1,001 Kilometers:April 2011

AfricaAfrica

In this Issue:•A look back at the Kilimanjaro

Marathon and Climb•Getting to the MDS: Touring

Central Morocco•The 26 th Marathon Des Sables

About 1,001 Kilometers:

Meet the Runner:

Hi, I’m Katie Plichta. I put together this compilation of my blog posts and photos* to share my adventures in running and traveling the world with you. I am a 24-year-old, JD/MBA candidate at Stanford University. My passions include running, of course, learning about the world, getting behind good causes, and exploring new forms of expression. I hope you enjoy the first issue of 1,001 Kilometers. With any luck, there will be seven more to come!

Sincerely,Katie Plichta

*Please note, in this issue, not all photos are my own.

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” – Lao-Tzu

1,001 Kilometers is a personal journey that I have undertaken which is aimed at running an ultramarathon on every continent and one at the North Pole. The reason for the name is that I absolutely love the book The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, and ever since I learned that Coelho and another favorite author of mine, Jorge Louis Borges, were both influenced by 1,001 Nights, I have felt a certain connection to the tales. Upon adding up the kilometers I would have to run to complete eight ultramarathons, I judged that it was close enough to 1,001 to warrant the name. The Marathon Des Sables in Africa represents my first step towards completing my 1,001 Km Challenge. Wish me luck for the rest!

A Look Back:The Kilimanjaro Marathon and ClimbBefore I had even contemplated ultrarunning, I dreamt of running a marathon on every continent and the North Pole. My first step towards achieving this goal was a marathon in Tanzania, at the foot of Mt. Kilimanjaro, after which, I summited the mountain with others who had completed the race. Here are a few stories from my journey:

The Marathon: March 1, 2009

When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t believe I was actually in Moshi, about to run the Kilimanjaro Marathon. “It’s Kili time! Make the most of it,” read a sign above our heads at the start line, and that’s exactly what I intended to do. The gun went off just as the sun was rising, but it didn’t take long for things to warm up. I tried my best to take it easy, since I was starting the mountain climb the next day, but my adrenaline got the best of me.

I ran hard for two and a half hours, passing through the town of Moshi and being cheered by hundreds of onlookers. Most of the runners were African and male, so I was a bit of a novelty. At mile 16 though, the course veered towards Kili’s peak, which meant that we were running uphill. This would continue for the next five miles, in 80-degree heat. After two miles of grueling running, I was miserable and trying my best to keep slowly chugging along. Right at that moment, an energetic young Tanzanian girl started bounding uphill beside me, encouraging me to run and pulling me forward by the hand. I was so tired that I didn’t really respond at first. But as we neared the turnaround, I asked the girl her name and we started to chat. Her name was Vanessa, and she was twelve years old.

I expected to say goodbye to Vanessa at the turnaround, but she kept running with me. We had five miles left, all downhill. I was running fast and I wondered how long she would keep up. After three miles, I happened to glance down and saw that Vanessa was wearing sandals! A broad strip of plastic was all that held a flimsy pad to her foot and yet she was running an 8 mile/min pace. She finished the race with me and I bought her a big ice cream cone for the effort. What an inspiring and humbling experience!

The First Day of Climbing: March 2, 2009I’m sitting in my tent at the first camp along Kilimanjaro’s Machame route. My group and I climbed for six hours today through the African jungle, to a height of 10,000 ft. It was a beautiful climb, or steep hike if you want to be technical, and most of us had no trouble with it. This would not be surprising, as day one is known to be rather easy, except that most of us ran a marathon yesterday.

The way up was draped in tropical greens, glistening from the rain, as well as abstract compositions of moss covered twigs, ferns, and oxymoronic logs, which were vivaciously lifeless. The trail was a mix of gravel, rock mounds, dirt, and mud, with leopard-spotted branches as retainer flanks and periodic ditches to divert threatening water.

