The last stage of MDS 120 Peru opened in darkness. Two waves, 0500 and 0600, slipped out of bivouac beneath a sky heavy with cloud and mist. It was a quiet start, almost private. Footsteps softened in the cool sand. Headlamps cut short beams through the haze. The whole scene carried a sombre tone, as if the desert itself was waiting to see who still had strength left to give.
Runners set off knowing this was it, 27.3km’s stood between them and the finish close to Laguna Grande, with the South Pacific stretching out behind Isla Independencia.
A straight line on paper. A world of effort in reality. After days of navigating sand ridges, barren slopes, and the weight of self sufficiency, the final morning felt like a test wrapped in silence.
Then the sun rose. Not with drama, but with intention, as if it had been saving its entrance for the moment runners needed it most. Light broke through the mist and transformed the mood. What had been grey became gold. What felt eerie turned warm. Shapes that were hidden came alive in full color. The desert opened up, and the coastline showed its depth. The day shifted from hard to hopeful in minutes.
The course unfolded in long stretches where the runners sat between sand and sea. To the left, dunes rising and falling with perfect curves. To the right, the ocean pulling at the shoreline with steady rhythm. The contrast was sharp. The calm blue of the Pacific. The pale heat of the desert.
The line of runners threading through it all. It was a route that looked simple but felt huge. Every kilometre carried its own personality. Hard packed sand, soft patches, wind-carved paths, open flats. The landscape changed often enough to keep minds awake, and beautiful enough to pull them forward.
The heat arrived just as the field settled into its stride. It wasn’t the fierce blowtorch heat of earlier days, but it was real. A reminder of where they stood. Yet the ocean breeze stepped in like a quiet ally. It never erased the challenge, but it kept it honest. It made the effort manageable, even enjoyable, for those who still had enough in the tank to look around and absorb the moment. The contrast between struggle and beauty gave the stage its edge. You work for every step, but you are rewarded at every turn.
Ahead waited the final finish line. The one everyone had imagined since the first briefing. Flags. A strip of sand. A medal that represents far more than distance. For some, it marked the end of 70km’s, for others, 100 or 120km.
The numbers matter less than what they represent. Hours of carrying everything you need. Days of managing effort, discomfort, nutrition, and doubt. Nights spent in bivouac with sand in their shoes and a story building in their mind. Every runner arrived with their own reason for standing on that line. Every runner left with their own version of pride.
Ocean, desert, island, sky. A backdrop that looked unreal even with tired eyes. The final meters felt both endless and too fast. Some ran strong. Some walked with purpose. Some cried.
Some smiled because crying would have taken too much energy. But when they crossed, the moment hit all the same. Relief, release, accomplishment. A medal placed on a dusty, sunburned chest always carries more weight than its metal. It is a statement: you finished what you started.
Peru helped deliver that feeling. This place is varied and magical in a way words only capture from the surface. Participants have now experienced it from within. They have lived at the pace of the terrain. They have watched light move across dunes and cliffs. They have felt the temperature swing, the sand shift, the silence settle. They have stared at landscapes that looked untouched and walked through areas shaped by wind, water, and time. The magic isn’t something you observe. It is something that gets into you until the experience becomes part of your memory, and part of your identity.
Self sufficiency sharpened that magic. Carrying your world on your back changes how you see everything. Meals taste different. Rest hits harder. Small wins grow bigger. Each person learned to handle the course with their own decisions. When to push. When to save. When to stop and fix something. That independence builds a kind of confidence that no one can hand you. You earn it step by step. You also earn the hardship that comes with it. Fatigue. Friction. Heat. Moments when your thoughts wander into the wrong corners. Yet that is where the race shifts from physical to personal. You leave with a stronger sense of who you are and what you can do.
Stage three completed that story. It tied the effort of previous days into one clean line toward Laguna Grande. A route that looked almost gentle from above but carried the full emotion of the journey. Those final twenty seven kilometers gave runners space to reflect. Not in a soft poetic way, but in the grounded, honest way that comes when you are tired but not broken. Many thought about why they came. Many thought about who helped them get here. Many thought about how they had changed over the past days. The finish line didn’t give those answers. It confirmed them.
What stands out from this stage is the sense of balance. Mist, then sun. Heat, then breeze. Hardship, then reward. Desert, then ocean. A final effort that closed the race exactly as it should have: with clarity. Runners saw Peru in wide angles and fine detail. They felt the country’s scale and its intimacy. They moved through places you cannot appreciate from a screen or a road. They earned every view and every step.
MDS 120 Peru is built on challenge, but it thrives on discovery. Participants discovered what the desert holds, what the coastline gives, and what they themselves can carry through heat, sand, and self doubt. They discovered that Peru is not only beautiful. It is alive, shifting, layered, and surprising in ways that stay with you.
Stage three delivered the finish, but more importantly, it delivered perspective. The medal is the symbol. The journey is the reward, the magic of Peru is something they will keep long after the sand is washed from their shoes.
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IAN CORLESS 