The Mind...The Body...and The Rat...

Smashing the Sand Barrier...4,000 Kilometers of Desert Competition.


So how did travelling to deserts become so intertwined with running?  There are easier ways of enjoying the desert other than running hundreds of miles through it in unrelenting heat.  Why torture oneself with the thirst, the blisters, the sickness and the throbbing, aching muscles?  There is something that happened to me through the first few years of running deserts... it changed my mind and soul in ways I could never have imagined.  The pain brought it out in me...and I have needed this release ever since.  I would like to explain the psychological and physiological effects I get when grappling with pain that puts me on another spiritual plain....another dimension.  And it only happens while running.

I run to feed the rat inside me.  My rat always wants to be fed.  The rat needs to believe that it can achieve perfection.  There is always a way to be better...and I have spent my entire life trying to be better.  I feel tortured at times by trying to constantly feed the rat. 

When I was a reporter the pressure was always there to be better.  Find a story, break the story, have the best story, write a fair and balanced story.  There was no pleasing anyone in that business...including myself.

I have always loved to run to try and reduce my stress.  I did it when I was younger to feel good.  That was it.  But as I got older, I felt the need to prove myself.  Not so much to other people...but prove to myself that I was good enough.  So running became my outlet to try and prove I was tough enough and strong enough and good enough to do anything I put my mind to.

My first race was a marathon.  I didn't start with a 5k or a 10km or a 1/2 Marathon.  No, I picked up a book and coached myself to run a marathon.  My first marathon wasn't a local one in my area.  No, I wanted it to be the best marathon I could find.  I did the New York City marathon as my first race...and loved it!  I was hooked.  I was hooked on the training...and I was hooked on the racing.  My time wasn't that great.  And so the goal became to get better and faster with each race. 

I ended up qualifying for Boston a few times...which seems to be the primary goal of everyone who runs marathons.  I never really had the desire to go do Boston to tell you the truth.  It was always held at the same time of year as the Marathon des Sables...and I was usually in Morocco when Boston was being held.

 As you know...the qualifying times for Boston are different for men and women.  The men's times are more stringent than the women's times.  As a woman, when you tell people you have done Boston...I will frequently get the comment from men that it is much harder for them to qualify because they have tougher times to meet.  I always have to say that my qualifying time for Boston was actually good enough to meet the men's time requirements.  That usually ends the conversation.  Not only did I have to be good enough to meet the women's times...but the men's times too for my age group.

Pretty soon...marathons started to lose their appeal.  It seemed that just as I was getting warmed up...the race was over.  I read about the Marathon des Sables in Africa and I decided this was going to be my next event.  I had never run an ultramarathon before.  Just how hard could it be?  Well, very difficult as I was to find out.  You get out what you put in.  If you are going to give the race everything you have...the race will take all you've got and more.  I loved it!

Many people will ask me..."But don't you get bored?"  Yes, you can get bored.  But something has happened to me over the years of racing in deserts that makes this extreme sport more about overcoming the mind than about pushing the body.  Yes, it takes extreme strength and a great deal of training in order to run so many miles.  But more importantly it takes razor sharp intensity, unrelenting focus... and an ability to overcome pain and misery with determination and discipline.  Not an easy task.

So how is this accomplished.  I don't know how other runners do it... I can only speak from my own experience.  The first few miles of an ultramarathon for me are always tough.  It usually takes me about an hour to get warmed up.  The second hour I am starting to shake out the legs and feel pretty good.  In the third hour I am really starting to feel like I am getting into a rhythm.  In the fourth hour I am starting to feel pain.  So soon?!  Yes.  I start to push myself and my body is starting to go into overdrive.  Over 5 hours and the mind knows that the body is being pushed.  The brain starts to send signals to the body that this is becoming a long run!  The mind starts telling the body that maybe it is being pushed too hard and that maybe it is time to rest.

And then it happens.  I start to drift into the zone.  I usually get myself there by reciting mantras over the hours.  Sometimes I just count.  I think my favorite count is from 1 to 12...and then I start over...and count the same sequence over and over again.  Sometimes I repeat different sayings. 
"It's never over till it's over...It's never over till it's over...It's never over till it's over."
"The faster you run...the sooner you're done...The faster you run...the sooner you're done"

Through running I have basically taught myself how to meditate.  I have learned that I practice open eye meditation, which is described as being the most powerful form of meditation on the planet.  It is a particularly ambitious form of meditation which aims at effortlessly sustained single-pointed concentration that enables you to enjoy an indestructible sense of well-being while engaging in any activity.

