Namibia: In the Footsteps of Bushmen

Chapter 01 · 2009-05-15

Prelude – The Trek to the Trek

“RACINGTHEPLANET is a unique category of rough country footraces that take place over seven days and some 250 kilometers in remote and culturally rich locations around the world. Competitors must carry all their own equipment and food, are only provided with water and a place in a tent each day.”

Prelude – The Trek to the Trek

International travel can be difficult, but it is always better when you travel with friends. Teddy was there to share in the anticipation and the excitement. And when that wore off, in the napping. Though we traveled in class (coach class), Teddy had his own seat and he was eager to try on the seatbelt for size. (If you want to know more about Teddy, visit his site at www.teddytracks.com or help Teddy's support the PeterPan Foundation by purchasing a book at http://www.exilepress.com/2009/06/12/teddy’s-day/)

We arrived safely in Hong Kong, transferred for the long haul to Johannesburg and finally landed in the cool morning breeze of the Namibian capital, Windhoek! Woo Hoo! Teddy even managed to make some friends along the way.

​

The typical tired-eyed checkin shuffle followed, and with equipment check out of the way.We were ready to eat and hit the trail, though I secretly hoped that Teddy would eat light so I’d have a bit less weight to carry on the 250km trail ahead.

Chapter 02 · 2009-05-16

Day 0 – Bus to Fish River Canyon

Camp 1 on the cliffs

Rising at 4:30 to get breakfast before the 6 am sharp departure to Fish River Canyon, Teddy and I stuffed ourselves with as much honey, sweet breakfast and other snacks as we could before the 9-hour bus ride into the unknown of the oldest desert in the world. We boarded the bus by tents so I was able to meet our tent mates and those around us. It seems nearly everybody on the race is in the insurance business and though they are from England, Ireland, Australia, etc. most are based in Hong Kong.

The conversation flowed as few people could sleep in the excitement and anticipation of the upcoming trials. Many of us packing and repacking our bags in the early morning, worried about food to weight ratios and gear – do I really need that? In the end, I removed a combination of gels, breakfast bars, soups and my polar fleece (I learned to regret that last one the first night.)

So between the 250-person roadside pee breaks in the tall grass (with snakes lingering nearby), we ate our breakfasts and shared our stories. By 10 am we were hungry again and I was falling into old habits – torturing those in earshot with riddles (There’s a man dead in a box, and next to him is a box… why?), which occupied us for the hours to come.

After an attempt at a rest, I lost my sunglasses and searched for them in vain. At one point in my worries, Matt offered to loan me his extra pair out of his luggage stowed below the bus. I used the opportunity to ditch my extra gear. Finally, someone found them in the toilet – they must have been kicked there in someone’s shuffle to relief. The situation resolved; we concentrated on keeping our stomachs intact as the long road turned to dirt and rock.

We arrived at camp just before four in the afternoon, found our tents and explored the camp. The reunion of past competitors ensued at the picture perfect canyon edge with photo ops and hugs galore.

The canyon seemed inviting, the river roving through its curvy depths in the silence below. Above on the brink, the wind began to pick up, cooling and then cold. The toilets presented photo ops of their own with feet baring all beneath green tarp curtained one man shows as we attempted to understand the dynamic of 275 people to 4 box stops.

A hand-sized scorpion strutted though camp, unaffected by the horde of picture-takers surrounding it. Then at the other side of camp, a Caine Cobra slid in for a visit, then a second snake of a different sort (A Horned Adder I believe) decided to pop in. Will they come in for the warmth in the tent? Well, with 214 competitors and some 50 staff, hopefully, the odds are against it being inmy sleeping bag. Better check to be sure.

The dark coming early and our bellies aching from having ate our box lunches too early, we sat by the fires and pined for the banquet to come… waiting with a growl, in our mind as much as our bellies. Finally, the food arrived as the wind whipped through to our bones. Tired and cold, we gorged ourselves quickly, and entered the rock-floored tents to sleep as early as possible, all our thoughts on tomorrow.Namibia Day 0 Canyon Ridge

The letter for today is A for Anticipation 
Peter Teddy, are you ready? Are you ready to roll?
Teddy Absolutely! The anticipation is killing me.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Fear factor - 4 
Anticipation level - 9

Chapter 03 · 2009-05-16

Day 1 - Fish River Canyon

AKA “Dangerous Descents and Dastardly Dryness” 39 km

Tired from the long night’s lack of sleep (due to a chorus of voices dark and dismal in a cacophony of sound emanating from at least three of my tent mates, none in any sort of rhythm that we could get used to), I rose early, drank my ginseng and ate my oatmeal. A local Khaosan tribe came out in colorful garb to bless our exodus into the desert with a couple of holy ritual dances and beautiful song​​​​​​​​​​​​​s​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

, Song 2

The day started off with an awkward jog along the canyon rim to the first checkpoint (Teddy twined on to the back of the pack) - I’d not trained at all with a pack for this race, and added new equipment so the pack bounced heavily on my back (especially with a bear in tow) and quickly tired my legs. A quick stop at the checkpoint to take off my extra layer of clothes in the brimming sweat preceded an orderly plunge into the Fish River Canyon.

