Saturday 8th April 2006


Provided with breakfast by organisers and everyone then had to hand in any equipment they were not taking, have their packs weighed and examined for essential equipment and food content, and have their ECGs and medical certificates checked. There were brief interviews by medical teams and we were issued with emergency flares and salt tablets. This was done in numerical order at marquees and with my number being 629, it meant I was nearly last.
As the morning passed the temperature and winds rose. The nerves were really getting to me by now and I was continually moving items between my suitcase and pack trying to reduce weight but was unable to get it below about 12 kilos (without water and flare) It felt incredibly chaotic and every time I tried to find something I would have to totally empty my pack in panic and then stuff everything back in, in different places. This would be in total contrast to Barry or Phil who always seemed to be studying my panic attacks and seemed to be so organised with everything neatly arranged. By lunch time it was 36C and a full and violent sandstorm was in progress. Visibility was down to about 30 yards and I began to panic about what it would be like to run in conditions like this. My suitcase, which contained all my clean clothes and kilt, was now full of sand. The sand was blasting against any bare skin with our open-sided ‘tents’ providing little protection. As I went over to the marquees with Darren a violent gust partially blew one down. A French competitor was struck on the leg by one of the large wooden supports and was requiring medical help. Along with some Berbers we attempted to hold the marquee with ropes but this was blistering our hands and eventually the whole thing collapsed.. We were ushered into the remaining marquees and the admin was re-organised. Another huge gust ripped open the side and there were shouts to get out. In the commotion I was pushed backwards over someone’s pack and ended up like a turtle on its back with the weight of my pack preventing me get up. Darren just managed to pull me out before the rest of the tent and supports collapsed. This was totally crazy and I was starting to wonder if I was going to survive until the start, never mind complete the race. I was delighted when eventually the admin procedures were completed. I had passed the checks and only had the minor worry of completing the race. We sheltered in our collapsing bivvy for the rest of the afternoon. Because of the violent conditions the briefing by the race director was postponed until 5.30pm. Minutes before the briefing the storm abated. (Was this divine intervention) Motivating speeches were made, instructions given and a display of camel and horse riding was done by the Berbers, one of whom fell off his camel and broke his arm. We tried not to laugh. Out of 760 entrants 731 competitors from 33 nations had passed the checks. Many entrants had failed the checks, mainly with unsatisfactory ECGs and weren’t allowed to even start.
As darkness fell we sorted out our bedroom as best as possible and dug out the worst of the sand. We were given our last meal to be provided by the organisers and this included a can of beer. We were now on our own and had to be totally self sufficient. Again very little sleep possibly due to the excitement and stress but the rocky surface, snoring and farting didn’t help. Sand was now everywhere. Everything you ate or drank was gritty and every orifice, some that you didn’t even know you had, was stuffed with sand