In 40 years as a (very slow) runner and sports reporter — the past 25 at The Times — I’ve been fortunate to travel to exotic places to write about track and field and marathon running: the other side of the Berlin Wall; a mile underground in a South African gold mine; 13,000 feet atop an extinct volcano in Mexico; into the Rift Valley of Kenya and the southern highlands of Ethiopia; through the wide, empty streets of Pyongyang, the North Korean capital.
This month, I checked another race off my reportorial bucket list: the Marathon des Sables, a stage race through the Sahara in Morocco, where nearly 800 runners from 51 countries ran an average of 23.5 miles a day for six days in relentless heat.
The photographer Ryan Christopher Jones and I followed Amy Palmiero-Winters, 46, of Hicksville, N.Y., who became the first female amputee to attempt and complete the race in the 34 years of the Marathon des Sables. Her lower left leg was amputated in 1997 after a motorcycle accident.
Covering the Marathon des Sables demanded a different approach from, say, covering the New York City Marathon, where the best vantage point is a giant television screen in the press room. The whole point of reporting an ultramarathon in the desert was to be among the runners, hearing their stories, understanding their motivations, witnessing this extreme testing of human limits.
Personally, I didn’t see the appeal of running 140.7 miles through the Sahara. But I was fascinated by the people and the democratization that occurred when they were stripped of creature comforts, cellphones and even electricity for more than a week.
Runners lived in tents and had to carry food and everything else they needed (except water refills) in their backpacks. They made do with only basic toilet facilities, sometimes not even that. The vulnerability of running through the desert, the intimacy of collective suffering and ribald camaraderie replaced artifice and vanity.
Reporters also slept in tents, but we had access to the internet in the press tent, cold showers and a cafeteria for breakfast and dinner. Berbers set up and took down this mobile village each day with stunning efficiency. Our mornings started variously at 4:30, 5 or 5:30 a.m. with the blaring of “Good morning bivouac!” over loudspeakers, followed by jolting wake-up music from Creedence Clearwater Revival, the Rolling Stones and OutKast.
We loaded our duffel bags and gear into our driver’s S.U.V., had breakfast and walked over to Amy’s tent, which she shared with six other runners. We spoke for more than an hour each morning to Amy’s group and to runners in nearby tents about the previous stage, or the stage to come, watched as they tended to chafed shoulders and blistered feet, listened to their laughter, and saw their aching bodies begin to stir.
On some flat stretches, we drove next to Amy for brief periods. To view an eight-mile trek through tall sand dunes, we flew overhead in a helicopter. We walked the final 3.8-mile charity stage with her. And we followed her into medical tents or walked with her at the runners’ bivouac after most stages to deconstruct the day’s challenge.