Namibia Day 1 Down the canyon

We single-filed the precarious edges hanging in the balance of our desire to get down and the desires of gravity on the slip-slidey loose-rocked shale edges. The canyon splayed out below us, its river snaking in and out of sight in a rocky display of tans banked with varying terrain. Teddy made me stop for a stretch in the sand and a drink from the river (oh, would that I had followed suit and filled my water bottles!).

Once entered, it was an easy run/walk along the riverside dodging back and forth along muddy banks and stretches of sand, then crisp rock formations. The first river crossing was calf deep and quick. Just plogged through with shoes and gators intact - they dried surprisingly well, though it may have contributed to the first couple of blisters. The going was slow overall, and the next crossing uneventful, but the third triggered a slip. Luckily, I caught the fall and only my arms got wet. The brief submergence was cool and welcome in the heat of the stillish air.

Soon, we turned away from the river and began working our way up and out of the canyon - a course that would take many, including me, much more time and effort than anticipated and leave us dry and desperate for a mouth-watering checkpoint. Each step of the course had to be chosen carefully for the rocks waivered beneath our feet. Then, we had to navigate a huge, deep pool of still water, climb a ladder and traverse a rope before continuing this endless ascent. I was soon out of water and began the dehydration climb in earnest. The course was an ankle twisting knee wrenching, blister forming and rather frustrating dry-mouthed excursion that seemed to last eons.

When Teddy and I stopped to look around, however, the views were breathtaking. The hours passed and we came to the final slip-rocked ascent out of the canyon. Some 5 hours in, we arrived at the second checkpoint and began to rehydrate slowly, realizing that we still had a 20 km rocky stumble to the finish of the day.

The one and a half hours without liquid was to take its toll, resulting in cramps and other odd bodily quarks. I forced myself to run here and there, but smashed toes and ankle twists on the sharp, loose rock littering the ground would teach me lesson after lesson. I slowed though stage three and when the somewhat less rocky road and stark incline of stage four presented itself I forced an intermittent run. Matt and I met in the last 100 meters and crossed the finish together. We finished after nearly eight hours with aching legs (in 69th and 70th place). Got into a tent and tried to force down some recovery drink and dinner. The dehydration made that difficult, but I was able to keep it down and get some rest.

My mood overall was great in the canyon until dehydration started to take it’s toll. I powered into the finish, but felt that the course was entirely too difficult for the first day. I worried about the other competitors still in the canyon and how they’d get through the rocky mess in the dark. Apparently, two competitors never made it out of the canyon and had to sleep there out in the elements with a couple of sweepers. Then, we heard that a Japanese competitor had never shown up! Lost in the dark, he had finally given up and went to sleep in the open a few kilometers from camp (the search crew didn’t find him until the next day). On top of that, some 10 competitors had already given up along the course and several people didn’t make it in until midnight! Has Bishop lost his mind?!

The rest of us huddled around the fire for the most part of the evening waiting for news of friends still on the course and waited for tents to go up as one of the support trucks had snapped an axel.

The letter for today is “S” for stumbling block. 
PeterTeddy, can you use “stumbling block” in a sentence? 
TeddyThe first day of the race was to become a stumbling block for many of the competitors.

Snore factor – 8.5 
Difficulty level - 8

Chapter 04 · 2009-05-18

Day 2 - Leopard and Cheetahs

AKA “Dung Beetles and Prehistoric Grasshoppers” 40.8 km

I had high hopes for today, heard it was forecast to be "moderate" across the board but the reality was far from it. YouTube - At the start The day began cold and windy so we started off with warmer clothes. In the beginning excitement, I tried to race off, but found my shoes untying themselves in a unilateral effort to slow my progress. Shortly after the start, a couple of hundred meters in, a tall German fellow pointed to the ground with his walking pole as we raced by shouting Puff Adder. The crowd was flooding past on either side as it bared its fangs and coiled in fear in the shade of a bush - the runners continued on in haste, ignoring the wild presence. My struggle with the shoes continued... Finally, I gave in and double knotted them as the peloton of competitors passed me. The blisters of yesterday wielded their ugly heads at every rock that found its way under my searching feet. Teddy rode quietly on the back of my pack as I struggled to see the point of this tripping path.

