Marathon des Sables - Introduction into another dimension

„Come, Brigid, let’s run 250 km through the Sahara, only water is provided…“

With this sms, my life set sail on an entirely new course.

Just imagine – from one minute to the next your everyday life changes in every imaginable way. You own neither house nor computer, you have no mobile phone or TV, no toilet or shower. Nothing but a few personal belongings and one of 8 spots in an open-sided Berber tent made of sewn-together coffee sacks, a mere shelter that’s taken down over your head every morning at 5 by Berbers screaming „Jallah, jallah!“, just to be set up again 40 km from this spot, a distance you have to cover by foot.

„Sahara marathon, 250 km through the south Moroccan Sahara in six stages of between 28 and 90 km, complete self-sufficiency. Only water is provided. Emergency set including emergency rocket and snake bite set compulsory. Average daily temperature 50o. Accommodation is Berber tents.“

„Ya, Daniel, of course, and what else is new…?“


Damn glad the Marathon des Sables haunted my thoughts for so long. That’s the only way to tell if you really want something. It drove me to apply for a start number in September 2005 - and was I actually given one. From this point on, everything revolved around one thing – the physical, mental and material preparation for the toughest footrace on earth.

In April 2006, 743 athletes from around the globe flew to Casablanca and across the Atlas Mountains to Ouarzazate, from where we were driven deep into the Sahara in buses – and where the sand was too deep for these, cattle trucks took us on to the start - and I and 7 others to tent No. 57, our “mobile” home for the next 9 days.

Excellent tentmates, among others Anke, an engineer, who kept our laughing muscles occupied; Simon the student who had a rash between his legs even before the first start due to an intimate shave („I shaved everything down there – heard it supposedly makes shagging a lot cooler…“); Helmut, the cabaret artist from Innsbruck. He was a bit grumpy at times: „I love it when Brigid comes home – so much for a quiet time…“; Terry from LA, whose adenoids helped saw down a few imaginary forests at night; Tim, a Russian Lawyer. He kept out of mischief the whole week of the race, practiced some heavy duty „bottom’s up“ after the final finish. 8 extreme athletes, 3 of them extreme snorers.

“In the middle of nowhere.“ How often I’ve used this term frivolously. I never would imagine in my wildest dreams actually doing high-performance sports for an entire week under the most extreme conditions at such a remote place on this planet.

We were to run 6 stages within the given times. Patrick Bauer gave the infos of the day before every start, and we all sang “Happy Birthday” to anyone whose birthday it was. One time, an e-mail that was sent to the organiser was read to No. 359. A marriage proposal. We all screamed „Yes!“, but probably because we had ants in our pants and just wanted to hear one thing: “4, 3, 2, 1 – go!“

The Sahara showed what is has to offer on all stages – and, above all, what surprises it has in store. Breath-taking dunes, rock cliffs, mountains, elevated plains, dried out salt lakes, oases, impressive, vast wide-open spaces. The most fascinating thing: all problems you may face at home disappear. Everything becomes relative. The heat and powerful sandstorms, blowing kilos of sand in your rucksack and the tents thrashing in the wind shows you who’s the boss.

A logistical masterpiece, getting 736 athletes from 36 countries into the middle of the desert, leading them through 6 Marathon stages and, among other things, doctoring them par excellence throughout this tough week. The biggest problem? Blisters and getting one’s shoes on again in the morning. Our best friend? The little blue paracetemols. The coolest thing was the evening blister treatment – the wonderful selection of doctors left nothing to be desired.

Some of us weren’t exactly feeling at the top of the world. The desert has its own laws. 20% of the runners fell out of the race on the first days. Heat, exhaustion, dehydration. Two went into coma, 170 infusions were given. I once saw a Finnish woman lying on the outskirts of an immense dried out salt lake. The doctors were taking care of her so I continued my course. Later, in camp, I heard she’d suffered a stroke, causing her to her lose her mother tongue.

As there were so many emergency medical cases, the water rations were increased for the first time and for the first time in the history of the Marathon des Sables, the longest “royal stage” was shortened by 17 km. I and my 500 blisters didn’t know whether we should be happy or disappointed with that news. The ultimate running challenge had been tamed.

This, the longest stage offered everything the desert heart could desire. The Sahara at night with the full moon, hours and hours of dunes and cliffs, here and there a florescent stick lighting the way. The starry desert sky leaves you speechless. Alone on course at night in the vastness of this enormous desert. The most wonderful moment of the entire race.

Fantastic, unique atmosphere at the night checkpoint. I got my blisters treated, slept a couple of hours, knowing I was good for time. Carlos Santana and Loreena McKennitt helped me jog the rest of the 13 km into camp.

To celebrate having finishing the long stage I made a wash salon out of one of my water bottles, shook my undies in soapy water, and lay them out on some branches behind me to dry. Simon stole them all when I wasn’t looking and threw them into the neighbouring tents, to the surprise of their tent dwellers.

In the night before the last stage, I went out for a last walk under the clear starry desert sky. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t sleep. My feet were in a bad way. It wasn’t that though. It was the thought that in just a few hours - after the unfathomable stress and strain, but also the invaluable experiences of the last week – I’d be running through the finish of this amazing event and having to say goodbye to the Sahara that let got my tears flowing.

An Arabic proverb says “Those entering and returning from the desert don’t come out the same...”

The Sahara has definitely changed me and become a part of me. I’m sure to be a second offender.