Writing this post on my MDS adventure with a cause has been almost as interesting as the adventure!  The post began partly on a train from Valencia to Barcelona, partly on a plane from Barcelona to Melbourne and the rest from home – it’s fair to say it’s taken a while!  The adventure for a cause that spawned The Memory Jogger campaign seems a long way away. There are still some battle scars, which are now  fully healed (particularly on my feet), and Saharan sand still seems to fall out of my backpack and my Moroccan tan is long, long gone..

While the memories are still strong and my adventure has all but drawn to a close, it seemed like a good time to summarise my MDS experience and retire The Memory Jogger (at least for now).   A much more detailed account of the whole MDS experience is in progress – but more on that later 😉

In all, the journey from curious observer to participant at MDS 2015 was about two years.  However, it really only gained traction in early 2014 following, mum’s passing in late 2013.  I was about to go in for hip surgery and needed a goal to focus my energy on and give my recovery additional purpose.   Sure, running MDS was a huge goal, but doing it for a cause,  in memory of my Mother and to raise awareness for Alzheimer’s Australia, meant it was a goal that I could not fail to achieve.

Deciding to share my private quest, which was created from very personal reasons, publicly through The Memory Jogger campaign wasn’t easy – in fact it was tough.  Needing to be completely open about the personal impact of losing Mum to Alzheimer’s and letting the outside world into my personal space, made me uncomfortable and a little embarrassed.

What if people didn’t want to support me?   What if people did support me and I failed?  Could anyone really give a toss about this adventure with a cause?  After all, “so what” if a Joe Average like me, who is little more than a middle of the pack runner was going to run MDS?  Would anyone really care or think it interesting enough to read about or make a donation?

Despite these doubts, I committed to the cause and went public with The Memory Jogger and told the world I was going to complete MDS 2015 (gulp!).  Why?  To raise funds to support further research into the prevention and potential treatments for dementia so one day we will have a world without dementia.

Now I’m no different to most people in seeking out a life of comfort and surrounding my self with nice things.  But I know the material trappings that often consume too much of my attention don’t really matter.   What does matter, is family and friends and the memories we create with them.

I remember a story of someone consoling a friend who had lost their belongings in a fire who said “Don’t cry for anything that can’t cry for you.”  A powerful message.

Aside from those we love, can there be anything more precious than our memories?  In high fire risk areas people keep their photos near the front door, so in an emergency they can take their memories with them.

Our memories define us and inspire us.

People fighting dementia are progressively robbed  of those most precious gifts.  It’s not fair.

But it gets worse.  This condition progressively reduces  the ability to function day to day, doing normal tasks, until it completely robs them of their independence. The ability to socialise and communicate deteriorates over time until the person you love is little more than a shell of who they were.  It’s not fair.

Having seen the devastating impact of this disease on someone special to me, I would not wish to see anyone suffer as my Mum did – yet so many are today, and without a cure, many more will suffer in the future.   But maybe we can stop it…

So whether or not this adventure finished without any donations, public humiliation or both – I was committed.   Being embarrassed or uncomfortable was not even comparable to what those fighting dementia faced every single day.  Enter The Memory Jogger.

For all of you who backed me, supported me, donated, sponsored, helped or encouraged me, sent me emails, tweeted me or liked The Memory Jogger on Facebook – thank-you!  It was truly inspiring and humbling.

The rest of this post is more about the lead up to and the race with a little reflection along the way.  It’s long, but not as long as the race 😉

Signing Up

I remember signing up for MDS when I was still recovering from surgery – in fact I think I was still on crutches.  The sign up process that seemed to take an eternity to get into, was sold out in no time.  The stress of potentially missing out was huge – but fortunately I was able to get my details in and with a commitment to pay a deposit within three days – I was signed up for MDS 2015.  It was real.

Once I had confirmation that I was “in” for MDS 2015 the planning began and every waking moment seemed to be consumed with either training, researching, organising or buying the items I would need to complete MDS (and boy, was there a lot!).

During my rehab I was champing at the bit to escalate my training and start preparing.  It required both patience and commitment to ensure I didn’t injure myself, but was doing enough to prepare myself.  My surgeon and physio were in cahoots to ensure I did not overdo it and kept me well and truly in check – they were amazing.

The preparation for MDS was hard, it was time consuming and it required commitment.  The full story is for another day and another post – this post is the immediate lead up to and the race itself.  (You’ll be able to catch other updates and normal posts at gpontherun.com 🙂 )

My old buddy Keith and his team at Kinc Agency helped me dream up a vehicle for this fundraising initiative – we bounced around numerous ideas before we arrived at The Memory Jogger and decided that was it.  Ben, my eldest son, mobilised his business Apollo Studios to create the website and I started prepping material to engage potential sponsors and donors. The campaign was alive!

On the home front, I was very well supported by Diane who supported me at every step of the way – be it disrupting every weekend with training; being difficult in regards to what I would eat; burning up the credit card on buying gear for the run; or publicising our home life to create awareness for the campaign.   If I didn’t have her support , I have no doubt that this campaign would never have happened. 

