A Welsh Fix

I enjoy writing. I can't do it on demand, but if often demands it from me, normally when I'm out and about and I have to write notes whilst moving. Usually I just write factual trip reports, but occasionally it strays into something more creative. I wrote this in 2008 and it was published in the Climbers Club jornal in 2011/2012, and I thought I'd re-publish it here...

---

The path is boggy despite the blue sky. It tracks round the back of Llyn Ogwen, running westwards parallel to the road. The solitary walker is aware of the noise of vehicles passing, but only in an absent way, they’re not really part of her world, her walk. She’s distracted by her thoughts; a jumbled mess, not flowing as they should be but torpid and pitiful like the rainwater pools spread along her route.

There are plunge pools on the path and she has to stay alert which focuses the thoughts a little, teases out the strands and untangles them.

At the end of the lake the path hooks right and heads steeply up the side of Pen yr Ole Wen and the walker dutifully follows its lead. Jagged footsteps and folded cracked rock, sometimes seemingly lead to nowhere, although the way on is always obvious. At one point there seems to be an impasse but it’s a rock gate, the means of entrance a direct scramble up the central weakness. The walker’s overjoyed at the style of the path, it requires attention, momentum, application. Some of the threads of confused thought are pushed aside by this new driving force, tumbling over the precipice out of the domain of what matters. She glances back and is instantly bowled over by the emotionally breathtaking and unexpected view: ‘How could I not know that view was there?’ It’s dazzling in its intensity, it draws her in. She carries on walking but is driven now by a tangential desire to keep looking over her shoulder at the Idwal crags, almost tripping over her walking poles in distraction, until eventually the fundamental lure to power up the hill takes over again.

Every little while she’s drawn to turn around again as she daren’t forget the image, it must be committed to memory, and each time the view’s changed, it’s grown, bringing more of the familiar mountains and crags into view, until it’s all encompassing and can’t be taken in all at once. Suddenly it’s all she’s aware of, and the slowly unravelling tangled threads aren’t just insignificant, teased so fine they break and vanish, they may as well never have been there.

At some unnoticeable point, the Idwal bowl becomes just part of the view, new things still appear like Llyn Bochlwyd the elevated lake on Tryfan’s west flank, but they’re eclipsed by the long wide Ogwen valley stretching southeast. The walker’s stomach grumbles reminding that there’s still a personal reality to consider, but the jagged rocks at the summit are tantalisingly close and make the decision to press on and delay lunch seem indisputable. Hunger dulls the mind and she misjudges the steepness of the path and teeters backwards worryingly, so a compromise is taken and just below the plateau she takes a breather for some sustenance.

The summit of Pen Yr Ole Wen is then reached and surpassed, and yet that’s far from the end. A stone seesaws and the tip of the walker’s foot dips into damp ground, reminding of the plunge pools on the preamble round the lake - the attention is still demanded, new threads forming strong and resilient.

Anglesey appears shimmering on the horizon. Nearby images draw the eyes too – rocks littering the path are dappled with spots of moss which give the impression of plump raindrops, although for once the rain is holding off - perhaps the views are necessary, giving a message. The connecting ridge over to Carnedd Dafydd is strewn with scree and the walker concentrates on not sliding and not turning an ankle. She continues east and on top of Black Steps a cold wind grasps at her and she dons a pair of gloves, contemplating how this is an odd thing to have to do on the August bank holiday. The threads in her head reform into a full circle, linking the new found clarity right back to the cause, which is now no longer jumbled. The summers of late had been wet and miserable, and climbing motivation had been waning.

The focus for fulfilling the year’s aims that was built up in spring had been eroded by the weather, a new mood seeped in, one of languor, permeating through all the thoughts until all the good feeling was saturated and stifled. It was a veiled process though, not noticed until too late, until the despair set in and her soul reached out with a last cry, and headed for inexplicable comfort of the hills of Wales.

Wales has a distinctive feeling. It’s strong yet unassuming, and it’s beautiful, not beautiful in the same way as Scotland, or the Lakes, but there’s an unmistakeable aura. It’s grand and yet basic, and if you spend more than a drive through in its presence you pick up those qualities too. You feel reassuringly back down to earth, it invades your consciousness perhaps because it forces you to stay alert, and things start to seem possible again. The Welsh hills are oblivious to you of course and they don’t do you any favours nor try to trick you, the summit mist doesn’t come down maliciously, that’s just what it does… but despite this indifference you can’t help but feel that as long as no one’s looking it’ll secretly lend you a helping hand and guide you on your way as long as you haven’t asked for it.

Pensively the walker continues north east slowly gaining height towards the next summit. Chestnut horses appear out of nowhere on the meadow like flank to the east, their manes glowing ethereal gold. She pauses a moment to watch them graze, picked out in the sunbeams, a focal point with fantastic views radiating in all directions, some still familiar and some foreign but all similarly captivating.

She pauses again on the summit, pinning down the map in the building wind and watching other walkers crossing westwards along the knife edge to Yr Elen. Deciding that time won’t allow her to take in that summit, she begins to descend southeast from Carnedd Llewelyn across the top of Craig yr Ysfa, and is drawn by the humped ridge dominating the view ahead so decides to return that way. On the descent to the col she meets a spiritualist come to worship the mountain, who is momentarily detached from her walking group and is bounding down the rocks like an overexcited puppy. They have a brief chat about the importance of the hills in their respective faiths, then they part, the spiritualist dropping down southwards to the reservoir and the walker ascending one final time up the steep craggy scramble to Pen yr Helyg Du, stepping aside good-naturedly half way up to allow a group of Scouts to pass.

The weather is now done with being amenable and it clags over, drizzle begins, clarity of vision no longer important now its secret message has been imparted. At the summit the walker turns south and starts to descend the ridge viewed from Carnedd Llewelyn, the soft undulations are easy on the knees so the usual pain never arrives, the rain just a steady patter never too heavy. A party of four alternately overtakes then is overtaken. The walker cannot escape them, but yet it doesn’t really matter, she no longer needs to be solitary to clear her thoughts as the threads are woven into a solid fabric, a foundation of composure and serenity.

2025, a personal review

I'll start with the fun stuff:

• 174 hill summits, of which 169 were new. 69 of the new ones were only TUMPs (30m prominence, no minimum heights), the rest were more significant including 5 more Historic County Tops (16 left out of 85).
• 78 new Dartmoor tors, total now stands at 457 out of 929 (49%)
• 51 trig points, 48 of which were new.
• 18 new Dartmoor 365 squares, 16 left to go
• Ran 920 miles (of which 722 was trail), only really starting again in May after my ankle recovered.
• Walked 356 miles, hiked 174 miles, cycled 51 miles, swam for 116 hours covering 37km outdoors (a lot of that was in Croatia) and 6.2km indoors, paddleboarded 56 hours covering 129 miles and learned to move around the board and do step back turns.
• 4 heatmap swims (Anstey's to Hope's nose through a jellyfish swarm, Maidencombe to Watcombe with my first jellyfish sting, Babbacombe to Anstey's, and Teignmouth to Sprey point). I've now completed South Devon from Shoalstone, Brixham as far as Ness, Shaldon.
• Ran/walked some more UK coast path in Wales, Somerset, Yorkshire, Hampshire.

