Yesterday we had the relatively straightforward job of running the last 9.7 km in to San Pedro. Yet after the previous 6 marathons, nothing was to be taken for granted. As everyone hobbled to the start it told its own tale, what was hidden beneath the grime and dust was the determination and the fact that it left just one short stage to settle the scores and shave precious seconds from your overall timings. You would not believe it possible, but as soon as the clock started the gentle shuffle start of previous mornings was lost in a frantic stampede for the finish.

Realising that my strategy of a gentle stroll was now useless as a number of competitors were within 45 minutes and walking would mean losing precious places. It was incredible that after so much people could still be so competitive and worse... I had undeniably been bitten by the competitive bug too.  So with nothing left to lose, I tried to pick up the pace, but my body felt broken. I gave myself a firm talking too, popped all remaining pills in a last cocktail of pain relief and thougt of the prospect of beer & pizza that waited at the finish. I pushed on and at the tail of the pack caught Rob Reid, a genuinely nice person and I thought the only person balanced enough not to be drawn in to the last day of term "schoolyard settlement sprint". I was wrong. Knowing that running hard we could both not only secure our places, but potentially make up a place or two, all stops were pulled out. The race was on...

It was only an hour and a quarter, but a lung bursting one at that and as I crossed the finishing line in the main square in San Pedro de Atacama, elation, joy and relief were immediately lost to the feeling that my shin and ankle were going to explode as the adrenaline stopped as immediately as it had started. Plan B of pain relief hit in and the oft dreamt about pizza and beer were seized. Happily clapping and cheering everyone across the line, we took photos and began to make up for a week´s worth of partying. Well... we also all kept an eye on our watches too, just to make sure that we had made up enough time on the rest of the field

After a mighty two beers I stumbled back to my hotel room for the first shower for a week. Suffice to say it was welcome relief as I was becoming increasingly aware that even my shadow seemed to stink. An afternoon of relaxing by the pool was in order before we went in to town for the final awards ceremony.

I guess that concludes the story of my run! Do stay tuned as I will add a few choice photos of my feet and the amazing scenery once back in the UK.

I hope you have enjoyed my story of the 2008 Atacama Crossing

Cheers

Mike

Yesterday was the big day and the group was to be split in to two with the slowest starting at 0830 and the top 30 at 0930. Strangely they chose the rankings after only 3 stages and I stood at 27^th??? It was only when I showed the race directors the state of my ankle that they decided I was better suited with the slow and steady group and I was able to reclaim my teddy. I mean, the previous day I was almost the last finisher!!!

74km is a long way, especially after 4 consecutive marathons and I had reason to be very nervous; given the state of my feet, ankle and now newly swollen knee. The first stage of the long day was 15km over yet more salt flats and this did not bode well. As I hobbled over the start line I felt an overwhelming sense that everyone else was looking at me and wondering how long it would be before I binned it (many have since said as much). Also in a similar state, the walking wounded, was Tim Hill who I ran the Thames Meander with. We braved the salt flats together and made it through in a very respectable three and a half hours to checkpoint one. The checkpoints are traditionally a point to pick up another 1.5 litres of water and get medical help if needed. However by this time I was paced with a blend of pain killers and anti-inflammatory pills to keep me working, checkpoints would now be thought of as drug-points and now had a special place in my mind.

The euphoria of pharmaceutical induced highs need to be capitalised on and I made good progress through the first 4 checkpoints, moving up the field with only 2 further pill popping sessions. With 54 km under the belt, it beginning to get dark I should have had reason to be confident and pleased with my progress. But… I had taken my fill of drugs for the day and was going to have to tough it out from here. After 14 hours of continuous plodding my ankle was beginning to remind me of the discomfort of tendonitis and my blisters freshly-filled with sand were pretty choice too. I hit the last checkpoint where there was an option of hot water and sleep for those too weary to go on. Given it was only 2230 and with a mere 9.4km to camp I had reason to be confident and to push on for camp. There was even a remote chance of me registering a same day finish, the thing of real experts.