Months of training and entering into lead up events and despite some ups and downs with injury and being time poor I met most of my fitness milestones.  But as the date for MDS got closer there was one thought that dominated my thinking more than any other – “Am I ready?”

Morocco

Of all the things I can say about Morocco the one thing that is worth noting is that it’s a bloody long way from Australia!  I’m sure every Aussie or Kiwi MDS runner experienced at least one incredulous look from European competitors when they realised how far we had come to compete in MDS.

Morocco is an amazing place and one that we have already agreed deserves another visit.  Now, I know I’m not going to be able to do Morocco justice in this post, but what I can say is that Morocco is a cultural, historical and sensory adventure that should not be missed. Yes, it can be intimidating. Yes, their values and lifestyle can be confronting.  But weigh up the pros and cons – Morocco is a fantastic country that offers so much to the inquisitive tourist.

There is much to share about Morocco, but the real purpose of being there was the race – so back on track!

To Ourzazate

There was a good number of the Aussie and Kiwi contingent traveling together and others making their own way by other means. Many of us met in Casablanca where we would coach it to Ourzazate, our gateway to the Sahara and where the adventure would step up a notch.

A long day ahead was started with a very early rise being unable to sleep.  Checking in on news from home and progress on my fundraising consumed a large part of the morning before posting up some news both on my blog and Facebook.

The momentum the campaign was getting and the work behind the scenes from Alzheimer’s Australia (Vic), family and friends (you know who you are!) to spread the word was amazing.  I felt so lucky and thankful to have such great support.

I have to call out one tweet that totally stopped me in my tracks from a lady who was following my exploits both on the website and Twitter.  Being a carer for her elderly mum who had dementia she sent me a tweet letting me now she was following me and had made a donation.  She finished off with “You inspire me! 🙂 “

Regardless of what happened from this point forward, I knew what I was doing meant something.

A bus trip, that was planned for six hours took ten hours in a bus driven by a local lad (who looked about 12) with questionable driving skills!

The trip to Marakech, where we were scheduled to stop for lunch was memorable for one main reason – the Atlas Mountains that punctuated the landscape in an extraordinary way.  A spectacular view of a snow covered mountain range that presented such a contrast to what we all expected to experience on the sands of the Sahara.

 

 

Traveling across the high Atlas Mountains was an experience in itself – windy roads, passing cars and trucks on blind corners and hairpin turns, with no guard rails preventing us from plummeting a few hundred metres to a spectacular Thelma and Louise style end! Making everyone nervous was the driver’s penchant for texting, changing songs on his phone and pointing out landmarks whilst not really watching and navigating windy steep roads. But we made it!

Checking in to the hotel at Ourzazate we were now very close to the commencement of what was to be an amazing adventure.  Much of the group convened at a local restaurant for Casablanca beers and local cuisine before checking in for the night.

 

 

Base Ourzazate

Awaking in Ourzazate quite a few of us decided to head out for a run to roll the legs over and dispel some energy and burn off some over indulgence in Moroccan food and beer.  A short 7km trot was a perfect hit up – just enough to work up a sweat, see some of the sites of Ourzazate and remind the body why we were all here on the other side of the world.

After the run, a hotel buffet breakfast was not too bad.  With a big communal lunch planned for the Australian and New Zealand contingent it was seeming like all we did was eat, drink and travel – but with freeze dried food packed away for the run, I was prepared to load up as much as I could before the race.

Lunch was fantastic and a great opportunity for the majority of Aussie travelers to socialise and enjoy a relaxing meal before the expedition that lay ahead. The harshness and sparse nature of our pending days seemed such a contrast from lunch today.  At lunch there were cold drinks, plenty of food and we had tables and chairs – all of which we would be without in the Sahara.

Following lunch, a quick trip to the supermarket for some last minute supplies and then back to the hotel for some fine tuning of the backpack – which had by now become a topic many of us were consumed by.

Have I packed the right stuff? Is my pack too heavy? Is there enough food? Have I packed too much food?  Did I remember all the mandatory items? How the hell am I going to fit all this stuff in a 20 Litre pack?

There was much comparing of notes, sharing tips and debating what would and wouldn’t be necessary.  The seasoned veterans who had completed MDS before became the oracles in our midst – dispensing drops of wisdom that us newbies lapped up.

Going to sleep was not easy. I thought about the day ahead, the days gone by and mentally reviewed what was in my pack and what I would need. As my eyes closed for the last night in a bed for 10 days I wondered again – Am I ready?

 

On our Way

It was an early rise for the bus trip to the bivouac from our base at Ourzazate.  Hopping on the bus with all our kit stowed we anxiously awaited our departure.  As per every traveling experience so far – it would be delayed and long.  It was supposed to be a five hour trip, that ended up being more like 8 hours.  The novelty of bus travel had certainly worn off, for all of us.

Stopping about half way through the journey we were presented with the opportunity for a comfort break and some lunch.  At this point all modesty and social conventions of traveling as a mixed group started to be challenged.  Men went one way to stand in the open desert area to urinate, the ladies went to other side of the road to look for some cover and privacy to relieve themselves.  Within a few days such modesty would be less common!

Fed and watered we still had a few hours to go before we would set eyes on the bivouac and where the adventure would kick up another gear or two.

