Day 5 (Atacama Crossing)

Day 5 11-Mar-2011
Atacama Crossing (Chile) 2011 I've finally stabilsed my emotional state to sufficiently be able to sit down, take the time to blog - hopefully without crying!

Not sure where to start really. whether to provide a 'macro' overview of the 'long day' and my emotions or a blow by blow account.

As blogged, the previous day, I was tired physically, emotionally and mentally. I'd given it my all. Day 4 was tough, really tough for me and I just had to try and hang on in there to protect my overall standing and take something into day 5 to give me a shot at a top 5 finish....if not top 3!

So, I was awake at 4 am yesterday - I just couldn't stop running the race through my mind. I was just so confused. I had arrived here in Chile to finish what was going to be an extraordinary challenge. I had feelings of expectations, based on my training, of possibly a top 25 finish. all of a sudden, I found myself high up the leaderboard and in the mix for medals. I was enjoying it but the physical and mental pressure that came with it (and because of the unexpected position that led to that) was taking it's toll. I spent the best part of 2 hours eating, drinking , taping my feet back together, taking pain killers and getting into the right mindset. I wasn't worried about the distance - what was the point? - it wasn't going to get any shorter the more I thought about it. I stood at the start line at 7.45am, kit ready, drinks ready and bouncing on the spot - trying to imtimidate the oppo!

The atmosphere was electric - a sense of excitment, nervousness, competition, human endeavour and fear.I've spent most of the week running with the top 5 boys and so we had got to know each other really well. We hugged, wished each other luck, promised to enjoy ourselves and run our 'own race'. I felt good, positive and happy to mix it up. Ok, the feet hurt but I knew everyone was carrying aches and pains and I knew/hoped the adrenalin and stress would ease the pain.

We were off. Straight onto a salt flat which was just like a frozen lake that had 2 inches of snowfall on top. My kind of salt flat -not the agonising beast of the previous day. I felt sharp. After 2km ish we then went straight into the beast. I didn't need it, I just wanted to avoid smashing my feet up so early on. I put it to the back of my mind and focussed on the pace and placing my feet as best as poss. I was 10 meters off the leader with Derren and Eric dancing across the salty crudge infront of me. After approx 1.5 hours I was very much in the game and felt good about the pace etc.

Suddenly I needed to be sick......and poo! I had to get off the main route and move some distance away - course rules. So, I was sick. Had a poo and managed to wee over myself in the process! What a laugh!

I looked up, the leaders had gone! I panicked and set off after them. I got into CP1 a little off the pace and a couple of other runners had passed me. My feet were screaming. Filled the bottles and I was out of there - I wanted to be back up front with the pace. I ran the whole next stage across predominantly sandy and undulating terrain. I felt ok and kept telling myself not to panic - a very long way to go. Into CP2 and only 5 mins back. As I set off I could see 4th/5th place up ahead a long a very dusty, sandy and long road. It urged me on - I dug in - time to up the ante.

Boom. By time I made it to CP3 I was in pain, a lot of pain. Any pressure on my right foot, other than even ish ground, was agonising. As I arrived at CP3 the doctor approached me and asked me how I was. 'you moved pretty gingerly over that last stretch - you ok?'

I had to find a way to alleviate some of the pain and pressure. I sat down for the first time in the race. Took off shoe and sock to find a little toe the size of my big toe! Don't panic I told myself. Doctor took a look, sucked though his teeth, turned his back, asked me if I needed help and wandered off. I was happy to sort it myself. Needle out and get draining. The blister was 360 degs around the toe so the loose skin left after the draining had to be taped down. My heel blister was inflamed, swollen and infected but down a notch in the pain list. Sock back on, shoe on and stand up. The jolt of pain from little toe to brain was instant it knocked me back down. What do I do, I can't stand. Ok, pain killers now. Took 2 and got out my knife to cut through the toe box of my trainer to relieve some of the pressure on my little toe. I had to get on with it. So 20 mins in CP3 watching my chasers come and go wasn't good for the minset. I set off - shuffling. 10, 15, 20 mins the pain killers kicked in and the pain eased a tad. A tad!

