Well... what an adventure that was! I'll start by saying there is a vast amount to unpack here and I've been toying with the whether to illustrate a short summary post or to give a day by day account of what happened...
I've decided to go through the whole enchilada. This was 2 years in the making and it deserves my attention! The biggest reason for doing the detail is, in writing this, it's helping me work through WTF just happened, as the whole experience was remarkable. It was so big it's taking me some time to remember, process and come to terms with what I went through.
Not just the 6 days we had to cover 300km by foot, but also the travel, the people, and my return to my family. I have a VAST number of photos and video (which will take me weeks to piece together into a full video journal/documentary of the whole thing (as I have a family and a business to attend to as well). This is a long post, but it is the tale of what it was like for me, blow by blow, on my first multi-day ultra experience. That said, get a coffee, get comfy, and let me tell you the story of the 2023 Isles Ultra...
Day -1 to -4 - Half the 'Fun' is getting there
This is a blatant lie... The few days leading up to travelling to Scotland was fraught with stress in fitting the vast amounts of kit, supplements and evening & sleep wear into a 70 litre back and small daypack. Not only that but work decided it would be the right time to initiate a number of new projects (that predictably only I was best qualified to lead on). After a couple of very intense days before I began the journey, it was time to commence the grand adventure... Travel Day part 1 got off to a cracking start having forgot to grab my phone at 4am as I left for the airport. I'd also left my keys in the house. Needless to say that my wife (still asleep) was less than impressed by my middle-the-night door banging. A fact illustrated by her 'don't die' farewell comment... a great start.
I eventually made my way to Tyndrum in the Scottish Highlands, while also being bade a fond farewell with another 'don't die' comment from a kindly old man on the bus there from Glasgow airport. Given he was telling me that Storm Agnes was about to hit the entire Scottish west coast and islands and it was, in his words, 'a beauty', I felt his farewell comment was a little more prophetic than my wife's.
Day 0 - 'To the Hebrides'
It was the first time I'd met any of the challenge Crew, as well as the other challengers who were all clearly accomplished and highly experienced runners. It was a mix of ages spanning 20's 40's, 50's and even 60's. All built like runners, with me as the ex rugby player who was clearly 'different'. Everyone was friendly enough, and a mix of personalities from those with the 'racing' glint in their eyes, to those of us who had no idea what was about to unfold (and who knew it!). Fish out of water was definitely how I felt, and waaaay out of my comfort zone.
From the Muthu Ben Doran Hotel, (a location that any horror movie director would relish filming at, as it was a cross between the hotel in The Shining and the Bates Motel), we took the minibus to Oban for the 5 hour ferry crossing to Castlebay on Barra island.
A great chance to talk to a few other challengers, admire some breath-taking scenery, and cross some of the post-storm-Agnes North Atlantic Ocean, all the while trying desperately to hold lunch down. Dolphins trailed the ship which helped take our minds off the hideous effects of a very unsteady crossing. And the minute we hit the dock on Barra was the minute we did not stop until the ferry back to the mainland 7 days later.... Introductions, pre event briefing, mandatory kit checks, GPS tracker distribution, kit organisation and admin for the next day's running, dinner and bed all consumed every second thereout. The challenge had begun. We were told that there was, laughably, no point trying to keep feet dry. So much of our route was across bog (Scottish Peat marsh land) that it was actually impossible to stay dry. 'Embrace the wetness as that will be your world for the next week.' was the message. With that in mind, we hunkered down in our hostel bunk-beds for the night and had possibly the worst nights' sleep I've had for a long time. Adrenaline, anxiety and excitement do not make the best bed-fellows.
Day 1 - Varetsay to Barra to Eriskay to South Uist - A Wake Up Call
This was it. We were transported to the very start of the Hebridean Way... And, In the dark, we lined up on the beach and were let loose on a sleeping island. As I expected I was at the back. The first few Km's were road and I had my pace locked in, so jogged along (albeit slowly) as the pack sped off.
