well guys the deal I made w/ the doctors last night after yesterday's sun stroke was that if I urinated by this morning that I would be allowed to start Stage 4. Imagine working that into your everyday life...."I will be happy to send back the letter of agreement, if you can urinate by the morning..." Life just takes a different spin with different values and a different perspective out here. By stage 4 money holds zero value. Food, duct tape, second skin, and sunscreen are our Cartier, our Rolls Royce, our Louis Vuitton. Plain water is our gol. Well, after a full IV and then two liters of gold I thought everyone would like to know that I did in fact pee. I can hearing the cheering from here...I love the fact that perhaps somewhere in either 1919k or Victoria House that someone might actually say "hey, did you hear...Ricky peed..."
 
I started stage 4 focused on finishing the race and not having another heat stroke so my place will have dropped quite a bit but I actually really enjoyed today. We had 42km starting with a scenic descent and climb of several dunes and then up a large lava rock field to a seemingly bottomless canyon. Descending the sandy walls and ledges of the canyon was a bit tricky especially given that every step slid you directly towards the bottom as though someone tied a rock to your ankle. Given the 500 foot descent, straight down was not the way to go. Zig zagging through the sand we made it to a waist deep river bordered oh either sides by swwaying grass reeds at least 10-12 feet high. The scene would've looked complete had we had M-16 machine guns in our hands.
 
I hooked up with two of my tent mates, Giles Crosswaite and Richard Trice and we just went about the day together in a pack. Slow and steady we made our way the infamous salt flats. The best way that I can describe the salt flats is as though someone took all the water out of an ocean and just left the coral reef to run across. Oh, and 'flats' is probably the most cruel misnomer of all time. We trudged along fairly silently and determined barring the occasional expletive that would arrive after one of us caught a toe on one of the gazillion jagged edges sticking out, or if one us sunk through the salt to our knees.
 
All in all a good day albeit long and ranking damaging.
 
Right now I am writing this from an open canvas tent sitting literally on the banks of a massive salt lake nestled at the base of a steaming volcano. Pretty cool...if you get a chance Google 'Salt Flats, Atacama'.
 
There's so much to write but just not enough time so I hope that I'll be able to share some of the experiences later with everyone. I'm off to get my feet treated as I've earned 'worst blisters in camp' award. Trust me, not the award you EVER want to win. 
 
All the best to everyone at home! Tomorrow is 76km or 45 miles across the desert...The Long March! Game time.
 
Rp

hey guys sorry for the inconsistent blogs. It's quite difficult to describe the scene here at the moment. Yesterday was a wicked stage taking us down a massive ridge into a gorgeous and lush canyon that narrowed to as little as ten feet across in some places while a fast moving river split the 300 foot high walls. I ran well with the leaders through the canyons crisscossing the river more than 26 times and at some times actually running with the river in waist high rushing water. Amazing! This is why I love these races. Coming out of the slot canyons and into shoulder high waving grasses I was actually in view of the leaders and running in 5th position.
 
From there it was a massive climb up a 2700m ridge. 9km later we were jumping off of this ridge onto the most incredible dune you have ever seen. It was like Mother Nature herself had pushed the sand up to the lip of the ridge to catch our fall. Running at 6th position through checkpoint 2 it was time to slow down as the heat began to bake us in yet another canyon. Unfortunately, due to the numerous water crossings by the time I reached camp 26.2 miles later I had developed some pretty nasty trench foot and a blister the size of DuPont Circle.
 
today was just brutal in terms of both terrain and heat and it has claimed at least 10 competitors that I know of and frankly wouldn't be surprised to see another 10 not start tomorrow's 42km stage. It's 8:49pm and people are still coming in while others are laid up in the Med Tent. To give you a sense of how hard today was, my friend and Grand Slam competitor, Tremaine Kent was a former British Special Forces Officer and said that today was by far the hardest thing that he has ever done. It hasn't helped that we've had a plague of gastrointestinal issues hit the camp and as a result more than a few runners are also hooked up to an IV, incuding unfortunately, yours truly. (Jem, Cowen Family and all the Paughs please know that all is ok and that IVs are fairly regular at events like this...just a quick way to push the liquids through :) I will have taken a hit in terms of ranking but I actually planned to take today easy and will do tomorrow as well in preparation for the 76km Long March on Friday. Tomorrow is the infamous 'salt flats' stage and will try all of us again. I will give it everything I have but I will also be smart and am not afraid to make the 'smart' choice if forced to. I mean, I still have visits and FUPAs to do next week, and a girl that I owe a hug to!
 
Thank you to everyone for your support, it is so great to know that when it gets really really brutal that you are all out there cheering.
 
