'It's when? In June? Great! It'll be sunny, warm and we'll frolic like newborn lambs amongst the spring growth'. Oh the naivety.
The meteorological service forecast snow for us. The organisers were scared enough to cut the highest (and most scenic) part off the run, taking it down to 17kms. My face wore a look of disappointment. My knees on the other hand, loudly shouted their approval.
Post-race 10 shoes lie in the recovery position, exhaustion written all over their soles, whilst their owners celebrate with red wine and a whole lot of good, hearty Lake District fare.
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