(Not) Seeing Dots – Gozo 50k

This was my second time completing the Gozo 50k after I’d visited on holiday to do it 12 months ago. I then moved to Malta last year & as this is the only ultra-distance event on the archipelago I felt duty bound to register once again. Having just completed the Marathon des Sables I knew this race would go one of 2 ways, either I’d benefit from the mileage done 3 weeks earlier & I’d run well or I’d struggle as I hadn’t recovered fully from my endeavours, but as I knew the route was scenic, challenging & fun thought it was worth the punt.

Living here meant an early start to get the 6.45am ferry from Malta to Gozo but this adds to the feeling of doing something a little out of the ordinary. Race HQ was much like last year, very low key with about 60 participants loitering in the car-park overshadowed by the impressive Ghajnsielem Parish Church. I just had enough time to register before the race briefing and we set off at 8am sharp.

The route crosses one busy road leading up from the Ferry Terminal in Mgarr before hitting the type of trail we spend most of the day on, dry & dusty track with loose rocks & spiky vegetation or a cliff edge bordering it, IE good running.

We followed the red dots marking the route around the cliff as a pack, before hitting the first of MANY descents & ascents along the route. My mind had played tricks on me, I’d forgotten how many there were in the first stretch and had only stored the stunning cliff top running that interspersed the climbs. I hung on to the pack for a while making steady progress but after slowing a few short miles in I soon found myself completely alone.

The answer to my question had been answered. The day was going to be a struggle.


We reached Cenc and I recognised it as the location for the first CP, in my eagerness to reach it I stopped looking for dots and missed a turn. Thankfully I was quickly notified by runners a little way behind so I got back on track quickly… but this wasn’t to last long. After a splash & dash at the CP we headed out of the village directed by local guides up a clear track, no sign of any markings I carried straight up the path but after a few 100 metres the track petered out & broke into small trails in several directions, with no sign of any markers we backtracked some way before spotting the route directions crossing a wall which had been deliberately obscured by a car. On the other side of the field an old local guy was shouting at runners & squaring up to them as they attempted to make their way along the marked path. As I took a detour around the field I watched him angrily pushing another runner who had cut across ‘his’ field… the last I saw of him he was tearing down the tape that marked that section and stamping his feet like a cartoon stereotype.

This drama had created a concertina effect and we were now in a small procession along breath-taking cliff tops until the descent into Xlendi… a section I remembered all too well from the previous year. Passing the restaurants with tourists enjoying breakfast or a very early beer we hit the first big steep climb up out of the bay on an almost sheer cliff face, it was hard & hot work but I remained on the route and got to the top feeling less worn out than I recalled in 2016. Starting to jog again soon after following the trails & markers I made my way easily through the following section I’d got lost in last year and soon made my way on to a road.

By the time we returned to the cliff we were well spread out & I was alone again. I hadn’t spotted any dots for a while & although not concerned as the sea was still to my left when I spotted marker tape down by the cliff edge I followed it. I went under an eroded overhang & on a section were there was no path… in fact there was no anything in spots & I was clinging onto the cliff edge as I stepped over gaps dropping to the sea 100 metres below me. I realised this couldn’t be the correct route & the markers had obviously been tampered with and placed there to send us the wrong way. Luckily I spotted the runners who’d been ahead of me descending in front so cut back to meet them & safely got back on track but I now had doubts in my mind about the route being correct, this enforced by another runner who confirmed other markers they’d passed had been tampered with.

The descent to Dwejra, filming location for Game of Thrones & the original Clash of the Titans, followed & my first visit since the Azure Window had collapsed during a storm in March. The area now has little to offer except the ‘Inland Sea’ and this is obvious in the lack of thronging tourists I had to weave through last year despite the glorious weather. I was running well into CP2 but also getting very hot so paused for a couple minutes topping up my bottles & grabbing a few salted snacks before beginning the long drag up to the top of the cliffs.

This section is fairly tough, but beautiful, with alien limestone overhangs & stunning cliff edge trails but I realised that I must be behind last year as the photographer had already given up & gone elsewhere before I passed. Despite this I actually felt better here than I recalled from the previous year & was plodding along steadily until spotting a marker on a rock next to a separate track I followed the track down, but after a few 100 metres realised I hadn’t seen any more dots so had to retrace my steps. Again. Frustrating.

Returning to the original track & following it round & down to the salt pans I recognised the start of the tightening in my knee that signalled the ongoing issue I’d been getting all year. I could still run but knew that with about 13 miles over some of the more technical trails of the route this was going to be a long day. CP3 was in a different location this year & just before seeing it I spotted a red arrow sprayed on the floor pointing up a trail… which I dutifully followed. To a dead-end. Back-tracking yet again, I was getting annoyed with my inability to follow the route this year & cursing my failure to download the GPX from last year!