Love from Stage 3 camp amidst the dunes,
 
Ricky

It's 3:17pm here in the Atacama desert and I've just started to recover from what was a very unexpected strong 11th place first stage performance. I thought I went out of the gates fairly controlled and approached the stage with a 'hare' mentality but the spasms in my shoulder muscles and headache are giving me a different read on how I actually went after the stage.
 
From our camp tucked amongst a massive canyon at 10,640 feet we descended for the first 10.5km through fairly hard packed gravel and stony terrain. Eric LaHaie and Ryan Sandes went out like bullets and left the race for third place for someone amongst the rest of the 158 strong race field. I tried hard to resist the urge to keep up with the next pack of runners but somehow I started overtaking quite a few competitors even though I pulled back hard on any uphill climbs and shortened my stride on the flats. Bizarrely, slow and steady was 'winning' the race.
 
I hooked up with Rowley Aird from Hong Kong at about the 5km mark and we made nice time to checkpoint 1 and learned that we were only 20 minutes off the leaders and running in 8th and 9th respectively. Rowley is an incredible experienced runner who I've seen tear up the Sahara and Namibian Deserts so I just stuck on his hip for the next 10km as well.
 
Across a very narrow ridge and then up a  huge incline we were greeted with the most awe inspiring vista of wide valley hemmed in by the Andes Mountains and the impressive volcano of Licancabur. If anyone knows about my TDS 106km disaster in France last year then they know that descents trashed my quads so I pulled way back coming off the ridge and Rowley went on ahead.
 
Across the valley I got into a good rhythm and then the course tucked us into narrow, narrow dried river bed canyon and the sun decided to come out.
 
Through checkpoint 2 and on towards checkpoint 3 the terrain headed on a slight uphill grade choc full of ankle grabbing rocks and boulders. I kicked more rocks than I'd care to remember but the Salomon Speed Cross 2 shoes that I'm wearing seemed to cushion the blows and on I went.
 
I ran out of a steam a bit by mile 20 but despite the 100+ heat and salt crusted on my forehead I had a decent finish of 4:30:15 good for an 11th place mark. I've got a few nasty blisters on my heels but all in all I feel good and am enjoying Camp 2 and looking forward to Stage 2.
 
All the best to everyone at home! Thank you for your incredible emails and keep them coming!

II just had breakfast with Ryan Sandes and his documentary filmmaker, Dean, here at the Kunza Hotel in San Pedro de Atacama. Seems a bit of a shame to have breakfast be your last 'real' meal for 6 days, but it is what it is, so I did some damage to a variety of unsuspecting yogurt, scrambled eggs, toast, muesli, orange juice, pineapple, watermelon, quinoa, and coffee. 'Check-in' day is always an energetic day because the race field finally begins to emerge from their hotel rooms, travel excursions, and planes, trains, and automobiles. Peering over my pile of food and fruit I smile to see competitors wearing flags from over 30 countries just in our breakfast room alone: Korea, Japan, Germany, Estonia, UK, USA, Ireland, Hong Kong, Chile, Spain, Italy, South Africa, etc....They come from small towns and big cities and somewhere in between. Some are single, some divorced, some married with more kinds than they know what to do with. Some are rich, others poor. From the grizzled veterans to the anxious rookies, they are all different but at the same time all the same. They've assembled here in San Pedro, Chile from all walks of life to tackle 250km of the Atacama Desert step by step, inch by inch, together and yet apart. The common bond delivered through competitive spirit.



When I entered my first RacingthePlanet event in 2008, it seemed somewhat inconceivable that I would actually make it across 250km of the Sahara Desert's soft sand and blistering sun. I can't even imagine what my response would have been then if someone told me that only 15 months later that I'd be making a bid to be the third person to ever complete all 4 Deserts in one calendar year. I can probably safely assume that my response would have had something to do with a truck, a funny farm, a long walk, and a short pier. What would an undertaking like that even involve? What would the best runners do? What did the previous two do to make it through the hottest, windiest, driest, and coldest places on earth?



The best runners spend hours searching for lightweight yet calorie dense foods. They spend weeks planning the travel logistics alone to get to places like Kashgar, China and Ushuaia, Argentina in the most effective and cost efficient way possible. They calculate and re-calculate their food's nutritional quality hoping to manage at least 2,000 calories per day comprising 60% carbs, 20% proteins, and 20% fats. They weigh and weigh and re-weigh their packs and reduce weight wherever possible. And, of course, they would spend months on end physically training their bodies to withstand the planet's harshest environments. From hypoxic chambers, to specially crafted heat suits, to hill sprints, to intervals, to spinning, to even running in dry saunas. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, they would save, save, save, and save more money to raise the required capital to cover hefty registration fees, gear, equipment, food, and travel costs. In Ranulph Fiennes' book 'Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know' he said that the hardest part about any expedition is the fundraising.



