Picture the
scene, it’s the day after Boxing Day and you’re wrapped up on the sofa in a new
jumper bought for you by an auntie or cousin.
Your stomach is so full that if you even see another turkey leg you
might spontaneously transform into said gobbling creature. You’ve drunk too much and not sure if opening
that second bottle was a good idea, but what the heck, you’ve started it, so
you’ll finish, it is Christmas after all.
On TV is yet another program that in normal circumstances you’d never
even contemplate watching but the remote is on the other side of the room and
you’re too stuffed to move. In the
corner is a pile of wrapping paper that’s been there since Christmas day when
the mountain of beautifully wrapped presents were enthusiastically ripped open,
followed by a chorus of “that’s just what I wanted!’ and ‘how did you know?” Not only am I sure you can picture this
scene, I’m sure you’ve lived this scene.
So, Christmas
2010, this was me, but the random program that flickered in the background was
a documentary by Ben Fogle which followed him as he completed the “toughest
footrace on Earth”. The pictures that
followed were of beautiful landscapes, orange sand dunes, towering mountains
and quaint Berber villages. The
competitors seemed mostly ecstatic to be surrounded by such raw nature,
grateful to be sharing unconditional camaraderie with other like-minded people
and whilst there were a few pictures of sore feet, most people wore smiles. The documentary explained how 800 people every
year run the equivalent of six marathons in six days across the Sahara Desert
with up to 15 kg of supplies on their backs.
They faced dehydration, scorpions, temperatures of up to 50 degrees,
camel spiders and blisters on top of blisters.
People had not only got lost taking part in this race, but a few had
died. In my stuffed Christmas stupor, all
I saw was the beautiful, uncomplicated and unspoilt landscapes and was hit with
the overwhelming feeling that life on the sofa was not enough.
Bear in mind that
at this point, the closest I had ever got to running was sprinting down the
street to catch a bus or train which invariably left me panting, red faced and
feeling like my lungs were going to burst.
But for some reason, at this point in time, this small fact didn’t even
register in my thought process. A quick Internet
search later revealed that the UK waiting list for the next race was two years
and when the registration opened in May 2011, the likelihood was that it would
sell out in just 10 minutes!
January 2011 I
went back to work and mentioned to the guys in my office that I was considering
entering this race. I was met with a unified
response of “you’re nuts” but my good friend Becky, the voice of reason, quite
rightly suggested that I should probably try running before I enter this crazy
race. So I joined the gym and found on
the internet (what did we do before the world of online information) an 8 week
running plan that started in week one with a 30 second run and ended up in week
eight with a 30 minute run. No, you
didn’t misread that; my first run was 30 seconds! By May 2011 I could run up to 3 miles and was
enjoying myself, so with butterflies in my stomach I signed up to the toughest
footrace on Earth. In April 2013, I
would be running 156 miles across the Sahara Desert with everything I need for a week on my back. Now I was nervous!
~
I'm running the MdS to support the British Heart Foundation. Please take a moment to visit my sponsorship page and donate whatever you can afford. Many, many thanks
www.justgiving.com/lauranicholls2013
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