Race Travel...The Hurry Up and The Wait

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

PART ONE... I will be blogging while I am travelling mainly so I can remember this trip and use some details for a book that I have been working on forever.  Sections of it will seem mundane to some... but for others...especially for non-runners.... it could prove to be informative.

Getting ready to head out for a big race is never easy.  I hate packing and usually put it off until the last minute.  I throw all of my race gear into my carry on and bring it on the plane with me,  along with my race backpack with all of the supplies I will need for the event. This way... if my luggage gets lost... I will still have everything with me for the race.  I have seen too many people get sidelined by having their luggage lost with their race gear in it. 

I don't understand how people seem to think that it will never happen to them.  I have had my bags go missing twice.  For The Libyan Challenge, I travelled from Canada to Paris in order to catch a flight to Libya.  I arrived in Paris, but my luggage did not.  Luckily, I was in Paris for a few days and my bags caught up to me before I left for Libya.  But I had my race gear with me. 

On another occasion I was travelling to Namibia.  My bag did not make it.  All of my travel is usually associated with racing and in the last 13 years of racing, I have always had my gear with me. The races I am going to are usually held in the middle of nowhere.  If  you lose your gear it is very difficult to replace it.  But it is still a major pain not to have your luggage arrive.  In Namibia I had to go out and buy clothing and shower supplies because it took a week for my bag to catch up with me.  At least these things can be purchased without any trouble...but is always seems like such a waste of money to replace them while you are waiting for your missing bags.

If a runner does happen to lose their race luggage... they can usually go on to run in the event...but it is all with borrowed gear...which sucks.  Other runners usually bring extras with them of all sorts of things. Once it's determined that someone needs help... competitors will throw all of their extra supplies into a pile.  The runner can then go through it and pick out what they need.  If there are some things that aren't in the pile...then the call will go out for any outstanding missing items.  I have even seen an athlete that didn't have running shoes, and someone had brought a spare pair that just happened to be the same size!

I have just checked in at the Jacksonville Airport in Florida and I am putting in time waiting for my flight to New York.  I have a layover in the Big Apple before catching another flight to Istanbul.  And then from Istanbul I will fly to Muscat, Oman.  It is Thursday afternoon and I won't arrive in Oman until Saturday morning.  With this many transfers I am going to be sure to track my luggage before every flight.  I will go to the airline counter and make sure my bag is accounted for and that it is on the same flight I'm taking. 

Killing time in the airport is challenging.  I consider the entire trip to my final destination as a marathon before the ultramarathon.  I have my little workspace set up.  I bring my laptop with me and get work done on the computer.  I have my cell phone charging beside me... and I have a TV in front of me which is set on CNN.  So I am keeping on top of what is going on in the world as I work my way through various time zones.

People watching is always fun.  You see all kinds coming and going.  I just watched one woman walk by me in skin tight skinny jeans and what looked like 4 or 5 inch heels.  I will never understand why a woman will travel with heels.  Why?  You usually have to do so much walking...and what happens if you are late for a flight? This woman could barely walk in those heels... it just doesn't look good to me at all.  It just seems women handicap themselves with fashion.  But then maybe I'm just jealous.  I haven't worn heels in years.  I am too scared now of spraining an ankle and wrecking my training...so I just stick to flats

I start off at the first airport with my own food prepared at home.  I am always hungry though, and have already devoured my chicken sandwiches and chips, along with a fruit cup and a banana.  Trying to eat relatively healthy while on the road is tough, and as you know, airport food is so expensive. I also make sure I hydrate well.. 

During the flight I have movies and shows that I can watch on my laptop.  For this trip I have three books with me.  I am reading Lone Survivor, which is about a Navy Seal operation in Afghanistan.  And I have two travel guides... one about Oman and the other about Turkey.  I will be spending a few free days in both countries.

