In transition, I had to get changed out of my cycling kit and in to my running kit and prepare for the task ahead, running 27 miles cross country in one of the hilliest parts of the country.  I had done a reasonable amount of running in training but I live next to a canal and that meant that most of the routes I chose were pretty flat.  

The hardest part was actually getting started though, getting changed took me ages, my legs weren't playing properly and my low back was pretty tight.  I also forgot that I didn't have any underwear on and stripped my shorts off; normally I can dress as quickly as Clark Kent in a phone booth but my restricted movement meant that I was standing naked for a while trying to pull my fresh stuff on.  I don't think anyone was too traumatised though.

As I mentioned yesterday, I was feeling a little sick in the transition area and couldn't really workout why.  Then I noticed and remembered that I hadn't really taken on any fluids over the last 2 hours due to poor weather conditions.  This left me in a pretty bad way on the hydration front and not ideal for starting the marathon.

I had a cup of tea and a piece of flapjack with Fran then headed out reluctantly smiling.

The first 4-5 miles were on the road around a beautiful loch and relatively flat but I really struggled to get going as I was so lo on fluid, I decided that I would walk to get topped up with fluid and food and stopped being frustrated with myself.

On the run profile online the course looked ok, undulating but nothing that bad until the big pointy triangle of Ben Nevis at the end.  In reality the first 'bump' was 2/3s the height of Snowdon and a straight 45 degree angle with some really marshy bits that couldn't be avoided.

My feet got soaking on this bit and I phoned Fran to have a moan, she later told me she was worried because I sounded like I was about to have a breakdown.  I probably was, as it had taken me over 90 minutes to get to this point and the same amount of time to eat a single flapjack.

The sun then came out and made me strip a few layers off.  The problem this caused was that my feet were still soaking and I could feel them starting to wrinkle in my shoes.  A few miles later this became a real problem and my feet were killing as the wrinkly skin was pinching together.  I had dry socks but my shoes were to wet still for them to be of any benefit.

Rolling hills is the nicest way of describing the next 12 miles, some amazing scenery to look at as the weather was being kind but very tough on the feet, legs and knees.

By the time I got to the first check in point at 18 miles I had overtaken a few people, had a few chats and my shoes had dried out.  I had a quick break and stopped to dry my feet properly and change my socks.  Midges appeared for the first time that day and forced me to head off towards Ben Nevis.  Michaela kindly came up to support me at that point and was greatly appreciated.  She had walked up with my dogs and they put the smile back on my face.

I met Fran at the foot of Ben Nevis and had a proper sit down, topped up my fluids and grabbed some more snacks.  She was worried because a few other racers were starting to go past and she didn't want me to be the last one on the mountain.  

Bizarrely, I knew I'd be ok on the mountain.  Fran and I have done a lot of mountain walking in our time and I have always found that I'm comfortable going up and pretty quick coming back down.

However, that was never put to the test after covering over 100 miles on a bike and 19 miles cross country hiking / running.  I soon found out how it would feel.

When talking to other triathletes who had completed Ironman distance races, they all hinted at the dark places you would reach on the run.  Times when you might talk yourself out of completing it, start feeling a little delusional and just wanting to cry and get a hug from your Mummy.  

I'm generally really positive and most definitely see the glass as being half full, my standard saying is 'it'll be alright, you'll be fine' when asked if I think somebody could complete an event.  So I pretty much ignored them and put it down to them holding on to the mysticism that an extreme endurance event has.

Positive me came back and reminded myself that I actually hate being sick and carrying on would be less hassle, so I shook the negative out of my head and carried on.

A few minutes later another thought hit me.

If I did a Sylvester and broke my own bone I could stop (from the Escape to Victory movie, although Sly actually broke somebody else's arm).  It would have to be a leg though as I wasn't going to need my arms anyway and would be able to carry on.  These were the things going through my head.

I thought it would be better to break my left leg because we had an automatic car at the time and could still go out to work.  Then I realised that it was dark which would mean no helicopter ride down and it would put mountain rescue at risk carrying me so far.

I again came to the conclusion that it was easier to just keep going and that was the end of my dark moments.  About 10 minutes in total but pretty extreme.

As if by magic Colin appeared, coming the other way, he was already on his way down.  We had a little chat and my spirits were topped up to full again.

As I got closer to the summit of Ben Nevis, I caught up a couple of guys who were both having their own dark moments.  They were looking for an out, saying that it was unsafe to be on the mountain in the dark and it was starting to snow.  They were telling each other that the organisers should cancel and take them off the mountain.

Unfortunately / fortunately for them I was the next person they came past.  They told me their concerns.  I simply smiled and said 'it'll be alright, I know the mountain pretty well and I'll stick with them to guide them up'.  Dark moment over, somebody had taken control and that was all they needed.

Just as we hit the snow line one of the marshals, came down and told us that we were as high as it was safe to go because the summit was now in a snow storm and they were closing the top.  They told us that the dib machine would catch us up to register our time.

Being stubborn I sat down and said I'd wait for him as I didn't think he could catch me up if I started down, the marshal reluctantly let me stay.  The dib man came around the rocks a couple of minutes later and covered in snow.  I dibbed my timer in and headed off.

I got to the first corner and realised that visibility was ridiculously poor wearing head torches in the fog and snow.  I said to a couple of the guys with me that it would be better to stick together as they next part of the mountain would be quite dangerous with such poor visibility, the marshal had caught up with another few guys and agreed.

We stuck together and headed down.  Fran was getting nervous at this point because it was nearly midnight and she hadn't heard from me for a few hours.  A friend of ours had told her not to worry and that I was probably chatting away and lecturing somebody about nutrition, which at that point was precisely right :)

As we got closer to the finish and we could see the lights of the race village, something interesting happened.

We had been discussing finishing together and losing the ego of places and glory, everyone agreed.

However, a few of the guys were blinded by the finish line and started speeding up and eventually started running off in to the distance.

It wasn't long until I made it to the village and crossed the line.  I had been exercising and talking for over 19 hours and could feel every minute of it.

I picked Fran out in the crowd and smiled, the picture is below.

I got changed and had a sausage sandwich and caught up with all of the gossip of the day.

Fran and Michaela supported us for the whole day and looked in the same condition Colin and I were.  We had the easy job, just to simply keep moving forwards.  They had to coordinate where we were, put our tents up traverse Scotland in the car with the traffic issues a bike ride creates.  Suffer watching other racers being taken away in ambulances.  Watch people break down at the line and wonder where I was as I was in the last group.

For that I will be eternally grateful. 

It couldn't have been that bad though as they are both coming to support us this weekend on the same event.

Fran will be posting regular updates on Facebook and twitter if you want to check in on how we are doing.