Last year I had gone through CP3 without topping my bottles & as my pace had plummeted I had run out of water. To avoid this happening again, I topped both softs flasks up again, despite it taking a frustrating length of time at each CP. We now followed the Promenade for a stretch through Qbajjar & then down to pass the bars & restaurants in Marsalforn, before the climb out the other side.  This had finished me in 2016 but I ascended more comfortably this year so enjoyed the winding single track skirting the hillside a lot more… until I reached a descent & my knee pain increased sharply, to the point that I struggled to put any weight on it.

I was angry. I loved this stretch of trail & although my legs were leaden I still had slow running in them. Unfortunately, the pain meant I couldn’t continue running for more than a few hundred metres & steep downhills were agonising, literally becoming a hop rather than a run. Finally reaching the now agonising descent to Ramla Bay I shuffled across the sandy beach, dipping my shoes wet in the Mediterranean before tackling the steep climb up to the cave overlooking it. Arriving at the top I sat down in the cool for a couple minutes to savour the view & cool down before exiting out the back & following the red dots along the road.


I kept moving forward, but the distance I could run was getting progressively shorter as the miles ticked slowly by, this section was a mix of quiet country roads, old farm tracks & some trails with several sharp climbs included. One positive I got from this race was my climbing had improved for the first time in ages & I could power up some of the steep ascents well despite the heat & knee pain. Reaching the final CP with about 10km to go I was well looked after by a young scout who helped me top up my bottles, offered me food & added some ice-cubes to my coke! Absolute star!

I set off to get it finished following the little red dots along the road again as it turned inland. After a while the route dropped to pass above a quarry on the coast that I remembered wasn’t too far from St Anthony’s Battery, which identified the corner of Gozo and more importantly about 3 miles to go. I was now struggling on the eroded rock and sharp loose stones, the constant adjustments needed aggravated my knee making it hurt more with each step.

I was relieved to round the fort to reach some decent trails leading to the scrambles off vertical drops, clambering over rocks & scaling large boulders that had astounded me last year. I started to pass more people on the trail & the beaches so knew that I was getting nearer to the ferry port & even caught & passed another participant, the first I’d seen since before Ramla Bay. Trudging on & still running as much as possible the final few kilometres finally ticked down & I reached the road into M’garr, flat but painful I was glad to pass a final additional drink station and begin the last ascent up to Ghajnsielem through a narrow alleyway.

Turning off at the top & following the final few red dots to the finish I wobbled down to cross the line in 8.30… just under 30mins slower than last year.

It was a frustrating day as I felt I had more running in my legs but the increasing pain from the midway point had made this impossible. In assessing my performance, I have admitted that both my body and head are not in the game & I’ve made the difficult decision to withdraw from my next 2 events to regroup & hopefully rediscover my love for running.

Despite the difficulties I faced, this is a fun, low-key run and with few entrants it is just about as far from the MdS as you can get. It features some fantastic trails, crosses varied & challenging terrain passing some beautiful and sometime bizarre locations. I had an incredibly solitary run, which I generally enjoyed, particularly as it was so far removed from the continuous queues endured in my last event but it did lead to me taking the wrong trail several times. Other than the route difficulties, some of my own doing & some that was obviously deliberate (and in one case dangerous) tampering my only other gripe was that the photographer had moved on from each location before I had made my way there.

Neither will stop me signing for the third time, will I see you there?


Marathon des Sables: Beyond the Running

VIRB Picture

Circus – [sur-kuh s] plural circuses

Noun: 1. large public entertainment, typically presented in one or more very large tents or in an outdoor or indoor arena, featuring exhibitions of pageantry, feats of skill and daring, performing animals etc, interspersed throughout with the slapstick antics of clowns; 2. troupe of performers, especially a travelling troupe, that presents such entertainments, together with officials, other employees, and the company’s performing animals, travelling wagons, tents, cages and equipment; 3. a circular arena surrounded by tiers of seats, in which public entertainments are held

The Marathon des Sables is not just a race, it’s an event. Before I went others had likened it to a circus and now having done it I can understand this analogy… it almost seems obvious.

It is a huge operation that includes a lot of tents (always pitched in a perfect circle), it travels in convoy to each new location after each show, Patrick Bauer holds thrall in the centre as the Ringmaster and of course, it also features performers. Most of them are related to marketing and promotion, from the creation of this year’s edition number using the participants, the low flying helicopters that swoop overhead and kicking up huge clouds of sand and dust at the start of each day (probably more for those that are running at the front) and the video of our daring are all impressive shows utilised to promote the circus to the next wave of would be MdS entertainers. Because of course, the participants are also performing; apparently far more so than previous years but the cameras are never too far away & it seems that the entrants are all too willing to put on a show for the lenses pointing in their direction.

To make the most out of your time in the desert you should embrace this lunacy & become part of the circus. You could even dress up as a cow… or a clown.

VIRB Picture
Queue – [kyoo] 

Noun: A file or line, especially of people waiting their turn.

As a Brit, I consider myself semi-professional at queuing, it’s almost instinctive, see a line join it… the longer and slower moving the better. So, it was with some disappointment that the legendary MdS queues in the baking midday sun never materialised.

