Pre–race
On my return from Marathon Des Sables, I entered my now customary blue period. The Jordan Cup was about 6 months away, it fitted perfectly with enough time for training and preparation. The Desert Cup in Jordan is an unsupported race over 168 km (112 miles = 4 marathons) non-stop that includes 41 km over mountains, 23 km of Hilly tracks and 104 km of unrelenting fine Desert sands.
From the start of my preparations, I was a little worried because this was different from the Marathon Des Sables. It required continuous sustained effort over long periods although the hot temperatures and the sandy terrain were similar to that of the Sahara. While I was worrying about the race details, my family and friends were more worried about the general Middle Eastern politics and when US would attack Iraq and if I would be caught in the crossfire while I was running. UN resolution 1441 was passed when I was in Jordan, my selfish little concern was whether the race would be cancelled. I used the same Moletrack packs and kits and similar food strategy. I didn’t prepare to take any hot food but I made sure I had enough salty stuff. The organisers of the race require that all racers provide various medical certificates and e.c.g’s together with proof that you are carrying enough calories to complete the race within a pre-designated time. The last few days ended up being a complete scramble, since Reena and Amal were also accompanying me and we were planning on some scuba diving in the Red Sea and traveling the Incense Route after the race was over.
Arrival in Jordan and pre-race
We arrived in Jordan, spent the night near Tahrir square, did a bit of tourist activities and next day scrambled on the bus to Petra, where we were to camp for the next 2 nights, and at 3.00am we arrived at the camp and by torchlight we were directed to a large open fronted Berber type tent that was to accommodate all of us for the next few days. Immediately we all got out our sleeping bags and within about 20 minutes we were all settled and many were already fast asleep. Reena and Amal spent the night in a village near Petra and we planned to sync up the following day to see Petra.
At 5.30am after a couple hours of sleep I awoke to see the first sight of our wonderful camp. I was one of the first awake, so perhaps this was the initial sign of positive anticipation. Our camp was situated in a natural amphitheatre with fantastic wind sculptured stone walls all around. I camped with a bunch of Frenchmen and it was quite mentally tiring to muster up my French that we communicated in sign language the following days. This morning after breakfast, we all had the technical and administrative inspections during which our emergency rations of 1 litre of water and 2000 calories of food would be sealed, our medical certificates and e.c.g’s approved and where we would be issued with our water ration card, 2 night glow sticks and salt tablets. By lunchtime all 236 athletes had been through the process and now the afternoon was free, with many of the athletes taking the opportunity to visit the amazing city of Petra. I did so too and hooked up with Reena and Amal. On returning to the camp about 5.00pm in darkness I retired back to the tent and like nearly all the other racers silently lay on my sleeping bag contemplating the next few days. After a little while, the silence in the tent finally got to me and I switched on my torch just to check that I hadn’t fallen asleep and that I hadn’t been left on my own in the tent. The rest of the evening past quietly with Dinner provided by the organizers and by about 9.00pm.
Race Day 1 – Tuesday 5 November
By 5.30am the next morning the whole camp was starting to come alive. This was the start of self-sufficiency so any breakfast had to be supplied by ourselves. My breakfast comprised of bars – not very inspiring but high in required calories. With rucksacks packed we were transported the 5 miles to the entrance of Petra where the race was to start. Just after 8.00am all the athletes were assembled behind the inflated starting arch. The tension was quite electric and at long last my mind was finally in gear – this race was real. After the customary speech by the race director, Patrick Bauer, just after 8.30am the gun for the start went off.
The Start – Checkpoint 1
234 athletes left the starting pen in a flash. The first 1 km leads down a stone path and then turns left into the narrow canyon that leads to the famous tombs of Petra and in particular the wonderful and world renowned Treasury (of Indiana Jones fame). I doubt there is a more spectacular start to any race worldwide. I was thankful that I had visited Petra the day before, because if I hadn’t I would have had to stop to take in the spectacular scenery that was on view. On passing the Treasury the course turns right for about 2 km before turning left up the 570 steps that lead into the mountains. By now the racers were spread out over many hundreds of meters and the sight of racers stretching up into the hillside was reminiscent of scenes from “The Lord of the Rings”. Just over 50 minutes into the race I was on top of the main climb and progressing at a very comfortable pace. The course then twisted and turned primarily over semi worn path and tracks, but at times over ankle twisting unmarked routes to the first checkpoint at 8.5km.
