MARATHON DES SABLES

Whatever possessed him I do not know.

Maybe it is a genetic problem. If it is, then Lord help him, really, as then there is a chance he will also inherit the gout, the arthritis, the high blood pressure and the completely screwed kidneys. (I suppose that could explain why he is also a ruggedly handsome chap, tall, lean and mean).

My youngest boy, Felix Edward, has for some insane reason decided to take on the Marathon Des Sables. This is a gargantuan running race in the Sahara Desert in southern Morocco, lasting six days, with distances that make your feet ache and hips grind just contemplating them. This young fella is a bit of a sportsman - he captained the boat at Oundle, got his colours at Exeter and has recently been pounding the streets of Stockholm in their marathon, so mental toughness is there in spades already. Somehow, I think that will be called on in huge quantities as the following stats will show.

Day 1: 25km (a warm up?)  Day 2: 34km (getting into it now), Day 3: 38km (a bit of pressure then),  Day 4: 82km (What!!!! is he mad???) Day 5: 42km (that's if they are still on their feet) and Day 6: 22km for the deliriously insane.

This weekend we are meeting up for a spot of lunch at Don's and then to go through the kit list - it looks surprisingly like the stuff I would normally take on a weekend thrash along the South Downs, but with the addition of huge water carrying systems and lots of body lubricants. He is off the booze, drinking fizzy water and is also coming out for a walk on Sunday with Lord Elpus & Miss Whiplash to help ease me back into the ways of the walking world.

However the lad is not all grit, determination and toughness - he was also the President of the school wine society, so maybe the Sloman genes have been passed on down the line.

He is flying off to Morocco on the 26th March. I will let you know how he gets on.