The organisation was far better than feared, on the admin day we were split by numbers so some had to register in the morning while those that remained went in the afternoon. We were then further filtered so only selected numbers went through each marquee reducing the length of time waiting, we handed in our forms declaring we were carrying all the mandatory kit & the required number of calories before having our bags weighed (mine came in at 6.94 without sleeping mat). We then got our ration card, medical card and were issued with salt tablets & GPS Spot tracker. Finally, we got hold of our precious numbers. The longest queue was for the photo which we all thought was a completely pointless exercise, but discovered on our return to civilisation that it was used for our profile on the tracking website. This left all afternoon free to relax & chat… out of the sun & off our feet.

At the mealtimes before we were self-sufficient they had 3 or 4 entrances leading to tables laden with all the same options, making progress quick so once open we didn’t have to wait long before getting our hands on our sustenance… and regardless what you may hear from the doomsayers it was all good too. Collecting water in the morning was pain free, it was just better to wait until the hordes had already collected theirs & then go to the commissaries at the sides who always seemed to be free.

I did wait for a long time when I visited Doc Trotters to have my feet looked at but this was by choice & as they do operate some form of triage if you are most in need you’re whisked straight into the tents behind & treated immediately. I did go back after the race where they bandaged my mangled appendages & send me packing to continue eating & drinking with antibiotics in hand to treat the infection.

The biggest queue of the week by far was for the bar after the final timed stage & it was also the most chaotic but think most would agree that it was totally worth having your already totalled tootsies trodden on repeatedly for your choice of beer, Coke or Orangina!

All things considered, I was impressed with the organisation of the Marathon des Sables. In many ways, it runs like a well-oiled machine. Watching the methodical deconstruction of camp each morning, knowing it will all be set up & ready just a few hours later in a new location is remarkable.

Tent 109
Tribe [trahyb]

Noun: Any aggregate of people united by ties of descent from a common ancestor, community of customs and traditions, adherence to the same leaders, etc.

The focus in preparation is obviously on the race… what to wear, what to eat, what to carry… but one of the most important factors of this race is who you will share it with.

Your tentmates. Your troupe. Your tribe.

I was lucky. Twitter’s Susie Chan had asked me the week before the race if I had arranged tentmates, as I hadn’t she invited me to join her & a couple others and I accepted. I had met several other MdS’ers in the preparation & thought that I wouldn’t be lost for options but it was suddenly a relief to have something sorted.

The occupants of Tent 109 were a disparate group of individuals with a massive divide in our abilities, ambitions, personalities & vocations. Between us about the only thing we had in common was that were all in the 32nd Marathon des Sables, but in just a few days we became a tribe. You spend a lot of time under what is essentially a large black blanket held up by sticks with these 7 other people and as you have no technology or distractions you’re forced into holding conversations. Among the joking, talking about food (far too much) and oversharing you also find out a lot about each other in a short period of time…

Among the delightful nuggets I discovered; Damien ‘Poohead’ Hall is a magnus opus of bad jokes and poor timing, delights in sitting on the fence, is endlessly positive and a phenomenal runner. Nathan ‘Justin’ Montague is also an incredible athlete and possibly one of the humblest individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, showing strength of spirit and body throughout but unfortunately reads the Daily Mail. Paul ‘Showtime’ Broadway was relentless in his resolution and could eat more than anyone else I know while Twitter’s Susie Chan is remarkably sweary, enjoys repeatedly kicking you in the head at night, is averse to being woken up with loud farts and is the greatest company you could ask for on a long day. Cheesy Mark got the name from his penchant from sleeping with cheese triangles, had the most mischievous sense of humour and may be a little bit racist, Cheeser Mark had the coolest job I’d never heard of, was quietly obstinate in proving his doubters wrong and got his name from the size of his smile after the long day. Johan who of all of us faced the greatest challenge in the desert & yet showed unflinching courage and was unwavering in his resolve, remaining upbeat in camp all week becoming a massive inspiration for me on my own journey.

This camaraderie combined with the individual, yet somehow shared, trials & tribulations we were facing during the race created a strong bond, you look out for people who were for the most part were complete strangers just a matter of days ago & you would do anything to help your tentmates & ensure they all make it to that finish line.

After each stage I was greeted by delighted tentmates, whose enthusiasm never dwindled and you would be looking forward to this for much of the day… in retrospect I feel guilty as I’m naturally a bit of a miserable bastard so I spent an inordinate amount of time complaining & swearing at camels but I do hope that this was recognised as ever so slightly tongue in cheek. Damien & Nathan always cleared our shelter of the stones & thorns and when I finally crawled in hours later they couldn’t do enough to help me get comfortable.

Except after the long day when Poohead essentially told us to go away as we tried to drag our broken bodies into the bivouac.

When I look back my most memorable moments, the highest & lowest points of the week, are not directly related to my own race, but those of my tribe. Coming back from my best day to discover TSC in the tent after her worst was a huge blow and a stark warning that this race can get the measure of the best of us. In contrast, watching Mark & Johan come over the line after completing the marathon stage with all of tent 109 will stay with me forever & I still get emotional when I recall it now.

