Dire Straits in the Sahara
Day 5: Distance: 80K, total elevation gain: unknown. Temperature: holding steady (note: as I write this it is Day 6).
Yesterday’s run was a microcosm of life. Huge emotional peaks and troughs, elation, astonishment, dread, fear, thoughts of feeling invincible. What an epic trip. I woke feeling like I got hit by a truck — several days of hard running were starting to take their toll — legs swollen, groggy, irritated, sore. For logistics reasons we had a two wave start. The slower folks starting at 5 A.M. and the top half of the field at 7. We left Camp Viper and the sun hit us within an hour (I’ve been naming the camps — thus far it’s been: Camp Magic, Camp Sand Storm, and Camp Viper — after the local inhabitants).
Out in the desert with no one else around...
Photo by Chris Lusher / Racing the Planet.
I knew that I had to get my head wrapped around the heat today. With our late start we’d be running all day through the gauntlet of heat — I didn’t realize how tough that would prove to be.
After an hour or two I was in my groove. Early on in the event I bonded with my Gregory pack and was able to get a nice rhythm going — the pack felt like it was one with my efforts. I taped my back pre-race to prevent chafing — impossible to not get chafed without tape) and as long as I distributed the weight properly there were no issues. When I don’t think about a piece of gear when I race, I know it’s a good one.
On the constant lookout for checkpoints...
Photo by Chris Lusher / Racing the Planet.
Despite my fatigue I popped off the first 40 K with relative ease — my mantra was — patience. At that point they had two mandatory stops of 45 min. each. I used these to eat, hydrate and organize my food and mind for the second half of the day. This next section proved to be several hours of very challenging mental negotiation.
This section was not only the toughest terrain we’d done thus far, but it was in the Black Desert. We ran across silver/black limestone and lava rock and sand. It was like running in a cast iron frying pan. My blood sugar was on edge as I had been running out of food and had to ration. After five days of running, you’re pretty much going on fumes and have to keep a steady drip of fluids and calories flowing in order to keep moving.
Keeping cool...
Photo by Chris Lusher / Racing the Planet.
I focused on patience while timing sections of the course to estimate my arrival at checkpoints. One of the difficulties running in this environment is the ability to see for long distances to the next change in terrain. You run to that rise or dip, 20, 30, 50 min. or more, hopeful that you might catch site of a familiar flag or tent designating a checkpoint.
If I knew by my watch that I had a certain amount of time until I would see my next waypoint, I would not get my hopes up as I crested a hill or dune. I’d just keep pressing on. The heat and terrain in this desert can make one insane. I knew I had reached an edge when I started to talk out loud to myself and to the sun.
“Mother f...er you need to go down, leave me be!” I would scream, then I would laugh hysterically. “I’m losing it.” Then. “Keep going, keep pressing, light feet, steady. You’re ok; you’re fine. It’ll be ok.”
This went on for hours as I could not see a soul in front or behind — it was just me and the indifferent sun.
To take my mind off the struggle I took pictures, as this terrain is spectacular — strong and harsh — daunting. With 30 K to go I hit a trough and a checkpoint. I executed my usual routine, fill bottles, get passport signed, guzzle extra bottle, pour water on head. I carried an extra bottle with me to use to spritz my head. It’s important to keep your head wet in the desert. Even a light dousing goes a long way in keeping the stress level down.
I noticing I was breathing heavy at this checkpoint — erratic and labored, my heart rate was maxed and my legs felt like Jell-o. To blow off some steam I allowed myself a moment as I plopped down in a chair and started sobbing. “It’s freaky out there, really freaky.” My voice shaking. “I’m watching myself run through hell. Hot. Need sun to go away. Need sun to go down. Need to leave me alone.”
Thirty seconds and I was good to go. I asked for a hug from the staff — I needed to feel like someone cared but me. I told them I was fine and not to worry. I stood up and trotted off. Back in the game.
What a unique test. So many struggles and highs. So many opportunities to fail; yet I pressed on. I feel pleased in the way one might be after overcoming a long-standing personal struggle or surviving a hard fought battle.
This one definitely threw back the margins in my life. And for that I feel privileged.
We have a stunning view from Camp 6 — looking down on yesterday’s course. We are here until tonight; then we’ll be bussed to our last 10 K stage near the pyramids. I am dreaming most of all for a cold shower.
Back at you in Cairo.
Terri
Editor's Note: Terri won the women's division for stage 5 and is poised to run away with the woman's overall title.
