Namibian Viking

You are an Ironman

Those were the words that I had so longed to hear… And last weekend, after 14 hours and 17 minutes I had taken the step across the finish line. I lifted my arms in the sky and thought “Thank god that it is over”. It had been a tall order to summon enough strength to finish the race only two weeks after finishing the Al Andalus 250km.

Once again Ben and I had gone away and repeated what we did in June for the half-Ironman. Well not completely, Ben had for example forgot to take any extra shoes with him, so after 3pm on the Saturday Ben had no longer any shoes and had to walk around the muddy fields in two plastic bags! Much to the amusement of everyone around. It kind of looked as if he had gaiters and was training for Marathon des Sables!

at 4.10am I was up, heating some water to start breakfast and before we know it we are walking down toward the lake at 5.30. The first couple of strokes in the water feels good and I settle in amongst the back, I guess it adds 100m to my race, but dont want the panic I felt in the half-Ironman. 6.10am and we are off. I settle in to my own rhythm as athlete after athlete seems to pass me. 25min in to the race and I am really worried about the time, will I be able to make it. Another 15min and I am pretty sure I will make it. I spend the rest of the swim calculating how many minutes I have left, how big proportion of the swim I have done, trying to estimate my swim time etc etc. The basic maths is keeping me busy, but is proving difficult. I get out of the water after 1h 41minutes, I am so happy I made it through the swim! As I try to stand up a volunteer helps me, as he lets go of his hands I fall flat on my back straight back into the lake, I hope they didnt get that on camera *smile*.

The long up hill to transition I cover mostly walking. On the bike and the chill of the morning air is there to remind us what is ahead. I have only ever cycled half the distance (90km) and to have 180km ahead of me seems a lot. I settle into a rhythm and before I know it I am at the big climb. About 15min later the downhill bit start. The profile showed a big climb at the start of each of the three laps and I have done the first. This first lap I am taking it very cautiously, since we have not ridden the lap, and I want to conserve energy. I am surprised how much uphill there is towards the end of the lap though!

Up the big hill again and I am doing well. However on the downhill I start to loose focus. I can feel how I cannot really concentrate and my vision is a bit blurry. I try to eat and drink, but a couple of times I wobble so much I nearly come off the bike. To add to this my left knee starts to give me bad pain. Have I started the race too early? Was my body not ready for this, so soon after Spain?

For the rest of the bike I struggle mentally. On one hand I feel that I have proven enough to just stop and not complete the event. However the other side of my brain just want to be an Ironman and complete the race. But no one would blame me if I stop, one half of my brain says. The other responds that I should push on and prove that I can go through it. This debate goes on and on for the next 5 hours. This has been my longest mental battle to date, but I stay on the bike and after 7 hours and 21 minutes my feet touches ground again and I almost loose my balance again!

After a quick transition I am on my feet. The knees hurt badly now and I cannot run. “Keep going, keep going” the crowd shouts (“as if I am about to stop now”! I want to shout back!). Slow slow steps, slightly faster then walking and I start to distance myself from the transition area. I figure I would make the race now, but it could be a long long marathon ahead if I cannot pick up the pace…

Eventually I can start to pick up my pace and start to overtake people again. However it took about an hour or so before I was able to jog again. I see Ben and that picks me up. For the next hour or so I try to figure out how much ahead he is. I end up thinking he is between 2 hours and 2 and a half ahead of me. Even the simplest of mathematical tasks are now difficult to complete. The checkpoints are quite frequent, but none of them have the pretzels that the first checkpoint had. I am dying for them now and am longing to get back to the turn-around point where checkpoint 1 is so that I can get some more. It is difficult to explain the pain and the damage the run does to you. Mentally it is such a battle to keep pushing rather then to let go and just walk the rest of the race. Every part of my body wants to stop, but I keep pushing. In the end I get to the pretzels and I empty a big cup of water so that I can stock up on pretzels for the last 12-14km.

The last 10km goes quickly and before I know it (or at least so I remember it) I am in the final lap of the park just outside the finish. I push on and overtake some more people and 400 meters from the end I see that I might be able to reach two more guys, but rather then stealing their thunder, I decide to sit back and give them 100m or so to finish on their own. Instead I have the red carpet to myself and the Bolton crown is screaming as I run the final steps. And as I cross the finish line there is the famous “Joakim – You are an Ironman”.

