It was on the Pennine Way, just before Kinder Scout, climbing a gruelling hill after 30 km of running, that I realised: I wouldn’t be able to make the second day of the two-day, 75 km trail event I was in the middle of.
My lower legs were aching, I was parched, and I had almost no snacks left, with around 15k of the day still ahead of me. The Peak District’s immense beauty did little to distract me from how miserable I felt. I was defeated, sad, and disappointed – I’d never quit a race before.