That was my most summits bagged in a year, an improvement of 35 summits on the previous best (2022).

And perhaps most significantly was that blissful, sigh-of-relief inducing return to proper running form after 2 1/2 years off with blood clots followed by a broken ankle. I ran a marathon in June for the first time since the DVT, which was a really notable achievement since I genuinely didn’t know if I’d ever be able to run long distance again. My calf struggled with its 75% bloodflow, but I did two more 22-milers later in the year and those were okay, so I think that each time I re-reach a new milestone my body learns that it can again, and so there’s no reason I can’t train for an ultra again now.

I went away a lot: trail and sail in Croatia in July (incredible, and a new country tick), an island bagging trip to Orkney in August (met some lovely hill-baggers and went on a very rolly boat trip in the Pentland Firth), Lake District in September (as a recce for a future Wainwright trip), and Italy in November (for my first UTMB race). These were continuously active trips and I reached an all-time Strava fitness high of 130(!), which is slightly artificial due to my venous insufficiency and resultant elevated heartrate but still pleased me and I’ve managed to maintain a level near it.

I also had the magical pleasure to paddleboard with dolphins in June. I agreed to a dawn paddle which is VERY unlike me as it meant getting up at 5am, but I felt this unexplainable draw to the idea and had this uncanny hunch that we would see the dolphins - and we did!

Some non-active thing also took a lot of my time. I was on a FODMAP diet for 5 months to work out what is causing my IBS but I didn’t reach any conclusions. I also decided to sell my Stoke house as my tenants were being awkward about work I needed to have done on it, I put it on the market early March and sold it mid September. I used some of the money to upgrade my life, uncharacteristically buying a fancy electric car in Oct (second hand but still 6.5x more than I've ever spent on a car before, and even that was 3x what I'd spent on all my cars before that) and a upgraded to the latest phone to go with an upgraded sports watch I treated myself to earlier in the year. I’ll be more sensible with the rest and put it all into the new house.

Another biggie was applying for Mountain Rescue, or at least it was meant to be, but I didn’t get in. I had spent 2 years plus mentally adjusting for it, preparing to free up my time and ensuring I was fully committed to the demands it would bring.

I knew there was a selection day but I thought that was to assess you against a minimum standard, I had no idea there were only 4 places for 20 candidates, and as it happened I didn’t manage to get one. That was more of a knock than I bargained for, as I expected it to be a whole lifestyle change and I had mentally embraced that.

Other negatives - 3 friends died. One that I had spent 2024/2025 New Year visiting and bagging mountains with, one close friend (and I don't have many of those) that has always been there for me and genuinly accepted me for who I am, and one special 16 year old boy who I’d known since he was a baby. I think about them often. I've reconsidered other friendships, moving on from people who never get in touch. I'm not that great at it but I do try and I do make occasional contact, it's not really that hard to send the occasional message or facebook comment and some people do absolutely nothing, so I think it's fair to say they're not actually friends in any way.

My house that I bought in 2024 continued to be a positive, a lovely safe place that I like to be in. Because of that’s it’s sometimes hard to tell if life is tough elsewhere as it’s such an effective escape. Some work stuff has definitely been stressful and I maybe didn’t pick up the signs early enough because of that. I did stop doing other stuff but I don’t know if that’s a bad thing or a natural consequence of being more settled, I guess time will tell - I didn’t make cider for first time in 15 years; I stopped (ceilidh) calling (and dancing largely); I mostly stopped orienteering. I know if you do fewer things your comfort zone shrinks, but don’t feel as capable as I used to, and also living in Devon I have lower energy levels as there is less buzz to feed off. I think it helps if I think of my comfort zone as a line more than a circle, that I can meander either side of, I don't have to contantly keep pushing it out. I still did a lot, and June and December were absolutely non stop. I do think life is hard, perhaps just a mid-40s thing, and much like my body is getting less bouncy, my mind is too, and each difficult experience takes its toll a little more and I don't bounce back as much (accompanying photo here is when I mentally gave up on a 22-mile run event, never done that before, seemed a good parallel). I realised that I have very few moments where I feel joy, and I made a conscious acknowledgment of that as joy should be a choice that is within our power to make and I didn’t know how to make it at that time, but I didn’t want to miss the moment when I do.

July 2025, Croatia with Outer Edge Adventures

I went on running holiday with OuterEdge to Greece in 2022 and it was one of my best holidays ever, so when Mark posted a Trail and Sail trip to Croatia that satisfied my ‘new country every year’ mission I was excited to join. However I only started running any distance again in April after 2 years off with DVT blood clots and a broken ankle with ligament damage so I wasn't sure I’d be up to it. The blurb said social running though, and I lost 1.5 stone and trained like mad and managed to run a marathon in June without too much drama, so I signed up. The blurb on the website already sounded great, but when I got the itinerary it really did sound like the holiday of a lifetime (through the eyes of a trail runner that is).

We got on the boat midday on Saturday 12th for a briefing and a round of Pelinkovacs (Balkan liquor made from wormwood, with an aniseed taste), for the 8 Brits and 11 Croatians plus 3 crew. The run leader Marko said we would be running as late (or early) in the day as possible to avoid the heat. There would be two groups, one long and fast and one short and slow. I was a bit worried because I like to go long and slow and I didn’t want to miss out on distance by joining the short group, but really didn’t want to hold others up in the long one. It turned out the short group was a hiking group, which negated any issue from me being with the runners. We sailed to Makarska 40km down the coast, passing a pod of dolphins going the other way, then had plenty of time to kill as we weren’t running until 5:30pm - it was hard to mentally settle in with the running part still some time away. We sunbathed a bit, then were given lunch at 3pm, surprisingly 3 courses (it would be the same every day, breakfast and lunch provided), then most of us went for a swim at the local beach which was pretty packed, but lovely in the clear sapphire water with lots of fish.