I had waited so long and it was such a battle. After 4 hours and 55 minutes I finish the marathon and can celebrate that I made it. It was hard and I had to fight the whole way. The feeling is of pure joy and I take such pride in the fact that I didnt step down, instead I pushed on and got my reward.

I will always remember those famous words “Joakim – you are an Ironman”.

Soon two weeks has passed since I took the final steps in the Al Andalus 250km. Looking back I must say that it was a fantastic event. If my knees and foot would have hold up I would have wanted to get out and do it again tomorrow.

Trying to summarise everything is difficult, but I have added up a few things that I have taken away from the race.

Structure your day
This was my first multi-day ultra. I had definitely benefited from a seminar Keith Evans held a few weeks before I left for Spain and Keith showed us how he would pack for Marathon des Sables. I had taken some of his advice when I packed for Spain. The ability to know exactly what to do every day when you come in after the run is really important for these races. First of all – continue to hydrate. Second – eat food so your recovery can start. Thirdly look after your feet and if you have access to showers have them and rinse your clothes. Fourth – eat more. Fifth – Get ready for next day. Sixth – get rest and sleep. And then do it all over again the next day.

To be structured and to have a plan is key to not miss important elements, time and to allow your body to recover as much as possible.

Nutrition
I was surprised how little I needed to eat during the day. I had as much as I could for breakfast, often two freeze-dried meals 90min before the race. For the race I had energy drink for the day and also quick energy in form of gummy bears, but a part from this I needed little more to get me to the end of the day. At the end of the day I once again tried to eat as much as possible before going off to bed.

“Run when you can, walk when you cant and crawl if you must”
This is a saying from Bill Bradley (on Twitter under epicbillbradley), but it is very true. It is so important to change the rhythm throughout a long race. There were times when I couldnt do anything but to walk. But then I start to run at a certain pace and when I cannot go on in that pace I can choose another way to shuffle along.

Many accounts from people running ultra events talk about them not being able to run and they are forced to walk. Then they start to run but can only manage 10 steps, and then they have to walk again. Next time they start to run and they can run for 20 steps. Continue to do this and before you know it you will be running again. A change of rhythm means so much and can pull you out of the deepest dark zone. There are times when you think that you will only be able to walk for the rest of the day, and five minutes later you are cruising along feeling great.

Ultra marathons tests your mental capacity as much as they push your physical ability.

Share your day with others
Maybe the most important lesson for me was how much easier it was when I was with other people. I have previously always tried to stay on my own and my reasoning has been that you have to go fast when you can and someone else would hold you back if they didnt feel as strong at that particular time. However at this race I shared different parts of my race with Arend, Jack, Joe, Andreas, Martine, Jeremy etc. To share the experience, the hardship, the highs and lows really helped me. It certainly spurred me on much more then being on my own. I shared stages in the race with Andreas from Germany and if someone had recorded our conversations I dont think anyone but Andreas and I would understand much. Andreas speaking German mixed up with some English, and I trying to take my Swedish and make it more like German, mixing it with French and English! Incredible that we were able to cover all the topics we did in our own, common made-up language!

Come prepared
I came down to Spain mentally prepared. However with my ITB injury I was now feeling great in my body and hence I could only walk 3 out of the 5 days. I felt so strong energy wise and in muscles, but my knees and eventually my foot really held me back. I promised myself not to come as unprepared for a race again. It was incredibly frustrated to be in an event and not able to perform at your best. Of course there will be times when you come to an event without feeling 100%, but that is different then to come to a race like the Al Andalus without having run for the past 3 months (well technically I had actually run once in the half-Ironman, and I had walked parts of the coastal path for two days)!

Mental an physical preparation is key, and to come to an event like this without being able to run is something I dont want to experience again.

I am sure I will though, knowing me

In one week’s time I am once again on the starting line on a gruesome desert race. This time in Andalucia, in southern Spain. The Al Andalus Ultra Trail is a very tough race they say. Imagine to run a marathon, but then to continue for another 8km. On top of this you have to do it in the mountains in Andalucia in the middle of the summer. This means the heat in the middle of the day will be +40 degrees and some of the climbs over 1000m high!

