Two weeks have passed since the end of the race. I'm back home with my beautiful wife, virus-laden children, 3 feet of snow, 2 cuddly dogs, one indifferent cat, and an avalanche of work. Don't get me wrong, I do like being back. But I miss the desert think, and I think it really means I just miss the simplicity of having one job everyday, and that was to get to the next campsite. I've not had too many holidays as rewarding, and (mentally) relaxing, as that very intense run through the desert. The last couple weeks has been filled with often vain attempts to focus on life here in Edmonton. I met such great people with great energy on this trip I can't help but missed their voices, their laughter, their attempts to teach me Spanish... or Australian. Alina and Sam and all the RTP team-thank you for providing the blank canvas for us to fill in with our adventures. Test 9- I miss you all dearly, and would happily remain shivering in the middle of the desert night within you again.Though perhaps our next meeting should be over a pint. OK, even a pint of warm water at a finish line would suffice. All the racers- Eric, Anders, George, Martin, Michel, Hidechika, Ash, Matias, Ali, the Hombres de Mais, and the others who served as either predators, prey, company, or competition - you are all a fantastic group of inspiring human beings. Godspeed and may our paths meet again. And to Ian 'Devourer of Hills" Holdcroft - who maintained my sanity (perhaps while I whittled his away) on our long mornings together - Jordan 2012? London 2012 for beer? Edmonton 2011 for beer in the mountains? You have to travel lots before the kids take a seat on the plane. Thanks for the thoughts on mental fortitude, and for the stories. May the Secret Service never call you on a romantic outing ever again. And to Blain Davis, a man who hates running, yet seems to have done more of it in the last 5 years than anyone I know... thank you for twisting my rubber arm and getting me out there. Your determination, and words of race-wisdom were fantastic ('Chocolate?! You're bringing chocolate to the desert?!'). Time to bring the Jack Davis Hope Foundation to life in the support of children with CF and their families. We're behind you all the way... And for those who want to read a little more about Blain, check out: http://www.edmontonjournal.com/health/week+searing+heat+swelling+feet/4510882/story.html Most of all, to my wife, my family and friends, and to all who have taken and interest and cheered us on, THANK YOU!!! I'll be there when it is your turn. Signing off from Edmonton until next time... Darren

So I now understand blisters, with a couple of fierce ones on the sole of my foot from the long day. That didn,t slow us down too much as we ripped home away from freeze dried breakfasts towards finish/line pizza. I doubt I could race well today with my sore tootsies, so thankfully we only need to sit on one bus and 3 planes as we wing our way home towards friends and family. And to all of my desert friends, whom I can now recognize by their hobble ad smell, thank you for a great week. Ian, your company, humour, and pacing were invaluable. I hope to see you and Sophie and the kids in future. All of tent 9, you are an AMAZING crew, and my condolences to your families as you return home with sweat starched shirts and shorts that are now biohazards. May your journeys keep the wind at your backs. Eric, George, Ralph, Michel, Matias, for your energy sportsmanship and sheer joy of the race, thank you. Martin, and Anders, what can I say other than WOW. You two were fun to watch from a distance. The bus is here... final though when I get home. Love to all!

Day 6 – A rest day where the late-breaking news includes such flashes as “Aussie Darren makes it in, completing tent 9’s reunion!”,  “Canadian Darren charges his iPhone.”  “Sean delights in Blain’s generous instant coffee donation.” “Sophie’s blisters make the med tent staff go ‘eeewwww’.”  “Japanese film crew shoots its ten thousandth hour of film.”
 
None of us slept much last night.  Racers rolled in throughout the night to the beat of the welcome drum… sometimes welcoming…. sometimes sounding like the drum tattoo preceding a march to the gallows.  As the finish line celebrations continued, the rest of us weren’t going to sleep anyway.  Interestingly the engines seemed to remain running despite the cars being in the garage, so to speak. The crew was ridiculously chipper – Blain and Cameron competing for the chattiest, happiest finishers.  3-4 hours of sleep and then awakened with the pre-dawn relief of knowing that we did not have to lace up shoes today.
 
