The complete recovered journal, gathered into one journey. Egypt · Sahara · 2008.
Chapter 01 · 2008-10-22
The March towards Madness
The March towards Madness
Training was not going well before the race, as I was plagued with Plantar Fasciitis. Every time I would go for a run, my arches would ache for a week, barely able to walk with the pain. So I focused on biking and swimming, and hiked in the evenings, touting my 10kg vest and breathing hard. One of my Seoul Synergy teammates commented in a discussion, (while I was at the race), that he thought I hadn’t trained well enough to finish. – Maybe, my friend, but I’ve got grit!
The next stage of my training I think was key. I left Korea 5 days early and made my way south of Bangkok to HuaHin to train in sand on the long beach there, bear the heat, and treat my foot and back conditions with Thai massage (I’d hurt my back recently and hoped it could be resolved as well, but nothing really seemed to help as the Sacral-Iliac joint was locked up and plagued my every step). The foot did well in the sand and the massage released most of the pain, even the back bore the sand well, allowing me to run without sharp pains, though at night it was not so forgiving. The only downfall of this leg was when the rats in Koh Tao ate through the backpack to get to the double Ziplock packed food therein. Not satisfied with the taste of the first bag opened – I believe it was a Cliff bar – they decided to gnaw into different compartments and have a taste of this and that (wonder if they brought wine for their Desert Sampler). In the morning, I picked up the bag to find that the open food had attracted ants by the thousands, covering the bag and its contents like in an Indiana Jones flick. Luckily, I was able to save almost everything and get out of the bungalow in time to make the ferry to Koh Samui, the plane to Bangkok and the flight out of Asia.
Chapter 02 · 2008-10-23
The Journey Begins
The Journey Begins
The late night flight to Cairo on Egyptian Air (a whole other story there) got me to my destination at 5AM. In line at immigration, another competitor from South Africa, Simone, rushed up to greet me when she saw my 4Deserts patches. Boisterous Simone and her companions, Kimberly, Dina and Pippa were kind enough to offer me a ride to the hotel in their prearranged luxury transport.
As we arrived at the hotel too early to check in, several competitors decided to take a trip into Cairo and visit the Citadel. After a tour and a barefoot walk on the cool marble floors of the inner sanctum, we wondered around the Muslim district. A sandstorm swooped in and it started to rain… yes, it rains in the desert maybe 4 times a year, and no, almost never at this time of year. We then hopped back in the van headed for the hotel, only to have a flat on the highway. (And if you saw the way they drive here, you’d know how scary it was for Carlos and I to help change the tire with our backs to the oncoming onslaught of roughriders). My companions had all begun their bond in previous races but welcomed me quickly into the fold… they were Alex of France, Laura of Italy and her Spanish husband Carlos, as well as Simone and Kimberly (never call her Kimmy), and they made me feel immediately as if we would become life-long friends.
At the hotel, I acquired my room key, made the trek across the large compound with my two heavy backpacks bursting, opened the door and heard the shocked Japanese intonation “whaaaa” of Miho, a female competitor. Then I had to traipse back across the compound to the front desk and acquire a more suitable room. Finally arrived, they added a third person to our two-bed room (the lovely Movenpick!). Later that night the digital keys failed to function as well – back across the complex… a 5 star Hotel!?
The first night was otherwise joyful and full of chats and instant bonds of friendship, the race still seeming somewhat distant – it failed to weigh too heavily on my mind. After a bit more repacking that evening, I retired for my final rest abed and woke to my final morning shower for the week.
Breakfast was quickly over and waiver signing began, then on to equipment checks, and the weighing of packs – mine came in at a dry 11 kg – add 1.5 kg more for water an you’ve got your race weight. By the time we boarded busses for the seven-hour trip into the deep deserts of the Farafra Oasis, it was afternoon and the anticipation was upon us.
Here's a look at my Equipment List
Clothing:
2 Under Armour Draft Shirts (1 SS 1 LS)
1 Under Armour Escape ¼ zip
1 Sugoi light weight wind breaker
1 Perlizumi Tri-short
1 pair nighttime shorts
1 pair nighttime sweats??
1 pair Brooks Cascadia 3 Trail shoes (an extra .5 size larger).
5 pair X-socks and Under Armour racer socks
1 pair RTP gaitors.
1 Nike running hat.
1 BUFF
1 Native Silencer Polarized sunglasses
Equipment:
• Racing the Planet Backpack (medium 50L).
• Marmont Atom (+40F / 5C)
• Petzl Tikka XP head lamp & EL2 Outdoorsman Surefire Spare flashlight
• Mini Swiss Army and Gerber single blade (mini Paraflame)
• Suunto watch – compass, altimeter, barometer, temp
• Dermatone SPF35 Zinc ox & Smartshield SPF30 lip balm
• Jetscream whistle &
• 1st aid gear, medicine,
• Space Emergency blanket
• Snow Peak Titanium Spork
• MSR Titanium Mug .41 liters
• Flatworld Orikaso Bowl
Food:
Breakfast:
oatmeal 150 cal
granola, bacon and eggs, Ave. 300 cal
fruit Ave. 100 cal
coffee, ginseng 150 cal
Total 700 cal
Lunch
Cliff Shot Blocks 200 cal
Cliff Bar 250 cal
Gu Roctane x 3 300 cal
Fruit, Nuts, Beef Jerky 250 cal
Total 1000 cal
Dinner:
Recovery Drink: Endurox – 3 scoops + Chlorella 400 cal
Mountain House/Backpackers Pantry – Lasagna, Spaghetti,
Pasta Primavera, Turkey w/ potatoes, Chicken & Dumplings) Ave. 550 cal
Soup – corn, mushroom, potato 100 cal
Extras – green beans, corn, Neapolitan ice cream 50 cal
Total 1100 cal
Daily Total 2800 cal
Chapter 03 · 2008-10-24
Flags Flapping
Flags Flapping
The night came early – around 5:30 or 6 PM. Long before we finally stopped and poured loose eyed out into the moonless night. Here was the start of the sand, so the busloads were further divided into jeeps, which sped into the enveloping night, revving engines and spinning tires to the site of our epic beginnings.
