Fellsman

Fellsman on Sat 27th Apr 2013

Well, despite all that stuff about how friendly the Fellsman is, it transpires John's found a baker's dozen of DP starters and I was only aware that half of them were there.  Be that as it may, Nicky and Stuart once more had fine runs and took home various goody bags; the sun shone a lot, which was nice; the snow on Ingleborough melted just in time to protect the shiny gala runners' new shoes on the Three Peaks race, whilst we, made of sterner stuff, ploughed through it regardless an hour prior; and the moonrise was something to behold (if you could see it - sadly for George, Martin and myself we were half way up the wrong side of a big hill at the time). 

The food and hospitality lived up to their billing, although so did some of the bog trots.  It was definitely a case beforehand for me of "suppose I should do it once and it'll be good suffer-fest training", followed by "bloody 'ell this is tough" during the first half, "are we there yet, Dad?" for much of the second half, and "never again" at the end ... but a day after I did catch myself thinking "perhaps I'll have to go back some time just to register a proper time" (I'd anticipated losing out to Jim P, but by fully four hours?!). 

One way or another, you get to see a few hills you wouldn't otherwise bother with, and it was really quite a pleasure to potter round with the fruit of the club chaplain's loins.  Even more pleasurable - if schadenfreude is your thing - when the fruit of the club chaplain's loins own loins got a wee bit tender; yet all credit to our George, he was still smiling after nine hours of night-time chafing.  Couldn't have had anything whatsoever to do with the fact we found ourselves grouped with a charming young Peruvian runner, eh George?