MdS - post race analysis

A long post, perhaps only for keen MDSers.

After finishing the MDS, some reflection after a week in a soft bed and out of the bio-hazard that was my running kit - seven days running and sleeping in the same clothes kinda does that.

I'm missing the desert of course, and the camp and trail comradery which sees you striking up conversations with complete strangers on first name terms (first names on the race bibs front and back is brilliant). I'm even missing the effort of fixing up my stove to boil water before rehydrating my evening meal. Definitely not cordon bleu, but surprisingly satisfying after a long day on the legs.

My food I got just right, for me anyway: high calorie muesli, trail mix (nuts/dried fruits/M&Ms), Peronin, recovery drink, a beef salami snack, a dehydrated meal and my secret weapons, a small block of super intense Parmesan cheese and a sachet of vinegar to ward off cramps (didn't get a single cramp!)

I don't miss the blisters, which are the single biggest medical issue of the event. Tape your toes and you reduce the risk, but you'll be lucky not to develop any, I had four and lost at least one toenail, the jury's still out on a second one; time will tell. Despite this, you run through that pain as other pains compete for your attention. Shoulders perhaps, because of the 10kg load, or maybe a sore ligament behind the knee. Pain is good, more pain is better.

Surprisingly, I miss the camp loos: toilet seats on legs behind a screen - just fit your brown compostable bag over the top (don't forget the small stone to keep if from flapping) and enjoy the view of the sky above! Very hygienic and smell-free, just be patient in the queue.... As for liquid relief, over the course of the week any sense of embarrassment you had soon departs and 100 paces from the tents soon becomes 50 and then ten, day or especially night - just make sure you take account of the wind direction!

The queue for the loo (photo: Ian Corless)

When you gotta go, ya gotta go!

What makes people do such a crazy thing as running across the Sahara desert, deliberately exposing themselves to pain, suffering and discomfort? The personal challenge is key for most, getting to push yourself beyond whatever limits you imagined your body might have, especially for the 86km long stage. Mentally preparing to go the distance, feeling fatigued but carrying on, 'digging deep', when you think you've reached that limit, finding that there's more on the other side and realising that you can do it. Somewhere past half way is where it starts, pass through that and the last few kms are still tough, but you know you've done the hardest part. When things go beyond difficult, survival mode kicks in, but fortunately I never got there. Ultimately, I think I didn't push hard enough; I was often afraid to run or push, for fear of running out of steam later. That never happened and perhaps my lack of race competition meant I couldn't set a suitable pace. I could have gone faster.

Post race euphoria makes you feel like you can do anything, I was searching for new races to sign up for as soon as I could. Some runners are doing the London Marathon on Sunday, including BBC journalist and newsreader Sophie Raworth (who is a damn fine runner, having beaten me on every stage) and my tent mate Colin Haylock, a nutter who will be attempting to break the marathon world record... in ski boots! Six hours is his target. Go Colin!!!

He did it! World Record holder, Colin. 
A marathon in ski boots, in under 6 hours!

Lastly, throw 1000 like-minded people together and good things will happen; fund raising for charity is a big MDS thing. I raised around €1000, but a quick survey of just the UK contingent reveals that £1.18M was raised for charity during the event. 1.18 million pounds! Awesome!

The Marathon des Sables: a brilliant event that I would recommend to anyone seeking a high level challenge. You know who you are, and you can do it! #mds2018

MdS - the Recovery in Ouarzazate

It's really over, and the elite and not so elite athletes from around the world recover in comparative luxury at hotels in Ouarzazate; although judging by the way they wearily disembarked from the coaches on arrival and then hobbled to reception, you'd be forgiven for thinking they were a group of tired pensioners returning after a long day trip. Blisters are the main handicap, making even the most able limp like a three legged dog.

Breakfast is a buzz of excitement as we get to eat real food and especially fresh fruit! After that we head to collect our official MDS T-shirts and get an opportunity to spend even more money on MDS merchandise, but only after suffering a 90 minute queue for the privilege; although Chris and I enjoy an entertaining conversation with Danish twins who have now completed the MDS at their second attempt. Interestingly they've also done several full Ironman races and say the MDS is way harder - that's good to know.

At lunchtime we scatter throughout the town to find our own slice of Moroccan cuisine. The afternoon is spent surfing in the lobby, lounging by the pool or sleeping; it seems so odd not having to prepare for something or being active, but it doesn't take me long to adapt to lethargy, the training is definitely easier!

