Stage 2: The Littlest Hobo

Monday 7th April 2014
Erg Znaigui to Oued Moungarf - 41 km
Allowed Time: 11 hours

It was just after midnight on the morning of Stage 2. Due to the highly abnormal conditions I found myself in (desert, multi-stage marathon, freeze dried food etc.), my body decided to wake me to answer the call of nature. As I returned to the tent and was getting into my sleeping bag, I heard the following: "F*ckin' c*nt, d*ck, b*tch....race director d*ck, f*ckin' c*nt". If it had been a movie, there would have been one large continuous beep. I was too tired to be concerned and so tucked myself back in to my sleeping bag and fell asleep.  

Just after 5.30am, I woke in my sleeping bag with a stone jamming into my hip. I had slipped off my thermarest half-mattress during the night. It had been warm going to bed but cold air infiltrated the tent during the night and I had stuck my buff over my head to stay warm, which was now over my face. I had forgotten about what I heard during the night.

The race against the Berbers was on. They walked past our tent just after 6am each morning, a few of them smiling, on their way to the first tent in the line. We were the 7th tent on that line, so time was always of the essence.

You had to get your food cooked and eaten and had to be ready to go before they pulled down the tent and exposed you to the morning sun. The stove was out and water was heated, some to rehydrate my granola (again) for breakfast and some to make coffee and tea for Patrick and I. I had brought dried skimmed milk along with some teabags - some home comforts I suppose. 

Breakfast in Tent 140 On The Morning Of Stage 2 - Patrick, Phil, Alex (Lying Down), Rich

On top of all of that, sleeping bags needed to be rolled, bags to be pack, 'sac-a-cacas' to be filled, sun cream to be put on and bottles to be filled. It helped to take your mind off what was coming, not only the race I mean, but also Patrick Bauer's briefing.

It was the same breakfast as yesterday - granola. Alas it was too much, the sugary sweetness from the raspberries almost made me vomit. I had a few spoonfuls and ate some nuts. That would have to do. It was all I could manage.

This was not the best preparation for our first meeting with a jebel, which was to come at the latter end of the stage. A jebel is essentially a mountain and in the MDS they tended to be steep, sandy mountain passes, the more difficult the better. I had read about them in other MDS accounts and was glad not have met one on the first stage (the dunes were a more than adequate welcome) but today was the day.

Eventually I was set and ready to go, with a good few minutes to spare. We had just had our huddle with Anj reinforcing our motto for the week. It was then when I heard what can only be described as disappointment and saw competitors in tears being hugged by their tent-mates coming from the group in Tent 141. It was beginning to make sense, the cursing from the early hours of the morning and now what I was seeing in front of me - someone was being removed from the race. In fact it was 2 girls from Tent 141, an American and an English woman. They had missed the cut off time to cross the final set of dunes on Day 1 as they claimed they had been misguided by a race official and got lost. They had even had a meeting with Patrick Bauer that morning, all to no avail. They were out and transport back to Ouarzazate (the town where we are taken after the race for a bit of recovery before flying home) was being arranged. They lost their €200 deposit and would have to pay for their own hotel or arrange their own flight back. Little did anyone know, but these two would end up having an adventure of a lifetime, but more on this in a later post.   



Tent 140 Tent-mate Olympian Sian Brice Before Stage 2

So on to the briefing, which was exactly as the day before, unnecessarily long, especially if you had read the Road Book. Just before I spotted Mohamed Ahansel, an MDS legend, who has won the race three times. I asked him for a quick photo and he said he was delighted to oblige. He wished me luck. I told him I'd see him out there (knowing well I wouldn't).
 

Three Times MDS Winner Mohamed Ahansel

To most people's surprise, it was announced at the briefing that 27 runners had either abandoned the race or been disqualified - this is an unusually high number for the first stage, but then it was an unusually difficult first stage.

This did not come as a surprise to me - the opening stage was included some very tough terrain coupled with very hot temperatures. A man dressed as a cow and a 16 year old began the race the day before (I mean seriously?). I witnessed the carnage that ensued in the dunes and at the checkpoints where athletes suffered from the heat and dehydration. It was the same reason that a medic was double checking competitors in the final set of dunes. This is not meant to be an easy adventure in the Sahara, it is designed to be a difficult, harsh and testing race and on this, Stage 2, there was no sign of Cowman and no sign of the youngster.

As with the first day, Patrick counted down, ACDC set the tone and off we went into the unknown (unless you'd read the Road Book of course).

The first 11.5km to CP1 were relatively straightforward. I decided to run a 4 minute on/1 minute off schedule to see how my legs were and how the IT Band would hold up. With the exception of the dunes around the 5km mark and an oued or two, it went well and I felt good at CP1 knowing I was a quarter of the way into the stage.

As usual I kept with my game plan of not stopping at the checkpoint and kept the head down once I had refilled my water. CP2 was another 14.5km away, which is a long way with temperatures approaching 39 degrees (chilly compared to Stage 1). We ran straight through a village with kids cheering us on. The fact that we were running on a dirt track meant that it was possible to keep a relatively high pace when running and the terrain remained favourable for much of the early part of the section.

9km later we crossed a small oued and then had to deal with a lot of sandy terrain, again difficult to run in. I covered this section with a chap named Gary from Antrim and we talked our way through several sandy valleys into rolling dunes before arriving at CP2, 26km into the stage. I thought things were going well, the back was broken on the stage (in my mind at least) and I had 15km to go. I felt confident. Again the MDS was to throw a spanner in the works - don't expect anything.

