I have been asked to complete my blog, and am quite happy to do so, as I know reading this years from now will conjur up the images better than any photograph.

My entry for the long day has mysteriously vanished.  Don't despair, although it is the 30th of April, I can recall it vividly, as if I just finished the course several hours ago.

I was one of many who started out before the swift racers whom I never saw until we were all huddled around the camp fire at the end of the day, comparing our exotic freeze-dried cuisines.  The start was delayed by an hour an a half due to the high winds the night before.  The course was being checked to confirm that the all the lovely pink marker flags were where they needed to be.  This is good as I for one had not desire to run even one extra mile over this undulating, grim terrain.

I felt great going through the first checkpoint, heading towards the second checkpoint with only four men ahead of me.  I was the first woman in our group and was being steadily dogged by two other women.  Then it happened.  Some little pesky bug in my system, played around with my plumbing and I needed to heed the call of mother nature.  This was the first time throughout the entire race, that I had to "go" while running.  I'm one of these weird individuals who can literally race all day never having to stop to relieve myself.  This however was different.  My body was being taken over by an undesired and certainly uninvited parasite and there was nothing I could do other than respond the only way possible.  As soon as I veered off the course, looking for the most private spot possible, I heard the footsteps of the two female runners go by.  This can be quite a mental and emotional downer.  All the hard work and the focus on just possibly being one of the top three women to finish the long day, has just been dimmed by that one moment.  I only felt dejected momentarily.  Ultras are comprised of runners who root for each other and placing high up is certainly a goal, but coming across the finish line with all of your new made friends is just as important.  These women were my friends and partners in pain and discomfort these past five days and their strength is what ultimately propelled me on and made me more competitive.  I was grateful to them for that gift.

I dragged myself into Checkpoint 2, took some meds to take care of the IBS, topped off my hydration system and took off.  I started eating some salty potato sticks.  This was also the first time in the race where I actually ate something other than gels while running.  I wasn't sure why I was bonking and feeling horrible, but salt, carbs and protein couldn't hurt.  After all I didn't have much fuel left inside me after that last pit stop.  I walked, jogged and dragged myself forward.  I crested a rise and then just sat down.  Ten minutes is what I gave myself.  Several runners came and asked if I was okay before heading on.  I was.  This wasn't serious, just mentally frustrating.  My mind wanted to continue, my body had just flat out bonked.  I got up, pushed on and pushed through.  One step after another, that's all you need to focus on I told myself.  Look, another pink flag has gone by, another hill crested.  Two hours later, I was back to feeling good.  I was quite grateful as I knew that I had at least another 25 miles before hitting camp.  The sun started setting, the wind picked up and I knew I had stop and dress warmly otherwise I was going to be expending alot of energy staying warm.  I looked around, no one behind me, and only Roy who had passed me awhile back was up front.  He had his headphones on and was intent on covering as much ground as possible before night fall, he apologetically told me as he ran by.  Hey, his loss, as I was stripping down and dancing around naked in the desert, for like 5 seconds, before putting on my long sleeved shirt and tights.  Now, the worse part of this little routine would not be that somebody might see me, but getting my feet back into my shoes.  Ughhh.  This was a new kind of pain which I did not relish as after ten hours of running, the blisters under my big toes felt the need to remind me they existed and my feet add swelled up like a hospital latex glove that one blows up to make into an animated character which will amuse a child!  The night wore on.  I put my red blinking light on the back of my pack to warn any approaching competitor of my whereabouts and my headlight on my head to keep me from falling over the obstacles that nature had so delicately dispursed across the desert.  The night wore on until finally I arrived at the final checkpoint.  There was hot water available and if one choose to, one could sleep here but had to depart by 6 am.  I had a cup of hot bouillon, chatted with a group of my friends that were having some dinner, then bid them good bye and carried on.  Perpetual motion is what I had to stay commited to.  Through this last stage through the darkened canyons, I sang every German childhood song I could remember.  This took my mind off my discomfort, pain and made the hours pass quicker.  Approaching the first "dry waterfall" I was greeted by Frederick who was there to assist the runners down the rocks.  Night climbing is exciting, when one is fresh and energetic.  It's a serious accident waiting to happen when one has been slogging on for literally fifteen hours.  Frederic was cheerful, chatty and a very welcome sight indeed.  At the second waterfall, Dan and some of the other volunteers were waiting to help again.  Their mere prescence served to energize and rejuvinate me more than one of gels.  In the event  I forget to say this at the end of my blog, let me do so now.  Each and every volunteer, doctor, camp organizer and helper, Mary and Alistar and any one else who assisted us throughout this race, was instrumental in pushing me personally on.  I am not fast, when I run, I have fortitude, am stubborn to a fault, have limitless energy and determination, but I am human and will instantly acknowledge that an encouraging word, outstretched hand, smile, wave and hug from these individuals is what propelled me on step after step.

