The Marathon Des Sables - Days Four and Five

Day Four - or more accurately Stage Four - was the big one and the stage I had, in a weird way, been most looking forward to. For me this is the stage that really defines the MDS. There are two ways of tackling it, either as two stages with a nap in between or one big run. My plan had always been to run it as one continuous stage. There were two reasons for this, one, nap-time counts as part of your stage time, so if I wanted a good time I couldn't afford a nap. The second was that, as I said previously, for me the Long Day defines the MDS and so I wanted to really embrace the challenge of running 50 miles non-stop (ish) across the desert into the night. I had also set myself the challenge of finishing the same day as I started. The road book said we were due to start at 9 ‘o’ clock in the morning so I would have 15 hours to meet my self-imposed deadline. The race organisers were far more lenient and allowed 34 hours to allow people to sleep on the course. However there were closing times for various check points. CP4 closed 16 hours after race start so it would still be necessary to get to CP5 - 58km from the start - to have a proper night’s sleep. As I said if things went according to plan none of this would bother me, however it’s always good to know what the options were if my wheels started to come off.

One of the things not everyone realises about distance running is that your brain is competing for the same energy supply as your body. This means that as your body becomes fatigued so does your brain. In order to minimise errors caused by this I had a fairly clear plan for the nutrition and ‘equipment’ side of the race. By equipment I essentially mean making sure my torch and GPS didn't run out of battery at inopportune moments. As many of you may know, the light from an LED torch remains the same colour as the battery runs down, unlike filament bulbs that used to go from white to yellow to brown as the batteries died. However the brightness of an LED torch does reduce, it’s just not always as easy to tell. I had put new batteries in my head torch before leaving the UK and hadn't used it much since then, however MDS rules state you must carry a spare set so I put those in the head torch in the morning and relegated the used batteries to ‘spares’. This should mean that if I had to change the batteries before I finished I was probably in significant trouble and a slightly dim head torch would be the least of my worries. I also wasn't certain I could do the whole stage on only one set of GPS batteries so I put spares of those in the waist pocket of my pack. To make life easier I was intending to change them at CP4 when it should still be light and a new set should last the rest of the stage - unless I was in the previously mentioned trouble.

My nutrition strategy also revolved around CP4. For eating ‘on the run’ I simply put a few more Clif Bloks, Peperami  and nuts in my pack pockets and continued with the approach that had worked well for the previous three stages - eat when I felt like it. I know one should have a disciplined approach to nutrition and hydration but despite all my training I never quite got that sorted. At Checkpoint Four I was going mix up my sachet of Peronin, discussed in previous blogs, and consume that on the way to CP5. If I was running out of energy earlier I would do this at CP3 to CP4 instead but I felt that by leaving it slightly longer to CP4 I would hopefully ensure I didn't run out of energy at the end of the stage in the dark.

With all plans in place that just left the relatively trivial exercise of running 80kms…

Despite now knowing the start routine I was as nervous at the start as I had been on Day One. We were due to start at 9 today rather than 8:30 so at 9:08 we set off.

My race strategy was to be similar to that I had evolved over days one to three. The accepted wisdom is generally that races should be run at constant pace or with a ‘negative split’, that is the second half is run faster than the first. My strategy was to do as much running early on and slow down and move to a run/walk as the temperature increased. For the long day I was planning on doing this with the intention of being in a good state to resume running as the sun went down. The first section up to CP1 was quite suited to running, not too many dunes and reasonably flat. I took full advantage and made reasonably good time to the first checkpoint.

Immediately after CP1 I was confronted by El Otfal Jebel, the most difficult Jebel ascent of the 2014 MDS. It’s debatable whether the rope at the top section was really necessary but that didn't stop me hanging on to it anyway. The slope started at a 12% average and was mostly sand. As I ascended I followed the majority and moved to the edge of the sandy ascent and clambered up through the rocks. The final 500m was a 30% gradient and rock gave way to sand. This was the main reason I grabbed the aforementioned rope, my legs were wrecked so the opportunity to take some of the strain on my arms wasn't to be missed. The top of the Jebel presented me with another stunning view, both of the landscape and also the dried up water course that would be the rather rocky - although easier than the route up - descent.

