Written by Mark Smith - http://www.runjogwalk.co.uk

In April 2016, I was fortunate enough to win entry into the 2016 Ultra Trail Atlas Toubkal (UTAT) event in Morocco.
Thanks to Running Heroes, the race package included return flights to Marrakech, 1 night stay in Marrakech or is it Marrakesh? and then 4 nights at the race camp in Oukaimeden and of course entry into my choice of race.

The UTAT - Ultra Trail Atlas Toubkal - were into their 8th annual staging of the event.

Taking place on the Oukaimeden plateau of the High Atlas Mountains in Morocco and at 2700m above sea level, it experiences temperatures ranging from upwards of 35^C during the day to minus 10^C at night, the event would be like nothing else I had experienced before. How would I prepare and train for such an event?

Just a little about Running Heroes before I continue. Free to join and use, Running Heroes rewards runners, literally for running. It is such as simple but effective concept. After you sign up, you go to the 'Connect my Applications' area of your profile on the site, choose your sport (Running, Walking, Cycling and Skiing), then choose which fitness tracker you use to record your run, as of writing Strava, Garmin, Runtastic, Polar, TomTom, Mapmyride(run) and Suunto are currently compatible.

Once your application is connected, everytime you do a workout, all you need to do is login to Running Heroes and your workout is automatically synced. You are awarded points for each run. You get points based on Distance, Speed and ascent. The harder the run, the more points.

Each week there are a series of challenges, again free to participate, once enrolled in the challenge, you need to hit the challenge goal and have you workout synced by the deadline - For example a challenge could be to run 3 times in a week on different day and a minimum of 3 miles each time! and you could win sports gear, nutrition and energy products or even, as in my case, entry in to races. I have also won a winter running jacket, socks, entry into a triathlon and more.

The points you accumulate can then be used to redeem against discount codes for some of the promoted partners and occasionally you can redeem points for free items along the lines of the prizes that are available. It takes zero effort to be part of the site. The actual effort is how much you put into your training.

A couple of weeks had passed following the announcement that I had won the prize before Marion from Atlas Trail contacted me with specifics of prize. I could choose from any of the events - 105km Ultra, The 42Km Marathon De L'Atlas, The 26km Viree D'Ikkiss, The 10km L'Amazigh Trail or The Challenge Du Haut Atlas which included the 42km on day 1 then the 26km on day 2.

Each event involved running up a few hills, ranging from 400m (1312 feet) of ascent for the 10km unto 6000m (19685 feet) for the 105km. I changed my mind several times, as I was unsure of my ability. I could run, but to run at altitude, in the heat and up a mountain or three was something totally new. Any one of those conditions is tough on a runner, but all three takes on a new level of ability. Eventually I settled on entering the 2 Day Challenge Du Haut Atlas - I hadn't actually ran an official marathon since London in 2008 and where I live hills are quite tiny and rare.

Before I could complete the online registration for the event, I had to get a medical certificate from my GP to certify that I was OK to take part in the event. This was a simple formality and was only charged £18.

Marion informed me that I could choose to stay in Marrakech before or after the event, I opted before and she asked me to look at my option for flights. I had settled on flights from London Stansted to Marrakech, there were few alternatives. So it would be a 6:10 am flight from Stansted with Ryan Air to Marrakech Menera Airport on Wednesday 28th September 2016.

All I needed to do now, was book car parking at Stansted, opt to buy checked luggage and a small matter of training. How do you train to run a marathon? that part was simple enough, I had already started training hard for the Great North Run, I was actually training as if for a Marathon already and was covering between 30-75 miles a week in training. I was the fittest I had been since I was 19. Next - how to train for altitude? I live in Britain - I can't do altitude training, our largest mountain is hobbit sized. Ben Nevis stands at 1345m (4414 feet), it is half the height of the altitude of the Oukaimeden plateau at 2700m (8858 feet) where I would be staying for 4 days. Finally hill training? The simplest option and something that I had been intending to do for a long time, was to rejoin South Shields Harriers and Athletics club. Maybe I could increase my fitness levels further and gain a bit more speed and endurance while doing some hill repeats.

Expect the unexpected, actually, expect the expected! Travel can be mean!

Day 1 actually begins on Thursday 22nd September! Why? I received an email from Ryan Air reminding me of the T & Cs of my booking, I never booked, the lovely organisers at UTAT did. But anyway, the email reminded me that I needed a minimum of 3 months remaining on my passport on my return journey. I did check this out previously, Gov.uk states no additional validity was required beyond the return journey date, I did think about renewing my passport but decided not too, we rarely go abroad and I may not need another passport for a few years. But Ryan Air are 'unique' and my passport would have had 2 months remaining on my return. Emergency appointment booked at Durham Passport Office and the new passport collected on Tuesday 27th September.

Passport securely packed and case ready, I say my farewells to Debbie and Jack and leave at just after 21:30 on Tuesday 27th. I was planning on leaving at 23:00, but I was expecting the expected! So left sooner.

I get in the car and start the engine, switch the lights on! Ah! Debbie points out that one of the headlight bulbs had just blown! Engine off, bonnet open, bulb out, spare bulb in, engine on, lights on. Hooray! working lights. I say goodbye again and head to ASDA for some petrol, the car however was blowing quite loudly from the exhaust. Quick inspection but couldn't see what the issue was (later on discovered that the exhaust had split at one of the mounting points and was hanging down) the car was drivable, just a bit noisy.

Quick stop at ASDA for petrol and check tyre pressures, then off to join the A19 South. I drove as far as the junction with the A689 at Wolviston where I left the A19 to join the A1, diversion 1. Those lovely LED matrix signs were informing me the A19 Middlesborough flyover southbound was shut. Diversion 2 took place at Scotch Corner, where another sign indicated the A1 would be shut. A bit of a diversion via Richmond and Im back on the A1. After the A1, I join the M1, my intention was to stop at a services on the M1 for a coffee, however, another sign indicated the M1 was closed ahead. Another diversion and I am back on the A1. I reach Doncaster by 00:30. Progress is slow.

Skip forward a few hours and eventually I reach Stansted Jet Parks by about 02:45. I'm actually on time! Glad I left earlier now.

Three and a bit hours on the plane later and I land at Menara Airport in Marrakech. At this point I wish I had read more reviews on Trip Advisor, a condition of entering the country is you must complete an official form documenting some basic traveller information; Flight No, Passport No, Departure City and Destination, Accommodation while in the country, nationality, date due to leave country, shoe size, circumfrence of big toe  etc This shouldn't prove to be an issue for most travellers except pens weren't provided. I had to loiter around some other British until one couple were happy enough to give me their pen. (Note to self - Always carry a pen when travelling!)

Baggage collected and many minutes waiting at border patrol and Im finally in the Moroccan side of the airport. There were two useful tips that I picked up from Trip Adviser; firstly, get the local currency after baggage collection and in the main foyer of the airport as the rates are significantly better. And secondly, locate a mobile phone shop inside the airport and purchase a Moroccan SIM. Water and Electricity are a limited resource in Morocco, however, 3G is almost everywhere. For about £15, you can get a preloaded sim with about 20 min of international minutes, some texts and apparently 6GB of data. Sim purchased and installed into my spare phone by the lovely chap in the phone shop, it was time to head to the hotel.

