Marathon – 26.2 mile foot race.
Ultra-Marathon – a race that is longer than the traditional 26 mile distance.
Adventure Race – a race that is ultra in distance, typically lasting several days whereby you carry your required provisions for the duration, and over harsh terrain that presents variables beyond your control.
The outcome of the first 2 is hardly ever in doubt and only the time required to complete is in question. The outcome of the last one is indeed unpredictable, which is what makes it an adventure.
(photographs by Gil Serique)
Ultra-Marathon – a race that is longer than the traditional 26 mile distance.
Adventure Race – a race that is ultra in distance, typically lasting several days whereby you carry your required provisions for the duration, and over harsh terrain that presents variables beyond your control.
The outcome of the first 2 is hardly ever in doubt and only the time required to complete is in question. The outcome of the last one is indeed unpredictable, which is what makes it an adventure.
(photographs by Gil Serique)
October 3 (evening):
Tomorrow morning, I begin my journey to the starting line of the 200km race which takes place in the Amazon jungle in the stunning State of Para in Brazil. The Amazon is the largest and densest rainforest on earth, about the size of the USA west of the Mississippi. Its vegetation represents a third of the remaining forest on earth and provides about 15% of the world's new oxygen. If the Amazon were a country, it would be the 9 th largest. It runs for 4,007 miles and touches or winds through 8 countries. Fortunately for me, the race only touches a tiny section of this incredible territory – the Floresta National de Tapajos.
My journey to the starting line will take me around 48 hours: on plane from New York to Miami to Manaus to Santarem; by car to the town of Alter do Chao; by overnight boat to the jungle base camp.
For the past several weeks, I've been obsessed with gear preparation. But this evening, I find myself not thinking much about the race or the gear or the journey ahead. Instead, my thoughts go to the same place where they always go prior to any trip I take on my own – to my 22 month old daughter Bethany. I'm missing her already.
October 4 to 7:
The journey to the starting line was uneventful. My childhood friend, Derek, connected with me in Miami. We've known each other since the age of 11, and he's like a brother to me. Derek, an American Chinese who lives in Hong Kong, has completed 6 adventure races. He has done all 4 of the Racing the Planet series (each 250km distances across the Gobi desert, the Atacama, the Sahara and Antarctica), as well as Marathon Des Sables (243km in the Sahara) and Eco Challenge Borneo. He wanted to do one last adventure race, and saved the toughest for last – Jungle Marathon, otherwise referred to as JM. Within the adventure racing com
munity, JM is considered to be the toughest. Most people will attempt Marathon Des Sables, or MDS, for their first adventure race, since this is extremely well organized with over 700 runners every year. Being in the desert, it is also far safer since rescuers can easily spot runners in trouble and bolt over in a jeep. I intentionally went for the toughest one because I was told that this activity can be addictive. The training is time-consuming. So Derek suggested JM for my first – by completing JM, there would not likely be any urge to do an easier one. It was logical in a warped way.The overnight boat ride required us to find a spot on the boat, string up our hammocks and settle down. From the moment we boarded that boat, we were living off our self-carried provisions. There would be no restaurants or stores from this point and if you run out of food, you pull out of the race (unless you can run on empty).
Upon arrival at jungle base camp on the shores of the Tapajos River, we once again picked out spots and set up hammocks. Much of the time was spent on gear packing and re-packing, since we each have to carry all of our own provisions to last the entire race. If you don't pack enough, you won't have energy. If you pack too much, you carry extra weight. Tricky balance. This time was also spent meeting the other racers (45 of us in total).
I traded MRE's (Meals Ready to Eat) with Peter from Korea. He had excellent MRE's – much tastier Asian meals, as compared to my western meals. MRE's are not great, but not bad. You just add water to the pack - preferably hot but cold will also work – shake it and eat.
I traded electrolyte tablets with Christian from Denmark who is a sub-3 marathon runner (2:55 or so is his typical time). He in turn introduced me to some of the Danish contingent –"MDS" Johnny who is about 6'5 and has a tattoo on the side of his leg of the Marathon Des Sables logo which he completed 4 times and finished in the top 20 every time; and Youssef who is a demolitions diver and physical trainer with the Danish Navy.
"Powerhouse" Daryl, a half-Chinese guy from British Columbia, lives outdoors. No kidding, this biologist has a trailer park but sleeps outdoors in a hammock even during the cold winters in Canada. This is his second time doing JM because he loves the jungle. Despite clocking huge amounts of mileage every week, Daryl is still built like an NFL running back – somehow, he doesn't burn off his muscle mass.
I also met fellow Americans Andrea who lives right across the park from me in New York (70's on the east side, while I'm on west 68 th); Al from Brooklyn who did time in Afghanistan with the military; Mark from Vegas; and Judah from Dallas. Andrea did Marathon Des Sables last year, and around the campsites during that race she first heard of "the crazy-tough jungle marathon". She decided right then and there that she'd sign up. Al, originally from Bangladesh, felt compelled to serve the country that has given him a far better life than his native land could ever do.
We were all briefed on jungle survival tips. We were shown the various types of snakes and told where they tend to hide, what to do if bitten, etc. Gil, the photographer, doubled as translator
for the Brazilians since none of them spoke English. He grew up in the area and learned his English by hanging out with foreigners. The result – he understands everything and converses well, but has this weird Aussie-Brit-Portugese accented English. Gil is a surfer-type…baggy shorts, constantly giving the hang-loose signal. Gil was taking photos in order to make a CD for sale at the end of the race, and planned to use the money to buy a new windsurf. Every time Gil translated, the Brazilians all busted up laughing. "UN" Helder, from Portugal, explained to me that Gil was translating but in a somewhat different manner. For example, "if you get bitten by a snake, the first bite is usually a warning and not much venom is used, so back away quickly and do not subject yourself to second bit which is far more deadly"…Gil translated it into something like "if you get bitten, don't give the @#$* a second chance, just get the @#* out of there". Helder was known as UN for United Nations because he was being tapped to translate for everyone. The Spanish trio spoke only Spanish, not English or Portugese; Brazilians spoke only Portugese; Widy, who would go on to win the entire race, hailed from Guadaloupe and spoke only French. Helder spoke all of those languages.We were shown the different types of trees and branches to watch out for. Some had long sharp spikes, others had thorns. The most impressive was what looked like a simple thin blade of grass; however, they took a piece of meat and cut that meat clean in half using this innocent looking blade of grass. It grows long and when you walk through a field of this type of grass, you have to watch your hands or you'll end up with deep cuts. We were told that jaguars are shy and chances are slim to none that we'd encounter them.
October 8, Stage 1:
Adrenaline was running high at the starting line. I elected to be covered up with long running tights and long-sleeve shirt, as well as gloves. The heat and humidity in the Amazon is stifling. However, exposed skin is subject to cuts, scrapes, bites and many other things. You have to choose and it comes down to personal preference. I figured that with today's technical dri-fit gear, the extra heat retention from long tights and long sleeves is marginal. This material is moisture wicking, breathes, etc. Any extra heat compared to short sleeves and shorts is more psychological than anything else. But long sleeves will make a huge difference in protection against thorns, sharp leaves, branches, insect bites, things that might want to burrow into your skin.
