Simon Munro's Gobi March (Mongolia) 2025 Race Report

Welcome to Ulaabaatar! (21 June 2025)

Supposedly the coldest capital city on earth, over the last few days Ulaabaatar has been trying desperately to lose that title - today is heading for 31 degrees - and the next few days are even warmer! I am reliably informed (thanks Google) that it makes up for the heat in June/July with an average "high" temperature in January of -15 degrees, and an average low of -29!

I landed on Wednesday, and after a two hour taxi ride from the airport, had clocked up over 36 hours travelling since leaving home before 5am on Tuesday. Driving in Mongolia seems like something best left to the experts - especially given some of the peculiarities of road use here. For example, over 95% of the cars seem to be right-hand drive vehicles from Japan and Korea, while at the same time around 95% of the cars actually drive on the right-hand side of the road. The exceptions to each of those rules, however, do not seem to co-incide with any predictability. Over the course of my taxi ride, I think my driver managed well over 100 lane changes, some within seconds of each other, making use of largely pedestrianised accessways, and even taking an exit from bumper-to-bumper motorway traffic, only to immediately throw in a U-turn to get back on the same road via the next on-ramp. We, and twenty or thirty other cars, took full advantage to get in front of maybe three or four cars that seemed unaware of the "shortcut". Luckily we were not among the 5-6 lane-changing accidents that I witnessed on the way into the city, which all helped to clog up the traffic even further (along with the seemingly compulsory behaviour of entering an intersection, whether or not there is any chance of being able to get out the other side).

The city provides a real contrast between old-Soviet-era architecture and the new development that kicked off when Mongolia became democratic in 1990, and is still continuing at pace. Some people say things are changing too fast, and the gap between rich and poor is widening. With a large shift in population from the nomadic way of life (which is still how 1/3rd of the population live) into the city, there is a need for construction to provide all those people somewhere to live. Not being used to the rules of city life, many of the nomadic people find life in Ulaanbaatar hard to get used to, particularly the driving as they are not necessarily used to having anyone to avoid, let alone roads.

The Mongolian people that I have met so far have been absolutely delightful - from those who give me a wave when out for a wee run, to others who can speak English and are keen for a chat. Even the stern lady at customs who seemed initially keen to investigate the suspicious white powder I was carrying seemed to warm up after a while (or just got bored of me?), and with not even a word in common of the same language, she eventually waved me away back to the main queue to enter the country.

I will not give the food quite the same high praise, in large part because I have spent the last sixteen hours dealing with food poisoning. I have medication for both ends of my body now, though, (thanks to the Race doctors!) and feel like I am starting to turn a corner. Along with two hours' sleep last night, this is certainly not the ideal race preparation, although losing a couple of kilograms at least lightens the load I am still hoping to lug around 250km over the next seven days. And surely it will help me get to bed early at Camp 1 tonight.

We went through the race briefing and check-in process this morning. My pack weighed in at 8.10kg, without water, which I am pretty happy with. Almost 4kg of that is food, so the load will lighten as the race progresses... although I can't really imagine eating any of it wiht the way I am feeling at the moment. A minimum of 1.5l of water must be carried out of each check point, so that will have me carrying around 9.6kg.

In a little over an hour we will be boarding the buses for the six-hour drive out into the wilderness to find Camp 1. It seems that at least the first couple of hours are going to be reminiscent of my taxi-ride on Wednesday, in heavy traffic, but with my stomach issues I am certainly hoping for fewer sudden lane changes!

Getting to Camp and Day 1 (22 June 2025)

Hello from the Mongolian Steppe!