Blister ˈblɪstə

Noun: A small bubble on the skin filled with serum and caused by friction, burning, or other damage eg “his heels were covered in blisters”

Foot-care is all important in the MdS and bad feet can end your race, I knew this all too well & planned to look after them carefully during the week. Unfortunately, the Sahara had other ideas for my feet.

I may have mentioned this already, but the terrain is harsh. If you’re not picking your way across endless plains scattered with shards of deadly rocks intent on piercing the soles of your feet or tearing your gaiters then you’re sliding around on never-ending sand dunes ensuring your feet move around in your shoes creating or aggravating existing blisters to the point of submission. Added to this, due to the heat & reduced breathability thanks to the (torn) gaiters your feet are sweaty & swollen which can (and does) make your feet far worse.

I had a combination of problems, from a lot of small blisters on my toes which was just down to them being wet, battered, rubbed & smashed all week but these were easily treated & caused no major problems and may have been avoided by taping. The Velcro stitched & glued to the shoes had changed their shape a fraction, not enough to notice when training at home but once my feet started swelling it meant they were pressing on the little toes on both feet, this caused multiple blisters and led to infection.

The worst was self-inflicted & could should have been avoided, I got a small piece of grit embedded in the heel of my shoe on day 3. I ran through the signs as I was going well & this meant the blister ripped open & left an open wound which got progressively worse as the week wore on. A schoolboy error.

The problems with my both little toes & heel meant I was hobbling & this in turn caused further blisters… by the end of the week I was in a lot of discomfort, just getting my socks on was agony and it was excruciating to squeeze my feet inside my shoes each day.

I was an idiot and didn’t look after my feet as well as I should but some of the issues would have happened even if I had been more attentive. Prevention is better than cure so learn to tape your feet and train in your chosen shoes combined with gaiters in advance. Try to replicate the expected circumstances as closely as possible to identify if your shoes will try to amputate your little toes after 20km and you may escape with as little as 3 blisters.

Hygiene ˈhʌɪdʒiːn/

Noun: Conditions or practices conducive to maintaining health and preventing disease, especially through cleanliness eg: “poor standards of food hygiene”

This is one of those areas that you might not consider until you get to the desert, you almost certainly won’t have thought about it before you sign up but it’s worth being informed before arriving…

Toilets are essentially blocks of 3 cubicles made from PVC, placed 100metres away from the camp. Some have a hook to close the entry flap but most don’t and the ‘toilet’ consists of a small plastic stool over which a provided biodegradable bag is attached. A small stone is placed in the bag to avoid unwelcome re-entry when the wind blows & you perch above this contraption to dispose of your unwanted extra weight, the now heavier bag is then placed unceremoniously in a bin just outside avoiding eye contact with those queuing for their turn outside.

All things considered this process is far less painful than you’d imagine.

Numero uno’s are made wherever comfortable… this gets ever closer as the week wears on and by Day 3 even the womenfolk are dropping the draws without making any effort to hide from view on the trails or in camp.

Take antibacterial hand gel. It will be very useful for washing hands to avoid illness and as I found out useful (but unpleasant) to clean open wounds. I took wet-wipes…  and it was a delight to remove the worst of the grime at the end of each day with them, Wemmie Wipes were popular in the tent & I would consider these in future but some form of cleanser is a godsend.

Sand does get everywhere. It will be covering your clothes and your bod, it will fill your shoes and coat your hair, it will be in your food all week and you will be finding little pockets of it appearing in your home for weeks after you return. When it starts it’s like the desert is taunting you, reminding you of your weakest moments, but finally you start to warm to it and eventually it provokes pleasant memories… viewed through thick rose-tinted glasses.

You should expect to be a stinking shell of a former human by the end of the week, your clothes are a bio-hazard and should be burnt, ideally after creating an effigy of Patrick Bauer with them. You’ll lose your self-dignity as you become less self-conscious of your personal hygiene practises, exposing yourself to strangers & new friends alike without consideration and you become stripped back as you adjust to surviving on the bare minimum and the usual constraints of society are removed.

This is a good thing. Welcome it, savour it and remember it,.

For this is what the Marathon des Sables is about.

A Mid-Pack Marathon des Sables

Savour not just Suffer…

I knew I wasn’t as fit as I had been in 2016 as training had been hampered since breaking myself in January, then to add injury to injury I slipped & fell while out walking with a full pack landing awkwardly and hurting my shoulder. So, all things considered my aim going into the 32nd Marathon des Sables was to finish and my mantra leading up to  it became ‘Savour not just Suffer’

I was soon to find out that this was far, far easier said than done.