Straight through CP2 for me (Gary stopped for a while) and I marched on, feeling good, for a couple of kilometres until I came across a 1km section of oued to cross. It was my favourite - soft sand! I had no other option but to trudge through it. Daniel (of the tricolour hair), running with an Englishman named Danny, had passed me just before the oued encouraging me to run and I thought I would as soon as I crossed the oued.

Soft sand has this way of sapping your energy and Outanouel Oued did just that. I exited the oued and onto a long stony plateau, where I should have been able to cover the ground well. I had nothing left in the tank - despite sticking to my plan in terms of race nutrition (energy bars and energy jellies), the fact that I couldn't finish my breakfast fully was coming back to haunt me.

Feeling sorry for myself I walked another kilometre or so. I had to do something or it was going to be a long, lonely trek in. Out with my antique MP3 player (it ran on a AAA battery as opposed to a rechargeable one as I had no way of charging in the desert) in the hope of giving myself some motivation.

"There's a voice that keeps on calling me, down the road, that's where I'll always be. Every stop I make, I make a new friend, can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again...maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down, until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on...". It was the theme tune from The Littlest Hobo (see below if you don't remember it) and it was all I needed. My mental state improved immediately and with it my tempo and speed. I was on a mission. It is amazing what will lift your spirit.

"Down this road that never seems to end, where new adventure lies just around the bend. So if you want to join me for a while, just grab your hat, come travel light, that's hobo style...". 

I soon caught a group who had passed me not long before. Avalanche's Frontier Psychiatrist (apt!) and Feeder's Just a Day followed and only served to push me on further and faster as I climbed to a small village at 32.5km, followed by another ascent up to CP3 before the climb of the dreaded  El Abath Jebel (15% gradient).

The jebel was a lot steeper and sandier than I had expected and the final 500m were extremely tough on the legs. With every step you took forward, your foot would slip half a stride backward. It was disheartening to put in huge efforts to climb and seem like you were going nowhere.

The Sandy Approach To the El Abath Jebel Ascent

Eventually I hit the summit after what seemed an age. Standing on the top, enjoying the view, was Daniel and Danny. I was trying to ride the wave of the good mood I was in for as long as I could, so it was down the other side without even lifting my head. 6.5km to go.

I have a habit of getting over something difficult and then taking it easy on myself as a reward and my brain switched into this mode as I began to walk. Daniel and Danny came jogging past about three minutes later and I eventually felt the urge to run again as soon as they were around 500m beyond me. With 5km to go, we entered yet another oued, with yet more soft sand. I caught up with the 2 Daniels at this point and we travelled together through a stony plateau and a narrow gorge until the finish line came into view with around 2km to go. 

Daniel (tricolour) and I pressed on at this point after a quick photo opportunity. We ran/walked in to the finish. This was the first stage where I had experienced the "finish line in the distance" effect (Stage 1 had a short run in), when you see the finish line long before you reach it. There was worse to come later in the week.

 



Daniel And I With 2km To Go. The Finish Is In The Distance Just Over Daniel's Shoulder

 

No bag check this time. Grabbed my water and went to Tent 140 to get my feet up. Again Patrick was first back, followed by Ian. The girls were in after me and the ever reliable Alex and Rich made it 7 out, 7 in, again. I was in in 379th, a good improvement on Stage 1.

To her credit, Anj forced me to make use of the golden hour again and it was Asian Chicken Noodles with Vegetables for dinner. Again I made it into a soup as I added too much water and chucked it onto the roof to heat up. This was followed by a 'selfie' medical check, diagnosis and treatment on the feet and a diphene to prevent any inflammation in or around my IT Band.

Emails were delivered, which again lifted spirits and I made it to the email tent to send off my solitary to email to my wife Yvonne. I returned to the tent to read all about Stage 3 in my Road Book. It is at this point that I noticed Alex and Rich planning their day. They would discuss in detail their plans for the following day, where they would rest, where they would eat and how they were going to pace it. I wish I had been that diligent but all I did was spot the fact that there were a few oueds, some dune sections and another jebel to negotiate. 

Just before I drifted off, both Patrick to my left and Alex to my right started snoring. I was the meat in the snore sandwich. I turned myself around to let my feet take the noise and drifted off to sleep dreaming of my favourite TV dog, The Littlest Hobo. 

Road Book for Stage 2:

Maximum authorised time : 11.00
Km 0 : Take general direction S/SW (course 218°) until km 5.7.
Km 0,9 : Rare small dunes becoming denser.
Km 4,2 : Hill to the right. Flat terrain.
Km 4,7 : Small dunes of Beg’a Oued. Follow markings to avoid crops.
Km 5,7 : Exit oued. Slightly stony plateau. Go S/W (course 233°) until CP1.
Km 10,9 : Cross oued. Sand mounds and camel grass.
Km 11,5 : CP1 to the left of a row of trees. Go W/NW (course 294°).
Km 12,3 : Cross a large track.
Km 13 : Hill and old village of Taouz to the left.
Km 14,8 : Turn left direction W/SW (course 246°) and go along Ziz Oued to the right with Kfiroun Jebel
to the left. Fairly uneven dirt track.
Km 18,9 : General course 281° to CP2. Cross crevice of Ziz Oued. Go W/NW (course 295°).
Uneven dirt track.
Km 20,6 : End of rough terrain. Go W/NW (course 286°) and cross succession of small sandy valleys and stony plateaus.
Km 23 : Rocky peak to the left. Continue on stony plateau direction West (course 277°) until CP2.
Km 24,6 : Enter small dunes. Course 277°.
Km 26 : CP2 at exit of small dunes. Go S/SW (course 214°) on flat, slightly stony terrain.
Km 28,3 : Cross Outanouel Oued. Sand mounds and camel grass.
Km 29,2 : Oued ends. Go S/SW (course 211°) until km 32.5.
Flat, slightly stony terrain with sparse small dunes.
Km 32,5 : Climb to village of Jdaid from by the well.
Same direction (course 210°) until CP3. Ascending, stony terrain.
Km 34,1 : CP3 before climbing El Abeth Jebel (15% slope).
Km 34,6 : Sandy summit of El Abeth Jebel. Descend S/W (course 231°), sandy and increasingly stony.
Km 36 : Follow oued bed to avoid rocky terrain.
Km 37,3 : Leave oued to the right, direction West (course 264°). Stony terrain.
Km 38,4 : Passage through very small gorge, then go West (course 268°) and cross small hill. Stony.
Km 39 : Passage through hilly area. Go W/NW (course 285°) until bivouac. Terrain less and less stony.
Km 41 : B2 finish line.

