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...
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