What are we doing?
August 15th, 2000 ![]() Friday night, August 11th, at 2100, the thing for which the MESA was the preparation got underway: the Dodentocht (DeathMarch), 100 kilometres (62.1 miles) in one go, from Bornem to Bornem, in West Flanders. 24 hrs later, at 2117, I reached the finish intact. This completed the careful planning of my hiking coach Henk van der Schelden, which should not only please him, but also does me. ![]() I consider that a major victory over myself. 100 km's pretty nasty to a hater of vitamins in the physical condition of an occult nerd. More important this time over was the group thing, though. We were four: Johan van Dijk, Max, Henk and me. That made it a totally different thing than the MESA. Johan and Henk are very experienced hikers. Max and I went at this for the first time in our lives. ![]() Max, by the way, is the hero to this story. Johan may claim I "was the best walker in the group", and he's right too, since even he and Henk were humiliated by my beautifully erect back, swinging pace and proudly extended chest during the last few miles... ...but I didn't have any blisters. Max did. Max had blis-ters r-e-a-l b-a-d. ![]() ![]() But Max! On Max it had an incredible effect. He would only allow himself to rest five minutes to the max each time, and finished the march like a grim devil, purely on character, racked by hellish pains. That, to me, is gallantry the average preventively drugged walker can learn by. "Only through deep hardship shall man uncover his real self" - Goethe, I believe. Max, congrats. I'm deeply impressed, this is quite an achievement of yours. I really mean that. Max by the by also experienced the advantages to all this. He got to be taken care of for a prolongued period of time by a nice nurse. Really very nice. ![]() And I am truly sorry to have to say this. Because there WERE entire Flemish families who selflessly offered the hikers water and other refreshments, cheered them on and bolstered their spirits, and along the last one and a half mile, in the streets of Bornem, hundreds, if not thousands, DID applaud the marchers. And I was deeply moved by the actions of both these groups, and I am very grateful to them. But they make up only two percent of what's along the route. The rest of them are rude bastards, watching the walkers from the safety of their chairs and making you feel like a circus animal. So okay, you're nuts if you march this motherfucker at all, but to time and again receive only deadly glances in response to your raised hand and cheerful 'Goodday', whilst you are genuinely suffering yourself - it is an experience that lacks cool. It is, in fact, an utmostly uncool experience. And this would not be so bad (there's Goethe, after all), would Flanders around Bornem not also most probably be pretty - but this not be completely invisible due to the horrid ugliness of its architecture. It's a blessing most of the walking is done by night. What depressingly Stalinist bleakness. The only handsome part of it is a group of villas on the edge of town, just before the finish, but by that time one is totally oblivious to this, having reached the end of one's capabilities, being plagued by great pain and utterly irritated by the fact that, between those roadside signs reading '4 km', '3 km', '2.5 km', '2 km' and '1 km', there is at least a solid 10 km every time, crossmyhearthopetodie. ![]() And if you add to that the fact that during this DeathMarch few friendships develop, because it's not a multiday march, therefore you won't meet the people around you again, that everyone is in a bad mood because you're all walking an inhuman distance, that nevertheless the lack of manners at the rests (people push and shove eachother around oldfashionedly while trying to reach the cup of water) is appalling, and that the place is swarming with selfdeceptionists roughing it out on bikes between the checkpoints, then you will understand I hope you understand me when I say that this DeathMarch pales to NOTHINGNESS in comparison to the wonderful experience the MESA is, and that the only reason I have for expressly wanting to return to Bornem next year, is my intent to spend the entire day seated on the terrace of the Land van Bornem (Land of Bornem, a great place with good food and beautiful beer), then to stand by the finish handing out flowers to the arriving walkers - because They HAVE Earned It. ![]() ![]() Oh. I must not forget to thank my sponsor. JobTrack supplied me with a fine windbreaker and printed cap. The jacket saved me in the early hours of morning, when the cold hit home, the cap rendered good services in the blistering heat. Señores van Mierlo and van den Berg, my gratitude is immeasurable - and, alas, most probably exploitable. How was it you drank your coffee, for instance? |