It's 10:27 on Friday morning, and the last of the competitors have arrived with their camel guide (this team sweeps the course of flags after the last person), marking the end of the race.
 
First half of yesterday was like a regular day, only longer, but we did see the unesco-certified artifacts at the Valley of the Whales, and these provided welcome if brief distraction. The 4th checkpoint was midway up a giant sand dune, the ridge of which we clambered across in high winds, the bottom perhaps a thousand feet away down a 45 degree angle.
 
Second half of the day was night. Blazing moon and stars, of course, and much of the terrain could be negotiated without a light. In the final stage Even with a light though, towards the end, I was losing my ability to perceive shapes, shadow, the real from the imagined, etc. I staggered across very difficult terrain to the finish at 2:30am.
 
It'll be a celebrate/relax day now, and we have a lot of time to kill before we see the Pyramids tomorrow, and then head back to the hotel to get cleaned up. Among the topics of conversation around camp:
 
- Proper food. After a week spent eating energy gels, jelly beans, and freeze-dried expedition meals, most would kill now for something "real" to eat, and all are gratefully accepting whatever nut or bite of pepperoni may be on offer from someone's saved rations. What I really want is a smoked meat sandwich, light rye bread, the regular yellow mustard...  mmm
 
- Comparing wounds. Many have made messes of their feet or knees, and are on antibiotics for infected toes or are bound up to reduce swelling. All those who can walk do so with a limp. I have some purple toenails, but otherwise came through relatively unscathed.
 
- Being dirty. Nobody will miss the tent toilets, I expect, and most are anxious to have a shower at their nearest opportunity,.
 
- Elation that we're finished, and questions of whether we'll return. With the latter my response is no, god no, but apparently everyone says that at first. With time for reflection, they say, the most unpleasant memories fade, and the whole thing seems like a good idea again somehow. Around 80% of the people here are repeats.
 
I'm happy enough, I think, to have committed to the challenge and followed it through. Now I'm ready to be back home with my family, living a normal life, and once again eating whatever I want.
 
G.

Keep those emails coming... after finishing a stage, reading them is the best part of my day.
 
Alison and I went out again with Xavier today, but this time took his advice of getting some running done during the earlier stages, when it's cooler. Together we ran most of the first stage and part of the second, and a quick march through the final two brought us back about an hour quicker than Alison and I were able to manage yesterday (Xavier did fine), good for a combined 54th on the day.
 
I said this before, but it really bears repeating what a difference it makes to run with people as a team, swapping out pacesetting responsibilities, regrouping at checkpoints and just generally pushing each other forward. Most competitors are out there alone, and it's understating the case to describe the out-of-doors here as a hostile place to be for hours on end, day after day, by yourself.
 
Tomorrow we take on the 90k "Long March" to the official finish (Saturday's run to the Pyramids is a ceremonial 1.6k). We have two days to tackle this stage, 50k on Thursday and the rest on Friday, and many will take those two days.
 
The guru of the Canadian group here, Mehmet, says finishing this stage in a single day has a lot to recommend it, including 1) you finish quicker and get to recover for a full day before the banquet on Saturday, 2) the sky at night will illuminate the course without lights, and 3) it's not scalding hot at night. This last point alone is sufficient to convince me to give it a try, if I feel fit enough this time tomorrow. Only time will tell.
 
Hoping the next post will be my last!
 
G.

Today’s Stage 3 was reputed to be the hardest, and the race leader’s time bears this out. 4:20 today vs 3:10 in the first stage on Sunday, which if you could see what comprises these courses would absolutely blow your mind, the sheer superhuman ability of these people to cross vast expanses of scorching desert at a full run, through soft sand, up huge dunes, and on and on and on.

And these aren’t professional athletes either; they are just people who for some reason have a driving passion to excel, to put themselves in perhaps the toughest situations a person could possibly face voluntarily, and then not only make it through, but push themselves through exhaustion and pain, day after day, to just kill it. It is truly inspiring to be among these people.

For my part, of course, I am grateful to just be making it through. And what privilege it is to see what we’re seeing out here; turns out there’s more to this part of the world than sand dunes (though there are a lot of those). Cameras can’t do it justice.