Aside from chanting the mantras in my head...I also focus my gaze.  I will line up a point on the horizon with the middle of the brim on my ball cap.  I will find the exact center and then I will focus on this point with razor-sharp precision.  I will literally absorb the point into my brain and I become that point.  And this is when everything else falls away.  This is where you begin to merge with your environment.  All the pain melts away.  The mind doesn't need the mantras anymore to keep occupied, to keep from being bored or distracted.  I feel like I am one with the desert that I am racing through.  There is nothing else that exists except for me the sun and the sand.  It is the most fantastic experience imaginable.  You are at peace with yourself and the planet.  You are one with the current of energy that surges within you and connects with the environment.

This technique enables you to experience pain release and it brings you to the next stage...
super-human consciousness.  It is the point in open eye meditation that everyone strives for..because there is no limit to the power and truth you can receive.

And this leads to the final outcome for me... Out of Body Experience.  Yup...you can call me crazy if you want.  I'm just telling you like it is.  I have nothing to hide...and lots to share.  There comes a point where I am observing my physical being running.  It is like I am floating along beside me ...enjoying the scenery from a different vantage point.  Every few minutes though I am checking the vital signs of the body.

"Are you sipping water every few minutes?  Did you take your salt?  Have you eaten yet?  Does anything hurt and need attention?  Have you peed?  What color was it?  When is the next CP?  Have you consumed the amount of water your body needs given the distance you have travelled?" 

I'll check in and everything will be fine and I will drift again.  It is the most amazing experience and I have only achieved it through long distance running.  It is said that 1 in 10 people experience this phenomenon.  Scientists still know little about it though.  What is known, is that extreme physical effort like ultramarathon running can induce outer body experiences.  It is almost like an altered state of consciousness.

There are times, of course, where you may experience pain so intense that you are jolted out of your meditation...and you have to tend to your injuries.  Running in pain sucks...and I am talking serious pain here.  Ultramarathon runners have very high pain thresholds and so when something is very painful...I am talking crippling pain... all you can do at this point is put one foot in front of the other.

I'm sorry...but for me...drugs help. Back in 2007 I was running in the Marathon des Sables.  When I finished that race I would have  completed 6 Desert Ultramarathons in less than a year...it would be a new World Record.  On Day Four I severely sprained my ankle.  I went to the Doctors and they said I had a third degree sprain, and they were worried I may have fractured my ankle as well. (Once I got back to Canada, x-rays confirmed there was a small piece of bone that had been chipped off my ankle.) The Doc Trotters did a terrific job taping me up so that I could continue on for two more stages to finish the race.  And they gave me drugs.  I wish I knew what is was they gave me.  In broken English...one doctor did tell me it was like morphine. 

I started the marathon stage that day in extreme pain.  It was day 6 of the MDS.  I had confiscated a tent pole to use as a crutch.  Pretty soon I threw the crutch away and I was walking.  And then I was running!  The drugs had kicked in.  I literally felt like I flew over the course that day.  I crossed the finish line on Day 7 in the same condition.  Your mind has to be harnessed in order to push the body.  I have stopped at nothing to keep moving...whether it be through meditation or drugs.  If the passion is there...your body has more strength than you know.  And your mind is capable of going beyond infinity.  The power of the mind is limitless and you just need to learn how to harness it.  Everyone at one time or another runs through pain...and some have discovered the secret and have mastered how to do it.

I finished the Marathon des Sables that year in 18th place for women...top 20 on that ankle.  And in finishing...I also was successful in setting a New Guinness World Record.  To this day my left ankle is weak and "clicks" every time I move it...but I made a choice in continuing on it when I was injured...and I don't regret it.

 

                         Marathon des Sables 2007 - Guinness World Record Accomplished!


This is a great quote I found in a sports psychology book.  I write it down on a scrap of paper and bring it with me to every race...although I have it memorized.

"It's never over till it's over.  Never stop fighting. Never give up.  Never surrender.  No matter how bad it gets, no matter how deep your pain; persistence, faith in yourself and an undauntable spirit will eventually break you free."

