Uff… how difficult this is going to be, to bring this race to an end.

Where do I even start…

I’m going to start by speaking in the first person.

A proverb I learned a few years ago in the Sahara says that “nobody comes out of the desert the same way they went in,” or, as Nietzsche would say, “when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back into you.”

Anyway, this race was very special to me, both spiritually and mentally.

I knew it was going to be a challenge. Things to leave behind, new projects, stages to overcome. In other words, a new Jorge who, like a Phoenix, knew he was going to rise again from the ashes.

What I never imagined was that “the desert,” or “the abyss,” was going to look so deeply into me, and that I was going to look so deeply into it.

A great life experience, and one I am deeply grateful for.

JUST THANK YOU.

Anyway, without getting too philosophical, I just want to say:

“Thank you, life, for giving me so much.”

I consider myself incredibly lucky for that.

Just THANK YOU for letting me surf the wave…

But enough sweetness. Let’s get back to what actually happened, and so I don’t lose the thread of these stories, let’s start with the facts…

The last night was pretty relaxed.

The Latin/Spanish-speaking group has become closer and closer, so we had a really great time. Add to that the fact that everyone else goes to bed early, and we ended up being the loudest group in the race.

So I went to bed and asked the Brazilian side what time they were getting up.

I didn’t ask the Koreans because, if I had, they probably would have just answered with an assertive gesture and a smile.

The Brazilians told me, “You set the alarm.”

So I set it for 6:00 AM.

We were starting at 9:00.

But at 6:30 nobody was getting up.

How can I describe the pleasure I felt getting out of bed, turning on the light, making noise, singing, opening and closing things…

As Napoleon once said, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

Today I made all the noise in the world.

Still, my Brazilian roommates gave me coffee, as they do every morning, and then it was time to get up for the final round:

9.5K of dunes.

The good thing is that, just like last year, when we officially made Marco Antonio Solís’ No Hay Nada Más Difícil Que Vivir Sin Ti the tent’s official song, this year’s song, in honor of my Brazilian friends, was the eternal Roberto Carlos’ “Que Será de Ti.” (I told you my Random is a very mischievous guy.)

My feet were absolutely destroyed.

There were parts where I didn’t even have skin anymore.

But I thought: a little silicone, some tape, and let’s see how long they hold together.

Honestly, I had no idea whether I was going to run or walk.

But there we were, standing strong at the starting line.

And what looked like it was going to be pure torture ended up being a really fun run with Fer and Bea.

Of course, we waited for each other for the entire 9.5K and enjoyed every bit of it.

Finally, almost at the finish line, our Moroccan friend joined us, and the four of us crossed the finish line together.

Medals, pizza, beer, and hugs all around.

And that was the end of the experience of running 250K through the middle of the desert.

What perhaps is impossible to describe, no matter how hard you try to put it into words, are the feelings.

A long time ago, a friend of mine who is probably even crazier than me, Dany Urriza, told me:

“In extreme situations, life comes down to the bare minimum.”

And yes.

In the desert, exhausted, hot, uncomfortable, you start to see who is who in your life.

Who gives you a piece of duct tape.

Who gives you their walking stick.

Who shares their food.

Who runs with you when you are tired.

Who gives you half of their last diclofenac.

And even people who bring you jamón crudo to the CyberTent because your blog wasn’t coming out. 😊

In the end, in extreme situations you really get to know people.

And once again, I met some absolutely wonderful people here.

Some I already knew, but this year I added the Ecuadorian brothers, Stephan from Mexico, Fer from Spain (I’m going to share a cabin with him in Antarctica — what a great guy), Marga (a truly wonderful person), and my old friends Bea (MY FRIEND) and Rebeca from Guatemala/Portugal.

Along with Blanca from Spain, we have created a group that is going to be felt very strongly tonight…

And for a long time.

I really have to go back to something Pedro from Brazil told me:

“Get ready, because you are going to curse it, you are going to hate it, and you are going to miss it.”

And yes…

We are going to miss it.

We all ended up drinking beer on the beach.

A LOT OF BEER.

Until late in the afternoon, all of us with that same look on our faces:

“FUCK… I NEVER WANT THIS TO END.”

They may have been the toughest 250 kilometers in the world.

They may have been the hottest.

The nights may have been the coldest.

But absolutely nobody, nobody, is going to take away from my heart the camaraderie of this incredible group.

It has been an honor.

A pleasure.

And a pain in the soul to have to leave them.

I’ll see many of you in Antarctica.

To the rest I say:

IN 2027, WE’RE GOING TO BREAK BRAZILLLLL!!!

CHEERS, GENTLEMEN.

Today I raise my glass to my new/old friends.

I always say that life is made of “moments.”

Well…

Thank you, Racing the Planet.

Thank you, Life, for giving me such fantastic moments.

Just THANK YOU to all my new brothers and sisters from around the world.

Alea Jacta Est.

PD1: Thank you for reading me, 

PS2: See you in Antarctica… and beyond.

Uff…. q difícil va a ser cerrar esta carrera.  por donde empezar….

Voy a empezar hablando en primera persona. Un proverbio que aprendí hace unos años en el Sahara dice que "nadie sale del desierto como entró", o como diría NItsche "cuando miras dentro del abismo, el abismo mira en ti"

En fin, esta carrera fue muy especial para mí, tanto espiritual como mentalmente. Sabía que iba a ser un reto, cosas que dejar atrás, nuevos proyectos, etapas a superar, en fin, un nuevo Jorge que cual Ave Fénix sabía que iba a renacer de las cenizas, lo que nunca imaginé era que “el desierto” o “el abismo” iba a mirar tan dentro de mí y yo tan dentro de él. Una gran experiencia de vida q agradezco.

SOLO GRACIAS

En fin, sin ponerme filosófico, solo quiero decirle “gracias a la vida por haberme dado tanto”, me considero un afortunado por ello, solo GRACIAS por dejarme surfear la ola….

Pero, dejemos tanta dulzura y vayamos a los acontecimientos, y para no perder el hilo de los relatos, empecemos por los hechos fácticos…

La noche del último día fue tranqui, el grupo latino/hispano cada vez está más unido, por lo que la pasamos realmente bien, eso sumado a q los demás se van a dormir temprano, terminamos siendo los más ruidosos de la carrera.

