I almost don't want to write this blog entry as I know it will be closing off one of the most fulfilling and all encompassing weeks of my life. I'm very fortunate to have a great life and to have enjoyed some amazing experiences - many with the aid of alcohol!! However, for some reason the Atacama experience has had quite a profound affect on me.

May be because I hadn't done anything quite as extreme as this before and the sense of achievement that came with the successful completion. May be it was the isolation and disconnection from 'real' life. May be the dramatic scenery (which incidentally was just awesome - you couldn't pay someone enough to take you to the sorts of places we ran through) and the feeling, at times, of being pretty insignificant. May be it was, as strange as it may seem, not worrying about cleaning, washing, what to wear, the rush hour, work, mobile phone, social life. Sleeping on a rocky desert floor, shivering in a sleeping back and wearing the same clothes all week. May be a collection of like minded people from 40 nations, with a common purpose, sharing the same experience whilst striving to achieve their own personal goal. Bonding with strangers through ecstasy and pain. No barriers, no preconceptions, no prejudice. Liberating! Was it the big moments - crossing the line after the long stage knowing that it was almost done? Was it the smaller moments - holding hands with the Japanese (and tent companion) competitor, walking and suffering in silence together only hours before the earthquake hit his homeland? Clearly an insignificant moment in relation to what has now happened but at that time (and without knowing what was going to happen) it was a shared moment between 2 strangers from opposite sides of the world.

Or was it, just because it was?!

Atacama crossing 2011 was and will always be extremely special to me for many reasons. There were many reasons why I wanted to compete in something so extreme, some of them very basic in nature and others more complex and very personal to me.

The 'Atacama experience' started for me when I had my entry confirmed in late Summer 09. At that time, I wasn't particularly out of shape, but many years after I'd quit playing competitive sport and enjoyed myself rather too much socially I certainly wasn't close to covering 260KM across a desert in South America. So I started to train and slowly built up my fitness, the distance, speed and mental strength to get me to the start line. I ran many many miles and, with the exception of may be the first couple of months worth, I enjoyed every step. I met some great people a long the way (various races I competed in), everyone 'doing there thing' for whatever reason. Running, in a strange sort of way, has become a spiritual (I don't mean in a religious sense) thing for me. I guess, depending on how well I recover and balancing the rest of my life, it's no longer something I do - it's something I am. I didn't go to Chile to change my life. My life is amazing, I'm the luckiest guy in the world. I did expect, however, a life enhancing experience and I think I got it.

Clearly, the emotion of the week is still at the forefront of my mind and therefore this final blog entry may well be tinged with emotionally enhanced rhetoric. So what, if it's how I feel now, I'll just go with it.

My pre race objectives were:

To give it my all - to cross the finish line having given every ounce of my heart, body and mind
Complete the course in the quickest possible time
Respect the challenge
Respect my fellow competitors
Explore my capacity to tolerate physical and mental pain
To push the boundaries and go beyond my 'known' and perceived capabilities
To have no regrets
To enjoy
To compete
To achieve

Without boring you (if anyone is actually reading this!) with an analysis of each objective and my personal performance, I will provide a general overview of my all round experience and feelings.

I try not to allow fear to drive my decision making in all areas of my life. At times, and for a variety of reasons, it is difficult to adhere to that mantra. There are times when I feel defensive or worried and that has an affect on how I live my life. However, in the main, I try to go with my heart and chase my dreams.

I went to Chile to 'give it my best shot'. Not to allow the fear of failure (injury, exhaustion, not completing, competition, the environment and terrain) to dictate my behaviour and performance. I was happy to tell people I thought I was going to do well. Why not? I trained hard, I felt mentally very tough, I had avoided 'run preventing' injury, I felt secure in who I was/am, I enjoyed the pressure of making commitments to myself and others and I wasn't scared. I was excited.

Run and compete without fear. So I did! I ran with heart from the get go. I achieved something beyond my expectations. I was euphoric. When I became defensive and started to focus on negatives such as fatigue, terrain, heat, speed, pain, I stopped enjoying myself. It was short lived. I knew I'd lost sight of my pre race objectives and started to run with fear so I went back to fearless and ambitious decision making. It was liberating and such an emotional head rush. Addictive!

I had pushed the boundaries and I did go beyond my known and perceived physical and mental capabilities. That in itself was a great sense of achievement.

So, race position didn't matter. Admittedly it started to matter after the first couple of days - my competitive streak had started to emerge when I knew I was in the top 5. But that was ok, that was a good thing if channelled positively. I didn't want it to start to dictate my behaviour and actions and I feel in the main that I managed to avoid that. I just had to enjoy the moment and go with it. As a consequence of being in and around the front runners, I got to know, run with and experience some amazing people.

Anders (winner) was a little too quick (only just!!) for me right from the gun so I didn't really get to know him. I ran a little with Martin Chinchilla on day 1. He was a lovely guy and I was secretly routing (knowing I wasn't good enough to beat him) for him as he was from Chile. I got to know Darren (Canadian - 3rd) really well, one of life's great people. We were evenly matched day 1 and finished tied day 2 and 3. It was great running, chatting, singing, joking around with him........until he upped the ante and moved up the field! Well done D. A very well deserved 3rd place. George (4th) was amusing. I thought he was a marine. Looked like one (Although I don't really know what a marine is supposed to look like), built like one, talked like one and had the head of one. His badge/flag kissing Americaness cracked me up. A tough guy with a knowing glint in his eye. I must say George, your consumption of approx 1.5 litres of apple juice, 1.5 litres of cold coffee, half a pig and a kilo of cheese at 6am on Sunday morning was worth the entry fee in itself. Eric (5th) was high on life. I thought I had energy and enthusiasm - that guy was wired. He was just amazing and an unbelievably strong runner. He'd be dangerous with more desert experience. Other mentions go out to Michele, Matias and my Japanese tent companion Hidechika all of whom I battled with daily.

And to every other competitor. I had admiration and respect for each and every one of you. The longer you were out there, the tougher it was and the more I was in awe of your endeavour. The bravery and courage of some was humbling. I had it easy.

Tom and Chris were both great travel companions, tent mates, competitors and friends. Chris's strength to battle through early pain was galvanising and he did brilliantly to finish in a great position. Tom's performance off the back of a few tough months of injuries and restricted training was a clear demonstration of what one can achieve with determination, a sense of purpose and consistent performance. Congrats to both of you.

The volunteers (hardest job of the lot of us). Thanks so much for your unwavering energy, enthusiasm and support. At times, you made me feel like I was the only one in the field and gave me a boost at every checkpoint. Congrats Emily on your engagement - I'm expecting an invite.

