Marathon des Sables

Jordan, November 2025 Pam Philpot

Back in 2017, I completed the now-legendary seven-day Marathon Des Sables in Morocco—it was an experience of a lifetime Fast forward to 2025, and I found myself asking, “What could possibly be a sensible way to celebrate turning 65?” Apparently, my idea of sensible involves sand, sweat, and survival kits.

The MDS team now offers four-day events—same brutal premise, just slightly less time to regret your life choices. These are often used as “practice runs” for the full Legendary. This time, I “encouraged” Michael to join me. I promised him fun and it would be fine. He believed me.

Since 2011, Wadi Rum has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site, nicknamed the “Valley of the Moon” for its surreal, otherworldly landscape. Spoiler: it’s stunning. Also, it’s hot, very hot.

Prepping for the Madness

It requires a bit more planning than your average race. If you love a spreadsheet, it could be spreadsheet heaven!
My mantra is: Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. (Yes, it’s a mouthful. Yes, it’s accurate.)

Mandatory Kit: Blade, lighter, compass, mirror, head torch, spare batteries—basically, everything you’d need to survive a zombie apocalypse.
General Kit: Sleeping bag, mattress, pillow, clothes.
Nutrition: 2,000 calories a day minimum. Water is rationed, so drink wisely—about three litres every 10km.
Foot Care: Treat your own blisters unless they start looking like abstract art.
Medical Kit: Self-care first. Medics are Plan B. Also, bring your own meds and hope they behave in the heat.
Paperwork: Medical certificate and insurance (the kind that includes repatriation, just in case you decide to flee mid-race). My pack weighed 8 kilos, including water.

The Adventure Begins

We arrived in Amman and stayed in a luxury hotel for two nights—because nothing says “desert survival” like Egyptian cotton sheets and a eat all you can menu.

Days 1–2: Medical and kit checks done, we had a Dip in the Dead Sea. We Ate, Drank, and Repeat. For added stress, I also took on the role of Patrol Medic, which meant doing the race with a walkie-talkie and pretending I knew what I was doing with a toy first aid kit.

Day 3: Early start. Five-hour journey to Wadi Rum—a lunar landscape so surreal it was awe inspiring. Unfortunately, due to a coach being delayed, we had to wait around in the desert, the sun was rising rapidly in the sky.

The race started at 10 a.m.—already scorching. We began with a 2km uphill stretch into a steep ravine. Being vertically challenged, I was hauled up by fellow competitors like a sack of potatoes. Teamwork makes the dream work… or at least gets you up the hill. I have the bruises to prove it. The rest of the course was undulating sand—fine, deep, and energy-sapping. Moroccan sand is coarse and stony, offering some rebound. Whereas Jordanian sand, it’s like running through flour, with weights on your ankles.

Checkpoints were every 10km offered water refills and ice cubes down the back—pure bliss. Medics were on hand for heat exhaustion and blister carnage.

We finished Stage 1 exhausted and very hot. Finding our tent among 600 others was its own endurance challenge. Once settled, I attempted to light fire cubes in the wind. The dehydrated food was surprisingly tasty, though at that point, cardboard might’ve tasted good.

Then came the “toilet” challenge. I use the term loosely. It was a tent with a stand and a brown plastic bag. Precision was key. Dignity was optional. I will leave that image with you….

Day 4: The long day. Given the previous night’s late finish, we sensibly shortened our distance. It was my birthday treat, after all. Temperatures soared to 40°C. More undulating deep, fine sand which was blasted on your face and into your eyes, and with every breathe taken into the lungs

Day 5: Rest day. Our tents were hot as ovens, so Michael and I climbed a rocky hill and found shade under an overhanging rock. The view was Breath-taking. Highlights were the Desert yoga and a majestic camel parade that looked like something out of Lawrence of Arabia

Day 6: Up at 3 a.m. Packed up and dismantled our tent, which we got to keep as a souvenir. Hundreds of head torches twinkled in the dark like the stars in the sky the terrain was a never-ending climb, and the admins teased us with “dune day.”

They weren’t kidding. We climbed over a mile of mixed terrain, ending on a narrow ledge flanked by sand dunes. Then came the grand finale: a near-vertical sprint down the mother of all dunes. Exhilarating, Terrifying but so awesome

The rest of the stage was more soft sand. At the finish line, music and cheers greeted us. Medals were handed out, and we walked nearly a kilometre to the coaches for a much-anticipated visit to Petra—which was every bit as magical as promised.

After another five-hour journey back to the hotel, we collapsed into real beds. The next day brought a Dead Sea dip and a Gala dinner. Then, preparations for home

Reflections

Wadi Rum isn’t just a desert—it’s a legend. Its colours shift with the sun, casting dramatic shadows across ancient rock formations. Silence reigns, broken only by the whisper of wind. It’s stark, serene, and utterly unforgettable.
It was an honour to experience its magic. I’d return in a heartbeat. Actually, I might—volunteering could be my next adventure. After all, who needs a quiet retirement when there’s sand to conquer?