My original plan was to walk, the hotel was only 3 mile from the Airport, however, I had read that Taxis were safe enough, you just had to make sure that the driver gives you the price before the journey. I head out of the airport and am instantly hounded by several blokes all asking if I want a taxi! bemused as to which one to go with or even who asked first, I say yes to the closest and he directs me to follow him. A few arguments erupt and I am passed between several different drivers before eventually things settle and I am directed to follow someone different. I follow him across the car park in the direction of a line of beige Dacia cars. He however, is not the driver, he hands me over to someone else. They have a conversation in Arabic then eventually a different bloke arrives who is the driver. At this point Im thinking that walking really would not have been such a bad idea.

The driver asks me where I want to go, or at least thats what I guess he was asking as his English was very broken. I tell him the name of the hotel and show him a map on my phone of the hotel. He looks rather confused and appears to not know this area! After a discussion with his two colleagues, they eventually settle on where the hotel is. Before I get into the taxi, I ask the driver how much, he just says '23', I ask again, he says '23', to clarify I ask, '23 Dirhams?' he mutters something and I ask again if it was '23 Dirhams', he kind of nods.

After what appeared to be a long and erratic route, which I later understood was due to the manic or rather, apparent unregulated driving style by everyone and the fact that most roads are dual carriageway and left turns aren't always possible, we arrive at the hotel. I did track where I was on Google Maps, just for my own safety. I pull out 30 Dirhams which is about £2.50 and hand it to the driver, he laughs and says that he wants 300 dirhams, thats about £25, a quarter of the spending money that I had. As if by magic, he now speaks great English! and he explains that he doesn't accept Dirhams but wants Euros. I try to argue, spending 10 minutes frustrated while my suitcase remained locked in his boot. In the end I had to give him a £20 note and I finally got my case and he left! I don't get in another Taxi while in Morocco and later learn from the others at the race that they were also conned in a similar approach by their taxi drivers.

I eventually check in to the 'Hotel Palais al Bahja' shortly after 12pm. The hotel reception staff were very welcoming and spoke some English. The hotel was clean if not a little dated. My room was small but perfectly adequate for the single night I would be staying there. The room was dark on entering as the curtains had been drawn, the reasons became apparent when I opened them. Sunlight flooded into the room bringing with it the Moroccan heat. Up until that point, I hadn't been too aware of how hot it was. A quick check of the weather app on my phone suggested that it was about 35^c. A quick check of the rooms facilities uncovered a mini fridge stocked with water and a variety of fizzy drinks. A label on the front of the fridge itemised the price of each item, a bottle of water was 12 dirham and a can of Coke Zero was 25 dirham, approx £1 and £2 respectively.

After a quick freshen up and change of clothes I headed out of the hotel. I was initially planning on walking the three miles to the walled city and the market at Jamaa el Fna, but changed my plans, instead I headed to the newer part of Marrakech, an area called Gueliz, which was about a mile walk. Google maps suggested that there was a Starbucks next door to the Adidas store. The walk was rather entertaining. If there were any rules around driving etiquette or a highway code, it wasn't obvious, as an example, moped and motorbikes would ride along pedestrian crossings (which cars never stop for and its a mad dash to cross) zig zagging in front of cars travelling in both directions, mount the pavement, play skittles with pedestrians and then dismount the pavement back onto the road, a quite effective way of avoiding the hazards of a junction and almost a certain accident. There are two notable points that are apparent with Morocco, firstly, like a lot of Spanish holiday resorts, it is constantly under construction. Not only are new buildings being erected, it would appear that existing buildings are amended to include additional floors, but nothing seems to be getting finished.

The other notable point about Marrakech is the traffic, there are so many cars, lorries, motorbikes, scooters and push bikes. The city is heaving with traffic, unlike anywhere I have ever been before.

A quick coffee from Starbucks; a Grande size latte cost 28 dirhams or about £2.33, use of the wifi and a call back home, then it was onto the Adidas store; no different to home, similar discounted lines of out of season clothes and footwear with prices comparative to back home.

It was time for some food. I decided to be cautious, the last thing I wanted was to get a stomach bug and I had read that some of the cafes had suspect hygiene standards, you couldn't tell which eatery was safe, so Im slightly embarrassed to say I went to McDonalds and had a Chicken Burger! Sorry MO if you are reading this! I do make up for it later in the trip, but it wasn't that evenings dinner, I had a BBQ Chicken pizza then, which was very good, I played safe once again and dined in the hotel restaurant.

After my burger I headed back to the hotel, I had been up since about 6 am the previous day, 29 hours without sleep and I was starting to get tired and couldn't face more exploring.
It was my intention to get my head down for an hour, it was about 2.30pm, I drew the curtains, put the aircon on low and lay silently with my eyes closed, but alas, the land of nod was not welcoming me.
A quick change of clothes into my running gear, I decided to take a run out to the decathlon store located about 3 mile away near the Malizia part of the city. I wanted to buy more energy gels or bars and figured they may have them, a visit to the website earlier suggested they didn't sell them online, but it was worth the trip to find out. I had earlier in the day purchased a few bottles of water and had chilled then in the fridge. Water bottle in hand I set out for a slow easy jog.

The outbound run wasn't too bad, I managed to cross the roads without being hit. It was really hot and the sweat was pouring out of me as if I was standing in a slow running shower, but the run didn't feel too bad. I was at around 1500 metres altitude and at that height oxygen levels are just under 20% (Sea level is 20.9%) so no real change from home. One thing that did hit me quite strongly as I ran towards the decathlon store was the odour, the sewers very very obvious. I also noticed quite a few stray dogs playing in the dirt and away from the main roads. Lots of people were going about their business and there were lots of men, just randomly sitting in plastic patio chairs, some outside of the buildings where they must live or work, others by the side of the road, but most bizarrely some were situated in the central reservation of the dual carriageway! Just sitting there, not doing anything particular. On arriving at the store, I spent a couple of minutes briefly looking around before eventually asking someone if they sold any energy products, as expected, they didn't. I promptly turned around and ran back to the hotel.

The run back was significantly harder work than the run out. My 500ml of water was gone within minutes of starting the return trip. A new chilled bottle of water purchased from a small shop and I took stock of why it was so hard. Not obvious at the time, but the run out was downhill, the return a very gradual climb of only 125 feet or so, but it was very noticeable in the heat of the day. By time I had arrived back at the hotel, the second 500ml of water had been finished and the sweat was unabated. 

After my shower, I head out for another walk, in total I walked and ran 14 miles on my first day in Morocco. Pizza for evening dinner was the ideal way to replenish some energy and do a bit of Carb loading.
Alarm set for 7am, I managed to sleep soundly and woke refreshed. For breakfast I was served a basket of crusty bread with a selection of Jams, some pastries, 2 glasses of fresh orange juice and as much coffee as I wanted from a self service machine.

I checked out of the hotel at 8am and began the 3 mile walk to the Airport. As I neared the Airport, that is within 1 mile, I was stopped twice by taxis wanting me to accept a lift, the second driver was very persistent and in the end I had to be rude and ignore him.

Day 2
My Journey to Oukaimeden and the Atlas Mountains

I arrived at the airport by about 8:45am and was greeted by two representatives from the UTAT. I was booked on the 12pm coach to Oukaimeden but asked if it was possible to leave sooner, the first coach was due to leave at sometime between 9am and 10am. As it happens there was room and I didn't have to wait long at Menara Airport before I was on my way to the Atlas Mountains which lay about 45 miles to the North and would take about 1 hour and 45 minutes.