VIRB PictureEtape 1 – 30.3km – ‘The Easy Day’
Easy [ee-zee] – Adjective: not hard or difficult; requiring no great labour or effort

Unsurprisingly on the first day there were a lot of nerves & I for one hadn’t got into a routine yet. A lot of unnecessary faffing was done in the morning while packing my bag, misplacing kit & trying to eat breakfast… my planned treat of rice pudding & fruit came to nought after my can opener broke in transit so I made do with 2 pots of fruit & a pouch of yoghurt. Excitement was building as Tent 109  made our way as a group to be part of the creation of the number 32 which is photographed from the air before separating to line up at the start in various positions dependant on our race ambitions. We were then subjected to a selection of random and often inappropriately cheesy music tracks and the first of 6 long & repetitive briefings from Patrick.

Finally, the refrains of Highway to Hell were belting out & the countdown to the start was on!

Worried about hydration my strategy for the first 2 stages was to take it easy & see how I coped in the heat. Supposedly an ‘easy day’ it felt long, slow, hot & continuously uphill. I comfortably ran the first 5.5km at a steady pace as we followed an oued, but this dropped after the first sandy climb of the type we would soon become all too accustomed to. From the top, we got our first indication of the sweeping scale of the desert as the train of runners wound away into the distance behind. Midway through I stubbed my foot on a rock, this lifted my little toe and the nail caught on the inside of my shoe pulling it hard. I hobbled for a short distance, but concerned I had damaged it looked for somewhere convenient to stop. Finding a flat rock & lowering myself down to it I managed to pierce my hand with multiple thorns which provided another early & valuable lesson… those things are vicious! Peeling off my gaiters & socks I was relieved to see little sign of serious injury despite the pain being quite severe. Replacing my socks, shoes & gaiters I continued gingerly on my way but was still concerned about the level of pain. The miles were slowly ticking down, but as 5 of the last 6 were all uphill it was a tough battle, finally with a couple left we hit a steep climb and after reaching the summit was relieved to see the second campsite in the mid-distance. I shuffled along slowly having found this ‘easy day’ inordinately difficult & I was concerned how I would cope as the days got longer & harder.

Time: 4:51:19 Position 540th

VIRB PictureEtape 2 – 39km -‘The Hard Day’
Jebel ˈdʒɛbɛl’ [jeb-uh l] – Noun: (in the Middle East and North Africa) a mountain or hill, or a range of hills.

I didn’t have long to wait to find out how I would cope as we’d been warned that the second day was tough and it was another 9km further, making it a long hard day 2. It began with a sandy climb, followed by a series of small dunes during which I felt a hot spot form on my heel, which I could feel had immediately opened. I stopped as soon as possible to tape what was a raw but thankfully small open blister. The dunes soon levelled out and after a short distance there was a climb over Bou Laadam Jebel before we began our journey over the first endless stretch of vast emptiness that is characteristic of huge areas of the Sahara Desert. This long psychologically draining flat stretch continued over the horizon and seemed to go on forever and we were just a trail of insignificant dots lost among the landscape. In retrospect, my progress was much slower than it should’ve been but I eventually made it to CP1. More of the same followed to CP2 but rising temperatures and no escape from the scorching sun meant it was hot work to get there, requiring my first rest in a bivouac at a CP for a few minutes to cool down. I poured spare water over me & my clothing & set off again. From CP2 it remained flat & rocky providing good progress & as I started chatting to somebody this section passed quickly and I began to feel positive.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last & reaching a section of beautiful, but devastating sand dunes that rose incrementally I blew up in style as the increased effort to ascend each one & the heat bouncing off the sand literally burnt me up. Finally escaping this sandy sauna, we followed a stretch of single track winding ever closer to the dreaded El Otfal Jebel. Entering the stone gorge marking the start of the ascent was like stepping into a steam room. The sun was reflecting off the rocks and as the ascent began to get steeper, the effort increased again & my core temperature spiked. I had to stop regularly, desperately trying to hide from the sun in miniscule strips of shade in a futile attempt to cool down. The climb wasn’t that long, but it took 39mins to complete one mile before it finally angled out from among the rocks up over a sandy incline to the summit which provided breath-taking views in all directions.

An annoying queue to descend holding a rope was awaited, taking much longer than necessary with many nervous people ahead, but the exhilarating descent on loose sand which felt like skiing on the dunes almost made up for it. Reaching the final CP with just 3km left I drank a few big swigs of water, pouring the remaining cool elixir over myself and headed off to sluggishly to complete the second stage.

I’d picked up a few blisters on my toes & the now angry laceration on my heel didn’t look great so I went to see Doc Trotters on my return. After a very long wait I left with some supplies & tape on my heel… not worth the wait when I could’ve been eating & recovering after a long hard day.

Time 12:33:10 Position 616th

VIRB PictureEtape 3 – 31.6km ‘The Hilly Day’
Ascent [uh-sent] – Noun: the act of climbing or traveling up

I felt good the next day & my feet, although heavily taped felt OK. My strategy before seeing the road book had been to try a bit harder on Day 3 if I had been comfortable in the previous days. Despite having had a torrid Day 2 and warning that the upcoming stage was also tough I decided that I’d run the early flat stretches at the start of Stage 3 while it was cool. The stage started with a short run to warm up before the short sandy climb up Rich Mbirika Jebel then a good flat stretch leading to the first of 3 big climbs. The tough 18% sandy ascent to summit of Joua Baba Ali Jebel generated a hot spot on my other heel but with nowhere convenient to stop I continued up until it revealed a beautiful technical ridge, shame it was another queue of inexperienced participants ruining what should have been a thrilling and fun skip across the rocks. It was still an impressive section & I took advantage of the slow-moving traffic to look around and take it in, snapping a few pictures and savouring the moment. At the end of the ridge we had a technical descent to CP1 where I should have stopped to sort my heel but was feeling strong so pushed on to make good time.

