing a dune this line would disappear. I could still see the one behind me but then when I was on top of the dune the whole lot would disappear. One time I was on top of a sand dune I felt like I was the only person in the world, I could not see any humans or any sign of civilisation for 360 degrees. I've done plenty of races where I feel like the only one around even when there are people right next to me, it is a strange but liberating feeling. This time I felt alone because Iwas alone. It was an amazing 5 seconds or so before the isolation was broken by someone else clambering up the dune. From then on I tried to recreate that moment by adjusting my speed so that I was ascending them alone. It never happened again, it was always spoiled by the polluting light of others trying to make their way towards the next checkpoint. I wished they would all disappear.

First Sleep of the long day

I was quite calm during this section, between 60-70k. The feeling of isolation and the fantastic site of all these annonymous glowing backpacks crawling through the desert made this a new experience that I was enjoying enough to forget about the struggle. I would still find myself short of breath getting up the sand dunes but when that happened I'd just stop, sit down and look at the stars. It was a perfectly clear night and looking at the stars in the sky was a very relaxing and calming thing. I don't get to do this very often in the smoke back home. I thought about how people would have used these to plot their course instead of the glowing waymarkers that we were following. I counted myself lucky that I got to see such a thing and started to feel like the expense and the faffing around was worth it.

The next checkpoint came a bit quicker than I was expecting, probably because I no longer had any sense of time. The checkpoint looked like a refugee camp, there was a medical bivouac and a sleeping one. All of a sudden I became very aware that I was covered in blood and coughing like a dying man on an anti-smoking advert. I feared that I may get pulled from the race if anyone saw me like this so I held my breath and walked past the marshalls and headed for the sleeping tent. Just after getting there I saw Dan Ashfar, who was one of the leading Brtis but was not having the best of times also. He took a power nap of about 10 minutes before heading off. I stayed for about 45 minutes, hoping to catch my breath before heading out again.

The terrain from 70-80k was more of the annoying rocky path fo the previous days. By this stage I was walking pretty slow and had no walking skill. I think I tried running again but it just wouldn't work. I started to feel pain in my heels, something I'm not used to as I had never walked so much before. I knew I had some blisters on my heels and each step was pretty painful. My legs did not hurt at all. I wish my legs did hurt though, that would have involved some running.

I was falling back into the despair I was feeling a few hours ago. People were just walking past me like it was no effort at all. Most of them had walking sticks though (which are allowed but really is cheating).The sky had clouded over and I could no longer see the stars, I was on a flat piece of trail and could see people all around me. I was feeling a bit claustrophobic, I just wanted everyone to go away again. I was starting to get worked up again and had no outlet. I tried to listen to music but that too was ineffective. Some of the spacy prog/post rock music I came with would have been ideal for this kind of adventure. The likes of Sigur Ros, Mogwai, Death in Vegas, Tristeza, Theta Naught, Always the Runner (??), This Will Destroy You were the ideal sound track to marching along the sand and feeling like I was at the end of the world. This had to give way to more upbeat rock music to try and lift me. When that failed I hastily went for the last resort and played "Hella Good" by No Doubt. For some reason the thought of Gwen Stefani thrashing about in the water usually gets me going. Even that didn't work.

I was starting to get really frustrated and angry with myself and everything. The path is flat but has loose rocks the size of bricks strewn everywhere. When I was walking I felt like I was tripping over every one of them. Each time I did I would stop and curse. Sometimes I'd kick the rock out of the way, once I even picked it up and threw it. I was staggering from side to side, in pain from the blisters, still coughing and most of all frustrated that I was having such a bad time and could not see how it could get any better. I left the previous checkpoint about 9.30PM and thought I should not take more than 2 hours to walk this stretch. There was a huge green laser pointing out from what I thought was the end of the stage. I could not see the source but it's light seemed to curve right over where we were running.

Edging slowly forward felt like it was using an incredible amount of energy, each step was an ordeal and all I could focus on was the time passing and the checkpoint not coming. The 2 hours I'd given myself came and went. At 11.30 there was no sign of the checkpoint, at midnight there was still no sign. The green light now was directly above my head and it felt like I was walking through a tunnel, the sky only a few feet above me. The rage I felt from kicking bricks turned into an admission of defeat. By now I was no longer angry at these inanimate objects in my path, I just accepted them and tried to move on. My brain felt like it was frying. It gets quite cold in the desert at night but I didn't feel the need for long sleeves. I had put on my warm top but overheated after a few minutes and went back to the T-shirt.