A Look Back:

The incline varied from momentarily flat to relentlessly uphill. “Pole, pole,” or “slowly, slowly,” was the anthem of our march. We took frequent breaks, during which I enjoyed soggy bread, stale crackers, and black currant juice, in addition to an obscene amount of water due to the Diamox I was taking to prevent altitude sickness. It rained for a good part of our trek, which made it difficult to see uphill, due to the rain-hood. However, I made an effort to glance up periodically, which rewarded me with some amazing views.

When we reached the campsite, we signed in (for accounting of climbers) and settled the tent selection. Then we congregated in the kitchen tent for coffee and tea, popcorn, and biscuits. I chatted with the group for a bit , but I feel a bit odd in that most of the group has been anticipating this trip for a year. I, on the other hand, made a snap decision less than two weeks ago to make my life happen, entered the race, bought the tickets and gear, got the shots, and went. Even though it is just the first day, I already know that it was the right decision.

Day 2: March 3We have reached an altitude of about 12,000 ft. During the climb today, we transitioned from the jungle to the heather zone. Wide sprays of spiky, knee-high plants greeted us as we rose above the tree line and said goodbye to shade. We continued through dry and muted, yet surprisingly captivating scenery for some time before reaching a stretch of fully hydrated earth where we encountered our first waterfall. While in actuality it was only a trickle of water, its juxtaposition to an enchanting cave made it as photo-worthy as any. A highlight of today was learning that “hakuna matata” is actually widely used among Tanzanians.

A Look Back:Day 3: March 4I will not write much because my head hurts a bit from the altitude and today’s eight-hour hike. Also, I want to rest for the summit climb, which begins tomorrow at midnight. We climbed to 15,100 ft. today, but now we are camping back down at 12,800 ft. The Swedish couple is quite ill and most of us at least have a headache.

Day 4: March 5It really dawned on me today that I am fulfilling a lifelong dream, climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. I looked around in awe. Before me ran a train of porters up a steep, near vertical, snaking trail called Barranco Wall. Behind me ran three cascading waterfalls, and in the distance, I could just make out the campground we left behind this morning. The wall was a blast to climb, as it was filled with near-bouldering maneuvers. Along the walk, we enjoyed glimpses of Uhuru Peak, but they were fleeting, as the mountain is shy.

Day 5, The Summit Day: March 6, 2009Around 7:10 a.m. this morning, I stood at the rooftop of Africa – the peak of the highest freestanding mountain in the world. The trail up, however, was not as glorious as the views from the summit. Some parts were downright miserable.

A gentle rustle of my tent woke me up last night at 11:30 p.m., and when I unzipped the tent, I was greeted by biscuits and Milo, in addition to a stunning night sky. I watched fixated as lightning flashed miles behind the scattered lights of Moshi, while the Milky Way twinkled overhead. Once we had all gathered, we began the ascent, all chilled by the midnight frost. As we headed upward, I just followed the feet of the climber in front of me, double-checking for threatening rocks, and stealing glances of the then 1 o’clock moon every chance I got. By the light of headlamps, we pushed forward slowly up the steep path. “Pole, pole” became our anthem.

We had 4,600 ft. to climb, so we just weaved back and forth over tight, gravel switchbacks, with no expectation of stopping anytime soon. I was in bliss as we moved closer and closer to the summit, but I had started to get a bit hungry. The hunger grew worse and worse as we couldn’t stop for long enough for me to eat something substantial. I just kept telling myself that I wasn’t hungry, and that the brutally monotonous climb would have to end at some point. As I was near desperation, day broke, and I was able to gaze in wonder at a glorious Tanzanian sunrise.

We were supposed to see sunrise from the summit, and despite not being there, I knew then that were were close. The painfully dull ascent quickly became a display of nature’s variety and beauty. I saw climbers disappearing over a ridge and realized that we had made it. Only half an hour more and I too would disappear to the aspiring climbers below.

I pushed through a bit of returning boredom and fatigue and made it to the ridge in good shape. Others were not so fortunate and ended their Kili dreams there. I kept going. As I rose over the ridge, I could see Uhuru Peak. I still had a hike to go, but the sight of my destination gave me my second wind full force. I forgot about my hunger and set off for the summit. Along the way, glaciers and snow-capped rocks flanked my views. I had not expected the summit to be so spectacularly beautiful. And what I really hadn’t expected was the surge of emotions that ran through my veins upon seeing that wooden Uhuru sign up close.