Medical team. Fortunately my only need was the odd painkiller, nail drilled and antibiotics. I appreciated your presence and was assured that if something major did go wrong you'd be there.

RTP crew/camp crew. Thanks for setting up and managing camp every day. The locations were stunning and the lay out contributed to an amazing atmosphere.

Alina & Sam. What can I say that I haven't already to you both. RTP are lucky to have you. You should be very proud of organising and managing a super week. Cheers.

Many thanks to all who sent messages of support and wishes. You all contributed to my experience and helped me a long the way.

Well, I think that pretty much covers it.

Would I do it again? Every day for the rest of my life.

Will I do it again? Life dependant - 'in a heart beat'.

One moment really sticks in my mind, which I'd like to share. At the start of day 2 I stood on the start line (already tired from the previous stage and little sleep) with 5 mins to go before the stage got under way. In one direction the desert unfolded in front of me towards snow capped mountains. The sun rising above the Andes and lighting up the earth. The cold and dark night giving way to the warm (soon to be very hot) and bright sunshine - shards of light chasing across the land. A cloudless, intense blue sky. In the other direction over 100 people getting ready for another desert marathon - the excitement, fear, nervousness, the unknown, the colour, the languages, the flags......the world in front of me, it was electric. A stereo playing Florence and the Machine's 'dog days are over'. The euphoria was overwhelming. I thought I was in heaven - my head hurt. I ran for the next 3 to 4 hours through the Rio Grande and up into the mountains like it didn't matter. I went into CP2 in third place (From what I've been told, my position and time was received at home through RTP's 'breaking news)'. That was my moment. I'll never let go of that feeling.

I gave it my all.

Hi

Hope all well with all.

Anyone who may be vaguely interested in seeing how life pans out for me and whether or not I continue to run and compete in ultra races, desert marathons or reading about anything else that pops into my head, please check out my blog reporting on:

http://wwwlifeandrunning.blogspot.com/

I will report on a reasonably regular basis.

 

Hi All

A huge thank you to all of you who have taken time to follow my progress over the last week or so and all the amazing messages of support and wishes. It was a huge lift to read the comments and to know that my progress was being closely monitored - you know how I like pressure to perform!

Yesterday was a very tough and painful hour but made special by the opportunity to run with Tom for the first time this week and cross the line together to an amazing reception in San Pedro. The rest of the day involved soaking feet, washing filthy bodies (my own - not anybody elses), drinking lager (first time in 10 weeks - I held it together pretty well!), eating proper food, celebrating long into the night (2.30 am bed followed by 5.30 taxi to airport) and reflecting on what has been a wonderful experience, an amazing few days of my life and an emotional rollercoaster. It may take me time to recover!

I´m currently in a hotel in Santiago with T & C. We flew from Calama today and don´t get connection to UK till tomorrow. Unfort our feet have once again doubled in size, throbbing and weeping. So Tom and I spent an hour with feet in the bath tub soaking in disinfectant (chewing the fat - quite a funny moment really) whilst Chris hunted downtown Santiago for some antibiotics. 

I hope to take the time, when back in UK, to write a further blog report just trying to put into words what the last week has meant to me and to give you a little more insight into Ultra Desert racing life.......and to also add a little colour to the final stage and the afternoon/evening/night of celebration with some fantastic people.

Once again, a huge thank you. This week and all the support has meant an awful lot to me and will live long in the memory.

I x

I've finally stabilsed my emotional state to sufficiently be able to sit down, take the time to blog - hopefully without crying!
 
Not sure where to start really. whether to provide a 'macro' overview of the 'long day' and my emotions or a blow by blow account.
 
As blogged, the previous day, I was tired physically, emotionally and mentally. I'd given it my all. Day 4 was tough, really tough for me and I just had to try and hang on in there to protect my overall standing and take something into day 5 to give me a shot at a top 5 finish....if not top 3!
 
So, I was awake at 4 am yesterday - I just couldn't stop running the race through my mind. I was just so confused. I had arrived here in Chile to finish what was going to be an extraordinary challenge. I had feelings of expectations, based on my training, of possibly a top 25 finish. all of a sudden, I found myself high up the leaderboard and in the mix for medals. I was enjoying it but the physical and mental pressure that came with it (and because of the unexpected position that led to that) was taking it's toll. I spent the best part of 2 hours eating, drinking , taping my feet back together, taking pain killers and getting into the right mindset. I wasn't worried about the distance - what was the point? - it wasn't going to get any shorter the more I thought about it. I stood at the start line at 7.45am, kit ready, drinks ready and bouncing on the spot - trying to imtimidate the oppo!
 
The atmosphere was electric - a sense of excitment, nervousness, competition, human endeavour and fear.I've spent most of the week running with the top 5 boys and so we had got to know each other really well. We hugged, wished each other luck, promised to enjoy ourselves and run our 'own race'. I felt good, positive and happy to mix it up. Ok, the feet hurt but I knew everyone was carrying aches and pains and I knew/hoped the adrenalin and stress would ease the pain.
 
We were off. Straight onto a salt flat  which was just like a frozen lake that had 2 inches of snowfall on top. My kind of salt flat -not the agonising beast of the previous day. I felt sharp. After 2km ish we then went straight into the beast. I didn't need it, I just wanted to avoid smashing my feet up so early on. I put it to the back of my mind and focussed on the pace and placing my feet as best as poss. I was 10 meters off the leader with Derren and Eric dancing across the salty crudge infront of me. After approx 1.5 hours I was very much in the game and felt good about the pace etc.
 
Suddenly I needed to be sick......and poo! I had to get off the main route and move some distance away - course rules. So, I was sick. Had a poo and managed to wee over myself in the process! What a laugh!
 
I looked up, the leaders had gone! I panicked and set off after them. I got into CP1 a little off the pace and a couple of other runners had passed me. My feet were screaming. Filled the bottles and I was out of there - I wanted to be back up front with the pace. I ran the whole next stage across predominantly sandy and undulating terrain. I felt ok and kept telling myself not to panic - a very long way to go. Into CP2 and only 5 mins back. As I set off I could see 4th/5th place up ahead a long a very dusty, sandy and long road. It urged me on - I dug in - time to up the ante.
 
Boom. By time I made it to CP3 I was in pain, a lot of pain. Any pressure on my right foot, other than even ish ground, was agonising. As I arrived at CP3 the doctor approached me and asked me how I was. 'you moved pretty gingerly over that last stretch - you ok?'
 