12.30 came and went, still no checkpoint. I'd been on this stretch for 3 hours and in this stage for 15 and a half. I was thinking about everything and nothing, like some nights when you can't sleep. There was something nagging me inside my head that I couldn't get out. It wasn't important but it was consuming me, like a broken record playing the same 3 seconds of barely audible noise over and over. I was not physically tired nor did I feel sleepy but was really struggling being in the state of awakeness. I lost hope of finding this checkpoint, I thought all the others around were going the wrong way too. I'dnever felt this bad in a race before, I had long forgotten the moments I enjoyed just a few hours before. 1.00 came and finally I could see something up ahead. I could not believe that what I'd just traveled was just 10k, nor could I really believe that the checkpoint was finally here. I saw the source of the green light which I thought would be at the end. I collected some unneeded water and headed for the bivouacs.

11k/7 miles to go. This is quite a significant distance for anyone who belongs to the Serpentine running club. 7 miles is the length of the most popular club run "the 3 parks" which involves a lap around Hyde/Green and St James' Parks. It is also significant as many will use this to reference the last 7 miles of a race that they are in. I know for many a marathon I have reached the 19 mile point and said "only 3 parks to go". The same applies in longer races and the longer the race the more potent the effect. 43 miles into a 50 miler or at Perivale in the GUCR I can easily visualise the end of the race because all you have left is a distance that you have done 100 times before. I can take myself out of wherever I happen to be (A canal path, an Alpine trail, Canadian forest or Rotherham) and put myself at Speakers Corner in Hyde Park and think about jogging around familiar surroundings with people that I know and looking forward to the pub at the end. This always helps but in this instance it just didn't occur to me.

I could not think of anything apart from whatever was rattling through my brain, I could not get it out. I had not slept well all week and felt sleep deprived but not sleepy. I knew that one of the key functions of sleep is to clear your brain cells of all the crap they build up over the course of the day. The cells build connections which normally get reset when you sleep and those that don't become memories. Right now I was building up bad memories that were clogging up my head and stopping me from fuctioning properly. I knew vaguely what was tormenting me here but had no idea until I looked it up on my return that this branch of neurobiology had such a cool name.Synaptic Homeostasis is a theory that the brain only has a certain capacity to "learn" in a particular time period before it becomes full and needs refreshing. Sleep does this. It was hardly as if I was attending any lectures in this time but I felt like I'd reached the limit to what I could mentally deal with for that day. Any further progress I would have to do as a zombie, oblivious to any external influence, possibly not reacting to and external stimulus or even my own internal state. It still seems ludacrous to this day but with only "3 parks to go" to the end of the long day I got my sleeping bag out of my bag and crawled inside. I needed to sleep, just to forget.

Finish line for the long day

It wasn't the first time I'd woken up still wearing my shoes. I didn't take them off for fear of not being able to put them back on again. I looked at my watch and it was around 4am. I'd been asleep for 3 hours, completely out of it. I could have stayed there longer but for the first time in ages remembered why it was that I was there. There was a stage to get to the end of and I had to get up and walk it again. It was still dark, I was still coughing and it was cold. I was pleased that it was cold, it meant I was no longer roasting myself from the inside. I left the checkpoint as annonymously as I arrived. Funny thing this race, there are hundreds of runners and organisers and no one really gets to know anyone. It felt like I was just leaving some service station in the middle of the night, no one cares where I've been or where I'm going, I just got up and walked.

The participants (none of them are runners at this stage) were spread out much more thinly now. I had to start looking out for the occasional markers to make sure I was headed in the right direction. I knew this was going to be a long and painful finish but I at least felt myself again. The track was the same as before and as the sun came up I could at least see in front of me and not trip up on all the rocks. I hadn't imagined that I'd be finishing the long day in daylight. I was looking forward to this day more than any other, my only previous multi-day race I nailed the long day, this time the long day nailed me. The sun was starting to heat the desert floor up again as I crossed the finish line. I felt nothing as I walked through the banner, collected my water and headed for my tent. Half of the people were already there, some sleeping and others just milling around. I wasn't sure what to think about what I had just done. That was undoubtedly the hardest day of effort I have ever had, 21 hours of running/walking/staggering and sleeping.