That sounds like a tough race to me, especially since I have very limited run training since April because of my knee.

Oh there is one thing I forgot to mention. When you have done the 50km in one day you have to wake up the next day and to it all over again! And after that second day you have to get up again on the third day and do it all over. In total it is 50km per day for 5 days in a row… Talk about groundhog day!

If it hadnt been for the fact that I have only run 79km in total since April I would have rated my chances with the race. But currently my concerns are very much around the fact that 5×50km is an awfully long way if you have an ITB that is inflamed.

What is required is a total commitment to the event and mentally I have to completely disassociate myself with the physical condition and focus why I am doing this.

Yet if I make it or not I cannot say at this point. I know that I am going down to Andalucia terribly disadvantaged than how I normally approach a race. My commitment is to 100% give it my everything. If I end up on the floor, in a hospital bed; or if I actually cross the finish line I will not know until Friday 17 July.

Until then, please keep your messages coming, they mean very much to me…

Thank you for your support, it will be needed now when I go into such a race!

Ps, if any of you want to sponsor me and Cancer Research UK, please click here.

Slightly delayed, but here is the race report from my second race of the year, the UK Ironman 70.3…

Ben and I had a great build up, we found a little stream and pitched out tent in a field next to the stream. After fire by the stream, hot chocolate, evening dip, it was time to go to bed. 10am, and we were looking to a 3.45am start!!

Once at the race site you could feel the energy building. This year we had problem with the fog moving in and the organisers didnt want to let us into the water until the fog cleared, turned out to be a late start, instead of 6am, we got off at 7.20.

PANIC struck as I started to swim. I am a much more confident swimmer this year, but I had forgotten all about what it feels like when you have people literally trying to swim on top of you! My head got pushed under a couple of times. The first couple of times I made the mistake of not continuing to swim and more people swim on top of me. There is only one thing to do, and that is to keep swimming. Panic struck me a couple of times, and I would be lying if I didnt say that I was contemplating to put my hand up and get rescued by the boats… Luckily I kept going and after 10-15min or so it all cleared up.

I managed to front crawl the whole way around the course this year and I came out of the water 8 min better then last year. A quick job with the websuit strippers and I was out on the bike course. My bike was great on the first half of the loop (we do same loop twice). Small gentle hills and I was able to power up for them and fly down. I was overtaking people left and right. But before long I was at the start of the hill section, and I remembered Ben’s word about maybe I would not be able to cycle up them, since my bike has not got a third cog at the front and hence no really easy gear option. Many people got off their bikes and walked up, especially on the second lap, but I managed to keep my honour and not get off the bike. I got in just under 3h30min on the bike course, which for being the toughest bike course on any Ironman 70.3 I was very happy with. I took off more than 30min from last year’s time.

I got off the bike and out on the run course. At the very start I felt much better then last year. I could slowly jog from the very start. However this would soon change. The fact that I had not run since April started to give me problems and I just felt that there was nothing “in the tank”. I pushed on and in the end finished it in 2h15min, a disapointing 15min longer then last year for the run.

All in all I had improved my time with 30min from last year, so I was really pleased.

Onwards and upwards from here, and in my 5-event race schedule I now equalised it to 1-1 for me against the races *smile*

I left CP1 feeling strong. I had stayed there for 30- 40 minutes or so, and as I left I knew that I was entering the Messum riverbed and some of the hottest part of the race laid immediately ahead of me. I soon realised how far it was to the actual start of the riverbed and also how bad following the dirt track was: 1) because the cars ensured the sand was broken up so you kept walking in deep energy-sapping sand, 2) because the road meanders like a river so you end up walking a less then ideal line from point A to B.

I am speed walking at this point and I am feeling good. I pass two participants, I feel really sorry for Richard who already had twisted an ankle (ironically whilst turning his head to the side to speak to the race medic and say that everything was ok, and then missed the hole in the ground). Richard was limping and I could see the agony he was in. I left Richard to continue my race. I am a firm believer that unless you are moving in exactly the same speed, it is less then optimal to go together on a race like this. Richard then went on to go to within 5km from the finish line where he collapsed some 25 hours after starting the race. Knowing that people him is down in Afghanistan working for a better world makes me feel proud to even live in the UK! In my mind he is one of true heroes if this year’s race.