I had to find a way to alleviate some of the pain and pressure. I sat down for the first time in the race. Took off shoe and sock to find a little toe the size of my big toe! Don't panic I told myself. Doctor took a look, sucked though his teeth, turned his back, asked me if I needed help and wandered off. I was happy to sort it myself. Needle out and get draining. The blister was 360 degs around the toe so the loose skin left after the draining had to be taped down. My heel blister was inflamed, swollen and infected but down a notch in the pain list. Sock back on, shoe on and stand up. The jolt of pain from little toe to brain was instant it knocked me back down. What do I do, I can't stand. Ok, pain killers now. Took 2 and got out my knife to cut through the toe box of my trainer to relieve some of the pressure on my little toe. I had to get on with it. So 20 mins in CP3 watching my chasers come and go wasn't good for the minset. I set off - shuffling. 10, 15, 20 mins the pain killers kicked in and the pain eased a tad. A tad!
 
What's the plan Ian? Top 3 gone. Top 5 gone. Go back to the original objective. What do you want out of this race? What are your objectives now. I came to finish, poss in top 25. This morning I dreamt of top 3 and now I'm focussed on surviving - trying to. I wanted to experience pain. Go beyond my known and perceived physical and mental capabilities. Well, I'm here now. What's the response Ian, what's going to be the damn response? Get angry. Channel it positively. I was cross, my legs felt great, the mind felt strong at the start of the day but my feet were letting me down. Everything I've read about ultra endurance events state that it is the feet that will stop you from completing. Surely, this will not happen to me. Going back to stage 1, I ran with the Chilean guy (who is 2 nd overall), he told me this was his 4th Atacama Crossing. He had to pull out of 2 others because of blisters. That's now me.
 
The pain began to overwhelm me. It was intolerable. What's the response Ian? Come on, find something - just give myself some hope. Can I still finish top 10, can I be top Brit? I now didn't know where I was placed in the stage. Ok, strategy. 1: Enjoy it. 2: Finish as top Brit. 3: Finish THIS stage in top 10. Yep, top 10, I needed a target - something to pull me through - focus the mind on something other than feet/foot.
 
Into CP4, straight out - I had a job to do. The next stretch was 14km to CP5 across a wide and dry and hot and baked river valley. By myself I staggered alone. I was going, going, the mind crumbling, the emotions teetering I started to cry, stopped, started to cry. COME ON. Feel the pain, use it.I promised Sophie (wife) that I would give it my all, I would collapse over the line and look back knowing that I couldn't have given anymore. So here's my chance to push and push and push - keep tearing down the mental barriers. Into the unknown. Where I wanted to be. I shouted, staggered, cried, chanted, talked and then a Japanese runner (who incidentally is in my tent - he's been followed by a camera crew all week as he's a famous ultra runner in Japan), from nowhere came past. Ok, let's go, something to go at.
 
Into CP5. The Doc asked to take a look at me.'Come on Ian, sit down, I need to look at that foot'.
 
'It's ok' it's ok' I said. Sam (great girl - 1 of race Directors) urged me to take a seat. 'what are my options? 'what's the point? I don't want to freak out now ' I said.
 
'Ok,you've got 20km to the finish and the next CP is 11km away' Sam said. I took 2 more pain killers and I was gone been followed by the next 2 guys (1 Japanese and 1 Brit). This is going to be tough but game on.
 
Over the next 11km I held off the advancing troops but not the tears. I gained on the 2 guys infront but they were still too far away to see who they were and what condition they were in.
 
The next 20km took me over 3 hours (that's slow!) and are a blur of pain, emotion, heat, dust and tears. I past a couple of runners, inc the Japanese tent runner, and developed somesort of weird run come walk, come stagger, come march gait. I was chasing my shadow - it was directly infront of me and the sun was getting lower. It'll be dark in an hour.
 
Japanese chap and I passed another runner and with approx 3km to home he went for it - i follwed. Through narrow, sandy and dark canyons he opened up a lead. I reeled him back in. I pulled along side him. I held out my had, held his and cried. We walked in silence (my Japanese being as good as his English). We truned off the road and sensed camp around a blind corner. Will he make a break, will I?
 
We walked towards the finish line in utter silence being followed by a camera crew and with the welcoming camp cheering. 50 meters to go, I once agin held out my hand, held his and urged him to stagger to the line with me.
 
We embraced eathother as we crossed the line. Derren (who i beat day 1 and tied with day 2 and 3) had won the stage. He is a great guy and totally deserved a stage win - he was strong all week. He hugged me. I sat down, head in hands and choking. 'the pain, the pain, I can't bear the f * % k ing pain' Derren laughed through his own tears.
 
I was spent - given it my all.
 
Not sure what my position was - joint 6th or 7th but way off the lead pace.
 
Into the medical tent, almost fainted, had my toe nails drilled and given pain killers and antibiotics.
 
Not really sure what happened after that. Thoughts turned to Tom, Chris and the rest of the field. Tom was yet again heroic and placed well in a great time. Chris pulled out all the stops and overcame his own blister/foot pain to also do a great job.
 
I woke up crying - yet again the pain. Relief and pride may also have contributed to my fragile state.
.
At 11am (26 hours after the start) this morning the last hero crossed the line into what looked like a field hosptial in a war zone. More tears and cheers from the camp welcomed her back in. Emotional!
 
I'm very slowly pulling myself together and starting to process the last few days. It's been (hasn't finished!) a phenomenal experience. Now is not the time to write about it but I will once back in the UK and had time and space to reflect.
 
I've met some wonderful people from 40 differnt nations and have memories which I will take through the rest of my life with me.
 
I'll hold back on any conclusions until the race has been run and completed.
 
Many many thsanks for all your great messages of support - they've been awesome to read and I will thank you all individually when back in Blighty.

I felt rotten last night. Had the most surreal night. It felt as though my body was eating itself, searching for calories, fat stores, muscle fibre to burn. I was burning up and it almost seemed like my body was fizzing - weird. Anyway, suffice to say I didn't get a cracking nights sleep!
 
Race strategy for today: Be defensive or attack as before. I decided it would be smart to hold something back for the 'big un' - that's Thursday's stage, not Tom's!! Stick or twist if you will?!?
 
I'd ran with my body and heart for the first 3 days, now time to go with the head! Today was going to be my recovery day, in a kinda marathon across the desert sort of recovery day.
 
The defensive mindset really didn't get me off to a good start, it was really tough to shake of a negative mindset and I never really got going. It was an extraordinaryily tough un.
 
James Elson (a guy I met on the Country to Capital in Jan. Now this guy has run every desert multi stage ultra going and plenty of 100 mile single stage races - I think he knows what he's doing and is someone I followed over the last 2 months and have considerable respect for) said to me - 'if you're going through hell, keep running'. Well, I descended into hell today. The Salar de Atacama (salt flats) experience has been seared onto my memory for life. It is not something I want to experience again and don't particularly want to talk about it. It was dark, very very dark! I have enormous respect for anyone who puts themselves through that.
 
