Day 1 & 2 – Arrival and Technical Checks

01/10/21

The one hour coach ride from Errachidia was full of excitement and apprehension which peaked as we turned off the road to see Bivouac 1 – an impressive formation of black tents, one perfect circle inside another.

Myself, Anna & John made our way to Tent 60, our home for the week. Hazel who is a Brit living in New Zealand was already there. We had already been ‘virtually’ introduced by a mutual friend, Kerri, so we already something to talk about. Soon after, our remaining tentmates, Kim, Ali, Matt & Leon arrived. We had chatted on WhatsApp for a few weeks prior so it was lovely to finally meet them. They were to become my MDS family and I can now say that they will be my friends for life.

The flow of 672 competitors from 40 nations continued in their coach loads and soon we were a full house.

Food was supplied to us until Sunday morning when we were to become fully self sufficient for the week, but until then we feasted on delicious Moroccan cuisine, after that it was 7 days of rationed calories and dehydrated food.

02/10/21

Technical Check day which meant one last opportunity to cut weight. I made the risky decision to ditch my poles, sleep mat and GoPro.. a combined weight of 1kg. Final pack weight WITHOUT water was 8.1kg There were no more kit decisions to be made which was a relief. Now to keep the nerves at bay.

That evening the atmosphere was electric as all competitors gathered in the arena to form the iconic number formation, this year it was 35. The helicopter circled overhead as media teams swarmed around us. It felt very surreal!

As the camp settled down for the evening, a sand storm moved in for the entire night, wreaking havoc throughout. We woke up to Stage 1 (after very little sleep) covered in sand and half of the bivouac blown down. Great start to the race!

Day 3 (03/10/21) – Stage 1, 32.2km

The camp awoke early after the sandstorm and despite the very little sleep we had, we were excited to get started. After two years of planning and training, we were finally on the start line of the 35e Marathon Des Sables!

Patrick gave a thorough brief, wished us well and before sending us on our way, ‘Highway to Hell’ played loudly through the speakers as the entire crowd jumped up and down as if in a mosh pit.

As the countdown hit the last ‘cinq, quatre, trois, deux, une’ the helicopters were hovering low as we all ran towards the hoards of media people. Finally we were off!

The first 11.4km to CP1 was a very runnable hard flat trail interspersed with dune fields and the occasional wadi (dried up river bed). I took some time to settle into a rhythm as I was having a wobble about the enormity of the challenge ahead, but I knew that I had earned my place there the same as everyone else.

CP1 to CP2 was another 10km and passed through a couple of villages where children came out to run with us. I was humbled by how they survived with so little, not even shoes as they ran the hot desert floor as if they were at home on a soft carpet. It was starting to get hot now but I felt ok as long as I kept drinking and taking regular salt tabs (provided by the organisation).

Out of CP2 for the last 11km and the temperature was now almost unbearable at 51 degrees. There was no relief or shade from it and to make it worse, much of this section was sandy dunes so lots of walking meant longer exposure to the sun. I could feel myself starting to sway and it took all of my concentration to walk in a straight line (failed at this).

A French man (Francois, 197) called out my name and told me that I’d unknowingly paced him from the start and did I want to work together to finish off the stage. I didn’t hesitate and we took turns leading each other until I looked back and realised he’d dropped back. The finish line was about 200m away and he told me to go on without him. I replied ‘we started together, we finish together’ and so we did with a huge hug at the end. I never saw him again after that day but I’m grateful to have shared a few miles together.

After a sweet mint tea which they give you at the end of every stage, I returned to my tent to see that Leon, Anna and John had all finished. I went to see the Doc Trotters (medical tent) to have my feet tended too as I had a couple of nasty blisters which I wanted to stay on top of. Poor footcare is one of the main reasons that people don’t finish the MDS, so I was very conscious of this all week. I still had plenty of blisters but as long as I kept them clean, drained and covered then I could run on them.

Hazel, Matt and Kim soon followed, but no Ali. He was having a bad time out there with excessive vomiting and told Kim to go on without him. We were so worried for him but it turns out he had made it through with an hour to spare but had ended up on a saline drip. Our tent of 8 was still in tact, but sadly this was to change in the coming days.

No sooner had I taken my pack off and was starting my recovery routine, I heard a guy shouting from the tent across from ours where the Spanish were. I turned to look and there was a young guy, Blai 436, rolling around in pain asking me to help him. I hobbled over and took a moment to assess what was happening - his legs were cramping and he couldn’t bend them! He was clearly in a lot of pain, so I started massaging his thighs, hamstrings and calf muscles, which seemed to give some relief. We then went on to have a disjointed conversation (due to my limited Spanish) where I told him he needed ‘mas agua y sal’ (more water and salt) he appreciated my efforts and directed me through his pack to his salt tabs. Once settled I left him to it and just checked in on him an hour or so later. Over the coming days we became friends, communicating mainly through gestures and hugs.