Stage 1: Highway to Hell

Sunday 6th April 2014

Ouest Erg Chebbi / Erg Znaigui - 34 Km
Allowed Time: 10 hours

"Living easy, living free, season ticket on a one-way ride. Asking nothing, leave me be, taking everything in my stride. Don't need reason, don't need rhyme, ain't nothing I would rather do. Going down, party time, my friends are gonna be there too...I'm on the highway to hell, highway to hell..."

And with ACDC ringing in our ears from the speakers, we set off on the 29th MDS, our MDS.

It had been a busy morning. First I woke to the realisation that in a few hours I would be running through probably the most difficult terrain and temperatures I had ever experienced. Secondly, I had to 'cook' (rehydrate) my granola and raspberry breakfast and thirdly had to repack my kit away inside my backpack. All of this and I had to fill a 'sac-a-caca' before the start. There was a lot to do.

Around 6am each morning, the Berbers (the Moroccan staff who are responsible for the camp) begin to take down the bivouac, whether you are up or not. They are happy to remove your tent whilst you are eating or packing under them and do so without making a fuss exposing you to the morning sun in the desert. We had been up since around 5.30am. My granola was just about edible and I just about managed to finish it. I was not sure how I was going to eat any more of it in the days to come.

After a quick visit to the 'sac-a-caca' filling station and a rousing team huddle ending with "may the odds ever be in our favour " (thanks Anj!), we headed down to the start line. I was feeling a mix of emotions - excitement, nervousness, trepidation, anticipation - but tried to keep my game face on. Before I knew it we were ushered in to a large '29' so that the helicopter could take an aerial shot before the start.



The Competitors Forming A Giant 29 To Symbolise The 2014 MDS (I Am Near The Top Of The 9)

Patrick Bauer gave us our race briefing for the day's stage, outlining the terrain and how much water you received at each check point. His briefings, it was beginning to become apparent, would be far from brief and I had pity for the poor translator, who would sometimes have to wait a couple of minutes before actually being allowed to speak. How she remembered what she was translating is beyond me.

The key thing to note from this was there was a 10 hour cut off for competitors. How the Asian man dressed as a cow was going to complete it in that time with that heat was beyond me. There was also a 16 year old (yes 16) from Texas racing with her parents. What were they thinking?

Team Eire Before The Off

At this stage I was a ball of nervous energy and just wanted to go. Then came the countdown, the volume turned up, ACDC blaring and before I knew it we were off! "I'm on the highway to hell" blasting through the speakers as we crossed under the start line. The tune was particularly apt for one competitor, Ted Jackson, who had the fortune (as he would see it) to be given 666 as his race number. Ted, as you can see from below, took the bull by both horns (ha!) and went all out in his race gear. He had already appeared on Al Jazeera (UK) that morning from the bivouac.

Meet Ted - The MDS Devil

The first 3km were over  hard gravels, a nice way to warm up. That's where the fun ended though, as the Erg Chebbi Dunes came closer and closer and then suddenly we were on it - the soft sand, with miles of it to go. 

10 Minutes Into The 29th MDS - Erg Chebbi Dunes Approaching Fast

For the average athlete like myself, there's not a lot you can do in the dunes. Running is not only difficult but in many cases pointless and so it becomes a trudge, following in footsteps of others. Up and down we went, slipping and sliding and trying to push on. You could really only run the downhill sections and they seemed few and far between. On top of that, you had to ensure you were drinking and taking your salt.

For me I ended up walking with Niall Murphy (see previous post) and we continued our discussions on people we both knew, GAA (my limited knowledge being exposed), UCC, living in London and of course school stories. This was a major help in passing the time during the slog. 

Early Days In The Dunes (Hence The Big Smile!)

The dune section seemed to drag on and I was faced with having to deal with no water remaining in my bottle, when Checkpoint (CP) 1 came into view. Oddly though, we arrived at it from the side, rather than front on and immediately I knew we had taken a wrong turn in the dunes. We would later find out we had added 2km onto the stage and the temperatures were touching 47 degrees. "All I did was follow the guy in front of me" I thought, "surely they were following the leaders and I was following them". My assumption was correct but the leaders have their own way of doing things. Learn the lesson - don't expect anything.

CP1 was a welcome sight all the same - 2 x 1.5L bottles allowed me to fill my two front bottles (one containing water, the other had a High5 Zero tablet in for electrolytes), pour some over my head and drink what was left. Some of those I was walking with decided to stop for a short period of time and rest. My thinking was simple - keep going, even if you have to go easy for a little bit and get your rest in at the end of the day - the sooner I was home, the more rest I would get. It served me well.

I took off from CP1 jogging slowly. I shortly encountered the first of many 'oueds' I would see for the week. An oued is a dry river bed and nearly all of them were wide, very sandy and difficult to run in. Because of this, I was left with no option other than to power walk my way through it and try to find as much solid ground as I could to run on. 