The troubles multiplied as my energy and mood waned. Sore muscles refused to run and stubbed toes sent messages to my brain that I cannot mention here. I think that my glycogen levels hit a low as I arrived at checkpoint one. I stumbled along and people continued to pass me. My strongish start quickly lost as the horde of competitors took advantage of the cool air and easier course. The mad rush was on. YouTube - Rocks and the "Electrolyte" song

I had to stop and change out of my running tights in the second section, as they were chafing in unpleasant paces. I stood on the side of the path (after searching the area for any awaiting snakes and scorpions – and set Teddy about the bearish deed of lookout), de-shoed, dropped tights, put on my shorts and continued, staring relentlessly at the ground, unable to look around for giraffes and such. I had to watch for "safe" foot positions – the concentration required to do so, combined with the unnatural head position would result in a stress headache and a sort of mental weariness that would take its toll on the physical as well. In the process, however, I noticed dung beetles and some odd-looking prehistoric/alien grasshoppers, which made Teddy squeal with delight at the very sight of them.

By the end of the second stage my dogs were barking enough to wake the neighbors (and this being a desert – they were far away). I had fallen back into 92nd position; I resolved to improve and as the third stage revealed some sand and a few flats, I made use of my experience in the Sahara sands and seized on the opportunity to run. Digging down, I managed to improve my position, passing one weary traveler after another.

A steep sand dune seemed to slow many competitors, but with Teddy’s encouragement, I strode up without a hesitation along the way. Then along a high rock field of black (obsidian?) volcanic rock with sudden outcrops that tempted to trip up my progress. The ball of my foot badly bruised from the previous day’s stumble, every missed step would send shudders of pain up my leg. The other foot arched with a silver dollar-sized blister and a toe already turning black, it was a sure thing that every third step would twang with some new desert joy.

The last stage started with a steep and somewhat dangerous rocky descent into a valley that spread out before us, beckoning to weary legs.

At one point, I even heard Teddy shout “Woo Hoo!” as we reached the last hill, YouTube - The last climb climbing fast to see the camp lying in the valley below. There were people on my tail, but none would pass. In the last 100 meters, I caught up with Ricky and another competitor, but felt it was bad form to try to sprint past – just a stage event. So I followed on his heels as we jogged under the banner.

I finally finished in 61st position after about 6 hours and 46 minutes (passing 31 people in the last two stages) - another long and sore day!

The letter for today is G for Glycogen - or the severe lack of it. 
PeterTeddy, can you use “glycogen” in a sentence? 
TeddyGlycogen, Glycogen, where is my Glycogen? OH, there you are! 
PeterSorry, guys, Teddy just slipped into a sugar coma.

Difficulty level - 5 
Frustration (with rocks) factor- 9

I have been careful to drink all the water given to me to avoid dehydration, kept up with regular electrolytes and fed myself exceedingly well (as my 12 kg pack can attest to), yet I am having intense cramps at night – in my hands, my abdomen, the side of my ankles, etc. – not at all where you’d expect. The docs say it is due to low salt or potassium or to dehydration, but I can’t see how that’s possible. Hope it is better tomorrow.

Fatigued of foot and weary of the heat, I still feel good, strong enough for another day anyway. Tonight, I stayed out talking with other competitors and watched the stars – the millions of stars staring down, bright and full of promise…

Chapter 05 · 2009-05-18

Day 3 – Huns Mountains

The letter for today, kids, is R for “rolling rock” – yeah, I know it’s a beer, so what!

Today began with a backpack sprint. The crowd surged forward with purpose, and me with it, pack bouncing along happily. Unlike the previous two days, it started without wind, the heat quickly rising. The path for the first stage was (for once) runable and we took advantage of its flow, the Hun Mountains in the distance. Though I struggled with the speed, I was determined to stay in a good place. Starting out as the “Easy Day” it soon turned out to be “Too hot, Too fast,” with sweat pouring down my brow, so much so that I could not wear my sunglasses.

The first stage done, I rambled in – in 64th position, filled my water bottles and headed into the rolling rocks. Nearly 10 km of unbelievable terrain! At first, we had to dodge between the rocks to find little crevices to place our feet; however, soon that would become impossible with no ground to be seen, so we had to bounce from rock to rock, as they rolled from under our feet. YouTube - Rock field "live and let die"

Still, I managed to make up time and as we crested one final hill, we came down onto a gravelly road, allowing a run again. I followed the run into checkpoint two with a light feeling, well hydrated and ready for the last 15 km of the day, I left in 52nd place and dove down the road – sure that I’d make up even more.

There was a sharp turn onto a riverbed that was not well marked so Eberhart and I wasted some time going in the wrong direction, then returning to the scene of the crime to search around with others that had now bridged the gap for the next pink flag to appear. The course found; we started off in the right direction along a dry riverbed of deep sand. I tripped over a wire fence down in the sand but came out scrape free. Energy waning from the heat of the day, I found it hard to keep up with the others around me as we passed a lone farmhouse.