The journey to the mountains was thankfully uneventful. Passing through several small towns and villages, life appeared to be slower and less hectic than Marrakech. By the roadside was littered sellers of red clay terrine pots, fruit and ver and all manner of other items. As we started the climb into the foothills the scenery change from almost totally flat and desert like to lush fertile green. Trees grew in number and then wooded areas dotted by farms. The number of visable dwellings reduced in number and those that did occasionally appear were quite simple in construction, many were built by the side of the road overlooking the valleys beneath.

Its didn't take to long before we started climbing the switch back roads up the mountains, the coach remaining in a low gear as it crawled upwards. Barriers protecting road users from a quite scary drop reduced in number and for a worryingly long period of time, it appeared as if there was no barrier. But the views out of the window were spectacular and any thoughts of going out in a ball of flames were quickly forgotten, that and the fact our driver was actually a decent driver. We eventually arrived at Oukaimeden at 12:12pm.

The sun was shining and the mountains shielding the plateau were stunning. One of the UTAT representatives came onto the coach and explained something in french, I didn't understand a word of it, but like many of the others on the coach I disembarked. I very quickly found out that what was being explained, was that those people who had opted to stay in the CAF (Alpine Lodge) to get off, those staying in the tents, stay on. No matter, one of the UTAT chaps walked me the short distance across the field to the tents. There I was given an official wristband which allowed me into the dinning tent and was informed which tent was mine.

As I started the walk to my tent and started chatting to a fellow runner, from Australia and called Ian, I quickly learnt that he was to be sharing my tent. The label on the front of the tent identified that there would be three of us sharing, most of the other tents had occupancy of four. So we joked that we would be in luxury compared to other, ha! how can a tent be considered luxury. As it happens the third chap, Mr Martinez didn't show, so we had two mats each for the four days. I later learn that in some of the other tents, no shows meant that occupancy was one.

As we unpacked and setup home for the few days, I got chatting to Ian. An ultra runner he lives in France but works in Switzerland. Last year he completed the CCC™ (Courmayeur Champed Chamonix) race of the UTMB™ (Ultra Trail Mont Blanc), 101km run with over 6100m of ascent. He completed it in a respectable time of 23 hours. He was entered into the 105km UTAT ultra which has 6000m of ascent. He explained that there was very little comparison between the two events. While the UTMB™ CCC™ is a high profile event and has a much larger number of competitors (1900 allowed) and like the UTAT there are 5 races to choose from, the UTAT is potentially harder. The CCC highest point is below the starting altitude of the UTAT, while the ascent is very similar, the CCC is routed over well used tracks but the UTAT is definitely not over well used tracks and in places you are in total isolation, finally the climate is warm in the Alps during the UTMB but not as hot as the UTAT could get. Totally different events with different approaches to completing. With that news I reminded myself that I was ONLY doing a marathon then 26km the following day and should be grateful.

With that we headed out to explore our surroundings. The plateau of Oukaimeden is a ski resort during winter, who knew that Morocco gets cold enough for snow. Oukaimeden is Africas highest ski resort and while it doesn't get at busy as those in Europe, it was in 2008 about to receive a multi billion dollar investment from a Dubai firm to enhance the resort, sadly the deal collapsed following the financial crisis of recent years.

On the western edge of the plateau lies the modern village of Oukaimeden, sat at the foot of a mountain it has a few restaurants and hotels, a few small shops, the CAF which is the alpine lodge and snaking thee way up the mountain dozens of houses. At the very top of the mountain was an observetory, some mobile phone masts and a radio station, listed on Google Maps as Radio Fusion. Unsurprisingly Oukaimeden had a mobile signal with 3G.

We spent a short while in the CAF, this would be our hangout for the few days we were in Oukaimeden. With WiFi, electric points for charging phones and a bar serving snacks, coffee and beer, it was the social hub. It wasn't long before I met David. From Aberdeen, David was the second winner of the UTAT entry awarded by Running Heroes. David is a better runner than me, better by far. Capable of running a sub 3 hour marathon and quick as you like over 5km, he had entered the 26km Viree D'Ikkiss, recently back from injury, he wanted to have an experience and wasn't setting any times on his run. I introduced David to Ian. We would be later joined by Nicki and Neil from Bournemouth. The five of us would hang out for the duration of our stay.

Hungry, Ian and I head to Chez JuJu, a small restaurant and hotel a few hundred metres up the road. Enjoying the warm sun, we sat outside and chose our meals from the specials menu. I had Egg Salad to start, Chicken Terrine for main, finished with an Apple Tart and washed down with a beer. All for 150 dirhams including a tip.

The meal was fantastic, very filling and authentic Moroccan, see Mo, I did say ;-)

We hung out in the CAF for a while as we had time to kill before we were able to collect our race bibs at 4pm. We discussed our running experiences, our expections for the races and how crazy we must all be. Time flew by and it was soon time to collect our bibs. Fortunate for me, Ian was pretty fluent in French and discovered that we needed to present our full race kit at checking before we could get our bibs; for my non running friends, a race bib is basically the race number which is pinnned to our top. I should mention, on the windows and doors at the front of the CAF were pinned itineraries for the coming days; breakfast the next day would be at 7am, evening dinner from 7pm, there were a variety of walks, excursions and presentations which were optional to attend. 

Ian and I headed back to our tent to pack our race bag. It was easier for me, as Ian was doing the 105km race he had more gear to pack and carry; we were starting in the dark, I was finishing in the light of day, but Ian would continue to run through the day and into the next night and well into Sunday, he also needed to pack a drop bag with food and change of clothes which would be available at 88km into his race.

The kit I was expected to carry was as follows; in my backpack there was

2 litre bladder with fluids
500ml running bottle
2 working headlamps / torches with sufficient battery reserves
Survival Blanket 140cm by 200cm
Torch / lamp with integrated whistle
First Aid Kit with Anti-diarrheal, pain killers, antiseptic, plasters etc
Minimum of 1500Kcal of food - 8 Energy Gels, 5 Peanut Tracker Bars and a large bag of Haribo Jelly Babies. (I also carried SIS GoHydro Berry Tabs for adding to water)
Waterproof Winter Jacket and Running Tights
Lightweight Running Jacket.
The road book of the Race
Hat / Cap or Bandana

And highly recommended were;

Mobile phone with use in Morocco
Gloves
300 Dirhams for contingencies

There were other items that were optional, but my backpack only had 10 litre of storage and was quite full. I carried some of my gels and the peanut trackers in a Karrimor runners belt for easy access. The belt was a last minute purchase, as was a Karrimor race cap. My running bottle was shaped to fit comfortably in my hand when needed, but remained in my bag until such time that my bladder was empty.

Kit packed we headed to the race tent, after a short wait, it was our turn to check in. The kit check was random and they asked to see 3 specific items; the whistle, head torch and winter jacket. Passports inspected for ID, I was presented with my race bib, number 225. We were each given an official UTAT shoe bag. The road book of the race weren't available and we needed to return the next day to collect them. Things were now very real, this was actually happening!

Back to the tent to drop off my kit. Quick change of clothes into my running gear as I planned to go for a run, nothing too strenuous to start. The hill behind the CAF that led upto the radio towers had peaked my interest, so I had decided to head up for my first altitude run. At 2700m altitude, O2 levels are about 13.9%, sea level they are 20.9%. Breathing a third less oxygen while jogging uphill, where i may add, the O2 levels get thinner, would be interesting. Fortunately it was much cooler, which I was grateful for, it would make the jog a little more tolerable. I recorded a couple of videos during my run, in total it was 4.5 mile to the top and back, with 632 feet of ascent (193m)

A quick shower on my return, its worth pointing out, next to the tent I would be sleeping in, is located a cafe, it was closed, except there were male and female toilets. To have a shower, I would have to use the shower block attached to the side of the CAF, not the ideal situation, however, it was acceptable and I didn't experience any waiting around for a shower to be free.

