Week two of my sixtieth year saw what was going to my biggest physical challenge to date. It also required a little mental tenacity to get me through it. I conquered the 3 Yorkshire Peaks. Last year I completed the three national peaks (Ben Nevis, Scarfell Pike, Snowden) in three days. As I stood clutching my medal and plastic glass of prosecco I said never again. A few days later I was signed up to do this latest challenge with new friends.
Kick off was at 6.30am from a pub car park at the bottom of Ingleborough which at 723 metres was not the highest but deemed the hardest of the peaks. A few minutes later the memories of Ben Nevis came flooding back. Walking up mountains is hard. It is head down and keep moving. The heart rate goes up, breathing excelerates and the legs start burning. Climbing is even harder as you attempt to place your feet and hands in the most secure position to get yourself up. An hour and a half later we were at the top of our first mountain. We were going to smash this. 

Move on four hours we were at the top of the Pen-y-Ghent. By that time the seven of us had now broken into three groups. We were going to disperse even further as the day progressed. Between us we span over 2 decades in age and a range of fitness levels. Whilst we had every intention at the start of the challenge to stay together we quickly found that it wasn’t going to be possible. We were all in different places, physically and mentally. And whilst I was one of the slowest I was determined to get over that last mountain. So I had to find my own speed.
But even though we got separated there was always someone to talk to, to encourage and be encouraged by. I spent a couple of hours walking with a young girl who was raising money for a postnatal depression charity. She herself had suffered from it after the birth of her second child. She had done hardly any training and she did struggle with the ascents but she was determined to complete it which she did.
But I digress. Back to the mountains. At the top of the second mountain we were told that we had three hours to get to the next mountain. If we weren’t there by this time we couldn’t proceed. How hard was that going to be. But the descent down was relentless. There was also a lot of mud that needed to be carefully traversed so that you didn’t end up knee deep in a bog. So progress was slow and it was starting to look as if we weren’t going to make the deadline. I was not happy. I had not signed up to do 2 out of 3 peaks. We had 3 miles to cover in forty minutes. Our guide radioed the guide ahead to let him know that three of us were attempting to catch up with his group. So we went for it. Given that it takes me 35 minutes to run 3 miles this was going to be a real challenge. But we did it. 

At just after 3 o’clock we set out for the third mountain. Now this mountain had been described as a 4 mile gradual assent with a similar descent. It certainly did not have any rocks to climb over but my shoulders, hips, legs and feet were starting to feel the strain. And it started to feel relentless but I was nearly at the top of my last mountain. 
At just before 6 o’clock we got to the summit. I had done it or so I thought. But the descent of this mountain was to prove the most difficult part of the whole challenge.
As we neared the bottom the incline became very steep. Each step had to be considered as to what was going to be the safest way to go. I could see evidence in the mud that surrounded the rocks where someone had slipped or lost their footing. It was a slow, painful process.

But finally I was at the bottom with just a mile and a half to the finish line. And what a beautiful part of the challenge that proved to be. Walking through fields of spring lambs bouncing around their mothers. I was certainly envious of their energy.
Just as I was starting to feel that I would never get to the finish line I heard my friends cheering me on. I had made it. 
Without doubt it had been the hardest thing I have ever done. The mountains weren’t as high as the ones I climbed last year and apart from the last descent they were definitely harder. It was just the relentless nature of this challenge. Very little rest time as we were on a timer. Often decisions had to be made as to whether to wee, drink, eat, take off a layer of clothing or take a photograph. 
And I could have been fitter for the challenge. I am fit but you’re fit for what you train for. I tend to focus on high intensity fitness and strength training not endurance. And it is difficult to replicate the challenges of climbing mountains in Essex.

Just one final observation. I didn’t sleep well that night. As well as aching from my shoulders downwards I started to feel unwell with flu like symptoms. But by the morning they had all but disappeared. A quick consultation with Dr Google suggested that it was an inflammatory response to the micro damage of the muscles. I always consume protein within half an hour of a heavy weights session to help my muscles recover. Why I didn’t consider that the same would apply after 12 hours of climbing mountains is a mystery but I’ll have a protein shake lined up next time. Of course as I went over the finish line there wasn’t going to be a next time. 48 hours later the next challenge is being lined up. 

A happy end to the second week of my sixtieth year.