Reader, I completed it. Race partner John and I were thrilled to experience the Lakes in what can only be described as Alpine summer glory. Looking back I can honestly say that the only truly tough bit was the seemingly never ending pull up from thirlmere to Scafell summit. The time passed pleasantly due to the company, the amazing views and the distraction of spotting other racing pairs and their route choices. On the tourist path up to Scafell I was surprised that the hikers weren't cheering us but I suspect the effort of trudging up in boots trousers and big bags took their breath away. As opposed to trudging up in inov-8s, shorts and t shirts. The exposure to the sun was a risk I'd foreseen and so I purchased and sported a fetching white cap for the day. Water was not a problem, given the well placed feed stations and the extra drinks brought up to the checkpoints by the wonderfully cheerful marshals and organisers. Some things which evoke the day follow:
Mass start into the rising sun
Seeing a guy pulled from a bog by his giggling partner in Wythburn
The heaven that is Great Moss
The aqua blue pool we stood in to cool our legs on the way to Moasdale
The hell that is the climb up Greyfriar
Checking my watch and thinking 'yep 6 hours, maybe four to go' and then realising how calmly I'd accepted that fact.
Meeting clubmates coming off Coniston
The cowbell ringing us to the summit of the Old Man
The urgent, crazed and weary dash along the foot-numbing trail beside Blea Tarn to the finish
The mad feast of leftovers and odds in the campsite after the pub ran put of meals
Next year I shall race it. Thankyou John for my induction to this noble event.