Once again I met up with Ian, David, Nicki and Neil as we headed into the dining tent for our first evening meal. It was now 7pm and the sun was setting. The warmth of the day was disappearing fast, almost as fast as the light. The Dining tent, greeted by a security guard, didn't offer any warmth, we flashed our bracelets to gain entry. In the left hand corner was a single electric heater to warm the whole tent, in each corner, a couple of meters up, were halogen lights, however only one was working. We grabbed at Table as close to the heater as we could and sat down briefly before the first course was ready.
Initially there was a mad dash to form queues at each end of the service table. Greeted by the servers, Chicken Noodle Soup with crusty bread was up first.

Not long into my second bowl of soup, the power went off and we were plunged into darkness. I clicked on my head torch and lay it facing up on the table to give us some light. Others on surrounding tables had a better idea however, switching on my mobiles flash into torch mode, I lay it beneath a bottle of water. The light was instantly diffused through the bottle proving us with a more atmospheric but effective solution. It wasn't too long before the lights were back on. We tucked into the second course of Chicken pieces with boiled rice. It was accompanied by a tiny portion of vegetable sauce, but not enough to disguise the distinct taste that rice had. Hard to describe, it was like the rice had been cooked in re-used cooking water. It wasn't terrible but didn't do anything to make the rice more palatable. Several black and strongly sugared coffees later and the cold is getting unbearable. We call it a night and head to bed. Stepping out into the crisp and freezing night, the cold is even more apparent, so much show, I am shivering uncontrollably. The night was pitch black, no cloud cover made the night colder, but made up for it by displaying the most amazing view of the night sky. The stars and planets were on show. Briefly standing and staring at the heavens, I could make out several constellations, it truly was an amazing sight to behold. But not amazing enough to stop my switching on my head torch as the pair of us briskly headed to our tent.

Sleep that night would be very disturbed. The ground wasn't the most comfy. While a lot of coving stones and rocks had been moved, there were still enough to make for a night of tossing and turning to get comfortable.

I would say I woke refreshed, but to wake you had really needed to have slept. I did doze on and off throughout the night, but I was more awake than asleep. It was freezing all night. So cold that from 2am I needed the loo. Lying on the cold and hard ground, with freezing air circulating around you, makes you want the loo even more. I did briefly unzip my sleeping bag to go to the loo, but the warmth of the bag compared to the freezing temperatures outside was too enticing. The other experience of sleeping in a tent, surrounded by others in tents, is the noise. Not only from other sleeping individuals and the cacophony  of snores, but from the rustling and shifting of bodies, all cocooned into sleeping bags, striving to find that sweet comfortable spot before the arm you are lying on goes numb and you need to switch once more. But more disturbing than my neighbours, were the other sounds. Packs of dogs barking almost constantly. A donkey which I can only imagine must have had a megaphone strapped to its face while it brayed. It was loud, very very loud, not helped that its sounds echoed of each mountain in the plateau, amplifying its intensity and sleep depriving quality.

At 6am, the adhan or call to prayer, is played out from the Mosque via a series of loud speakers. The muezzin sounded most cheerful during his announcements, obviously enjoying having such an expanded audience than normal. He would make 4 further announcements each day, everyone, passion but determination in every call.

Breakfast was not particularly welcome. That meant I had to get up, change from my warm nightwear into some freezing clothes. Sluggishly dawdle to the toilet and try to freshen up best I could. Then trundle across the field to the dining tent. Breakfast was not at all welcome, it consisted of crusty bread with a selection of jams and laughing cow cheese triangles. Also on offer was plenty of strong black coffee which was well sugared. The reason it was well sugared was due to the fact that sugar cubes weren't really cubes, they were elongated blocks of cement hardened sugar. Almost impossible to break, they would go into the coffee as a whole. Mint Tea was also available, but I didn't feel the need to experience tea. The coffee was OK and I was happy to stick with that. Why did I get up, get dressed, in the cold for this breakfast?

After the usual meet up in the CAF, more chat about our experiences, apprehensions and wishes for the coming days. Our thoughts came back to our stomachs. But before lunch, David and I went for a run. The previous day, David had taken a run out following the first couple of mile of the Marathon route to the valley and village along the trail. He sold it to me as an easy enough run with some climbs.
The weather was much hotter, it was shortly after 10am and the sun was starting to heat the day. Running gear on we set out to do the 4 mile out and back. It was only 293ft of ascent, but I found the going extremely difficult. The altitude or heat, maybe the lack of sleep or a decent breakfast, maybe a combination of all these things, contributed to the run being so hard.

After our run, David and I went to Chez JuJu, where we had Ham and Cheese Omelette, plenty of bread and butter and I had some of the olives on offer, which I washed down with a beer. All very nice and reasonable at 100 dirhams each including a tip. The only disappointing aspect of the experience was the quantity of flies around. The service was friendly and very quick. And the omelette was fantastic.

David was planning on going for a second run later, so biding him farewell, it was back to the CAF. More and more coaches of runners arriving, kept the population of Oukaimeden on a steady increase, this became more apparent on entering the CAF, it was heaving. I was fortunate to have met and had conversations with people from all over the world, but mainly Europe. The majority, by a long way, numbered the French. There were also folk from Germany, Spain, Italy, Belgium, Switzerland, Japan, Morocco and of cause Australia and ourselves from Britain. Everyone was so welcoming. But there was an unmistakable buzz around the space. Everyone was starting to get nervous, anxious, excited... So many different emotions to encapsulate how they were feeling about the next day. The following day would be the 1st October, Saturday, the start of the 105km Ultra, the 42km race and the two race challenge. I knew there was nothing more I could do. I was hoping for a decent evening diner, an early night and some restful sleep.

Diner was almost the same again. A soup, tasting almost identical to the previous night, except there were no noodles this time. Accompanied by more crusty bread and strong black sugared coffee. The main was a large piece of chicken, with a tiny portion of vegetable sauce and pasta! PASTA!!! Some decent carbs, for some much needed energy reserves. However, the pasta tasted the same as the rice from the previous night. Did they reuse the cooking water?

We didn't stay up long past our main course. The evening was slightly warmer than the previous night, but it was still very cold, made more tolerable in the dining hall by the now four working electric heaters. Ian and I headed to bed early. We were both to be up early for our run the next morning.

The alarm sounded at 4:15am, but there really was no need, I was already awake. Another uncomfortable night. All the same reasons as previous, but this time anxious thoughts about the race. I know, I was there, there was nothing more I could do. There were only 2 options, Do It or Do one. And the latter was not an option. Up, Running Gear on, Toilet, Freshen up, breakfast; Crusty Bread, selection of jams, laughing cow cheese triangles, black well sugared coffee. It was getting closer. I didn't mention, but the previous evening we had collected our road book of the race. It was a map on one side with a altitude profile of the route and checkpoint details on the other. Then between 6pm and 7pm, there was a race briefing. It was in French, but then also after each section, translated into English and then German. It was mainly for the benefit of the 105km racers, pointing out the seriousness of what was to be undertaken. Giving guidance for medal awareness, checkpoints and cutoff times. Proper fuelling and fluid intake. Oh and the fact that they claim this race to be one of the hardest for its distance, if not the hardest. Ian pointed out to me that most race directors say their race is the hardest. There was also a smaller talk about the marathon covering a similar content but much more abridged.