Message after Day 3

"That could have been the hardest day and night I've ever had. They extended the "long" day to 91k to try and make up for the earlier loss. I ran about 40k and was feeling quite good but then some sand in the breeze killed my lungs. I was reduced to my usual walking wheeze. with headaches, nosebleeds and bubblewrap feet.
Parts of the night were spectatular though. The point where i was completely alone in the desert in the dark was exhilirating, probably worth the entry for that. The miles of rocky track were less so. I was so hard stumbling in the dark for 12 hours not being able to breathe properly. 7 hours for half way then 14 hours for the rest, my heels have some corking blisters on, massive.
Feeling pretty shatterd now, only a marathon tomorrow. I think they are canning the last day too.
Thanks for all the messages, see you all soon.
I'll have to come back and nail this one year"

Stuff you should know about the MDS part 3 - Bivouac Life

"Bivouac" is a French word for "Some sticks with a blanket on top". Each day a crew of locals would erect a village of bivouacs in a circle that would sleep 8 competitors. We were assigned a number which would be ours all week and the bivouac would be in the same relative position.

They are not ideal for sleeping. There is only a rug seperating you from the rock and as I didn't have a sleeping mat I suffered in the night, constantly having to lie in different positions to stop rocks going into me. The windat night would ensure that there was a constant stream of sand flying over my head and making me cough. I didn't get any rest from the cough even at night. I felt sorry for the others I shared a tent with as I was making such a racket. I requested to sleep near the end so that I could get up if I needed to. Several times I did get up just to walk around a bit and get away from everyone else. Once I coughed myself sick. I don't think I got a proper nights sleep all week, this includes the times spent in a bed in the hotels.

The sunrise always looked spectacular, one of the benefits of sleeping almost outside is that you get to see the great panorama of the sun starting the day. I'd always feel quite sleepy at this point after an exhausting night of spluttering and tossing. As people got up and started their pre-race rituals and faffing I'd look around and see one by one the bivouacs collapse. They would not wait for you to wake up or get out, the blankets and sticks were just hoisted over you and the rug pulled from under you. You were then exposed to the sun and to the ground where you had to carefully tread so that you wouldn't get sand in your shoes.

Day 4 - The Marathon Day

This was to be the last day. Normally the last day is a 10 mile showboating exercise but instead it was going to be quite a long run. I was looking forward to getting it over with. There were a couple of marketing things we had to do for the DVD in the morning, one was to stand around for ages in a roped off area that spelt the number "24" to denote that this was the 24th MDS. Also we were given new running numbers to put on as it was considered important by the sponsors that their name looked nice and clean for the many photos that would be taken that day. I kept my blood splattered number I'd been wearing all week and threw the others away. I could not be arsed spending my time making sure that the DVD looks good and that the race organisers look like heroes.

start of the marathon day

After the usual start line nonsense and the French turning up late again we set off on the final stretch of the MDS. I started this day as I started each day, running and expecting the moment to arrive where I could no longer do this. The marathon day actually turned into the best of days. I could run for most of it. The terrain was quite challenging but all great to run on. There were plenty of smaller sand dunes, a few rocky passes, some track and roads and lots to look at. Finally we got some of the heat that we had been threatened with for 2 years. While running and enjoying the atmosphere of the last day I felt a strange sensation that I had not felt at any stage in the race until now, I was sweating. The combination of the heat and my running actually convinced my body that I was in need of cooling down and was making me sweat. It was lovely.

There were quite a few spectators in this leg, at least 20, more than I am used to in other races I have done. I wonder where all these kids come from, there are no houses near by. I wonder what sort of curfew their parents impose of them? How far are they allowed to wander into the desert before they have gone too far?

Towards the end of the stage there is a significant climb up a rocky pass. At this stage kids are around telling you there is only 2k to go and asking if they can have your water bottles/hats/buffs etc. They are not aggressive or anything but at that stage I didn't belive that there was only 2k to go and kept hold of everything. Then at the top of the climb I saw the finish, it really was just 2k away. I scrambled down and started my final approach, still running. This was the only day where I ran most of it and was the day I enjoyed the most. As I got to the bottom of the slope I had to give some water to a Spanish guy in distress, he looked pretty dehydrated and I could only give him warm water.

