AT THE BOTTOM OF THE INITIAL BLURB IS A REVIEW OF THE RACE IN BOLD IF YOU ARE INTERESTED. TA FOR LOOKING.
Welcome and thank you for visiting my fundraising page. Please dig deep and sponsor me online. The more raised for Parkinson's Disease Society, the more good work can be done and in addition, the more pressure on me not to pull out of this ridiculous race.
The Marathon des Sables or Sahara Marathon is no standard marathon. Indeed marathon, shmarathon. This is a 150 plus mile run through the Sahara incorporating dunes, mountains, dust bowels and sandstorms. Add to that the temperatures recorded in excess of 50 degree C and the fact that all food as well as cooking utensils, sleeping bag, medicines,antivenom pump, distress flare must be carried by the competitor for the duration of the event, and you can see it won't be a walk in the park. Main issue: sand gets into shoes, rub rub rub: ouch ouch ouch. Also, water is rationed. If you require more (maybe you fancy a bit of a wash or simply to finish that particular stage and you feel parched), you suffer a time penalty on the first occasion and you are disqualified on the next. Not for nothing is this called the toughest footrace on earth.
So why do it? Good question, but I am along with four friends. After a few marathons, someone suggested going for more challenging "ultra" races. And so it began. The MdS was always on the horizon and 2 years ago, we managed to get in to the 2009 edition.
And raising a massive total for Parkinsons Disease Society is a significantly more important goal which is where you come in.
120,000 people in the UK are affected by Parkinson's Disease, a relentlessly progressive neurological condition with no cure. The Society provide invaluable help and support to those affected and their carers as well as funding important research and providing specialist Parkinson's Disease Nurses.
My grandmother Mima sadly died last year having struggled with this disease for some years and it is an honour to try and raise money and run for this charity in her memory. So thanks you for all your generosity.
Donating through Justgiving is quick, easy and totally secure. It's also the most efficient way to sponsor me: Parkinson's Disease Society gets your money faster and, if you're a UK taxpayer, Justgiving makes sure 25% in Gift Aid, plus a 3% supplement, are added to your donation. The Parkinson's Disease Society will contribute up to 20% of all moneys raised to the cost of the race.
Thanks again. Olivier
September 26th 2008: Interim training going well with a PB of 3hours 08mins at the Berlin Marathon.
Back to the grindstone after a couple of weeks of taking it easy - now I need to start running with weights in my backpack. Harder getting out in the mornings what with the darkness, chill and rain. Hey ho, onwards and upwards.
December 13th 2008: Round Rotherham 50 miles. The rain, the mud, the wind, the mud again. A very pleasant 9.5 hours running around Rotherham in appalling conditions. Managed to keep going though sorely tempted to quit on more than one occasion. Ran the final 20 miles with the eventual female winner! If only I had worn a skirt I may have blagged a trophy.
Unfortunately all I came home with was 26th place of 289 and a mug and some black toenails as mementos.
All good fun and when recovered, will up the training again. Scary to think that after the 50 mile day in the Sahara, should you complete it in one day, I will get just 24 hours break before running the next marathon. Ouch.
February 1st 2009: Back to back 20 milers being completed now on weekends. Plus 11 kg in backpack. Takes it's toll on the old joints - right knee especially playing up a touch at present.
Had a lovely run today in the dales: 20 miles and 5,000ft of ascent - 0 degrees C with horizontal snow and vanishing visibility - perfect desert training!
Only 8 weeks to go now. Frightening. Not sure will ever be ready.
February 28th 2009: Last big weekend training. Completed the inaugural Grantham Canal Run, a 30 miler used for MdS training by many. Managed 15th place with my mate Rich in 4 hrs 41 minutes which was good going given the 12 kg in our pack (many in front of us not carrying weight).
A bit sore the next day but not too bad and able to go for round 2 on sunday: 16 miles with weight around Rutland water. Fairly pacy too. Happy with how things have gone.
Now to finalise kit. Sort out menu and keep fingers crossed that weight of backpack does not (grossly) exceed 10kg.
Thanks to all again for your incredibly generous sponsorship.
March 24th 2009: THIS IS IT!!! All set. Tomorrow I head to London and then on the 26th, off to Gatwick for a plane to Ouarzazate (Where-is-that?). Then into the desert and after some admin days, running starts Sunday 29th for 7 days. Very excited indeed though also starting to get nervous +++. Will the shoes leak sand? Will I be able to manage my blisters. Have I got enough food (Lord knows it is heavy enough)? What about the dark despairing bits?