  THE NEW TOUGHNESS TRAINING FOR SPORTS   James E. Loehr  

Once I cross the finish of an ultramarathon the outcome is usually the same.  I smile, I'm happy that I finished...and then I immediately start to think of how I could have been better.  It never fails.  Even if I end up on the podium...I am still thinking of how I could have shaved a few minutes off here and a few off there.  I will go over the race in my head and think about how I could do it better next time.  It is a curse.

 

                                                 Winning the Sahara Race in 2007


But...and this is important..... the rat knowing inside of me is briefly satiated.  I am usually completely spent for about a week after a major event.  My mind is at peace...and my body is exhausted.  For a brief moment in time...I am happy and completely content.  Even if I am not thrilled with the outcome of a race...I am still able to enjoy the complete sense of well-being that takes over my body.  I have, in most cases, pushed myself to the very edge and have managed to hold on to complete the event.  Pushing the envelope is exhilarating and addicting.  One just has to learn where the edge is and not fall off and get sucked into the abyss.

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Marathon des Sables...Take Two...

Smashing the Sand Barrier...4,000 Kilometers of Desert Competition...

After posting a DNF at my first ever ultramarathon...The Marathon des Sables...I had already decided before leaving Morocco that I would be back the following year to get the job done.

I arrived back in Canada after the race in 2000 a complete wreck.  I was hospitalized for dysentery, dehydration and exhaustion.  It took me almost a month to completely recover from that event...physically and mentally.  Although I had come to terms with the outcome of the race, there was still the grieving period to get through.  I had fallen short of my goal...it was devastating.  But I refused to let one bad week of racing overshadow everything I had learned in 51 weeks of training.  There is no shame in trying and not succeeding...the only shame is if you don't learn from the experience.

 

The following year I headed back to Africa.  Once again I arrived early to get acclimated.  But this time I did not get near the local food.  I brought all my own food with me.  Cans of tuna, spaghetti and fruit cocktail...bags of granola and chips..a container of peanut butter...can you believe it!  But I wasn't taking any chances.  I only drank bottled water, and kept my head out of the shower so I didn't get the local water in my eyes or mouth.  Crazy!  But I did not want a repeat from last year.  I got so sick from Dysentery, I never wanted to go through that hell again.

This year I was part of an International Women's Team.  We were being sponsored by Yves Rocher, a worldwide cosmetics company based in France.  The concept was that 4 women representing the four continents that Yves Rocher sold cosmetics on had come together because they all used the same products... Yves Rocher of course!

I represented North America. Houriya represented Africa.  She was from Morocco and was Islamic.  This was her 10th MDS!  I found that totally amazing.  According to her religion, she had to run the entire race fully covered from head to toe!  Yoshiko was from Japan and represented Asia.  She was a tough woman and ran her own health club.  She was 55 years old and stronger than anyone I knew.  And finally there was Martine.  She was from France and represented Europe.

I was excited about the race this year!  It was going to be fun...and I had three other teammates to share the experience with!  There was also a film crew there to follow us.  Outdoor Life Television was doing a 6 part series on the Marathon des Sables.  The crew was going to follow us from beginning to end.

We gathered at the start and listened to Patrick Bauer give his race day briefing.  Patrick is the Frenchman who started the race 16 years ago. (As of 2001)  He had a burning passion for the desert and it showed.  He was always full of enthusiasm and energy!  He loved his event and everyone who helped him and raced it.  He counted us down and then we were off!

 

Houriya and I were pretty much the same in ability.  She was a good little runner and we stayed together through much of the day.  We finished in good time and waited for the others on the team to come in.  The French girl Martine was one of the last runners in that day.  She collapsed in her tent and began to cry.  She was done.  She did not want to go on. 

We all sat down with her and began to pick up the pieces.  She was a mess.  She didn't have enough to eat or drink that day.  And some guy had actually been carrying her pack for her.  Oh boy.  We worked together as a team to help her regroup.  We forced her to eat to regain her energy and we made her drink all evening.  We propped her up emotionally and provided nurturing and support.  Martine finally agreed that she would start on the second day and see how it went.  We all knew that she was the weak link in the team right now...and we needed to rally together to get her through this...day-by-day if necessary.