After the descent a couple of stony plains separated by 1.3km of the inevitable dunes allowed me to regain some of the time lost on the Jebel crossing on the run to CP2. CP2 to CP3 was still reasonably good running territory but did present an extreme mental challenge. Four days into the MDS and I have mostly drunk lukewarm water and eaten granola and lukewarm freeze dried foods, I haven’t washed for 6 days. I have slept on the ground in a tent for nearly a week. This is not a good time to see a sign for a hotel or a restaurant.  However I summoned up all of my willpower and simply photographed both to prove I wasn't hallucinating and pushed on to Checkpoint Three.  At CP3 all competitors were given a glow stick to be attached to their pack after dark so that others could follow them. If they knew my track record of getting lost they wouldn't have given one to me…

This seems like a good time to mention my feet. ‘Sore’ seems like a good word. ‘Very’ seems like a good word to put in front of it. However doses of paracetamol were keeping the pain down to manageable levels and they didn't seem to be getting any worse so, although they hurt, I was hopeful that they wouldn't prove a major obstacle to a good time on Stage Four. Certainly at CP3 I was well ahead of the 5.5km/h pace I needed to be sure of finishing the same day as I started.

Many checkpoints on the MDS seemed to be located immediately before climbs and CP3 was no exception. It was also getting very hot as it approached 2 ‘o’ clock in the afternoon so it was time to move to phase two of the plan and try keep the energy  expenditure down and minimise the chance of overheating. This was easier said than done as the terrain was quite sandy and had several ascents, including a 13% climb to the crest of the Mhadid Al Elahau Jebel. It was around this time that the elite runners began to pass me. For those that aren't aware, the top 50 men and top 5 women are gently roasted in tents for 3 hours after the rest of the field depart and finally released at around midday. Danny Kendall caught me up while I was walking up the Jebel. He too was walking, just twice as fast as me and, in all probability, faster than I moved all day, even when running. He grinned at me and enquired whether I was having fun. I replied ‘Yes, for a given value of fun’, by which time he had passed me and soon disappeared over the horizon. I was fairly happy it had taken the elites this long to pass me, I was about half way through the stage, I had been running for just over six hours, the elites for just over three.  This seemed to bode well for finishing in less than 15 hours and hopefully taking less than twice as long as the stage winner. After the Jebel it was a sandy descent, sandy ascent and finally another sandy descent until I reached CP4.

At CP4 I saw my first medical intervention by Doc Trotters. A British competitor was suffering from dehydration and was being put on a drip whilst I was changing the batteries in my GPS and mixing up my Peronin. My original plan had been to mix up my Peronin and drink it on the run however, possibly due to having witnessed first-hand the effects of dehydration, I drank it at the checkpoint and refilled my bottle with more water.  I had also drunk all of my water before I arrived at CP4 so it seemed prudent to drink as much as I could of the two bottles of water we were given rather than tip the ‘spare’ over myself as I had been doing before.

The terrain from CP4 to CP5 was reasonably conducive to running and as my ‘resupply’ at CP4 had included more paracetamol and it was starting to cool down a little (I thought anyway) I decided to try and run slightly more of the section.  It was shortly after CP4 I saw my second medical emergency, someone being treated out on the course, presumably for heat exhaustion or dehydration. Fortunately my plan seemed to be working out well and by CP5 I had only 23km to go and sunset was definitely approaching. Alternatively I had over a quarter of the stage left to go and it was about to get dark. However, I tried to approach all of the MDS with a positive mental attitude so I stuck to version one of events.

At CP5 a very helpful official activated my glow stick and attached it to my pack for me, he even got my head torch out of the lid pocket of my pack which saved me from having to take it off again. With many thanks to said official I set off towards the sunset.

The course was marked with glow sticks attached to the tops of the marker boards used in daylight. Any section likely to be run after seemed to be kept fairly simple from a navigational point of view, simply run point to point past the glow sticks. I found this a slight challenge at dusk as the glow sticks didn't stand out until it was fully dark but the boards became harder to see as soon as the sun set. However I found my way to CP6 and picked up my final ration of water before I got to the finish. As they gave us two bottles again I filled my bottles, drank half the second bottle and squashed it down so I could carry it under my pack waist belt in case I needed it later. I would, but not for reasons I could ever have imagined…

There was now less than 12km to go and I could take over three hours and still arrive before midnight. By now I felt really good, I’m not sure why that was but I ran through the dark, past the locals offering water from their well, past many of my fellow runners who appeared to have decided it was better to walk through the dark, and from glow stick to glow stick.