Hello all.
Apologies it has taken so long to write this message letting you all know how this fantastic event turned out. I have been quietly in mourning that the whole thing is over but after my first run yesterday in beautiful sunshine, all is good again so here is an update.
First though, thank you so much for all your support - so many good wishes received, pages of e-mails whilst out in the desert providing much appreciated morale boosts and not to mention a fantastic amount of sponsorship generously donated which I know the PDS are very grateful for and will put to good use.
As you know, all was initially going well. Final preparations complete, flight boarded in good time, Berbere Palace Hotel checked into, breakfast planned for 7am with coaches to camp (Bivouac).
6am, 'phone goes: "Morning, change of plan, we are heading out an hour early - breakfast is ready". Fair enough, off we go.
Getting on the coach, a few drops of rain...Fine...Refreshing...Should firm up the sand dunes. Shortly after, this rain became rather persistant. 6 hours drive later, it had yet to cease. Coaches now having to "ford" certain dips in the road. Mud all around.
5km from camp, the coach drivers refused to go any further. The army were called and 1950s trucks arrived to take us the final few km.
It was still raining. It was blimmin cold. I was in the first group of trucks and on arrival at the Bivouac, we were greeted by a muddy site with tents collapsing under the weight of water and carpets (placed on ground under tent) mostly sodden. A few had dry patches. Myself and Dave (one of the 6 of our team) started sorting out the tent, digging a trench around it to allow the water to pass us by and waiting for the rest of the Brits and our team to arrive. Still raining. The damp patch to the right of our tent was now growing into an impromptu lake gradually encroach into the tent itself.
We were then informed that no other nationalities would arrive and to go for any tents that appeared dry. We immediately made for the French tents which were on the higher ground and started to reinforce these.
2 hours later, dark and cold, we were told no one else was coming and indeed we would be evacuated to hotels in the nearby town of Erfud. Most of us were keen to stay but the weather forecast was not good.
And so the wait began. Rain rain rain - anxiety all round. We were told that the first day was cancelled - all very worried especially the British contingent for whom this was the culmination of 2 years or more of training and planning. What gradually became clear was that the entire race was in jeopardy. The dry river beds we were to run along and through were raging torrents and the heavy vehicles needed to move the camp were getting bogged down. Feet would have fallen apart in the wet on top of the sand and mileage. On day 3, Patrick Bauer the race organiser flew in by helicopter and addressed all participants. He told us that we had 2 options: The first was to abandon the race - which no one wanted to do, and the second was to run the race but with certain risks including that the race itinerary may change day to day and nothing could be guaranteed. We overwhelmingly voted for the latter option and I must say that the organisers pulled all the stops out and made for a fantastic experience.
Day 1. 20.5 miles.
We are driven direct to the start. All ready. Pack on. Raring to go. A short speech by Patrick, the singing of "Happy Birthday" to a few competitors in a very strong french accent and we are off - helicopter overhead. Everyone very excited. After 2 km of flat - we are into the Merzouga dunes, the second largest in the Sahara. They were pretty darned high and we had 12 km of these. We were definitely here. On the Marathon des Sables! Those dunes were the proof of it. So happy. But they were pretty hard going. And my front pack kept bouncing around. And then it kept undoing itself. The poles I had brought were proving next to useless. Too many things in my hands. Front pack falling off. I put the poles away and continued, resolving to sort out my kit on return to camp.
Out of the dunes for some long flat, stony ground then another 4km of dunes and then...the first camp came into view. What a sight. Fantastic.
Having sorted out my kit (repairs to front pack straps), inspected feet and sorted out the first few (at this point) small blisters time to heat up some water and eat my first of many dodgy dry-packed chicken tikka meals (I have plenty left over if anybody wants them), stand around in the e-mail queue and then it was to bed early. Monster headache though - I had not taken enough salt tablets as it turned out - not a mistake I would make again.
Wind picked up and funneled straight through the tent. It was a very cold night indeed.
Position 268
Day 2. 23 miles
A 6am start and bitterly cold in the wind. Everyone wearing all the gear they had with them. We were told that today we would be running a circular route. This meant that we would be returning to the same camp. If only we could leave some of our gear behind and not have to carry it around with us. But no deal.