You have probably heard of the analogy that you are as strong as the weakest link in a chain.  When the link breaks ... so does the chain.  I had been to a great sports psychologist before I did this event...who said that we should think of our team as being a rope.  Some of the strands of the rope may fray...but the rope will still hold.  We were going to hold together!  I actually had a piece of rope with me that year for luck.

The next couple of days were tough...but we managed to get through it as a team.  At one point we had to cross over a massive field of dunes.  The sun was intense, and unlike last year, there wasn't even a breath of wind.  At one point we had to cross over a dried out lake bed.  It was intensely white, and incredibly hot...50 degrees. It was so hot that day it actually hurt to breathe.  A checkpoint was on the lakebed.  The bottled water at this CP was so hot it was like it had just been boiled.  Nothing like drinking hot water on a hot day. 

To add insult to injury, right after crossing the lakebed we had to climb up a massive hill.  The view at the top was fantastic.  I could look back and see all the runners snaking along the white lakebed.  They looked like little ants.  Looking down the other side I could see cultivated fields...and way off in the distance...an oasis!  I was with an Italian guy, Bruno.  We ran full speed down that hill and toward the oasis.  The oasis meant two things.  Most importantly, palm trees, to provide some shade from that unrelenting, burning sun.  And secondly, something to look at besides sand and more sand.

It was the middle of the day, and everyone in town was sitting in the shade.  I wondered what they were thinking about as we ran by.  After all, people back home can't understand why we do this...were the villagers thinking the same thing?  I noticed there were hardly any men in town.  It seemed like there was just the very old here, or the very young.  People here are so poor, that as soon as young men are able, they travel to the far off cities to earn some money to support their families back in the desert. 

People always say that as athletes we are so tough to go out and run these events over the course of a week in the desert.  I say go spend a week in one of these villages and see how tough you need to be to live out here.  There is nothing in the village.  No running water, no facilities, no cars...nothing.  If you go inside one of the homes pretty much all you will see is a rug on the clay floor and a few knick-knacks.  The kids play in a field of stones and are usually running around in bare feet.  These desert dwellers are the tough ones...not us.

That evening in camp, we prepared for the long stage the following day.  The long stage was going to be the traditional 80 kilometer run.  It was going to be a long day...and for some...a very long night extending into the following day.  I studied the road book and visualized how I would get through the day.  Day four was where I had dropped out last year...and I was excited about getting through this stage...although I was very anxious as well.

I had a fantastic day!  I was making really good time...and was losing myself in the desert landscape.  I was going to get my medal this year!!!  I was doing this...and passing people as the day went by.  I had gone on ahead of Houriya the last few days...and was on my own running the long stage.  As the sun went down...I knew this was my make-or-break time.  Last year I had dropped out as the sun was going down. 

I headed out with two German guys.  Pretty soon it was dark, but the moon flooded the desert with natural light.  We turned off our headlamps to better appreciate the beauty of the evening. The breeze had picked up just a little, and was swirling the sand along on the desert floor.  It looked almost like a fog rolling in from the sea.  It was deathly quiet out, and there was no other living thing around us. 

Gradually I started to realize that I was feeling sick.  I thought maybe I was dehydrating, so I started sipping more water.  That didn't help.  My new friends suggested that maybe I needed more calories.  I ate some food and they kindly gave me some of their snacks.  But that didn't seem to help either. As time went by I was starting to double over with nausea.  I decided that at the next checkpoint I was going to stop for a bit and take a brief rest by the fire.  It was the last CP before getting back to camp.  I was almost done the stage!

As soon as I arrived at the checkpoint I collapsed.  I think my mind kept my body going until I arrived at the CP, and then mind and body just gave way.  I began to vomit.  My teammate Houriya had arrived, and she helped me into a medical tent.  I couldn't stop throwing up.  The Doctors intervened and dragged me over to a makeshift bed...no, not a real bed...it was an empty space on the carpet. 

They tried to get a needle into my arms to get an IV going, but they couldn't find a vein.  By this time I was actually drifting in and out of consciousness.  All I knew was that I didn't want to get disqualified.  I remember screaming at the Doctor..." Don't do it!  If I get an IV am I out of the race...Stop!!!!"

