Dysentery...What to Know Before You Go

Dysentery Sucks.  If you are planning on racing in a Desert Ultramarathon in a foreign country...then there are some basic things you need to know before you go.  In this blog I want to share my experiences with you so that you can do what you can to avoid getting sick, and know what to do should you get ill.

My very first ultramarathon ever was the Marathon des Sables in 2000.  I came down with Dysentery before the race started.  Dysentery is an inflammatory disorder of the intestine that results in severe diarrhea containing blood and mucus in the feces.  The night before heading out to the race, I lay on the floor in the bathroom.  I alternated between throwing up in the toilet and passing diarrhea.  It was brutal.  I had experienced something like this before when I travelled to Mexico.  In that country the illness is called Montezuma's Revenge.

But here I was in Morocco...getting ready to run my first ultramarathon, and I was feverish and weak heading out to the race.  During this particular year I was heading out to the race bivouac riding inside an old army truck with bench seats.  We were driving over rough terrain in the dark and bouncing around all over the place.  Every once in awhile I would have to get someone to bang on the window behind the driver to get them to stop...and I would climb out and do my business off to the side.

When I arrived in camp I collapsed in my tent.  My new friends that I was bunking with had to put up with me getting up and down all night to go to the bathroom.  In the morning they told me there was no way I should start the race...that I was in really bad shape.  But how could I not?  I toed the start line and managed to struggle through 4 days.

The fourth day of MDS is always the long stage (80 kms) and I was falling further and further behind as the day progressed.  I just had no strength left and was seriously dehydrated.  A passing race vehicle stopped and I decided that I was too sick to carry on.  I had put up with diarrhea and cramping for days...and was starting to get delirious from not drinking enough water to replace the fluid I was losing.

After pulling out I knew that I would be coming back the following year to finish the race.  It was the only thought that kept me going.  The following year I returned and got Dysentery again... but this time it did not show up until Stage 4.  I continued on and managed to finish the competition but I was miserably sick.

Dysentery is the most common traveller's disease.  Dysentery results from viral infections, bacterial infections or parasitic infections.  It usually reaches the large intestine through ingesting contaminated food or water.  You can also get it through oral contact with contaminated objects or hands, and so on.  This means you can simply touch a contaminated door handle and later touch your mouth...and you can get sick.

The result is damage to the intestinal lining leading to inflammation.  This can elevate your temperature, cause painful spasms in your intestines with cramping, and lead to further tissue damage.  There is frequent diarrhea, sometimes in severe cases as much as 1 liter of fluid an hour.  Vomiting and delirium can also occur.  This results in impaired nutrient absorption and excessive water and mineral loss.

So what can you do to prevent getting it?  The bad news.  In many ways it is unavoidable.  No matter how fanatical you may be in what you eat, food is still sprinkled with millions of airborne bacteria.  But there are certain rules you should follow to reduce your chances of getting sick.  There is the old adage...

                              BOIL IT...COOK IT...PEEL IT, OR FORGET IT...

Avoid tap water, ice,and milk, along with fresh fruits and vegetables.  Avoid meat, fish and shellfish. And avoid chicken. Meat is often purchased from unsanitary open-air markets where the chances of  it harboring germs or disease is greater.

Drink only beverages from untampered bottles and cans, and check the seals to make sure they are unbroken.  Some drinks are kept cold in ice.  Well right there you have unsanitary water coating your bottle.  One miniscule drop and you are screwed.  Also, avoid milk.  It may not be pasturized.  Remember that even your dishes that you eat off of have been washed in unsanitary water.  If my plate or glass is still wet...I dry it off.

So the more you travel... the more likely it is that your luck will run out and that you are going to get sick.  I told you about the two times I got Dysentery at the Marathon des Sables.  There was also a third time I got sick in Morocco... and I also got sick while I was at a race in Mauritania.

