Fit in my 40s: I’m fell running – so why does it look like I’m walking?

Downhill should have been the easy bit but I crept down hanging on to branches, like a monkey going through rehab after a car accident

You might think that the more wonderful books there are written about a sport, the more fun it is to do, right? This seems like a completely reasonable assumption. In fact, it is the stupidest thought I have ever had – but it’s why I first entertained the notion of fell running.

I was thinking in particular of Feet In The Clouds, by Richard Askwith, which opens with an account of unbearable injury and discomfort on top of a mountain, or fell, if you must. When I went back to it, I found a little warning note at the start: “The activities described in this book are dangerous and may result in injury or death. Don’t try them.” Heavens be blessed, there was zero chance of death, since long before I got to “dangerous”, I hit the insuperable hurdle of “hard”.

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