Just prior to arriving at the bivouac we were given our tent allocations – I was in tent 170 which would be my home for the next 9 or so days. I had met all but two of the guys I would be sharing with and was pretty comfortable with who would be my roommates. Little was I to know what a great bunch of guys they were and how much support and inspiration they would provide over the course of this adventure.

For this night, and the next, we would be fed by our MDS hosts who had a mobile camp established that was capable of supporting this vast mobile city. The food was great and there was a beer or wine available to wash it down – after all our hosts were French!

As I closed my eyes under the clear desert sky and a full moon – I couldn’t help but wonder once again – Am I ready?

The Bivouac

Sleeping in an open tent with seven guys who you have known for less than a week and some less than a day you would expect to be a difficult thing to do.  However, surprisingly, this was not the case. Although relatively unknown to me, I was united with them on an adventure that many outside this group would never understand, and somehow this brought us together.

It was a broken night sleep that was a challenge more because of the conditions than anything else.  Extreme winds during the night blew in fine sand that covered us in a layer of yellow dust.  It was so warm when I went to sleep that it was not possible to sleep inside the sleeping bag so I lay atop it – caressed by a nice Saharan breeze.  By 1:30 in the morning it had got cold – I had a headache and was generally feeling rubbish.  A couple of panadol, some water and a stroll to find a place to relieve myself helped and with the cooler temperature I was able to snuggle down in the sleeping bag and fall back to sleep for another three to four hours.

Breakfast was provided as would all the meals be during this, our final day.  Despite the location, catering was pretty amazing and the food was great. Tomorrow was the first day of self-sufficiency when we would all have to prepare our own breakfast.

Being out in the desert meant there were no toilet facilities. Provided were bio bags to deposit our body waste into on a makeshift toilet set up in the desert with a tarpaulin draped across the front in a feeble attempt at creating some privacy. I held off as long as I could, dreading what lay ahead. After breakfast I decided it had to be done and a couple of cups of coffee, juice, some fruit and eggs provided by our French hosts had helped mobilise my system.

Whilst the system was primitive, it was functional and I managed the experience with little trouble. I did wonder how this would be later in the week when diets had been sacrificed and bodies were fatigued.  Little I could do to change anything so it was pretty much just harden up!

In all there were around 1,350 or so competitors gathered together in the south of Morocco in the famous Sahara desert. Today was an important day as we queued up for our administrative, technical and medical tests – to pass meant we could finally be sure that we would line up for the 250km self-sufficient MDS adventure.

 

As we lined up for the checks, it was time to drop off the suitcase with only our backpacks holding the bare essentials for the race itself – for the next seven days all I would have was what I could carry in my backpack.  Having seen the way the bags were loaded into the trucks I was glad I had a hard case!

The backpack couldn’t exceed 15kgs and had to weigh a minimum of 6.5kgs without water rations.  Mine was around the 10kg mark, which was heavier than I wanted, but had everything I felt I would need.   I had my ECG checked and was handed a bag of salt tablets, my rations card for the distribution of water and other items, the transponder and SPOT tracker to track my time and ensure I didn’t get lost and most importantly my race number – 687. Whilst I never thought I wouldn’t pass all the tests – it was a huge relief to get my race bib and be wished “good luck” from the race officials.

It was also the day that showed us how severe the environment could be with wind and sandstorms that blasted through (and into) everything.

 

The evening came and we had our last provided meal, which was followed by a briefing by Race Director Patrick Bauer and a concert by some local Moroccan talent.

To be honest, I just wanted to get started. The first leg was 36.2km leg between Jebel Irhs and the Tijekht wadi – it didn’t look too taxing, but time would tell.

I wondered once again – Am I ready?
I’d know soon enough!

 

Stage One

I woke long before the Berbers came around to start disassembling the tents although I wasn’t ready to get out of my sleeping bag. Laying there I thought about what the day ahead would bring – it seemed somewhat surreal that the start of MDS was this very day.  What once seemed so far away that it was little more than an idea was now very, very real.

As the bivouac came to life we all started to get ourselves in order and wonder if the many months of preparation had been adequate to complete the one thing we had all been aiming for – the day had finally come.

The first leg of MDS was 36.2km, which didn’t sound too bad when compared to many of my other runs, or even my long day training runs.  I was about to receive a hard lesson courtesy of Marathon Des Sables.

We organised ourselves into the shape of the number 30 for the picture celebrating the 30th anniversary of MDS.  Then to the start line we waited anxiously for the Race Director to finish his briefing so we could finally get started.

Late again, we finally got the notice that we were about to start.  The theme song for MDS fired up – ACDC’s  “Highway to Hell” belted out by the one and only Bon Scott.  It was like Australia owned it’s own small piece of this legendary race.  The count down began and it was a totally surreal experience – after so long I was here – the starting line of Marathon Des Sables.  I wondered what Mum would have thought – took a deep breath and then it was on.

My pack seemed very heavy but I was sure I could manage it. This was to prove to be another mistake – it was too heavy.  What caused the biggest issue for me was that I didn’t have it strapped tight enough and as a consequence it bounced around on my shoulders and sat too low on my back.

