I have just had a life defining experience. I can not easily put into words, what it was like. Yet, I feel compelled to share some of what I have felt and found. I have had ongoing waves of the most intense gratitude and as part of saying thank you for all the blessings that were showered onto me this past few weeks; I want to share it all.

It’s hard to make sense of it, since in many ways I can not explain what I “got back” for all the effort and pain. My partner and I ran the Grand Raide in Reunion Island 2 weeks ago. It is called Le Diagonalle de Fous. Which I understand means the race of the mad! We started at 10pm on the Thursday night and finished at midday on the Sunday. We ran and walked, climbed and stumbled with only 2,5 hours of sleep for 63,5 hours. We went up and down the steepest of hills and mountains, for 166km. The distance does not describe the route, because 5 km was taking us about 5 hours in many instances. The going was mercilessly tough and we had to draw on every iota of strength and resilience to keep trucking. We had to stay perfectly in the moment to avoid cracking mentally. The moment our minds wandered even for a second to what lay ahead, we felt overwhelmed and beaten.

Many people have asked what made us want to go. The answer is, a friend of mine went 15 years ago when the race was first started and when she told me about it, I just knew I wanted to do it too. It has been on my “bucket list” ever since. Unfortunately a lot has changed since she did it, one of the things being that it is now 166km in 66 hours where it was 120km in 60. I say unfortunately, but that is not strictly true, because I may not have gone if I had known just how hard it would be.  I am glad I had her encouragement saying she just knew I would manage. So I went, thinking it would be tough, but blissfully unaware of how tough.

We arrived in Reunion after a night with friends in Mauritius, and I felt like the luckiest person in the world. I had it all…. A partner who was a kindred spirit, who I was crazy about, the ability to dream of something and make it happen. Beautiful kids who were taken care of at home. I had waves of gratitude so intense I felt tearful. I was excited nervous and filled with anticipation. I kept reminding myself not to attach to it all. We made our way by taxi to the start of the race from the airport having had our first taste of the language barrier. We speak no French and the Reunionites speak no English! We got to the start where we discovered we had to be for the briefing and to get our “bracelet” that would enable us to participate. We had all our big heavy bags and nowhere to leave them. The briefing was at 3pm and this was 11am. We were starving!

As always with us we find an ‘angel’ to help, and this ‘angel’ was part of one of the sponsors, she spoke English and she could tell us to come back later, she also took care of our bags. We went into St Dennis to sample the French cuisine… Yum! We then went to find a bus to the south of the island because we realized we had made a mistake booking a guest house at the start, because they were going to bus us from the finish to the start on the other side of the island in St Philippe. We could not change our accommodation in St Philippe, nor find new accommodation in St Dennis and so in the end we had to catch a taxi at huge expense all the way down. It was a two hour drive.   We also had the mission of getting our stuff back from the start to the finish.

It was a rough day of schlepping, but we attended the race briefing, all in French and gleaned NO information. We felt blindfolded, having no idea what was required except what my friend had told us from 15 years previously. Still we got our precious bracelets and left for the other end of the island. We marveled at the view and the sophistication of the place which was so totally different from what we had expected.

So race day dawned and we were staying in an amazing place with the waves crashing right on the wall of our room. For the first time in months we had nothing to do except chill and prepare! I was filled with apprehension and tension, but was also quite relaxed and able to enjoy lying down and hearing the sound of the waves! We ate and planned and the time passed until it was time to dress and get to the start line.

Since we had not understood the briefing (it was in French), we made many errors in our preparation. We would only discover this when it was too late! It was murderously hot and we never dreamed it could be cold up on the mountains. We didn’t like the race shirts so we wore something else and were the only people in anything other than race shirts! We were given two bags to fill with stuff we wanted to have access to along the way and I for one filled my bags with shampoo, conditioner, clean clothes and such stuff. I would have been far better putting spare shoes, friction free socks, a needle and thread to attend to blisters and so on, but I had no idea. I had taken my oldest road running shoes, because they are like slippers and I figured they would be most comfy. I never dreamed I would need more than those! Well,  I had a lot to learn and I learnt the hard way!!! Trail shoes are hard for a good reason and they are what you need for a trail race, especially one like this one. I must have been the only clown who turned up in road shoes! And was definitely the only one who came with only one set!