The encampment was well laid out with the welcome of sand below, as it would be the rest of the race offering a gentle, yielding respite at the end of each leg. The soft sand a mixed blessing for its comfort at night, yet the promise of blisters and sore knees the next day… but little did we know about that for now. I was second to arrive in the Djoser tent (number 6) after Rupert. Soon the Polar Bears – Stuart, Miles and Martin, then JiHee, Shane, Annabelle and Jaqeline followed. We settled, dumped kit where we could, and shared pre-race snacks, then had a fine feast in the cool, open-aired desert night.
My back had by the day before become more than annoyingly painful, forcing me to seriously consider bailing before the start for fear of doing real damage to what felt like a bulging disc… But the orphans would get nothing if I didn't at least run the first kilometer, so I’d start and see how far the pain took me.
The night brought visions of scorpions strolling into the tent, and a dull dread of the looming effort to come, but then it brought something quite unexpected in the deep night: RAIN! And a heavy fall by the sound of it. I awoke in the midst of this great rainfall, thinking – “in the desert?” and in my heavy-eyed haze I arose and stumbled out to grab my shoes before they were too wet to run in the next morning.
Only when I reached the outside of the tent, did I grasp that it was the hurried flapping of colors flying, thirty flags representing the colors of competitors countries from around the globe. Standing in the whipping cool, I realized that nature was calling for a different kind of water fall. I’d wonder off to find some distant spot of sand, but then I remembered the scorpions, so I stood there for a moment, unable to find my shoes in the darkness, and feeling a bit sheepish about going back in the tent to retrieve my headlamp after my wobbly rush out the door. I waited for a long still moment in the cool air, eventually grasped my way back in and found the nicest patch of dry desert to water… and I watered it well with a monument of stone looming above me its massive shadow barely visible in the starlight, and rather than ominous, it was somehow comforting as a big brother or knowing guide.↑ Back to the journey
Chapter 04 · 2008-10-25
Day One – The Sahara Sands
Day One – The Sahara Sands (The Hamada Trail)26th of October – 35 km / 21.9 miles – Flat, rocky and sandy (moderate)
OK, I’ve never been one to start out slow, and even with the thought of my back pain mounting as the weight of my pack bore down on my poor disc, at 8:30 am I was overtaken by the adrenaline, the resounding thump of Bedouin drums at the start line and the horde of competitors bursting forth under the green banner, a standard that would become our jade oracle, our emerald aspiration, and a more welcome sight at the end of each day than any lush oasis could offer.
I normally run with music, but decided to forgo the tunes for the time being and save the ipod battery life for a time when I really needed melodic inspiration – and the lows were sure to come, as the quiet of the desert on the lone road could quickly close in and become unbearable.
We spilled down the sandy hill, diving in with determined effort and stretched our legs across the open expanse of the Hamada Trail leading to the great rocks that studded the landscape of the Bahariya Oasis some 300km west of Cairo. The leaders had already sped across the open sands and disappeared amid the pillars of beige stone that curved around the edge of a ridgeline of beige and cream in a moonscape rising above the constant sands.
Today would be my test market, the chance to see how I fare without concern for place or time. “Just a jog,” I kept telling myself, “a training day.” For what in essence was a philosophical experiment in a distance unimaginable. As I ran, I took note of the host of packs and water systems and styles of clothes that the others had chosen – this having been the mysterious aspect of the race that took up the bulk of my time in the three months preceding, namely what do I pack, which foods, what is the lightest headlamp, which bag do I buy, etc. This actually distracted me for a while until my stride settled in.
The discussions went on the night before in the tent and continued throughout the week about thinking of it as two races, or better yet, four hard training days leading up to a single hundred kilometer race. Thinking of this on the first day did not seem helpful, though it would gradually appear to seem appropriate as the days passed. For today, however, I must only think of today. I could always quit tomorrow…
Jesse (a nine-time Korean competitor of the 4deserts) had coached me on strategy back in Korea, advising me to power through the morning before the heat had a chance to settle in. “Run to the first two stations,” he said, “and take your time with the rest as the heat turns up around 11 AM.” Sure enough, the day would get a crank in heat factor at 10:30 or 11 each day as if someone had fired up the sauna for a good sweat. (I recall thinking that my time in hot yoga really helped with my heat coping capabilities.)
The first station reached, I basked in the spray of water from a volunteer, filled my water bottle, added an electrolyte tablet then headed off feeling, “10k down… I guess I’ll continue.”
I started to slow a bit as several then many began to pass me by – obviously finding their pace as I had not yet done. We came up around a turn and fell into a valley below. It was along this patch that I paired up with the Brit, Alex. Alex has a lot of experience with doing such races and we talked continuously about strategy, past experiences, etc. We seemed to be a good match and I kept pace with him on to the second station. They said here that the temperature was 38 in the shade and 45 in the sun. I opted to take off my pack, change into my long sleeve shirt to avoid an early sunburn, and then had a quick snack.
Alex pressed on and I had to jog down the steep embankment to catch up with him and Andreas of Barcelona. We talked for a while, but then fell to silence in the heat, which by now had turned dirty, baked sand dirty, and the miles seemed to stand still as we plodded along. I had to jog every now and then to keep up with his heavy pace and at 6’ 2” it was quite a stride – he claimed he could walk at 6 km per hour, which would save energy without losing much ground.
No one passed us for a long while and this third 10 km was filled with sliding sand, which was like walking uphill in snow (for those Minnesotans and other cold weather folk reading this). Occasionally we’d be greeted by a cloud – such a welcome reprieve from the sweltering sun that we’d embrace it like a long lost brother. With about 2 km left in this section, I had to stop as my shoes were so cramped with sand I could no longer feel my toes.