Every evening I would go through my race admin and tick off my ‘PROCESS’ which I had worked on with my mindset coach (Dawn Blackwell, Lasting Change) in the weeks leading up to the race;

Plan – race admin, stay organised

Rest at every opportunity

Own it, this is about me, I am capable

Care for my feet

Empathy for my body, it needs feeding and hydrating

Secure – be secure in the knowledge that I am good enough

Shine – this is my time to shine

The only time I didn’t follow this strictly, I paid for it on the start line the next day, more on this later.

That evening I received a text (old school SMS , my only form of communication) from my husband saying that I’d finished 11th lady overall, 3rd British lady.. I was gobsmacked at this, I honestly had no idea where I ranked in the pack but I now had a focus.. if I could rank in the top 10 women, even for just one day, then that would be something extra special to take home.

Stage 1 complete, I was excited to crack on with Stage 2 now that I had a goal.

Day 4 (04/10/21) – Stage 2, 32.5km

Another early awakening and to be told by John that he’d been in the medical tent overnight. I completely slept through it and hadn’t realised that he’d been so ill. I was really worried for him as he looked so pale and week.

The mercury was already rising by 8am and John was curled up on the floor of the tent, trying to muster a scrap of energy to get to the start line. We had already been told that the temperature was due to be in the 50’s again and with it being ‘dune day’ this meant that although a similar distance to Stage 1, we would be out there for a lot longer.

The first 13km to CP1 was a mix of sand and wadi terrain. We passed through a village (TISSERDIMINE) with some interesting buildings and again some children came out to wave and run with us.

CP1 was at the foot of the ‘mythical Dunes of Merzouga’ and there was a great buzz of excitement to be heading into ‘proper dunes’.

They really were beautiful. They were also huge and you could feel the heat rising from the sand. I was feeling focused and strong but having done some dune training in Spain a few weeks before, I was also aware of just how exhausting they are to ‘run’ in so I knew to approach them with caution and to take small steps on the ascents. Along the ridges, I looked for untrodden sand which is harder packed and somewhat runnable.

After 45 minutes I had covered just 4km so with a bit of quick running maths, realised that I was going to be in there for at least 2.5 hours. I could feel a bit of panic rising but quickly reigned in my PROCESS.. this was to come in useful several times over the coming days but a quick check of it always reassured me that as long as I had everything in place, then there was no need to worry. Just keep one foot in front of the other.

After halfway, I noticed that I was keeping pace with another GBR lady, Sara (615), she was looking strong and although now very hot, I also felt determined to get out of the dunes sooner rather than later. I kept up with her, occasionally over taking, and much like Francois from Stage 1, we helped each other through this tricky section. Coming out the other side, I thanked her for unknowingly pacing me.

i later learned that it was 56 degrees in the dunes that day.

From CP2 to the finish was ‘just’ 6.5km which seemed pretty easy when I was studying the road book earlier that morning. But now my legs were like jelly and it was like a furnace out there. I muddled through with Lucas (USA 499) for the last few kms, we chatted a bit but I couldn’t quite keep up with him so told him ‘go get it’ and watched him disappear into the distance. This was to be the first of many kilometres we ran together.

Finally I reached the finish line, drank my mint tea and made my way to tent 60 where Leon had already finished and was clearing the rocks from under the rug (this was the job of the first person back each day.. it was always Leon, poor guy!).

John’s pack was on the floor and Leon commented that he must have completed the stage.. I seriously hoped he was right. A few minutes later John appeared looking pale and broken.. ‘it’s all over’ he said. I literally felt my stomach turn, I couldn’t believe this was the end of his journey.

Later that evening Patrick Bauer urgently called all competitors to the centre of the bivouac village where he announced the tragic death of a French man whilst in the dunes. The camp was shaken, we had lost one of our MDS family.

Day 5 (05/10/21) – Stage 3, 37.5km

John had to leave camp at 6am to be taken to Ouzarzete so we said our goodbyes and I returned to the tent. I was absolutely gutted to see him go, it’s not how either one of us ever saw his MDS journey going.

Anna had been up all night in the medical tent being sick, she had come back but looked very pale and with nothing in her stomach since the previous morning, she was also feeling weak. I was desperately praying for her to pull through. The thought of losing another friend to a DNF was more than I could get my head around.