This was an ego rattling moment from the very start. I'm not a racer. I'm not a club runner. I'm simply a middle aged, busted up, former rugby player. Stick an egg shaped ball in my hands and I will fly around a pitch and take down any in my path. Stick me on a road and I'll move like a carthorse. It was particularly hard on my ego, as in every other sporting endeavour I've had, from powerlifting, to rugby to martial arts, I was always at the front. Now I was back of the pack and had to get used to it. This was the moment I knew that this would bring up some 'stuff' for me as I rapidly went out of my comfort zone. A fact that was reinforced when the crew set Dr Robyn with me to 'keep an eye' on me as we got to the first trail head!
We were briefed to expect a large 'hill' early on. It was so much more. A 900ft climb (271m according to my Suunto) in very stormy weather was there to behold, and I suddenly felt in my element! This was why I was here! To take on the elements and the natural terrain of the Islands. This is where the doubts faded away and I yomped up and down the VERY muddy and slippery climbs and descents. Which saw me on my ass multiple times and laughing like a kid. I was happy!
We had a tricky section ahead after this, in order to meet the time pressure for the ferry, so having come off the hills I opted to knock off the couple of Kms with a 'boost' in the van for the next section in order to get to the ferry crossing (once a day) to Eriskay in enough time, as there would not be another that day... and I certainly didn't fancy the swim.
Ferry crossing made, some of us had a very sobering moment as one of my fellow runners, Andrea, slipped off the rocks near the beach a mere 600m from the ferry dock and badly broke her ankle. As the back marker, I ran back towards the vans who were gearing up to leave for the next pit stop, and urgently waved them up to us.
After I explained what had just happened, The Doc and crew raced to help and took care of her. Luckily for Andrea she had her husband - Martin, with her. I remained for a number of minutes in case they needed help moving her (if Dr Robyn needed us to), and then once stabilised was thanked and suggested I carry on as they had it under control.
It was not easy leaving the scene. I'm not wired to do that, but she was in better hands than mine so I moved on as instructed.
The rain came in hard, and moved across a breath-taking causeway that went on for a couple of miles. Unbeknown to me, Leo (our official photographer) was hiding somewhere in the rocks (as he would then do throughout the rest of the challenge) doing his thing... and his thing is spectacular....
Yes... that's me. And if you look closely I am, in fact, running! LOL
Crossing from Eriskay to South Uist led to running across some simply jaw-droppingly beautiful beaches. When the sun came out you could be forgiven for thinking you'd stepped into a tropical paradise, entirely unspoiled by tourists and without a soul in sight for hours. Something that you quickly forgot as you ran past a sheep skeleton as a reminder that if something were to go wrong, nobody might find you for a while.
I'd left my Shokz headphones in my pit-stop bag so had to spend the day listening to the relentless howl of the wind. I'd started to become accustomed to it as I ticked down the miles through the end of the 58km day. With the very eventful Day 1 complete, it was into our accommodation (a rather nice, albeit small, room in a hostel). Tired, sore and hungry it was a matter of getting the admin done as quickly as possible (shower, change, kit check, water refills, foot care, etc) for the next day. The accident earlier in the day was felt in the group and everyone was genuinely concerned, but the reports we received were positive that she'd be ok; however, required urgent surgery to repair and stabilise the severe damage Andrea had done to her leg.
Having got to the accommodation for the night, In what I can only assume was a little cosmic joke, I found myself sharing a room with Simon who was the fastest runner on the challenge (by a country mile). Someone decided I'd feel better about myself if I shared with a veteran of the Cape Wrath ultra (one of the hardest multi stage races there is, and he was a high placed finisher!). A man of few words, I was grateful he was a quiet sleeper!
