3months into lockdown - the *mental* low-down on working from home.

3 months into lockdown and working from home. It’s had its ups and downs, if I’m honest. I’ve worked from home for 7 years but never been consistently “home-bound” for than a few days, really.

It would be easy to structure the post with good bits and bad bits – but the parameters of what is good, bad, indifferent, changes all the time. I should imagine my pros and cons are very much the same as everyone else’s

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It was a bittersweet that I celebrated my 40th in the week leading up to the company’s home-working instruction. I was in London 4 days out of 5, busy with work, and partying with friends and colleagues in the evenings. I finished the celebrations on the Saturday night in Wagas where my friends and I were all toying with the notion that this “bad dose of flu” might just disrupt our social lives and jaunts for the summer – and wouldn’t that be a right *PITA*!

What we didn’t know was that, 2 weeks later, we would be up to our eyeballs in extension leads, felt tip pens, equal fractions and online grocery shopping. Our backs would ache with our inappropriate desk ergonomics, our WIFI drained with the excessive Roblox streaming and waistbands straining against the freshly-baked bread which we insist on making 3 times a week. We’ve spent all our money online on home-things because we’ve never spent so much time at home. Actually, that’s something that we must rethink when we leave lockdown – in yesteryear we spent *far* too much time, and money, in the pub. 

Socially, my girlfriends’ soiree to Alicante got cancelled, our August camping in France looks to follow suit and all my mates celebrated big birthdays with their infants – can you imagine! We all took advantage of House Party/Zoom, and had a wonderful time on my husband’s birthday where we all got tipsy and chewed the fat (took the mick out of each other) for an hour on a Tuesday night.

The working lockdown has certainly adjusted my expectations. Working from home in the old days meant I was at my desk 2, sometimes 3 days a week. It fitted in around the family, of course, but actually replaced any commuting time to being productive instead. Regular home workers will tell you – working hours are longer but more flexible – and a key measurable being that one can churn out an awful lot of work when there is nothing to distract you or you don’t feel the pull of the canteen or Costa next door. 

Ah. Distraction. Luckily my kids have reached an age where gaming is the most important thing in the world. They could happily play Roblox, Fortnite and YouTube all day long. More than a few times, they have. I don’t tend to tell many people this so please keep it to yourself. In short, they don’t distract me at all – they can help themselves to nutritious, well balanced food stuffs (Corner Yoghurts, Ice Lollies and Babybel) at will, therefore rendering any evening meal I make for them utterly fruitless when they have stuffed their faces all day.  They can fix the WIFI. They can transition from Sky to Prime to Netflix easier than I can. They can buy gaming currency using the Apple ID, *by accident* naturally. They are extremely competent at keeping busy whilst I am banging away at the keyboard and only really seek any interaction from me when fisticuffs go too far and one of them wants to grass up the other one. Regular home workers know – this happens at inopportune times. Also, they know how to unlock the front door and tend to go off every other day in pursuit of the cat – for no reason whatsoever. This can be a little unnerving when you are 10mins into the intro of a conference call and you hear the front door open. It’s very hard, and quite unseemly, to scream at your own children when you have a virtual audience. It’s also hard to venture outside to look for the buggers when your Zoom is reliant on your internal WIFI. 

Conf calls. That’s the worst bit. Even if your connection is solid, the disjointed spell of constant interruptions and forced politeness is truly knackering. You have to stay alert throughout the entire call – even if the area is not particularly pertinent to you. Someone could ask you your POV on their statement, or ask you to capture a note. You need your wits about you. And for goodness sake, never let your guard down when you are screen sharing. Your boss doesn’t want to see your eBay watch list. 

