I am a product of 80's television and music but to be frank, my musical tastes prove that I was born in the wrong decade. Apparently the 80's are back, man do I feel old. The REAL 80's music to me is Billy Idol, Depeche Mode (yes, I did listen to them), Duran Duran (No, I didn't listen to them), etc. When I hear it now, I cringe.

Back to my point. I should have grown up in the 90's when electronica was on the rise. Geek at heart maybe but the 'Garage Band' technology is something that holds my interest for more than 5 minutes.

So?

Well, I was listening to an album (old venacular) by Banco De Gaia and on the first song of the CD there is a story about Yu Gong Yi Shan, meaning "foolish man moving the mountain". I pilfered the below from another web site,

"The basic story goes that an old man had a big mountain in front of his house that blocked his view. One day he started to dig at it, taking the rocks away. He had his sons and grandsons helping him in the digging. Everyone laughed at him and called him foolish, but he said, "I may not be able to do it myself, but I have my children, and my children have their children. One day we will move the mountain."

The fable is brilliant - the Chinese believe in hard work, effort and perseverance. As we come closer to Day 1 of the race we are all in the process of moving the mountain and the mountain is more like a small hill now.

Now what? Well, now we wait and prepare and check gear and wait and repeat. To me, this is the hardest time and the most difficult test of my patience and endurance.

 Garbage collection on Everest

The GM ain't no Everest but I was reading a post on Outside Magazine's Everest Blog and was struck by the writers thoughts on the realities of extreme physical/mental hardship. He writes:

"I had come with the misbegotten and overly romantic notion that climbing Everest - Everesting - was somehow transformational, that the toil and hardship and fear and risk had the ability to reveal something deeper and more meaningful in our lives, that something fundamental would change. But there seemed no such reflection among the summitters, just a kind of deep, weathered fatigue. I had only climbed a little way up the mountain, but it had been plenty; my curiosity about stumbling along an airy ridge, panting into an oxygen mask, had been satisfied.

If there was any common denominator, any consensus among those with whom I had spent the past month, it was a yearning to go home, to be with family and friends, to sleep in a soft bed and soak in a hot bath. And maybe that was it after all—simply to return with renewed appreciation for all the things we take for granted every day: Indoor plumbing. Furniture. Refrigeration. A well-mixed margarita. Chips. Salsa."

I think that to the folks watching us (and even ourselves when we first heard of the race), the GM holds a romantic lure. But it's not all cookies and cream and while it may not be at the level of an Everest attempt, it will hand you your ass in the same way at some point during the race.

Good thing we're all afflicted with a mild case of post-race amnesia or companies like RTP would be out of business in months.

Top 5 things you might hear from competitors during the Gobi March (but shouldn't believe):

1) "I don't care where I place, I just want to finish..."  - I am the first one to say this and it's a good coping strategy to take the pressure off. But if I am honest to myself, it's the safe thing to say. Of course I care about where I place, this is a race - if I didn't care about where I place then I'd have to ask myself the 'Why?' question. We all care. Simple test - ask yourself would you rather be in the top 10 or the last person past the finish? I think we know the answer. The trick is, can you let 'it' go if you don't come in where you expect to?

2) "I ran the whole way" - Is your last name Zahab? Ahansal? Engle? If not, chances are you walked part of the course. They call this a 'footrace'. Get to the finish as fast as you can, however you can. We're not all blessed with great genetics or talent. Do I wish I was a 'racer' rather than a 'pacer'? Absolutely. Does this stop me from trying to maximize the experience? Absolutely not.

3) "I slept through the night, no problem" - The first lesson I learned and the one that sticks...you need to find moments of rest because you will likely not sleep well during the night. People snore and fart, your back hurts, you're hungry. Trust me, it's really a fun time. No really. Keep a sense of humour, laugh at yourself and learn to take 20-30 minute naps in camp.

4) "My legs/feet/back feel great!" - Maybe after the first day. On the 3rd day, everyone will be hurting. You have a choice of associating or disassociating with your physical state. I prefer to relax into the pain instead of fighting it.

5) "I'll never do this again..." Maybe on day 3. This is my favorite because I know that when I finished, I forgot about the brutal parts and I was all keyed up to do another. RTP will have their brochures ready for the other races and if they don't, I'd question their marketing strategy. You will likely do another race and there are some great ones out there to do. Be open to addictive nature of this type of racing.

I was searching through papers last night at home and came across a small piece of cardboard I took to MDS in 2005. The idea was to write out a word, or a few words, to describe every day so that I would have some record of the race. Knowing that I wouldn't feel like writing a novel on the way, it was enough to get the main points so that I could someday document the race properly. If you don't know, MDS is a similar race run across the Moroccan Sahara. Here is what I wrote from the night before the first day until the finish:

April 9:

Long, Sandstorm, brutal, tech check

April 10:

Run, heatstroke, inside myself, shitting

April 11:

Knee goes, brutal hills

April 12:

Mountains, heat, 2 storms, no give up, no 'why'

April 13:

Long, my footprints, sandstorm drives sand into my legs, alone, feet destroyed

April 14:

Sandstorm collapses tent, no rest

April 15:

Almost pass out, 53 degrees!, long

April 16:

Feet falling off, Tim, 100m running to finish, victory

Crazy but the images that match these words are burned into my mind.