I carry a file with all of the race information in it.  I will usually take the time to read and re-read the material to make sure I am familiar with all of it so I can land completely prepared.  I also go over the race course over and over again...memorizing every detail.  I visualize myself getting dressed for the race and then take myself through every step of the event to the finish line.

I also like to get my sleep.  For the long trip from New York to Istanbul I will take a sleeping pill so that I can get some rest.  Finally I make sure I walk around a lot between flights and elevate my feet while sitting in the airport. I will also stretch a bit if I can.

I happen to be phobic about germs.  I probably go overboard in avoiding getting sick.  I have antiseptic wipes to clean everything I use.  In a plane I will wipe down the food tray before I touch it, the seat arms and the controls for the TV.  I will also wipe down the overhead light and air control.  I take a cloth with me to the bathroom so I don't have to touch the door handles going in or coming out.  I also carry multiple little bottles of Purell so I can keep my hands clean. I don't want to have months of training go down the drain by getting sick while travelling.

I remember a flight home from the Marathon des Sables one year.  One of the runners I was travelling with became seriously sick.  He ended up on the floor between the seats, throwing up.  The flight attendants couldn't move him and he was just administered to while on the floor.  The ambulance was waiting on the tarmac when we landed and he was loaded up and rushed off to the hospital.  We later learned that he had contracted flesh eating disease but survived.

My flight to New York is just about to board...so I am going to sign out for now.  Will update this travel section later.


PART TWO...


Okay...you are going to laugh!  My trip from Jacksonville to New York was very interesting to say the least.  Okay...first of all... we had to board a plane that looked just slightly larger than a Cessna.  It was a Delta CRJ 900 that had 76 seats.  Every single person boarding had to check in their carry on luggage! I can't remember the last time I have flown in an aircraft this small.  The overhead compartments were the size of a breadbox!  So there you go... I had to put my carry on bag with all my race gear in it underneath in the hold... the bag that is supposed to never leave my side during the entire trip!!!

As a result... all I had on the plane with me was my race pack.  The only thing I had time to grab out of my carry on was my laptop.  When the plane took off... I wasn't allowed to keep the computer on my lap... and I wasn't allowed to put it in the pocket of the seat in front of me.  So guess where it had to go?  On the floor underneath the seat in front of me.  Yes, I know.  I am a germaphobic... and there is my laptop sitting on the germy carpeting that probably never gets properly cleaned.  Yuck!  I am probably going to get sick for sure.

I didn't have my Purell...I didn't have my disinfectant wipes... my books were all in the carry on and my race files.  Brutal!  So I watched a couple of episodes of Two and a Half Men to cheer me up and had a drink to wash away the sour taste in my mouth!

Flying over New York at night was stunning.  I love this city so much.  I have vacationed here twice before.  My first visit was in 1994 to run my very first marathon.  The New York City marathon has got to be one of the most exciting races in the world!  I enjoyed it so much I came back a few years later to run it again.  I think the city is fantastic...and I would love to spend time here again one day.  I hear New York is fantastic at Christmas... so maybe one day!

We landed and had to get out of the plane on a ladder that they pulled up for us to disembark onto the tarmac.  Are you kidding me?  The stairs had snow on them... and it was freezing out!  And then we had to walk down this outdoor covered hallway of sorts to get into the terminal.  All I kept thinking about is was the girl I saw in the Jacksonville airport that was wearing the 5 inch heels.  How would she have managed!!!!

Then we had to go outside again to get to Terminal One for our International Flight.  I haven't landed at JFK before... and is it just me... or is it a gong show in here?  I don't know... it didn't seem to be very organized. I had to walk outside to get to the International terminal from the one I was in.  Maybe I took a wrong turn?  But I was dragging my carry on up some snow covered gravel beside the road.  And then when I went to cross the road I nearly got run over by a taxi!

I went upstairs to spend some time in the Food Court.  From where I was sitting I could look directly over the security checkpoint area.  I don't know... but does that seem very secure to be directly overtop of security with only a railing as a barrier?  It just didn't seem to make sense to me.