I was about a kilometre from the finish and in sight of the camp feeling on top of the world when I noticed that there were two glow sticks about 3 metres apart. Being of an engineering nature when theorising about such things I assumed it was to line us up with the actual finish, it being quite small compared to the size of the camp. As I approached the glow sticks I also saw that some irresponsible person had left a plank of wood right where a runner could trip over it. I'm still a little hazy on what happened next but it appeared to involve some degree of moisture and me staggering past the plank and the second glow stick with my left trainer half off and covered in mud. As I had previously mentioned I was feeling great up to this point and so once the initial disbelief had worn off I was able to see the funny side of managing to fall in a river (or at least a very muddy puddle) on a run across a desert - it was a bridge not a plank. However I can imagine that if things weren't going well that was the kind of event that could be the last straw. If any of my fellow runners had a similar experience (no one I spoke to admitted it) and weren't in a good place then hopefully the lights of the camp gave them the strength to regroup and get to the finish. In my defence there was no mention of any river, puddle or bridge in the road book. This defence has to be tempered with the admission that my attention span was never long enough to read beyond CP5 of Stage 4 until I started writing this blog and so even if it had have been mentioned I still wouldn't have known about it.

I finished just before 10:30, 13 hours 21 minutes and 29 seconds after I set off, comfortably inside my target and feeling incredibly happy. I used the water I had carried from CP6 to wash the mud off my hands aquired when refitting my trainer and went to collect my water ration. The conversation at the water stop went like this:

NICE LADY: ‘How are you?’

ME: ‘I feel great, am I weird?’

NICE LADY: ‘Yes’

I went back to the tent where Adrian was waiting for me and lay down very satisfied with my days work. I vaguely remember other people arriving as I drifted in and out of sleep until I woke up next morning.

The next day was the rest day, during which I thought I’d clean the mud off my trainers, sort out my kit and generally get ready for the final competitive day. What actually happened was that we spent a bit of time worrying about about Sarah (one of my tent mates) for a while until we heard she had spent the night at CP4, obviously I had misunderstood the rules on checkpoint closing time (she returned to the tent at around 3 ‘o’ clock that afternoon).  I spent the rest of my time, sending an email, chatting, clapping in the last finishers and being mistaken for a different Colin.

As you may have realised I was very pleased with my Stage Four performance, my strategy seemed to work almost perfectly. I finished 161^st, my best finishing position of any day of the MDS. This was really important to me because, as I said at the beginning, for me the Long Day is the defining feature of the MDS and to do well made me feel much more satisfied with my MDS performance overall. It also showed that my approach to Day Three had been correct and that it hadn't been the beginning of a decline in performance. I had done so well I’d moved up to 192^nd overall. This was going to be interesting as the Marathon Day also had two start times, only this time the later start was for the top 200 competitors…

The Marathon Des Sables - Day Three

The morning of Day Three again started with the granola challenge which I won out of necessity. My feet also required more TLC than before so my mood was a little subdued despite the fact that I was doing - compared to my expectations - remarkably well.

Right from the beginning I had known that the day that could really make or break me was going to be Day Four, the 80km stage. Because of this I was planning on taking Day Three not easy, but I was intending to run conservatively to ensure I was in the best possible shape for Day Four. That wasn't to say I wasn't going to give Day Three a good go, I just knew that after holding it together on the first two days I mustn't screw it up now. The stage was 37.5km long, of which about three quarters would be some variation on sand, according to the road book.

By now the morning routine of singing (Happy Birthday), cheering (Danny Kendall) and dancing (to ‘Happy’ of course), along with Patrick’s briefing with accompanying ‘translation’, was well established and soon we were off across hilly, stony terrain which, with the same inevitability as the ‘Happy’ dance each morning, soon gave way to sandy terrain, sand mounds and - you guessed it - dunes.

Less the 5km after Checkpoint One the road book said ‘Fin du sable’ - Sand ends. This didn't mean life was going to become easy of course and after a few kilometres over stony ground I arrived at the base of Foum Al Opath Jebel, a 12% climb of over a kilometre along a gorge that would take me over the side of the Jebel without, fortunately, requiring me to go right over the top of it.

The summit of the climb was another of those views that took away any breath I had remaining. As I’ve said before, this is purely my account of my MDS but I think I can say that for me, no matter how hard the climb, none of the summits I reached ever disappointed in terms of the view provided, and when that view included the finish, well that was even better.

However this particular summit was barely half way through the stage and so, despite the vast distance I could see, the finish was not part of it. The descent became less and less stony and more and more sandy until it was time for some more sand dunes. Crossing these entailed much walking across sandy slopes, which really wasn't helping my feet. Checkpoint Two was located at the exit of the dunes, four hundred metres from the next set.

After the dunes the run into CP3 crossed a vast flat open plain. This was very easy to run on but at the same time was so vast I felt slightly agoraphobic as I crossed it and was quite pleased I wasn’t crossing it alone. This was one of several occasions on the MDS when I realised just how small I am compared to the world.