The mood in bivouac was extremely heavy with the news we’d received the night before and to add to it, the sun was already burning down on us strong and there was no breeze at all, it wasn’t even 8am yet. The Berbers had taken down the tents, as they did between 6 and 7am every morning, and so the only relief from the sun was in the shadow of the trucks.

At the start line, we held a minute silence for Pierre and then we all walked behind his tent mates as they lead the pack for the first 100m.

The first 10.7km to CP1 was mostly runnable wadi terrain with 3km of large dunes which I must admit, after the previous day, I wasn’t exactly overjoyed when I saw them in the road book but actually they were very enjoyable this time. I had bumped into Lucas a few km’s earlier and we both had a good pace that day. We continued chatting through the dunes and into CP1. Somehow the dunes felt more like a playground than they did the day before and we had a lot of fun in them.

I was feeling good and satisfied that my hydration strategy was in hand. I always found it so difficult to eat in the heat so my calories were mostly from Tailwind and 100g of cashew nuts or dates, sometimes pork scratchings or a Chia Charge bar.

The terrain was a combination of dune fields and wadi, all fairly runnable although once again the temperature was creeping up to 50 degrees and we were now in the hottest part of the day. I was drinking plenty of water and taking my salt tabs regularly but something felt strange.

In and out of CP2 without any delays and I needed to go for a wee so I found a nearby bush. When you’re in the desert there isn’t much to hide behind so you very quickly get comfortable with dropping your shorts in front of others, and quite frankly no one really cares. Anyhow, when I went, it was barely enough to fill a thimble, despite the pressing sensation of a full bladder, and there was a very uncomfortable burning sensation. I’ve had this before and knew that this was the early onset of a urine infection.

Running started to feel very uncomfortable and I noticed that my heart rate would go up quite high without much effort so I adapted to a walk/run approach. I knew that I could get to the finish, and thus the medical tent, but it was going to be an uncomfortable few km’s home.

It was incredibly hot now and I was getting very frustrated with having to walk as I just wanted to get back to bivouac and into some shade. The wadi can only be described as baron and desolate – it was like we were in the deadest part of the planet. The ground was dry and cracked and there was literally no sign of life. Even the mountains to our left were black and lifeless. It almost felt hostile, like the desert was reminding us that we didn’t belong there.

Eventually after what seemed like an age, CP3 appeared in the distance and I did my usual routine of refilling my flasks and dousing myself and my clothes in the spare water. 6km to the finish which didn’t seem like much but I was feeling pretty awful at this point and because I was so pre occupied with my impending urine infection, I had made the school girl error of not fuelling and now I was feeling light headed.

4km of rocky undulating wadi terrain followed by 2km of ‘sandy terrain’ – basically more dunes so why they failed to say that in the road book was beyond me. I was grumpy at this point.

I ate the remainder of my Chia Charge bar and drank a fair bit of Tailwind to get some much needed energy into me. I’m sure it helped but I was really kicking myself for stupidly neglecting this crucial part of my race – nutrition is key!

The end was finally in sight just over the dunes and with about 1km to go I heard an American guy say to me ‘Lauren darlin’ you’re looking strong, keep at it!’. I thanked him and reciprocated before finally crossing the line in a heap on the floor. I was in a bad way and needed help.

Upon entering tent 60, I fell to my knees and sobbed into my hands. Leon, bless him, gave me a brotherly pat on the back which I found really comforting. My tears didn’t last long before realising that my problems were small fry compared to Anna’s. She had started the stage but didn’t make it through the dunes before having to DNF. She burst into tears and we comforted her as best we could but ultimately when you’ve invested 2 years of training, expense, time, energy and emotion into your dream and it ends two days in – well, there’s nothing anyone can say or do to make it better.

I went to the medic tent to have both my feet and bladder situation tended to. Next to me was a guy with his feet in a bad way. I went to sit next to him and realised it was the American guy who had spoken to me in the dunes, Michael (USA 494). We had a good chat, he was genuinely an all-around nice guy with a great outlook on life. I remember thinking how lucky his tent mates were to have him.

Heading back to my tent I went via the results board to see how I’d got on, expecting to have moved down the table. I was pleased to see that I’d once again finished 1st British lady and 11th lady overall, despite the tough last section.

At the finish line we had all been handed a road book specifically for the long stage (until then we had no idea of what distance to expect). I put it away without looking until I had debriefed the day and got myself in the right headspace. Unfortunately I was beaten to it when a guy from one of the other tents stopped by ours for a chat and blurted out ‘mate have you seen Stage 4? It’s 82.5km with climbing a djebel (desert mountain) in the night!’. I wasn’t ready to hear this, nor was my bladder.