The last stage was brutal the like my body has not experienced before. A 3.5km steady climb brought us in to amazing canyons, beautiful by daylight I am sure, but lethal and like a labyrinth by torch-light. I became demoralised as runners I had previously passed now began to pass and fatigue from 5 big days running now was beginning to push the limits. Fortunately the A-Team; Mark & Tony (SA), James and Jocelyn took pity on me and gave my listless wandering some motivation and direction. We battled through the canyons, down-climbing 2 waterfalls and going through caverns and caves. I crawled in to camp at 0230, but elated in the knowledge that I have genuinely broken the back of the Atacama Crossing, even if the last stage had taken a disappointing and agonising 4 hours.

Today is the rest day, before a 10km sprint finish to San Pedro and the prospect of a well earned cold beer and celebratory dinner before we disperse. At the moment camp resembles a refugee camp and I am not the only one hobbling around like a zombie, but it does make a strange sight. Next stop is the medical tent to get my feet sorted… they have already spent an hour in an iodine foot bath.

Once again, thank you all for your many emails they have been a great boost. Hopefully the next blog will be from the comfort of my hotel in San Pedro.

I think the results and times will tell how bad a day I experienced today. Only 42 km, but the combination of the infamous salt-flats and my now very wobbly ankle meant that I didn’t break in to a jog all day. In all honesty I wouldn’t have been able to. I got back as the sunset after an almost impossible ten and a half hours today. I am off to eat now, then get some more medical attention. Tomorrow is the big day and I will freely admit that I am incredibly nervous. The real battle will be just getting motivated and hauling my tired body out of bed. This is it!!!

Love to all and a big thank you to everyone for the emails, they are one of the key things that keep me going.

Day 4

Very appropriately it was the first of April and I am left under no illusion that I am the fool. Everyone says that day 3 is always the worst as delayed soreness and fatigue set in; apparently the body goes into overdrive from here… I certainly hope so!

The day was described as being tough and having had an emotional struggle to get out of bed this morning I found the first few km and our introduction to cruddy ground really hard. Somewhere short of checkpoint one I found some rhythm and decided to make the most of it, motoring up from 50^th to the top 30. After CP2 we hit the famous salt-flats, where the unstable terrain really began to take its toll. After what felt like a terminal struggle we made it to the other side, but my feet were beginning to show signs of wear and tear. The last 11km to camp shouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, but after the heat of the day I suddenly felt as though I was running through treacle. By the time I set my eyes on camp I was severely dehydrated and suffering the onset of tendonitis in my ankles. A quick trip to the medical tent has brought some pretty serious news and the ankle injury could be terminal. If it was only one day left then stubbornness and bloody-minded determination could come in to play, but two days and >120km means that this could be quite tasty! I must take each day as it comes and will concentrate on getting through tomorrow.

Camp life remains entertaining and we faced another good storm to coat everything with another layer of dust. There also appeared to be some rain across the valley, not in the script for the driest desert and reportedly the first rain for 50 years, if less than 1mm counts.

Today also saw the end of our tent buddy Scot, who blew up yesterday. A cracking guy who will be sorely missed and would have been great for beers come Saturday. For now I must focus on my race, it will be getting much slower from here but I will try and finish in time to blog each evening.

Love to all

PS

The gallery might have some nice shots of me looking particularly happy whilst the doc squares away my feet!!!

Too tired to write lots, but little will diminish my satisfaction of surviving another day.

Day 2 is the famous slot canyons and the first half of the run is ear-marked as being difficult. Fair enough, but that does not do justice to what exactly we faced. From camp we ran straight down to the only river in the desert and then repeatedly crossed it as we made it down the canyon. The icy cold glacier melt water was refreshing as it anaesthetised yesterday’s sore feet. But… soaking socks and shoes are not ideal for a marathon and there was still 30+ km left. Things got tougher as we battled up a step slope, a gruelling climb to rub our now nicely soaked feet. It wasn’t all that bad and the highlight thus far was 800 metres racing down a huge soft sand dune and the first time I attempted a bit of running. The last 20 km was a slog across open desert-scape, which is massively frustrating as for four hours the scenery changed little, you just got more exhausted and burned under the intense heat as temperatures topped out above 35 degrees celsius.