I pass the Blue Peter crew when they are filming us and as always they are a happy break in the monotone environment. I was passed a number of times by the race medics and it always pulled me up and gave me energy. However at some point during this leg of the race I realise how different this race is from last. I remember how CP2 is going to appear from around the corner and although I seem to think that it is around every corner I keep being disappointed. I still feel strong, but I feel that the ability to move forward in speed is not there today.

Eventually I get into CP2 and it is around 5pm… I have covered little more then a marathon, but it has taken me 8 hours! As I sit down I feel strong. I feel that I am doing well and people around me say I look better then many participants coming into the checkpoint. I had decided I would have a hot meal already at this stage in the race, I felt that last years strategy to only eat once at the 60km CP3 was not ideal.

However it is here that my race changes character. From having felt strong and capable, all my energy saps out of my body and I find myself nodding off in the chair. Many more of my fellow participants come into the checkpoint, most looking ok, but some of them are struggling, such as Alex. He is the nicest of persons, and such an athlete; but today is not his day. In the end he drops out of the race with serious kidney implications. Alex will, like me, be back next year. For me a draw is not good enough, and for Alex he wants to show that he can master the distance.

It takes all my power to get up from my chair (and a fair bit of ass-kicking from others) and I start my walk to CP3. I almost immediately have to put on my head torch. I cannot believe that I am 30min away from CP2 and at the same time last year I was having a meal at CP3. This thought stays with me and I worried that I will not make the race cut off time. I have another 80km to go, and less then 4 hours to do each leg, I will have to speed up. Eventually I get into a faster rhythm and I keep this for 2 hours or so, even passing some of the other participants. The glow sticks on the back of other participants jump up and down and play tricks with my eyes. Mark (the founder of Across the Divide, who runs the event) is putting out new glow sticks on the route. The pace of this years race is so significantly different then last years that the supply of glow sticks was planned to be used on later stages in the race. Meanwhile reports of more people dropping out comes in and I feel so sorry for the ones that are not able to complete the event.

Some 3 hours into this leg of the race something goes wrong. I stop noticing the surroundings, up until now I had kept count on the number of scorpions I had seen on the road in the shine from my head torch, but now it is all a blur. I start to feel weak, negative thoughts are entering my brain and the pain is stronger then at any time during the race. The pain doesn’t bother me so much, it is more my inability to walk straight line that worries me. I am struggling to lift my feet off the ground, let alone walk. Nick is passing me and he is running again! I am so impressed but I cannot even begin to try to summon the strength to keep up with him.

My condition is getting worse and I have such an urge to just lie down. I know how dangerous that is (not so much for snakes and scorpions, but more for the risk of hypothermia), but still my body tells me to lie down. I am feeling very nauseous and I struggle to comprehend how I should get to CP3, even though I know it is only 5-6km ahead. I don’t know how much time pass, but it feels as if my body is a pressure cooker and I am getting near boiling point.

What happens now is difficult to describe, both because I cannot really remember everything, but maybe more due to the fact that it is more of an outer body experience. On one had I am in pain and only want to lie down and on the other hand I am almost watching myself is this state. I can almost assess my own situation and the conclusion I draw is not good. Would this be the end of my race? But this is just the start of my series of race challenges, how could it be I struggle so much.

My negative thoughts are interrupted by the head lights of a car coming towards me in the distance. I remember feeling scared and lonely and wanting them to be with me. At night in the desert lights travel far and it is seems to take forever before the car reaches me. It is Amy, the head race medic who also was here last year, and Kobus, my Namibian friend and race guide. Immediately they see that I am in a bad state. Amy asks me to sit in the car, she helps me to take off my race pack and she prompts me to eat something and give me a dried fruit stick. At the first bit I projectile vomit. At the third vomit Kobus disappears and it is not until the next day that I get to know he also threw up, when I ask him why he simply says “that is what friends are for”! I think this is my first ever recorded sympathy vomit.