I no longer recognise my feet, they used to be pretty, now they don't belong to me. I just leave them outside the tent at night and pick them up in the morning. My legs may as well have steel rods strapped to them - the darn pain.
 
So, today was not my day. I've had 3 pretty good ones and a day off. Time to reset the clock, refocus the mind, get positive and give myself a good talking to. Time to develop a positive, winning strategy for tomorrow. It's going to be a big day. I feel as though I may have lost touch with the top 3 and may have even slid out of the top 5 but I just had to do it. If I gambled today, the wheels may well have come off.
 
Big respect to the guys ahead of me to day, esp Eric, Derren and Matias who chased the top 2 all day long. How anyone runs across those salt flats I will never know! Another great perf from Tom and Chris. Tom is being really consistent and just ploughing on - he's damn tough. Unfort Chris has been suffering with bad feet and now a muscle strain, so fingers crossed for him tomorrow.
 
I feel better for my 7 hour, 100 degree, salt flat staggering, lip burning (they're falling off), blood curdling, foot swelling rest day. Back in the game now. Tomorrow is going to be a game of chess and I'm ready for action. Bring it on.
 
This is utterly mental!

Hi All
 
Once again a huge thank you for all the emails and blog comments of support and wishes - very much appreciated and it is a huge help. Please please keep them coming.
 
I have just (I finished stage 6 hours ago) found the energy to type a blog - please tolerate poor spelling, grammer and lack of capitals from now on.
 
i'm done, utterly utterly spent. today was unbearably tough. having said that, other than the first 5km or so of stage 1 i sailed (ran unitterupted) straight through to CP3 (approx 30km). arrived at checkpoint in 3 rd place but found the final stage very tough. i slipped a couple of places and finished joint 4th or 5th not sure really. i think you guys prob know better than i do. anyway, i guess i'm holding my race position but i have expended an awful lot. we just going to have to take it step by step tomorrow - yeah right!
 
apparently 40-45 degs on course, no wind, plenty of sand, salt crudge, waist high reeds, dunes, rocks etc etc - yuk! i'd give anything for a run along the thames tomorrow in rain and cold.
 
this is what it is all about though, this is why i am here. i am finding myself becoming very competitive and the desire to hold and improve on race position is building. there are a few guys (experienced obviously) who seem to be building in strength and slowly moving up the field hunting down the leaders -fair play to them, great patience, discipline and the experience of past hurt i guess. I'm just a novice running with my heart rather than head.
 
yet again camp is stunning, backdrop of the andes and the sun is currently setting. the back markers are just getting home - a 12 hour day. hats off and huge respect to them.
 
i'm cooked and need to put my feet back together.
 
love to all.

Before I drone on about myself and today's stage, I want to take a moment to mention Soper's heroic effort yesterday and an even bigger performance today - he's pulling out all the stops.
 
There is a Brit girl in our tent - Wanda Summers (cool name!). Following a paragliding accident 18 months ago, she broke her back and was  paralysed for 4 months. Made a miraculous recovery and is here running the AC2011. She can.t feel her toes (pretty useful for blister pain!!) and her knee gives way unannounced due to nerve damage. It took her 11 (eleven) hours yesterday. She arrived at the finish line in last place to an almighty welcome and all competitors waited for her and clapped her in. Sensational!
 
Right then, today. I'm pretty tired and really not sure how to attempt to put into words my emotions.
 
After little sleep (again - 4 hours may be), I was out of my tent at 5.15am making breakfast. It was cold and dark and with the mountains providing an impossing landscape it was a surreal experience.
 
The first stage (10km ish), was predominantly run through narrow canyons with vertical sides from the river up to the sky. It was majestic but meant the only way through was to wade through/criss crossing the Rio Grande (river) for the best part of 10km. It was awesome but tiring.
 
CP1 to CP2 was outrageous. A climb up (from the Rio Grande) the side of, a run through the mine shaft access and then up the other side of a copper mine. It went on and on and if not concentrating one found oneself going backwards it was so steep. we then followed the ridge for approx 5km before descending an unspeakably steep 400m sand dune. Now, I'm not a good enough skier to go 'off piste' and ski 'powder' but I reckon the sensation of free fall knee deep in sand was damn close (Coops/Rowls?). CP2 awaited at the base. At the time I sat 3rd, 10 mins off the lead. Unfort river crossings, wet feet and sand had trashed my feet - swollen, blistered and bleeding. I spent 10-15 mins trying to put them back together ready for the remaining 20 ish km. I lost approx 6 places which I struggled to make up over 2 horrid stages.
 
I ultimately came in joint 6th with a Canadian chap (Derren). I was struggling to not run/walk/stagger sideways for the last few miles. It hurt, really hurt, I was spent but Derren and I pushed eachother on. He/d just had some caffeine shots of some sort and was on some sort of high - singing, dancing, talking relentlessly. I couldn't respond - I needed my energy to put one foot infront of the other.
 
So, not sure where that leaves me? I think I overtook 4th but was beaten to the line by someone behind me from yesterday. I guess I'm 4th at best and may be 5th/6th at not best (couldn't really use the worst word!)
 
Thnaks for all your messages - much appreciated. I'm astonishingly tired so will sign off. Love to all at home, esp S, C & O xxxxxxxxx

Well, I said I’d give it my best shot from the Get Go. Apparently I finished day 1 in 5th! Crikey! As I said to the girl at the finish – ‘I wish someone had told me that on the course as I may have slowed down a tad’.
 
A mental day – difficult to put into words the various emotions, ups and downs, physical and mental pain, environment, terrain, altitude and the darn heat. Boy, was it hot. The first 2 hours were tolerable (less hot) and then after CP2 it really kicked in. I’m only used to sitting by a pool/on a beach and ‘necking’ lager in that heat. As it goes I had another 10 miles to complete through what I can only attempt (in my limited language) to describe as possibly the most mind blowing, wonderful, scary, stunning, imposing, intimidating, scenery I have ever seen/scene (see what I’ve done there?!?). It was awesome!
 
We got to camp at approx. 5 pm yesterday and by 7pm it was dark and cold. Everyone into tents by 8pm and, I can’t speak for anyone else, no sleep. I got up to go to the toilet at ‘sometime’, headtorch on and a 200 meter walk to the toilet area. It was freezing. I looked up and the sky was the most amazing star filled sky I have ever seen. There were so many stars they seemed to blend into one another creating one massive star creating bright light, but yet it was so dark. Back to bed for more non sleep and then the tent started to stir at 5.30am. Although we had left ourselves 2.5 hours to get ready for an 8am start I still seemed to be so rushed. Breakfast in the freezing dark by the camp fire. The sun started to rise at approx 7am and then lit up the camp by about 7.30am. Everyone literally shivering and jumping up and down trying to keep warm. I was still putting on my back pack and adjusting the straps and organizing my water bottles as 10…9….8…..Go!
 