October 8, Stage 1:
Adrenaline was running high at the starting line. I elected to be covered up with long running tights and long-sleeve shirt, as well as gloves. The heat and humidity in the Amazon is stifling. However, exposed skin is subject to cuts, scrapes, bites and many other things. You have to choose and it comes down to personal preference. I figured that with today's technical dri-fit gear, the extra heat retention from long tights and long sleeves is marginal. This material is moisture wicking, breathes, etc. Any extra heat compared to short sleeves and shorts is more psychological than anything else. But long sleeves will make a huge difference in protection against thorns, sharp leaves, branches, insect bites, things that might want to burrow into your skin.
The race officially started and after a short jog along the sand, we had to cross a creek b
efore entering the jungle. This start would come to represent just about every start during the race – crossing water to begin the day thoroughly soaked. The humidity levels would see to it that nothing ever dries once wet, and wet shoes and socks make the battle against blisters that much harder.
This day was defined by inclines and declines, all with a 25lb pack on my back. The entire route was done either climbing or descending. No treadmill can prepare you for the type of climbing that was required here. The climbing was so steep that I often had to use my hands to grasp and pull myself up. In certain sections, I stuck my knife into the dirt to stop from slipping backwards. The descents were no easier. I often had to go down facing backwards so I could use my hands for support. The jungle floor is f
illed with all kinds of twigs, branches, spikes, etc so you can't sit on your rear and slide down – you'll get shredded. Even when the trail took me laterally, I was moving on a slope so the inner ankle of one leg and the outer ankle of the other leg were constantly stressed. Tripping in these spots would send you tumbling down a slope occupied with horrible looking trees and plants. There were numerous logs that warranted going under or over, and each time I had to check before touching because fire ants and other things were often crawling all over the place. I took several bee stings and painful ant bites during the route. The humidity draped over us like a wet blanket and the amount of water loss by each runner was tremendous. Every racer fell and slipped multiple times, getting ankles snagged or stepping awkwardly and stumbling, or jamming toes against stumps (good shoes help but after the 20th time, bruises will form). The lower legs were cut and scraped by thorns, branches, leaves. Holes littered the jungle floor and were covered in leaves, so stepping into holes and rolling your ankle was common. There were also spikes coming up from the ground and if a runner were to slip and fall on top of a spike, the resulting injury would be serious.
efore entering the jungle. This start would come to represent just about every start during the race – crossing water to begin the day thoroughly soaked. The humidity levels would see to it that nothing ever dries once wet, and wet shoes and socks make the battle against blisters that much harder.This day was defined by inclines and declines, all with a 25lb pack on my back. The entire route was done either climbing or descending. No treadmill can prepare you for the type of climbing that was required here. The climbing was so steep that I often had to use my hands to grasp and pull myself up. In certain sections, I stuck my knife into the dirt to stop from slipping backwards. The descents were no easier. I often had to go down facing backwards so I could use my hands for support. The jungle floor is f
illed with all kinds of twigs, branches, spikes, etc so you can't sit on your rear and slide down – you'll get shredded. Even when the trail took me laterally, I was moving on a slope so the inner ankle of one leg and the outer ankle of the other leg were constantly stressed. Tripping in these spots would send you tumbling down a slope occupied with horrible looking trees and plants. There were numerous logs that warranted going under or over, and each time I had to check before touching because fire ants and other things were often crawling all over the place. I took several bee stings and painful ant bites during the route. The humidity draped over us like a wet blanket and the amount of water loss by each runner was tremendous. Every racer fell and slipped multiple times, getting ankles snagged or stepping awkwardly and stumbling, or jamming toes against stumps (good shoes help but after the 20th time, bruises will form). The lower legs were cut and scraped by thorns, branches, leaves. Holes littered the jungle floor and were covered in leaves, so stepping into holes and rolling your ankle was common. There were also spikes coming up from the ground and if a runner were to slip and fall on top of a spike, the resulting injury would be serious. Inside the jungle, there is no wind so you stay damp and hot, a bit like exercising in a mild sauna. Proper hydration was critical. The trees were close and tight and made the r
oute annoyingly claustrophobic. When I finally cleared the jungle and finished the route on the shores of the Tapajos river, I felt no satisfaction but just relief to be able to see more than 12 feet ahead of me. In New York's Central Park, I can cover 12 miles in about 90 minutes. Here it took me over 6 hours. The fastest runner today, Widy with this dreadlocks and wild-man look, took close to 3 hours. And he does these races for a living.At campsite, I discovered just how hard it is to sleep in a hammock in the jungle. The hammock itself takes getting used to. You're wrapped up like a burrito so it's claustrophobic. Being inexperienced in the ways of the outdoors, I did not buy a hammock liner so I'm plastered against the nylon which is unpleasant. Add to this the fact that the jungle is noisy. There are all kinds of sounds coming from the jungle, in addition to the various movements, shifting, clanging, chatter, etc from others around the camp site. But the worst part – you sweat yourself into a light half-sleep only to awaken shivering. To my great shock, the Amazon actually gets chilly into the night. In my effort to pack as light as possible, I had no blanket. With the benefit of experience, I would have brought a liner, leg warmers and a light fleece vest. That extra weight would be well worth a decent night's sleep. This was day 1, and I was staring down lots of tough mileage with minimal to no sleep through-out.
October 9, Stage 2:
More of the same, just longer in distance. The hills were supposedly less harsh compared to stage 1, but it didn't feel that way. There were also several swamp crossings, some of which were so disgustingly thick that I was worried about losing my shoe every time I pulled my foot out of the muck. I had to tread carefully – one racer did in fact pull his leg up without his shoe and spent close to 30 minutes with his face in and out of the swamp mud feeling around to locate that shoe. If you lose your shoe, you're out of the race.
At camp after the route was completed, I heard that some runners behind me got held up in one of the check points because a jaguar was spotted. So much for "don't worry about jaguars." At this camp site, there was a clear creek in which to wash up so I headed down there to sit in the cool water. Some of the Danish guys were there, and they were all comfortably naked, explaining to me that in Denmark, everyone is quite fine with it. I was too tired, muddy and sore to care about inhibitions. But I kept my tights on because of the toothpick fish, formally known as candiru. This tiny, sharp-spined catfish is supposedly attracted to urine streams. They will follow the stream to its source, enter the bather's urethra, and then gorge itself on its host's blood. The candiru will die, since its own spines lodge into the soft tissue of the urethra, and it will never be able to go in any direction except forward. But for the poor host, it means you have this thing stuck in a very vital part of your anatomy. It will be excruciating, and you will not be able to urinate any more until it is surgically removed. I have no idea how much of this is accurate vs. jungle myth. But I had no desire to find out firsthand. My tights stayed on while I was in the water.
