DREAM....STRUGGLE......VICTORY.....

Part 1, The Dream.
It was 02:30 I had been on the go now since the race started for over 17 hours. I was dog tired and still in pain of that there was no doubt, but as Steve waived me off from checkpoint 5 with the instruction “Just stay to the left on the coastal road now... and push on... only 18k to go, well done mate!” my spirits lifted, and I sighed with relief. My bruised and blistered feet would get a little bit of respite as I felt the hard stable surface of the compacted salt road at the edge of Namibia's infamous Skelton Coast for the first time.
A little snicker and a smile crossed my face, as I replayed the last couple of minutes in my mind.

I had been focused on the light signal from checkpoint five for at least 4km, and it never seemed to get any closer, but as I rounded the sharp bend around what appeared to be a rocky outcrop, I activated the Garmin GPS which indicated 2.4km to CP5 and a straight arrow that aligned perfectly with the only visible point of light in the inky darkness at ground level off in the distance ahead of me.
The ground seemed to be sloping slightly down hill, and I took this as the best time to try and force my blisters to burst and decided to up the pace and run into CP5.
You will only appreciate this if you have done it, but when a blister bursts under pressure from running on it there is a very satisfying pop, and an instant release of pressure and pain and I never cease to laugh every time I do it. These sod’s however, weren’t going to give up easily though, and they had been developing nicely over the last 20 miles. I had one on the ball of my right foot, and an elongated one on my left foot that seemed to extend from the ball to half way down the arch of my right foot, that I had stubbed repeatedly, and I felt the skin tear as the blister spread with each swearword that followed the clumsy foot plant and the stab of pain form the viciously stony ground.

Unknown to me Steve had been tracking my progress for quite some time, and had decided that there was plenty of time for him to stay snug and warm in his sleeping bag at CP5 before I got too close. I imagined him shifting his focus and attention back to the inside of his eyelids, and then a shocked expression on his face as he heard my rapidly approaching foot falls. I laughed took a drink from my freshly filled water bottles and got my head down and pushed on as he suggested. I bet he was back in his bag before I was out of sight, mind you I didn’t blame him it was colder now, but I knew in reality he had been on the go just as long as me, and he was alert, actively following events via the constant updates from the two way radios in the patrol vehicles.

I wasn’t so smug a couple of km’s further when I was confronted by a massive grey seal lumbering along the left hand verge of the coastal road I was running along, rapidly keeping pace with me and looking like it was going to attack if I didn’t allow it to cross back over to the Cape Cross side of the road and the Seal Colony from where it must have come. My mind was racing faster than my elevated heart rate, I was in trouble, and I couldn’t out run it... I was Knackered, and didn’t fancy a fight with old fishy face anyway... was my Namibian Extreme Ultra Marathon race going to end here surely not, not like this, I decided to stop and face it head on... it had all started so well.....

So what can I tell you about Across The Divide’s Namibian Desert 24hr Desert Ultra Marathon? Well, it runs from the heart of the Namibian desert to the Infamous and desolate Skeleton coast.
All Ultra Marathons are challenging events, of that there is no doubt. Extreme Ultra Marathons however fall into a league of their very own, and you can quite literally be taking your life into your own hands to complete them, but anyone can complete them if they have a couple of vital qualities.
First of all they need the desire, the ambition or as I like to call it the Dream, of tackling and succeeding in an extreme event.
Secondly they need to have an inner drive and focus to put in the correct quantity and quality of training, the planning and preparation that is needed to increase their odds of success. Not just when the weather is nice and the sun is shining, but when it is cold wet and miserable, during the dark winter nights, when the easiest thing in the world would be just to put it off till tomorrow, because it’s just not nice outside. I call this the Struggle. A place where you spend a lot of time during an Extreme Ultra!
Finally they need determination to persist. That “Never give in attitude” that will not accept coming short of the distance. This is where you visit the darkest places, where the battle is in your mind, but where; when you win… you know, I mean really know, the taste of Victory.

That’s what all your training and efforts prior to an event should prepare you with. That point of reference for what is to come.

When you line up on the start line you never know what the race or mother nature holds in store for you, The purpose of all your training, planning and preparation has been to get you to this point in time, feeling fit, mentally prepared and enjoying that little “tickle of adrenaline” as you step up to the start line ready to go the distance.

Much of the capability to succeed in completing these distances is without doubt physical fitness and stamina, but 80% of the battle to succeed takes place in the final 20% of the distance, and here you dig deep and fight the fight mentally, calling on all your reserves and referencing the pain and fatigue against how far you pushed yourself during training. This is not the time to realize or admit that you didn’t do enough in training.