Three local boys sat in a tree to watch the crazy people run by, and we stopped to take a picture of them before following a gravelly dirt road. We followed a fence, dodging between cactus plants and then turned through the gate down a better road. By this time I had little left and could not run to save myself (or my position in the day). Eventually, I arrived at the third checkpoint in 56th and started off without a break, as people swarmed in behind me. (I really should have stopped for a while, as I was soon to see.)

The somewhat sandy flats of the wide riverbed wound around and I found that I had no energy left in my reserves, not for running or walking or even standing upright – I was utterly sapped. Trudging along, I began feeling worse and worse, cursing that this was the “easy day” and my inability to cope with the onslaught of the heat (which was at least 43C).

My condition continually worsening, I stared feeling ill. I found it hard to sip the water and started feeling dizzy. As more and more people passed me, I began to feel defeated, questioning the value of sitting in the heat and blowing a whistle, but realizing that help would not come for some time… my earlier desire to finish well quickly diluted to just finishing without having to lay down and wait – which still wouldn’t get me to the tents any faster.

I pressed forward in a relatively straight stumble (like a drunken man trying to get to his front door). Feeling the onslaught of heat exhaustion and just short of heat stroke, my mood tumbled… “How will I be able to get through 100 km tomorrow, when an easy 35 is taking such a toll on me.

When I finally stumbled sideways across the finish for the day, I had become so overheated and emotional that I sat and put my face in my hands. The doc helped me to the medical tent and helped me recover (thanks doc). I still feel a bit ill, but I can keep water down now and a brief dip in the icy river nearby finally cooled me enough to feel normal again. There were some leopard prints around the remains of a zebra that had recently been torn limb to limb along this last stage, but I missed them in my daze. And other than that, most of the wildlife gets scared away by the 70 or so runners in front of me. Guess I’ll have to run faster to see anything.

I can’t believe this “easy” 35 km took me nearly 6 hours! How can I call myself a runner?!

Do you remember today’s letter, kids, it’s R – rrrrrrrrrr. 
PeterTeddy, do you know any words that begin with R? 
TeddyAround the rolling rocks the rugged desert runners ran! 
PeterSay that five times in a row. And roll your R’s kids.

Heat factor – 8.5 
Difficulty level – 7

Tomorrow, we have to get up at 2 am and have breakfast?! Then we have to be on the busses by 3:30 am to transfer the 4 hours to the start of the long day. Are they freaking kidding, no rest then a long uncomfortable bus, then get out and – oh, run a 100 km or something?! Also, their race briefing says that the course is all Moderate, with each and every stage exactly 10 km, and a little sand at the beginning – this sounds decidedly too easy – what about the details??? Or will it be some sort of sadistic joke?

Hope I have the energy for tomorrow…

Chapter 06 · 2009-05-19

Day 4~5 – In the Footsteps of Bushmen

AKA “Lacking humor and without rest” 100++km

The fever of the previous day was strong enough to overpower the ibuprofen and even the sleeping pill to keep me awake through the night. Then the bus ride was so icy cold that I had to put on all my clothes, and even get out my emergency blanket to block the freezing forced air out pouring out of the vents directly above me. I eventually got about an hour’s sleep before the buses turned down the dirt road to our start-point.

To sum up – no sleep, blisters, black toes, bone bruises and three rocky days of marathons behind me, now, I must begin the 100 km trudge through the oldest desert in the world on murderous paths that haven’t seen a human in more than 20 years. YouTube - A not so fresh start

Stage 1 & 2 – “Grin and Bear it” 1-20 km

Despite the lack of rest for all of the competitors, stuck on a bus since the early morning hours (rising at 2:30~3 AM and getting on the bus out of the Fish River Canyon), the anticipation overpowered the aching limbs and fatigued minds. We stood around psyching each other up for the Bushmen Trek; hard looks met smiles and softened for a moment, and all just tried to shake off the strain of the past three days.

From the road we took off uphill, and the sand immediately met us with opposition. The briefing had left me thinking that the sand would be minimal today, so I left my desert gators in the pack. I’d re-evaluate soon, but in the meantime, I’d better press on. I met Rob and kept up with him for a bit, passing then slowing as his steady poled pace kept him strong. Much of the rest is a blur as I just followed in footsteps. Over the top of one particularly gruesome climb, we had to plummet down a deep sand hill in a sort of slow motion ski hill descent. The result of which was shoes full of sand for everyone. I stopped to empty some sand, as it was enough to cramp my toes in a curl. Most of the others did as well. Then, finally, I put on my gators.

The course dove down a long valley that stretched ahead until as the leaders turned into ants and then faded into dots, which seemed to pop out of reality before the next grand mountain ascent far away. And, man, was it getting hot already. OK, I’ll ignore it and press on.