Anyway, in our ignorant but focused state we prepared and set off for the start. We got a lift in a TV truck in return for a TV interview.

Then we queued and squashed to get into the stadium.  We had our bags checked for all the survival kit we would need and managed to get through the inspection in spite of not having a whistle, a cup ( they gave us one in our race packs which we had thrown away!), and a few other such necessary items. And then we were there in the stadium. The only English people except one other athlete, from England who we quickly befriended.

Everyone lined up at 9.30pm and the music played and they built the tension to a crescendo that climaxed at 10pm and the gun went. People pushed and shoved and we were lifted clean off our feet in the stampede. It was quite intimidating, but also exhilarating, such was the level of excitement and adrenalin. You wouldn’t say we had 66 hours to go the way everyone pushed to get through the start gate!
And then we were off, running, sloshing with overfilled camel packs, butterflies batting, heart racing. We sprinted the first 3 km holding hands so as not to lose each other in the rush. Suddenly we found ourselves on the mountain and the pace slowed. The noise quieted and the people settled down and started ascending. It was a 28km climb to the top of the first volcano.

It  felt extra ordinary to be part of the group, all silently moving along in pursuit of the same goal. It was weird not to be able to communicate with anyone except each other. And so we moved through the night. Our path was lighted by the moon and by our head torches.

By 5.45am it was freezing cold, we were shivering. We were grateful to see the dawn break and the top of the mountain come into view. I had put on all the clothes I was carrying, but none of them provided much protection against the freezing wind and biting cold at that altitude. Ellis was lethargic and in serious trouble with hyperthermia when we got to the first refreshment station. I managed to get him lukewarm water, revolting tea and some food.  I forced him to eat in spite of his protests and gradually he thawed and his spark returned. The race had truly begun! We were at what felt like the top of the world and it was gorgeous! Yet we were nowhere, and had no time to admire our achievement…. move on was what was required, and we did.

The Raide had a real treat in store for us. We were so loving the journey until we entered a forest and with it, “Hell bog”. We had no idea what was coming. We just arrived and found Hell bog and the hell it involved. Hell bog is a 20km stretch of ankle deep sticky mud. We slipped and struggled and hardly progressed for the next eight hours through beautiful forests and gorgeous trees.
 

We were not going along a flat path in this slushy, slippery mud. We were going up incredibly steeply and then down just as steeply. With every step up, we slid back, and with every step down, we slid and fell and over balanced. My shoes kept getting stuck in the mud, leaving my foot to come out of the shoe and requiring serious PT to get the shoe out and back on my foot. I can not really explain the struggle this mud produced for us, except to remind you of the Vietnam Movies where we saw soldiers struggling to make headway in the jungle, and in spite of their superior physical ability they were hardly able to move. GI Jane is the movie that popped perpetually into my mind. I resonated totally with Demi Moore only wishing I looked as marvelous as she did. I can assure you I did not look at all appealing with mud in every orifice and a scowl on my face!

The first three or so hours Ellis and I made dismal progress, we were passed by everyone, and we had no concept of how to move efficiently. It was devastating and exhausting. I cussed and complained in my head. I made the mud wrong and told myself the story that it should not have been there, or the race should not have taken us through it. I couldn’t understand the conversations of my fellow runners, because they were all in French, but I could hear by their tones and sense from their energies that they too were unhappy with it.