Yesterday’s run was a microcosm of life. Huge emotional peaks and troughs, elation, astonishment, dread, fear, thoughts of feeling invincible. What an epic trip. I woke feeling like I got hit by a truck — several days of hard running were starting to take their toll — legs swollen, groggy, irritated, sore. For logistics reasons we had a two wave start. The slower folks starting at 5 A.M. and the top half of the field at 7. We left Camp Viper and the sun hit us within an hour (I’ve been naming the camps — thus far it’s been: Camp Magic, Camp Sand Storm, and Camp Viper — after the local inhabitants).
Out in the desert with no one else around...
Photo by Chris Lusher / Racing the Planet.
I knew that I had to get my head wrapped around the heat today. With our late start we’d be running all day through the gauntlet of heat — I didn’t realize how tough that would prove to be.
After an hour or two I was in my groove. Early on in the event I bonded with my Gregory pack and was able to get a nice rhythm going — the pack felt like it was one with my efforts. I taped my back pre-race to prevent chafing — impossible to not get chafed without tape) and as long as I distributed the weight properly there were no issues. When I don’t think about a piece of gear when I race, I know it’s a good one.
On the constant lookout for checkpoints...
Photo by Chris Lusher / Racing the Planet.
Despite my fatigue I popped off the first 40 K with relative ease — my mantra was — patience. At that point they had two mandatory stops of 45 min. each. I used these to eat, hydrate and organize my food and mind for the second half of the day. This next section proved to be several hours of very challenging mental negotiation.
This section was not only the toughest terrain we’d done thus far, but it was in the Black Desert. We ran across silver/black limestone and lava rock and sand. It was like running in a cast iron frying pan. My blood sugar was on edge as I had been running out of food and had to ration. After five days of running, you’re pretty much going on fumes and have to keep a steady drip of fluids and calories flowing in order to keep moving.
Keeping cool...
Photo by Chris Lusher / Racing the Planet.
I focused on patience while timing sections of the course to estimate my arrival at checkpoints. One of the difficulties running in this environment is the ability to see for long distances to the next change in terrain. You run to that rise or dip, 20, 30, 50 min. or more, hopeful that you might catch site of a familiar flag or tent designating a checkpoint.
If I knew by my watch that I had a certain amount of time until I would see my next waypoint, I would not get my hopes up as I crested a hill or dune. I’d just keep pressing on. The heat and terrain in this desert can make one insane. I knew I had reached an edge when I started to talk out loud to myself and to the sun.
“Mother f...er you need to go down, leave me be!” I would scream, then I would laugh hysterically. “I’m losing it.” Then. “Keep going, keep pressing, light feet, steady. You’re ok; you’re fine. It’ll be ok.”
This went on for hours as I could not see a soul in front or behind — it was just me and the indifferent sun.
To take my mind off the struggle I took pictures, as this terrain is spectacular — strong and harsh — daunting. With 30 K to go I hit a trough and a checkpoint. I executed my usual routine, fill bottles, get passport signed, guzzle extra bottle, pour water on head. I carried an extra bottle with me to use to spritz my head. It’s important to keep your head wet in the desert. Even a light dousing goes a long way in keeping the stress level down.
I noticing I was breathing heavy at this checkpoint — erratic and labored, my heart rate was maxed and my legs felt like Jell-o. To blow off some steam I allowed myself a moment as I plopped down in a chair and started sobbing. “It’s freaky out there, really freaky.” My voice shaking. “I’m watching myself run through hell. Hot. Need sun to go away. Need sun to go down. Need to leave me alone.”
Thirty seconds and I was good to go. I asked for a hug from the staff — I needed to feel like someone cared but me. I told them I was fine and not to worry. I stood up and trotted off. Back in the game.
What a unique test. So many struggles and highs. So many opportunities to fail; yet I pressed on. I feel pleased in the way one might be after overcoming a long-standing personal struggle or surviving a hard fought battle.
This one definitely threw back the margins in my life. And for that I feel privileged.
We have a stunning view from Camp 6 — looking down on yesterday’s course. We are here until tonight; then we’ll be bussed to our last 10 K stage near the pyramids. I am dreaming most of all for a cold shower.
Back at you in Cairo.
Terri
Editor's Note: Terri won the women's division for stage 5 and is poised to run away with the woman's overall title.
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1 Comments:
Terri-
You are such an inspiration! I am privileged to have met you. We are all with you here in Santa Cruz and will toast you tonight at Jody's Sentinel Event!
Wow. You are amazing. Here's to the pyramids and a shower!
Lynn
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