Oliver Steeds - Marathon Des Sables - Stage 4
The last few days have been solely about self preservation: First things first - I am still in the race if a little off the pace: if it wasn’t for the incredible generosity of my bastard sponsors for giving so much to an incredibly important cause I would have given up by now: despite volunteering for this madness I hold them all personally responsible for the agony I am in. I will distribute the pain I’m suffering across all my sponsors in measure equal to their donation, be prepared:
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As a measure of the torture I am in I have just completed 76km in 25 hours dragged the last bit by my two noble tent companions who spend their hours quoting from the film ‘Gunsof Navarone’ visibility is down to 5m and my tent has turned into a sand tunnelfor testing flight aircraft: I thought Day Two was the worst day in my life but sadly did not know about the next one: Day 2 is where the real horror began: my calf went half way up a 800m sand mountain then had to hop the rest: my walking polls have become my crutches....overcompensating for a pulled calf, I have developed blisters from Satan and this is his lair: blisters on hands developed from delightful mix of grinding sand and sweat.
Check points every 10 kms may sound like heaven but I am greeted by “Ca va?”.....the race is organised by French and if I hear another“Ca va” when its quite clear I’m not Ca va, then death will become them... to take thoughts of pain away I’ve enjoyed thinking of new ways to slaughter French people: nothing against them but they are an easy target::: today I reached 46 :: death by dishwasher.. I will spare you the graphic details: household appliances have been a contstant thread in my dehydrated, deliriousstate: this is no place for dreams and visions just survival... the backpack and kit have been another unsuspecting joy; some competitors seem to running with crisp packets stapled to their backs: I, on the other hand, carry 3 Berber families and their household appliances and, unable to be grateful for the free lift, express their thoughts through sores that periodically exhale puss:
So I’ve learnt that my body can hurt in new ways that I never thought possible. Before this I was agnostic but now I think I might turn to God as a safe bet to avoid a hell like this. I am not alone in my suffering: one of the few sick solaces I have is knowing that the person behind me is suffering more: the only highlight of the day is crawling into my sleeping bag and with the help of my tent pals cooking up some food; smoking a fag then falling into a delirious sleep when I pretend I’m playing darts in a pub in Dartford: the joy is waking up and having to do this again.. after this I’m strictly staying to petty sports: darts; ping pong, pool, smoking and bowls:
