The final chapter

This is the closing chapter in a five year journey from non-athlete to Ironman and now multi-day endurance runner having just completed the 2013 MdS.  I only learned of this event when trying to find an event dafter than ironman which would make ironman seem more “sane”.  I never dreamed I’d enter the MdS but in the end I did.  Here’s my story of the MdS. 

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.