Anyway, I witnessed a very interesting incident.  There was an Asian traveler who had been pulled aside and the agents had pulled everything out of his backpack.  There was some really weird looking stuff in there.  It appeared that he might have been an electrician or something.  Among all the gear he had was this little black case, and when they opened it there were all these tools that looked rather suspicious... and some looked kind of dangerous.  Pointy screwdrivers, wiring, rolls of tape and one of the agents had a giant pair of wire strippers in his hand. 

 I couldn't hear them talking... but body and hand language speaks volumes.  The security agents were shaking their heads and were saying no, no, no... and the passenger was waving his arms around and seemed to be saying everything is fine...But after about 5 minutes of arm waving and protestations...the passenger was led away along with all of his offending stuff.  Hmmmm.

So I had to wait half-an-hour for the check in counter at Turkish Airlines to open.  I decided to secure first place in line and wait it out.  The counter opened and a very pleasant agent helped me out.  I didn't have any bags to check because they were going straight through from Jacksonville.  Looking back on it this might be a problem...we'll see.  But I am tracking the bags at every gate.

But get this...and this is a first for me.  Carry on bags going onto Turkish Airlines flights are only allowed to weigh 15 pounds!  I have never had my carry on weighed before.  So it turned out my bag was 30 pounds!  He told me I could check it in for free if I wanted.  No, that was not going to happen.  It is my race stuff if you remember. " So what do I do now" I asked.  He told me I was going to have to lose the weight. " Really, you can't give me a break?"  Nope...apparently not.

So... you are going to think I'm bad... but hey, desperate people do desperate things.   I took some heavy items out of the bag and put them on the floor.  He weighed the bag again and I passed!  He put a clearance sticker on it and gave it back to me.  I then put the bag on the ground below his counter and proceeded to put everything back in the bag.  The counter was so high that he couldn't see what I was doing as I  crouched down on the ground!  Ha!  It was like a comedy...taking everything out and then turning around and putting everything right back in! 

Security went off without a hitch and now here I am, sitting at the gate waiting for my flight to Istanbul.  I have always wanted to go to Turkey!  I just have a short layover there... but on the way home from the race I am going spend almost a week in Istanbul.  It will be a little R and R after the race before heading straight back to Miami.  I love exotic cities.  I can't wait to tour around Istanbul and visit the Grand Bazaar.  I am looking forward to seeing how the Turkish city compares to Marrakech. 

But I am getting ahead of myself.  I will spend a few hours in Istanbul, and then fly on to Oman.  As soon as I land I have to buy a visa and then grab a cab to the hotel.  My flight arrives in Oman at 6am so I sure hope I can check into my room right away.  I haven't taken care of that angle yet... but maybe I can do so while I'm killing time in Istanbul.  I am not going to wait until 1pm or 3pm to get into my room.  But how many people can there be coming and going from this hotel in Muscat?  How busy can it get there?  The hotel can't possibly be full could it? 


PART THREE...


I landed in Istanbul and what a treat!  I mean that literally!  The International Terminal had various shops featuring traditional Turkish souvenirs... and one of the delicacies they carry is Turkish Delight!

I first heard of Turkish Delight a few years ago when I was watching the movie "Narnia".  The little boy in the movie is being given Turkish Delights by the evil Queen.  I thought... Gee, is there such a treat?  So I googled it...(I happen to love, love, love google) and sure enough... Turkish Delights was an actual sweet.  When I learned I was going to be in Turkey, one the things on my To Do list was to try the treat.

It is so good!  It is hard to even describe.  I initially thought it was going to be like a pastry, but it's not.  And it can't really be called candy either.  It is a really soft gelatinous piece of sugar that can have various coatings like icing sugar or pistachios.  It is not too sweet, but sweet enough.  Simply delicious.  I was at the airport for a few hours so I sampled a lot... but I bought a box too to enjoy while in Oman.