After CP3 it was only 5km to the finish, the shortest section of the 2014 MDS. I passed the ruins of Ba Hallou to enter the last kilometre of the inevitable ‘sandy terrain’ to the finish of Stage Three.

Stage Three was marked my lowest performance in the 2014 MDS. I completed it in 6 hours, 4 minutes and 58 seconds, slightly more time than I had taken for Stage Two, which was 3.5km longer. I was 280th on the day which slipped me down to 248th overall. I was still top 250 - just - but would have to do better on Stage Four, the 80km stage, if I was to retain my ranking.

So was I disappointed with my Day Three performance? After a couple of week’s reflection I'm still not sure. At the time I was slightly surprised I hadn't done a little better as I didn't feel like I had taken it that easy, however the plan had always been to make sure I finished Day Three in a state fit to take on Day Four. The sand was also taking its toll on my feet which didn't help. It wasn't getting into my shoes - the Racekit gaiters did a superb job of preventing that - but the sideways shearing forces on the soles of my feet were pulling the layers of skin apart. Obviously that didn't help my speed across the dunes and other variations on sand I encountered. Now I can look at the results and put my performance into context, if I had been 10 minutes faster I would have jumped over 30 places, which explains why the effect on my overall placing wasn't as bad as it could have been. I think on balance I can’t say my Day Three performance was disappointing as it left me in the top 250 and ready (feet permitting) to really attack Day Four. Interestingly, one thing I had noticed from reading other peoples blogs before the event was that Day Three often seemed to be a low point for competitors and whilst I fortunately never had any points that were as low as some seemed to suffer, it probably was my lowest ebb of the week.

The principle method by which I could communicate with the outside world was by email, however there was also Bivouac TV, so I went and made a short video telling everyone it was hard, thanking them for their support and asking for more of the same. The rest of Day Three was spent eating and preparing and planning Day Four. As I said at the beginning, Day Four could make or break my MDS - which would it be? Or would it just go averagely well and not really do either? All will be revealed in the next instalment of my epic race across the Sahara.

The Marathon Des Sables - Day Two

I awoke on Day Two feeling in reasonable condition considering the effort expended on Day One. I would like to think this was down to the amount of preparation I had put into the event, certainly my body was fairly used to running long distances for several days in succession. Alternatively some kind of desert induced delirium was setting in, which was probably equally likely. Anyway the day started with another battle with 150g of granola, after which I taped the sorer parts of my feet and got my shoes and socks on.

I wasn’t expecting to finish as highly placed on Day Two as I had on Day One. This wasn’t just due to my natural caution about my ability but down to the fact that although longer (41km), Stage 2 appeared to favour faster runners. I'm a good steady plodder but speed work had been almost entirely absent from my training for several months.

Day Two started in a similar fashion to Day One. We didn't have to form a giant ‘29’ but ‘Happy Birthday’. ‘Happy’ and the course briefing were much the same. The highlight was the reading out of the Top 10 from Day One. Danny Kendall was in an incredible 5th place and received by far the loudest cheer of the morning. Danny is not only a great British athlete he is also an absolutely top bloke who has gave me much useful advice during my preparation and totally deserves the respect and affection of his fellow runners.

We set off to Patrick’s countdown, ‘Highway to Hell’, and the low flying helicopter, across a plateau and into some ‘dunettes’. I think as far as most competitors were concerned by now sand was sand, and suggesting we were crossing dunettes rather than full blown dunes wasn't really helping.

A plateau gave way to an area of camel grass and ‘sand mounds’ (how many ways can you avoid saying ‘dune’?) which mercifully only lasted for a few hundred metres up to Checkpoint One. CP1 to CP2 took us along dirt tracks and across stony plateaus – and of course a few ‘sandy valleys’ and ‘dunettes’. CP2 to CP3 was a similar story. At CP3 Patrick Bauer was waiting to greet us. Whether you like it or not (and not everyone does) Patrick is the MDS. Personally, whilst I could have lived without some of his longer speeches and the ‘Happy’ dance every day, I think the MDS benefits massively from his very visible presence, it gives the event personality and uniqueness. He was more than happy to pose with me for a quick selfie (is it still a ‘selfie’ if there are two of you in the picture?) before I set off again.

