Our MdS Epilogue

So ...

Two weeks ago we were at home in London, stressing about the MDS and what still needed to get done/ sorted/ organised/ weighed and established whether it was really a completely necessary item of kit to take along, together with the ever present niggle at the back of our minds on whether we had trained enough (is it ever enough) and what we should have/ could have done differently....

One week ago we were in about the middle of the long stage, at 5pm "camp time" (one hour behind Moroccan time) through the worst heat of the day, Jan soldiering on with shmangled feet - unbeknownst to us at the time, he had amassed and was walking on 15 blisters in total - 10 on one foot, five on the other. We were yet to hit the remnants of a sandstorm in the dunes - for us not as debilitating as the sandstorm that had hit the runners at the front of the pack (ie we didn't have to stop and/or huddle, merely lift the buffs to become face protectors), which would take us into sunset and darkness to checkpoint 3 (on that day there were 6 in total) and Jan was putting down a marker that maybe at the next checkpoint (12 km further, with another 25km to go thereafter) we should take a break and try to sleep for a couple of hours (cut-off or arrival to checkpoint 4 was 1am but it stayed "open" until 4am for those "runners" who wanted to get in some shut-eye). But then, as we left checkpoint 3, having bumped into two of our tent mates (Jemima and Matt, another couple) who decided to take a break and cook an early dinner there, as it became dark and cooler, Jan seemed to breathe in new bursts of energy with every single step - the debilitating heat had gone, he had learned to Shane-walk; yes, almost spring along to the ever present but dulled foot pain, maybe the 1000mg paracetamol generously handed out (to many many (!) atheletes that week!) by the doctors and "commissaires de course" (ever present en route, checking on runners and walkers and just really keeping a watchful eye on us at all times - a great comfort!!) was doing its bit ..but hey, head torches strapped on and off we went into the descending darkness, chasing little luminous green sticks that were to be our beacons for the next 11 hours. Now we really picked up the pace, passed some fellow walkers and could see a little train of lights developing behind us as we settled into the night stage of this ever so long stage. Yes, it was long and arduous but somehow also magical to wander through the Saharan desert at night with the stars becoming ever brighter, you're focussing your eyes primarily on where the next 1-2-3 beacons are which determine your direction, blissfully unaware of what undulations the ground has in store for you before you actually reach them... Suddenly there were a bunch of palm trees dotted around us - the only ones on the course - and at some point we actually did see one of my dreaded Camel Spiders - luckily a small one (NOT in the tent) and as soon as Jan shone his torch on it it scurried off. We can confirm, they exist, they live in the desert, they are nocturnal and they look exactly like the pictures on "google images". As you count down kilometres (very satisfying as they come around so much quicker than miles!) you have your little milestones of "single digits", "half way there" and "only 5/4/3... to go" and there it was: Checkpoint 4 - Jan had perked up to such an extent that by now even pulling out the stove, getting it lit and settling down for the 30-45mins it would have taken to get in one of our gourmet freeze dried dinners was too much of a break and we ploughed through a Chia Bar instead, inhaled some water and went on....10km to Checkpoint 5 (excellent to have single digits follow so soon after!) at which some MDS-branded deckchairs and sweet hot tea (WHAT A TREAT...alas, only half a cup each) awaited - we sat in one, used another as a foot elevator and decided - KEEP GOING; only 15km to go ...don't ask us what the time was; we know we left at 8:30am on Wednesday morning, we know we arrived at 6am at camp, we know we covered 76.7km in total; we know our watches were on their last single digit % battery power and our £5 solar charger from a street corner of Johannesburg was not exactly performing the way the "dude" had told us it would though we still managed to charge both watches on the trot that evening to get us to the end of that stage at least. It was hard, so so hard, and yet, we bonded as a couple, we laughed and chatted; at some point Jan was sing-song-ing all his vignettes and answers to questions, every now and again we just giggled at the craziness of it all - but ultimately the pain and the suffering were (and will now always be) secondary and the memories of comraderie with other runners, pride for sticking with it and generally just happiness of having made it (and NEVER having to do it again!) will endure.

Today, we are re-united with our girls - and have been for a couple of days - and staying a wonderfully bohemian shabby-chic place on the outskirts of Marrakech, enjoying the pitter patter of small feet, those arguments over "finishing your lunch", let's do a puzzle/ read a story - just being a family again and letting the events of that past week just sink in and morphe into wonderful memories as we enjoy watching Jan's feet regain their normal size, the wounds close up slowly but surely and be certain that whilst the memories of what his feet endured will remain, there won't be any scars...

WHAT DID WE LEARN/ CONCLUSIONS

Is the tagline "the toughest foot race on earth" justified?

