Tuesday, 12 April.
I had intended to go to work today and try to get back to normal life, but it has not been possible. The sores, lifted toenails and other wounds on my feet have caused an infection. My feet and legs have swollen so much that no shoes can accommodate them. So I went to the doctor in shorts and flip-flops. I was amused by the puzzled look on his face as he asked, despite being a doctor, “You did this running? Why didn’t you stop?”
After a while, I began to remember how my foot injuries started. It was the second day of the race, during the second 33 km stage. I was running across a plain strewn with enormous stones, as if they had fallen from the sky, and gave one a hefty kick. The impact lifted my entire toenail. That was Monday 2 April, last week. I treated the wound carefully, but the next day I had to punish the toe with another 38 km. Breathless but with plenty of Betadine, another 82 km, then 42 km and 17.5 km. The poor toe has endured like a champion the ordeal of running another 180 km with a lifted toenail.
Dear readers, at this point many already know that this is part of the Sables. In my case I brought the souvenir of an infection, but others come home with torn ligaments, broken bones or all kinds of muscular strain. To some degree, we all return with little souvenirs.
