Days 108, 109, 110 and 111

Despite acknowledging our recent dip in training, we proceeded to do nothing about it, assuming it would be alright on the night (or in this case very very early morning) of the Y3P. So we set off (at 5am!) to be at the official start point by 7am, aiming to have conquored the 3 peaks, Pen-y-Gehnt, Whernside, and Ingleborough, by 7pm, a route covering approximately 26 miles. As soon as we set off into the cold morning, armed with bobble hats cold pasta and cold pizza to see us through the day we realsised that we were idiots to miss even a single training walk in the build up to this. We were overtaken quickly by a troup of ladies in their 40s (dad didnt care becasue he was still the oldest person we'd seen, that his excuse and he's sticking to it) and a man who definitely looked older then 51, but dad says he didnt... Still huffing and puffing and cursing every easter egg last weekend and pint on tour and lazy night in front of the telly we reached the top of the first peak at 8.15am, Ed, mr super-fitness-duke-of-edinburgh-gold-award was the last to make it up, which gave me a smug satisfaction. No urges to shove anyone off mountains yet. Feeling much better about it all after a good start despite lack of fitness I bounded on, this time we were following the group of 5 in front of us, who seemed to be straying from the route, we blindly followed them however, assuming anyone mad enough to be up here at this time of morning must be doing the same as us. We caught them on the downhill and checked (dad must have been feeling chirpy too as he actually ran on the way down the hill!) they were indeed aiming for the 3 peaks, but the man turned out to be a guide (wimps, we didnt need professional help) who we had been lucky to follow as he was leading the group away from waist deep bog, which would have been over head height for me. We followed them accross the fields and moors until we were at the foot of the next mountain at 11am. The flat(ish) walking took us all by surprise as much more strenuous than we had anticipated and Jeff (the guide) told us in the view of many this is harder than the N3P as there you just go up and down your mountain then in the car to the next one. he car sounded like a heavenly place, and with dad and ed bleating for a sit down I allowed 15 minutes break, as long as they promised to emerge from the sit down refreshed and speedy again, which they agreed to do. In hindsight I now know they would agree to anything to get their backsides onto those rocks. Amazingly for all of you who know how lazy I am, when it comes to walking I am not a fan of sitting down, its a waste of time and i'd rather just get on with what we're doing, knowing that once you sit down you cant help but think how nice it would be to never get up again. Dad and ed strongly disagreed however so I had to give in to them, Urging them to their feet 20 minutes later they were amazed to discover that I was right and they were just as tired after they sat down as before, and my smug hapiness had evaporated along with the time we had lost doing nothing. Beginnning the second ascent both their speeds dropped and they were stubborn as mules to my pleas to just man up and get on with it. Frustrated I admit I stomped off and left them, reaching the top alone at 1pm, back on time target and happy. They reached the top coming up to half past 1, still leaving us 5 and a half hours to get on with the final mountain, which I think even at their decleerated pace we could have achieved comfortably. It was just then however that the snow started. I kid you not, a freak thisck white blizzard emerged from nowhere and engulfed s. We decided we'd try and press on in the hope that it would pass but it didnt, and by the time we reached the bottom of the hill we were cold and wet and Dads knees had gone again (he claims, and he was highly averse to my reasoned argument that one is much more prone to injury when one is unfit) and he was relieved by the decision by all that it may be stupid to try carry on. From there things descended into something of a shambles - dont they always with us - after a struggle to find phone signal we contacted mam, who was emant to be picking us up, turns out she was over an hour away thinking she still had 5 hours to get back to the end point. Then there was the issue of us having little idea where we actually were, cue much blank staring at the map and pointing out of houses/rocks/trees that may be usefull landmarks. In the end we sent ed out onto the mainest road we could see in the hope that mam would drive down it while i waited with the wounded soldier, who was becoming more and more in need of medical attention (in his opinion) by the minute. Such is random good luck on that friday the 13th mam did drive down the road ed was patrolling and the cavalry came to pick us up. Dad has declared (again) that his 3 peaks is over, and wants to switch our challenge to the coast-to-coaster instead now. Im not keen on giving up on the 3 peaks yet though as im sure we could have finished yesterday without the snow, and may have told dad we can do the "flat wusses walk as well"... So we've learned what we already knew; dont miss training walks, except for today, as none of us can really move.

Days 97 - 107

How the mighty have fallen, from scaling Scafell to slobbing on the sofa is exactly how far I've fallen to be precise. Rugby tour in Italy (not Otaly as previously stated) involved about as much excersise as can be expected, then there was the hangover on return from Italy, and then it was Easter, and I think we all know by now that chocolate is the top priority in my life, so I'm well on my way down a slippery slope here. Dad, devoid of my encouraging presence has slumped too, but theres still time for us to get it back! On Friday we'll be hitting the next big milestone in our training regime - the Yorkshire 3 peaks. For those of you unaware (as I was myself in blissful ignmorance to the existance of most of the things I've encountered since training began) the Y3P (as the are known to us pros) are a sort of mini version of the N3P (national 3 peaks, keep up darlings) which is of course the end goal. Word on the street, or mountain may be more apt in this case, is that if a party can complete the Y3P in half a day, then the N3P should be no bother in 24 hours. Dad has elected to bravely soldier on, and Eddie and I will be presenting him with his early birthday present to help him on Friday - trecking poles (essentially walking sticks for mountain climbers) he is 51 - nearly 52 - you know! So I'm sure after the hell that this will undoubtably be we'll all learn our lesson and never miss a walk again...