The camp is filled with racers- all of them -  hobbling around. Even those with insignificant blisters are acting crippled for fear of incurring the envious wrath of those who have demolished their feet in this process.  There are only 2 things that can really do you in here:  bad nutrition, and blisters.  And more than a couple of people, self included, ignored burgeoning hot spots during yesterday’s stage.  After all, tomorrow is a short 10 mile… or rumour has it… 10 km (Yay!!!) run into town.  And an astronomer is coming to the camp at 8pm tonight to give us a lecture on the stars which are only slightly less magnificent with the waxing moon.
 
Today is certainly a fun day to share stories, remaining calories, war wounds, and those emails and blog posts that keep us intermittently in tears.  Please stop the sensitive messages all.  We are in the desert.  A few more tears and some of us may dehydrate and die!
 
For Zoe and Alexander, I have a very special story entitled The Perro Loco. 
Once upon a time there was a small puppy dog born to a black spaniel and black lab.  As a puppy she was very adventurous and liked nothing more than to run and explore.  One day she would be in the schoolyard, the next in the mountains, and the next in the middle of town.  But despite being very curious, and often travelling far from home, she was very cute and soft and cuddly.  She learned not to bark at people, but instead she would look into their eyes and ask, in a doggie kind of way, for food, water and love. 
In this fashion she travelled all over Chile, until one day she found herself in a little town in the middle of the desert.  There she stayed for a while.  The desert was hot, and hard to run across.  The townspeople were friendly and, when she gazed up at them, gave her food and water and love. 
But eventually she got bored, UNTIL one day, a great excitement occurred.  She looked out from her shady spot on the dusty road and what she saw made her tail wag.  Runners!  Lots of them!  She loved to run!  And the townsfold, nice though they were, did not like to run in the heat of the day. 
“Wow!” she thought, and without a moment’s delay, she chased after the runners who were heading out into the desert.  They were easy to follow because they smelled lots.  Sometimes like food, but mostly like stink.  Mmmmmm.  As a dog she loved smells.  So she followed the smells and the runners they belonged to for miles and miles.  They ran over rocks, and sand, over sharp salt that cut her paws, and cool mud that soothed them.  She stopped when they stopped.  She looked up at them with her puppy dog eyes and they gave her food and water and love.  She was very happy.  Her tail wagged, and her tongue panted.  And so every day she ran and she ran and she ran.  No one knew her name (neither did she for that matter, having left home before she learned it), but they started to call her Perro Loco – the Crazy Dog.   The only dog in all of the towns who had long jet black fur, and a love of running through the desert.
This is a true story, except for the parts that aren’t.  Her story hasn’t ended yet, but to this day she is happy and her paws are resting in a camp with a bunch of runners in the desert.  She has enough food, water, and love today.  And Perro Loco’s adventure will continue tomorrow.  The End.
 
One more jaunt home tomorrow…. 9.3km!  A champagne run home and a chance to run with all those people I have missed thus far.  Yeeha!
 
Love, Darren

Well, gang, today was a good day.  I hope I did you proud. The morning air was cool, and ripe with the scent of unwashed racers.  The views of the Andes were, as always, fantastic.  For the first time this week, my legs were not sore this morning.  And now, 6 hours after finishing, I have enough energy to write.  Foot care: check.  Calories: ingested. Evening ablutions: performed. Pack: unpacked. Tentmates: still rolling in...  but Blain came in early after a great day.  I have rarely heard him so chipper.  He was out-talking yours truly, and off to blog within minutes of arriving in.  Fantastic!   And not too far off the #3 woman - Christine - who is one of our superstar tentmates: a quiet Canadian just out doing her stuff, and totally kicking butt.
 
Best thing: Today I learned that in my life, if I just give an honest effort, that is all that is asked of me.  I ran with joy, a sense of being present, and an ackowledgement that this run was not my doing but rather a confluence of events (good nutrition, good feet, good company) and a phenomenal measure of grace.  Thanks Mom and Dad for the genes.  And thank you friends and family (and yet unmet supporters!) for helping me get here.  
 