Then I almost got a heart-attack. While I was sitting in the middle of the creek, one of the
Danish guys let out a blood-curdling scream and was pointing behind me. I reacted in a spasm of panic, twisting up and around, fully expecting to see some giant water python or crocodile bearing down on me. Turns out that a jet-black dog had come to the water's edge to drink, and this Danish guy "thought it was a puma, sorry Bert." It's funny now, but at the time, I was livid at the absurd mistake by a wildly gesticulating, obscene, naked Danish guy. I had enough of jaguars and pumas and headed back to my hammock.
That night, the Amazonian torrential downpour arrived. Many of us did not properly set up our hammocks as the night started out crystal clear with brilliant stars all on display. In the city, there is too much light pollution. But out here, it seemed like every star in the galaxy was visible. Just after midnight, many of us were frantically trying to set up our rain fly sheets.
Too little, too late. My hammock was soaked. It was a cold, wet night and I got maybe 1 hour of restless sleep at most. To keep the pack light, I brought only 1 outfit to race in and 1 outfit to sleep in. Most others did the same. Tonight, both outfits were damp.
October 10, Stage 3:
Longer route today. Officially listed at 31km, but we all learned in the first 2 days to ignore t
he official listings. I couldn't figure out why my estimated timing was off every time I tried to gauge how long it would take to get to the next checkpoint. Having done a fair amount of running during training, I've got a pretty good feel for how long I've traveled based on my pace. But in this race, it was never matching up. The guys with GPS systems all confirmed that our actual distances were far longer. If a check point was listed at 5km away, GPS recorded more like 7km. Each day was roughly 6km to 8km longer than advertised. 
Today, I learned that going too slow can be as lethal as going too fast. I always knew that you could get into big trouble if you tried to keep pace with someone much faster than you. But I didn't know that you could get into trouble by keeping pace with people much slower than you. I thought I'd be conservative and go slow today to save energy for the later stages. But I didn't train to be on the move for so many hours. A better strategy would have been for me to go at the pace which I trained, get miles behind me and then slow down towards the end if I was tired. By going slow from the gate, I ended up out in the jungle for about 3 more hours than my body wanted and I was in bad shape by the time I hit camp. I couldn't keep any food down at all. Shaun from Australia set up my hammock and forced me to get some crackers down. He then placed one of my MRE's with
a spoon right below my hammock and told me to eat as soon as I can or tomorrow will be a very painful day for me. I asked Shaun where was my friend Derek, and got the devastating news that Derek had pulled out. He twisted his ankleI and was not able to continue. This was the lowest point of the race for me...Derek had completed so many other races, and this was his last one. He always finishes. This was a bad omen. I pretty much passed out, and was up at midnight feeling physically much better but still depressed over Derek. I wondered when I would see him next...would he fly straight back to Hong Kong, or would he hang around and see me at the finish line? I reached below my hammock and picked up the MRE which was like cold mush, didn't taste good but not bad either. I got it all down, and stuffed a protein bar down as well. Then I chugged a full liter of water and tried to get back to sleep.
Whoever said the rooster crows at dawn never owned a rooster. This camp, like all of our camp sites, straddled a nearby village. And roosters don't crow at dawn. They crow at 3AM when it's still pitch black. One shouts, another replies, and pretty soon they're having some sort of ornithological debate. Another night without good sleep. But the few hours that I was passed out would combine with the food I managed to get inside me and serve me well tomorrow.
October 11, Stage 4:
Fully recovered from the other night, and today was strong for me. I kept my own pace, and somewhat used to the jungle terrain now, I was able to spot holes and vines and various other things much better. I tripped and snagged less, and although bites from bees and ants were
daily events here, today was a good day. The only negative is that I could feel the blisters coming on fast now. Each day involved water crossings and swamps, and moving in damp socks and shoes was taking its toll.
After completing the stage, I relaxed at camp to rest up for tomorrow's long 87km stage. I got the medics to tape up my feet in the hopes of keeping the blisters from getting much worse, and after a meal of instant noodles and 3 sticks of beef jerky, and a bag of animal crackers for dessert, I chatted with the main organizer of this race, Shirley. She got lots of good logistical advice from her husband who is ex-French Foreign Legion and also worked as a mercenary in various parts of Africa. He spent a great deal of time in jungles, and thinks everyone who does this race is crazy because "at least I got paid to do that #$@*, why would anyone pay money to suffer?"
October 12 – 13, Stage 5:
More of the same, just longer in distance. The hills were supposedly less harsh compared to stage 1, but it didn't feel that way. There were also several swamp crossings, some of which were so disgustingly thick that I was worried about losing my shoe every time I pulled my foot out of the muck. I had to tread carefully – one racer did in fact pull his leg up without his shoe and spent close to 30 minutes with his face in and out of the swamp mud feeling around to locate that shoe. If you lose your shoe, you're out of the race.
At camp after the route was completed, I heard that some runners behind me got held up in one of the check points because a jaguar was spotted. So much for "don't worry about jaguars." At this camp site, there was a clear creek in which to wash up so I headed down there to sit in the cool water. Some of the Danish guys were there, and they were all comfortably naked, explaining to me that in Denmark, everyone is quite fine with it. I was too tired, muddy and sore to care about inhibitions. But I kept my tights on because of the toothpick fish, formally known as candiru. This tiny, sharp-spined catfish is supposedly attracted to urine streams. They will follow the stream to its source, enter the bather's urethra, and then gorge itself on its host's blood. The candiru will die, since its own spines lodge into the soft tissue of the urethra, and it will never be able to go in any direction except forward. But for the poor host, it means you have this thing stuck in a very vital part of your anatomy. It will be excruciating, and you will not be able to urinate any more until it is surgically removed. I have no idea how much of this is accurate vs. jungle myth. But I had no desire to find out firsthand. My tights stayed on while I was in the water.
Then I almost got a heart-attack. While I was sitting in the middle of the creek, one of the
Danish guys let out a blood-curdling scream and was pointing behind me. I reacted in a spasm of panic, twisting up and around, fully expecting to see some giant water python or crocodile bearing down on me. Turns out that a jet-black dog had come to the water's edge to drink, and this Danish guy "thought it was a puma, sorry Bert." It's funny now, but at the time, I was livid at the absurd mistake by a wildly gesticulating, obscene, naked Danish guy. I had enough of jaguars and pumas and headed back to my hammock.That night, the Amazonian torrential downpour arrived. Many of us did not properly set up our hammocks as the night started out crystal clear with brilliant stars all on display. In the city, there is too much light pollution. But out here, it seemed like every star in the galaxy was visible. Just after midnight, many of us were frantically trying to set up our rain fly sheets.
Too little, too late. My hammock was soaked. It was a cold, wet night and I got maybe 1 hour of restless sleep at most. To keep the pack light, I brought only 1 outfit to race in and 1 outfit to sleep in. Most others did the same. Tonight, both outfits were damp.
October 10, Stage 3:
Longer route today. Officially listed at 31km, but we all learned in the first 2 days to ignore t
he official listings. I couldn't figure out why my estimated timing was off every time I tried to gauge how long it would take to get to the next checkpoint. Having done a fair amount of running during training, I've got a pretty good feel for how long I've traveled based on my pace. But in this race, it was never matching up. The guys with GPS systems all confirmed that our actual distances were far longer. If a check point was listed at 5km away, GPS recorded more like 7km. Each day was roughly 6km to 8km longer than advertised. 