I arrived in camp I think between 1:30 - 2:00 am.  Mary greeted me and we sat with a few other runners who had just come in around the fire.  I told Mary, that had I ran this race first, I seriously doubt I would have signed up for the Gobi and Sahara.  The terrain and altitude were such that one did not envision enduring such punishment ever again.

Friday was a rest day.  We all did just that.  Sitting, laying, some took to short walks away from the campsite so as to see the desert surrounding us in the light of day.  We enthusiastically cheered each runner coming across the finish line that morning, knowing full well what they had endured during the night.  This race was almost over...almost.  The prize still eluded us, and the prospect of hauling our ailing bodies across another 9.7 km was something each of us pushed out of our minds for the moment.  Sarah Brightman and Andre Bocelli's voices filled the desert as we listened to them sing "Time to Say Goodbye."  Their voices poured through the speakers which the volunteers had set up.  It was positively stirring.   Music listened to in the most unadultered form.   It reminded me of the scene in Shawshenk Redemption where all of the prisoners stood quietly in the court yard listening to The Marriage of Figaro.

Tomorrow we run one last time.  Until then, goodbye from the desert.  Cheers, Jacqueline

My Gobi team consists of 4 brothers and 2 friends which we will probably split into 2 teams of 3 for the race --- who goes in which team will depend on fitness and injury at the time. Thus far our training has consisted of weekly 20 to 30 km runs through soft sand and roads with additional daily training on hills with back packs as well as gym work. The International contingent of our side ( Critta Prendiville) has flown in to Perth today, from Singapore, for a 3 day training session with the rest of the team. With 6 weeks to go we will make this our definitive W/E to establish our equipment, food and so on.

Unfortunately, on e member of the team ( Bent Beak Billy Biffin) hasn't been seen for the last 2 weeks and we haven't heard from him. We understand that he may be in Queenslandand.  Fortunately he is easily recognisable by not only the size of his proboscis, but, also the 'Gonzo Curve' of that organ, which characteristically points inferiorly to his left large toe. We would be interested in hearing from anyone who has seen him. The teams main concern is that if he is not upto scratch, then we could be dragging a 95 kg hefferlump in a bodybag around the Gobi for 6 days. My phone number is 08 92844924

I'll keep one and all posted on the issues that come out of this weekends training.

Cheers  ----Jamie P

Whilst many talk of the lessons learned and can talk proudly of their experience, I am not perhaps a little disappointed that through injury I never got the chance to really see what I might have done. That said, I am elated to have finished and much more importantly I have achieved my two stated goals of raising a decent sum for the Azheimer's Society (over £6,200) and getting a finishers medal. With that I take a huge amount of satisfaction and some great memories from an amazing week.

Thank you to everyone that has sponsored me and all that have followed my progress.

I leave you with three great thoughts and sources of inspiration to others I have met along the way and whose insights have enlightened my journey and made it a more entertaining trip.