When you complete any new distance in training or competing in events, it becomes a point of reference for what you can achieve next. Add to that the privilege of competing over these distances in some of the most extreme environments in the world, and they become personal milestones that allow you to re-define who you are as an individual and what you are capable of achieving, and allow you an in-depth insight into your psyche that you will never achieve without the adversity.
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Dream... Struggle... Victory .... cont

And so it was for me on 7th April as I lined up in Namibia with eight other (nutters!) hardy competitors for the first ever Namibian 24hr 120km Extreme Ultra Marathon organized by Across The Divide Expeditions.

Despite my efforts to engage the other competitors by email in a bit of pre-race banter in the UK, I had only succeeded in making contact with Joakim Jonsson, a Swede living in London, and who appeared to be very focused and determined in his efforts to succeed. I admired his excellent command of the English language, and immediately warmed to his sense of humour by email and telephone prior to meeting in person for a pre-flight beer at Gatwick.
Ken Dune was the second competitor who I had bantered with; Ken was based in limerick and along with Alan another Irishman, they were both hoteliers and accomplished marathon runners with many of the big city marathons under their belts, and equal quick wits and senses of humour.
I knew very little of the others, I thought to myself, they are either all eyeballs out competitive, or shy, either way that was going to be a bundle of fun for a week in the desert… I couldn’t have been more wrong, what a great bunch of guy’s. There was Chris and Will from London, two really likeable lads in their mid twenties, full of life and adventure.
Then there was Tom, a wild eyed Irishman and mad as a box of frogs, but I knew he was serious and I was quickly in awe of his running accomplishments, and eager to learn anything he cared to share with me.
Finally there was Bill and Pete, who both worked for the Plymouth Herald. Bill came across immediately as a sensible type, with an easy smile and an eye for detail which fitted his role as Editor of the Herald. Pete the last member of the group was Bill’s training buddy and photographic editor for the paper. Pete wasn’t born, I think he was quarried from some granite on Dartmoor, at 56 he still had the physique and there was no doubt in my mind that mentally he was as tough as when he was serving in the Marines and I knew that whatever happened these two were finishing the event, even if that meant Pete had to carry Bill!

So within minutes the meeting at Gatwick saw Steve the race director from ADT and Amy the expedition doctor, shepherding us into a group and then the banter started, laughs were soon flowing one after another, as we settled into our group dynamic. It was going to be a great trip. Steve was calm and collected, and very much in control, and Amy was quietly sizing us all up looking for signs of trouble, or potential problems, she would find very few of either with this bunch.

Namibia is a vast country, and apart from the polar regions, it must be one of the most sparsely populated regions on earth. Home to the Oldest desert on earth, of endless blue sky, magnificent views and warm sincere friendly people, and very very hot conditions.
We were met at Windhoek airport by the bus that was to ship us 6 hrs to the start camp and by our white Namibian expedition guide Kobus Alberts. Kobus was going to lead us on a familiarization walk the following day to help us acclimatize and give us the do’s and don’ts of the local environment we were to run through.

We reached the camp, and debussed rapidly, keen to stretch our legs, grab a tent and settle into our new home for the next two nights. It was here that we met Faan.
Faan was the Boss, a quiet Namibian ex-special forces officer who now leads extended expeditions and Safaris into areas of Namibia that are largely uncharted.
I watched as he cast his eye over the camp, and quietly instructed his team, who made adjustments immediately to the setup. He had a charisma that made you want to respect him even though you didn’t quite know why, he just epitomised for me, a man of great depth, of few words, and an economy of actions that let you know he was always in control of his environment. He made you feel at ease immediately.
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Dream...Struggle...Victory...cont.

The sun set quickly, and no sooner had it dipped below the ridge half a km from our camp, Faan’s guys were serving us food that had my saliva drooling as I stood in line. Mashed potato, chicken, sweet pumpkin and red pepper, and a sauce that just couldn’t have been rustled up in the desert, but it was and what an introduction to roughing it Namibian style. Dessert followed and we sank a cold beer as we relaxed in the warmth of the camp fire before settling down for our first night.

Barking Geckos, were my alarm clock in the desert. These little lizards have a funnel shaped burrows that act as a natural amplifier for their barking call to attract “little miss barking gecko” for a bit of nookie. All I can say is "little miss gecko", was obviously playing hard to get. So I rolled out of my sleeping bag at 05:30 and got up in search of a caffeine kick start to my day.
Breakfast was soon on the go, and as I returned to camp from my attempt to catch sunrise, camera in hand, everyone was up and ready to start the day.

We were all eager to get on with the day, and soon we were off in the direction of “beacon point 724”. Kobus explaining en-route all that we should be aware of, joking at every opportunity and lifting everyone’s spirits as the heat increased with every step.
He explained to us that in Namibia everything is named literally! Brandburg, to our left for example is burnt mountain, which is just as looks at certain times of the day. He struck a chord deep in my soul though, when we reached the summit of “beacon point 724” and he calmly turned to us, arms out stretched and announced “ Welcome to my office” the panoramic view was simply breathtaking.
Kobus stated earlier that “he was born in Namibia and he would die in Namibia”, and I knew I my heart that here was a man who knew and treasured the value of everything in his life. I was envious, intrigued and could feel my respect and admiration for the easy going jovial Namibian growing by the minute.

