Before I went to the Sahara I would have found it impossible
to describe what the MdS is. Yes it’s 5.5.
marathons on 6 days across the Sahara carrying your own food and everything
else you need in your rucksack. The
organisers supply you with 9 litres of water a day at various stages, medical
treatment if required and your 8 man tent is erected at the camps for you along
the way. But it’s much more than that.Most
people, including me, think of marathons as road runs and the times accordingly
but nothing could be further from the truth.
I was told that if you run a 4 hour marathon on tarmac then
your likely time for an MdS marathon would be between 6 – 8 hours. That turned out to be spot on. I've given distances and times below for those that are interested but in the end all that mattered was getting through this extreme endurance event. Coming 565 out of 1,040 people meant nothing to me. Hill walking, hill climbing and trail running
turns out to be the most appropriate training with road running having no relevance
what so ever. The biggest factor that
you must take into account is that you are living in tents, getting up at
5.30am, cooking your breakfast and dinner yourself and managing your water –
every drop of it as any additional water is a time penalty. 5.5 marathons on its own would be tough
enough – this was insane.
When I completed Lanza Ironman in May last year I swore I’d
withdraw from MdS because of how I suffered in the heat with temperatures in
the low 30’s, even with access to as much water and ice as I wanted during the
marathon. But I decided to see if I
could push the limits.
Once you arrive at the initial camp you have 2 days of
“administration” including going through checks of your ECG to make sure your
fit enough to run. It’s queue after
queue – food is supplied as you don’t become self-supporting until the morning
the race starts but standing in queues of 1,000 people is a right pain but you
need to be patient which was a theme for the whole event. Shortly after arriving a sandstorm blew all
our belongings out of our tent and on another occasion collapsed it – sand was
everywhere.
Day 1: 37km, 6hrs 2mins. The nerves were gangling as “Highway to Hell” blared out and
the helicopter did low pass overs with camera men hanging out capturing the
1,040 runners living the dream. I ran
with a few of my mates for the first 12k when we reached the first
checkpoint. The temperature was heading
for the 40’s and the 12.5 kg on my back was hurting. As the day went on my feet started to burn
and I realised that I had a blister on the ball of my right foot – this was not
a good start. Climbing sand dunes is
like walking up an escalator which is going in the opposite direction. Running in sand is a waste of energy for all
but the fittest elite athletes. End of
day 1 then off to the medics tent to discover 3 big blisters – they treated
them and taped my feet. I cried in pain
as I hobbled back to the tent. My dream
was in danger of becoming a nightmare. I
needed to change my race strategy. Boil
in the bag dinner and bed by 8.30am.
Just before bed an email was delivered for me – how unbelievably
uplifting. We all came to rely on that
contact from the outside world.
Day 2: 31km, 6hrs 39 mins. Started at 5.40am as I watched the sunrise. My plan was to survive day 2 as I was now carrying 11.8k. I knew that there were 3 massive climbs. According to the winner afterwards he said it was the toughest stage in the history of the MdS. I found it fine as I power walked it but it included rock climbing. Got some great photos but one of my tent mates required 4 litres of fluid from the medics – people were dropping like flies in the heat which had reached 52 degrees at its peak. Another visit to the medical tent and more blister treatment – it seems that walking creates different pressure points and now every step I took hurt so pain management became essential.
Day 3: 38km, 6hrs 38mins. The objective was to ensure I would be in shape for the double
marathon the following day so this dictated how fast I could move. You needed to calculate whether running was
good as it was painful and increased your core body temperature which put you
in the danger zone. However it got you
out of the blistering sun quicker. In
the end I never ran in the heat of the day but my power walking was quicker
than other peoples running. The banter
back at the tent with the “tartan army” was unbelievable – you needed a thick
skin and a wicked sense of humour. No
washing facilities existed and shitting in a brown bag meant you had to be
careful with hygiene. One set of running
gear also meant we all smelled rotten but nobody noticed although by the end I
was objecting to my own smell!
