I wake up instantly, through fear or excitement I’m not sure. The camp is still relatively quiet with only a few people stirring from their sleeping bag cocoons. I stare out at the endless desert beyond the camp still unable to imagine myself in it.
The start of the Marathon des Sables can be defined in one word: faff.We spend the early morning unpacking and repacking our bags, attempting to shave a few last minute grams. Since we carry everything needed for the race (except for water and the bivouac tent) any weight that can be saved helps stave off the inevitable exhaustion to come.
The final few days before I left for Marathon des Sables were a blur of hug filled goodbyes and concern laden good lucks. I packed and repacked my bags countless times and panicked more than I care to admit. But before long, as the songs goes, all my bags were packed and I was ready to go. No taxi for me though; my parents, partner and my friend Mark, who was also taking part, all barrelled into my Dad’s car and trundled our way to Heathrow.
I have scheduled this post to go live on the day I start the Marathon des Sables. Right now as you sip that coffee or eat that slice of cake I have 9ishkg on my back, sand beneath my feet (and probably already in unholy places) and sweat pouring from every inch of me. I will be feeling more nervous and excited then I will have ever felt in my entire life...
As the start line draws ever near, I thought I would share two more weird and wonderful experiences I have had in the build-up to the Marathon des Sables...
On Thursday night I couldn’t sleep, waking up every hour or so in a cold sweat. Just signing up for a race over a year away had cracked my ability to sleep. Well not just any race but the Marathon des Sables, the toughest footrace in the world...
To keep up to date with my latest ramblings on this blog please subscribe below