Due to spending some time in the medical tent, I was late getting my race prep ready for the next day (the long stage) and it was starting to get dark. I ate, got cleaned up and headed to bed early, with the plan of doing my race prep in the morning. I settled into my sleeping bag and said ‘Goodnight Waltons’ as I did every night to my tent mates, all of us blissfully unaware of the night that lay ahead.

Day 6 (06/10/21) – Stage 4, 82.5km – The long day

Not only had the high drop out rate been largely down to the heat, there was also a sickness and diarrhoea bug sweeping the camp. Overnight it had come to a peak and quite literally all night, all we could hear was people, in the dozens, vomiting and voiding. Very little sleep was had. When I got up to go for a wee I had to tread very carefully as there was mess everywhere! It was awful.

Due to forgoing my race prep the night before, I was a bit flustered and slightly panicked by not having time for my morning meditation – this was an important part of my morning routine to gather my thoughts and check my ‘PROCESS’ was in place.

The atmosphere on the start line was electric and although anxious, I felt at home with this stage being an ultra marathon. I knew I could handle the distance, time on feet and even the djebel so was feeling good about the day ahead. I was also determined to hang onto my position, I felt focussed and able.

The first 12.2km to CP1 was very comfortable. I had a strict strategy in place; run 0.75km, walk 0.25km from the start, take a salt tab every 30 mins ( I had an alert on my watch for this) and eat every 5km (learning from the previous day).

In between CP1 and CP2 I could feel the burning sensation starting up again so I asked the medic for something to help, they gave me some paracetamol – not what I’d hoped for but better than nothing.

Coming out of CP2 was a bit of a blur as the paracetamol had barely touched the sides and the pain was getting worse. The terrain was a punishing mix of dunes, salt flat and a djebel. Once again it was like a furnace out there and the field of competitors was clearly affected by it. I could only walk by this point and I was starting to get low on water. I always kept a small reserve on me which I was now down to. Into CP3 I took a penalty for taking 4.5 litres rather than the 3l allowance, I didn’t care at this point.

I explained my situation to a medic who told me there was nothing they could do until I got back to the bivouac. ‘The bivouac is 45km away, I’m not going to make it, please help me!’ I was crying by now, although it fell on deaf ears.

I took some time out at CP3, maybe 25 minutes, to sit in the shade, drink at least a litre of water and figure out a plan. I chatted to Adam (GBR 685) who I’d spent a few km’s with in the previous days – he was also having a rough time for various reasons. We exchanged woes and a few words of encouragement. Daniel (IRL 100) also chatted briefly, it seemed that all of us were having our own battles out there.

I wasn’t even halfway and in a world of pain. My husband was keeping me updated with live results and somehow I was still in a strong position although the elites who had set off 90 minutes after us were still to pass us. I had also text my friend Helen and told her that I didn’t think I was going to finish the stage. Helen said exactly what I needed to hear - ‘you just have to keep going, it’s god awful now but it will end - there’s a fire inside of you that won’t let this go’. And there it was. She was right, I always knew it was going to hurt, that’s the nature of ultra running, and I wouldn’t want it to be easy. More to the point, I wasn’t going to let it go but something had to change if I was going to get it done.

I worked out that the salt tablets were helping me to retain water but I’ve had enough urine infections to know that you need to ‘flush’ it out. Therefore I made the risky decision to stop taking the tablets in the hope that things would get flowing again. The day was starting to cool off by now and I figure that if my plan didn’t work then I’d just start taking them again.

Sure enough within an hour or so, the pain had eased enough for me to run a little bit. The sun was setting and I had my music blasting all of my favourite running tunes into my ears. Furthermore Helen had been onto Twitter and asked people to message me, so low and behold my phone was flooded with dozens of messages – I couldn’t believe how many people were rooting for me! I absolutely would get this done if it took me the full 32 hour cut off!

Finally! I was feeling strong again and was really enjoying myself out there. The sunset was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen - I took several photos but none of them did it justice.

In and out of CP4 and into mixed dune and wadi terrain, much of which was runnable. It was now dark and several times I turned off my head torch and looked up at the stars, they were beyond beautiful! I had never seen the sky quite like that before but it exceeded my wildest imagination.

The course was marked out with glowsticks but occasionally I’d find myself slightly off course because I kept looking up at the stars.

As I approached CP5, I could see a trail of head torches going up the djebel EL OTFAL and they were high up! This was the big mystery surprise that Patrick had in store for us. I was excited for something different and a little more thrilling.