The other two quickly covered the ground ahead as I struggled with my gaiters, a gift from fellow competitor Dean Karnazes, who had come with three pair and mine had not arrived in Korea before my departure. (Thanks Dean!) A few others also passed before I could empty the tanks and head off again. I reached the third station and thought about stopping to rest and take care of blisters – yes, already. With the heat, I felt faint and miserable, but with only 5 km to go, I decided to forge on trying to convince myself stoically and half jokingly, “I’ll rest when I’m dead!”
The last few kilometers were long and rather unpleasant, but made more bearable by the upbeat attitude of Alex, who’d rested a bit at the last station and took off with me as I pulled through. In the end, I didn’t look pretty, nor did I feel like talking to anyone. I was upset, angry even, not necessarily at the heat or the sand or the race – though I wondered what the f*ck I was thinking when I signed up for it – but angry out of pure exhaustion, or more appropriately just damn crabby – as I get when I’m tired and hungry. Anyway, the stage was over and my dogs were barking!!
I came in 55th place (out of 150 competitors) at 5:13:24 and really didn’t care much about anything. I was second into the tent. I dropped my water bottles and lay on the floor. I was hot and fever-like, but my body couldn’t cool off all night. After an hour or two, I was much more amiable and managed to get out and socialize. I even ran over to take a picture of my friend and sometime training partner, Ji Hee. She seemed as crabby as I had been, and I heard that one competitor, upon arriving at the finish, had taken off her backpack, stared at it for a minute and shaking her finger at it, very sternly (and in all seriousness) said, “I don’t like you!”
Dinner tonight was corn soup, spaghetti with meatballs, and a bit of green beans (I don't eat this well when I’m at home.) Then I experienced the magic of the stars – I’d seen them the first night, but after everything I’d been through today, somehow they were more brilliant and captivating than before – the Milky Way like a river across the sky.
The people began bonding much deeper tonight, now we were in it together and we really knew it. It’s funny how the simple commonality of purpose can bind a group of strangers, ones you might pass on the street and never notice otherwise. The people in my tent (every one of them!) were asleep by the time I got in from checking email (and for those of you who sent messages, they meant the world) and getting ibuprofen. And it was only 7 pm. I tried but could not fall asleep: the intense body heat, the aching back that I had somehow barely felt when running, now magnified by the stillness. What little rest I got in the dark and surprisingly cold night was fitful at best.
Morning met me with a heated gaze.↑ Back to the journey
Chapter 05 · 2008-10-26
Day Two – The Hare
Day Two – The Hare (The White Desert)
27th of October – 38 km / 23.8 miles 
Compelled by nothing more than the excitement of the people around me and the overriding desire to get some miles behind me before the heat settled in, I once again leapt out of the starting box. 8 am this time, and the heat already ticking up degree by degree from the morning cool. The course briefing had warned of a difficult first stage with undulating terrain and soft sand followed by moderate later ones, but the rabbit in me was to come out no matter what. Today, I opted to go for music, I brought along two ipods, the old one would only last a few hours and I’d save the new one (meant to give 24 hours of sound) for the final misery of 100.2 km. The music was in me and the first 10 km stage was a whir of excitement. I felt free – free of the long night, free of the low back, free of the fetters of email and cell phone – and no I was not listening to Free Fallin’. 
Just before the end of the stage, I noticed that we had gone off path, seeing the little pink flags down below and to the right, I ignored the footprints in front that directed me straight ahead and chose to dive back down the hill and catch the “real” path. It was hard to do, but I thought that even a little bit off-course will only rob me of the full experience. The guy I was running with didn’t see the point in diverting from the straightest path so I made a point of catching up and passing him just before the checkpoint on a very steep hill. Somehow, it was worth every wolfy huff and puff.
By the end of stage one I was in 12th place, but my blisters were hot and twanging from the sliding so I stopped at the tent to get help with blister application. This took a while and then I opted to cool off with some spray and a rest, snacked a bit and was off. For some reason I was joyful, even delirious, pulling out my camera and taking pictures as I ran. 
In stage two, I came upon two great pillars of stone, it was here that I recalled the tale of Ozymandias as the sun blazed down on me to the tune of some 45C (113F). I could not remember the whole poem, but those two lines repeated in my mind.
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Then that wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command. I felt for a moment his greatness, and then the fleeting nature of his strength in his frailness – his humanity. I held back to ask an Italian to take my picture between two great pillars of stone that stood towering above us, then raced to catch him and retrieve my camera. I thought of the Romans and what other armies of men had passed through those immense pillars, but sped off despite the urge to rest and reflect. 
Then I imagined Shakespeare and the line about food for worms – are there worms here? No it’s dust to dust, I suppose with the help of some local fox, whose tracks were easy to spot in the sand, with no wind to wish away their existence. Would my existence be profound? Would I be left trunkless in my desert stand? Would my life mean something to those who followed? Or would my existence be swept away with the wind as my footprints soon would? The hope came and left as the heat closed in on me. “Beat the heat,” I chanted to myself, “beat the heat.”
By the second station I was in 17th place, but I was beginning to end. The end of stage brought an extra joy, and I started off in decent form, but within minutes, was agonizing as the plantar fasciitis had returned with full force, every step heated and hurting. The afternoon cook had begun in earnest – feeling as a firewalker on a sandy blaze. Just 18 km left. 
About 2 km into the stage, I found a cardboard box, half buried in the sand. I felt an urge so I trudged back, grabbed a pen out of my pack and picked it up. On it I wrote: “Swimming Pool 18 km” and included an arrow in the direction of the path. 18 km to see if anyone was willing to go the extra two km after the finish. I posted it next to a pink flag, set in the sand so it could not be blown away. No one mentioned the joke, though I hope it gave someone a boost. I plodded along to the end of the stage, cursing every step as the pain in my foot made me limp and wince.