Thank you God for everything above.  And for all things here in Chile.
 
The reward for today's work was unexpected, and not without some pain (though not much suffering).  I had to laugh everytime we hit new terrain:  from spiky salt flats, to stony gravel, to hard pack sand, to soft mud, to soft sand and hard mud.  From moonscapes to orchards, this desert has it all to torture a pair of trail shoes.  The laugh of the day came when Anders, Eric and I couldn't find the course markers and the wind had removed the footprints of the person who marked it yesterday.  We looked left;  rocky gravel for as far as the eye could see.  We looked right; giant insurmountable sand dune stuck to the wall of a cliff.  We looked ahead: no pink flags, just large sandstone rock formations.  Then we looked right again.... "No, they wouldn't"  " Is that a flag?"  "Oh goodness, they did."  Massive dune steeper than anything I would ski.  Laughter and curses.  More curses, I think, though.
 
Worst thing:  I have blisters on my feet.  I miss home.  The desert nights are quite cold.  Some of today's joy was tempered with intrusive thoughts of "I wonder how far ahead/behind I am of the race leaders."  Anoying really given that I had minimal control out there - only able to do my thing, race my race.  Missed my buddy, Ian, who has been fantastic running company -stellar job by him on some sore feet.  Missed Blain and the rest of tent 9.
 
That's the update from here.
 
Hugs and kisses,
 
Darren

After a long day of trudging through surprisingly unchanging landscape we have arrived at a beautiful salt lake, only to be deluged by tourists.  None of whom have pizza or beer.  Darn tourists.
 
Best Thing/Worst Thing:
 
The best thing to happen to me today occurred halfway through the 3rd leg – the salt flats (where flat = not flat).  Amidst terrible footing (think walking on coral) made better only by the path of last year’s racers I had a stretch of impossible light feeling in my legs.  The image that came to mind was that of a puppeteer pulling up on my knees, effortlessly lifting them into the air.  Wow! 
 
The worst thing was that the feeling ended shortly after and I was left alone in the middle of the stark desert chasing down, or rather not chasing down, the leaders.  But as always I ran my own race, did only what I could do sensibly and nothing more, nothing less.
 
In the category of Not Sure How This Fit In My Day were the following items:
1.       My running mate Ian and I spent only long enough for me to torture him with one joke as we were settling into the day’s work.  And to Ian’s wife, Sophie – thanks for the message!  We are a like pair.  Your hubby talked incessantly about you yesterday, and if you don’t mind me saying so, you are quite a catch.  Hopefully we’ll finish off strong together tomorrow. 
2.       I haven’t been following race results at the end of each day, but Blaine tells me I’m in third.  What am I supposed to do with that?!  That’s crazy!  Especially because the race really begins tomorrow.  Not the race for ranking, but the individual race.  4 marathons in a row and tomorrow we nearly double that.  6 hours today.  Happy to be in less than12 tomorrow.
3.       Wet wipes:  Godsend?  Environmental disaster? Do they truly clean your bits?  Or do they just cover the smell?  I’ll be glad to never see them again…
4.       Today is the day that all of my tent mates are starting to look like Shona.  Not sure how to deal with that…  they are becoming more attractive by the day.  Clearly the sign of a mind deluded by desert mirages and missing Shona.
 
That’s it for this short post other than to give giant hugs to all.  Especially Z & A who would love beating the big drum that welcomes every runner to the finish line.  And to Shona, who clearly needs to begin filling the fridge with beer and fatty snacks.  I’m not getting fatter out here chasing the rest of my darn good competitors and friends.
 
Xoxoxo,
 
Darren

Today was a glorious run with terrible footing.  I was laughing as we went along because the terrain varied from terrible (tall grass and dry mud ruts) to ridiculously terrible (soft sliding sole-melting sand) to sublimely hilarious (salt flats)
 
So the theme of the day was hot and salty - good if you are a freshly baked pretzel, not so good if you are in the desert.  The first taste of the salars was less than palatable.  Imagine spring slush frozen into 4-8 inch high ridges that either shred the gaiter strap under the shoe or give way to the soft earth underneath.  Every step is a lottery of footing that can only be tolerated with some up-tempo dance music and drive to get out of the sun as soon as possible.  The sun is actually not to bad.  Although its probably 40 in the sun right now, the elevation and cool mountain breeze keep it nice on the course until the desert chill disappears completely at about 1pm.  Otherwise the landscape is fairly austere.  The sections of waist high Andean grass is to grass what sandpaper is to paper.  The real sand is so miserable to run in that its best to walk, but we haven't had too much yet.
 
