The final push to the finish line, which, I am relieved to say, was reached by all four of us together, was both the most painful and the most enjoyable part of the race as a whole. Having completed

'The Long March' was, as expected, long.  50 Miles long to be exact and the feeling to have it behind is fantastic.  This stage has been looming large in all of our minds, and while with four marathon's down we expected to complete the challenge, it was by no means a foregone conclusion.  Far from it in fact, as none of us had come even close to covering such an extraordinary distance.  And one thing that I can safely say having completed the stage, is that I will never, ever, put myself through that again.  I have a strong suspicion that I speak for the other three (and the majority of the first timers).
 
The 5.30am start was a struggle, and my attempt at putting down our usual breakfast porridge was aborted less than half way through.  MItch refused to even try, preferring to rely on as many electrolytes and caffeine gels as was necessary.  The bus ride was fine, despite the nervous anticipation of the task ahead.  We were treated to a police escort all the way which was added a definite sense of occasion, even it was completely unnecessary.  We arrived at the start with half and hour to get ourselves psyched for the off.  The atmosphere was generally positive although this was tempered with considerable apprehension.
 
The starting whistle was met with a charge forward, as we conservatively struck out with a modest yomp.  The four of us stuck together until the first check point passing through in around 43rd position - clearly our yomp was a better pace than we thought.  The start of the second involved a very steep climb and descent for about 20 minutes, before taking on a rocky riverbed.  At this point Mitch and I put in considerable effort and began to leave the others behind.  With such a long way to go, we decided to make as much progress while we felt strong.  Having reached the second check point (of 8) in around 34th position we began to get competitive.  This helped us maintain our pace and our position for most of the race.  I even managed to talk a flap jack out of a fellow competitor, which was definitely a high point.
 
By the 40 km point (which we reached in six and half hours), we felt strong and I began to think of the day as nearly over talking deliriously of what we should do when we crossed the line.  It wasn't long before I realised that we still had 40 km to go, and this brought me into my lowest point of the day, where the pain in my knees kicked in and the two (admittedly modest) blisters on the balls of my feet burst.  Mitch managed to drag me to check point 5 (around 50 km in) before we cracked on managing to maintain our pace pretty much for the remainder of the distance, finishing in 12 hours 42 minutes, crossing the line in 33rd place.  This was comfortably our best finish (and I even managed to get into check point 6 in 29th position - although I obviously slightly choked from there!).
 
Mitch and I waited up until George and Hugo crossed about three hours later.  The feeling that we had all managed to crack the toughest challenge that we have taken on, particularly with our various injury worries, was phenomenal, although fatigue certainly made it difficult to fully comprehend.  Yesterday's painkiller count perhaps best describes the challenge - 8 Paracetemol, 8 Ibruprofen, 1 Volterol and 2 Immodium (safety first!).  Anyway, with only 12 km tomorrow until we're finished and a relaxing day in a desert oasis today the atmosphere around the camp is extremely buoyant.  And my position of 44/128 is certainly better than I ever expected.
 
I will fill you all in with a full debrief tomorrow, but there is a big queue for the computers so I had better get off.  Hope all is well at HQ.  Love to all and thanks so much for all the support!
Pill count.

George and Hugo have clearly been keeping a lot in the tank.  Having spent the first half of the day together, Hugo's knees were sore and George was beginning to feel his tendonitis.  Mitch and I kindly stopped and waited for them to take some pain killers and duck tape their feet, while George also mended his flaking trainers.  But that was the last Mitch and I saw of them as they romped home 45 minutes faster than us in 40th and 41t place (Mitch and I came in 50th and 51st).  This is testament to some serious grit on their part as they are both in pain but utter virtually no word of a complaint.
 
The same can be said for Mitch who managed to hold down his only meal for a couple of days last night.  Although he did feel sick during some of the climbs, there was no hanging around and he simply got on with it.  Whether Mitch has given me the yips about holding food down, or the altitude was getting the better of me, but I felt quite sick last night so only managed a small amount of food.  Today, we had one low point during which time Hugo and George left us, but other than that we managed to keep a reasonable pace.  Having felt quite weak for a while due to not eating as much as I should, it really makes you realise that Mitch's effort yesterday was truly gargantuan.
 
