Barry Lewis LIFE AT THE SANDS @ 93

“Anything else I can do for you, Monsieur?” asked the Medic, preparing to leave.

“There is one thing mate,” came the reply. “Just leave me the nurse.”

Eric’s knee was swollen; Macey was still dehydrated; and Marshall Ulrich, an American ultra/adventure racer known as a heat specialist, was so weak from day after day of diarrhea that he staggered when he walked across camp. Lisa Smith, another top adventure racer, had such painful blisters that she could barely stand—but that wasn’t her biggest concern: a prerace stress fracture had recurred in her foot. I felt like a distraction when I went to show Eric the blood that had pooled in my thigh as a result of the groin strain, but he graciously gave me something from his personal medical kit between tending to patients from his immediate group. Together, he and the three others were known as Team Stray Dog; while they might resemble the walking wounded in this event, not one of them ever considered abandoning. By the start of Stage Five, however, 51 had dropped from the race.

“Why go?” The answer is that when a man has been there and undergone the baptism of solitude he can’t help himself. Once he has been under the spell of the vast, luminous, silent country, no other place is quite strong enough for him, no other surroundings can provide the supremely satisfying sensation of existing in the midst of something that is absolute. He will go back, whatever the cost in comfort and money, for the absolute has no price.

—Paul Bowles, Baptism of Solitude

It’s inevitable, of course, that people reach the end of the Marathon des Sables and, through their tears of joy at accomplishing the impossible, utter the words, “Never again.” Bowles has something, though, when he says the absolute draws back those who have experienced it. Every year, the Marathon des Sables grows in size, but every year, a large percentage of entrants are competitors from previous years returning for more.

All of which, perhaps, hearkens back to the wisdom of the late Dr. Sheehan. Like layers of skin being peeled from an onion (or, in this case, flaking from a sun-scalded nose), perhaps those who dare to voluntarily suffer ultimately come closer to exposing their souls. Perhaps the line between clarity and confusion in this crazy world can be found when runners agonize together and share what they find when the layers have revealed the truths hidden inside. Perhaps these things happen in the desert, changing forever those who take part in The Marathon of the Sands. Editors note: Barry Lewis was the top North American finisher in the 1998 Marathon des Sables, completing the course in 25:29:39, good for 30th place overall. For more information about the Marathon des Sables, visit the Web site: www.sandmarathon.com.

I am a slow runner, so I don’t consider any event a competition; rather, I look at each one as an outing with many benefits. I stay healthy and fit, get outside in the fresh air (especially on trails), run along scenic backdrops, enjoy great camaraderie (rarely seen in other sports), travel to exotic countries the world over, have time to think and be alone with my thoughts, and combine my sport with my other hobbies (one complementing the other, such as running and photography).

THE ULTIMATE STARTING LINE

The Everest Marathon may not be the toughest run I’ve ever done, but the trek cannot be beat for sheer grandeur and scenic beauty as well as difficulty on the trail. This race must be the only running event in the world where runners have to walk 16 days to reach the starting line, which happens to be at 17,000 feet.

During a run in Death Valley some years ago, I met Ben and Denise Jones from Lone Pine, California, who told me about the Everest Marathon. After contacting Diana Penny Sherpani, the English woman instrumental in creating the Everest event, I signed up and was ready to go. Diana told me that when she first discussed the idea of an Everest Marathon with potential sponsors in England, they thought she was nuts. The two most common objections concerned impending disasters and impossible health demands placed on runners.

But her persistence paid off. In 1987, the first Everest Marathon took place with a handful of runners. Everything went well. All finished without major problems, and the event has been held every odd year since.

Diana outlined the aims of the Everest Marathon this way: Organize a spectacular athletic event; raise money for charities working in the Khumbu region; promote awareness of conservation problems in the Sagarmatha region; promote tourism and sensible trekking in Nepal; provide a unique opportunity for medical and physiological research. Diana has undoubtedly succeeded on all counts. Many British pounds have been given to Nepal for community projects, such as running water and a dental clinic, that are much appreciated by the people of the region.

After arriving in Kathmandu, I rented a mountain bike and explored the entire valley before meeting the other runners five days later in the Blue Star.