The run when it came was hot and hard, but amazing. I say hot, we were melting! In the photos it looks like we were on fire. I’m usually okay in the heat, UK heat up to 28 at least, I just get a dry throat the day after, but 34 with a powerful ascent is a different ball game it would seem. We were on entirely my sort of trails, dry rocky paths up a mountain, but I’ve never fought so hard on them. We climbed to 856m up the side of Biokovo, the second highest mountain range in Croatia. The climb went on and on, my legs love a good climb but the heat made it so tough and I worried for my heart, it felt sharp like it would pop. I hit 186 heart rate which is hardly surprising as the main vein in my left leg is blocked so my heart has to work harder, but I don’t know how much of a strain it is for the heart (or not). I allowed myself to slow to bring my heartrate down under 170 where it feels better, that led to me dragging behind the group but the leads said not to worry. There was then a lovely flat wooded section, although it transpired that my new shoes are too big and I had to try very hard not to trip up by snagging the toes on rock fissures and roots.

On day 2 we sailed to our first island, Mljet. We couldn’t dock until 5pm, so we moored in a nearby local beauty spot called the Blue Lagoon and they lowered steps off the side of the boat for us to get in and swim. I had discovered another swimmer in the group, Viola, and joined up with her to avoid me nervously swimming around in small circles in my own. We swam across the bay and set off round the coastline, and I was barely able to swim 6 solid strokes without finding something fascinating to pause and take a photo of - with bearded fireworms, sharpsnout seabream, some rock-like urchins, and tubular sea cucumbers. I have very little experience of sea swimming abroad, so it was great to be able to learn from the confidence of someone who has.

On the run later we passed a 5th century Roman palace built near an often-scarce fresh water source, then started to climb: “We always start with a hill!”. It was easier than yesterday though, and with less ascent. We were in Mljet National Park, and climbed to a viewpoint for a great view down on all the forested lumps and the convoluted coastline. Unfortunately on the way down we took a casualty as one of the group sprained their ankle. After a rescue had been effected, the rest of us ran along the far coastline. Here I started to get to know the Croatians, as one, Alen, recognised an OceanMan t-shirt I was wearing, having done a couple of their swims himself.

I felt bad that I couldn’t speak more Croatian. I had looked up a few basic words before I went but there’s a limit to how much it’s practical to learn for a one week holiday to a place you’re not sure if you’ll visit more than once. However it turns out they all spoke incredibly good English, and were happy to do so. We took a boat over to St. Mary’s island, where there is a 12th century Benedictine monastery, built here as it was safe from pirates here. We sat inside the chapel for a minute or two, soaking up the atmosphere.

On the boat that evening the hiking group were sat by the bar having drinks with their group leader Ivo who was also the boat captain. Myself and Marko were sat on the next set of benches, I’d only stopped by to ask the plan for the next day and suddenly it turned into a mock ‘them and us’ where tipsy Ivo tried everything he could to get me to join his group, first finding things we had in common like musical tastes and motorbikes, then spinning me around in a little dance. I told him he would jinx my running and I’d probably get an injury the next day! Despite my protests my glass was re-filled with many glasses of wine, I think I got through a litre. Thankfully the next morning I was hangover free, having also quaffed plenty of squash.

Day 3 found us at Viganj, a town on the Pelješac peninsula of the mainland which protrudes out nearly as far as the island of Korčula, and the run today was an early morning one starting at 8am, (after less than 6 hours’ sleep as the boat was pitching when it started sailing at 5am which was hard to sleep through). Today was a tough day for me. The run was beautiful, but it was another steep mountain climb. It was also blisteringly hot again, 35 degrees, with little shade, we did run through some shaded forest paths but they were close and overbearing rather than cool. You can’t feel your breath as it’s almost body temperature. I also started my period the day before which usually incapacitates me with cramps, exercise helps keep them at bay but instead I felt really rough in a way I can’t really define, like I'm in pain at a cellular level and about to implode. The run took us part way up Mount Kontija with views across the water to the town of Korčula, where the streets are built in a fishbone shape to protect from the weather. Slavery was banned there in the 13th century.

Marco told us lots of other interesting facts, very few of which went in because I was just so mentally wobbly. My main memory was that as we ran up the trails, the many dry rock shards tinkled like glass. I also remember a really glorious section of trail in the middle where the flat path cut through a scree slope (photo), which dropped away to our right down towards the sea. Near the top of the climb (photo) I pulled something lightly in my groin. I didn’t think much of it, but on the way down it was hurting more and more and I had to fall back. I tried to run more from my glutes but that has its limits. Once we reached the flat it was fine again so with a mile back to the boat I was running again, but the last half mile I dropped to a plodding walk, I just had no oomph left. It’s frustrating to be struggling so much when the trails are so amazing, I wanted to do it justice.

Half an hour after getting back to the boat I was in the sea for a slow 1km swim sea-safari, using the gravity-reversing effects of the water to take the weight off my weary belly and bones, before we went out again to a local vineyard for a wine-tasting. I saw a Common Two-banded Seabream, Mediterranean Rainbow Wrasse, Red-spotted Horseshoe, Atlantic Purple Sea Urchin, Red Mullet, Painted Comber, Gold Blotch Grouper, Tubular Sea Cucumber and Annular Seabream. The sea was a tonic. On land the effects of the heat, the sleep deficit from an early morning flight that I hadn’t managed to catch up on, IBS from less control over meal ingredients, period bloat and water retention giving puffy ankles were trying to take their toll and zap my energy. I didn’t make it out to town some nights - which is quite unlike me as I’m normally a night owl and am rarely asleep before 1:30. Despite my best efforts though my attempts to sleep here though were thwarted, first by being re-woken at 2:30 when the others came to bed, and at 6am when the engines started and we moved off, and by the heat again - there was air con in the cabins but the unit was on the floor and it didn’t reach the top bunk. None of these things are issues or criticisms, none of them are bad, none of them need changing, but they did mean there wasn’t really a moment to be calm and relax. It’s all sensory input that needs processing, so I was always playing catch up and never reaching peace, or an acceptable temperature. That’s a challenge to be embraced, but one that completely absorbed me, as did the running which for me was a max effort race pace.

It's all part of the experience, holidays have their own pattern and a running holiday is always going to require effort, that’s just par for the course, as the effect is rewarded with epic views and trails. But if it had just had been 5 degrees cooler 😉

Swimming each day saved me, and it became such an important part of my trip. Which is weird - I love swimming but usually for me it means faff and fear. I predominantly swim in the sea off the South Devon coast which unnerves me even after 7 years, as even if the shallower water is clear it’s not as you carry on along the coast. You also have to be mindful of tides and currents and spent time preparing for each swim. There's also the temperature which always takes some commitment. Quite often I’ll drive to the beach, and if I haven’t got a specific plan I’ll sit there thinking about swimming for 20 mins then sigh about my uselessness and drive home. Here in the Adriatic it was different, 25 degrees and clear and welcoming, with only 20-90cm tidal range (South Devon is 4-5m). I’ve never swum so much, but it was easy and relaxing and I didn’t overheat in the water. In the UK you can only swim for so long before you get cold and have to get out, but here I could easily swim for 3km+ in a bikini without getting cold at all, and not get bored either as the water is so clear and fascinatingly full of fish all the way.

