FREDDIE MAHER
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The coach takes you to the camp for Stage 1 and we made our way to our tent, known locally as the ‘bivouac’ which was our base for two nights before the race started. The bivouac is a thick piece of carpet held up by wooden sticks, with a thin rug type material on the floor to offer some protection against the sand, rocks and thorns – but this (and water) is the only luxury provided by the race organisers. I was sharing a tent with my good friend from university and two other guys that I vaguely knew and there were four other complete strangers from the UK including John, a 51-year-old ultra runner from Scotland. He had been training for the race for over two years and could not have been more prepared. He revealed to us that he slept on his bedroom floor for the last two months leading up to the race to get use to the hard surface. Even more impressive, however, (or insane) was that John decided to go for a 10km race on the admin day before the race started. Little did we know at this point how strong a bond we strangers would form. The two days at the bivouac are spent with technical and kit checks. There was a real buzz of excitement along with the obvious nerves about what was ahead. We also had a camel spider in our tent on the first morning which quickly dissipated the machismo energy we were all so badly trying to portray. The kit check is taken very seriously with time penalties for any infringements; compulsory items include a whistle, signalling mirror, foil blanket and a GPS tracker for your safety (and for family and friends back home). Stage 1 On the morning of the first stage all 900 competitors started at 8am. We had a short briefing from the race directors before the massive speakers played ACDC’s ‘Highway to Hell’ and we set off into the unknown, a fitting song for the week to come. The day was a fairly straightforward 33km, albeit mostly across rolling sand dunes. I was quite conscious of not setting off too fast and using the day to get used to the terrain, particularly as the sand was a whole new experience. The closest sand training I had done was running around the horse track in Richmond and Hyde Parks, so I had little idea how my body would react! I had a compass and the road book, but the course is well marked every 500m or so by painted stones on rocky terrain or by poles in dune fields. There are checkpoints every 10 or 11 kilometres, which is where you refill your water bottles. I carried two 750ml bottles, which were strapped to the front of my bag for easy access; I also had a foldable 500ml bottle I carried in my waist pouch. I was pleased to reach the finish in around 90th position and it gave me a lot of confidence. Although I had my phone to take photos, the lack of signal (and power sockets) meant that there were no distractions from outside the race and I could focus on the stage ahead. It was very liberating and a treat not to rely on my phone every minute to get through the day. Stage 2 Stage 2 was a full marathon distance of 42km, and the terrain significantly ramped up in difficulty. It took us across jagged
What was the training like? From the moment I committed, I knew this would be a monumental challenge requiring meticulous preparation. I was fortunate to have a decent fitness foundation, having continued running after the London Marathon. However, training for a 250km+ ultra-marathon in the searing Saharan heat meant stepping into unknown territory. Initially, I immersed myself in every online resource imaginable, but quickly found the contradictory advice overwhelming. Eventually I stumbled upon a comprehensive nine-month training plan for ultra running novices to tackle the 250km+ race. It provided structure to my preparations and reassured my parents after my earlier marathon mishap. The plan, which included slow long runs, sprints, gym sessions, and weighted backpack runs, was demanding, especially alongside my long hours at PricewaterhouseCoopers . At the peak of training, I was clocking over 100km a week. I distinctly remember calling the owner of the training plan and asking him, “If I follow this plan, can you guarantee that I will both survive and finish the race…?”, he replied, nonchalantly, “You should be fine”. How did you decide what food to bring? The organisers state that you have to carry a minimum of 2000 calories a day and I decided on around 3,200 calories a day. Breakfast was always dehydrated porridge and something like dehydrated mac and cheese for supper (someone in the tent brought a bottle of Tabasco which improved it considerably!). I had spent ages scouring the internet for energy dense foods that were light to carry. I ended up taking loads of peanut butter sachets, ‘nakd’ bars and small packs of beef jerky, as well as ‘pick n mix’ bags with nuts and sweets. I took a few gels, but was advised against taking too many sweet foods, as the heat just makes it unpalatable to get anything down. This piece of advice certainly turned out to be true, as I struggled to get down the 5th cold blueberry porridge in as many mornings. I am yet to brave a bowl of porridge since returning… April 2024: The Race I flew to Ouarzazate. Everyone on the plane was taking part in the race so there were a lot of nervous people. I had received advice from a friend, who took part in the race a few years ago, that under no circumstances should you listen to any plane chatter or last-minute tips. Advice I singularly failed to heed as I nervously reeled off a list of kit I had not brought with me (including walking poles and a cooking stove) to the man next to me, a veteran of several Marathons Des Sables, a lover of ice climbing, and owner of multiple Ironman medals. His laughter in response was rather unhelpful and I wondered if I was massively out of my depth. On arrival at the small airport in Morocco, you are then picked up in a coach which takes you on a six-hour journey into the desert. On the coach, you are given your roadbook which outlines the course, and we finally got answers to our many questions. How many dunes, ridges, drops are there: how many jebels (mountains) have they put in: where is Jebel El Oftal (considered the toughest climb of all) and how terrifyingly long is the ‘long stage’ this year?
The Marathon Des Sables (MDS) is a seven-day, multi-stage ultra marathon in Southern Morocco. Despite taking place amongst the epic scenery of the Sahara Desert, it is coined by many as one of the toughest foot races on earth. The route varies each year but is usually over 252km (160miles) which is approximately the distance of six marathons. Competitors are completely self-sufficient, carrying all their own equipment (apart from water) on their back, which means their food, clothing, sleeping bag, mat and toiletries for the seven days. In April of 2024 Freddie Maher (11–17) was one of the 900 starters who took part in the 38th and longest MDS ever. He came 37th overall and 8th out of UK competitors, whilst raising over £13,000 for the charity Home-Start Wandsworth.
What is your sporting background?
Sport was always a passion of mine at Dulwich College. The College’s excellent facilities gave me the opportunity to immerse myself in football, rugby, and tennis. Football was always my strongest sport, and I had the honour of captaining the 1st XI Football team to its first London Cup victory in my final year. I was also captain of the 2nd XV Rugby team, both of which remain highlights of my school years. Since leaving Dulwich College in 2017, I’ve continued to play for the OA football team when I can and, whilst I’ve always enjoyed running, it wasn’t until university that I started running more regularly to keep fit. When did you first hear about the Marathon De Sables? I remember vividly when I was in Year 8 at Dulwich College, a teacher put on James Cracknell’s ‘Toughest Race on Earth’ during a lunch break. This documented Cracknell’s extraordinary journey during the Marathon des Sables. I was mesmerised: the vast, breathtaking desert landscapes, the camaraderie among competitors, and most importantly the idea of pushing yourself to your absolute limits. From that day, I followed the race closely and promised myself I’d tackle it one day. So, when did you decide that you were going to enter for the 2024 race? There are two key reasons why I decided to enter the MDS. Firstly, I took part in the London Marathon in October 2022 and unfortunately collapsed at mile 22. This was my first attempt at a marathon, and I spent two hours in an ambulance before eventually finishing in 5 hours 51 minutes! I think bizarrely that experience made me even more determined to complete the MDS. Secondly, I wanted to raise money for the amazing charity, Home-Start Wandsworth, where my mum works. Home-Start work alongside vulnerable and isolated families to help them through hard times and prevent them from slipping further into crisis. I’m proud to have raised over £13,000 for the charity.
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