After the arduous events of yesterday, today

Further to yesterday's stage, one American lad very sadly passed out due to heat exhaustion and was found an hour later in the aforementioned gulley. Having got him off the sand, he was rushed to hospital where he is now in a coma. If ever there was a harsh wake up call to the realities of what we were doing, this was it, and it came when the mood in the camp was pretty nervous anyway, prior to today's daunting stage. Today had been branded very simply and rather omniously 'the long stage', yet in hind sight it could also have been termed 'the inhumanely possible' stage, the 'this is ridiculous' or, the 'get me out of the desert, I want my money back' stage. While yesterday's stage was held in the flaming mountain, today's was to be held in the 'Oven'. So it was due to be pretty toasty as well - next to the start line there was a picture of a local 'wigga' pointing to a thermometer showing just north of 55 degrees. Oh God. Having never even contemplated such a hideous distance, or sweatfest temperatures, the plan was to try and manage 5kph and we'd be done in 20 hours.The first couple of legs passed without incident, through more wigga villages and vineyards and by 25k in, or a quarter down, this seemed a breeze. Reaching the next check point became the ultimate goal (about 12/13k between each one), and from there mentally you'd start afresh.Yet it was by check point 4, on the edge of the Turpan basin (the second lowest pace on earth), after about 40k in, that my energy levels became pretty low. My feet felt pretty swollen, with a couple of virgin blisters, my shoulders were knackered from the weight of my pack and I had my biggest low of the trip. Every step became laboured and reaching the next check point, at 55k, was going to require a hefty effort. The benefit of running with someone else kicked in and Fin the mountain goat talked me through it. At 55k, having eaten and rested my throbbing feet, I naively thought that having done over half, mentally I'd nailed it and the next 45k (a little longer than a marathon), would be a stroll. A mega error. From here on, it was horrendously tough. Mercifully we had cloud cover for the majority of the day, so the temperature was little above 30 with a breeze (it was 45 the previous day) but the further we got, the further it seemed. My feet, to date protected by the hardy duct tape) were suffering and the sun came out, making it a sweatfest. I stumbled into check point 7, at 75k, in a bit of a state. Every step was now a small goal (I stupidly calculated that I had about 25,000 left), I was whacked, and in hindsight a little delirious (I was talking utter gibberish to the camera crew, as well as the customary flow of increasingly discriptive expletives). My head was spinning and I needed a break. It was by now 9.30 pm, and having eaten and put my feet up, we set off for the next check point, 13k later. The food kicked in, my spirits rose, and I was simply looking forward to finishing. It was by now dark, making it blissfully cooler, and having passed numerous wiggas sleeping at the side of the road, we crawled into the final checkpoint at about 12.30am. I really wanted to go to bed and everything was hurting, my feet taking a beating. 5k later and this epic stage was destined to end in one way - a 6k sanddune to cross. This was going to be  frustratingly slow and painful, with each small dune scaled an achievement. Yet looking out over the desert, under a starlight sky, was pretty magical, even if it didnt feel it at the time. A mentally challenging way to finish this enormous stage, as at the top of every dune, when the end was expected at the other side, there were another 4/5 to cross into the distance. The sight of the finshline, when it suddeny appeared over one such dune, was one of pure emotion, and we stumbled accross it at 3.15 am, 19.15 hours after finishing. A massive relief, and one that I am not ashamed to admit, brought a tear to my eye. I couldn't believe that I had finally made it, and aside from my heavily blistered feet, that I actually felt physically fine, although emotionally drained. I only managed 3 hours sleep before seeing Mackaness shuffle accross at about 6 am, as the sun rose over the dunes. Watching the emotion of others, as they walked, hobbled, limped and even hoped over the line was heart wrenching and one that I dont think I'll ever forget. Yet one thing remains: during the real low points,  I promised myself that I would never, ever subject my body that sort of trauma ever again. Ever...this aint going to change anytime soon.
 
Many thanks all of your supportive messages through out the week, it really has been a massive boost. Only one 10k hobble accross yet more sand and we're done. Bring on the 15 Irish bars in Beijing...

