Well, that was fun...  Sitting in camp 'the morning after' as the final competitors cross the line, trying to think of ways to stay entertained for the 24 hours we have left before getting back into the coaches and heading over to the pyramids for the final 2km, the finish line, and most importantly: pizza and beer.
 
So: apple juice.  From concentrate.  Not ideal.
 
Which determined the plan for the day, and made sure it was going to be of the 17 hour variety - nice and gentle, fluids and electrolytes all the way, looking after the feet and back during the time spent cooling down at the checkpoint rest breaks and all to try to keep the internal body temperature as low as possible.  The first ten hours were during daylight, and the same conditions as the rest of the race: sand, heat, and about a 20kph wind that seemed to be permanently heading into us. Biggest problem was staying mentally alert and constantly reigning in - lots of flat and open sections where, wind notwithstanding, it would have been so much more relaxing to open up the legs and get some distance covered.... But, sadly, not this time.
 
The 'Whale Skeletons' came during stage 3.  What can I say?  They absolutely did not look like some locals had lined up some random large white rocks, found some extremely gullible visitors, and conned them out of as much cash as they had to look at the wondrous archaeological remains.  Absolutely nothing like that.
 
The last seven hours after sunset were different from the previous 215km. (Though, naturally, sand was a constant). The plains become a uniform black, the sky the deepest blue, and the atmospheric dust (or: sand) clung to the border between the two, blurring them into each other.  The lack of any material ambient light made the stars so clear that even the pulsing of the quasars became visible.  Then after about thirty minutes of walking without lights, patches of the sky revealed a very slightly lighter blue and there are the bands of solar systems above. No wind, no noise, and bar a green glow stick every 75m or so, no sign that anyone had ever been there before...  Beautiful and very deeply peaceful. 
 
If I'd been competing I'd have run through the heat, hoping to suffer into camp and collapse into sleep before sunset; as it was I had a few serene hours out there, and that was a very special sort of compensation.
 
Three deserts down, just the Antarctic left...
 
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Thanks for the emails and the comments - most of them arrived this morning and above and beyond enjoying the content it's been a happy relief to have something to read!  Thanks again to everyone who donated to Malaika Kids - their website link on the right of this blog I think, etc...
 
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For those following who are looking for lessons learned from this one: not many, sadly, as so little of the kit or training was tested once the spectre of a second kidney problem was visible.  Stuff that worked: two 750ml flasks each with a camelbak hose in pockets on the side of the rucksack (rather than fixed on the front straps) stopped all the annoying banging; didn't need hats, gloves, recovery tights; for hikers: the odd radio comedy show thrown in alongside the music helps pass the (interminable) time when you don't need to be too focused on pushing yourself too hard.  Stuff that failed: should have brought a buff (doubles as eye mask for sleeping) rather than a cap with a legionnaire's flap at the back; didn't need hiking poles at all even at my slow pace; for me, I clearly can't compete in 40+degC without being acclimatised properly - London to Cairo just doesn't work for my body; 'finishing' is a rubbish objective in that it doesn't impose constraints or goals on the course - survival needs to be broken into concrete objectives whose achievement generates pleasure - boring and obvious but still.  Finally: UTMB seven weeks ago was not the right thing to do had I wanted to be competitive, for two reasons: physically not enough time to recover and then train for the different requirements (heat, 9kg rucksack) efficiently; more importantly not enough time to mentally re-focus on the demands of the different course and focusing on what will generate best performance. The race wasn't a throwaway, but it didn't take me long to be here to just finish the third desert rather than improve a placing or get a time, and that wasn't enough. 
 
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Kate: I love you so, very, very, much.

There were no gardens. There was only sand.
 
Fine, no more detailed bathroom discussions. But same as yesterday, so a similarly nice slow walk today. Easier terrain - which means firmer sand that gives traction - and a pretty constant breeze. Still shadeless, but what can you do... All a little frustrating, as with no blisters, pulls, or stomach problems it would have been perfect for a run; but not prepared to risk my finishing spot when my kidneys remain less than their happiest. Looking forward to having finished three of the four deserts regardless. Gives a little focus and helps restrain my youthful enthusiasm.
 
