For the grand finale, we boarded buses in the desert at 4AM and were shipped back to Giza. Back into civilization. Just a stone's throw away from the famed pyramids, we ran through dusty roads and back alleys, dodging bewildered locals, hot garbage, and beaten donkeys (ok I don't know if they are beaten but I've seen only 'long' faces -haha). Police escorts pointed the way to the back door of compound. It almost felt mischievous, like we were sneaking into a club without paying cover. Inside, the area was cleared of the typical busloads of tourists, touts, and camel shit. I felt the grandeur of the spectacle that the ancient engineers probably intended to evoke.

At the finish line, we were greeted by a red carpet, saluting horsemen, trumpeting musicians, and cheerful onlookers. A large, heavy finisher's medal that would even make a rapper jealous was hung around my neck. We celebrated with pizza (a lot) and soda (a lot), then at the hotel I washed away enough grit from my body and clothes to build a sand castle.

Overall it was a wonderful experience. The mental agony has already been replaced with a bit of sadness - that there are no more days of racing left and today I move on with my travels. The physical pain is lingering, but will soon fade into another curious desire. To explore a new geography, not only in literal terms, but uncharted places of the mind and spirit.

Thank you all for reading. I am humbled by your interest and your well wishes, whether silent or spoken. Anyone who has promised me food, I will not forget! I will certainly take you up on the offer when I return.

Peace and love.

Yesterday, I learned a lesson.  I found that about 50th place was probably as good as I could place on a stage.  It's the upper limit of my talent.  Like working hard in a class, but barely pulling a 'C'.  Or socking money away in a 401k and watching the market crash.  Or taking a girl to an expensive restaurant, and ending up a "nice guy."  So today, in stage 3, I fell off the wagon.  I reverted to what I do best: walking fools down.  I found that it was mentally stressful to try keep up with others, but spiritually uplifting to be able to pass people through the day.  So again, I started slowly, conserving energy for the difficult stretches and thinking that maybe I could even run fools down late. 

The course description read, "sand, sand and more sand" - a pretty accurate description.  While the White Desert had interesting animal cracker rock formations, today the desert vistas fell into two categories: flat sand and hilly sand.  For the first two checkpoints, all you could see was a stark, barren horizon.  I was expecting C-3P0 to show up.  Then came the dreaded sand dunes - a series of undulating hills of varying heights and misery.  For each step I took, it felt like progress, until the shifting sand sank me a few inches for my troubles.  Suddenly the stairmaster was no longer an annoying acquaintance, but a true friend, an angel on my shoulder.  I entered the checkpoint one at #77, and finished somewhere around #50 (I forgot to ask).

For my efforts, I got another blister.  The doctors in the medical tent had some 35 years of medical school between them, but when it comes to blister treatment, it's medieval.  Poke it.  Tape it.  Relatively speaking my feet are holding up well compared to others, whose feet look like jigsaw puzzles of tape.  Temperature-wise, the heat has been rising.  The high was 100F on Sunday, 106F yesterday and 110F today.  More fun in the sun tomorrow.  I'm halfway through this event!  Thanks everyone for posting and emailing.

After all the props I gave to walking yesterday, you'd think that I'd stick to walking.  But no, I ran from the very beginning, and as much as possible during the day.  I was encouraged that I was #53 when I hit checkpoint 1.  But the thing is, everyone else who was around me at this pace also ran when they could and walked when they couldn't.  I was never able to gain ground on the others and I hovered at this ranking all day.  I wanted to open a can of whoop-ass but I left it at home.  For all my perspiration, I only ended up slightly higher than yesterday, 51st place.  Hardly seemed worth the effort.

Today was rough for most.  Even though it was listed as a moderately difficult course, the mileage was a bit farther than yesterday.  But that extra distance seemed to make a big difference; like Hillary's primary campaign, I couldn't wait for it to end.  Suddenly a 7-day race seems far too long.  Tomorrow, the distance is about the same, but the course gets harder.

Here's the medical report.  One blister, two sore shoulders, and misty eyes.  Other than that I feel good.  My joints and muscles both are sore of course but in good shape.  One concern is food.  The race organizers require competitors to bring 2,000 calories per day or 14,000 total.  I brought 14,230, and that ain't enough (the tapeworm needs to eat too).  I eat a hot breakfast everyday (dehydrated eggs with oatmeal).  During the course, I have a snack (yesterday was a rainbow of fruit flavors, today was peanut M&Ms, half of which I dropped on the ground).  I eat a hot dinner at the end of the stage (around 2pm), and then a energy bar in the evening.  Can somebody FedEx me some McRib or something?

Until the next episode.

Yesterday, the race organizers handed out the course handbook, which listed each stage, the checkpoint distances, difficulty and terrain descriptions (they actually describe each stage as "sandy" - duh).  The first through the third stages are in the White Desert, an amazing place with strange rock formations.  Looking at the course I realized the strategy was as foolhardy as Donald Rumsfield.  Let me explain.  The first two stages are listed as "moderate" in difficulty - hard sand and rock.  Stages 3 and 4 become "difficult" - soft sand and dunes.  So my strategy to walk on rock and run on dunes was piss poor in light of this information.  So I implemented... THE SURGE.

First, a bit of science class.  The human body is the most efficient walking machine on the planet.  Perfectly designed to walk long distances under any terrain.  This allows humans, physically weaker and slower, to walk down larger and faster prey animals, until their exhaustion.

