I think that the first thing to say is that I don’t consider myself as a runner, but more of a steady shuffler. At school, I used to hate cross country running with a passion as I was always chugging around the fields near the back. However, I have always liked walking and whether this was out with my dogs for a gentle stroll or a more testing time in the Lake District, I was out regularly. 

After joining the Long Distance Walkers Association I realised that I enjoyed longer, more challenging walks and started to build distance, lose weight and get generally fitter. I was inspired by the MDS race and the thought that an average, slightly overweight ‘normal’ bloke could achieve something special so set out to train hard. In 2005 I was successful in finishing the MDS although my feet were totally shredded! After that I completed a number of 100’s and other ultras such as The Fellsman, Bullock Smithy Hike, Lakeland 100 and CCC. My training was at times sporadic and injuries came and went including breaking my back and neck in 2012 and then shoulder and wrist in 2017, both of which were skiing injuries. But I kept bouncing back and looking for the next challenge.

This is when the Cape Wrath Ultra came along. I was really excited about the thought of pushing myself over longer distances, through challenging terrain over multiple days, but as the slow steady shuffler that I am, I considered this event too elite for me and that I was foolish to even consider it. In order to research the event I volunteered in 2016. I witnessed first-hand the pain, suffering, tears, injuries, retirements and general deterioration in the runners as the 8 days passed. But, I also saw joy, determination, camaraderie, team work, professionalism and sheer enjoyment. I was hooked.

In 2018 I was on the start line. I was full of trepidation; would my feet last without becoming a mass of blisters, would I be quick enough, had I done enough training?

My priority was to complete the whole event and so on the first day I took it easy, after all it was a short day – only 23 miles! Everything felt good, I was here and most importantly I was enjoying myself. That enjoyment was short lived as day 2, through Knoydart in the rain, was one of the hardest days out that I have ever experienced. It took all of my determination to keep pushing on, but eventually I made it to Kinloch Hourn and the sanctuary of a cold wet tent in the middle of a cold wet field. This was going to be harder than I could ever have imagined. 

However, day 3 saw the weather gods shine on us as the rain cleared and the sun came out. I settled into a routine of plodding along, eating, drinking, enjoying the fantastic views and totally immersing myself in the event. I honed my technique at the camp of eating, drinking, washing, sorting my kit out and preparing for the next day. Before I knew it I was on day 6 and still pushing along at a steady pace which was when I began to believe that I could complete this.

Day 8, the final day and the sun was still shining. What a way to finish along the glorious Sandwood Bay and then there it was; the lighthouse. I had made it. I was elated, proud and felt a great sense of belonging. 

It was a truly remarkable journey but one which I don’t think that I’ll repeat as it might not be as perfect the second-time around. But I’ll still be there back as a volunteer enjoying all the highs and lows that this event has to offer. I feel blessed to have taken part and to now feel an integral part of this inspiring challenge.