Read a feature article from the Seattle Times profiling the Unlimited Potential team’s efforts in the Gobi March:

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/microsoft/2008062982_gobi21.html

Watch a video interview from ABC News Now’s “Ahead of the Curve” featuring Orlando Ayala discussing Microsoft Unlimited Potential’s investments in China prior to the Gobi March:

Check out a final video from Seattle’s Fox Q13, showing the Unlimited Potential team arriving at SEA-TAC, greeted by friends and family:

Hi again. Peter Galli here.  While I blogged on behalf of Team Unlimited Potential during the recent Gobi March, I now want to share with you some of my experiences as part of the media team.

While the race team was wending its way across the desert in the blistering heat, the media team was bumping our way across the same terrain in a 4 X 4 vehicle, whose only air-conditioning was the open windows.

Our job was to be at the various checkpoints along the route each day, to support, welcome and chat to the racers about their experiences and feelings.

But, much of the time, we simply became part of the amazing  team of volunteers, which also included three Microsoft staffers – Roxanne Seubert, Josh Nash and Camilla Buttery – and the incredible medical team lead by Dr. Brian Krabak.

That role involved helping fill water bottles, getting backpacks on and off, taking pictures, and generally making sure the contestants felt well taken care of.

But, getting there, meant braving some treacherous terrain and having our vital organs rattled and banged around for hours on end, day after day.

Also, we were repeatedly stopped by local police, who questioned our drivers, peered at our dusty faces through the open windows, and scanned our luggage. I never did get an explanation as to why these happened

The media team, a truly happy-go-lucky group, consisted of two videographers, Evangeline Majawat of Malaysia’s New Straits Times, Rebecca Byerly of CNN (who also ran the race!), two reporters for Racing The Planet, an official race photographer, and me.

Often I waited for the team to come in for the night, catching an exhausted Debby en route to bed or Orlando in the medical tent having his feet doctored or William making dinner at the fire pit, to get a synopsis of their day and its highs and lows.

Even though the team had often walked for 12 or more hours in the sweltering heat and with all their supplies on their backs, they always greeted me with a smile and hug, had something positive to say, and were never once cranky or too tired to talk.

Once all the other press interviews, video and picture editing was done for the day,  we faced the next challenge:  finding a local Internet café – remember this was rural China after all – with the bandwidth necessary to handle all the huge video and image files we needed to upload.

I was amazed by the fact that there were cafes in all-but-one of the towns we passed through, though many of them were well of the beaten path, so having a local guide and driver sure helped with finding them. 

But the entire process was a logistical challenge. The easiest route was to have one of the many policemen assigned to keeping an eye on the race accompany us into town and get us machines.

The police were also not always available and/or willing to do this, which meant the process became far more complex.  On those days, once we had found a café, we, as Westerners, had to hand over our passports for registration before we were allowed to go online.

Getting online was another challenge, with all the Windows XP menus, commands and questions appearing  in Chinese, and a shortage of English-letter keyboards. Once all that was resolved, we had a variety of folk come over and stand behind us, watching everything we were doing on the screen.

While some of them were clearly just intrigued with our video and pics – and had probably not seen many Westeners before - others could have been police or secret service.

This was partly due to the fact that the country was in lock-down mode ahead of the Olympics, and the torch was expected to pass through the region any day, but it was pretty disconcerting.

Given the volume of data we were trying to push through the system, we were usually there for at least four hours, struggling to upload photographs and videos, and update and edit our blogs.

That was followed by a mad race through the pitch black, dusty streets of whatever city we happened to be in, back to the overnight camp.

But the one day that is most etched in my memory is when we spent more than two hours looking for an Internet café which, we later found out, did not even exist. Our driver decided to stop at the local police station and ask where it was.

That proved not to be the best decision, and resulted in much yelling between him and the police captain, who insisted on escorting us back to the overnight camp.

So there we were, travelling like a presidential cavalcade, with sirens screaming and any unfortunate local on their scooter, bike or donkey cart, unceremoniously forced to the side of the road as we swept by in a cloud of dust.

Once we had reached the camp and the captain’s fears were assuaged, we were allowed to head back to town to find that the so-called Internet café consisted of one cable and one working PC. Unable to upload more than a few photos, we headed back to camp.