 By now the film crew was there and getting this all on tape.  What I recall as being screaming I later saw on tape was barely audible whispering.  Crazy.  I needed 5 IV's.  Once they were done filling me up...I had to force myself to crawl out of the tent.  I had explosive diarrhea.  God, not again.  This was a nightmare.  When was I going to wake up? 

I made it through the night and the Doctors allowed me to leave in the morning.  I still had severe diarrhea and had to stop every once in awhile to relieve myself.  Testing done afterward in  Canada determined that somehow, once again,  I had contracted dysentery.  But this time it had incubated in my body until Day Four of the race.  That was what I was told anyway.  Can you believe it?!  Dysentery again!  And again, I was sick on Day four...the long stage!  Give me a break.

Houriya helped me get through that day.  I was now the weak link.  We only had 14 kilometers until camp...and that was the longest 14 kms of my life.  It took hours.  At every step, my mind and body were screaming at me to rest.  But I knew that if I stopped and took a break, that I would not be able to get up again.  I was dry heaving and pausing every once in awhile to rid my body of waste.  I was running out of toilet paper.  I was going to need to beg and borrow more.  I was going through hell. I was sick, hot, dirty and half delirious.  What is that line from the movie The Predator?  "If you lose it here, you are in a world of hurt."  I was in a world of hurt.

All that mattered that day was taking another step.  Don't look back at what I had gone through, and don't look ahead to the finish...just live in the moment...live in the here-and-now.  Somehow... Find A Way.  I have used that as my slogan ever since.  I did Find a Way.  With the help of Houriya I was able to make it into camp that day.  I spent all afternoon eating, drinking and resting.

I couldn't sleep that night.  If I dozed off the diarrhea would leak out of my body.  The first time it happened Houriya got up with me and showed me the desert way of cleaning my sleeping bag.  We scrubbed it with sand.  I was in misery.  The last couple of days were not going to be good.

The next day we had to run a marathon...42 kms.  I had no strength left at all.  My poor little body was just wracked with agony.  It was another day of just trying to put one foot in front of the other. It didn't help that the landscape that day was particularly desolate. My day was filled with miles and miles of nothing. When your mind starts to falter...the desert goes from being beautiful...to being ugly.  That day I hated the desert. It was ugly and dirty and savage. All I could think about was trying to find a can a Coke.  I was praying that we would go through a village and there would be Coke...or even better...Orange Fanta.  No such luck.  I learned a good Arabic expression that day.  "Inshallah"  "God willing"...  God willing...you will finish.  Oh God, let me finish.  Please!  I did not want to come back here ever again...

 

It was a good word...and I did finish.  I made it!!!!!!!  I crossed that finish line and Patrick gave me my medal!  I got the bling!  And now I would get my finisher T-shirt too... Life was good!  I had worked toward this goal for two years and now it was accomplished.   All of the girls on the team crossed the finish that day...all had fought their own demons to do so.   But I knew that I never had the opportunity to put all that training to the test at this event.  I hadn't raced across North Africa...I had crapped across North Africa!

My mind was made up.  I was going to come back and do this event again!  Stupid?  Yes.  Crazy?  Yes.  There was just something within me that called me back here for more.  I ended up doing the Marathon des Sables 9 consecutive times.  Every year I would train to go back to the desert.  Every year it seemed like something went wrong.  I cut my teeth in the ultramarathon world at this event.  It was a love-hate relationship.  I loved the race...and I loved the desert.

 But the desert ate me up and spit me out.  It turned my feet into raw hamburger.  It made me sick and it made me tired.  Every time I went there to compete, I felt like I aged a year in a week.  But I always came back for more.  The desert was an unrelenting task-master...but she made me older and wiser.  She toughened me up.  After all these years, I know that I am mentally, physically and spiritually tough enough to take on anything that is thrown at me.  I will succeed at what I am passionate enough about...at almost any cost. 

Everyone asks me if I will go back again one day to make it an even 10 times at MDS.  I really don't know.  I can honestly say I am almost scared to go back to that event!  I have had so much more success at other desert races.  Maybe one day...but then again...maybe not.

I do have a love-affair with desert racing and it seems to have taken over my life.  What is it about the desert that is so compelling to me?  I will share that with you next week.  Thank you for taking the time to read my blog...and may you always FIND A WAY in what you take on in life.

My First Ultra...The Marathon des Sables...

Smashing the Sand Barrier...4,000 kms of Desert Competition...