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

I was wrong.  I honestly believed if I took care of my feet when I began this race I could finish it.  Despite impressions to thge contrary, I had trained hard.  My quads were strong, my knees and back had been holding up and my problematic IT band was being nice to me.  So with no other physical probolems to get in the way ... 'tape those toes and away we go' was how I was looking at things.

Additionally, I had the confidence that comes from having completed every single race I've ever started.  Every one.  For 10 years.   Including 3 Ironman Triathlons.  Yep, I could do this, no problemo.

What I didn't count on was the nausea that must have come from some combination of altitude sickness, dehydration and/or wrong fueling.  As a result, I ran for over 3 days in a dissy, nauseated, stomach wrenching fog.  It brought back 15 year old memories of my twin pregnancy-induced morning sickness, except instead of one hour a day, this was unrelenting.  After the 2nd stage of day four, I entered the checkpoint and said with absolute certainty "No Mas".  It was at once the hardest and easiest decision to make.  The hardest because first off, to quit something one starts is most definately not a family characteristic. &nbs p; I agree with Yodi, "Do or Don't Do, there is no Try."  Second, unlike when I ran (and you now know, finished) the Gobi March in 2006, this time I actually TOLD people  - lots of people - what I was doing.  So I knew by stopping (that sounds so much better than quitting) I knew I was going to have to explain, justify, apologize and otherwise just take a page from Rosanne Rosannadanna and say "Never mind&quo t; to all those people I had asked to send me emails.

Stopping (it sounds so much better than quiting) was the easiest decision to make because I knew with (almost) 100% certainly if I had continued on to the next stage - 14 k through the legondary salt flats, I was going to faint.  And, of course, in my cool, rational mind at the time, what that really meant was that I was going to faint, fall on the jagged spears of the salt icicles which would knock me unconscious and I would be left to rot until next year when the race designer would be sticking a little pink flag marker in my skelatal remains wondering what anmial bones these were and after my disappearance my husband would remarry a Swedish Olympic slalom gold medalist who would rase my 3 kids as her own and they would laugh at how wife #1 would make her kids eat Powerbars and Gatorade when all the other kids got peanut butter and jelly on white bread with apple juice and really this is exactly what was going to happen if I kept running through the salf flats.  No, faced with that alternative, I decided to stop (it sounds so much better than quitting).

So, if you've read the information, you can probably think of some darn good reasons NOT to do this race.  But let me tell you about the #1 reason TO do it.  THE PEOPLE!  Do this race so you can share a tent and a campsite with amazing athletes this likes of:

o  Shane & Rossa - my Irish tent mates who modestly said their goal was to finish and then were always among the first finishers each day.  Ditto Tim, who even gave me some of his extra nunu's because he wasn't on the course long enough each day to use them all. 

o  John - my Australian tent mate who treated me like Princess Di each night, carrying my pack from the finish line, fetching my water ration and making me tea.  All because he had the energy and heart when I did not.  And lest you think this was treatment reserved for the feeble female, he gave the same special treatment to Neil, the other late finisher in our tent, and my guess is many others.

o  Neil, who bravely (some might say stupidly :)  ) was back at it for attempt #2 of the Atacama Crossing, having attempted it in 2007.  Hats off to you, Neil, for going back into the hell and heat of the Atacama.

o  Rusty, who methodically & meticulously taped every inch of his feet every morning with the precision of a surgeon.  And who generously offered me tea from his special stash (Rusty owns a tea house in Minneapolis and I think Lipton is just fine, so the quality of his stuff was most definately lost on me.)

o  James, the 21 turning 22 English "baby" who through his own pain said "come on, I'll do this with you; we'll get through it together" when I said No Mas at CP2 on day 4.  James had a permanent look of "what have I gotten myself into" etched on his face during the race, and nothing gave me more pleasure to read that he had finished.  Well, done, birthday boy!

o  Mimi, the most incredible woman athlete I've ever met.  Not only is Mimi funny and beautiful but she is shockingly normal for someone who is such an accomplished athlete.  She was so clearly in a league of her own, and yet she never felt the need to pushlish her training schedule or brag about her work outs.  Mimi's grace, style and humility made her a camp favorite.  You go girl!!