 I hit my head on a tree that had grown horizontally across the pathway. My sunglasses on my head blinded me to its presence. I hit it with such a force that I am sure I had a mild concussion. I had nowhere to stop, and could only carry on, dazed and dizzy and seeing stars. I was trying to remember my address without success. I became even more certain this muddy bog was wrong! It should never have been there, I thought. 
By the fifth hour something shifted inside me and I remembered that I was there by choice. In fact a few hours before that I had thought I was the luckiest person alive to have been able to go to Reunion. I shifted my attitude and the story in my mind and suddenly the mud was not the enemy. It became fun and I felt like a child enjoying the sensation of slipping and sliding. I made it a game and I became glad it was muddy and I was getting the chance to play in it. Somehow Ellis had a similar type of mind shift and before we knew it, we were passing everyone who had left us a few hours before. The effort levels dropped and the exhaustion lifted.

We emerged from the Hell bog, filthy and exhausted. I found a French lady who could speak a little English and who had done the race before. She was furious about the mud and was quitting the race. She declared we were too late to continue. She said we had lost so much time that even if we went at full tilt we would not make the cut off time at the rest station at the 90 km mark. She said we had to be there by 10.30pm and it was 25 grueling km and 2500 odd meters of shear ascent followed by an equal descent into Cilaos (Stade). The going was treacherous and it would all be in the dark. She said we may as well save our effort and give up now. I stuck out my bottom jaw and declared they could throw me off, but I wasn’t going to quit! We took off more determined than ever and flew over the next 10 km until we hit the next volcano. We steadily climbed passing masses of people as we did, gunning it. We threw caution to the wind and gave our energy recklessly. It was fun and the energy came abundantly. I remembered that I always say energy is abundant.

The hours passed. It was awesome, I felt like I had transcended all my perceived limitations and was now invincible. The moon shone and the only sound was my own breath and my foot steps as I struggled up the mountain on the vertical cliff face. Each step was knee high and my legs were trembling yet strong. I was euphoric. But the euphoria started to melt away as more hours passed by and the supposed deadline drew nearer. We hit the top of the mountain at about 9pm, 24 hours after we had started. We had sat down for about half an hour in the entire period. I couldn’t believe we were still going strong.

We thought we could get down the 2500 odd meter descent if we just put foot by 10.30pm and we went as fast as we could. As steep as the ascent was, so was the descent, and our legs were shaking. My knees were screaming and the nervous energy we were burning was devastating as we tried to hurry. It was pitch dark on the other side of the volcano, because it was forrested and the moonlight could not penetrate the tree cover. There were many athletes we had to pass, which is difficult on a single track. We kept wondering why no one else was rushing, but couldn’t ask anyone, so we just assumed they had already given up on meeting the deadline. We could hear the music and cheering at the rest station and thought constantly that we were nearly there. Suffice it to say, we were so not nearly there, that we arrived at midnight a mere hour and a half after our “deadline”.

I had been doing the coaching thing since 10.30pm, helping us both to accept the defeat. We had already mourned our dream. When we arrived we expected to be kicked off. We were in lots of ways grateful that the journey was over and we could actually rest. However, when we arrived ready to hand in our bracelet and take off our shoes, the officials told us in French we could not help understanding that we were definitely not to quit. There was no deadline. We had to rest a bit and carry on! We were covered in mud, starving, depleted and now had to pick ourselves up and undo all my coaching and get going again. Ellis had a real hard time getting re-energized, so good was my coaching! Anyway at 3.00 am in the dead of night, we strode out of the rest camp. The very last people to leave. It took all our strength to get going again. We had slept for an hour, filled our camel packs, seen to blisters, eaten some food. We were ready to tackle the rest of the journey. We made one more fatal error…We thought we had broken the back of the race! How wrong we were.
I was tense and stressed about being at the back of the race. I hate being last.  Ellis was tense, because he was struggling to get back into “race mode”. I had clicked straight back into it, but he had to reset his mind. I was anxious to go fast and get ahead of a few people so we didn’t have to navigate or I have to admit face the horror of being last! Ellis was loving being last with no one to pass and no one passing us. He relaxed and I managed my tension carefully until just before dawn when I spat it out. I wanted desperately to get ahead of some people and get out of my discomfort. After an hour or so of pondering my outburst, he increased his pace and helped me to feel better. I was so grateful! By the time the sun came up we were 10th last and I was feeling happy again and so was Ell. The view was amazing and we were able to see how far up we had climbed and as the early morning mist lifted we could see the valley below in all its glory, wow! The night’s effort was worth that moment of wonder!

