Day four, about 9pm, somewhere in the Sahara desert. The heat of the day has long gone, I have been feeling nauseous for a while and stopped eating and drinking. My energy is low and I am wobbling a bit on my feet. I drink some water, get my poles out and keep walking. My world has shrunk to a little patch of sand lit up by my head torch. It is only 12km to the finish of the 100km Long Day, but I am utterly spent and will have to force some fuel down to get me there.
I remember seeing the Marathon des Sables on TV when I was a teenager. Trans World Sport, Channel 4, early on a Saturday morning. The very idea of it seemed superhuman, not something I could ever do. Yet many years later, here I am. Having a challenge motivates me to train, and I like to build my resilience and push myself. I could just have done the South Downs Way 100 again, but MDS entries were open and it felt like time to take on what would be my toughest challenge yet. I have always enjoyed an adventure, from climbing in Ireland and Scotland, an expedition to the Arctic when I was a student, to aid work in Afghanistan and Africa in my twenties and more recently the Arc of Attrition. I felt ready for another one, but I also knew I would have to train hard, do a lot of research and nail down the best kit, nutrition and hydration strategy.
2026 was the 40th edition of what is now known as MDS Legendary, often described as the toughest foot race on earth. It is 250km over six stages and seven days. Stage four, the Long Day, is followed by a rest day if you complete it within one day, or you have up to 40 hours to complete it over two. The longest stage is typically 85km, but as a special treat for the 40th edition the organisers increased it to 100km. So this year we would be covering 270km. Stage 1 was 35km, Stage 2 40km, Stage 3 30km, Stage 4 100km, Stage 5 42km and Stage 6 23km.
Participants are self-sufficient: you carry everything you need apart from water and a tent. Open-sided Berber tents are pitched each night and you share with the same seven other participants. Temperatures can climb over 40C, yet it can get cold at night. Sandstorms add to the harsh conditions.
People think the route is all sand, but the terrain is mixed. The most runnable sections look like the surface of Mars: hard-packed sand and lots of small rocks. It is more difficult to get traction on the soft sand and dunes, but you get into a rhythm and learn how to run in it. Dried-up river beds, the wadis, are like highways, as are the salt flats. Jebels are rocky mountains to be climbed and scrambled up.
MDS is not just a race, it feels like an expedition as you move through and sleep in the beautiful but harsh desert environment. Literally and metaphorically, it is a journey. You learn a lot about what both your body and your mind can cope with.
For me the actual running was fine. I was well trained and strong. It was the combination of the physical effort with the hot conditions and poor recovery after an uncomfortable night in the bivouac that made it tough.
Every day started in the dark with the red glow of head torches. We were woken by a loud "GOOOD MORNING BIIVVOOOAUCC" from the start line PA, in the style of Robin Williams in Good Morning Vietnam. Wolf down some freeze-dried porridge left to rehydrate overnight, eaten straight from the plastic bag. Not much pleasure in it, just fuel, and no coffee. Get all the kit packed and take a slow, painful walk to the start line via the toilet block. Every morning my legs were stiff and sore until I got moving, and then they were fine. A short motivational speech in French and English, and we were off to the tune of AC/DC's Highway to Hell.
Checkpoints were frequent, usually 6 to 8km apart. Refill water bottles, get some iced water poured down your neck, wet your hat and buff. Not sure it had much impact on my core temperature, but it felt good for five minutes. The best thing about the checkpoints was the support from the blue jacket volunteers and the orange jacket medics. On the Long Day a few had treats: lemons, dates, soup, a deck chair, some Moroccan tea, a biscuit. For those coming in at night there was a camp fire and tents you could sleep in.
Keeping properly hydrated was key, plenty of water with sodium. As a very salty sweater I used Precision Fuel & Hydration PH 1500 sachets, which served me well. The organisers made you carry two stock cubes per day as mandatory kit. We quickly discovered they made a great cold drink, or we just ate them as what we dubbed "oxo biscuits". I tried to consume 60g of carbs per hour when running, and along with the PH 1500 sachets I rotated Veloforte, Voom and Phoenix bars and a lot of PF&H chews.
Almost everyone, including me, got multiple blisters. Mine gave me no trouble; I usually did not even realise I had them until the end of the stage. Then off to the medical tent where, after washing your feet, which was one of the best things every day, you would pop your blisters with a syringe and inject a red antiseptic which got everywhere. We all had red hands and feet.
Mindset was key. No matter the distance, I raced checkpoint to checkpoint. I tried to keep my heart rate low. At times, with the heat and the terrain, that meant moving at a slow pace, but at others I was able to get going at a good steady one. Every runner had their name, number and country flag on the back of their pack. As I passed people I would try to work out where they were from. Most were British, French, Belgian or Dutch, but there are still some flags I need to look up.
Crossing the line each day you had some Moroccan tea, refilled your water bottles, got iced water poured on your head and neck, then collected your 5L water ration so you had 6.5L to last until the first checkpoint the following day. It was enough, although to be honest I did not wash much. I dread to think what we all smelt like.
The weight of your pack makes a big difference. Mine was 8.6kg at check-in, over half of which was food. As each day passed it got lighter, and by Stage 5, the Marathon Day, I barely realised I was wearing it. We climbed a few really high and steep dunes, hard work going up, often on hands and knees on the steepest sections, but fantastic fun running down.
I managed to complete the last 12km of the Long Day having forced down a lime chew, reaching the finish line at 11.15pm. Plenty of time for a poor, uncomfortable night's sleep and a full rest day.
A real high point came on the evening of day five, when the last two runners finished the Long Day. Fanny and Marc walked in together having been going for just under 39 hours. In what is an MDS tradition, all the runners and volunteers went to the finish line to cheer them in. It was very moving, and most people including me got a bit teary as they crossed. I felt humbled by their determination and endurance. I am pleased to say both completed the race.
Did I come out of the desert a different person than I went in? No, nothing that clichéd. But I am astounded by what we can achieve with planning, preparation, execution, determination and support.
I was a well-prepared, experienced ultra runner, but many competitors were not, and they pushed through anyway, sometimes in terrible pain with horrendous blisters and injuries. One man completed the entire race in a navy suit, white shirt and tie.
Is it the toughest foot race on earth? Maybe, but it is about so much more than the running. It is the lack of food, the restricted water, the heat, the cold, the wind, the sand everywhere and in everything, poor sleep, discomfort, exhaustion and pain. It is also about the beauty of the desert, the camaraderie, the new friendships, the mix of nationalities, and the support all the runners and volunteers give each other. Above all else, it is the resilience to get up every morning, get yourself to that start line, and keep moving forward no matter what the Sahara throws at you. The DNF rate is only about 5%; the organisers do everything they can to get you to finish.
On the last day I got hit by a sandstorm for the final few kilometres. I just had to put my head down and battle through it. A few seconds after crossing the finish line the enormity of what I had done hit me and I shed a few tears. It had been an emotional journey.
In the end I finished 368th overall out of 1,435 starters, and 34th in my age category, a result I am really proud of. I did not do it alone. I am full of gratitude to everyone who helped me prepare, and to all the other runners who shared their experience and their tips.
My tent mates were a major part of the experience, and together we all got through it. In order of our sleeping positions in the tent, thanks and congratulations to Fred, Ben, James, Adam, Ben, Philip and Martin. A better bunch of tent mates you just could not have.
The race is over, but the experience will stay with me for ever. Will I go back? I have no plans to, but never say never.
If you would like to learn more about the Marathon Des Sables please get in touch.