En este caso me fui a dormir, pregunté a qué hora se despertaban, al lado brasilero, pues el coreano si le preguntaba solo me iban a responder con un gesto y una sonrisa asertiva, y me dijeron pone vos el despertador.

LO pues e alas 6:00 AM, largábamos a las 9:00, pero a las 6:30 nadie se despertaba, como contarles el placer de levantarme, prender la luz, hacer ruido, cantar, abrir y cerrar cosas, como diría don Napoleon “La venganza es un plato que se come frío” hoy hice todo el ruido del mundo.

Igualmente, mis compañeros brasileños, me convidaron un café como todas las mañana y arriba para el ultimo round, 9.5 k de dunas.

Lo bueno, como el año pasado oficializamos la canción de Marco Antonio Solis “No hay nada más difícil que vivir sin ti” como la canción de la tienda, este año fue, en honor a mis amigos brasileros “Que será de ti” del eterno Roberto Carlos. (Les conté que mi Random es muy travieso)

Mis pies están desechos, algunas partes ya no tengo piel, pero dije, un poco de silicona, cinta y que aguante, en realidad no sabía si iba a correr o caminar, pero bueno, ahí estuvimos firme en la largada, y lo que parecía un suplicio terminó siendo una corrida muy divertida con Fer y Bea, por supuesto nos esperamos los 9.5 km y la disfrutamos mucho.

AL final, casi sobre la meta, se nos sumó nuestro amigo Marroquí y los cuatro cruzamos la meta juntos, medallas, pizza, cerveza y abrazo entre todos.

Hasta ahí la experiencia de correr 250K en el medio de desierto, lo que quizás uno, por más que intente volcarlo a palabras, le es imposible de describir son las sensaciones. Hace mucho tiempo un amigo, un poco más loco que yo, Dany Urriza me dijo, en situaciones extremas la vida se resume a lo mínimo, y sí, en el desierto, con cansancio, con calor, incómodos, comenzas a ver quien es quien en tu vida, quien te presta un pedazo de cinta adhesiva, quien te da su bastón, quien comparte su comida, quien corre con vos cuando estas cansado, quien te da la mitad de su último dicofenac y hasta gente que te trae Jamón crudo al cibertent porque tu blog no salía 😊, en fin, en situaciones extremas uno conoce a la gente, y… nuevamente, acá conocí gente magnífica, aunque ya conocía a varios, este año sumo a los hermanos ecuatorianos, Stephanm de México y Fer de España (con el pienso compartir camarote en Antártida, q gran tipo), a Marga (gran personita) y a mis viejas amigas Bea (MI AMIGA) y Rebeca de Guatemala/Portugal, con ellos, más Blanca de España, hemos hecho un grupo que se sentirá esta noche y mucho.

La verdad, tengo que volver a la frase que me dijo Pedro de Brasil, “prepárele , porque lo vas a putear, lo vas a odiar y lo vas a extrañar” y si, lo vamos a extrañar,

Terminamos todos tomando cerveza en la playa, Y MUCHA, hasta altas horas de la tarde y todos con esa carita de… CARAJO, q NO se acabe nunca.

Podrán haber sido los 250 km más duros del mundo, podrán haber sido los más calientes, las noches más frías, pero nadie, absolutamente nadie me va a quitar del corazón la camaradería de este gran grupo, un honor, un placer y un dolor en el alma tener que dejarlos.

A muchos los veré en Antártida, al resto les digo… en 2027 ROMPEMOS BRASILLLL

SALUD SEÑORES; hoy brindo por mis nuevos/viejos amigos.

Siempre digo que la vida “Son Instante”, pues bien…..

Gracias, Racing the Planet, gracias Vida por darme tan fantásticos instantes

Solo GRACIAS a todos mis nuevos hermanos de todo el mundo

Alea Jacta Est

Gracias por leerme, hasta la Antártida, y más allá…..

Madam, do me a favor. Go to your favorite greengrocer and ask him:

“Hey, didn’t you run 240K through the middle of the Namibian desert?”

Or even better, Sir, go to your favorite mechanic and ask him:

“Hey Cacho, didn’t you run across the SIX biggest deserts in the world?”

Or, why not, go to your favorite hairdresser and ask her:

“Have you never run four marathons in four days and then gone and nailed an 80K ultra?”

Or even better, take all these questions and throw them at your favorite AI, and then please come back and tell me what it says…..

Therefore, in this act of humility that characterizes me, I only want to tell you one thing:

IN YOUR FACE!!!!!!!! Namibia is DONE, baby!!!!!!

Although there are still 10K left, tomorrow there is pizza and beer waiting for us at the finish line, and for pizza and beer I would run those 10K on my elbows.

So yes, NAMIBIA IS DONE.

First of all, I know what everyone really wants to know is how things are going inside the tent. Well, ever since we lost Luis’s snoring (I miss it) and the Koreans stopped being afraid of me, things have become rather boring.

So let’s get to the story of the Long March.

First of all, for those of you who are not ultra runners, let me put things into context.

An Ultra is not something just anybody runs, but anybody can run an Ultra.

Lots of training, a good nutrition plan, and then everything is “in your head.” As a certain little person I love very much used to remind me, races are won or lost before they even start, and Ultras even more so.

Whatever you didn’t train before the race, you are not going to recover during the race.

Anyway, that is an Ultra for people who run Ultras.

BUT if you add 160 previous kilometers (four marathons), exhaustion, dirt, and very little sleep, throw everything into a bag, shake it well, and there you have the famous Long March of Racing the Planet.

A unique experience.

The night started with a huge bonfire — more than three meters high — where we all danced together with the local people. It was great fun.

I felt like Don Rodrigo Díaz de Carrera.

(For those who never listened to Les Luthiers, or who come from another culture, I’m sorry. It’s a very difficult joke to explain.)

After that, early to bed and getting ready for the big day.

The morning started very early. I don’t know why I insist on setting my alarm for 6:00 AM when everyone starts screaming at 5:00 AM in different languages and dialects.

Anyway, today was not just another day.

The preparation was special: twice as many gels, twice as many electrolytes, a couple of power supplements to take halfway through the race, lights — headlamp and backpack light — warm clothes, and…

Let’s go running.

I told you yesterday that I was going to change my race strategy.

Instead of following Margarita, this time I decided to run alongside her. Somehow, I had to keep her pace.

We started together for the first 10K and we were friends.

By KM20 we were close friends.

By KM30 we had told each other all our secrets. :)

Lovely person.

So the first third of the race just flew by.

