Three things I learnt running my first self-supported ultra-marathon across the Namib Desert

In November 2023 I embarked on my biggest challenge to date, running 250km (+6) across the Namib Desert in a five stage multi-day self-supported* foot race with temperatures topping out at 53 degrees Celsius. The race, known as the Desert Ultra, forms part of the Global Race Series by Beyond the Ultimate with the other races being Jungle, Ice and Mountain terrains. All self-supported with courses set by a descendant of Satan. The race was beautifully brutal and I’m sure many blog posts will feature this experience because of the learnings I took away. As a starter for ten, I thought I’d focus on my top three from this race.

Photo credit: Bjorn Sorensen (@trail_bear)

1.     The importance of self-care.

In day-to-day life quite frankly I am bad at self-care. If 2020 taught me anything it was that you can get away with not brushing your teeth until half two in the afternoon and no-one will know. In a self-supported race not focussing on self-care activities can be the reason for a DNF (did not finish). For me those things were as tiny as trimming my toenails right down just before handing my luggage over to as big as eating something every 30 minutes to avoid a crash in energy. Putting on sun cream, hydrating and rehydrating, taking SaltSticks, tending to blisters and fixing damaged kit all became part of the essential daily routine in the desert.

By Stage 4, the short stage at just 22km, things should have seemed easy however as we started in the mid-day heat my blistered feet gave me a sign. I’d forgotten to take pain killers and the result was killer pain. I ended up at the back of the pack and had to claw my way back into the mid-pack once I had realised, stopped to take paracetamol and waited for them to kick in. The additional time was precious, not because I was racing, but because it meant more time out in the hot sun and less time for recovery. A rookie mistake and one that could easily have been avoided.

If there’s one thing I’ve brought back with me, it is a renewed view of those small, everyday self-care activities. I’ve found that through creating a good morning routine I’ve been able to embed additional self-care practices that I’d previously let fall by the wayside; for example, taking my supplements and brushing my teeth…well, most of the time anyway. Over time I know that I will see the benefits, like not needing false teeth in my 40s, however, in the short term I find there’s something motivational about knowing I’ve done everything I can to keep myself healthy.

2.     Asking for help when you need it.

Seems completely obvious, doesn’t it? Well, welcome to my world where I do the exact opposite and wait until I’m completely burnt out before reaching out. When you’re running in a race like this, especially this one where there were less than 30 runners and a tight knit community, there really is nowhere to hide. Emotions tend to be heightened in such an intense environment and for someone who is highly-sensitive-but-bottles-it-up generally it’s likely that these emotions would spill out in the desert. And they did quite unexpectedly.

Day two had been the second of our two 50km stages, and I’d actually had a really lovely day out on course as I’d been banging out my tunes. While it was a better stage for me, I’d seen the desert take victims on day one and two and I was particularly humbled when I saw the legend Jon Shield be taken out devastatingly by a stomach bug. My tent mate was someone I’d connected with in advance of the race, Katie. I think Katie must have one of the strongest mindsets of anyone I have ever met. Nothing seemed to phase her, she was incredibly pragmatic and level-headed; the opposite of my emotional rollercoaster ride. How do I know how strong she is? Because she completed the entire thing with what was probably COVID.

While Katie could have been losing her s**t about having trained so hard to come down with illness, she didn’t. I did. I was in our tent and had managed to let my health anxiety take over. I could hear Katie trying to stifle her cough so not to disturb me. I was worried about getting ill. I was also worried about people’s perceptions of me being worried about getting ill. No one there knew about my history of fatigue which had resurfaced in 2021 when I had glandular fever (yes, in a national lockdown!). They’d think I was completely over-reacting; I’d convinced myself of that. Anyway, 20 minutes or so of all this circling round in my head and I just thought “I need to get out of the tent. I need to let this out”.

Luckily for me it was still only 9.30pm so not everyone had tucked up in their tents; a few of the late arrivals hanging round and doing their self-care and Adam our race director making sure everyone had what they needed. I wandered over and I tried to politely ask if there happened to be any spare tents but what came out was more of a high-pitched squeaky sound. “Say that again?” Adam asked, and I managed to get enough discernible words out “Katie’s really sick, are there any free tents?” as another high-pitched wail came out. Adam ushered me to sit down, where Andy was sorting his kit (he did this a lot, probably because he had more kit than a Go Outdoors store). Adam took the seat next to me and held the space while I let out the tears I’d been trying to stifle.

“I’m just really stressed”, I finally got out, still feeling guilty that I had dared to ask if there was a spare tent. Reflecting on this, I’d only really done what any sensible person would have done; illnesses can spread round camps like wildfire. What happened when I asked for help was nothing unusual, people helped (shocking!) and tried to problem-solve. The world didn’t implode, and no one thought any less of me. The only person making a judgement of me, was me.

That was a key learning for me, and even though I’m perhaps still a little embarrassed about my meltdown it taught me that people are on my side and there’s no shame in asking for help when you need it. If anything, sharing this vulnerable moment with Adam formed a greater connection: from him being the uber-upbeat-Californian Mr Motivator (minus the colourful lycra) and me being the over-friendly, music-loving, looks like she’s just walked out of Lululemon Regent Street runner to me having a real depth of character and Adam having my back, rooting for me to get to the finish line on day five. From a small moment of vulnerability came much greater return, and it’s these moments of connecting on a deeper level that will always keep drawing me back to the multi-stage arena.

3.     The human ability to overcome.

“But did you die?” asked Harvey, one of the local team, every time anyone described some incident during the race. Overwhelming 50 degree heat causing hallucinations? “…but did you die?”. Fell into a hole disguised as sand? “…but did you die?”. Baboon nicked your running pole? “…but did you die?”. No, no one died, all 28 of us returned to Windhoek albeit slightly worse for wear than the previous week and one less running pole.

I had a few times during the race where I really questioned whether I had bitten off more than I could chew. When I was too hot, had too many blisters, when dehydration caused extreme cramping, when I’d run out of energy, when my legs swelled to twice their size, when there were too many flies swarming round my face, or when I couldn’t control my breathing due to panic. Remarkably, and despite all these things, I was able to overcome. I made it to the finish line 256km later. And…I didn’t die.

A very important lesson here and something that we can hold a mirror up to our normal life and ask when times get tough. “But did you die?” was the Desert Ultra equivalent of “what’s the worst that could happen?”. It will always remind me that whatever obstacles get thrown at me (us) through work or personal life that there is always a way through and that the pain will only be temporary. This too shall pass.

*A self-supported race usually means that participants carry everything they need for the week with them except for water which is provided. At the Desert Ultra we were also provided a tent and wafer-thin sleeping mat.