The Marathon Des Sables is known as ‘The toughest footrace on Earth’ for a very good reason, and here follows my experience of 8 days out in the Sahara Desert living out of a Berber tent and attacking the largest mental and physical challenge of my life so far.
Just over a year and a half ago I never held an ambition to run this ‘race’. I entered MDS when I was in a mini mid-life crisis and found myself being told about it by a friend at a Stag Do and thinking ‘why not, sounds fun!’ I guess I entered without too much thought about what 5 ½ marathons (250km) over five gruelling stages across the Sahara Desert really meant or would do to me.
No matter how much research you do into MDS nothing will ever quite prepare you for the utter brutality of it. Read all of the articles you like, listen to peoples personal experiences, try to visualise and ‘game plan’ but at the end of the day you are going to have to put one foot in front of the other many many times till you end. Pretty much everyone has differing approaches to MDS, but the one thing we all have in common was some apprehension about what was to come.
The approximately eighteen months leading up to the race were already pretty busy for me what with building my Tree Surgery business and then being honoured by my Regiment by becoming Battery Commander for 221 (Wessex) Battery Royal Artillery. My running training had gone well having completed the Chicago, Rotterdam and Amsterdam Marathons, so whilst MDS was always somewhere in the back of my mind, it kind of crept up on me very quickly near the end of 2016. In the last few months I suffered from over training and illness as well as huge personal stresses and heart ache and it was with this back drop that finally MDS came slamming into view.
I was lucky to find Nina who was an experienced and knowledgeable MDS entrant and she became my running partner. Nina was great in prompting me to get kit sorted and encouraging me to do some specific training, and along with other competitors provided a wealth of knowledge about testing products and different kit combinations. Despite lots of local long runs, a marathon and a half sandy training run over Welsh sand dunes and belief in my kit, I would be going into the toughest multi-stage race in the world mostly underprepared, though strong with marathon experience and a lot of self-belief.
A massive thanks to Antony Summerfield and his team at TRICIS providing the sponsorship which meant I was able to get all my compulsory kit list including: running top and shorts, an anti-venom pump, survival sheet, compass, sleeping bag, silk liner, head torch, gaiters, socks, pain killers, cooker, walking poles, knife, signalling mirror, whistle, lighter, first aid, salt tablets and a minimum of 2000 calories worth of food for each day (though I went for 3,000 – 3,500 daily). I attempted to fit it all in my 20 litre back pack the day before we were due to leave for Morocco. A few tantrums and swearing fits later I managed to squeeze it all in and along with a small suitcase full of extra food and ‘normal’ items I was off.
With the morning of departure upon me and on my way to Gatwick in the early hours of April 7th for the chartered flight to Ouarzazate, the gateway to the Sahara, I was feeling a mix of emotions and I don’t think excitement was really the main one. In truth I felt lonely, daunted, under-prepared and really nowhere near an ‘Ultra Athlete’ needed for success at MDS.
I travelled with 100 plus strangers, who by association and the coming shared experiences would soon become friends. After a pretty smooth flight and six hour coach transfer, we arrived at the bivouac where we would stay for a couple of nights completing all of the admin including submitting our ECG and medical paperwork for scrutiny and rechecking our kit was in order for what was to come. We had been given our Road book on the coach, our essential guide to the ‘race’ detailing a typical days routine prior to the start of each stage, how each stage would look in terms of terrain and distance and what you could be penalised for (in time or money) …. no sleeping bag or compass = 3 hour penalty, No race bib = 1st warning, 2nd out of race, lateness of more than 30 minutes at departure of stage = out of race, Receiving extra water = 1st 30 minutes penalty, 2nd 1 hour penalty, 3rd out of race!
I was blessed to be in Tent 134 with 7 lovely guys; Graham, Noddy, Andrew, Mick, Nick, Dave and Russell, who were all just the nicest guys you could possibly have by your side over the tribulations to follow. It’s not surprising how quickly you get to know someone when you sleep next to them whilst getting sandblasted, share dwindling food supplies, jokes, sick humour (thanks Nick), great stories, slice open blisters on your toes whilst borrowing their iodine, and give each other that knowing glance when you trot off with crap bag in hand. Lifting our spirits was a nightly rendition of; Jerusalem (awesome), Abide With Me (hard to do) or Amazing Grace (beautiful), which cleansed the aches of the day and the doubts for tomorrow. These were going to be my comrades in the coming close quarters battle; a battle against the elements, the environment, the fragility of our bodies and against our minds. MDS in all of its beauty and brutality would test every part of us and at this point we had little idea quite how much.
Now all of us MDS’ers knew what each stage held on paper, each being described in more detail as containing a variety of sand dunes, stony plateaus, hills, rugged terrain, and jebels (mountains) with the odd phrase did stick in the mind: “CAUTION ! Technical descent of over 20%. Sandy then Stony” or “Go SW for difficult climb. 25% average slope until summit. Climb alternating rocky and sandy parts” or one to sharpen the senses “CAUTION ! Imperatively follow markings to stay on track and avoid crevasses” – reading these meant that even greater apprehension consumed my thoughts.
The days were to be long and testing and the task at the dawn of Stage 1 was a build of anxiety and tension and the crescendo of self-doubt. No turning back now Mark, so I held onto the fact that in just a few days after many many steps it would be over, so now time to embrace it, challenge it and be strong at the end.
Before I tell you the story of the stages, I need to express the strength I was able to draw from the poems and cards from my children, the nightly e-mail messages from my friends and family and the love of life such an undertaking can give you. My nightly routine was to read all of the above, and I carried all messages with me so I could top up on the love and support being sent me.