As I began the descent, I was sure that my mom would be proud.

Touring Central MoroccoI had a few free weeks before the start of the MDS, so I used the time to visit a few highlights of Central Morocco. My first stop was Marrakech, then the Atlas Mountains, and finally Essaouria. With sun, snow, and surf covered, I was ready for the sand . . .

Arriving in Marrakech: March 27What an absolutely amazing day! Although it started at 4:30 a.m., with an hour-long shuttle ride followed by two bothersome plane rides, my first day in Marrakech has far exceeded my expectations. After settling into my amazing hotel room, I wanted to get out and explore a bit. I followed a few easy direction through some alleyways and found myself right in the heart of Marrakech, Djemaa el Fna Square. When I emerged from the side streets, I felt as if I were back in Rajasthan, strolling through the markets in Jodhpur. But while the endless array of overflowing shops was indistinguishable, the atmosphere in Marrakech was noticeably more enchanting.

Getting to the MDS:

Exploring Marrakech: March 27Speaking of enchantment, I tricked twice today into handing over 50 dirham, ~$6. First, a woman grabbed my hand in the Medina and when I tried pulling away, I noticed that she had already started putting henna on me. She worked so quickly that when I paused to consider whether I wanted the henna or not, it was too late. She demanded payment, so I handed her the smallest bill I had and took off before she could protest about the amount. The second time I was duped, I knew what I was getting into, but I figured that it would be worth it. I was taking pictures of snake charmers when one of the charmers brought a snake up to me and put it around my neck! With my acquiescence of course. The charmers then took pictures of me with the other snakes before urging me to give them “paper money” for good luck.

After trolling around Djemaa el Fna for a few hours, I stopped by Patisserie de Princes, which was noted in Lonely Planet as one of the best patisseries in Marrakech. For about 2 euros, I enjoyed my first pot of Moroccan mint tea and a flaky caramel napoleon, before heading back into the crowds. I explored until dusk and then I headed back to my hotel, straight up to the rooftop to enjoy the sunset.

A few other highlights from my time in Marrakech included a fantastic 6-mile run in Marrakech’s Cyber Park, a park with computer stations sprinkled throughout to provide free Internet access, and trying out a vegetarian café near Djemaa el Fna, only a short walk from my hotel. Looking back, Marrakech was fascinating for all its chaos and vibrant colors, but two days was enough to experience it before moving on.

Getting to the MDS:The Atlas Mountains: March 28I I am finally up in the Atlas Mountains! And they are as stunning as I had hoped they would be. My hotel overlooks beautiful Imlil Valley, the starting place for treks up Toubkal, and it is probably the best place I have stayed yet, which is saying a lot.Today I trekked to the summit of Jebel Taoudja, which is not a mountain of any significance, but it was a blast nonetheless. The original plan was to loop around the mountain, passing through all of the little villages at the base of the mountain along the way. But then my guide gave me the option of just going up the mountain instead, which I of course took, especially after he said that it was more scenic anyways.

The way up the mountain started with an hour-long walk up reddish clay paths sprinkled heavily with gravel. It was a bit difficult, given that the gravel made foot placement important, but it wasn’t overly strenuous by any means. Our first stop was at a little shed sitting atop a mountain ridge, and its views were spectacular. Since we had just reached the ridge, it was my first look at the valley on the other side of the mountain, and it just about took my breath away.After the break, we headed onward and upward. The gravel only got worse though, so I eventually asked our guide if we could take a route through the rocks that he was trying to lead us around. He agreed, and we proceeded to practically boulder up toward the summit, for forty-five minutes or so. Along the way, I picked up turquoise and burnt orange stones for souvenirs. We eventually reached the highest ridge on the mountain, but we still had a climb before we reached the summit.