I mentioned that race in my last blog.  Luckily I got Dysentery after the race.  I spent the entire flight back to Paris sitting on the toilet ... having blow outs every few minutes.  I briefly felt embarrassed, because I knew the people in the seats around me could hear the explosions...but when you are that sick... you get beyond caring.  You are in your own private hell.  Luckily when the plane landed I didn't have far to go.  I had booked a room at the airport hotel because I was flying back to Canada the next day.

You would think I would know all the tricks that I wouldn't be having these problems anymore.  Well, as I said earlier, the odds are that when you travel to these places you are bound to get sick sooner or later.  I have taken every precaution I can think of while travelling.  I only drink bottled water.  I only eat cooked food.  I avoid milk.  I don't eat any fruits or vegetables.

I bring disinfectant wipes with me and wipe down all surfaces I am in contact with.  I wipe down the plane arms and trays.  I use a wipe to open and close the bathroom door in the plane.  I am constantly using Purel on my hands.  When I get to the hotel I wipe down all common surfaces with wipes.  Door handles, TV remote controls, light switches, cupboard handles.  I am manic about cleanliness... and yet STILL... I get sick.

I landed in Oman for the race on Saturday morning at 6am.  By Saturday evening 6pm... I was sick as a dog.  My body only needed 12 hours to begin shutting down.  That is crazy.  By the time the race started on Monday night I had lost so much fluid and much-needed nutrients... that I was too weak to function.  I tried to go through with it...but the writing was on the wall.

There is just this sort of disbelief that occurs.  How can this be happening to me again.  How can it be again that I am the only one sick?  There has to be something wrong here.  I am not an idiot.  I am doing everything I can to avoid being ill.  Short of wearing a white hazmat suit complete with gloves and breathing mask... I don't know what else to do.  There have been some races where I have even brought over all of my own food to eat before and after a race.  But none of this has helped.

Once you get Dysentery... it is really, really important to stay hydrated.  Make sure your urine is running clear and not dark yellow or worse.  You can get oral re-hydration solutions from a pharmacy and they are good to keep on hand.  I do not take any antidiarrheal drugs.  This just keeps the poison in you...and you need to get it out.  I usually take an antibiotic like Cipro...but some Doctors don't believe you should use it.  Consult with your own Doctor to determine what is right for you.  Make sure you have a good medical kit heading overseas.  It is just as important as having Traveller's Health Insurance.

If you are sharing a room with someone who has Dysentery and you want to avoid getting sick...try to avoid Them!  Keep your hands clean, and everything else as well.  Don't share.  Don't share the same food.  Don't use the same toilet.  Don't use the same towels or facecloths.  Dysentery usually runs its course in about 5 to 10 days I have read.  I got sick on Saturday and was feeling better by Thursday, which is also when I had my first solid bowel movement!  Hey, in my world...that is a big deal!

When I got home from TransOmania I hooked up with a friend of mine who happens to be a genius.  I'm not kidding about this.  He is an extremely intelligent man who is a Doctor, Specialist and Consultant.  He travels all over the world in his work as a medical consultant.  He had taken an interest in my training and preparations for TransOmania.  He knew that something had gone wrong while I was away, but did not know what happened.  When I told him about the Dysentery we began to talk.

I told him about my race history with Dysentery and how discouraging and frustrating it was to have a constantly reoccurring sickness rob me of the events I trained so hard for.  Then the subject switched to my general health.  I have always known that I have a weak stomach.  I deal with certain issues daily... and have always put it down to food allergies.  But I have never wanted to go through the allergy testing process, and certainly wasn't interested in getting the preventative treatment with all the shots.  But the Doctor thinks otherwise.  What I deal with on a daily basis in not normal apparently.  He wants me to get in to see a gastrointestinal specialist right away.  He thinks I may have an undiagnosed problem that should be addressed before I head off to my next race.  He thinks there is a problem and it is possibly making me more susceptible to Dysentery when I travel...compared to other people.

So that is now my next course of action.  I have been referred to the best gastrointestinal specialist in Florida...who happens to be right here in Miami.  I will go through whatever testing is recommended...and hopefully find out why I am so susceptible to getting sick.  And what would really be great, is to feel better on a daily basis at home.  All of a sudden I am realizing that the stomach issues that I have been putting up with for years...may be part of a problem that can be fixed.  Isin't it amazing that something you just grow to live with...isin't normal at all?  That this is a problem that can be fixed and I can experience a new normal?  Wow!!!!

