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210 goats, 1 sheep, 7 mules, 10 camels, 3 donkeys, 2 dogs, 22 people and one chicken. It was crowded in the early morning light as we kicked off the first proper day of the migration. Izza and Zahra left before us with the goats, the dogs and Shaun the Sheep. Their job was to take the slow route and find as much grazing as possible on the way.
We set off in grand convoy, up to the first pass out of camp and down past the last road we would see for days. We were a motley bunch from Mohammed El Kabir, resplendent in robes, turban, and proper moustache to us with our fleeces, hats and walking poles. Mohammed El Kabir was very taken with my solar recharger and wanted to swap it for his enormous dagger (no, that is not a euphemism). After a spirited negotiation, he was even willing to throw in a donkey, but I wasn’t sure my landlord in Marrakech would go for that.
Our route was undulating with some rocky, sharp passes. The rhythm was completely new to me as I have never walked with a big convoy of animals before. We were slowing down and speeding up with them. Sometimes, it was hard even to watch. One small donkey was very heavily laden. Twice she fell over a boulder as she was going uphill and had to be hauled up to standing again by Zaid and the muleteers.
I was fascinated by the camels, especially by their feet. They walk very elegantly and precisely, and the soles of their feet puff up and down like little hover crafts. No obstacle seemed to phase them, and whenever they caught up to us, they would just stop and wait till we had gone a little way ahead, and then start again.
We got to camp by lunchtime. Then the rest of the work day started, the tents were put up, bread was baked, the chicken was taken off the mule and tethered in a little home made chicken hut and we all had tea and a siesta.
In the late afternoon, we walked up to a ridge and looked down onto a tiny farm which supported one family. Everywhere there is water, there is life. There, we appointed our tribal leader for the week, Paul became Dada Atta and for the rest of the trip, he was to hold sway. It is amazing how a well-wrapped turban can bestow authority.
We didn’t see Zahra and Izza with the goats till much later. around six, as they had spent all day foraging, Izza walking with Aisha slung round her back. By sundown and shortly after supper, we were all ready for bed.
That night, it was cold so I was in the mess tent with the boys. I drifted off easily and in the middle of the night, felt warm breath on my cheek as someone moved in for a kiss. It felt lovely, a little peck and nibble – nibble??!!! I sat up with a yelp to find the little lone Shaun the sheep looking at me earnestly. He had come into the tent to try and get warm and clearly thought I was his best bet.
Tomorrow: prodding camel poo, spinning, and the economics of goats.
To do this walk: http://www.shepherdswalksholidays.co.uk
Maybe it was because it was only 1o miles.
Maybe it was because there were camels at half way.
Maybe it was because I was singing along to ” All night Long, All Night, ALL NIGHT, All night Loooong…”
Maybe it was because I saw a cool girl riding her bike hands free whilst wearing the full veil.
Maybe it was because all the orange trees are in blossom so you run through clouds of perfume.
I really don’t know, but the fact is….. I ENJOYED a run. I left the suffering behind. Hallelujah! Now just need to apply that to 156 miles across the desert. Two weeks to go.
After my crushing and humiliating last place at the Marrakech Marathon in January, I bring glad tidings of GREAT news. 50km Nomad’s Run in the Agafay desert and who was first lady back? Me!
Imagine my delight – and my exhaustion – but let’s go back to the beginning. The Nomad’s Run is a mixed biking and running event – organised locally at the beautiful La Pause guesthouse in the Agafay Desert.
With just over a month to go till the Marathon Des Sables, it was a perfect chance to have a bit of a dress rehearsal so Charlie and I turned up for the 50km run with our packs fully loaded and our water/electrolytes and food rations as we would have them.
Charlie, of course, knew everyone, and it soon dawned on me that this was going to be a pretty experienced crew, and I was likely going to be running alone at the back. Four of the other nine runners were also doing the Marathon Des Sables, and they all took one look at my pack and firmly told me it was way too heavy and I was mad to carry it this early on and for this event. I had decided that I really wanted to give it a try, but I did unload three kilos in weight – a good move as I had miscalculated and this still left me hefting 8kms on my back for the day.
The gun went off at exactly 8 am and off we went. The first 17km was along a river valley – all stained red by the morning sun. It was sunny but still cool and even though I know I need to face that heat, I was pretty relieved. By the end of the 17km, I had been passed by the leader of the 20km sprint – who had paused long enough to wish me “Bon Courage” and give me a Twix, and two of the mountain bikers.