After another short runnable section a steep sandy 15% climb followed, with another ridgeline and a fast descent before a longer flat stretch to CP2 which I ran/walked between route markers as it was now a lot hotter. After a quick breather and refuel I was off carrying extra H2O for the first & last time. A gruelling, oppressive & precipitous 25% ascent to the summit of El Otfal Jebel, often sandy underfoot with some big rocks to step up on it soon had me blowing out of my arse. Queues slowed progress again but this time I was grateful for them, allowing time to breathe. Reaching the same point we began the descent on stage 2 required hauling ourselves up on the ropes knee deep in soft sand, but the descent the other side the way we’d ascended the previous day was much faster and the rocks were quite good underfoot. The dunes were dispatched with aplomb this time as I took my time & believed that they were heading downhill. Once beyond the dunes I was confronted by a long flat endless finish into the heat haze that showed no sign of ending, head down & despite the soaring temperatures a fast march followed until I could finally make out the train of runners snaking their way up a ridge in the distance. The miles ticked down with the death march and after an eternity I started to climb the ridgeline, once over the top I released an involuntary whoop of joy as I spotted the 4th campsite a short distance away.

I’d enjoyed the day & the terrain had been far more to my liking with much more variety & ascent, maintaining a better pace on the flats & managing to push well on the ascents. Peeling my bloodied socks off however revealed more toe blisters & a large gaping hole on my heel that had been blister but was now an open wound, I immediately applied antibacterial solution & taped it ready for the next day but I knew this was going to cause me problems.

Time 18:53:42 Position: 591

IMG_2807Etape 4 – 86.2km‘The Long Day’
Dune [doon, dyoon] – Noun: a sand hill or sand ridge formed by the wind, usually in desert regions or near lakes & oceans.

The pain from my feet was horrendous and pulling on my shoes for the ‘Long Day’ was excruciating. Nerves and tension were obvious at the start of the 4th Stage, there was a heavy atmosphere among the mid-pack & it was much quieter than usual. Despite my feet hurting I started well, taking advantage of the cool start through the scenic El Maharch Pass, past camping oasis & over the huge dry lake where I spotted my first herd of camels in the distance. Reaching a series of sandy ascents indicated the start of the end of my progress and I wobbled as I climbed, with the loose sand sapping my energy quickly and my feet started to throb with pain. The climb up Mziouda Jebel saw my pace plummet but the technical descent to CP1 that followed was a welcome distraction.

The leg to CP2 was shorter, staring flat but soon incorporating a sandy ascent and the theme of the day was set. It did include a couple fantastic sandy descents but generally it was just slow going, wading through hot loose energy sapping sand up to an isolated CP. I slumped in a bivouac to remove my insoles, before carefully topping up my water & pouring the little excess over my head, one bottle at this point was a bit tight. Immediately after the CP we had another sandy ascent to reach a rocky decent, with feet moving too much in my shoes I fell on the descent cracking my elbow on the sharp rocks. I stopped to put my insoles back in. After the frustratingly slow descent there was a long stretch on big undulating sand dunes, where we were finally passed by the front runners who had started 3 hours later than us. Reaching a track, I hoped to make better progress but it just revealed more sand, the ‘Marathon of the Sands’ was truly living up to it’s name.

I finally made it to CP3, 35km in. I sat in the shade of a vehicle to prepare soup & drink lots of water. After 10-15mins rest I put my music on & hammered the next section, passing lots of other mid-packers and unexpectedly caught Twitter’s Susie Chan, one of my tentmates. I slowed to accompany her and almost immediately blew up after burning though all my energy and not eating enough, spending the next section winding through shrubs feeling tired and sick. We muddled on finally reaching CP4, where I ate and raised my feet for 5mins to reduce the throbbing pain before we set off again. We made slow progress over the obviously sandy ascent up Lahnoune Jebel and the series of dunes that followed as the sun set. Descending from these & reaching flat rocky trails we started to pick up the pace a bit, even running for short stretches until arriving at CP5.

After drinking as much of a recovery shake as possible and taking painkillers we set off into the dark to get this done, but CP5 – CP6 was endless soul destroying sand dunes. If I’d checked my roadbook and had been aware of what was coming up it would have been better, but as it was dark & we couldn’t see far ahead I kept hoping we’d come to the end of the dunes only for the next one to rise in front of us. My head was battered, my feet were in agony & I struggled to find anything positive to latch on to descending into a funk of searing pain, complaining & threats of violence upon Patrick Bauer… not great company for Susie who was having a battle of her own.