‘Setting off again’ wasn't quite the rapid, dynamic event I would have liked it to have been due to the fact that El Abeth Jebel was immediately behind CP3. It was only a 15% gradient but the slope was composed of stones and predominantly - you guessed - sand. However once at the top things got much better since, as well as a great view, the descent was through soft sand that could be run/jumped down with little effort and much enjoyment. Surprisingly some people were very cautious on sandy descents and spent quite a lot of time and effort descending. Quite possibly they were right and I was risking injury but I felt, rightly or wrongly, that the worst that was likely to happen was a loss of dignity if I ended up sliding down a slope on my backside.

After that the terrain was increasingly stony but for once not sandy. A slightly hilly area led to the bivouac, which as Day One could be seen from several kilometres out. The terrain became less stony on the run into the bivouac and so I was determined to keep running all the way to the finish line. It was at this point my head and body began having an argument:

HEAD: ‘We’re running to the finish’

BODY: ‘We don’t feel well’

HEAD: ‘Shut up, we are running’

BODY: ‘If you don’t stop running we’ll poo ourselves’

HEAD: ‘Tough, keep running’

As a result when I crossed the line and got my cup of mint tea I couldn't decide whether to find some shade and drink my tea (no shade to be found), go to the toilet (I didn't have a poo bag) or get my water (my hands were full with my cup of tea). As a result I spent several minutes walking round in circles heading to the toilet, then the water point, then back towards the finish until I had drunk my tea, my stomach had settled and I was in a position to collect my water ration and go back to the tent.

As I said previously, I wasn’t expecting to do as well on Day Two; however I completed the 41km in 6 hours 4 minutes and 47 seconds to finish in 231st place on the day, moving me up to 227th overall! This was particularly pleasing as it proved I could at least hold my own on the faster stages and I hadn't burnt myself out on Day One. I couldn't be too complacent though as there were still three more days of competitive running and we had covered less than one third of the total race distance.

So how was Day Two? To me it felt harder than Day One. It was less sandy, certainly there were no dune climbs anything like those of Day One, but it felt hotter. It was definitely further and I ran faster. The fact I finished higher suggests I may well have expended more energy; it was the only day where I finished feeling less than 100% and with a slight degree of confusion. I felt much better very quickly after I stopped but it’s an indication that I was probably pushing myself very hard.

My feet were starting to suffer, especially the left one. Two days of running across sloping sand was causing the skin to shear apart. Possibly I should have gone to Doc Trotters but I felt I wanted to be in control of how my feet were treated so I cleaned, disinfected and taped them myself. This is no slight on the abilities of the doctors and nurses of the Doc Trotters organisation, they did an excellent job on some of my tent mates’ feet, I simply felt that while I could deal with my problems I should - and I couldn't be bothered to queue. OK, it was mainly the queuing thing.

According to the road book, dunes (dunettes, mounds, sandy valleys) would make up most of tomorrow’s stage - how would my feet like that?

The Marathon Des Sables - Day One

Before I start describing my run in the Sahara I want to make one thing very clear – it’s my run. Every person will have a different experience depending on how prepared they are, how the conditions affect them and - probably most significantly – where they are in the pack. For instance on Day One there were reports of some interesting games being played by Mohamad and Rachid, when they realised the rest of the top runners were simply following them through the dunes rather than navigating their own path. I was 239th so obviously I have no idea what was happening among the top ten. Equally I only know from others about the difficulties faced by those running further back. Some had problems with running out of water; some became disorientated in the dunes. Being on the small side and generally not taking more than a couple of hours to get between check points, I never had significant issues with water. Also I was fortunate enough to always be able to see sufficient runners ahead of me that navigation was never an issue. Those that have followed my journey to the MDS will be aware that had that not been the case the story you are about to read could have been very different and would probably have involved a helicopter. As a result I'm afraid mine is almost certainly not the most interesting story of the 2014 MDS but it’s the only one I can tell with any conviction so I will try and at least make it entertaining.

The day started with my first self-supplied meal, 150g of granola with powdered milk. Just add water and stir for a delicious breakfast, 700 calories and lots of carbohydrate, what could be better? Well by Day Three I was giving serious consideration to seeing if I couldn't catch a lizard or two and eat those instead. It’s not that there is anything wrong with granola but 150g is a lot – it’s around 3 times what you would have for a ‘normal’ breakfast. And granola is, well, chewy, it takes a lot of eating. Even on Day One I was wondering about the wisdom of having made this my start to every day; however it was all I had so I was going to have to stick with it – I couldn't afford to lose that many calories per day.

All my snacks for the day were distributed around various pockets on my pack and my bottle holders. I didn't want to have to take my pack off once I was running, partly to save time but mainly because it was a bit of a faff as to comply with MDS rules on number placement the chest strap had to be fastened under my front number. I even had my compass and sun cream readily to hand, although if I became lost I stood as much chance of finding my way with the sun cream as I did the compass.