The Atlas Mountains: March 28The clouds were rolling in at this point, quickly and en masse. To one side of me were crystal clear views of the snowcapped High Atlas, and to the other side was nothing but white fog, threatening to envelop the whole mountain. We pushed onward though, and I just prayed that the clouds would hold off long enough for me to see the view from the top. We climbed a bit longer, shimmied up a few more crack in the rock, and we were there, at a big pile of stones that marked the summit of Jebel Taoudja.

Since the cloud situation had not really changed, I had gorgeous views of half the panorama. While we waited to see if the fog would roll away, we saw the seven folkloric villages below be covered and uncovered by the heavens as cold winds from higher peaks whipped and twirled through Imlil Valley. Eventually though, we abandoned our attempt to wait out the weather and headed down.

I had been dreading the descent the whole way up. It was difficult to climb up through the slippery gravel, so I imagined it would be near impossible stay upright going the other way. While we started the descent by stepping down boulder after boulder for thirty minutes, my worst fears were soon realized when I found myself staring down a terribly steep, seemingly endless mountainside coated in gravel of all shapes and sizes. Rocks the size of soccer balls would appear to be sturdy, but would tumble down the hill as soon as I tried to put any weight on them. I could hardly take a single step without the stones beneath my feet slipping downhill. Never knowing whether the stones would slide a few inches or much more, each step brought fear of losing my footing all together. The worst part was, there was no relief in sight even after we had been at it for thirty minutes or more. At this point, I was just trying to endure, relying on my knowledge that it would have to end at some point to get me through. Thirty more minutes and relief was granted, in the form of a stunning red and white striped moonscape with perfectly grippy footing.

Only a few more days until I head to Ouarzazate! I cannot begin to explain how excited I am to start this race. Six days of self-sustained running through 156 miles of Saharan desert . . . the adventure of a lifetime.

One of the best parts about the Atlas Mountains was seeing how close-knit Berber families are there. When my guide Hamid and I were climbing, for instance, we passed Hamid’s brother and his flock of grazing sheep high on the mountain and stopped to chat. Put that in contrast with my family . . . I have to travel hundred of miles to see my sister, and I have to fly for seven hours to see my dad!

Getting to the MDS:Essaouria: March 29This morning I arrived in Essouaria, a whimsical, windy beach town on Morocco’s Atlantic coast. Like a sun-bleached version of Mykonos, it is filled with white-washed buildings and cobalt accents. Its atmosphere is more like San Francisco though, with its pastel glow and impressively eclectic culture.

While I yearned to simply wander and explore Essouaria, last night I developed a list of needed items for the Marathon des Sables that demanded urgent attention. I spent half the day hunting down safety pins, Velcro, a cooking pot, and a device for uploading my pictures, before I finally got to relax and soak it all in.

Not long after I finished shopping, I had an appointment to visit a hammam. For an hour and a half, I laid on the floor of a giant, underground sauna while whatever was left of my stress was exfoliated and massaged away. It was a truly unique spa experience that I highly recommend to anyone who visits Morocco.

Packing for the MDS:

Last Minute Rush: April 1Well as it goes in my life sometimes, I didn't sleep, but I did just finished packing my backpack. Did I mention that I have to carry ALL of my food, supplies, clothing, bedding  and essentials with me during the race . . . for the entire week! You wouldn't believe the things I cut off from my gear last night to save weight; e.g the excess wrapper around the edge of a running gel, parts of straps off my bag, the toggles off of my sleeping bag, etc. Then, I had to take the cardboard out of my toliet paper rolls, my freeze dried dinners out the bags to put them in Ziploc bags, and so on. Everyone is doing the same thing though, and I am actually probably the only one who has only packed twice. Everyone else has packed six or seven times and is still rethinking things.

Before I packed for the MDS, I had to locate some “necessary” supplies in Essaouria. The most important item to find was Velcro, but I also needed 10 safety pins, a cooking pot (which I ultimately did not bring along), and a whistle. It was a mess trying to find it all!

This is how you are supposed to pack for the MDS (this is NOT my gear).