Yesterday evening's excitement was provided by the high winds collapsing one of our tent poles in the middle of the night; fair amount of swearing, followed by some swearing in Arabic, and the pole was duly hammered into the sand again, helpfully waking up the rest of the camp... We also learned how to exfoliate, Sahara style: get into a sleeping bag that can never be fully emptied of sand, and roll about all night in it...
 
Long day tomorrow: 86km apparently. Aim will be to take it slowly until the heat of the day has passed, say 4-ish, then see if the kidneys will give me leave to accelerate. Realistically it would be nice to finish before midnight if I have to take it this slowly (again), but fingers crossed the kidneys start to acclimatise... overnight. Alternatively, we need to get two saline drips to be automatically taken out of the race, so maybe the first is free?
 
Hoping for some scenery tomorrow, and more prosaically for solid ground, a breeze, and maybe a cloud. It goes without saying that there will be sand....
 
Thanks, again, for the comments and emails; I'll have a full day to read the next batch after the long day so keep them coming!

It's like there's a theme to the stage names..?
 
For those following at home, here's how to replicate today's run: take a sheet of A4; turn it lengthways.  Draw a horizontal line in the middle.  Colour the top blue, the bottom yellow.  Take a welder's mask, and tape the A4 sheet on the visor, so the yellow and blue is facing you when you put the mask on.  Now step into a wetsuit.  Now step into a sauna.  Now take the smallest fan you can find and turn it on its lowest setting and point it at yourself.  Now start skipping, for 8 hours.  And that still doesn't really replicate the fun of the day, as it fails to mention the difficulties of moving on sand.  The many varieties, the different shapes of crust, the many, many possibilities of sand.
 
Anyway, hopefully that helps convince you that the sponsorship has at least been paid for in kind...!
 
Meanwhile, more mundane matters: woke up with (urine reference coming) urine the colour of fudge.  Deary me.  Otherwise felt just fine.  So had a long hike today, with stops at every checkpoint, as much water as I could physically consume, and generally looked after myself.  Result was a longer day than yesterday, but no pains, no heat stress bar a little sunburn, and into camp hydrated and happy.  All a little odd really - given my main concern is avoiding organ problems, I can't push against a pain barrier, or to beat other competitors, or to catch the person in front; nothing to focus on but finishing nice and gently.  Doesn't do much to build the tension for the spectators I'm afraid...
 
One regular day left tomorrow, then the long day.  Given there's not a lot to do after the long day but sleep, I'm thinking about taking my time hiking it anyway and enjoying the sand.  I mean scenery.  I mean sand.
 
Thanks again for the emails and comments; great to have a little contact with a humanity that has access to showers...

Seriously.  These stage names.  While technically accurate....
 
Firstly: thanks for the emails and comments, especially the ones that don't mention the Scotland v England score...
 
Secondly: in the plus column: a day further than last year already...! Nice slow day today.  Took it a lot easier from the start and only slowed from there, so no real aches and pains to speak of.  In the minus column: the reason for not pushing is that (avert your eyes if your of a sensitive disposition) my urine was the colour of tea when I woke up this morning.  And that isn't a million miles from organ failure.  So from here on in, the running order be damned, I'm looking after my kidneys and going far slower than I'd otherwise like to.  Not that annoyed, just not willing to fail to finish a second time.
 
Today's course a little more varied: some sand dunes, some ridges looking over the sand dunes, a very large sand dune to run down, and five sand dunes to run up (not sure how the mathematics works, but felt like that anyway...)  Oh - and a monastery to look at - surrounded by... sand.
 
More of the same tomorrow, hopefully, albeit at a similarly leisurely pace...
 
Finally: all non-Scotland rugby scores and quarter final line-ups welcome, as well as the West Ham score, so long as we won...?

(That's the name of the camp.  How DO they come up with them?)
 
End of day one and it's worryingly similar to last year: went out slow, found myself running somewhere in the 30th positions after the first section, then spent the last three sections going slower but overtaking all the same... All the fluids have gone down, I've eaten and stretched, and apart from feeling regular aches and pains all feels well... So now I get to wait and see if my organs are in better shape than last year.  What's different is the temperature: only 42 degC so far, not the 50 degC of last year, so hopefully that's made the difference... There really aren't course highlights - it was hot, got hotter, and we ran over a lot of sand with one section a little firmer than the other three.  It is beautiful in its wilderness, but there's only so much you can write about sand in a public forum.
 