The problem was that someone decided to put CP3 at the highest and hottest point of the stage.

Getting there involved an endless climb, and somewhere around KM35 I started feeling that I was slowing her down.

I thought, “Fuck, this plan isn’t going to work either.”

Of course, there is something I haven’t told you about Margarita.

The girl has seven eight-thousanders under her belt.

There aren’t many people who have climbed the seven highest mountains on the planet.

But, in my defense, there aren’t many people who have run through the six biggest deserts in the world either.

And we’re going for number seven. :)

But, to make things worse for me, she is 39 years old.

So she started leaving me behind very quickly. :)

I managed to reach CP3 more or less crawling, asking for water, beer, or whatever they had.

What I got was a warm Coca-Cola.

But at least it wasn’t water, so I decided to drink the whole thing.

That sugar was going to come in handy.

From CP3 onward, my second third of the race began.

The temperature was already above 40°C and the desert was becoming absolutely endless.

A few highlights from the stage:

Highlight #1 — Hydration

Man, it was hard to stay hydrated around midday.

No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t keep up.

I ended up drinking 3.5 liters of water, but still…

I only managed to get my urine color back to normal at night.

It was really tough.

I need to take care of these little kidneys of mine for Antarctica.

Highlight #2 — Me, my playlist and Random

Those who know me know that I have a playlist specifically for marathons and anything longer.

The race always starts with Selling England by the Pound, and after that, absolutely anything can happen.

We can go from Dido to Marco Antonio Solís, then AC/DC, and finish with Elefante.

(Yes, I know. I surprised you with the Mexican band. I strongly recommend listening to Durmiendo con la Luna.)

Anyway, my Random is usually very understanding with me.

If I’m having a bad time, it plays the saddest song it can find.

But if I’m approaching KM79.5, it suddenly gives me ZZ Top.

The guy knows how to keep me running.

And this afternoon was no exception.

I really, really enjoyed my playlist.

Highlight #3

Please remind me never to drink Gatorade electrolytes again, at least until Antarctica.

Everything tastes like Gatorade.

Back to the race.

After resting at CP3, my new Moroccan friend passed me. :)

Then, after descending the mountain we had climbed, we started running through the middle of the desert, with temperatures above 40°C and a whole lot of loneliness.

But it was actually very enjoyable.

At CP5 I saw Marga again, just for a moment, but long enough to know that I wasn’t doing too badly.

At that CP, Fer from Spain asked me if we could run together.

So we got our lights ready and headed out to kill the final third.

A side note: the sunset in the middle of the desert was absolutely incredible.

I felt like Mad Max.

Once night fell, the temperature finally dropped.

We started running in tandem for the final 20K we had left.

At that point, you start confusing grass with rocks, shadows with belly dancers, and you start hearing the drums at the finish line even though you are still 15K away.

By then, both our feet were making us pay for everything.

Stopping at the CPs was getting harder and harder.

At CP6 I got really cold.

Between CP6 and CP7 — the last one — we were running on whatever little energy we had left.

And then we came across an animal that looked like some kind of wild boar.

(We have barely seen any animals out here, except for yesterday’s chameleon.)

This one was big.

So I decided to stop running next to Fer and move behind him.

That way, if some local wild animal decided to attack him, I could, in a heroic act of bravery, rescue his backpack.

You see, inside it he was carrying a beautiful jamón serrano for today’s Latin gathering at 1:00 PM.

I thought: at least if a wild animal eats him, we’ll remember him while eating his ham.

Fortunately — for him — that was the last animal we encountered.

Still, I never took my eyes off that backpack all the way to the finish line.

We passed CP7 without stopping.

We only refilled our water because we just wanted to get there.

With just a couple of kilometers left, we really started hearing the drums and bells welcoming us home.

Step by step — pasito a pasito (great name for a song, remind me to trademark it) — we got closer to the 240K finish line.

And we crossed it together.

From there, straight to the tent.

We didn’t even stop for the welcome.

All my clothes off.

Down jacket on.

Into the sleeping bag.

Fifteen minutes shaking.

Another fifteen minutes to fall asleep.

I pulled the sleeping bag all the way up to my head.

I couldn’t close it completely because…

MY SMILE WOULDN’T FIT INSIDE.

NAMIBIA IS DONE!!!!!!

Alea Jacta Est.

PS: This afternoon, if I survive the ham party, I’ll write a little more.

PS1: Please don’t forget to ask your greengrocer.

Once upon a time there was a prince called Sergio who... ups, this is the wrong story, the sun...

165 km done (and a half).

My tent has not much to tell (apart from the usual noises) but, wait, yes, this afternoon our Korean friend got in really scared. It seems yesterday i gave him a very angry look. Anyway, I tried to apologize but then I found out he doesn't speak English, or Spanish, so as Caligula the only thing I can say is Oderint dum metuant (you'll have to google it).

Anyway each day I sleep better. I hope none of my other five tent mates had read my previous blog where I mentioned that if they were planning to rape me... as long as I don't wake up... since my sleep is becoming more and more profound.

Let's get into another wonderful day in paradise. A Brazilian friend I ran with, I believe it was in Gobi, once told me, enjoy it, you're going to suffer it, you're going to hate it, it's going to end fast and you're going to miss it.  Well, we've just finished stage 4, we've already done half the race and there's only one stage left. HEEEELLLLPPPP.

The day started as usual at 5 am but, as I was saying, for me it started at 6: talk in portu/koreanese all you want, I keep sleeping. Today the menu was cereals and blueberries. So hard to digest 1000 cal with no milk! Help! After that, everybody off to the race. I need to clarify that we are not in the Death Valley (as a said yesterday) but in the Moon Valley. Anyway, for me, today was the valley of death.

Before I go on, my roommate Luis has quit. It always makes me sad when a fellow runner quits so my arrival was tinted with a sadness I didn't expect. He was coming first in our tent and yesterday he pushed it too much. Today the desert didn't forgive him. I'm truly sorry. So now he passed the first place of arrival to me 😂. I don't know whether he'll go back home or he'll stay for support to the organization. If he goes back I'll miss his snoring. Already a 10% of the runners have quit. 
As for the rest, we started the race going up easily and going down the way I like it, so it was really fun. Up to CP2 I was head to head  to Margarita, my new Colombian friend. The girl is fast and every time I got to the finish line she had already arrived 5 minutes earlier. Well, you get a bit competitive and at CP2 when I saw she was recovering I decided to move forward and so I was convinced she was behind me. But, noooo, when I got to the finish line she had arrived just before me. Tomorrow I will take more extreme actions against Colombia 🥰

The whole race was along the Moon Valley. Great place with a much more compact soil. So this allowed us to run more, so much so that today I took 7 hours plus a little bit. Thus, except for a blister in my left little toe and my numb shoulder, the race is turning out pretty good.