This is where I found my gear . . . The safety pins from a street vendor, the pots from a corner store, and the whistle from a sports store that had everything from boxing gloves to cheerleading megaphones.

The Marathon Des Sables

The 1st Stage, 20.5 Miles: April 4What an amazing first day of the race! I was kicked out of the tent at 6:30 a.m. by Berbers who adopted a "dismantle first, ask questions later" approach to their job of moving the bivouac to the next location. The race didn't start until 9:00 a.m., so I spent a few hours putting the final touches on my pack (i.e., I threw out everything I possibly could, which included a few squeezes of sunscreen and some M&Ms from my trail mix). When I finally walked over to the start line, helicopters were hovering overhead to capture the event on tape. AC/DC's Highway to Hell was blasting over the speakers and the racers were about to jump out of their skin in excitement. Since it was the first day, I had all my food for the week with me and my pack weighed about 20 lbs without water. With water, it was either 23.3 or 26.6 lbs, depending on whether we got 1.5 or 3 liters of water at the checkpoints.

Despite the extra weight, I was energized by the helicopters and music and I bolted off the start line when the time came. I ran the first 13 km towards Erg Chebbi, the highest dunes in Morocco. Fortunately, the first segment was mostly packed gravel, so it was good running terrain. Upon approaching the dunes, I reached checkpoint 1 where I was loaded down with 3 liters of water and sent off to tackle a 13 km crossing of Erg Chebbi.I had planned to run the downhills of the dunes, but once in Erg Chebbi, it seemed to be all uphill! I ended up walking practically the whole 13 km, but at least I was in good company, as probably 95% of all of the racers did the same.

The dunes were absolutely beautiful, and they were exactly as I imagined when I first dreamed of running in the Sahara. At one point, near the end of Erg Chebbi, I was so overtaken by the freedom of being immersed in a giant sandbox that I veered from the train of racers and headed straight for an untouched dune just for fun. As I started climbing the dune, a mini-avalanche started and I had to fight like I was climbing up a down escalator to get up it. I loped down the other side and rejoined the pack. If only I had a day to myself in those dunes . . . 

20.5 miles down . . . 130.5 miles to go!

The Marathon Des SablesThe 2nd Stage, 23.6 Miles: April 5Wow! I had another great day today.  We endured a sandstorm in the morning that was vicious as you can imagine, and while it subsided during the race, the sand was whipping over the ground the whole day and made the race just that much more challenging. The course was a mix of rocks packed into hard dirt, loose gravel, cracked mud, and the infamous sand dunes. The biggest swath of dunes was midway through the second of the four segments of today's stage. I was lucky to have an opportunity to run with my team manager and he showed me how to navigate the dunes and choose lines efficiently. It was a blessing-I feel as though I have learned a new life skill. I learned that light colored sand is firmer and easier to run in than dark colored sand. I also learned that steering clear of well-trodden paths nets you more solid terrain that is actually runnable. It was amazing to see Jay blaze a trail through the dunes and surpass dozens of other runners with no extra effort. Although I guess the seven MDSs Jay has run in the past could count for extra effort!

After cruising through the first two segments, I walked the third segment of the day (9km) because my knees started to hurt from the stress of the dunes and I didn't want to jeopardize the rest of my race. As you would expect, I had a few mental trials today, but I managed to get through them using a variety of mental tricks. For instance, I would tell myself, the end is over that dune. When I would reach the dune and find out that the end wasn't there, I would just say the same thing again. This tactic worked even when I new that I was lying to myself because my mind was too occupied with running to hone in on the lie. My mind would accept the statement just enough to fuel me to the top of the next dune, which is all I needed. Sometimes you seek you own oasis however you can.

I finished today's 38 km still in good health and still ecstatic to be running an ultramarathon in the Sahara. While some of my tent mates are struggling, others are knocking the ball out of the park in terms of speed. Two finished in the top 100, of ~850, and one of those is in the top 25!