With an ill fitting pack, my shoulders and lower back were copping an absolute pounding and by half way I was in serious discomfort.  I started to run with my hands behind my back lifting the pack to reduce the stress on my shoulders.  It was obvious that I needed to fix this otherwise the week
ahead would be torture.

The Check Points were spread out over a really good distance – I never ran out of water, but was always glad to get my rations at the Check Point.  Through Stage One I was able to work out a system for managing the water allocations, but I was still relieved to see the finish of Stage One.

 

There was never a shortage of fabulous landscapes to admire and take a picture as a memento.

Back at the Bivouac there was a Media Tent from which we could send an email to a single email address back home, restricted to 500 words or so.  The queue was long and the tech rudimentary – but it was nice to be able to send an update home saying – “Hey, I’m alive!”

It was a bad day out.  I was disappointed with my form, my time and preparation.  For not the last time I began to question my ability to complete MDS.  But I remembered seeing a runner during the day with compression sleeves on his calves printed with the statement “Death before DNF”.  It seems an extreme view, but on this matter I was with him 100%.  I was not going home with a DNF!

A feed, an early night and getting organised for the next day was the priority – there was a long way to go.

 

Stage Two

Waking from a broken night of sleep and crusted in Saharan sand I was anxious to see how the body had pulled up.  Surprisingly, I felt ok.  My legs were in really good shape and my traps were much better than I was expecting them to be.  I still had knots the size of golf balls in them, but the pain had subsided quite a bit.

  After Stage One, there had been eight withdrawals from the race. I felt for each and every one of them.  I could not even imagine how they would be feeling.   It was a stark reminder of just how tough this event could be and why it demanded respect.

The second leg of MDS was a shorter distance with a bit more variety. The main discussion point in the bivouac for this leg was the imposing El Otfal jebel.  With temperatures expected to be well over 30° across a 31.1km course it was still going to be a tough day out.

The El Otfal jebel is pretty much a staple item in MDS and is a tough climb, but the 360° panoramic view stretching as far as the eye can see helps ease the pain and makes the effort all worthwhile (well almost).

Before reaching this stage, we had to traverse two smaller (but taxing) jebels following a route that trekked past mountains in the form of ruins, mountain crests and the lush and green Rhéris wadi. The terrain was varied and challenging the landscape breathtaking. Every now and then I just stopped to look around and take in my surrounds and remind myself how lucky I was to be in such an amazing place and participating in this incredible and iconic event.

Having adjusted my pack following the massive fail from Day One, and giving myself the HTFU talk, I prepared for the day with a very clear focus.  The day went so much better.  Yes, the climbs were tough but the variety made for a more interesting day.  I felt strong and ran much better.  I crossed the line with no issues other than some troublesome blisters on my feet.

Back at the tent I inspected my feet and was not overly happy to see a variety of blisters on my heels, big toes and little toes (including a ripper blood blister under the nail). I thought about trying to repair them myself or heading over to Doc Trotters for some repairs – I figured the experts were better placed than me to sort my feet out and so I joined the long queue of damaged runners waiting to see a doctor.

Getting my ticket from the medical tent I hobbled over to the Doc Trotters waiting area and found  brothers, Paul and Tony, from my tent whose feet had faired no better than mine and were in the triage tent also awaiting attention.  It was a long wait to get in and after Paul and Tony left for their treatment I spent some time talking to Umi from the Japanese contingent – she was suffering blisters as well and was a little worried about how much the treatment would hurt.  With an Ironman under her belt and another planned for later in the year, I was sure she would cope fine!

Now I rarely get blisters, so I was somewhat perturbed by this latest predicament. I bought shoes half a size bigger than my normal shoe as per the recommendations from those in the know, to allow my feet to swell from the heat.  However, I think this may have contributed to my blister situation – with my feet sliding around inside my shoe on the first few days, I was experiencing rub points that were all new to me.  In addition, I was walking a lot more than I would normally, which meant a lot more stress on my heels, which were looking particularly gross.

The method at MDS for addressing blisters is to open the blisters with a sharp, squeeze out the accumulated pus/fluid and then flood the inside and surrounds of the blister with iodine (hope you aren’t eating while reading this).  Then apply gauze and plasters and send you on your way.  I can tell you now, trying to pull Injinjis over chopped up and bandaged toes is a real barrel of laughs only made more fun by trying to squeeze your feet back into your runners.  My take is that although you may not normally get blisters, chances are you will on MDS if not fully prepped.

It’s amazing how such a small and insignificant looking injury a blister appears, but how much pain and discomfort it can create.  I was hoping like crazy that this would be the last of my blister problems – I was to be seriously disappointed.  Whilst the feet were sore and they looked pretty shabby – I didn’t think they would be sufficient to stop me completing – but with a 91.7km trek only two days away, I now wondered not  “Am I ready?” but “Will I be able to hold up?”

 

Stage Three

Stage Three was to kick off with 29 less competitors than Stage Two bringing the total number of abandonments to 37.  A run of 36.7kms was ahead. With vivid memories of a tough Stage One still consuming my thoughts, bandaged up feet and a pack that didn’t seem to be getting a whole lot lighter, I was not expecting an easy day out.