After the river valley, we turned off into the wider desert and navigation was to ensue via les petites pierres bleus. About ten minutes in, the 20km female leader came sprinting back towards me as she had lost her route – her petites pierres were orange and there were none in sight. I had Fred the Organiser on speed dial so after a hasty call to him she re-traced her route – calling wildly “Mais j’etais la premiere” I really hope she won, even though she had gone off course,
The next couple of hours were uneventful for me. I wasn’t drinking as much as I thought I would – and by the end of the day had only got through about 3 1/2 litres, and had eaten one of our nutritionist, Diana’s, Epic Boost bars every 10km (www.mymealplan.co.uk) so my energy levels were high. I trotted along playing the usual mind games and trying not to think about my back, my legs, my snail’s pace, the fact that I would have to do another five of these in a row…..
Then I hit a snag. For those of you who know me, it will come as no great surprise, I had missed a turning somewhere and was now lost – a junction with the little blue stones but no ongoing signs. So, I once again called fabulous Fred and after a few detours, started to retrace my steps. Far in the distance the bright orange 4×4 of the organisers loomed and I was picked up and set straight. I reckon I had done an extra 4-5km and as it turned out the race was only to be 44km so I probably came in at around 48km in total.
After that, I was tailed by some very kind men with very large moustaches who assured me that they would stick behind me, no matter how slow I was, and see me through to the end. This was really a very honourable offer as I am very, very slow and we were still a long way from the end.
I had been on my legs for about 7 hours now but was still feeling pretty chirpy and had launched into a long and initially welcome descent. But those descents can really knacker your hips and quads and, of course, the jolting meant my backpack was moving a lot. BUT I have to say that in general it is excellent – it is the Marathon Des Sables pack.
The afternoon light was working its magic on the desert at this stage and far ahead I could see a man walking with a blue jilbab on. He was actually going to rendezvous with his friend, who had brought a picnic for them to share. As I caught them up, they kindly offered me some mandarins but I wanted to keep to my own supplies so had to refuse. The kindness lifted my spirits though.
At the bottom of the hill, Charlie was waiting, having completed his own run in a magnificent 5hrs 15 – which would put him in the top 100 for MdS. So he relieved my moustachioed escort and tailed me for the last – and increasingly grim – kilometres.
That last 10km took a long time. Not helped by the very long climb. But really I think that I had just been out for too long. My slowness does catch up with me but I am where I am with that and am afraid that sucking it up is the only option.
At last, I was on the last two kilometres and Charlie ducked out to meet me at the finishing line. And what a great finish it was. There were still some people left and they all turned out to cheer me on, which was amazing. I felt like a champion when I got over that line and threw my backpack gratefully to the ground.
And – I was in a way! I was in fact the first woman back from the 50km – the fact that I was the ONLY woman who had entered, and that it took me nine and a half hours – I reckon is neither here nor there. For the first and the last time in my entire life, I have won a race. Woo Hoo!
Now we all tell ourselves that it is the taking part that counts and we all know that someone has got to come last. BUT it is a totally different caboodle when it is you – or, rather, ME!
I had actually been dreading running this one a bit because I knew that the organisers were shutting everything down after five hours and I knew that unless I grew an extra leg overnight, there was no way I would make it in that time.
The course itself was really, really nice. Along some of the glorious wide boulevards with views to the snow-capped mountains and then back towards the minaret of the Koutoubia, a whizz through the olive trees, a trot round the Palmeraie complete with picturesque camels and then a long drag back down to the starting point.
From Team MdS Marrakech, Amine and I were the two starters – around 300 were running the marathon in total we estimated. Charlie’s ankle needs resting so he can be really strong for the race in April and Nadia was not there. Charlie and I think that Amine has just made her up and she doesn’t exist. Amine is a bit of a God and has done MdS ELEVEN times (that definitely deserved capitals). He finished up today’s marathon in a very good 4.38 and still feeling strong.
Unlike me……my time was 6.17.37 and I can exclusively reveal that I feel anything but strong. But am hoping that the large quantity of nurofen that I have just popped and a nice cup of tea will alleviate the pain.
On to coming last…. I realised things weren’t good when I was about 21km in and the people who were behind me (yes, there were some) had dropped out of view and I could only see two pairs ahead of me. Both of whom were walk/running. I wasn’t feeling too sore, but I found that the only gait I could maintain was a little jog/shuffle run. I tried walking fast and my legs went all bendy and wobbly.
I knew I was going to make it, but I also started to realise that I might be the very last person, which was not the most positive and encouraging thought to inspire the legs over the miles. And I was still 12kms from the end.
Then help arrived in the shape of Youssef, my very own police motorcycle escort.
