Similar the to the start of the first dance at my wife's and my wedding, I write these words... many miles up above the world flying back to Dubai, drinking whiskey sitting at the bar... It's not all bad, especially for a boy from the wrong side of the railway tracks...
Well, so I got into the tent after the long stage at about 7am, after picking up my water for the day, and plonked myself down on the floor. What would I do for the 24 hours till I had to run the final leg of the timed segment of the MDS, albeit there would still be one final 7k fun run left to do?
The answer categorically, was eat, eat and, oh, more eating. That day I ate over 5,000 calories. Everything from breakfast, two dinners, two deserts, pork scratchings, pepperami, harribos were knocked back washed down with gallons of water. The whole idea was to replenish my depleted Glycogen stockpile so that I was ready to rock again for the Marathon the next day. I have come this close so I wasn't going to fail now.
Life in the tent was surreal. Not because it wasn't normal but, ironically, because how normal it felt. We had only been living in tent 144 for 7 days and it was as comfortable as a friends' parents houses after countless years. You name another scenario where eight people could sleep on a 6 foot by 18 foot rug after only knowing each other for seven days and it would feel normal. I can't think of one.
I have already alluded to the fact that we all woke up in the morning at sunrise and then scampered to get organised before the Berbers took down the tent and exposed you to the outside world. I, managed every morning to be in my shorts and well on my way to being prepared, by the time they demolished our home, but others weren't so lucky...
Our morning routine consisted of picking up your water rations, hopefully from the cute French girl "who-er" as Mr Pacino would say; eating our breakfast; getting into our race gear; taping up our feet and squeezing them, screaming, into our shoes; packing up our stuff and then heading to the holding pen at the start line. Thankfully today we didn't have to do any of that.
All we had to do was lie there eat and tell stories all day. It was great. Other days I topped and tailed the day with my tent mates but today we spent 24 hours together; and I lapped it up. Story followed story. Everyone joined in with their own anecdotes of home, work, upbringing etc. Some of it was dark humour but most of it, in keeping with our personalities was moving and inspiring. We just spent the day telling stories and eating.
I will mention it again in the wrap up but one thing I, personally, would do different if I ever did the MDS again, would be to leave my stove and pot at home. I simply poured cold water into my store and pour bags and then left them in the sun to hydrate and heat my food. All the others in the tent used their stoves and esbit cubes; which are like fire retardant BBQ firefighters. I remember Jon questioning whether it was only him that had Asbestos esbit cubes. Anyhow, I am realiably informed that three of these cubes could heat up enough water to hydrate a main meal.
My daily food intake consisted of porridge for breakfast, Peronin shake for lunch and a dinner followed by desert in the evening. All of the meals were low weight and high calorie. During the day I filled my face withs mixture of peanuts, pork scratchings, jelly beans, pepperami, cliff bars and/or other calorific snacks. Also, during the long day I simply multiplied my entirely daylight food intake by two...
In the evening I would hydrate my SIS Recovery shake and drink this whilst lying on my back with my feet elevated. Once finished, I would the have a second shake and resume being on my back with feet elevated but this time I would have my shoes off. Once I had finished my second shake I would then start hydrating my dinner and then investigate the feet. After dinner I would resume being on the deck mostly just lying there in a ridiculously stripy pair of underpants or sometime naked to cool off. In fact at some point I think we were all lying there cooling off in the buff...
It is probably at this point that I need to fess up the most disturbing thing my comrades in arms found about me: my nipple tweaking. Since returning from the desert, I have actually found out that, even, my own wife finds thus disturbing. So, in the vein of Alcohol Anonymous, I, Ian Deane am a nipple tweaker. Not in a bad way, I plead, but simply to cool down. I have always been ridiculously ticklish and tickling my nipples has always had a dramatic effect on my core temperature. However, if you are sleeping half a foot from a stranger I do see why that might prove to be a bit... well you know what...
Before I sign off I want to provide four links:
First is of Jack and another finisher promoting British Beef through being tough as nails:
http://www.fwi.co.uk/articles/24/04/2013/138760/epic-desert-challenge-raises-thousands-for-charity.htm#.UXk2-fJc96g.facebook
The second is of Jo and Jon in their local newspaper:
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Thirdly it is of me proudly displaying my West Ham flag at the finish line, ironically blocking 90% of the finishing branding:
Xxx
and; finally a website about the negative effects of the MDS both mentally and physically for those who think its a walk in
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As I finish this post in Notes on my iPad I have the choice: go to bed, write another post or keep sitting at the bar drinking whiskey. I know what my money is on...
As I am now on route back to the U.A.E., I will revert to my adopted sign off:
MasaAlama...
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