Well, here we go. I hadn’t had time to reflect on months of tough training and weeks of technical and mental prep. No time to be nervous or worried just time to run. I was in and out of CP1 inside 1Hr 10 and then CP2 in 2hr 20. The first stage seemed to be ok ish. The altitude was certainly a factor but it was cool, bright and a steady run downhill. It started to get tougher as CP1 approached and then stage 2 was a roller coaster – literally. Steep downhills and equally steep up hills – very tough. Couldn’t work out which was the lesser of 2 evils – knee breaking, quad buring downhill or glute agonising lung burning up hill!
 
CP2-CP3. Went on forever across a wide plain, surrounded by snow capped mountains and volcanoes, followed by 5km through slot canyons. Hot hot hot. It was stunnng but darn tough and all uphill. I pretty much marched the whole stretch into CP3.
 
So, CP1 to the finish I was pretty much by myself and no one to be seen, apart from dots on the horizon both infront and behind. Just the way I like it. At one with my own thoughts and having a chat with the ‘other’ Ian! Well, we had much to talk about and the last 3.5km into the finish and camp seemed to go on forever.
 
Well, all done now. Only time will tell if my motivation, stubborn drive, stupidity, lack of experience will come back to haunt me or giving it my all was the ‘right thing to do’. I’m more nervous now as I’ve set myself a challenging benchmark but goodness only knows how I’m going to feel in the morning after no sleep, no stretching (note to self – please stretch), swollen and blistered feet (God, I’m so pleased I increased my shoe size by 1-2 sizes only 2 weeks ago. In fact I had to take my second pair of socks off after 12 miles!) and with a marathon to run across unforgiving terrain and intense heat.
 
It’s why I’m here. Bring it on. Arrrrgggghhhh…..
 
A huge hello to all readers and love and kisses to my amazing wife and the greatest boys in the world. I’m going to cry, so I’m off.
 
Love to all. Send me positive thoughts, I’ll be thinking a lot over the next few days – I’m predicting a full emotional breakdown at some stage.

23 Lbs on the start line - roughly 10 kg I guess.

We´ve got 2 hours before we head out to base camp, settle down for the afternoon, evening and get ready to rumble for an 8am ko tomorrow - yikes! I´ve just read the race notes for the 1st stage. The first 10km stage is very tough apparently. The leader will do it in 1hr 30 mins with the back of the field more like 4 hrs 30 min............ for 6 miles - what´s that all about!?! A right laff!

I´m actually feeling pretty excited and in comparison to the last 2 to 3 days pretty darn fresh. I think I´ve finally shaken off my stinking cold (although eye infection seems to be making a reappearance), now adjusted to the current altitude and a little more rested after 36 hours of travel. My current overriding emotion is curiosity. I just don´t know what to expect. I don´t know how many body is going to react or cope and more importantly how the mind is going to hold up under extreme environmental pressure. As Tom and Chris keep reminding me (ramming my own words down my throat), ´it´s all in the mind´. I´m already hauted by my blog!! Well, live by the sword, die by the sword!

The last 2 days have consisted of packing, unpacking, packing.......repeat! Taking calories and gramms away only to add back in at the next repack. I´m fairly comfortable with my pack weight and it will only get lighter.

We have been for a 30 min run and a 45 min run - both hellish. Yesterday´s 45 minutes felt more like (in terms of exertion) running a marathon in London! No joke. It´s a very strange sensation and one I have never experienced before. This, dry and very dusty air is not my idea of fun but something I better get used to asap.

We´ve just had a race briefing, kit inspection, medical and race check in. There is an eclectic mix of colours, national flags, languages, shapes and sizes. It´s going to be a mind blowing experience. We´ve already met some great folk and the banter seems to be of a good nature and as it´s a collective and shared experience there seems to be mutual uderstanding, respect and admiration for eachother.

My tent consists of 3 Japanese athletes (who are being followed by a camera crew for a documentary on Japan´s TV´s main channel - this is my moment to make it big in The Land of the Rising Sun, step aside Sir Beckham), 1 Brit (other than Tom and Chris), an American, A Chinese and Tom and Chris (aka Sargeant Major Somerville - a tour gag!).

Well, as the Americans would say - we´re all set and good to go. I really can´t wait.

Weighed in, weighed in........under starters orders.......and they´re off........

Left London 4pm on 1st March and finally arrived in the desert at 3am (London time) on the 3rd. So 36 hours of travelling, 3 flights and a bus journey into the desert I´m finally here! Chris and I hooked up with Tom at Santiago airport who had just arrived from Singapore via Sydney and Auckland (a hellish journey for him - I think he was 48 hours of travel with a date line cross somewhere a long the way). Dont´feel terribly sharp as went down with a stinking cold 2 days before leaving home so missing 2 nights ish sleep hasn´t made it a whole lot better. Anyway, never mind, try to get some rest before Sunday am get go.

Had a wander around the village (San Pedro de Atacama) this am. It looks a lovely little place. It´s pretty darn hot and very dry! Stating the obvious I guess! Goodness knows how one is supposed to run in this!

We sorted our kit/food out this am and all our packs are roughly weighing in at just under 10 kg before water. We had a little competition to see who had the lightest pack and who could predict to the closest 100gramms how heavy each pack was - whata laugh hey, crazy! If we were consuming alcohol we could have turned it into a drinking game - may be next Saturday! I think I´m going to do a repack and try to be a little more ruthless and lose a few more gramms.

Well, that´s about it.

Ian

Went for a 30 minute run last night - weird feeling. That's the shortest distance and time (apart from running for the tube!) I've run in possibly 12 months. I kept looking at my watch every 30 seconds and just begging it to be over. I've decided running for 4 hours is mentally easier as you can just switch off and don't bother looking at your watch!

I am currently reading Martin Middlebrook's 'The first day on The Somme'. As the title of the book suggests it really is an account of, through the eyes and thoughts of those involved, the build up to and the actual first day (1st July 1916) of the Battle of The Somme during the First World War. I decided I should read something which would enable me to put into perspective the challenge I am (and all other competitors) about to face. It's having the desired affect!

Walking to work this morning, and whilst reflecting on my reading, I started to turn my thoughts to the Desert and found myself listing Do's and Don'ts (a behavioural strategy if you will).