Anyway given this is supposed to be the abridged version I seem to have written an alarming amount about the MDS before reaching the start line so let’s move on to said start line.

We were told to assemble at the start for a 7:45 briefing for an 8:30 start, or possibly a 9:00 start, I was never entirely sure. At 7:45 everyone was still milling around the camp until, much like birds flying south for winter, first a trickle and then gradually a flood of people moved towards the start. Well to be precise first we all had to stand inside a series of tapes to form the figure ‘29’ as it was the 29th edition of the MDS. Then we had a briefing from Patrick of which around 50% was translated/paraphrased into English. Then we had to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to some people. Then we had to dance to Pharrell Williams ‘Happy’ for a while. Finally Patrick started to count down (in French naturally, fortunately without translation or we would have heard ‘Ten…six…some numbers…zero). At this point I became quite emotional as it was dawning on me that when he got to zero (same in French and English as it happens) I would be setting off on the journey I had trained and planned so hard for – this was the moment my entire life for the previous two years had been leading up to. ‘ZERO!’ – and we are off with much cheering and waving. The atmosphere at the start of every day was incredible. For me the whole thing was given a greater sense of urgency and excitement by the first low passes by the camera helicopter, itflies sideways about 50 feet above the ground (maybe, I'm not good at judging heights, definitely very low) straight along the stream of competitors leaving the start, then comes back over us and then does some circuits. Personally I loved this part of the day as for me it really added to the atmosphere. Strangely I didn't find ‘Highway to Hell’ as big a part of the start as I expected, possibly because I generally got across the start line fairly quickly and so didn't hear much of it.

I am now running the 2014 MDS! I am also running towards the biggest sand dunes in Morocco, 3km over flat ground, through a small valley and into 12km of dunes before I reach Checkpoint One, the longest single leg in the 2014 MDS. Well we were told the first stages would be ‘surprising in their difficulty and length’. I tried to keep a steady pace for the ‘flat’ section to put myself into a reasonable position but also one that I felt I could maintain, so not too far forward but ahead of all the walkers seemed about right.

As we entered the dunes everyone around me (including me) was still running. Then we stopped running and started walking when things took an uphill slant, back to running on the flat and downhill though. Gradually what constituted ‘up’ became flatter and flatter until very little running was going on and we walked more or less in single file through the dunes, a long unbroken line as far as one could see in either direction – which admittedly often wasn't that far due to the up and down nature of sand dunes, but at times was a vast string of humanity stretching several kilometres. This was I suspect the only reason I didn't get lost in the dunes, I was part of a great chain of people, all moving at roughly the same speed and fortunately with a person at the front that knew the way (more or less, apparently we didn't exit the dunes quite where we were supposed to but we were in sight of the checkpoint).

The section from CP1 to CP2 was rather less sandy, indeed as I left CP1 I couldn't shake off the feeling I was running across a car park. It was a very stony car park but I just couldn't get the idea that I was crossing a car park back to the dunes out of my head. It may have had something to do with training at Fuerteventura, where there were some parking areas at the edge of the dunes, I don’t know but looking back on it, it seems a strange illusion to be under – maybe the heat affected more than I realised.

One thing the Sahara is not is a flat, featureless, sandy landscape. There is a lot of sand, which is occasionally, but not often, flat. There are a lot of plateaus, hills, mountains, river beds, and of course there are villages and structures made by man. Some of these villages are entirely abandoned like M’Fiss, once a mining village, now completely uninhabited, its buildings being slowly reclaimed by the desert as the sand erodes the mud bricks. A rocky climb up past the old mines led us to CP2, the final checkpoint of the day, only just over 8km lay between us and the finish.

Of course it wasn't going to be that easy, more sand and a few rocky climbs were in front of me before I caught my first glimpse of the bivouac. Patrick seems to like to position the camp such that it can be seen from some distance away. On this stage there was still the matter of 3km of the Dunes of Znai’gui Erg to be negotiated before I had finished, nowhere near as daunting as Chebbi Erg but still a challenge after 31km of hard effort across the preceding dunes and climbs. However the real key to being a successful ultra-runner is to simply keep putting one foot in front of the other until you reach the finish line. I always try and make sure I’m running as I cross the finish so despite having been forced to walk much of the last 3km I made sure I ran the last 500m to the finish to complete the day in 5 hours 43 minutes and 43 seconds and more importantly in a very pleasing and scarcely believable 239th place!