As soon as I got near the end I gave the fastest sprint finish that I have ever done for a race though it was missed by all of the cameras. I got a lot of cheers and comments afterwards. It's a shame there is no photo evidence of my finish, just one of me looking exhausted. I reckon I'd have given Usain Bolt a good race in the last 100m of that one. As I steamed through the finish a loudspeaker was playing "Won't get fooled again" by The Who.

Stuff you should know about the MDS part 4 - Communications

At the end of each stage you can go to a computer tent and send an email to the outside world. I didn't think much of this before starting the race but as the week went on this became really important for me. I'd think about what I'd write as the story was unfolding in the sand. This is something I do anyway and gets me through a lot of tough times. It's like a projective technique where you imagine that you are not actually you but someone else looking at you and giving commentary. In doing so you can be as complimentary as you like, which is easy to do when you are thinking about yourself in the third person. Years of daily Facebook status updates have trained me well in this, I never thought I could say that hours on Facebook have made me a more resilient long distance runner, but they have.

The daily email was my outlet to the rest of the world. I wanted everyone to know that I was suffering just to see what they would say. I found the emails were a great way to let off steam at the end of each stage. There was a word limit but I never really pushed it, I managed to keep the words down, unlike in my race reports.

By far the most enjoyable part of each day though was getting a piece of paper with all of the emails which have been sent to me. I was quite suprised by the numbers of them. I felt a bit bad for the others in my tent that they would get a handful of messages and I would have pages and pages. Not my fault for being popular :)

I got messages from all sorts of people, some I didn't even know (but made sure I got to know afterwards). It was amazing. Most messages would either be words of support in response to my distress messages or general updates on what was going on back at home. Some of them made London life seem pretty mundane, which was nice. I thought about being out here doing a "crazy" race while everyone else was back at home going to work on the tube. It seemed like such a stark difference but I just couldn't wait to get back there and join them, this week did not pan out well.

Message after Day 4 - Box Ticked

I had a good day, at last. I ran the marathon in about 6 hours, not very fast but i ran most of it and felt good. That's it, it's all over now.
Have no idea where i ranked and have not looked all week though i hear my rankings are being glibly announced back home each day so you probably all know better than i do. Nikolai will be in the top100.
It certainly was an experience, the long day will haunt me for a long time, i've never felt anything like that before. I'm sure i'll bore yu all with the details over several kegs of guinness.
I'm off to treat myself to a clean pair of pants, I've been wating for this all week. still in camp tonight and being fed bread and pickled carrots.
sorry to dissappoint anyone who was hoping I was actually going to die, though ther is still time, i've not started drinking yet. it was great to finish on a bit of a high, am going over now to watch the last runners come in, it's amazing to see some of these guys.
Thanks everyone and see you all soon x.

Box Ticked

So there it was, all done. Well all that we were given to do anyway. It's hard to sum up this week (hence the 10000 words previous) but it was hard for so many reasons that have nothing to do with the challenge of running. I felt like I was taking part in a corporate challenge rather than a test of endurance, everything about this race reeked of marketing and PR. Fair enough there is little they could have done about the flood but the focus seemed to be on making a great DVD rather than putting on a great race. I didn't like all of the faffing and queueing involved.

This became more of a challenge for me because of the illness. It was one of the least enjoyable weeks of my life and even at the end I felt nothing. No cause to celebrate or sense of relief, just a feeling that I'd ticked a box and could get on with other runs that I really wanted to do. I've just read back a comment I made about having to come back one year and nail this, I won't be doing that. I'm not coming back. It's hard to see this as anything more than a large dent in my credit card. There is other stuff out there, harder, better organised, less needless ceremony and a lot less expensive. I still didn't feel like I had finished, I knew 2 more days of queues and hotels awaited. I wasn't going to consider this over until I was back in the UK. Plenty of stuff to look forward to, a running race along a canal then a running race around Greece.

Still, I doubt I'd get another chance to be the only person in the world like I was at the top of the sand dune. That was pretty special.