o  Bill, Volunteer Numero Uno.  Top Gun.  Big Dog.  He-who-must-be-obeyed.&nb sp; Bill, you appeared on the road at the end of Day 2 in your truck and I swear you looked like an angel with red metal wings that said "Ford" on them.  And when I said with a quivering voice "I'm not sure I can do this" you replied "of course you can".  But it wasn't what you said, it was the way you said it.  What your voice really said was "I and every humanoid in the galaxy believe you will finish this race so for you to even suggest otherwise is a complete waste of time and just plain stupid."  Sorry, Bill, I stopped (sounds better than quitting).

o  Dean Karnazes.  Dean.  As in THE Dean, of UltraMarathon Man fame.  You know, the guy who gets pizza delivered on the highway when he's out for a little 200 mile run.

Now, a special word about Dean is in order.  I saw Dean on Day 1 and was convinced if I got too close to him and his quad muscle twitched I'd go flying 20 feet through the air.  So I avoided him even thought the CEO had told me on Day 1 he was asking about me.  We have a mutual business friend in common who had assured me he was a great guy (despite my concern about what kind of person gets pizza delivered on the highway).  But the reason I mention Dean here is not that he was the most famous runner amongst us mortals but because he gave all of us one of those teary, hopeful, all-must-be-right-with-th e-world moments during the race.

You see, every morning, a yellow jersey is ceremoniously presented to the fastest runner of the previous day.  Dean won the jersey for the 3rd (and 1st) stages.  After being presented the jersey, he announced he was giving it to our fellow competitior Kyung Tae Song, who was running the course holding the shoulder of his 21 year old son.  Kyung Tae is blind.  As Dean correctly noted, to navigate the rock climbing part of the previous days race was difficult enough to do with two good eyes, to do it blind was beyond remarkable.  So Dean gave up  his hard won jersey out of respect for the efforts of another champion.  (I should note here that my own reaction to the rock climb was to panic and scream out " I CAN'T DO THIS!" to which 2 RTP staffers who happened to be nearby said "Yes, you can."  I said something sweet and kind like ""THIS IS NOT F%^&%&^)^^ING UP FOR DISCUSSION, I CAN'T DO THIS!  But I digress ...)

In that one moment Dean Karnazes left an indeligible impression upon all of us.  He was more than a phenomenal, frighteningly perfect speciman of an elite runner.  He as also a class act.  A class act with scary quads.

o  Mary.  Drumroll please ... the #1 reason to do this race is because of Mary Gadams, the founder & CEO of Racing the Planet.  She wants you to succeed and both makes - and breaks - every possible rule in the book to make that happen.  No effort of her athletes is too small for her not to applaud.  She makes every possible effort to make sure she 1) creates the hardest course possible,  2) she gives you the best experience possible, and 3) she does what she can to get you across the finish line.  Now, I don't mean "let me call a taxi" kind of help, but rather "can I get you a band aid for that monster blister" kind of help.  Mary, you are admired, respected, and revered by anyone who has ever done one of your races (although admitedly, sworn at quite a bit during the actual race, also).  You are the reason people keep coming back.  Well, having the greatest finishers medals in the planet helps.

The Atacama Crossing 2008 didn't end like I had expected.  My visions of racing across a finish line with my arms held high in the air didn't happen. I thought I'd spend the next 6 months in some type of conversation like this:

"Gee, Becky, what'ss that around your neck?"

"Oh, my, this silly thing, gosh, I had forgotten I was still wearing this little medal.  I must have forgotten to take it off.  But since you asked, let me tell you about this race called The Atacama Crossing ..."

Nope, those conversations won't happen.  Instead, I head back to the States grateful I had the opportunity to be part of something so wonderful.

You've probably already guessed at some of the reaons NOT to do the Atacama Crossing.  Misery, despair, heat, diarrhea, wind storms, dehydration, sand in every body part, vertigo, dry heaves, blisters, twisted ankles, infections, swollen extremities, warm water, no margaritas, ...