Camp was a welcome sight as was the neighbouring saltwater laguna. I dropped my bag, most of my clothes and plunged in for a refreshing saltwater scrub and soak. My admin and organisation is getting better and I’ve already eaten and drunk a bucket load, but not quite the 24 pints of water I got through yesterday!!!

Time to go and sort my feet out and then have another play with my silly bag fix.

Thank you everyone who as emailed me thus far, I can never have too many emails and they are the highlight in camp.

The tale for the day reads as 7 hours 36 minutes and although this was slower than yesterday I finisher further up the field due to the challenging terrain and conditions. Avg heart rate was only 137 which means that there should be more left in the engine, but I am still burning more than 5,000 calories. A bit like a car, not enough fuel and flat tires (blisters) will slow even the best models!!!

My sleeping bag beckons… its half five!

Someone far wiser than me once said that “the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step” and true as this may be I would wager that they never went out and tried, certainly never across the driest desert on earth.

We set camp yesterday afternoon and the incessant waiting began. Friendly banter and our last savory meal were interrupted by high winds and sweeping sandstorms. At least this put an end to the pathetic attempts to keep everything clean as absolutely everything was caked in a thin film of dust.

It was a relief to start running this morning as the night had been bitterly cold, but heeding the advice of more experienced runners I opted to start at a gentle plod and see how I felt. This served to be a great call as we were at over 3000 metres and it was lung burstingly hard to do anything else. All was going swimmingly for the first 3 km, but then I was messing around with my walking poles and face planted. No physical damage to me, but I landed on one of the many rocks and this fractured the clip on my daypacks chest rig. In the truest form of botching it was left to improvise, adapt and overcome the dilemma, so out came the heavy duty safety pins as I formed a solution worthy of the A-team. Unsurprisingly it was $hit and my pack kept falling loose, thus ending any thoughts of running at any point during the day as the pins would snap under the weight and effort of running. I was bitterly pi$$ed off with myself as a moment lapse of concentration could have cost me much more dearly and I have to come up with a more heavyweight solution if I am to run at a later date. That said, every cloud has its silver lining and the faux-pas meant that I didn’t attempt to run and didn’t go out too fast and survived the altitude and also some seriously warm weather.

For me it is more a race against the terrain, than against the clock. Still the stats read 7 hours 20 min running, with an average heart rate of 140, which is not dissimilar to what I have when running and walking 5&5s in the . The temperature has been scorching and due to the extended time in the sun I have burnt more than 5200 calories, but thankfully not got sunburned due to my fetching leggings ;-)

The real test will be to get up and do it all again tomorrow, but today I won my battle and can now go and sort out my pack eat & rest.

PS

Due to being in the middle of the desert I am blogging in word and someone else will update this for me. That means no fancy pictures and I don’t get to read your witty and pithy comments until the end. Please do email me through the competitor email link as I would love to hear from everyone as it is a great boost at the end of a hard day.

Cheers Mike

After a somewhat eventful trip up to the North of Chile I eventually arrived in San Pedro de Atacama early this morning and checked in to a hotel for the shortest stay ever. Checking out again at 0430 this morning to go for a 2 hour trip in a minivan. On arriving at our destination I was greeted by an amazing sight of steam and a boiling landscape from the El Tatio Geysers. As an aspirant geography teacher I was fascinated and to arrive at dawn made them even more impressive. Too tpp it all off we had an ace guide who spoke great English.

There was also the added bonus that the geysers are somewhere up around 4,300 metres so this really pushes the body for acclimatisation and should make the next few days seem relatively easier when running at between 2000-3000 metres. That said, I could really notice the altitude and on returning to San Pedro the weather remains scorchingly hot and the combination of heat and altitude make the prospect of running about as appealing as sniffing my trainers.

Tomorrow is our pre-registration and a kit check and then it all gets underway. I am not sure whether to be excited or petrified... The afternoon has been spent packing, repacking and looking forlornly at my rucksack. There are lots of other runners in the hotel and the competition has already started as people compare kit weights. If this is anything to go by then I am well off the pace!

I have also now successfully given up drinking since lunchtime

Apparently tapering off is the practice of reducing exercise in the run up to a competition in order to ensure optimal performance.