Day 4/5: 76km, 17hrs 9mins. The long day arrived. The strategy was to get through it and not
stop for a sleep. We ended up in trouble
when one of my tent mates fell ill in the middle of nowhere. He was 3.7 km from a check point and in
serious trouble vomiting everywhere – I realised that if he was in trouble then
we all were. Fortunately I spotted 2
medics just about to drive off and I got their attention. They treated him for 45 minutes and we sat in
the shade created by the car. It was
only when we started running that we realised the damage this had done to us as
we hadn’t enough water to have stayed out that length of time. At the same time the previous years female
winner went past suffering heat exhaustion – she was given 4 litres of fluid
through an IV drip but later pulled out.
The next couple of check points were a blur as I fought off
the horrible feeling of wanting to throw
up knowing that this would lead to medical treatment and a possible
withdrawal. At half way I stopped for
soup and a rest in the shade. Darkness
settled in and we tackled 8km of sand dunes in the dark. A green laser at the next checkpoint pointed
to the sky and we followed small luminous green markers in the most amazing
star lit sky I have ever seen. Every so
often a local would appear in the darkness and said hello – I have no idea
where they came from.
The second last stage in the night we were moving very fast
and were never overtaken. At the last
checkpoint our colleague was sick again and told us to go ahead. We picked up the pace again and finished in
just over 17 hours. On getting back to
my tent the medical team were there again because someone had collapsed outside
our tent and was being treated – in my bloody space! I just wanted to collapse. We’d done it, completed the double marathon
in one go but the pain in my feet and my shoulders from the rucksack was
incredible. I couldn’t take
anti-inflammatory tablets as it was too high a risk with the lack of hydration
so I just had to put up with the swollen ankles and feet. In the morning I had spaghetti bolognaise for
breakfast which was the dinner I had skipped the night before to save
time. A day of rest and stretching
prepared me for the next day. Strangely
I could not only touch my toes but get my fingers under my toes which was due
to the muscles being more flexible in the heat.
Day 6: 42km, 6hrs 45mins. When we woke up for the final day there was only a marathon
to go – did I just say only? It’s funny
but that is how we all felt. It was a tough
stage with huge salt planes to go across where you thought you were walking on
a conveyor belt going the wrong way for hours.
I ran while it was cool (up to 35 degrees) and left enough energy in the
tank for the end. But all the time I was
calculating just how fast I could go without collapsing with heat exhaustion –
it dictated everything. The finishing
line was a bit of a blur but I’d made it – the hardest footrace on earth was
done. There was a party in the evening
with a rock band but I stayed in the tent with my feet raised as I was
hurting. Everyone in the tent had
completed the MdS and we were so proud.
Charity run: 8km, 2hrs 15mins. The following morning we had to take part in a UNICEF charity
stage over one of the most beautiful dunes in the Sahara. All I wanted to do was get to the end and get
on the coach for the 6 hour journey back to the hotel. So I power walked it with a pal and overtook
the winner, Mohamed Ahansal, 300 yards before the line. Stopped for a picture with him and then
blocked out the TV cameras with our Scotland flag as we went across the finish
line. It was over, thank god for that.
The tartan army set me up at the alternative awards dinner
the following night when I was introduced to the race organiser, and the 315
Brits, as the “legendary Scottish runner” who had over taken Mohamed Ahansal the
event winner just short of the line on the charity run – to a standing ovation
I accepted Patrick’s hug and thought, the bastards – what a great bunch of
mates I had the privilege of completing this unbelievable race with’ friends
for life.
The whole race was about ensuring I survived and completed
it while raising money for Maggie’s Cancer Caring Centres - currently around £5,000. Every step hurt after the first day and staying
conscious so I remained in control of my destiny dictated my every move. I’ve reflected on whether I could have gone
faster or not. Possibly, but then it
could have been a different ending and not a happy one. This is a “mental” race. You have a voice in your head for the whole
event telling you about the pain, the heat and how the finish line seems never
to get closer. Physically it’s tough but
mentally it’s ridiculous.
Pushing myself to the limit has taught me so much and
fortunately I have support from my family and so many friends who have all
encouraged me to keep going. Thank you
for believing me. Now for a well-earned rest.
