Pre–race
On my return from Marathon Des Sables, I entered my now customary blue period. The
Jordan Cup was about 6 months away, it fitted
perfectly with enough time for training and preparation. The Desert Cup in
Jordan is an unsupported race over 168 km (112 miles = 4 marathons) non-stop
that includes 41 km over mountains, 23 km of Hilly tracks and 104 km of
unrelenting fine Desert sands.
From the start of my preparations, I was a little worried because this was
different from the Marathon Des Sables. It required continuous sustained effort
over long periods although the hot temperatures and the sandy terrain were
similar to that of the
Arrival in Jordan and pre-race
We arrived in Jordan, spent the night near Tahrir
square, did a bit of tourist activities and next day scrambled on the bus to
Petra, where we were to camp for the next 2 nights, and at 3.00am we arrived at
the camp and by torchlight we were directed to a large open fronted Berber type
tent that was to accommodate all of us for the next few days. Immediately we
all got out our sleeping bags and within about 20 minutes we were all settled
and many were already fast asleep. Reena and Amal spent the night in a village near
At 5.30am after a couple hours of sleep I awoke to see the first sight of our
wonderful camp. I was one of the first awake, so perhaps this was the initial
sign of positive anticipation. Our camp was situated in a natural amphitheatre
with fantastic wind sculptured stone walls all around. I camped with a bunch of
Frenchmen and it was quite mentally tiring to muster up my French that we
communicated in sign language the following days. This morning after breakfast,
we all had the technical and administrative inspections during which our
emergency rations of 1 litre of water and 2000
calories of food would be sealed, our medical certificates and e.c.g’s approved and where we would be issued with our
water ration card, 2 night glow sticks and salt tablets. By lunchtime all 236
athletes had been through the process and now the afternoon was free, with many
of the athletes taking the opportunity to visit the amazing city of
Race Day 1 – Tuesday 5 November
By 5.30am the next morning the whole camp was starting to come alive. This was
the start of self-sufficiency so any breakfast had to be supplied by ourselves.
My breakfast comprised of bars – not very inspiring but high in required
calories. With rucksacks packed we were transported the 5 miles to the entrance
of
The Start – Checkpoint 1
234 athletes left the starting pen in a flash. The first 1 km leads down a
stone path and then turns left into the narrow canyon that leads to the famous
tombs of Petra and in particular the wonderful and world renowned Treasury (of
Indiana Jones fame). I doubt there is a more spectacular start to any race
worldwide. I was thankful that I had visited
Checkpoint 1 – Checkpoint 2
I passed through the checkpoint immediately, only stopping to
take on some of the water available. This strategy allows me to pass a number
of racers who arrived before me and are resting, with only a small proportion
of those re-passing me before the next checkpoint where I will repeat the process.
Leaving checkpoint 1, for a few kilometers the course follows a main road
before returning to the rough stone tracks that were to become the hallmark of
this early part of the race. I was making good time and was well within my
comfort zone. At times it was hard not to push on a bit particularly when other
athletes passed me – but I knew my own pace and I knew that my strategy had
worked before in the
Checkpoint 2 – Checkpoint 3
I was now well and truly into my stride. I had been moving for just about 4
hours now and I couldn’t have felt better. I was the flats and on the downhills, but on the uphills I
managed to balance the equation. The latter part of this stage over mountainous
tracks was predominately up hill.
Checkpoint 3 was situated on top of a mountain pass and as I rose towards it
became quite noticeably cooler and windier. I had read stories from previous
Jordan Cup races (which were run in the opposite direction) of the high winds,
and whilst the wind was fairly strong it was nowhere near what I had expected.
On approaching checkpoint 3 I had become aware of the first niggle
with my feet. A hotspot, which precedes a blister was
forming on the pad of my left big toe. Instead of passing straight through I
went to the Berber tent to deal with my foot problem.
Checkpoint 3 – Checkpoint 4
I left checkpoint 3 having successfully attended to my foot – but forgetting
the golden rule that foot injures come in pairs – whatever happens on your left
foot inevitably will happen on your right. This error will come back to haunt
me later in the race.