I was pretty nervous about the prospect of a six hour bus ride to camp given the previous night‘s carb-unloading that I undertook. Luckily I managed to get enough anti-vom and anti-poo drugs to get me through, but it was touch and go (on the vom-front, at least). The roads got progressively worse as we left the city and the bus had some good suspension on it which made for some bouncy hours at the back of the bus. Our bus had clutch issues about two hours in, which had us trying to start in whatseemed like third gear - it was very reminiscent of Little Miss Sunshine, if you’ve ever seen that, where they had to push their van to get it started and then sprint up to jump in the side door. I did suggest that at one point, but not sure the driver either spoke English, or had seen that movie. He did get several cheers from the whole bus though each time he got it going, usually with some massive crunching of gears, giving up on the right one, and seemingly going straight from 3rd to 5th. An amazing effort - but I am hoping for a different bus on the way back. We definitely had to hold on tight for much of the ride, with the bumps necessary taken at decent speed, and also due to some inventive overtaking (both from our driver, and drivers coming towards us!) One of our tranmission-related stops was opposite a big corral of horses, and we were contemplating the need to ride them the erst of the way - it may‘ve been slower, but it would certainly have been smoother. With my lack of sleep from the night before the last couple of hours in the bus were pretty hard going - all i wanted to do was close my eyes, but having to hold on prevented any real rest. If it wasn’t for the great company, though, the whole ride would‘ve felt like forever.

Once we made it to camp we set up in our tents - we had lost someone from Tent 10 somehow, so only five of us, and a really nice group fo people - all over 50 (thanks to my birthday last week) so all house (or tent) trained. I didn’t even both trying to eat any dinner as it wouldn‘t have gone well, but the chance to lie down as rest was super welcome. We kept the doors of the tent open so going to sleep with a view of the stars was pretty cool, and waking up in the night to pee was an even better chance to see the stars. I got lots of sleep, relatively speaking anyway, so I started day 1 around 5:30am feeling someewhat better than the shell of a human I was the night before.

I managed to get my ultrafuel hot chocolate breakfast down, but soon needed to lie down for half an hour to help my stomach recover. That made the rest of the preparation for stage 1 a bit tight, not helpeed by some diarrhea, and getting more pills from the doctors. 

I made it to thee start line as I was pinning my bib on my pack and with less than ten seconds to spare. Phew. I started off running okay, not fast, but running. My pace quickly dropped by a minute per km, then another minute, and another… all to accomodate how my stomach was feeling. I made it to check point 1 having fuelled relatively well and not feeling too bad, but within a few kms I was doubled over dry-heaving, and then doubled over wet-heaving (if that’s a thing) five times in the course of a minute. Luckily there was a fence post for me to lean on - small mercies! 

Watching all those calories and all that hydration disappear into the dirt was pretty demoralising - it was weirdly obvious that the last two heaves were breakfast - and I really thought I was watching my chances of finishing the stage and probably the race soak into the ground too. My pace just kept dropping - even a reasonable walking pace was impossible, down to zimmer-frame sort of levels, that would not have me making the stage cutoffs if that was all I could manage. 

I started sipping water and electrolytes, but could only handle one sip every five minutes or so, before taking some time for my stomach to cramp and then recover, which was nowhere enough to keep my hydrated. For probably close to two hours I thought the race was over, but kept trudging away, with very kind people coming past me constantly with good wishes, encouragement and occasionally forced help (like removing my hat, filling it with water, and putting it back on my head).

Slowly that got to two sips every five minutes, and then three, and then four. Still, every time I drank, and sometimes even when I didn‘t, my stomach cramped, often needing a stop, bending over, and some deep breaths. My walking pace (there was no prospect of doing anything but walk) though, picked up to maybe 4km per hour, and I started to see a little light at the end of the tunnel.

I stopped at all the check points (more anti-vom drugs at CP2 helped, I am sure), which was good chance to cool off in the shade as best I could, and found with a wee rest I could get a few more sips down at once. It was so hot, but I was using what I learnt in Namib last year to keep relatively cool, spraying water on myself regularly to make up for the lack of any sweat coming out of the dehydrated husk that was my body. 

There was a big (700m) climb between check point 2 and check point 3, which you would think would be horrendous in my state, but it was actually encouraging as even my slow pace up the hill was enough to start passing people, and a similarly slow pace down the other side had the same effect - maybe I would make it?