Sitting in my hotel room writing this, I know that I've completed the Sahara Race and completed the 250km Namibian Desert Race. I also know that I've been destroyed and humbled by failing the 106km Sur les Traces des Ducs de Savoie, and a summit attempt of 23,000 foot Mount Aconcagua. I know what good looks like and likewise what very very bad looks like and everything in between. I think I know what it takes physically and mentally to get through all 4 Deserts in one year. What I could not do, however, without my sponsor, The Corporate Executive Board, is financially get myself to each of these events or cover the registration fees, gear, equipment, and food required.



When I first emailed CEO, Tom Monahan, about CEB's appetite to sponsor my bid I half expected him to reply with something about that truck, a funny farm, a long walk, and a short pier. The other half expected him to reply with a link to monster.com and a pink slip. To his credit not only did he and CEB review my bid but they supported it. Although (stealing his joke here) I think he thought that they were sponsoring the 4 DESSERTS and were sending me down to Chile to tackle a giant flan or tarte tatin.



Getting ready to set out on the first leg of perhaps the toughest endurance event in the world I am humbled to be here with the opportunity and humbled to wear The Corporate Executive Board logo. A huge and special thank you goes out to not only Tom, Steve Meyer, and Rich Lindahl but also (and sorry guys) and perhaps more importantly to Kay Gunn and Cheryl McRae-Boone who really made this happen.



Off I go for 6 days into the driest place on earth, The Atacama Desert. I leave everyone at home with a bit of Edgar A. Guest:



Somebody said that it couldn't be done,

But he with a chuckle replied

That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one

Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin

On his face. If he worried he hid it.

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn't be done, and he did it.



Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;

At least no one ever has done it";

But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,

And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,

Without any doubting or quiddit,

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn't be done, and he did it.



There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,

There are thousands to prophesy failure;

There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,

The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,

Just take off your coat and go to it;

Just start to sing as you tackle the thing

That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

Interestingly enough, the longer I stood still, the closer I got to Santiago. Standing at the Iberian Airlines ticket counter initially started with a conversation about how I wouldn't get a flight to Santiago until at least March 10. Given a race start of March 7, that didn't necessarily work unless the rest of the competitors minded me showing up in the middle of Stage 3. Thirty minutes passed and Iberia had a flight suddenly that would get me to Lima, Peru for $2100, one-way. An hour passed and Iberia suddenly had a flight for me leaving a day later that would get me to La Paz, Bolivia for $1,700, one-way. After two hours, Iberia had a one-way flight for me to Santiago de Chile that was leaving in an hour and would get me there for $1200. I feel like I should've hung out longer...they probably would've found a way to run the race for me, pick up my medal, and get me back to London for $6.80. After all of that I finally boarded a flight to Santiago via Madrid.



Arriving in Santiago heightened the senses a bit and I started getting ready for whatever the world might throw my way. All I can say is 'wow, what a scene'. After waiting on the tarmac for an hour, we filed off the plane and into single file rows on the tarmac that reminded me for some reason of an elementary school fire drill. Narcotics and bomb sniffing dogs passed up and down the rows handled by police in green uniforms and cargo pants with lots and lots of pockets. 'That must be where they hide their drugs' I joked to myself, then I hoped that none of the dogs were 'thought' sniffing dogs or I would surely end up in a makeshift prison on a makeshift runway. Passing the sniff test we were herded around the back of the airport through tents serving as a makeshift customs department. The airport terminal itself was closed and roped off, and it was easy to see why. Broken windows, collapsed floors, dangling lights, and strewn rubbish served as a melancholy backdrop and bookend as we filed through the middle in orderly fashion, however we emerged to find the other bookend full of chaos and activity. Taxi drivers, bus operators, and tour companies hustled for our business while work crews jackhammered away at the damaged overpass above. Despite the spike in noise and activity I left being very impressed with the order and calm instilled by the Chilean Authorities. Really the most chaotic part of the entire trip was the large group of students from La Universidad de Salamanca who seemed to be 'living la vida loca' the entire time...



I boarded a free bus provided by Iberia Airlines that took me into South Central Santiago and the Terminal de Turbus, where I was able to buy a one-way ticket to San Pedro leaving in 20 minutes and arriving 25 hours later.



Have you ever gotten off a flight somewhere or arrived at a destination and felt like someone just waved a wand and somehow you ended up there? Maybe you left a rainy London one morning and ended up in Barcelona or Rome and it was as though your flight, your travel, never existed? Maybe you left a snowy Washington, DC and landed in Houston or Jacksonville or Nashville and it was though you simply woke up there to start the day?