This evening is a fundraising auction for charity and then we all prepare to fly back to our homes and loved ones tomorrow. I for one am looking forward to some prime sofa time with long suffering wife, Keren. No doubt it won't be long before the activity bug strikes again.

MdS - Day 7 (14 April), the Charity Day, 7km

After the exertion of the last few days, Day 7 feels like a stroll.  We're given the Solidarite charity T-shirts before starting and the runners are a sea of blue.  Solidarite is the charity set up by Patrick to specifically benefit the area that we run in.  It has raised millions over the years contributing to the well-being of the local community.

Tent mates, Colin and Keith

Chris and I walk together, taking our time up and down the dunes, for some reason we're both a bit stiff!  We meet many locals and the kids pester us for souvenirs, they get my roll-up sleeping mat and my bright yellow buff.

We saunter into Merzouga another desert frontier town.  After 7km, we've finished the charity stage and the 235km of the 2018 MDS. It's over!....

We're loaded onto coaches ready for a 6hr ride. Arthur the Chicken is now resting.

What's that colourful L-shaped spongy thing on the coach? Oh, it's a seat! This must be the Highway to Heaven...

MdS - Day 6 (13 April), the Marathon Day, 42km

After what we've been through, a desert marathon is not fazing us at all. But the wind is strong and is blowing against us. Normally that would be welcome in the heat, but today feels a bit cooler so it's just an annoyance.

Windy start (photo: Paul Colledge)

In reality this is the last proper day, so most people are 'going for it'. Even I run.  I see Chris just after the start, he's had a bad night throwing up and is running on empty.  I give him a couple of my energy glucose tabs as they are easily absorbed.  For him this day will be about survival and reaching the finish.  I push on and will see him later.

The first CP arrives sooner than I expected. The wind doesn't let up and really starts to bug me and I end up cursing it. At CP2 the marshal says "no wind from here", he's wrong.

The course is said to be relative flat, but that's all relative and there are several large dunes and plenty of small ones, which if you add up, make many large hills. After CP3 we enter a rocky area with an abandoned fort overlooking the terrain below; further on is the associated settlement, also abandoned. Then cresting the hill we see the finish in the distance.

The last climb before the Marathon finish (photo: Paul Colledge)

Distances in the desert are always deceiving and I resist the urge to get excited. Plodding on, walking uphill and mostly running down and on the flat, the finish gets nearer until I can contain it no more and increase the pace; only to start walking again, because it's not that close!

Running again and finally it's there. Yes. Crossing the line with Arthur the chicken flying in hand, medal from Patrick Bauer, who gives Arthur a big kiss!

I wait at the line for Chris, who's still nursing his stomach upset and he arrives looking very weary, but is pleased it's over.

Official pictures and we head back to the tent to rest.  There's an absolutely amazing sunset.

Online stalker, Steve, posts: "Looks like Dominic is over the line and Christopher  has a little ways to go yet. Fantastic effort by both. I'm thinking feet will be sore for the 12km 'fun run' tomorrow!!"

It's dark and a jeep pulls up outside our tent and out comes Mahmut. Damn. He missed one of the CP cut off times and the officials viewed that he wouldn't get back within the closing time by some margin. With only 8.5km to go, he's out. Gutting. We console him as he explains what happened; we're all really proud of him but it must be heartbreaking to not complete the event so close to home. In our minds he has not failed, his success is being here and that was underlined by him completing the 86km. If I'm doing events such as the MDS at his age I'll be very pleased.

For the rest of us, it's not so bad, 6hr 20mins for me, and Colin my tent mate finally let's rip and comes in 5hr 40mins and gets #311 placing: excellent! His brother Keith follows not far behind me.

It's over and there's a celebratory mood in the camp, songs, cheers and chat. I'm zonked and collapsed in my tent: what a killjoy. The evening finishes with the prize giving and media videos of the event.

Fast Brit, Gemma, who passed me on the long day with a cheering word, secures 3rd place in the women's category. Just the charity run tomorrow and it's really over. The 'Highway to Hell' will have been well and truly traveled.

MdS - Day 4/5 (11/12 April) the Long Day, 86km

Day 4
The Long Day, the one everyone dreads! 86km.

We have 35 hrs to complete it. Dunes, jebels and dried up river beds. Feeling the heat already. Run walk is the name of the game! That speedy Chris is an hour ahead of me in the rankings and there's no way to catch him. But, never give up!

