The day started early with a 2:45am wake up call and a 2 hour bus ride to a leafy area on the edge of the Turpan Basin, the second lowest place on the planet. The 36km (22.5 mile) stage known as 'Flaming Mountains' started on a bridge spanning a fast moving river, a stark and macabre reminder for Jimmi Olsen of Denmark. I had no idea when the stage started.
Right from the 6am start I knew that it would be a rough day. I didn't feel hydrated and heading up the first long gravel incline I already had cotton mouth and some nausea. The first checkpoint was 14km with the first 11km uphill along a boring industrial gravel road. As several runners passed me I reminded myself that I've felt like this before and certainly slogged roads like this before as well, and that just like everything else 'that this too shall pass'.
Along the way I grouped in with Brian Lang from Canada and Phillipe Pech from France, but with 3km to go to the checkpoint and the track turning downhill into the riverbed I lit it up a bit. Pulling into CP 1 with guns blazing I could see Bernd Tritchser, Stuart Gates, and Jimmi Olsen in the distance. Here's my mistake: I only took one water bottle for the next 11km to avoid wasting time at the stop and to avoid the excess weight. I caught Bernd and Stuart on a long rocky flat in the shadow of a massive canyon wall while Jimmi disappeared over a dune in the horizon. When I hit the dunes I was out of water and a bit out of gas. The dunes just didn't stop. On and on and on and on they went while I played mind games thinking that CP 2 would be after each one. Yeah, it wasn't. After 37 minutes I broke. I spent a good 10 minutes dry heaving and vomiting in the sand while Bernd, Stuart, and Phillipe went past.
That episode behind me I carried on into the checkpoint which was only a click away only to find Jimmi! The others had gone on and left 7th place Jimmi behind at CP 2 in a world of hurt. Jimmi is the toughest thing to come out of Denmark since the vikings and is built like a world-class athlete. I spent 30 minutes at CP 2 sipping water and waiting for an anti-nausea tablet to dissolve under my tongue, but Jimmi spent it emptying the contents of his stomach in the Gobi. We were not a pretty sight and it was plain to see that we had been both dehydrated and gone out too fast and furious. Jimmi only seems to know two speeds, full and stop, so talking about moderation is a fool's errand.
We finally pulled ourselves out of the checkpoint having lost more than 10 places. As we made our way down a long dusty canyon road and then back up over the other side, we made a pact to stick together for the last 12km. At the top of the road our heart rates were both at around 175 so we decided to walk the rest of the way. As Jimmi put it in his best english "we might be out of the competition but...a...a...we are not out of the race." Truer words could not have been spoken.
We slogged across the crusty red sand of the Gobi, down into gorges and up and up and around a long winding canyon. These races are great because the competition can be fierce, but they are also great because a week in the desert with people is ample time to learn about them. During our slog, I learned that Jimmi owns his own custom furniture business despite the chance to work with his family's successful business. In true Jimmi style, said "I go out on my own to start my own company, because, a...a....a....I must make my own way." This guy is a modern day philospher in the body of a desert runner.
What I didn't expect to learn is what is pushing Jimmi so hard. Why he won't quit, and why he seems to enjoy it all we even when he's on all fours vomiting. A year ago to the day, Jimmi lost his best friend in a rafting accident. His friend's girlfriend was actually holding his hand trying to pull him to shore from the river but couldn't manage. It was an incredible tragedy for Jimmi and he told me that he can't help but enjoy every moment from that point forward. Heart wrenching stuff.
Finally we reached the top of the canyon just as the sun really peaked. 95 degrees beating down on us and Jimmi looks at me and with a subtle grin rhetorically says "run?" Before I can finish saying "of course" we were going hell for leather down a two foot wide canyon. 25 minutes later we pulled into camp called Ancient Ruins in 20th and 21st place where we are housed in a deserted museum amongst the exhibits still. Pretty cool.
Tomorrow is the day that everyone has been waiting for: 100km. Game time.
I hope all is well at home and good running!
RP
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