Well....I left London on Tuesday afternoon at 1pm GMT and after two flights, two buses, and 50 hours, I arrived in San Pedro de Atacama. I don't feel like someone waved a wand so much as I feel like they whipped me with one. I did a good job staying hydrated with loads of water and Gatorade, but I also felt quite gross thanks to the eight 'mystery meat' sandwiches I had to eat along the way, and for the fact that I hadn't changed my clothes since I went to work on Tuesday morning. If I could smell me, then certainly the other 70 people on the bus could smell me, and trust me there's no Molton Brown in towns like Iberra. Unfortunately for the guy seated next to me, San Pedro de Atacama was still over a day away...



My seatmate was a French guy, living in Belgium, but speaking with a Scottish accent. I pressed him on his bizarre accent, and even though he maintained his Normandy upbringing, I wouldn't have been surprised if his name were Glen Morangie or Johnny Walker, or William Wallace. I never got Mr. Pierre O'Callahan's name but what I can tell you is that he was on an 8 month sabbatical from his job as a solar energy scientist and that after three months of windsurfing in Brazil that he was on his way via bus to Bolivia.



Unfortunately, after 40 hours of straight travel and bizarro foodstuffs, the most intelligent comment that I was able to offer on the subject of solar energy was that "I always have more energy when the sun is out..."



It's no surprise that just as the bus turned sharply changing its course from the coast to the internal route, so too did our conversation turn sharply from the intellectual to his current issue of the heart: Mr. Jean-Luc Murphy O'Sullivan had met a lady friend in Sao Paulo, Brazil and was torn on whether he should quit his job and try to make it work with said lady friend. Apparently Mr. Olivier McGillicutty feels that at 40 years old that it might be time to settle down and that she might be the one...or 'La Uma' for my Portuguese speaking readers. I can only attribute what next came out of my mouth to my 41 hour travel haze in which I completely stole a line from Jerry Maguire and said something to the effect of "if you love her, then you have to be fair to her..." I even said it in Cuba Gooding Jr's voice.



The next 9 hours was surprisingly quiet except for Mr. Francois Glencoe's occasional humming of 'The Secret Garden'...



As I mentioned after 50 hours of travel I finally reached San Pedro de Atacama, which sits on the edge of the Atacama Desert against a backdrop of volcanoes and perched at roughly 8,700 feet above sea level. I've been here before. Well, I've never been here before per se, but I've been HERE. While this is Chile, it could easily be Egypt, or Namibia, or Argentina or even Arizona. The small desert town, the mud and straw walls, the tattered corner store, the dusty streets, and the oppressive sun. I've met the guys who hang out at the bus stop, and I've even tossed treats to the old, mangy dog that is always laying in the dust on his left side, half-asleep, and pestered by flies. If you're ever going to start a sleepy desert town you absolutely have to have this dog or else your street cred is out the window.



While I've been here before one thing I know full well is that I've never run this race before. I've crossed sandy plains, outlasted insufferable suns and climbed rocky canyons, but none of that matters amongst the terrain of the Atacama. The Atacama will offer up shoe-piercing salt flats, and a lung wheezing altitude that I've never run in before. I had my fun with Benoit McKutcheon and overcame my first hurdle, but that was the easy part. Now there's a race to run and it's time to take the next few days to get mentally ready for the Atacama Crossing...or Stage 1 in the Race of No Return.



Game time.

At 6pm yesterday afternoon it was still a sunny 88 degrees (31C) here in San Pedro de Atacama and time for a run. After 50 hours of being sedentary I couldn't think of a better way to rid myself of the mystery meat sandwich toxins and travel 'grease'.



Turning right out of the Kunza Hotel led me directly into....a pack of goats. Yep, a pack of goats. All I could think was that here I made it through two days of travel through an earthquake stricken country and I end up trampled to death by goats. Surviving the goats I continued on down a long dusty stretch of narrow road bordered on either side by walls of mud and straw and canopied by the branches of cha

Quick update: arrived at Heathrow airport for flight check in to Santiago and LAN Airlines is not operating. Saw British runner Tremaine Kent who was able to get re-directed to Lima and is going to take a 2 day bus journey to San Pedro. Despite booking my flight through Iberia Airlines who is a partner of LAN they cannot transfer my flight which I've been told has to be done through my travel agent. Travel agent cannot get through to LAN in order to get me re-directed as well. Have been on hold with LAN now for over an hour in the ticket line of Heathrow airport trying to find a reasonable flight to perhaps La Paz, Bolivia or perhaps Lima, or even Iquique, Chile via Lima. It appears that the first test starts now! Let the resolute win!! And who said the running stuff was the hard part?