Second emergency toilet stop and it was now 5:30am. It was cold, but thankfully not as cold as the previous morning. There was cloud cover, which when your at 2700m altitude demonstrates how good clouds are thermal insulators. We were guided towards the tent opposite the dining tent, there race marshals checked off each entrant into the race. We jostled about anxiously in the tent trying to stretch and keep warm. The sound of the DJ boomed over the speaker system as he tried to build drama and anticipation, at least thats what I figured he was doing, it was in French. Competitors took selfies and group photos. The main focus was on Mohamed El Morabity who was expected to win the Marathon having placed 2nd in the 26km race the previous year. Everyone was wearing warm running gear. and donning head torches.

I didn't have any plan other than to try and finish by 2pm. I figured that could be doable. That is 8 hours. As long as I got to PC2 at 19.5km distance before 10am then I will have hit the time checkpoint and would still be able to continue. No matter what else, I would take part for the experience. After all it was a once in a lifetime experience. I count myself very fortunate that I was there and more importantly that I was fit and well enough to even make the start line. My thoughts were dwelling on my little boy Jack and how he would never be able to do anything like this. We were going to enter him into the Mini-Great North Run the following year, I was going to push him in his wheelchair around the route and we would raise much needed funds for Heel and Toe Childrens Charity. But the event sold out straight away, before we could even complete the paperwork and return it to the charity. I also thought about my Dad, he was still very young when Rheumatoid Arthritis struck him. When I was a child, he was my main inspiration to run, I could run, I was OK at it. I found it easy. So I got into the school cross country team and joined South Shields Harriers at 12. My dad and my little boy. Both meaning the world to me and both, in different physically disabling ways, unable to run. Here I was in the middle of the Oukaimeden Plateau at going on 6am on a cold October morning. Wearing running leggings, winter thermal running jacket, head torch with a 3kg pack strapped to my back, about to embark on a marathon at 2700m altitude, about to Run, Jog and Walk to an altitude of 3150m while ascending and descending 2600m of mountains! I would do it over and over and over again if it could help them in some way. That is in part why as runners we do it. We can, others can't, we push ourselves physically and mentally. To challenge the pain and what we think is possible, to help those that need help. Our pain is temporary and in no way compares to the daily pain that they suffer.

The Claxon went at 6:10am. We were off. A convoy of adventurers funnelling their way through the starters arch. Head torches lighting the path in front, heads down peering onto the ground a few feet ahead, looking out for any rocks, boulders or assortment of other potential trip hazards. The first two mile I had ran the previous day. I knew it was predominately flat with a small hill to climb. The pace of the runners around me quite slow, looking at my watch I was moving along at an easy pace of 10 minute miles. I decided that I would speed up a little to cover the first two mile quicker, this had the advantage of being in front of the larger pack of runners behind me, it would give more space around me and let me see the ground unobstructed, avoiding potential hazards before it was too late.

From the end of mile 2 to mile 6 was all uphill. By the top we will have passed 10,000 feet (3048m) altitude. I was all prepared to dig deep, shorten my stride length and work up the climb in a slow but steady jog. Much to my surprise, as soon as those in front of me put so much as one toe onto the start of the climb they began to walk. Granted it was more of a march, but it wasn't a run or a jog. I kept going to catch the person in front of me and began to walk. Occasionally the climb gradient would ease a little and a jog would ensue, so I jogged too. They walked, I walked. Occasionally someone from behind would power up from behind and overtake, but then slow down to a walk. Others ahead would stop and take photos. Who could blame them. Looking over my left shoulder you could in the distance see the lights of Oukaimeden, but much more spectacular, snaking like a ribbon of light around and behind were the head torches from the hundreds of others racers. It was an amazing sight to witness. I wish I was able to have captured a photo of the scene (Visit the race website and there are some amazing photos from the event). I kept on going and began passing some of those in front taking photos. I didn't really pay much attention to my time. My watch face was set to display the current altitude, I could however with 1 button scroll through the four different display screens. By mile 6 I was still very fresh, I had only ran for about 2.5 mile and power walked the rest. But the rest was up 1148 feet (350m of climb). By the top, the first glimpse of the rising sun broke through the mountains. It was still a cool fresh day, but looking out over the valley ahead I still knew things were going to get a lot harder. Checkpoint or PC1 was at 11km and was labeled as Tizi Agouns. I didn't need to stop, but the checkpoint was staffed by about 3 volunteers who were standing next to a 4x4. They whooped and hollered as I went past. Several other runners near me took selfies and we briefly shared a laugh.

The first climb was over. The next checkpoint was PC2 at Timmichi and it was all downhill to there at approx 6444 feet (1964m) altitude. The uphill that I had previously done was a fine almost sandy gravel. Things were very different on the downhill section. There was still a distinct trail, but it was loose rock and scree debris. Initially I started my descent gently, but I felt fresh and the Adidas Trail shoes I wore gave me a great level of grip and traction. The first 6 mile had taken approx an hour and twenty minutes. I covered mile 7 in 9m58s with 270ft descent, mile 8 in 6m42s with 587ft descent and mile 9 in 7m28s with 635ft descent, but I paid for the speed. The route down was switchback hairpin trails. At each switchback I was having to brake sharply and my foot was slipping in the shoe. Small pebbles crept into my shoe and friction began to build. I stopped, emptied my shoe, rubbed my feet and continued.

The trail by mile 10 was more technical. The racers for the 105km were sent in a different direction to the marathon runners. The quick downhill sections gave way to more sheer drops. Gone were the wider distinct trails, replaced with larger boulders and narrow goat paths. A quick glance at my watch displayed the elapsed time as 1h50m for just past 10 mile, I was on course to cover the half distance in two and a half hours!. However, It was still downhill until past mile 12 and the checkpoint at PC2 Timmichi was there. For the first time on the route, I had to follow the blue navigation markers that were sprayed onto the side of the rocks and boulders ahead. I was now having looking at where I was heading to stay on track, as well as where I was placing my feet. A quick halfway time was now looking less likely.

As I wound down the side of the mountain inching closer to the valley floor I passed through small Berber hamlets where children stood and watched me pass. Some even offered up a high five which I graciously accepted. Further along a racer ahead had to be redirected by a young berber lad as the racer had taken a wrong turn, fortunate enough to have seen, I was able to avoid the same mistake. By the valley floor I was now criss crossing a rocky stream, the Ourika, trying to bound over larger slippy boulders. My pack still heavy with the weight of fluids sloshing around was starting to dig into my shoulders. Stopping briefly, I lay my blue lightweight jacket over my shoulders to act as padding, slinging my pack back on, it did feel a little more tolerable. I had been slowly sipping water every few minutes. I had taken on a couple of energy gels and devoured a peanut tracker bar earlier in the race. The stream seemed to go on for a while, I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere, the vegetation lush and green, the canopies of the trees masked any signs of habitation.

It actually wasn't long before after a slight climb up the bank of the now fast flowing stream that it became apparent that I had reached the village of Timmichi at approx 19.5km. The stone wall that lay in front of me had two coloured arrows a blue pointing right and a red pointing left. The blue was for the marathon and the red for the 105km race. I had learnt the previous night that from this point for a couple of mile, runners from the two races would be heading in opposite directions. But it was now 2hr 50m into the race and it was the approximate halfway checkpoint and first re-fueling stop. I had made the cutoff by an 1h 10 minutes.

