NRG athlete David Gething is taking part in the World Marathon Challenge, 7 marathons in 7 days on 7 continents!! Here is the Itnerary:
| 17-Jan | Marathon in Antarctica + Flight to Punta Arenas |
| 18-Jan | Marathon in Punta Arenas + Flight to Miami |
| 19-Jan | Marathon in Miami + Flight to Madrid |
| 20-Jan | Marathon in Madrid + Flight to Marrakech |
| 21-Jan | Marathon in Marrakech + Flight to Dubai |
| 22-Jan | Marathon in Dubai + Flight to Sydney |
| 23-Jan | Marathon in Sydney + Celebration |
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David just completed Mararthon number 1 in Antarctca today and here is his report:
Before I’ll start I’ll warn you that this is a long description. If you are short on time or on interest then know that it was an amazing place in all respects and a wonderful experience. If you want to know more, read on…
Everybody has a handful of truly unforgettable moments that get permanently etched into their memory. For me, opening the cargo plane doors and stepping out into Antarctica was one of those moments.
Vast white-out, biting winds, snow flurries, and blue coloured ice carved by the elements and over a kilometre thick down to sea level, at its depths unchanged for millions years. And in stark contrast to the massive water reserves below, the frozen air was bone dry and instantly numbed the face and fingers, the desiccated snow crackled under the feet.
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If you ever get the chance you must take it. There’s something about the place that is incredible, unique, and gets under your skin. It still feels undiscovered and untamed, bending us to it’s will rather than the other way around.
Despite initial weather uncertainties the trip over was smooth, although we did have a three hour delay in Argentina due to some issues with the Argentinian military on the plane not having the right customs clearances. With their own customs. But alls well that ends well, and we arrived safe and sound after what eventually turned out to be an 8 hour flight, had a camp safety briefing and meal and then settled in for the night.
Antarctic mornings are an experience. Its constant daylight here at this time of the year. As soon as you poke your head out from under the thick double walled sleeping bag you need to put my sunglasses on because the light is so bright, even through the fabric walls of the clam shelter. The next step is to take all of the day’s clothes that you carefully left next to the bed the night before, and put them in the sleeping bag for five minutes to get them warm enough to put on. Woollen base layer, both long top and trousers, intermediate fleece layer and outer windbreaker. And the sunscreen needs to go in the sleeping bag as well, to melt it from wax into something liquid enough to be applied.
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Then it’s off to the bathroom. Nothing stays on the continent, it must be kept pristine, so there are separate toilets for liquid and solid. An experience in coordination and planning if nothing else. Brushing teeth is similar to applying sunscreen.. My toothpaste was as hard as a rock and needed chipped off then to be thawed out before being useable. And then coffee. I found it difficult to taste with the cold weather, but it was warm, and that was enough.
It was 6am, and although it’s always daylight, the rest of the camp was sleeping, apart from the skeleton night crew. Nothing else for it but to go for an early morning run. As required, I registered myself out of camp with the staff, and went off to run the 10km marked course. And they clearly stressed the need to stay on the marked course. The camp is set on a moving glacier that shifts around 1 metre every week, slowly flowing down the valley. And as it shifts massive cracks and crevasses form, some of which are hundreds of metres deep. These crevasses are often hidden, covered by a layer of snow, so the staff use ground penetrating radar to map out the safe spots.
After running a kilometre or so it started snowing, and the camp was left in a white out. Running was from marker to marker, and it was other worldly. Think Hoth with a Tonton.
Another few kilometres later and the snowstorm cleared, opening up sweeping vistas of distant granite mountains, with only endless icy plains between us. And not a soul to be seen in any direction. If it was a training run it was a failure, I couldn’t help myself but stop every few minutes just to look around and soak it up. And when that wasn’t enough I sat down and stared. And then I laid on my back in the snow and looked up.
But I was five kilometres from the base and many thousands from civilisation, and I was on a time limit.. I had to get back before they got concerned and send out a search party. When I got back into town and I had to stop myself from doing another lap.. It would have to wait until the marathon proper.
The wait. The wait is difficult, more difficult than I had expected. We need to wait until the return flight is confirmed, as the Antarctic marathon has to be as close to leaving time as possible. The uncertainty is the most difficult. If I knew the time I could plan, adjust, count down. But it could be a day and they tell me it could be a week. There’s a whole lot of pressures there. No contract with the outside world should be invigorating, but it’s also very isolating. Responsibilities, commitments, work.. These aren’t subject to restrictions of an Antarctic blizzard. Back in human civilisation the best marches on.
So I try to look at it as a positive. The first, and probably only time I’ll ever be in Antarctica. Soak it up. Surrender to it. Enjoy it. But in reality that can only last so long. It’s only possible to be outside for short times before getting very cold, unless involved in vigorous activity. So most of the time is spent sitting, waiting, running over the same scenarios with the same limited and incomplete information again and again, until you start questioning what is fact and what is hope. Luckily the people I’m traveling with are a good bunch, and conversion flows easily.
But it’s good to know the gods still have a sense of humour, because as I finish the last paragraph there’s a knock at the door. Race briefing at the main tent right now. And in five minutes everything changes. It’s on. Plane’s on its way. The first marathon starts in a few hours. And I suddenly wonder if now that I’ve got what I wanted, I should have been more careful about what I wished for.
You sweat, you die. That’s what the camp doctor told us at the marathon briefing. If you sweat it’s absorbed by the base layer and fleecy top, which then freezes rock hard, forming a plate of ice that presses against the chest and saps body heat and energy. This was not good news for somebody who’d trained their body to deal with tropical heat during exercise. Appropriate clothing became a careful balance between wearing enough to stay warm, and not wearing enough to get hot then subsequently and ironically to freeze. Any exposed skin was a potential risk for frostbite. The doctor said if it’s numb you’re in trouble. If it’s white you need emergency attention. And if it’s black you’ve lost it. Then there’s snow blindness… But I’m guessing you’ve heard enough by now. And I feel like I’ve normally got enough to worry about going into a marathon..
So that led to the first marathon. And of course I’m writing this after the finish, so you’ll be happy to know it’ll be brief.. It’s 1.30am and the flight out leaves in 45 mins. And I’m spent. I took it easy for the first couple of km to get my legs ready and get a feel for the snow. And then I wound it up a bit to about 4.35-4.45min/km. Yes Nigel. Too fast. Stupid. Damaging. But it was my first and last time to race Antarctica, the legs felt good, I felt good, the scenery was inspiring, and I have no self control.
It was a four lap course and it was very, very cold. At one point I went to adjust my hard face mask to try to cover my nose better and then realised that I wasn’t wearing a mask..it was my scarf frozen solid around my neck. And the scenery was so white that by the third lap I really thought I had snow blindness.. It was like looking at something so bright and overpowering that it was difficult to get any frame of reference or focus. But I made it. In a course record 3:21. In first place. Reuters did a post race interview and I sounded completely drunk as I couldn’t feel my face or move my lips coherently.
And then I got very very cold, very very quickly. I started shivering uncontrollably and had to pour lots of hot water to get my body temperature back up.
So yeah, laugh away, I overcooked it then undercooked myself. But I am the current Antarctic marathon distance world record holder (I think) 😉
The next marathon starts in around 14 hours in Chile. It will be much much slower.
Hope everyone is well back in the real world,
D
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