This third leg had a real variety of terrain including El Otfal and Zireg jebels providing some amazing views.  At times completing a climb, you would look back from where you came and see a long line of fellow participants winding their way across vast desert plains and up extraordinary climbs that you found hard to believe you had just conquered.

  

The trail led us through difficult tracks littered with black rocks that demanded close attention to keep your footing, sweeping sand dunes, dried-up lakes and the green of acacias interspersed throughout the landscape.  There were sections that were long, hard and hot and others that were so steep, many were using their hands as they scrambled upwards.

Across some of the wide-open spaces it was hot, with temperatures reported at over 40 degrees at ground level. You could feel the heat blasting up at you from the ground, pounding down on your from above and radiating out of your body. What I wouldn’t have given for an ice cold drink….

It was only Stage Three but I was completely over drinking tepid or warm water.  I had no idea how much I would miss refrigeration and cold refreshing drinks.  Adding to my distress was an upset stomach, which had manifested itself as diarrhea.

I had woken up in the morning feeling pretty average and struggled to get some cold porridge down for breakfast. Despite a successful visit to the makeshift latrines of the bivouac, I took off at the start of the race with a sense of foreboding and stomach cramps. I spent a bit of time walking with Anna from New Zealand who was part of out Asia Pac contingent but lost her after Check Point One when my stomach felt like it was going to explode.

Did you know that there aren’t many bushes in the desert?  When looking for somewhere for a “number two” this can prove somewhat disconcerting.  Holding myself together for the best part of an hour I finally found a suitable spot and after placing a deposit in the desert I headed off to the next Check Point.  At Checkpoint Two I found a Berber tent to rest and and tried to compose myself.  There was still a long way to go and I felt like absolute crap and tomorrow I was expecting to knock over a lazy 91.7kms.

I noticed a few others from the Aussie contingent and decided I would try and tag along as traveling with others I thought may help me cope.   Before long I was heading off track looking for another bush. Tim yelled out asking if I was Ok and I waved him on and did what bears do in the woods and started to think about what was my best option for making it through this stage.

I’d stopped eating as I couldn’t cope with the thought of food and I figured if nothing goes in, nothing can come out!  My strategy was to get myself into as fast a power walk / jog as I could supported by my walking sticks – the sooner I was done, the sooner I could get some medicine to settle my stomach.

Before long I had a good rhythm going and caught up with some of the other guys and even passed a few as I powered ahead.  My focus was not stopping until I reached the bivouac.

I was so happy to see the Bivouac I almost started laughing. I had traveled through a few different sections of Stage Three with an English guy named Alan and had caught up with him about 2km from the finish line.  As we got close I encouraged Alan to run over the line with me.  Although he said he normally didn’t bother he would on this occasion. It was such a relief to cross the line.  I shook hands with Alan and wished him the best for the rest of the MDS and headed over to get my serve of Moroccan tea, my water rations and then headed to tent 170 to dump my pack before heading over to the Medical tent.  With a massive ultra distance waiting for me tomorrow, I needed to get my stomach sorted – I needed nutrition and I was at serious risk of dehydration.

Igor was the doctor that looked after me and after a few questions I was shown to a camp bed and provided with a salty powder to add to some water and provided medicine for stopping the cramps and sorting out my diarrhea.  I was on instructions that I was not to leave until I had finished off the bottle of water I was half way through and another 1.5 litres with the solution.

Our Chef de Mission, Mari-mar came by the medical tent to check on me and ensure I was being looked after.  Once satisfied with me, she went on to check out the well being of the rest of our traveling crew.  Amazing lady Mari-mar, competing in the event and sorting all of the team as well!

While on the stretcher, one of the Doc Trotters came to sort out my feet, which had opened up in a few areas with new blisters and old ones that had not faired well through the day.  It was starting to feel like I was going to need my own medical pit crew to get through this event!!

Over 2 hours was spent in the medical tent and I saw some pretty sick and sorry people come in – quite a few took no further part in MDS.  Seeing how some others were suffering I was starting to feel much better.  With my feet bandaged up and my stomach settled I headed back to the tent to make some dinner and get ready for an early night – a big day ahead was on the horizon.

Tim in my tent was suffering some diarrhea also.  Steve was still coming back from a serious pre-race illness that almost prevented him from starting and all of us were suffering with varying degrees of blisters and minor niggles.  The support, joking and camaraderie in the tent was terrific and the encouragement and support needed to keep on going was always there.

Due to the long stint in the medial centre I didn’t have time to charge up my watch, camera or iPhone nor drop a note home to update everyone on my progress.  Oh well, I figured they’d understand.

While at Doc Trotters the daily emails came in to the Tent.  The organisers accept emails on your behalf sent via a central website and then print them out and deliver them to your tent.  There can be the occasional delay – but receiving messages from home was incredibly inspiring and emotional.  Better than any medicine…

It confirmed what great family and friends I have.  I kept all those emails and reading them again while writing this post, brought back all the emotion that I felt when reading them the first time.

Although feeling better, I was worried that I would be in no great shape for tomorrow and I would have a horror day ahead – the demons of doubt starting niggling at me – I tried to just ignore them – but again I wondered  “Will I be able to hold up?”