At the point where Amy and Kobus finds me, my body checks out. I am no longer responsible for staying alive. I can hardly sit up and I am falling asleep with Amy supporting me so I don’t fall out of the vehicle. When she says that “Joakim, I will have to pull you from the race” I cannot really comprehend; but at the same time I understand that it is over. At that moment in time I do not care, I just want to  to sleep.

I have a vague memory of the Blue Peter film crew turning up and interviewing me, but I have no idea if what I said made any sense or what they asked me. I don’t think it was any solutions to world famine or similar, since the clip was not in the final show. This is pretty much the last thing I remember from that evening. I have been told that I looked like a ghost when I was carried into the tent and when my body started to cramp and shake Amy put me on IV drip. People who manned CP3 said it resembled a war zone, as if in an episode of M.A.S.H.! People passing out, people staggered into camp on feet that cannot be described in words, snakes crawling through camp and even under some of mattresses the participants sat on!

At some point during the night I was moved to the finish line of the race. I remember waking up for a brief moment in Faan’s old army truck, just at the point when the IV drip was ripped out of my hand! We were lying on boxes mattresses and assorted bits of kit. Eventually I woke up at around 7am at the finish line, hearing the voices of Darren (winner by less then one minute!) and Tom. I went out and helped them to applaud all the participants who slowly but surely made it into camp.

What a race, the Namibian Ultra Marathon in 2009. Out of 23 participants only 12 made it to the finish line. All in all – A hell of a race.

So what did I learn, well that will be the focus of my next blog post. However did it deter me from future races? No way… Will it stop me from coming back to the Namibian Ultra Marathon? Hell no, less then a week after I came back to UK I signed up for next year’s race! Namibia, I’ll be back!

What is it to be successful in an ultra marathon event? To win, to make it to the finish line, or maybe just to give it everything you have got? When I was lying in the tent at CP3, 12h after the start of the race, IV in my hand and cramps moving through my body waking me up from a semi-conscious sleep I can say that at that point I didn’t possess even the slightest strength to do anything but fall back into sleep.

Later I was told that I was being transported the 60km to the finish line in an old army truck, IV still in my vein, the bag of fluid hanging from the ceiling of the truck, my head resting on a plastic box and we were all thrown around like the balls in the Euro-lottery draw, and I was still asleep. Also at that point, I guess I can conclude that I didn’t have more to give.

Still after all this, already the morning after the race, when I saw some of my fellow participants hobbling over the finish line I was asking myself: “Could I have done more, did I pull out to early”? Was there something that I could have done at the point when I was taken off the race by the medic that would have allowed and enabled me to finish the race?

Well I guess I will never know to 100%. I have my own conclusion and later in this race report I will come back to this . But before I start talking about my conclusions and what I have taken away from this event, let me tell you about the event itself.

There were many things I took with me to Namibia that made me feel that I was full of confidence. I had trained another year, I had the experience of last year’s event and except for the last two weeks training had gone well. I had logged less miles on my feet, but on the other hand I had been swimming and cycling too, so all in all, I had done my training.

Back in Namibia
To add to the preparation I had booked a week in Namibia ahead of the race to acclimatise better. I had two days in the desert mountains in Naukluft National Park, hiking 10-12 hours per day. This had the additional benefit that I got my back used to a heavy pack (camera equipment). Even if this was just hiking, I still got to feel the Namibian sun and the heat that I was going to have to deal with in the race.

I also took two rest days in Sossusvlei, some of the most picture perfect place I have ever been too. I had a great time and managed to get some good shots and also to see some of the wildlife.

I had a good session stalking an Oryx and to get a shot with the photogenic animal with the backdrop of the red sand dunes of Sossusvlei is a real treat. The Oryx is an amazing animal and they can go in the desert for more then 3 months without water. Later I would learn that I would struggle to go 30min without water!