We sat a moment with a whole group of fellow runners, gasping and breathing and saying nothing. What a moment of camaraderie and unity. It wasn’t about winning but rather about all doing it together. I felt really touched by this togetherness. Somehow we managed to tear ourselves away and start the descent to the next feeding point 1700m down below us. It was hot and steep and incredibly beautiful. By now we were feeling quite competent at running down mountains at speed. Although we had improved and were doing really well, many of the Reunionites could leave us as if we were standing still on the way down the mountain. We would pass them all going up and then watch in awe as they sprinted down, as if they were on tar!

We reached the feeding station at 10 am and I had another session of force feeding Ellis. He was nauseas and didn’t want any food. The people at this station were incredible, they took our camel packs and filled them for us. This simple task had become intolerably hard by now. They brought us energy bars and hot soup. We sat and lay in the sun on the grass and rested our weary bodies, just soaking up all the nurturing with gratitude. Eventually we managed to get up and go again. It was getting to the stage where it was easier to keep moving because starting was so hard. We traversed some incredible terrain.Equally rugged and equally gorgeous as we moved through the morning and early afternoon. We crossed rivers and boulder hopped for a while before hitting yet another near vertical ascent. There was little said and enormous amounts of communication happening in the silence. Although I led the way, I knew exactly how Ell was doing at all times and he had the same insight into me and my journey.

At one point we managed to take a wrong path by stepping right over some tape blocking the way. How I chose to go over the tape and up this blocked path, I do not know. After about 20 minutes of walking, Ellis asked if I had seen a marker and I glibbly answered that I was sure I had. I wasn’t sure at all and a few minutes later we came across some people who shouted, “no, no, no!” at us and we realised we had walked unneccessarilyup this hill. We wasted about 20 more  minutes getting back. This doesn’t sound muchbut it was heartbreaking! I felt really defensive as the leader and did what most people do when defensive, I attacked. Fortunately the situation quickly diffused into laughter as I recognised what I was doing. We battled on. 

As we continued I began to realize I was in serious trouble with my feet. I had developed huge blisters. Unbeknown to me the inner soles of my takies had rolled and bent after the escapade in the mud and they had been rubbing on my feet slowly wearing out the tissues that came into contact with the lumps and bumps. I never ever get blisters and although I had sorely missed having a clean, new set of shoes to put on after the rest station the previous night, I had never even cast a thought to my feet. Well that changed in a matter of moments and as the afternoon wore on, I realized I was in serious trouble. My blisters were growing and deepening with very step. They were hurting so badly I had to use all my mental energy to transcend the pain. I started to panic about the 45 odd km’s I still had to cover. I had to start using some sincere mental discipline to keep my mind present in the moment. I had waves of panic and fear of what may happen over the next 24 odd hours.

I know I can manage most pains and that I can keep going when I am tired,  but this pain seemed too terrible to overcome. I just kept saying: ‘ just one step at a time, just slow and steady!’ I kept saying gentle encouraging things to myself and slowly the kilometers passed by and the pain became more like a background noise than a fore ground shriek.

At one stage I stopped, turned around and had a tirade tantrum using the foulest language I could find in my vocabulary. It let out some of the pressure and once I had finished tears pouring, spittle spitting. after it had subsided, I felt infinitely better. Only Ellis heard and he said very little. He just asked if one of my swear words was a real word. We have laughed endlessly at this ever since. So take it from me, a swearing tirade works! Just be careful where and how you try it. A study from Harvard University has confirmed my findings by the way!