I caught up with Andreas again and continued along with him. His energy and talk kept me going (as he did again and again in the race – his passion for his family and the race was infectious). He made a video message to his family and I followed suit. “25 km in” I said, “and I wonder why am I here?!”
I finally arrived at the third checkpoint, a little bitter, but not too bad and sat to massage my feet. A few short minutes and I was able to work out some of the kinks. Onward! I rose and marched along. Soon we were joined by Alex and Lee. The four of us crossed the finish line together. The last kilometers tolling away slow in the heat – we finished in 28th to 31st positions (5:35:47). Today was our day. 
At camp, I stretched and gave massages (in the end I had given some 30 short massages to other aching competitors and volunteers). Jung ha, my constant friend and sometime course companion, worked on my back. (Thanks Hyung – you did Wonders!)
Today, I talked with Anna and Alex – the photographer. And though darkness descended, the talk was bright and beautiful. Again, I stepped lightly into the tent over the near dead bodies of sound sleeping runners in recovery. The back again an issue, today I opted for a sleeping pill, then lay in my sleeping bag on the sand late into the night working the tension out with two pair of rolled up socks. Sometime near midnight, I finally managed to ease the muscle spasms enough to adjust the sacral iliac. The smile stretched across my face. I knew it would ache for another day or two, but the pain would finally subside.
At last, I slept a stretch!
Chapter 06 · 2008-10-27
Day Three – Letting the Turtle out
Day Three – Letting the Turtle out (Sandy Field)28th of October - 40.3 km / 25.2 miles
It’s hard to eat breakfast in the dark, in a hurry, trying to get ready for the effort ahead, but we dutifully rose at 5 am. Headlamps aloft, we ventured to the now stenchful toilet tents, artful boxes, once used for water now full of something entirely different, though no less natural – thank god for the early morning wind, however chill it might be. Then back in the tent for a quiet ruffle in search of food and out to the fire for hot water and a bit of talk, subdued and sleepy-eyed.
The hare might lose to the turtle, but I would transform. Well, today my strategy was not so effective. I lumbered a bit as I tried to catch my breath and find a rhythm but stomach problems whittled away at my determination. The long flat stretch of runnable desert had me nearly beat. I made it to the first station and got something for my unease, but it seemed that my turtle was determined to come out early. I’d attempt to run, but then the whittling would again begin. Here, I linked up with Eric Chang, of Australia, living in Hong Kong, but born in China (if memory serves). He helped me along in my momentary endeavors, as I did him… we would egg each other on. Walk for a bit, then count down: five, four, three, two, one, to feign a jog for a few minutes before quickly running out of steam. I suppose we had done well in the first part as we pulled into the second checkpoint in decent position – somewhere around 30? – the beautiful faces of the volunteers cheering us in.
“Would you like a spray?” A volunteer asked, “Would I…!” I responded with enthusiasm. And as the mist tickled my overheated skin, I closed my eyes and started to think of the sound of the spray: a ratcheted whir of pure delight. Just the sound gave me goose bumps! “Could you spray me again?”
The rest at the tent brought on a round of song as we searched for our theme for the day. “A Horse with no name,” I believe it was Ricky who said it. And suddenly, we broke out in chorus:
It was simple but somehow magical. Again, the joy arrived at stage two…
“No rest for the wicked!”
We started off again, Eric, Jung ha, and me, (and we stuck together like the glue I never had a chance to put on my nonexistent Racing the Planet gaitors) from the reprieve of the tent into the sandy field. “Sandy field” they called it! “Sandy f*cking field!!” It sounds like that Beatles song – Strawberry Fields Forever… Forever was right, but not as pleasant as the name sounds! It was somewhere in stage three – the forever of stage three – that desert delirium began to set in… the theme song still in our heads… the desert dancing before us, the mirages to the right and left, and sand smooth as silk, extending out as far as the eye could see. Oh it was beautiful all right, but dangerously so!
“Aint no sunshine when she’s gone”
I recall the sun, but I also recall the blue of the sky, an azure amazing, clear and cloudless. Then I thought of all the cloudy rainy weekends that people around the world were complaining about and thought how lucky we were to have such nice weather – I told you delirium!! Singing as we ran then walked the highs and lows were like a rollercoaster of the spirit.
(The lows lower than you can imagine… full of self-doubt, depression, anger and physical pain, somehow attune to the feeling of lost love and just as dangerously unpredictable.)
Then after eons of sand, we came at last to the dunes, I was slow here and my companions were patient as I stopped to bare my aching feet and attempt the ascent in socks. The temporary reprieve from the cramped quarters of my trail shoes with their porous mesh to let air (no sand) in, helped for a bit, but the experiment failed as the blisters, black toenails and aching arches impelled me to once again don those bedeviled shoes.
A few dunes later, we arrived at the third tent, the final destination barely visible off in the distance. We started off, but our footfalls were too tired and close together and we lingered in our self-imposed misery. Yes, it was nice to get in – especially with my comrades close at hand, and yes I managed to smile, but no I don’t want to talk about it right now. (6:19:00 47th place)
After a rest, and in much better spirits, there was the climb to the top of the sand dune at the back of the camp. The sun setting, the whole camp came up for a picture and did the wave for the video camera before we turned to watch that great heat source fall. Something magical seemed to begin around that simple sight, the elation of an end, bright thoughts of a new beginning, fresh and full of joy.
The rest tonight would be perfection.
