From 8th April i'll be running, hobbling or crawling my way across 156 miles of the Sahara desert in "the world's toughest footrace" the Marathon des Sables...... in 45degC heat..... carrying all my food and equipment.

I've put 3,000 miles of training into this, mostly carrying a backpack full of text books, mostly on the biggest hills I could find (I've climbed the equivalent of Everest base camp to the summit - 22 times).... now if that's not worth some sponsorship money, I don't know what is :-)

I'm raising money for St Vincent's Support Centre - changing the lives of families living in poverty across Leeds, helping people in all kinds of ways, be it someone who had to take out a loan to heat their home, a parent who has gone hungry for days to feed their children, an elderly couple who sold their furniture just to get through another day.

http://stvincents-svp.org.uk/

Please show your support and donate.... and wish me luck!! 

UPDATE ON 23rd April

It's been a week since I came back from the desert, and now that the dust has settled (obvious pun) I’ve had the chance to reflect on things. The race is already starting to become a blur, but the memories of the desert will stay with me – the crisp ridges of the sand dunes, the clouds of the milky way when I looked at the night sky, having to shit into plastic bags for a week and sleep spoon-position next to seven increasingly stinky blokes in a so-called tent each night. Beautiful memories.

There are a few common questions that people have been asking me so I’ll try to answer them here.

Did I enjoy it? It's complicated. I spent a lot of this journey worrying - worried that my injury niggles wouldn’t heal before the start line, or I'd get sick at the last minute, worried I'd not held back enough in the first couple of days, worried I'd get a time penalty for some bizarre rule infraction, worried I’d collapse on the long day when things got really rough. Of course all of that melts away when you cross the finish line, when I cried like a baby – we’re not talking tears in the eyes here, we’re talking shoulder shuddering sobs. It’s like the term adrenaline junkie – I don’t think anyone’s addicted to adrenaline, adrenaline makes you feel sick and scared. It’s the relief from adrenaline that people are addicted to, the relief of surviving something, of passing through the crucible of fear and coming out the other side laughing, (or in my case sobbing, but the good kind). So yeah I enjoyed it, but mainly retrospectively. In fact – retrospectively – it’s the best thing I ever did in my life.

Would I do it again? No. Never ever ever. No way. Although I did hear about this amazing week long race in the jungles of Costa Rica…. That’s a joke Suesanne…. A half-joke….

Why did I do it in the first place? People have been asking me why was I doing this ever since I signed up and I was never able to give a good answer. I think maybe I lost sight of it, or I convinced myself that I needed some journey of enlightenment in the desert where I had to get to the end to discover why I began. If I’m being honest, the answer was obvious but so contingent on success that I didn’t dare voice it – I wanted to be proud of myself and I wanted other people to be proud of me. That’s it really. I guess that’s the problem with pride – one turned ankle and I could have come home with self-pity instead.

So pride’s a sin and achievements are ephemeral – good philosophical points to ponder…. next time I go for a long run maybe :-)