Slowly and painfully we made our way into the rest station from there. It was about two more hours and it seemed interminable. It was especially tough because we had joined the path with the athletes from the other two races. There were three races that all started at various different places and all ended at the same place. So for this section we were all running together. The one race was 45km, the other 90 Km and then there was our race, the race of the mad! When the other runners came past us by this stage, we were limping pitifully and they were charging determinedly. So you may imagine it added considerably to the distress I felt seeing them all light footed and pain free, boulder hopping and jumping along, while I felt as if I was walking on 20 pieces of glass in each foot. It is also disruptive to your pace to keep having to stop and let people pass. Ell kept saying:”it’s a race, make them work to pass you!” but I hated the thought of holding someone up, so I kept stopping and letting everyone through.

Anyway, eventually as the sun was setting we arrived at the station. It was buzzing with activity and people. Everyone excitedly discussing their race in French! What an amazing zing we felt being in the camp. We went straight to the medical tent to get our feet seen to. An ‘angel’ came to help me and she was so sweet and kind, I lay there for two solid hours while she tried everything she could to help my feet. She drained the blisters, injected them with methylate that stings so badly on that raw, sore skin and dressed them all. Safely after all her hard work, within minutes of getting vertical again the blisters  filled again. The pain was no better. Her love and care soothed me though and for that I will always be thankful! She also bandaged my knees and gave support to my screaming tendons and knee cap tissues. This made a real difference!

After the medical tent we collected our bag we had sent and I chuckled when I looked at what I had sent…. Shampoo, a brush, perfume! All useless to me at this stage! Anyway, the laugh helped and I offloaded some litter and replenished my food supplies and filled my camel pack with protein shake. By now my body was in dire need of something other than carb’s! So as a vegetarian I was delighted to enter the food hall and find they were serving lentils with noodles!! They were literally scrumptious, if lentils can ever be described as that. Ellis was suffering from his usual nausea, so I couldn’t persuade him to come and eat. I did manage to get some yogi sips as take aways for him. Never have you seen such relish as he devoured those and as many as he could get his hands on. Sorry for the people behind us, if they have a soft spot for yogi sips too. The supplies were seriously dented.  the colour and sparkle slowly returned to his cheeks as he slurped the sweet stuff into his hungry gullet.

So, full and replete, we found a cot to lie down on. We had to be out of the rest station by midnight and we thought we would leave by 10pm so as not to repeat our stint at the back. We thought we could cover the last 29 km’s quite easily by 11 or so the following day. We were in for a serious surprise. And not a nice one at that! Anyway off we set! We had to cross a freezing river to get going and they had put a piece of rope across to help us. I managed to get the whole way across without a wobble and then lost my footing as I stepped out of the river and fell in. The freezing water was so soothing to my feet, it was like heaven! It was worth the soggy shoes that followed. We climbed the second last volcano telling ourselves constantly that we were so nearly there.   At one stage we climbed up to the crest of a hill and found a whole lot of locals sitting playing drums to entertain us. At 3 in the morning we were blown away by this support! The top of the volcano meant another hectic descent , the steepest one yet and it was in a forested gorge with no moon light. My torch batteries had died and so we were sharing. Since Ellis is so tall, he had the torch and I was in front trying to get down this awesome descent by the light of his torch.

Let me just tell you the going was painfully slow and painfully painful. It was really an act of faith to descend at all and I am sure that had we gone back in daylight we would have marveled that we got down at all! The song that stuck in my brain was the Simon and Garfunkel song: “Slip Sliding Away.”

Finally just as the dawn broke, we hit the bottom and entered into the breakfast station. There was hot soup and bread. And I gave the medical tent another shot at relieving my foot pain. I was so bone weary that I slept through the whole procedure and woke up to find my feet bandaged and myself covered with a blanket. An hour and a half had passed and I was dumb struck by the kindness and empathy of the caters. Ellis was somewhere else fast asleep. Someone had also covered him and he was far away in dream land. An hour and a half had passed and we realized that we weren’t nearly as close to the finish as we had thought when everyone started chivvying us along. We got going very gingerly and painfully and headed towards St Dennis and the finish.

I had to be careful not to wish the last part of the race away. I kept finding my mind wandering to what I was going to do at the finish. I kept worrying about how we  were going to get our bags to our hotel which was about 7 km from the finish. What a thing to worry about!

