You must know your capabilities and expand them to the limit
When I returned to Vienna from Morocco in April the Austrian media were really interested in my story. They seemed to like the idea that this Maori girl from New Zealand had settled in their country and was running these crazy races under their flag. Mitra and her husband were happy, too. It was great in terms of raising my profile and it certainly made it much easier for me to get further sponsorship.
The biggest talk show on Austrian television, Vera, approached me to be a guest. I couldn’t believe it. It’s hosted by Vera Russwurm who is a hugely popular star — she’s Austria’s Oprah. It was exciting to be part of such a big TV show.
Arriving at the studios, I got whisked into the green room backstage to have my make-up done. The crew had asked me to come wearing my running gear so it was pretty funny sitting there in my shorts and sandy shoes while a stylist did my make-up. Vera came in and introduced herself about 5 minutes before the show started. Her first comment to me was ‘You’re not skinny enough to be a runner!’ I think she’d been expecting a skinny wee marathon runner. It was a live show so there was a studio audience who were all cheering as I walked on.
I was nervous because I knew the show had a big audience, but I’ve always enjoyed public speaking and haven’t ever been worried about getting up in front of people. On the show we talked about the expeditions I’d already completed and about my plans for the Desert Cup. Like most people, Vera was interested in why I do what I do and how I got into it. Then they showed a clip of me in the Marathon des Sables and a whole lot of photos of my other treks.
As a result of the exposure I got on Vera’s show and on various other news shows, Coca-Cola Austria agreed to sponsor me to do the Desert Cup. This was unheard of. The company had only ever sponsored team sports and this was the first time they’d backed a solo athlete. The boss there was intrigued with the whole desert running thing and he really believed it fitted with the whole Coke ethos. He also knew that they’d get good media coverage out of it so he was confident they’d get their money’s worth of advertising from my exploits.
Once I’d got all my sponsorship sorted, I had to focus on training for the race. I spent six months really getting into my physical preparations. For the first time, I worked with a running coach and I consulted a sports doctor. We got a heap of lab tests done and all sorts of analysis went into my physical preparation to try and maximise my running ability. I also got the Kärnten team, who run the Austrian ironman races, to write up a training plan for me. For the first time, I felt like I was going into a race with the right gear, the right supplements, support and a good health plan. It was all becoming quite professional, which took a lot of pressure off me.
As well as all this analysis and preparation, I set about taking part in every race I could find. I did a pile of 100-kilometre runs, 24-hour races, marathons and even a triathlon. It was great for my fitness but it meant that I over-trained a bit. Despite that, I reckon I was in the best shape I’d ever been in when I got to the start of the Desert Cup.
One of the great things about having confirmed sponsorship with Coke was that I was provided with a camerawoman to come with me on the run through Jordan, which would result in a documentary being made about my race.
The Desert Cup was a really tough race. It was 168 kilometres across the Arabian Desert. The race started in the desert at Wadi Rum then included a number of mountain passes before ending at the famous pink city of Petra. To complete the race means covering 104 kilometres of desert sand, 23 kilometres of ridges and valleys and 41 kilometres of mountain tracks, and involved climbing as high as 1540 metres. It was organised by the same people that did the Marathon des Sables so I knew that everything would be well taken care of. Once again, I joined the German team and we flew to Amman in Jordan, where we spent a couple of nights before heading south to Wadi Rum.
Arriving in Wadi Rum, I was once again struck by how beautiful the desert is. The landscape was stunning. The colours of the sand were different to what I’d seen before — it never ceases to amaze me how every desert looks different.
The really brutal thing about that race is that it was non-stop. I had a maximum of 62 hours to complete it, passing through thirteen checkpoints along the way. At each of the checkpoints, competitors were given 1.5 litres of water each. Other than that, we had to carry everything else that we would need along the way. At least, with the race being non-stop, I didn’t have to carry a sleeping bag. After having carried 15 kilograms in my pack for the Marathon des Sables, I’d managed to cut the weight down to 12 kilograms for this race.
There were 200 of us running the race and we all started at the same time. The field spread out pretty quickly. Some of the runners were aiming to do the whole run in 24 hours, with the record being just over 21 hours. Me, I was just hoping to finish.
Even though I had a bit of desert experience under my belt, this was a whole different experience. At least on this race I had some electrolyte drinks with me but despite all the specialised training I still didn’t really know what I needed to stay at optimum performance throughout the run.