Rolled into checkpoint one, filled waters and took off. No time to waste. Hardly remember it, then on with the same to checkpoint two. The distances were unbelievable, sand everywhere with sparse vegetation, and mountains unable to loom in their impressiveness because of the deep valleys separating them from the reality of the moment. My fever seemed to be remounting its offensive from the previous night so I kept my nose down, kept hydrated and took my time.

Stage 3 – “Beat the heat” 20-30 km

Thank god for anti-inflammatory cream. The “good” knee has started to ache incredibly, maybe from one of those loose down hills. At the second checkpoint a couple of competitors were already throwing in the towel with dehydration. (I secretly envied them for the pain they would save themselves to come.)

Then I caught up with Ed Buttery, his good spirits and buttery personality kept us on an even keel for the next stage. Smooth sailing and good conversation… we shared stories and started to notice the beauty around us, the sky was beautiful with welcome cloud formations, and the sand seemed to part for us as others had already made steps up the more difficult ascents. The day improved with poetry shared as we crossed one great flat arid savanna after another with wisps of grass sprouting hither thither through the sand.
YouTube - Dark and Deep

Stopping by a desert plain on a windswept afternoon
Whose desert is this, I think I know
It was formed some millennia ago 

No bushmen will see me here 

To summit its sandy hilltops though 

My weary feet must think it queer 

To stop without a township near

Between the dunes and rocky break 

The hottest afternoon of the year

They give my brain a frightful ache 

To ask if there is some mistake 

The only other sound’s the sweep 

Of whipping wing and slithering snake 

The desert is lovely, dark and deep 

But I have promises to keep 

And miles to go before I sleep 

And miles to go before I sleep

We reached the third checkpoint of the day (40 km in) and I took some time to rest, medicate, dump sand and rehydrate. When I looked up, Ed had fled in a moment of energy, bursting forth. I needed the rest, so I took time to empty my shoes and snack a bit.

Stage 4 – “You know me!? Do I look like me?” 30-40 km

The next 10 km were uneventful in a beeline of dusty trails from pink flag to pink flag, listening to music for some inspiration. Step by step – I had to take it just the 10 km, no more on the mind than a moment of welcome breeze or a clouded break from the scorching heat. Where is that banner?

I had arrived at another checkpoint, still humorless at my predicament, stopping for a bit of relief from the heat and my aching body, when I saw Rob lying on the doc’s mat looking haggard and sounding harried. The doc had pulled him out of the race.

He called me over to him and said, “You know me!? Do I look like me?” — Though I should have said something fun and quippy to cheer him up (like a long pause then “I’m sorry, who are you?”) I mumbled something like you look tired but you’ll be ok. Sorry Rob, humor has failed me in my feverish trudge today. The doc also made me sit there for a while as she remembered me from my faltering stumble of heat exhaustion the previous day. “I’m great.” I said (and tried to make it sound real), as I munched on my crumbly bag of Pringles (probably one of the best foods I’d brought). Then, with her permission I was off.

Stage 5 – “The turn (in the weather)” 40-50 km

Strutting, no slogging off alone, I felt the ache in my limbs and stumbled along with blisters (at first fiery, they had dulled with the monotony of pain and were somehow forgotten for a while) now returning in full force. Every step was painful and the twinge of my left knee had become almost unbearable on the now rocky surface. I stopped to urinate for the first time today, then forced a shuddering stumble… even my hands were testing me as they had become so swollen from swinging, the heat and the pressure of the bag. The skin on my hands was taught, and the fingers were throbbing. I was miserable and nearly at the end of my rope. YouTube - Finally Philosophical

Then suddenly, the sun fell behind the mountains, the path became flat and easy and within minutes my mood and energy swung. In only a few minutes, the fever that had been plaguing me all day, had lifted, and the desert was my oyster. With a bounce in my step, I strode along, enjoying the cool breeze and the increasing fire of the sun’s descent over the mountains to the left. YouTube - Nine hours in

Sunset… Next stop, 50K!!

A sunset followed to inspire the sirens. The darkness that followed was a welcome friend, and I happily donned my headlamp and shed my once white running cap for a desert buff, and got Teddy to turn on his flashy red light necklace.

The dodgy decent

The next climb ahead, I pushed myself with steady strides. At the top, I stared down in disbelief at the perilous descent of glow sticks in the deep dark of the night. Each precarious step seeming perilous, I stepped slow, waiting for sure-footed placement. Down and down, as if into a deep canyon we arrived at the bottom with knees wobbly from the slips and slides.