Today, I learned that going too slow can be as lethal as going too fast. I always knew that you could get into big trouble if you tried to keep pace with someone much faster than you. But I didn't know that you could get into trouble by keeping pace with people much slower than you. I thought I'd be conservative and go slow today to save energy for the later stages. But I didn't train to be on the move for so many hours. A better strategy would have been for me to go at the pace which I trained, get miles behind me and then slow down towards the end if I was tired. By going slow from the gate, I ended up out in the jungle for about 3 more hours than my body wanted and I was in bad shape by the time I hit camp. I couldn't keep any food down at all. Shaun from Australia set up my hammock and forced me to get some crackers down. He then placed one of my MRE's with
a spoon right below my hammock and told me to eat as soon as I can or tomorrow will be a very painful day for me. I asked Shaun where was my friend Derek, and got the devastating news that Derek had pulled out. He twisted his ankleI and was not able to continue. This was the lowest point of the race for me...Derek had completed so many other races, and this was his last one. He always finishes. This was a bad omen. I pretty much passed out, and was up at midnight feeling physically much better but still depressed over Derek. I wondered when I would see him next...would he fly straight back to Hong Kong, or would he hang around and see me at the finish line? I reached below my hammock and picked up the MRE which was like cold mush, didn't taste good but not bad either. I got it all down, and stuffed a protein bar down as well. Then I chugged a full liter of water and tried to get back to sleep.Whoever said the rooster crows at dawn never owned a rooster. This camp, like all of our camp sites, straddled a nearby village. And roosters don't crow at dawn. They crow at 3AM when it's still pitch black. One shouts, another replies, and pretty soon they're having some sort of ornithological debate. Another night without good sleep. But the few hours that I was passed out would combine with the food I managed to get inside me and serve me well tomorrow.
October 11, Stage 4:
Fully recovered from the other night, and today was strong for me. I kept my own pace, and somewhat used to the jungle terrain now, I was able to spot holes and vines and various other things much better. I tripped and snagged less, and although bites from bees and ants were
daily events here, today was a good day. The only negative is that I could feel the blisters coming on fast now. Each day involved water crossings and swamps, and moving in damp socks and shoes was taking its toll.After completing the stage, I relaxed at camp to rest up for tomorrow's long 87km stage. I got the medics to tape up my feet in the hopes of keeping the blisters from getting much worse, and after a meal of instant noodles and 3 sticks of beef jerky, and a bag of animal crackers for dessert, I chatted with the main organizer of this race, Shirley. She got lots of good logistical advice from her husband who is ex-French Foreign Legion and also worked as a mercenary in various parts of Africa. He spent a great deal of time in jungles, and thinks everyone who does this race is crazy because "at least I got paid to do that #$@*, why would anyone pay money to suffer?"
October 12 – 13, Stage 5:
The
87km stage began at 5:30AM. The first 40km was in jungle terrain, and the last 47km was on clear trails through villages. Checkpoint 5 marked the spot where the jungle ends and the village trails begin. This stage required us to reach checkpoint 4 by 4PM; otherwise you have to overnight at checkpoint 4 because it would not be possible to reach checkpoint 5 before dark. It's too dangerous to move in the jungle when it's dark. Not due to snakes or animals so much, but it would be impossible to spot the holes and spikes. Runners could put a thigh or hip straight into a protruding spike. For those of us who reach checkpoint 5, we would be permitted to continue the rest of the stage in the dark. The Brazilian military team would be on higher alert for this stage.There was a long water crossing to begin the stage. Racers could elect to take a boat ac
ross and incur a 30 minute penalty added to their time card. I decided to swim across and then take my time to re-tape my feet on the other side of the river. We were told not to worry about Piranhas as they don't tend to form feeding frenzies over large moving creatures. You might be in trouble if you jump into the middle of an existing feeding frenzy, but otherwise not. Gil the photographer grew up in this area and in his entire life, he knew of only one case where someone was killed by piranhas. Some pudgy guy with a few open cuts on his body jumped into the river from a high branch and ended up getting stuck in the mud from his thighs down. Piranhas happened to be already feeding around that spot, and just started pecking away at this poor guy who couldn't free himself from the mud. Horrific if it's true.Once I cleared the water and got moving, there was a very narrow trail to enter and just as I was about to move into this space, a comical scene unfolded – 3 large cows cut in front of me out of nowhere and ambled along the trail. Every time I got near to them, they would scramble forward and away. The foliage on either side was too thick to allow straying, so I wondered how long I would be following this herd of cows. This scene replayed a few times…the cows disappear ahead, I catch up, I get near, they scramble and disappear ahead. Then I passed Judah from Texas. He was white as a sheet. "Hey bro, all good?" He stammered away about cows, and I realized what happened. At the pre-race briefing, we were told about wild pigs in the jungle. While not likely to be encountered, pigs could be a problem if we run into them. These are stupid animals and they move in large packs. We were told that they make a lot of noise like a stampede, so we were instructed to climb a tree if we heard them coming. By getting just 12 inches off the ground, you're safe. Well old Judah, he heard the cows behind him and terrified, he leaped up a tree thinking wild pigs were about to trounce him with their tusks. To then see 3 dumb fat cows passing by was enough to make him turn white with a mix of fear and anger. I on the other hand almost burst a liver from holding in my laughter. The path eventually widened and the cows went off.
My goal for the day was to clear checkpoint 4 by 2PM or
so, and then get all the way out of the jungle portion into checkpoint 5 before 6PM. I would then recharge, re-tape, eat and rest for a few hours before continuing with the remaining 47km.
The jungle portion was more of the same, challenging and painful, and my blisters were throbbing. The Amazon can be breathtakingly beautiful when you look in one direction, and then monstrous when you look in another direction. The closer you get to the shores of the river, the more scenic the surroundings. The deeper you are in the jungle, the more grotesque are the surroundings. The vines, branches, leaves, shadows, colors, light all combine to be suffocating, unpleasant, unwelcoming and for some reason sinister. Maybe I was just exhausted, but this section of jungle elicited pangs of panic inside me. I did not belong here, and I had to get out.
At one section, there were dozens of huge hornets patrolling the space and the foliage was too thick on either side to stray off the path. I would have tried to sprint through had I been alone. Fortunately for me, I was with Helder and he knew that hornets attack abrupt movement. He suggested that we move through slowly. But these hornets were so big and tried to land on our bodies to investigate. Neither of us had the nerves to ignore them, so we kept backing out. Helder then came up with an ingenious plan – we cut leafy bushes and carrying a bush in each hand, we walked through the maze of hornets protected behind the leaves. Hornets landed on the leaves and whenever they got too close, we would shake the bush and they would fly off. No photographer around but it would have made a great picture, 2 clowns walking slowly with fat bushes in each hand, huddled behind the foliage and laughing over our silly triumph.