I put in time at the Turkish Airport and eventually the gate that we were departing from was posted.  Lo and behold there were 3 other French runners there.  I had met them before at another race and so we chatted a bit.  They were using their broken English and I was using my bad French, but we managed to get by.

Our flight was due to board at 9pm.  But for some reason the sign said that the flight to Moscow was boarding.  What?  I went up to check...and sure enough the gates had been changed on us.  So we grabbed our bags and scurried over the right gate and they were in the middle of boarding.  And here we saw more runners lined up.

Runners in our sport are always easy to spot.  First, the are all carrying their race backpacks with them.  And they may be wearing a previous race T shirt. The running shoes is also a telltale sign.  I guess it doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure it out. They are pretty much all very lean, and also you can tell most have endured the elements.  The wind and sun have etched their way onto their faces...implying many stories to be told.

We boarded the flight and made ourselves comfortable for the next 6 hours.  Oh My God...seats in economy are so tight.  I get so claustrophopic sitting there.  You can't lean sideways, forward or too far back.  I would give almost anything to fly First Class.  The few times I have done so it has been a joy.  I am so soft!

I will tell you though that I think the food served on Turkish Airlines is fantastic.  I usually hear people cutting down airline food, but their meals were really good.  I had a couple of glasses of Turkish wine with it...which wasn't that bad... and used it to wash down a sleeping pill.  Now that's smart...Oh Well.

We landed in Oman in the dark at 6am.  I disembarked and headed straight to the Visa Counter.  I was first there and purchased by Visa to get into the country.  From there I made it through security and on to pick up my bags.  I started to get worried.  It took forever for them to make it onto the carousel...but they had made it!   Hallelujah!!!!

Headed to the exit, made a right and went straight to the taxi stand to get a cab to the Hotel.  So far, so good!  Arrived at the Hotel and thought I was the first one there, but damn!  Three other French runners made it before me and they were passed out on the lobby couches.  "What's Up?"
They weren't going to give us our rooms until 10am...and it was only 7 am!!!!  Sit around in the lobby for 3 hours?!!!  I mean checking in at 10 is better than 1pm or 3pm... but after 2 days of travelling all I wanted to do was shower and go to bed.

I made frequent trips to the front desk for information and eventually learned that these were a block of rooms that had been purchased and that weren't to be made available until 10am.  It wasn't that they had to clean the rooms from previous guests.  "Come On!"  You don't have to wait until exactly 10...no one will care if you let us in at 9am!!!  Finally she relented and we all got to head to our rooms!  Yay!

I didn't even bother to clean up.  I fell into bed and slept for at least a couple of hours.  I woke up showered, and then slept for another couple of hours!  One of the reasons I love racing so much is learning to appreciate the very simple things in life.  The sheets on the bed were so white and clean, the air conditioning felt so great, the hot shower was awesome and cold bottled water is the best!

We went for a walk and checked out the neighborhood.  Our hotel is on the very outskirts of town so we are out in suburbia.  We found a few convenience stores and stocked up on bottled water.  Then we grabbed breakfast at the hotel.  It was a really nice buffet featuring some traditional Turkish food and western breakfast items.  I had an omelet , cheese, beef samosas, hummus and some turkey sausage.

Then back to bed to sleep some more.  Woke up a couple of hours later and decided to grab a taxi and travel to the souq at the other end of town.  Taxis are not cheap here.  In other countries like Morocco, grabbing a cab is the easiest and cheapest way to get around.  Not here.

The souq is just off the beach and featured the traditional items you would find at an Arabic market ... Cheap trinkets, pashmina shawls, brass camels, fridge magnets, T-shirts etc etc.  There was a boardwalk that men were fishing from and women were strolling along walking with their children.  Overlooking the street is a giant fort...............  The sun began to go down and it was a very pretty evening... and not too hot or too cold.