Overnight we'd all been finding ways to lighten our loads, discarding 'frivolities' like cooking stoves in some cases. Mentally, the way to approach such a long run is not to think about it! Your target is not the finish line, it is the next check point; reach that and then you have a new target. Having bite size chunks makes the day more achievable. I'd loaded my front pack with the day's provisions, trail mix and a few energy tabs but by CP4, at 48km, my trail mix was exhausted, so I had to raid the supplies for Day 5, no big deal because that's treated as an extension of day 4 anyway.

Seeing my progress was being hindered by the pain of my blisters, old and new, plus a tightness behind my knee, I decided to pop a magic pill, an ibuprofen, frowned upon in endurance races because of its side effects. It worked and I perked up.

By this time we'd already tackled a few sandy, rocky climbs, various dunes and a river bank and maze of bushes, but from here on it was mostly gentle dunes and sand, lots of it, which saps your energy making each km seem like two.

The top fifty runners set off three hours after the main group and it's nice to see them overtake us in style, but, even the top guys and gals walk up the steep bits, using the hands on knees technique for assistance - they are mortal after all! I stop, clap and capture the moment the leader 'zooms' past.

I was pleasantly surprised that 'fast Dominic' and Gemma gave me encouraging words as they cruised by; really, really touched.

CP5 is traditionally a rest area and many people stop, sleep and have a meal before pushing on. I chose to just push on, my meal was a sachet of Peronin, 450kCals of easily absorbed carbohydrates.

At CP7, with 10km to go, I used my only energy gel of the trip so far, one with caffeine; I also changed the batteries in my head torch, which was by this time barely candle bright. And then, just about to leave, I bumped into Christopher . We'd not seen each other the entire stage as we were running at different paces. The race is on and the competitor in me takes over.

A runner overtook me shortly after leaving CP7 and I followed her for a time alternating running walking before she disappears into the distance, but she has managed to pull me along psychologically and I'm grateful for that.

With about four km to go, the finish line came into view, and then promptly disappeared behind a dune. But each time I saw it again, the bloody thing was not getting any closer! Eventually it did look within range and I burst into a run for the final 500m, overtaking several depleted walkers in the process.

Nearly 2am (on Day 5), are we there yet? YES! Just under 18 hours by my clock.

My friend Steve King is following the progress of Chris and I, live from the comfort of his home, and posted the following "Outstanding Christopher Ian Wilson  and Dominic Hayes !!!!!! Both have finished the 86.2km long stage of the MDS WITHOUT STOPPING TO SLEEP! They ran in to the night and finished in the early hours. Hopefully they will now sleep most of the day whilst the others finish. A full marathon tomorrow as a 'reward'!! Amazing guys, well done. X"
Many thanks Steve, you were my inspriation to run the MDS.

Day 5  - Recovery day
As I write this we are still awaiting Mahmut's return, the others in our tent trickled back at various times during the night. I'm guessing he's taking his time, after all, he still has another eight hours.

About 17h, in the distance we see car lights flashing and two camels. It's Mahmut, our 72 yr old tent mate, arriving after 34hrs and 86 km. We all gather at the finish line to cheer him and see he's bent sideways in a stoop and using a makeshift walking stick. Approaching to rapturous applause by all the competitors and organisers, he crosses the timing beacon and is mobbed by a sea of adoring fans and cameras; hardly a dry eye in the house. He recovers sat down drinking hot sweet tea and later collapses onto his matting in our tent and has a good sleep. He made it! (Video here)

Mahmut arriving after trekking 34hrs through the Sahara (photo: Paul Colledge)

Personal update: I smell really bad, despite my impromptu bottle shower earlier today.

MdS - Day 3 (10 April), the Jebels Day, 30km

It hits us just after midnight, I look out and can just make out the approaching freight train that is a desert sandstorm. I grab my gear and warn the others just before the wind strikes the camp.  At some point the tent collapses on us and we sleep like that until about 5am, holding on to what we can until the morning while all about us tents flap and people run around in a flap trying to stop tents and gear flying away.

We wake to find everything covered in sand. Tent mates, Pip and Mahmut are trapped under the tent and can't get out.  Pip's in a bit of a panic as she has to be at reception for her ride back to civilisation. It's hard to imagine that things will be running on time today. We dig them out.

Pip, is having to drop out as she developed heart problems, but she is 69. Yes, you read that right, 69! It's a shame we're losing her, this is her second attempt and she's unlikely get the medical OK to return. We'll see her back in Ouazazate once we've finished the event.