Youssef and an ambulance and then a race car, stayed with me from the 12km mark, right to the end. Youssef was magnificent – riding fearlessly into the middle of the busiest roundabouts, and stopping all traffic so I could trot across. If he felt any car was infringing too close to my run route, the whistle came out and they were summarily dismissed to the other side of the road. Every km or so, he and his marvellous moustache would approach me and he would ask, “Vous voulez montez” to which I would reply, La! Hashouma (no, shame on you). There are only X kms to go!” And he would giggle then zoom off to bully more cars.
My escort also meant that everyone realised I was still running the marathon and struggling so I got cheers and horn honks and Allez! Bon Courage! all the way. That helps SO much!
The end came at last. I got my medal and kisses and then Youssef gave me a ride on his big police motorbike to the nearest taxi rank, where we said a truly fond farewell. I don’t think coming last bodes well for MdS but on the other hand, I completed and I hope I’ll be ready to run tomorrow. And whatever happens, this marathon was actually a wonderful and truly Marrakchi experience.
I came across this chap about 5 minutes into the run – he seemed happy to keep to his side of the path and you can probably see the very top of my shadow in the foreground as I gingerly took this shot.
Today was the first desert run. Charlie drove us out to the Agafay desert which is about 45 minutes from Marrakech, into the sands and rock and off we set. We had agreed that we would run out for an hour and back for an hour as our paces are so different. Guess who is slower…..
The path was quite clear and with the mountains in one direction and wooded hills in the other, navigation didn’t seem like it would be too difficult. The conditions are very similar to what we will be doing in terms of the rocky terrain and the altitude at around 1000 metres so it was a brilliant chance to see how I felt. I also wore my Hokkas with the two sock system, second day in a row after yesterday’s 12.5 miler to see how that would go. And I carried just 75ml of water and no food.
I felt very heavy legged as I got going and felt all the hills up but didn’t seem to benefit from the downs. I tried to only drink every fifteen minutes and let myself slow down then to walk for a few paces while I slurped. Half an hour went by quite quickly, and then another quarter but the last quarter till half way dragged. I was looking at my watch every 30 seconds which is not a good sign. I also felt quite clumsy in my shoes which are a size and a half too big for me and have very thick soles. But I did feel that they sheltered me a bit from the stones on the path.
It wasn’t really too hot. The sun was very fierce but the temperature wasn’t bad – I reckon around 70.
The half way point was nirvana. Although, I was disappointed that I had only just got over the 4 mile mark. In an hour I should get to 5 miles even at my excruciatingly slow pace. I stopped for a wee and a good drink – rationing myself still to half way down the bottle as I had to get back. When I got up though, I felt really sick and dizzy. I’ve never really felt like that on a run before and it wasn’t a huge amount of fun.
I wasn’t totally sure what to do, but thought it was best to press on so set off at a brisk walk, which felt so much easier than the running. And then after a mile, I felt better and started off at a run again. A miracle happened – I got some flow! I suddenly felt like a runner and speeded up. I felt a rhythm and a real sense of joy and ease. My pace increased dramatically – remember it starts off at a very low base. It was a truly great feeling and made me think that maybe, just maybe, one day I will feel like that for longer than 20 mins. Still, every little helps, as they say.
So, 8 miles. Four of them trudging, one of them struggling and three of them flying.
I didn’t expect to be running a half marathon round Marrakech just three days after getting here to train for the Marathon Des Sables but what a great way to spend a Sunday morning! Amine (in the dark blue) met me yesterday and very kindly took me under his wing. He is a VETERAN of MdS with 11 under his belt already and is a mine of information. As well as showing me all his kit and photos from his decade+ of MdS runs, he invited me to join him and a group of runners for a half marathon the next day and to make it even more appealing there was a pasta party the night before.
The half was organised as part of a very cool project masterminded by Ali Aloui Mdghari (standing next to me in yellow). He is running sixteen half marathons in the sixteen different regions of Morocco in sixteen weeks in aid of sixteen different local associations/charities for health, education, environment …. https://www.facebook.com/courirlemaroc
At 9 am, we assembled outside the Mamounia Hotel and off we set. I was nervous because I know how slow I am and also I was using my Innovate back pack for the first time and had filled it with about 8 kg of stuff as part of my training. I had also forgotten a few pretty crucial items – sunglasses and a hat! Ho hum. Preparation is clearly not my strong point. My biggest worry was either slowing everyone down, or getting left behind and horribly lost. We had a route map but because I don’t really know Marrakesh, it didn’t mean very much to me. Needless to say, both fears were groundless.
With endless generosity, Yassine stayed with me the whole way, adapting to my tortoise pace with grace and good humour. He did almost make me sick at one point though with a graphic description of how the ligaments in his knee had almost been severed in a serious car crash.
