April 7: Marathon des Sables gets underway
By Dan Morrison

Racers wait for the gun to go off at the start of the 12th Marathon des Sables

By 6:30 a.m. on race day, most of the 358 racers were already taking short jogs to loosen up, cooking breakfast over small fires, or taping their shoulders to prevent "hotspots" — abrasions or blisters — from the packs they would be wearing while running for the next week. Some runners covered their faces with multi-colored sunscreen, giving the gathering a bit of a Mardi Gras flair.

Unlike the previous two days, breakfast was modest, and some skipped it entirely. All the runners were now officially self-sufficient for food. The runners in the Japanese tent boiled noodles while singing a melodious, lilting chant. A Spanish team stood around in the chilly morning air laughing while sucking desperately on the last cigarettes they would inhale for several hours.

The 80 or so members of the media did what they always do, sticking cameras and tape recorders in the faces of competitors, hoping for just the right sound bite or quote, just the right facial expression to show the tension of pre-race nerves.

Frontrunners Andre Derksen and Marco Gozzano

By 9 a.m. the Bell Long Ranger helicopter now on site had turned its blades and was flying low circles around the area as the tents were being struck by laborers. The wind from the helicopter blended in seamlessly with the winds off the desert.

The racers began to assemble under the multi-purpose portable arch, which serves as the starting gate at the beginning of each stage of the race in the morning and then the finish line at the end of the day after being taken down, transported, and reassembled.

Competitors posed under the arch for souvenir snapshots taken with throw-away cameras many of them would carry the entire distance of the event. Others posed for shots taken by the media pack in hopes their all-important sponsors would see their logos in national publications.

All the women running this year — nearly three dozen — gathered together for a group shot.

The 1997 Marathon des Sables was scheduled to start "sometime between 9 and 10:30 a.m.," and at exactly 9:30 on April 7, a small group of Moroccan dignitaries gave the signal to commence. More than 350 men and women surged forward into the Sahara Desert.

A couple dozen Land Rovers occupied by the media immediately gave pursuit. Two camels brought up the rear.

The amorphous mass of backpacks, water bottles, running shoes, national flags, desert hats, and logos quickly became a long line snaking its way toward several tall buttes and mesas in the distant southeast. The more confident, the less experienced, and the more foolish sprinted ahead to distance themselves from the crush of the crowd and the dust that rose from the sandy course like a human-generated tornado.

If not exactly a movable feast, it was damn sure a movable spectacle. The first 4 kilometers was run over stony terrain, surprising many runners who believed the entire course would be run in sand. Heel bruises would be a common complaint later in the day.

By kilometer 7 the true frontrunners of the race were far ahead of the larger group. As they passed a locally famous landmark, Menhir — a tall phallic-shaped butte — the competitors ran the gauntlet of media vehicles stopped so the photographers and cameramen could capture the scene. Many of the racers were less than amused.

The first checkpoint was reached at kilometer 11. The runners picked up their allotted water ratio. Few spent more than a couple of minutes before moving on. Even this early in the race, American five-time Marathon des Sables runner Mary Gadams was having problems. "I feel weak," she said between gulps of water, "I'm not having a good day."

Back on the course, three-time defending champion Andre Derksen began to increase his lead. Italian Marco Gozzano was still giving serious chase, but was now nearly a full minute behind.

Crossing Oued El Ajer Miya (a dry river bed), the runners were confronted with true desert diorama. To the left was an oasis with a couple of tall palm trees and a small pond of water surrounded by vegetation. Just beyond that four Berber women and three small children watched the runners pass. It's difficult to say what the nomads thought of the passing crowd, participating in what certainly must appear to be a strange pursuit while wearing even stranger garb.

At kilometer 19 the runners grabbed more water at checkpoint 2, and the serious competitors quickly passed on into the desert, finally leaving the rocky terrain and moving into sand. Derksen continued to increase his lead, second by precious second.

"This is a strange race," observed British runner and amputee Chris Moon, "if you slow down just for a second several people pass you."

The less serious used the checkpoint as a good rationale to re-adjust their packs, check their feet, or just plain sit down in the shade of one of the Land Rovers to rest a bit.

As the race stretched on into late morning, the lead runners were enjoying relatively mild temperatures. A light breeze continued to blow and the thermometer never broke above the low 90s. Which, of course, is little solace to someone running 27 kilometers through the desert, but every little bit helps.

Andre Derksen crossed the finish line of the first day's section just after 11 a.m. with a time of 1 hour, 42 minutes, 44 seconds. Marco Gozzano arrived 1 minute, 5 seconds later. Morocco's favorite son Lahcen Ahansal came in with a time of 1 hour, 46 minutes, 7 seconds.

The first woman to finish the day, and in 49th position overall, was 42-year-old Italian teacher Annamaria Garelli, in 2 hours, 32 minutes, 44 seconds. A marathon runner, this is her first multi-day event.

"I've never done anything like this," she said, "this is very different than a marathon. I am worried about everything, my legs, my stomach, the heat. But I can't let myself think about it." Although feeling ill, American Mary Gadams arrived just 8 minutes behind Garelli.

American ultramarathon runner Cathy Tibbetts arrived in 2 hours, 7 minutes, and 7 seconds. And a first-timer at this even, American Blaise Supler crossed the line almost an hour behind Tibbetts.

"The terrain was much rougher than I anticipated," Supler said, "I kept rolling my ankle on rocks." But she found the view nice. "Oh it's beautiful. I kept wanting to stop to have a good look around."

By 2 p.m. the competitors arriving at the finish line were those who had thrown in the towel and were walking. Some were clearly exhausted by the ordeal, others joked and mugged for the cameras as they arrived.

The last group to finish the first stage of the race were four Spaniards determined to finish last this year. Fernando Calvo Elcoso didn't reach the finish line for 6 hours, 27 minutes, and 38 seconds. For the final 50 meters the team fell into line and marched in synchronized step proudly to the end.

When asked about the first day, they replied with mock seriousness.

"Today was terrible! So difficult! The two men just in front of us were so slow several times we had to sit down to wait for them to get ahead."

The Spaniards' good humor is remarkable considering the situation. Time will tell how long they can keep it.

Dan Morrison is a freelance writer-photographer based in Austin, Texas.