torture – nearly dying – nipple taping

as i lay in my jungle and zebra adorned room, i didn’t realise i was slowly dying.

the air conditioning was broken and the only part left functioning was the temperature gauge on the wall, which read 33.4 degrees.

this temperature was causing my body to sweat, even though inactive, and i was having to hydrate constantly, and using my race electrolytes to keep my body levels stable.

my pre race preparation of staying off my feet, in a hotel room, and resting hadn’t taken into account the high external temps, and the hotels broken a/c.

it was unbearable, and psychologically not the best prep for a hot 100k’er.

i finished my day of bigmoose work with a zoom call with andrew bloch, sir lord sugars public relations guru, who was charming, loved the bigmoose branding and mission, and came up with a raft of ideas for us, and wants to meet again, an absolute win for sweaty jeff, and i am excited to work with him.

i ate.

i drank.

and i set about prepping for the race.

my feet are very susceptible to blisters, and when being coached for marathon des sables by rory coleman in 2016 he taught me how to tape my feet.

by taping my toes and other potential areas to rub, you avoid friction, which causes blisters.

i also taped my nipples for the same reason, but for now i’ll spare you a picture of this, instead here are my feet.

i am proud of this taping, as with parkinsons, my fine motor skills are poor, and this was almost two hours of effort, and in 33.4 degree heat, rather challenging.

the net result in case i forget to mention it later, was zero blisters, and both nipples in tact, thanks rory.

i packed my bags, my taxi was ordered, confirmed and paid for, and breakfast was all lined up.

time to sleep.

the semi-commercial fan the hotel had provided revolved speedily, trying desperately to keep my body cool, but it wasn’t helping.

it’s only now i realise that this was in fact torture.

being kept awake.

hot conditions.

but this is what a challenge is all about.

resilience.

coping with the uncomfortable.

controlling the controllable.

dawn broke.

just before i did.

i ate.

i drank.

i stepped into the cool morning air, and my driver carried his cargo to race to the stones 2026.

i was early, and as the sun started to rise, i collected my race pack, my nerves did a little dance in my stomach.

runners were scurrying around like ants, all shapes and sizes, ages, genders, and breeds. (yes there was someone running in a dog costume, insane my brain calculated)

i asked someone to take my pic pre race, as i had done the previous time i had taken this race on, and i felt quite calm, the nerves having subsided.

i had got to the start line with a very poor amount of training due to injuries, and had mentally calculated that i didn’t really deserve to complete the race, but man o man i was going to give it my best shot, and it would be fun to push my body and mind to see what i was capable of, i love this shizzle.

i was in the last wave of runners, due to my slow predicted time, and as we left the pen i felt great.

the heat was increasing as the sun rose, and the next 24 hours were going to deliver a challenge indeed.

the first 9 kilometres clicked by, and as i entered the first pit stop, my strategy was to keep my stop time to a minimum.

i refilled my now empty water bottles, and quafed four jaffa cakes, savouring the chocolate, of which i hadn’t tasted for three months.

i looked up to see an official looking lady, with downs syndrome.

“are you ok?” she asked.

“yes thank you, why?” i asked back.

“you’re shaking” she replied innocently.

“i have parkinsons” i responded, and this was to be a regular q & a game i played at every stop point, apparently racing in 30+ degree heat for hours, increases the shaking.

who knew.

the second pit stop was 12 kilometres further along the ridgeway, and whilst the scenery was stunningly beautiful, i was wearing a legionnaires hat to protect myself from the blistering sun, and had my peripheral vision somewhat limited, due to looking down to look at the constant trip hazards along the trail.

“are you ok, you’re shaking”

“yes, i have parkinsons”

i valued the concern, but hated it at the same time.

i left pit stop 2 to take on the next 15 kilometres.

when i did marathon des sables we had sodium (salt) tablets which replaced the bodies sodium rapidly, and i never got cramp at any point during the multistage race.

i hadn’t thought about salt tablets for this race.

rookie error.

none of the pit stops had salt tabs, and the only salt i could get back into my body after expending loads through sweating, was via electrolyte drinks, undoubtedly not enough.

the heat was intense, and we fortunately were given some respite, as we ran through a tree lined section, affording us some shade, but with lots of tree roots making navigation of the ground to avoid tripping, really important.

thud.

whilst concentrating hard on not tripping, i had run head first into a low hanging branch circa 400mm in size.

geez louise it banjaxed me.

as i saw stars, the shade cleared, and we were in the bright sunshine.

the route markers were very good, and had kept us on track thus far, but this was to be where my race unraveled.

i was running on a very straight road, for quite some time, but at the end saw no markers.

i continued running for 5 minutes, but the markers were nowhere to be seen.

i knew.

my timing strategy for the race was quite tight.

run/walk slow.

get it done in the 24 hours.

quick pit stops.

it did not include wrong turns, which equated into additional miles, which meant more time.

i had seen no other runners, and i knew.

dammit, janet.

i ran back.

as i got about a mile down the road i saw a runner running toward me.

maybe i hadn’t got it wrong?

as i reached her there was a hairpin turn with a slightly hidden arrow.