Health-wise I have been lucky so far. My shoes fit well so my feet are ok (most press on with hideous blisters), and my joints and muscles seem in good working order. If all goes well, it’s 90k the day after tomorrow!

And another round of thanks to those who have taken the time to write! It’s fantastic to hear from home.

G.

Another incredible day. I had a very rough time at the end of stage 2, emotionally and physically drained, wondering if I would be able to continue. I took a seat in the shade of the tent and for the first time at a checkpoint removed my pack (many breeze right on through after getting their water), and had a snack while the wind cooled me off. An English competitor asked how I was doing, and encouraged me with the fact that we were halfway done for the day.
 
The checkpoint was at the end of a long ridge, so as ate a clif bar and pondered my future in the race, I watched as the English competitor and others departed a gentle decline down a giant dune, which then became a kilometre long climb, people barely visible near the top.
 
Somehow I recovered, and managed to catch up early in the third leg to NABS teammate Alison and a French competitor named Xavier, and completed a very long day in lockstep with them. Such positive people, both, and it made all the difference to me to have their support. I also realized that if you need a rest, you should have a rest.
 
The beauty of the terrain today was also much better to appreciate in a group. An old monastery, dramatic rock outcrops over stunning views, and just those endless dunes... really something to see, and I got a few pictures here and there to show around when I'm back.
 
Anyway, I have recovered from my cramps and it's time to tape my feet again. Thanks to all at home for their support, especially you Zoe - your email made me cry a little, and it wasn't even that soft!
 
G.

An indescribable effort put forth by some very hardy people on the course today, but I will attempt to describe it anyway. Day began at 5:00 with a leisurely power bar breakfast, followed by some anxious packing up (breakfast too leisurely), application of body glide, visits to hole-in-the-ground toilet etc. Sun up at about 6, further anxiety to note that with ten minutes to go until race time at 7:00, it was already getting quite hot. Felt very real.
 
First stage consisted of hard-packed roads with the consistency similar to that of the shoulder of a country road, and passed without much issue. Like most people, I ran the bulk of it and was feeling pretty good.
 
I can no longer remember much about the second stage, but I think I stopped running, more or less for good, during this part. Roads gave way to a great deal of soft sand, which is very difficult to move in. I remembered to turned on my GPS partway through this stage, and learned that my pace was between 7 and 8 km per hour. "Not bad" I thought, extrapolating this pace into a total-course time of between 30 and 34 hours.
 
Things got very tough indeed in the third stage. Picture Lawrence of Arabia-style vistas which go forever in every direction, with blinding sun and searing heat. Add to this the unexpected isolation which saw my nearest competitors at about a kilometre behind and ahead, and distant ridges one after the other which felt sure to be the last one before the next checkpoint, but never were. Stage 3 was the longest 13km I have ever passed.
 
The last stage was only 7km, but felt like much more.
 
At any rate, I finally finished in just over six hours, nowhere near the pace I had so optimistically hoped for, but so incredibly elated to have completed the hardest physical test of my life (so far) just the same. Now I get to do it all again tomorrow!

We are here, in the desert! After a missed flight and then hours spent in the middle of the night getting everything repacked, competitor checkin was this morning at 8, followed by an audit of our equipment. Very little sleep and no coffee, but my gear passed muster and I was lucky to quickly find  a spare knife that somebody brought when it turned out I had forgotten my own, so the day started very promisingly. 

At 1pm, buses took everyone from the hotel through Cairo (the craziest traffic I have ever seen - our guide explained that traffic was directed by scores of police, but these are now in short supply) past the Pyramids, right there out in the open(!) to our present position at base camp for Stage 1 in the Valley of the Whales. We start tomorrow morning at 7am. 

A colleague remarked as eight of us were unpacking our sleeping gear in our tent that "It seems real now". I agreed but I have had that same feeling over and over; first, at the airport to leave, then arriving in Cairo, then checking in with the other 150-odd competitors in the hotel ballroom this morning. Every stage of the journey is another reminder of what awaits, and I expect it'll seem realer with each passing day once the race gets underway. 

We'll eat well for the last time tonight. I've had my shoulders and back and feet taped, I am well hydrated and ready to race the sun!