Day 4 we sailed to Vela Luka at the end of Korčula island and moored in a bay again. I had energy for a decent swim today and didn’t have to twist Viola’s arm too much for her to come too. We swam along the coast as far as Oškak island, 2.8km total, and saw a few Mediterranean red starfish which was quite exciting. This swim really gave me my confidence for other days. I'd put some photos of the sea life on the group WhatsApp of my first swim, and back at the boat Nina and Bane from the hiking group complimented them, and then each day said they looked forward to the next batch which was very sweet so I kept uploading them.

In the evening we ran across the island via Vela Spika cave which is quite an impressive hole in the ground of archeological significance. I was still nursing my groin strain which meant I couldn’t run down hills. Marko had been sending us the gpx for each route so I’d made a modification taking my time down an alternative descent, then meeting the others part way round their bigger loop, which worked well. In the evening we were treating to a showing of a film Ivo made when he trekked 1100km across Croatia on the Via Adriatica trail, which was clearly a very impressive feat. After that a few of us commandeered the laptop and watched Jaws, quotes from which had started to take over the trip.

The pattern of the days started to resolve with a unique Croatian rhythm: sail (by motor, there weren't any actual sails) at 6, breakfast at 7. Arrive at the new location some time that morning and either moor at a dock or in a bay until the dock was free. Kill time before and after lunch at 2pm. I'd usually swim before lunch then I had time to sort my photos as I went (including uploading from waterproof camera to phone, and putting on Facebook and Strava) to avoid an overload at the end. Then run at around 5pm. We would usually get back from the run around sunset, but the restaurants and bars open late so we were still able to find dinner / beer. We'd got used to finding supermarkets and gelateries, and we’d even acclimatised to the initially deafening sound of cicadas.

Day 5 we arrived at Stari Grad, the oldest town in Croatia. I swam on my own today, but empowered by previous days it was my longest and proudest swim of the trip, 3km. I noted my splits for first 500m then 1km, every time I reached a new stretch there were still people ahead enjoying the coast and I knew it was safe to continue. I rounded a corner into a bay with 2 big boats, there was still people swimming there but it was a good enough marker to turn around. After lunch I walked to look at the town but we weren't docked quite as close to it as usual, and with the sun right overhead there was no shade, and by the time I got there I didn't want to stay so I grabbed some cash from an ATM and an ice cream and bailed back to the boat.

Then came the run. Yesterday I made my own variation and was well prepared, today my groin strain was a bit better after icing and rehab and I could run moderate downhills so I set off with the group, but they were fast on the flat start and disappearing and I started to worry they thought I was doing my own thing and the anxiety started to build. Then I felt silly to get anxiety as that it’s self-centred, and the demons started to spiral and my throat closed up and I couldn’t breathe. I finally got back with the group but was gasping for air and Viola gave me a tip to recite poems in my head to break the negative thought cycle. That worked wonders but I nearly wore out my favourite Robert Frost poem before I got to the summit so I moved on to a Shakespearean sonnet. After that I was fixed, and my groin strain was bearable too, and I managed to largely keep up for a while. At the top of Purkin Kuk is a megalithic structure with massive stone blocks (photo). On the way down we stopped at a shop for a beer (red bull first for me then beer) then when we hit the flat trail back we all went at our own pace so I dropped from 9:30 min miles group steady pace down to a more Sarah-style 11.

Day 6 we arrived at Postira on the island of Brač. It’s was very hot again on my little stroll round town so again I appreciated my swim to cool off, 2km today with warty crabs and some huge shoals of tiny fish. We ran at 4pm, pausing first at the town of Dol where there are some natural caves in a unique conglomerate style rock. There’s a cafe there that makes a cake called Hrapoćuša, created to look like the rock and the recipe a closely guarded secret. It was delicious, nutty and caramelly and cool. It’s an indicator of the heat that the cafe felt nice and icy compared to outside, but a thermometer showed it as 26 degrees. For the rest of the run over the rolling hills and ruins past the church of St. Michael and the ruin of the church of St. Vitus we followed the route of the Brač Easter procession and it was actually shadier and therefore cooler, I almost kept up! The route took us to an olive oil museum where we learned all about the traditional method of processing the olive oil from a very captivating museum owner and enjoyed a buffet dinner of local foody items, and then both groups walked back together. I still felt the need for a nighttime dip to return me to normal temps before a shower so wandered over to the beach, to find Vlatka from the hiking group already there and we were soon joined by Bane and Nina, we giggled that we had all had the same idea and were the only mad people to be swimming in the dusk.

Day 7 Back at Omiš for the final guided run today, how did that happen? Another morning run setting off for the Stari Grad fort hanging 258m above the town with a great view down. We then wound our way on and down to Ivo's konobo (tavern), where he invited us to share various local specialities, including Soparnik, a dish with swiss chart between two pancakes, and his homemade wine and grappa. The afternoon then descending into raucous singing of traditional songs including one about donkeys (the old way of life). In the evening we all headed into town to share a meal, a specially arranged deal with a selection of local fish.

I was glad we had one more night on the boat as I wasn't ready to leave just yet. I was one with the white noise of crickets and cicadas, the smell of herbs on the mountain trails, the towns with oleander and bougainvillea bursting from the white stone buildings. The trip had a real rhythm, not hectic but continuous. I didn’t think of the UK once, that used to be the norm for me on holidays but I’ve had a lot of solo holidays in the last few years where it’s different. Although I wasn't too upset about heading back to the UK, it would be nice to have some clean clothes, and a cool bedroom.

In total over the week I did 51.5 miles running (out of 52.5) with 3,917m ascent, and 13km swimming (and actually 10 miles of walking too). I also smashed my previous fitness high on strava, but that's a bit of a lie as it's only because my heart rate is so high due to my clot.

Running-wise my body held up pretty well. My right knee tried to explode on the first day as it does but I caught it and kept it away. My painful right groin strain was dealt with and recovered from, only needing to cut one run 1.5k short and doing all the rest. I had a fluidy left Achilles on the last 2 days but that was okay. My broken ankle and blood clot behaved themselves, aside from the high heart rate on the first day. It wasn't until the last day that the ligament that was damaged with my broken ankle started to strain. All week we had experienced boat motion on land, persistent sea legs. That subsided quite quickly once we stopped sleeping on it, but a couple of days later it still feel like I was slowly rolling over if I lay still and closed my eyes. The holiday in general took longer to recover from though. I thought when I got home I’d carry on the momentum with sustained activity energy. Instead I totally zonked out for 2 days with practically no memory of them, it’s like I'd been poorly, and it was another 5 days before I felt restored.