So off we set at a reasonable pace - I felt pretty fresh and planned to try and continue to enjoy the surroundings. One thing that really struck me was the incredible smell of mint. Everywhere we went we would come across wild mint, liberally growing in the sand. When trampled upon by those in front of me, the most amazing smell of mint would surround me. Strangely refreshing in the heat and dust and wind.
Unfortunately, at checkpoint 2, I had to sort my shoes out as they were starting to leak sand (inwards) but continued after this and making fairly good progress.
With only 3 miles to go we came across some dunes again. This was good and bad news. Good in so far as I knew on the other side of these was the Bivouac but bad as they were tall and steep and it was the middle of the day. One last push. Learning to aim for the undisturbed sand. Over the top and.... home. Wonderful. Time to sort myself out again. Welcome home tent mates and bed.
Just before going to sleep, we were informed that to make up some of the miles lost, we would be running the long day for 91km. This was by far and away the longest ever MdS stage (usually 70-80km) and we all rejoiced.
Position 166 for stage, 200 overall.
Day 3. 56.5 miles.
6am, the tents are removed from above us. We wake up with the sun. The night sky had been the most star-filled that can be imagined.
Breakfast, water, feet, pack-up, to the start line, happy birthday, helicopter and we are off.
Very quickly I found myself running with Jon one of our team with whom I had run a number of ultras. We decided to run together initially and see how things went. We had decided to run the first 2 stages (there were 6 checkpoints - ie 7 stages) and get some miles down then see how things went in the heat of the midday sun. After the first 2 stages, I was starting to feel dehydrated. There had been a very strong wind which had kept us relatively cool but dried us out. We were only being given 1.5 litres per checkpoint and decided that for the next 2 stages, we would go at a fast walk. Any faster than this and I could feel myself overheating. We tried to use this time to rehydrate. I was worrying as although normally having a very small bladder capacity, not a lot of urine was being produced. Many people were starting to suffer on this stage and there would be a number of drops outs. Unfortunately this would include one of our tent mates.
And so we carried on. Counting down the checkpoints. After around 5-6 hours, the leaders (the top 50 of which had started 3 hours after the rest of us to allow them to get some night-time running) came streaming past us. An incredible sight. Effortless.
We ran through valleys, along mud flats and the inevitable dunes.
Unbelievably, we had company in various places. 5 year-olds in the middle of nowhere. No water. No village or signs of life for as far as the eye can see but children in bare feet asking for sweets and cake or simply wanting to high five us. Sometimes some goats accompanied them. Often alone.
As the day was drawing to a close, the most beautiful light started to bring out the shadows on the dunes.
Then we were faced with a huge climb but having got to the top of it, we were met by the setting sun, an incredible vista, dunes in the distance, unbelievable. How it had transpired that we arrived at that point exactly at that time to witness the setting sun I do not know. 20 minutes earlier would have been quite different and half an hour later, hellish in the dark. Indeed many of those behind us were never able to even see the view but only had the pleasure of toiling up the mountain in the dark and edging down the other side fearful to fall.
And so we carried on in the dark, the stars above, the bobbing fluorescent sticks on the back of competitors rucksacks ahead.
By now this was turning into a bit of a toil but determined to get to the end of this stage as soon as possible and not stop to rest for fear of having to crack on again in the sunshine.
After 13 hours, knees were getting sore. More worryingly, my bowels were starting to play up - something that had been spreading through the camp and that I had been hoping to avoid but with the (lack of) sanitation as it was, never mind my 12 wet wipes, it was inevitable that I should catch something sooner or later. I was also starting to get quite a few hot spots on my feet and really should have stopped and sorted them out but just wanted to get to sleep.
Eventually, the lights of camp came into view. Eventually I crossed the finish line. Just over 15 hours. Just gone midnight. Not bad. We hauled our water load to the tent, had a quick change of clothes, wash of the feet and to bed. 2 of our tent mates were already home. Others returned during the night. One, one of two paramedics we had met who joined our team of six in our tent unfortunately was pulled out as gastroenteritis got the best of him. We all felt terrible for him - we knew how hard he had pushed to keep on going and that all his training and sacrifice had come to nothing. No words could help him feel better. The last of our team arrived the following morning at 9am. Just inside 24 hours. He had stopped on the way for some hot food and a quick 1 hours kip.
