Camels, Lentil Soup and Palm Fronds: Running My First Ultramarathon in Sinai
No no no. Not me. I could never run an ultra.
Those words, my words, rang in my ears as I looked down at my watch. I had just passed the 26.2 mile mark. The marathon mark. That gold-standard of distance running. The holy grail of endurance. That was behind me now. This was the longest I have ever run before in my life. I was now OFFICIALLY running an ultra! Another glance at my watch…oh god, so many miles left to go.
So how did I get here? How did a high school English teacher wind up running not just her first ultramarathon, but running a 100k ultramarathon through mountains and sand in the middle of nowhere in Sinai, Egypt? Was it really just five months ago that I said I could NEVER do this? That feels like it was a lifetime ago. Here and now, in the middle of the desert, the world is nothing but rocks, sand, and sweat. Running gives ample time for reflection, and today I reflect back to the moment I realized I was going do this. That moment was not a grand declaration, nor did the heavens open up in a sign of glorious purpose. That moment was a quiet conversation where someone simply and confidently told me, “Yes, you can do it.”
I have lived and worked in Cairo, Egypt for the last four years, and it was here, on these dirty, polluted, dog infested streets that I became a marathoner. I found a group of inspiring people who welcomed me in as family as we met up very weekend to tackle new distances and achieve greater goals than we ever thought possible. The key was that we did it together.
After the pandemic hit and my marathon in Palestine was cancelled, I didn’t feel comfortable running in a big group anymore. Many of my running friends felt similarly but one of them, Riad, decided to do something about it. Recognizing that trail running was one of the safer ways to run during a pandemic, he founded the first (and right now, only) trail running group in Egypt called the Wadi Ibex. Wadi is the Arabic term for a desert valley and Ibex is a North African wild goat. Even though I had run marathons before, I was still nervous about joining this group. They were “ultra” people and seemed so hard core. I didn’t think I qualified. But Riad, one of the kindest humans I have met here in Egypt, kept encouraging me, so I slowly started coming on runs in the wadi, and before I knew it, I was a full-on desert goat!
Eventually, I found myself planning my entire week around running in the wadi. I loved running with the Ibexes and listening to their stories. Barely a weekend passed by when someone wasn’t talking about Hathor. It felt like Hathor was always mentioned in hushed tones, like it was…mythological.
The Hathor 100 is a race created by Ultra Egypt, an amazing and conscientious organization determined to provide more opportunities for the growing trail running global community. Aimed to showcase and celebrate all the beauty that Egypt has to offer, they offer three different ultra races each year in unique locations that highlight Egypt’s historical past, diverse environments and local culture.
As I went on longer and longer runs with the Ibex team, I would hear bits and pieces about the race; “so…much…sand…” or “the lentil soup will change your life…” and alarmingly, “don’t just follow the palm fronds…always check your GPS!”. I was in awe of these people and what the human body was capable of. Even as I was running with them, I never once, for a second, imagined that I would ever run an event as epic as Hathor.
Then it happened. That quiet conversation. I happened to be running with a legendary local runner named Zohra, a 70-year-old ultramarathoner many times over. As we spoke, and Hathor came up, she said: “You can do it Ashley. Anyone can do it. You don’t have to run the whole thing! You run. You walk. You keep a steady pace. You can do it. You can do it.” Her advice was so simple, it was honestly shocking. Yet that simple affirmation shifted something for me mentally. The secret, I realized, to running an ultra is that you don’t actually have to run the whole time! Suddenly, I could see myself doing it. I knew I could run a marathon and I loved hiking, so why not combine the two? For the first time, I found my belief.
Still, I had a few lingering reservations. Even though I could logically see how I could physically run an ultra, the prospect was still scary. Then Judy came into my life.
I had seen Judy around the Cairo running scene for a few years. She seemed to know everyone and had a beautiful spirit that made me wish I could be her friend, but she was in “the fast group” of the road runners I trained with and I could never keep up with her road pace. But she too joined the Wadi Ibex trail running team around the same time I did. To my surprise, I found that we were actually quite compatible on desert terrain. More than that, we actually made each other better. She’s a naturally faster runner, but I’m a steady pacer and am much more comfortable hiking and climbing than she is. She kept me motivated on the long stretches and I gave her encouragement on the scary climbs.
We were both in the same place mentally: our Wadi Ibex family was telling us that we should run Hathor but we were also both apprehensive. One morning we met for coffee and within minutes both convinced the other that we were going to do it. Most importantly: we agreed to do it together. With equal parts excitement and terror in our hearts, we embarked upon our first ultramarathon journey as running partners and friends.
After months and months of so much running, so much eating, so little sleeping, and committing to back-to-back long running training sessions in the wadi, the weekend of the Hathor 100 was upon us.
The Hathor 100 is a two day, fully supported race experience. All of us participants and organizers camped in a village in a region called Serabit el-Khadim, 30 km deep into the Sinai peninsula, and every day were fed delicious and fresh foods prepared by the local bedouin. While typically a meat-heavy culture, I was pleased that our race organizers informed the bedouin that there were quite a few vegetarians in our group and for two days we nourished our bodies with fresh bread, tahina, beans, roasted potatoes, pasta and vegetables. Mint tea, coffee and fruits were available 24/7 and jugs of water were refilled constantly. We truly lacked for nothing.