I send out thanks, obviously to Mark for organising the British contingent, but also special mentions to:
Viola, for swim courage, stroke improvement and a future holiday idea, and anxiety management.
Alen, always looking out for me and being full of good humour.
Danijela, for being kind and inspiring.
Marko, for his great routes and being a font of knowledgable.

It was definitely the holiday of a lifetime. I just needed to be a little fitter before I went.

2024, a personal review

After 3 really very difficult years, I finally had a perfectly adequate year, tending to good. There’s quite a lot to write about really, so I’ll try and keep it concise.

Last year I wrote about object permanence, and my realisation that for me this applies to relationships, friendships and feelings – I forget they exist until something reminds me. That’s why the isolation of the pandemic had made me lose my mind: the reminder / triggers of who I was that I used to get each day had vanished, and I had entered a state of chronic oddness and confusion, which is how I started 2024.

To give an example from this year: I bought some box files to put my medical notes in. It would have been nice to put the notes in the files the same day as I was gearing up to move house so that’s one thing less to do. I left the boxes in the car and of course totally forgot that they even existed. It’s a trivial example, but when you end up not doing thing you could have, that you then have to do another time, it becomes less trivial. It’s similar with plans: there’s always lots going on in Devon but I forget what the options are. I end up writing loads of stuff in my calendar so I can see what it is that happens on Tuesdays and Thursdays etc. Then when it gets to that day, because it’s just a written note and possibly something I’ve not been to before, I can’t remember my emotional attachment to it, so I think it’s not really relevant for me and I don’t go. On the odd time I might make it out, it’s invariably fun and fabulous and I feel like I need to make it into a routine. Trouble is I’m back to square one the week later as I’ve forgotten the attachment again.

Fundamentally I felt so confused and conflicted, every day. Should I relax into the new calmer norm, or should I fight to get my life back? I didn’t know the answers as I don’t think like that. I couldn’t see an answer, it had been so long since life made sense. If you asked me my future plans I could answer, but I couldn’t feel that answer to mean anything or be real; object permanence again. I had a friendship group but it didn’t have a presence in any standard day. I’d write a to do list helps get through the day, but it doesn’t do anything about the lost and confused feeling.

However, at least I knew what was happening now, I knew about the object permanence problem. I’d forgotten what a world feels like where people say ‘yes’ to the question ‘are you okay’ (not that I approve of that question anyway). But somehow I started to absorb some okay-ness into me, and feel stronger and more capable. I was also able to exercise again. Last year I talked about my DVT: that didn’t go, it became chronic so I had restricted blood flow in my left leg. There was no more care for it through the medical system, if it’s not an immediate threat to life they don’t continue to treat it, regardless of quality of life (although I am still pushing for that). But, I had got my fitness back if not my life. So I filled up the calendar so that whatever else it wasn’t another write-off like last year (the first 4 months of the year had already absolutely flown by, so couldn’t let it all do that).

I managed the following wonderful activities:

• A little stretch of the South Wales coast path, 10th & 11th Feb.
• A trip to Malta, 9-16 March (at least to tick my ‘1 new country per year’)
• Head of the Dart, a paddleboard event / race, 13km down the river Dart, on 20th April
• SUP Tidal awareness course, 22nd & 23rd April
• Half OceanMan (5k) swim, in the Costa Azahar in Spain.
• A 7km guided swim down the Menai strait on 25th May. This was really epic, with the strong currents and eddies. Followed by some of the Anglesey coast path.
• I entered the Gwineas swim 22nd June but this was cancelled due to bad weather.
• A photoshoot for Zone3 at a quarry on the moor on 21st June.

• A trip to Shetland 9-17 July, although that was a bit of a false start as I sprained my foot on the way there and I was in a lot of pain the whole trip.
• The Great Big Paddle Parade on 1st Sept, 19km round Torbay. This was sort of my longest paddle yet, but we paused at Goodrington as we were ahead of schedule.
• A wonderful week in Scotland 20-28 September, tackling a series of big and non-standard mountain routes on my own.
• A guided swim down the Yealm on 11th September. Video evidence.
• A White Water SUP 1 day course on the Dart on 13th October.

I arrived at each event with massive brain fog, unable to visualise what I was about to do and without the presence of mind to know whether I really wanted to be there, but for each one I did the event anyway, and it was a bit like ‘if you hit it enough times the nail will eventually go in’… ‘if I do enough of this, eventually maybe I’ll remember what life is’.

I also tried to improve my running while I was grounded, as I wanted to fix my weird gait which meant starting from scratch anyway, so what better time. However I found it very hard to see that through, due to my brain state and its executive dysfunction and a lack of support from the physiologist I chose to see. I persisted for quite some time but eventually I succumbed to my own brain.

Spraining my foot in July put paid to running for a while anyway. I was able to do bits, including an enjoyable 15.65 mile social run in November, but my foot was still niggling my brain as it wasn’t healing and I couldn’t rehab it without it clicking and popping. I went through the NHS system, getting an x-ray then seeing a physio in order to get an MRI, and on 20th December I found out it was broken, not sprained. I’ve got a 10mm marrow edema of the talar dome (a bone bruise/lesion), and some thickening and micro tears of the ATFL ligament. This means no running or dancing for a minimum of 8 weeks, and it could be several months before it recovers. So that’s two summers in a row wiped out by an unknown medical issue! But this time I got a lot done regardless.

There were some big life events too:

I finally bought a house in Devon in July, a nice end terrace in Paignton with two floors split over 4 levels and a decent sized garden. Having worked to save up the deposit I had been struggling to decide where to buy, as although I love the moor and the coast, none of the towns were right for me. The only place I liked was Exmouth and that was the wrong side of the Exe. I finally settled on Paignton as the only place left after I’d eliminated the rest, which proved to be a much better choice than I expected – it’s big enough that there’s a buzz of people, a cinema, and a fair amount to explore (pic = Crystam Cove), but small enough I can walk everywhere should I wish. I can see the sea from half way down the road, and I can order takeaways.

What I hadn’t realised is how much of a MASSIVE difference it would make to hear LIFE again – I can hear delivery drivers, children walking up the street to the school (there were lots of trick-or-treaters at Hallowe’en), music from people working in the garden, the toot of the steam train (and some very noisy seagulls). I hadn’t realised how isolated I’d been in Ashburton, maybe I was oblivious as the house was so gorgeous and my housemates so lovely. I’d fixed the isolation I was suffering at work, but missed the contribution that came from not hearing life around me at home, and as soon as I moved it’s like a switch was flicked – I felt okay again in no time. My brain started functioning again. I no longer had to try to battle the object permanence issues (as all of the triggers created by the presence of other people were back) or monitor my mental health, the issues of the last 3 years had finally lifted! I can’t tell you what a relief that was.

