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| Home Sweet Home |
| 31-May-2009 03:13:44 AM [(GMT) Greenwich Mean Time: Dublin, Edinburgh, Lisbon, London] |
So, the final day, and
only 8 easy kilometres to
conquer before the finish
line. It was a sad
final night for the
'Horny Hornbills' in
tent 10 (actually, it
was a really
uncomfortable night
where we all lay there
with rumbling tummys
talking about what foods
we were really looking
forward to when we got
back to
civilisation.......mmmmm,
chocolate sauce).
The final stage
was a staggered start,
with the bottom of the
pack getting to leave
camp an hour before
anyone else. This
was a carefully planned
strategy for me. I
could easily have won
this race....at least
come in the top
three. However,
everyone across that
finish line gets a
medal, regardless of
your time, but only
the privileged few
get to reach the finish
line beer and pizza
first, and after 7 days
in the desert that was
high on my priority
list.
So off we set
for a jaunt across
the beach and back into
civilisation.
I thought I would feel
quite emotional as I
crossed the finish
line. After all
the tears there had been
during the week, I
imagined that I would be
a bawling mess at the
end. However, I
ended up just having a
huge grin on my face, a
little bit like a 5yr
old kid at Christmas who
has just got the best
present ever.
There were times during
the week when I really
believed I didn't have
it in me to make it to
the end, so getting that
medal was a very
satisfying
feeling. Hitting
the beer and pizza
table, and knowing that
I would get a shower
before nightfall was
also a very satisfying
feeling!
They
say that endurance sports
are an individual sport,
and this race is
marketed as being
completely
self-supported.....just
like Club Tropicana, the
drinks are free......but
everything else you must
carry yourself on your
back. For me
however, this race was
far from an individual
effort. I made it
across the finish line,
but only because of the
huge amounts of help and
support from a lot
of people, so I want to
say a huge thankyou
to them here for
getting me through those
250km........
1. The amazing
volunteers, who pampered
me at every aid
station. And kept
a straight face when I
hobbled off very very
slowly - I'm sure you
were thinking 'there is
no chance this loser is
going to make it to the
finish line', but you
only ever said positive
things to me.
2. The medics, who
dealt with my revolting,
smelly, torn up feet
every night and at the
aid stations. I
barely wanted to be near
myself I smelled so bad,
so a huge thank you for
sucking it up and
bandaging up my gnarly
stubs. I hope you
haven't been permanently
mentally scarred from
looking at those
things.
3. My
incredible family and
friends who sent me huge
messages of support while
I was out there.
They were such a massive
boost to me you don't
even know it. I
would come into camp
every night feeling
like a trainwreck,
not sure I could go
on. Reading all
your messages and
knowing there were so
many people out there
who were following me
and believed I could
finish this journey was
invaluable to me.
4. My
fabulous tent 'family' -
Tent 10, the Horny
Hornbills, you were
amazing. You
were all incredible
athletes, who would be in
camp hours before I
finally dragged my
broken carcass in.
Despite all being tucked
up in bed when I rocked
up and wanted to talk
for hours about my 'hard
day at the office', you
listened to me, and gave
me invaluable support and
advice throughout the
week. You were the
best tent family ever,
and for that I even
forgive you for never
leaving anything in the
mini-bar for me.
5. Kim James, my
amazing co-competitor who
walked with me for hours,
particularly through the
night of the long
stage. There is no
way I could have made it
through those long dark
hours without your cool
South African
chat. Thanks for
the non-stop
encouragement, and
putting up with me in my
slightly kooky sleep
deprived state!
5. Last but not least,
thank you to my amazing
friend Jason
Napier. Jason is a
good friend of mine who
is fighting
cancer. He was
going through a round of
chemo the week that I was
in Namibia. Every
time I even considered
feeling sorry for myself
about the pain, or wanted
to quit, I thought of you
Jason. You are
fighting
cancer with true
courage and dignity, and
I know that you will
never quit. You
inspired me and gave me
strength throughout the
week, and were there
with me when I crossed
that finish line.
That medal is as much
yours as it is mine.