The desert was rippled with laughter when he explained that the sap from a certain plant, would cause an allergic swelling reaction if it contacted your skin, a worker clearing a plant from a fence line had scratched his testicles with sap on his finger and resulted in them swelling to tennis ball size, the only remedy being to dunk them in milk until the swelling subsided, to which Alan shouted... “ Did you pack the milk Ken, or have I got it?”

After a demonstration between Steve and Kobus of exactly how hard it is to identify another person over a distance in the desert, a few of us, Joakim, Ken, Chris, Will, Alan, and me decided to break into a trot and jog the remaining 2kms back to camp, the heat had an impact immediately and we were all sweating and silently re-evaluating our strategies for the race on the next day, Shit, it was hard in the soft going under foot.

Lunch was followed by Amy, our "flame haired" expedition doctor, casting an expert eye over our medical kit and compulsory item check, along with training from Steve on the use of GPS navigation aids, testing our traditional compass skills, and ensuring we knew how to use signaling mirrors, in the event that we strayed off the marked route, found ourselves lost and needed to attract attention to our position. Then the rest of the late afternoon was left to relax and share advice and spare kit with those who had overlooked certain items. That for me is what I love about extreme events, adversity bonds people, and helping a fellow competitor is something we all do, because we are all competing against the environment together.

We must have set a record that night, because by 20:00 all runners were tucked up in bed leaving hushed Namibian voices around the camp fire asking... What’s wrong? Where are they all? (evidently ATD events usually have a lively camp fire routine with plenty of refreshments)... didn’t they realize we were all shitting ourselves?
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Dream...Struggle...Victory...cont.

05:05, Those bloody Barking Geckos again, (Mental note to self... ask Kobus... do female Geckos get bloody PMT?... If not why don’t they give the little guys a break?); didn’t they realize we had pre-race nerves?
I always get pre-race nerves, the tickle of adrenaline and the eagerness to get on with it. There is nothing you can do at this stage; you’ve done everything possible, now you just want to get on with it!

There was definitely a nervous atmosphere running through the camp, even Faan’s team were asking if everything was ok, accompanied by looks of curiosity that conveyed an unspoken “are you really going to do this...you really must be bloody mad man, it's 120km, and its bloody hot out there in the Desert man!”
Kobus caught my eye as he passed on the way for a coffee, “ Alright man?” was all that he said in a soft Afrikaans voice with a nod of his head and a searching eye, looking for a sign of weakness or doubt, “Bloody right man”, I replied holding eye contact with him and easing a sly grin of confidence that I hoped didn’t look forced.

Then time just evaporated like the sweat that was forming on the back of my neck, and before I knew it Faan barked “10 minutes to start, get your kit sorted and line up!” there was a frantic burst of last minute checks and we were ready to go with 5 minutes to spare. Steve and Amy did their rounds wishing us all luck, and Jayne who had accompanied Bill & Pete had the video camera going and interviews were recorded with anyone who still had saliva left to moisten their tongue in order to speak, quick handshakes and posed photos, and then Faan pulled his Magnum.45 and marshaled us on the start line. I use positive self talk to set myself up for, and during events, and one of my favourite statements atributed to Henry Ford is "Whether you think you can do a thing, or you think you cannot... you are probably right" I was confident I would reach the finish under 24hrs, easy, it always was the "Dream".
I made a decision to hold back and sit behind the first three runners for the first mile, and I jumped as my ears exploded with the report of Faan’s starting shot.

Joakim decided he was going to be able to hold his head up with the claim that he led the race, and sprinted off into the lead, which brought a laugh from us all, mad bloody Swede, but I wish I’d thought of that. Tom slowly pulled ahead, and I could see that it was going to be a long lonely race for him out in front, because he was definitely in a league of his own.
One mile in I checked my heart rate, and was surprised to see it 20 beats above where it should have been, I checked my pace and it was 11 mins per mile, slower than my 10min/mile race pace which was just fine for the first gentle five miles, but Christ it was hot already!

I settled into my run and mentally checked off my strategy and began to talk to myself as I always do.
"Remember Andy, what you are doing today is a long distance, so your vision must be long term, take it slow and steady and stay strong... you can do it...you’ve trained hard and your running strong! Stick with what works"... and in the back of my mind another voice, the voice of my running club buddy Peter McGouran was saying in his inimitable Irish twang “Bloody Wimp, get on with it”, that made me smile.