This seems to be a slight contrast to my last week or two which has seen a distinct shortage of exercise (good), but I have found alternative practices to replace them:

Altitude Training- Can be effectively recreated by drinking your own body weight on any given night out. This will ensure that you wake with a splitting headache and suitably dehydrated, just like being at altitude.

Light Weights- Once the nerves set in you pack, re-pack and pack again. Just to see if you can fit in one more energy bar or another pair of socks.

Heavy Weights- Lifting what is now a worryingly heavy pack. Tipping the scales at more than 15kg I am concerned that I have not mastered the finer arts of being a minimalist.

Gentle Jogging- This is currently the pace of life that I lead... running to catch up, with periods of racing around like a blue-ar$ed fly.

I fly tonight, and have yet to get everything off of the kit list, so as soon as I have finished my last UK blog update I am off on one last frantic shopping trip. I am only as close as I am now, as I have taken to the beg, borrow or steal approach (thanks Jenna!).

Current relaxation techniques...

Solvent abuse- When not flapping about how to get everything in to one small bag I have spent a lot of time trying to build my own gaiters to stop sand and rock getting in to my shoes and thereby reducing the extent of the blisters that you get. Basic chemistry says that glue melts when warm, so running in a desert isn't great and as a result I have industrial strentgth adehsives and resins bubbling away on my table as I attempt to stick velcro fasteners to my shoes (don't ask).

Acupuncture- At the eleventh hour I did something decidedly out of character and read the joining instructions, only to realise that I needed to sew badges to every top I intended to wear. Suffice to say I wasn't no.1 son as I arrived for Easter with one egg and half a dozen badges for all family and friends. My own hands now resemble a pin cushion.

Well... That's it with just the prospect my heart rate has gone up and even more hair has fallen out. Thankfully I now have some insurance, but its fair to say that even that was a drama to sort out as most conventional policies are voided at 3000 metres or for people doing extreme sports. I think extreme refers to the stupidity element.

That's all for me for the moment, I am off back to my favourite hobbies of packing and worrying! Hopefully the next update will be from Chile...

A massive thank you to everyone that has sponsored me.

I am delighted to report that over the Easter weekend I have gone through the £6,000 mark and that means that I have raised over seven thousand pounds if you include the gift aid (tax exemption) that the Alzheimer's Society can claim as a registered charity.

http://www.justgiving.com/mikejohnsonatacama

The Alzheimer's Society has a huge significance as my paternal grandmother currently suffers from dementia and has to be cared for in a home. The staff at BrendonCare are incredible, but the whole thing has been really difficult for all the family; my father, aunt and grandfather especially. It is an incredibly debilitating illness and at the moment we are all powerless to help. This is my attempt to make a little difference

Having promised my poor and weary feet that I would not inflict any more cruelty upon them until Chile, I failed. Henry (the hustler) persuaded me that one more longer run would be a sensible option to test kit, food and everything else... This may well have been the case were I more organised and actually in possession of the necessary bits. Instead and as some form of penance for the structured chaos that is my preparation I found myself standing early on a Saturday morning outside the large Tescos on the Cromwell Road awaiting my fate...

It turned out to be a cracking run, we settled on a compromise between Henry's speed and my dawdling with a 20 min run, 10 min walk split. The route went to Paddington and then followed the canal through Little Venice up to Bulls Bridge where we turned back towards Brentford, crossed the Thames at Kew Bridge, went around to Richmond, up the hill and lap of the park before heading homewards. By the time we got to Roehampton Cafe in the park we had covered just over 36 miles according to Henry's GPS watch and at a rate of 10 min/mile, which I was delighted with. That works out at 4hr 20min marathon pace, with a pack!

I convinced Henry that a cup of tea was a great idea so what had an extended break checkpoint and stop, before sacking the last bit of the route and taking a short-cut through Barnes and home. I'm not sure on the prospect for short-cuts and easy routes in the desert

I got home in time for another disappointing England rugby performance against the Scots and instead went to the pub for a rehydration and recovery session that seemed to be sponsored by Guinness (when will I learn???)

Before I get to excited by what I have or haven't learned from the Thames run nothing can dampen the massive sense of relief at surviving it relatively in tact and I owe a number of thank yous...

