The Dakar Marathon 2016 - The Morning of the Race
4:45 AM - Dan's alarm goes off and I tell myself I have a few more minutes before my alarm goes off.
5:00 AM - I drag myself out of bed and throw four waffles in the toaster oven. I can't remember the last time I ate so many in one sitting. They tasted amazing washed down with chocolate milk the day before, when I began carb loading. But this morning they're more like a pill I need to swallow, and I get it over with quickly.
5:15 AM - I get dressed in my black running capris, lime green running top, and the black long sleeve t-shirt I always tie around my waist (this is my attempt at modesty in a culture where the posterior and not the breasts is considered the most desirable part of the body).
5:20 AM - I double check my fanny pack to make sure I have everything I need. Although I don't normally make such a fashion choice under any circumstance, I have stolen Isabella's Disney Princess fanny pack for the past several weeks. It's the perfect size to carry a few snacks and not weigh me down. This morning it contains three packs of fruity snacks, a snack ziplock bag of dry cherries, a small bottle of homemade goo (slightly diluted honey, lemon juice, and salt), and my iPhone and headphones. In addition, I have toilet paper and lip balm in the two sleeves of the shirt around my waist.
5:30 AM - Dan wakes the girls and tells them they have a minute to wash their faces and get in the car. I've already packed colouring books and pencils, a change of clothes for each, breakfast foods and snacks, hats, and sunscreen.
5:47 AM - The Thorntons depart from Thies toward Diamniadio, 34 kilometers away. It overwhelms me to think that the distance I'm about to run is longer than that which we're driving to get to the race (and before then I'd always felt like Diamniadio was so far away!).
6:35 AM - Upon arriving at the conference center where the event is being held, I jump out of the truck while Dan parks. I head straight for the port-o-potties, only to discover that they have no toilet paper and no water left to wash your hands. After my second visit in quick succession, I've exhausted my supply of toilet paper and start panicking at the thought of what I'll do if this happens again during the race. (In Senegal, as in many parts of the developing world, people don't use toilet paper, but rather water, to clean themselves. This may explain why all the water in front of the row of port-o-potties, intended for hand washing, was gone).
7:11 AM - I make my way to the starting line and quickly attach myself to one of the first women I see - we aren't many. My new friend Fatima has flown in from Paris for the race. It's her second, and she's a serious athlete, so I decide to enjoy her company now because we won't be spending any time together once the whistle blows! :)
7:42 AM - The race is already 12 minutes late. Fatima tells me that someone just announced that the race will be delayed an additional 20 minutes. Since we both have to go to the bathroom, we figure we have plenty of time. Somehow we find a nice washroom with flushing toilets, toilet paper, running water and soap (what a luxury!). While there, I run into Dan and the girls and help my sweeties go pee before heading back to the starting line. On our way back, some guys are pointing at Fatima and me, and she says, "They can't believe two women are crazy enough to do the full race." Although that would generally be my assumption as well, I suspect that there's another reason: The race has started without us!
7:55 AM - Sure enough, it had. The half-marathon runners have now made their way to the starting line and Fatima and I have to push and shove our way past them to get to the front and begin our race. She bids me adieu and I begin my odyssey - or what some might call my idiodyssey.
(Click here to read about my adventure getting my bib number the day before the race and here to read about the thrill of the race itself).
5:00 AM - I drag myself out of bed and throw four waffles in the toaster oven. I can't remember the last time I ate so many in one sitting. They tasted amazing washed down with chocolate milk the day before, when I began carb loading. But this morning they're more like a pill I need to swallow, and I get it over with quickly.
5:15 AM - I get dressed in my black running capris, lime green running top, and the black long sleeve t-shirt I always tie around my waist (this is my attempt at modesty in a culture where the posterior and not the breasts is considered the most desirable part of the body).
5:20 AM - I double check my fanny pack to make sure I have everything I need. Although I don't normally make such a fashion choice under any circumstance, I have stolen Isabella's Disney Princess fanny pack for the past several weeks. It's the perfect size to carry a few snacks and not weigh me down. This morning it contains three packs of fruity snacks, a snack ziplock bag of dry cherries, a small bottle of homemade goo (slightly diluted honey, lemon juice, and salt), and my iPhone and headphones. In addition, I have toilet paper and lip balm in the two sleeves of the shirt around my waist.
5:30 AM - Dan wakes the girls and tells them they have a minute to wash their faces and get in the car. I've already packed colouring books and pencils, a change of clothes for each, breakfast foods and snacks, hats, and sunscreen.
5:47 AM - The Thorntons depart from Thies toward Diamniadio, 34 kilometers away. It overwhelms me to think that the distance I'm about to run is longer than that which we're driving to get to the race (and before then I'd always felt like Diamniadio was so far away!).
6:35 AM - Upon arriving at the conference center where the event is being held, I jump out of the truck while Dan parks. I head straight for the port-o-potties, only to discover that they have no toilet paper and no water left to wash your hands. After my second visit in quick succession, I've exhausted my supply of toilet paper and start panicking at the thought of what I'll do if this happens again during the race. (In Senegal, as in many parts of the developing world, people don't use toilet paper, but rather water, to clean themselves. This may explain why all the water in front of the row of port-o-potties, intended for hand washing, was gone).
7:11 AM - I make my way to the starting line and quickly attach myself to one of the first women I see - we aren't many. My new friend Fatima has flown in from Paris for the race. It's her second, and she's a serious athlete, so I decide to enjoy her company now because we won't be spending any time together once the whistle blows! :)
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| Pre-Race Selfie |
7:55 AM - Sure enough, it had. The half-marathon runners have now made their way to the starting line and Fatima and I have to push and shove our way past them to get to the front and begin our race. She bids me adieu and I begin my odyssey - or what some might call my idiodyssey.
(Click here to read about my adventure getting my bib number the day before the race and here to read about the thrill of the race itself).
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