Helder and I reached checkpoint 5 before 6PM as planned. This stop was beautiful, stradd
ling a river and near a quaint village. In the jungle, the bugs tend to pick their spots. In some locations, I was inhaling mosquitoes and ticks were falling off the trees onto me. Less than 2 miles away, there are no or very little insects. Checkpoint 5 was a bit like California's Napa Valley. The air was cool and crisp and there were no bugs; at least none that bothered us. Helder was running a fever and so he decided to spend a few hours here. I enjoyed the company, and frankly did not want to attempt the remaining 47k in the dark alone. It was not creatures that concerned me but getting lost was my issue. It's hard to spot the tape markings in the dark. The organizers couldn't use those glow-sticks because the villagers would steal them. The final swing factor that convinced me to stay a while at checkpoint 5 – we were told that checkpoint 6 was in a shambles. Something went wrong with the organization, and checkpoint 6 was not where it should be, nor was there any water at checkpoint 6 even if you did find it. That would mean going for hours without water. Only a handful of the front-runners refused to stop despite this situation. Helder and I set up our hammocks, got cleaned up, changed out, hung up our gear and kicked back.
Several people pulled out after day 1 and more by day 2 and 3. I was not sure how many would get through the long stage, but was told that typically those who get past stage 3 should be able to get through it.
Helder was cold and running a fever, so I gave him my rain fly sheet which he wrapped around himself to trap heat. He's strong and does a 3:18 marathon but it was unwise to continue on the trail with a fever. He dozed off. I mixed water into a Lasagna MRE, washed it down with hot tea (thankfully I packed tea bags), and then polished off a bag of jelly beans. I packed a small bag of treats for each day, so I could end stage on a positive note – animal crackers, jelly beans, oreo cookies, pretzels.
An elderly lady from the nearby village beckoned me over to her hut and offered me a cup of
coffee. Technically, taking food from villagers or off the jungle was not allowed. We were supposed to rely solely on what we carried in our packs, other than water which was supplied at checkpoints and at camp. But at this point, rules were the last thing on my mind. That coffee was mantra from Heaven. She let me sit at her modest dining table, placed a dry towel over my shoulders, and I sipped the coffee while looking at the many photos of her family members taped to her wall. We couldn't converse as I did not speak Portugese but I was well aware that she had just opened up her home to a stranger. When I finished my 5th cup of coffee – every time she offered to refill, I couldn't refuse – I thanked her and she nodded. I wanted to give her money but only had USD bills. So I gave her a USD5 note. She examined it with great interest, then politely handed it back. I realized she had absolutely no use for USD in this remote location. I racked my brain trying to think of something to give her that I didn't actually need for the rest of the race. I had extra safety pins and offered these to her which she gladly accepted. A few pins for the best coffee I ever tasted…good trade!
so, and then get all the way out of the jungle portion into checkpoint 5 before 6PM. I would then recharge, re-tape, eat and rest for a few hours before continuing with the remaining 47km.The jungle portion was more of the same, challenging and painful, and my blisters were throbbing. The Amazon can be breathtakingly beautiful when you look in one direction, and then monstrous when you look in another direction. The closer you get to the shores of the river, the more scenic the surroundings. The deeper you are in the jungle, the more grotesque are the surroundings. The vines, branches, leaves, shadows, colors, light all combine to be suffocating, unpleasant, unwelcoming and for some reason sinister. Maybe I was just exhausted, but this section of jungle elicited pangs of panic inside me. I did not belong here, and I had to get out.
At one section, there were dozens of huge hornets patrolling the space and the foliage was too thick on either side to stray off the path. I would have tried to sprint through had I been alone. Fortunately for me, I was with Helder and he knew that hornets attack abrupt movement. He suggested that we move through slowly. But these hornets were so big and tried to land on our bodies to investigate. Neither of us had the nerves to ignore them, so we kept backing out. Helder then came up with an ingenious plan – we cut leafy bushes and carrying a bush in each hand, we walked through the maze of hornets protected behind the leaves. Hornets landed on the leaves and whenever they got too close, we would shake the bush and they would fly off. No photographer around but it would have made a great picture, 2 clowns walking slowly with fat bushes in each hand, huddled behind the foliage and laughing over our silly triumph.
Helder and I reached checkpoint 5 before 6PM as planned. This stop was beautiful, stradd
ling a river and near a quaint village. In the jungle, the bugs tend to pick their spots. In some locations, I was inhaling mosquitoes and ticks were falling off the trees onto me. Less than 2 miles away, there are no or very little insects. Checkpoint 5 was a bit like California's Napa Valley. The air was cool and crisp and there were no bugs; at least none that bothered us. Helder was running a fever and so he decided to spend a few hours here. I enjoyed the company, and frankly did not want to attempt the remaining 47k in the dark alone. It was not creatures that concerned me but getting lost was my issue. It's hard to spot the tape markings in the dark. The organizers couldn't use those glow-sticks because the villagers would steal them. The final swing factor that convinced me to stay a while at checkpoint 5 – we were told that checkpoint 6 was in a shambles. Something went wrong with the organization, and checkpoint 6 was not where it should be, nor was there any water at checkpoint 6 even if you did find it. That would mean going for hours without water. Only a handful of the front-runners refused to stop despite this situation. Helder and I set up our hammocks, got cleaned up, changed out, hung up our gear and kicked back.Several people pulled out after day 1 and more by day 2 and 3. I was not sure how many would get through the long stage, but was told that typically those who get past stage 3 should be able to get through it.
Helder was cold and running a fever, so I gave him my rain fly sheet which he wrapped around himself to trap heat. He's strong and does a 3:18 marathon but it was unwise to continue on the trail with a fever. He dozed off. I mixed water into a Lasagna MRE, washed it down with hot tea (thankfully I packed tea bags), and then polished off a bag of jelly beans. I packed a small bag of treats for each day, so I could end stage on a positive note – animal crackers, jelly beans, oreo cookies, pretzels.
An elderly lady from the nearby village beckoned me over to her hut and offered me a cup of
coffee. Technically, taking food from villagers or off the jungle was not allowed. We were supposed to rely solely on what we carried in our packs, other than water which was supplied at checkpoints and at camp. But at this point, rules were the last thing on my mind. That coffee was mantra from Heaven. She let me sit at her modest dining table, placed a dry towel over my shoulders, and I sipped the coffee while looking at the many photos of her family members taped to her wall. We couldn't converse as I did not speak Portugese but I was well aware that she had just opened up her home to a stranger. When I finished my 5th cup of coffee – every time she offered to refill, I couldn't refuse – I thanked her and she nodded. I wanted to give her money but only had USD bills. So I gave her a USD5 note. She examined it with great interest, then politely handed it back. I realized she had absolutely no use for USD in this remote location. I racked my brain trying to think of something to give her that I didn't actually need for the rest of the race. I had extra safety pins and offered these to her which she gladly accepted. A few pins for the best coffee I ever tasted…good trade!Helder and I set off several hours later in pitch darkness. Using our headlamps, we mo
ved along the muddy road in high spirits. The rest at checkpoint 5 felt great. When we got to the infamous checkpoint 6, we got a news update. A few more runners had now dropped, most behind us but one of the front-runners also pulled out. Daryl, the powerful Canadian, tried to reach checkpoint 7 despite running out of water en route, and he collapsed on the trail. He was fine while lying on his back, but every time he tried to stand, he would faint again. He told the other front-runners to carry on because he thought he could recover. But his body had shut down. The soldiers eventually found him and carried him to the next checkpoint for an IV drip. Any racer who fails to carry on without assistance is disqualified. This was a great shame, as Daryl was doing so well. Had he waited for water, he would certainly have finished well.