A special note to the heat. My watch registered 49 degrees, without a single tree, or bush, or grass, not a sole place to shelter from the sun. So you need a lot of sunscreen, a hat that covers your nape, liters and liters of water and plenty of electrolytes. Even so, upon almost arriving I was a bit dehydrated. The heat was really scorching and sporting (here is Estela doing her best 😂). Your t-shirt is getting white halos from the salts expelled and your nape is always wet. 
Summing up, this humble runner did his best with pretty good results. Now comes the real Rock&roll. Tomorrow is the famous and never fully appreciated Long March: 80 km in the desert, my goodness... here what really matters is to arrive to the intermediate CP before the cutting hour. Otherwise,  they make you sleep there and the clock keeps ticking. Thus, to those who are still cheering for me, tomorrow I need all my strength since I want to sleep in the finish line and enjoy my Friday watching life go by, reading emails and sleeping. (The last Stage is Saturday morning).

I haven't prepared anything but normally tonight is lived with a lot of anxiety since you leave out lanterns, a big amount of gels, food, all that is necessary for a 15/16 hour march from sunrise until the last hour of light... Luckily the backpack weighs much less, so much so that I even could put imy sleeping bag inside. Before it was outside and now this helps. Anyway my shoulder still aches, we'll see that soon, Johny.

As for the rest, not much to say. Today I saw myself in a picture and couldn't recognize me. It's good I don't have my hair so long but all the same I'm somewhat in between a punk and Jack Nicholson in One flew over the Cuckoo's Nest . Anyway I'm not the only one. 
Here everyone got sunburnt, and not in a good way, up to the line of the tights, watches marked on our wrists and we smell... we smell... how can I explain... well, let's put it graphically, here at night there's no light, just water and ceiling and we all take care of our batteries with our lives, thus we end up eating normally in the dark or near a fire, well, we got used to recognizing our fellow runners by their smell. For example, the French girl from tent 8 doesn't smell the same as the guy from Singapore from tent 12. I'm just kidding. Here nobody pays attention to hairdos or hygiene. This is a survival race along the desert and a good deodorant means a lot of weight.

Tomorrow is the Long March so I will not write. I hope I have a lot of spare time Friday. Anyway, since I'm not going to be able to write, I'm sending you a huge happy birthday kiss, Jaz, I love you a lot. I know you are reading me.

Also my blog is becoming international. I even have someone following me from Morocco. Thanks for your words, Estephen!

I'm finishing with the great Napoleon before the great campaign to Russia: I feel pushed to an end I don't know. As soon I had reached it, as soon as it's not necessary anymore, an atom will suffice for crashing me in little pieces. But, til then, no human force will have power against me. (I just hope I get better results than him with the campaign).

Alea jacta est

PS1: Kisses for them

PS2: Tell me so...

120 km, right in time.

Let's talk about what happened during the day, and the night,

Yesterday, after my Strogonoff meat (no idea who he was but it tasted nice) and chatting after dinner with the Latin and Spanish fellow runners, I had no choice but go to sleep. Locations inside the tent remained the same as the night before, just like inside a boxing ring. What was interesting was that the Koreans and the Brazilian couple modulated their dreams, remaining only my roommate (and "tent mate") right beside me, who seems to like me a lot, who gave me a concert in F Minor that almost made it impossible for me to sleep. Up to 10 minutes ago I was seriously considering making an alliance with the two Koreans, but this was momentarily suspended by me. You'll have to get to the end of this post.

Apart from that, the night was quite calm and, as usual, at 5 am everyone was awake and up making as much noise as possible. Anyway I'm starting to get fond of the routine and, for some unknown reason, the two Brazilians put on some music for me, a tango by Gardel, "Por una cabeza"... for a moment I thought I was with my dad when he put on those old morning tangos... anyway, they tried to be nice which is the important thing.

Let's talk about logistics. Here each gram counts, I use half a toothbrush, sanitary pads are counted, all the food is inside ziplock bags and you only keep one of the original aluminum sachets to re-hydrate it. This is fun since last night I don't know whether I ate burritos with oatmeal and strawberries and today I don't k know if I had Strogonoff scrambled eggs. But, it's ok. We do everything we can in order to save space and weight. We are talking about a lot of kilometers and the body will feel it. This year I managed to reduce weight to a minimum, 10kg exactly, plus water of course. That's a great weight number, moreover at this moment at day 3 when I had already eaten a couple of kilos.

40 k running on sand with 10 kilos on your back can get very complicated. Today I feel happy because my left arm ached less and I still don't feel the right one. It's not easy to brush one's teeth with your left arm. 😒

Water is another determining factor, moreover at this moment with a temperature of 40 degrees (my watch marked 47). Hence, we should drink 1,5 liters every 10 km at least, that's the lowest amount according to the color of the urine, no matter wether you are thirsty or not.

Besides Gardel, we started the race with a lot of fog and some fresh air. Nights at the desert are cold. For some reason up to the first CP my eggs upset my stomach, I mean the scrambled eggs, the hifidilized scrambled eggs, anyway, my diet plan got quite altered but, since today was quite short, I didn't care much and I combined gels and bars more together the carbo gums. 
My body was fine. I ran about 10 km on dunes, then around 20 km along a gravel road, always going up on a soft but endless slope to finish with 5 km going down along a road of rocks. (For those from Tierra del Fuego, from the Cardic to the Airport, but along 20 km and with a temperature of 47 degrees). It was extremely hard that's why I regulated all I could and hydrated twice as usual. Luckily I was very regular. During the final sprint, the last five were downwards to the Valley of Death, so I ran with a stronger pace. It seems the machine is still working well.

i arrive at a very good time and I went to lie down for a while in my tent seeing that only one of the other occupants had arrived before me. It was a nice siesta in the shadow until the Brazilians arrived and opened the tent making the sun strike me right on the eyes and, behind them, entered the Korean (wearing running shoes, you don't get into the tent with your running shoes on) and he kicked one of my feet, almost crashing my toe nail out. You can figure out my mood after my siesta but, well, like the song by Elefante goes "Here I am"...

