One mile -- literally one mile -- at a time.
I can't believe how lucky I am that this was my first half-marathon.
The classic British camping experience.
You can't stay long.
Relaxing and pretty all the way down.
Silent, staring, muddy, sweaty, bug-eyed mass of monosyllables.
Fabulous. Fun. Funny. Beautiful. Easy. Gorgeous.
When I don't know where to turn, this is where I end up.
Very pretty little organised trail run, options on 5km or 10km.
I was the mother who sprinted down a volcano, trailing three kids and clutching a bottle of Lacryma Christi. Always a good look.