Checkpoint 3 is situated at the highest point on the race and from here it is a
fairly sharp descent along mountain tracks to the valley below. The views down
into the valley were nothing short of breathtaking. My legs were now just
starting to complain a bit, particularly when the descents became more severe
and on many occasions it was easier to just let your body fall down the
mountains at whatever rate gravity dictated. On hitting the valley floor the
route crossed some very minor dirt roads and passed by a tented village. By
this time nightfall was closing in, and the final stretch into checkpoint 4 was
along a minor road, but in the complete darkness outside the arc of my head
torch I could see little else.
Checkpoint 4 – Checkpoint 5
I collected my water and activated my green light stick and without any further
interruptions I prepared to leave. Leaving checkpoint 4 alone was quite
confusing. The route, which was marked with green luminous sticks
comprised numerous twists and turns – but in the darkness it was often
difficult to depict what order the sticks were. In the darkness, as before, I
had no idea what the countryside look like beyond the light of my headtorch. The route followed a rough track and at one
point passed through another tented village and in the darkness it was quite
magical to pass these silent semi light fabric homes but was equally unnerving
as the owners dogs barked aggressively just out of the light of my headtorch. The only other racer I saw on this stage was one
of the Jordanian female runners who was certainly going through a low patch as
she could only raise a ughhhh when I passed her and
said hello. I was later told she received 2 intravenous drips at checkpoint 5
for severe dehydration. The latter part of this stage became typical of many of
the night stages in this race. You can see the lights of the checkpoint a
little way in the distance and you anticipate you might arrive in 5 to 10
minutes – but 30 minutes later you appear no closer.
Checkpoint 5 – Checkpoint 6
My memory is completely blank of what checkpoint 5 was like, all I know is that
after 10 minutes I had had a short rest, restocked my water and was back on the
trail. However, I do remember very clearly that this was the start of the sand.
I had 104 km to look forward to of very fine sand – but a slight consolation
was that 64 km was under my belt, and relatively speaking I was feeling good.
Quite a few other racers left checkpoint 5 at about the same time as me, and
initially I followed 3 Italian runners.I
picked up the pace and passed them, leaving them in my wake. Fat chance. The faster I went, the faster they went. On
arriving at checkpoint 6 many racers were bedding down for a few hours (or
more) rest. I had been passing and
re-passing this trio most of the day with them stopping longer at the
checkpoints than myself but then being faster between the checkpoints than me.
I had no intention of stopping here. It wasn’t a particular aim to beat anyone
in this event, completing it was the main focus, but every scalp you can take
is a bonus in a race and make the most of any advantage .
Checkpoint 6 – Checkpoint 7
Leaving checkpoint 6 the desert sands continued, as they would now to the end.
2 km in the distance was a major highway elevated above the desert sands. I
continued alone on this very uneventful stage initially counting the minutes
until I passed under the road and subsequently counting the minutes until the
sound of traffic passing along the road subsided. Again checkpoint 7 was
visible from many miles away. Grinding on through the sand the lights was not
getting any closer in the darkness. I started to believe I would never reach
the unchanging light. Then suddenly, I was only 100 metres
away, everything suddenly came into. Within a few minutes I had found a clear
patch on the edge of the Berber tent, my sleeping bag was out and I was curled
up inside. The tent was full of racers with plans similar to mine. I tried to
sleep for about ѕ hour but couldn’t so I started to get up and go.
It was markedly colder now I had stopped moving, so getting out of my bag was a
major effort in itself, to put my shoes
back on and to prise the warm clothing off my back.
It was still pitch black. Putting my shoes on was quite a worrying experience
in itself. I had not noticed any real problems with my feet over the first half
of the race with the exception of the minor treatment I carried out at
checkpoint 3, but on putting my shoes on I suffered some considerable pain in
both my heels and under the big toe pad on my right foot. I wasn’t going to let
this worry me. I have had blisters in the past and I knew that once I got going
again the pain would subside. I finally left checkpoint 7. Over half the race
completed and I was buzzing.
Checkpoint 7 – Checkpoint 8
Leaving in the darkness at about 4.30am I continue to follow the now
diminishing green lights towards the next checkpoint. I was aware that the Sun
would rise at about 5.30am, a factor that I looked forward to tremendously. My
feet continued to throb, but I was ever confidant that in due course the pain
would subside. It always had in the past – no reason why it wouldn’t this time.
But it didn’t. The pain got worse and worse but I finally reached checkpoint 8.