I let Tom pull ahead, not that I could do much about it, and settled into my own race for the next few miles. I past two skeletons of Gems Bock or Antelope, and remembered that Kobus had told us there were no predators this far south because there was no water, so these poor sods had either died of thirst or starvation. Mental note to self ... have a drink!
Off in the distance I saw Faan patrolling the route, and as I crested the hill in front breathing heavily, I lost sight of the next marker indicating the race route. I scouted left and right, panning in a 500 to 1000 meter arc looking for a flash of yellow on a post, but couldn’t pick it up. I waved to Faan and held my hands up. He pointed directly ahead from his position 700 meters in front and to my right, indicating that when I drew level with him that I should bear left. I couldn’t see it from where I was as it lay in a slight depression, but as I approached him I picked up the dirt track that we had discussed the previous day in the briefing.
“Have you overtaken Tom?” he asked.
“No” I said, “ I’ve been following the daft sod’s spoor, but lost it 500 meters back!”
“Ja“ he said,confirming his own thoughts “He has over shot the marker, it’s too far to the right of the track, he should have turned left here, you go on to CP1, I’ll track him from here”
I shook his hand and waived, thankful that I had intercepted him and the track at the right time, for I also would have overshot the track. I continued along the track slightly concerned for Tom, but knowing he would put the GPS into use once he realized he couldn’t find the route markers. I scanned to my right in the direction he must have run, but couldn’t pick up any sign of a moving figure.
I must admit I did grin, and think to myself... "Well Tom there’s no point in being fast if you’re running in the wrong direction mate!" So now technically I was in the race lead... a very mute point, but hey, you grab every psychological edge you can get in these events, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. In fact Tom corrected his direction and hit CP1 a good 25 mins in front of me, which averaged his speed at 9:30 mins/mile a full 2 minutes a mile stronger than my pace, but I had to say good on him!
I was sticking to my plan, he was sticking to his.
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Dream...Struggle ...Victory... cont

Part 2, The Struggle. It’s probably fair to say that CP1 was to be the last time I felt race fit and happy with my progress.
I never saw it coming, but 5 miles into stage 2 I knew I was in for an interesting race. A burning sensation was manifesting itself in my bladder. I had emptied my bladder 2 miles short of the CP1, with a strong flow of clear urine, indicating a sound rehydration strategy. On average you want to be taking onboard 500mls of rehydration fluid per hour, I was certainly safe on my volumes, I had taken a litre prior to the race start, and taken another 1.2litres form my two front bottles, plus some from my 2ltr reserve platypus in my pack, via the bite valve on my feed tube. So I wasn’t so happy with the pain that was building. I drank some more fluid and thought I’ll check the colour of my urine when I pee next, but as events unfolded, that wasn’t about to be any time soon! Another 2 miles on I was doubled over trying to ease the discomfort, desperately trying to force urine out, but could manage not even a dribble. This wasn’t funny. My bladder was screaming that it was full and ready to burst, but I couldn’t have even wet a postage stamp! Bloody marvellous.
The burning sensation was getting worse, and the more I tried to force urine out, the more my “best mate” was burning, only this time I had a success. I was wearing a front pack attachment on my running backpack, so in order to check my urine I cupped my hand a caught the few drips that I managed to force out, success turned to hollow victory, as my hand was stained with strong dark, blood filled urine. I obviously had some sort of urine infection, and I decided to address it with pain killers and advice from the Doc at CP2. I rinsed my hand with water squirted out some antiseptic hand gel and rubbed them dry. Reduced to a trot now as the temperature reached 46.3c, I carried on. I thought to myself, "I am familiar with this place, I spend alot of time here it's the place I know as the "Struggle".

I must have fallen well off the pace, and don’t remember much other than the intense pain, and trying in vain to pee again every mile or so, but 3 miles short of CP2 Joakim caught up with me and we stuck it out together from there on in, as I relayed my predicament. The banter took my mind off it for a while, and as we rounded the bend in the dry river bed, I could see the 4x4 parked up next to a tree, and Amy and Jayne were waiving and encouraging us in.
I quickly brought Amy up to speed on my medical history, and she concluded that Cystitis was a probable cause, either bacterial or exercise induced due to the arduous nature of this event. I broke out my pain killers which she supplemented with some of hers, and advised me to keep the hydration up.
A change of socks and we were off, after Joakim finished rolling around on the ground with muscle cramps after stretching out for a rest. 1 Marathon done, let’s get the next one out of the way too I said as we set off.