But let me tell you about the #1 reason TO do the Atacama Crossing.  The people.    Do this race so you can share a tent with amazing athletes, volunteers, doc's and others.  Some who made my experience so special were:

o  Shane & Rossa - my Irish tent mates.  I did a private little Irish jig when I saw these guys would be in my tent and I  immediately emailed my friends and said "YES! How bad can the week be when I'll be sharing it with young Irishmen!" ;  Even my Notre Dame obsessed mother couldn't possibly object to my doing this race now, right?  Aren't the Irish closer to God than anyone else?   Sh ane & Rossa modestly said their goal was just to finish, and then they were always among the first finishers each day.  Irish, funny and humble.  What a great combination.

o  John - my Australian tentmate who treated me like Princess Di each night, carrying my pack from the finish line, fetching my water ration and making me tea.  All because he had the energy and heart when I did not.  (John also was a stud, finishing in the elite group each day.)  And lest you think this was special treatment reserved for the feeble female, he did the same thing for Neil, the other late finisher in our tent, and my guess is most others who finsihed after him.  John - you rock!

o  Neil - who bravely (notice I did not say stupidly) was back at it for attempt #2 of the Atacama Crossing having attempted it in 2007.  Word on the street is that he will go for the Gobi next.  May we all have the same energy and excitement for life at 60 that Neil has.    I'm sure he will be authoring the book "Triathlons for 100 Year Olds" at some point in the distant future. 

o  Rusty - who methodically, meticulously taped every inch of his feet every morning with the precision of a pediatric heart surgeon.  Rusty owns his own tea company and he generously shared his private stash w ith me, which must have been painful since I am quite obviousy a Lipton girl.  You know the kind - perfectly content with cold 4 day old left over tea leaves.  Rusty is the sweetest guy in the universe who gave our tent a Zen feeling.

o  Tim - my last tentmate who was kind enough to share his Nunu's with me because he wasn't on the course long enough each day to use them all.  Yep, another stud in the elite group.  Surely Tim must have known even Nunu's weren't going to save me, but I am thankful he humored me and gave me his extras. (And if you don't know what Nunu's are you really aren't an endurance athlete so what are you doing reading this blog anyway?)

o  James - our 21 yar old English "baby" who through his own pain said to me "come on, I'll do this stage with you, we'll finish it together" when I said "No Mas" at CP 2 on Day 4.  James had a permanent look of bewilderment and a "what the F$%#%@ have I gotten myself into" look etched on his face for the entire race.  But James persevered and was able to start the first day of being 22 years old with a big ole' medal around his neck.  Way to go, James, I hope you are proud of what you accomplished.   (BTW, my daughter is 11, so could you please stay single for 7 more years.) 

o    Bill - Volunteer Numero Uno.Top Gun.  Big Dog.  He-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed.&nb sp; Bill - you appeared on the road toward the end of Stage 2 in your truck and I swear you looked like an angel with red metal wings that said "Ford" on them.  You and your band of angels made my day (or was it night by then?).  When I said with a quivering voice "I can't do this" it wasn't just that you said "yes you can" it was the way you said it.  What your voice really said was "I, and every humanoid in the galaxy, believe you will finish this race so to suggest otherwise is just plain stupid and a complete waste of my time so get off your sorry little spoiled arse and get on with it."  Sorry, Bill, I hope you know I gave it my all.  Sahara 2009 perhaps?

o  Brandee - Head Doc. 

OK, for anyone who will do a RTP run, here is a HUGE tip - when you want help, go to the veteran doc.  There is a pattern to the docs in these races - the new ones always go by the rule book.  The newer they are the less sympathic.  ("What? - you didn't bring your own IV Pole to the Med tent tonight?" ...   "You only have 8 infected blisters?  Come back when it's 10!" ... "You think just because you've been throwing up for 4 days there is a problem?  Are you a WIMP?!"  . .. "Damn it, someone hand me that saw, it doesn't matter if it's not clean, this idiot needs his toe cut off." ...)   I like Brandee too much to say this is actually what she was like in the Gobi in 2006, but lets just say that her dance card was empty while people lined up for Doc. Brian, who had been through a few of these already.