3 months into lockdown and working from home and I hope readers don’t mind if I have a(nother) little whinge. Regular home workers will understand the perils of multi-tasking. It sounds competent and skilled bit it’s actually really stressful. And a bit unnecessary. When all the balls are flying around in the air, some will come crashing down. They haven’t yet, but I’m expecting it. I have to say that the biggest strain is the kid’s education  -the guilt of not doing the school work, the fear of doing it badly or not the way they are used to, the radical goal of getting your child back to school at a higher academic level than they were before (especially if, like me, one of the kids was a bit behind anyway), the hard fact that there is usually only one adult in the house that can, or will, take this on. The constant nagging of Facebook that other people are doing more than you. I’ve really enjoyed sitting with them doing the work – I just cannot fit it in very well. 

Social Media has been interesting – and I’ll admit, LinkedIn has been *exceptionally* brilliant during these last few weeks. The news feed is largely positive and empathetic. Of late, it’s been really honest too; people have shared their professional fears and opened up about uncertainty. We saw this lovely lady who was let go of her high-flying sales job and got shelf stacking work in Morrisons (shout out to Stacy). She posts often about her new pastures – and she is damn funny too. Facebook has been complete crap in this regard – and after you’ve ploughed through the endless streams of self-indulgent memes, disCUSTed friends and U ok hun?– you are faced with a movie of someone knocking the living hell out of someone else. Or a picture of a half-eaten McDonalds. 

Some good bits. I don’t feel like I need to hide my kids (as much). I take conference calls with customers and industry contacts and I can hear *their* kids (and dogs, budgies, home phone) in the background. It makes be feel a little more relaxed; having the sprogs at home is less of a taboo (she has no childcare!) and more of a sign of the times. This is how I’ve been working since 2013 and I feel relieved that others are experiencing this too. 

I work for a cracking company. We are under different sorts of strains now between us – but the team ethic fits and are ploughing through. 

We’ve been lucky with the weather, eh? We have lovely tans between us. Just a shame we can’t fit into our holiday clothes. 

I cannot wait to see my colleagues again. I miss them dreadfully. I miss going into the City. I miss talking to people face to face. 

That’s it for now. I’m going to put the tent up in the garden for no reason whatsoever.

A long 'ole walk - and it smells of wee.

Everything smells like wee. 

Walking is boring. I've never been a walker. I like outdoors, especially when there is a wooden bench, a glass of amber nectar and tab behind the bar. I also used to like camping before I fell out with inflatable mattresses. I also like running because it takes less time than walking anywhere and, if you know me, you’ll know I am always in a hurry and squash as much stuff as possible into one day. Running also makes you look committed and fit and, in our strange nuance of social systems, people seem to respect that. They don’t know I just use it to cover up how many crisps I eat or that I enjoy a cigarette from time to time. 

So, what you may not know is that I’m fairly easily talked into doing something. There is a really fool proof way of getting me to do something that is deemed as difficult. It isn’t positive thinking – like telling me You’ll Smash it! or Go for it! Instead, it’s telling me that I cannot or should not do it.  It’s worked loads of times. Once someone told me that I would never give up smoking, another colleague told me to avoid running a marathon, another told me not to try to do the splits (in a pub) etc etc. I did them all because I am a prat with these sorts of dares. In Jan this year, I saw a Facebook ad promoting the Oxfam Trailwalker in September 2019. I guffawed at the event because it was 100km long overnight (Sat morning to Sun afternoon) and it sounded like total shite. It was hosted by the Gurkhas which was just as well because they are about the only sort of people that have the clout to do anything like this. I saw it and scrolled past and then got distracted by a Netflix series. I wasn’t really interested in any of that North Face, Craghoppery stuff. 

But I could not stop thinking about it. It seemed so ruinously impossible and hardy that surely this would be a really cool thing to do? I wouldn’t need much stuff. Coat and boots. My legs were already in good shape. It would be hard but I might be able to do it if I did some training. The money raised from sponsorship would head straight to Oxfam and the Gurkha Trust. Admittedly I didn’t have an obvious pull to either of these charities but thought they were as good as any. I had never been to the South Downs and it sorted sounded a bit like Emmerdale. 