It was decision time – either I just grit my teeth and endure another 70 km in
absolute agony or, I let the infamous Doc Trotters loss on my feet. Doc
Trotters are the medical back-up team who cover these bizarre races. Their
reputation is renowned for uncompromising butchery – but in my humble opinion,
I believe that their experience covering this type of race for 17 years and
their unquestionable intention to aid every racer to finish was a good enough
reason for me to allow them to have a look at my wounds. Up to this point I
hadn’t seen my blisters – so it was with some trepidation I removed the sock
from my left foot to reveal an enormous blood and puss filled blister that
encompassed the whole of the left side of my foot – it was an absolute cracker.
On removing my right sock I was equally enthralled to see a similar blister on
my other heel but with the added bonus of a weeping blister on the pad under my
big toe. The kind doctor informed me that treatment was necessary and promptly
got his scalpel out. The treatment is totally barbaric – slicing away all the
dead skin from the blister, exposing the raw flesh beneath. Then
pouring a strong antiseptic over the wound before dousing the exposed flesh
with Iodine. A French and Moroccan racer looked on in some amusement.
Then to add insult to injury the kind doctors places compeed
plaster over the exposed blister whilst with great delight placing great
pressure on the wound to ensure it sticks. Looking on the bright side – it was
ONLY 3 blisters he treated in this manner – it could have been 4 had I not
looked after my left foot at checkpoint 3.
Checkpoint 8 – Checkpoint 9
I was ready to leave. My feet, to say the least were extremely
tender. Only 70 km to go is all I could think of. The course continued across
flat sands but occasionally interspersed with dried up lakes. The route crossed
another road and an adjacent railway line and then still more sand but this
time undulating. The only thing to focus on was reaching the next checkpoint. A
long way in the distance occasionally the sun would reflect off the vehicle
that marked the checkpoint, but similar to the night, it just never seem to get
any closer – this was partly because of the vastness of the desert.
Checkpoint 9 – Checkpoint 10
By now all the racers were spread out thinly across the inhospitable
surroundings. Many hours could pass without seeing another
racers with the exception of the checkpoints. The terrain was similar to
the previous 3 stages fine sand interspersed with rock hard shrubs, often
undulating and usually flanked by fantastic sculptured rocks. Checkpoint 10 was
visible from about 5 km out. Looking behind I could see another athlete closing
relatively fast upon me. Predictable, with about 2 km to go he finally caught
up and it was a relief to have someone to chat to – both to counter the boredom
of talking to myself, but also to take my mind of the pain in my feet. I
chatted to the French athlete, asking about his plans for finishing this race –
was he going straight through to the finish line or was he planning a break?
His answer amazed me. Remembering we are in a race situation – he replied that
he intended stopping for a long break 1 or 2 checkpoints from the finish in
order to be able to finish in Wadi Rum as the sun was
rising the next day. On our current pace it was realistic to finish about
2.30am – 3.00am – i.e. in darkness. I couldn’t comprehend this attitude as my
firm intention was to finish as fast as I possibly could. We continued together
to checkpoint. My feet were incredibly sore – I massaged some life back into my
feet, got some food (predominately honey coated cashews) down my throat and
generally tried to take stock of my enviable position. I had paid to go through
this torture – so I could hardly complain.
Checkpoint 10 – Checkpoint 11
Shortly after leaving the checkpoint, darkness descended very quickly and
once again I was confined to the measly sphere thrown up by my head torch.
After about an hour the route passed between 2 high walls of rock, which could
only just be made, out against the star splattered sky. The route ran about 100
metres from the base of the left wall. I was again
alone and quite happy until a pack of dogs started yelping and barking. At
least my first impression was that these were dogs, but my mind soon changed as
I noticed that there were no lights of any accompanying owners and more
worrying was that the numerous dogs were spread out over many hundreds of metres along the base of the wall. The dogs in my opinion
were coyotes. All I could do about it – I just kept my head down remaining ever
so sensitive to any movement that might occur in close proximity to me. After
about half an hour I was finally clear of the howling and generally felt a lot
safer. It was time to retire into my own little world and plod on. Once again
the checkpoint was visible from a long way off. I was feeling as happy as one
can feel in these circumstances – when all of a sudden I had the scare of my
life. From out of the darkness, about 2 metres to my
right this voice said to me “ Do you mind if I follow
you?” Once my heart had recovered from missing several beats I discovered that
a French runner was stood alongside the trail in complete darkness. His head
torch had packed in on him and with no moon it was practically impossible for
him to proceed. He had seen my head torch behind him and had waited about 15
minutes for me to catch up. We proceed up the hill together reaching the checkpoint.