Chapter 07 · 2008-10-28
Day Four – Snowy Landscape
Day Four – Snowy Landscape (The Spring to Nowhere)29th of October - 38.9km / 24.3 miles
The Tale of the Water Bottle and the Solar Plexus…
The dawning day – another 7am start, so up at 5 and an attempt at a dim-lit breakfast. The descriptions of today’s four stages are Difficult, Difficult, Difficult, and Difficult. Oh Joy! The bag was less full and slightly lighter today, but this was not a benefit as, without the volume, the Racing the Planet backpack couldn’t be sufficiently tightened around the waist so the water bottle on my front pack was hitting me squarely in the solar plexus – thump, thump, thump! I adjusted the straps again and again as I ran, trying to get a handle on it. I hardly noticed the surroundings as I struggled through the pain. I remember little – think I blocked it out.
Beyond stage one, I started to get used to the thumping and find a rhythm. I concentrated on my footfalls, attempting to lay the foot soft on the sand, projecting it forward, skimming the surface and trying not to push off, as I would normally on pavement, so I wouldn’t sink deep and slip out. (Later that night, Carlos would tell me that my technique was too costly, so I changed my strategy for the long day, running normally.)
I kept pace with the Danes for a while, their banter and camaraderie infective and inspiring. They passed me sometime in the third stage long before the white mounds of stone and the sandy rise to the upcoming oasis. You could see the oasis from miles away, and the sight of it was deceiving. I suppose the desert is like the sea, the lack of landmarks makes things seem closer than they are.
The Third Checkpoint is the Charm
Finding myself still in the mid-thirties (place in the race), I came into checkpoint three with beautiful smiles of volunteers bearing water and an oasis of cartoon-like perfection. Stunning! I rested in the shade, partook of those welcome ratcheted mists from the heavens and ate.
Snowdrifts in the Desert
After collecting myself for the final 14km stage, I caught sight of Ricky just ahead and worked to catch up. We slogged along over the white rocks that looked like snowdrifts in the desert ahead and spilled out onto another vast and endless field of sand, deep and unforgiving on the aching legs. From here it was a thirsty and everlasting walk, hence the title for the day: “The Spring to Nowhere.”
Ricky and I stretched our legs across the sand, jogging then walking along this endless plateau dealing with each step as it came. My thoughts were of my mounting thirst and the sand in my shoes with the tender toes purple and swelling in the heat and pain. Somewhere around 10km in, we turned a corner and came over a dune. We could barely make out the white of the tents deep in the distance just beyond some pillars of stone at the foot of some rather impressive peaks, but that goal was to be far more elusive than we expected. These last few kilometers were an unimaginable grind, a taxing task of total irritation, a toil nothing short of an incitement to rebellion (ha! ha!). “OK, if I just finish today,” I thought, “I can rest and quit before the 100k day – after all, I’ll have finished four marathons in four days, in the desert… that’s enough isn’t it?” The justification for quitting, I made moment by moment as the thought of the next day’s distance would make me give up for sure. Just make it through today… when I finished, I wasn’t singing, but I was happy it was over.
The first part – “the training daze” was over, and there was only one day left to go. I felt confident that I could start, and allowed for the possibility that I could run for a while and if I felt sick or my knee (with 30% of the ACL left) hurt too much. I could stop and ride into camp. Though it might seem like a negative outlook to think about quitting, it was the most positive way for me to attack the problem that seemed so insurmountable. It allowed me to start, to assess and to continue. (6:09:20)
That night there was dancing, and a strange sort of elation ran through the camp – the day of atonement was close at hand, the four hard days of training complete, we just had one day of running remaining. Camp Mars they called it. With dunes rising above and great pillars of stone all around, it was at the same time harsh and beautiful!
I ambled around camp, and decided to climb above to attempt a yoga pose in the sand, take some pictures of the camp laid out below, and was inspired to a recitation of a Langston Hughes poem (the one that had inspired my world travels back at 21):
Tonight, I slept with a new sensation, on less of fear and more of accomplishment. I also am finding that my body has changed. I feel different, and not so tired, but somehow more young – if this is possible. I think it might be all the sweating and the 9 liters of water a day I’ve been drinking.
Tonight, I dance in dreams… gentile night, whirl, whirl!↑ Back to the journey
Chapter 08 · 2008-10-29
Day Five – A Body in Motion
Day Five – A Body in Motion (The Black Desert March)30th of October - 100.2km / 62.6 miles
Pray for rocks! Sand sucks the life from your feet.
I begin today with a thought and a recitation of a poem about a place all too distant in time, location and environment. The poem recalls a wistful moment amid a snowy landscape, but the last two lines are as appropriate here as any that might be said: “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.” (Robert Frost’s Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening)
Having never attempted more than 42km in a day and already tight with aching muscles, feet full of taped-up blisters, and black toenails, I couldn’t fathom what lay ahead, so I bowed my head and just began. Feeling surprisingly good, I raced ahead one stage at a time with no thought of saving energy for the next, only to end sooner – thinking, “I’ll rest when I’m dead!” – the tortoise may beat the hare in the end, but it’ll have to be the hare for now.
I had decided to take Carlos’ advice on my stride and attempt to run normally, not stretching out my feet and trying to run ‘flat’ as I had before. This seemed to work quite well, and the sand on the plateaus was better-packed and even a bit rocky to aid in the speed. I pulled up to one friend and then another, but my energy and enthusiasm wouldn’t let me slow down to pace with them, so I pulled ahead. By the first checkpoint I was miraculously in second place (bearing in mind that the top 25 runners had a late start – 10am to our 8am).
Then shortly into the second stage, the front runner faltered and we ran together for a bit. We talked about how odd it felt to be in front and not have tracks to follow or other runners to sight on. Then he slowed and said, “now you’re in the front.” It felt good, no great! I knew that the best runners would pass in a few hours, but being in “the lead” was a thrill, somehow giving me more energy.