Do you know who he is? Ferg is someone that I would like to take for a cup of joe one day and ask a million questions.  Think Badwater...or if you don't know, her e is a Wiki link that spells it out. In the world of extreme endurance events he is well known (Second in Badwater 2x, 8th overall in MDS, former member of the national tri team), but he's not a household name like Karnazes or Jurek.

In 2005, while I was slowly falling apart in a 100km race, I ran with a woman who knows him quite well and I asked her what made him so successful. (Ferg does amazing in over-distance hot races and has built a solarium with a treadmill and dry heaters as an addition to his house) Her answer was that he continues to go when others stop. It was that simple. I'm not OK with simple answers so I pressed a bit and she said, "Ferg will never quit, he has a steely resolve..." That I can buy.

Apparently Ferg is also quiet and unassuming - but always in for a laugh. (Thus the lack of a 'household' name)

In some respects I am happy that guys like Ferg, Karnazes, etc, don't often go into multi-day desert races. If they did, I would end up more at the back of the pack than I usually am. Although one day I'd like to see how Scott Jurek would do running against Lahcen Ahansal at MDS even if I was at the back of the pack.

Back to Ferg...Mr. Hawke. If you are reading this - fat chance - I am just across the pond in Victoria. I'd jump at the chance to pick your brain. Starbucks would be on me...

I'm sure that I put in 35 hours a week in prep for races like this. Forget about the training for a moment (averages 10 hours/week). I am talking about all of the logistics.

Every Sunday night my wife and I sit down and plan out the week with our calendars. (A recommendation to maintain your sanity when you have 2 or more kids under 7) It gives us a chance to update each other on the chaos of the week and it cuts off any last minute suprises. After that I add in all of the 'other' work required for a race like the Gobi.

People ask, "How do you prepare for the race?" Aside from my 'real life' work, my calendar this week looks like this:

Monday - Deal with Chinese Visa, Draft meal plan, massage, (run 14km), upper body work, epsom bath.

Tuesday - Collect silent auction items, physio, foam roller, (run 17-20km)

Wednesday - Active release session,(hills), leg strength workout, stretch, epsom bath, media push, deliver silent auction

Thursday - Foam roller, (run 14km), upper body work - light day!

Friday - Naturopath visit, (run 2hours), stretch, bath

SAT - Last long run before GM

I've warned people in the past of the additional work you need to do to have a successful race. (I admit that the 'additional' for me is sometimes not required and lends itself to over-training, over-preparation, over-everything)

I also believe that when you get to the race, you don't want regrets.

Own the preparation. 

There aren't many days in a year where I ask myself, "Why the hell am I doing this?!" Ultra's (running and training) have become part of my everyday existence. I consider myself still a newbie in the sport of running - trying to learn as much as possible from local elites and others who have real ultra experience. I've never run a marathon, half-marathon and only 2 10km races but having the 'extreme' gene, my first race was a 55km ultra in 2002.

As I lay on the table this morning having my weekly ART (Active Release Technique) session, quads feeling like ropes, and my excellent Chiro using almost his full body weight and his elbow to soften up the lumps a few thoughts came to mind;

1. I think today I've found my maximum pain tolerance level (i.e. I'm going to pass out!), and

2. Maybe a sedentary life isn't so bad.

Dr. Grimes always asks me the same question after the torture session, "You alright?" More a pleasantry than anything else. If I gave him the honest answer, we'd probably end up in a fist fight so I answer with "Ya, I'm ok" Right.

Today I actually said to him, "I don't know why the hell I do this..." He just laughed and said, "OK, lie on your stomach." Round 2, ding.

The thing is...this is all about choice. I choose to go through the pain and I justify these sessions by telling myself that pain now, less pain later during the race. (I know better as 'less pain later' is never the case but thought pattern helps).  We choose to enter these races, suffer, and enter again and I feel damn grateful that I even get a choice.

Don't get me wrong. The March is our focus right now and will be until we cross the line on June 24th. It's strange to be asking the 'What's next?' question already but I have a bad habit of climbing mountains to look over the edge and see another higher mountain to climb. And on it goes.

I also know that if I'm not thinking about the next mountain I am setting myself up for some post-race depression when I hit the line. For some, it's looking at a neighbours new BMW. For me, it's hearing about a new race or big idea. It's an obsession and I'm sure there is a medical term to describe this endless cycle.

On Friday I was approached by a friend with a big idea for a 'next'. Freakin huge idea that's been playing with my head all weekend. A 'not been done before' idea that makes me feel excited and terrified at the same time. In some ways I am just grateful to be considered for the project. Whether it happens or not, the fact that I can see a fluid transition between the end of the March and the possible start of the 'next' will help me get to sleep over the next six weeks.

I'd tell you but...you know the scoop.