Despite the chaos of the night the stage is starting on time.  We brush and shake the sand out of everything and struggle into our running gear.

We were told to expect a tough day even though it was only 30km. The jebel we had climbed the day before, we'd do again in reverse, including the enormous sand dune at its foot that was such fun to run down. In fact it was a day of jebels (mini-mountains). The first was a climb to a ridge with spectacular views either side, of dried up river beds framed by similar mountainous ridges.

Following that ridge we dropped through a pass then up another jebel before dropping to another valley floor and a slog to the big jebel. Climbing the sand dune was tough but at the really steep bit at the top a rope was installed to assist; the sand was so soft I can't imagine how else it could be climbed except by going vertical on the rock face.

A couple of welcome signs greeted us at the bottom of one jebel.  Alas, they were fake news....  Steve Diederich's little joke, a nice touch!

Amazingly Mahmut manages to finish, albeit wrecked, and he is 72! So you see, it's not so tough, right? In reality, the competitor in you makes it as tough as you want.

MdS - Day 2 (9 April), Dunes and a big Jebel, 39km

We're in the Sahara and yet my phone has got signal!

It's a day of two halves. Cool and windy start and I'm wearing a windproof over my running gear. I probably take it off too late as I'm sweating profusely. Ran halftime to Checkpoint 1 (CP1), then walked from there to CP2 getting slower as I arrive.

At CP2 I load up with "Peronin" and water and a slowly saunter with a full stomach being overtaken left right and centre until we hit the dunes. I speed up a little, and overtake a few other runners before we hit a dreaded jebel. Then something strange happens. We climb through rocks and suddenly my turbocharger kicks in and now it's me overtaking people like a mountain goat. I lost count of how many, but it must have been over fifty. At the top a marshal asks how I'm feeling; "I'm fine but the chicken is suffering!" It's a partial rope assisted descent in deep sand, and CP3 awaits at the base, just 4km from the finish.

A welcome sight (photo: Paul Colledge)

From there it's a final fast walk with an occasional burst of running to use a different set of muscles. I know I have blisters, but I'm too afraid to take my socks off.

The heat and loose terrain have taken their toll on my feet and I head to the Doc Trotters medi-tent to have my three blisters looked at - donning surgical gloves the nurse lances them with a hypodermic needle. Ouch! I almost hit the roof, there's blood everywhere.  Except it's not blood, it's the antiseptic fluid they use to wash out and dry the blister, what a wuss!

The nurse, one of many volunteers supporting the event, wraps my toes to help them heal.  I now have the Doc Trotters waddle in my plastic slippers.

MdS - Day 1 (8 April), the Race Starts, 33km

Another amazing sunrise, but it was even colder last night. Down sleeping bag, liner and down fleece. Woken by the calls of the Berbers as they prepare to disassemble the camp. The noise level rises as people wake, trucks start, fires are lit and breakfasts consumed; an army prepares to march! Today is the first real day of the race, 30 or so km through varied terrain including soft sand dunes.

The Berbers pack up the bivouac (photo: Paul Colledge)

The tent disappears before runners are ready (photo: Paul Colledge)

Too late for nerves, Chris and I are here, we're dressed and those there are running shoes strapped to our feet!

A few minutes to go and we're all gathered at the start. There's a Roman gladiator, a Japanese guy in a traditional yukata, straw hat and wooden geta flip-flops, a man in a velour coverall costume, a women dressed as a strawberry and aubergine, and a chicken (that would be Arthur). I've already been found by a group that aims to "find the chicken" every day. 33km ahead.

Patrick Bauer introduces himself and says a few words of encouragement. The start gun fires and AC/DC's “Highway to Hell” blares out on the PA system as we cross across the start line - no doubt a taste of what to expect.  Responding to the crack of the start gun, the front-runners shoot off and the stream of runners disappears into the distance.  Overhead, the media helicopter whizzes-by, like something out of Apocalypse Now, filming us at key points and acting as a command relay, and if needed as a medi-vac.

Actually a picture from day 2, but the helicopter buzz was the same

It wasn't quite hell, but it was a tough intro day. But it is just an 'intro' and worse is to be expected. Some dunes, some flats, some mild hills.

I manage to run half of the time. Unless you're an elite runner, Marathon des Sables sees you walking way more than you expect; some walk all the way, but that's not easy either. Chris walks almost all of it and he's only 20 minutes slower than me! Makes you realise the run/walk difference is not so big.