The 3rd Stage, 23.6 Miles: April 6To give you an update on my progress and current ranking, after the 3rd stage, I am 400th out of 859 runners. Thus far, I have run for a combined total of 19 hrs and 33 mins, and I’ve covered 67.7 miles. In the women's rankings, I am 32nd of 128.

Like yesterday, today's run was 38 km across varied terrain. The big challenge of the first 12 km was a giant, rocky hill. It was a tough climb, but we were rewarded with great views from the top, and also by a huge dune to run down. The second segment, from 12 km to 24.5 km, contained some sandy oueds (pronounced wads) and small dunes. Then the third segment, from 24.5 km to 31 km, was mostly rocky terrain, which I walked to preserve my legs for tomorrow's 50-miler.The fourth and final segment of the day started with an ascent so steep that I heard some runner complaining that they weren't rock climbers. I had a blast though, as hills have always been one of my strong suits, and my experience rock climbing and mountain climbing helped me to navigate the rocks. After descending, we had 4 km of huge dunes to tackle. They were tough, but I enjoyed the challenge.

When I crossed the finish line, I was excited to have finished, but I also realized that the hardest part of the race was still ahead. I walked back to my tent to find many of my tent mates in bad shape. Some had blisters already, and others had just been exhausted by having to tote their heavy packs through the dunes at the end. I count myself lucky that my feet are still holding up well and that I am still in good spirits; many racers are wondering how they will ever get through tomorrow.

After "enjoying" a recovery drink, I walked away from the bivouac a bit and spent some time stretching and clearing my head while I lied on a dried mud bed that seemed to stretch for miles into the distance. As I was doing this, a helicopter came out of no where and landed right in front of me. It then took off again in the evening light, which was a spectacular sight!

The Marathon Des SablesThe 4th Stage, 50.9 Miles: April 7Wow, what can I say. I am resting after completing the 50.9 mile stage, my second 50-miler ever. What an intense experience! I took me 15 hours 8 minutes to complete and I finished 260th of 849 runners for this individual stage. The course was so difficult that many of the participants took 28, 29, and even 30 hours to complete it. I applaud them all, as walking is way tougher than running under these conditions. When you’re walking, the distance seems infinitely longer, and there’s less time to recover before the next day.

I was happy, and surprised, that I was able to run aggressively for most of the race. I had expected to run only 4 of the 7 segments, but I ended up running 5. I started the day running probably faster than I should have, caught up, as usual, in the thrill of being lined up at the start line while helicopter flew overhead and rock music filled the air. I felt good at 12 km going into the second segment, so I kept running, telling myself to run while the terrain permitted it. There were a few sandy areas and a lot of loose rocks, but those didn't slow me down too much. I kept thinking that I would just needed to reach checkpoint 2 at 25 km and then I could walk, but when I reached CP2, I still felt like running.

At that point, my mindset switched and I realized that I could get a leg up on the day by knocking out three running segments up front. Then I would only have to run one of the next four segments to meet my goal for the 50-miler.

When I reached CP3 at 38 km, I decided to walk. I needed to pace myself, as I was less than halfway done at that point.

I was lucky in choosing the stretch between CP3 and CP4 to walk. The mid-afternoon sun was blaring to the tune of 129 degrees, and there was more loose sand in this stretch than in almost any other part of the race. Additionally, the segment was almost entirely uphill, so almost everyone walked a good deal of it, whether they planned to or not. While I had planned to walk all the way to CP4 at 49 km, the last kilometer before the checkpoint was prime running terrain. It was a beautifully flat stretch of dried mud that seemed to cushion every step; so I gave into my desires and practically sprinted it home.

Just about sunset, I came upon a dried mud flat that was six kilometers across. It seemed as just about everyone had hit the wall at that point and were walking, with more perfect footing and being rested from the walking stage, I was just turning it on. As I ran, I was overtaken by last year's female winner (she started 3 hrs later than everyone else, with the elite runner), and it was such an amazing moment, probably my favorite of the whole race, to see such an amazing athlete glide right by me as the sun sunk beneath the mountains in the far distance. After the dried mud flat, and also after the sun had finished setting, I entered a 4km stretch of dunes which I had to navigate by following a trail of glowsticks, which had been placed strategically atop tall dunes to guide runners along.