Written by Krasse Gueorguiev - http://krassegueorguiev.tumblr.com

Written by Stephen Evans

Why am I finally writing this diary now, more than three years after the race, basically because three friends and I have entered the 2010 MDS. A sort of 5 year anniversary to celebrate the pain and suffering of last time. I’ve been meaning to write a race report from the diary I kept, but work and a normal family life and training for the other four ultras I have entered seem to have interfered and I always seem to find something better to do, but at last here is the report of my first ever ultra marathon. It is written from diary notes made during the event, so is purely a personal recollection, it may or may not bear any relation to the official report and records of the race, but this is how it looked from way down the field.

7 April 2005: Day 1 in Morocco

I had stayed the night in a hotel in Gatwick, shared a room with Howard Cook. I’d met him on the forum, and despite my mother’s warnings about the type of man you meet on the internet I’d decided to share a hotel room with him. We met up with Steve Reeves, another internet acquaintance, for breakfast then gone and checked in together. Check in for the flight was a bit of a shock, I wasn’t expecting a special charter, but I suppose that explains the limited numbers of British entries- one plane load! Then spent a few hours hanging around in the departure lounge spotting other competitors- it wasn’t too difficult the rucksacks sort of gave it away. We met a chap called Mark (from Birkenhead) and one called Aidan (from Jersey). The flight was eventful to say the least, we must have had the work experience boy landing, it didn’t seem as if he’d done it before, revving and slowing then a very bouncy landing, but we all walked away so by definition a good landing. There was a welcome party of schoolkids on the tarmac along with a band, and a welcome drink of dubious looking origin. The queue at immigration took forever, but at last made it through and onto a bus to the hotel, The Royal Berber. Cookie hadn’t disgraced himself the previous night so shared with him again, Steve R shared with Aidan. The first disaster of the race occurred tonight- greenheat, the eco friendly fuel helpfully supplied by Best of Morocco. The wrong amount turned up and it was a dodgy batch to say the least most of the tins were badly corroded. Not enough to go round so ended up with two rather than three tins, even they were corroded but with a bit of duct tape managed to stop them leaking. Not a good start but cheered up no end by the card that my sons had made and sneaked into my bag. Had a sort out of kit and compared mine to everyone else’s. A huge variety some high tech some decidedly low tech, wondered which was going to be the most effective. I guess there is only one real test- who was going to finish and who wasn’t. The same could be said for the other competitors, some looked superhumanly fit, others looked like they’d struggle getting down the pub. We went to the bar but I didn’t stay long as there was an early start planned tomorrow to get out to the start.

8 April 2005. Road trip Ouarzazate to Taguerroumt.

A lunatic bus driver tried to kill us all today, he must have been related to the pilot of the plane. We survived the road trip and were expecting to be loaded onto trucks for the last few kms to the first bivouac but the bus drivers thought they could make it so set off down a desert track, four of them made it the fifth had a bit of an incident with a rock and leaked oil for the last few hundred metres. Arrived in the camp, found a tent, well a scabby old bit of tarpaulin held up by branches. Number 91 was going to be our home for the next few days. In the tent were Jay, Simon, Cookie, Reeves, Phil, Aidan and me. Somehow we hadn’t managed to lure any girls into the tent. The desert welcomed us with a brief sandstorm, just to fill our bags with sand before we’d even unpacked. The tent practically blew down, but on a brighter note we were fed and given our first 3 litre ration of water. Other competitors started turning up. Some of the keener ones were even running up nearby sand dunes. It was hard to believe that after 18 months of training I was finally in the desert waiting for the start of the race.