So, what's the
final verdict on the
race. Four days
into it, I sent an email
to my family from Africa
saying if I ever
consider signing up for
one of these races
again, please please
just step in and stop me
- someone be the
responsible adult and
save me from this
hell! It really
was painful, and
possibly the toughest
thing I have ever done,
mentally or physically,
in my entire life.
But once I crossed that
finish line, and a week
later as the painful
memories fade and only
the good memories
remain, and my feet
begin to look slightly
less deformed, I can see
myself heading back out
to do another one at
some point. Maybe
not in the next week or
so, but don't be
suprised Racing the
Planet if you don't see
me again in the
future............. |
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Comments (2) |
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| Stage 5 - A Day at the Beach. |
| 22-May-2009 07:03:59 AM [(GMT) Greenwich Mean Time: Dublin, Edinburgh, Lisbon, London] |
Everyone had a lot of
fear of this day.
Huge dunes which were
meant to be absolute
killers. Luckily, I
didn't have any time to
think about it as I
rocked into camp at
5.30pm, shoved some food
down my throat, rolled
into my sleeping bag and
passed out.
All I can
say about this day is
beautiful. The
scenery was absolutely
incredible. I have
some amazing
photos. Every step
is still painful, but I
popped some painkillers,
and on a positive note,
the soft sand is so much
easier on my feet than
the rocks. We did
have some tough dunes,
but after what we've
been through the last
few days it suddenly
seems easy. And
only 21km today.
That's still a
half-marathon, but in
the scheme of things it
seems like such a short
distance. Finally
I got into camp at a
decent time and have
spent the day
chilling. We're on
a beautiful beach by the
sea. I also found
out that the male
competitors tend to walk
around camp
topless. If
there's anything that
will spur my motivation
to train harder in
future it will be to
make it into camp by
daylight every day to
catch a bit more
semi-male nudity!
So finish
line tomorrow. I
tear up just thinking
about it. There
have definitely been
moments this week when I
never thought I would
make it, but I'm so
close now. The
spirit in camp is
incredible.
Tomorrow is going to be
a big day!
Thanks
again everyone for your
amazing messages.
They have been
incredible. I
can't wait to see you
all soon....missing you
and lots of love from
Namibia! xxx |
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Comments (8) |
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| Stage 4 - Absolute Carnage! |
| 22-May-2009 07:03:29 AM [(GMT) Greenwich Mean Time: Dublin, Edinburgh, Lisbon, London] |
Ok people, again sorry
for being a day late
with this post. I
crossed the line
yesterday in a sleep
deprived coma and I was
barely able to speak,
let alone write anything
coherent.
So, the long
stage.
Wow. 36hrs
of madness. Here's
the summary of what went
down out
there..........
The day
started with a 2am
wake-up call to prepare
for a 4am bus departure
from camp to make a 4hr
drive to the start
line. The perfect
way to start a 100km
trek!
The first 10k and 20k
went well. Very,
very hot, but the
terrain wasn't so bad so
it felt ok. I did
have to stop for quite a
long time at the 20k
checkpoint to get my
feet looked at.
The soles of my feet
just below my toes are
just one huge blister
now. Actually,
less of one blister, and
more like a blister
extended family.
The first little guy has
now invited his family,
friends, and everyone he
met down the bar to hang
out on my feet.
It's not pretty.
There are pictures,
which do come with a
health warning, for
anyone who is interested
in seeing them.
By 30k, the
blistering on my feet
were agony. I also
have blistering on my
shoulders from my
pack. I am praying
that open toed sandals
and strapless tops are
'out' this summer!
Coming
into the 50k checkpoint
I was absolutely
exhausted. I was
walking with a fantastic
friend, Kim. Kim,
without you I never
would have made it
through the night girl -
thank you! It was
pitch black, and so hard
to see the course
markers. We were
so ready to hit the
checkpoint and take a
rest. We thought
we were almost there and
spirits were good, when
suddenly we see the
glo-stick markers
heading up a hill.
A very steep hill.