Today's stage is described as the 'Stairway to Heaven', and at times I felt like I might not be too far away.  The first two sections were only around 7.5 km each but were incredibly tough as shown by our stage times.  On the first three days Mitch and I managed to reach the halfway point in around three hours.  Today however, it was closer to 4 despite the shorter distance.  The reason being that the first stage involved an incredibly steep climb of around 400m to 'Shipton's Arch', known by the locals as 'Heaven's Gate'.  While this was a real bugger, the view at the top was simply spectacular.  The descent was very unkind to my knees which didn't set the day up well, but unfortunately the worst was yet to come.
 
Stage two involved a traverse across several valleys.  While the uphill left us all exhausted, going down the other side was even worse due to the wear on our joints.  There was one particularly tough part where we were following a woman who looked as though she was really struggling to hold her footing.  George very chivalrously donated both his poles to her to help in her plight.  I therefore gave George on of mine (although I previously lost mine Mitch kindly donated his because he had 'smelled poles out) and we struggled on for about 10 minutes with a single pole each.  We decided that this was perhaps a bit generous given the extent of our own aches and pains, so George had to sheepishly ask for them back, which I found highly amusing.  This set us up for a painful stint to the camp.
 
The remainder was just two sections of 13 km each which was on forgiving terrain, although the several river crossings meant that our blisters were intensified by wet feet.  This was especially tedious and getting to the camp was a huge relief.  But what we have found is that the pain in our knees has sort of leveled out, and in my case at least, is very manageable. This is very encouraging given the challenge tomorrow.  We are set for a two hour bus ride at 6.45 am for a 9 o'clock start.  We have 80 km to cover non-stop until we're finished.  This sounds pretty unbearable, but I am hoping that having come this far, there is little chance that we will fail now (touch wood).  Today was certainly the toughest terrain and it is encouraging to have that behind us, but the sheer length of tomorrow terrifies me.  With any luck we can reach camp in the early hours of Friday morning, in the knowledge that we have made it.  Who knows the 8 miles on Saturday to the finish line may even be enjoyable...but lets not get too far ahead:  One step at a time.

I don't think I have ever woken up in the middle of June, opened the door of a tent, and been delighted with thick cloud cover.  The temperature today dropped mercifully and the prospect of the 1000 metre climb over 39 km became infinitely more barable.  I changed my approach to today, viewing it in the context of the whole race.  With a view to finishing, I stopped my designs on improving my stage times on the bais of knee and joint preservation, thus curbing my competetive streak.  This rethink was on the basis of how much I struggled after yesterday's leg when I had real difficulty taking on enough water.  This was excacerbated by the heat in our tent which caused my resting heart rate to be slightly more speedy than is natural.  My weak mental state was not helped by this,and I proceeded to have a serious crisis of confidence.  It simply depressed me that, despite the effort, we had only done a third of the distance.  Three litres of water and two rehydration sachets later I began to pick up.  Finally,  Danish chap named Anders offered almost everyone in the camp a piece of Parmesan.  While this is a serious luxury that adds unnecessary weight to the bag, it did a wonderful job in perking me up.
 
Todays leg, despite the manageable temperature, was pretty tough.  All four of us took on the first half together which was almost good fun.  But not for long.  At the half way stage, Mitch and I put in a slightly stronger yomp and began to leave George and Hugo behind.  A long climb up a shingle river bed proved very treacherous and unpleasant.  Mitch was struggling having thrown up in the night, and was thus lacking energy.  At the third checkpoint, I left him (on his insistance) and tried to gain a few places.  However, the 400 meter climb over 9 km proved a real bugger and as we approached 2800 metres, my motivation and speed subsided, perhaps the force feeding that I was subjected to by Lizzie prior to the race has finally worn off!  I managed to virtually crawl to the finish, over-taking around five people who were obviously having the same trouble and managed to get the 'chest-dip' over the line to shave off the crucial milliseconds from my time - 6 hours 38 minutes.  A bit slower than the previous two days, and 20 places lower than yesterday, but other than the incessant pain in my knees, I am encouraged by the ease with which I tackled most of the day.  It stands to get much harder tomorrow though, which is described as the toughest stage (an undulating 42 km -past the worlds largest natural arch apparently) and is supposed to add something like 2 hours to your time.  Sounds ominous.  But once that is done, one one day to go, even if it is 79 km.  I only hope that my knees, and more importantly, my mind can hold out. 
 