So I leave for TransArabia in November.  As a result of not being able to compete in Oman this year...I am going back to do the race next year.  So I am still on track to crack 4,000 kilometers of Desert Competition...I am just doing The Desert Challenge in the reverse order.  So here is my schedule for the next year...

NOVEMBER 2014.................TRANSARABIA ......300 KMS

JANUARY 2015.....................TRANSOMANIA.... 300 KMS

LATER IN 2015......................MAURITANIA.........300 KMS

If you would like to do any of these events ... please let me know.  I am the Race Representative and can help you out with any questions you may have or line you up with anything you need.  I love these desert races... and I'm always excited about introducing people to how great these events are.  Each desert has its own beauty and it is fun to explore them through running.

So once I go through all the testing I will let you know the results.  I am actually hoping there is a problem... but only a problem that can be fixed...that would be great!  I need some peace with my body.  I already put it through enough by training for these events and competing.  I don't want to completely break it down before its time.  I still have many great years left...many more desert miles to log before I throw in the towel!

TransOmania - My Race

I was headed out to the White Beach in Oman for the start of the inaugural TransOmania.  As the other runners in the vehicle excitedly discussed the upcoming event…I was quiet…mulling over my options.  I had been sick all night long and was feeling wretched.  I had spent the evening in the bathroom with violent diarrhea.  I had contracted dysentery.  Every time I tried to come back to bed to try and get some rest…I was sick again and had to return to the toilet.  I was registered for the 300 kilometer non-stop race that had a 95 hour cutoff time. 

I could post a DNS (Did Not Start)…or I could start, and post a DNF (Did Not Finish)… or I could start and maybe, just maybe…Finish.  But having experienced dysentery in past races, I knew the likelihood of this was very remote.  But the flame of hope burns eternal.

I had trained for a year with this event in mind. I had logged thousands of miles in running in the sand and the heat, with 15 pounds on my back.  I had devoted all of my time to this race and was excited to be back in the desert again… my home.  I had spent a small fortune in registering for this race and to travel thousands of miles to get here.  I had my backpack stuffed and my gear was ready.  I was well trained and mentally focused.  And now this.

I excel at, and love racing in deserts.  I love the heat and the sand.  I have competed in 17 desert ultramarathons in countries around the world and have contracted dysentery 5 times.  This is crazy.  That means for every race I do…I have a 1 in 3 chance of being sick.  I have been sick before the race, I have become sick during the race, and I have come down with dysentery immediately after a race.  And what makes it worse…is that I am usually the only one who is sick…seriously.  What is wrong with this picture?

We arrived at the little athletes village on the beach and it was so beautiful.  There was a little collection of gray two man tents set up, and true to its name…the beach was white.  I walked over and dipped my bare feet in the water.  It was one of the selling points of this race for me.  I loved the idea of starting on the north coast of Oman and running over the mountains, toward the desert, through the dunes and finishing on the east coast.  I had long dreamt of how fantastic it would be to dip my feet in the ocean at the finish line.  The vision would carry me through the sand and the unrelenting burning heat from the sun.  It was going to be a fantastic point-to-point race.

So what do I do?  I went to bed that evening having this decision weighing on my mind.  I decided to wait and see how I felt the following morning.  The race wouldn’t start until Monday at 9pm.  I could feel a lot better in the morning.  I fell asleep listening to the waves gently washing ashore.  There is always hope.

In the morning I got up and was sick as a dog.  The diarrhea had let up a bit the day before, but was back full force again.  I kept heading out to what I was no calling “The Field of Dreams”.    I was having major problems.  And with all the wiping I already had the dreaded “Burning Ring of Fire”.  Time for the Preparation H.  I really must look them up as a sponsor.  And now there was a new complication.  I was filling up with an unrelenting gas.  No matter how much wind I passed…my stomach remained hugely distended.  My intestines were having spasms causing extreme pain with cramping.