After 20 minutes, Ann Marie came storming through, powering her way along the oued. She offered words of encouragement, I smiled and told her to push on - she did. Not long after a small group came past - it was Anj and Sian from my tent, along with a gaggle of Irish, including Paul, Eoin and Daniel (he of the tricolour and English flag in his hair). They were doing 5 minute intervals of running and walking. More encouragement led to more smiling.

After 6km of this, I finally hit hard ground. The trail led through a stony plateau toward the abandoned mining town of M'Fiss before a short descent to CP2. After the oued, I was pleased to be able to actually run for the first time in over 4 hours.

It was at this point that I experienced my first of what would be many emotional moments throughout the week. I was running a 1 minute on/1 minute off strategy and I caught up with a Frenchman, with whom I traded positions for a while as when I was 'off' he was 'on' and vice-versa. Attached to his backpack was an A4-sized poster with a  picture of a man who I assume was his friend or brother with the words "For Fabrice". I am not 100% sure if it was Fabrice or Patrice or Patrick (I really should have remembered given the fact that we would pass each other on most days of the race), but I thought what a great gesture this was as I passed him again. A few minutes later he came back and went ahead. As he passed, I could see the effort he was putting in was huge and he had an intense look of determination across his face. It made me think of some lost friends, particularly my friend Elmer (see earlier blog posts), and the tears started rolling down my face. It was a memorable and positive moment and it served to raise motivation and helped me to push on and start running again. 

I managed to catch up with the 5 minute on/5 minute off group and left CP2 with most of them, tears long gone at this stage. This left a couple of hilly climbs and descents before entry into another oued and a 3km section of dunes (you can imagine my smile at that stage). All I wanted to do was finish the stage as quickly as possible, so I ran the sections that were hard under foot and power walked the sections I couldn't. 

Daniel and I managed to reach the dune section together and we both put our head down and powered on. Tiredness was creeping in for both of us - at one stage we came to a narrow section of dunes to which I slowed down and gestured to Daniel that he could go ahead . "I can't" says Daniel! I was feeling the same way too.

With 2km to go, we came across our first victim of the heat - a competitor was lying in the shadow of an organiser's jeep and he seemed in a bad way. As we rounded another dune about 500m further on, the same scene, this time with 2 competitors down receiving attention. The medic looked at me and asked if I was ok, I smiled again and nodded - smiling was difficult at that point but we were almost home.

As we rounded the final dune, the finish came into sight and both Daniel and I marched our way in, joined by Paul at the finish line. Tired, hot, salty and uncomfortable - that's how I would describe myself and all I wanted to do was get my water and find my tent. As I was walking to get the water, I was horrified to be hauled aside for a bag check. Just what I needed. They had actually asked Daniel, but I made the mistake of sitting down first, meaning they only wanted to check my bag.

Poor Thierry - the pleasant grey-haired Frenchman who had the unenviable task of taking me through the bag check - I felt sorry for him in some ways but also wanted to punch him in the face at the same time. To his credit, he apologised and said he understood and made the ordeal as straightforward as possible. 25 minutes later and with my food being carried in a box and my gear falling all around me, I was helped back to Tent 140 by one of the volunteers.  

Ian and Patrick were already back and I took on some water and lay down to rest with my feet up on my bag. It felt good until I began to think about the following day. This was broken by the cheeriness of Anj as she arrived back to the tent like Mary Poppins. "Time to get some food in boys, this is the golden hour"! We all know about the golden hour, eating within 60 minutes of finishing an endurance event but I pretended not to hear and told her I was not interested in a 'golden shower'. Ah the laughter...

Anj had once trialled to be a contender on Gladiators (the Saturday evening family show, not the adult movie Glad-I-Ate-Her) and had kicked and beaten her way through all the physical challenges but lost out on the tv interview as she didn't have an underdog back-story. She certainly had the can-do attitude, which was infectious when she got going.   

I was in no mood to dig out my stove, fuel tablets, lighter and pot so I went old school. I poured coldish water onto my Chicken Tikka and Patrick threw it up on the roof to warm in the sun. I managed to remove my gaiters, shoes, socks and calf guards and had a chat about the stage to the tent-mates. We were all a little annoyed about the additional 2km we had covered and we agreed it had been a tad hot. We did not find out until later that it had been 47 degrees.

To add to my woes, I added too much water to my dinner, so I made Chicken Tikka soup. I cut the end of one of my empty bottles to use as a bowl and devoured my soup followed by a few nuts. Alex and Rich also arrived back in good spirits, forcing me to minimise the space I was using in the tent and give poor Alex some space. This was a common occurrence when Alex would arrive back tired and I would be sprawled out across his sleeping area.

So for Stage 1 it was 7 out, 7 in for Tent 140. We knew we were fortunate and that for some, making the start line for Day 2 of the 29th MDS would be impossible. Anj and Sian had stopped to see if they could help one of the guys who we passed on the way in receiving treatment, things were not good and it made me wonder just how many more were out there in similar states. The organisers admitted that it had been one of the toughest opening stages they had ever put on, but that's what we had come for.

That evening I managed to send an email from the email tent (1 email to 1 email address only!) after a short queue and we received our emails to the tent. It was great to get some encouragement from back home and lifted the spirits after a long first day. 

A quick check of the day's results and I finished in 519th. Happy enough. Patrick (39) and Ian (48) were the tent speedsters, both in the top 200, with Patrick bringing it home first for the day. Not bad for auld lads!