So what was my first stage of the 2014 MDS like? Hot, obviously, however there was a slight breeze for much of the time in the dunes which, although not even slightly cool, did at least aid evaporation and so provided a small but welcome cooling effect. Running on sand was taking a toll on my feet; flat sand was OK, its energy sapping, slow and wearing but not too damaging. Running across sand slopes however pulls at the layers of skin and was starting to cause some soreness under my big toes – this was just a small taste of things to come. The climbs were probably the hardest part, especially when combined with soft sand later in the stage. I had to pause once or twice as my legs burned with the effort of pushing on up a seemingly endless slope, the sand making every step more of an effort and less of an achievement, what should have taken two steps would take three, then four, five.. However despite all this I never felt it would beat me, it would slow me down, it would make me work harder than any of my training runs but I would not be beaten.

Amazingly I was first back out of my tent group – just! I lay immobile on the floor of the tent, water bottles lying where they fell, for a while - until I mixed my recovery shake, drank it and lay down some more. Tomorrow appeared to have less dunes and more opportunity to run, had Day One left me in a state to take advantage though?

The Marathon Des Sables - Admin Day

I fully intend to write a complete account of my MDS experience; however this will take a number of months and span many, many pages. I will try and write a slightly shorter account of the event for my blog for those that don’t want to wait or don’t want to waste too much of their life reading about my antics in the desert.

The first thing that struck me about the Marathon Des Sables is just how big it is. The official website describes it thus:

• 130 volunteers on the course itself,

• 450 support staff overall,

• 120 000 litres of mineral water,

• 300 Berber and Saharan tents,

• 120 all-terrain vehicles,

• 2 “Ecureuil” helicopter and 1 “Cessna” plane,

• 8 “MDS special” commercial planes,

• 25 buses,

• 4 camels,

• 1 incinerator lorry for burning waste,

• 4 quads to ensure environment and safety on race,

• 52 medical staff,

• 6.5 kms of Elastoplast, 2 700 Compeed, 19 000 compresses,

• 6 000 painkillers, 150 litres of disinfectant,

• 1 editing bus, 5 cameras, 1 satellite image station,

• 10 satellite telephones, 30 computers, fax and internet,

• A touch of madness...

The only figures there that I'm not sure about are the number of camels, I only saw two, and the ‘touch of madness’, I'm fairly sure it takes more than a touch to enter this event.

However even knowing all this before I went didn't prepare me for the size of the camp when we arrived. It did mean that we had quite a walk around the ring of tents before we found a vacant lot. The camp is arranged in the same way every day so tents near to the ‘entrance’ are at a premium as they will be nearest the finish. One of the many ‘amusing’ little points of the MDS is that after running 35 – 80km you are immediately given 3 bottles (4.5 litres) of water to stagger back to your tent with. If you complete day 4 (the long stage) after the morning water distribution for Day 5 (the ‘rest’ day) you may be lucky enough to be presented with 6 bottles to carry back with you.

One of the most, if not the most,  impressive parts of the whole event is the way the entire camp is dismantled, moved up to 80km and entirely rebuilt every day. The competitors sleep in what are called ‘Berber Tents’. These consist of a piece of thick black cloth held up by 2 poles at each side in the centre, with shorter poles and steel pegs creating low ‘walls’ at either end. The tents are open front and back, although it is possible to partly close them if you are brave enough to remove one of the central pole supports. On the floor is a carpet, red and black or yellow and black – it varies day to day. Eight people sleep in each tent, generally aligned front to back or vice-versa dependent (in our case) on which way we thought the wind would blow each night. The Berbers also don’t bother to wait for you to get up each morning; the tents are dismantled around you. They do however leave the carpet until everyone is off it, although if you are taking too long your final preparations will be done under the gaze of a couple of impatient Berbers. This is fair enough considering the vast logistical exercise of moving the camp, there is no time to allow a thousand people to slowly get up and get packed before the tents start to come down.

The eight people you share a tent with can have a huge effect on your MDS experience and I was lucky that I had already arranged to be part of a great group of six other guys and one very tolerant woman.