I was instantly recognised by one of the race officials on entering PC2, 'Mr Smith' he shouted, almost surprised to see me so soon. I asked if he knew where I was in the pack, he was honest and said that he was watching out for the 105km runners entering the checkpoint, but guessed that I was somewhere in the top 30. I knew that I was relatively close to the leaders as Lisa Mehl, the eventual winner of the female challenge, was not too far in front having passed her on the quick hairpin downhill section, before letting her and a few others pass when I attended to my feet. Lisa finished approx 11th or so in the overall marathon standings. There were approx 93 people taking part in the marathon as the individual event and as part of the challenge. I didn't intend to stop at the checkpoint. I had plenty of water. I wasn't feeling a lack of energy as I had kept fuelling on the way. However, my left foot in particular was sore. I was given a cup of water and I grabbed a piece of melon. Sitting down I removed my shoe and sock. On my left heel was the start of a large blister. The sole of my foot and big toe were red and battered. I massaged germolene into my whole foot. Pulled our a large sterile pad from my first aid kit and one of the lady officials helped me dress the blister. I changed to a different pair of running socks. My right foot was nearly as sore but was showing no signs of a blister yet. I spent no more than 10 minutes at the checkpoint before saying farewell and heading back onto the trail. I was now embarking on the second half of the race and undoubtedly the most physically and mentally challenging part.

My next water and feed station would be at PC16, Tacheddirt located 32km into the race and at the bottom of the next mountain. I would have to ascend then descend the other side of the mountain before reaching that checkpoint. I should maybe explain now why the previous checkpoint was PC2 but the next is PC16. This is simply because PC1 and PC2 are shared by both the marathon and the 105km race. PC3 to PC14 are all part of the 105km run. PC15 to PC17 are part of the marathon route.

After setting out of the checkpoint everything felt good. I climbed the bank out of the village and rounded a corner. I was now apparent that Timmichi say at the boundry between 3 valleys forming a 'Y' shape. Off to the left was the valley the River Ourika flowed into. Of to the right I was entering the other valley, on both sides of my position were mountains, the one on my left side was large, at least 700m higher than my position. The mountain to my right appeared steeper. The valley floor was fertile with lush green trees and plants. I am not sure if it was my brain trying to come to terms with the scale and causing issues with my eyes trying to gain a sense of scale and perspective or if it was a combination of altitude, sapping energy and tiredness, but I suddenly felt quite lethargic. I must have only covered a half mile from the previous checkpoint, but it felt like I had all my energy removed. I opened a peanut tracker and took a bite, instantly I felt unable to even chew, my stomach sending signals that it was going on strike. I slowly chewed, not feeling sick, but not feeling like I was capable of eating anything. I knew I needed to eat and keep fuelled to in order to finish the event. I set the lap time on my watch for the 13.1 mile distance as 3 hour 10 minutes. This included stoppage time for the checkpoints and attending to my shoes. While at the time I was thinking that I could cover the half marathon on this course a lot quicker, I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn't a race to get a time, it was for me, a race to finish. I had to order myself to stop beating myself up about it.

I kept walking, although very slowly. I kept going until I approached the village of Labassene which was a little higher up the mountain on my right. Fortunately encountering the village gave me a little boost. There was some event taking place, some kind of celebration going on in the village. Music, Singing and Laughter filled the air. The trail was on a steady for constant climb. Winding and sometimes looping back on itself, the trail was comparatively easier underfoot that a few mile earlier. My feet welcomed the reprieve from hard angled rocks. I recorded a short video of the village and the valley, if you turn the audio up high you may make out some of the sounds from the village.

The trail ahead was not getting narrower and the drop off the edge were getting more sheer. Now was definitely not the time to get light headed. I took a long drink from my bladder and another energy gel. That seemed to do the trick and within a few minutes of slow walking I was feeling more myself. The sun was now high in the sky and was blasting onto my neck. I repositioned my jacket over my shoulders and reversed my cap so that the peak was offering as much protection as possible. Mile 13 had been my slowest mile so far at over 24 minutes, by comparison mile 14 had twice the ascent of mile 13 but I covered it in 18 minutes.

The route of the trail and more importantly, up the mountain, was again becoming less apparent and the blue markers became essential. At points, I was looking ahead thinking I couldn't see any potential route up without a climbing rope and mountain climbing equipment. But the blue markers did their job, laid out like breadcrumbs. With each step I was moving forward and gaining altitude. There was quite a lot of stepping up boulders and using my arms to help steady and push myself. Once again it was getting very tiring and I was lacking energy. Looking back in it now, the lethargy was a combination of the heat, poor energy intake and crucially the altitude. Even walking on relatively flat parts was still an effort. A few people passed me as I sat at various stages of the climb on boulders to try and recover. I tried another peanut tracker bar, but I didn't have the effort to chew. I grabbed a handful of jelly babies and ate the lot. Within minutes I felt perked up. I stuffed some in my running belt and put the remaining peanut trackers in my backpack. Sitting on the boulder I recognised a figure climbing towards me, it was Nicki Brayne, the eventual second placed female in the Marathon. She was climbing steadily. We briefly talked as we climbed, but the fatigue was too much and I had to stop as she marched on up the mountain. Due to the constant twists and turns, Nicki initially didn't get too far in front, but with every step she was slowly pulling away. I managed to dig in, the jelly babies doing their job of supplying some quick energy relief. I managed to catch a group of about 3 male racers. Not talking, we instinctively started to help each other, occasionally swapping the lead of our small group and looking back to check on how the others were doing. Progress was still slow, but it was progress.

The mountain was hard, with the sun beating down on our necks, sweat dripping out of us like a shower, trying to replace energy and fluids at a slow but steady pace, trying to fight the lethargy caused by the altitude by taking deep and controlled breaths. It must have been about two thirds the way up the mountain when I realised that no more fluid was in my bladder, I was sucking up air. Stopping again, I perched on a boulder and removed my back pack. It gave me a chance to re-organise things a little, burying the peanut trackers deep in the bag, I didn't want to see another bar for the rest of the trip. I removed my water bottle and stuffed my now dry winter jacket into the now free space. The jacket had previously been held on the back of the bag under the cord meshing. I didn't know how far I had to go to the checkpoint, consulting the race book and looking at my watch for distance travelled, I found I couldn't convert the KM to mile. It is strange what altitude does to thinking. Looking back, I was at just over 15mile and had another 1700ft (518m) of ascent to climb and about another 1.5 mile distance to cover. I was 4 hours 40 minutes into the race. I had 11 mile to cover and was nearing the hardest part of the event or so I thought.

I pushed on and eventually ascended the mountain at 5 hours 46 minutes into the race, the time was 11:56am, I was now 1hour30 minutes ahead of the cutoff, the checkpoint of PC15 Tizi n'Tacheddirt at 28km distance looked so inviting. For all it was a couple of officials with 2 small tents, it lifted the spirits. I was down to my last mouthful of berry water in my bottle. I asked if they had water spare, fortunately they did, but I would have to descend the mountain at get to the next checkpoint before I could fill my water bladder and bottle. A quarter full bladder would do in the meantime. I popped a berry sport tablet into the bladder and forced the bladder back into its pocket. I jammed my bottle into the top of my backpack and was ready to depart. On asking one of the officials how far it was to the next checkpoint they answered 4km, but there was also about 2800ft of descent (853m). Knowing what had come before both climbing and descending, I had no idea what to expect. It could be fantastically easy and ridiculously hard. But I was more determined than ever to continue, after all, I had gone well part half way in both distance and ascent, the hard part was done, right?