I am also hugely moved by the atmosphere in the camp (which was described as looking like a POW camp due to all the limping, and obvious pain) which mobilises when the drum sounds to call in the last couple of competitors.  As soon as it sounds, most people rush to the finishing line to encourage and clap in the last few who have generally taken around 12 hours (nearly double my times, and triple the times of the leaders).  Efforts of that magnitude by these guys is remarkable and really spurs me on.  As does the encouragement around the camp and from yo8ur messgaes at home (please keep them coming, they are a real help, and I apologize about my spelling - Rodders you old git!).  Anyway, I had better get off as I broke a stool writing this yesterday - perhaps I need to do a fewmore runs...But with regard to the race, if I can get through tomorrow, hopefully I can see this challenge off...But, as always, one step at a time.

Buoyed by yesterday's effort, I was almost looking forward to today's leg.  A very slightly shorter course (41km) with a few tougher parts sounded a reasonable trade off.  And as such I managed to maintain my positivity for about 20 minutes, at which point the incessant aching in my knees, which was only a feature in the last 2 hours of yesterday, kicked in thus setting me up for painful day.  On top
 of this the heat seemed to pick up earlier today, reaching a grossly unreasonable, and unnecessarily aggressive, 45 degrees.
 
Despite this Mitch and I planned to keep to the tactic that had worked well for us on the first leg, namely running the flat and downhill, and walking anything with any unpleasant incline.  We stuck to this, and managed to make the first check point in just over an hour.  And then the fun began.
 
We emerged from checkpoint 1 (8 km in) and embarked on what proved to be a miserable traverse of several small valleys embedded with either sand or uneven rock.  This, coupled with the uphill aspects, made running impossible and as a result I began to focus my attention on the pain in my knees.  Mitch at this point proved very stoic and continued with his powerful yomp with me dragging behind.  By this time I had managed to acquire a layer of sand in my trainers.  This gave me an opportunity to demonstrate my uncanny ability to ignore sound advice by leaving my sand-filled shoes on, rather than emptying them.  As a result I managed to acquire my debut blister (which is actually reasonably manageable, and to only have one at this stage is pretty fortunate). 
 
As we reached the second check point, I quickly readjusted the straps on my bag, reloaded with water and Mitch and I plodded on.  Stage three of the day wasn't too bad and gave us an opportunity to run a little more.  The only thing was that I had managed to leave my only remaining walking pole (having snapped my first one within the first mile yesterday), at the second checkpoint.  Baring in mind the extraordinary virtues expounded by my mother with regard to the relief these poles give to your joints, I wasn't best pleased with this error.  And sure enough my knees didn't seem too chuffed either.  Although, it is difficult to say whether they were any worse as a result.  Furthermore, baring in mind the nature of the event, I suspect that everyone is going through the same thing.  Mitch and I managed to make up some places during this stage and by checkpoint three, we probably sat in around 50th position, which is something of an improvement on yesterday.  However, we still had a gritty stage to go, involving a steepish climb and some horrendous sand dunes.
 
We strode out and, with the thought of there being only 11 km to go, we maintained a reasonable pace.  This was virtually doubled when Hans Zimmerman's inspired theme tune to 'Last of the Mohicans came on my ipod, which had so far been pumping out a very relaxed yet appropriate Fleetwood Mac album.  At this point we reached the grit-fest that was the sand dunes, and for some reason, the pain in my knees relented.  I put in some hard yards overtaking 3 people on the dunes before putting in a running finish for the remaining 800 metres, overtaking a further two.  This meant that I finished in 6 hours 18 minutes, in a position of 45th.  Mitch came in shortly after.  We are pretty pleased with the improvement on yesterday, although I have had a job since mainting my hydration.  It appears that this is going to be a constant battle (unsurprisingly).  George and Hugo also yomped in successfully shaving over an hour off yesterday's time, and over 20 places.
 
Tomorrow is repudedly an easier day, with only 39 km (although the 1000 metre climb sounds slightly ominous).  But as the checkpionts disappear, and the end looms ever closer (albeit at an incredibly slow pace), my confidence is growing.  But there is still the small matter of Thursday's 50 miles, and that is something I find terrifying.  I only hope the knees can hold out.  Must keep to the mantra:  One step at a time.