It was another daunting start in Reading at the start, but I guess it is to be expected at the start of a 54 mile run on a perfectly good Saturday morning. I joined up with Mike and Henry again, but they were setting themselves the sterner test of running the whole thing and I knew I could never manage that so settled for my tried and tested walk a bit, run a bit 5&5 routine. This is where my first stroke of luck happened as I bumped in to Tim Hill who will be in the Atacama too and whilst he was recovering from a recent injury he thought that 5&5 would work well for him and I was relieved to have some company. As it turned out Tim was more than comfortable at my pace and we made good progress, with both of us taking it in turns to keep the tempo going and we made 5 mph. Certainly through the later stages I would not have been able to keep going at that rate and I think that I will only be able to watch as Tim and the rest of the field disappear in to the distance in Chile. That said... reaching the finish is as good a success as any and at the end we were only 2 minutes behind Mike & Henry who had run the lot, but tired and slowed at the end. Not bad after 54 miles!

This is where my second stroke of good fortune occurred as Mike had persuaded his girlfriend to come and collect him from the finish somewhere in deepest darkest West London. Alanna who was recovering from flu then had to put up with two decidedly smelly boys who both had regressed to having the mental age of a small peanut. Not only did she tolerate our drivel chat, but chauffeured us home, stopping off on the way to pick up fish & chips which we ate at my flat before they headed home.

A fantastically organised event though, a big thank you to Kathy, all the other organisers and volunteers. Still... never again!

So then, what were these lessons learned...

1) Don't attempt to go for a long and boozy lunch the following day. Despite feeling deceptively good, it is just that and the bottles of red wine will catch up with you.

2) Squash 2 days later is an equally ill-advised plan and your flatmate will take you to the cleaners by playing drop-shots and generally any shot that means you need to move.

My own personal record of runs now looks  more akin to Bridget Jones' Diary, just with a disappointing shortage of beer and cigarettes...

Sat 16-Feb

54.85 miles

10 hours 47 minutes

>8300 calories

145 bpm (avg heart rate)

Probably the best description of the this race is Theo's Story...

http://www.thamesmeander.com/stories.htm

For now I am back off to bed to rest my weary limbs.

Cheers

The Tring to Town (T2T) race was going to be my first real taste of competition and whilst I had (and still have) no motivation to race and compete, it is going to put down a real marker as to how my training is coming along. In its truest form it is a two-day event that races out on the Saturday and back on the Sunday. Given this is a 40 mile race I had originally opted for just the Sunday leg as it had more downhill, but peer pressure and the knowledge that some friends were taking part, meant an eleventh hour change of mind and I would start on Saturday and see what happened.

I meet up with Guy at the tube station, where he had adopted the novel bacon sandwich and a cigarette approach to last minute preparation and we headed to the start. There was a great atmosphere at the registration/start and a worryingly large field (121) of strange people all enthusiastic to put themselves through so much pain at the weekend. Here I bumped in to Campbell who would be joining us for the run and his wife Sandra, who had sensibly decided to leave us to it. There was also Henry, Mike & Rob all training for the MdS and Jenna who was doing her last long run before racing in Vietnam. Desperately I searched around my friends and the rest of the field as I attempted to spot someone who looked worse prepared than me… Henry O’Grady (HOG). HOG was busy repacking his daysack with copies of old magazines to make the weight and was already complaining of knee pains. I mentally made a note that I should try and match him through the day.

Starting near Kew Bridge, you get a scenic run down Brentford High Street before joining the Grand Union Canal which you follow for the next 36 miles up past Uxbridge, Watford, Berkhamsted and out to Tring. With checkpoints and water stops approximately every ten miles we decided to try a bit of a walk-run mix to see if it helped the body tiring too quickly over the longer distances. Guy, Campbell, Jenna and I all set off settling on a 5 minute walk, 5 minute run balance. The rest of the field disappeared in the distance, but like the tortoise and the hare, after a couple of hours our steady and consistent speed meant we started to catch up with the field and it was a great boost to be overtaking people. Jenna had enough of the boy chat and left Guy, Campbell and I to get on with it and we went through the marathon distance in just under 5 hours. Somewhere later we passed, Mike & Rob, but there was no sight of HOG. After 30 miles everything hurt and I really regretted the wisdom of 5&5s as every transition hurt. But at about 34 miles we hit the final check point and received some welcome news that the finish was just over 3 miles away, with a final effort we ploughed on to the finish.