I had to barter with a taxi driver again to get home. " No, No, No...  you must pay 5 Rials."  But I only want to pay 3 Rials.  "No, No, No... Impossible"    Forget it then.... I'll walk.    "Okay, Okay...4 Rials"  Still a rip off.

The day was done and I was ready to crash.  The only thing was that I was starting to feel sick.  What's going on?  As I started to think about it... I was hit by a horrifying realization.  I had been so tired when I arrived that I had put my toothbrush under the faucet, rather than use bottled water.  Oh No.  This was not good at all.  I have a very sensitive stomach...and I cannot tell you how many times I have had dysentery.  It is not fun.  Oh no.  My stomach was starting to tighten up with dread.

I talked with one of the other runners in the lobby, and he reassured me that Omani water is not that bad and I shouldn't have a problem.  I hadn't swallowed the water, so I thought I should be okay.  It wasn't advisable to drink it.... but a little bit of moisture on the toothbrush should be fine.  No worries.

I got to the room and the shit hit the fan.  Yup, it pretty much did.  I couldn't determine whether I wanted to vomit first or relieve the diarrhea first.  It kept up for hours.  I was in the bathroom every 5 minutes it seemed and I had trouble walking upright because my guts were in knots.  Great.  I forced myself to drink bottled water throughout so I wouldn't dehydrate.

There can only be three things that I can think of that caused this... the tap water... the prunes I ate to stay regular... or it was food poisoning.  I have been through this so often I am tempted to guess it was the water.  I will find out for sure when I get home.  I'll get blood work done and that will determine if I had dysentery.  I was coming home with dysentery so many times a few years back...that I actually received a call from the Center for disease control....trying to figure out if there was a problem they should be aware of  in my neighborhood.

It is early Sunday morning now, January 26.  We gather in the hotel lobby at noon for the three hour ride to the White Beach where camp is set up.  Time is going by too fast now.  I won't be in communication now until the end of the event.  If you visit my Facebook Page I have posted the website where you can follow the race live.  Thank you so much everyone for your best wishes... will be thinking of you while I am out under the stars in my desert playground.


I

Procrastination and The Warring Selves

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

I leave for Oman in 6 days and I have not lifted a finger to pack.  The thought terrifies me.  I feel petrified that I have procrastinated in assembling my gear and packing my backpack.  For those reading this blog for the first time... I am writing about preparing for TransOmania.  It is a 300 kilometer nonstop footrace taking place across the desert in Oman.  It is the first time I have raced this far without stopping.  So why aren't I packed and ready to go?

I happen to specialize in procrastination.  I have done it all my life and turned it into an art form.  From my earliest years in school I put off writing papers until the night before they were due.  But unlike most people who do this... I always excelled.  I was an honor student and earned A's.  I do really well under pressure in areas that matter to me.  If something is important to me, I seem to like the rush that comes with delaying until the last possible moment, and then throwing myself at it and getting it done in a controlled intensity, and rapt attention to detail.  I immerse myself into the project and get it done perfectly and just under the deadline.

I guess this is one of the reasons I ended up working for years as a Television Reporter.  I went to work every day with a deadline hanging over my head.  Two deadlines actually.  As a National Reporter living in the West... I had to file my story for the East Coast by 4pm for the 6pm news... and then modify the story or do a live hit at 6pm for the local news.  The entire day was spent racing against time to reach the deadline...and there was never a case where I was done early and just sitting around waiting to watch it back on the news when it aired.  I guess some people just thrive on stress, pressure and deadlines.

But in preparing to write this blog... I did some research on procrastination and I was about to toss the idea of writing about it.  I'll explain why in a second, but first, here is the official definition of the word.

PROCRASTINATE...to be slow about doing something that should be done: to delay doing something until a later time because you do not want to do it, because you are lazy etc.
                                                                               Merriam-Webster

As a preliminary step... I looked up what was written about the subject on Wikipedia.  OMG.
"Psychologists continue to debate the causes of procrastination.  Drawing on clinical work, there appears to be a connection with issues of anxiety, low sense of self-worth, and a self-defeating mentality.... Procrastination is strongly connected with lack of self-confidence or disliking the task."