I sent a few texts around. We needed a team of 4 walkers and 3 Support Crew to support us on the journey. The strangest thing happened – within 24hours, I had secured all these people. And one of them had a massive van to transport us all. And they were all excited. It all seemed to easy but we were there – let’s enter this sh*t!

We had a real mixed bag group in terms of the walkers. One of them was my oldest friend from school – I’ve known her all my life and she’s a gutsy bird and works *a lot* so is strapped for time to exercise. Another was a friend of the school friend, was a go-getter and spent most days in the gym. Another was a friend of about 10years, didn’t do any exercise at all but was completely built like a gazelle for physical activity – however limited to actually doing any due to juggling her 9-5 desk job and single parenthood. 

Suffice to say, with 9 kids between us, we needed to secure some training dates fast. Being single parents, the girls had alternate weekends “child-free” and, through good luck, all their kid-less weekends were aligned. This meant we could, even as early as February, book in ample long walks to strengthen our legs so we could be event ready in September. We booked in our first walk in April and walked from Stowmarket to Ipswich – 16miles. We’d spent all night in the pub the night previously (you will see a pattern forming soon) and found it super hard. By the time we had reached the end of the Gipping Trail at Ipswich Station, we were exhausted and wondered just how on earth we would cover 62miles. 

Over the following months, the team covered many, many more walks, often without all the team due to work commitments, curveballs sprung on us by other halves or ex-other halves, illness and difficulties with childcare. As the training walks increased in distance, we had to also factor in logistics and how we would get home from finishing points – our legs grew tired and concentration on the road was not high up on the list after a long one. The training schedule started to shuffle due to last minute changes and childcare issues – we weren’t all covering the same distance and we were starting to become mis-aligned on covering the same amounts. We were also debating how far we should be walking – our longest training walk of 32miles seemed a far cry from the 62 we were supposed to cover on event day. Also, the “night walk” that Oxfam had recommended we tackle was logistically and practically hard for women on their own – areas of Ipswich were not always the friendliest and the others found that countryside walks were unlit and offered little scope for picking up an extra bottle of water. Training walks were booked mostly for August – a month when everyone is busy looking after kids off school, wanted a holiday and ex-Partners were on holiday. It was tricky. It grew frustrating when our diaries would not align and everyone was feeling the burn of trying to be in two places at once. Tempers frayed once or twice just out of desperation – we were all trying to become available when everyone else was but working patterns and prior commitments spelled disaster on uniformity of dates. 

We reached the end of August and Ed Sheeran came to town – marking the end of our mammoth training walks. A last short walk was planned 2 weeks prior to the event and we were joined by another walker, Graham, who was on his own charity mission to walk 10miles a day for 60 days to raise money for dementia causes. He joined us for some company and he completely understood the dynamics of the event being part of the parkrun community and an avid mountain trekker. We had a couple of beers after the walk and wished him well on his mission. 

We knew there would be a curveball at some point, and it hit us (there was another one for me personally but we will come onto that) the week before the event. One of the Support Crew had recently lost a family member and could no longer attend the event. We were a (wo)man down. This left the Support Crew a little sparse on help – one of the Support Crew was my mother who was resourceful and quick thinking but also would get tired and the other chap was also the designated driver (let’s call him Schumacher) and would need help with navigation and some brawn with the heavy stuff. We could make do with 2 Support Crew but it wasn’t ideal at all. We were very green about the whole event and had no idea what to expect about the 48-hour nature of it. We didn’t know if we could cope with 1 person or 10. With just 2 Support Crew, we also had no contingency if someone fell ill.

We threw some ideas around the group of who we could ask to join us. Nobody would actually want to do it. It as a massive ask. The Support Crew stay awake as long as us and don’t get a medal. They have to feed, clothe and treat 4 shaking, cross and hungry walkers and they get little enjoyment out of it. They have to stay away from home for 4 days. They’d have to really “get” the mechanics of the event. Who the hell would do this?