I really want to say thanks to everyone for the messages:
 
Shona - Thanks for holding down the fort. I've made many a racer jealous by espousing your virtues as we run. I've been enjoying every moment, even the inevitable painful ones (lost one nail today after a chunk of salt failed to give way to my wee second toe).  So even though I miss you, I won't dwell on it, rather save some energy for celebrating with everyone at home. 
 
Zoe - my dear sweet daughter.  In the desert they place small pink flags along the course to mark our way.  Everytime I see one, I think of you in your pink shirt.  By the time I get home, I will be trained to run towards anything pink... especially you!
 
Alexander - Today I kept my eyes open for life in the desert.  I saw one small green lizard, and one tiny yellow flower.  And I saw dog footprints on the trail today.  At times there were only 4 sets of footprints ahead of me:  one person who put the flags on the trail, the two lead runners, and the dog.  And don't worry, Ill run towards you super fast too, even if you are not wearing pink.
 
Mom - I blame your genes for the insanity.  Thanks!!!  Managed to break the top 6 for you....
 
And to Mom & Fran - thanks for a great holiday with great prep for this.  Couldn't have done it without you both.
 
Dad - We almost set a landspeed record today for running up a sand dune.  The final dune being a sliipery vertical 40m to camp.  We were going so hard we went backwards.  I am certain that people will quit the race at the bottom of it today.
 
Ry - Yeah, free T-shirt!  Well not free...  and not technically a shirt.  But I did get an extra bottle of water today, and all it cost was the price of looking exhausted.  You wanna set up a Bikram studio with low heating overhead, I got the place.
 
Christie - you think the Nichols feet are ugly.... wait 'till you see the photos...  And thanks for the book you sent - I've been running Tamahumara style - with joy, if not barefoot or quickly.
 
Trevor & David - all the people in this race spend too much time training and too little time playing chess.  Not a single taker yet... not that I've had the energy to ask many.  Spend my mental exertion figuring out if I should have the white stuff or the orange stuff for supper.  Trev or I can see you clicking your heels every 100 yards of this course.  David, it looks like I may make it back so you may as well cancel that policy... "free gelato for life if Darren snuffs out".
 
Kristin & the Davis Clan - Your man is a superstar.  He's always got a smile, even if it's not always on his face during the hills.  He's got tremendous friends here which is testament to his character and loyalty.  He's been a great coach "Darren!  For goodness sake, get rid of the toilet paper.  Wet ones are fine!" and the constant reminder to "run your own race" which has worked beautifully so far.
 
Jon & Maya - Interestingly I think I did see Jon's tush in front of me today, then I realized it was just one of the local gazelles.  You would both love this...  totally insane fun never-ending running.
 
Mary - thanks for the core!  Still need more!!!
 
Ken - Wheeeeeeeeeee!  This is awesome... just a little high altitude IM prep, and a good dose of mental training.
 
And a tip of the hat to an inspiration to all ultra runners - Mr. Ray Zahab, who was kind enough to send his best wishes to his fellow Canucks today.  Cheers, Ray.  These are just the baby steps of a first-timer...
 
To the Kays, McCabes, Atmo & the gang, Sam, Neal & Cate, Marcy & Darren, Gloria & fam (hugs to Austin and his parents!), Sharon & Gord, Dawn, Phoebe (yes, spork... and they come in titanium), and everyone esle suffering with insomnia and taking time to follow us all here in the desert. 
 
