Finding Gobi: The true story of one little dog’s big journey

Dion felt fine, and the checkpoint volunteers quickly allowed him to keep going. But another runner wasn’t having as easy a time.

It was Tommy.

He looked terrible. He was slumped in a chair while several volunteers sprayed him with water or fanned him with a clipboard. But Tommy still looked dazed. He also looked more tired than Dion had ever seen him. The heat had clearly taken its toll on him and he wasn’t looking to leave the tent quickly. Or he was just having a bad day. But Tommy was still one of the people ahead of Dion in the overall race. If he wasn’t running well today, that gave Dion a chance to pull ahead.

Dion was listening to his music but still heard the volunteer ask him if Tommy could run with him. Dion agreed because it was what you did, looking after another fellow runner. Races like this were more about doing your best than about beating someone else. And if you did beat them, you did it fair and square. You didn’t take advantage of someone. And you never turned your back on a fellow runner in need.

Tommy nodded and rose from his seat. He came over to stand by Dion. He still looked wobbly though.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Tommy?” Dion asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy replied. “I’m just struggling. It’s too hot.” His voice was so weak Dion could barely hear him, and he was swaying on his feet. But when Dion started running, Tommy ran with him.

It was even hotter than before. Dion liked that. He enjoyed the heat. He felt good. Only Jax, Brett and Zeng were ahead of him right now, and Dion knew he could catch up with them. This was his chance to take the lead. He picked up his pace.

Tommy kept up, but it was clear he was struggling. Dion felt bad for him, but he didn’t slow down.

They reached a long and sandy straight section with no shade. “Come on, Tommy,” Dion told the other runner. “Let’s run the flags.” The pink markers were set in a line every fifty feet.

Tommy sped up to match Dion as they ran to the first marker. Then they slowed down and walked to the next one. They ran the next, then walked, and kept up that pattern for a while. The ground around them became more sandy and rose to form sand canyons. But the track was still straight and solid.

Dion increased his speed again. He was careful not to overdo it, but he was starting to cut into Zeng’s lead. He noticed that Tommy wasn’t running beside him any more. That was fine though. He must have decided to walk for a bit.

But a part of Dion worried about Tommy. Was he still okay? He slowed down, and finally stopped. Then he looked back.

Tommy was swaying on his feet, flailing his arms to keep his balance. He looked like he was caught in an earthquake.

Dion felt his heart sink. But he didn’t hesitate. He turned and ran back towards Tommy instead.

“Tommy, tell me what’s going on,” he said when he reached the other runner.

“Too hot,” Tommy mumbled back. His words were slurred. He pitched forward suddenly, and Dion just barely caught him in time. This was bad.

Dion checked his watch. They were a little more than a mile into this section. The next checkpoint was another three miles ahead. It was just past one, and the sun was right overhead. The day was only going to get hotter. And the only shade around was provided by some rocks maybe half a mile away.

There was no way Tommy would be able to make it back to the last checkpoint on his own. He could barely stand. He had also already drained both of his water bottles. They had only left the last checkpoint thirty minutes ago!

“I need to sit,” Tommy declared. He slumped down in the sand, right there on the path. “Can you wait?”

“There’s no sitting here, Tommy,” Dion warned him. “You’ve got to get into some shade.” He couldn’t carry Tommy back to the last checkpoint. But he did manage to drag the runner towards the rocks he’d spotted. It took twenty minutes, and Dion was exhausted by the time they reached the shade. Still, he didn’t have a choice. They couldn’t risk waiting for someone else to come along.

“Listen, Tommy,” Dion said once he’d sat him down. “You need help. I’m going to keep going to the next checkpoint and get them to drive back to you, okay?” He knew he could return to the last checkpoint, too, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of going backward.

“I don’t want to run any more,” Tommy mumbled.

Dion nodded. “I know, mate. You don’t have to. Just stay here and wait for them to come. Don’t move.”

Dion had one water bottle left. He handed it to Tommy, then rose to his feet. It was time to go.

Helping Tommy had cost Dion a lot. He’d lost forty-five minutes of his time. He’d also given away the last of his water and hauled Tommy and his gear around in fifty degree heat. That had used up all the energy he’d been saving, and then some.

But Dion couldn’t stop now. If he did, Tommy could die. So could he. He had to make it to the next checkpoint.

Half a mile from the checkpoint, Dion spotted a race car. The organisers used them to patrol the race, in case any runner needed help. He flagged it down and told them what had happened.

“You’ve got to get there quickly,” he warned. “He’s in real trouble. And I’m out of water myself. You haven’t got any, have you?”

The driver handed over a half-empty bottle. They must have handed out all their other water to other runners. It would have to be enough.

Dion made it to the checkpoint and collapsed into a chair. Then he told them about Tommy all over again. He also gulped down as much water as he could. He was feeling weak and queasy. His head hurt and his heart was pounding. But he was still thinking clearly. It was bad, but it wasn’t heat exhaustion.

After he’d recovered a little, Dion thought to ask about Zeng. He was surprised to hear that the Chinese runner was only twenty minutes ahead. He must have been having trouble in the heat too.

Which meant that Dion still had a chance to catch up.

But half a mile past the checkpoint, Dion started feeling funny. It was his chest. It felt tight. He was having trouble breathing. When he took a drink, it felt like the water was boiling inside him. He slowed down more and more. Soon he was barely shuffling along.

This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. He was having heart palpitations.

This had happened to Dion a few times before. It felt like his chest was going to explode. He felt sick, and dizzy. The doctors had said he was drinking too much coffee. But Dion had stopped drinking any coffee at all when he began training for this race. So why was he getting palpitations again now? Was it just the heat and the stress and the exhaustion? Or was there something seriously wrong with him?

Up ahead he saw another race car. Dion staggered towards it. They could help him – but only if he could reach them before he collapsed.

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ion stumbled towards the car. As he got closer, the two men inside jumped out. “Are you okay?” one of them asked. “Do you want some water?”

“I need to sit in the car,” Dion replied. “I don’t feel very well.”

That was an understatement. He felt awful! His head was pounding and his chest hurt and his vision was blurry and he felt like he was about to throw up or fall down or both. But he hoped that sitting in the car’s air-conditioning for a few minutes would make him feel better.

It did at first. The cold air felt amazing. Dion just sank down into the seat and closed his eyes. He’d thought he’d never feel cool again!

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the car’s dashboard display. “Does that really say fifty-five degrees?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said the guy behind the wheel. Both he and the other volunteer were watching Dion closely. He knew that if they thought he couldn’t continue, they might force him to quit for the day. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Can I have the water?” Dion asked instead, pointing at a water bottle sitting in the drink holder. The volunteers nodded, and one of them handed him the bottle. It was so cold some of the water was still ice! Dion drank it down and ate one of his energy gels as well. Then he sat back and waited.

But he wasn’t feeling any better. In fact, now that he’d got used to the air-conditioning he realised he was actually feeling worse! His head was spinning and he could barely focus his eyes. The band across his chest was getting tighter and tighter, and each breath was a struggle.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself. He knew that he needed to get back outside. Every second he sat here was a second he lost in the race. But somehow he couldn’t make himself move. And just thinking about going back out into that heat again made his heart pound even faster. Dion discovered he was panting for air. Then he noticed the volunteers watching him in the mirror. He must have looked like he was dying!

For a second, Dion wondered if he was dying. But he refused to believe that. He still had a race to run, and a wife waiting back home, and family and friends – and a small dog he just knew would be sitting there at the finish line, watching for him. He couldn’t let her down.

To distract himself, Dion asked about the only runner ahead of him. “How long ago did Zeng come through?”