The combination of my naïveté about non-stop running and having the cameras on me meant that I went out of the gates like a scalded cat. I wanted to look cool for the cameras rather than my usual slow-running self. They were with me for the first 20 kilometres so I went a whole lot faster than I should have. As the day got progressively hotter, I got more and more dehydrated. The sand was really deep so every step drained my body further.
Thankfully, the support vehicle with the camera in it couldn’t follow me right throughout the race. The terrain meant that they had to take alternate routes and would meet up with me further along the trail. As soon as we got to the point where the vehicle with the camera crew couldn’t follow me anymore, I crashed. I’d only covered 20 out of 168 kilometres and I’d hit the wall. My glucose stores were gone and I remember lying in the sand thinking, ‘Oh f**k. I’m in trouble.’ I didn’t know what or how I was going to do. There was a camera waiting for me, the whole of Austria seemed to be interested in what I was doing and I’d only just managed to do one-eighth of the race.
Thankfully, as I lay there contemplating becoming a national laughing stock, a French guy came along. ‘Are you all right, mate?’– or something to that effect — he asked in French. I groaned. He urged me to carry on. ‘You’ve got to get up. You can’t stop now. Come on!’ I can’t imagine what he was thinking — I’d only been going for a few hours! But it ain’t over until the fat lady sings . . .
I wasn’t very responsive so he decided to take things into his own hands. He pulled me out of the sand, put me on my feet and promised to stay with me until we reached the next checkpoint. It was only a couple of kilometres away and, with his help, I managed to get there.
Once I arrived at the checkpoint, I lay down. I spent 20 minutes sitting on my arse in the sand taking stock of where I was at. I decided the only way I could finish the race was by maintaining what energy reserves I had. When I got back on my feet, I varied my pace between a jog and a walk for the next few hours. It was time to get down to the nitty-gritty business end and stop showing off. I was still inexperienced and over-enthusiastic. Not much has changed really!
The terrain was much tougher than Morocco with the deep sand. In Morocco the sand is often hard packed so it’s easy to run on. Here I found myself sinking into the sand and having to drag my feet out with every step. There were also a whole lot of sand dunes here, which sapped my energy even more.
I managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other without too much trouble until the night came. With the night, came the fear. I was out in the desert in the middle of Jordan without anyone else in sight. It was dark and it was scary.
The race organisers were meant to have glow sticks every 500 metres or so to mark the way but they weren’t always there and when they were they weren’t always very visible. It would have been easy to get lost. I spent a lot of time peering into the darkness trying to find the next glowing stick. Every now and then, I’d lose sight of the glow sticks altogether and have to stop and check my compass for directions. It was scary. As the sun came up after the first night running, I was highly relieved. Even though it meant that the air would soon be hot, I didn’t care. I wouldn’t have to keep looking for those damned glow sticks!
A couple of times along the route, I met up with an older Austrian guy and we’d run together for a while. It was great to have company for a few hours before one or other of us would go off on our own.
The second day was a struggle to get through as the cumulative effect of exhaustion and the deep sand I was struggling to get through started to wear me down. By the afternoon we started to climb into the mountains passing small groups of huts along the way. Even though the terrain was firmer under foot, the fact that I was climbing all the time made it harder. The route peaked at 1500 metres above sea level.
Just as I started to conquer my fear of the dark on the second night, everything turned to custard. I lost the lights and I knew I should have been pretty close to a checkpoint but I just couldn’t find the trail. It was so dark I couldn’t use my compass. It turned out I’d gone a couple of kilometres off the track, which in itself was terrible as every step counted. While I was panicking about not being able to find the checkpoint, I realised that I was surrounded by a pack of wild desert dogs. It was absolutely terrifying. All I could do was keep moving. The dogs continued to circle me barking away for about 20 minutes until I finally found the checkpoint. To this day, I don’t know why they didn’t attack me.
When I got to the checkpoint I was beside myself. I grabbed the first human being I saw and wouldn’t let go. He must have thought I was crazy. I had him by the shirt and was yelling, ‘The dogs are after me, the dogs are after me! Don’t make me go out there on my own again.’