The other front-runners were hurting, again due to absence of water, but managed to reach that next checkpoint and re-fuel. I would hear later from "MDS" Johnny that he went for 5 hours without any water, and came across Peter from Korea who was incoherent and trying to walk off into unmarked directions. By helping each other, those front runners reached the checkpoint but it was punishing.
Helder and I continued. Daylight arrived, and we passed many villages. In one village, a lot of festivity was taking place. Helder, who speaks Portugese, discovered that today was a big day where all the people of the village play a series of soccer matches against each other. The games are broken down by age groupings, and both genders participate. They all play barefoot, and in shorts and t-shirts. But the women were oddly attired for a soccer match – they all put on bright lipstick and painted their toe nails. It was a bit surreal to be slow jogging through a village in the Amazon and witnessing this festival.
We reached another creek crossing, where drinking water should have been available. But no water bottles were delivered there. We needed to hydrate, and so had no choice but to resort to our water purification tablets. We filled our bottles with the creek water, dropped in the tablets and shrugged. The water was disgusting, murky brown with weeds and other floating bits of something. The tablets would have killed all organisms but it tasted horrible. This day was becoming a long one. I had been on regular doses of pain killers since stage 4 but now the throbbing in my feet seemed to be on the verge of explosion. Helder and I agreed to pick up the pace - we had to reach the end of this stage quickly and kick back.
At some point in the route, we were joined by one of the Brazilian racers, Patrizio. He had an incredible tolerance for pain. He couldn't afford shoes, so he did the race in sandals. He hurt his foot earlier in the day and the top of his foot looked like it had a grapefruit under the skin - it was swelling badly. Helder asked him (Portugese of courese, no English) if he would make it, and he laughed and replied that nothing would make him stop. We each gave him a bunch of pain killers. I also gave him a pack of jelly beans. Patrizio fell back as we continued because his foot slowed him down badly, and even Helder and I drifted from time to time. One of us would stop to take a leak, and the other would continue, paces changed, etc. Sometimes we would catch up with each other and be 3, other times it was solo, sometimes I was with just Helder and other times just Patrizio. During one stretch, we found just about everything hysterically funny. Not sure if extreme exhaustion does this to you or what was going on, but we all just laughed so hard and so often over nothing.
The final stretch of this long stage was on the shores of the Tapajos River. I was moving solo now, Helder in the distance ahead and Patrizio somewhere behind. I knew I would finish the stage. Off in the distance, I saw a figure moving in my direction. This was odd...why would a racer be moving towards me? Was I somehow lost and this racer was backtracking? As the figure came into focus, I got a surge of adrenaline. It was Derek. When you get disqualifed, you can fly home or hang out in the large boat that trucked us out here which is where all the medics and volunteers sleep at night. He must have taken the speed boat over with the medics, and here he was to greet me and walk with me for the final few kilometers to the finish. It was good to see him and it gave my spirits a huge boost.
ved along the muddy road in high spirits. The rest at checkpoint 5 felt great. When we got to the infamous checkpoint 6, we got a news update. A few more runners had now dropped, most behind us but one of the front-runners also pulled out. Daryl, the powerful Canadian, tried to reach checkpoint 7 despite running out of water en route, and he collapsed on the trail. He was fine while lying on his back, but every time he tried to stand, he would faint again. He told the other front-runners to carry on because he thought he could recover. But his body had shut down. The soldiers eventually found him and carried him to the next checkpoint for an IV drip. Any racer who fails to carry on without assistance is disqualified. This was a great shame, as Daryl was doing so well. Had he waited for water, he would certainly have finished well.The other front-runners were hurting, again due to absence of water, but managed to reach that next checkpoint and re-fuel. I would hear later from "MDS" Johnny that he went for 5 hours without any water, and came across Peter from Korea who was incoherent and trying to walk off into unmarked directions. By helping each other, those front runners reached the checkpoint but it was punishing.
Helder and I continued. Daylight arrived, and we passed many villages. In one village, a lot of festivity was taking place. Helder, who speaks Portugese, discovered that today was a big day where all the people of the village play a series of soccer matches against each other. The games are broken down by age groupings, and both genders participate. They all play barefoot, and in shorts and t-shirts. But the women were oddly attired for a soccer match – they all put on bright lipstick and painted their toe nails. It was a bit surreal to be slow jogging through a village in the Amazon and witnessing this festival.
We reached another creek crossing, where drinking water should have been available. But no water bottles were delivered there. We needed to hydrate, and so had no choice but to resort to our water purification tablets. We filled our bottles with the creek water, dropped in the tablets and shrugged. The water was disgusting, murky brown with weeds and other floating bits of something. The tablets would have killed all organisms but it tasted horrible. This day was becoming a long one. I had been on regular doses of pain killers since stage 4 but now the throbbing in my feet seemed to be on the verge of explosion. Helder and I agreed to pick up the pace - we had to reach the end of this stage quickly and kick back.At some point in the route, we were joined by one of the Brazilian racers, Patrizio. He had an incredible tolerance for pain. He couldn't afford shoes, so he did the race in sandals. He hurt his foot earlier in the day and the top of his foot looked like it had a grapefruit under the skin - it was swelling badly. Helder asked him (Portugese of courese, no English) if he would make it, and he laughed and replied that nothing would make him stop. We each gave him a bunch of pain killers. I also gave him a pack of jelly beans. Patrizio fell back as we continued because his foot slowed him down badly, and even Helder and I drifted from time to time. One of us would stop to take a leak, and the other would continue, paces changed, etc. Sometimes we would catch up with each other and be 3, other times it was solo, sometimes I was with just Helder and other times just Patrizio. During one stretch, we found just about everything hysterically funny. Not sure if extreme exhaustion does this to you or what was going on, but we all just laughed so hard and so often over nothing.
The final stretch of this long stage was on the shores of the Tapajos River. I was moving solo now, Helder in the distance ahead and Patrizio somewhere behind. I knew I would finish the stage. Off in the distance, I saw a figure moving in my direction. This was odd...why would a racer be moving towards me? Was I somehow lost and this racer was backtracking? As the figure came into focus, I got a surge of adrenaline. It was Derek. When you get disqualifed, you can fly home or hang out in the large boat that trucked us out here which is where all the medics and volunteers sleep at night. He must have taken the speed boat over with the medics, and here he was to greet me and walk with me for the final few kilometers to the finish. It was good to see him and it gave my spirits a huge boost.At campsite, Derek saved a good spot for me to set up my hammock. He also broke a few rul
es and snuck some of his food to me, which was good because all I had left was a pack of oatmeal, a scrambled eggs MRE, and 2 gel packs. That would have been enough to get me through tonight and tomorrow's final stage. But Derek's meal - miso soup mix, japanese crackers, a pack of salami, and for dessert, a single almond roca candy - was a big pyschological uplift. The final night on the shores of the Tapajos River was lively and energetic. Tomorrow night, we would all be in an air-conditioned hotel, and everyone was in good spirits. At this point, one might think I would be nostalgic and feeling attached to the jungle and sorry to see it ending. Not so. On this final night, I hated my hammock, my pack, my water bottles. I couldn't wait to get this over with. I wanted a bath, a pizza, a coke and my daughter on my lap. Enough jungle macho nonesense. The only reason I was smiling was because this was the last night and because Derek was camping out with us tonight.