"Procrastination may result in stress, a sense of guilt and crisis, severe loss of productivity, as well as social disapproval.... Chronic procrastination may be a sign of an underlying psychological disorder.  Such procrastinators may have difficulty seeking support due to social stigma and the belief that task-aversion is caused by laziness, low willpower or low ambition."

Wow...Really? Are you kidding me? Okay, it was at about that point that I wasn't going to write about my procrastination.  And then I thought... I have to look into this subject.  There is something that is not quite right here.  What about the people who thrive on the adrenalin rush of putting things off? I am personally addicted to the thrill of just how long can you put something off before getting it done... "in just the nick of time."  So I sat down to do some research on procrastination and thrill seeking.  Sure enough, I found some great information but as usual, there are always two sides to every finding that is out there.

Some researchers have found that certain people may procrastinate because they have an arousal-seeking personality.  They want to get a rush by putting off  tasks to the last minute.  These people seek out stimulating situations, even if they are negative,  to get the stimulation.  One of the world's leading experts on procrastination is Joseph Ferrari, Ph.D. Associate Professor of Psychology at
 De Paul University in Chicago.  He believes that there are three basic types of procrastinators....

1.  Arousal types, or thrill-seekers, who wait for the last minute for the euphoric rush
2.  Avoiders, who may be avoiding fear of failure or even fear of success
3.  Decisional Procrastinators, who cannot make a decision

But another study done (on a small sample of just 311 students) concluded that much of their evidence and research suggested, no, there is not likely an arousal procrastinator.  Kyle Simpson completed a thesis for his M.A. at Carleton University.  He seems to conclude that the moral of the story is about self-deception and task delay.  Apparently, people like me are just rationalizing the delay and deceiving ourselves with the belief that we work better under pressure.

And then there is the economist Thomas Schelling who believes in "The Divided Self."   He thinks that we should look at ourselves as a collection of different beings that are striving for control.  We harbor a crowd of souls in our breasts that are all vying for self-expression and dominance.  So in dealing with procrastination, he says, we have to admit that "ourselves" have a problem.

If you have a collection of competing selves, who are they, what do they represent?  Well, there are the selves that look at the short-term interests like having fun and doing what makes you feel good at the moment... and there are the selves that look at the long-term goals.  What do you want to accomplish in life?  So we have to bargain with ourselves.  And we have to develop will power.  We have to find our own ways of making "ourselves" work together and get things done.

Obviously there is a lot to learn about the brain and the human mind.  The brain has 100 billion nerve cells all connected in an intricate network that generates awareness, perception, behavior and emotions.  And on top of that it controls our muscles, organs and our 5 senses.  Our brain is constantly being shaped through learning and growth.  It can be damaged early on in childhood through our experiences, it can be injured from an accident or it can malfunction because of disease. Scientists are looking forward to enormous advances in how the brain works and how it can be healed.  And maybe one day we can prevent disease.

 In the meantime, all we can do is work with existing knowledge and do the best we can to overcome.  We all have strengths and weaknesses. I would hope that most of us are trying to become stronger, better people Some people point to ultrarunners and wonder what they are running from or toward.  I get asked that a lot.  Sure some of us may have insecurities or phobias or low self confidence.  So what?  I can only answer for myself when I say yes, I may be weak, I may procrastinate for whatever reason... but at least I am working every second of every day to improve myself.  I am on the path to enlightenment, and for me that comes through running.

  So how do I keep myself going when I tend to go off course 20 times a day?  How do I get myself to train for hours at a time every day, in preparation for a race a year away?  How do you avoid the temptation to procrastinate and do something else that provides instant gratification?  There are countless diversions...blogging, facebook, television, spending time with friends, movies... All easy instantly gratifying.  Long term goals require a lot of sacrifice, determination and will power.  You have to keep "yourselves" focused and Find A Way to get things done on a consistent basis.