Multiple races later, Brandee is now the veteran Doc and the absolute greatest person to go.  She also is the person you want on your side when a wind storm comes and the tent needs to be held in place, or when a monsoon arrives and you need to get fresh water to the racers via a donkey (please ask her about this personally :)  ) 

Seriously, the docs on this race are the very best.  It may not be important to you, but your spouses and parents will be very, very grateful there are folks like Brandee making sure your life insurance policy goes unredeemed.

o  Mimi Anderson.   I hope Mimi does every single race RTP ever does so as many people as possible can see what a great female athlete looks like.  She is funny, beautiful and shockingly normal for someone who is as accomplished an athlete as she is.  Mimi didn't feel the need to post her training schedule for all to see how hard she was working (no 500 sit ups before she brushed her teeth that we know of).  Mimi even made me, Poser Numer Uno, feel wonderful.  Her humility, grace and kindness made her the camp favorite.  I'm particularly apprecitive to what Mimi does for female athletes.  Mimi inspires by being physically gifted, charming and beautiful.  The perfect package.  You go girl. 

o  Mary Gadams.  Drum roll, please ... the #1 reason to do a RTP race is because of Mary Gadams, the founder and CEO of Racing The Planet.  She wants you to succeed and both makes and breaks every possible rule in the book to make that happen.  No effort is too small for her to applaud, no expense too great if it means the safety of "her" athletes. 

While I've never actually asked her, I think Mary has 3 goals ... 1) to create the hardest course possible, 2) to give you the best possible experience, and 3) to give you the help you need to cross the finish line. Now, I don't mean "let me call you a taxi" kind of help, but rather "can I get you a band aid for that monster blister" kind of help. 

Mary ... you are admired and respected by everyone who has ever done one of  your races(although not usually DURING the race when we are too busy cursing you).  You are the reason people keep coming back.  Although the really cool medals help.

Next blog .. Dean Karnazas

These last two months are the hardest and I don't have the patience. I felt this way in 2005 getting ready for the Marathon Des Sables. After (over)training for 12 months I was so ready to go. Unfortunately, my guitar string like IT Band didn't match my cardio and I 'wogged' almost the whole race. Emphasis on the 'w'. If there is one piece of advice I would give to anyone going in this type of a race, make sure you are healthy when you start. A small issue can be treated at home with a good night's sleep, massage and a protein shake. A small issue in the field will make you suffer and you will not have the same level of recovery. Recovery time is limited and this is what makes these races so great.

I met some great people at that race: Ray Zahab, Jen Segger, Pat Doyle and Ken Davis. A humbling experience for me and I learned alot from their combined expertise. I finished but swore that I would never go into another international multi-day with any injuries.

Legs - a little overtrained but not bad. The comment from my massage therapist was, "as tight as they should be considering the mileage you do" My teammates< /a> and I are doing about 115-120km per week. Long runs on Sunday with a pack - this Saturday we are running together with a 14 lbs pack. Training is on but I am cautious about blowing up.

Why?< /p>

I'm not sure where I read that extreme exercise is a 'pathway to the soul'. The 'pathway' metaphor makes me think of 25 degrees, gardens and red wine.

Obviously whoever wrote it has never run an utlra. I could be wrong but to me, the pathway is more of a gauntlet as in 'running the gauntlet', more like a pathway to pain. The response question that I hear all the time, "Ya, well why do you do it then?" (good point) I haven't heard a satisfactory response to this question yet from myself or anyone else. My team mates and I (Team Canada - Donna Carrigan, Donald Peterson) are unable to articulate it. Any takers? I'm still unclear as to the motivations behind this for me.