I sat down for a few mins at CP5 and had a brief exchange with Jelle (NED 396) who I’d ran with much earlier in the day. I knew he was a strong runner so knowing that although I had walked so much of the course and had managed to somehow maintain my position amongst the field, gave me a much needed confidence boost. This was by no means a reflection of my strength, or lack of at this point, but more representative that everyone was having a tough time out there.

This checkpoint had the lovely sweet mint tea which we only ever received at the end of each stage, it was nice little touch I thought. Just as I was gearing up to tackle the rocky ascent, two Frenchmen called after me ‘Allez Lauren – you are so strong! Allez allez allez!’ I had no idea who they were but very much appreciated the cheers. I replied that we’re all strong and a little bit crazy to be out here.

The ascent of EL OTFAL started off rocky and then turned to hard packed sand. I could feel the incline increase as my heart rate went up. A race marshall stood at the bottom of a rope and gave me a quick safety briefing before starting the climb – pretty much along the lines of ‘don’t rush and don’t let go of the rope. In my head, I added ‘don’t die’. All noted.

I was a mix of excitement and apprehension. Despite having done a handful of mountain races, including CCC, this was like nothing I’d experienced before. The incline was 25% and parts of it was in deep loose sand which was exhausting to navigate. Occasionally the rope would appear to reach the end only to be a corner of rock which revealed more climbing.

Other parts were more rocky which was much easier to negotiate with than the sand, although I was very nervous about where I was placing my hands. Back at the checkpoint I had made sure that my anti-venom pump (mandatory race kit) was within reach should I need it, obviously it wasn’t in my plan to use it.

Reaching the top was exhilarating and terrifying – heights aren’t my strong point, and although I was disappointed to not have any photos of the climb, I was also thankful to not have seen the sheer drop which I knew was to my left. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

Coming down the djebel was a technical rocky descent which I handled very gingerly. I wasn’t feeling too good again and I was also paranoid about desert creatures lurking under the rocks, so I quite literally checked every single rock for snakes before stepping on them. You might think this is over cautious, and yes at the time I was aware of how slow I was moving but I later found out that one guy came across a viper and another group had seen a full size camel spider. So there.

About halfway down I got chatting to Daniel who I’d had an earlier conversation with at CP3, he was struggling too. We talked pretty much non stop, he had me in stitches with laughter and it just felt so much easier having him there. There was still about 16km to go and the pain had kicked in again. I took my last paracetamol and we walked at a good strong pace.

There was a section of large dunes where we found a French lady who looked like she was having just as bad a time as we were. Daniel and I worked together to help her out of each dune – he would go first and reach out his pole to her while I pushed her from behind. It wasn’t ideal given that neither Daniel or I were in a good place, but we couldn’t have just left her there. Eventually a marshall in a dune buggy pulled her to one side - I did see her again the next day so presumably she pulled through the long stage.

In and out of CP6, the last check point and I can’t even remember it other than to refill bottles. 6km to the finish and quite honestly there were so many times that day when I didn’t think I’d make it.

It took some time to get to Bivouac 4, slightly hindered by us stopping for a picnic on the side of the trail to eat some pork scratchings and then paranoia that white walkers were following us (it was just people with headtorches approaching us) - Game of Thrones fans will know just how terrifying this would have been!

Having walked the previous 20km, we decided to run the last 100m to the finish which seemed pointless but gave us a much needed giggle.

17 hours and 16 minutes after starting the day before and against all odds, I had completed the long stage. I still can’t put into words just how that felt but it manifested itself in me squeezing the air out of Daniel, planting a huge kiss on his cheek and lots of tears.

My highest overall ranking of 77 amongst the men and women, 9th female and 1st British female. How? I have no idea.

Rest day couldn’t come soon enough.

Day 7 (07/10/21) – Rest Day

I managed 2 hours sleep from 3-5am but I was awakened by a dream where I thought I had fallen asleep on the long stage and still hadn’t made it to the finish - I’ve since heard that one guy did actually fall asleep for 6 hours at the check point before the djebel, what a nightmare to wake up to. Somehow I wasn’t tired though, I was buzzing with elation for having survived Stage 4. Leon and I chatted for a while but we were so happy to be interrupted by the arrival of Hazel, Kim & Ali. A couple of hours later, Matt arrived back too, we had all finished the long stage!

Mid-morning (I never had any concept of the actual time of day – not helped by the fact that MDS has it’s own time zone, different to the rest of Morocco. Yes, you read that right) my Spanish amigo Blai (the guy who I ‘saved’ (his words) after stage 1) stopped by the tent and we shared a congratulatory hug and exchanged / gestured a few words of excitement in Spanglish.