There was a 4km stretch along the road and beside the sea, that gave us another false sense of hope that we were through the worst. This notion was quickly dispelled when we came to the patch where we had to traverse round volcanic boulders for several hours. These rocks get terribly hot as they are black and porous, being volcanic. They are sharp and every step something would poke into my blisters and sear red hot pain through me. Ellis was also suffering but as far as I am concerned my pain was the worst of all. These rocks are exhausting to walk over as you can not get into a stride. Every step requires balance and concentration and the going is pitifully slow! The morning wore on and the temperature soared! I meditated for periods and agonized when I lost control of my mind. We walked (all thought of running had long vanished!) slowly and in silence for ages.

We came to the penultimate feeding station knowing we now had only 10 km to go. It was 10am and when we arrived there it was a place filled with commotion and emotion. It was a cut off point for one of the other races and many dejected and disappointed people had been pulled off the course. The gravity of the disappointment gave us the motivation we needed for the final push. We put foot and went hell for leather for the next 5km. It sounded so easy ; 10km is my daily run and it takes less than 50 minutes. This 10 km was very different, however, it was rugged, steep, stinking hot, and the going was incredibly slow. I couldn’t get my head around the idea that we had 5 hours to cut off at the finish and people were warning us to move it!

It was relatively easy going for the next hour or two in so far as it was a smoothish uphill path. There was also a  lot of support, from the people since we were near to the city and the finish.  I managed to get myself into a rhythm and a trance like state and just float through. I enjoyed the view, the atmosphere and the steady pace. Supporters yell: “bravo!” and “courage” (I think that’s how you spell what they were shouting). You really get respect and enthusiasm as a “Des Fous” runner and it swells your heart to feel their encouragement. I was getting very tearful and felt the emotion surge every time someone shouted at me. I held it together though, until the last water table at 5km to go.

There was a French lady who was so kind and sympathetic. She brought us sandwiches and clucked and cooed about my bleeding, swollen feet. She all but hugged my revolting body in order to convey her support, and with this the tears came. They came in a torrent. I sobbed uncontrollably from there all the way to the finish. This last bit took two hours and the sobs didn’t die down until about 10 minutes after crossing the finish line. I cried for the experience, out of gratitude, out of pain, I cried out of pride in myself, out of joy. I cried from the intensity of the last three days. And I cried because I had realized my dream. Lastly I cried because I didn’t want it to end even although I did want it to end!

The last section was the only part that was not really beautiful. It was pretty, but not in the way the rest of the race had been. Although we were descending a volcano, it looked down on the city and that was less lovely. The path was well trodden and it was a rude reality check. We were nearly back in civilization. It was shear agony coming down that last hill. Every step was excruciating. Just about everyone was passing us. By now we knew we had no need to worry, we would make it in good time, but it  irks me to be passed and not to be able to rise up and meet the challenge. I kept thinking Ell was going slowly for me, but when we finally got the chance to dissect it all, I realized he was struggling just as hard and couldn’t go any faster either!

Finally we stepped off the mountain and had the last kilometer to run on the road. We ran, all be it gingerly. The people were cheering and I was howling. We ran all the way into the stadium and even though we couldn’t hear what the announcer was saying, we knew we had done it! It was delicious.

They put a huge medal around our necks and we hobbled to the field, took our shoes off and smiled, laughed and marveled! After photographing my feet and ourselves I lay down and closed my eyes. Within instants I was asleep. The noise, music, fanfare continued and I slept. Ell went to get some food, and I slipped away into sweet oblivion. It felt wonderful. I woke an hour later to find my bags beside me and I just knew I had to get showered and clean. I couldn’t tolerate my filthy, muddy, smelly self another second. It took ages to get together some clothes and shower stuff and get to a shower, but I did it! The water was cold and it wasn’t pleasant to stand under, but getting clean when you are that dirty is the best feeling ever!

I emerged smelling fragrant, feeling refreshed and renewed and ecstatic.