That's when the hysteria
set in. We decided
to take a pit stop
before tackling the
monster. Our legs
were so shot that only
way to sit down was to
use our trekking poles
to drop our weight back
slightly, and then roll
back onto our packs and
just kind of sit there
like turtles. That
was the point that I
started getting my
camera out and taking
little video clips to
capture these
moments. The whole
night was a blur so I'm
excited to take a look
at these clips when I
get back home - It could
be interesting!
Standing back up was
more interesting.
So,
finally up the mountain,
and then back down the
other side....in the
pitch dark. It was
steep. The footing
was terrible. And
my feet were in
excruciating pain with
every step.
Halfway down I lost my
footing and blew my knee
out. There was so
much swearing that I
would have made a
drunken scotsman
blush. But the
only way to the next
checkpoint was to keep
on hobbling. So we
did.
Eventually we made it
to the 50k
checkpoint. I was
tired and hungy. I
could barely keep my eyes
open. I lay down on
the floor with my pack
still on and curled up
in foetal
position. The
volunteers were telling
me I couldn't sleep
there. Sleep and
hot water for my freeze
dried dinner were at the
next checkpoint and we
needed to keep moving to
get there.
We left
the 50k checkpoint at
11pm, figuring we would
make it to the 60k
checkpoint, and the
sleep tent, at around
1am. Kim was
planning to have some
dinner and truck right
on through. I was
figuring to maybe try
and get an hours sleep
as I was so tired and
then move on. We
had no idea what the
next 10k had in store
for us. I can't
actually tell you what
the terrain was like
exactly as it was so
dark, but I can tell you
that at one point we hit
sand dunes that we
literally had to wade
up. The sand was
so soft that as much as
you tried to walk up you
just slid straight back
down again. The
exhaustion was a
killer. I just
wanted to curl up on the
sand and go to
sleep. Kim and I
kept giving ourselves
breaks, and turtling on
our backs. I think
one of the volunteers
found us at one point
lying on our backs in
the sand staring up at
the sky. We were
crossing between
hysterical laughing and
swearing.
Finally,
4hrs after we left 50k,
we hit the 60k
checkpoint. It was
3am in the morning, and
the place looked like a
war zone. A
campfire burning, a
medical tent full of
wounded people, and
bodies in sleeping bags
lying everywhere,
groaning in pain.
I was destroyed.
At this point I was
physically, mentally and
emotionally ruined.
I couldn't take
anymore. My feet
and knees were in agony
with every step I
took. We still had
over 70km left of the
race. I didn't
feel I could do
it. I was so
tired, and my knee was
injured. The sleep
tent closed at 6am so I
would get less than 3hrs
sleep and then have to
get up and do another
40km. I didn't
think my body was
capable. The cut
off time for the next
day was 6pm, which would
give me around 3hrs per
stage. The last
stage had taken me
4hrs. I wouldn't
make cutoff. I
made the decision in my
sleep deprived state to
quit the race.
Kim made
some dinner, but I was
so tired I just rolled
out my sleeping bag,
crawled in and passed
out. Around
4.30am, my side of the
tent collapsed on my
head. I briefly
woke, but just lay there
for about 30mins with the
tent on my head as I was
too exhausted to do
anything about it.
Eventually I scooted
myself around so my feet
were under the collapsed
part and my head was
able to get air.
At around 5.30am the
volunteers started
getting everyone up and
moving as camp closed at
6am. My knees and
feet were still
throbbing in
agony. I thought
about my decision to
quit the race and knew
it was the right
one. I mentally
came to terms with not
finishing it, but really
thought it had beaten
me. I had a little
cry in my sleeping bag,
and looked forward to
jumping in a jeep and
being shuttled back to
camp. Then the
volunteer called 5.45am,
fifteen minutes to camp
cut-off. Something
clicked in me. I
though f*ck it, I'm not
out yet. I may not
make cut-off, but right
now I'm still in.
They can pull me off the
course, but I'm not going
to pull myself off the
course. I jumped
up, stuffed my sleeping
bag in my pack, shoved
the bloodied stumps at
the end of my legs where
my feet used to be back
into my shoes, and
dragged myself up.