I’d also stopped by to see the Irish guys, including Daniel, to check that they’d all made it through.. I was pleased to find a full house which also included Lucas and Michael, the American guys.

Much of rest day was spent eating and resting. Competitors continued to arrive back at the bivouac throughout the day. Again, it was uncomfortably hot which made it difficult to sleep – somehow it felt easier to run in this heat than just sit around in it. How that works, I don’t know.

Ranith, another great friend who I made through the charity we both ran for, Hope for Children, was in the tent next to us and sadly he was the only one left. The others had DNF’d to a combination of heat stroke, the D&V bug and also the long stage. So I spent a fair bit of the day chilling out with him. Nothing to do with the fact that he had a huge bag of food he wanted me to share with him – I was starving and totally under packed for rest day, who was I to argue?

The postman came around as he would everyday, it was always a highlight of our day. Most days I’d get 5 or 6 pages of messages from supporters at home but on this particular day I had 25 pages!! I was overwhelmed by the support I’d had, truly touched by so many people rooting for me. We would share silly desert jokes that people would send in and read out some of the messages. It was always such a special part of the day. My favourite- Q: What does the desert and a pair of leggings have in common? A: They both have a camel toe. Lolz.

29 hours after we crossed the start line the last competitors, two French ladies, arrived at the finishing arch and to a huge applaud by all of us. It really was a momentous occasion and the MDS spirit was alive in all it’s glory.

We were rewarded with a cold can of coke (it was the best thing ever!) made better by a little drop of Bacardi - Hazel being the organised one had thought this far ahead and brought a miniature bottle with her, she’s a keeper. In addition to this, there was a beautiful performance by the Paris Opera - it really was a surreal and memorable moment. For the first time in days, the atmosphere felt calm and there was a sense of unity in the bivouac. I felt at home here with these people, I think we all did.

After the opera I joined Ranith in his tent for a three course dinner; chicken tikka for starter, Mexican for main course and fruit for dessert – all dehydrated of course.

That night I slept so well for the first time since arriving in the desert. The night was still and silent. The sky was decorated with the most extraordinary display of stars and planets.

Just the marathon stage to go, I was excited for the next day.

Day 8 (08/10/21) – Stage 5, 42.2km

A week ago today I arrived in the desert full of trepidation. In all the big events I’ve ever done, this is by far the biggest, I’ve never allowed myself to imagine the finish line feeling. Some might say this is being pessimistic, but I know myself best and this is how I manage my expectations.

Stage 5, the marathon day, whilst officially the penultimate stage, it’s the last competitive one. I had worked my backside off all week and come up against a few hurdles but I was hellbent on protecting my place as 1st British lady. Yes I’m competitive, but honestly this wasn’t about that anymore. The truth is that I was so unbelievably proud to have 1. Bust my ass to get here against all odds and 2. To be flying the flag for GB and that’s something that no one could ever take away from me.

The last 200 competitors started at 7am and then the top 150 were set off 90 minutes later. I was in the second wave along with Leon. What.

It was great to see off our tent mates and other friends we’d made. Everyone was pumped for Stage 5 and there was so much great energy on the start line – I couldn’t wait to get started myself!

Leon and I headed back to the tent to prepare for the day ahead. The Berbers were packing down around us and when they removed the canopy from over our heads, a camel spider which had been lurking in the folds of the fabric, scurried across the rug in front of us. There was much excitement (from afar) from myself (actually more terror than excitement), Leon and the Berbers – at least I could now tell my children that I’d seen a scary desert creature other than camels, a bat and a small white mouse I’d seen in the night during the long stage.

It was time to get going and with 15 minutes to go I couldn’t get my shoes on as my feet had swelled so much. Furthermore, I’d pulled my left glute that morning (doing a wee no less) so I was also limping. Two paracetamol and lots of swearing / labour breathing later, my feet were in my shoes and my glute, well, was just going to have to deal with a marathon as NOTHING was getting in between me and the finish line now.

The course was very runnable that day, possibly for the first time all week. Other than a small djebel and a few dunes it was reasonably flat. Starting behind 200 other runners also meant that the trail had been well trampled, so it was slightly less rocky.

In and out of CP1 and CP2 feeling great. For the first time all week the temperature was slightly cooler, maybe early 40’s but compared to the 50+ degrees we’d been running in, this felt somewhat more civilised!

CP2 to CP3 started to feel a little warmer but there was just 10km left to go, not just of the marathon but of the entire week! I had ran/walked/crawled 215km to this point and now, for the first time, I allowed myself to imagine what the finish line was going to feel like.