We considered asking Graham. The weekend would fit in with his 10miles a day mission – he could get some miles in alongside us -  and he knew all about this sort of endurance task. He was a mountain walker and a pro with this sort of activity. I felt awkward asking him – he had his own social and family commitments due to an ill relative and this was hardly going to be a quick afternoon’s work. He had only met us the one time and he had no responsibility over us or our charity goals. We canned the idea and considered doing it with just two people. A mutual friend of Graham and myself contacted me and offered to help find someone. I floated the idea of asking Graham and he said it was a good match. So, I sent him a message on Facebook. It started off apologetic - in that humble fashion where you know you are asking for too much and taking the piss a little bit. 

Graham replied immediately – “It’s a No Brainer. I’m in”. 

Never underestimate the power of community! We added Graham to the Facebook internal group and, later, to the What’s App chat. This was very begrudgingly as the language on there is foul. He fitted in immediately and gave us lots of advice on equipment, timings and, above all – team values. He was honest to the point where he scared the crap out of us – tales of injuries, hallucinations and lack of nutrition were all factors that we had not considered and here was this accomplished mountain climber who had already seen it all. 

Mum organised a ton of food and essentials – spanning the entire length of our kitchen and complete with a multitude of carb heavy food and TCP smelling ointments. The list was vast. We were going to the South Downs and we had everything ready. We had 7 days to go. 

Myself and the Gazelle decided to take a walk the weekend before the event with Mum and Gazelle’s dog. It was about 2 miles with a G&T promised at the end. Halfway through this walk, I noticed that the back of my right knee ached massively. I recognised it – it was an old running injury from 3 years ago that plagues me constantly but never really erupts. It was a problem when it happened and prompted 3 months off the pavements. It worried me – I had tapered well and not stressed it in any way. I figured it would disappear over the next day or so, so vowed to not run that week to give it a rest for event day. 

Monday came. So did a sore throat and back ache for me and a stomach bug for our gym-girl. Both of which brought on by our lovely offspring.  Mum was getting stressed and downhearted about the copious amounts of work that needed doing to secure all the provisions. Everyone was Beroca’ing the shit out of themselves and I even starting a round of old antibiotics for precautionary purposes. It is not recommended medically but I panicked. I started drinking smoothies which contained about 320 pieces of fruit. We all went to bed early. Gah. It was a royal head f*ck. All this training and hard work had already been invested and here we were, on event week, fending off colds and viruses. Gazelle text me to say her back was aching – another old ailment. We were event ready but fending off common illnesses. On the Trailwalker FB page, everyone was in the same boat. 

Unfortunately, the leg was getting worse. I still don’t know why this happened. Even the school run (1km) was causing pain and leg straps were not really cutting the mustard. I had no interest in engaging with the group as there was every likelihood that I would not be able to take part. I was torn between “having a go and hoping for the best” and giving up my place to a member of the Support Crew who could cover this distance confidently. Everyone was excited and I was miserable. I didn’t even want to share the JustGiving page because it prompted more well-wishes from supporters which just put more pressure on me to actually do it. 

Friday evening was spent in the local country pub in South Harting having pints and a wonderful time with everyone. I was in a great mood – alleviated by the Amstel and Graham’s last-minute decision to bring a hiking stick. This would solve my problem! We were due to register at the event that evening so we did. The great mood quickly alleviated when a photo opportunity at the TRAILWALKER structure (which was slightly uphill) pinged my knee and sent the back of my thigh into a vice grip. I couldn’t tell anyone – I didn’t want to be a worry guts and I was nervous that everyone was growing tired of hearing me fretting – so I sat on the floor and ate my pasta and looked into the distance and wondered where the nearest train station was to get home. I did receive a lovely text from our company MD which clarified things for me. I didn’t want to let him down. I also received another – funnier one – from my own boss which made me more determined. 