 

Stage Four

Although not feeling 100%, I was much better than the previous day. Stage Four, being the long leg, was the one leg we had all been considering with some trepidation.  Being a 91.7km trek between the Zireg and Jdaïd jebel, this would be the longest distance in the history of MDS.

Contemplating an ultra marathon of this distance demanded serious preparation, conditioning and planning – attempting it after three days of trekking across the Sahara on restricted rations, blistered feet and ordinary living conditions seemed unimaginable – but here we were.

Each of us at some stage during the 91.7km trek would battle against both physical and psychological fatigue as well as our own personal demons.  Whilst the elite runners would bang out this distance in sub 10 hours, the rest of the field would be trailing them for anything up to 30+ hours.  With a 36 hour cutoff there was more than enough time to complete the leg – if the body and mind would allow it.

The number of abandonments had risen to 62 since the start of MDS.  It had been a windy night (as it had been most days since we started) and we were facing a very windy day ahead, just to make things even more difficult.

The race director has decided to make this a special day for us being the longest in MDS history on its 30^th anniversary.  What was worse than the heat was the wind.  We set off from the Zireg jebel at 08:00am (11:00am for the top 50 in the overall ranking) into a very strong wind and blasted by sand.  For the fourth time ACDC blasted out “Highway to Hell” and I was thinking today, they may just be right.

 

I headed out with a bunch of Aussies and Kiwis into the wind.  It was going to be a long day and the more support the better was my view!!

 

Another hot day would make it tough as we made our way across some amazing landscapes and willed our bodies forward.  It was only two days since we had scaled the El Otfal jebel, and today we would have the privilege of traversing this legendary climb once again – only this time from the opposite direction followed by a super steep sandy descent (which was awesome fun).

Traveling past the foot of the historic Ba Halou ruins, which dates back to the Romans and, according to the locals, is inhabited by ghosts was an amazing experience. No matter how tired I was, there was always time to take in the sights.  My screen saver and desktop regularly shows the pictures I took on MDS as a reminder.

I, like many others, would reach the end of the stage under the cover of darkness,  some would see the sun come up, go down and come up again before crawling into their tent.  With a hot day ahead, I was planning on quite a bit of hiking and then running under the starry skies of the desert – another cunning plan that was going to fail.

The “long day” lived up to it’s name!   It was a day I never thought would end and took it’s toll.  It was windy, it was hilly, there were sand dunes that seemed to go forever, it was tough.

For large part of the day I ran with Rodney another Aussie in the neighbouring tent to mine.   The company was great and we discovered we were both there for personal reasons.  I was running for Alzheimer’s Australia Vic and Rodney was running for Autism Spectrum Australia (Aspect).   We kept each other company for a fair while including a makeshift lunch at a checkpoint before Rodney elected to slow down and I went on ahead.  Everyone has to run their own race.

As it turned out there were others also running for a cause.  Jason from Queensland was running for Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation after the daughter of some friends was diagnosed at 4 years old with Type 1 diabetes.  With kids of similar age and seeing the massive impact on this family he was inspired to make his MDS adventure about something bigger than him.  As an aside, I can take credit for teaching Jason how to make a Pirate Cap with his Buff to stop his head getting burnt!  Btw – essential part of any runners kit is at least one Buff!!

Another two guys in particular impressed me enormously – young guys with big smiles and bigger hearts.  Ryan and Daniel from South Australia were running together to raise funds for Ronald McDonald house.  I saw many a runner with a cause to champion on their run which was inspirational in itself.

As the sun went down I was running alone over sand dunes that seemed to go for ever.  I was to find out that were many more sand dunes waiting for me on the long day.

As the sun went down we were required to attach a glow stick to our pack and turn on our head lamps.  I was running alongside a a few other runners so we all assisted each other attach glow sticks so we didn’t have remove backpacks and reload.  I had been on my feet or in progress for around 12 or so hours and was guessing another 7-8 ahead.

With the darkness of night and cooler temperature, for the first time I saw some wildlife (other than my unwashed running brethren and sistren) small rodents or sand mice that seemed to enjoy bouncing around in the circle of light from my headlamp.

Looking up I noticed a bunch of runners crowding around a point on the ground  that seemed to have captured their interest.  When I reached them I saw a them around a white snake taking pictures and nudging it with a stick.  I told them, they were crazy, and to either hit it with a shovel or get the hell out of its way and leave it alone.  Needless to say I left them to it and moved on.

One of the checkpoints was kitted out with deckchairs, music and Moroccan tea (which was sensational!) and was a good place to re-energise.  Having a chair to sit in for starters was sheer luxury!

I didn’t really want to leave that check-point but I had a long way to go.  The wind was strong and of course – it was a headwind.  For what seemed like an eternity I was trudging into a head wind through sand dunes.  A cloudy night meant there was no moonlight nor stars.  Just darkness everywhere except for my own tiny light beam.

As I had no time the day before to charge my watch, iPhone or GoPro – I had no concept of time or distance.  I just focused on the glow sticks in the distance and lights from the occasional runner to guide me and tried not to think too much about how far I had gone, or how far I had to go.  It would end when it ended – I just had to keep going.