After breakfast I nevertheless decided to carry on and go through the race check-in procedure.  I brought my pack over to get my mandatory gear checked.  I visited the Doctors and handed in my Medical Documents and then had my food inspected to make sure I had the mimimum amount of calories to get me though 300 kilometers.  I picked up my GPS which would monitor my progress through the race.  Finally, I handed in my drop bag with the supplies I would need at the halfway point.

The race briefing was held and delivered in two languages…French and English.  It was an opportunity to go over the race  one last time.  It was going to be a really tough course.   But that is what we were all here for.  There are plenty of desert stage races out there.  But this new event offered three non-stop races.  Athletes could choose to run 300 kilometers, 200 kilometers or 100 kilometers.  Each one had a different start time… but all would end on the East coast at the beach.  We all had to be self-sufficient carrying everything we would need.  Organizers would provide water and medical aid.  Some of the Check Points were up to 30 kilometers apart and so it was mandatory to leave each CP with 3 liters of water.

Once the briefing was over we all had the afternoon to kill.  For those doing the 300 km, we had to sit around and wait until 9pm.  Oh, the hell of the Hurry-up-and- Wait before a race. 

Between toilet breaks I spent some time reminiscing with old friends and making new ones.  One athlete I met early on was Johan Steene.  He was a very interesting guy.  I had no idea at the time that he was a phenomenal runner.  He was just as nice as can be, had a great sense of humor and there was not one mention on his part of his past success in racing…so he was humble as well.

He intrigued me.  Johan lives in Sweden and is 40 years old.  He is a very tall lanky guy with long red hair that he wears up in a ponytail.  He has a very nice smile and friendly eyes.  He was always up for a laugh, and seemed very easy-going and relaxed.  One of the first conversations we had he told me that he avoided carbohydrates and liked to eat pemmican.  Now being Canadian, I immediately knew what this was. (Pemmican is a concentrated mixture of fat and protein.  The word comes from the Cree language, and the recipe was invented by North American natives.  It was later used by Europeans in the fur trade and by Polar explorers.)   But why was a Swedish runner eating Pemmican?  We didn’t get fully into that until the end of the race.  I’ll tell you about it later.

Another runner with a great story was Chris Yeo.  The 41 year old looked like he was in his late twenties early thirties.  He came from Singapore and was married with a new baby girl who was just 6 ½ months old…Wen Xuan.  He really wanted to compete in TransOmania, but his wife really wanted him home to celebrate the Chinese New Year with his daughter.  He entered the race after promising to make it home in time.  This would mean he would have to finish the race by Thursday afternoon.  He had arranged with Race Director Cyril Fondeville to have a car take him for the 7 hour ride back to Muscat.  He would stay a few hours in a hotel and then hop on a flight back to Singapore first thing Friday morning.  Wow!  Talk about deadlines and pressure!  By my calculations … he would have to finish the race in about 67 hours, which would be very aggressive running.

One other person I have to mention is Luisa Balsamo.  She is an Italian woman with an impressive running resume.  I had bumped into her at many previous desert races, but we had never ever spoken to one another.  She has mid-length blondish hair with piercing eyes.  She is also hard as a rock, inside and out.  I saw her a couple of times at MDS where she stayed with the Italian contingent and I was with the North American camp.  We also competed together in Cyril’s stage-race in Mauritania back in 2007.  There were only three women in that event.  She placed 1^st and I was 3^rd.  It was just within the last year that we became FaceBook friends and have kept in constant touch.  It turns out we are both dog lovers.  She owns a Rhodesian Ridgeback and I own a rescue dog that looks remarkably like a Ridgeback.  It was only a couple of months before TransOmania that she decided to enter the event.  I was really looking forward to connecting with her.  Upon arrival we both gave each other a big hug.  She immediately commented on my white Oaklees I was wearing.  I had bought them on her recommendation.  They fit well and had transition lenses.