It started to cool down a bit after about 2pm, as some partial cloud cover arrived, and even some rain clouds in the distance echoing thunder across the Steppe. Sadly, the rain did not make it across, save for a few measly spits an hour or so later. But I kept trudging, and eventually crawled into camp after more than 9 hours. Many of the people who’d come past during the day were checking in on me, some incredulous that I‘d make it. I never would’ve expected any kudos for a run like that, but it was nice to get it, and just shows how nice these crazy people all are, but also I suspect that many really got how close it was to a race ending day. 

Relief to be finished. But not really. The stomach cramps continued, improving a little if I lay down with my feet up, but I also needed to get my gear off, clean my feet/legs, and try to get some calories. Nothing happened quickly, but I ticked the main jobs off, had my recovery shake and went for a lie down. Eventually, as it was getting dark, I decided I had to try to get some dinner in if I was going to have any chance of making it through stage 2. I forced some pasta bolognese down, but it was sitting okay, and I went to bed with a little optimism for day two.

Stage Two! (23 June 2025)

It was quite a relief to wake up today without the need for more drugs, and an ability to drink my breakfast without the need for a lie down. Consequently I was a lot more organised this morning, and there was no rushing to make the start line.

I started the stage running reasonably well, but decided I needed to dial it back a bit, especially as there was a reasonable climb that we hit pretty early. My fueling was going okay, and the red Vitasport + (as opposed to the blue, yesterday) in particular, was actually quite welcome. The morning was not too hot, with a nice breeze and some partial cloud cover, and I was keeping up a reasonable, but certainly not spectacular pace. While there were no stomach cramps today (hooray) I was feeling a bit queasy at times, which stopped any thoughts of running any faster. In the early afternoon the heat really cranked up - someone who had a temperature gauge on his pack said it registered a maximum of 44 deg celcius - and so there was again lots of use of a third water bottle as a body sprayer to stay cool. A few people who had passed me earlier started to fade a bit from the heat, and the last hour or so I was not feeling queasy at all, so I managed to run more than I‘d expected, partly due to a very tight calf muscle that made jogging more comfortable than walking. 

No photos today - I tried to take one of a really cool Mongolian farmer on horseback who was herding his goats - only to find out that my iphone had been trying to unlock itself in my pack. It said to try again in three hours. Lol.

The results are largely irrelevant after day 1, but it was surprising (not just to me, it seems!) to finish 13th (as opposed to 47th or something yesterday).

We are staying tonight in a little yurt village (or what the Mongolians call Gers, which translates to “home” unsurprisingly). We even have toilets that flush and running water, which is a big change from the hole it the ground at the last two camps. Our tent got allocated a Ger with two beds (some seem to have four!), which seems relatively unlucky, and means I’ll be on my usual inflatable bed on the concrete floor. Still, I have been sleeping pretty well given how exhausted I‘ve been, so it will be fine.

As I am typing the weather is breaking and the thunder is rolling in thick and fast - there will be a big downpour soon. I better go and rescue my shoes which are resting outside the door to our Ger.

Thank you for all the messages - particularly from Orla and Barnaby! - they really mean a lot. I am missing my family and everyone at home, but love reading all the suppport (and the news that the Crusaders won!!!!)

More tomorrow, hopefully.

Desert Storms (24 June 2025)

I wish there was an extras in the subject of this blog and I could report on some amazing desserts that we’ve been enjoying, but no.

I had to quickly finish my post yesterday as the thunder was rolling in fast and I needed to go and rescue my shoes from the downpour that was coming - that was a success (and I saved some of my Ger-mates’ shoes too, but did not appreciate quite how fast and how hard the rain was going to come. The camp was quite spread out yesterday and I was down by the toilet / shower block when the skies opened up. I say there are showers, but the Racing the Planet competitors were banned from using them (lol).

I had a chat to a few others by the door, but eventually realised I couldn’t hang out in the toilets forever, and there was no sign of it letting up, so I aimed for the shade cover of the (unsure what it is officially called, but let’s say) relaxation area. I got quite wet getting there, and within a minute we were all told to head to the Gers, because of the risk the lightning posed. In the rush to get out of the rain I got a bit lost and all the Gers looked the same with the doors firmly closed, so by the time I found the right one I was absolutely soaked, which was one shower they couldn’t ban us from! I had to completely change and wring my clothes out, so they had enjoyed a free wash as well - nice and fresh for today!