Much of the latter part of this leg is a blur of pain and misery.  I was desperately tired and the conditions were terrible.  My mantra was simple “I’m strong. I don’t give up!” If I said it once, I said it a hundred times that night.  Every now and again there were some expletives hurled into the air at the organisers, the wind, the sand and myself as I battled my demons and the conditions.

Checkpoint 7 was the 85.7km mark, but I couldn’t remember that at the time.  I walked into the check point pretty much spent.  Had my rations tag clipped and took another bottle of water.  The MDS race person who was french asked me how I was, my response was “Absolutely f#*&ed” He gave me a sympathetic look and I thought he was going to give me a hug. He patted me on the back and said “Only 6 kilometres to go.  You’re almost there.”  We shook hands, I nodded and headed off back into the darkness.  Only 6kms – should be easy.

The longest 6kms of my life!  Everytime I saw a light in the distance my heart jumped thinking it was the finish line, only to be disappointed to find it was a glow stick or another runner.  The last 6kms was just head down and move.  I  ran, jogged, walked, trudged and staggered but I wasn’t stopping.

As I trundled over the line I yelled out “What time is it?”  The response was something like 4:50am.  I gave a wave and a blew a kiss to the webcam then headed over to grab my Moroccon tea before collecting my water and heading to the tent.  In my head my brain was screaming “I made it!”, outwardly I was shattered – tired and emotional – I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

I hit the tent and five of the lads were back and asleep.  I peeled off my clothes and put on my sleeping kit and was asleep as soon as my head hit the blow up pillow.  A rest day ahead – WOOHOO!  But as soon as I was awake, I’d be heading back to Doc Trotters to collect some supplies – my feet were a mess.

 

A day of rest, highlighted by a cold can of coke (as a gift for changing our race bib for a fresh one) and the knowledge that the worst was now well and truly behind me had me in a good frame of mind for the final stage. Everyone was showing signs of tiredness and soreness, but deliverance was now within reach – only a marathon to go.

It was nice to have a day to recover (well at least part of a day).  I went to Doc Trotters and got my own medical kit to tidy up my battered feet.  Having watched them a few times, I thought I had it covered.

Seeing runners come in through the day and into the night was inspirational.

Stage Five

The final timed leg was the traditional marathon distance of 42.2km, between Jdaid and Kourci Dial Zaid.  Having traversed the Ziz wadi, one of the biggest wadis in the region and a short string of dunettes, we would then tackle the Znaïgui erg with nearly 3km of dunes before heading into the deep orange of the Merzouga dunes.

Despite the trials and tribulations of the past week, I was feeling pretty strong and looking forward to the day ahead.  Aches and pains were no less, but I was better equipped for managing them.  To be honest, this was the first time I kicked off a day feeling I had it before I started.   Family and friends of the competitors would be at some of the checkpoints and finish line – which included Diane who had been tracking me online and sending me emails.

Seeing Diane at the check-points with the other family and friends and being cheered on to the finish was a real bonus and extra motivation.  At the second Checkpoint I saw Diane and she asked how I was fairing and was surprised to see me in good spirits and reasonable shape.  I’d run a bit of this leg with Mari-mar and we grabbed a pic at the checkpoint.  I’m thinking the smiles were due to being in the “home straight”.

Along the trails there were many amazing sites, as with every day.   I passed a heard of camels at one stage who didn’t seem remotely interested in the colourful pedestrian entourage traipsing across their homeland.

This was by no means my quickest marathon – but it was one of the most satisfying.   As the finish line came into view I got a lump in my throat and gave a little fist pump – I had made it.

A very long journey from a moment of inspiration (or madness) over a year ago was about to become a reality.  I didn’t care about finish times and I didn’t care about rankings –  I was about to complete Marathon Des Sables.  Nearing the finish line I heard Ryan from the Aussie contingent yell out some encouragement and saw Diane with the family and friends group cheering me on.

 

Over the line, the medal around my neck and some Moroccan tea in my stomach – I was feeling pretty good.  A quick official pic to commemorate the occasion and I was able to collect my water and join in the celebrations with my friends, who I had been sharing this adventure with as they crossed the line and talked about the day’s experiences.

 

Heading back to the tent I dropped my gear and caught up with the other guys who were back before we headed back to the finish line to cheer on our mates.  And seeing Cheryl come in from the Australian contingent as the final runner to cross the line was very special.

MDS is a self sufficient event.  Today though, celebrating the 30th anniversary we were able to get a cold beer, wine or coke and some local pastries – a very big cheers to Patrick Bauer!   Never has a cold drink felt so good.

In the evening  the runners and family and friends met in the centre of the bivouac to see the awards presented to the winners and watch a video of some of the event.  It had got cold – but it was a nice night.  Tomorrow was a short 11.5km Charity run where family and friends could join in to raise funds for Unicef.  This leg was not timed and more for fun and solidarity.

Charity Stage

The Charity stage is referred to as the  Solidarité Unicef leg which would see all participants stretched across the Merzouga dunes, the highest in Morocco.  Although the stage is compulsory it does not count towards the overall ranking being designed to extend the spirit of solidarity.