Much to my surprise there was cell phone reception at the camp, but only on the elevated dirt road that led to the site. So there I was, at 2am Chinese time, in the complete dark, with nothing but the light strapped to my head, cell phone pressed to my ear, walking up and down the road to ensure connectivity, and reading from my notepad. This was true reporting from the field – a very, very remote field.

Every now and then, I would see a speck of light, far in the distance, which grew ever closer. The distant sound of a banging drum signaled that this was indeed a racer, coming in to the home stretch; true beacons in the dark.

Hi there. We’ve been back in Seattle for a couple of days now, and have had some time to reflect on our experience in Western China and in doing the Gobi March. We have also been asked a lot of questions since our return, so I thought it might be helpful to share those questions and our thoughts on them.

How did you do in the race?

Overall, the race took us 74 hours, 52 minutes and 49 seconds to complete, which put us at the bottom of the finisher group. We came in third overall for teams – and that is because of the nine teams that started, only three were able to complete the race together by staying within 25 meters of each other the entire seven days. 

We were slow, but steady and unified, which was our goal for the race. This paid off as we were among the 147 people who finished, and not the 26 who had incomplete finishes. 

We were also told that this particular race and course was the toughest to date of the 4Deserts series, and that the number of non-finishers was double the norm, with more than double the number of medical emergencies and intravenous drips administered, compared to all previous races.

Here are our stage stats:

Stage 1:  9 hours, 43 minutes, 40 seconds

Stage 2:  10 hours, 2 minutes, 40 seconds

Stage 3:  11 hours, 42 minutes, 48 seconds

Stage 4:  14 hours, 55 minutes, 20 seconds

Stage 5:  26 hours, 15 minutes, 40 seconds

Stage 6:   2 hours, 12 minutes, 41 seconds

What surprised you the most?

While we were as prepared as we could be based on what we knew and had researched, we were surprised by the treacherousness and utter harshness of the terrain and environment, as well as the extreme nature of the course. Take a look at the photo slideshow on this page to see more.

Temperatures averaged around 110 degrees Fahrenheit - often with no shade for up to four hours at a time – and there were severe climbs up to 10,000 feet and then down again, with just a two-foot wide ridge to walk on that had drop-offs on both sides. 

At one point, I dropped a water bottle and we watched, aghast, as it tumbled and tumbled down hundreds of feet within seconds, realizing that we could face the same fate if we lost our footing.

How were the team dynamics?

When we started on June 8, we were three people on a team. But, by June 15, we were a single team unit, working together and very much in sync. We got more and more efficient every day and, by the end, we had a very effective pace line formation that we followed so as to keep up our momentum.

Throughout the last three days, we were able to communicate, eat, drink and pass equipment back and forth while keeping up our cadence and pace.

What was the toughest moment?

We had a distinct and clear “toughest moment.” Towards the end of stage 4, we realized that we were dragging on time and in danger of losing precious daylight and possibly finishing the day too late to continue on to Stage 5 (the 50 mile day).   

We had a very heated lifeboat exercise discussion about how we would handle it if a person on the team was unable to continue the race or was slowing the team too much. It was a hard talk to have and was both the most difficult moment of the race and the defining moment for us as a team. 

We decided we would stick together as team no matter what obstacle we might have to face. And, as it turned out, we finished that stage around midnight, only to learn as we entered camp that we would be woken up at 4 am to start the 50 mile stage. 

That meant we had less than 4 hours to eat, re-hydrate and rest - after nearly 15 hours on the race course - and just before the most difficult part of the race.

What was the best moment?

Because we were so late finishing Stage 4, we missed all of the camp announcements about the upcoming 50 mile day and somehow completely missed the news that there would be cut-off times imposed during Stage 5. 

We started Stage 5 pretty disorganized and bewildered because we had only had 4 hours to recoup from the previous day. So, we took off with our usual slow and steady pace, without realizing we were in danger of being pulled from the race for failing to meet the time cut-offs.

The course was really, really tough and getting tougher. We were in the blistering heat with no breeze and no shade for the hottest parts of the day. It was daunting to look as far as the eye to could see, yet see no one. There was no shade, no water and no respite if we were to get into trouble of any kind. 

All we could see for miles and miles was desert, except to our right, where the 25,000 foot snow-topped mountain range that is the border of Kyrgyzstan, towered over us. The situation was quite overwhelming, as was the realization that we really were in one of the most remote places on earth, with no one to rely on except one another.

We finally got to the second checkpoint of the day after about 9 hours of 120 degree direct sun and heat. When we got there, we learned the bad news that cut-off times were being imposed, and if we wanted to remain in the race, we had to make two more checkpoints by 11 pm. 