In fairness, everyone marveled at how easy Simon made it look each day. Quiet by nature, and a deadly runner, he was a gentleman who spoke with humility. Admittedly, it triggered some of my own insecurities to see how good this fellow was, compared to me, at this stuff. But this was part of why I was here... to face parts of myself that are generally hidden, to learn and to experience. Being a former competitive athlete, it's difficult when people are way beyond where you are, yet you are starting alongside them on the same journey and have time and distance as a measure.
Though we were told 'it's not a race' from the start, it was clear to a few in their eyes, that it really was (racer's are gonna race). I had to remind myself in the first day that I was never there to race (because I can't... yet). I was there simply to see what was possible; tackle the extraordinary terrain; and have my kids know that you can achieve something significant, even if it's light years apart from where you are starting from... That if I can, they can. With that squarely in mind, I slept sporadically despite being pretty tired.
Day 2. - South Uist to Grimsay to Benbecula to North Uist - 'Not just 300k'
Having been returned to the point where day 1 finished from the accommodation, we set off (and again I quickly found my place at the back) once more. Another 58km day in store, though with less time pressure to meet ferry crossings. A mix of road and trail, things became particularly fun on Benbecula where we met endless miles of Hebridean Bog. It felt remote. It was remote. The aches from Day 1 disappeared quickly (as I had hoped) and the terrain was difficult and more energy sapping as every step used more than double the energy to move forward.
This was the day it became very clear that this wasn't simply 300Km. Far from it. This was the day I realised how difficult this was going to be. Moving 96kg of me requires energy. In fact it requires quite a lot of energy. Moving 96Kg of me across endless miles of Hebridean Bog is something else altogether.
I managed to go thigh deep a few times and also lost a shoe which required urgent retrieval under the watchful eye of Bo & Crystal, who showed solidarity by snapping a pic of me with said shoe...
The wet, muddy and boggy terrain of Benbecula was entirely worth the effort though as the scenery I witnessed was even more epic than in day 1. The views just got better as the day progressed.
Coming off the trail after a number of miles to the pitstop, and then back on the trail, there followed a big climb of 500ft on tired legs... and the view was nothing short of spectacular...
I had crossed the whole of the delta you see in the picture above, and still had plenty more to come. This moment, though, was a particularly special one. This was what I had imagined, and so much more. It was here I started to let go of my ego about keeping up with the rest of the running pack. I simply stopped caring. It was never why I came here. It was for this moment that I came. Stood on a mountain, carried across a huge distance on my own two feet. I spent probably 20 minutes just in this spot. Simply taking it all in and getting present with the moment. "Stop and smell the flowers, as life is too short to be so busy" was a quote that came rushing to mind. THIS was what I was here for.... We were battered by constant wind and rain that was as changeable as the landscape, but it all felt just right. I could have stopped and sat here for an hour, but was getting cold, so bounded down the other side like a Lycra-clad mountain rhino onto the rest of the route. This entailed more deserted, yet gorgeous, beach; more lochs and lochans and finally into the pub at the end of a very long but wildly rewarding day. I stopped caring that I was one of the last in. I was truly enjoying myself. That evening it was more admin, more food and a concerted effort to get sleep. I slept better but was starting to feel the effects of two days non stop.
Day 3 - North Uist to Harris... Via Skye?
Storms had come in through the night and the small ferry we originally needed for the crossing from North Uist to Harris was not sailing due to sea conditions. This meant we had to take a detour on a larger ferry from the harbour to Skye then from Skye back across to Tarbet (Harris). This cut a chunk of mileage for the morning out of the schedule, but we adapted and took the chance to catch up on some rehab, admin and food.
There was a short fast run to the port, but we had to sacrifice a section of trail beforehand and then we made the crossings. After this the ferry was plain sailing (and very comfortable!). We were entertained by Siobhan's affinity for my massage gun on the ship (not a euphemism), as well as Marie playing a risky game of 'guess my age' while a BBC film crew (who were recording our exploits) were interviewing Martin about the accident his wife Andrea had. Needless to say Marie's rather loud "Fuck off!" at my wild overshoot of her age (hence proving the game is indeed risky to play with a lady), will likely require editing in the BBC's final cut. landing us in Harris in the afternoon.