Feeling certain that the checkpoint must be just below, I was, of course, disappointed and had to wander on for another 20 or 30 minutes before it was reached. At fifty km, and in the cool of night, many of us felt the respite of the heat and the mood of the stop was decidedly improved. I think it was 6:30 or so at night and I decided to eat. I found my salmon pouch and tore it open with verve. Every bite a joy to my mouth, I shared a little with Nicky and found the last bite so savory that it was delightful.

Stage 6 – “Nicky, Allie and I” 50-60 km

Nicky and Allie waited for me to get my gear on and then we took off into the night – it’s much better to travel together in the night lest one get lonely or off-course, or worse yet, bitten my some wild thing… The conversation quickly turned to the insurance game as they both know the same people and I fell silent for a while as we forged ahead, allowing their momentum to pull me along.

The miles passed slowly by and I was unaware of what surrounded me other than the ground at my feet and a few meters ahead. Nicky seemed to have strength to my weakness, and as we reached the end of the stage, I reveled in the idea of a rest and a well deserved dinner.

Stage 7 – “A Tease of Ease” 60-70 km

The cue for the hot water was long as there was only one pot on the fire for horde of hungry competitors streaming in. As I waited, I prepared a portion of recovery drink and allowed my chair to take the brunt of my weight for a while. My mood improving with every bite, I resolved to continue on with Allie. In the meantime, Nicky had made the mistake of lying down and was overtaken with the urge to sleep. We checked again and despite our encouragement, opted for the long rest. Alex, from my tent joined us and we strode off singing “Happy trails to you…”
Spirits were high as we wandered off down the easy gravel path towards the finish – or so we thought! The first few kilometers were a breeze and then we started the long ascent up a sandy plain. The ascent continued on and on and on… Allie powered ahead, I followed a little behind in disbelief as every turn led to more, higher, steeper inclines. Finally summiting in a sweat, a bit further, we finally arrived at the next checkpoint. OK – 70 km done – only 30 to go, can’t be that bad. We ask at the checkpoint and they say this should be all easy downhill from here. Oh, and we should see the view. No idea what this place looks like… can only see as far as my #$&%^*@ headlamp.

Stage 8 & 9 – “Sleep walking in the Sand” 70-90 km

It would have been much better to just quit at 60 km, who needs that bloody medal anyway?! This is insane! Of course, then the logic begins to seep in and I realize that even if I try to quit now, I’ll have no place to rest and it will be many hours before any chance of a ride into camp. Just get it over with, I tell myself, each step seeming longer and more pointless then the last. WTF! That was so not 10 $^&%$ km! I can only describe the last 30 km as one unpleasant surprise after another as an unyielding sense of anger overtook me.

My knee had begun to give in the deep sand and grass of the early eighth stage. Allie offered me one of his two walking poles and though I tried to refuse, he insisted and it made all the difference. (I’m reminded for a moment of the other Frost poem – The Road Less Traveled, but I don’t want to think of any roads, or paths or bloody sand dunes anymore.) The stretches of grass seem to stretch on forever, and I just follow in Allie’s footsteps, afraid that every patch of grass I pass holds some slithering danger. Then we start one steep dune ascent after another – the cliffs of insanity from the Princess Bride would have been far preferable. And then more, and then more! Where is the damn checkpoint?! Then down a slight decline through sand and more sand.

We reach the 80 km mark and I bonk my head on the ultra low tent poles. I nearly have a fit, and the urge to throw my pole and bag and stomp off like a child is overwhelming… then pause, take a breath and try to force a smile as I sit. Just before we leave the tent, the still warm air suddenly stirs and at 4:27 AM there is a sudden icy wind off the Atlantic coast in the distance. In the Sahara, I had already finished by this time, and I still have 20 km left?!

We add a layer or two of clothes and take off again into the night. Cool quickly turns to cold and before we freeze to death, we decide to stop, drop trou and struggle with our tights in the cold, dark wind, wobbling as our aching legs fail to support the one-legged stumbling block. We had to put on everything we had. The path beyond was insidious and insipid, the rocks had returned and every few steps, I’d let out some sort of muffled yelp as I jammed my black toe or found the perfect rock to reinvigorate the pain of my blisters below. Oh, yeah, I’d say to the boys, forgot about that thing for a while – guess it’s still there.

We were all quiet, listening to music to keep the momentum going and stumbling off to sleep every once in a while. Yeah, Allie and I had both fallen asleep and woken up still walking, only a bit off course. Luckily, we were not alone. The boys were patient as I struggled to keep up and fell behind a couple of times – stopping to rub my aching leg.

The long path turned uphill and we looked up to see another peak in our path. Stumbling up, the other two got ahead of me, and I was glad, as I had to look for a place for my first movement in nearly 24 hours; the relief was great. I also took the opportunity to take off a couple of layers as the sun had come up and the heat started to mount. I looked down and realized I’d fallen quite far behind my team. I plunged down the other side and across the plain to the final checkpoint of the day, unable to speed up to catch the others, but glad to see the last 10 km was upon us.

