Seppys MDS - the whole story

Africa » Morocco » Souss-Massa-Draâ » Ouarzazate
April 9th 2008

Published: April 9th 2008

Jonathans fast time - the truth

We in the tent believe that Jonathan did not actually run the race; he studied the map book really well and then got a lift in the jeep! Shocking I know, but it is not possible for an Irish man to run that fast! (Apart from my brother stubbie who is running Boston the weekend after next!)

Team Naïve

Team Naïve were housed in Tent 63, the name came about on the first day given that we were all new to the race. It was made up of six persons, me and Jon (designated team photographer), Alice (our in house Doctor) Mark (our interpreter), James (the Hedge trimmer) and Jes (who still managed to pull the French doctor even though he smelled like a goat!).

The Tent

Jonathan’s experience of the tent was very different to mine (given that he got a lift and was back early!); his was of domestication and making his tent one of comfort and happiness (if rolling out the rugs and collecting firewood can be categorized as such). I on the other hand rocked up looking tired and pitiful, lay down on Jonathans mat until he helped me roll my own out (on some days he was not there so I did it myself). Then if I was feeling energetic, I would have a bit of a wash with some of the extra water I had ended up with and then make my dinner, after which I would fall asleep and commence my late night snoring routine. On the last night he even made me dinner as I looked particularly pitiful that night.

Honestly, it was great, Mark would talk to the Berber person and ensure that the back of the tent was closed to minimize the wind blowing through, the guys who were back early (James and Jon) would sort out the fire, collect rocks for the side of the tent to ensure that it also stayed down and roll out the mats. Interestingly - I was never so happy to see that tent each evening, it really felt like home.

Admin Day

Admin day was an exercise in patience, as they were providing the food we spend the day in queues! I was so excited to actually be there, I was nearly shaking with the excitement. That night whilst waiting for dinner we met up with the guy who came 8th last year (I think he came third or fourth this year) and he was talking about the race and he said - you run this race with your mind not your muscles. Little did I know how true this would become for me.

Day 1 -31.5km

The day started with about 14km of sand dunes, needless to say it was a bit of a culture shock, my big fear about the week was that I would start out too fast and blow up early so I had always decided that I would walk most of day 1. But it took me 4 hours to reach CP1, when there I met Alice and some of the guys from other tents but I headed on as I knew that I was really slow (I hate walking BTW, always have, why walk when you can run). There were only two checkpoints that day as it was (only) 31.6km and it was pretty much a gravel plateau from CP1 to CP2. Alice and the guys caught up with me about half way so I tried to stay with them. At CP2 I had something to eat and a wee rest then we headed off again. From 29km onwards there were dunes and I can honestly say I thought they would never end; I was walking with Jamie who was not feeling well! But they were horrible; they literally went down, up, down up etc. for 2km. I was never so glad to see the finish line.

For me, Day 1 was all about getting started, I was so exciting and scared of failing. But I managed the heat ok (although there were times in the first set of dunes when my breath was literally taken away with the heat). I though about all the people at home supporting us and how I missed my friends as I had not seen them all in an age. I would look around at the majesty of the dunes, the likes of which I had only seen in movies, and think oh my god I am actually here. In many ways, just turning up is an achievement in itself as you have to battle your mind to persuade it that this is a good idea.

When I got back to the tent, the guys had waited until we returned to make their dinner so were absolutely starving. It was also evident that James, Jon and Jes (seriously maybe it has something to do with being called names beginning with J) were really fast.

Day 2 -38km

It was starting to sink in that this was a seven day event, breakfast and sorting out our stuff was starting to become a routine. We would wake around six as the sun rose, the Berbers would come at about six thirty and lift the tent from above you. Then about seven thirty (if you were lucky) they would come and take the mats from below you. You would then collect your water ration (1.5 liter) for the morning (your breakfast would be made with the previous nights ration of 4.5ltr) and then get ready to head for the start at about half eight, for a nine start. 38km was on the menu for that day and it was hot, damn hot, 48 degrees was recorded at CP2. I had never experienced heat like it before, what had started off as a running day had slowed to a walk as the heat was so extreme. I did spend too long at CP1 and CP2 as I was trying to avoid the heat but I made it home in time for tea!

Day 3 - 40.5km

This is officially dunes day. I knew going in that I had to run this as with the time limit of 10 hours (which they extended to 11 hour and I think they did extend it to let people in even later than that) that I had to make good time as the dunes would eat away my time. So I ran until I hit the first set on dunes - climbed the dunes and then ran again when I was back on solid (ish) ground. It was a really great day. I came in under the time limit and I felt great, like a real runner (please see oxford dictionary definition) as I was crossing the dunes, I thought this is what life should feel like, challenging and satisfying at the same time. It felt superb. I never thought that I would feel that good during the race. That night when I took my shoes off, I went to Doc Trotters as I had done something to my baby toe (I had a blister which went all around my toe - even under the nail), the pain of getting them to look at it was immense but they did a great job of patching me up so that I could be ready for the next day.