Training

It's my birthday today...happy birthday to me! Forty freakin' seven years old...so hard to believe sometimes. If my mind felt like it was 47 years old it would be one thing but, my mind still thinks it is 17.  My sons gave me a very cool minature digital camcorder/camera/mp3 player for my birthday.  It is a 6megapixel camera that is a bit smaller than the palm of my hand and runs on AA batteries.

So, what has been happening with me?  Same old, same old...so much yet so little.

I had my yearly physical a couple of weeks ago.  Everything went swimmingly (as swimmingly as things can go when you are being prodded in the nether regions) until I received a letter from the doctor a week later.  He wrote, "Dear Mr. Manciagli:  I am writing to inform you that the results of your recent lab test were acceptable..."  I did not read another word past acceptable!  My darn lab results had better come back with more of a superlative word than acceptable...with all the training, healthy eating, early to bed, no alcoholic binges, safe driving, wearing clean undergarments I want word such as unbelievable, stupendous, out of this world (I know, 4 words) to describe my results.  Oh yeah, he also informed me that it was time for my first colonoscopy...oh joy to me!  Did I just share too much information?

I met up with Gary Baron, Terri (Gary's wife), Ginny, Anna and James on Good Friday.  We had a good time at Fado, an Irish pub in Seattle.  Unfortunately, Kris and Pam, were unable to join us.  I am trying to convince them to come and participate in the 12 hour race Gary, Jim Pethigal and I will be doing in May.  Gary is trying to convince Captain Jack Fierstadt to come down and join us.

Training is proceeding as planned...I am up to 5 hours pulling the tire and carrying my pack.  I am receiving tremendous support for my training methods from friends and family...especially from my brother who said "you're a friggin' idiot!"  He actually used a different "f" word but no matter, his support is so valuable. :) 

As mentioned above, a few of us will be participating in a 12 hour trail race on May 19.  I am looking forward to testing all my Atacama equipment during the race and reminding my body and mind what it will be like to be "out there" for that length of time.

I am planning on running the SeaFair Marathon on July 8.  I know I said I wasn't going to run any races but as many of you know...once it gets into your blood it is tough to get the desire out of your system.  I was planning on participating in the STP (205 mile Seattle to Portland 1 or 2 day bike ride) the week after the marathon but I am getting cold feet.  I know I can do the miles, what I am concerned about is getting injured and not being able to run Atacama.  The last thing I want to happen is for some knuklehead to knock me off my bike or for me to make some error which leads to an injury that I am unable to recover from before Chile. 

Fair warning to Gary B....I am thinking very seriously about joining you on the '08 Gobi March next year.  If the timing does not interfere with my son, Chad's, graduation from high school and, life and business cooperate I would like very much to run it.               

Good news, James Pethigal, whom I met when I participated in the MDS in 2000, has received permission from his mommy...I mean wife, to run in the Atacama.  Those who know James are excited to have him join us...our tent is going to be out of control!

The news from RTP that they may plan a route to run across Chile, from border to sea, makes the race all the more exciting.  Seriously, how many times will you get the chance to say that you ran 150 miles, carrying a 20+ lbs pack, with limited water supply, freezing temperatures at night, hot temperatures during the day, crossing salt flats and sand dunes, running through bone chilling rivers, share a tent with 10 "friends" who smell like wet buffalo (and that is being kind) AND, say that you ran across the entire country?  I ask you...doesn't that sound like something you have to do at least once in your life?  Yeah, I know, it is my birthday and I am happy and that may excuse some of my enthusiasm (no, I have not been tipping back any adult beverages) but seriously, it sounds fun doesn't it?

As far as equipment is concerned I have a couple of changes:

I switched from my Railrider shorts to a pair of Columbia shorts which are longer and have cargo style pockets.

I have been running in my chosen shoes...Inov-8 Roclite 318 GTX...they have performed well so far.  I will need to buy another 1/2 size larger than I already have to take into account the potential swelling in my feet.  The shoe is sturdy and have a good toe box which I think will be important for this race.