Friday night was the usual pre-event calamity in terms of sleep. I shared with gym-girl and neither of us slept much. It was too massive. We had too bigger job. We had to get up super early. Our bedroom was next to the beer garden and we could hear the late-night antics in Smoker’s Corner. 

Long story short, we all ended up at the Start Line. I could see our Support Crew had very mixed facial expressions. Schumacher was full of beans and taking pics. I couldn’t read Graham’s expression. Mum looked concerned, probably because she knew I was crying. I was. I wanted to go home and see my family immediately. My leg was sore. I’d taken painkillers and was wearing a strap but it wasn’t going to cut it. 

Ready, steady, go. 

The first mile was uphill on gravel or aggregate or something. It wasn’t what I had friggin’ signed up for, in any case. I knew I would not be able to make it to Mile 1 because the leg was grumbling already. How could I pull out after 600 yards! How selfish would that look to someone who could have taken my place? How do I tell the team? How would they fare with just three people? Would this affect their finish?

I don’t know what happened, but CP 1 came quickly. So did CP2 – we were laughing our heads off at everything. I must have been as high as a kite. Life was good. We had a good comradery and shared the same levels of humour and general bewilderment about the event. The views were exceptional. We also shared the same disbelief that the contours of the South Downs were not totally in line with that of our home county, Suffolk. This mis-alignment was not on our radar at all and probably should have been. 

CP 3 was ok. 

CP 4 was starting to get difficult. To be honest I was amazed that I had made it so far.  I stuck another strap on around my knee - tight. Miraculously our pace was amazing - we were much quicker than our training times despite the hills and loose terrain. It looked like we may finish before 30 hours no problem. Graham was timing our progress and explained that we were streets ahead of where we needed to be. It was a great feeling. We had buffer for any curveballs. Mum and Schumacher had arranged some letters from home and Mum had bought us all a present. We didn’t know any of this and it was lovely. It was Mum’s birthday that day so we surprised her with gifts as well. She thought we had done nothing for her! Lol. As if sitting in a damp field for 48 hours making sandwiches and worrying about the girls wasn’t enough of a birthday gift. She was truly spoilt…

Then it all went wrong. The lead up to CP5 was awful. Gazelle had really hurt herself - another old knee problem and it came on strong and relentless. We strapped up her knee and redid our toe tape. I arrived at CP5 and told Mum ‘this is it. I have to stop now.’ My leg couldn’t support me anymore. More pain killers and another strap and we were moving again. The dusk leg of the route was good. I was dosed up to my eyeballs on painkillers. We were excited about the dark and head torches. Schumacher joined us for a bit. We heard gym-girl’s life story which we had been saving for the evening. We were close in alliance – felt very female and united -  and a force to be reckoned with. This was our team and we were making progress. 

Arrival at CP 6 showed that the Support Crew had challenges with logistics – the CP was overcrowded and badly lit. It was also themed with Christmas stuff which was novel and confusing at the same time. Another sandwich and we were off. 

I can’t even remember where we went exactly but now, I know it as Devil’s Dyke. More like Devil’s D*ck. It was excruciating. 6miles uphill on loose chalk with rocks everywhere. I went up sideways and slowly. Gazelle and I were slower than the first half of the course and I could see she was in agony. We were both now struggling with our team’s accelerated pace. We were at that point where we had to decide to slow down in order to complete the course, or keep walking fast and compromise the last shred of strength in our limbs.  We were being pragmatic – we wanted to get it done as quickly as possible but knew we were one stumble away from it all being over.  It was dark, we couldn’t see the rest of the team. My head torch died – and my second didn’t work. We were walking with just Gazelle’s torch which made foot placement tricky. Gazelle was behind me to light up the path and I could hear her gasping when her knee buckled. We didn’t talk to each other because we knew what the other one was thinking and nobody wanted to admit it. We saw lots of people struggling. On seeing the Support Crew at CP7 - we were in a state. I couldn’t understand what people were saying and their words weren’t registering in my head. The painkillers were making me want to vomit. We felt under pressure to get going again to maintain our advantage in time but we had to consider re-dressing our feet and securing our knees. Suffice to say we ate very little. 

