Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
dogs and rats. I wasn't expecting to be running into a relentless head-
wind, either, which has made my job all the more arduous.
To be honest, I'm struggling. This is a slog. I run in a trance, trying
not to think of my ailments and crippling schedule. The wind blows
dust and sand into my face, which stings, and is murder on my blis-
tered and bleeding lips. The sand sticks to the sores.
My mate Tony has gone now, and I miss him. It was good to run
with a close pal, and, more than that, he reminded me that I have a
homeland, which I am missing badly. The crew now is down to Bernie,
Katie, Gustavo and Juan. Katie and Bernie don't run with me anymore.
They are too busy doing their jobs: driving, handling correspondence,
liaising with the media and Greg Quail, dealing with the Red Cross and
potential sponsors, buying and cooking our food, doing the washing,
maintaining the vehicles . . .
I tried to work out today how many pairs of running shoes I've
gone through—I can't pin it down exactly, but it's somewhere between
15 and 17. I kept my promise to those kind women, Leslie and her
daughter, Kate, who gave me the precious gift of a stack of running