Back in the Namib desert

And so I was back in the desert. This time the camp was further away from Brandberg. The camp was on a little plot in the middle of the Namib desert, about 80km as the crow flies from the sea. We settled in with little pain and woke up to a beautiful sunrise the morning before the race. I was reminded by the real dangers of this race when I saw movement 2 metres ahead of me. A horned adder, the closest I had ever been to a wild potentially lethal venomous snake. With a stick I managed to move it into the sun and got some good photos of it. However the thought of running through knee-high grass suddenly seemed less appealing. During the race I didn’t see any snakes but several participants saw or heard them hissing at them running past! At checkpoint 3 snakes had to be removed from the area on more then one occasion. The desert is truly wild. To add to this we found a scorpion on the race morning, something that I had not previously encountered in Namibia. During the evening I saw about 10 different scorpions passing just before my feet as I walked through the Messum crater, so sure enough, the Namib desert is wild.

Day before the race
The feeling was different this year. I knew what was ahead of us, and I shared my thoughts with Andy, who also was here last year. I think we both confided in eachother feeling that we were “in the know” whilst the others where blissfully unaware what was waiting for them.

I did a short interview with Helen from Blue Peter who was out here doing the race. This would mean a TV crew would follow her around and we would even have an helicopter coming in for the start of the event! I felt confident that I was properly prepared. I even had my racepack packed and ready the night before. A mile away from last years morning scramble trying to fit everything I needed in the pack! I was convinced that I was going to complete the race, as long as I wouldn’t have a major injury.

Race morning
I woke up and felt relaxed. Most of my things were packed up already, so I went up and head an extra breakfast (noodles for maximum carbohydrates). Even though I had packed the day before there were of course many many things to take care of prior to the race. Nerves starts to set in. This year we weighed in before the race and with my shoes and clothes I was 83kg, which seems about right. I felt strong and I was ready to start the race. The helicopter that was going to film the start arrived and it all started a bit of frantic last minute thoughts and preparations. People gathered at the start line (well, the imaginary start line). Fran gave us some last minute comments and counted down from 10.

Race start
Last year I had made a point to take the lead the first 50 metres of the race, and counting down on the start line I felt an urge to do the same. I think I actually made a false start! Maybe the first false start ever recorded in a 24h Ultra Marathon? We were away and I was leading the field. The helicopter is going sideways in front of me, and I have to hold my hat to make sure it stays on my head!

It seems like a slow pace, but no one is overtaking me and I keep looking back. It feels a bit ridiculous that I am leading the group now, but soon enough Tom, Jerry and Tom overtakes me and put the world back in order again!

I run in my own pace and slowly but surely participant by participant come up and pass me, and it doesn’t bother me. I know what there is ahead and am in no hurry. It is 9am and it is already hot. There is something in the air that makes it incredibly hard to run and soon enough people start to speed-walk. I try to keep jogging, even though the pace is not much faster then the people speed walking. I come up to the improvised checkpoint 0.5. This was setup since the organisers had added 6km to this years race and they were all added on the first leg, so they had broken it up with a station at 10km or so. I refilled water and then was off again, not stopping more then 2 minutes or so. I was back on the long road and I knew that it was going to be a long way away before I would break into the dried-up riverbed. I see Emma coming up to me and she is looking a bit in distress, it turns out that she wasn’t certain on the route and at exactly the same spot where Tom overshot the course by 5km she was about to do the same thing. I show her the way and she goes ahead with her light small steps. Once in the riverbed I go for an “as-the-crow-flies” route, rather then following in the meandering road, mainly because the road is a dirt track with a foot of loose sand and it is too punishing on my legs. By this time I am walking and am in no position to run.

After what feels like an eternity I can see the tent and the Blue Peter film crew is there filming me as I approach the the first check point, Checkpoint 1 (CP1). 10 people or so are trying to share the shaded space and I sit down on a chair and relax, refill water and try to eat. I try to empty my shoes of these sharp grass seeds that keep coming into my shoes. They are a real pain and rub, itch and the discomfort is very real. Emma had taped elastic bandage around her shoes to keep the seeds out, and it is a trick I will remember to next year. Generally I would say gaiters are not needed for the Namibian Ultra, however they would have been nice for this first leg.

All in all I was feeling strong though. I knew what was left to do and I felt I had it in my body to meet the challenge head first. I was going to be proven wrong on the next leg of the race, but sitting at CP1 gathering strength, I found myself feeling confident. After about 30-40 minutes I left and there was no way I was going to run now. Speed walk was the only way in the heat.