Day 4/5 - 75.5km

I had it sussed! I would run the long day (as I had been training for it) and finish before the proper night time. The 2nd half of the course was relatively flat (after CP4) so I could make time there. I felt great starting, I was completely psyched up for the day. I knew I could do it. One foot in front of the other! So we were off, I ran to the big jebel with Alice and RAF John and we split up as we climbed. The climb itself was seriously stressful as there was a line of people coming up the mountain behind you so no stopping! I also was starting to feel a little bit unwell but I hugged the mountain (literally at some points) and made it to the top. At the top I sat down - I thought it was the stress of the climb (as it was really scary) that was making me feel sick but in retrospect I had caught a tummy bug. I got sick and felt a little better, but I knew I had to get off the mountain so I started down but about halfway disaster struck, I was experiencing a tingling sensation in my hands and feet and thought I was going to pass out, so I sat down. A few people passed me and asked was I ok but all I could say was “I don’t want to drop out of the race” then an American guy came (he was from San Francisco) and asked was I ok, I promptly got sick everywhere (my IPOD will never be the same) and felt better again. He gave me wet wipes to clean myself up (which given the limited supply was really good of him) and stayed with me until I got off the mountain as I was still a bit dazy day. We then had to cross some dunes to get to CP1 where the doctors took one look at me and made me go and lie down. I was sick a few more times at the doctor’s tent and they gave me some anti nausea medication. After about two hours they said if I could eat something and keep it down I could continue on. I was delighted as the doctors can pull you from the race for medical reasons. But as I had been sick and now had no water left in my body they said I could not run, I had to walk until CP3 (interestingly they radioed ahead and I was stopped at every CP and looked at by the doctors). So my game plan for the day was shot to hell but I had to get to CP4 by 1.15 the next morning, so that became my aim. I concentrated on ensuring I drank loads of water and was very relieved when I started to sweat again (which took about an hour) as I knew that my water levels were increasing. The doctors at CP2 gave me a tablet to help reline my stomach and some more anti nausea meds which really helped and I made it to CP3 by about 6.30ish. At this stage my knee was really sore, I had come down a Jebel pretty fast between CP2 and CP3 and thought I had twisted it. So the doctors looked at it and strapped it up to give me additional support.

I put on my head torch as it was getting dark and started out from CP3 to CP4, this was probably the one point at which I really experienced true fear. We climbed a sandy Jebel and at the top turned left and crossed the summit before descending. Why so scared? I did it in the dark. I climbed the Jebel, absolutely petrified that I would slip (especially as my left knee would not support me properly) and then when I crossed what seemed like miles of sand dunes at the top with a sheer drop on the left (so deep I could not see the bottom with the light from my head torch). It was an exercise in fear. They were using a green laser to guide us to the next CP but I was following the footsteps of the people who had gone before me on the ground. I kept on saying to myself - you are seppy and you never fail at anything you do, so c’mon seppy. By the time I got to CP4 (at about ten at night) I was in agony - my feet were sore and my left knee was twice the size of my right (even with the anti inflammatory) and the strapping had come loose of my knee. The doctors took one look at my knee and started discussing pulling from the race, I was a mess. I sat in the doctor’s tent and cried. They looked at my knee and re-strapped it but the doctor there would not let me continue as my knee would not bend (or straighten properly). We agreed that I would sleep for a few hours and then come back and they would look at it again. I went to the sleeping tents and had a protein bar and a rego shake to try and get some food into me (even though I was still feeling kinda sick) and some more anti nausea pills and lay down. I think I was in shock as I was shaking with the cold and it was not that cold. It took me a good half an hour to warm up. But I did manage to get a couple of hours sleep. I woke at 2am and looked at my knee- I had a bit more movement in it, so I headed off to the doctors and talked to the doctor. I think it was the fact that I had regained my emotional balance which helped as after much discussion he eventually decided to let me continue. I packed up my sleeping bag and headed off. Bear in mind it was 2am and pitch black, but it was a flat run - I was never so glad to have walking poles though as I could put the weight of my left leg on them. There were no people in front of me and I could see none behind me. It was very lonely. I sang along to the music in my IPOD to pass the time but I kept worrying about snakes and scorpions and even other people. I was imagining that I was seeing things for example I thought I saw a white house when in reality it was a sand dune. Not sure if it was the pain meds or just paranoia. The journey from CP4 to CP5 seemed to go on forever, you could see the lights of CP5 from CP4 but it never got any closer.