The backpack was always going to be uncomfortable but it was great to try it as I now know that it is not the right one for MdS – it bounced around too much and needs more straps to keep it in place. It will be perfect for the mountains though, so nothing is lost and Amine has kindly offered to lend me one of his extensive range.
The route looped us through the city, with views of the mountains in the distance and some pretty passages through gardens and palm-flanked streets. It all got a bit crazy round Bab Doukalla, jostling for position with taxis, donkeys, scooters, and bikes. The last few kms, my legs felt really heavy and my eyes were streaming from the car fumes. I didn’t realise quite how spoiled I had become with the pure air of The Peak – time to toughen up! The good thing about suffering at the moment though is I just think, “Great, remember it is going to be a million times worse on MdS.
At the finish, there were oranges, a yoga session and lots of mutual congratulation. The icing on the cake was that I won a Garmin 110! The girls in the group drew straws for it, and I came up lucky. It was a really wonderful morning out: great run, fantastic company and some lessons learnt.
First day in Marrakech – I was up and at ’em, turning out for a run at 8 am. Admittedly the alarm went off at 7 but I reckon a half hour on the snooze button is allowed. I just ran straight out along the main road from my villa for 2 1/2 km and then straight back. Given my appalling sense of direction, it seemed safest. The traffic wasn’t too bad and the sun was shining but the air was cold. Lovely conditions except for the pollution which I am just not used to and which started to sting my eyes and my lungs a bit.
Got back to No 74 Sharia Saska Al Hamra (the street of Saskia the Red – who is Saskia I wonder) and put my key in the lock. Our caretaker, Mustafa, had warned me that the key was stiff, so I kept trying long after I had a very red thumb and bulging eyes. I was beginning to be viewed suspiciously by the students standing opposite when it occurred to me that I actually live in…..no 72!Oops. Abashed, I shuffled next door, found out the key was still really stiff and decided to just climb over the wall. Those evenings at Rope Race with Cat weren’t wasted after all.
Safely in, I headed straight for the shower, shampooed up, singing blithely and loudly as my flatmate had still not arrived for the weekend. At which point, the shower exploded. Hmmm, I was very suddy, but fortunately could use Alex’s and then call Mustafa for repairs.
Coffee next. Into the kitchen, congratulating myself for having brought my cafetiere and Ugandan Fair Trade from Tescos, only to face a large and active cockroach in the sink. It looked at me piteously and waved its antennae so I didn’t have the heart to kill it, but liberated it out of the window into the garden. That merciful attitude won’t last long!
So, a day of mini adventures – and all before 10 am……..
About a mile and a half into the run, we stopped and switched our head torches off. A flock of geese were hooting quietly to each other as they flew overhead and I am sure I could hear their wings beating. We had got to the White Lady at the top of the campsite ascent and so were surrounded by the hills of Hayfield which loomed gently out of the darkness.
All your senses are heightened by the lack of visibility, The air was really warm and soft – amazing for October. I could feel all the different textures underfoot much more sharply. The tarmac of the road, giving way to the earth and mulch under the trees and then the squidgy paths through the forest moving onto the much rockier and stony trail.
As we came up past Booth Farm, the black pony in the field snorted and trotted up to see what was going on and had a little nuzzle with the dogs, Billy the Running Dog and Teddy the Terrier. Their eyes caught in the headtorches were a demonic green above lolling tongues.
And the running was so easy. Perhaps for the first time ever, I physically enjoyed the feeling of running and felt like it was natural for me. I could feel myself moving easily and smoothly.
What a joyful experience.
“When you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself, is not easily done.”
Last week, the slump definitely hit. I don’t know if it is just getting back down to it after the excitement of the long run, or the drawing in of the nights, or the realisation of just how much I have to do, that is the problem, but there is no doubt about it – the slump has hit.
In terms of training, I went with a regular schedule with just one less run than usual due to time: Monday: Weights, Tuesday: Hot Yoga, Run. Wednesday: Weights, run, pilates. Thursday: Pilates, weights, spin. Friday: Weights. Saturday: Long run – 23km on the hills. Sunday: rest.
And I got through it all. I felt like I was shirking a bit on my weekday runs though, as there were only two and they were short. The long one at the weekend saved me from feeling it was a wasted week. A good effort over the hills of the Peak, a good distance and plenty of time on the legs.
Maybe it was because I didn’t take a full rest day last Sunday but did a big hike as friends were over. Anyway whatever the reason, every day was a bit of a struggle.
So. this week, I am going to focus on getting longer runs in and getting that mojo back. Onwards and upwards!