From ultra marathons to gruelling reality TV, extreme fitness is all the rage. Will special forces training in the Ecuadorian jungle teach me why?
I inch along the jungle path, heat sapping my strength. The boils on my hand are throbbing; sweat pours into my eyes. And that’s when I see them. A group of men crouching in the undergrowth. Their leader is signalling our presence to the others. It’s an ambush.
As they rip from the shadows, shouting in Spanish, I desert immediately and at speed. I plunge into the greenery, spines gouging my hands and face. I hear my friends being captured. Water fills my mouth and nose, my boots and pack dragging me down like sandbags. I am out of my depth in more ways than one. There’s a chance there are anacondas in this river. The vegetation is poisonous to the touch, and if I don’t drown, the likelihood of being ravaged by disease-infested mosquitoes is high. What’s my plan? As the strength leaves my body, someone grabs me, shackling my hands with cable ties. A hood is placed over my head. I don’t protest as I’m dragged out by my thumbs; it’s a relief.
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