Expletives and insults left at sea, there was an option to tackle some challenging trail, so I took it and discovered there was a real beauty and the beast I'd encounter...
The run started off on road and then took me into a valley that was something wonderful. Wonderful, that is, until I hit a bog... at speed... hidden... and deep. So deep that I went immediately in to chest depth. It was a shock to say the least. There was a moment where after going in, I kept going down. Conscious I wanted to keep both trail trainers on my feet (I learned quickly the day before not to pull my feet straight up as my shoes would be sucked off my feet by the water, grass and mud combination), and that peat bogs can be 30 feet deep, I took the quicksand approach... relax, grab onto some grass and try to lie on the surface as best I could. It worked and I slowly extracted myself. This shifted my mood to the downside. The sun was starting to drop, the wind was picking up and I was soaked through. I was halfway on this final stretch of the day. That meant at least another 5km of mud, bog and trail to navigate without either falling or sinking even more. Moving was keeping me warm, and I was getting cold the moment I stopped, so I kept moving. It's all I could do. My hip was hurting quite badly after a few slips and this recent bog-dive. My shin on my other leg was also strained. But there was no point crying about it. It was a matter of keeping going as this too would pass.
Thoughts, having been hit with setback after setback, turned inward and left me open to a subconscious throw-up of 'I'm not good enough' thoughts. I was slow, I was hurting and I was being left behind by everyone. Not an ideal recipe for positivity about oneself. I eventually saw Leo (the photographer) at the end of the pass who could see I was suffering. He offered me a lift the final mile up the road to the stop, but I politely refused and made my way up the road. The views again were incredible, but I was low. James ran down to meet me to run in to the day's finish with me, and the rest of the challengers clapped me in, but my mood remained low as we headed into the next hostel accommodation. I was feeling like I didn't fit with the rest. Almost all were experienced club runners, racers, etc. Many comparing strava data, previous races, etc in a highly professional manner... and then there was me.
Most had people that they paired up with, or were so quick that it was over in a flash for them each day. In contrast, I had spent a huge amount of time out on my feet each day, alone. That in turn made my thoughts turn to feelings that I had never quite fit. Not just here, but anywhere. Sure, I get on with almost everybody. But I've always felt a little on the 'outside' rather than on the 'inside', and certainly never in the 'clique'. Not in any of my sporting endeavors (even those I was particularly successful in), not in school, not in university, not in work. I've had this feeling many times before, but it came through incredibly strong. This was clearly the big inner issue that I needed to face on this journey. What amplified the feeling was the realisation that my family also struggle with the same stuff, because we see and read the world differently to most. My little boy (ASD) is wildly misunderstood by his peers receiving a torrid time from other kids and adults who failed to (nor put the effort in to) understand him; and my daughter (so much like me in her thinking and mind) goes through her life to beat of her own drum and sees the world differently to most. My wife is also unique and life path which sets her apart from the crowd.
All of this hurts me to watch them take the hits from being apart from the majority every time they are on the outside of their own worlds. I love their uniqueness and individuality. More than they'll ever appreciate, and I know all of us have had struggles in 'fitting' with the crowd. And, while none of us feel like we quite fit with the outside, we all fit perfectly together. My pain was feeling what they feel, quite starkly, and understanding the vulnerable position that leaves them (and I) feeling.