All that was left to do was a quick inspection of the feet - a couple of small blisters, but nothing to write home about (or put in a blog), a change of top and get ready to sleep. It was out with my cut-in-half toothbrush (saved 7gs!) and my mini toothpaste before a quick glance of the Road Book for Stage 2, a 41km stage including our first ascent of a jebel (high sandy mountain pass). Another deep breath and off to sleep. Little did I know what was coming...

Road Book for Stage 1:

Maximum authorised time : 10.00
Km 0 : Go E/SE (course 117°) until km 3.
Km 2,2 : Pass through a small valley.
Km 3 : Enter dunes of Chebbi Erg. Take course 127° up to CP1.
Km 15 : CP1 at exit of dunes. Roughly follow oued to avoid vegetation.
General direction South (191°) up to km 21. Sandy with small dunes and camel grass.
Km 21 : Leave oued. Fairly stony, uneven plateau up to km 25. Go South (184°) until km 24.2.
Km 24,2 : Enter old village of M’Fiss. Rocky climb up to mines.
Km 25,8 : CP2 800 m after mines. Go South and cross a fairly hilly terrain to reach sandy passage in a jebel.
Km 27,2 : Sandy passage in jebel. Go S/SE (153°) to cross a stony valley and go up a small gorge.
Km 28,1 : Summit of small gorge, turn E/SE (126°) and cross a stony plateau.
Km 28,8 : Follow Roub’in Oud Oued, which descends the small gorge.
Km 30,2 : End of sandy oued.
Km 31 : Enter dunes of Znaïgui Erg. Go 134° (S/E) until bivouac.
Km 34 : B1 finish line.

 

Meet the Bivouac

Aerial View of MDS Bivouac

Friday 4th and Saturday 5th April 2014

A group of five Irish people meet in Gatwick airport. We all know why we are there, what we have come to do. Team Eire has assembled - we are but a small part of a large contingent of British and Irish competitors, over 300 in total.

We begin with checking in our bags. The vast majority of those in the queue are wearing their race shoes, Velcro on display, some even have their gaiters on. Ahead of me stands a man who I think is Irish, but am not sure. He has a tricolour dyed into his hair, but with an English flag on the white section. I wasn't sure what to make of it but as it turned out,  he would play a significant role in my MDS.

There were 2 flights out and we were on the later flight, meaning we would arrive late into the bivouac (the MDS camp). We were still confident of getting an 'Irish' tent together when we arrived but little did we know what was awaiting us.

No Turning Back - Phil, Paul, Ann Marie, Patrick, Eoin - Team Eire

After three hours on the flight, we got sight of the Sahara, a wide and distant expanse of sand, rock and dunes - not a drop of water in sight. The thought of running through it was a little daunting at that stage and this became even more daunting when we disembarked from the plane at Errachidia Airport into the Sahara afternoon heat - everyone took a deep breath as the sun and heat hit us for the first time.

We then got to meet and shake the hand of the race director, Patrick Bauer, as we handed over our passports at the terminal. This was our welcome to the MDS and the next official meeting with Bauer is the hug you receive from him on the finish line as he presents you with your medal. This is a good image to hang on to for the days to come.

Bauer is the brains behind the 'toughest footrace on earth' having walked 350km of the Sahara in 1984 without support and with a 35kg backpack, an act that eventually led to the 1st MDS being held in 1986 with just 23 competitors. This year would see 1,029 competitors take the start line. This was very much 'his' race.

We are directed to waiting buses where we sit and wait for almost 2.5 hours before finally setting off for the bivouac at dusk. We are also given some lunch and our MDS Road Books, detailing each stage, its terrain and locations of check points where water is distributed. We all immediately turn to Stage 4, the long day. A sense of reality is felt on the bus when we read 81.5km, followed by looking at the 34km opening day involving 2 dune sections. I always thought Day 1 was more of a warm up, rather than a baptism of fire, turns out I was wrong.

I was beginning to understand the race - don't expect anything. It was a lesson that would serve me well through the week.

After another 2 hours on the bus, we arrive at the bivouac in the dark. Head torches go on and we begin to look for a tent together. We soon realise that the late flight had its disadvantages and we fail to secure a tent together. Anne Marie, Paul and Eoin take refuge with a Canadian couple and Patrick and I, with the assistance of an Athenry woman named Claire Morrissey, eventually find a tent on the outer ring.

"Are you nice?" is the question we are asked from a Scottish woman. "Yes we are" is Patrick's response and we are in. It was dark and difficult to see but we quickly become acquainted and Tent 140 took shape. Here's the who's who:

Ian Franklin - Property agent based in London. He was really the Dad of the tent.

Sian Brice - Former Olympian, Triathlon, Sydney 2000 and cycling coach based in St. Albans. I could not believe I was sharing a tent with an Olympian!

Anj Coia Bell - Scottish physio (I could not believe my luck, it was fate) based in St. Albans. Sian and Anj were mates. Anj would be my Mum for the week.

Patrick O'Toole - Architect based in Cork, Team Eire.

Phil Oakley - Coach Education Manager based in Cork. Team Eire.

Alex Pitt - Captain of Industry (family business manager) based in Brighton

Richard Ruffle - Foreign Office Agent based in Islamabad and Brighton. Richard and Alex were mates and also became known as the 'kids' of the tent despite the fact that I was the youngest.



Tent 140 - Phil, Alex, Rich, Anj, Sian, Patrick, Ian.

Initial signs were good - everyone seemed in good spirits and there was a good vibe around Tent 140. Patrick and I headed for dinner in the food tent and we both agreed we had done well on tent selection (or to be selected for the tent is more accurate), a major bonus for the week ahead.