Now the next ordeal… getting to the hotel! We could hardly walk and had our heavy bag from the start, our two overnight bags they had taken to the rest stations for us and our back packs to carry. There are not many taxis on a Sunday afternoon from this stadium and we knew we needed a ride. Ellis literally hijacked a journalist and we hopped in to his car before he could say no. He had no choice but to deliver us to Hotel Julienne Du Du.

We made a big entry staggering into the hotel and then struggling up the stairs to our room. They had kept a bag for us from before we had left for St Philippe and the start. We entered our comfortable, but tiny room and dumped the bags, sweaty stuff and all in the corner. Ell got into a bath and I got into the percale linen sheets and thought I had died and gone to heaven.
I fell asleep instantly. As I lay, I thought I had found the most comfortable position in the world for my aching body. Unfortunately the comfort only lasted a few minutes before my inflamed knees and feet started to scream for some movement and another position. So the recovery began. Although I laynin bed  until 9am the next morning, I hardly slept, it was mostly a dose. I had to keep running a cold bath and bathing my feet. I used all the cold drink cans in the bar fridge to cool my joints down. Nothing really eased the pain, and so I just dosed in and out of consciousness and enjoyed that. I knew it was going to take a long time to get over this and I didn’t care. It was worth it.

What amazed me is how incredibly fast one recovers when one sleeps! Every time I woke up, I felt a little bit better. The first time I got up, I couldn’t stand at all and taking weight on my feet was intolerable. By the morning, I could stand, a little bit.

After a shower which was warm and sweet, we went downstairs to feed our starving bellies. What better than a yummy French continental breakfast to replenish our energy? Muesli and yoghurt to die for, scrumptious bread and cheese. We ate like kings, taking it slowly and savoring the taste. Trying not to over tax our delicate guts, we sat for ages. It was great fun, because everyone could see we had done the Grand Raide and they came over to ‘chat’  about it. One lady could speak English and she interpreted the newspaper articles about it all. It really is a big event there, so it fills the papers. We discovered that only 47% of the field had finished and that this was the hardest course they had ever run. They planned to make it easier the next year, so that more people could complete it. Just our luck to choose the hardest year to join in. Anyway we felt really smug and self satisfied knowing we were part of so few finishers. I had come 47th out of the ladies, only 100 finished.

We lay in bed all day chatting about the whole experience, reading and dozing.  I acupunctured my knees and feet and physio’d myself, because I didn’t want to take pills and I was too sore to move much, which I hate. At lunch time we limped pathetically one block down the road to find a restaurant.   

For once in my life I didn’t want the loveliest place, I just wanted the nearest and the easiest. I wasn’t hungry, but Ell who had lost 5kg was famished! We past the afternoon in a similar fashion, the only difference being that we managed to summon the energy to clean up the room and sort out our stuff. I tossed my shoes in the bin! They were broken and had it.

If you know me at all, you have to know how extra ordinary it is that I spent the whole day in this beautiful island, in bed. Normally, I would have explored and covered what most people do in 4 days in 1 day. I love to adventure and discover. I normally walk a place flat and love to watch and meet the people. This time, I lay in bed!

We caught a taxi the two blocks to get to a pharmacy at supper time, walking that far seemed impossible! We needed pain killers and anti inflammatories and although I do not believe in taking medication, I knew I needed some assistance. The relief was great when the medication started working and after a big curry, we both managed to get some sleep, which was much needed and wonderful. 

We woke in far better shape the next morning and had to pack up to leave and start the treck home via Mauritius. Between a taxi, business class (thanks SAA!) and a lot of encouragement from our constant chatter about what we had done, we made it home by Tuesday night. By the time we were home we had already planned to return to do it all again in 2013!
Thank you Reunion what an experience !

I have just reread this and it is now 7 weeks after the race. I have missed the race so much and have longed to go back! It was actually a hard job to settle back down afterwards, because it was such an intense and life changing experience. If anyone is keen to do it, contact me and I will help you all I can!