At the rate we were then traveling, it was unlikely that we could traverse the distance within the allotted time. It was taking us 4 hours between checkpoints. For us to stay in the race, we would have to speed up and make it to each of the remaining checkpoints in less than 3 hours. 

And, right as we realized that, I found a hole in my hydration bladder, which was leaking pretty badly. But there was no time to try and fix it at the checkpoint, as we had to go, so I slapped a blister patch on the hole and we hoped for the best.

This by far was our second best moment, as we went into overdrive and we made it to designated checkpoint at 10:30pm, with 30 minutes to spare!

But there was no happy-ending just yet, as we had burned ourselves out to meet the cut-off time, and we were spent once we got there. That was when we learned that there was an additional deadline – we had to make the 50 mile finish line by noon the next day. There was no moonlight and, if we wanted to even attempt to make the finish, we were going to have to get going by 2 am, with no guarantee we would make it through by then.

We had another talk: a calm one this time. We decided it was too risky. We were proud of what we had accomplished so far, but we didn’t want to jeopardize our health and put ourselves at further risk by traveling in the complete dark for an uncertain finish. 

I passed the news on to Erik, the head volunteer at the checkpoint. In a moment and with a look I will never forget, he took me by the shoulders and said, “Now Deb, you’ve come an awful long way not to finish. I’ve watched you all week, and you guys have what it takes to finish.” 

I knew in my heart he meant it. I went back to Orlando and William and said, “Erik thinks we can finish this thing.” They both nodded, packed up, and we were back on the road within 10 minutes. This was our very best moment. We finished Stage 5 at 10:30am, after more than 26 hours on the road, and with an hour and half to spare.

What was the key to your success?

We’ve discussed this  a lot, and we agree as a team that there were three key elements to our successfully finishing the race. First, every morning, we huddled and said a prayer together and put our safety and our day in bigger hands than ours. We learned the power of faith. 

Secondly, we also realized pretty quickly that we were much better, and could do much more, by leveraging one other’s strengths rather than just relying on ourselves. We learned the power of team. 

Thirdly, we had to look beyond ourselves, individually, and constantly think about one another: we learned the power of compassion and perspective.

A final note: some perspective.

I want to close on the subject of perspective. After our 26 hour, 50 mile day, we were quite elated and excited to come into camp and know that we had a full day of resting ahead of us before having to finish the sixth, and final, 15 kilometer stage. 

About an hour or so into our rest day, I came down with a bad bacterial infection of the stomach. I spent the entire day running between our blazing hot tent and the holes in the ground that served as latrines. At one point, I actually fainted on the ground outside our tent from the sickness and heat. 

The camp conditions were harsh. We had no more hand-wipes, hand sanitizer or even tissues. We were also down to our last package of food, which I was too sick to eat. 

There were flies and ants everywhere, along with a lot of smoke and fumes from the campfires. And, every few minutes or so, we would hear unearthly braying sounds from the donkeys surrounding the camp. 

All of this was made me feel more ill and nauseous, and I finally went to the medical tent, where the doctors gave me some Imodium and Cipro. 

Fortunately, I felt better by the next morning, and we were able to run the last 15 kilometers to the finish, practically into the arms of three of our precious Microsoft China team members: Rau Chang, Cathy Liu and Harris Chen. We were also, later, reunited with more members of our Microsoft China team, led by Steven Ying.

Every day, families in Sichuan Province are trying to survive the horrible aftermath of the massive May earthquake. Hundreds of thousands of people sit in encampments in the mind-numbing summer heat, after having lost everything and, more often than not, family members and their only child. 

My one day of illness and discomfort in our final camp was such a clear reminder of what these devastated people are facing every day, and for the rest of their lives. I could barely sustain one day of the harsh and unrelenting camp conditions, all the while knowing that my family and children were safe and sound here in the U.S., and that my situation was very temporary and self imposed.

I cannot begin to image the utter despair and agony that these people face. It is my deepest hope that our journey through the Gobi has raised some additional awareness of the earthquake tragedy, and that generosity will prevail in supporting Save the Children, which is helping immensely by building temporary schools and comfort stations for children who are suffering dearly both in Sichuan and Myanmar.

And, finally, our deepest thanks and gratitude to everyone who sent well wishes, supported us, and followed our journey through the Gobi.

Debby