Saturday began with getting to know some faces. We had no real opportunity in the dark to actually put faces to names and so we really met each other for the first time that morning. This was followed by breakfast at the food tent and then preparation for the medical and baggage checks that afternoon.

Meanwhile Anj and I discussed my injury issues and she suggested we do some 'cupping'. Now at this stage I only knew her for a few hours but with my injury history, i was willing to try anything to prolong my IT Band's usefulness. Cupping it turned out wasn't what I thought it was and she placed two glass 'cups' on my leg and then pumped out the air, forcing my flesh to lift into the cup, taking pressure off the IT Band. Did it work? I have no idea, but it left two fairly gruesome marks on my leg, looking as if someone had smashed a tennis ball off my leg. It looked quality.

The Results of a Bit of Cupping!

The medical and bag checks meant that once you went through them, you had no access to your main bag as you hand it over to be taken back to your hotel and with the exception of one last dinner at the food tent, you are then self sufficient.  Because of this, I queued in my race gear, as that is pretty much all I had left to wear. This was to be the start of the longest period I would ever wear the same garment for.

Temperatures were high, so for most of the day we lay in the tent (tent is not quite the right description, essentially it was a 2 sided shelter from the sun with a thin rug on the ground over the gravels of the desert floor) waiting for the queue to reduce before joining the line.

It was whilst queueing for the bag checks that I met Niall Murphy. Niall, as it turned out, was in my brother's year in the secondary school I had attended and had gone to UCC (where I went to university) to become a doctor and he now lived in London. The crossover in people we knew was endless. Niall had been on the earlier flight and when he spotted the man with the tricolour/English flag in his hair. "Come here to me, what's the shtory with the hair?" says Niall in a Sminky Short kind of way (see below). Turns out Daniel is from Killiney, based in the UK and dyed his hair based on the financial support he received for his charity. It was a close one but the Irish vote just shaded it, but because it had been so close he also had the English flag put on. A noble effort given the circumstances.

           

The medical checks were straightforward, quick look at my forms, a more detailed analysis of my ECG and the distribution of salt tablets and directions on how to use them. I had read a lot about these tablets and whether or not you should take them - the doctors are there for a reason and if they advise you should take them, then take them. We were also given our race tags and our flares.




All Smiles For Alan After Bag And Medical Checks - Alan (My Passport Name) No. 752 

Next up was a race briefing from Patrick Bauer. This included a demonstration from a 'local' underage sand rugby team (there was nothing local about where we were at the time), a demonstration on how to use the flare and a welcoming to all the competitors from 42 nations including a Korean model and actors Bertie Portal (The King's Speech), Mark Lewis Jones and Richard Harrington (none of whom I had ever heard of)!

Most comical was the demonstration on how to use the toilets - the toilets were small plastic seat like structures with a hole in them. They were constructed in sets of 3 around the bivouac's outer ring of tents and separated into little cubicles using signage banners. You brought along a plastic bag known as the "sac-a-caca" and installed it over the plastic seat before doing your business and disposing of the bag in the bin outside the door once finished. The bins were then emptied regularly to avoid odours. It was a good system but there was a reluctance to use them as avoiding stomach issues is crucial during a week like this, so my plan was to use the bushes in the desert when I could and only use the toilets as a last resort. The tent agreed to ensure we were anal (ha!) about cleaning our hands entering the tent using disinfectant gel, even if you were just out and about. The system worked well for the week.

The Sweeper Camels - You Hope You Do Not See These Guys During The Race Or Your Race Is Over

One final meal in the food tent that night (including a glass of wine!) and that was it, no turning back. The sun went down and when it came up, that was it. The MDS, something I had been planning for over 3 years, was now a reality. As we settled in to sleep that night I had one last read over my Road Book for Stage 1 and with a deep breath I turned over and fell asleep.   

The Start Line Set Up for Stage 1 - Note the Dunes in the Background

Running for a Cause

Given the extent of the event I will be trying to complete, I feel it is apt to raise money for a worthy cause and I am proud to run for Temple Street Children's Hospital.

The target is an achievable €2,000 and hopefully this will be surpassed.

If you would like to donate (and thank you to those who already have), just go here http://www.mycharity.ie/event/philip_oakleys_event/ and click on the 'donate' button.

Thanks a million.

The Whole Kit and Caboodle

Raidlight Olmo 20L

When preparing for an event like the MDS, kit choice can be difference between getting over the finish line or being air lifted out of the dunes by a helicopter. Kit includes the following elements:

Clothing - race gear as well as something to use around the camp (bivouac) at night

Food and drink - enough calories (minimum 2,000) to sustain yourself through the event and the utensils to cook and eat it

Medical - supplies to treat all manner of ailments and illnesses, as well as the dreaded blisters   

Packing - how much space you will need to get everything around

Luxury - any additional items to make life easier in the desert

Obviously the lighter the pack weight, the easier the MDS will be. There is a balance to be achieved however, between compromising on essential supplies and making the pack as light as possible. For example, you can carry less food to ease the weight but then you compromise on calorie intake. In the end, here's what I settled for including weights (* - denotes mandatory equipment): 

Packing and Sleeping:

*Backpack: Raidlight Olmo 20L including 2 Raidlight Drinking Bottles (570g) (Note: the Olmo is named after Marco Olmo, 65 years old and racing this year's MDS. Olmo is a ultra marathon legend having won the prestigious Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc twice and despite his age, has consistently finishing inside the top 15 at the MDS since 1996, including 2013 when he finished 13th at the age of 64!).

