Wednesday 12th April and Thursday 13th April 2006 Stage 4


This was the long stage that everyone feared. It was a huge relief that the first mountain had been taken out but other (crazy) competitors were annoyed about this thinking it would diminish the day. I feel the organisers were afraid they could not cope with many more retirements.. Most of the competitors were to start at 10am but the top 50 men and top 5 women were to start 2 hours later.
As soon as the stage started I began to suffer with my feet. I managed to get a good rhythm going with the walking poles but my eyes were full of tears with the pain. After about 1km I was sick the same as the previous day. On this occasion I think it was nerves. I continued at a fair pace just trying to focus my mind on anything other than my feet and reached CP1 reasonably comfortably. The temperature had now passed the 40C mark and was still rising. I met Neill at CP1 and we walked together over the next section of small dunes. At that point the elite 50 began to pass us. The pace that they were maintaining in the heat was absolutely mind blowing and to be honest it began to disillusion me with my own performance. I stopped under some shade and tried to get some food down me. Neill felt that he would not be able to continue if he stopped so he carried on. Once going again I found myself near the back of the field and navigation was becoming difficult with few people around. Another sandstorm was building up as I entered a huge dune area, some of which were over 1000 foot high. Luckily the route took us around, rather than over the dunes but there was nowhere that you could escape the heat. I had misread the road-book and thought that the next CP was 10k when in fact it was 14K. Once again I was out of water and dehydrated despite the double rations. The walking poles were a tremendous help but both hands now had blisters to help take my mind off my feet. Eventually I reached the CP and got a reasonable supply of water. I called into Doc Trotters to get the blisters on my hands treated and on leaving saw Neill seated in the shade. I spoke to him and was so upset to learn that he had withdrawn as he was physically shattered and his feet were wasted. Was there going to be anyone left from our tent?
As the day continued, thankfully, the temperature dropped. There was a large salt lake to cross and I was joined for an hour or so by an elderly Swiss guy who was doing his 5th MDS. He confirmed that this was by far the hardest. My pace was slightly faster and I carried on regularly meeting up with other guys all of whom were fascinating characters had amazing adventure stories to tell. A story about a Swedish competitor who had cycled from Sweden to Mount Everest, climbed the mountain, and cycled back again capped it all. This was definitely the place to go if you wanted to meet crazy people. This was great for distracting my mind from the pain. A strange thing was you could chat to someone for an hour and meet them later but not recognise them as they had been covered by their buff, hat and goggles all the time. By 6.00pm the temperature had dropped to a chilly 39C and water was no longer a dangerous issue. I reached CP 4 about an hour after darkness and I met Phil and Guy there just preparing to leave. They offered to continue with me but I wanted to stop and cook a meal and try and get some calories into me. I had to get to CP 5 before the cut off time of 2am and had 6 hours to make it. It was only about 10K and I had no desire to hurry. I just wanted to finish. I got the meal down and tried to get my feet going as soon as possible before they completely seized up. There was a full moon but also a bit of cloud cover and a slight sandstorm so visibility by head-torch was not easy. There were small fluorescent lights every 500m and every competitor had a light-stick on the rear of their rucksack which meant that there should be a column of light to follow. Unfortunately I was so far back by this time that the column was pretty spread out so you had to keep your wits about you.. There was also a large green laser shining into the desert sky from the next CP which was spectacular but annoying as you were unable to tell whether the source was 1km or 10 km away. There were numerous dunes to cross and it was particularly difficult to tell how deep the hollows were by head light. Some looked about 4 feet deep but were in fact about 40feet and you would be far better running around them than through them. You only discovered this when it was too late. About halfway to the next CP I lay down and rested my feet on top of rucksack for ten minutes. I tried to take my shoes off but found that the blood had soaked through the strapping and socks sticking to the soles of my shoes. I decided that I would leave it to the next CP and ensure where I knew there would be medics and that I would have the safety of having reached the cut off. It seemed a long way but I got into CP 5 about 12.20am. As time now wasn’t a problem I decided to grab a few hours kip there. I took my shoes off but didn’t even attempt the socks. There were a few bivvys around and I found one with a bit of space in it so got out my sleeping bag and almost went instantly to sleep only to wake about 10 minutes later with the feeling that my feet were on fire. The following hours continued with quick burst of sleep followed by attempts to get my feet into a comfortable position. I had intended to get going again about 3.30 but just couldn’t face the