What's the plan Ian? Top 3 gone. Top 5 gone. Go back to the original objective. What do you want out of this race? What are your objectives now. I came to finish, poss in top 25. This morning I dreamt of top 3 and now I'm focussed on surviving - trying to. I wanted to experience pain. Go beyond my known and perceived physical and mental capabilities. Well, I'm here now. What's the response Ian, what's going to be the damn response? Get angry. Channel it positively. I was cross, my legs felt great, the mind felt strong at the start of the day but my feet were letting me down. Everything I've read about ultra endurance events state that it is the feet that will stop you from completing. Surely, this will not happen to me. Going back to stage 1, I ran with the Chilean guy (who is 2 nd overall), he told me this was his 4th Atacama Crossing. He had to pull out of 2 others because of blisters. That's now me.

The pain began to overwhelm me. It was intolerable. What's the response Ian? Come on, find something - just give myself some hope. Can I still finish top 10, can I be top Brit? I now didn't know where I was placed in the stage. Ok, strategy. 1: Enjoy it. 2: Finish as top Brit. 3: Finish THIS stage in top 10. Yep, top 10, I needed a target - something to pull me through - focus the mind on something other than feet/foot.

Into CP4, straight out - I had a job to do. The next stretch was 14km to CP5 across a wide and dry and hot and baked river valley. By myself I staggered alone. I was going, going, the mind crumbling, the emotions teetering I started to cry, stopped, started to cry. COME ON. Feel the pain, use it.I promised Sophie (wife) that I would give it my all, I would collapse over the line and look back knowing that I couldn't have given anymore. So here's my chance to push and push and push - keep tearing down the mental barriers. Into the unknown. Where I wanted to be. I shouted, staggered, cried, chanted, talked and then a Japanese runner (who incidentally is in my tent - he's been followed by a camera crew all week as he's a famous ultra runner in Japan), from nowhere came past. Ok, let's go, something to go at.

Into CP5. The Doc asked to take a look at me.'Come on Ian, sit down, I need to look at that foot'.

'It's ok' it's ok' I said. Sam (great girl - 1 of race Directors) urged me to take a seat. 'what are my options? 'what's the point? I don't want to freak out now ' I said.

'Ok,you've got 20km to the finish and the next CP is 11km away' Sam said. I took 2 more pain killers and I was gone been followed by the next 2 guys (1 Japanese and 1 Brit). This is going to be tough but game on.

Over the next 11km I held off the advancing troops but not the tears. I gained on the 2 guys infront but they were still too far away to see who they were and what condition they were in.

The next 20km took me over 3 hours (that's slow!) and are a blur of pain, emotion, heat, dust and tears. I past a couple of runners, inc the Japanese tent runner, and developed somesort of weird run come walk, come stagger, come march gait. I was chasing my shadow - it was directly infront of me and the sun was getting lower. It'll be dark in an hour.

Japanese chap and I passed another runner and with approx 3km to home he went for it - i follwed. Through narrow, sandy and dark canyons he opened up a lead. I reeled him back in. I pulled along side him. I held out my had, held his and cried. We walked in silence (my Japanese being as good as his English). We truned off the road and sensed camp around a blind corner. Will he make a break, will I?

We walked towards the finish line in utter silence being followed by a camera crew and with the welcoming camp cheering. 50 meters to go, I once agin held out my hand, held his and urged him to stagger to the line with me.

We embraced eathother as we crossed the line. Derren (who i beat day 1 and tied with day 2 and 3) had won the stage. He is a great guy and totally deserved a stage win - he was strong all week. He hugged me. I sat down, head in hands and choking. 'the pain, the pain, I can't bear the f * % k ing pain' Derren laughed through his own tears.

I was spent - given it my all.

Not sure what my position was - joint 6th or 7th but way off the lead pace.

Into the medical tent, almost fainted, had my toe nails drilled and given pain killers and antibiotics.

Not really sure what happened after that. Thoughts turned to Tom, Chris and the rest of the field. Tom was yet again heroic and placed well in a great time. Chris pulled out all the stops and overcame his own blister/foot pain to also do a great job.

I woke up crying - yet again the pain. Relief and pride may also have contributed to my fragile state.
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At 11am (26 hours after the start) this morning the last hero crossed the line into what looked like a field hosptial in a war zone. More tears and cheers from the camp welcomed her back in. Emotional!

I'm very slowly pulling myself together and starting to process the last few days. It's been (hasn't finished!) a phenomenal experience. Now is not the time to write about it but I will once back in the UK and had time and space to reflect.

I've met some wonderful people from 40 differnt nations and have memories which I will take through the rest of my life with me.

I'll hold back on any conclusions until the race has been run and completed.

Many many thsanks for all your great messages of support - they've been awesome to read and I will thank you all individually when back in Blighty.