By 3:00 in the afternoon I decided to visit one of the race Doctors.  Michel listened to my symptoms and then in broken English told me take some pills he called “Antiseptics”.  I took two of the yellow pills and hoped for the best.  My guts felt like they were being ripped apart.  I was really, really weak.  I had been sick with Dysentery before another desert race, Marathon des Sables, and I managed to make it through 4 days before I had to withdraw.  By that time my diarrhea had turned from brown, to red to green and was running clear.  Diarrhea was running down my legs while I walked.  I had a fever and couldn’t think straight.  My tentmates had all advised me before the race not to start, but I did anyway.

Here is the deal.  Dysentery sucks.  You experience nausea, abdominal pain and frequent watery and foul-smelling diarrhea. It leads to damage of the intestinal lining and can cause elevated temperature, painful spasms of the intestines leading to cramping, swelling due to water leaking from capillaries of the intestine and tissue damage.  The result is impaired nutrient absorption, along with excessive water and mineral loss.

Let’s face it.  To do a 300 kilometer non-stop event in extremely difficult terrain and extreme weather, you need to be trained and 100 percent healthy.  It will take everything you have to finish and to do well in this race.  To consider doing this event at about 25 percent of your ability is stupid.  Yet, how could I not start?  I just could not stand by and watch everyone take off from the start line.  There was always the remote chance I could start to feel better.  But in reality, I was not strong enough to finish, and I knew it.  But what the hell.

Night fell and it was really dark out.  There was a new moon, but the stars stood out in the evening sky and it was magical out.  We headed over to the start and our headlamps illuminated the way.  Everyone was nervous and excited.  The event would begin with a 5 kilometer prologue run.  A race official would set the pace and at the 5 kilometer mark…. We would all be free to begin at our own pace up “The Wall”.  The wall was the mountain range we had been staring at from camp.  It was a 2100 meter climb to the top. 

We did a countdown with each athlete counting down in various languages and then we were off.  I took up with a small group in the back of the pack and settled in.  Very quickly the lead group disappeared in the darkness and I could not even see the pack by their headlamps.  I followed a few runners that were ahead of me.  Pretty soon we were scrambling up through a narrow, rocky dried out riverbed.  We were hauling ourselves over massive boulders and avoiding huge drop-offs with rocky scree below.  Something was not right.  The first 5 km was supposed to be an easy run down a dirt road????  After about 20 minutes or so, with some yelling back and forth, we decided to retrace our steps back to the last marker we had seen.  Turns out we had veered right at a certain section instead of veering left.  We went into the river bed when we should have just climbed slightly up onto the dirt road.  Big mistake very early on.

We ran down the road and saw race volunteers in the distance urging us on.  We passed them and made our way to the mountain.  The other runners had held up a few minutes waiting for us, but it was decided that they would all leave.  No one could understand what had happened to the missing runners.  Four of us made our way up the mountain.  At first it was pretty manageable, but it was becoming progressively steeper.  I am not the best climber, and being weak and sick I was very quickly left behind.  I had to stop every once in awhile to relieve myself.  Pretty soon I had gone through my entire supply of toilet paper.  I had brought a half-roll with me before I broke into my race supply in my pack.

Nearing the top of the mountain it was really steep.  I was told there were sections that were near 45 degrees.  What was bizarre is that this high up some of it was very rudimentally paved.  This was to prevent the road from washing out with any freak rain storms.  How in the hell did they accomplish it?  I mean, it was REALLY steep.

It took me 4 ½ hours to get to the top.  The other runners before me had made it in 3 ½ hours.  Cyril was waiting for me. It was CP 1.  He was very calm but obviously wondering what the hell was wrong.  He did not know I was sick.  I consider us to be good friends.  I did his race in Mauritania and really liked the man.  He is a great person.  He loves the sport, and takes good care of all his people.  He loves his runners and his staff.  He treats everyone fairly and with compassion.  He has a great deal of respect for the people he does business with in the various countries he puts on races.  But I had not told him that I was sick.  There were only a few who knew how bad it was for me.  I didn’t need anyone’s sympathy.