*Sleeping Bag: Marmot (653g)

Thermorest (254g)

Ear Plugs (3g)

Raidlight Front Pouch (15g)

Survival Essentials:

*Signalling Mirror: Racekit (11g)

*Head Torch: Petzl Tikka (48g)

*Extra Batteries: Duracell (96g)

*Knife: Swiss Army Mini (22g)

*Compass: Silva (25g)

*Lighter: Centra! (20g)

*Anti-Venom Pump: Aspivenin (30g)

*Survival Sheet: Gelert (59g)

*Safety Pins: Tesco (3g)

Medical Equipment:

*Topical Gel/Iodine: Boots (77g)

*Suncream SPF 30: Boots (55g)

*Suncream SPF 50: Boots (97g)

*Hand Gel: (69g)

Foot Pack (Blister treatments): Racekit (136g)

Medicines: Nurofen, Dioralyte, Diphene, Immodium etc. (55g)

Anti-chaffing Cream: Bodyglide (46g)

Dry Wipes: Wemmi (add water) (10g)

Toothbrush (cut in half) (7g)

Tooth Paste: Oral B mini (28g)

Toilet Role: Andrex (130g)

Strapping: K Tape (39g)

Cooking:

Pot: Esbit Titanium (190g)

Stove: Esbit (90g)

Fuel: Esbit Tablets (160g)

Spork (11g)

Food:

*2,000 calories per day minimum for 7 days - totals: (4,450 g) (19,700 calories)

Expedition Foods High Calorie (800kcal) Dried Breakfast x 7 (Granola/Porridge)

Expedition Foods High Calorie (800kcal) Dried Meals x 8 (Chicken Tikka, Chicken Korma, Beef and Potato Hotpot, Spaghetti Bolognese, Asian Noodles with Chicken) (Note all freeze dried food was removed from its original packaging and decanted into Zip-lock bags saving approximately 10g per meal)

Extreme Foods High Calorie (500kcal) Desserts x 2 (Chocolate Chip, Strawberries and Custard)

Power Bars x 7

Torq Bar x 1

Mighty Bar x 4

Stinger Strawberry Waffle x 1

Gu Chomps, Power Shots, Stinger Shots x 6

High 5 Gels x 2

Nuts (mixed) x 400g

10 Tea Bags

10 tsps dried skimmed milk

Zero Tabs x 2 tubes

My Dried Food Decanted From Its Original Packaging Into Zip-lock Bags

Clothing:

Racegear (not weighed):

Saucony Kinvara (with Velcro sewn on by Shoehealer, Doncaster)

Injini Toe Socks

1000 Mile Performance Double Socks

Skins Calf Guards

Racekit Sand Gaiters (to attach to velcro on shoe)

Underarmour Heatgear Compression Shorts

Underarmour Heatgear Semi-compression Long Sleeve Tshirt

Buff

Raidlight Peaked hat with neckguard

Prestige Sports Glasses

Extra Clothing:

Tog 24 Merino Half Zip Top (241g)

Ronhill Trackster Legs (213g)

Nike Dri-fit Long Sleeve Tshirt (191g)

Hotel Slippers (65g)

Luxury:

Digital Camera (131g)

MP3 Player (65g)

Additional Requirements:

*Passport (33g)

*€200 Cash (5g)

So this all added up to just shy of 8.5kg. Added to this you must carry a signalling flare (400g) and an MDS Road Book (100g). So that gives you 9.0kg without water and 10.5kg when the bottles are full. This was acceptable to me given that I wasn't out to win the race, survival was my main priority.

Every trick in the book was used to reduce weight - cutting my toothbrush in half, removing the case of the anti-venom pump and wrapping toilet role around it to save space, removing the insert from the toilet role, reducing the length of the straps on the bag etc.

In the end, I was relatively happy with my bag and the pack and racing gear were comfortable as I had a quick run around my housing park before setting off to Morocco, not quite what I would call ideal preparation but since I had not been running due to my IT Band, this was as good as it was getting.

In the final few weeks before departure, I had to have an ECG completed, a blood test to determine my blood group and my medical certificate signed off by my GP to complete the medical forms.

Sarah continued to work on my IT Band and Sinead advised a course of Diphene to aid recovery. A week before I was due to begin racing, I ran 5 miles without much aggravation but felt it would still be touch and go once I got there. Either way I was off...  

How to Attract Mountain Goats in the Canaries

Mountain Goats!

The isolated coastal trail between Playa Blanca and Playa Quemada in Lanzarote is exactly that - isolated. It is so quiet that I had not heard or seen anything or anyone except for the odd bird. 

My leg was beginning to feel dead after only 7 miles, almost as if someone had thumped me in the thigh. Suddenly I felt a sharp wincing pain on the outside of my right knee which stopped me in my tracks. This was the second time this had happened in as many sessions during my warm weather training camp (or family holiday as my wife, mother and parents-in-law called it) in Lanzarote. The trip just happened to coincide with 7 weeks to go before the MDS and my wife's mid-term break from school. Unfortunately for me, it also coincided with another overuse injury resulting from the Clonakilty Back2Back Marathons - IT Band Syndrome - where my IT Band had taken over from my tired leg muscles and strained itself.

If you know me, you'll know that I do not take the refusal of my body to follow orders well. At this point in Lanzarote, I had two options. First was to accept it, turn around and gingerly walk back the 7  miles to home and begin some form of rehabilitation. The second option was to lose it there and then on that quiet trail under the midday sun. 

I chose the latter and proceeded with a hissy fit to end all hissy fits. First I flung my pack to the ground and kicked it, knocking the water bladder out. This was followed by punting a Power Bar over the side of a cliff (ROG eat your heart out) and ripping the cap off my head and stamping on it. Third was to roar in frustration as I pondered another year waiting to do the MDS. I then sat there like a child who was not allowed to put what I wanted in the trolley at the supermarket, head down, moaning.