The rain let up after about 2 hours, and the last eight competitors had been bussed off the course, while the few ahead of them got soaked and smashed by hail. It was a late dinner as a result, but at least I got some dinner, and actually enjoyed it. The first enjoyable meal for days!

This morning over breakfast I heard a rumour that the stage was being shortened to 22km. I was a bit incredulous, but nevertheless promptly told a few people. One of those laughed at me and said no, it was 39.7km and I felt rather stupid for believing such a silly rumour. It was not until the race briefing with 30 minutes before the start that we actually got told that the rumour was true! Perhaps I shouldn’t have made up quite the volume of drinks for the stage?!

The stage started a bit fast as everyone was encouraged by the shortness, I guess, but then turned straight into a climb up a rocky lush mountain, to a Buddhist monastery, and then on to the top and over. It was humid, sweaty, but not too hot, and I enjoyed the climbing with only short strides required (which were not a problem for my rather tight left calf). I got to the top with three others, maybe in 4th-7th place, and then Michi (the women’s leade) asked if I was fast downhill and wanted to go in front of her. I took the bait and passed the other two as well - it was such a cool descent - fast, technical, and not overly steep. My tent-mate, Abdel, said after the stage that I flew down like a butterfly with my wings out, lol!

Once we were back on the flat, though, the shorter strides were not so good, and the others passed me back. As Michi came up behind me I heard her and turned to say hi, and as she came past she said something which I thought I heard right, but had to check as maybe I mistook something from her Austrian accent. You have really nice calves, she repeated. I had heard that right! Lol. What a lovely thing to hear. Luckily, I could deflect that into explaining about my sore calf, but now that you all know, feel free to check them out some time!

The stage then hit some lush dunes, much bigger and greener plants than the first couple of days, and with the rain overnight they were firmly packed and not difficult to run on. Lots of fun, although possibly the best thing about running in the desert is running down steep, soft dunes, which was also not quite the same with the sand packed.  

As we came off the dunes there were lush green grass, much thicker than anything I’d seen in Mongolia - no doubt great for the animals. We were following a sandy road that got drier and drier the further away from the mountains we got. As the sand got softer it also got hotter, and the last 7.2km from checkpoint 3 to camp were actually quite tough going in the heat and with nothing firm to push off from. My really nice calves and I made it to the finish somewhere in the top 10, and in under three hours, which was a pretty easy, fun and happy day by comparison.

It then continued getting hotter as I enjoyed a nice lie down with my feet (and calves) up on a stool in the shade in the relaxation area. I managed my recovery shake, and also some Chicken Tikka for lunch, by which time most people had arrived at camp. The last couple were not far away when the wind turned and came blowing in at speed, whipping sand around as the first drops of rain also fell. Everyone got up at once and started packing up - straight to the tents. This desert storm was more about the wind than the rain, although there was some of that too. Tents were blown down, and all the tents got extra tarpaulins covering them. We were told to prepare to evacuate into the busses, but by the time we got ourselves sorted and poked our heads out of the tent the wind had died down and the busses had not yet arrived to save us, so the excitement was largely over. The next hour or so involved putting the camp back together (and I swept out our tent with a sock, as we had not had time to remove shoes when we were sheltering in there). The operation is pretty slick, and everything was back up and running very quickly, even the cyber tent, where I am now.

All in all a good day, albeit a short one. I was a little concerned that it might mean extra distance tomorrow, but that is apparently not happening (but who knows what rumours to believe?!)

Time for some dinner - many thanks for all the messages again, they mean a lot! There may not be another post tomorrow as it will be a long day, but there will be plenty of time on the rest day that follows - weather permitting!

The Long March is Done, and an Alternative Plan (26 June 2025)

Today is the day of rest. Not Sunday, but Thursday. And rest is very welcome. It has not gone entirely to plan, however, as we have only just made it back to camp after spending around 14 hours in a school gymnasium. 