I approached him and told him I was done.  He couldn’t believe it.  Neither could I.  How could this be it?  I had only done about 19 kilometers (including getting lost).  He tried to talk me out of it by saying I should make a decision at CP 2.  But the facts were obvious.  I was sick and getting weaker and slower.  I was an hour behind the last place person.  This was just a no go.

I jumped into the race vehicle and we headed out along the course toward CP2.  We picked up the race markers as went.  Every once in awhile we had to stop so I could jump out and find a spot to do my business.  Luckily Cyril had a roll of Toilet Paper in the jeep.  Maybe I could get a TP sponsor?  He now knew why I was so far behind.

When we reached CP 2 we stopped and Cyril chatted briefly with the people manning the checkpoint.  I was told the head doctor was there and I went looking for Dominique.  Believe it or not, it was the same Doctor that treated me for Dysentery in Mauritania!  In that event, I got sick after the race.  I had my head and butt in and on the toilet for the entire flight back to Paris.  Do you know how gross it is to be sick as a dog and have to lie on a filthy floor in a tiny airplane toilet room?  Dominique immediately recognized me and shook his head.  You again?!!!! What are the odds I would have the same doctor treat me for dysentery at two different events 7 years apart?!  It is a small world in the desert ultrarunning community.  He gave me a whack of pills and told me to take 2 every 6 hours for the next couple of days.

By now it was freezing out.  The temperature had dropped to 6 degrees.  I know, I am a wimp….but it was chilly out!  And it was a damp cold.  We got back in the 4 wheel drive and continued on through the night to CP3 and reached CP4 as it began to get light out.  It felt like we were on top of the world, even though we were only at about 2100 meters.  We gazed out over the mountains and looked down at the clouds.  It was a bit foggy out which was really bizarre.  I had never seen fog in a desert before.

We had now travelled about 64 kilometers.  It had been mainly uphill the entire way.  Runners that arrived at this CP would then head down a section of course that was called single track.  The top runners went through it at night…but Cyril wanted the majority of the others to get through it during daylight hours because it was extremely difficult terrain.  There was a cutoff point here…runners had to make it in 15 hours…or by noon on Tuesday. 

I spent the morning at CP4…waiting for runners to come through.  All were surprised to see me there.  I just briefly explained that I was sick…but mainly kept the conversation on them and how they were doing.  Luisa came through and was sorry that I had not been able to overcome my sickness.  She gave me a big hug and continued on. 

French runner Luc Atge arrived with Nicolas Lemaire.  Both men had huge personalities…and they epitomized the love of desert running.  They arrived happy as can be…full of cheer and laughing with sheer joy at reaching the CP.  It had been a very difficult climb.  Luc pulled out his Foie Gras to show me.  Before the race he told me he would be carrying the delicacy with him during the entire race, along with some wine to enjoy at the finish.  I love the French!!!

And Chris Yeo was doing well. He came through the CP looking strong and fresh and was wearing his usual big smile.  He didn’t spend much time there and kept on trucking through.  He had a plane to catch.  Chinese New Year this year falls on Friday, January 31^st and  is the Year of the Horse.

CP 4 to CP 5 was pure rocky terrain.  It was not single track.  Runners that negotiated it at night had tripped and fallen a few times and had numerous scrapes and bruises to show for it.  It was a 17 km stage that led to a beautiful oasis… Wadi Bani Khalid.  This was a lush green oasis that featured large pools of water year round.  Heaven on Earth in the middle of nowhere!

CP 5 to CP 6 was 31 kilometers long.  It took runners through a small village outside the oasis and back into the mountains.  But now they were beginning the slow descent toward the desert.  They had to get to CP 6 in 24 hours.  When they reached it they would have run 113 kilometers. 

CP 6 to CP 7 was 21 kilometers long and would take them to the edge of the desert. The unfortunate fact about this section is that it was a well travelled route by the Bedouin.  They were driving by and picking up the race markers to take with them as souvenirs I guess…or to make use of in some way.  As fast as new markers were put out...they would be taken again. Unfortunately, many of the runners were getting completely lost.  It was very frustrating for them, and discouraging.  Even though everyone had a GPS with the CP points in them, it was still ugly.  And by now they were running low on food.   It wasn’t until they reached CP 8 that the runners in the 300 kilometer event would be able to replenish their supplies from their drop bag.