Much love from the almost-halfway mark,
 
Darren

The satellite download is pending so I haven't read the news from home yet.  Can't wait though. That is the highlight of life in camp.  That and getting horizontal in a tent as soon as we can hobble there.  Don't tell the rest of the racers, but I felt absolutely fantastic coming in the last 5 km.  Held a little back as, if I recall we are only a third done.
 
I'm really missing you all...and thanks again for the all the messages.  I savoured them all again today. 
 
Alexander: I love you and have been thinking of you.  You would love the volcano we get to see every day.  It's tall and pointy with snow on the top, just like a volcanoe should look.  Today we went through a long dark mining tunnel in a mountain.  It was nice and cool inside.  But not as cold as it is at home.   What have you been doing for indoor recess?  Has Charlie been going outside?  Did Mom let you wrestle with her?  I can't wait to come home and wrestle with you. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
 
Zoe:  Have you been walking to school in the cold? Was it nice to see your friends again?  Can you say hi to your teachers for me?  I miss you tons and can't wait you get home for a snestle with you.  And I'd like to play some games.  We just saw 2 pink flamingoes fly by?  There is a salty lake that we are camped by where they live.  My tent is warm at night, and I get to see lots of stars at night. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
 
Shona:  I hope you are not letting the cold weather slow down the training to much.  All I can say after 2 days and a measly 79km is that you can not possible train too hard for the Deathrace!  Keep at 'er love!  I know you won't have a pack but the first 80 km won't be anything easier than what we've done and I'm bagged.  But then you are the stronger of the two of us.  I can't wait to wrap my arms around you (after a shower or three).  I hope I'm doing you proud.  I thank God for you every day.  Gotta stop typing before I cry... could dehyrate and die.  :-)  xoxoxoxo
 
Life in camp is an interesting mixture of moaning, laughing, first aid, eating, and generally moving as little as possible.  I try not to be rude to the offer of hot water as soon as walking in to camp.  Very courteous offer in case you want a hot meal under the 35 sun, 8 seconds after running for 6 hours.  :-)  Our tent is blazingly fast and withing 90 minutes we have all but one arrived to groan and snort and recover.  Bankers, physios, accountants, lawyers and Blain and I.
All are a little crazy and rather experienced runners.  All chose their parents well. Only 3 others speak english:  the rest are British, Kiwi or Aussie.  Many are involved in CF fundraising and ALL are fantastic tent mates.  Typical banter:
 
Matt the night before stage one:  I'm cold!
Cam:  Don't worry, mate.  You'll have have sore legs to keep you warm tomorrow.
 
Christine:  oh! i have a blister!
The tent in unison upon seeing a tiny bubble on the top of one toe:  "how sweet for you to get a sympathy blister!"
 
Sophie:  You look cream-crackered, mate.  Bet you'd fancy some time on the dog & bone with yer trouble & strife.
Darren:   Ummm....  Sure?
 
Quite fun to be taught a little cockney slang from the women's race leader who race, btw, races in D&G sunglasses and a string of pearls.

Wake at 6.  eat drink change , stay in the sleeping bag while packing for the day.  electrolytes, water and food in the front pack.  clean out the instant breakfast bag 'cause it's the only one you have, tape toes and feet, lubricate everything that might rub on anything else, take a potty break, clean hands, brush teeth, repack bag, don't forget where the spork is, get to the Course Briefing (trust some of it... and 'interminable' hill does not bode well, and a straitforward section is scoffed at), back to the potty, get shoes on, check-in with the course timer, line-up, run all day...  then recover, hit the sack by 8pm, sleep by 10 or 11... ugh. 
 
Rinse and repeat.
 
 
Ridiculously Ian and I crossed the line in 5th place today. Thanks to his good sense we paced each other with a restrained first 20km. And then thanks to his long pistons and his constant rabbitting ahead of me, my prey drive was left on alert and we boogied across the line with a little Black Box on the iPhone.  God know what is in store for tomorrow but I can't wait to see if it matches the glorious views we saw today.  Well, maybe I can wait a bit... hopefully the horses recover well.
 
I pray to God that all is well at home.  I give thanks every day that we have  the most beautiful scenery to run through,  and the sustenance (both calories and companions) to run through it.
 
