I didn’t get much sleep again that night. It was hot in the tent, and I had too much white noise playing out in my head. At one point Richard left to go to the bathroom, and when he came back, Gobi growled at him. I liked the feeling that she was looking out for me.
The next day was a desert session over rocky, hard-packed ground under a cruel sun. We’d already agreed the night before that it would be too much for Gobi, so she’d travel to the next camp in a volunteer’s car. I was up early, out of my tent way before my usual fifteen-minute mark, trying to find out who was going to take her and making sure that person was going to keep her cool and hydrated throughout the day.
When it came time to say goodbye, I felt a tiny shiver of worry about her. She’d attached herself so clearly to me, but would she be okay with a bunch of strangers for the day? Would I see her again, or would she set off on another adventure?
The day’s race was a hard run right from the start, partly because of the change in terrain. Where the previous day had served up a mix of undulating paths, rivers, and boulders to keep runners alert, the fourth day was a series of endless flats between checkpoints that hid beneath the horizon, miles and miles apart.
Underfoot there were the same old rocks that had snagged plenty of runners’ feet already, but instead of scrubland or dusty trails, we were now running across the compressed shingle that made up the black portion of the Gobi Desert.
I spent the whole day running into a headwind, watching out for rocks, and trying not to get frustrated by the constant sound of eating and drinking that was coming from over my shoulder.
It was Tommy.
Almost from the start of the day, he had positioned himself behind me. Not ten feet behind me or a few feet to the side. Right behind me, his feet falling in perfect sync with mine. With his body tucked in where the wind resistance was at its weakest, he was slipstreaming, just like a road cyclist or a migratory bird. Only, with Tommy, it was obvious he had no intention of ever giving me a break and taking the lead for a while.
As he ran behind me, leaving me to navigate the route and suck up the vicious headwind, he got himself fuelled.
Nuts. Gels. Water.
He spent the whole day eating and drinking and saying absolutely nothing to me. Even when Zeng overtook us both, Tommy didn’t move. He was my shadow, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I started to wonder about Tommy’s motives. What was he up to? Did he plan on stalling me? Was he planning to break away and leave me in his dust? I knew he would want to erase yesterday’s loss and be all about winning the stage, so why was he staying behind me? Then I started to think about Gobi. I missed her biting at my gaiters to get me to speed up.
For most of the day, though, I coped well enough and refused to let Tommy’s presence get me down. In fact, it gave me the extra incentive I needed to ignore the headwind, put up with the boredom, and grind out a steady, solid pace.
At least, that’s how I felt until we approached the final checkpoint. I knew it was just over four miles from the finish, but with the sun now at its highest in the sky and the temperature feeling like it was in the low hundreds, I started to feel dizzy.
When I was finally in the shade of the checkpoint, I took a moment to enjoy the lack of heat and steady myself. Tommy, on the other hand, didn’t even pause. He nodded and exchanged a couple of words with one of the team and carried straight on. I don’t think he even broke stride.
I decided to take my time, filling up both my water bottles so that I had the full fifty ounces. When I finally moved out, Tommy was six hundred feet ahead of me. He looked strong and in perfect control. It was clear he was on a mission, and I soon realized there was no way I was going to catch him.
Julian and Zeng caught me soon after and didn’t waste any time behind me. They went off in a pair, hunting Tommy down, while I felt as though my wheels had just come off.
I couldn’t get going. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I told myself not to slow down, I could feel my legs turn to concrete.
This wasn’t like the day before, when the boredom and fatigue had been equal factors. This was purely physical. I’d spent three hours running in full heat into a scorching headwind. I simply didn’t have much strength left.
I’d been here before.
It was back in 2013. Even though I’d got my weight down from 240 pounds to the mid-170s, I still had the taste for good food and good wine. So when it came to choosing my first-ever marathon to complete, I picked one that took place in France, in the heart of wine country. Each mile marker had a refreshment station that offered either local wine or local delicacies. And because it was all about the good vibes and not about the time, all the runners had to dress up as animals.
I went as a pig.
Some people skipped a few of the stations, but not me. By the time I reached the halfway point, I’d put away vast quantities of meat, cheese, and oysters as well as a half-dozen glasses of wine. I had a little bit of pain from where my skin was chafing at about the three-quarter mark, then developed some leg and lower back pain just after the twenty-mile point.
The sun was getting fierce, and even though Lucja was dancing about like a prizefighter at the end of a first-round knockout, I slowed down. I felt nauseated; I was finding it hard to concentrate or see straight, and the sharp, stabbing pain in my back had me seriously worried.
Lucja got me to the end that day, though I barely remember the final mile. She helped me back to the hotel, got me drinking plenty of water, and told me that it would all be okay as I shivered beneath the blankets on the bed.
We were only a few months away from our first 155-mile multi-stage ultra—an event that would see us cross parts of the inhospitable, unforgiving Kalahari Desert in South Africa. Lucja’s training had been going well, and we both knew she’d be fine. But me? Who was I kidding?
“I can’t do it, Lucja. I’m just not like you.”
“Just sleep on it, Dion. We’ll worry about it tomorrow.”
Tommy was too far ahead for me to see him, and Julian and Zeng were almost out of sight too. I was finished. There was nothing left. My legs were like strangers to me, and my head was drifting into thoughts I couldn’t control.
Maybe this was going to be my last race after all.
Maybe I was all washed up.
Maybe coming here had been one big mistake.
I heard the drum long before I saw the finish line. I’d been overtaken by a fourth runner in the final mile, but I was past caring. All I wanted was for the day to be over. For everything to be over. I could imagine Lucja telling me to sleep on it, that I’d feel better after some rest and food, but another voice within was telling me to pack it all in completely.
When I turned the final bend and saw the finish line, Gobi was there. She was sitting in the shade, on a rock, scanning the horizon.
For a moment she stayed motionless, and I wondered whether she’d recognize me.
Then she was a blur of brown fur in motion. Leaping from the rock, she tore over the ground towards me, tail up, little tongue flapping.