The final results…
47th Henry O’Grady 6:52
62= Guy, Campbell & MJ 7:10
69= Mike & Rob 7:22
82nd Jenna 7:31

Henry had hustled us all royally and was still looking as fresh at the finish as he had at the start, but we all seemed happy with our results. So happy in fact, that there was no way I was going to take part in the return leg! Guy, HOG, Jenna and I all grabbed a train back to London and celebrated with Guinness at a pub near Euston Station as we watch England contrive to lose to Wales in the Rugby. The only dampener on an otherwise great day

(High fashion at the start MJ, Jenna  & Campbell)

Sunday evening concluded with a sports massage from my big cousin’s wife, who is training in sports massage. Suze is an absolute legend and I can only begin to wonder what sort of state I would be in now, were it not for the miracles she was attempting to work. I am sure she is now convinced I am an utter wimp too as following my recent runs, my muscles were neither stretchy nor receptive to various massage techniques. Hopefully tomorrow I can reap the benefits and actually move.

I had resolved to make this my first real test weekend and to see how I got on. The goal was to get a good run in on the Friday evening, to attempt twenty miles the following day and then to round it off on the Sunday with a marathon. The only thing I had failed to do was to think of anywhere more imaginative to run than laps around Richmond Park .

By mid-morning on the Saturday I was reaching a number of uncomfortable conclusions; my shoes were too big and bruising my feet as a result, I had no idea what I should be eating and I am ill-disciplined when it comes to drinking enough and not getting chronically dehydrated. After what seemed like a lifetime I struggled home and had effectively written off my afternoon, especially after an afternoon in the pub watching the rugby.

Were it not for the plan to meet up with an old school friend the following day then lethargy would have won and I would have stayed in bed. As it was the debilitating combination of Guinness and two medium runs were to prove the obstacles. Things were not looking good and by the time I reached Roehampton Gate Café I had the complexion of a beetroot and the friend I had agreed to run with was giving the most peculiar looks.

As it happened I was running with an old school friend Mike Clear and a friend of his called Rob, both of whom are training for the MdS. It was great to have some company and a bit of banter as we went round, but they were both fresher and stronger and steamed on for a third lap, whilst I finally wimped out and went home for the joys of a cold bath as a penance for too much ale the night before!

This training stuff hurts and I have barely covered 1/3 the distance this weekend

I had been warned that this would begin to consume my life and despite my protestations to the contrary I am well on my way down the slippery slope. What is most embarrassing is that I am not the lithe athelete and ultra-running god that I might have hoped to have become, more a sweaty bloke who trundles around London parks in the evening just grateful his knees still work.

Last weekend prompted a worrying realisation as I started one of what felt like endless laps of Richmond Park (it was only 2 laps), I began to spy “others”. The secret is that we are not that inconspicuous in similar garb, usually running slower than those training for the marathon and with the give-away rucksack laden in bottles of water and exotic coloured electrolyte drinks.

I am not sure if there is a hierarchy to these things, but nervously I spoke to another runner. Conversations seem to be somewhat truncated as running has clearly dimmed our cerebral functions and it seemed to go something along the line…

Me: Hi mate

Bloke: Hi, you doing MdS

Me: No, the Atacama Crossing, its in Chile. [clearly faux-pas one]

Bloke: Yeah… I know! What you running in?

Me: [clearly blank expression]

Bloke: I’m trialling the new raidlight 30

Me: Oh! [my turn to be mildly surprised as I seek a response]

Me: So… how far are you going?

Bloke: I’m just doing 25 today and I’ll do 30 tomorrow.

Me: K [trying to be cool and saving oxygen not saying kilometres, faux-pas two]

Bloke: No [defensively] miles

Me: Oh… [now feeling decidedly awkward and inadequate on my jog] I better not hold you up then.

And with that I made my excuses and scuttled off in the other direction.