Onwards we went. CP8 came and I added another strip of Velcro to my knee and another to the other calf which was sore from overcompensating. My left leg was now doing most of the work and was getting cheesed off. We had a huge task ahead of us - 8miles to check point 9. We were all exhausted but knew the end was in sight. I had 8 straps on my right leg and had ran out of any more. Old Friend’s ankle was causing her problems. Gym girl’s legs were painful. Gazelle was uncharacteristically quiet but I didn’t really pay attention to it at the time. 

The next 4 hours was the worst I’ve ever experienced for many reasons. We see from the Trailwalker page that others felt the same. It seemed an awful long time. It was dark, raining and lonely. Gazelle started showing signs of illness - her eyes were rolling in her head and she was talking to herself. She kept losing her footing. I was petrified but had to be fully responsible for her. I knew her children well and she was a single mum. I admit this was well out of my comfort zone; I don’t mind looking after people but I was in unfamiliar surroundings. She couldn’t walk straight or talk properly and there was nobody around. Behind us, the stream of headtorches showed other walkers to be miles away. She was hallucinating and I had no provisions or Support Crew to help me. We were miles from any lights or other walkers and it was just lonely and shit and I had no idea what I would do if Gazelle was going to collapse. My phone was dead from sharing my location, I couldn’t remember what I had done with the battery pack and I knew that I had a cereal bar and a Survival blanket in my bag. What is a Survival blanket? Will it work? It was raining hard and anything I got out of my bag would get soaked in the process. 

A water point approached and we saw the rest of our team. Gazelle sat down for a while but didn’t talk. Another walker said we had 7km to the next point - which was hard to calculate times because we were walking much slower with the pain and darkness. 

The next stretch went on for ever. We were willing to see other people - anyone. It was starting to get light but the stones and rocks were slippery. Gazelle had stopped talking completely. It felt much longer than we had anticipated. We arrived at a big hill before CP9 and we both looked at each other and decided that 90km was enough and that we were happy to pull out now. We were completely happy with that – no pressure and no regret. 90km was quite enough thanks very much. A walker behind us had confirmed from his Garmin that this leg of the course was 7.6miles only – but it truly felt like a half marathon. 

We climbed the hill. Halfway up, a beautiful Italian guy was following us. He spoke to us in a voice made of velvet and we went all gooey. We walked down the dirt track to CP9 and I started retching. The Italian looked back and asked if we were ok – we weren’t but he was so gorgeous that all of a sudden we went into dignified mode. Ah. Such is life. 

 A lovely photographer took a pic of Gazelle and I. This made us feel good. CP9 looked great – light, safe and airy. We had missed the daylight so much. The Oxfam crew at this point were really positive and told us that we LOOKED GREAT which spurred us on immensely. I cannot overstate enough how these 2 Oxfam reps completely changed EVERYTHING for us. We were ready to leave the event. Graham ran down from the entrance to meet us and told us that the rest of the team had also arrived a few minutes previously and were at the van. We both needed the loo and I dumped my bag onto the floor onto a puddle. Gazelle pointed out that there was no plumbing in the portaloo so the puddle was likely p*ss. This didn’t bother me as much as it should have. 

