Stein’s latest feat, the Marathon Des Sables, breaks into six stages between 9.5 km and 74 km stretches. Temperatures swing radically from 46 °C in the day to 14 °C at night. The terrain alternates from 400-meter skyscraper dunes to moon-like rocky expanses and dried-out lake beds that turn into convection ovens under the burning sun. While organizers provide participants with strictly rationed water, tents that sleep 9 (uncomfortably) on the rocky ground and emergency flares, the participants must supply themselves with everything else including sleeping bags, food, anti-venom pump, compass and signaling mirror. They must carry their gear for the entire 225-km stretch or face penalties or even disqualification.

the groundwork
Such grueling conditions require disciplined preparation. Nine months before leaving for Morocco, whenever Stein wasn’t behind the desk or logging hours on the treadmill with his 18-kg pack, he was either doing pilates (a yoga-like exercise) to prevent injury or testing equipment. To reduce blisters, Stein soaked his feet in alcohol for 10 minutes a night. Besides dehydration, ". . . as long as your feet are OK it should be straight forward" — hypothetically.
Stein’s concern about nutrition led him to experiment with various powdered meals, bright-yellow GU energy gels and Cliff bars while in Tokyo. "There’s nothing worse than coming home from a long day’s work and having freeze-dried food," he laughs. "You eat this stuff and say what am I doing?’’
And, again, why exactly is he doing this?
"If there’s any guilty party it’s Simon Murray." Murray, a 58-year old British investment manager from Hong Kong and a former French Foreign Legionnaire met Stein while working at Deutsche Bank and asked Stein to accompany him on the adventure. Besides camaraderie Stein adds, "Another important reason for doing this is charity, other than our own masochistic intentions, specifically a Hong Kong charity, Hospice Care." Stein hopes to raise 20,000 dollars for the cancer cause.
Aside from fundraising, the months, then, weeks, then days before the race are filled with three to four hour workout routines, e-mails, faxes and calls to review lists and get tips from fellow competitors.

the arrival
Finally, the competitors converge in Morocco. The entire course of the race has been kept secret to ensure no cheating can occur (i.e. hidden stashes of food) and no unexpected spectators can "happen" upon the scene. The day before the race, the crucial "Road Books" which detail each of the six stages of the race are distributed. The first three stages range from 30 km to 37 km per day. The fourth stage is 74 km over two days, followed by a full marathon (42 km) on the 5th day, and the last day is a 9.5 km scamper to the finish.
During the pre-race period, the nervous runners compare their gear and size up the competition. Rumors and speculations run rampant and veterans stir the anxieties by telling first-timers of past horrors. Anything can happen, from the usual bloody feet to cases of near-fatal heat stroke or violent sandstorms which in years past have nearly buried people alive.
Everyone debates the value of gaitors (protective covers that go over the shoes and socks) and whether they will keep the sand out without baking the feet. Other hot topics include what clothes to wear to beat the heat, how to prevent blisters, water bottles vs. water pouches/sacks. The Americans discuss their colorful high-tech gear as the Moroccans scamper past with their tiny hand-sewn backpacks and home-grown dried fruits and nuts.

the method to the madness
As the days progress, each person in the tent falls into their own routine. Fitful sleep, 5:30 am wake-up call. Dreams evaporate into the realization that this is yet another day in the Sahara. Stein opens his eyes and recoils when he finds Murray’s unshaven face just centimeters away. The Hong Kong firemen immediately start jabbering away in Cantonese, picking up their conversation from the night before. Mary groans and snuggles a little deeper into her beloved blue sleeping bag.

As soon as the huge colorful balloons are sighted, signaling the finish line for the day, relief must be transformed to determination to make it through the end-of-the-day routines. After crossing the stage finish, Stein gets in line to collect his ration of water for the night and morning and seeks an empty box to flatten and serve as a bedding pad.

After the feet, it is time to light his tiny Esbit stove and heat ramen noodles and freeze-dried dinner. Each night, Stein and Murray take turns cooking each other an after-dinner powdered cappuccino as the tent mates share laughs and rehash the day’s course and blunders of navigating through the diabolical dunes. During the marathon stage, Stein finally discovers the key to beating the dunes — follow a Moroccan. They always find the most efficient way just by looking at the sand colors.

the media hawks
Besides the race organizers and competitors, the only other people that are allowed to come are press agents due to the harsh conditions of the impressive, yet merciless Sahara. The only other souls that bother to venture out in the insane heat to watch are the Bedouin children and the camels. So, the journalists try to give encouragement as they follow along the course in Land Rovers, bones rattling as they yell out the windows, "Keep it up! Looking good!" They then turn to mutter over their shoulders to those they know, "Not!" Impressions alternate from admiration of the sheer will of the competitors to complete puzzlement at the sheer madness. Some journalists are overheard expressing concern over their stories and that perhaps the course is too easy this year since there are not as many people collapsing or crying uncontrollably as in previous years. Others marvel that no matter who they ask the question, "What do you think about out there?" every participant replies, "Just the next step." With each concentrated step every competitor fights the same fear that escalates with each successful day — the fear of having to drop out of the race.

the dropouts
One South American competitor had to drop out of the race after the first stage due to uncontrollable vomiting from severe dehydration. Although he quit smoking, lost 14 kg, and ran his first marathon in preparation for the MDS, all he feels is the failure and spends the rest of the week torturing himself by thinking about what he could have done better. "I’m coming back next year — definitely," he states after five bottles of IV are pumped into his veins. As if the self-deprecation isn’t enough, Stein explains, "[Dropping out] is horrible. Everyone in the camp knows. You know when you come in each day, who dropped out, how many people dropped out and how it happened. It’s almost like wearing a scarlet letter."