Finding Gobi: The true story of one little dog’s big journey. Dion Leonard
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“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.
“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?”
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