Yes. Definitely.
What makes it so tough is the relentless of it - you hear about people running a distance and then doing it again..and again...and again - but how tough that actually is you only fathom once you are there, doing it. That having been said, personally I find running through mud and ice and snowy patches harder because my feet get wet and cold and grizzly ....but I am sure that Jan will tell you he prefers mud and wet any day of the week over blisters and sand, so each to their own on this one.
The first day seemed easy - a mere 32.something km and the terrain was relatively flat. It was also unseasonably cool so we breezed through at 4hrs 40 minutes and thought "oh yeah, we can do this thing; race strategy worked really well (9 mins trot, 1 min walk, repeat)..."...and then came day 2 with 13km of dunes which wiped out any sort of "strategy" we wanted to follow and by the time we surfaced from the dunes we were too exhausted to simply pick up on the 9/1 again - yep, we were feeling it, whatever "it" was ...then day 3 and now the heat and longer day (37.something km) really started to make themselves felt. Jan's feet were taking and showing strain, the heat during the day was draining and there seemed to be an endless supply of shorter dunes and we were having to keep our wits together for ...day 4 ...after which it wasn't over - yes, we got a rest day (and though we had no phone/ book/ any distractions, we were NOT bored but very much focussed on "what can I do better to try and inch out some more recovery?"...and then day 6 and a "mere" marathon awaited - thanks to sand and strong winds it was dusty from the get-go and my eyes just said "no". My contact lenses unleashed their own little sandstorm in my eyes which refused to settle and yet there was a steep uphill ahead which I did not want to do with double glasses as I was scared to lose my glasses on that incline so whilst Jan's feet were aching, my eyes were stinging and I, for one, was well and truly OVER IT but still you keep going because now you've come so far it would be a shame to throw it away NOW....and when that's done the race is over...but there is still that eeny teeny 6km charity stage to do on the next day to get to the [6 hour] bus journey.
Yep. Relentless plus: you feel like you are making progress and yet, the next - harder - or "just one more" stage is yet to be mastered. The last checkpoint (3) on the marathon stage felt like a party - it was the last checkpoint of the race (WOHOOOO!) and yet, we watched (and joined!) at least six fellow runners go through the gate, get their numbers clocked, collect their water and go straight to the doctor with "can I have a paracetamol please" - she was handing them out like smarties! Hilarious and poignant at once..

Did we enjoy it?
Depends how you look at it. The project MDS in its entirety: absolutely! Loved having a specific event to train for and focus on; REALLY focus on. Loved doing this together. Loved working together to get the kit organised and the food in (which was tasted - occasionally - it tasted a helluva lot better in the desert than in our kitchen!), chatting to different people who had done it and their take-aways, taking a hard look at our respective health and injury prone-ness and how best to tackle the niggles and meeting an amazing coach (Shane Benzie) and physio-massage fiend (Cristian) along the way. And (re-)learning about resilience. And that you are never old enough for a crazy adventure - oldest person, incidentally, was 83 (youngest was 16). Also, somewhat surprisingly, learning that Kim is a bit of a desert goat whose feet were absolutely fine and who managed fine in the heat, whilst Jan's feet were blistered to smithereens and he really came into his own once the sun had set - very consistent with previous adventures (which usually took place at altitude (where Kim's ceiling is reached at around 5,000m) and in the cold (where Jan is fine and Kim becomes miserable in a hurry as she just cannot get warm again)... the race itself and enjoying it? Let's just say by 2/3 of Day 2 we were agreed that this was not going to be an annual pilgrimage. Jan wilted in the heat, I became very angry with kernels of sand (in my teeth, in the folds of my ears, in my eyelashes....you could just never get away from it...and these things do tend to have quite a negative impact on the enjoyment factor) and at some point you are just OVER IT.
And yet: the memories that will endure will only be fond ones! The fantastic photos Ian Corless took will serve as wonderful reminders of an ultimately wonderful event.
We assumed (like apparently 90% of runners do) that we would run 80% of it and walk a mere 20%...and the inverse is what happened (as it does for 75% of runners). What would it have taken for getting to the 80% of running? Probably a year of targeted training and packing in more mileage plus finding the magic formula to conserve Jan's feet...and even then I think we may have moved the needle to 50/50 or 60/40 - are we going to test that theory though? No. Not in a hurry anyway...

Ultimately, loved doing this TOGETHER, were so humbled by the support and supportive emails we received and thank you all for contributing in your way to making this so great for us - and THANK YOU also to all who donated so very generously to the Walkabout Foundation - whilst we were in the desert, some wheelchairs were handed out in Kenya and here is a message received from one of the boys who is a recipient, which Walkabout shared with us - thank you for helping to make that possible.

We look forward to seeing each and one of you when back!!!

With much love and affection -

Jan and Kim