It’s the first time I’ve ever lived on my own, but I don’t feel alone at all. Although I might have descended into an unregulated obsession of measuring things and counting things, but I couldn’t say for sure, it’s so automatic I don’t notice!

My dad died in September, and his twin sister (my aunt and godmother) died 3 months later. My dad had been ill for a while with a terminal lung disease and I would go and visit for a week every few months and take my work with me so I wasn’t using up all my leave. In the evenings I had been able to have conversations with him over a whisky and a jigsaw, so I had already made my peace with his passing before he went. I went on holiday to Scotland after spending some time with family after he died, and I while there I realised that because I have lived 2-3 hours away from him since I was 18, he’s always with me anyway, in my brain because we're not together in person. If anything, when he died I felt like he was even closer.

I tried to have a baby. I've been desperate for this for 10 years, but seem destined to be forever single. Last year when I turned a little corner with my mental health, the biggest thing that helped was taking hold of my destiny and deciding I would try to be a single mum using a donor (which is why I was in such a rush to buy a house). Time had run out to meet someone (which is why I had been holding off on the house purchase before that). I had never wanted to do it on my own, but when the biological clock says it’s the last chance, you’re able to decide more easily (and I had a silly lightbulb moment that just by choosing to have a baby on my won’t didn’t necessarily mean I would have to stay single, that had never ‘clicked’ for me before). I threw money at 3 rounds of IUI in October, November and December (consecutive rounds have a slightly higher chance of success, and I promised myself I would do all this before my 45th birthday in February), but sadly it was not to be, none of them were successful. For those interested in the cost, it was a total of £6,500 (breaking down into: £2,805 IUI, £3,627 for 3 straws of sperm, £35 for a trigger injection, £60 for 6 packs of LH tests, £7 for pregnancy tests) – and that’s the cheaper option, compared to IVF!

Achievements:

As well as the sporting activities above, I managed to achieve progress on my many tick lists, which I’ll summarise here. Please note that by writing these I’m not trying to compare myself to anybody else, and nobody should compare any of this to themselves or let it affect how you feel about yourself. I find ticklists soothing so for me this is a comfort blanket, it’s not a competitive thing.

• 127 hill summits, of which 120 were new. 64 of the new ones were only TUMPs (30m prominence, no minimum heights). Some were fairly significant - from 2 trips to Scotland, 1 to the Lakes and a few County Tops. I have 24 Munro Tops remaining and 21 Historic County Tops remaining. My Devon-only TUMP bagging habit expanded to nationwide, when I imported my list onto the hill-bagging website in June, which opened up a whole load of regional stats (number of counties ‘completed’ for a particular specification of hill height etc.) and league tables.
• 18 new Dartmoor 365 squares, which isn’t that many but I only have 41 left then I can crack on with the Tors.
• Walked 449 miles, ran 400 miles (of which 216 was trail), hiked 221 miles, cycled 13 miles, swam 61.5km, paddleboarded 69 miles. My longest single run (with a broken foot!) was 15.65 miles.
• 40 New Trigs
• 46 New Dartmoor Tors

• I got three good heatmaps swims in with Selene. We did an early one from Meadfoot to Hope Nose (by mistake, had to change to a one way swim as couldn’t do an out and back due to the currents) in March. Watcombe to Babbacombe on 6th May. Maidencombe to Ness on 18th May with kayak support from Ron. I remain amazed that these coastline swims are possible for us, and make sure to not take them for granted. Swimming is sadly not free from impact from the DVT, my calf cramps up, but it’s manageable.

So as you can see, if you’re still with me, it was an eventful year, and by the end of it I was happy with my life again, and with where I’m at. This is the first time that I’ve been in a good place since I moved to Devon 6 years ago, so a lot of my good memories are still attached to other places and it’s still nice to go on trips away, but I’m winning the battle now and as I make new good memories in Devon it will solidify all the good things that I’ve managed to squeeze in amongst the bad over these last 6 years. I’ve always loved it here, so it’s fabulous to finally iron out the creases.

2023, a personal review

Published in June 2024 (I know), but only covers 2023 - still relevant though!

Mental health.

This year was a continuation of last, so I won’t rehash all that as last year’s review was plenty long enough. However I did have the ultimate breakthrough of why the lockdown and working from home affected me so much. There’s a concept called object permanence - with a small child, if you show them an object then remove it they won’t remember it existed. Object permanence can also be lacking someone who's neurodivergent, so you can forget to deal with paperwork for example unless you leave it staring you in the face (and I mean totally forget - foreget it ever existed). After a conversation with a helpful friend (something that is really hard to come by), it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps object permanence applied to less tangible things like relationships, so I did a bit of hunting online to see whether anyone else suffers from this, and it is a thing! Suddenly it made sense to me why I always feel so alone - because I wake up each day unable to remember or trust that my friends care about me. I also forget what it feels like to experience joy doing activities, and that I am competent at my job etc. I forgot about that little fire inside me that has been inspired to train or get slim and fit. It’s a very odd thing, starting from scratch each day (not to mention only just realising that’s what you’ve been doing), you can’t even set routines to counter it as you don’t remember that you had made plans, or believe that you meant it if you do remember (there are overlaps here with something called executive dysfunction, which is another characteristic of neurodiversity). What usually brings it back is the work environment, feeding off that energy and buzz of people doing normal, everyday things, but of course with the pandemic working from home became the norm and the world around me that I was feeding off vanished. If I haven’t seen or spoken to a friend for a couple of days I start to get this odd (and fake, but believable) feeling that they’ve gone off me (there's another overlap with something else called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria). Sometimes I need some evidence/proof that a friend is still a friend so I put out a test, for example a message for them to reply to or an invitation to do something. The test result often comes back negative and realistically I know this could be for any number of reasons, and I know the person didn’t know the result was so important, but it's the instinctive way to assess the situation and it told me my friendship has stalled so I fade away from them (whats the alternative? Repeatedly telling people how weird I am? It's just going to sound needy and nobody likes that). Even if the test is passed I have to do the same next time there’s a gap in contact and I start to lose my object permananence. It’s not just a case of telling myself it’s all fine either, because the feeling that the friendship has wilted is quite real and hard to counter without proof. This is just one of the reasons I get lonely, and the only one I can currently explain well. It’s taken a long time to reach this point, this realisation - 3 1/3 years in fact. I had already put a lot of other strategies and fixes in places to improve my mental health (routines, activities etc.) and wasn’t sure why I still felt bad and this is the missing link, finally I had it. But I've been living in such a persistent brain fog for so long I have no concept or memory of normal any more.

