It's Only Running...

Montane Lakeland 50 I’d only been running for a few months when I first heard about the Lakeland 50. I wasn’t much good at it, but neither was I quite as shite as I’d expected to be, and I like taking things to extremes (although I understand now that the 50's the soft option), so I resolved there and then to have a crack at this event sometime before I was 40. I was 31 at the time, so this wasn’t exactly an ambitious target and, far from being phased by the idea of continuous movement over 50 miles of roughish terrain (it’s only running), I figured my navigational ineptitude would pose the biggest obstacle. I’m not a daft lass though, surely I could learn to read a map? Fast forward two and a bit years and my running hadn’t improved as much as I’d have liked; many marathons had been entered and then subsequently sacked off due to my apparently limitless propensity for mangling my legs. I’m not sure whether it’s because I run like a complete twat (not according to gait analy