Checkpoint 1 – Checkpoint 2
I passed through the checkpoint immediately, only stopping to take on some of the water available. This strategy allows me to pass a number of racers who arrived before me and are resting, with only a small proportion of those re-passing me before the next checkpoint where I will repeat the process. Leaving checkpoint 1, for a few kilometers the course follows a main road before returning to the rough stone tracks that were to become the hallmark of this early part of the race. I was making good time and was well within my comfort zone. At times it was hard not to push on a bit particularly when other athletes passed me – but I knew my own pace and I knew that my strategy had worked before in the Sahara. After about 17 km checkpoint 2 could be seen 4 km in the distance. Again the landscape allowed wonderful views of all the athletes strewn across the countryside leading to the checkpoint. Again after collecting my water I passed straight through.
Checkpoint 2 – Checkpoint 3
I was now well and truly into my stride. I had been moving for just about 4 hours now and I couldn’t have felt better. I was the flats and on the downhills, but on the uphills I managed to balance the equation. The latter part of this stage over mountainous tracks was predominately up hill.
Checkpoint 3 was situated on top of a mountain pass and as I rose towards it became quite noticeably cooler and windier. I had read stories from previous Jordan Cup races (which were run in the opposite direction) of the high winds, and whilst the wind was fairly strong it was nowhere near what I had expected. On approaching checkpoint 3 I had become aware of the first niggle with my feet. A hotspot, which precedes a blister was forming on the pad of my left big toe. Instead of passing straight through I went to the Berber tent to deal with my foot problem.
Checkpoint 3 – Checkpoint 4
I left checkpoint 3 having successfully attended to my foot – but forgetting the golden rule that foot injures come in pairs – whatever happens on your left foot inevitably will happen on your right. This error will come back to haunt me later in the race.
Checkpoint 3 is situated at the highest point on the race and from here it is a fairly sharp descent along mountain tracks to the valley below. The views down into the valley were nothing short of breathtaking. My legs were now just starting to complain a bit, particularly when the descents became more severe and on many occasions it was easier to just let your body fall down the mountains at whatever rate gravity dictated. On hitting the valley floor the route crossed some very minor dirt roads and passed by a tented village. By this time nightfall was closing in, and the final stretch into checkpoint 4 was along a minor road, but in the complete darkness outside the arc of my head torch I could see little else.
Checkpoint 4 – Checkpoint 5
I collected my water and activated my green light stick and without any further interruptions I prepared to leave. Leaving checkpoint 4 alone was quite confusing. The route, which was marked with green luminous sticks comprised numerous twists and turns – but in the darkness it was often difficult to depict what order the sticks were. In the darkness, as before, I had no idea what the countryside look like beyond the light of my headtorch. The route followed a rough track and at one point passed through another tented village and in the darkness it was quite magical to pass these silent semi light fabric homes but was equally unnerving as the owners dogs barked aggressively just out of the light of my headtorch. The only other racer I saw on this stage was one of the Jordanian female runners who was certainly going through a low patch as she could only raise a ughhhh when I passed her and said hello. I was later told she received 2 intravenous drips at checkpoint 5 for severe dehydration. The latter part of this stage became typical of many of the night stages in this race. You can see the lights of the checkpoint a little way in the distance and you anticipate you might arrive in 5 to 10 minutes – but 30 minutes later you appear no closer.
Checkpoint 5 – Checkpoint 6
My memory is completely blank of what checkpoint 5 was like, all I know is that after 10 minutes I had had a short rest, restocked my water and was back on the trail. However, I do remember very clearly that this was the start of the sand. I had 104 km to look forward to of very fine sand – but a slight consolation was that 64 km was under my belt, and relatively speaking I was feeling good. Quite a few other racers left checkpoint 5 at about the same time as me, and initially I followed 3 Italian runners.I picked up the pace and passed them, leaving them in my wake. Fat chance. The faster I went, the faster they went. On arriving at checkpoint 6 many racers were bedding down for a few hours (or more) rest. I had been passing and re-passing this trio most of the day with them stopping longer at the checkpoints than myself but then being faster between the checkpoints than me. I had no intention of stopping here. It wasn’t a particular aim to beat anyone in this event, completing it was the main focus, but every scalp you can take is a bonus in a race and make the most of any advantage .
Checkpoint 6 – Checkpoint 7
Leaving checkpoint 6 the desert sands continued, as they would now to the end. 2 km in the distance was a major highway elevated above the desert sands. I continued alone on this very uneventful stage initially counting the minutes until I passed under the road and subsequently counting the minutes until the sound of traffic passing along the road subsided. Again checkpoint 7 was visible from many miles away. Grinding on through the sand the lights was not getting any closer in the darkness. I started to believe I would never reach the unchanging light. Then suddenly, I was only 100 metres away, everything suddenly came into. Within a few minutes I had found a clear patch on the edge of the Berber tent, my sleeping bag was out and I was curled up inside. The tent was full of racers with plans similar to mine. I tried to sleep for about ѕ hour but couldn’t so I started to get up and go.