The heat was just stifling, and not long after we left the checkpoint we fell into silence as we each buried ourselves in our thoughts, we marched for a good distance in silence, occasionally stopping to click a few shots off on our cameras. Then the Messum Crater had us both spell bound, some 20km in diameter, this is one of the most still and serene places I have ever had the pleasure to visit. I just couldn’t get a grasp of the vastness of this place. The satellite imagery maps that guided us along our route were difficult to interpret against the scale of this place, and CP3 seemed a very long way away on the other rim of the crater. The true scale of the distance sank in when we eventually caught sight of CP3 situated high on the rim of the crater in a saddle between two high points. A 4x4 came up from behind, and Steve and Korbus slowed to check we were ok, we waived them off and watched the route that they took. It seemed to go on forever... “Shit!” I said to Joakim, “how bloody far do you recon that is, it must be 4 miles if it's an inch”.
We both looked at each other and just put our heads down and fell into single file. CP3 marked the half way point 37 miles in, and my feet were beginning to hurt, I had made the mistake of bringing the wrong shoes, the Asics Gel 1120’s were not fit for purpose, and not providing enough cushioning to the balls of my feel, and the bruising they had suffered from the stony ground was beginning to manifest as hot spots for blisters. I knew I had made the mistake before the start, but hey! there was nothing I could do about it so the old adage “Change what you can change, Accept what you can’t change and learn the difference between the two” came into play.
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Dream...Struggle...Victory...cont.

The sun dipped below the craters edge to the west just as we reached the CP, and as Amy greeted us with a warm smile and a “ Well done guy’s”, we collapsed onto her sleeping bag and chatted about the stage.
Food was quickly prepared and socks changed, warm clothes were donned against the cold breeze that was hitting this exposed elevated spot, and the slimmest of new crescent moons peaked over the rim of the crater as we watched another 4x4 appear on the far rim.
The Radio sparked up, and Jayne came over loud and clear saying she would be with us in 15 mins.
Joakim and I swore almost in unison “Bollocks” that had taken us almost 2 hours to cover. Then we just laughed. Namibian miles are definitely longer than British ones. Jayne arrived, and Amy sped off in the 4x4 towards CP4.

I had taken additional painkillers, and as we left Jayne I remember telling Joakim that I felt I was in heaven, for the first time the pain had subsided. I still couldn’t urinate, and my thighs were feeling like lead, but I was determined the next 35 miles were going to be better than the last. As we left the rim of the crater I picked up pace, and Joakim agreed that it would be best to stick with our own pace, so slowly the gap opened, and I took advantage of the pain free window to lengthen my stride.

Darkness was now well and truly upon us and I adjusted my head torch to leave an arc of darkness extending to 2 meters in front of me so as not to affect my night vision too much. Then I just pushed on, there is no other way to describe it, when you are out on your own it becomes hard to sustain, but you just settle into your stride and keep going. I started counting strides and checking the pace on the Garmin. Just under 5 miles per hour, and then I kicked the first rock with the ball of my foot and I felt the skin tear. I winced and hopped around for a bit cursing.
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Dream...Struggle...Victory...cont.

I can’t tell you how many times I repeated that experience, in the long “Namibian miles” to CP4, but the pain increased each time as the soft soled Asics failed to absorb the impact, how I cursed my failure to bring the Montrail Hard Rock shoes that had served me so well in the past. Each time I felt the skin tear under the blister, and the hot seepage as the fluid filled the new section of damaged skin. It did however wake me up pretty sharpish, all of a sudden I was paying sharp attention to where I placed my feet.
I rested my hands on my knees once more, and bent over to absorb the burning pain emanating from my bladder and now the searing sting of pain from the damaged tissue in my feet, as a sweep of headlights came from behind. I stood as a 4x4 crested the rise behind me and dropped down towards me, Kobus was pushing up the line to CP4, placing additional luminous Glowsticks along the route. They were using posts that they had used for a previous off road Cycle race, and I half imagined how good it would be to jump on a bike like the ones depicted on the signs. The Glowsticks worked though, as tiredness kicks in it is easy to stray off course, and they were few and far between but always a welcome sight. I drank deep from my water bottle and stood with my head down to protect my night vision from the headlights.
“Are you ok Andy?” he asked, as he drew level with me and stopped, stoked his pipe and fired it up.
“Yeah I’m fine Kobus, foot sore and tired but I’m pushing on, thanks for asking.”
“You Brits, man, you are tough,” he smiled, and I accepted the compliment with a smile back, the respect was mutual. He knew I was digging deep, and I knew he was lifting me with encouragement. I waived and he selected a gear and rumbled off, offering me a good long look at the terrain that lay ahead with the full beam of the headlights. Faan passed me too not long after, and then again, as he shuttled another load back along the route toward CP4, typical I thought you don’t see anyone for hours, and then you see them all at once. They were always a welcome sight though, I had to admit.

In the onshore breeze I caught the smell of the ocean and the distant rumble of breakers crashing on to the famous Skeleton Coast shoreline, was clearly audible in the night time silence and I wondered if that meant that all the little "guy geckos" had smiles on their faces!
"No barking tonight then boys" I said to myself out load, and laughed! It’s funny how the slightest thought can amuse you when you’re knackered.
I’m getting close now I thought, and what seemed like an eternity passed before I realized that the headlights ahead had stopped and the brake lights were off.
"He’s stopped" I said out loud, and faintly I could see other shapes moving in the periphery of the light. CP4 was close, and after a while longer, as I covered the last few hundred yards there were claps and welcomes from the assembled crew.

