‘I was incredibly strong and fit,” says Lucy Keighley. And she looks it, in the photo she is showing me, taken a few years ago. She is with her best friend, Lorna; they have just completed a 15-mile race on the North York Moors. “It was a brutal race,” she says. “But it was great. I was happy.” Today, although it’s quite dark in the room (she doesn’t get on well with bright light), I can see a tear rolling down her cheek. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to get back there.”
Lucy, 49, still runs – across the moors and along the coast – but only in her sleep. “I’m so light on my feet. I was never a light-footed runner in real life. But in my dreams I am so light, I can run so far, and it feels joyous.”