So here we are, at the end of the first marathon.  Needless to say today was pretty gritty, not least because of the amount of 'yipping' that took place during the arduous process of packing our bags:  During a particularly jocular period, I thought it would be a good idea to can my very appropriate Oakley sunglasses in favour of the less appropriate, but infinitely more stylish Wayfarers.  Needless to say, while ideal for most social occasions, they fell short of the basic requirements of desert 'yomping'.  However, after certain modifications involving a modest amount of duck tape, they are now not only superb looking, but they are also desert proof.
 
Further errors were revealed to us by our tent partners who, as it turns out, are seasoned campaigners at this sort of thing (one of which came first in leg one of the female race).  Our bags were clearly far too heavy and they found it extraordinary that Mitch and I had packed a pair of swimming trunks for 'camp lounging.  The best way to illustrate this is perhaps by revealing the relative weights of our bags - hers weighing in at 6 Kgs, mine weighing in at a very uncivilized 13.  Having resisted their advice initially, tonight will witness a serious cull of various unnecessary items (such as insect repellent) owing to a searing pain that I have acquired in both shoulders. 
 
We were also lucky enough to enjoy a quite remarkable, at thoroughly undeserved welcome, with the whole of the local town lining our entry road applauding (it was a hellish bus ride, but I'm not sure it warranted such a generous appraisal).  What ensued during the opening ceremony was brilliant, involving various Chinese dances, a speech from a member of the Communist Party of China, and culminating with a sort of 70 year old Chinese rapper who repeated the same words over and over again until the organizers decided that the only way to get him off was to cut the power to the microphone.  Further to this, George made a rather rash bet with me that there would also be a 'goat wrestle' involving a headless goat.  This sounded so unlikely (and one sided) that I took his bet, and I now owe him twenty quid.
 
Anyway, after a terrible nights sleep on a rocky outcrop, we lined up the following morning for stage one - 42 kilometre trek involving around 8 river crossings, a few climbs and a lot of heat.
 
Mitch and I broke away from George and Hugo (after I had managed to snap one of my walking poles within 2 minutes to the start), as we thought that covering as much ground before the serious heat kicked in was probably the best strategy.  To this end, we managed to reach the half-way point in 3 hours.  Feeling strong, we continued on with only a short break.  However, we were stopped in our tracks by an increase in heat to just shy of 40 degrees.  A large amount of walking ensued until we stumbled into the next checkpoint to find a chap on an IV drip (his second of the day), virtually in tears muttering his devastation.  If ever there was a wake up call to the severity of the heat, this was it.  We filled up our waters and cracked on, leaving as little skin on display as possible.  Despite the psychological boost of being on the days final stage, the heat by now was quite extraordinary.  It is clear that deserts are not meant for such a trivial pass time.  With around a kilometre to go, my competitive edge kicked in and I decided to try and run it in, spurred on by some awesome kids who, rather embarrassingly, had to hold fire to keep up.  Anyway, Mitch and I managed to cross the line to a very generous reception placed somewhere in the middle of the pack.  A time of 6 hours and 28 minutes was pretty pleasing to someone with as lower standards as me, and I am now trying desperately recover in time to do it all again tomorrow.  George and Hugo also yomped in without incident (save for a few blisters), and are currently enjoying the delights of our freeze dried 'potato and salmon in a dill sauce'.  Chins.  But we are still in the race (although clearly not competing for honours) and we are just happy to be underway and still standing.
 
We were warned about the potential to be pulled from the race owing to speaking Gibberish (apparently a sign of severe dehydration).  I must therefore be careful to keep my usual conversation to minimum in case I am faced with enforced retirement.  So far so good...however, what today did establish is that this is going to be extremely difficult, and it is something for which I am not designed.  Maybe the 50 mile stage will reveal this.  But there are three marathons in between, so I won't get ahead of myself.  One step at a time...
 
 
P.S.  Charlie et al (if you have had enough time away from centre court to read this), Mitch is setting up a blog tomorrow which can be found my going on the four deserts website.  Spread the word!
 

Two of the many things that I never thought I would do (as well as holing a decisive three footer on the 18th, or faultlessly serving out a victory on the tennis court) are