It was a very good day. We almost got to half the race and only two stages are left. What can go wrong?

Alea Jacta est

120 Kms adentro, un relojito

Kilometer 83, Namibia...

First of all I know all of you want to know how are doing the international relations inside my tent. Last night the Korean part got together on the left front and the Brazilian part on the right back. Of course I remained in the middle. Therefore last night I was able to enjoy the concert more sound surrounded. We are getting better. The good thing is that I finish so tired that I don't give a darn. Moreover if any of the sides is planning to rape me, just don't wake me up...

Now yes, let's get into the facts of the day. As usual EVERYONE in my tent likes to wake up at 5 am which gives us three hours to do nothing but, well, if you can't beat them...

Summing up the day, luckily we did not have 30 km of sand like yesterday. Today there were only 42 kilometers of sand. HEEELLLPPPP

The sunrise came with a lot of fog, we had breakfast (my dried scramble eggs are worth it) and we got ready for the longest of the short days 😂

Those who give us water (Hot/Cold) I remember that's the only thing they give us. They are all local native. VERY native and VERY local. There is nothing wrong with this. On the contrary, you'll see videos on Instagram. Yesterday, before the start, they performed some local dances for us. What was really interesting today was that they danced... "Despacito". I've seen people dancing "Despacito" before but nothing like this.

Countdown and... off to run... As I was telling you, today was the hardest day, 42 km, one more, yesterday I already applied some coaching policies to keep my mood up. As soon as my watch, with its precious Garmin voice told me "Round One" I automatically thought "we already got it, there are only 242 kilometers left ahhhh and a half". Today I've decided not to cheer me up.

Unlike yesterday today we got into VERY high dunes so my policy was to regulate so as to finish with something remaining in order to be able to narrate this story and not fall asleep in front of the keyboard. So I placed myself behind Bea and planned to keep her pace while we caught up on life between continents.

Sustained pace for the first 20 km with no difficulty and a lot of sand. After the CO2 the scenery became some beautiful dunes which we had to go up and down however we could, in my case running, others preferred rolling down, but we all came down.

The only drawback of the day were two blisters, one on each little toe, which burst out in a sequence between km 30 and km 40. The bad thing is that they stained my new running shoes with blood, but since the sole is red it matches. As for the rest, I feel like a mixture of Laurence of Arabia and Mad Max. Anyway, when I think about it, I have a little bit of each of them.

Anyone who had run any marathon knows that as from km25, distances between competitors become longer and you start to be alone with yourself. Thus the famous Wall. Well, in the trial, distances tend to be worse and, in our case, up to km20 the Light Category runs with us and so, from this k21 on one feels like Alejandro Saenz singing "My Loneliness and Me". Today the dunes did their job and too well! Or, as Kant once said, A man's intelligence is measured by the quantity of uncertainty he can bear. Let's see how intelligent I am.

Tomorrow the race is already a little bit shorter, 37km. I'll keep you posted.

Alea Jacta est

Before getting into the full story, let's go into the significant part: 41K done. They were easy, only 10 with salty swamps and 31 with loose sand. Who doesn't get up, does 10K on swamps, 31K on sand, takes a shower and leaves for the office? Ok, when I think about it it wasn't that normal... there is no shower here.

Now yes. Whoever got bored can leave. For the remaining, the day started yesterday. After the usual dinner, get your feet ready for today, and everybody go to sleep. The bad news is everyone got to sleep at 8 pm while I'm suffering from a jet lag which I knew would make me impossible to fall asleep until midnight so I put on some music and I thought I would enjoy a little time talking to myself but... in order to tell you about the past events, I must first give you the map for backpack distribution. Inside our tent, Number 13, on one side we have three Brasileans and myself and, on the other side, two Koreans. Now that you have a clear sight of the place things became interesting when I began to hear the Brazilians snoring and after that the Koreans snoring back like a tuned concert. I felt I was at the opera listening to The Nutcracker performing Pavarotti on one side and Placido Domingo on the other. Heeeeeelllpppp... well, I had a hard time focusing on my inner conversation but with a little bit of abstraction and a good noise canceling I managed to disconnect myself from the world, which was very useful. Since the days prior to my last trip I did not have the  chance to have a long conversation with myself and this was really good for me.  I don't know how I am going to finish this race, nobody knows, but my head is focused on the right things, in peace and organized. Besides let me tell you a secret. I learned how to snore in Portuguese and Korean. So proud of myself'

Now let's go to the daily report. As it is usual in this organization, "they beat us hard". The 41k were not easy at all. We started at 8 sharp with a beautiful sunrise and headed forward among salt flats. My pace was good since the salt was quite hard. Around K 10 it became sand and kept like that until K 41. Thus, by K 30 my legs started to feel the weight, but nothing so serious that one night of snoring, a painkiller and a recovery couldn't solve. Maybe tomorrow I will regulate more my energy flow at the beginning.

I found many more friends than I remembered. Especially the Asians remembered me and our tent in Greece. Everybody was like "Hi, Jorge! You were the one always singing!" We are organizing together a Brazil 2027. We have added two Japaneses, one Korean, a Chinese girl and an English girl who lives in Honk Kong 🥰

I have no idea of my location, I never look at it and I don't care, but something called my attention. From the group in my tent I arrived second even when I took eight hours for a stage I planned to cover in 7/7,5 hours. The sand never forgives. After a short while the Koreans arrived and the other two Brazilians have not come yet. This means for them about 14 hours race. I hope they are ok.

A question for those who read me. In a sleep apnea, when you are tired, do you snore more or less?

The landscape split up between inner dunes and a beach of a very strong sea, quite monotonous but good. At least we got the first day in. Nobody can doubt I already ran the first marathon of the month.

As to the meal plan, we are doing ok. I never lacked energy during the whole stage, well hydrated and, above all, no physical harm at the moment.

As the saying goes, Half the road is giving the first step, the other half is facing drawbacks!

Alea Jacta Est

PS1: Maxi, we are going according to the plan. Today and tomorrow I plan to regulate my energies. I need to get complete for the Long March and, if possible, finish it.