After the longest 9km of my life we crawled into CP6 where we both managed to get some fuel on-board and after leaving & following the stony tracks I took point managing to increase our pace to a fast march for a while, even breaking out into a run for a brief stretch. Straight through CP7 and with just 3 miles to go my energy levels plummeted again, my head went & I slowed to a crawl needing Susie to drag me on for a while. The last few miles were tough with a flat section preceding a final short sandy climb before we could see the camp, the last 4km appeared to be flat but incorporated numerous sand mounds, loose rocks and oued crossings which hurt my sore feet and slowed progress even more. Susie & I eventually tottered over the line at about 4am, neither of us even attempting to run and (once Damien allowed us to enter the tent) immediately crawled into our sleeping bags to rest.

Time 38:19:20 Position 558

sunrise‘The Rest Day’
rest [rest] – noun: refreshing ease or inactivity after exertion or labour

Waking after just 3 hours sleep I got to work on my feet… which were a mess. The heel had obviously been bleeding and oozing pus all day, which when mixed with the sand had hardened into a concrete like substance which had rubbed my heel continuously. For 54 miles.

The little toes on both feet were red, swollen and inflamed with the right already showing signs of infection. I left my toes to air for the day, but did have to tape my heel early to try to protect it. I tried to eat but noodles and nuts were looking less appetising by now, thankfully salty crisps, Peperami and Bombay Mix still went down well. In hindsight I realise that I didn’t drink enough through the day and as I struggled to eat I didn’t fuel properly… although the Coke was a gift from the heavens.

JC_S9412Etape 5 – 42.2km ‘The Marathon Day’
Marathon [mar-uh-thon, -thuh n] – Noun: a foot race over a course measuring 26 mi. 385 yards (42 km 195meters)

My feet were in absolute agony as I lined up for the start of the last timed stage, I had taken pain-killers although these did little to keep my suffering at bay. As we had an early start I wanted to take advantage of the morning cool and grit my teeth to run for as long as possible. The terrain was the most forgiving of the week, generally good running with the odd technical section and I went well to CP1. I continued at a reasonable pace and despite the discomfort covered the first 13miles in 3 hours, unfortunately after CP2 we hit a section of sparse sand dunes on a flat which broke my rhythm and the wheels fell off. I struggled for a while, particularly over a section of big dunes and I hadn’t recovered before we ascended through a gorge to CP3. Most of the final stages were on good rocky trails but featured several gentle climbs which felt like full on mountain summits, as I crawled towards the disused M’fis mine & the first sighting of the finish line. I Shuffled down through an old village & completed a walk/jog for the remaining 3 miles before crossing the line, where underwhelmed but relieved I claimed my finishers medal & traditional bear-hug & kiss from Patrick. I didn’t slap him but did tell him he was a sadist. I then made my way unsteadily to Tent 109 for the final time, collapsing in a heap, hot & dehydrated.

Time 45:05:50 Position 563rd

dunesEtape 6 – 7.7km ‘The Charity Day’
Solidarité [sol-i-dar-i-tee]  – Noun: union or fellowship arising from common responsibilities and interests

Otherwise known as the pointless day as the race & timing had ended the previous day. My feet were uncomfortable and I could barely get my socks & shoes on but we were provided with fresh t-shirts! I didn’t relish a final 5 miles on sand but the dunes we crossed in this stage were stunning and it was a fitting end to an epic week. Damien accompanied me throughout and although not racing, we made good progress to beat the crowds & get back to the hotel in good time.

My 18 month journey was finally over. I had completed the Marathon des Sables.


Epic (ep-ik)

Adjective, Also, epical

  1. noting or pertaining to a long poetic composition, usually centered upon a hero, in which a series of great achievements or events is narrated in elevated style: Homer’s Iliad is an epic poem.
  2. resembling or suggesting such poetry: an epic novel on the founding of the country.
  3. heroic; majestic; impressively great: the epic events of the war.
  4. of unusually great size or extent: a crime wave of epic proportions.
  5. spectacular; very impressive; awesome: Their burgers and fries are epic!

Epic used to mean something. It used to describe works of fiction and films that were massive in scale, with endless sweeping vistas containing stories of immense heroism. Now, the term is overused; it is one of superlatives that is bolted on to describe many things from rain to burgers and fries… however this race truly deserves the nomenclature. In every sense of the word the Marathon des Sables is epic!


But does it live up to its self-promotion as the ‘toughest footrace in the world?’

It’s something we discussed a lot during the week. It’s all relative, for many this will be the hardest thing they ever undertake but the toughest in the world? No. Probably not.

Make no mistake though, this race is tough. The heat is testing but was only a concern for the first 2 days, after this I got used to it discovering I didn’t need to drink too much to stay hydrated, getting into the habit of using excess water to cool down. Having to carry all your own kit adds to the challenge, to keep weight down you make do without food… by Stage 5 I was running on empty. As the week wears on the rucksack weighs less & after the ‘Long Day’ it only weighs marginally more than a standard ultra-marathon vest. However, the terrain is brutal. Of all the challenges faced this was the one I found most difficult to overcome, especially with the inconvenient discovery that I was rubbish in sand and this edition featured a LOT of it… particularly the long day which incorporated more sand and dunes than anyone could remember before.