DO:

1: Respect the terrain, environment and climate. 2: Respect all competitors, race management team, medical support, Rules & Regs and volunteers. 3: Respect the host nation and its people. 4: Offer support, if able to do so, to all competitors and tent companions. 5: Drink (not alcohol!). 6: Eat (whatever pleasent freeze dried food I have) 7: Enjoy.

Don't:

1: Ever complain or moan about the heat (or lack of at night - please bear in mind us Brits are well used to moaning about the weather whatever it is whenever it is even if it is the exact opposite of whatever weather we just moaned about - it's true, we even have it as headline news on our main BBC news bulletin, 'the nation grinds to a halt due to (* - insert whatever non extreme weather you desire)!!), altitude, environment, terrain, exhaustion, stiffness, niggles, blisters, shoes, pack weight, food, warm water or my darn (guess that is a complaint of sorts) knees. 2: Never express a negative thought or doubt to other competitors. 3: Ever forget that I am fit, healthy and able bodied. 4: Ever forget that I am extremely fortunate that I am able to physically and financially partake in such an amazing challenge. 5: Don't ever forget that however 'bad' I've got it, at any one moment, there will be others going through the same emotions and millions, around the world, of others that do not even have the privilege of choosing hardship (if one has the right to call what we are doing to ourselves hardship - may be just tough). 6: Ever forget that I applied to do this and I therefore take full responsibility for my own actions, performance and result.

I cannot wait. Show time!

Well, less than 2 weeks till the countdown and the gun goes off for the start of AC 2011. In fact, this time in 2 weeks, stage 1 will hopefully have been successfully completed by all competitors and the camp will be stirring ready for breakfast at the start of Day 2. 

My training, since my last blog report following the Pilgrim Challenge, has gone ok ish. The 66 mile race and the infection knocked me out for a week or so and it was a real struggle just getting out and doing some miles. It almost felt like I'd never run before - heavy, tired, stiff legs and a waning drive to keep going.

Last week, I made the rather controversial decision to change shoes. I hadn't, rather naively, factored in the affect of foot swell and decided that the shoes I'd been training in and broken in were probably not big enough to accommodate blisters, taping and swelling. So, I now have a pair 1.5-2.0 sizes too big (which I think is recommended) and I am now trying to break them in as best I can. I managed to find a guy in South Kensington, who after much negotiation, finally decided to stitch the velcro around the edge of the new shoe to allow me to wear the RTP gaiters that I'd bought. 

I went out for 4 hours yesterday morning with the new shoes on and 11kg backpack + water. I decided to do a mix of running, marching and some hill repeats in Richmond Park. I think if anything, I haven't done anywhere near enough hill work/climbing, but that's ok as I hear the Atacama is pretty flat!!!! I intend to walk/march/climb most of the hills, dunes and rocks in the AD. Anyway, I survived the session and the shoes seemed to be ok - I had to wear 2 pairs of socks. My motivation wasn't great. I think I was so focussed on completing the 45 mile and 66 mile races that now they're done I am just rather keen to get on with the main event. I'll continue running right up to race day but winding down the distances and intensity. Time to start conserving energy, try to get some sleep and get some weight/fat back on - give me something to burn!

It's all about technical prep now I guess. Making decisions about kit and food/nutrition. I think I'm currently running at approx 10kg without water. I am rather keen to try and get that down to 8kg pack weight as water is going to add 1kg per litre. So, if race organisers require us to carry 2.5l at anyone time (which they have stated is a possibility) that's another 2.5kg. Approx 50% of my pack weight is food so at least I'll be consuming half of my pack...so to speak! 

I'll be flying out of London (with another competitor and friend, Chris) 1st March evening and I believe, if all goes to plan, I'll be arriving in San Pedro early hours of 3rd March, via Sao Paulo, Santiago and Calama. We plan to meet up with another competitor and friend (Tom - flying in via the other way round the world, from Singapore) at Santiago airport for the final flight to calama. That'll then give me/us 3 days ish to get prepped for action.

Well, I'm starting to get my head round it now. It's starting to seem real. I've just been focussing on training up till now but different emotions are starting to surface as we get closer to show time. I really do not know what to expect (apart from hell!) from the whole experience but I am very excited about the prospect of confronting and overcoming some personal challenges, meeting all the other competitors and volunteers, enjoying a different culture and experience what will be a mind (and possibly physical) blowing experience.

Bon Voyage to all competitors and see you at 'start line camp', if not before in SP.

Hi All

Does anybody know where (in London) one can get velcro sewed to running shoe for the Atacama? I've tried a couple of places but was just laughed out of the shop/cobblers. I've bought needle and thread and about to do it myself but thought it would be worth a quick ask.

Thanks
Ian

Crikey, I’m getting into this blogging (double G?) lark!

Fri 4th Feb 2011 @ approx 4 pm:

‘I’m going to prescribe you a course of strong antibiotics, go home and take it easy for a few days’. Said the good Doctor.

‘Is running 66 miles over the next 48 hours taking it easy?’ I replied.

Doctor stared back at me………… (I think she thought I was joking)……silence……..

‘Oh, well you see, the thing is, I am supposed to be running in a 66 mile race this weekend and I really need………..’

‘Look, try to take 4 capsules between now and when you’re due to start, they’re pretty strong, and see how you feel. Totally your call but………’

‘Great, super, many thanks for your time……’. I was gone, out the door before she could change her mind!

Now, I’d been suffering from a very swollen and sore eye for 2 weeks. Against much encouragement from various people I decided that I’ll just sit it out, avoid medical advice and wait for it to just go away. You see my problem is that I am happy to listen to the experts (whether it be medical, financial, physio……etc) but generally speaking I just ignore whatever advice they provide and so what is the point in wasting anyone's time and listening in the first place. One of my many weaknesses you see. By Thursday last week the soreness and swelling was just about reaching the point of intolerability (have I made that word up?!?) I had been to Moorfields eye hospital (London. No big deal – I had been told to go there by a Nurse at the NHS walk in clinic next to where I work) the day before and told that I had an eye infection and blocked glands. I was also informed that the fluid in the glands had probably turned to fat and would be there to stay unless I get it cut out. Great!

So having been prescribed 2 separate lots of antibiotics in 24 hours, I was out of the Doctor’s surgery, into the pharmacist to collect the capsules and then straight to the gym to hit the treadmill. I know, I know, darn foolish……I know. I felt there was only one way of finding out just how bad I felt - run. So after 3 miles (ish) at a steady pace I was drenched in sweat and decided that enough was enough……shower and home.

