Run the Marathon des Sables in the Sahara

“I felt strong and happy out on course during this stage. I found I couldn't consume all the race snacks I had but apart from that it was really plain sailing which made me think that MDS was gaslighting us with a gentle intro and things were going to get MUCH harder. Unfortunately after I returned to camp I didn't feel so good. I'm assuming a combo of the heat plus the bug I had kicking off again. The heat in the tent was stifling so I spent hours crawling round camp trying to find cool places to lie and try to get my nausea and sickness under control. I lay on a flattened cardboard box beside the water tent repeatedly vomiting then covering it with sand. Had to ask a lady to move so I didn't puke on her shoes.”

“That’s not to say it doesn’t have its upsides, starting each morning with close flybys and ‘Highway to Hell’ blasting out across the sand looks awesome on video…in person it’s spine tingling. But of course that’s only the first part of the first leg of each of the six mornings. Thereafter you have to haul yourself, and your supplies, across all ~250km of desert while carefully conserving your water and indeed your strength. In the heat of the desert those two go hand in hand. I got close to getting in trouble on Day 2, and it was entirely my own fault and avoidable. I let the fun get the better of me – I felt pretty fresh early on, so pushed on…which was great fun but way beyond what I had prepared for. [...] And I drank too much of my water early on, so I got to the end of the 3rd leg on the vapours in my water bottles, I owe my friend Matt thanks for sticking with me through that section. I felt terrible, but luckily it didn’t set me back too much.”

“Race day, 6am. The sun was up and the tent was down. Multiple checks were made to ensure all the kit was in the right place. Breakfast didn't sit well, nerves were palpable. As the sun rose, temperatures did too. The adrenalin and excitement took over. A thousand runners from all over the globe gathered at the start, rubbing shoulders with elite athletes who were roughing it just like the rest of us. After a long welcome speech by the race organiser Patrick Bauer, and an adequate effort by his translator, the helicopters took off and the countdown began. Final glances and handshakes were made, and before we knew it, we were off. The overweight backpack felt every bit of its 12kg, but as the chopper buzzed the runners, it was impossible not to fall in love with the event.”