PS2: Marisa, I'm being very serious with magnesium and potassium and, above all, I quit the ones with fish oil, so that now at least I can measure my dehydration levels and we go for the new gadget 🥰

Luego de seis meses de preparacion al final llego el dia. Hoy tempranito briefing inicial, luego pesado de mochilas, este anio estoy en 10kg, asi que feliz, luego chqueo de equipamiento, instalacion de GPS y a los micros.

Antes de ir al relato completo vamos a lo importante, 41K adentro, fueron tranquis, solo 10 de pantanos salitrosos y 31 de arena suelta, quien no se lévenla, clava 10 de pantano, 31 de arena, duchita y a la office, bueno si lo pienso tan normal no fue, acá no tengo ducha.

After six months of preparation the day has come. Early today briefing, backpack weighing (this year I've got 10 kg, so I feel happy), then checking out the equipment, GPS installation and off to the buses.

After a one hour ride they left us in the desert where two 4x4 pickup trucks lifted us and took us to Camp 0. A local tribe greeted us and off to the tents to get the equipment ready.

We are about 120 competitors. From Latin America, only 3 Brazilians, 2 Ecuadorians, 1 from Guatemala and myself. Thus I'll have to have a good performance.

As the great Milton used to say, "Long and  painful is the road that from hell leads to the Light."  In my case this will be 250 km without much altimetry but with a lot of sand. Tomorrow we begin wth the "Swamps of Salt" and we have 41 km to run.

Alea Jacta est

PS: Today it comes to my mind a phrase that defines my moment, "The Future is built with sovereign presents!" Let's start then!

PSS: Thanks to all who are writing to me. Today this is only a caress but as from tomorrow, it will be like drinking a 100 mg caffeine gel. Everything counts.

You will have to understand that my writing will be very limited on a tablet with no keyboard in Spanish and, unfortunately, without autocorrect.

Namibia is one of the countries with less population density in the world, only 3.5 million "Namibians", and Walvis Bay only has 80000 "Namis". We can see that already when the plane approaches the land since all you see is desert.

A crazy fact: I already visited three rare countries in Africa, the smallest (google it) Yibuti, the least populated, Namibia, and the country that never got to exist, West Sahara. This last one has a story that could turn into a whole book since it was a Spanish province (province, not colony), Spain set it free so that it could become independent and Morocco and Mauritania vanished it in five minutes. After a while Mauritania step back and Morocco got full control, i.e., when you see a map of Morocco you will realize that a line drawn in the middle of the country cuts it in half up to the Atlantic Ocean. Well, in practice the land from this line downward belongs to Morocco though in theory, it's a part of Spain subject to decolonization according to the UN. Moreover, quite resembling a latin soap opera, there is in Argelia a whole movement of people claiming to be the real owners of West Sahara (the Polisarian Front), a movement that was gently invited by the Moroccan government to retire as Moses from Egypt, except for the fact that here there is no water to divide but only sand, A LOT OF SAND. But I went off on a tangent somehow. I already ran in Morocco and I'm planning to do it again in February, but not with my little feet. So, these are some of the rare countries in Africa. As Josep Borrell said, "Frontiers are the scars that history has left carved into the skin of Earth, carved with blood and fire." And Africa knows that better than anyone. Here frontiers were created by the European, by the catholic and the Muslim, scars from history.

So... let's go back to Namibia. I won't give my opinion on the whole country since I've only been in Walvis Bay, but it looks clean, quiet, a low city with buildings not more than two stories high, quite in order. Cars are driven by the right side, so that when I first went out in the day I almost got run over three times. You don't see militarization like in other African countries and French is not the main language. They speak Afrikaans and English (official language).

Tomorrow we'll get far into the desert and there we'll start really seeing the deep interior of this singular country. Sorry, did I say "tomorrow"... HELPPPPP

So... tomorrow we'll have early briefing, then checking of our equipment. This year I want to have less than 10 kg. We'll see... after that some free time and at 3 pm we'll all get into the buses that will take us to Camp 0. That day we normally breathe nervousness. We'll see what tomorrow will bring at Camp 0 but this is like a roller coaster, we're already on our sit hearing the clanc clanc clanc while we slowly go upwards. And, what's worse, there's nothing we can do but wait for the start.

If I have to sum up my day I would quote the great Carl Sagan when he was in charge of the project searching for life in Mars... Results are tempting, modest, provocative, stimulating and profoundly ambiguous. Tomorrow rock and begins. Today was a day full of peace and caresses for the soul.

Alea Jacta est

Namibia es uno de los países con menor densidad poblacional del mundo, solo 3,5 millones de “Namibianos” y Walvis Bay, solo tiene 80.000 “Namis”. Eso se aprecia ya llegando desde el avión, pues es todo DESIERTO.

Loco, ya conocí tres países raros de Áfríca, el más pequeño: Yibuti (a googlearlo), el menos poblado: Namibia, y el país que nunca llego a existir: Sahara Occidental, este tiene para hacer su propio libro, pues era provincia de España (léase Provincia, no colonia), España lo libero para que se independice y, entre Marruecos y Mauritana se lo morfaron en cinco minutos. Luego Mauritania se retiró y Marruecos quedó con el control total, o sea, si agarran un mapa de Marruecos verán que a la mitad hay una línea recta q corta el país al medio hasta el atlántico, bueno de esa línea para abajo es en la práctica de Marruecos, y en la teoría, una parte de España sujete a descolonización según la ONU, y además, cual novela venezolana, en Argelia hay todo un movimiento de gente q reclaman ser los verdaderos dueños de Sahara Occidental (Frente Polisario), movimiento que fue invitado gentilmente por parte del gobierno marroquí a retirarse al desierto cual Moisés desde Egipto, con el único agregado q acá no hay agua que abrir, solo arena y MUCHA, pero me fui por las ramas, en Marruecos ya corrí y pienso correr de nuevo en febrero, pero no arriba de mis piesitos. Resumiendo, estos son algunos de los países raros de áfrica, Como dijo Josep Borrell: “Las fronteras son las cicatrices que la historia ha dejado grabadas en la piel de la tierra. Grabadas a sangre y fuego” y África lo sabe mejor que nadie, acá las fronteras fueron puestas por el europeo, por el católico y por el musulmán, cicatrices de la historia.

En fin, volvamos a Namibia, no voy a opinar de todo el país pues solo estuve en Wavis Bay, pero parece tranquila, limpia, ciudad baja, no hay edificios de más de dos pisos, bastante ordenada, los autos manejan a la derecha, por lo que en mi primera salida del día casi fue atropellado tres veces, no se ve la militarización de otros países de África y el francés no es la lengua dominante, hablan afrikáans e inglés (lengua oficial).