The poor guy led me into the tent and managed to calm me down. He assured me that the dogs had gone and that I’d be quite safe. But I wasn’t having a bar of it. There was no bloody way I was going out there on my own again so I decided to wait in the tent until the next runner came along. What do you know? Half an hour later my Austrian mate turned up. He took a break and we decided we’d run through the rest of the night together. I left that checkpoint a whole lot happier than when I’d arrived!
As we ran together we soon found that we were both struggling a bit so we coaxed each other along. Before long, my body was so completely challenged that I got dysentery. Sometimes it happens on these races that your body becomes so over-stressed that you just lose all control of normal functions. Unfortunately, this meant that we had to stop every few minutes for me to void my bowels. Even so, we stayed together and kept each other company.
After a while, we were holding hands comforting each other along the way. We must have looked like a couple of old drunks staggering along encouraging each other to continue. When one of us would flag a bit, the other would be all, ‘Come on, mate, you can do it. You can finish this!’ Without him, there was no way I could have finished that race.
The last kilometre into Petra was incredible. We came over a big hill and there, spread out below us, was this entire ancient city. I just wish I’d had more time to take it all in. The city is carved into the pale pink rock of the hillside. I was too shattered to appreciate the view and focused on getting to the end but at least I managed to appreciate the historic significance of that magnificent city. The two of us stopped next to one of the ancient temples and took a photograph before carrying on.
By the time I crossed the finish line I was in floods of tears of sheer relief. I’d done it. I’d completed the race in 46 hours and I was the tenth woman to finish. I was knackered. Sadly, while the rest of the competitors spent time recovering and exploring Petra, I spent the next day and a half in bed. I made it to the restaurant to eat every few hours and then I’d crawl back into bed, all the while being filmed by the documentary crew.
When I got back to Vienna, material from the documentary was shown on Vera as well as on a national breakfast show called Welcome Austria. It was fantastic that people were interested in what I was doing and it also meant that Coke kept financing my exploits. I was hooked on this ultra-running lark and since money was no longer quite so much of a worry I started to book myself into every race that I could find.
Home life over this time was becoming more and more strained. I was still with Werner but it was clear that our lives were heading in different directions. I was completely obsessed with ultra-running. My jewellery business also kept me busy — there was a well-established jeweller in Vienna selling my work in his shop. I loved the creativity that making jewellery offered me. It meant that I used a completely different set of skills from running. Between the two I felt really fulfilled — as if I was finally coming into my own.
At the start of the Trans-333 in Niger – before the food poisoning set in.
At a local school in Agadez, Niger. Several runners donated food and equipment to the school after the race.
Me behind the counter of my jewellery shop in New Plymouth.
With Chris Cruikshank, my trainer at City Fitness gym in New Plymouth just before our Death Valley campaign in 2008.
Me and Gerhard at City Fitness before our 12-hour fundraising run in April 2008.
Thanks to my generous sponsors, I had my very own billboard at the entrance to New Plymouth.
Neil Wagstaff, Sandy Barwick, me, Chris Cruikshank and Gerhard Lusskandl at the start line of the Badwater Ultramarathon, July 2008.
At the briefing before Badwater, I managed to get my photo taken with one of my role models – Dean Karnazes.
On the road during the Badwater Ultramarathon being filmed by Chris, the cameraman from 20/20.
In pain during a moment’s break from the race. I’d run about 100 kilometres at this stage and had just reached the top of the first pass.
Finally – the finish line!
Just after I finished the race with my wonderful crew Sandy Barwick, Neil Wagstaff, Chris Cruikshank and Gerhard Lusskandl.
Werner and I drifted apart. It was never a match made in heaven — he was a good man but we were in such different places in our lives. I was just getting into gear and he was ready to slow down and take it easier. Sport wasn’t a priority and he was very overworked. Eventually we lived fairly separate lives.
Dealing with inflammation
Most of the pain and injuries that you get are caused by inflammation. In most of these cases, you’re not really doing any damage to yourself by keeping going. If you have to, take anti-inflammatories but be careful with these as they can cause digestive issues. Anti-inflammatory sprays are also good for long distance running. It’s great to have a good cold ice spray to help bring inflammation down.
Compression gear is really important when you’ve finished a race. When I finish a race I hop into a really cold bath or shower or, if needs be, the sea. This can be incredibly painful but it helps to stop your body from swelling and cools inflamed muscles. Once you’ve done that, get into your compression garments to further prevent swelling and inflammation. You’ll be amazed how quickly your body recovers if you do these two things.