The Marathon des Sables was my first Ultramarathon.  How did I stumble upon this race... and why did I think I was capable of running in it after having only completed 5 marathons?  I honestly don't know...I really never gave it a second thought.  Thank God I had just moved to a new city...and didn't have any friends there.  Otherwise I'm sure I would have run into people that would have told me that I was crazy.  Most people seem to think you need to put in time...that you need to build up to big goals by taking baby steps.  No way! You just need to jump right in!  Just go for it...Seriously.....You can put off something forever and never think you are "ready".  What is that saying..."Never put off till tomorrow...what you can do today."  I have learned to listen to my heart and my intuition.  It will never steer you wrong.

I had been a television news reporter for 13 years.  My last job was working as a National Reporter for Global Television in Canada.  I had loved the job ... but toward the end I was getting burnt out.  It is a very high pressure career...with constant deadlines.  I was always on call.  I remember one time making the one hour drive to my station in Calgary...when I got a phone call that I had to head to the airport and book a flight to another province to cover a hostage taking.  I drove to the airport, purchased a ticket...caught my flight and landed a few hours later in another city. I rented a car, bought a map and drove out into the middle of nowhere to where the hostage was being held.  I followed the story for three days.  The first night I stayed at the scene filing updates from the satellite truck that had arrived, along with a camera crew.  The following day I was able to zip into town, get a hotel room and purchase some toiletries so I could brush my hair and teeth.  That was life in the fast lane!

Don't get me wrong though.  It had been a great ride...literally!  I mainly loved covering crime stories...along with anything to do with the military.  I had grown up as an Air Force brat...my father was a fighter pilot and we had travelled the world with him.  As a reporter I was able to line up a flight in an F-18.  It was the biggest thrill of my life!  I was also able to go up with Canada's elite Snowbird team for a flight...and ride in a helicopter ... and go for a bumpy ride in a tank.

I broke a few stories on the Hells Angels, covered murders and drug stings.  I went on ride-alongs with the police, visited a Regional Psychiatric Center (where they keep the really crazy criminals) and even witnessed an autopsy.  Reporting opened up my eyes to the world.  I was constantly moving...just like when I was a kid in the military.  I even put in a one year stint at NHK...The Japan Broadcasting Corporation. 

But it all came to a head.  I was done.  I was no longer having fun.  I found myself becoming stressed out, working 24 hours a day, and becoming more pessimistic with each passing day.  Speaking for myself...I just found that I was becoming more negative and more cynical.  I felt like I was being poisoned by my job.  So I quit.  I just up and quit.

So what now?  I didn't have a clue what I was going to do next.  I had always loved flying...I thought maybe I could be a pilot...or maybe a flight attendant?  I loved French and thought that maybe I could find a job in Quebec and take a French Immersion course.  I know a bit of French but have always wanted to be fluent in it.  Maybe I could be a travel agent?  I just didn't know.

Then my fiancé at the time handed me a newspaper article about a couple of Canadian guys that were going to be running in the Marathon des Sables.  Now that was interesting!  I read their story and was fascinated.  I had always wanted to go to Africa...and this adventure combined travel with my other passion...running.  I decided to follow their progress and see how they did.  I was mainly curious about how they would do in the heat.  The race is in April...which means they trained through a Canadian winter and then went directly to the desert.  Well, they loved it.  They did extremely well...and I thought...hmmm...if they could do it...well then, so could I!

The runners lived in the same province as I did, but in a different city.  I called one of them...Zac Addorisio.  I'm sure many of you have heard of him or know him.  A really super guy who has worked with Racing the Planet...and now has his own company, Runners United.  I introduced myself and told him that I had followed him in the desert and wanted to do the race.  He was very gracious in answering all of my questions...and told me he would be more than happy to help me as I prepared for the race.  I was sold.  I was going to take a year off and train for the Marathon des Sables.  I truly believed that in the process of training for this event, and competing in the race... I would find a new path that would lead me to a new calling in life.  I was ready for the journey and anxious to see where it led!

I trained for one year... from 1999 to the race in 2000.  Now keep in mind how long ago this was...going on 15 years!  I had Zac as my main source of information...and that was pretty much it!  I did not have an email address at that time...there was no Facebook...no blogs or forums that I was aware of...looking back it seemed like true isolation!  You can ask all the questions you want...but it is a whole new ballgame when you get out into the desert.