Normally, in such situations, I just drive and push myself forward. Water off a duck's back, and comfortable walking my own path without being led or dictated how to think, act, or be, by others. I now found myself struggling acutely with the things they struggle with. All because of a run. But being so far out of my comfort zone, a thousand miles from my circle of support, I felt incredibly exposed... and very much felt that I was just 'not good enough'. In that single run I realised something I then deeply knew and that my family experienced all too often (and absolutely unnecessarily so). This challenge was opening some very big stuff for me to face. I'm not sure if anyone else on this journey with me would, or could, understand what I was going through... nor did they need to, as each was there for their own reasons. This just happened to be my stuff that came up. What then hit home was that while we might not fit in other places, what we do is fit together. And that is what matters most. I took this with me into the evening and was eventually able to put down the feeling of needing to fit with others. I was there to embrace the challenge and enjoy the views... all the while stopping giving a rusty fuck about anyone else's thoughts of me. This was further challenged by having 6 grown men to a room in 6 creaky bunkbeds,... but again thankfully the eye mask and ear plugs did their job well. I chalked this up as a win for the day, despite the emotional grinder I had just gone through.
Day 4 - Harris, the home of sheep, tweed and broken poles
'This is the hilly day'... said James in the briefing. Now this was an understatement. we had 5000 feet to climb across the course of the day. with two 900ft climbs after having gone 150km already. The weather was shocking and I'd had one of the worst nights' sleep I'd had in a long time.
This was going to be epic!
Warm up completed, we set off for mountain number 1. A mix of gale-force stormy weather and a phenomenal setting of natural beauty. It was muddy, it was windy and it was challenging. I managed to snap a carbon pole after a gust took me off my feet and the pole did it's job of breaking itself, rather than it be my leg. There was a scramble in tricky weather conditions to the top and a fantastic decent to the rest stop. I navigated it with Bo, and it was sensible as it was risky to navigate under those conditions on your own.
I just felt happy. Out in the worst of the elements, up a mountain, having fun. The descent was even trickier and the Speedgoats were not the best footwear for this part of the day as the grip couldn't safely cope with the mud, though they were superb on the wet rock.
That lunchtime I had acquired a new set of metal poles (just £20) as the conditions really needed them, to replace the ones I had broken. By the end of the day these would be bent by Richard-destroyer-of-poles, again. After this I managed to head 2km past the lunchtime rest stop and had to double back. Fatigue or the parked car in front of the Rat Race sign directing me to the location could have been responsible. The irony was I had to answer a call of nature behind a tree that sat, quite literally, 20 feet from the pit stop van before I passed the stop on my way out of the town in Tarbet.
Having eased my water retention even further (as Bo will tell you I was pissing like crazy on the first mountain) we progressed through the afternoon and down to finish at the accommodation for the day. This came as a relief, just in case we found ourselves in the minibus with James who drove at considerable speed when behind the wheel.
The storm was blowing through the final valley and descent of the day, and the enduring image of a squall raging through the valley as we ran down the mountain path alongside it, will stay with me forever. Raw, elemental and majestic.
Harris did not disappoint. More vast swathes of bog, storms, wind, mountains and views to die for. I was where I was meant to be. That evening I still slept poorly. Injuries were mounting up and Dr Robyn declared that I had trench-foot where the skin was coming away from my feet due to the ever-wet conditions. As long as I aired my feet each evening they should make it through; however the Doc's KT tape solution on my savagely battered toes was failing... in minutes, due to the wet. Luckily I had my own tape solution and it was holding up even in the constant state of underwater submersion, much to the Doc's astonishment. My hip was pretty bad having not recovered from hitting a rock in a fall on Day 1 with it, but it was manageable for now. Fatigue was building but the legs had no problems taking me up and down all day. It was the road sections of concrete and tarmac pounding that were giving me the hardest time. Fortunately tomorrow would be less of that.
Day 5 - Harris to Lewis and the 'Forever-Bog'
My day started at 6am. My personal battle with how I was feeling seemed to dissipate with the sun rise, however I was greeted with a flipped trailer-box outside our accommodation blocking our car park exit which was a victim of the overnight storm that came in with a vengeance. One thing I most definitely am good at is moving heavy objects and a couple of us shifted it out of the way.