I hadn’t taken a single picture or video since 60 km, the darkness invading my soul – my mood dark and jaded. This had officially become ridiculous…

Stage 10 – “Utterly Ridiculous” 90-100 km

Friends indeed, Alex decided to wait for me as Allie strode ahead with another friend, promising to wait and cross the finish line with us. By that time, Jason (another HK person) had caught up and started off with us at first, but soon slowed and Alex and I plodded down into “Paradise Valley” feeling utterly wasted, but forcing ourselves to continue as the heat had already started to become difficult.

Around a monumental range, we kept thinking it must be around the next turn. Then we saw a steep hill in the distance, a jeep sped past us and stopped half way up the hill to turn. That MUST be the camp we thought. No! Then we staggered up the hill, each step painful and plodding. Sure they’d hidden the camp just over the hill. At the top, the flags trailed off to the left. Oh, it must be just below in the valley. NO?! Dammit!

Though the views were vast and breathtaking, they did little to inspire as we slogged along through the sand – though we did give Teddy a quick photo shoot. Then much further on – what seemed like miles – a trekker appeared in the distance going the WRONG WAY! What now? As she got closer, we realized it was Simone Bishop, and her cheery disposition just inflamed my irritation. “Just wanted to make sure everyone is Happy,” she said, then “The camp is just over there…” “Errrr…” I growled back. (Sorry Simone)

As it turned out, it was still far away! We arrived at the finish of the stage to little fanfare, barely a cheer halfhearted from the tired volunteers – not their fault – and absolutely no sense of accomplishment, only a bitter taste of excess in my mouth, I carried on to my tent feeling a great sense of anticlimax.

The rest

The sun high in the sky, the heat mounting, I managed a makeshift shower with one of my water bottles, brushed my teeth and let the sunshine warm my mood. Though all these things helped immensely with my state of mind, I suppose the turning point was the cheeriness of my tent mates. Haven taken the edge off, I wandered over to the medical tent in search of some good drugs for my swollen and aching knees and ankles, while Teddy relaxed in the shade.

Today was brought to you by the letter D. D stands for Despair and Dehydration. 
PeterTeddy, can you say dehydration. 
Teddy Oh, my mouth is dry and my tongue is dry and my lips are dry and everything is dry, dry, dry, dry.

Day factor – heat – 9 // Night Factor – sleep walking – ZZ 
Difficulty level – Moderate my ass! 8.5 
Sunset – 9.5

Chapter 07 · 2009-05-21

Day 6 – Out of Africa

AKA “Sand Dunes looming” 20.7 km
I woke to a chorus of Happy Birthday from my tent mates – thanks guys. And so I started my 40’s. Thanks guys!

Having planned to quit the day before due to a serious lack of humor about the difficulty of the course an inflamed ACL, and an over-taut IT band, I re-evaluated my position when the powers that be decided to reduce the sand dune distance to 20.7 km instead of the proposed 33. Yet the pain in my knee would not let me consider the task without the additional boon of Irish Joe loaning me his walking sticks for the undertaking.

My philosophy was to beat the dunes at their own game, to outdo their obstinacy, to beset them with the challenge of stopping me, to flaunt my power over them. I would be slow and steady, but I would overcome. If the dune seemed steep and unyielding, I would be more so in my assault of it. I would outmaneuver the falling sand and step over grain by grain till the top. If they rolled down over me, I’d let them fall as they may, but as my leg lifted higher, I’d lay into them with great authority. I would overcome the pain, the height, the heat and… if a snake bit, I’d bite back! I was going to be relentless.

The day began with a long slow unremitting uphill climb in the sand. I started with what I had considered a strong and steady pace, with a “no stopping” line of attack on the relentless climbs. Apparently, however, others were to do it better, stronger and faster. More and more people passed me, and I was content to encourage them as they did. My will was bent on finishing, but finishing slow, without further strain on my knee.

The grass, ankle biting and angular, challenged my assumptions rooted in the more stable ground below their reaching barbs, so I went back and forth from deep sand to rooted scraping. I settled into a nice pace with Ed Buttery at my side and we climbed and plummeted in dune after dune until we reached the second checkpoint. We had a long break there as I de-shoed and decompressed. Teddy and I had a long drink of water, then as Ed had decided to wait for his sister, I pressed on with Dina and Eberhart. Most of the day could be described as walking up an escalator the wrong way as we slipped and clawed our way up steep inclines that seemed to push against us.

I dropped my bag and water and headed to the ocean for a dip and a wash. I stood at the water’s edge and yanked my sock off only to realize too late that the tape covering my blister had adhered to my sock. I tore the skin that had formed underneath off leaving an open bleed. Well, into the water anyway, the freeze will do my aching muscles good and the saltwater should be good for my wound anyway. The doc will have to fix it later.