Runners,  walkers, the supporters, the partners are all required to dress in the same blue Unicef T-shirt creating a striking image as runners and walkers make their way through the deep orange dunes.

Funds raised enable the financing of the Solidarité MDS association created back in 2008 by Marie Bauer.  Giving back to this wonderful place is a core focus for MDS.  The funds raised from this stage enabled over 200 children to benefit from the Sport Eveil Académie operation and several dozen women to learn to read and write whilst also raising awareness about various health topics.

It was great to be able to share this experience with Diane and for her to gain some insight into the event from a runners perspective.  We managed to catch up on news from home as we jogged and hiked our way to the finish line and to the waiting convoy of buses.

We crossed the line together and then I hopped on a bus with other competitors, we remained independent and isolated to the end.   On to a bus and then a six hour trip back to Ourzazate to collect our case and go to our hotel room – a hot shower and cold beer!!!

The bus trip was a little harder than I expected – sitting still for a long time was not great and my legs and feet started to swell.  Another thing that was interesting was being crammed onto a bus with 60 or so other runners who had not washed in around 9 -10 days and had been wearing the same clothes pretty much the whole time… Use your imagination!

The shower was incredible.  I watched a week and half of caked on sand and sweat trickle down the drain.  My clothes could almost stand up on their own, so I decided they weren’t going home with me and took a picture before depositing my stinky torn clothes in the bin.  They had served me well – but the wear and tear of MDS was more than enough for them.

 

Eating that night was an absolute delight.  We had all lost a bit of weight over the journey – whether we needed to or not.  Now being able to eat freshly cooked food was luxury and  something I had been thinking about for a few days.

With wifi access I was able to catch up on news from home and see the incredible messages of support and catch up on even more donations coming in to The Memory Jogger campaign.  The guys at Alzheimer’s Australia (Vic) – especially the amazing Christine – had done an awesome job in  maintaining the interest.

Ben and Diane somehow kept the communications going despite my short and sporadic emails which was amazing and Matt was managing things on the homefront. The Memory Jogger was a success thanks to them and all my family and friends.

It wasn’t going to be a very late night though – I was tired and looking forward to a sleeping in a bed.   The target donation of $10,000 was exceeded, awareness about Alzheimer’s was achieved, an MDS medal was in my keeping and I now had a terrific group of new friends – l was feeling quite content.

No longer did I wonder “Am I ready?” or “Will I be able to hold up?” – from this point forward I was a Marathon Des Sables finisher – and that felt pretty damn good.

Summary

It would be remiss of me not shout out to all of the Aussies and Kiwis that ran MDS as part of our contingent of adventurers – all of who were inspirational and supportive.   Each and everyone a finisher that exemplified the spirit of the group – demonstrating grit, determination and a sense of humour.  Also, massive thanks to the amazing Mari-mar and the team at Traveling Fit!

The guys in my tent though, need a special mention.  Brothers in arms, they were my support, my colleagues, my inspiration and comedy relief (did you know that even after 8 days, fart jokes are still funny?)  Thanks for looking out for me guys.

Now if you are considering tackling MDS here are a few things that I think are worthy of consideration – I’ll be doing a more formal review and list of recommendations at  http://gpontherun.com  but here’s a quick summary.

• It ain’t cheap! The entrance fee for 2015 was €2,900 and this represents about half of the total financial investment you will most likely make after purchasing all the kit you’ll need, flights, accommodation pre and post race, merchandise (which you just have to buy!) and then there’s the cost of lead up events, training programs, testing of food etc etc.
• The event is very doable – but don’t sign up unless you are committed to the training – it’s a serious event and deserves your respect.  But IT IS doable!
• Work out what works for you in regards to nutrition and hydration – get this wrong and you’re screwed.
• Read up on as many blogs, biographies and interviews with previous participants – it will help get you in the right head-space for what awaits you in the Sahara.  There’s a list of books I read at the end of this post.
• Collect all the things you need and all the food you think you’ll want and then cull it by 25%-50%.  A heavy pack will hurt you way more than going short of a few snacks or creature comforts… believe me.  I’ll be posting a review and my full kit list on http://gpontherun.com in the next few weeks.
• Learn some French – whilst not mandatory, it will make your experience better (wish I’d known more – luckily we had Tim in our tent who lived in France!).
• It maybe a race – but don’t forget to stop and appreciate where you are and what you are doing.  It’s a small percentage of the world population who have completed MDS – absorb every aspect of it.  Talk to your comrades from around the world – ultra runners are an awesome community.
• The event is huge as is the achievement – make sure you enjoy it 🙂

As I have said, my running blog will be back and happening over the coming weeks and there will be more information on MDS and other running, health and well being posts .  Thanks again for your support and if you made it to the end of this blog in one session – well done!!

The Memory Jogger signing off.

 

References for potential crazy people  or runners.

The book by Mark Roe, Running from Shadows was probably my favourite as it was about someone like me who wasn’t an elite athlete.   Ted Archer’s book was my next choice followed by Mark Hines.  Clicking on the image will take you to the Amazon store for more information and pricing.

   

And a couple of running books – just because they are awesome books.

  

Happy Running … and Reading!