Amy was first on hand to check I was ok, Steve was close behind. Chris had been pulled from the race with heat exhaustion earlier in the day, and Amy had transferred him to CP4 where he was now resting in a tent with an IV drip to aid his recovery, this was the staging point for the last push onto CP5 and the finish. I have to say I enjoyed everyone’s company, and just as Steve and Faan were setting of for CP5, I decided that I was stiffening up and had better move out too.
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Dream... Struggle... Victory... cont.

Part 3, the Victory.
It was easier to move than to stay, because the longer I stayed, the longer I still had to go, I was running low on energy, so dug into my front pack and ripped open another bag of cashew nuts. I played with the nuts in my mouth making sure I sucked all the salt off them, and then swallowed them whole, too tired to chew, and not wanting to clog up my mouth. I sipped regularly to wash them down.

I thought about Chris for a while, and made a mental note to help him put his experience into context. Being pulled from any race or event on medical grounds is always difficult to take, but is always out of your control, and I knew he would be disappointed, and not relishing the prospect of having to explain to others back at home what had gone wrong. There are always those who support and sympathize, but equally there would be those who were less than considerate and ignorant of what it had taken out of him in his efforts to get 20 miles into the race. I understood from Amy’s explanation that he had made a simple mistake of mis-managing his water in the hottest section of the day and had run dry 5 miles before the checkpoint. There would be no coming back from that! I’ve seen it before, the spaced out vacant look, the exhaustion, and lack of ability to recover without assistance. In times like that it is important that you do three things, Rest, Recuperate, and Reflect on what you did well in the event, and what you can learn from the experience, so it never happens again. You become stronger through adversity, never weaker! I would remind him of this, but right now I was still in the "Struggle", time to focus.

I kept saying to myself "I’m on the homeward stretch, all downhill to the coastal road and then the final stretch to bed." It helped a little, and the hours dragged past as I marvelled at the uninterrupted view I had of the southern sky. I wish I had the skill to share that view with you here in words but I don’t, so you’ll have to believe me when I say it was truly awe inspiringly breathtaking.

Twice more, I stubbed the balls of my feet with clumsy foot plants, and I adjusted my head torch down to illuminate the ground directly in front of my feet. It was a mixture of sand and lighter risen patches of concrete hard compacted gravel, this is what I had been stubbing my feet on. I was now feeling the pain in my feet constantly with each step, and I reverted to my self talk and ground my teeth as I spat out the phrase that galvanises me when the going is tough, "Pain is just a case of Mind over Matter...if you don't mind it doesn't matter"
And so it continued for what seemed like an eternity until I picked up a faint light far in the distance low on the horizon, well below the stars in the sky. I stopped, checked the Garmin, and the arrow lined up directly with the light. "Yes" I shouted and punched the air, I picked up the pace careful to protect and not stub my feet.

I had been focused on the light signal from CP5 for at least 4km now, and it never seemed to get any closer, but as I rounded the sharp bend around what appeared to be a rocky outcrop, I activated the Garmin GPS which indicated 2.4km to CP5 and a straight arrow that aligned perfectly with the only visible point of light in the inky darkness at ground level off in the distance ahead of me CP5.
The ground seemed to be sloping slightly down hill, and I took this as the best time to try and force my blisters to burst and decided to up the pace and run into CP5.
You will only appreciate this if you have done it, but when a blister bursts under pressure from running on it there is a very satisfying pop, and an instant release of pressure and pain and I never cease to laugh every time I do it. These sod’s however, weren’t going to give up easily though, they had been developing nicely over the last 20 miles. I had one on the ball of my right foot, and an elongated one on my left foot that seemed to extend from the ball to half way down the arch of my right foot, that I had stubbed repeatedly, and I felt the skin tear as the blister spread with each swearword that followed the clumsy foot plant and the stab of pain form the viciously stony ground.

Unknown to me Steve had been tracking my progress for quite some time, and had decided that there was plenty of time for him to stay snug and warm in his sleeping bag at CP5 before I got too close. I imagined him shifting his focus and attention back to the inside of his eyelids, and then a shocked expression on his face as he heard my rapidly approaching foot falls. I laughed took a drink from my freshly filled water bottles and got my head down and pushed on as he suggested. I bet he was back in his bag before I was out of sight, mind you I didn’t blame him it was colder now, but I knew in reality he had been on the go just as long as me, and he was alert, actively following events via the constant updates from the two way radios in the patrol vehicles.
Water bottles refreshed, and "Only 18kms to go... well done mate" ringing in my ears, (easy for him to say, Christ at this pace that's 3 hours) I set off again.