After a few minutes of this sulking, I reluctantly picked up my cap and bag and turned around. Around a twenty-strong herd of wild mountain goats were sitting above the trail staring at me in silence. I stared at them and they just sat there staring back. I wondered how long they had been there and whether or not they had witnessed my hissy fit or if the hissy fit attracted them over. I was fairly sure they weren't there as I rounded the corner so I concluded I must have attracted them with my antics. Useful information should I ever go hunting for wild mountain goat in Lanzarote!

The rest of my holiday was spent stretching under the tutelage of the mother - handy to have brought a physio on holiday with me. On my return, Sarah in Performance Physio confirmed that it was IT Band Syndrome and we began to rehabilitate it with foam rolling, dry needling, friction treatment and stretching. IT Band Syndrome for most runners allows them to run short distances before any pain is felt and it is generally felt outside the knee where the IT Band connects to the lower leg. It is a common running injury apparently. Meanwhile I got back in the pool and began preparing my equipment - I was not waiting another year, whatever state I was in, I was getting on that plane to Morocco. 

ITB Syndrome

Going Back 2 Back in Clonakilty

If you’re going to run six marathons in six days, you might as well start with 2. The Clonakilty Back2Back Marathons gave me a good dose of reality. 

"I find it hard to do a lot of training what with the baby and all" I said as I was trying to find and excuse for the pains in my legs as we approached the 13 mile mark of the first marathon. 

"Stop complaining, I have 3 kids and still get out training, but I have to train late at night" says Patrick. 

"Well I only get out 6 days a week and I have 7 kids and a full time job!" says the woman running beside us in her Vibrams. All she was missing was the Wonder Woman outfit.

We had just hopped off the back of a trailer towed by a jeep on the first day of the event on February 15^th. It is the only race I have been to where there was a significant flood in the middle of the race that required a flat bottomed trailer attached to a truck and a smaller trailer attached to a jeep to ferry runners over the 250m long puddle. We had some hard rain in the weeks leading up to the race, which I knew I was escaping with a family trip/training week in Lanzarote a few days later, so my spirits were high.  

Although I struggled to get on to the trailer, I felt getting a rest even for a few minutes, was going to be great, right? Wrong. Getting off the trailer and getting going again was not a pleasant experience and we were only a quarter of the distance into the weekend’s mileage.

The Flat Bottomed Trailer (Complete with Flood!)

It is billed as an ‘inspiring’ marathon by the organisers and credit must go to the scenery, which gives a stunning backdrop to the pain and suffering as you work your way out of Clonakilty along the water, up towards Castlefreake, through some very rustic mileage and on toward Inchydoney before looping back to Clonakilty.

As I had learned from my days on geology field trips in college, beautiful scenery is often partnered with rugged terrain. The Clonakilty Back 2 Back marathon course is no exception. The Saturday race was won in 2.53, which shows how hilly it was (usually marathons are won in Ireland around 2.30).

Three MDS hopefuls began the day in good spirits with our backpacks on as we lined up at the start. Eoin filled his with leaflets, Patrick went with whatever was in the car and I had bought bags of rice and pasta to weigh myself down. I ran with 6kg in my pack, not safe in the knowledge that I was going to have another 2-3kgs in Morocco. Patrick’s bag went after only 5 miles when his pack exploded onto the road – the bag was fine, closing the zip helped and I enjoyed the short break!

Ronan, whom I met during the Art O’Neill, was also running, so again great to chat to him and get some ideas.

The approach for the first day was to take it easy, a good thing considering the very long hills at 14 and 20 miles. We ran/power walked up both hills, although Patrick was well out of sight from mile 16 onward. Eoin and I trudged our way round and finished in 4.45. Not bad considering the packs and the fact that we had another marathon to endure the following day. The McDonald’s Eoin insisted on after the race was a great bonus!



Patrick and I Hitting Castlefreake Woods

Sunday was a different kettle of fish – my quads were not best pleased with me as I struggled down the stairs to make porridge before setting off with Eoin back down to Clonakilty for Day 2. The lads ran with lighter packs and I ran with none as I had a pain in my lower back from my car key chaffing my skin as I ran the first day – valuable lesson for the MDS! Another lesson was not to wear ‘below the ankle’ socks, when my shoe decided to cut into my heel and I had to stop for bandaging after only 3 miles.

All was good until 17 miles in (or 43 miles in total) when my body went on strike and my legs gave up. I had to shuffle the following 9 miles – it was running downhill that killed me on the quads. Even the nice ladies at the aid station before the hill at mile 20 couldn’t cheer me up, despite their offer to take more and more jaffa cakes. “Sure you’re only skin and bone” one said. “Put a few in your pocket” said the other lady. Orangey goodness had little effect I’m afraid.



Eoin and I Almost Home on Day 2

I eventually got home in 4.30, alongside Eoin who blitzed the second half of the race, after I left him around mile 7. Patrick was already on his way back to Cork.

We decamped to the Quality Hotel with our medals of Michael Collins and JFK for a massage and some food. The student rubbing my leg commented that my IT Band was a bit tight – “as is the rest of my body” says I. I assumed with a visit to my own physio that it would loosen out before I hit the trails in Lanzarote three or four days later…I was wrong, very wrong.

Team Eire

So then there were 5...

Aside from myself, there are at least 4 other Irish-based runners taking on the 2014 MDS.

Paul aka The Running Firefighter is based in Dublin. Eoin, from Wexford, based in Dublin. Anne Marie from Offaly serving in the Irish Army. Patrick from Cork. And me from Clare, based in Cork. All crazy.