The first days – decision to be taken and burden we leave behind

As the Americans say, “This ain’t my first rodeo,” more precisely, this was not my first desert. On the first day, we feel invincible. But the desert has its way of showing us otherwise and making it clear that the last word belongs to it. Early mornings and nights are always very cold. However, when the sun rises, things change dramatically. The heat is harsh and, in our case, reached 55 degrees Celsius. As we say in Brazil, “This is when the son cries, and the mother does not see!”

That is the moment to be conservative. Yes, your body is great, your mind is sharp, and you feel that you may even get a decent position at the end. But this is only the first day. Once this is over, there will be five more to close the 250km. In my home state, we say, “Go slow with the procession because the saint sculpture is fragile”! (Please, forgive my free translation here since I could not find anything similar in English. This expression has its origin when Brazil was a colony and gold was hidden in religious images to avoid taxation from Portuguese authorities. If the image fell and break, the plot was discovered. Therefore, an easy pace was mandatory! But, that is another story!)

In the first stage, we went by the seashore and then through a salt mine, where multiple lakes have gorgeous pink colors, something I had never seen before. I started “fully mounted” – down coat, windbreaker jacket, and everything else. I was freezing to death! As the sun rose, I started to “peel down the onion” and stuff everything on my already exploding backpack. I stayed in the back, helping another participant finish organizing her backpack and all its attachments. She started the race with 16kg, without water. We were all worried about her. But I must confess, I had never seen such willpower and determination in one person like her. She was fantastic, very strong!

As the journey progresses and days go by, the desert shows its face, and reality starts to change right in front of you. Friends start to withdraw. Some with terrible blisters on their feet, dehydration, or even muscle injuries. People with a pace faster and stronger than mine succumb at control points. Pick-up trucks that are there monitoring our safety at all times rescue some of them.

I learned one thing: stop thinking about the whole race or simply the day ahead of me. Going through 40 km today in this heat, with this elevation, and on this terrain is impossible. Go through 250 km in those conditions, forget it! But 10 km until the next control point is something I can do. And so, it went like that: my objective went from being the race or the day to being the next control point. Once there, I could take down my backpack, remove my shoes and socks, take the sand out of my feet, eat, drink, and replenish my water. After that, I could reassess if I was in condition to face the next challenge – another 10 km to the next control point. Yes, I can. So, let’s do it! During the way: water, electrolytes, salt tablets, a quick stop here and there for a nice picture and enjoy the view. That was the game for me: a vast sequence of small 10km races. Step by step!

However, the backpack was heavy. Its load starts to take its toll on my shoulders and waist. As in life, we carry a lot of stuff we do not need. Emotions, grudges, anxieties, concerns, and expectations simply do not help us in anything. They are just a burden! My backpack had more food than I could eat, a solar panel without a connection cable (I forgot it in the hotel), clothes I would not need, containers of pills and salt tablets that could be replaced by the several zip bags I had to spare. The second night was the night of “letting go.” It is now. Everything that will stay had to have a clear purpose. If it did not, it was out… donation! It did not matter how much I had paid for it in the outer world. Here, value is based on usefulness, not the price paid. A good concept is valid even in modern accounting.

On the second day, I met a very nice lady that was struggling. I stopped and stayed with her. We found a shadow, sat down, ate, drank, and pulled ourselves together. She thanked me for being there with tears in her eyes. I told her that in 2018, during the Atacama Crossing, a Canadian lady did the same thing for me and saved my race because I had decided to quit. I never forgot her. I was happy to be able to help, and this gave me more energy than anything else. At that moment, I felt like I was living my purpose, mine “raison d’être.” Just like Sir George Mallory.

I was the last to get to the camp that day and “slightly” past the cutoff time. The race organizers were so nice and allowed me to continue. After all, I was not competing with anyone except myself and the Desert. Now, with a capital “D!” Already in the evening, accompanied by the sweepers, who collect everything left on the course and erase any trace we had been there, people celebrated with me upon my arrival. Everybody was truly happy because I was there and had just finished the day. A priceless sensation!

Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind, “What about tomorrow?” I quickly remembered Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind, “I can’t think about this now. I’ll go crazy if I do. I will think about it tomorrow.”?

See you next week! Kisses and hugs!