The Marathon Des Sables

The 4th Stage, 50.9 Miles: April 7

The glowsticks were fairly stretched out though, so I tried following nearby runners instead. However, there were only a few other runners around, and they were faster than me, so I eventually lost sight of them. Using a headlamp to light my way, I climbed up and over dune after dune. There were frequent patches of runnable terrain in this patch of dunes, so I was able to keep up the pace despite having to walk the uphills. About 2 km into the dunes, I just looked at the stars and reflected on how fortunate I was to be playing in sand beneath the night sky in the Sahara desert, competing in such an incredible event. From that point onward, I had an blast in the dunes, especially on the downhills when my feet would sink deep into the sand with every step.

Checkpoint 5 came at 61 km and from CP5 to CP6 at 72 km was the worst segment of the whole race. I made this my second and last walking stage, but with the weight of my pack, a long patch of loose sand, and weak legs from all the running, it didn't feel like much of a break at all. Rather, I found myself struggling to put one foot in front of the other. I was literally stumbling around and another runner had to tell me: "Baby steps; just keep going and take baby steps." As I said before, walking is way harder than running under these conditions. About a kilometer from CP6, I encountered an Australian friend, Brett, and we started walking together. I typically don't talk when I race, but it was really nice to chat and take my mind off things for a while. Brett really got me through to CP6, where I revived with a bit of food and was reenergized by the sight of the laser that would lead me to the finish.

We had 10 km to go and when I started to run, I discovered that I had more in reserve than I had thought. I kept picking up more and more speed, and then, as the last two kilometers of the race approached just after midnight, I found myself sprinting across rocky terrain toward the finish in total darkness with only a gleem of light from my dying headlamp to light my way over stony terrain. With a kilometer left, a guy from the UK decided to race me, so I kicked it up even more and just prayed for no unfortunate missteps to occur. For some reason, I started telling myself: "Just finish and you'll get ice cream." It didn't matter that it was untrue, my brain was numb to reality; it just needed motivation. The harder we ran, the further away the finish line seemed to get. Eventually, however, we got there and received our fabulous dixie cup of sweet mint tea (not as good as ice cream, but it did the trick).As I climbed into my sleeping bag, after hobbling to my tent and after choking down a recovery drink, I was elated to have just completed my second 50-miler, and also to not have to get up at 6:30 a.m. the next day! My legs were in agony though. I couldn't find any position that would even ease the pain, so I just kept rolling around and moaning. I resorted to eating granola to take my mind off of the burning, which helped; but I ate through my breakfast rations for the next three days.

The Marathon Des SablesThe 5th Stage, 26.2 Miles: April 9Today I cried . . . first of grief, but then of joy. This morning, I was awoken as usual by the berbers unsympathetically ripping down our tent. I went about my usual morning routine, ate some muesli, chugged as much water as I could stomach, and cleaned out my shoes. I felt a bit nervous, not because I doubted my ability to complete the marathon, but because I have unwittingly become a bit competitive and I feared that I wouldn't be able to put forth my best. I guess the nerves masked the symptoms of the oncoming wave of grief, because at about 7:30 a.m., I suddenly had to drop everything and walk away from the bivouac, far enough that the other runners wouldn't hear me sobbing. Through this whole race, I have been excited to face each new challenge, but it struck me this morning that I really wanted my mother there, cheering me as she always did, and that this just wasn't possible. There was nothing I could do but harness my negative emotions into energy for the race, grab my pack, and head to the start line. So that is exactly what I did. After AC/DC sent us off into the desert once more, I thanked my mother for the effect that she has had on me, for allowing me to accept life as it comes.