There are maybe 16 tents for 150 people here and we all have a tent assigned (Tent 10: Neith, since you ask).  Get in early, you get to pick your spot in the tent and relax by yourself.  Except our tent, which seems to have four of the top 20 runners and six of the top 35 in it.  Poor planning on my part.  Still, all seem nice enough and we can all root for Eric as the overall winner is going to be either him or Dan Parr.
 
Tent banter is not always PC as it might be, but with Japanese, American, German, Scots and South Africans all represented it is at least equal opportunity slating.  National stereotypes have been established.  The highlights so far:
 
American: optimistic: "Hey! Maybe tomorrow we'll have more sand! That would be AWESOME!"
 
Japanese: quiet: "How did you train?" "....Ran... a bit" "Really? What distance?" ".....Not far" "Which was?" "......Half... ironman triathlon" "Ummm... OK... How long ago?" "......Last... weekend"
 
South Africans: stoic: "That was sht. Oh well. Tomorrow will be sht as well.  And the day after. Oh well."
 
Australians: not really clear but to quote one tentmate: "That accent's just a party in itself"
 
There may be a view that the Scots are here because they wouldn't pay for the jeep tour, but that is crass and unfounded.  We wouldn't pay for hotel accommodation either.
 
So, hoping that tonight doesn't bring organ failure so that I can get a little further than last year. 
 
Strongly suspect I will dream of sand.

The taper always seems the hardest part of training to get right: just feels wrong to prepare for an ultra by doing less running.  That meant that there was a positive side to all the travel this past week: it has been impossible to put in too many miles (and a few of those miles were in a very humid DC which might have been helpful).  The negative has been too little sleep and too many hotel meals.  Hope the balance is in my favour...  

Next stop: London.  Then Cairo. Then a desperate attempt to find a way to watch Scotland v England at the hotel.  Then the overnight camp.  And then, after a break that will have been far too long, I get to go running again!

Looking forward to seeing everyone in Egypt.

Finally: thanks for all the sponsorship for Malaika Kids (a Tanzanian Orphans' charity); every donation is appreciated:  http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/FergusEdwards

Most of this year's training was geared up to the UTMB.  On the up side, that's built a great endurance base as my weekly long run maxed out at 50-60k, ultimately even with some sort of ease.  On the down side I haven't been carrying much more than 3-4kg with any frequency, haven't had any sort of humidity or heat to train in, and, as I discovered over in France/Switzerland/Italy, have had precisely zero hill work.  Nevertheless, endurance is key and the one lesson I have to take from last year is to start far slower than I think I should to allow for the humidity, so hopefully it will all be fine...

Since my Alpine jaunt at the end of August, my Sahara specific training has been as follows...

Week of August 28th: hobble, hobble, can't walk up stairs, (can't walk up the kerb), eat everything in sight, sink a few beers, try to catch up on sleep

Week of September 5th: walking normally, couple of ve-e-e-e-ery gentle runs on sand, no more than 8 miles, able to walk up stairs again, notice the feeling returning to most of my toes, cut back on the beer and start eating more healthily

Week of September 12th: running again, including a couple of 5+ mile runs with 12kg where my muscles feel fine but the base of my back is chafed to a bloody pulp, pack my kit into many, many ziplock bags

That leaves two weeks, one for a little more training and one for a taper.  Hopefully next week will allow for another few long slow runs with weight to remember what it feels like and one or two faster strides on the treadmill.  The last week has as little time on feet as possible, a lot of sleep, and a lot of fluids and fresh food in preparation for a week of re-hydrated meals...

Last year my Sahara Race went as follows:

Day 1: finish the day in joint 9th

Day 2: start vomiting at 3am, start the day, continue vomiting until c. 10am, pull out after stage 1, spend a few hours under a canopy, vomit some more, finally manage to keep a flat coke down by the early evening

Day 3: learn I had tried to par-boil my internal organs on day 1 but finished the day before feeling the negative effects

Day 4-6: volunteer and help out as best I can, work on my tan, decide I will never travel to the Sahara without a mosquito net as there are flies everywhere, plot my return for 2011...

This year, aiming to do things a little differently... Not least by actually finishing...