Stage 1

Like all things in life there are good points, less good points and some quite frankly bloody awful points. This day was one of them all rolled into one.

Usually the first day of the MDS is the lightest mileage to ease you into event. This year the organiser, Patrick Bauer, decided, in order to be be able to have an un-timed 7k fun run on the final he had to front load the event. This meant that the normal distance on circa 14 miles was increased to 24 miles.

The problem with this was it meant that every competitor had to contend with running further with a fully loaded rucksack. Mine topped in at 13.5 kilos including 1.5 litres of water and the mandatory flare. In retrospect I was happier running the extra 10 miles on day one when I was fresher than I would of been if they we on day 7, following the usual schedule.

The good points were the fact that simply after planning and training for two years I was actually doing the MDS plus the fact that day one wasn't that warm, topping in at 27 degrees around 2-3 pm.

The day was pretty uneventful as the terrain was reasonably flat and green compared to some of the later days and, because I was fresh, it wasn't much of a struggle. That said the 24 miles still took me just over eight hours as my strategy was to ease myself into the race.

It was blindingly obvious that not everyone shared this strategy as the pace by the majority was pretty aggressive from the off. AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" was still ringing in my ears when I found myself flat last in the race. Still by Checkpoint 1 this pace was already catching up with some to such an extent that people were already being treated by the medics.

Now is probably a good time to introduce a few concepts that are a trend throughout the event: Doctrotters, Checkpoints, starting procedure and regular competitors. 

Before doing that, I like sports presenters on the news, need to say, "look away now if you don't want to know the scores". There are a few spoilers in the next handful of paragraphs that a reader who will be doing the MDS won't want to know now because it will ruin the shock factor of the event in similar vein to having a sneak peeks at your presents before Christmas Day.

Checkpoints: these are the Oasis of the race. An opportunity to refuel and rest your bones before proceeding back out into the wilderness. Roughy every 10k on route you enter over a timing mate such that people back in friends and family can track your progress for the comfort of their PCs. Firstly a volunteer will ask you some general health questions then give you your water allocation. Usually one 1.5 litre bottle but on certain, tougher legs, you got given three litres in two 1.5 litre bottle. 

After this you then scampered to find a bit of shade cast by the side of one of the Land Rovers. There you decanted your water allocation into your race bottles, devoured some food, checked your feet and general health and probably have a moment of reflection. Finally you staggered to your feet and left the Checkpoint by the back door zoning in on the next one.

Doctrotters: anyone that has seen The comedy MASH should be able to envisage what I am did ribbing. Basically the organisation Doctrotters were a field hospital, generally fixing people's feet but also had the capability to treat to the more serious conditions. The two most serious conditions I heard was a fellow Brit blowing a hole through is had with a faulty flare and A other Brit having to have replacement soles for his feet made and glued to the bottom of his feet after they planed off his soles... Very rare and they both completed the race. Hardcore...

Doctrotters staff were everywhere such that you we only a short distance from a Land Rover or helicopter to be rescued and/or treated.

Starting procedure: Every morning around 8am we were mustered into a holding pen behind the start line to receive instructions for the day. As Patrick was unwilling to show of his English we had the most inept English translator to inform the English speaking competitors what was been told by him in his native Franch. Seriously they should have got Mr Bean, that was how bad she was. One classic was when Patrick told the French speakers to have two salt tablets per 1.5 litres she told translated that into two salt tablets per day. Dangerous. She was so bad there was rumours of impropriety...

Once the instructions we complete the countdown started and the music was switched on always finishing with AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" as the gun was fired. Usually the first couple of kilometre competitors had to endure a fly over by the TV helicopter such that we were in our first sandstorm of the day.

Regular competitors: despite people thinking I am now hardcore I pale into significance against some people. One guy completed the MDS with only one leg, using a blade and crutches to get round. There were a few blind people that had a guide to navigate them round. One Brazilian lady was 79. Three leathery old men were in there 25th out of 28 MDS races. A team of French Fireman carry a disabled child in a specially designed wheelchair round the course. Finally a Japanese man completed the race dressed in a fancy dress Cow suit. I doff my hate to you all!!!

I was pleased to lie down and commerce my recovery routine that evening, which I will describe in a later post, safe in the knowledge that whatever happened I had successfully completed one stage of the MDS when we had our first Dick of the Day moment, that broke the shared tension in the tent.

My 'Brother in Arms' Bob mentioned his pearler. He said that he was chaffing more than normal that day, almost straight away. He also lamented that, "I didn't understand it as he had done miles of training in these shorts and never chaffed". It was then he admitted that he had run the first day of the MDS with his shorts accidentally back to front. We all cracked up. The tension was gone. Tent 144 had its inaugural Dick of the Day and we went to bed happy campers excited about what was in store during Stage 2.

TTFN...