effort and waited until first light about 5.00am. The movement of people around and a rumbling bubbling sensation in my stomach finally booted me into action. I was just able to crawl on all fours from the bivvy and pull my shorts down before my bowels exploded. I looked up to see a Japanese film crew filming the 2 Japanese models, that were doing the event, making their breakfast. My motions must have made a wonderful background and I did have a little chuckle wondering if had been a live broadcast. I pulled on my rucksack and the pain from my shoulders took my mind off my feet for a short time. The pack didn’t seem to be an awful lot lighter despite the food I had gone through. I think the actions of using the walking poles had really stretched my shoulder muscles. I set off through a small cultivated area and there was a village nearby. A few women, with a donkey, returning from a well, spoke to me but I didn’t have a clue what they were saying. There were various locals working on crops in the area but no sign of any other competitors. I had to pay careful attention to the road-book and check the compass a couple of times and had an opportunity to soak in the scenery around me. The weather was cool, I felt great, apart from my feet. I felt so out of place in the area which seemed so basic, simple and biblical that it was hard to imagine that about 500 others had run through a few hours previously. Despite everything I was really enjoying this part. With so few people around you could soak up the atmosphere of the desert. I passed over a few dunes and then onto a huge rocky plain as far as the eye could see. The stones were like razors on my feet. Every 20 minutes or so officials would pass in their landrovers to check I was OK. I must have looked a bit of a daftie as I would give a hearty smile and a big thumb’s up, terrified in case they thought I was distressed. I was suddenly joined by two boys and had no idea where the appeared from. They walked with me for about 2 miles and the older one could speak good French. He explained that they were brothers aged 14 and 10 and that they were on their way to school. They pointed out the horizon and named the place that their school was. I thought of the spoilt brats at home on the school runs, a couple of miles over the speed bumps in their 4 x 4s. We eventually parted and they asked for the usual cadeaux. I felt rotten that all I could offer them was some Imodium but they still gave me a cheery farewell. I reached the next checkpoint as the heat was building, but nothing compared with the previous days (By noon the temperature only reached 33C) I had some porridge at the next check point but couldn’t be bothered heating water so just ate it cold. I got the blisters on my hands re-dressed and set off the final 4km. What would normally be a 15 minute run took over 90 minutes through a village and then a series of dunes. I could see the camp in the distance but it never seemed to get closer. About 400 yards from the finish a figure ran out to join me. It was Mark the Scouse Welshman. He explained that everyone thought I was out and seemed delighted to see me. He gave me barrels of encouragement but all I could do was blubber. A huge crowd were standing around their tents and cheered me across the line. Mark immediately took my packs and collected my water supplies for me. The rest of the guys from tent 87 mobbed round me and just couldn’t do enough to help. I felt very, very lucky to have them as mates. I dropped my stuff off at that tent and decided to make my way immediately to Doc Trotters before my feet seized. I eventually managed to get the socks off and soak the feet in disinfectant but there was no point in removing the bandages at that time. I sat outside the tent in the treatment room until my turn came. A painful little operation followed whilst a female medic removed my bandages. As she removed each one she said ‘Ooh la la‘ She then went and got a colleague who came and looked at my feet and he also said ‘Ooh la la’. I got the impression that it wasn’t great news especially when he went away and returned with a photographer who began taking photos of my poor old plates. The male Doctor spoke a little English so I asked him if it was bad. He replied to my amazement ‘No good’ and explained that there was no infection. He then put a bit of a damper on matters by asking at what checkpoint I had quit. I explained that I was still in and both medics looked at each other and said ‘Ooh la la’. At least I was beginning to master the lingo. The girl asked me if I was going to carry on, and of course all I could think of was what I had been through and that I wasn’t going to throw it away now. They then spent over and hour doing a magnificent job cutting away the sandy dead skin and putting dressings on. I went over to the email tent on the way back to the bivvy and sent a message home. Only a marathon to do tomorrow, I had done plenty of these before, and I had 12 hours to do it almost 4 times my normal time. (I had hoped that there would be a 14 hour cut off) I spent the rest of the day in the bivvy trying to eat and resting while the rest of the guys constantly cracked jokes. The organisers were now almost throwing water at us. I read the road-book and to my dismay found that it was different from a normal marathon with a lot of mention of hills, boulders, dunes, a dangerous crevice and various other nasties. (To think how much they moan about the cobbles at the Tower in the London marathon)