Mañana ya nos adentraremos en el desierto, y ahí comenzaremos a conocer realmente el interior profundo de este singular país. Perdón… dije mañana…. SOCORRROOOOO…..

En fin...... mañana tenemos briefing temprano luego revisión de equipamiento, este año quiero estar debajo de los 11 kg de peso, veremos veremos, luego un rato libres y a las 15:00 (10:00 AM Argentina) todos a los micros rumbo al Camp 0, ese día normalmente se respira nervios, veremos q nos depara mañana el día 0, pero esto es como la montaña rusa, ya estamos en el carrito y sentimos el clanc clanc clanc mientas subimos lentamente, y lo peor.... no podemos hacer nada más q esperar a la largada.

Si tengo que resumir mi día creo que parafrasearía al grandísimo Carl Sagan cuando estaba a cargo del proyecto de búsqueda de vida en marte:….Los resultados son tentadores, modestos, provocativos, estimulantes y profundamente ambiguos, a partir de mañana empieza el Rock & Roll, hoy fue un día de paz y algunas caricias al alma.

Alea Jacta est

Ok, now yes, we are "in the race".

A 46 hour trip, 6 flights, 3 VIP lounges, two passports lost and many airports.

Well, we are already in Wavis Bay, at the heart of Namibia's desert. I already met again some friends from other races, the organizers, my food, and even Sam, from Racing the Planet. A special mention for Sam, a true genius,

I also met Bea Garcia, from Barcelona, in Johannesburg. Paradoxically, I was going in and she was coming out. Security checks in Africa are intense and they sometimes take hours, like today in Johannesburg. So, poor Bea, she had lost her flight and, in the end, I arrived before her. Typical of Africa: you never know at what time, or where from, you are going to come out from a migration control.

For example, today, after a long time, they took my temperature at the airport and also these African guys take their body search VERY seriously to those passing security checks. Moreover, once the strong man finished his search I almost invited him out for a coffee, but I guess this was no proper behavior 🥰.

Now all's left is to rest a little, some training tomorrow while we do some tourism throughout this particular town and... Saturday getting into the roller coaster that represents this race: equipment check, briefing, backpack preparation with supplies to survive 6 days in a very remote desert, transfer to the starting point and, finally, the sweet calm before Rock & Roll.

Some say life are moments. Well, yesterday there were many and varied of those moments, some more intense, others more profound and others were merely beautiful MOMENTS. 

Alea Jacta Est

Ok, ahora sí, ya estamos “en carrera”, ¡socorro!

46 horas de viaje, seis vuelos, 3 salas VIP, dos pasaportes extraviados y muchos aeropuertos.

Bueno, ya estamos en Walvis Bay, en el corazón del desierto de Namibia. Ya me crucé con amigos de otras carreras, con la organización, con mi comida y hasta con Sam, de Racing the Planet. Punto aparte para Sam: una verdadera ídola.

También me crucé a Bea García, de Barcelona, en Johannesburgo, paradójicamente, yo iba y ella venía. Los controles de seguridad en África son intensos y tardan, a veces horas, como fue hoy en Johannesburgo. Así que, pobre Bea, perdió su vuelo y, al final, yo llegué antes que ella. Son esas cosas de África: primero nunca sabés a qué hora, ni por dónde, vas a salir de un control migratorio.

Por ejemplo, hoy, después de mucho tiempo, me tomaron la temperatura en el aeropuerto y, además, los muchachos africanos se toman MUY a pecho su trabajo de palpar a los que pasan por los controles de seguridad. Es más, una vez que terminó de revisarme el señor musculoso de seguridad, estuve a punto de invitarlo a tomar un café, pero me parece que no daba. 😂

Ahora solo queda descansar un rato, mañana un fondito mientras hacemos turismo por esta extraña ciudad y… ya el sábado, entrar en la montaña rusa que es esta carrera: control de equipo, briefing, armar una mochila con provisiones para sobrevivir 6 días en un desierto muy remoto, traslado al punto de partida y por último, la dulce calma que antecede al Rock & Roll.

Dicen que la vida son instantes. Bueno, ayer hubo muchos y muy variados de esos instantes; algunos más intensos, otros más profundos y otros solo fueron bellos INSTANTES.

Alea Jacta Est

Llegar de Ushuaia a Namibia no es tarea fácil. Son cinco vuelos, como mínimo; en mi caso fueron seis:

Ushuaia – El Calafate
El Calafate – Buenos Aires
Buenos Aires – Madrid
Madrid – Johannesburgo
Johannesburgo – Namibia

Seis vuelos que implican seis check-in, seis controles de seguridad, seis traslados y, claro, uno ya está medio acostumbrado a esto. Dado que cuando puedo vacaciono en África, no suelo dejar nada librado al azar.

El mayor riesgo de estos viajes es que se pierda el equipaje. La organización es muy estricta con el equipamiento que hay que llevar y uno no consigue una bolsa de dormir ultraliviana o comida seca de 1000 calorías en cualquier lado. Ende, el mayor riesgo es que una maleta se pierda… o al menos eso creía yo hasta hoy.

La cuestión es que, para minimizar ese riesgo, en algunas carreras se despacha lo mínimo y en otras se lleva todo consigo. Claro que las zapas siempre van en mi mochila de mano, pero esta vez además distribuí todo el equipo entre mi carry-on y la mochila que voy a usar para correr. Total, lo que me falte después de Namibia lo compraremos en Madrid.

Quién necesita ropa interior limpia después de 250 km por el desierto…

Esa es una gran medida de seguridad para evitar que tu maleta se pierda, pero… pero quizás hay un eslabón más delicado que el equipamiento en este viaje, y hoy lo comprobé en carne propia.

Salí de Ushuaia ayer, fui a El Calafate, fui a Buenos Aires, me subí a mi avión rumbo a Madrid, me puse música y me dediqué a descansar.

Esta tarde, arribado a Barajas, mientras el avión terminaba de carretear, contesté algunos mensajes y, cuando me levanté de mi asiento para descender, ohhhh, milagro…

Mi carry-on ya no estaba en el portaequipajes de mi asiento.

Y ¿saben qué?

Adentro estaba mi pasaporte.