I hadn't eaten. I
didn't have time for a
meal so I filled a meal
with hot water and
stuffed it in my pack to
eat at the next
checkpoint. Then
we hobbled off into the
sunrise. I was
back in the fight.
The day
was a blur of strong
painkillers and bandaged
feet. Kim and I
laughed at ourselves. We
were hobbling like old
women, and yet were
attempting to complete
40km on rough terrain
today. My trekking
poles had become
crutches. The ipod
came back out and The
Killers got me through
20km. The lyrics
of one of their songs
mentions 'a history of
blisters'....I could
relate.
Finally at around
5.30pm, 30 minutes
before cut-off, we made
it to camp. There
was a little group of
'final finishers' and we
crossed the finish line
together to applause
from the camp.
Long Day
Summary:
Swear-o-meter:
Swearing was out of
control. Even my
swear words were
swearing. Sorry
mum!
Tear-o-meter:
Small cry in my sleeping
bag at the sleep tent
when I thought I was
done. A few tears
on the final 10km of the
day when I realised that
I might actually finish
this thing!
Odour-o-meter: I
am repulsed at my own
smell now. My
clothes actually stand
up on there own
now. |
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Comments (7) |
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| Stage 3 - The day my foot modelling career ended.. |
| 19-May-2009 07:35:55 AM [(GMT) Greenwich Mean Time: Dublin, Edinburgh, Lisbon, London] |
Stage 3 - The day my foot
modelling career
ended......
So today
was a 'short' day, and I
was hoping therefore an
easier day.....no such
luck!
Got a fairly good
nights sleep last night,
although did wake up
about 2am needing a pee
and in general body
agony. My legs
were so swollen that I
had to put them up on a
stool. Laid there
for about 15mins
debating how I could
avoid going out for a
pee, or how I could pull
off having a pee in my
sleeping bag, but
finally realised it was
best to just suck it up
and hobble out to the
toilets. Popped a
painkiller when I got
back (my first one of
the trip) and fell back
asleep. Woke up
feeling good. Even
had a little jog from the
tent to the toilets in
the morning.....that
would be my only jog of
the day!
Despite eating through
significant amounts of my
food, my pack is feeling
heavier and heavier
every day. Have
started to get a tiny
bit of chafing at the
base of my back where it
is rubbing.....I will
definitely be blaming
that on 'hot tent
action' when I get back
home.
First stage of the day
was good. Felt
great. Got in so
late last night that I
didn't get a chance to
hit the medical tent to
get my feet patched up
before bed, so at
Checkpoint 1 I pulled
over and got the doctor
to work her magic.
A few popped blisters and
25 minutes later I was
off again. I
really am back of the
pack out there now, and
as I headed off to
Checkpoint 2 I was
walking a lot of it on
my own.
The second stage was
horrendously
rocky. Keeping my
footing was really
hard. I looked
like a drunk old tramp
as I stumbled through
the course, smelling of
B.O. and urine and
swaying side to
side.
Stage 3
was easier, but my feet
were really playing
up. The blisters
are kicking in big
time.....the pads of
both of my feet are
completely torn up,
which makes putting any
pressure on them (i.e.
walking) really
painful. My feet
and ankles are
completely swollen
too.....I look like a
heavily pregnant woman,
and can walk about as
fast as one (although I
would switch 9hrs of
labour over tomorrows
stage any day!)
By stage 4
I was down to a
'potter'. It was
only 7km today, but felt
much longer. Did
see a dead zebra - he
looked pretty much how I
felt! I did finally
finish in the daylight
today for the first
time, which was
exciting. I have
tons of pictures of the
course today, so prepare
to be bored with my
holiday snaps when I
return.
So, daily summary is
as follows:
Odour
update: I really
smell now! I
thought I was pulling it
off and keeping the BO
under control.
However, I've been
sleeping with my head
inside my sleeping bag
to keep warm, and last
night was the first
night I couldn't do that
as the stench in the
enclosed space of my
sleeping bag was too
offensive! Out
there on the course
today I could smell
someone. I looked
around and realised that
I was the only person
within a 50m radius, so
the stinky person must
have been me.
Pee
update: After the
crazy dehydration of
stage 1, I've managed to
pull it back and am now
peeing like a
racehorse.