9 April 2005 Bivouac 1. Control day

I managed to sleep okay the thermarest and the rugs were quite comfy and my sleeping bag (PHD minimus) kept me nice and snug. It was bloody freezing in the early hours when I got up for a pee. Woke up early, at least they weren’t taking the tents down around us this morning. We were given a time to go to the registration tent, but the times didn’t seem to mean much as most people waited until the queue died down then drifted over, handed in their bags full of stuff they weren’t going to need for the race, and went through the other formalities. Most of it was in French but managed to get by- no-one seemed really interested in my ECG, the weight of my bag or the number of calories I had despite how serious they make it sound in all the documentation. We were given a water ration card and medical card, parachute flare and salt tablets. Then we went for lunch, again provided by the race organisers. After lunch I went for a bit of a stroll around the camp, luckily I took some water with me as the temperature got up to 35C in the shade, and I was soon dripping with sweat. What was the race itself going to be like! Went up the ridge overlooking the camp and finally realised that the competitors’tents looked like a 20 from above. After exerting myself went back to the tent to get some shade and move some particularly pointy rocks from under the rugs of the tent. The sandstorm of the previoius night was just a warm up tonight we had a three and a half hour sandstorm with visibility of about 100m and a significant drop in temperature. The tent almost blew down again- this was going to be a recurring theme of the week. Tent 88 blew down completely, the occupants looked most unhappy. In an attempt to improve the mood the French resorted to music, the Buena Vista club at high volume, it worked as loads of people started dancing. PB regaled us with a long talk in French with a two word English translation (another theme for the week) we managed to work out that there were 777 competitors from 36 countries and 112 were women the rest of it was lost in the desert wind. The latrine tents blew away- probably for the best as I wasn’t able to go within fifty yards of them anyway the smell was vile. Competitors sensibilities were slowly disappearing the bushes that we were crapping behind were slowly getting smaller and closer to the campsite, especially at night.

10 April 2005 Race Day 1 (IRHS to KHERMOU - 29 km)

This is it the start! I woke at 0430 cold despite being in sleeping bag, lay there for a while quietly contemplating what lay ahead and hoping that I can at least complete one day before dropping out. Everyone else in the tent was awake by 0500 and slowly we emerged to sort out rucksacks, sleeping bags and breakfast. By 0600 the tent monitors were busy dismantling tents, if you weren’t awake or out of your bag they just took them down around you. Collected water ration, quite organised not much of a queue then sat down and wrote in my diary while trying to get a reasonable amount of water down before the start. Arrived at the start line at about 0830, shepherded into the shape of a 20 for some photos then the PB speech. Eventually got started at 0930, this was it finally. I managed to run slowly for the first three kms then hit a rocky ridge which we needed to scramble up after that I walked to CP1 with Simon from the tent. Even though I’d been told that it wasn’t all sandy the terrain surprised me- rocky paths more like goat tracks, dunes and scrambling up loose rocks. Slowly made my way towards the finish of day one. With typical MDS psychology the camp was visible from about 4.5km out and just seemed to take ages to get to. Finally arrived at the camp as was in a bit of a state, a stonking headache and felt sick. Everyone else in the tent okay. I lay down sipped water from my camel back and took some paracetamol after an hour or so I felt much better and was able to eat some food. The beef and potato hotpot actually tasted really good. I did think though that if I felt that bad after Day 1 , what was I going to be like later in the week. Sorted my feet out as I had two small blisters then got an early night as I was absolutely knackered.

11 April 2005 Race Day 2 (KHERMOU to JEBEL EL OFTAL - 37.5)

I had a good night sleep, it wasn’t so cold and as I was dehydrated the previous evening despite the amount of water I’d drunk the night before I hadn’t got up to have a pee. The road book said hilly with only 1 km of dunes right at the end. Ready to roll at 0830, yet another PB speech dubiously translated into English then of we went.

This is a direct quote from my diary that was written at the end of the stage

“What a f*****g outrageous day- rock climbing, even a roped section”I think that just about summed it up. No headache today, obviously better hydration strategy- i.e. drinking more and taking as many salt tablets as I was offered by the marshals. God knows what was actually in them but I took them and swallowed them with the half strength GO-electrolyte I was using. I walked with Simon over the rolling ridges to just before check point two, then picked up the pace a bit and caught up with Reevesy and Aidan on the last bit in the dunes. Usual camp routine water, drop kit, heat water, eat food, sort feet then sleep. The Greenheat was a complete and utter disaster so cooked on a fire. Tent an absolute disaster as it kept falling down throughout the night, in the end we stopped trying to put it back up and just slept with it collapsed over us. Had some emails from home which cheered me up although the mood in the tent was really good. Simon came in after 10 hours and needed to go to the medical tent as he was so dehydrated, he didn’t get an IV and seemed to pick up as the evening progressed. A surprise for us all –a string quartet. Surreal. Top temperature today 44C. 12 abandons. 17 in after time but allowed to continue.