Thank God that is over. We were staying in a 'wigga' village last night (not Tim Westwood and his 'homies', but rather a chinese minority), which while providing a 'local' experience, meant that we got bugger all sleep (I was about to ring that f-ing bleating goat's neck). This, accompanied by a 6 am start lead to a pretty tiring first stage. We even had a police escort from the camp to the startline, which while tyring to provide a joyous sense of occasion, was entirely unnecessary (especially as the piggy driving had just rolled out of the local bar). And on to the yomp...Although tiring, at least the early start afforded some bearable temperatures for the first 3 hours, and flat terrain and lack of gradient allowed a decent pace. We were now properly in the desert, with no greenery in sight and endless sand and grit (forgive me for stating the obvious - Im tired and dehydrated). And as in every desert, this flat sandy terrain was interrupted but one enormous and never ending sand dune, which we duly had to cross. With the sun now beating down, and my shoulders pretty knackered from the sand dune climb, I felt like fainting at the next check point. It was here that the seasoned yompers began to reveal themselves, powering into the sand and heat like Billy goats (and Billy no mates). Extraordinary and phenomenal at the same time. The last stage of the race, some 11k uphill , for the large part in a dead still gulley, was bloody hot and by far the most strenous physical exercise I've ever taken, with not even the stunning views able to lift my spirits. The feeling of finally finishing was a mixture of relief, elation and sheer dumfoundedness. The mercury had now scaled 40 degrees (at 11.15 am) and I was melting. The tactic of covering the miles while it was cool turned out to be the right one, as the temperature was only rising and those that came in even 1 hour later were really struggling - Lavers passed out from heat exhaustion, Faith was a seriously unhappy camper (upon finishing, he screeched 'I f..king hate this, why are we doing this') and 5-10 people have been put on intravenous drips. In fact, as I write this, 10.5 hours after today's race started, there are 10 people still out on the course. Ouch...That said, the commraderie in the camp is very moving. Rather like a POW camp with all the walking wounded, yet the common enemy is the desert and not the Hun. On a lighter note, it feels like we've broken the back of this desert (just the 100k walk tomorrow) and I cant tell you how much I'm looking forward to an icey cold beer in a few days time.
 
Peewaz, congratulations on conning the medical department in Cardiff. Anyone in the South Wales vicinity, watch out

Extraordinary - rain in the desert, which mercifully cooled the air temperature and made today more mangageable. Having felt pretty rubbish last night (I drank bucket loads but still had a headache/felt sick), I heeded my mother's advice and took it easy today, desite the fact that my elected running partner bolted off the start. Today was always going to be the toughest mentally, depressing as it is to have expended so much energy and effort and to be less than half way round.Terrain today was thankfully a little better, despite numerous river crossings, and as the climate changed, we finally encountered what we'd be waiting for - sand, and sand dunes. My slick gaiters, to this point redunant, worked a treat, keeping the majority or grit/sand out, and having fallen into good company, stages 2 and 3 passed pretty quickly.Having arrived in camp, we were greeted with a genuine treat, namely a real roof and running water (frickin arctic), although we have expressely been told not to buy any food/drink from the locals. Its like school all over again...As I'm sat here in the 'cyber tent', the temperature has rocketted, very omnious for the final couple of days, and in order to dodge the heat, I am told that we have to be on the bus at 4am for a 6 am start. However with tomorrow done, we will have broken the back of this with just the 'long day' to come- nothing more than a pretty lenghty walk in  the desert, to contend with - simple. Or not...

Temperatures yesterday evening troughed at 5 degrees, making it parky to say the least, however exhaustion alone guaranteed at least some sleep. I awoke this morning encouraged after yesterday's fluke and a lack of injuries, my eager sense of anticipation again shattered by the map of the course - more  bloody hills and as imposing yesterday's - meaning that the first couple of stages would be a gritfest. I bolted off the line (purely to see if i could claim the winner's jersey for at least 20 metres - I didnt) but had to stop when I realised I had forgetten to do my bag up - more rookie behavior! The shorter incline of today's hills, and the fact that I felt fresher than at the end of yesterday, ensured that the first few hills, although tough, weren't too bad, until the trusty knee, in unison with the groin, started to complain. Unlike yesterday however I had taken the wise step of unpacking the poles, and despite looking the archetypal anorak, really felt the improvement that they allow, especially on the downhill. Stage 3 and 4 were blisfully flat (ish), with the mountainous backdrop providing a spectacular panoramic. Getting into the groove, and getting bored of the exercise, I began to develop what seemed to be an effective 'yomping' technique, meaniing that my walking pace was almost equivalent to that of my running. A further water break, and some euphoric tunes from DJ Tommy Brydon ensured that the final stretch was bearable, and I stumbled into the quite beautiful campsite after 3 hours 15 (the course was noticably shorter today!) Mackaness, shrugging off existing injuries, yomped in some 30 minutes later, a stellar effort which, needless to say, boosted his enthusiasm to the extemt that he alarmingly declared that he was beginning to enjoy his 'holiday' (or perhaps utter relief that his efforts would save his blushes from the prevfiously mentioned bet). Although conciously drinking more water today (I had a cracking headache upon finishing yesterday), I've got another headache, emphasing the constant battle against dehydration. I am told that there is also a bug going round (unsurpring seeing the state of the bogs - pretty unsavoury) so will have to tuck into the alcohel gel (something that survived the kit cull in Urumqi). Talk of the 'long day' is now rife in the camp, with rumours suggesting that it will be 100k and bastard hot. The goal simply has to be completing it, meaning that we will all have to curtail our competitive streaks. I also hear that there is a honeymooning couple competing in the race - wow!! Many thanks your comments and Andrew, get your wallet out! Hope all well at home..until tomorrow...