I like a challenge otherwise I wouldn’t have signed up for the 32nd Marathon des Sables in the first place… but here’s the rub, being brutally honest, I didn’t enjoy this race. In general, the terrain didn’t suit me as I am happier when a route features more ascent (and descent) as this plays to my strengths more, Stage 3 was the only one that I enjoyed and this was the only one that included real climbs. The scenery is exotic, enthralling & expansive but we saw it all in Day 3 alone so I found I wasn’t getting the same kind of inspiration from my surroundings as I do when running in the mountains.

Thankfully, what makes the Marathon des Sables so epic is everything beyond the running itself, camp-life is the saving grace of this event & I loved this aspect, the bond that developed with my tentmates, being cut-off from the real world & deprived of food & luxuries is what makes this race special & it’s only after it’s all over & you have time to recover and reflect on the time here that you realise how much (or little) all this matters.

For me was what the Marathon des Sables is all about.

I went into this with the personal mantra of ‘savour not just suffer’ and I did manage to savour some of this race, I even enjoyed some of it… however I suffered far more than I savoured.

And got so much more from the experience because of it.

 My Marathon of the Sands Kit List


Montane Shark Ultra Tee – Performed well, high UPF so I didn’t burn, breathed well & despite going through the ringer didn’t smell too bad by the final day.

Skins DNAmic Superpose Half Tights – My go to shorts, did the job although could have been more breathable.

Injinji Midweight Socks – My feet fell apart but I don’t blame the socks… although I would wear the lightweight option if I ever returned.

Chaffree Boxers – Love them… sadly mine died on the third day but I could still wear them for the remainder of the week. Will definitely be replacing them!

High UV Buff – I think it’s an essential bit of kit, I wore mine around my neck for most of the week but it was used to cover my face from sand and a sponge to cool my head & as a hat in camp. Take one!

Outdoor Research Sun Runner Cap – I hate wearing caps when I run but this was lightweight & unobtrusive so I never really felt the need to remove it. it comes in different sizes so I could get a size small enough to fit my freakishly little head.

Raidlight Gaiters – Did the job but were falling apart by the end of the week, I opted for the ones WITHOUT a zip & this was the right choice (despite the inconvenience) as the sand destroyed the zips.

Compressport Calf Guards – Still no evidence they do anything for me but I think I suffer from less cramping when wearing them so I will continue doing so.

Inov8 Race Ultra 290 Shoes – these were the only piece of kit that really didn’t work for me in the desert. Had no problems in advance but they didn’t combine with my feet & the desert at all.

I also took a Ronhill windproof & a cheap light pair of shorts for camp which were both used all week & I was happy to have them… particularly the jacket.


Ultimate Direction Fastpack 20 – excellent, perfect size and lightweight. I’d removed the back ‘padding’ to save weight and from experience knew I needed to tape my shoulders to avoid chaffing. as the straps are minimal. Would still like more pockets up front but got used to the side pockets over the week.

Alpkit Pipedream 200 Sleeping Bag – cracking bit of kit for the price, weighs 525g so a bit heavier than some available but a fraction of the cost & I was warm all week.

Thermarest Prolite – I opted for the full length self inflating mattress & it served me well, I packed it as a back protector in my bag each day & slept fairly well on it but it is quite bulky & weight could be saved by getting the short option. I would consider an inflatable alternative in future.

Exped Air Pillow – Complete luxury but at 25g it was oh so nice to have! Far better then the alternative of your running shoes in a poo bag.

Mountain King Trail Blaze poles – were useful but probably not essential and I found I was less likely to run when they were in hand.

Alpkit Gamma Headtorch – not the brightest but lightweight & reliable  don’t think a heavier & brighter headtorch would have provided any benefit during the long stage.

Raidlight 750ml Bottles with Straws – the top was a bit fiddly & one leaked regularly ut as I planned on taking the poles I wanted bottles with straws and these worked.

Mandatory Kit: Silva Field Compass, Bic Lighter,  Inov8 Whistle (from the Ultra Vest), Small Kitchen Knife, 30ml Surgical Spirit, Venom Pump (Ebay), Signalling Mirror (Ebay), Sea to Summit Survival Blanket, 50ml Kids Factor 50 Nivea Suncream (great… one application a day sufficed).

Extras: 3ml superglue remained unused, portable battery pack to charge my Fenix, Garmin Virb to take photo’s & video… I only wish I’d taken more of them! Earplugs where a godsend and for 3 grams also essential! First Aid; painkillers & tape were used a lot, other medication wasn’t… but if it was needed I would have been very glad of it! Toothbrush & toothpaste, there are limits to which even I go to save weight, although they were both lightweight travel versions.

And don’t forget toilet paper

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