So, after feeding (bottle – my boobs don’t produce milk!) our baby at 11pm I went to bed. A very restless night, kept waking up, going to the loo and then lying in darkness asking myself whether I was ill…..or not? Oliver woke at 4 am, Charlie then woke at 6 am. At 6.15am my wife asked me whether I was well enough to run. ‘There is only one way of finding out isn’t there…….’. I’d gone, out the door and on my way to the train station to catch the first train to Farnham, before she could talk me out of it.

Based on my projected finish time (the organisers had requested each runner state their projected time so they could stagger the starts to manage checkpoints etc), I found myself at the start line with the top (supposedly quickest) 30 runners. As you can imagine there was a lot of start line chat – ‘you done this before?, what’s your best time?, you training for something………..?

‘No, er haven't got one, yeah', were my three responses in that order.

'10, 9, 8.............2, 1....Go. Enjoy the run!' Whatever. We were off at what felt like 10k pace.

Once we were off the country lane, over a stile and into fields, the pace settled. I found myself with a pack of 5 runners a little off the lead pack pace. It seemed comfortable enough at the time. The first checkpoint (approx 8 miles) seemed to come round quickly, too quickly. The pack I was with were in and out and away in no time. I had to stop and fill my water bottles. I started the race empty so I had to get some fluid on board asap. The chap at the checkpoint asked me if I was ok. 'Fresh!' (Hmmmmmm) I responded and off I went to catch up the other runners in my little sub group.

Now, I thought it was a strange question to ask a runner after only 8 miles of a 66 mile race. Curiosity got the better of me, so as I caught the other runners up I asked one of them (which I knew was probably the worst thing to do) how I looked - honestly. 'Er, well, I'm sure you're fine but.........'. I then noticed that I was drenched in sweat. Now, it could have been the antibiotics, the infection, a fever or just an uptick in the temperature and the rather hilly start to the course. The sweat going into my infected eye was stinging like hell and it was quite an effort to keep it open enough to navigate the course. Now is not the time to panic I thought. I didn't feel too bad, yes my breathing was slightly more laboured than normal but the course was tough (I'd been warned). However, I was comfortable with the pace. 'Ian, just get on with it, stop thinking about it, you're fine, stop moaning, there is only one way of finding out if you're ill and that is to run. It's all in the mind.......it's all in the mind......' I kept saying to myself over and over and over again.......Boring! So, I ploughed on.

The course was a great test for me. I live in London so most of my training is on the flat. This was the North Downs Way - undulating to say the least. At mile 22 (ish) we hit Box Hill. Now, I'd heard a lot about Box Hill from cyclist friends who use it as an area for hill training. We had to ascend up the side of it - the walking/lung busting climbing route as opposed to the road route. Now, Box Hill ain't no mountain but it sure is a short (ish) - some would say longish. But us Brits/English aren't used to anything other than a mound - sharp shock and with 22 miles already in the legs I was a tad wobbly to say the least. Now I was really sweating!

The remaining 10 miles continued to be hard going both in terrain and weather (very windy) and wasn't helped by me taking a wrong turn and shooting down a very steep hill for 1/2 mile or so. Fortunately, I realised at the bottom when the course opened up, that I must have taken a wrong turn back in the woods as I couldn't see any other runners across the open fields in front of me. Unfortunately, it meant I had to turn around and climb the hill I'd just descended! Lovely!

I crossed the finish line/half way line in 5 hours 29 mins (I've just checked the official results) which put me 15th out of a starting field of 150 ish - I think. I was shattered and felt very sick but pretty pleased with my effort.

'Please tell me you're not going to run the second stage' Sophie (wife) asked/told me at the end of day 1.

'Well, at the very least I am going to make it to the start line'. I said.

So, I found myself standing at the start line, backpack loaded, bottles full this time, a tad stiff (but weren't we all) and ready (kind of) for the off. As I had been warned by the race organisers that the course was tough and the last 10 miles were very tough I figured that the return journey (along the same course) must be easy and the first 10 miles very easy. If you catch my drift.

No............. it wasn't!

Well, all I can say was it was a great experience. I met some lovely people and learned a hell of a lot about Ultra running and most importantly myself. I just wanted to get it over and done with and get home. Rather foolishly I ran through every checkpoint (shouting out my number for the split times) and didn't eat. With 8 miles to go I was on for 5.15 hr time. Too easy I thought. Well, the Ultra Gods heard me and punished me - good on em. With 4 miles to go I lost the plot and staggered home in 5.36. Gutted. My own fault. All learning. I was only 5 mins outside breaking 11 hours for the course. Going the wrong way on day one is/was all part of the game, it's what Ultra trail running is all about. BUT, not eating and drinking is just plain stupid! I had mixed emotions. I was angry with myself but elated that I'd finished in a pretty good time. I felt ill, sick, hungry but couldn't eat, cold and utterly ruined. I got the train back to London and was greeted at home by the best wife in the world (well, in my world anyway) and 2 amazing fit and healthy children. Charlie shouted Dah da da (I think that means Dad?!) as I walked in through the front door and Oliver gurgled. I gave Oliver my medal (Charlie got the last one), bathed them, gave Charlie his milk, read bedtime stories and put them to bed/cot. I could have run another 33 miles there and then!

Monday morning I went back to the Doctors, welcomed with a tut tut, and was given Hep A, Hep B and Typhoid injections and more antibiotics. You can imagine how fresh I feel now!!

Oh, in case you're bothered. I held my race position and finished 16th in 11:05:26.

Well, this really is third time lucky. The last 2 blogs that I have written/typed have somehow disappeared into cyber space. After completing the blog I hit the 'publish' button, to publish the text, only to find it disappear (if that makes sense - can one find something disappearing?!?!?). So, after throwing 2 separate tantrums and vowing to never write/type (I'm going to write type from now on as it seems to make more sense) a blog ever again, I have now calmed down, made friends with my computer and decided to type it in a word doc and then cut and paste it into the RTP blogosphere. That way if it 'goes missing' I still have it. Genius! All utterly irrelevant info for anyone reading this but it is a part of my therapy and rehabilitation towards a more positive mindset!! And talking of mindset.......

I have noticed that when I initially set up my RTP profile (a number of weeks ago now) that I selected the title - is it all mental?!?! I feel I ought to address this question/statement - it's no more a question or a curiosity than it is a statement or held belief - and clarify what I mean by it.

I have always been rather curious about one's mind and just how much of life is actually in the mind. How does one deal with daily challenges (like losing your typed text - and more serious things!), obstacles and problems and what affect do they have on one's psyche and subsequent mindset. So, in my opinion, AC2011 is not just a physical, physiological and technical challenge, but also a mental one.