I trained through a freezing Canadian winter.  I put in long runs and slowly purchased all the gear I would need.  I registered for the race with the U.S. rep for MDS...Mary Gadams.  You may know of her now as the owner of Racing the Planet.  I do remember that 3 months out from the start of the race I started to panic.  Oh My God...what have I gotten myself into?  But I think there was more excitement than panic...along with a healthy fear of the unknown.

I had never travelled by myself to another country.  I had never camped before...I had never slept in a sleeping bag before...I had never been in the desert before and I had never run an ultra before.  I was on a very steep learning curve!

Here is what I brought for gear.  I had running shoes and socks.  I had gaiters that I found in Canada to keep out the snow!  I brought a cotton t-shirt with my sponsor logos on it.  I actually had a great pack...Moletracks...but the company went under a number of years ago.  I had a Sony Walkman with two cassette tapes to play. I also had a small camera along with several rolls of film to take pictures!  I carried massive quantities of Gatorade powder and more than enough food to feed an army. And finally, I had a 2 1/2 pound sleeping bag for comfort along with a giant blowup thermarest!!!!!!  I was set!  I think I was carrying about 30 pounds that year...no lie!  I don't even think weight occurred to me at the time...it was just stock up and make sure you have everything you might need!

I arrived in Morocco a week early to acclimate to the heat and get over jet leg.  I stayed in Marrakesh.  What a fantastic city!  I had never experienced anything like it.  I used to spend hours shopping in the old souk.  You could buy rugs, pottery, lanterns, jewellery and leather shoes.  And there was the world famous square...Jemaa el-Fnaa.  Here you could watch snake charmers and monkey trainers, listen to story tellers and musicians... and find something to eat or drink at the numerous food stalls.

 

 

 

 

 

I used to sit at the Café Argana and drink mint tea.  I don't know if it's still there or not.  In 2011 a bomb went off in the café that killed 17 people.  Dozens more were injured.  The bomb was hidden in a bag and it went off just before noon.  I was shocked when I heard the news.  Morocco was so peaceful!  It could have been me sitting there...I could easily picture it.

A night before I was supposed to hook up with the other runners I came down with dysentery.  I was up all night long retching into the toilet and convulsed with stomach cramps that led to massive bursts of diarrhea.  I ended up just lying in the bathroom all night, curled up by the toilet.  I got up in the morning, severely dehydrated, and hooked up with the other runners.

There were a series of glitches in our travel arrangements.  Our bus never showed up and we all piled into jeeps to head out to the edge of the desert.  Then we transferred into these huge trucks with benches on either side in the back.  I was in pure misery.  I had to yell at the driver over the noise of the engines to stop the convoy about every 30 minutes.  By now it was dark out...and I would squat down by the side of the truck and let loose with more diarrhea.  It just wouldn't stop.  Any modesty or dignity I had going into this race was now gone.

We arrived in camp in the middle of the night.  No one was up waiting for us.  We were told to just make our way toward the tents and find a spot to sleep.  Normally all the nationalities are assigned to the same tents in a certain zone in camp.  I crawled into a tent and tried to get some sleep.  I felt sorry for the people I joined because I was up all night getting sick.

The following morning...I met my tentmates and discovered that there were two more Canadians in my tent...the only other Canadians in the race if I remember correctly.  As far as I know...there were only 3 Canadians that had been to this event before us.  You just didn't hear about the Marathon des Sables at that time.  It was a rather obscure competition and one of a kind. 

 

They spent the day trying to convince me not to do the race.  They saw how sick I was and didn't believe I would ever make it.  After all, people that were feeling 100 percent dropped out regularly due to injuries and illness.  To start the race this sick was not a good thing.  But there was no way that I was going to drop out before the event even started.  I had trained for too long, and had travelled too far...and spent too much money...to even think about not starting.

So there I was at the start on Sunday morning...listening to ACDC "Highway to Hell"... and I knew this was going to be rough.  But I was still excited!  The countdown went down in French...Dix, neuf, huit....trois, deux, un...Go!... and we were off.  I actually made it through the first few days and started to feel better as time went on.  I was loving every minute of this experience! And then came Day Three...traditionally Dune day in the race.  This was the 15th Anniversary of MDS and organizers wanted to make this the toughest race ever.  Go figure...my first time here and it was going to be toughest ever....Quelle surprise!  Not. 