I said farewell to the guys at the checkpoint and headed off. The view out in front of me was amazing. Off to the left I could see a trail which hugged the side of the mountain as it skirted the side of the valley. It wasn't really a valley, it was the side of the mountain, but due to its shape being a 'V' and there being steep sides to the left and right, It could easily be described as a valley. The side of the mountain was more gradual than that side that I had just climbed and wasn't as steep. Looking into the distance I could see peak after peak into the distance.

My hopes were that I was going to follow the path I could see, I was actually on the path, but to my dismay, the blue markers were telling me otherwise. Looking out towards the first few blue markers, it appeared that I was going to be taking a direct route down the mountain along a more difficult path. About a quarter of a mile away I could see a figure with a white top and head covering making their way down. They weren't on the path I hoped I would be taking.

The route down wasn't too difficult. It was slow going as there was a lot of weaving in and out of boulders and rocks as the trail snaked its way down the mountain. I was trying to picture how anyone could run or jog down the mountain. Having to constantly watch where you put your feet to avoid trip hazards and watch out for the correct direction. I was finding it difficult just walking down. I often had to stop and scan the area for the next blue marker.

It wasn't long though before I caught up with the racer in front of me, but not before I was overtaken by a lady who was carefully but quickly running down the mountain. I did try to copy, but I found I wasn't light and nimble enough on my feet, which were extremely sore, to be able to keep going for long.

There was virtually no opportunity to sit and rest. I kept going until I came across another amazing and welcome sight. As I rounded a bend out in front of me was what appeared to be be a huge boulder, at least the size of a double decker bus. But it wasn't the boulder that was the interesting sight. Sitting in front of the boulder was a old berber man. In front of him he had a small stove and to his side he had a box with a hand written sign. As I approached he asked if I wanted any Coffee, Coke or maybe a mars bar! I thought it was amazing. How resilient he must be to climb up the mountain with his wares to sell, to this spot sheltered by a boulder. I was too tired to remember that I had packed a small bag of Dirham coins in a coin bag, who knew if he could change a 200 dirham note. I passed on his gracious offer and kept moving forward.

Eventually the trail changed. It was no longer rocks and boulders but now very fine mix of mainly pebbles and sand. There was a very delicately warn path crossing this new surface. The angle of the slope was quite steep and one wrong foot and it would have been very easy to slip and then tumble and slide to the bottom, a hundred or so feet below. At the bottom was a stream and in the distance I could see a couple of women washing their clothes and fabrics in the river. Behind them was a fantastic sight to see, a road! Which meant that I wasn't far from PC16 and the village of Tacheddirt. There was one obstacle between me and the road. The road was where I was heading, as there was an arrow painted on the ground pointing down the slope towards the road, which was now about 50 or so feet from the road. I stopped and looked at the slope. There was only one way to approach it, like a crab. I stepped on with my left foot and firmly pressed my foot down onto the slope. Shifting my weight onto my left leg, the lugs in my trail shoes did a great job gripping into the loose surface. Confident that I was going to hold, I slid my right leg down to meet my left leg. The loose material around me shifted but I stayed put. Moving my left leg then right, I shuffled down the slope like a crab. Eventually and safely reaching the road.

There was no obvious sign at first as to which way to go, however, not log earlier I did see a couple of racers in front of me continue in the same direction as I was heading up the road. Following about 5 minutes behind, I hadn't seen them comeback. So thats the direction I was heading. I kept following the road, looking ahead for any blue markers. I was however distracted, to my left and in the valley below was the village of Tacheddirt. I was so close to the next checkpoint. I started to jog, it was easier now as for all the road was a dirt path, it was a road and was a lot easier to run on. I kept going but still didn't notice any blue signs. It wasn't to far up the road, maybe about half a mile before the road suddenly ended. Off to the left and down a slope about 20m was a house. On the roof of the house, which was no more than 5ft from the ground due to the way the house had been built into the side of the hill, was blue writing, but I couldn't make out what was written. I scampered down the hill to inspect the writing closer. It was in Arabic. I had suspected so, but this confirmed it, I had gone the wrong way. But I hadn't seen any blue markers.

I scrambled back up the bank and onto the road. Heading back the way I came I spotted another racer a couple of hundred metres ahead, he like me, was lost. I temporarily lost sight of him as I rounded a bend. I was jogging quite quick to catch up with him. Rounding the corner, I encountered up 3 racers. All looking rather bemused. Like me, they hadn't spotted where the trail went. One of the men asked at a splendid looking house which was on the roadside. The gentleman inside explained that the trail was about a quarter mile back the way we had come.

Heading back up the road we were scouring the ground looking for any blue markings. Fortunately I came upon a blue mark off the road leading down the bank. On closer inspection, there were further blue marks on the opposed side of the road and a metre further on a small blue 'X' indicating the wrong way. We had all managed to pass the wrong way marking. Easily done depending on which side of the road you were on where happened to be looking at that point.

Back on the trail, we descended the bank into the village. To our left was the stream. The path went straight through the village, bordered on our right by houses. Chickens and cows wandered up the street, showing no concern for our presence. Children played and cheered. It was no more than a couple of minutes before we had crossed through the village to the other-side. Next door to the village school was PC16 and the final food and water checkpoint.

It was now 7 hours 39 minutes and 21 miles into the race. The local time was 1:39pm. My original hope to finish by 2pm had long since gone. Unless I could develop superhuman speed, there was no way that anyone could cover the final 10km and 600m of ascent in 21 minutes. I was now 50 minutes ahead of the cutoff time.

My bladder was empty, so too way my water bottle. I needed to attend to my feet and desperately wanted to sit down for a minute or 60. I took my backpack off and sat in on a patio chair. One of the officials offered a drink, for the first time in years I opted to drink full fat Coca Cola. She half filled by water bottle before I downed it in one go. I grabbed a couple of pretzels. I would have had more, but the flying critters put me off. I tended to my feet. They were red and battered with pressure sores, but thankfully I could see any new blisters forming. I didn't dare check the heel of my left foot. Putting my shoes back on hurt, my feet had swollen to make the fit that much tighter. Normally my shoes slide on an off with ease.

I asked for water to fill my bladder and water bottle. Filled, I added a couple of berry hydration tablets to the bladder. Once the tablets had stopped effervescing, I replaced the cap and and fought to put the bladder back its pocket in my backpack. I added a tablet to my bottle and took a long sip. I strapped my backpack back on and asked if the mountain that I had been staring at in front of me was my next challenge. With a bit of a chuckle the response back was a definite yes. I was about to leave. However, I had a sensation coming from my lower back. I felt wet. Very wet.

Taking my backpack off, I would see liquid dripping from my pack. The lower rear was saturated, a slight press to the nylon material released a shower of liquid. I pulled the bladder out to find that over three quarters of the liquid had leaked. The cap was at the top of the bladder and top of the bag, that was screwed on correctly and so was not the cause of the leak. Either the bladder had a puncture in the rubber or the seal at the hose had failed. There was nothing I could do about it now. I had about 300 to 400ml at best in the bladder, if I could get it out without further leaking and another 500ml in my water bottle.

I was now just thinking that I wanted this over with, I stood there for a minute staring up at this mountain in front of me. Wondering if I could see any route up it. Thinking how am I suppose to scale that thing! Im not a mountaineer. Im a runner. And if you can run up that then I will be amazed.