I had decided that when I got to CP5 I would read the letters from Maria and Helen as I really did not want to go on, I was cold, tired and in so much pain - even with the pain meds, and I knew that I could not take any more until eight am. I arrived at CP5 just before the sun rose, so I sat on the ground and read the letters as the sun rose, tears were rolling down my face as I read them, they said just what I needed to hear and by being told I was strong, I felt stronger. So I picked myself up again and continued on. About halfway between CP5 and CP6 my knee fully seized, I could not bend it at all and when I got to CP6 the doctor at the checkpoint made me get it relooked at but I only had under 8km to go so I said I would go directly to the doctors at the Bivouac when I arrived but it took me over two and a half hours to walk 7.8km - I felt like I was on crutches again. The sun had started to come up and I was getting really hot - the tiredness and pain was conspiring against me to such an extent that my body was not cooling itself properly. I kept going saying c’mon seppy, c’mon seppy (people around me thought I had lost it). My mother had written on a card “holding your hand, loving you when you need it and when you don’t” and I took it out of my front pack and looked at it and I really felt like she was there giving me strength to continue. I also knew Jonathan was going to be back in the campsite waiting for me. One step in front of the other. At this stage the doctors are driving by me every few minutes in the jeep to check on me as I am going at snail pace but I just kept going. Every step I made, I felt like I had to draw on everything in myself to make it but eventually I could see the finish in the distance and I crawled the last two km to get there. I was so happy to finish I knew that I could sleep and eat and hopefully feel better.

It had taken me over 25 hours to get there, it had seemed like longer to me.

That day I went to the doctors and they looked at my feet, I had two infected blisters, my baby toe and my instep of my right foot but they cleaned then and re-bandaged then (after taking a knife to the infected bits and cutting them off) and looked at my knee. I think the fact that I had finished the long day made them hesitant to pull me from the race, so they agreed that if I went to the docs at each CP that I could do the next day. I was delighted.

The rest day was spent resting, I also had smash, which was my food reward for getting through the long day.

Day 6 - 42.2km only a marathon

Honestly I don’t remember much of this day, Alice and Mark stayed with me until CP2 which was great as there were a couple of Jebels to climb up and down (or fall up and down as I did) I have cuts on my legs where I fell as my left knee still would not hold my weight. I would not have made it through without them for two reasons, firstly they gave me something to concentrate on which was not myself and secondly there was a cut off at CP3 of nine hours and given my snail pace they really pushed me to keep up with them which meant I had no deadline issues (and I met a guy at the doctors that night who did not make it because of the CP3 cut off). My overwhelming memory of that day is pain. I knew it was hot (about 47 degrees) so I made sure to keep drinking the water but the pain overruled everything else. By the time I made it to 39km it was starting to get dark and I was worried that if I stopped to get my head torch out that I would not start again so I decided to run (actually it resembled a beetle scuttle as I could not bend my left knee) the last few km. I just wanted to be finished. For me that was the point when I knew that if I made it - I would finish the whole thing. When I am running I dream of things I would like to happen, when I was running I thought I would love if Jonathan was there at the finish but I never really expected it (given that he had better things to do and no one knew when I would get in) but he was. By the time I finished I was about to break out in floods of tears but had held it together, when I saw him I just couldn’t hold it together anymore and started sobbing (he even has video evidence!) but after a big hug and an offer to carry my bag to the tent I pulled myself together again, collected my water and headed back to the tent and then the most surreal thing happened, I heard music, I knew there would be a concert but there was a full orchestra and operatic singer there. So under the stars with my boy in the Sahara I listened to Beethoven. It was amazing.

I went to the doctors where they redressed my feet and looked at my new blisters and then when I went back to the tent Jonathan had made dinner for me, something which I actually was planning to skip as I was too tired to cook (but Jon did not know that so I was doubly grateful), also the pain had robbed me of any appetite so I was eating to ensure energy levels. I was so happy that there was only 17.5 km the next day.

Day 7 - 17.5km

I just wanted the pain to end, I wanted it to be over so I moved as quickly as I could (my beetle shuffle) until we reached the finish line, by the time I reached the finish line I was in floods of tears, I had taken a pain killer that morning but they did not seem to be working so I was in agony. I could hardly stand and I staggered across the finish line (after grabbing the Ireland flag from Jonathan). I had done it; I had completed the marathon Des Sables. (Slowly but hey who cares). I proceeded to cry all over Patrick Bauer the race organizer and then over all my tent mates and Jonathan. Then we were off to get the bus. I was never so happy to have a cold shower (all the hot water was already used) in my whole entire life.

Would I ever do the MDS again? - Probably not, given the damage to my feet and knees, I think I would find it hard to do it again.

Do I regret doing it? Not for a second - I definitely rate it as one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

Seppys MDS - the whole story

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