We did have one ethical dilemma. The Marathon des Sables is designed for self-sufficiency and allows only limited assistance to the runners. When it became clear to Amy that she would need both her running and walking prostheses to complete the race, she asked us to ferry the leg she was not using. I hesitated, not wanting to risk getting her or myself thrown out, but the race director quickly gave his assent.
Mostly, we met Amy every six to eight miles at checkpoints, where she took on water and briefly removed her prosthetic leg while resting in the shade of an open-sided tent.
She told us she looked forward to seeing familiar faces. She was remarkably open, and it was at the checkpoints where the strain and resilience of her pioneering attempt were most evident — the swelling and redness of her residual leg, her gait energetic or limping, her voice confident or doubting, and her sheer determination to continue to the finish.B:
三五香港黄大仙救世报【钢】【子】【细】【看】【此】【人】，【个】【子】【不】【高】，【脑】【袋】【又】【小】【又】【尖】，【两】【只】【眼】【睛】【就】【像】【黄】【豆】【般】【大】【小】，【他】【就】【不】【由】【一】【阵】【哈】【哈】【大】【笑】【起】【来】。 “【可】【以】，【还】【真】【像】【只】【老】【鼠】【投】【胎】【的】。” “【哈】【哈】……”【王】【宗】【汉】【也】【跟】【着】【笑】【了】【起】【来】。 【逃】【地】【鼠】【却】【一】【点】【也】【不】【生】【气】，【反】【而】【陪】【着】【两】【人】【一】【脸】【贱】【笑】。 【钢】【子】【笑】【毕】，【朝】【逃】【地】【鼠】【道】：“【你】【把】【那】【女】【的】【长】【什】【么】【样】【说】【一】【遍】？” 【逃】【地】【鼠】
【店】【小】【二】【拿】【了】【银】【子】，【自】【然】【非】【常】【开】【心】，【胆】【子】【自】【然】【也】【打】【了】【很】【多】。【正】【所】【谓】，【有】【钱】【能】【使】【鬼】【推】【磨】，【更】【何】【况】【人】【呢】？ 【店】【小】【二】【将】【李】【千】【行】【的】【尸】【体】【费】【力】【地】【拖】【了】【出】【去】，【然】【后】【擦】【了】【擦】【汗】。【他】【本】【就】【力】【气】【不】【大】，【何】【况】【拖】【着】【是】【一】【具】【尸】【体】【呢】？ 【一】【道】【长】【长】【地】【血】【痕】【从】【门】【口】【延】【伸】【了】【出】【去】，【孟】【十】【九】【忍】【不】【住】【眉】【头】【一】【皱】，【心】【道】：【还】【是】【雾】【寒】【刀】【好】【用】，【杀】【人】【不】【见】【血】。
【总】【统】【夫】【人】，【可】【不】【只】【是】【一】【个】【代】【称】，【她】【手】【里】【握】【着】【的】【权】【利】【与】【影】【响】【力】【可】【是】【不】【可】【同】【日】【而】【语】。 【四】【大】【家】【族】【的】【人】，【都】【清】【楚】【的】【知】【道】，【温】【之】【怀】【是】【想】【扶】【持】【自】【己】【儿】【子】【当】【上】【下】【一】【任】【总】【统】【的】。 【而】【每】【一】【任】【的】【总】【统】【选】【拔】，【上】【一】【任】【的】【总】【统】【几】【乎】【能】【掌】【握】【一】【半】【的】【主】【动】【权】。 【譬】【如】【当】【年】，【温】【之】【怀】【被】【选】【举】【总】【统】【时】，【便】【是】【上】【一】【任】【的】【总】【统】【范】【云】【程】【大】【力】【支】【持】【温】【之】【怀】，三五香港黄大仙救世报【按】【照】【瓦】【列】【里】【的】【说】【法】，【南】【天】【的】【那】【个】【世】【界】【壁】【垒】【之】【所】【以】【会】【便】【酥】，【就】【是】【为】【了】【自】【我】【解】【体】，【而】【后】【吞】【噬】【了】【其】【它】【的】【世】【界】，【再】【在】【外】【围】【自】【动】【的】【形】【成】【一】【个】【新】【的】【壁】【垒】。【这】【个】【过】【程】【可】【以】【自】【动】【完】【成】，【但】【是】【会】【比】【较】【耗】【时】，【也】【会】【令】【原】【本】【的】【生】【灵】【遭】【受】【灭】【顶】【的】【危】【机】，【这】【就】【需】【要】【认】【为】【的】【参】【与】【了】。 “【那】【我】【们】【就】【开】【始】【吧】，【先】【在】【两】【个】【世】【界】【之】【外】【重】【新】【建】【立】【一】【个】【壁】【垒】【吧】。”
【刘】【素】【云】【本】【来】【就】【是】【个】【横】【挑】【鼻】【子】【竖】【挑】【眼】【的】【人】，【这】【会】【儿】【终】【于】【让】【她】【揪】【住】【了】【话】【茬】【儿】，【她】【自】【然】【更】【加】【不】【肯】【放】【过】【了】。 “【还】【有】，【你】【刚】【刚】【是】【什】【么】【意】【思】？【你】【那】【意】【思】【是】【不】【是】【说】【我】【冤】【枉】【了】【程】【小】【舟】？”【刘】【素】【云】【终】【于】【注】【意】【到】【了】【刚】【刚】【程】【思】【远】【话】【里】【的】【意】【思】。 “【我】【没】【那】【么】【说】。” “【怎】【么】【可】【能】【不】【是】？【刚】【刚】【你】【说】【是】【因】【为】【怕】【我】【们】【有】【冲】【突】【才】【会】【和】【我】【们】【分】【开】【住】【的】
【白】【樱】【落】【将】【凤】【夕】【云】【的】【手】【紧】【紧】【抓】【在】【了】【凤】【夕】【云】【的】【背】【后】，【从】【远】【处】【看】【过】【来】【就】【像】【白】【樱】【落】【搂】【着】【凤】【夕】【云】【的】【腰】【一】【样】。 【凤】【夕】【云】【挣】【脱】【了】【半】【天】【没】【挣】【脱】【出】【去】，【才】【震】【惊】【地】【看】【着】【白】【樱】【落】， “【你】。。”【力】【气】【怎】【么】【这】【么】【大】！ 【白】【樱】【落】【用】【空】【着】【的】【一】【只】【手】【直】【接】【捏】【着】【凤】【夕】【云】【的】【下】【颚】， “【你】【的】【手】【段】【我】【已】【经】【领】【教】【过】【了】，【不】【怎】【么】【样】。【我】【的】【手】【段】【你】【不】【是】【应】【该】【也】