Injuries were mounting. Siobhan (my little speed-monkey), Anton, Andrea, Bo, Crystal, Zoe were carrying notable hip strains and other issues. We were all feeling the miles under such challenging conditions. Many issues being picked up in bogs and mud where the risks of twists and unstable footing sent injury risks through the roof.
A route like this is harder than you imagine. Especially so when you've not been on similar terrain before. I just went with plan A... move at my pace and take it as I find it, while admiring the views. No need to change it as I was still seeing all the best stuff and feeling really connected to the island itself. This is what i had always hoped it would be.
We started on road by the see then went onto 'proper trail'. Gravel and light rock, firm underfoot and undulating. I was loving running this and my pains faded away... for a while. This was until we met the Forever-Bog. Mile after mile of bogs and heather. There was Zero trail or path. No route markers of any kind. Just you and the gps arrow on your watch. The weather was shocking but amazing in its ferocity at times.
I took few photos at this time (mostly video for the challenge video) as my phone wasn't charging properly and had to save battery for emergency contact and calls home only as I had the sense there wasn't an Apple Store anywhere en route.
We worked our way across endless heather (where a few picked up ticks on bare legs), and passed untouched Lochs and Lochans. It was clear nobody really made it out here very often. There was a tricky moment requiring a very tired vault of a barbed wire fence (as navigation fucked up), which a previous sheep had clearly failed to be successful (as it's skeletal remains bore testament to). That said, it was worth it as eventually, after a number of climbs (about 4000ft of them), the terrain opened out into one of the most extraordinary vistas I've seen.
Looking back across the miles, it started to sink in how far I had already gone. 225Km in just a few days, across this landscape. It was remarkable when I put it in context and could look back over just a small piece of it and see how far I'd gone.
I was on a route with zero route markers, in the middle of nowhere as far as I could see with nothing but bog and heather and mountains all around. It was fantastic! And then the rain came (again)... and then I met the 'forever bog'. Mile after mile of wading through bogs winding across vast open swathes of land. It started to get old fast and left me pretty wiped by the end of it.
I navigated around lochs and sloshed my way forward, knowing the the end of the official Hebridean Way route was only a number of miles away.
After a road section we made our way to the 'official' end of the Hebridean way in Stornaway. It was a tough day all in all, and the weather was still full of wind and rain but we took a few moments to celebrate the end of the Hebridean Way before heading back to the accommodation for our last night in the hostel and to get squared away for our final day.
Day 6 - Stornaway to Butt of Lewis - The Final Push
By this stage, I was starting to let go of all of my personal challenges about feeling on the outside. The previous day had seen me connect much more deeply with where I was and what I was doing, and the insecurities simply faded away.
Today saw a section of road followed by a long section of trail, which started in fierce rain and wind, and then became a very challenging yomp across the Hebridean 'Heritage Trail'... which I can only describe as 'no f*cking trail at all'. Just miles and miles of peat bog to push through, but also some breathtaking coastline.
You could approach this a couple of ways...
Follow the Coast and simply keep it on your right and eventually get to the lighthouse at the very tip of the islands (and our finish point)
Go in as straight a line as possible, point to point (not following the GPS) and hope for the best.
I chose option 3... kind of head 'that way', which turned out to be a blend of the two. Sometimes we held to the Heritage Trail, other times we stayed on the gps. And often were neither due to sudden impassable crevices, or wildly unstable bog patches that God only knew how deep they were. The coastal views were incredible though...
On this stretch... things were hurting and a number of us were suffering. My achilles was starting to scream at me from miles of unstable footing. My Hip was seizing up and causing a lot of pain from wrenching it in a knee-deep bog; and the front of my lower leg was hurting badly from constantly catching heather and reeds while lifting my feet on each step across the terrain.
Not far to go, with about 25km left... but it was starting to feel very much 'this is my life now'.
I had more company on this stretch as it was slow going. And the terrain was hitting many of us very hard which meant that we spread out further ahead of the final pit stop.