CP 8 was called Safari Camp and for good reason.  It was literally a tourist camp set up in the desert to give visitors a taste of desert life.  It was a small fenced compound featuring a pretty arched entranceway.  Inside was a dining tent and a lounging area.  There were small huts on the property that featured beds with sheets, and traditional rugs on the floors.  They also had a little bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet.  Luxury.  While here, tourists could go out on camel rides, 4 wheel drive excursions in the dunes, or do some  surfing down the giant waves of sand.  I was elated because I would be able to spend the night here!

This also gave me some time to connect with one of my favorite animals…the camel.  I don’t know why I love them so much.  I guess it is because to me they have so many facets.  I find them beautiful.  I love their long legs and soft brown eyes with long lashes.  Their lips are so soft to touch, if you dare, and yet they are capable of emitting horrific snarls and even biting.  They can be comical, sweet or just downright nasty. 

After a good nights’ sleep we got up on Wednesday morning and prepared to pack up and head off in our 4 wheel drive to get to the finish line on the coast by late afternoon. By now my diarrhea had slowed but still had not stopped.  I was feeling very weak and I made sure I was drinking a lot. We saw a couple of runners pass through before we left. Chris Yeo came through here this morning and it looked really doubtful that he was going to make his Thursday afternoon deadline.  He was half-done and now had to negotiate the waves of sand dunes that awaited him.  This is the longest stretch of sand of any desert race on the planet… 150 kilometers of sand.  That is a long slog.

Six of us stuffed ourselves in a jeep and off we drove to negotiate the dunes and make it to the coast.  Our Omani driver Gasim was amazing.  Turns out he had a license to race in desert rallies.  He loves cars and racing and has competed in numerous events.  He took on the dunes like the pro he is.  I can’t even begin to describe his technique.  He chooses his route, picks up speed and powers up them…sometimes fishtailing from side to side.  At times it was a real rush.  What was really great is that he didn’t have traditional Arab music playing in his vehicle.  Nothing wrong with the traditional music…but it was a nice change to listen to American music.  And not just any music… PitBull… one of my favorite artists who happens to come from Miami, which is where I currently  live.

Just after CP 11 we arrived at a little pit stop before the upcoming massive White Dunes.  There was a little hut with a sign that read Oil Station, and nearby a larger building with a sign advertising items for sale and a coffee shop serving traditional Omani coffee.  Of course we had to stop.  Everyone settled down for coffee and I went over to browse in the small shop.  I ended up buying a traditional Shemagh.  The headscarf provides protection in the desert from sunburn, dust and sand.  I loved it!

A little further on we stopped and took some pictures of the White Dunes.  They were truly amazing.  It was extremely hot out by now and I thought about the runners that were going to have to power their way up through these massive mounds of sand.  It was going to be brutal.

By late afternoon we made our way toward the finish line.  It was a beautiful camp set up on the beach outside a small fishing village.  Our last camp had been heaven… but this was really luxury on a grand scale.  Here are a few pictures of the camp.  Cyril had gone all out for this.  It was the 10^th Anniversary for his race organization… Raid Sahara… and he wanted to celebrate.  Have I mentioned how much I love the French?!  I love their joie de vivre...cheerful enjoyment of life!

 I have much more to share with you but this seems like a good point to stop for the time being.  In my next blog I will tell you about the finish and will tell you about some of the experiences of the runners as they made their way along the course.  I had a great talk with Johan Steene, the overall winner of the 300 km event, who came in tied with Joao Oliveira.  He was happy to share his hallucinations with me, along with some of his secrets, especially in regards to diet…which I found fascinating.  I will share what happened with Chris and let you know how my friend Luisa Balsamo fared.  There is the closing ceremony to cover and the trip back to Muscat.  And of course…I will write a third blog that will fill you in on my subsequent trip to Istanbul before heading home to Miami.