The desert storms went into a third day, which coincided with our Long March. As a result, only 21 of us finished, with the rest pulled off the course by a bus that went backwards from the finish line at about 10pm. The rain was pretty heavy by then and, more importantly, in places the lightning was relentless. Some runners were huddled in a ball on the ground, others threw themselves to the ground when lightning hit close by, while others continued non-chalantly (or maybe just aware that you can’t dodge lightning). The storm was amazing and scary for many, even smelling what lightning had done to the ground nearby. 

But everyone made it safely to the gymnasium before midnight, where it was warm and dry and (until they were blocked) there were toilets with running water again. Those of us who were bussed there from the camp, a little under an hour away, were not the first to arrive. I managed to find a spot next to the post holding up the volleyball net, which was a decent substitute for the prized walls, against which I could at least lean my bag. I unpacked (again!) and set myself up to try to get some sleep, but the atmosphere was pretty charged and the noise of the chat echoing around the room was prohibitive, to say nothing of the floodlights. Eventually, a bit after 12:30am, they announced that the lights were going out shortly and sleep came.

It had been a long day. The usual 5am start at the previous camp that morning was full of energy - everyone was buzzing for the Long March. The big scary beast. It had been a cold night, probably our coldest so far, but by 6am it was clear that some heat was coming again. As usual we began at 8am, and I was hoping to make it to camp before dark at around 9pm. But you can never fix your goal too firmly with these things as there are things outside your control, like the weather, and many others that require a bit of luck. 

We started with a dunes section, immediately up the ridge of a big soft sandy hill, perhaps the only time in the race I’ve actually thought my gaiters were doing their job. There was a little bit of cross-country terrain, including running through a large area of animal bones (presumably some sort of massacre, or unfortunate herd caught in terrible weather) but quickly ended up on what were appropriately described as dusty roads. Which was pretty much what we ran on for the next ten hours. The relentless rolling hills were in contrast to some of the vast open plains that we had encountered on earlier stages. Some were gentle, very runnable, upslopes, others not so much. But the downs were also slowly taking a toll on the quads. 

The weather was really indecisive - clouds would roll over for a while and it was quite manageable, only to disappear and require a return to the running shower I was giving myself: face, head, arms, across my shoulders, and if if enough hadn’t run down my front, a good squirt there too. 

A real highlight of the day was checkpoint 2. As we arrived there was a large herd of horses, as it turned out, taking advantage of water that was available there from a well. At the checkpoint itself, there was a little Mongolian boy, probably around 6 years old, who had taken over the job of pouring water for everyone. He was taking his role very seriously and had a very steady hand. It was hard not to think of Barnaby doing a similar job, given the chance. Although we weren’t drinking it, the well water was super cold, and a great chance to dunk my buff to keep my neck cool for a while.

The first crack of thunder in the distance at 1:14pm announced the start of the afternoon storm, but for hours it never really evolved into much more than a couple of showers several hours later, and the heat settled in, along with the very dry (largely head)wind, for much of the afternoon. 

I had been running with no one within sight in front of me for some time. While not really looking back it was clear at check points that there were a few people who were not far behind. 

My fuelling for the Long March was a little different as I had decided to mix my nice tasting, caffeinated, electrolye/carb drinks (both red and blue for the big day) with my not-great-tasting, high carb/electrolyte drink, that I had been finding it hard to get down on previous days. That worked well, but meant for longer checkpoint stops as I got everything together and managed my four bottles. A couple of the following runners went past and I became their followers, but started chatting to one who caught up and didn’t go past: Dirk, from South Africa. He and I had done the Namib Race together last year, but not crossed paths much there. After a couple of hours together it became clear that we had become a bit of a team and would make it through to the finish. We were often chatting away, but equally often just suffering in silence together. For a while we would settle into a routine of running one flag and walking the next, or running downs and walking the ups. Whenever either of us suggested we run, we ran, even if we silently cursed each other for the prompt. A highlight with Dirk was seeing his daughter, Leonie, who is volunteering, at a water-stop between checkpoint 7 and camp. She always brings the vibes, cheering for everyone as much, if not more, than her Dad. She had her sign out for Dirk, which said that his father (who passed last year during the Namib Race) would be proud! An amazing thing for them to share here, though. 