It was markedly colder now I had stopped moving, so getting out of my bag was a major effort in itself, to put my shoes back on and to prise the warm clothing off my back. It was still pitch black. Putting my shoes on was quite a worrying experience in itself. I had not noticed any real problems with my feet over the first half of the race with the exception of the minor treatment I carried out at checkpoint 3, but on putting my shoes on I suffered some considerable pain in both my heels and under the big toe pad on my right foot. I wasn’t going to let this worry me. I have had blisters in the past and I knew that once I got going again the pain would subside. I finally left checkpoint 7. Over half the race completed and I was buzzing.
Checkpoint 7 – Checkpoint 8
Leaving in the darkness at about 4.30am I continue to follow the now diminishing green lights towards the next checkpoint. I was aware that the Sun would rise at about 5.30am, a factor that I looked forward to tremendously. My feet continued to throb, but I was ever confidant that in due course the pain would subside. It always had in the past – no reason why it wouldn’t this time. But it didn’t. The pain got worse and worse but I finally reached checkpoint 8. It was decision time – either I just grit my teeth and endure another 70 km in absolute agony or, I let the infamous Doc Trotters loss on my feet. Doc Trotters are the medical back-up team who cover these bizarre races. Their reputation is renowned for uncompromising butchery – but in my humble opinion, I believe that their experience covering this type of race for 17 years and their unquestionable intention to aid every racer to finish was a good enough reason for me to allow them to have a look at my wounds. Up to this point I hadn’t seen my blisters – so it was with some trepidation I removed the sock from my left foot to reveal an enormous blood and puss filled blister that encompassed the whole of the left side of my foot – it was an absolute cracker. On removing my right sock I was equally enthralled to see a similar blister on my other heel but with the added bonus of a weeping blister on the pad under my big toe. The kind doctor informed me that treatment was necessary and promptly got his scalpel out. The treatment is totally barbaric – slicing away all the dead skin from the blister, exposing the raw flesh beneath. Then pouring a strong antiseptic over the wound before dousing the exposed flesh with Iodine. A French and Moroccan racer looked on in some amusement. Then to add insult to injury the kind doctors places compeed plaster over the exposed blister whilst with great delight placing great pressure on the wound to ensure it sticks. Looking on the bright side – it was ONLY 3 blisters he treated in this manner – it could have been 4 had I not looked after my left foot at checkpoint 3.
Checkpoint 8 – Checkpoint 9
I was ready to leave. My feet, to say the least were extremely tender. Only 70 km to go is all I could think of. The course continued across flat sands but occasionally interspersed with dried up lakes. The route crossed another road and an adjacent railway line and then still more sand but this time undulating. The only thing to focus on was reaching the next checkpoint. A long way in the distance occasionally the sun would reflect off the vehicle that marked the checkpoint, but similar to the night, it just never seem to get any closer – this was partly because of the vastness of the desert.
Checkpoint 9 – Checkpoint 10
By now all the racers were spread out thinly across the inhospitable surroundings. Many hours could pass without seeing another racers with the exception of the checkpoints. The terrain was similar to the previous 3 stages fine sand interspersed with rock hard shrubs, often undulating and usually flanked by fantastic sculptured rocks. Checkpoint 10 was visible from about 5 km out. Looking behind I could see another athlete closing relatively fast upon me. Predictable, with about 2 km to go he finally caught up and it was a relief to have someone to chat to – both to counter the boredom of talking to myself, but also to take my mind of the pain in my feet. I chatted to the French athlete, asking about his plans for finishing this race – was he going straight through to the finish line or was he planning a break? His answer amazed me. Remembering we are in a race situation – he replied that he intended stopping for a long break 1 or 2 checkpoints from the finish in order to be able to finish in Wadi Rum as the sun was rising the next day. On our current pace it was realistic to finish about 2.30am – 3.00am – i.e. in darkness. I couldn’t comprehend this attitude as my firm intention was to finish as fast as I possibly could. We continued together to checkpoint. My feet were incredibly sore – I massaged some life back into my feet, got some food (predominately honey coated cashews) down my throat and generally tried to take stock of my enviable position. I had paid to go through this torture – so I could hardly complain.