Stage 1: 30.3km completed in 5 hours 20 minutes.
I had heard to many stories of people burning out on day one and two, so I got the walking poles out (never trained with them) and spent the day walking, talking, adapting to the environment and starting my greatest adventure to date. I have to say my anxiety faded as it became a reality and though I still felt like I was in a TV show, rather than reality I enjoyed a hot but breezy day across beautiful dunes taking as much in as I could.
Stage 2: 39km. 7 hours 56 minutes.
This is becoming real now. Again I walked mostly with some running. Today included big dunes, long stretches of flat openness and even a bit of mountain climbing. Found myself alongside a great guy and we chatted the hours away. Got in late with bad blisters on both feet, so decided to go to Doc Trotters (French foot specialists) who beautifully treated and covered my sore and damaged (7 blisters in total) feet in tape. The down side was getting back to tent 134 at gone 8pm, having not eaten and finding the lads either already in bed or ready for bed. So I took the hymn sheets out to the Desert and sang Jerusalem by myself and had a little cry, then shook it off and got on with food and sleep and a determination to do better.
The bivouac was becoming home and many things became normal; having your tent taken down around you whilst waking up or preparing breakfast, the queue for your morning water ration, the sand getting everywhere, chatting to tent mates about shared experiences, waiting for emails from home to lift you at the end of the day, wondering what the hell you were doing trying to run day after day in scorching temperatures! The camp soon resembled a refugee camp with people hobbling around on blistered feet in filthy clothes looking dazed as the sun rose over the dunes, moving ever further into the Saharan desert.
Stage 3: 31.6km. 5 hours 29 minutes.
Started well, and after a kilometre of walking to warm up my sore feet I dug deep and started to run and jog. Today included 3 Jebel’s, one of which was a very technical climb with ropes needed to get up it. We ran along ridgebacks and the views were to die for. Today saw the start of my practice of singing as I came into every check point; Guns and Roses and Bon Jovi; this had two effects – cheered the hot staff up and really lifted my spirits and giving me energy. If you know me, you know I sing out of key, but boy it felt good. The heat hit 46 degrees Celsius and the amount of running meant I had even more blisters for the good doctors to treat.
Stage 4: 86.2km. 15 hours and 3 minutes:
The Day of Days! This is MDS – two marathons in a time limit of 35 hours. Everyone dreads this one and I was no exception. After walking 2 km it was time to get it done, and with a lovely following breeze and a sunny outlook I found the check points flying past. At CP 4 (first marathon complete) I needed to stop for 40 minutes of blister treatment and then the ache of starting again. Lots of singing and smiles later CP5 popped up and I realised that I might get this done quicker than my target 18 hours non-stop! So head down to CP 6 and I realised I could end in the same day I started. The sunset was gorgeous and as darkness fell my spirits dropped and I started to slow. Time for the music to come out and a bit of Prodigy to up the tempo, dig deeper and get it done. CP 7 went in a blur and the last 8km was a bit of a daze, with the finish being in site for over 3km – never getting closer! Dug in real deep to get there fast and arrived at 11.34pm; what a feeling! Felt strong, proud and exhilarated to have crushed that bad boy. Came in 189th for the stage and 66th in my class. 2 hours with the Docs the following morning and then a day of rest waiting for everyone to finish. Tent 134 all slammed Stage 5 and it was great to be there with such great guys all wrapped in a warm glow of achievement.
Stage 5 = 42.2km. 5 hours 26 minutes.
A full Desert Marathon. Lots of very excited people on the start line for the final rendition of ‘Highway To Hell’ got us underway on the final part of the endeavour. So many people shot off, and I needed 2km to warm up and get going, and then let the legs and adrenaline go. It was a great stage and the first CP came far too quick; it was supposed to be 11.5km, but felt like 6! The next came into view and I sang Bon Jovi ‘Half Way There’ and really got pumped up. I flew through the next stage and then the finish line was only 8.8km away. It was visible for another 3km over the heated sands and it was a real gruelling effort to get there. Lots of thoughts of what had passed and been and how this had all come from lots of support, determination, love and blisters! Coming over the line was ‘We are the Champions’ sung at a full off-key croak and the medal around my neck - I’ve done it! What a great feeling and lots of love between us all, and a shared bond from completing MDS.
Ended MDS in 331st out of 1260 starters and 125th in my class. My aim had been finishing in around 50 hours and I ended up coming in in 39 hours 14 minutes and 18 seconds. So proud.
Stage 6 Charity Stage = 7.7km.
Tent 134 undertook a stroll in the dunes - Happy it’s done and the Desert will soon be behind us and our loved ones in front of us.
MDS tested me absolutely, it was without doubt the hardest physical effort I have ever subjected my body to. The shiny website and emotive video’s produced for this event should not be misinterpreted and entry into this ‘race’ should not be underestimated. It will test you to your limits and it will try to break you. People had to be removed from the race due to heart attacks, toe amputations, dehydration and pure exhaustion.
I will forever be thankful that I took part in The Marathon Des Sables as it provided moments of beauty and wonder, pain and joy. Memories of amazing vistas, running across the ridge of a Jebel with sheer drops on either side, the camaraderie, CP staff cheering and singing, the shared endeavour, the sense of achievement, exceeding the boundaries of all that you ever thought you were capable of, the daily emails and encouragement from friends and loved ones at home.
This brutal ‘race’ does not build character, it will expose it and force you to re-examine who you think you are, what you can do and it ends up just being about survival, a perfect interpretation of life.