It is really unusual to have someone about the same pace that you can be alongside for too long, let alone someone you would choose to stick with, but Dirk and I spent more than six hours together, through to our finish at 8:20pm, in tenth place and before the sun had set. Goal achieved! 

I was tired and sore, and said to my tent-mate, Sylvia, who finished about 15 minutes after us, that we had had enough fun for the day, and it was time to rest. Fun?! She replied. That was not fun! 

Type 2 fun, maybe? Little did I know that there was still some fun left in the evening, and rest would have to wait for a bit longer!

The Last Big One (27 June 2025)

Yesterday, the rest day, was the best preparation for the last big (41km) stage today. Not only did I get some extra sleep in (around three hours of morning naps in the evacuation centre) but I also managed around 1500 calories of solid food, and probably around another 1000 calories in liquid form. While that might not quite sound like the sort of carb-loading that might be ideal, it is a massive step up from my carb-unloading earlier in the week.

So I woke up feeling pretty good. It was our coldest night by quite some margin, with most people either saying they were well-snuggled into their sleeping bags, or freezing. Or in some cases, both. Luckily I decided to largely close the tent flap I was sleeping under - still getting a bit of fresh air, but keeping out the damp that had come down overnight and wet all our shoes.

Wet shoes was hardly going to be a problem today though, with at least seven river crossings, including crossing the river we had camped next to immediately after starting. The first section of the course was like grass moguls, but that flattened out and it was nice terrain to run on, with the occasional river thrown in to keep things interesting. The section to checkpoint 1 was pretty flat, and I had settled into a good pace (which Roger from Belgium confirmed as he went past) but after that the climbing started. Through until the 30km mark we climbed up to 1800m above sea level. We were heading through a UNESCO heritage site, the Orkhon Valley. It was incredible - lush, green, and full of animals (not unusual in Mongolia) and trees (very unusual in Mongolia!) It was just an amazing place, and so fun to run in. The cows, though, were not entirely friendly. We were, after all, invading their home. Fences are not really a thing here, so asking animals nicely to move out of the way generally seems the appropriate etiquette. Sometimes, though, there are misunderstandings - one of the top women runners (Tanja) - had a disagreement with one of the smaller cows about who was going left and who was going right, and ended up with two fractured ribs. She’s tough as nails, though, and still finished the next 20-odd km!  

Anyway, I had no such issues. My encouragement of the cows to move out of the way was rather successful, and I even felt like a bit of a rancher. I was very grateful to have watched Yellowstone. 

But back to the climb. At first it was gentle, and it just kept getting steeper. I was  going well and managed to run all but the last 500m, where it got really steep. We hit 30km right at the top of the climb, and then hit a super-fun 11km descent, initially quite steep, but then a bit more gentle. The valley was a bit more open at the bottom, and the heat had kicked in, but with so few kilometres left, everyone seemed to be smashing it home. A couple of big river crossings in the last 500m cooled things off (thankfully iPhones are waterproof as one of those was thigh-high in the middle) and the welcome at the finish line was awesome. Everyone was smiling, as the stage was so cool - the best day of the race both weather-wise (not too hot, and no thunder storms!), course-wise (just stunning scenery) and placing-wise (7th for me today).

The campsite here has been really pleasant this afternoon, as we welcomed everyone home. It is right by the river (good for cooling off) and the vibes were high, knowing we are pretty much done.

With another six hour bus ride tomorrow (the transmission in our bus has apparently been fixed!) things are starting early tomorrow. The first wave (those who will need the longest) leaves at 6am, the main group (including me) leaves at 6:30am, and then the top 10 shoot off at 7am. The prize… hopefully pizza. We need something to sustain us until we get back to Ulaanbaatar. The stage is only 7.8km, so I am not entirely sure about pizza at 7:30am, but if that’s what’s on offer, I’ll be getting stuck in. I have been thinking a fair bit about getting back to real food, now that I have an appetite again, so I am sure I will do some damage to some calories in the next few days in particular.

It has been an amazing week - from a pretty dark start, to a really bright finish, with lots of fun and new friends in between.