October 14, Stage 6:
The final stage was listed as 24km. The GPS devices of several racers put it at 32km. I wore my sleeping outfit for this final day since it was in better condition than the outfit I had used to race in for the past 6 days. The route was on the shores of the Tapajos River. After spending a great deal of time enclosed within trees and canopies of leaves, moving freely and in the open should have been a welcome change. It was ironically very much more painful.
es and snuck some of his food to me, which was good because all I had left was a pack of oatmeal, a scrambled eggs MRE, and 2 gel packs. That would have been enough to get me through tonight and tomorrow's final stage. But Derek's meal - miso soup mix, japanese crackers, a pack of salami, and for dessert, a single almond roca candy - was a big pyschological uplift. The final night on the shores of the Tapajos River was lively and energetic. Tomorrow night, we would all be in an air-conditioned hotel, and everyone was in good spirits. At this point, one might think I would be nostalgic and feeling attached to the jungle and sorry to see it ending. Not so. On this final night, I hated my hammock, my pack, my water bottles. I couldn't wait to get this over with. I wanted a bath, a pizza, a coke and my daughter on my lap. Enough jungle macho nonesense. The only reason I was smiling was because this was the last night and because Derek was camping out with us tonight.October 14, Stage 6:
The final stage was listed as 24km. The GPS devices of several racers put it at 32km. I wore my sleeping outfit for this final day since it was in better condition than the outfit I had used to race in for the past 6 days. The route was on the shores of the Tapajos River. After spending a great deal of time enclosed within trees and canopies of leaves, moving freely and in the open should have been a welcome change. It was ironically very much more painful.
There was the sand. The powder soft sand required trudging vs running. Worse yet, I had
specifically worn shoes that drain water well. I knew that I would be in and out of water, and so it was not a good idea to wear waterproof shoes which are effective only for puddles. But if you are fully submerged, then water will get in. Waterproof shoes simply mean that the water can't drain out. Now on the sand, the same qualities that allowed water to drain was allowing sand in. Like Derek warned me, when you mix blisters with sand, it's a bit like running barefoot on a cheese-grater. My feet, as the photo shows, were in pretty bad shape to start this stage so the sand in my shoes made every step a throbbing, aching shot of pain.
specifically worn shoes that drain water well. I knew that I would be in and out of water, and so it was not a good idea to wear waterproof shoes which are effective only for puddles. But if you are fully submerged, then water will get in. Waterproof shoes simply mean that the water can't drain out. Now on the sand, the same qualities that allowed water to drain was allowing sand in. Like Derek warned me, when you mix blisters with sand, it's a bit like running barefoot on a cheese-grater. My feet, as the photo shows, were in pretty bad shape to start this stage so the sand in my shoes made every step a throbbing, aching shot of pain.Then there was the sun, relentless and punishing. The Amazon pissed rain for 8 hours on us during the long stage in the jungle, but chose to blaze for us now since we had no relief from shady trees. No one can say the Amazon lacks a sense of humour. I had to regularly go to the river’s edge, kneel and dip my entire head into the water to prevent heat-stroke. We were warned about sting-rays. They like to sit on the sandy bottom in shallow water, and while they cannot kill you but their sting is supposed to be so excruciating that you will need something to clench between your teeth until the pain subsides. Grown men will cry from the sting, and in the words of Gil “that’s worse than dying”. The way to avoid it – you shuffle your way into the water, not step your way. The shuffling will prompt the rays to glide away as opposed to your foot coming down on top of them.
At this point in the race, the outcome was never in doubt. It was just a question of how painful it would be to reach that out
come. I kept swallowing pain killers and managed to jog most of this stage. I knew that while my blisters were excruciating, every minute under this sun was also taking a toll. The final hour was infuriating. I would not know that our total distance was 32km until later, and while I knew that all the distances were not accurately listed, I estimated that instead of 24km, it would be maybe 27km or so. When no finish line was coming into view and only more coast-line, I was getting more livid with every step. Fortunately, for the final 30 minutes, Homario from Brazil caught up with 
me. He is from this town where the final stage finishes up. While he did not speak English, he was able to indicate to me that the finish is close. It was great to wrap up with a hometown hero. The spectators along the beach loved Homario. They all seemed to know him. They were setting off fire-crackers to announce the approach of a Brazilian. They were running up to him to shake his hand. They draped a large Brazilian flag over his shoulders so he would cross over carrying their colors. One small boy asked me “Brasiliero?” and 
when I shook my head, he walked off in disappointment, holding the flag which he had wanted me to take had I been one of their own. While many racers like to cross the line alone to soak up the moment, I was far more fascinated with the reaction of the crowd over Homario. The passion, patriotism and pride of the Brazilians are impressive. And Homario was not among the fast Brazilian pack (Widy from Guadaloupe won but 2nd and 3rd place went to Brazilians). The crowd must have gone crazy over the front runners. I let Homario cross a few feet ahead of me so he could enjoy the space. He broke down and cried as he crossed the line, as did all the Brazilian racers I was later told. I came in behind to far less applause but still feeling on top of the world.
come. I kept swallowing pain killers and managed to jog most of this stage. I knew that while my blisters were excruciating, every minute under this sun was also taking a toll. The final hour was infuriating. I would not know that our total distance was 32km until later, and while I knew that all the distances were not accurately listed, I estimated that instead of 24km, it would be maybe 27km or so. When no finish line was coming into view and only more coast-line, I was getting more livid with every step. Fortunately, for the final 30 minutes, Homario from Brazil caught up with 
me. He is from this town where the final stage finishes up. While he did not speak English, he was able to indicate to me that the finish is close. It was great to wrap up with a hometown hero. The spectators along the beach loved Homario. They all seemed to know him. They were setting off fire-crackers to announce the approach of a Brazilian. They were running up to him to shake his hand. They draped a large Brazilian flag over his shoulders so he would cross over carrying their colors. One small boy asked me “Brasiliero?” and 
when I shook my head, he walked off in disappointment, holding the flag which he had wanted me to take had I been one of their own. While many racers like to cross the line alone to soak up the moment, I was far more fascinated with the reaction of the crowd over Homario. The passion, patriotism and pride of the Brazilians are impressive. And Homario was not among the fast Brazilian pack (Widy from Guadaloupe won but 2nd and 3rd place went to Brazilians). The crowd must have gone crazy over the front runners. I let Homario cross a few feet ahead of me so he could enjoy the space. He broke down and cried as he crossed the line, as did all the Brazilian racers I was later told. I came in behind to far less applause but still feeling on top of the world.After Crossing the Finish Line:
After getting my t-shirt and medal, I
sat on the grass with fellow racers with my soda in hand and reflected on the past few days. The guys with GPS reported that we covered around 250km, not the 200km listed on the route map. I picked up ant bites, bee stings, hornet stings every day. The high humidity, rain, creeks, rivers and swamps guaranteed that I was always damp. My feet were trashed, and I'd been on a steady diet of pain killers to keep the swelling and pain in check. Getting up each morning and having to put on damp clothes, and force painful feet into wet and muddy socks and shoes got old by day 3. This race carried a higher-than-normal element of danger. Other adventure races take place in more open space like a desert, so rescuers can use binoculars to spot runners in trouble and reach that runner in a jeep or fast vehicle. In the jungle, you're on your own. With only 45 
runners, you all space out so if you get into trouble, you lie there alone until a runner behind comes along. Might be 10 minutes or 35 minutes or longer. When that runner does pass, he can't carry you so all he can do is continue to the next checkpoint and report it. It might take him a few hours to get to that checkpoint, and then take the soldiers another hour or so to find you (they know short-cuts but still have to find you). Then they have to carry you out. In sum, it's easily several hours from injury to treatment. Some racers did pass out on the trail, and it took a while before they were carried into a checkpoint for an IV drip.