12 April 2005 Race Day 3 (JEBEL EL OFTAL to TALMAIDERT –41 km)

Everyone in the tent achy and stiff this morning, the effects of the distance the terrain and the heat starting to take its toll. None of us had taken part in an ultra before, some of us had never competed in a marathon. A difficult day today it took me about 9 hours but no really big problems, legs and shoulders stiff but no new blisters. Huge dunes after checkpoint 2, temperature in the troughs in the sun allegedly 50C. Bad news though Simon collapsed in the dunes and needed 4 litres of IV fluid, he is therefore out of the race. He’ll sleep in the tent but eat with the marshals. Walked with two other racers for part of the route one of whom spent most of the time throwing up but he managed to finish the stage and got to the start line the following morning without to much of a problem. Simon fairly philosophical about having to drop out, and was already talking about coming back to complete it another year. Roast lamb for tea tonight- spot on. Had my first hallucination today, I was convinced that I saw an elephant. Even though I know that elephants don’t live in the desert. It was a bush- I didn’t think that they grew in the desert either, but it was definitely a bush!

13 April 2005 Race Day 4 (TALMAIDERT to OUED AHSSIA –76 km) and

14 April 2005 Race Day 5 (TALMAIDERT to OUED AHSSIA –76 km)

Big day today, the long stage. This will be the longest I’ve ever gone. Previous longest distance in one go was the round Guernsey walk- 40 miles. Some cloud cover this morning, so not quite as cold as the other mornings. And as a bonus I got to put on a pair of clean socks. Hooray! I found a few more small blisters this morning. They seem to appear overnight once my feet have dried out. Most people around the camp have developed a shuffle that looks like something from a zombie film. Hoping to get round the long stage in less than 24 hours so I can have a decent rest tomorrow. I’ll try and keep going without a major stop at any of the checkpoints. 9 am start, the first section was absolutely mind blowing a flat dried up lake bed that just seemed to go on and on forever. I was wondering how I’d cope with 76km but as soon as I got to a bit of a hill it seemed to get much better even though it was a long stony ridge which was tricky to walk on. I tagged along with a couple of guys from Cardiff who were walking at about the same pace as me. We were at checkpoint two when the leaders (who had started 3 hours behind us ) started coming through. They seemed to be flying over the sand. On the way between CP3 and CP4 a bad sandstorm with visibility down to about 5m, I managed to walk to the next marker on a bearing then sat down and waited for it to clear. Visibility slowly improved so three of us decided to push on, it was amazing to see how quickly some competitors had gone off route, but they soon corrected themselves as the visibility improved. It started to get dark as I arrived at CP4, luckily as I arrived I bumped into Reevesy and Aidan, they had a fire going and were eating so I took the opportunity to heat some water and decided to eat with them. Had a break there for about 90 minutes then the three of us pushed on to checkpoint five. We were following the laser, when Aidan decided he needed to have a crap. Even though it was pitch black he decided to squat behind a bush, however he forgot about his glow stick which was shining like a beacon to everyone behind him, and about a dozen racers walked within about 6 inches of him. He then tried to light up the whole desert by setting fire to his toilet role. Apart from that we reached CP uneventfully. We all stopped briefly, Reevesy and Aidan wanted a sleep for a couple of hours but I was desperate to keep going to make the most of the cool of the night. I carried on and as I got closer to the camp just seemed to get faster and faster, relatively speaking. I was starting to think that I might just finish the whole thing. I finally got in about 0400. Crashed out and slept for a couple of hours then woke up at about 0630and started to inspect the damage, my feet were trashed. A huge blister on my left heel, and on four of my toes, and two on my right foot. The ones on my toes were awkward to reach so ventured to Doc Trotters. They sorted them out relatively quickly and I hobbled back to the tent. Reevesy and Aidan turned up at about 1000, they’d overslept then took a while to get going but arrived in a relatively good state. Some poor buggers were out for more than 30 hours completing the long stage.

The rest day was spent lying in the tent, as there was a sandstorm that continued for most of the day. The whole tent did venture out for a tent photo- just us and our race numbers. I was delighted to have finished in under 24 hours even if my feet were in a bit of a state.