Admin Day Dawns…

In many ways I was more worried about Admin Day than actually running the MDS. The reason for this was simply that the MDS has a fairly extensive set of rules. However I think the British find them slightly difficult as many of them are not quantified – how big a knife? How much topical disinfectant? How do we prove we have the right number of calories per day? Then of course there was the whole issue of getting the medical certificate signed off and having an ECG signed and stamped exactly as required. Get any of this wrong and you could find yourself starting with a two hour time penalty. However…

The elite runners have specific times to go for their checks and will be fully scrutinised both at the start of the race and at the end of every stage. For those of us in the masses a full check is far less likely – although not impossible. Certainly for me the checks were minimal. I had signed a list of mandatory equipment to confirm I had it and listed my calories per day. The official asked to see my road book, inquired as to the weight of my pack (6.8kg – well it was when I packed it in the UK) and the weight of my food (3.8kg) and that was my equipment check. My form was counter signed and I went on to the medical check.

My medical check was similarly brief, I think if you can stand in the midday sun for 2 hours in the queue for the admin checks you are probably deemed fit to run. My medical consisted of a brief glance at my signed form and ECG followed by the questions ‘Have you done this before?’ Answer, ‘no’ and ‘but you are quite fit, yes?’ Answer, ‘yes.’ I was rewarded with another signature on my form and a small plastic bag of tablets that would have had me answering some very awkward questions if I was found with them at the V-Festival but were actually salt tablets. We were told to take two per bottle of water, going up to four after 5 hours of running. I took them fairly well as directed and had no hydration problems. Given the amount of salt that was encrusted in my running gear and pack by the end I suspect I would not have had such a good time if I had neglected to take the tablets.

In addition I was given a water card to be clipped when I took each ration of water, a transponder, a medical card, a ‘ski pass’ style holder for the water card and a flare. I was given them in that order, which meant by the time I collected the holder for the water card I’d already lost the card because I put it down when I attached the transponder to my ankle so it could be checked…

Anyway I seemed to pass all the checks and managed to hang on to all my kit for long enough to present my fully signed form to the officials giving out the all-important race numbers. The Marathon Des Sables isn't generally considered an educational event but in the course of getting my number (which also has the competitor’s first name on it) I learned that in France ‘Colin’ is both a champagne and a fish.

It was now all very real – I had handed in my travel bag so everything I had for the impending adventure across the Sahara was either in my pack or on my body. We would be served one more meal that evening before we had to be entirely self-sufficient the next day and head out into the biggest sand dunes in Morocco!

Time to go!

I started this blog nearly 10 months ago. Some of you have followed me from my first post, others I've picked up along the way. Hopefully you have all enjoyed being part of my journey, which is now reaching its final destination.

I've divided, weighed, labelled and packed - mostly in that order - all my food into packs for each day so that my heat addled brain won't have to work out complicated logic problems such as 'if it's Tuesday and I've run 27 miles, how many Peperamis can I have with my Spaghetti Bolognaise?' It even all fits in my pack - just. I finally bought a cigarette lighter - it's a compulsory kit item and one that is so easy to obtain I decided to wait until just before the shops shut on the day before I travel to buy one. My medical certificate and ECG are hopefully signed and dated to a standard that will satisfy the French race officials, a 200 Euro 'fine' and a 2 hour time penalty would not be a start to my MdS that I would chose.

I could go on for pages with details of all the other things I've been doing as part of my final preparation, and if this was normal blog entry I probably would. However the main reason for writing is to say thank you to all those of you that have travelled on this journey with me and to promise you that you will find out how it ends. I will certainly write some of it in my blog, I even have a vague idea that I might fill the void left by MdS planning by writing a book about it, who knows. The support I've had and the words of encouragement have undoubtedly made a difference and hopefully some of you will continue to support me in the desert. 'How can we do that?' I hear you ask. Well direct from the MdS website...

Go to the website and follow the instructions. 

http://www.marathondessables.com

section "write to competitors"

After 11 april, this email service will no longer be operational.

Only messages with surname (HARPER), first name (COLIN) and race ID number (641) will be transferred.

Do not send attachments (e.g. photos). This will cancel the message. Messages will be given to competitors on the bivouac every day. Note: AOI cannot transfer messages posted on Facebook, Twitter,...

Obviously I added my name and race number - if that was on the website I'd get everyone's messages which would be confusing and very time consuming to read. 

What it doesn't say is that the 'write to competitors' section probably won't be there until sometime Sunday so if you can't find it try again later. Any messages you send will be printed out and given to me each evening and much appreciated.

I always try and acknowledge those people that have supported me on races, be they event organisers, marshals or fellow competitors. However I'm going to save the last word before I go for the one person without whom I would never have made it this far.

Sharon, thanks for all you support, for the endless discussions about kit, food and strategy, for running with me, for arranging holidays around training, for washing endless running kit, for not complaining when I covered the kitchen in mud and most of all for just always being there no matter what - thank you, I love you.

Right, it really is time to go - bye!