Starting slowly, I was in something like 130th place after the first 20 minutes, as nearly everyone ran past me as I walked.  After one hour and 30 minutes, my legs warmed up and I also realized the heat would not be a problem.  I began interspering jogging with fast walking.  Checkpoint by checkpoint, I passed others.  My position improved.  I was walking fools down like they were newborn fawn.  At the end of the day, I finished 63rd.  But tomorrow's another day.  Stay tuned.

I am now in a hotel in Media City near Cairo, about to hit the sack. I arrived in Cairo via Istanbul yesterday afternoon. With my free time I have since visited some popular tourist sites: Cairo Tower, Khan El Khalily market (want Egyptian souveneirs made in China?), and the pyramids of Sakkara, Dashur, and Giza (shows the step by step progression of pyramid engineering). But who wants to hear about ancient marvels and the only existing Wonder of the World when you can hear me talk about the Sahara Race instead?

When it comes to the race, I do have quite an ingenius strategy: I ain't running. OK, maybe a little bit. Actually, for the first two stages, I will likely walk like an Egyptian nearly the whole way. The biggest mistake rookies make is that they start too fast and burn out in the mid days. So I plan on going s-l-o-w, acclimatizing to the heat and sand before picking up the pace (if I can) on stages 3 and 4, when the pack weight is down. Stage 5 is about 50 miles and goes for two days (throughout the night). If all goes well I don't intend to stop. The final stage is a short 10k or so. By this time, all rankings are pretty set so there is no need to rush. Mike Tyson once said everyone has a plan until they get hit. Let's hope he's not here.

Finally, there has not been a drop of rain in Cairo for three years. Until today. It rained. Twice. Allah is crying for me already. Next time you hear from me will be after stage 1. Stay tuned.

I am three nights from departing for Egypt to participate in the Sahara Race.  For those that don't know, this is a seven-day event, where competitors travel 150 miles on foot across the Sahara Desert. Each individual must carry his or her own gear, food, clothing and ego.  The average pack weighs 20 lbs.  The race organizers provide water, tents and most importantly, medical assistance. 

There are some 170 people signed up for the Sahara Race, including yours truly.  I came across their website in September 2007 while surfing the net.  The organizer, called Racing the Planet, hosts races in four deserts - the Gobi in Mongolia, the Sahara in Egypt, the Atacama in Chile, and Antarctica.  By October 2007, I had chosen the Sahara Race, and in March 2008, I sent in my application and booked my flights. 

Afterwards, I did research on the event and thought WTF did I just do.  Googling articles on the race led me to articles on competitors.  What I found was that there are a good share of elite, world class athletes in this.  Ultra-marathoners.  Tri-athletes.  Adventure racers.  They’ve been training for a year.  Or more.  They cross-train in various sports.  They work out twice a day.  They run in saunas.  They run on sand.  They run in Death Valley.  Me?  I run at Bally's.  On a treadmill.  And I don’t even like running. 

Now, when I think of the feat ahead, sometimes it seems easy.  Sometimes it seems hard.  If I view it as a hike, it is very manageable. From backpacking, I know that I can walk the mileage without incessantly whining.  I've done some good, 8-10 hour treks on rough terrain, with a 60 lb. pack, with less than ideal caloric intake over six consecutive days.  But if I view it as a run... damn, son! It is overwhelming.  The biggest challenges are the heat (ps- the sun is hot) and the sand.

I started training in July.  I was doing one-hour jogging sessions on the aforementioned Bally treadmill carrying a light pack, on a hill setting.  At the end of July, I ran the farthest distance I've ever run in my life. 10 miles (what can I say, I don't like running).  From there, I ran 16 miles on almost every Sunday afterwards, accompanied by two 6 mile runs during the week.  I run at a 6 mph pace with a full pack.  My mileage was 28 miles per week, no more no less.  Other schmo's (with abrasive a-type personalities) do something like 80-100 miles per week.  So I say this with no exaggeration:  I may be the least trained person out of all the competitors.

The average daytime temperature is expected to be 100-110 degrees with low humidity.  Heat exhaustion is a real risk.  I do bikram yoga here and there (90 minutes, 105 degrees, 40% humidity).  I've been running with a hat and fleece.  And this final week, I hit the sauna for one-hour sessions.  They say achieving heat acclimatization/tolerance takes 7-10 days.  Well, 7 is all I got. 

I’ve read that the fastest competitors (30 hrs total course time, 5 mph average speed) and slowest competitors (80 hrs total course time, <2 mph average speed) are usually non-problematic in terms of safety concerns.  The fastest are the elite, who are well-trained and have planned everything with meticulous detail, down to the gps coordinates where they are gonna take a dump.  The slowest are the easy-goers, knowing their limitations and not caring about rankings.  The middle-of-the-packers (50 hrs total course time, 3 mph average speed) are the ones to worry about, for they are undertrained and overambitious.  They push themselves too much.  That’s precisely where I intend to be.  Mediocre, yet distinguished. 

Well, that's all folks.  This blog is the only method I'll have of communicating during the race (October 26 - November 1).  Please comment on the posts as I'm sure I can use the entertainment in the evenings.  Or you can send me emails if you want to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.  On this site, you can find race coverage, complete with steady updates, photos and video.  If you can't find me, be sure to check the very bottom of the rankings.

Holla.