There are many factors that contribute to one's performance in an endurance endeavour of this magnitude. Physical preparation, an individuals physiological structure, technical prep, kit and nutrition options and decisions, pack weight.......and of course psychological. The question is, just what percentage of one's performance is mental. Clearly a very difficult, if not impossible, question to answer.

I believe that all the 'non mental' factors (mentioned above) have an element of psychology. For instance, how does one approach training, especially those long lonely runs. What's the mindset? Is it viewed as a chore (get it over and done with) or a critical training process that contributes positively to achieving the overall goal. The session itself offers an opportunity to really test and hone one's mindset for the race itself.

Now, I'm no experienced long distance runner. I have competed in only 1 marathon. Admittedly, I have ran numerous marathon distances in training and a number of 30+ mile distances. I believe that training for a marathon is harder than the marathon itself. That has been my approach to training for AC2011. I have taken a no nonsense, no compromise approach to training. So, I know the race is going to be damn tough, however I have never viewed that as the only challenge. The challenge of training for and preparing for such an event is even greater. One cannot afford a - 'I'm not really up for it today, may be I should just cut my long run a tad shorter, it's a bit cold out, I'd rather go down the pub (wouldn't we all?!?), I'm tired' - attitude towards training. It's as much mental prep to overcome these issues as it is developing physical strength and endurance. Yes, a 30 mile run is beneficial (as long as injury is avoided) physically. However, how one deals with it will have an enormous impact on one's psyche.

The main reason I applied to compete in AC2011, was to test myself mentally. Find my breaking point. Visit that dark place in my mind where I really need to challenge myself to push on........or quit! I feel, unless it really is a life or death scenario, that the only way to confront this is to go beyond one's physical capabilities into a region where it does become more mental than physical. The human body can achieve monumental things (much has been written on the subject), well beyond every day expectations. I feel though that it is the mind that drives the body on, takes it beyond known capabilities to achieve physical feat, regardless of fitness levels etc.

So, when it's hot out there (100+degs), my feet are swollen (wish I'd gone with that extra shoe size), the blisters are stinging, damn the pack is too heavy, lungs are burning from lack of oxygen, I am 120 miles into a 155 mile race and there are still 20 miles to go of the long stage, home and loved ones are a million miles away (so is a shower!), ran out of water and the next checkpoint is an hour away, I should eat but I can't. What am I going to do about it?

Slow down? Take it easy? Have a rest? Sit down? Grind to a halt? Quit? Dig deep? Push on? Grind it out? Eat up the ground? Enjoy the moment? Savour the pain? This is what it's all about. Arrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhhh..........

These are the very personal questions I want to ask myself. I want to know the answers. I'm looking forward to finding out what the answers are - I just hope that I am not disappointed by what I hear.

Anyway, I've gone on a tad and as Dylan Thomas (Welsh Poet. 1914-1953 - Crikey he died young!) once said: 'someone is boring me, I think it's me'.

So I'll leave you alone.

Oh, just one other thing. I quite like this quote:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

Well, I've not done this blogging thing before, so you'll have to bear with me. If you are interested in what I have to say and you don't know me, I'll warn you that I like a chat when I get going and can go on a tad!!

Anyway, thought I'd give it a go and try to get some thoughts and feelings down on record. I applied for The AC11 in July 2009 and pretty much since then I have been focussed on getting fit and in decent physical and mental shape for the forthcoming challenge. March 2011 seemed like a lifetime away back then but it is now only 5 weeks away! I have taken my training pretty seriously over the past 6 months and have steadily increased weekly mileage. I've completed numerous 1/2 marathons, many 20+ milers, a handful of marathons, a 30  miler, a 36 miler and a 45 mile (Country to Capital) race on 15th January 2011. That was clearly a tough challenge but I survived. I was pretty pleased with my performance and felt it was a reward for the months of hardwork that had preceeded it. I started from a pretty low base of fitness. Admittedly I wasn't exactly overweight or in a total state of disrepair. However, I did enjoy the odd cigarette and probably drank a little too much. I'd done, apart from the odd trip to the gym to bring down that average cost per visit, very little excercise for a number of years. So, although I felt utterly exhausted and not exactly an olympian I completed the 45 miles in 7 hours 1 min. 

My wife (Sophie) has been unbelievably supportive over the past 12 months, especially considering we started last year with a 6 month old baby and had another at the beginning of September 10. Our second was born almost 2 months premature and spent a week in Intensive care, followed by another 2 to 3 weeks (can't remember how long exactly - all a bit of a blur! I've come to realise that sleep deprivation has the same affect on one's memory as excessive alcohol does!) in hospital. He's now doing really well and is almost 5 months old. His arrival came at a pretty crucial time from a training perspective so I just had to find a way of continuing to run without compromising my responsibilities as a husband and father. So, when Sophie and our baby were in hospital I commuted to and from the hospital, twice a day, on foot. Since then, it has been a case of trying to fit around having a fulltime job and 2 boys under 16 months......oh, and sleep!!

So with 5 weeks to go and the 66 mile Pilgrim Challenge race this coming weekend, it's very much a case of trying to stay clear of any illness (very difficult with a snotty toddler climbing over me!) and injury. I have spent the past couple of weeks condisering my kit and nutrition options. I feel I am almost there and am aiming to keep my pack weight below 9-10 KG. I ran 22 miles on Saturday with a 13kG pack (just for the hell of it) and decided there and then that I would not be attempting to cross the Atacama with that kind of weight. I have been used to running home from work (approx 8.5 miles) on a regular basis with a 5-6KG pack and I must say (without trying to state the bleedin obvious) that 13KG is considerably different in terms of the affect it has on running gait. I just about managed to maintain my regular running pace but felt as though I couldn't have continued at that pace much beyond the 3 hours it took me. I'm glad I did it though. Although it was miserable and bitterly cold it was very much a positive training session. I learned a couple of lessons (strangely I suffered from my first blisters - probably the extra weight?!?) and set myself a benchmark for pack weight.

I will treat this weekend's 2 stage (33 miles each day) 66 mile race as my final opportunity to hone my running strategy and tactics (whilst under physical and mental stress and race environment) and to also make some final decisions on kit/food/pack weight. I will then stick to my plan and use the remaining 4 weeks to get used to it, tweak, condition and maintain fitness and strength. I aim to to complete a 100 mile week next week. I feel this will be extremely beneficial both physicaly, as I will treat it as the peak of my training 4 weeks before the gun goes off in Chile, and mentally. It will provide a boost to my confidence, going into the AC knowing I have completed two thirds of the race distance over the same period. I'll be good to go!

I guess that's enough of an intro. Sorry it is rather dry - I promise to try and add a little humour to my future postings!