My duel with the desert By Mark Sharp The annual Marathon Des Sables (MDS) is an undertaking beyond the realms of the normal 42 kilometre standard athletic marathon distance. It is a distance that can be six times longer but normally averages about 230 kilometres. This year's event attracted just over 620 competitors and can you believe there was actually a waiting list?! "See ya at the finish!": A confident Mark Sharp indicates all's well during the middle of the run It was 225 kilometres of shifting sand dunes of up to 250 metres in height, and other physical obstacles such as Oueds (dry river beds), Jebels (mountains of sand and rock) and endless miles of rocky debris which is strewn across landscapes baking in heat which frequently exceeds 50 degrees Celsius. And of course, threats of snakebites and sandstorms. You had to be totally self-sufficient and carry all your own food, water and other essentials and full backpacks weighed up to 13 kilograms. To add to your heightened state of psychological anxiety the organisers ensure that there is no set course. Each year is different and they won't let you know about your route until two days before. Water babies: Rachel Chiu and Mandy Lo stock up on provisions The end of Day 1 - people staggered back to the tents with comments like: "That was the hardest bleedin' 30 kilometres I've ever run in my life". The MDS had started and along with it arrived an array of blistered feet, chafed backs, aching muscles and states of psychological fatigue. Day 2 - the desert had started to take its toll and 620 people were beginning to wonder what on earth they'd let themselves in for. Times for completing each stage were ranging from two hours to eight-hours plus. This included the blind and physically handicapped. It was becoming a race of a different nature. People were here to finish, they were here to learn about themselves. The MDS is something that even the top runners know is a gamble as the desert has many faces which can crush even the most experienced. It becomes apparent very quickly that this is not a race that tolerates arrogance. Day 3, 37 kilometres and people were breaking down. Times were getting slower and competitors were still coming into the campsite after dark after the usual 9 am starts . The medical tent looked like a battlefield. Yowch!: Chafed backs and blisters abound Day 4 dawned and I could barely walk let alone run. I was presently in 47th position overall and felt horrible. I knew the pain was there and all the time I dreaded what was happening to my feet but somehow you transcend it all. Sunrise on Day 5 and people were still trickling into the campsite from the previous-day's run with feats of endurance that were just incredible - immense determination. This was now clearly about one thing only: being human and celebrating the fact. This was a race of the spirit - the "spirit of the MDS". Day 6 and the campsite was abuzz with confidence. It was the marathon stage, 42 kilometres total distance, 15 of which covered some of the biggest dunes in Africa. It was a day of hardship for all involved with some competitors taking 12-plus hours to complete this penultimate stage. But crossing the line that day, they triumphed for whatever personal reasons they had. The final day, Day 7, dawned with a 9.5 kilometre run into the desert town centre of Erfoud. The pace was naturally furious to the finish line. On crossing it there was an incredible feeling of catharsis and relief. Tears flowed freely. This is something that only you can experience for yourself. They call it "the spirit of the MDS". << Back to Index >>