I came into the second, then third, then forth checkpoints still in front. I felt unstoppable, invincible at times and then variously hit by lows. I was pushed along merely by the fact that I was in front… I felt that I had to hold on as long as I could. And when I’d slow and walk, I’d look behind and see Eberhard (a 58 year old German who has finished Badwaters 5 times, and Marathon de Sable 7 times) just behind. He trailed me endlessly, following like a hunter, I still had some rabbit in me and was able to stay ahead for a time, he’d pass me with his steady pace on the flats, but somehow I’d burst past him on the sandy hills as he had trouble slipping in the deep sand. We had switched to a game of cat and mouse. Soon, I was to pass the gauntlet, allowing him and two others to out-step me.
The miles somehow slipped away and I didn’t slow down till I met a muse some 53km later. The siren’s song sung… the next stage would be my downfall. I stumbled past the pink banners speaking incoherently and collapsed in exhaustion (65km 9:59:59 7th place). Carried into the tent, I spilled onto the floor and drifted in a daze much less than sleep for 3 hours, rose refreshed (at least enough to get my spirit back for as I heard the voice of the people overtaking me, I nearly lost hope and debated quitting), ate beef jerky, triaged blisters and started off alone into the dark night just after taking a couple of minutes to give Simone, who had just arrived and seemed in need, a back massage.
I listened to music in the dark and focused on stretching my legs and keeping my stride swift and steady. I felt somehow pure, my body purged of pollution and cleansed by my rest; I felt awake and alive like I had not felt for many years before, stopping from time to time to shut off my headlamp and look at the stars. The word amazing, just couldn't capture it, nor remarkable; I think some combination of surprising, mind-bending, surreal and astounding might come close. I would stagger along in the deep dark of it, but half looking up and half squinting to see the rocky road ahead, fearful of a twisted ankle or a stumble and a roll down one of the steep embankments, I would be forced to return to my reliance on the light, but those short stumbles would stay in my mind for a long while… I so miss the stars.
The remaining hours were lonesome along the plateau without any other competitors in sight, and with the final 14km stage spilling down into the sandy valley below I trudged on in a kind of half sleep. I managed to pass a few more people along the way, but could never get a run going. This last 14km was easily the most frustrating of the entire race. Every time it seemed as if it should be near the end, the course would stretch out again, it was profound, deep of sand and hilly as hell. My toes crumpled against the wall of sand that had found its way through the pores in my shoes, making them so sore that they felt like there was no nail or even skin to protect them; my legs aching with the joints so swollen I didn’t want to look; the bottoms of my feet twinging with every step as the blisters on my insteps had grown together to make pools of pain.
Finishing in the early morning at 4am (20:12:05), I cursed the sand and Pierre, the course designer, swearing I’d never do anything so stupid again. (I’m now foolishly planning my next race.)
Chapter 09 · 2008-10-30
Day Six – The Long Laze
Day Six – The Long Laze (a day in camp)
31st of October - 0.0 miles
Having finished, I found it unsettling to be still, and could neither lie down, nor rest. I wandered stiff and awkward around the camp, aimlessly looking for someone to commiserate with. I found the internet tent open and checked email. A message from mom and I started to well up. After a good emotional cry, I was able to hobble back to the tent and rest for a couple of hours.
Everyone was up by 8, the sun already steaming up the stench in the tent. Rest was not a big part of the equation – It was to be a day of socializing with a hint of lazy celebration in what we have just accomplished – at least it felt as if we should rejoice.
We wandered around, shared stories, and learned how others had fared during the long night. We greeted the latecomers as they came in through the morning and into the afternoon.
And when the locals came around with bread, chips and soda for sale, the feast began. I had no Egyptian money with me, but the others in the tent bought food for the group. In fact, much of the camp was doing it. I knew it was against the rules, but having finished 250km in 5 days (the last 5k held back for the seventh day), we felt that the race was done and began the party.
The day ended with gifts of paper, pencils and Frisbees for the local children, and a Bedouin honey cake for all. The chairs and tables gone, everyone gravitated towards their tents and again went to bed early. I decided to sleep under the stars with Anna, Alex and Andreas as it was the last chance to see the Milky Way in all its glory before the trip back into Cairo at 4am. (One of the other Korean competitors caught a deadly scorpion only 30 meters away from where we slept in the open sand.)
Chapter 10 · 2008-10-31
Day Seven – The Pyramid Sprint
Day Seven – the Pyramid Sprint (the 5.2km)
Stage 6 on 1 November - 5.2 km
We arrived in Cairo at 11am and re-donned our packs (much lighter now) for the last leg of the desert race. The final sprint up to the finish line was so quickly over it seemed incongruous to the effort of the previous five days and a bit anti-climactic with everyone’s thoughts on the shower at the hotel.
The bulk of the leaders, minus the phenomenal Ryan Sands went off course and ran an extra couple of kilometers. That fiasco aside, the course up to the pyramids was filled with trash and bad smells. (For one of the biggest tourist destinations on the planet, I was shocked that the government did nothing to clean it up.)
The medals were presented as we crossed the finish line, but it was the beer and pizza awaiting us that got us up that last embankment.
Here are my final stats:
Place Name Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 7 Overall
56/157 Liptak Peter N. 05:13:24 05:35:47 06:19:00 06:09:20 20:12:05 00:32:50 44:02:26
And those of my Korean compatriots:
Back at the Movenpick, there was more trouble. The hotel decided to sell our rooms (which had been reserved and paid for a year in advance) to members of a Saudi Prince’s party. So they summarily put us three to a room and the staff of Racing the Planet, were nowhere to be found, leaving us to fend for ourselves. Most competitors acquiesced and quickly found roommates. After finding the room, we realized that there was only one bed, to which they would add a cot. Not feeling particularly amenable with the situation, I waited with others for a free room and let the other two get settled. A few drinks and a few hours later, I continued to get the run around and finally dove in the pool. In the end, I had a room with one of the volunteers.
Man, what a difference a shower and a shave make! Do I clean up well, or what?
In the aftermath, we began the revelry, which was to last well into the night. The final surprise came only moments before goodbyes, something ended and something had begun. Nothing ventured, nothing won!