Fortunately not everyone is this dysfunctional and I did meet some more people training for the MdS [Marathon des Sables], but there is a reoccurring theme and rapidly conversations move to a mutual ground of kit and running. Oh dear… I think I am about to become even more boring!

Alzheimer’s is a neurodegenerative disease that, in most commonly found in people over the age of 65. It is irreversible and the affect that it has on not only the sufferer but close family and friends can be profound. The Alzheimer's Society is a charity, which works to coordinate research in to the disease and also improve the quality of life of people affected by dementia. It is something that has affected my family with my paternal grandmother (Anne) an advanced stage sufferer. I have liberally borrowed information from the Alzheimer’s Society website to make you more aware the disease and the work that they do, in hope that you will better understand why I want to raise money for them.

The Disease

The early stages are characterised by fluctuating forgetfulness, But as the disease progresses to the middle stage, patients become less able to perform tasks independently (such as using the bathroom), and may need assistance with more complicated activities (cooking or dressing). As the disease advances there may be loss of well-known skills such as speech or recognition and changes in behaviour that leave subjects prone to outbursts of violence, even in the most mild mannered people. In its advanced stage, the disease sees deterioration of musculature and mobility leading to bed-fastness, and the need for constant supervision.

How the Alzheimer’s Society Help

The Alzheimer's Society's research programme has three themes - cause, cure and care. This balances hope for the future, with ongoing care to help deliver the best help for the present.

Simply put, Cause- What is going on inside our brains and what triggers the onset of dementia? Cure- The first step towards a cure is to develop effective treatments - they may not stop or reverse the disease but they do at least give temporary respite and relief. At any one time there are hundreds of drugs being prescribed and trialled with names like inhibitors and things so complicated they are just known by their initials. Care- The last part may almost be the most important, as for now there is no “miracle cure” and the impact is direct to the patient but often with more widespread repercussion and affects on the patient’s family and friends. Care is the human response in how we deal with this 

www.alzheimers.org.uk 

Somewhat typical for all my resolutions I am already slipping behind, but hopefully all the things I have challenged myself to do for the Atacama Crossing will be more successful than my “no booze in January” which lasted five days (thanks Mum!). So what exactly have I let myself in for and why?

THE CHALLENGE

The Atacama Crossing is a six-day, 250 kilometre footrace across the Atacama Desert of Chile and just in case the rationale behind this wasn’t clear, the entire race will be held at least one mile (1600m) above sea level as we cross the driest place on earth.

Other reassuring facts about the Atacama include the fact that it is such a hostile environment with the most lunar-like landscape, so much so that it was used by NASA to test its Mars rover vehicles.

To round it all off the diurnal range will see the day time temperatures exceed 32 Celsius (100 Fahrenheit) while night time temperatures may be below freezing, just in case it wasn’t tricky enough!

WHY 

Well in light of the above, there is a good reason to get someone sectioned and it at least warrants a reasonable answer as to why? For those that know me well, it will hardly be a surprise that I am leaping in at the deep end and I can barely justify it beyond the petulant “because I can!” answer. The reality is that I haven’t yet found the answer, but with the increasing mileage and time spent training, I am provided with ample opportunity to dig a little deeper and find out why. Reasons I have already unearthed:

1) Curiosity - I have always enjoyed geography, travel and the outdoors and this combines all my interests with the huge open ended question of what exactly is my body capable of?

2) Altruism - It is a fantastically selfish event to take part in and incredibly individualistic and I think that I need something to balance that. So at least equal to the challenge is the importance I attach to using this opportunity to raise a $hit load of money for the Alzheimer’s Society. If I have to be bloody minded and determined to complete the event then I want to be equally ambitious and ruthless in the amount of money that I can raise.

3) Because I Can - Although this shows both a degree of petulance and naivety in the way that I approach things, the Atacama Crossing is a celebration of the fact that I find myself in a position to have a crack at it and the importance that I am attaching to my goal of getting one of the coveted “finisher’s medals”. 

I shall be back with more, detailing just how far behind I am with my training, my abject hatred of running with weight and my thus far unsuccessful mission to source food, kit, flights and just about anything else. True to the end I am flying by the seat of my pants and this could be the one that rumbles me. Stay tuned…

Cheers

Mike