While it was over 125 degrees throughout most of today's race, the real challenge of the marathon day came in the third of four segments. I typically walk the third segment of the twenty-some mile days, but this time it was different in that I really had to walk. My thigh muscle felt as if it were threatening to rip at any moment. I knew that I only had about 23 miles of the entire race to go (13 today and 10 tomorrow), but I desperately wanted to run most of those 23 miles, and I felt as though I would be reduced to a walk indefinitely. I started praying for God to give me strength and to heal me. I just kept repeating: "Please heal me so that I can run the last segment.”

I was lucky to have been forced to walk at this point in the race though, as the 9 km stretch passed through a beautiful oasis, full of palm trees and cheering children. It was so scenic segment of the entire race that I just checked out and pretended that I was a trekker going on a short hike in the desert. As I neared the next checkpoint though, I knew that my ability to run would soon be tested and I really didn't feel ready for it.

After collecting my water and refilling my bottles though, something came over me and I became angry that I even had the injury. Despite what my body was telling me, I just started running. As I gained momentum, the endorphins kicked in and the pain grew more and more distant from my mind. I told myself: "You can do anything for 6 miles. Just keep running to the finish; that's all you have to do." I ended up running the entire 7.5 miles from CP3 to the finish, much of which was uphill over rocky terrain; so I know without a doubt that God came through for me. I know that my mom was with me as well, because as I was nearing the finish line, our song, "My Girl," popped into my head.

When I crossed the finish line, all of the emotions that I had suppressed in those last 7.5 miles flooded back. I was overcome with joy for having pushed myself beyond what I though was possible, and for having practically completed the Marathon Des Sables. We still have 10 miles tomorrow, but that is nothing really. Unable to help myself, I cried tears of joy and of thanks that such an impossible dream has become a reality. I reflected upon the past three years of my life, since my mother's passing, and it became crystal clear how meaningful a gift my mother gave me when she taught me how to fight for your life, and how to never settle for less than true fulfillment.

The Marathon Des SablesThe 6th and Last Stage, 10 Miles: April 10The final stage of the Marathon Des Sables was a short 10 mile run through the desert and the town of Tazzarine. It was just long enough to give me some time to reflect on the amazing experience of the MDS. The past week has been a whirlwind of challenges; but each obstacle has provided the opportunity to overcome.

There was much to love about the MDS. Having a whole week to focus only on running was an experience that I will never forget. Not having any electronics to weigh me down added to the journey, as it rejuvenated my imagination to have to entertain myself for 6, 8, and even 15 hours each day. I learned how to coach myself through challenges and I became an expert at self-deception. Not having a watch helped with this latter part.

What I most loved about the MDS, though, was being part of such a powerful and inspiring event. As I was running today, I thought about how everyone out there with me fought tooth and nail to participate in this race and to endure it. Many had extraordinary stories about their reasons for running, and others simply had passion and a dream. I also thought about all of the people who had been inspired through following their racers from afar. Only a truly great race could send such enthusing shockwaves rippling throughout the world. As one runner rightly said: “The MDS is an incredibly human event.”

As much as I have enjoyed the past week though, there were moments where I just wanted to cry out of desperation for simple luxuries. The worst of these could have been solved had I simply been born male; but others affected all runners alike. The most common complaint was also the most comical one—the Berbers ripping down our tents each morning well before sunrise. They worked like a blue storm ripping through the bivouac, destroying everything standing without discretion. The food also got really old. I was so tired of not-quite-reconstituted, freeze dried pasta by the end of the week that I hardly ate after my marathon.

A few discomforts were avoided with a bit of creativity though. I learned on the third day that I could comb my hair with my plastic spork. I also figured out how to make sandals out of a foam mattress pad someone discarded and some saran wrap. I later upgraded the design upon recalling the extra shoelaces I had packed.

With about two kilometers left in the run today, I entered into the town of Tazzarine and it seemed as if the whole town came out to cheer. I started running faster, determined to finish strong. As I crossed the finish line, I was simply stunned that it was all over. I felt happy, but almost immediately nostalgic. The moment I had been working toward for an entire week suddenly became the moment I most wanted to postpone. But since life has no rewind button, I stepped up to receive my medal and hopped on the two-hour bus back to Ouarzazate. Time to start a new journey . . .