Chapter 11 · 2008-11-10
Flashback
Flashback
The nights of dread and mornings of anticipation have all faded in memory – the experience was ridiculously difficult, but somehow thoroughly compelling. In the world’s most punishing desert, the key to success was the people – the energy and enthusiasm they brought, the camaraderie, the stories and the smiles.
Without the others, there would be no race, no reason to continue trudging though the desert, to bear the heat and the slippery sand. The supportive souls that volunteered became my inspiration for overcoming every obstacle, stage by stage, and the participants were to bring out the best in me.
Every soul there was supportive of everyone else, giving advice and assistance and willing to wait or even lend a hand. People finished together, crossing the line hand-in-hand.
And beyond the friends I made, the images and emotions, the touch and the taste of the Sahara will stay in my memory for years to come… maybe for a lifetime. The images were many and though not so varied, full of color – as Ireland is colored with a thousand hues of green, the desert was a symphony of beige and brown, with taupe and tan dominating the diving dunes and jutting rocks of the landscape, the little pink flags to guide our way, the great pink banners that signified the station posted at varying distances as man made oases doling out shares of water & shade, joy & support.
I will remember:
• The khaki crunch of the crusted surface giving way and sliding out from under weary knees
• The indisputable importance of water and the beauty of a rainbow face-spray
• The slippery stare into the desert air
• The midday sun, the night’s chill
• The quiet deep of the desert night
In the Tao Te Ching it says:
To experience without abstraction is to sense the world;
To experience with abstraction is to know the world.
So was my experience with or without abstraction? I couldn’t quite say for sure. I suppose that at some points it was one and some the other, but the moments of inspiration and of madness will not quickly fade.
In honor of the experience, I have penned an ode to the tune of our desert theme song, “A Horse with no Name.”
The Song
A Race of Some Fame
On the first part of my journey,
I was focused on the road ahead,
I dove down the dune and shot for the moon
I ran until I was red
The first thing I saw made me stumble in awe
And the sky was cloudless above
The heat was hot and the sand was soft
By the end of the day I was dead.
I’ve been through the desert on a race of some fame
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can run for your name
Cause there aint no one to tell you you’re insane
La, la, la, la-la-la-la, la, la, la, la
After two days in the desert sun,
My skin began to turn red 
After three days of the desert run,
The heat it got to my head
The story is told of a man so bold
To see how far he could tread
He stepped through the heat that blistered his feet
And all his clothes he then shed…
I’ve been through the desert on a race of some fame
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can run for your name
Cause there aint no one to tell you you’re insane
La, la, la, la-la-la-la, la, la, la, la
After seven days in the desert sun,
My legs they ceased to run
I started to slow and came to know
That the something had changed in me
Through hot rays, and hard days
There had been highs and lows
But as the story goes
My journey had come to a close
I’ve been through the desert on a race of some fame
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert, you can run for your name
Cause there aint no one to tell you you’re insane
La, la, la, la-la-la-la, la, la, la, la
Chapter 12 · 2008-10-21
The Lone and Level Sands
The Lone and Level Sands
“A whirlwind experience swept me up and now that I’ve landed, the landscape has changed and I don't know which way I’m facing…”
The following is a retrospective of my brief adventure through the Sahara, my first endeavor at a 4Deserts race, it is a 250km self-sustained race in the sand and heat of an ancient land finishing in front of the great Pyramids of Giza. This is an account of my first (and likely last) attempt at one of the most challenging endurance events in the world, the Sahara Race.
(The reason I write only in retrospect is three-fold, first though Racing the Planet has computers and blogs and email available, I found at the last minute that a $50 surcharge was required for the opportunity to write six emails or blog entries. That they would also take ownership of rights for, after the $3000 entrance fee, seemed discordant – especially since it would mean greater PR for them. Second, I had begun my journal on paper in earnest only to lose it along the way, which is upsetting on many levels and somewhat stifling of future efforts. And third, because I wanted to live in the moment – for me, for my experience, without the added responsibility of including others. Sorry, but now I will take the time to set it down for you – and for myself.)
In my life, I’ve thought little of the desert, my only points of reference, this poem by Shelly (circa 1818), Laurence of Arabia (the best movie ever made), and a brief sandstorm in my first days at ASU. I’d have to say that I’d never really even pondered the desert, or a trip through it, (except maybe, when watching Indiana Jones or The Planet of the Apes) until my friend told me about the 4Deserts Sahara Race (wait, it was Gobi that he first mentioned, but anyway, that’s what got me interested in this insanity).
Shelly’s poem speaks of how all the works of mankind, whether by Pharaoh or peasant, are temporal. Then somehow, I wondered, will the desert offer us the chance to forget, to forget our troubles and our lives, and to focus on something more primal, more substantive – sustenance and survival, man vs. nature, to see something ancient and lasting… that will, in retrospect at least, make us truly appreciate life, however brief and fleeting the journey may be.
The Orphan Activity Fund
“If I’m going to go through hell, someone might as well benefit from it.”
Every journey begins with one step… and the first one here was really the most important – a step for others. I’ve begun to realize that too much of my life has been focused inwardly, and while there is both good and bad in such selfish endeavors (to know myself, to make my living and maybe my fortune, to explore the world and to learn from it what I might), so I run for a cause. To earn for orphans, I go on this adventure so that they might have a chance to have some adventure in their lives. Don’t get me wrong, I still do this for myself, I do it to inspire others and in hopes of inspiring myself as well – to put myself to the test as I seek a new direction.
Well, it took some doing, but I finally found an appropriate charity and set up a foundation to support Korean Orphans to do outdoor activities. So under the auspices of the Youth in Nature and the Paju YMCA, we’ve established the Orphan Activity Fund and Motorola Korea had graciously offered to donate $2500. OK, that taken care of, now I have to get ready – What?! It starts next week?