Unfotunately, my quads
are completely screwed
and the pads of my feet
are so painful, that
squatting down is
agony. This is the
first time in my life
I've actually wanted to
be a man.
Yesterday I did manage
to carry it off, but I
was so unstable
squatting that I could
see myself toppling over
backwards with the weight
of my pack and straight
into my pool of
pee. So today I
perfected a new
technique of sticking my
bum out and balancing
myself with my trekking
poles. If I meet
the man of my dreams
while in this pose then
I am screwed!
Bloodshed
update: No wounds today
thankfully.
Swear
update: A few
choice words on the
rocky stage....daily
count probably around
10.
Tears update:
Did feel like crying on
the final stage, but
didnt.
Number of times I
wanted to pull out
today:
Once....when stumbling
along in absolute agony
thinking how the 'f' am
I going to to conquer
100km tomorrow!
So,
tomorrow. 100km
stage. Wow.
Mentally I'm not even
thinking about it.
I'm going to take it one
checkpoint at a time,
and very, very
slowly. There is a
sleep station halfway
through, where you can
bunk down for the night
if you want. The
advice from everyone
who's done one of these
before is not to stop,
just keep on
trucking. However,
I'm not sure I can do
that. I'm giving
myself the option to
stop if I need to.
By my current
estimations, if I keep
on going the stage will
take me about
24hrs. If I bunk
down and try to get a
few hours sleep it will
take much longer.
I don't care how long
this takes me though, I
just want to cross that
finish line.
Thanks
everyone again for the
amazing messages you're
sending me via the
website. I almost
cried today reading them
all!! They really
are helping me, and I
really appreciate
them. Missing you
all, and can't wait to
see you soon!
Wish me
luck tomorrow, and
you'll get another
update once my broken
carcass has finished the
100km (hopefully sometime
before July!)
xxxx |
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Comments (21) |
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| Stage 2 - Slow and Steady. |
| 18-May-2009 08:10:07 AM [(GMT) Greenwich Mean Time: Dublin, Edinburgh, Lisbon, London] |
After one of the best
nights sleep I've had in
a while (I think my body
was actually in shock
from Stage 1, and went
into some kind of trauma
induced coma), I woke up
feeling a lot better
than expected.
The day
started well -
checkpoint 1 came and
went quickly.
Checkpoint 2 to 3 was
tough though. Took
much longer than
expected. Had to
pull out the big
guns. The ipod was
back - 80's classics and
Lady Ga Ga were pumping
- not sure if that made
it better or worse!
Got off
course 3 times.
Had a poor Japanese guy
who was following
me. Eventually he
realised that I had
absolutely no idea what
I was doing and made his
own way.
Was hoping to finish
in the light today, but
it was getting dusky
when I left checkpoint
3, and pitch black by
the time I finished.
A lot more
sore than
yesterday. Hoping
it's nothing that a good
nights sleep won't
fix!
Next installment
tomorrow!
Quick note to
home: I had tried
every cobbler in town to
try and get them to fix
my sand gaiters on to my
running shoes before
coming out, but despite
offering huge sums of
money and a first born,
none of them would touch
them. So Team
Holdsworth jumped into
action and got them
attached. To give
you some feedback back
home, I've already hit a
lot of sand yesterday and
today, and waded through
water in them, and so
far so good! They
are holding up great.
'Swear'-o-meter - Kept
it pretty clean
today. Only three
or four naughty words
uttered.
'Tear'-o-meter - Felt
a few tears coming on
going up the dunes, but
kept them inside.
'Bloodshed'-o-meter -
No injuries today.
Foot update - The
balls of my feet are
destroyed. Going
downhill or trying to
squat is agony.
Pain update - About 4
out of 10
Times
wanted to quit today -
Considered it
twice. Quickly
pushed that thought
aside
though.
P.S. -
just wanted to let you
all know that I'm
getting the emails
you're all sending to me
via the website, and
thank you so much for
them. It's great
to hear from everyone,
and really does help my
spirit out here - thanks
everyone!
Missing you all
xx |
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Comments (7) |
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