Checkpoint 11 – Checkpoint 12
I was maintaining a steady pace. I predicted a finish in the early hours of the
morning. It was midway between checkpoint 11 and checkpoint 12 that I started
considering the Frenchman’s idea from checkpoint 10 of stopping before the
finish in order to enter the supposedly spectacular Wadi
Rum in daylight. The tent was part full of similar minded athletes curled up in
their bags. I was too charged to sleep and kept on.
Checkpoint 12 – Checkpoint 13
It was now the middle of the night and the cruelest of stages was about to
contested. As was my choice, I again left alone in order to plod on at my own
pace. Half an hour after leaving, the route topped a slight hill and in the far
distance the lights of the next checkpoint could be seen. I knew from the road
book that it was a long way off – but it was an immense mental struggle to be
looking at the light of checkpoint 13 for 2 hours solid without it appearing to
get any closer. One of the official back up vehicles approached me – I asked
the driver how far the blasted checkpoint was away. His answer infuriated me
even more when he responded “You can see up there”. My response was short and
too the point “I know, I have seen it for the last 2 hours – but how far is
it”. His laughter didn’t help matters until he said “its about 100 metres”. I think he thought I was completely off my trolley
and sure enough 2 minutes later I entered the final checkpoint before the end.
Checkpoint 13 – The Finish
I was exhausted and my progress was certainly all over the place as opposed to
the optimum straight line. As planned, at 5.30 am I entered the start of Wadi Rum just as the sun was rising over the high canyon
walls. The spectacular view did not disappoint. Even in the state we were in it
was impossible not to be impressed. The flat red sand plain that passes between
the high rock walls was dotted with the ever present rock hard shrubs that
litter the desert floor. Looking at one of these shrubs it suddenly appeared as
a duck reaching out for some food in front of it. The next shrub was a dwarf on
a surfboard. The next shrub appeared as a pig with a piglet on its back. All of
this was amazing, I was hallucinating like never
before. My running partner, who was about 4 metres in
front of me, appeared to be carrying a plastic patio chair. I tried blinking
these images away – but the more I tried the more I hallucinated. Looking
across the desert now, nearly all the shrubs turned into animals of one sort or
another. None of this worried me – I found it highly amusing. Continuing on
towards the finish line one of the shrubs to my left turned into a baby
rhinoceros, which as I passed its head turned to follow me. Suddenly it dropped
its head in order to charge and immediately I raised the stick in my hand to
defend me. Wow this was getting too much and not a little scary.
The finish line was getting closer, but it was hard to believe it. Every step
was a struggle. An approaching official in a car informed us the finish was 3
km away. This was all I needed to hear. I decided to dig deep and run to the
finish. I announced my plan to my running partner but added the caveat that
this proposed burst of energy might only last 100 metres.
He declined to join me, so off I ran. I had read the road book before leaving
checkpoint 13 and knew that we had to go to the left of the village in front of
us. I proceeded with all due haste in that direction. After about 10 minutes I
became aware that my footprints in the sand were the only ones about. Stopping
to take stock of the situation I glanced across the valley and noticed that all
the other footprints were about Ѕ km away on the right side of the
valley. I quickly decided that all those runners couldn’t be wrong so I hot
footed it back across the valley to the right hand side. Checking the road book
after, the route is described as “Go alongside village on your left” which I
had misread as to go to left of village. After passing
by the village the route turns left and the inflatable finish line could be
seen 300 metres away. I mustered all my strength and
attempted a sprint finish.
The Finish
Half an hour later, the bus arrived to transport us to the Hotel in Aqaba, which was a stark contrast to what we had endured over
the previous 2 days.
This race surprised me immensely. It was harder than I expected. This was
certainly my opinion at the end of the race, and that opinion has not altered
since I have had to reflect on it later. I want to go back and do it again,
preferable in the reverse direction. The Desert Jordan Cup has something
magical about it – I will go back sometime in the future. I hooked up with Reena and Amal and we had a blast
the next one month in the region. Writing about that is another story by
itself. I like many other racers would find it impossible to go through this if
it were not for good family support and encouragement at home.