 

 

Pretty much the entire day was going to be spent in the dunes.  This is where I truly fell in love with the desert.  Waves of sand as far as the eye could see.  I felt like I was on another planet.  Every picture of me to this point in the race showed me with a giant smile on my face.  Despite being sick...this was everything I had dreamt of and more.  I was in love with the desert.  I gathered up a handful of sand from one of the dunes and carried it with me for the rest of the race...and brought it home with me. 

 

But I made a fatal mistake that day.  As we entered the field of dunes there was a final checkpoint where we were told that we had to carry two 1.5 liter bottles of water...as there would be nothing in the dunes.  I forgot my second bottle.  I was in a hurry to keep up with two other runners who were leaving and I left it behind.  I actually didn't realize it for about a half hour.  I told the others and they said I should go back and get it.  That would mean a whole wasted hour.  I decided not to go back.  After all, how bad could it get?  I had no clue about dehydration.

People started dropping out left and right that day.  Emergency flares were being shot off everywhere you looked. It was almost like a fireworks display. People were dropping like flies because it was just so hot and there wasn't enough water. Someone said it was 50 degrees in the dunes that day. We could see the emergency helicopter flying in and out of the dunes all day long...rescuing people and bringing them back to camp for the doctors to work on.  Somehow...I manged to make it through that day on half the amount of water that everyone else had.  I couldn't even tell anyone else that after awhile...because no one could believe it.  Of the 600 runners that day...100 dropped out.

 

But I paid for it the next day.  I awoke in my sleeping bag and was sick all over again. I felt completely spent and exhausted.  I was severely dehydrated and didn't even know it. But I didn't want to go to the Medical Tent because I was afraid they would pull me out of the race. Day four was the long stage...we had to complete about 80 kilometers.  Everyone had sort of been dreading this stage...but once you are through it you are home free.  You can begin to think about the finish.

I was getting slower and slower as the day progressed.  By dusk I was really dragging my ass.  I was not going to be able to make the cutoff time at this rate.  I knew I was done...but what to do?  I couldn't see anyone in front of me...and there was no one behind me.  I didn't even think about using my flare...it simply didn't occur to me.  So I kept walking and eventually I could see a Jeep coming toward me.  I started waving my arms in the air and it soon pulled up beside me.  A Frenchman with silver hair leaned out the window and asked if I was okay.  I said no, that I was very sick...je suis tres malade.  And then he said it... tu es fini?  You are finished?  The words hung in the air and I nodded and said, Yes, I am done. 

He got out of the vehicle and gave me a big hug.  I felt like my heart was broken.  And then came the shocker...right then and there he started unpinning my race bib.  I thought I was going to be sick.  I was really done.  I got into the back seat and they drove me back to camp.  They confiscated all of my race food so that I couldn't give it away to any other racers. (We were supposed to be self-sufficient) My name was written down on the notice board they had in camp for all to see.  It is where they posted the daily race results.  My name went on the sheet that read...Quitters  Nice. Then I went back to my tent to lie down.  There was nobody there yet...all my other tentmates were still out on the course.

I held my own pity party.  Why me?  I had trained so hard and had wanted this so much and had done everything right....how could this have happened?  And right then and there I knew that I was going to come back and do this race again next year.  I couldn't help it that I had come down with dysentery.  I was pretty much done before I even started this race.  This hadn't happened from not enough training or planning...this was just pure dumb luck. 

 

I felt much better after I made that decision and I spent the last few days of the race helping out my tentmates and cheering them on.  Everyone in my tent finished except for me!  I looked longingly at their medals and held on to the thought that next year I too would cross the finish and have a medal.
It was a huge lesson for me to learn.  Just because you put in all the hard work doesn't ensure that you will have a guaranteed outcome.  You may fail once or twice or many times. You aren't automatically entitled to succeed just because you made the effort.  You have to learn to pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and go after it again.  And if necessary, again and again and again.  If you have a love for something...if there is a fire burning within you...you will never give up.

And I did go back.  I took another year off and went back in 2001.  Believe it or not,  another hardship was in store for me at this race...one that literally dropped me to my knees halfway through the event.  I will post about that next week.