As I ran past people I would shout their name and country (we all had a bib on our back as well as front) giving them and me a big boost. We could all feel it, every single one of us could feel the finish line getting closer and closer and the excitement was building.

I passed my tent mate Matt and stopped for a quick selfie with him. We were both so excited to be within touching distance now.

Ahead on the left was a small djebel which we had to go up and over. As I reached the peak, there it was in the distance, the finish line. I stopped to take it in, and as I did so I felt all of the emotion from the week come to surface. Tears were streaming down my face, I had worked so hard for this moment, we all had – not just this last week but two years of training, three cancellations, fundraising for Hope for Children, time away from family, money spent etc.. all of it was for this very moment.

2km to the finish line, I can do that. Yes I can do that!!!

Coming down from the crest of the djebel, I spotted movement to my left and when I looked over there was a small whirlwind of sand heading directly for me. I turned my back, leant into it and closed my eyes tightly. It passed within moments but it was like the desert was reminding me not to be complacent just because the end was within sight.

Approaching the finishing arch, another wave of emotion hit me and I started to cry with elation. I heard Leon and Hazel cheering me on. I had done it! I had completed the 35e Marathon Des Sables and finished 1st British lady, 8th lady overall. I was completely overwhelmed with emotion, I barely remember Patrick Bauer giving me my medal, my head was spinning with raw elation and relief.

Kim, Ali, Hazel and Ranith had all finished and Matt came in shortly after me. I saw the Irish guys, Daniel, Richie and Justin all proudly wearing their medals. We had a massive group hug and I thanked them for looking after me.

That evening was the awards presentation and another can of coke. There was a deep sense of satisfaction and fatigue amongst the group. The top 10 men were awarded with prizes but only the top 3 women received the same plaques – it was a stark reminder of just how far women in ultra running still has to go.

We were all so tired after the awards presentation so headed straight to bed. That night I lay with my head poking out from under the tent and fell asleep looking up at the stars for the last time. My feet were blistered, my hair sandy and my skin dirty but I felt complete in the satisfaction that I had given my all to the Sahara desert.

Day 9 (09/10/21) – Stage 6, 8.5km Charity Walk

I’ll be honest, I’d always been quite dismissive of the charity stage. It’s not part of the competitive race and ‘just’ a short walk after everything else we’d been through. I regret that now, it counts for everything at MDS.

First and foremost it’s an opportunity to showcase the Solidarite charity which supports local schools and community projects. It’s also a chance to share the last few km’s in the desert with your tentmates – until now we’d all ran our own races separately.

The previous day we’d all been given yellow Solidarity tee shirts to wear for the walk – it was nice to put something clean on. We had all woken up early, I’d been awake since 4:30am just looking up at the stars and processing my time in the desert. For those still asleep, they were woken up by several Land Rovers driving a lap of the bivouac with horns sounding, lights flashing and the race marshalls all sat on top, waving and cheering. It was another nice little touch from the organisers.

Packing up for the last time was reminiscent of the very last episode of Friends when they say goodbye to the apartment and all leave their set of keys on the counter top. Except instead of keys, we left sleep mats, fuel tabs and food for the Berbers. It was still a sad occasion.

The start line was like a festival with music playing loudly, people dancing and media teams swarming - it really did feel like one huge party! Patrick made a moving speech and played ‘Highway to Hell’ one last time. I can’t lie, it was starting to get repetitive but nonetheless we all jumped up and down as Patrick played the air guitar with passion.

As we set off, we walked through the bivouac village as a symbol of solidarity. The Berbers and marshalls cheered us on as we gestured ‘thank you’ for all that they had done for us. It was tinged with sadness to leave what had been our home for the last week and where life long friendships had been made. I truly loved the simplicity of desert living (bar the toilets, they can go) and was going to miss it dearly.

8.5km later and few bags of Saharan sand to take back as gifts (I’m not cheap really) we had arrived at civilisation and it felt very odd indeed. We crossed the line holding hands and Ranith and myself waved the Hope for Children flag.

Our journey in the desert had come to an end but luckily we still had two nights to go in a luxurious hotel so I was okay with that.

The good life - a little bit about desert living

Aside from having a long overdue break from the digital world, I loved the simplicity of desert life. It was wild and beautiful. I’ve always loved being outside in the elements and so I was never worried about the ‘roughing it’ aspect of MDS.