I wasn’t so smug a couple of km’s further when I was confronted by a massive Grey Seal lumbering along the left hand verge of the coastal road I was running along, rapidly keeping pace with me and looking like it was going to attack if I didn’t allow it to cross back over to the Cape Cross side of the road and the Seal Colony from where it must have come. My mind was racing faster than my elevated heart rate, I was in trouble, and I couldn’t out run it... I was Knackered, and didn’t fancy a fight with old fishy face anyway... was my Namibian Extreme Ultra Marathon race going to end here? surely not, not like this, I decided to stop and face it head on... it had all started so well...wait a minute, it was gone!
I crouched and focused from low down as I rubbed my eyes... bloody seal, my arse, all I could see was two elongated patches of damp sand that had been in the periphery of my left field of vision ...I can't believe I was hallucinating!
Bloody hell, was I really that far gone? I poured some water into my hand and washed my face, I licked my lips and could taste the salt, thick with crystals on my lips. I dropped another Nuun tablet into my water bottle to replace lost salts and minerals.
"C'mon Andy lets get it cracked" I said to myself, and I set off again, passed constantly now by vehicles moving up to the finish and back to CP5.
I teased my self with the thought of jacking it in and asking for a lift, not that I would have taken it even if it was offered. Sometimes when I just don't feel good, or I am struggling to maintain a sustained effort during a run, and feel like giving in... I will bait myself with the choice of just quitting, and enjoy the feeling of having that power of choice... then just before giving into it, I repeat the phrase that challenges me to my core;
"You have the choice now Andy... to push on and go the distance... or, you can just quit... and remember for the rest of your life that you were mentally weak and failed to complete the distance"

2 hours further up the road, and I must admit I was flagging, I had managed to finally empty my bladder, and was worried to see the full content staining the road a very dark thick blood red patch. That wasn't good, I had just passed 700mls of blood filled urine, the first full flow of urine in 12 hours. I carried on, nothing else for it. This is where you dig deeper and deeper into your mental determination, I mentioned before 80% of the battle to succeed takes place in your mind during the final 20% of the distance, and there was no doubt in my mind, in this final stage, I was digging deeper that I had ever done during an Ultra Marathon.

I stopped for what must have been the fourth time in what seemed like 15 mins although it was probably much longer, I bent from the waist supporting my hands on my knees, and just looked at the ground in the circle of light from my head torch, digging deep for the strength to push on.
"How you doing mate?", I'm sure I heard that said! I looked up, startled, but there was no one there. Great I thought, now I'm bloody hearing things as well, and with that Steve switched on his head torch. He was ten feet in front of me. The look on my face must have said it all, he was grinning from ear to ear, he really enjoyed that I could tell.
"You're almost done mate, I thought I'd walk down and join you for a bit, you've been on your own for a while, thought you'd enjoy some company for the last half hour up to the turn off to the dirt track and leave you to do the last 2km to the finish."
The next 30 mins was all up hill, but with Steve chatting and taking my mind off the immense effort it took, it flew past.
Faan and Kobus were there at the turn off, and I shared a couple of precious minutes grinning at them before turning and setting off for the finish line.
It had taken me 21 long hours and 40 minutes to get to where the "VICTORY" lives. I finished in second place to Tom. Job Done!
continued below...

As I write these final lines... almost a week has passed since the end of the Namibian Desert 24hr Extreme Ultra Marathon. My feet are still tender, but the pain has long since gone and I am reminded of Lance Armstrong who famously quoted "Pain is temporary, but Victory lasts for ever!"
You know... memories also last forever, and I have very special memories of this event, the ADT team, Steve and Amy, the guys I shared the race with, Tom, Joakim, Ken, Alan, Will, Pete, Bill, and Chris, and Jayne, who filmed the trip for Bill & Pete. Faan for sharing his respect, and his team who took such great care of us throughout the expedition, and the magnificent country of Namibia where it all took place, and of one jovial Namibian who exclaimed with a smile, on top of beacon hill 724, "Welcome to my office", well all I can finally say is;

"Kobus, my friend, I hope the welcome still stands... because I have signed up for next year... and I'm coming back for more"

It's a milestone event, but I have shared only my experience, which I hope does the event justice, It is without doubt the toughest event I have ever entered, and I'd like to leave you one last quote if I may... which I have adapted.
If you want to win something run a 10k race...
If you want to experience something run a marathon...
If you want to push yourself to the limits in one of the greatest single tests of endurance you will ever find... sign up for next years "Across The Divide" Namibian Desert 24hr Extreme Ultra Marathon... I'll see you there!

Postscript Hopefully I won't be emptying my bladder in the tent at the end to provide evidence for the Doc of what scuppered my race plan, here is what 700ml of blood and myoglobin filled urine looks like.