Having arrived in the first campsite, unpacked our cumbersome rucksacks (our's weighed in at about 11 kilos, plus a further 2 liters of water, whereas some came in at les than 7k), we meet our unfortunate tent mates, and witnessed some quite memorable local song and dance (think Borat meets the 'can can'). Sleep proved to be a mean feat, with the noticeable jet lag, the arctic wind blowing (something which completely threw me) and the song and dance which by this stage had transgressed into some sort of rave, yet the lack of sleep was something we were certainly told to expect, especially as months of nervous anticipation would culminate in the long awaited start line the next day. This duly greeted us at a very civilized 9.30 today. The illusion that our competition had 'all the gear, and thus no idea', adopted upto this point to sooth the nerves, was brutally shattered on the start line when it emerged that certain competitors had even shaved their legs, presumably for improved aerodynamics. Jesus, these guys must know what they're doing....The whistle blew and we were finally off, venturing into the complete unknown. The first and second stages (10 and 9 kilometers respectively) were completed on flat and dusty tracks, through some truly spectacular scenery, a flat and largely barren desert punctuated by many imposing snow capped peaks. Having found my stride, and buoyed by the warming sunshine, dare I say it, I was beginning to enjoy myself, yet as always and somewhat expectedly, such enjoyment was shortlived. Upon passing check point 2 at a decent pace, and thrilled to discover that I was over halfway, the first hill of the day was in my path. She was steep. Bloody steep...and the inclines, while providing some fantastic panoramic vistas at the top, coupled with the now noticeable heat, really began to sap my energy. Every hill of course has the downhill the otherside, yet these sections provided no respite, the pounding that comes as a result of more pace really upsetting my gammy knee. Several never ending climbs later, with the end still no where in sight, and my sense of humor was on the wane, the Danish lad behind me learning some pretty fruity some new expletives.  Alas, one further hill and more screaming knees and the finish finally appeared on the horizon, which I thankfully reached without hitch, in 4.5 hours and very surprisingly in 16th place. The other 3 came in 1.5-2 hours later, and after some considerable whingeing from Faith, we all realized with alarming clarity how gritty this event is going to be. I an told that tomorrow is going to be easier (they said today would be easy), with no hills (another promise made this morning) so who knows...one step at a time.
 
 

There are several things I thought I would never do in my lifetime, including going to war, smashing a serve down the middle to win a grandslam final, or in fact  simply acting my age however the recent phenomenon of 'blogging' and the ridiculous concept of running any sort of marathon in a desert also fall emphatically under this category. After the endless dramas of visas, the seemingly continuous stream of 'kit admin' and the increasingly tedious training runs around Richmond Park, we actually arrived in Urumqi hassle free courtesy of an upgrade from China Southern. Two days of 'carbo loading', a painfree kit check later and we were on the bus bound for the desert. It was only after meeting the seasoned competitors that the enormity of the what I was about to do finally hit home, and that in fact finishing alone would be a considerable achievement. My nascent anxiety was further fuelled by an informal chat with one of the medical staff about the dangers of dehydration. When I asked, hypothetically speaking of course, what would happen if you were to do the race without drinking 'electrolytes', his reply was as emphatic as it was simple - "You Die." The majority of the aforementioned water supplements, in my uncanny ability to ignore all sensible advice, got binned in the hotel in Urumqi. Oh dear...one of doubtless numerous errors to follow. On a lighter note, several weeks ago we scanned the team sheet and saw the inclusion of a certain female cincogenerian (take note Di Dixey), who, with the benefit of youth alone we all assumed we could and should beat. Such was our confidence that we concluded that if anyone were to get beaten by the lovely lady, they would have to make a pass at her during the gala dinner. This unnecessary bet was foolish for several reasons, not least because she is utterly charming, her husband will be at the dinner, and she is actually a seasoned pro. Watch out Mackaness..
 

I have finally managed to overcome my troglodite tendencies and set up a blog.

After all the chat and endless bets, and even a session of 'Bikram Yoga' to prove to myself that the heat wouldnt be too oppresive (a truely unpleasant 90 minutes - not recommended), I am finally due to fly to China on Wednesday, with or without my visa-less team mates. In view of the endless admin involved in getting to the startline (including frequenting most of West London's running shop as well as regular visits to our friends at the Chinese embassy), I am just looking forward to getting on with the event!

Will keep you all posted with further blogs upon on arrival in China..