As humans, we are very adaptable. It didn’t take long to find my routine once the technical check day was out of the way - until that point we still had food provided, plus I’d taken an inflatable mattress for the first couple of nights in the hope of getting some decent sleep before I ditched it in a bid to cut weight, and sleep the rest of the week without a mat.

Cooking

Many competitors opt out of taking a cooking system to save weight. It’s not on the mandatory kit list, you just need to have a minimum of 2000 calories per day. I like a hot meal and morning cup of coffee so I took a light weight system consisting of a stove, pot, spork, lighter and foil windshield, weighing around 300g plus fuel tabs which you collect on TC day. For a bowl I cut the bottom of a water bottle and ate my food out of that. All I had to wash up was my spork, job done. My calories were a combination of Expedition Foods dehydrated meals, Taiwlind, nuts, home made oat mix and pork scratchings.

Hygiene

There is no running water or flushing toilets in the desert so hygiene was a challenge.

Firstly lets get to the bottom (pun intended) of the toilet situation as I know this is a burning question for many of you. The ‘toilets’ were a commode (not very robust and would often break) inside a cubicle tent, the ‘door’ was a curtain which more often than not would flap around in the wind so that those queuing could get a good view of you sat on the loo. My general approach to this was ostrich-like, if I didn’t look up then no none could see me. We were given a brown bag which fitted around the commode and that’s where you did your business, tied it up and placed it in the bin outside of the cubicles. We had to provide our own toilet paper so this was also rationed - use your imagination. It was all pretty rank and the one part of desert living which I never got used to. For number 1’s, you very quickly get used to wandering out of camp and squatting for a wild wee. It took me a while to figure out that I needed to turn in a corkscrew motion whilst simultaneously dropping my pants so as to avoid putting my arse (and front parts) on show for all to see. It was a fine art.

After each stage I’d clean up (very loosely termed) using Wemmi Wipes, a small multi vitamin shaped tab which expands in water and turns into a flannel. On rest day I treated myself to a ‘shower’ which was wholly underwhelming as somehow I smelled worse afterwards. Go figure.

Washing

This was a thankless task given the amount of salt in my clothes at the end of each day, my running kit was like cardboard by the end of the second day. However, it gave me something to do so I’d fill a zip lock bag with about 750ml of water, shoved my clothes in it, which turned the water brown, and then shook it around a little, wrung out my clothes and hung them up on the tent canopy using the safety pins from my bib. My clothes would dry within 20 minutes in the heat and just became more rigid by the day. Like I said, thankless.

Passing time

Depending on the stage distance and how long it took, there was generally a fair amount of sitting around in the bivouac. Some of that time would be spent doing race admin for the next day, footcare, washing, eating etc.. We also had our daily mail drop which was by far my favourite time of the day.

Luckily we also had Kim who was the master of ‘would you rather’ which provided much laughter. ‘Would you rather fart every 30 seconds and it’s loud but not smelly or fart every 30 seconds and it’s smelly but not loud?’ Discuss.

My favourite, and one that I still ponder over even now; ‘Would you rather have nipples for eyes or boobs for ears?’

We would chat it over for a while, then go silent while we all contemplated our options and occasionally someone would ask something like ‘if I had nipples for eyes, would that mean my eyes would be covered by a bra?’ .. and such like. Serious stuff in the desert.

Sleeping

Sunset was around 6pm and seeing as there wasn’t much else to do, we would quite often be in our sleeping bags by 7ish. We were all certainly tired enough so it never took long for the bivouac to fall silent. Initially we were 8 in the tent (sadly this ended up being 6 of us) and slept in the same order, top to toe, each night; John, Leon, Anna, me, Matt, Hazel, Ali & Kim.

Night time in the desert is a sight to behold, it really is magical. I’ve never seen stars like it, you could easily see the Milky Way and the planets appeared so much closer to the Earth. In October, it’s fairly warm during the night but there was always a gentle breeze blowing. I miss it so much.

So there we have it, my journey in the Sahara Desert.

I was told by a friend and three times MDS finisher that I would leave a part of me in the desert, but I didn’t know what he meant.

The desert demands respect and is quick to remind you if you become complacent. At times it can seem hostile and relentless, however it also rewards you with it’s inexplicable beauty.

I now know what Adrian meant, I have indeed left a part of me out there but I can’t explain it to anyone, not even myself. You’ll just have to go out there and find out for yourself.

I ran the Marathon Des Sables to raise funds for Hope for Children, a charity I’m very proud to represent and am now on the Coaching team for future MDS’ers. All donations go towards helping children in developing countries to have the education, healthcare and childhood that they deserve. Donation link below;

Lauren Gregory is fundraising for Hope for Children (justgiving.com)