The photo above was taken at PC16. The mountain behind the buildings was the final climb. 2000ft or approx 600m of ascent.

The second I started to make the climb I realised that it was going to be a slow hard slog of a climb. I had rested at the checkpoint for 25 minutes. Ignoring my setback, I knew I could finish, mentally I felt more determined than ever, but it was my body that didn't want to continue. I pressed on climbing a while. When I did stop, I looked back down at the village and the view back across the valley from where I had come. Even though I had struggled, the sense of achievement was still overwhelming. My sense of adventure and wanting to explore reminded me why I had to continue. Not many people have climbed these mountain, at least not British. I took a few photos and stood and took in the view before pushing on.

As I climbed, my mind was drawn back to Lord of the Rings; The Return of the King, I think it was, where Frodo, Sam and Gollum climb the 'Stairs of Cirith Ungol'. Thats what It seemed like I was doing. Except I wasn't climbing something as easy as stairs, I would have loved to have had a secret staircase carved out of the rock. But the route up was likened to a staircase. Occasionally the route would be a warn trail, but the majority of the time it was clambering up big natural steps eroded into the side of the mountain, sometimes the steps were knee height and other times they were hip height, or so they appeared at the time. It was exhausting work. A couple of racers caught and passed me. But I endeavoured to keep close to them. As we kept climbing we would occasionally think that we could see the top, but the number of false summits became a bit of a joke. I eventually encountered a Swiss lad called Thomas from Basel, he seemed to be struggling more than me. I can't be certain how far we had to go, but I decided at that moment to stick with him.

We kept climbing, the group of lads in front of us weren't that far in front and we caught them eventually. In the distance we could make out a group of people approaching, possibly a half mile away but still at least 100m further up the mountain. As we climbed and got nearer we realised that they weren't other racers, we were relieved, if they were racers then we were possibly going the wrong way, but we were following the blue markers and they were guiding us ever upward.

Eventually the approaching group were almost upon us, we had to stop and step to the side to allow them past. The route was narrow and very treacherous, one wrong step could have been fatal for either party. To our amazement it was a sightseeing party on an guided walk. But I guess, they were probably equally amazed to encounter a race going up the mountain.

We were all showing signs of fatigue, stopping every few minutes. We were sheltered from the sun and it was now quite cool. So much so, I had to put my blue jacket on to offer some protecting from the cooling wind. We eventually finished climbing the mountain, it seemed to go on forever. The ladies at the checkpoint believed it was 1640ft (500m) of ascent, but I later discovered it was over 2000ft (600m). At the top were were once again greeted by a couple of race officials. Cheering us on they said it was less than 3 miles to the finish and best of all, downhill all the way. We ascended the mountain by 9 hour 40 into the race. It had taken over and hour and a half to climb the mountain. The finish line was now in sight but the climb had taken so long, it was the slowest part of the route and without any doubt, the hardest part.

The initial trail from the top of the mountain was a well defined track, from the looks of it, used by vehicles. We discussed jogging for a bit, however, the thought was short lived when the blue markers directed us off the track and to follow a scree slope down toward the valley floor, from our vantage, it appeared as if we were being sent along the more difficult of the two routes. The track was a nice steady downhill, while there was some gravel covering, it was decidedly easier than the rocky route we were to follow.

We pushed on. Crossing a stream and temporarily loosing sight of the blue markers. It was obvious that we were to follow the path of the stream thought the valley. We did eventually find the blue marked trail again, we were 10m parallel to it, but the marked boulders more difficult to spot in a open rocky valley floor. Up ahead I could see buildings with what appeared to be chairlifts. As we drew closers a few berber houses appeared. Then more. More ski lifts. With jubilation in our voices, we were minutes from Oukaimeden. We were now being directed onto a  grass covered trail which followed the stream, I recognised where we were. The valley opened out onto the plateau of Oukaimeden. Thomas decided at this point to have a toilet stop. I did stop and wait, but since he was in no hurry, I continued on. I forded the stream, I was wearing Goretex Trail shoes, I was no more than 200 or 300m from the finish. I started to jog, the jog turned to a run. The pain, the fatigue and any sign of effort left me as I effortlessly ran toward the finish arch. The shouts and building drama erupted from the speakers as the DJ announced my arrival.

I was finished. I had competed the most physically and mentally challenging thing that I have ever taken part in. I felt done in. At moments during the event, I had wondered if it would ever finish. I questioned what I was doing there. Was I capable of doing it. Capable of finishing it. Realising that I was obviously a bit crazy and then some. But stubbornly I ignored all the doubting voices in my head and pressed on.

At the finish I was handed a bottle of water and a small plastic bag with a banana and sandwich. I had finished in 10 hours and 37 minutes. My moving time was 6 hours and 57 minutes. It was 4:47pm.

My immediate thoughts of finishing were 'Im never going to do that again. THAT WAS INSANE! That wasn't a run, it wasn't even a jog. It wasn't a walk. It was trekking and mountaineering.'
But of course it was each of those things. I didn't expect the terrain to be so brutal and be so brutal for so long. I didn't expect that last mountain to be so hard. I knew the mountains would give some amazing views, but never that amazing. The whole experience was amazing.

Shortly after finishing David and Nicki came over and congratulated me on finishing. Nicki did a lot better than me, it was later that day that we discovered, as did she, that she placed 2nd in the women. She was awarded an engraved plate. We shared stories about the race and how much harder that we could have expected it was. Feeling sorry for those, like Neil and Ian, who were doing the 105km. They were still going, would still be going into the night and into the next day. That is true insanity. Could I have done that? You don't truly know what you can achieve until you try to do it. But it takes preparation. I also felt for David who had his 26km race the next day. I however had decided that I wouldn't take any further part. I had completed the marathon. My feet were sore. They may be OK by the morning, but what damage would I do? Then there was my hydration bladder. It was obviously damaged. I would need to carry the same gear for the 26km race but wouldn't have any room for 2 one litre bottles of water. Then there was refuelling on the way. Peanut Trackers just didn't do it for me, not with this combination of factors, I could eat them at home, but but not in Morocco. No, my mind was made up. With that I had a cry. I realised that I would get a DNS (Did not start) for the 26km race and therefore a DNF (Did not finish) for the Challenge De L'Atlas. A DNF meant that I wouldn't get a finisher T-shirt for the Challenge. I felt stupid for crying over a t-shirt. It was then that I bought one of the memorabilia t-shirts to go with the buff that I had bought previously.

On the walk back to my tent I was stopped several times by the local moroccan traders. They had been trying to sell their wares for a few days, but I adamantly said I wasn't interested. There was this one chap who wanted me to give him my shoes. I had already decided that I was going to leave some running gear behind together with my Asic Zaraca running shoes that I had brought, I had run over 450 miles in them and they were starting to lack in cushioning and support. The organisers for the UTAT appreciated any donated running gear to give to local runners. I was happy to oblige by donating my running heroes t-shirt, a second t-shirt, running socks, lightweight jacket and the asics shoes.

Evening dinner was the same as the previous night. Soup, then pasta with chicken. I was looking forward to my bed. I had the tent to myself. Ian would still be running. Lying in bed, at about 9:30 PM, things got loud outside, the DJ shouting and hollering, the winner of the 105KM must have finished. The music went on for a while, but sleep was welcoming me and for the first night in the tent, I had a ok night sleep.