Original Funding Proposal
1. Biography –
Peter is a poet and writer working in Seoul Korea. An avid trekker, rock climber, mountain biker and triathlete, he has competed as a wrestler at Arizona State University, participated in several Marathons including the Twin Cities Marathon and Grandma’s Marathon, completed Ironman Korea 2006 and Ironman Singapore 2007 and is currently training for The Sahara Race (Egypt) 2008, his first foray into the 4 Deserts series. He is hoping to raise money for orphans in Korea to receive Cultural, Environmental and Outdoor Education through English in order to become Young Ambassadors to the world.
“If I were to choose one word to describe myself, it would be energetic. I’m an adventurous soul and I believe I have always been. Growing up I would often venture further and further, exploring the world by bicycle or on foot. My first adventures at YMCA Summer Camp allowed for orienteering as I trekked trough the woods, and canoed the lakes in Northern Minnesota, something that would greatly affect me for years to come.
A firm believer in the concept of a sound mind and sound body, I pursued academics as vigorously as I did athletics. My first grand adventure came in University as I ventured off to Europe with a backpack, a journal and a couple hundred dollars. I experienced the cultures of ten countries and found work in Germany when I ran out of money, solidifying my future as a world-traveler.
After University, I took a graduate TEFL teaching course and went to Korea. Soon, I fell in love with the Morning Calm, its history and people and made it my home. While continuing my travels within Asia, I began to explore Korea and later completed a Masters in Korean History, Culture and Poetry at Yonsei University, while making my living as a writer. Working with governmental agencies and corporate giants has been a rewarding experience, yet I was fortunate enough to still be able to spend all my summers volunteering as a guide, bringing Korean children to YMCA summer camps in the US. Through this exchange program, I was able to combine my two great loves – the outdoors and working with children. What’s more, they were able to have a short home stay with American families who have adopted Korean children, fostering relationships between these displaced Koreans and their homeland. (Hence the relationship to Korean orphans and orphanages)
Recent involvement with writing Corporate Sustainability Reports for Korean corporations has reinvigorated my verve for travel and the outdoors in a new way – it has opened my eyes to a greater need for individual responsibility to others. As such, I am endeavoring to raise money for children in need.
Finally, I have established Exile Press as a publisher who hopes to learn from the experiences of those who have similar adventuring spirits and have traveled beyond their own borders to experience the wealth of knowledge that the wider world has to offer.”
2. Mission plan and description of event.
RACING THE PLANET MISSION
To challenge individuals to go beyond their athletic frontiers through world class sporting events: the 4 Deserts series, while exploring the most remote landscapes and ancient cultures on the planet.
To provide the knowledge, innovative products and services to enable all aspiring individuals to succeed in RacingThePlanet events and to inspire them with a life-enhancing experience.
To document and contribute to improving the lives of ethnic minorities and tribes in the areas we explore, and to encourage and support competitors in raising funds for their charities.
The 4 Deserts is a global series of seven-day, 250-kilometer (155 mile) self-supported footraces across the Gobi Desert of China (Gobi March), the Atacama Desert of Chile (Atacama Crossing), the Sahara Desert of Egypt (Sahara Race) and Antarctica (The Last Desert). The events take place in the driest, hottest, coldest and windiest places on Earth, attracting competitors from around the world and becoming the most prestigious global outdoor event in the world.
Personal Mission
To challenge myself both physically and mentally
To inspire others and at the same time to inspire myself
To use the knowledge I gain from the race to do some good in the world
3. How much money you are spending and what you are requesting from the sponsor.
Expenses
• Flight (approximately $1800)
• Entrance fee ($2900)
• Equipment ($1200)
* For a list of essential equipment, please see attached.
Proposed Donation
A donation of $xxx for each kilometer completed through the desert, with a possible total of 250 km, is requested. The donation would go to an orphanage(s) in Seoul to be earmarked for Cultural, Environmental and Outdoor Education through English. (The donation could possibility be changed to one with which the corporation is already involved, if necessary)
The 4 Deserts Series Sahara Race is a high-profile race and will receive much media attention (previous media coverage includes Time magazine, National Geographic and CNN – see links below). RacingThePlanet employs a media team for film, documents each event and distributes content to the world media.
Goals of Sponsorship
• To increase visibility of the product of the company (exposure)
• To motivate company staff
• To make a statement on the company's values and principles
Before the event – I will attempt to cultivate media coverage of my story in conjunction with your media partners and sponsors, to draw attention to the sponsor and its support of the charitable cause.
During the event – Transmission of reports to your media partners and sponsors through a blog about the event each evening (depending on my health and energy levels). I will also make myself available to the media for interviews during the event, always emphasizing the shared goals of my and the sponsor’s shared efforts to promote the charity, raise international awareness, etc.
After the event - When I return, I will arrange a date to organize a "reception" when you will be able to show the video and slides of the Sahara Race, as well as the equipment that you used during the race, then give my impressions and stories to your media partners and sponsors and allow for Q&A.
4. Timeline and schedule.
The race is scheduled for the week from the 25th of October
Stage 1 (35km) The Great White Desert Iceberg
Stage 2 (38km) Antarctica in the Sahara
Stage 3 (40km) Sahara Sands
Stage 4 (39km) The Qarawin Dunes
Stage 5 (100km) Naqb El Sellim Plateau
Stage 6 (~5km) The Pyramids to Sphinx Valley
My training plans and routine
Until recently, I have been training for Ironman Singapore, focusing on swimming and biking, but have switched gears to focus much more on running and hiking.
Weekly schedule:
Running – 3-4 times for 15-20km
Hiking – 1 time for 2-5 hours – off road and uphill with a 10kg pack to develop strength and get accustomed to weight of pack
Biking – 3 times 80-120km primarily for recovery and to supplement endurance following running sessions
Swimming – 2 times per week (2-4km) to add to overall fitness and develop core strength
Lifting weights – 5 times both at home and at gym to supplement core body strength↑ Back to the journey