15 April 2005 Race Day 6 (OUED AHSSIA to IRAOUN –42.2 km)

Marathon day. The good news is that whatever my time is it’ll be a personal best as it’s my first marathon ever, the bad news is my feet aren’t in a particularly good state and my legs are stiff but at least there are only two stages left. A long old day today 9hrs 38 for a marathon, I think my granny could have done better but at least it’s over with now. The oued into CP3 seemed never ending. Had to go to Doc Trotters to get supplies to sort out my feet in the morning. An eventful day I almost got run over by a eurosport jeep, he missed me by about a foot- but vengeance was mine he got bogged down in soft sand about a hundred metres further on and all his VIP’s had to get out and push. I didn’t laugh much as I went past, honest. More worrying was the chap out cold on the track, he was being sorted out by the medics and as far as I could work out he had to drop out but was otherwise okay. Usual routine once I got to the tent. I was the last one in, Reevesy had a stormer. More entertainment tonight Arab cameliers ( I think that’s what you call a soldier on camelback!) and surprise surprise sandstorms and high winds all night so the whole tent was awake most of the night trying to stop it blowing away. Btu there’s only 20km to go so the mood generally quite good. As well as my blisters I have developed a numb patch on the side of my thigh- hopefully it’ll go once I stop walking (no chance of running I am absolutely exhausted). I just want to get it done now.

16 April 2005 Race Day 7 ( IRAOUN to TAZZARINE –20 km)

Party atmosphere today barring a stupid accident I should finish. I’ve thrown all the unnecessary kit out of my ruck sack- a surprising amount, and as all my food has gone the bag feels surprisingly light. I attached a huge guersney flag to a walking pole and attached it to my rucksack so it could trail in my slipstream- it hung limply the whole way. Long stretches of hard sand so quite a good surface, which turned to track and then tarmac as we got closer to Tazzarine. I did manage to run the last 6 kms, and managed to get in under 3hours, which had been my target- all the tent 91 boys were there cheering at the finish line, along with the groups of curious locals. Got my medal, but I think I missed out on a kiss from PB- I can’t remember it anyway. I couldn’t belive I’d actually finished, quite emotional. We got allocated to a bus for the return journey dicing with death all the way. The talk on the way back was about what was next. I was contemplating a beer, bath, bed and food not necessarily in that order. Got back to the hotel picked up my bag and made the phone calls home to tell everyone that I had finished and was just about in one piece.

General comments

Once I arrived home post race blues set in, I had been incredibly focussed on the MDS for 18 months and all of a sudden it was gone. I had made some good friends who suddenly weren’t there. I didn’t feel like exercising at all for about two or three months. But all of a sudden that changed when Cookie and Reevesy came up with the idea of entering the Yukon Arctic Ultra, but that’s another story.

I have to say thank you to my wife for supporting me, it can’t have been easy with me disappearing off on training runs especially as they got longer as my training progressed.

I would also like to say thanks for your help and support to Denise and Tracey, who were going at about my pace for the whole of the race. (denise was responsible for the YAU entry)

What did I learn:

I took to much food and kit, I will be even more ruthless next time.

Blisters stop hurting after about half an hour if you keep walking and get into a decent rhythm.

I could put up with a lot more pain and suffering than ever thought possible.

A system is invaluable- my food and snacks for every day were in freezer bags so I just had to pull out the bag with the stage number on it and didn’t have to think- it might seem obsessive but it’s one less thing to think about.

A very small bush can provide what seems like 100% privacy when you need a crap in the desert.

Mental toughness plays a huge part in the race.

It’s addictive- since the MDS I have competed in the YAU, the 6633 and the British Ultra and managed to finish. I also attempted the Ridgeway race but dropped out after 70 miles

Steve Evans

Number 606 20th MDS

Written by Danny Kendall - http://dannykendall.wordpress.com/

The Marathon Des Sables is an iconic multi-day race in the Sahara desert which requires the 1,000+ competitors to cover around 150 miles on foot over 6 stages/7 days in semi self-sufficiency (bottled water for drinking and an open-sided 8 man “tent” are provided).  Extreme temperatures are to be expected and 50C+ is not unusual.  Food for the week and various bits of equipment must be carried in a backpack weighing anywhere between 6.5kg and 15kg and includes the long list of compulsory stuff such as a minimum of 2,000kcal per day, an anti-venom pump, signalling mirror and of course tropical disinfectant (causing many debates on the forums as to what it actually is!).