Often, working out the problem is more than half the battle and the solution is simpler, but it’s not that simple here. Working from home is here to stay, and even though I can go into the office, the place I have ended up in means it’s so hard to get up each day if I do go into the office I arrive late so my hours are very reduced and I get behind, so I have to work from home on other days to reclaim my total hours. Also it’s the presence of others that is critical, and I don’t control them neither do I want to. I’m having trouble asking for help with this, I don’t have that kind of personal support in my life (close friend or partner). I do ask people to help but it often backfires (different conversation styles etc.) then I feel guilty and I don’t break out of the cycle. Forever the pilot light and never the functional boiler. The funk is so established it’s not simple to change. Also, when you’re constantly in a brain fog, you can’t fix much, and the time you find the kind of normal enviornment that offers you an escape is when you then have other duties like work or you’ve gone away for a break so you’re busy with the main task. Also, when this is a fight you have to do Every. Single. Day., sometimes you burn out for a few days and just lose the fight.

Anyway, long story short, it took time to learn from this revelation, but when it came in August I had finally turned a corner. And then came the other issues...

DVT

Unfortunately, I’d had some problems with physical health since April and they were about to get worse. I hadn’t felt right when running but didn’t know why; when orienteering at Easter I just wanted to sit down and stop. This was really weird as running was my escape, I couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to do it. I thought it was because my biological clock was telling me time is running out to have kids and running wasn't helping with that, but it was so persistent I also felt there must be a physical contributor. Looking back now, my difficulties with running desire started with a psychological issue (anxiety) that morphed into a physical one, so it wasn’t so obvious at the time that there was something physically wrong. I do know that my ankles went puffy on the 6th April and I developed foot pain on 14th April, followed by calf cramp on the 21st April that woke me up in the night, then my calf spasmed up and I could neither fully bend nor straighten it for 11 days. I went to the doctor to get checked for a blood clot as I’d started taking the combined contraceptive pull on 4th April after a 14 year break, and being over 40 the oestrogen puts you at a higher risk of clots. I was sent for a DVT scan but they said it was clear – it wasn’t made clear to me then that they don’t check the veins in the calves so it doesn’t mean you’re clear of clots, it just means that your deep veins are okay. I had three more bouts of severe calf cramp in August, early September and late September that lasted a couple of weeks at a time, that alternated legs, but the doctors hadn’t managed to help me nail down the problem. In August and September I was really struggling to breathe and it was getting progressively worse – first a single rally on Tuesday volleyball would have me gasping to get my breath back before serving, then I would have to pause on the slightest incline on short, undulating walks, then I couldn’t even walk up the ramp to the car without struggling. I had a series of tests with the doctor (an EKG, several blood tests, and echocardiogram), but there were no answers and didn’t feel like I was able to get them to take my symptoms seriously. I went on last minute holiday to Madeira in middle of that at the start of September as I needed to do *something* enjoyable that summer and it was one of my resolutions to visit a new country in 2023. I had to get assistance to board the plane as I couldn’t weight my foot due to extreme pain in my plantar fasciia (that wasn’t actually plantar fasciitis, it was a kind of spasm due to lack of blood flow in it), although thankfully by the end of the trip due to sheer persistence I was managing some hikes (on lovely terrain but without ascent as I was following the levada irrigation system, see photo).

On 2nd October things took a turn for the worse with a sudden pain in my left thigh that meant I couldn’t stand up and certainly couldn’t walk without agony. The photo shown is from the 5th October, showing the weird swelling and pittting edema. The doctor sent me for another DVT scan which I had on the 9th Oct and this time they did find a clot, in my femoral vein, the main vein in the thigh. I was a bit surprised (and I think the doctor was too, as he hadn’t put me on blood thinners like you usually have, as it was more to rule things out given I’d already had a scan in May), but the more I learned, the more the problems of the summer fell into place – I will never be able to prove it, but I am pretty sure I had 4 blot clots in my calves and one in my lungs (a pulmonary embolism), before the DVT that they found in my thigh which would be the 5th, and later a 6th in the popliteal vein in the back of my knee.

The symptoms I had from the confirmed clot were the same as what I’d already experienced, only raised to another level of intensity. They’d put me on a 3-month course of blood thinners straight after the scan, which meant my blood was able to get past the clot a bit (but only slowly, as the vein was considered totally occluded) and the swelling started to reduce a fraction, but as soon as I did anything that got my blood circulating, which included being upright for more than a minute (i.e. just moving around the house), my calf would go rock solid and it would feel like somebody had pumped it full of acid as it felt like it was burning away under all of the skin, especially down the back of the knee. This lasted for what felt like forever. It was after 12 days on blood thinners and remaining largely horizontal, that I felt the first improvement when I tried to walk – my leg still hurt and still swelled up, but it got to a certain level and pleateaud. I started doing short walks like this, keeping slow and increasing distance, until I had a checkup with the doctor and he said that if it was still hurting it was still too soon as I was at high risk of permanently damaging the valves in my veins, so I eased off. It was another month before the pain started to subside, by which time my fitness had steadily declined to nothing without me being able to do anything about it. I started to combine slow, careful walks with trips to the pool for training sessions (the first time I’d been in a heated pool in 4 years 5 months having switched to open water only, shame to break the streak but needs must - the first session was truly awful though after such a long break), and from 20th November I started to reverse the decline in my fitness. My calf remained swollen though, with the swelling increasingly rapidly as soon as I started exercising. Recovery was a very slow, gradual process as what I could do is very limited, but physical health is so important for mental health, just moving upwards at all is encouraging and gives you something to live for. It’s been so tough – the not knowing whether the clot will go (it’s meant to but not guaranteed); losing my coping strategies; having my world completely turned on its head due to being unable to do the things that I spend the majority of my time doing.

When we finished work for Christmas, I realised that work had been keeping me going, and suddenly I had no purpose and felt unwanted by the world and all people, and I lay completely listless for several hours as I processed that. I had lost my sense of self, and I also lost my sanity from the fact that my sense of self was tied up in achievements. There also wasn't much optimism for the future, as the research on DVTs and the treatment available are both very limited. It's interesting that the main diagnostic tests to see if you have a clot, is that your bad calf is at least 3cm bigger than your good one, but only at the very worst mine was only ever 2.5cm swollen, so it’s highly worth trying different doctors to find one that actually knows a lot of stuff, rather than one that just looks things up from a book. If you don’t exhibit the standard symptoms, then causes can be quite easily overlooked. For the treatment they simply give you 3 months of blood thinners and wait for your body to dissolve the clot, in which time you have to put your life on hold (well, you do if you’re any kind of athlete)… and then if you’re still getting symptoms they simply give you 3 months more! I was lucky enough to get a re-scan after my leg was still swollen after 3+ moths, which revealed the clot was still most definitely there, with a little channel up it through which some blood would pass, but it also showed occlusion behind my knee and it’s unclear whether that was there before as they didn’t mention it at the first scan, so it’s far from over, I don’t know if I’ll ever run properly again. The doctor and specialists have agreed that I can do some sessions of running 1 minute at a time times a few repeats in order to keep me sane (which is working out at 6-10 repeats, so less than 10 minutes of running total, when I’m more used to being out for hours, but it’s something), although it isn’t good for my blood vessels to run with occluded veins, so it’s about finding a balance between recovery and sanity

Being more 'me'.