The hobble back into camp was slow and the sand quickly embedded itself under the skin. A kind nurse from Texas treated it, using a safety pin to work bits of sand out from underneath. That done. I returned to the respite of my tent and the camaraderie of my mates there. They’d prepared a cookie and tea present in observance of my day – You’re the best guys!!

When I finally ventured out again, I met with Kah Shin who’d brought along celebratory cigars, including one for my b-day present. Not being a smoker but having tried cigars a few times in my life, I took my cigar and puffed happily away from it. And though I feared that the sudden rush of nicotine might make me ill, it’s effects were quite nice, mellowing the pain from my leg and allowing me to take a walk down the Skeleton Coast to a shipwreck nearly a mile away! OK, I started to feel it again on the way back, but it was worth the view

Then for the lasagna that I’d been saving all week and a bit of Lydia’s leftover chilly – wow, what a meal, I ate my way though everything left in the pack. In the joy of the day, I went too late to write in my blog and then just hung around with some American couple, Nicky and a couple others testing them with riddles and chatting about things other than the race. I went to bed late, but long before the Spaniards who gathered around another fire and gabbed through the night.

The letter of the day is B for birthday cake – Where is it?! I want my Birthday cake now!! 
PeterTeddy, do you have my cake? 
Teddy No cake to bake, and make the ache in your belly go away. 
Happy Birthday to you, you were born in a zoo, you’re stuck in the desert, you smell like dirt too.

Difficulty level – 5.5 
Slow factor- 8.5

Chapter 08 · 2009-05-23

Day 7 - The Celebrex Sprint

AKA "I'm outa here!" 8 km

With a 400mg Celebrex from one of the guys in the next tent, I started the day a minute or two late (trying to get my shoes in order) at the back of the pack and started with a fast walk. The drug (an anti -inflammatory) starting to take effect, I began a stilted jog, within another 10 minutes, I could hardly feel my legs – (what was that stuff again?) and began overtaking more and more competitors in my energy. I felt almost as if on one of my standard 10 km runs in Seoul, and pushed myself accordingly.

When we first got off the dust and rock onto a section of asphalt, I was amazed at the bounce I got from it. Every step taking me farther and faster, I made it all the way into the finish without slowing. Medal in hand – sorry, on neck – I headed through a few hugs straight for the beer and pizza! 10 AM? Who cares… I deserve it!

The two slices and sausage seeming totally insufficient several of us made it over to a nearby diner and ordered, lattes and cheeseburgers and fries and even a milkshake. We returned to the scene of more of our comrades coming in and I signed Teddy’s books for the Children of Namibia (my hand shaky from the excitement of the day).

Sharon, Fordy’s wife looked expectantly out from the finish line with a worried look and we comforted her as we too worried. When he finally came down the last hill and across the finish line, overcome the most amazing pain and difficulties, everyone around cried. What an inspiring finish…

Today’s letter, kids, is A for Anti-Inflammatory 
PeterTeddy, can you say Anti-Inflammatory 
Teddy No, but I could say some really inflammatory remarks about sand and rocks!

Chapter 09 · 2009-05-24

Namibia 250km Desert Race May 17-23, 2009

The Aftermath

The race was hellish – minefields of rocks to be mindful of, mountainous dunes of sand, spiteful heat and devastatingly long hours of trudging. It was a desert race, what do you expect?

A week later, I still have trouble walking… though the moment-to-moment pains of the race have already faded. I wonder how my friends are, for though this was a competition, it was not so much a competition with others as one with ourselves and our demons. Beyond that, it was a chance to meet others of like mind and forge friendships as we forge ourselves. Steeled against the obstacles, we left open our soft spots for each other. To all the competitors of this and other RacingthePlanet runs, I congratulate you for attempting the seemingly impossible and for opening your hearts to others.

“I have also been remiss in mentioning my intrepid tent mates, who are all legends. Frenchy (heart the size of Phar Lap, back like the Straw Man), Julian “William” Wallace, Alex Chapman the chomping machine), English Nick, who is as I write this at 3.20 pm is still out on the course somewhere and a real tough nut, Peter our token yank, who has just continually toughed it out all week long through heat issues, Irish Joe, purveyor of fine ibuprofen patches, and Ian “The Oracle” who has done six of these events before – we hang on his every word like groupies. All in all, a tough hard seasoned group of men. So you’d expect our tent would be called “Lions” or “Leopards”, or even “Cheetahs”, right? No. We are the Flamingoes.”

To this, I’ll add that Fordy, full of grit and determination, he was the cement that bonded us. To his cause we flocked, both for his charity and for helping him overcome his personal obstacles. Though his will was solid, his knee was not. Fordy, you’re an inspiration! Get well soon.