I believe in making To Do lists.  I make daily lists, weekly lists, monthly lists and yearly goals.  So as a procrastinator, this is how I live with myself.  I obviously need the rush.  So I have to outsmart "myselves."  I put off my daily tasks until the last moment, but they get done.  I put off my weekly tasks to the last moment, but they get done.  And I put off my monthly tasks till the last moment, but they get done.  All of this enables me to reach my yearly goals.

 I have saved all my yearly goals since I was a kid.  I am lucky enough to say that I have accomplished almost everything that I have set out to do.  There are so many things on the wish list...and so little time.  Major goals require that some dreams have to be set aside.  This means you have to be willing to sacrifice some goals in favor of other ones.  And when you make that choice you cannot look back or second-guess yourself.  Follow your heart and it will lead you to your passion.  Trust your instincts, and you will Find A Way to fulfill your soul.  I love to run in deserts.  It has become my life...but I have other "selves"  that like to sit back and enjoy the ride.

So this brings me back to my packing for TransOmania.  Even though I have not assembled a thing...I have lists.  TransOmania is my 18th Desert Ultramarathon.  Over the years I have developed a Master List for stage-race Desert Ultramarathons.  This binder of lists outlines everything I need to bring, to do, to remember and prepare for a desert stage-race.  It was probably back in November where I took these lists and made a Master List for non-stop Desert Ultramarathons.  There were a few changes and additions that needed to be made...but nothing really major I don't think.

I have known for a year that I am doing this race.  So through the preceding weeks and months I would buy this or that and throw it in a closet or into one of my numerous gear tubs that I have.  So now what I have to do is dig out the Master List and start assembling everything.  I will spend a day madly digging through my closets and tubs and throwing everything together in a last-minute blitz.  This will leave me a day or two to collect, buy or borrow whatever is missing.

So, you see, I am a procrastinator but I am a professional procrastinator!  I put things off just long enough, but once I get the thrill I pull myself back on track.  I am constantly planning and preparing, yet putting off just long enough to get a rush.  It definitely makes life like a roller-coaster, but for whatever reason, I need the sensation of the highs and lows... the periods of living life on the edge and the downtime that follows.  I love being busy and getting an adrenalin rush and then I love sitting back and doing nothing but watch life go by.

With this upcoming race in Oman, I am looking forward to giving everything I have in the next few weeks to this event.  There is no question it will take everything I have and more.  It is going to be a battle.  Everyone competing knows it is going to harder than what they are imagining.  But what the hell...it is going to be fun!  Remember that famous line in the movie "Lawrence of Arabia"...

T.E. Lawrence:  This is going to be fun.
Mr Dryden:  Lawrence, only two kinds of creatures get fun in the desert: Beduins and gods, and you're neither.  Take it from me.  For ordinary men, it's a burning fiery furnace.
T.E. Lawrence:  No, Dryden.  It's going to be fun.
Mr Dryden:  It is recognized that you have a funny sense of fun.

Once I cross the finish line... I will have raced over 4,000 kilometers in deserts around the world.  No other woman that I know of has put in more desert miles in official desert competitions.  This does not include individual crossings or doubles or triples etc.  This is just taking into account running in desert races.

I will be blogging about the experience and I will be contributing an article to TrailRunner magazine.  It is going to be amazing race and I am really looking forward to savoring every second of the journey!  Now I have to use my will power and convince " myselves " that it is time to start packing. I have to act today before the sense of panic becomes overwhelming and starts to disempower me.  You see I know this from long years of practice and knowing just how far you can push the envelope.  You can get only so close to the edge without going over into the abyss. (Yes, I have mentioned the abyss before. Yes, that place, wherever it is scares me.) But enough of this...Time to get to work!  (But I have this overwhelming desire now to watch Lawrence of Arabia.)

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.

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

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.