My autism diagnosis of October 2022 had time to lead me to where I want to be. I realised how much of ‘me’ I’ve hidden over the years as it’s not deemed socially acceptable (not that I have a desire to be socially acceptable, but I simply didn’t realise I was doing it), and how much this has burnt me out. I decided to try and be more true to me - which is hard initially as it’s not always met positively and a bad reaction can drag you to be defensive rather than confident, so you start to anticipate the defensiveness and get stuck in a negative loop. Work had been amazing in supported to ask for things that would make my life easier, which was a real eye opener for me, so I tried to extend that to my personal life. I have realised I don't have to be in noisy places, or be in a cramped space where I'm always alert in case someone bumps into me. The trouble is, work fosters a culture where people are receptive to those requests, but the rest of the world doesn’t. If you're trying to be more authentic, some of your safety nets have gone and you have to request understanding of other people, which doesn't always go well. I lost a couple of long term friends, as I transitioned to a more blunt (more natural) way of communicating, and spoke up where a situation would make me uncomfortable. It's really difficult - you spent decades learning what you need, and when you reach out for help with it, you get told to take some responsibility and deal with it yourself - this *is* me dealing with it, and sometimes that quite genuinely involves others!

Due to all the physical and mental health issues I was really struggled with energy at times in the early summer due to neurodiverse fatigue which I'd not experienced before as I'd always managed to maintain a kind momentum and feed off stimulation. Now, if I did one activity to try and restore some normality to my life, I'd spend the next few days payijg for it and recovering from it. I didn't enjoy a long-anticipated trip to the Outer Hebrides in July, or Sidmouth folk festival in August. This fatigue meant I would be flat and unresponsive a lot, this is when friendly support would be most useful, and sadly is also when people write you off as you’re being weird and awkward (the photo is from one of these times). In fact that was a big theme of my whole year - this was when I needed my friends the most, and when people stepped up the least. I feel like people think they know me because I share things like this, and maybe they feel like the friendship is sustained as they know my news, but real friendship is sometimes actually desperately needed, active friendhips where people make the effort to check in on you. When so much challenging stuff is piling on top of you, and the people I have previously considered my friends didn't get in touch, that just gave me one more thing to deal with, to reassess who really does care about me, and it's a minefield to try and judge that right given the aforementioned object permanence issue. Thankfully there are a couple of local friends I have built up more of a day-to-day friendship with.

To deal with the fatigue I knew I needed to free up my calendar but it took a while as there was a lot of stuff I couldn't cancel. Eventually I got my time back and I settled on a new approach of planning only 2 days at a time, I had to stick with this for a long time but it helped. I did eventually end up feeling good, like I was 24 again and fresh out of university, as the slower pace coincided with the object permanence realisation and took me back to a past life, but as previously mentioned it didn't last long due to the blood clot.

Achievements.

Due to all the above, I wasn’t able to do the things I usually do, work through my ticklists, or train for anything. I did what I could even when I maybe shouldn't have, as I felt I had to to survive. This list of the year's achievements would normally be representative samples as there’s too much to write, but this time it’s pretty much everything I did. I’m extremely grateful for all these events, they are good memories in the bad times.

• Due to the blood clots there was a period of time I couldn’t even walk, but over the year I covered 1,382 miles in total:
  
  • running - a paltry 555 miles over 100 runs, down 995 miles from last year’s total.
    
  • cycling - 30 miles over 2 rides
    
  • swimming - 37 miles over 64 swims. 4 which were indoor pool, 3 were unheated lido, 2 were abroad, and the other 55 open water.
    
  • paddleboarding - 44 miles over 9 trips
    
  • by deduction walking and hiking must equal 716 miles.
    
  I didn’t do one single run on the coast path despite that being such a big part of my life for the previous 3 years.
  
  
• Race events - I entered one 10k invited by a friend, and did a pub crawl marathon organised by the same friend which luckily fell inbetween my clots (see photo), and a few orienteering events. Nothing else. I had entered a swim/sup/run event in May but it got cancelled. No ultras, when ordinarily I would do about 3 in a year.
  
• I did 4 organised Beating The Bounds walks on Darrmoor, to learn more about the local area and enjoy a historic tradition: Moretonhampstead, North Bovey, Lydford, South Brent. On these I met a couple of other local ‘tickers’, similarly minded folk also working their way through the Dartmoor Tors or Dartefacts, whose names I’d previously only seen online. On the Lydford walk I was sat for lunch with a few of them, talking about places we’ve visited or yet to visit and I felt like these were my people.
  
  
• I swam six more parts of the south Devon coastline: Westcliff Cove to Piskey's Cove with Karen; the length of Slapton sands (6km) in June which I organised for me and 3 friends (see photo); Mountbatten to Jennycliff in June with Claire and Mayo; Peaked Tor cove to Torquay harbour in August with Selene; Meadfoot to London Bridge in September with Selene; Shoalstone to Freshwater slipway in September with Selene and Lee on paddleboard support.
  
• I got 45 new D365 squares (compared to 97 the year before).
  
• I visited 46 Trigs (triangulation pillars). I spent a while retrospectively ticking all my previously visited trigs off on the TrigPointing website, so that I had a record (and a map), I finished that in May and the lifetime total at that point was 220 unique trigs, 267 including repeats which became 300 by the end of the year.
  
• I made 139 ascents of classified hills, of which 132 were new summits. 107 of those were just TUMPs (hills with a 30m prominence - it’s handy to have these to go at when you can’t walk far). When I was able to walk again, I did a road trip to East Anglia where the hill summits are low and individual. I got my lifetime TUMP total to 1000 with my last one of the year on 23rd December.
  
• As well the trip to Madeira I also went to Outer Hebrides in July but this wasn’t a good trip. I went for a 6 day orienteering event but as I couldn’t run it became an exercise in loneliness exploring the island. I did get to enjoy the Clisham horseshoe though (An Cliseam is the highest point of the island, a Corbett). I ticked a couple of outstanding Munro tops on the way home too.