Okay were off

Okay, its time to go... the adventure begins, and the next time I post an update it will be to share the experience with you and let you know how it went.
My Thanks go to everyone who has wished me well, and supported my efforts with donations and encouragement.
And to my lovely wife who has put up with me and the preparation for this race.

The race begins at 09:00 local time 08:00 GMT, so spare a thought, I'll be thinking of you all during the race, and I have printed the sponsorship sheet to take with me.

See you all soon... Andy (& Ben ZE-Bear)

Can I introduce you to my New Running Buddy....

You know... sometimes an idea forms that just won't leave you alone! I mentioned in the previous post that I have been humbled and touched by some of the personal stories that people have taken time to share with me as they posted comments with their sponsorship.
Many have lost parents and sisters and brothers, others have lost friends, and everyone either has, or sadly will be touched by the effects of cancer at some time during our lives.
I lost my Dad just over a year ago to cancer, and agonised over how to support my Mum, as she struggled to come to terms with the demands that were placed upon them both in coping with all that treatment entails. Thats why I'm supporting MacMillan Caner Support, because they were there for her during the weeks, when I couldn't be because I live 250 miles away from where they live.
On my visits to Hospital and Hospice over a six month period, I saw every character trait and raw emotion on display, I witnessed pain, anger, anguish, grumpiness, tiredness, and discomfort and sickness from changes in drug regimens, and inspite of all this, I saw courage, guts, determination, hope, faith and smiles, tears of laughter and joy, and that "Never give in" spirit of Hero's, because those people who I spoke to as I spent time with my Dad just weren't giving in and were determined to maintain their dignity and enjoy a laugh at every opportunity. What courage!
And courage comes in all shapes sizes and ages. A work collegue has just touched my heart with a story of a real case of courage and determination in a 9 year old boy who is doing his very best to fight off his illness and get better.
Sometimes we can learn a lot from examples like this, and when I look for courage and strength and determination I think about special people like this 9 year old boy, who don't understand or know why it has happened to them, and didn't ask to be tested in this way, but they don't argue or suck their thumbs in pity, they just get on with what they have to do, with quiet dignity and determination and dream about the times they can get back to doing the things that they love, because that's what Hero's do.

So... a thought came to mind that wouldn't leave me alone... why not take a Buddy with me that can share the experience for this 9 year old boy, and then when he comes back from having run across 80 miles of the Oldest Desert in the World, in extreme conditions, he can share his experience in the form of his photos and diary of the adventure. So here he is I'm proud to introduce my new running buddy who will be with me every step of the amazing journey we are about to undertake."Ben ZE-Bear".
He has a lot of responsibility on his little shoulders, as he will need to report on every aspect of his adventure, a very special Lad is waiting to hear all about it.
As you can see he is prepared and travelling light... something tells me we're gonna get on just fine.
...more tomorrow, before we fly to Namibia.... remember stay strong, stay positive, and "Never give In" I won't... see you all soon.

Counting down now... it will all finish...here...>

It was kit check time tonight, my rehydratable meals were ordered from Expedition Foods in Pickering, I spoke with Ian on the phone on monday and 6x 800 calorie meals arrived by courier today.

3x Saghetti Bolognaise,
3x Cilli Con-Carne, and
3 packets of Army Biscuit Browns.

So supper late on Sunday will be;
1x Spag Bol meal(800cals), + 100 grms Cipriani ribbon pasta(370cals) +
1x Pot Noodle(568cals) and a couple of Biscuit Browns for a grand total of 2000 calories of complex carbs.

Breakfast at 05:30 on Monday will be another 1000 calories. That little lot should put enough energy into the bank to get me half way along with some carb loaded rehydration powders added to my water bottles at each check point.

40 miles in will see another 2000 calories eaten "on the hoof" after rehydrating another set of the above.
The dificulty I have here is disciplining myself to eat during the mid afternoon heat, I must admit I struggle with this bit!
The water can be heated to just warm in 6 minutes as it will already be warm from the days heat when I get it (no fridges in the desert!), that will still reconstitute the food, in about 5-6mins, so a 10min stop at the checkpoint for fresh socks and food should do the trick.

I'll snack on buscuit browns for the rest of the way and energy gels for the final push into the night section of the stage, and the finish line on the famous Skeleton Coast.

I've had a flurry of emails today, from my friends and tent mates from last years Marathon des Sables in the Sahara, their encouragement and banter will spur me on. I also had a quick chat with Lou Powell who had literally just stepped off a plane from South America, and was getting his taxi home, wishing me luck, and looking forward to catching up after the race to hear all about it.

Most of all though, I've been humbled and very touched by the comments and sentiments that people have shared as they have sponsored me towards my MacMillan Cancer Support goal. Lets hope that a cure is found soon for Cancer and similar ills.
more later... before departure, see you all soon, and Thanks to you all.