Eventually we hit firmer trail, and jogging became easier. In fact, running rather than hiking actually reduced my pain, so with 10k to go I jogged again after hours of trudging... and didn't really stop.
I refused to stop for a break at the pit stop as I knew that any pause moving, would make it unlikely I'd be able to start again, so I just kept going. I was going slowly, of course... but I was going. That's all that mattered.
In the distance I could see the lighthouse at the Butt Of Lewis, from about 5 miles away.... but they were some of the longest miles I can remember. The damn thing never seemed to get nearer. How f*cking slow was I going??! So slowly that time stood still, it seemed. Was I simply jogging on the spot?
Eventually trail become road, road became houses and I could feel the progress towards the finish. I can say that after that stretch I had never been so grateful to run on tarmac.
With a final push and a 500m detour after overshooting the turning onto the last section of trail, I traversed the coastal trail to the lighthouse and into the finish!
I had finally reached the end of what was an epic journey! There were the other finishers who clapped me in, and had an emotional moment as I was given a finisher's medal. After this my immediate thoughts turned to phoning my family. There was finally some mobile signal and my phone had started charging again. I had a very emotional conversation with my wife and kids who celebrated the moment with me and then cheered in the rest of the challengers as they crossed the line. All were tired and all were hurting, but all came over the line to big hugs and applause from the rest of us.
The scale of what I had done was just starting to sink in. Though curiously, it didn't feel as 'big' as it actually was. We had covered so many monstrous and challenging miles, but I couldn't help feeling if I'd done enough. I was hurting, sure, but wasn't broken. I expected to be, but I wasn't. It was a strange, satisfying but not-quite-satisfied, combination. I can only put it down to having so much to process because I had covered so much ground, through so much weather and personal challenge. All the months, and years of work. All the disappointments, the injuries, the frustrations and self doubts. It had all led to this point in time, but it felt 'normal' in some strange way. Right now, I'm still processing it as my body knows it's been battered, but also it feels kind of OK. It's going to take a while before I know what's next, This wasn't just hard on me, but it was hard on my family. Not being around to support them was tough on the kids and excruciating for my wife, and I am so incredibly grateful that she supported me in this. She hurt when I was hurting and that hurt me to know. I know my kids are proud of seeing me do this, but they won't fully understand why for a number of years. That's why I wrote this whole blog. So that one day they'd know me better rather than just see it as 'Dad went out and ran a lot, and hobbled even more'. I never needed my family to see me as something different to most, but that they see what's possible for them in a world that largely tries to dictate what lane they 'should' be in based on their natural talents. Life isn't always going to line up with our individual strengths. There are times when we need to get out of our comfort zone in a major way. and find a route to progress Even if it's simply avoiding being crushed by a difficult challenge to overcome. That's what true resilience really is. The ability to deal with a situation you are not used to, and are less than fully equipped to handle, but you need to find a way forward. Even if it never comes easy. That hard work to stretch yourself, and consistency in taking uncomfortable actions, can take you further than you could have previously thought possible; and that you can (and should) back yourself to tackle very difficult things. This challenge and journey is just my way of illustrating that while fixing some things about myself along the way. Has the journey ended? Not yet. What next? I'll let you know when I've decided.... Thanks for reading!
PS... I just wanted to acknowledge everyone on this adventure. James, Robyn (Doc), Jools and Jacqs for looking after us all. Leo for making us feel Epic with his photography and Drone shoots (forcing us to suck bellies in and pick those legs up a little!), and to all of the other challengers: Siobhan, Marie, Crystal, Bo, Jamie, James, Mike, Simon, AJ, Anton, Haza, Jane, Mark, Sim, Zoe, Martin, Andrea (get well soon, Andy!), BH, Paul... you guys were immense and thank you for the time you gave me!!! xx
PPS... These shoes took me hundreds of miles. I had to bid a surprisingly emotional farewell to them, after so many miles but was grateful for them getting me through. Fare thee well, Hoka Speedgoat.. you were awesome.
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