Darren

Wow!  First of all, thanks for all the messages everyone.  I can't tell you how nice it is to hear the words of encouragement, or at least the comments on my sanity. 
 
Today I came in 8th... nothing like starting with few places to go but down. :-)  It was such a relief to get moving that I just stood up straight, turned my feet over, and spent the next 4 hours slogging through the first 31km... and then another 30 min for the final 4km... and it was downhill.  Ugh.
 
For the runners out there, the altitude, 10.5kg pack, and heat were just as bad as imagined.  Got some great tingly digits with the initial hyperventilation as we tried to get a wee bit of oxygen into our bleed.  But the intial temp was cool... 15 degrees.  Then the sun came up and we ended running in a windless, narrow canyon-oven at 30plus degrees.   Stopped twice to tape impending blisters.  The shoes and gaiters held up marvelously. Altogether a 2000ft drop with one interminable 600ft rise in the canyon.  It's now in the high 30s and racers are still coming in.
 
For the artistically-minded, the views here are asbolutely stunning:  we awoke in the dark and at about 8 degrees to no moon and a complete view of stars like I have rarely seen, dropping down to the horizon.  We started the race to an Andean drum and pipe group.  The dawn light illuminated vast mesas, and the mountain range separating us from Bolivia which includes the ever-present Licancabur volcano...like some kind of Chilean Mt Fuji.  Gorgeous variety of rock, sand, gravel, hills, mountains, canyons, sand, rock, gravel...  Saw 10 birds, and a bunch of crazy gringos.
 
For the kids:  I did well today.  Which means no blisters on my feet, and no sunburn.  And I didn't run out of water so I did not have to drink from any cacti.  And I did not fall into a cactus, either.  Whew!  I love you and have been showing off your pictures to my tentmates who are a very fast and fun bunch of people from Australia, England, New Zealand, and Canada.  I have a task for you.  We came across a small furry animal maybe the size of a kitten... what do you think it is?  Can you look it up for me?  Try typing "Atacama and rodent".  I love you both and hope that you are ready for school tomorrow.  Have a great time!  Give extra kisses and hugs to Mom for me and tell her that I love her, and that it is OK for you to wrestle with her before bed tonight.
 
Love to all and keep the messages coming.  Like water to a man in the desert they are.
 
Darren
 
Tomorrow:  the tentmates, camp life, and an undoubtedly less verbose blog on Stage 2 - 42km.

The racers have all arrived and can be

Today began with a  3:30 am awakening with a wee altitude headache, and a view of Blain spooning his pillow.  Rough start.  But the headache was mild enough to fall back asleep, and Blain´s firm clutch was restriced to his pillow on a separate bed. 

 We spent the day breaking down our kit - saving space and weight by taking meals out of their bags and wrapping them drug den style in smaller saran wrapped doses.  Then a tour around San Pedro de Atacama - a tiny town with dirt roads, one-floor adobe buildings which seemed to be largely hostels, artisan shops, restaurants and homes.  I haven´t discovered the local industry beyond tourism.  Perhaps is it the breeding of large Andean dogs, who seen to be as ubiquitous and relaxed as the local townsfolk. 

Beyond eating, drinking, chatting with fellow racers, and going for a brief run, there was only napping left.  The run was interesting.  20 minutes out into the desert towards the looming Mount Doom-like presence of the snow-peaked Likancabur volcano told us two things:  it is dry here.  Take the dust from an old attic, bake it in the oven, then toss it in the food dehydrator, then go and run on it as it sucks the moisture out of your lungs through the bottoms of your shoes.  That kind of dry. 

The second learning of the day was that there appears to just about enough oxygen here to keep us moving at a normal pace.  Just about.  As in I am ´just about´ fluent in Spanish - we asked for the bill and got another round of beer so my linguistic skills are clearly peaking.  Or I am ´just about´ fearless as I run by the local gigantism-afflicted dogs.  Or I am ´just about´ done the race.

 I miss you all and am sending giant pillow-spooning hugs and kisses to all who want them.  Except you Jasper, I know where your mouth has been, puppy-dog.

Darren