Days 94, 95 and 96

After recovery day Tuesday there was a (pretty rough) rugby match Wednesday which as resulted in needing 2 days off as really move at all, I am however walking back from the pub now, aching muscles fairly well lubricated by alcohol if that can be counted in my favour. Tomorrow I am off to Otaly for a week on rugby tour where I will techically be excersing with rugby (

Days 90, 91, 92 and 93

I was right about Saturday, there was no time for a walk (but I did get another cake) and on Sunday we deliberately had a rest day building up to yesterday, which was my 21st birthday (cue another cake) Dad and I took part in the traditional 21st birthday activity of... climbing Scafell Pike (highest point in England dont you know) I know its not as traditional as I've made it seem, but thats what we did anyway. all 3209 feet of it. After a hearty breakfast ( a fry up with dubious nutritional value) we were on the mountain by 9am. We approached from the Borrowdale side of the mountain, Brain and Steve prefer climbing from the other side as its an hour less footwork, but an hour and a half longer to drive to the start point. So whats another hour we blithely thought, we'll make mincemeat of it. What fools we were. The way the peaks of the mountain rise theres an initial thousand foot climb then you reach a plateau with a tarn (like a pond for those without Lake District knowledge, although I'm sure thats none of you) and from the bottom thats all you can see. No bother I though, is this really the highest point in England? However when you reach the ridge with the plateau another 2 thousand feet appearsf rom nowhere, and makes one feel quite sick let me tell you. However with a slight deviation from the path at the end involving a scramble up a vertical rock face we reached the top I'm proud to say in 2 hours 50 minutes, which is pretty good considering Brian and Steve expect us to be done in 5 hours, and surely coming down is quicker than going up right?
Wrong. wrong wrong wrong. As soon as he sat down at the top to eat his (now horerendously squashed and hideous looking froim sitting at the bottom of his bag) sandwich, I knew we'd have a job getting Dad to his feet again never mind back down the mountain. Sure enough after his impressive effort up, dad had little left but whinging for the way down. It started out small; a fly flew in his eye, a fly flew in his mouth, he had a stitch, his toe hurt, his other toe hurt, he had a headache, the sun was shinging in his eyes, and so on and so forth, all the while the pace dropping and dropping, until he decided the real problem was in his knees. "Most injuries happen on the way down, when people push themselves too hard, so I'm going at a speed I feel comfortable at," he whined, from a stationary position sitting on a rock. The only injury he ran the risk of was night falling beforer we got down and catching pneumonia in the cold! Eventually however he toddled down, oohing and aahing with every step like a distressed little chimp with every step, in 3 hours 40 minutes, bringing the grand total to 6 and a half hours. I'll keep focussed on the important part, 2 hours 50 to the top! Today there will be no walk as we need to recover, or as Dad half mournfully and half suspiciously gleefully keeps saying, his 3 peak dream will be over. A good birthday all in all, and now I know a third of what to expect on the big day.

Day 89

My birthday is coming up, and as I'm split between London and home it means I have double celebrations. This can only have negative effects on my walking... take last night for example, my birthday is still 3 days away and I already have 2 birthday cakes (not that I'm complaining at all!) and I toddled round my walk today swaying like a little ear of drunken corn still tipsy from wine. At least I did it though, in 1 hour 15 as usual so my speed wasnt affected, I may even have been faster than usual since I must have covered extra ground wobbling all over. I'm now going to have some cake for breakfast. Tomorrow I'm driving home for a birthday lunch and night out so there probably won't be time for a walk but I'll do my best. And now for cake...

Days 87 and 88

There was no walk yesterday with uni all morning and rugby stuff all afternoon. Today was a birght and early one though, setting off at 8.15am, after the shorts incident on Tuesday I dug out another pair (yes I own 2 pairs of sports shorts, who'd have thought it) today a nifty itte balck lycra number. I was almost as slinky as the robotic runners I'd been scorned by on the Isle of Dogs in these, however as far as I've noticed none of them huff and puff like theyre about to blow a house down, so maybe I'm not there yet. To complete my sexy new look, my right eye decided to run constantly throughout my walk today, making me look like I despise excersise so much I was crying for 6 miles as I went, or this is in fact a whole noew way to sweat, from every orifice, that only my body could provide.

Day 86

Today it was sunny again, very sunny. So I flashed out down to a t-shirt, and (drumroll please) the leggings were removed as I got the shorts out. Very sexy. I set off skantily clad, but still in the hotter weather as sweaty as ever. I enjoyed the breeze around by legs though... for about 30 seconds, at which point I noticed the sainted shorts beginning to chaffe. I completed the 6 miles in an hour and 15 despite hobbling around, and will probably be switching back to leggings tomorrow. Dad tried to feed me some cock and bull story about him doing a 12 miler, but I'm not sure I believe him!