The trouble had started, and in the next part of the race report, you will get to know why Amy, the race medic, pulled me off the race after 61km.

Late at night, day before yesterday, I was found on the road by the race medic at 61km into the race. At that point I was not able to walk in a straight line and was fighting the urge to lie down, I knew this would be a very dangerous thing to do. Amy, our race doctor and saviour of many people during the race, asked me to sit in the car with her for a while. I had a single bite of a energy bar to re-gain energy, but I immediatly threw up. My state quickly got worse and when I was put in a rest tent cramps and shivers started, a sign of very serious exhaustion and the body shutting down.

After a night on IV-fluid I was yesterday morning waking up feeling very empty. I cannot tell you much about the night, because my memories are very much blurred from the point of meeting Amy.

Two days afterwards I have mixed feelings. On one hand I am happy I was found in time for Amy to take care of me early enough in my state to be able to get me back to normal in just a day or two (another guy in the race unfortunately collapsed and was on IV and slept for 24h after the race!). On the other hand I feel very empty and filled with questions about why I didn’t manage to complete this year’s race.

In total 9 out of 23 runners pulled out, or was pulled out of the race, in comparison to last year when 1 out of 9 pulled out. The winner of last year’s, Tom, came third this year, on a time which was close to 4 hours later then what he did last year. All in all the majority of the people were 5 – 6 hours behind the general pace of last years race. The heat and a very hot wind, which was not there last year, took it’s toll on all of us.

I have still a day and a bit left in Namibia to gather my thoughts and I will write a more conclusive race report once back in the UK. At the moment I have a strange feeling of being extremely lucky to be as OK as I am now, and at the same time feeling empty for not having completed the race.

Thank you all for sending supporting messages (for those of you who have texted me, my phone has died, so sorry for not getting back to you).

/Joakim

It has start to become apparent to me what I have set out to do. It has taken me 11 weeks to reach 815km (the total km I have set out to race over 5 races). It has taken me 11 weeks to cover that distance in training! During the first 11 weeks of this year I have in average been doing some form of sport  5 days per week. Is it then humanly possible to do the same distance, but over 5 days? In total I will race 9 days (The race in Andalucia is 5 days) and I will have to cover the distance it has taken me 11 weeks!

Is my race schedule to ambitious? Can I climb this mountain of kilometres?

I guess it is a good thing that my Namibia departure is only two weeks away! No turning back now, I am commited to do this and now I will go out and prove it. But it will be tough.

What are your thoughts on my race schedule? I really do appreciate your comments, so please keep them coming

This years Tough Guy was a killer! The weather made the event more difficult then ever. 2 degrees Celsius in the water, and -5 in the air with the windchill factor took its toll on all competitors and I saw more people on the ground shaking uncontrollably then ever before.

This is what the race organisers have to say about closing down the course before all the late laggerds have completed:

“At 1 o’clock we shut off the Death Plunge diving boards because 2 caravan mobile relief were bursting with hypothermia victims, 18 bodies in one, 23 in the other shivering, shaking, awaiting transport to the Field Hospital.  St John Ambulance were ferrying to the Field Hospital as quickly as possible.

To allow more to jump in the lake was a High Death Risk to competitors plus divers having to stand in neck high water were physically deteriorating their capabilities to dive under for incapables.”

To add to the weather the organisers had a new set of challenges in store for us. The start used to be a nice long country run, but this year they broke it up with A-frames and obstacles all ready from the start.

Good thing: I finished better then ever, in the end 96 of 2800 that completed the race.
Bad thing: I could not stop shaking for about 30 minutes after finishing and had to have help to be able to undress and bring clean clothes on.

I have not experienced such cold before during my races. To after the race not be able to hold a drink or even undress on my own was indeed a new experience.

Bad thing x2: The snow slowed us down on the way back and rather then being at home at 9pm, we arrived at 1am in the morning! The next day I found myself stuck in Croydon with no trains available to go to work. I had to walk 4h 15min to get home, get dressed and then off to work… At least I got a good work out on the Monday too! The glass is always half-full!