I knew very little about ultra running - and even less about multi-day stage races - when I came across a Facebook post talking about the 2022 Namib Race. The event was only three weeks away and volunteer slots were already full, but I decided to email the race directors anyway to see if they could use one more. They said yes.

Soon, I found myself cheering on the most inspiring group of people I had ever met, traversing 250km across the desert. I loved everything about the volunteer experience - the lack of sleep, no showers for a week, and being an encourager and helper throughout the race. Somewhere along the way, I quietly thought: maybe one day I’d be brave enough to try this myself.

Life went on, and two years passed. In April 2024, I volunteered at the Namib Race again. One evening around the campfire, I spoke to two inspiring runners, Sandeep and Simran, who invited me to join them for the Gobi March - happening in just six weeks. Naturally, I told them they were crazy. There was no way one could prepare for something like that in such a short time, not to mention the financial commitment involved.

Nevertheless, they persisted - and about a week after the Namib Race ended, my answer was yes.

The following month was spent in complete panic mode. Sandeep helped me set up a GoFundMe, and I was blown away by the generosity of the running community. Entrance fee paid, flight booked - Mongolia, here I come.

At that point, I was far from prepared. I wasn’t a couch potato, but I had only just suffered through my first marathon, with my longest training run being 27km. (I came dead last in that marathon, by the way.)

And yet, there I was - standing at the start line of the Gobi March, ready to take on 250km with no ultra-running or multi-day stage race experience. The lesson? Say yes first. Figure it out later. My incredible (life) coach, John Bezou was a huge source of encouragement throughout this journey, and I’ll always be grateful to him.

The Gobi March was the toughest challenge of my life, but with blistered feet, a humbled heart, and a huge smile, I crossed the finish line.

I was hooked.

About a week later, I signed up for the 20-year anniversary race in Jordan. Unlike Gobi - which felt new, exciting, and beautiful - I absolutely hated Jordan. Although beautiful, it was brutally tough, with relentless inclines, what felt like 200km of thick sand, and endless sun. Somehow, I finished that one too.

Two races meant a chance at an invitation to Antarctica. I emailed the race directors once again. There was no space, but they mentioned the possibility of a cancellation. For the first time, I felt almost embarrassed to dream this big - what was a small-town girl like me thinking, even daring to imagine Antarctica? I mentioned it quietly to friends and family, half-hoping and half-dismissing it as impossible.

Two months before departure, I got the spot. What followed was a mad scramble to raise funds, gather gear, and train in Namibia - a story far too long for this blog, but one filled with asking for a lot of help, finding creative and intuitive ways to raise money (including selling personal belongings), and riding a rollercoaster of emotions, anxiety, and doubt.

Finishing The Last Desert was indescribable. It was the most beautiful place I have ever experienced, and I feel incredibly lucky to have had that opportunity. From total newbie to three races in six months - it’s amazing what saying yes can lead to.

After a short break, I found myself itching for more and took part in the inaugural RacingThePlanet Ultralite race in Greece. It was certainly more enjoyable, but it reminded me that what I truly love is the shared suffering and pushing your body to its limits alongside others.

I never imagined completing even one race, yet here I am with my eyes set on the Four Deserts Club. With two deserts still to go - the Namib Race (Namibia) and Atacama Crossing (Chile) - I find myself especially anxious ahead of the Namib Race. Racing elsewhere comes with a certain ignorance, and ignorance is bliss. With the Namib Race, I know exactly what’s coming. The terrain can be unforgiving, the conditions unpredictable, and the heat - oh, the heat - can take out even the fittest competitors.

This time around, I’m giving myself the opportunity to train properly, and I’m curious to see how that changes the experience. The Namib Desert should never be underestimated - she will tame you - but I’m excited to finally take my place on the start line.

Most of all, I’m looking forward to welcoming fellow competitors to my home country. Namibia and its people will welcome you with open arms. If you’re still in doubt whether you can manage this race - JUST SAY YES AND SIGN UP NOW! You’ll be surprised how far your mind can push your body.

See you in Namibia.

Ange