Checkpoint 10 – Checkpoint 11
Shortly after leaving the checkpoint, darkness descended very quickly and once again I was confined to the measly sphere thrown up by my head torch. After about an hour the route passed between 2 high walls of rock, which could only just be made, out against the star splattered sky. The route ran about 100 metres from the base of the left wall. I was again alone and quite happy until a pack of dogs started yelping and barking. At least my first impression was that these were dogs, but my mind soon changed as I noticed that there were no lights of any accompanying owners and more worrying was that the numerous dogs were spread out over many hundreds of metres along the base of the wall. The dogs in my opinion were coyotes. All I could do about it – I just kept my head down remaining ever so sensitive to any movement that might occur in close proximity to me. After about half an hour I was finally clear of the howling and generally felt a lot safer. It was time to retire into my own little world and plod on. Once again the checkpoint was visible from a long way off. I was feeling as happy as one can feel in these circumstances – when all of a sudden I had the scare of my life. From out of the darkness, about 2 metres to my right this voice said to me “ Do you mind if I follow you?” Once my heart had recovered from missing several beats I discovered that a French runner was stood alongside the trail in complete darkness. His head torch had packed in on him and with no moon it was practically impossible for him to proceed. He had seen my head torch behind him and had waited about 15 minutes for me to catch up. We proceed up the hill together reaching the checkpoint.
Checkpoint 11 – Checkpoint 12
I was maintaining a steady pace. I predicted a finish in the early hours of the morning. It was midway between checkpoint 11 and checkpoint 12 that I started considering the Frenchman’s idea from checkpoint 10 of stopping before the finish in order to enter the supposedly spectacular Wadi Rum in daylight. The tent was part full of similar minded athletes curled up in their bags. I was too charged to sleep and kept on.
Checkpoint 12 – Checkpoint 13
It was now the middle of the night and the cruelest of stages was about to contested. As was my choice, I again left alone in order to plod on at my own pace. Half an hour after leaving, the route topped a slight hill and in the far distance the lights of the next checkpoint could be seen. I knew from the road book that it was a long way off – but it was an immense mental struggle to be looking at the light of checkpoint 13 for 2 hours solid without it appearing to get any closer. One of the official back up vehicles approached me – I asked the driver how far the blasted checkpoint was away. His answer infuriated me even more when he responded “You can see up there”. My response was short and too the point “I know, I have seen it for the last 2 hours – but how far is it”. His laughter didn’t help matters until he said “its about 100 metres”. I think he thought I was completely off my trolley and sure enough 2 minutes later I entered the final checkpoint before the end.
Checkpoint 13 – The Finish
I was exhausted and my progress was certainly all over the place as opposed to the optimum straight line. As planned, at 5.30 am I entered the start of Wadi Rum just as the sun was rising over the high canyon walls. The spectacular view did not disappoint. Even in the state we were in it was impossible not to be impressed. The flat red sand plain that passes between the high rock walls was dotted with the ever present rock hard shrubs that litter the desert floor. Looking at one of these shrubs it suddenly appeared as a duck reaching out for some food in front of it. The next shrub was a dwarf on a surfboard. The next shrub appeared as a pig with a piglet on its back. All of this was amazing, I was hallucinating like never before. My running partner, who was about 4 metres in front of me, appeared to be carrying a plastic patio chair. I tried blinking these images away – but the more I tried the more I hallucinated. Looking across the desert now, nearly all the shrubs turned into animals of one sort or another. None of this worried me – I found it highly amusing. Continuing on towards the finish line one of the shrubs to my left turned into a baby rhinoceros, which as I passed its head turned to follow me. Suddenly it dropped its head in order to charge and immediately I raised the stick in my hand to defend me. Wow this was getting too much and not a little scary.
The finish line was getting closer, but it was hard to believe it. Every step was a struggle. An approaching official in a car informed us the finish was 3 km away. This was all I needed to hear. I decided to dig deep and run to the finish. I announced my plan to my running partner but added the caveat that this proposed burst of energy might only last 100 metres. He declined to join me, so off I ran. I had read the road book before leaving checkpoint 13 and knew that we had to go to the left of the village in front of us. I proceeded with all due haste in that direction. After about 10 minutes I became aware that my footprints in the sand were the only ones about. Stopping to take stock of the situation I glanced across the valley and noticed that all the other footprints were about Ѕ km away on the right side of the valley. I quickly decided that all those runners couldn’t be wrong so I hot footed it back across the valley to the right hand side. Checking the road book after, the route is described as “Go alongside village on your left” which I had misread as to go to left of village. After passing by the village the route turns left and the inflatable finish line could be seen 300 metres away. I mustered all my strength and attempted a sprint finish.
The Finish
Half an hour later, the bus arrived to transport us to the Hotel in Aqaba, which was a stark contrast to what we had endured over the previous 2 days.
This race surprised me immensely. It was harder than I expected. This was certainly my opinion at the end of the race, and that opinion has not altered since I have had to reflect on it later. I want to go back and do it again, preferable in the reverse direction. The Desert Jordan Cup has something magical about it – I will go back sometime in the future. I hooked up with Reena and Amal and we had a blast the next one month in the region. Writing about that is another story by itself. I like many other racers would find it impossible to go through this if it were not for good family support and encouragement at home.