“i must have missed the arrow” i said.

“i did that last year” she replied.

annoyed at my amateur navigational skills, i cracked on.

i was running low on water, and electrolytes, and had a spot of cramp hit me in my calf.

not good.

the elevation was fierce, walking uphill, cramping, and knowing i was behind pace.

really not good.

i stumbled into a water aid station, relieved to get much needed hydration.

“are you ok, you’re shaking?”

grrrrrrr “yes, i have parkinsons” i replied calmly, and soft spoken.(possibly not that calmly or soft spoken, my memory fails me a little at this point)

“i’m worried about my time” i said to the florally dressed octogenarian volunteer.

“they have extended the finish time by twelve hours” she informed me.

“really? that’s briliant” i said.

“i think that’s what they said”

“awesome” my brain calculated.

i was going to be alright.

i continued my climb, which seemed to last for ages, and i past other racers, stopping for a rest, and then stopping for a break myself, they past me.

there were about twenty of us stopping, passing, starting, passing, all of us enquiring to each others health, and if we were ok.

i continued on uphill, and i now was starting to cramp in my groin.

salt was playing a part in breaking my spirit .

i stretched, and stretched.

“are you ok, you’re shaking?” my co-racer asked.

“yes, i have parkinson’s” i grimaced.

“can i help?”

“yes, find a ****ing cure” i barked out loud.

i didn’t say that.

i promise.

i continued, in the hot sunshine.

my new strategy ensued.

get to the half way base camp, eat some good food, take on as much salt as possible, sleep for a while, and then grind out the second 50k.

my previous runs and mountains have taught me that sleep and food and hydration can take a broken body and mind into new realms of strength.

one step at a time.

one stage at a time.

get to the next water point.

i was cramping in both legs.

but i was coping.

i could do this.

uphill.

harder and harder.

you’ve done everest, you can do this, i told myself.

in the distance high up the the hill were flags, rippling in the wind.

or was it a mirage in the heat?

i carried on climbing the hill.

the flags not seeming to get any closer.

the heat was unbearable.

more pain.

more cramp.

i looked up.

it wasn’t a mirage.

i was close.

keep going.

i reached the lone volunteer, who kindly offered to fill my bottles.

“am i last?”i enquired.

“no, there are loads behind you, and 400 people have pulled out due to the heat.”

i wasn’t doing too bad, i thought to myself.

then my world got hit hard, as a van pulled up, and i recognised the race director.

“how are you doing, you look like you’re shaking?”

ffs

“i’m fine, i just have parkinsons”.

“ok, what’s your plan” he enquired.

i explained my new strategy, which i thought quite acceptable.

“who told you we’ve extended the finish time?” he asked.

“the lady at the last water station” i replied.

“unfortunately, that’s wrong, the finish time is still the same, she shouldn’t have told you that.”

i was furious.

my brain stayed calm.

“so, i’m not gonna be able to start the second 50k”

“unfortunately not, she shouldn’t have told you that, sorry.”

i slumped back, and saw the look on the volunteers face as he watched this scene unfold.

it was over.

i reached the 50k base camp in time to watch the sun metaphorically set, and i checked in with the information desk.

“are you ok, you’re shaking?”

i held up an a4 sign which i had hastily written in felt pen which read “yes, i just have parkinson’s”

i didn’t, i hadn’t.

i rang my buddy philip, who was due to collect me at the finish, and gave him my ‘what three words’ for the new pickup location.

as we drove down the m4, i suddenly requested he stop, as i was going to be sick, and i puked water in a projectile vomit style, and it soon became very apparent that i was suffering from heatstroke.

this race was the race that kept on giving.

i had nearly collapsed on trying to enter the car, and philip was my hero supporting me in all ways, thanks, mr lay.

prior to leaving cardiff for the hotel on thursday evening, i had weighed in at 12.5 stone, almost 80 kg, upon my arrival home i was only 11.5 stone, almost 73kg, a huge weight loss, which on reflection was time spent in the torture hotel, and then knocking out 50k in 30+ degree temps, so no real surprises all things considered.

so what are my reflections on this race.

was it a failure?

technically yes.

psychologically no.

i’ve learnt i must try to avoid injuries.

i’ve learnt i should check my hotel’s a/c is working, or move.

i’ve learnt to take salt tablets.

i’ve learnt to be more vigilant of course signage.

and i’ve learnt to expect the unexpected.

i’ve also learnt i have some more left in the tank.

it ain’t all over yet.

and 50k is a great way to spend my 63rd lap of the sun.

blue skies,

jeff

c