Out of 45 racers, 21 failed to go the full distance. Among the adventure racing community, this race is considered to be one of the toughest. There were about 10 guys here
who previously completed the more famous Marathon Des Sables (MDS), a 248km race through the Sahara which attracts some 700 racers every year. Every single one of them said on day 2 that this race was far more grueling.
runners, you all space out so if you get into trouble, you lie there alone until a runner behind comes along. Might be 10 minutes or 35 minutes or longer. When that runner does pass, he can't carry you so all he can do is continue to the next checkpoint and report it. It might take him a few hours to get to that checkpoint, and then take the soldiers another hour or so to find you (they know short-cuts but still have to find you). Then they have to carry you out. In sum, it's easily several hours from injury to treatment. Some racers did pass out on the trail, and it took a while before they were carried into a checkpoint for an IV drip.
Out of 45 racers, 21 failed to go the full distance. Among the adventure racing community, this race is considered to be one of the toughest. There were about 10 guys here
who previously completed the more famous Marathon Des Sables (MDS), a 248km race through the Sahara which attracts some 700 racers every year. Every single one of them said on day 2 that this race was far more grueling.
No matter how many charity blankets you wrap around it, these physical challenges a
lways have a “ME” factor buried somewhere within. Anyone who does these races and denies it is lying. So yes, I took away a sense of self-achievement, gratification and satisfaction. More importantly though, close to USD7,500 was raised for my charity, Seeing-is-Believing and that money will restore eye-sight for a good number of blind and impoverished people around the world. While there were many times when I was starting to believe this was tough, it was at those moments when I would come across a village. Observing the level of poverty of these Amazonian villages and the struggles that these people have to endure as part of their daily routine, I got reminded of just how easy I have it. I was masquerading in hardship with my expensive technical gear, and in a few days would drop the costume and go home. For these folks, hardship was inescapable. Just like the people who are blind and in need of surgery to gain back their eye-sight and means to survive, they are the real tough guys and have my respect.
lways have a “ME” factor buried somewhere within. Anyone who does these races and denies it is lying. So yes, I took away a sense of self-achievement, gratification and satisfaction. More importantly though, close to USD7,500 was raised for my charity, Seeing-is-Believing and that money will restore eye-sight for a good number of blind and impoverished people around the world. While there were many times when I was starting to believe this was tough, it was at those moments when I would come across a village. Observing the level of poverty of these Amazonian villages and the struggles that these people have to endure as part of their daily routine, I got reminded of just how easy I have it. I was masquerading in hardship with my expensive technical gear, and in a few days would drop the costume and go home. For these folks, hardship was inescapable. Just like the people who are blind and in need of surgery to gain back their eye-sight and means to survive, they are the real tough guys and have my respect.I lost a total of about 12 lbs. After I crossed the finish line, a buffet spread opened up for the racers an hour later and I had 4 heaping plates of rice, beans, roast 
chicken and steaks, and guzzled 8 cans of coke. After living on beef jerky, instant noodles, animal crackers, peanuts and water for 7 days, I just couldn't stop eating and drinking. All of us talked about the race and the obvious question arose - who's coming back next year? I did not hesitate - no way, no how for me. The veterans all smiled and said they would email me 2 days afer I returned home to listen to my changed response. Right! The hotel was a few blocks from the finish line, and when I hit the shower, I was startled by my reflection after not having looked in a mirror since boarding the boat to the starting line. I had never seen my face so gaunt and tired. I sat under the warm flow of water for close to 90 minutes. Soap, shampoo and shaving felt almost alien. The craving for food would continue for days after I returned to New York. I would down 3 to 4 extra-thick vanilla milk shakes per day, along with burgers, fries, pancakes, steaks, pizzas, whatever I felt like.
chicken and steaks, and guzzled 8 cans of coke. After living on beef jerky, instant noodles, animal crackers, peanuts and water for 7 days, I just couldn't stop eating and drinking. All of us talked about the race and the obvious question arose - who's coming back next year? I did not hesitate - no way, no how for me. The veterans all smiled and said they would email me 2 days afer I returned home to listen to my changed response. Right! The hotel was a few blocks from the finish line, and when I hit the shower, I was startled by my reflection after not having looked in a mirror since boarding the boat to the starting line. I had never seen my face so gaunt and tired. I sat under the warm flow of water for close to 90 minutes. Soap, shampoo and shaving felt almost alien. The craving for food would continue for days after I returned to New York. I would down 3 to 4 extra-thick vanilla milk shakes per day, along with burgers, fries, pancakes, steaks, pizzas, whatever I felt like. On the plane back to the US, my feet swelled up like balloons and I had to walk through customs and transit areas in socks since my feet would no longer fit into shoes. I got pulled aside by US Homeland Security agents before reaching the passport counter…I guess if anyone fits the profile of a guy from Brazil who might overstay his visa, it was me in my loose pajama-type outfit, plastic bag for a carry-on, and shuffling in socks! Once they saw my passport and heard me speak, it was fine but then I was detained for 10 minutes because they wanted to hear about the race.
I reached home well past midnight, and it felt wonderful to be home and hold my wife. In the morning, my baby Bethany was shy after not having seen me for some time. But she kissed me good-bye before heading off to daycare with my wife, and that made my day. I fell asleep again with my feet raised to bring the swelling down. When I woke up, I swung my legs over the bed to get up but instinctively looked to the floor before my feet touched the ground to check for anything hostile. Oh, I'm in my living room. As I sat in the kitchen eating donuts, bacon, eggs and a chocolate shake, I began to think of all the improvements I would make now that I have experience. How to pack lighter, better, what food worked, what didn't, how to tape up to keep blisters away, how to stay warm at night, how to protect the lower legs from the cuts and scrapes, how to adjust my training... how, if I were to do this race again, I could do it much faster...
Bert de Guzman
