w/c 25th June - Excited, hopeful, determined, daunted

Everyone has a bit of their brain which, if I was a brain scientist, would be referred to as 'The Cheese Factory'. It's this part of my brain (operating in the opposite side of my head to the bits responsible for style, coolness, judgement and taste) that keeps playing "The Final Countdown" by 80's-soft-rock-hairfest Europe during moments of contemplation or worse, sleep. The Final Countdown, honestly.

Clearly my Cheese Factory is well developed and working well, but even at it's maximum output (when a verse sneaks in after the chorus before I stub it out) it cannot compare to what the rest of my brain is doing, which is something like, WHOOOOOOOA, or, SHIT-SHIT-SHIT-AARRRGH.

Suffice to say, I've been nervous. I've been nervous about failing. I've been nervous about the weather (73 flood alerts currently on the go. 73!). I've been nervous about letting lots of people down that have come to help me and so want me to succeed. I became more nervous when hearing that so many people have succeeded over the last few weekends (well done to you all) and I've been nervous that this is making those that know me think that it's even more of a foregone conclusion. It's not.

My hope and intention is that all this nervousness (and the Cheese Factory) will give way to confidence and determination. I'm sure it will once I'm on the hill and plugging steadily up Skiddaw.

This past week has been awful. Work has been bad, but is better now, thankfully. I've been pre-occupied and irritable and have been off the ball at work and at home. I've lurched from positive vibes to dauntedness and fear on a sixpence, with the pace of change familiar to the manically depressed. To be blunt - I've been a right pain in the arse.

On Saturday, I ventured out for my last pre BGR run - a 9 mile, 3100' ascent run on the Clywdian Hills route. This is a run that I can cruise round in about 100 mins now with no major effort, running all the climbs (bar the gully, which is so rough as to render running impractial) and not stopping once. This time, my heart was pounding and I had to take some rest. My legs felt strong, but i could not catch my breath. I felt like i was having palpatations! I'd had a very busy and stressful day at work on the Friday, very little tea in the evening and lost some sleep (Europe again). I was never going to run well that morning. I did not feel at all well.

It was an important run though. Some very strange things happened during it. I'm not big on fate or on moments of blinding realisation and self-discovery, but a couple of things happened which have meant that this week leaves me feeling really confident and excited.

Firstly, I was not going so well but instinctly knew i would be OK. That's really important. It was a reaction, not a decision. I knew I'd be alright. I realised that I'd done the training, body and mind. I came to know that if I don't get round, it's not through lack of training.

But it wasn't a totting up of feet of ascent and miles that made me realise this. Instead, I realised that all my training runs moved me onwards, even the ones that went poorly. I'd had some great days out and some rotten days out (which were still great days out, a seemingly nonsensical sentiment most fellrunners nod and smile wryly at). All these runs make you physically stronger, but some teach you something about yourself. I came to realise that I'd done enough 'hard yards' to account for a complete training schedule.

I genuinely felt bad on Saturday, ill in fact, but plugged on. This was automatic. I thought back and realised that this automation had been hard won. I backed myself without really knowing it. I'd done loads of training runs like this (in fact I'd simply done loads of training runs full stop), i.e. tough runs that didn't feel good.

The other weird thing that happened during that Saturday run was (don't laugh) that I heard a loudspeaker playing Chariots of Fire as I was resting atop the gully on Moel Famau. Seriously! There was a Race For Life going on down in the valley and the wind was carrying the noise up the hill. Fate? Naaaaah, although the Cheese Factory is trying to convince me otherwise.

There are loads of reasons for bad training days, and I now realise you need to sample them all to truly test yourself. Sometimes it's your guts (remember that run with Steve, Sarah, Nick and Pete when you felt sick for the first 90 mins after that fry-up!), sometimes the weather (that run on Leg 3 in January in 90 mph winds and horizontal rain will live with me for a while), sometimes it's illness (racing the Edale Skyline after a week of diarrhoea was not a good idea, esp in those conditions, but i did not bin it, unlike many other runners) and sometimes it's your mood and state of mind, an obstacle which is accounted for by Saturday's run. I wouldn't have ever predicted it, but my last run was the cherry on the top. I hadn't yet been out for a run when i felt like i shouldn't be there. I;ve really enjoyed the training, even wet days in the Lakes, hailstorms in Snowdonia (whilst wearing obscenely short shorts) and messy, peaty tromps across the high Pennines. I didn't enjoy Saturday, but that, in hindsight, was just what I needed.

Saturday's run capped off the most enjoyable period of training I've ever done. Between January and start of the taper 2 weeks ago I averaged about 10,000 per week. I've done one 19 hour day, one 11 hour day, three 10 hour days and probably about 15-20 tough runs of 4 to 6 hours. I've done 40 ascents of the Tattenhall railway in 5 sessions and run to the 1850' summit of Moel Famau 35 times.

There have been many shining highlights. My run at the Yorkshire 3 Peaks was just so enjoyable. it was a breakthrough run for me, well under 4 hours when I didn't dare hope I had improved that much. The Welsh 3000's was great, both times. The incomplete, wet day had it's lessons (take warm gloves - always) and the successful round was great because I had no fear and ran well to the end. I also felt that way during the Fellsman, which i thought a special event. Those latter runs are how I want to approach the BGR - that feeling of quiet confidence and enjoyment.

There have been few opaque lowlights; just two in fact. The week of illness in February was just horrible, including the Skyline when i felt out of gas with 5 miles to go. Toughed it out in the snow to get round in a shade over 4 hours (miles slower than lastyear) but cannot claim it as enjoyable. The other lowlight has been (is!) the taper. Is it too much? Have I lost fitness? The Final Countdown blaring out of the Cheese Factory. It's a crap time for you and the loved ones around you.

All this reflection has made me realise that I'm ready. The taper really does crank up the expectation. The nervousness is now subsiding into excitement. Never was a Christmas awaited with as much anticipation as this!

All that remains is for me to eat lots and drink more, get a massage (8am tomorrow!), sleep plenty, pack my things, get up there and get round. And get round I will.

Mark