Por lo que salí corriendo en busca de quien se había equivocado de carry-on. La gente me miraba como a un loco mientras yo iba revisando las maletas, hasta que llegué al control policial de migraciones y…

—Señor, sin pasaporte de acá no pasa…

Eso recibí de un musculoso y armado servidor del orden público.

En cinco segundos pasaron por mi cabeza seis meses de preparación, cinco vuelos, varios miles de dólares y…

Acá terminó mi carrera.

Cual Tom Hanks en The Terminal, no podía volver al avión y no podía pasar.

Impotencia en estado puro.

Migraciones de Madrid se portó bárbaro, pero me repitieron:

—Sin pasaporte de acá no pasa.

E, igualmente, si lograba llegar a Namibia no iba a llegar ni a palos, así que empecé a mover todo lo que podía. Llamé a información, a Buenos Aires, a Ushuaia, y nada.

Yo de un lado.

Mi pasaporte, sabe Dios dónde.

La terminal se fue vaciando y yo quedé solo ahí, en el limbo, pensando:

“Hasta acá llegó mi carrera.”

Para ese entonces ya me había hecho amigo de los policías de migraciones, que compartían conmigo la pena por mi carrera. Me preguntaban cómo era una carrera de este tipo y casi terminamos todos llorando junto a la máquina de café de migraciones.

El aeropuerto puso a una señorita, muy amable ella, a buscar mi carry-on. Coordinaba con mi aerolínea, con Lost & Found, con seguridad, con migraciones y anda a saber con quién más.

Yo me sentía como un agente secreto en busca de una bomba oculta.

Así fueron pasando las horas, entre desesperanza y aburrimiento, cuando, de entre la multitud, aparece un señor policía, musculoso, armado hasta la coronilla , con mi pasaporte en la mano y me dice:

—Señor Rocca, sígame, que usted tiene una carrera que correr

Me abrió paso entre todo el público y acá estoy, rumbo a Johannesburgo.

Moraleja: una ancianita que viajaba a mi lado se confundió de carry-on y se fue con todo mi equipamiento y, como cuando se dio cuenta no supo qué hacer, lo dejó en Lost & Found. 😊

En fin, ya saben: parece que lo más grave no es perder el equipamiento de la carrera. Lo más grave es que una abuelita se lleve tu pasaporte en medio de Madrid…

Gracias, Aeropuerto de Barajas.

Gracias especiales a los policías de Migración. Se portaron bárbaro. Tres de ellos ya siguen mi carrera.

Y gracias a todos esos que me quieren y me aguantan y que me ayudaron. 😊

Seguimos en carrera.

Como digo siempre:

¿Qué puede salir mal?

Alea Jacta Est.

Let's talk about the Namibia desert.

People who know about this consider this desert as one of the world's ancient ones and, due to its extraordinary natural value, UNESCO has proclaimed the Namib Sand Sea, the place where red dunes mingle with the sea, as a World Heritage Site.

T-6. Come on, we are getting at it. 

Reports coming from Swakopmund speak about quite nice weather. Thus, one less variable for our race.

Races are won or lost before the start. We already trained as much as we needed, eaten all we had to, and prepared all we needed to prepare in order to win this race.

Now all we need is the mind working on a single goal.

Stage 6, "The Final Footsteps to the Atlantic Ocean".

One may say that I need 250 km for that. 

But...

I need a little bit more, I need about 21.957 km (13.643,45 miles). 🥰

1. Ushuaia (USH) ➔ Buenos Aires (EZE): 2.350 km
2. Buenos Aires (EZE) ➔ Madrid (MAD): 10.087 km
3. Madrid (MAD) ➔ Johannesburgo (JNB): 8.106 km
4. Johannesburgo (JNB) ➔ Windhoek, Namibia (WDH): 1.165 km

5. And then yes...

   We'll go for my 250 km.

   As I always say,

   What could go wrong?

   Alea jacta est

Hablemos del desierto de Namibia.

Los que saben de esto lo consideran uno de los desiertos más antiguos del mundo y, por su extraordinario valor natural, la UNESCO ldeclaró Patrimonio de la Humanidad al Namib Sand Sea. Lugar donde las dunas rojas se mezclan con el mar.

T-6. Vamos, que ya lo tenemos.

Los reportes que van llegando desde Swakopmund hablan de un clima bastante bueno. Ende, una variable menos para nuestra carrera.

Las carreras se ganan o se pierden antes de largarlas. Ya entrenamos todo lo que teníamos que entrenar, comimos todo lo que teníamos que comer y pusimos en orden todo lo que debíamos poner en orden para ganar esta carrera.

Ahora será cuestión de que la mente trabaje en un solo objetivo:

La etapa 6, “The Final Footsteps to the Atlantic Ocean”.

Uno puede decir que para eso me faltan 250 km.

Pero …..…

A mi me faltan un poquito más, me faltan como 21.957 kilómetros. (13,643.45 mi) 😊

1. Ushuaia (USH) ➔ Buenos Aires (EZE): 2.350 km
2. Buenos Aires (EZE) ➔ Madrid (MAD): 10.087 km
3. Madrid (MAD) ➔ Johannesburgo (JNB): 8.106 km
4. Johannesburgo (JNB) ➔ Windhoek, Namibia (WDH): 1.165 km

Y luego sí…

Iremos por mis 250 km.

Como siempre digo:

¿Qué puede salir mal?

Alea jacta est.

Eight days for the Start... MY GOODNESSSS!!! Nervousness is already spreading among the group and that makes me start feeling more and more edgy. Today is my second to last long training. We are almost there, right at that time when you shout, "I can't take it anymore; I want to start RIGHT NOW!

Mao used to say that "the only way to control a trend is by making it faster". And as an obstinate opponent to the status quo, he joyfully pointed out that "there are tempests and sparks in the skies, it's an excellent situation..."

Let's go for Africa, let's go for Namibia, let's go for all!

Alea jacta est

8 días para la largada, MAMITAAAAAAA!!!!!, ya se comienza a contagiar los nervios en el grupo, y eso hace q a uno le suban lo suyos. Hoy mi anteúltimo fondo, ya no queda nada, exactamente en esos momentos donde decis, no quiero más, quiero largar YA!.

Mao decía q “la única manera de controlar una tendencia es acelerándola” y como adversario contumaz del statu quo, señaló gozoso que —hay tempestades y centellas en los cielos, la situación es excelente----”

Vamos por África, vamos por Namibia, vamos por todo!

Alea jacta est