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.
continued below...
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