As we lined up to begin the race on Friday morning at dawn, everyone seemed filled with restless and excited energy. Photos were snapped, jokes were made and before I knew it, we were off. Judy and I crested the first dune, eager to chase the sunrise, but were instead met with the view of soft sand stretching into the distance. We had been warned about the soft sands, still, nothing could prepare us for the demoralizing slowness that ensued. Running in soft sand is barely faster than walking so just a few kilometers into the race we had to immediately adjust our expectations and embrace the suck.
I was so grateful for Judy at that moment. She kept turning to me and exclaiming, “I can’t believe we’re doing this, we’re running our first ultra!” Soft sand turned to rocky gravel and flat expanses morphed into rising peaks and it all felt like ours. Running through the Sinai desert, we couldn’t help but feel a spiritual connection to that storied place. This was the land of Pharaohs, and Moses’ fabled journey. And as we ran through the desert, we were communing in our own small way with this ancient place.
Physical exhaustion can manifest in odd ways. At slightly past the halfway point of the first day’s 50k, I noticed one of the camel riders who was stationed at a turn on a cliff to ensure no runners got lost. As I watched this camel climb up rocks that most runners had to scramble to get up on their hands, I began to chant, much to Judy’s amusement: “Following the cam-el, the cam-el, the cam-el, following the camel where ever he may go…”
Our sing-a-long distracted us as we made it to the top of a mountain ridge where we realized, to our delight and surprise, that we had made it to the highest point of the course and were face to face with the Temple of Hathor! At that point, we had been running for over five hours, and the relief at seeing the temple, the site of the last major aid station, meant that we had just made it through the hardest part of the race.
The Ultra Egypt team had stationed checkpoints every 10 km or so. Each one was stocked with heaping pots of the oft-mentioned lentil soup that was indeed life-changing. It may sound strange, but lentil soup is just about the most perfect running fuel a weary ultramarathoner could ask for: salt, protein, veggies, liquid…perfection. On top of that, at each checkpoint we were cheered on by the race support crew like we had already won the whole thing! Each checkpoint represented an anchor and safety for us. We knew that if we needed physical therapy, more water, more electrolytes, more anything, we were taken care of. The date balls were delicious perfect little brown snacks made by the local bedouins of mashed up dates, olive oil and sesame seeds. They were pure heaven and never failed to boost my energy levels and spirits. It was sometimes hard to pull ourselves away from the warmth and comfort of each glorious checkpoint, but we had a race to run, so with a little boost of energy we pressed on.
With just 5 kilometers to go on day one we felt the familiar jolt of energy. Our bodies knew we was close to the end and it was time to push but we had to fight that instinct. What our bodies didn’t know was that, surprise!, we were going to do this all over again tomorrow. That being said, those last few kilometers were all soft sand, so we couldn’t have gone fast even if we tried. The desert is humbling. Tired but proud, Judy and I crossed the finish line of the first day successfully, and while excited, I couldn’t help but worry about how I would feel tomorrow.
We began in darkness.
Unlike the first day of the race, which began at 6:00 am to catch the sunrise, day two began at 5:00 am. In silence, we gathered at the starting line, which was illuminated by nothing more than the dancing beams of light from our head torches. We began running into the blackness with our heads down to make sure that our feet were hitting steady ground.
We had been warned that the second day’s course was “a little flatter” but had more soft sands and sure enough, within minutes of our start, soft sands greeted our weary feet and we were forced to run at a much slower pace than we would have liked. After a few kilometers, the terrain hardened and as the sun crept over the mountains in the distance we could finally turn off our headlamps and run by the dim morning light. In the distance we saw our fellow runners climbing a dune, which, as we got closer we realized was made entirely of soft silky sand. Ugh!
Once again, Judy and I kept each other going through the long stretches of soft sand, hard sand, soft sand, hard sand. We shared stories, we trudged along in silence, we snapped photos, we got a little lost, but as we had each come to learn from this shared experience, we were never truly alone.
The last two miles of the race were on pavement and despite our exhaustion, we sped up and kept counting down the meters until the black flags of the Ultra Egypt finish line outside our camp were visible in the distance.
My heart welled up with joy and disbelief. Judy and I agreed that we would keep in step with one another until we crossed the finish line at exactly the same time. We started this journey together and we would finish it together.
We ended up tying for second place.
After we spent a few minutes hugging and taking photos at the finish line, I stepped away from the group to have a moment to myself. Looking down at my medal, I felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and personal growth. It is truly amazing what the human body and mind is capable of. I reflected upon how for so long I never felt like the fastest or fittest person in my friend group or sports teams. Like many women, I struggle with body image issues and never feel as though I will ever be thin or fit enough. I even resisted calling myself “a runner” for years because I didn’t think I looked the part. But the truth is, we are all runners. Anyone can run. For some, running may look like taking a walk around the block once a day, for others, it could be taking your first few steps out the door of your apartment.
No matter what may be stopping you, remember that greatness doesn’t happen in a vacuum. You are not alone. And sometimes, all it takes to find the courage to take your next step is the affirmation of a stranger believing in you, telling you with absolute confidence: you can do it.