All the Hotfooters Team were home and safe. In addition we were in 1st place so far as British teams were concerned. Hurray!
Position 163 for stage.
Day4. Rest day.
For those who had made it back in one day, this was a day to eat, sort feet out (went to Doc Trotters who contrary to their barbaric reputation were very kind and gentle with their scalpels) and generally welcom latecomers home.
We were treated with a can of cold Pepsi by the organisers - fantastic.
And at the end of the day, in the dark, the whole camp got up to welcome the final runners of the long day in. A party atmosphere. Music. An impromptu dance from the Berberes. It had taken these last two competitors nigh on 36 hours to complete the day. They looked shot. Very unwell. In fact one of the two collapsed 250m from the finish but was somehow persuaded back up. I thought he had had a stroke. He was quite delirious and disorientated but happily, having spent the night with the medics, he was in good health a couple of days later, though unfortunately could not carry on with the race.
That night we were informed that the following day would be the last day and a marathon stage.
Day 5. 26.2 miles. Marathon day.
6am, tents taken down from above us. Everyone excited about marathon day. Everyone knows what a marathon is. We were going to race this one properly. We were all going to finish.
And off we go! I simply got into a groove. No taking pictures (other than the start). Just solid racing.
All of us on our own today. No running with mates. Unfortunately bowels getting the better of me. Nothing more frustrating when racing to be squatting by the side of the track doing a Paula watching competitors stream by. Lots of immodium today and on I go. Making good time but not drinking enough. Today the children get all the bits of food I have left on me - energy bars given away happily. Not so keen to give my clothes away though. They were keen on these for some reason despite the horrendous state of them.
Half way, I am picking my way down a small mountain side when distracted I badly twist my ankle and fall. A little cursing ensues. Very worried I have done some serious damage. Tentatively carry on and after 10 mins or so it seems no longer to hurt so much so ignore it. (Some of my fellow competitors finished this entire stage on crutches so stop being a wuss.)
Some photographers come into view - this is a good sign - a bit like sailors spotting land birds - the finish cannot be too far away. A 4X4 comes by with the driver shouting "Cinq Kilometre!". I wonder how many miles he has been driving along shouting the same thing. Then over a hill and in the distance............THE FINISH!!!
It seems so close. Just a little bit of flat ground to go when I get down from this hill. Start to really push the pace on this bit of flat ground and start to dump all my remaining water on my head. But somehow the finish is not getting any closer. It is in fact still a couple of miles away. Have I not learnt yet that distances are quite deceptive out here? In fact always further away than they seem? But this is not the time to slow down. So I think of all you lot supporting me, of my family whose picture I have laminated on the strap of my backpack, of the Parkinson's Disease Society and my grandmother, and all the training that has gone in to this and I push on. I can feel the support. As I arrive for the final 500m, I start to sprint towards the line. And there it is, arms aloft I cross it to a massive release of energy. I am ovecome with emotion and can barely thank Patrick coherently as he presents me with my medal and gives me a kiss and a hug. A TV crew ask me for a few words but I make no sense. What a fantastic finish. What a feeling.
Position 106 for the day and 146 overall.
After this, the day is made up of welcoming the rest of the tent in as well as all the other runners. More emotional scenes.
That evening, we are treated to a meal by the organisation. French food. Real food. And a small bottle of wine each. Fantastic!
And to add to the luxury, we have the Paris Opera orchestra flown out to give us a concert under the stars. Impossible to describe how superb the whole day has been. Some sadness too, now knowing that all is drawing to a close. But what an adventure.
And then it is home. Lovely to see family and be greeted at the airport. So thankful for all their support without which this would have been impossible. But also coming to terms with the fact that 2 years and more of planning and dreaming is over. The reality was beautiful and surpassed the dream. If I could go out there again next week I would. Just wonderful and very highly recommended. Completely doable. And if anyone wants advice - I would be more than happy to give it. I learned so much on all fronts but would be so much smarter next time round. A truly unforgettable experience and not just for the running and landscapes but also the camp life, the volunteers, your tent mates and the banter, looking after yourself in the middle of nowhere with nothing else of concern.
So again, thank you all for your support and help. I owe you. All the best to you and aim high with your challenges. You will surprise yourself with how well you can handle them - it is guaranteed.
Thank you.
Olivier.