Mum and Graham were waiting outside the loo. They had been discussing something and took us to the medical tent (which was actually the food tent). Mum got a medic and Gazelle got a laydown and a rest and some treatment from a lovely lady. I took my trousers off at the medic’s instructions (she wanted to see my leg), sat on a bench, awaited a cup of tea and promptly fainted. I don’t remember much about that 10mins apart from Graham dangling a pastry over my face and then telling us off about not eating enough. He was right. We had done 30miles on a ham sandwich and some ready salted crisps.  The medic removed the knee straps to reveal a line of burn marks, blisters and purple welts where I had over tightened the straps and stopped circulation. She was really nice but frank – I had caused damage with the straps by over tightening at each CP. My leg was swollen. I needed to take it off. She dressed the leg and Mum took my socks off, looked at my toes, and then put them on again. I could hear Gazelle behind me. She was being fed and was talking semi well. Graham gave us a pep talk on FOOD and FOOD and how to tackle the next 10km - slow and steady and cautiously.

It was an interesting stage in terms of the Support Crew. At the time, they did what they could to make us feel better, but in hindsight, I could see that they really wanted us to finish. It must have been hard for them to see us all so broken. I wonder what I would have done if it was my daughter – probably insisted that she STOP and not do herself any damage. But they didn’t – this decision was never on the cards. Even at our worst – the mission was to keep the walkers moving. This must have been difficult for them but I’m really glad that they had this approach. That took some balls. 

Gazelle and I looked at each other and decided to keep going. We met the rest of the team back at the van and they were also strapping legs and sorting out sore toes and ankles. We ditched our wet clothes and borrowed jumpers and off we went. We had done most of it. There was nothing to prove here. We had no time issues. We were ahead of the game. Just take it easy. As we were off. 

After 10mins, Gazelle realised that had forgotten her stick and lo and behold! Graham came running up behind us carrying it.  We took it easy. We laughed and cried and anticipated the finish line. We spoke to some other teams that were upbeat and in great spirits. There were some lovely women in that event – supportive and candid and mellow. As we were approaching Brighton, locals were congratulating us and it felt good. By this point, neither of us had actually had any pain relief for a couple of hours and the absence of the knee straps meant that we were walking SLOW. Really really slow. It took about 2h 20 to do that last 6miles. 

We met up with the rest of our team at the entrance to the RaceCourse and crossed the finish line. It wasn’t as emosh as I thought it would be. These things rarely are. It was such a mixed journey and I don’t know how I felt about it. 

We came 198th out of 413 teams. 

Sounds:

• A creaky farm gate opening and slamming again.
• A far-off crowd cheering
• A  tinny portable stereo strapped to someone’s backpack
• Other walkers wishing us a pleasant evening and asking us how we are.
• The polite and solidly professional manner of a Gurkha.
• The sound of walking sticks tapping onto stone.
• The eff word from gym-girl
• Gasping from the Gazelle

Smells:

• Bacon
• Granary bread with Ham. Lush.
• Portaloos – piss.
• Funny things I didn’t see:
• Our very own “Schumacher” speeding into the corners in the team bus.
•  Mum blowing up the camping stove
• A runner up MasterChef contestant dishing out award-winning Chilli Con Carne to our Support Crew. They said it was fab. They deserved it. 

Funny things I saw:

• A guy walking in Reebok Classics chain smoking the whole distance. This made me laugh!
• Someone doing it in bare-feet.
• Compeed wrappers everywhere
• Pavement Pizza at the top of each hill.
• Graham balancing my sandwich on top of someone’s funky-smelling walking boot. I still ate it. This made me laugh too.
• Graham offering us left over Chilli which had congealed. He laughed as he did it because it looked like Pedigree Chum at this stage. It still had a fork in it from someone else. We had lost all pleasantries  - the gloves were off!

Hi points:

• Laughing our heads off on the run up to CP2. We lost the plot on something and it wasn’t that funny but we were in excellent spirits and completely united. 
• Seeing my old friend’s parents at the finish line. We weren’t expecting them and I could see that Mrs P was so elated.
• The ham sandwich.
• The dynamics of the Support Crew and the fab stories that came soon after.
• Stunning scenery 
• Getting a congratulations and a handshake from a Gurkha at the finish line. 

Low Points:

• Walking as a half a team for the latter half of the walk. It was lonely and worrying when there was an illness to manage.
• Team expectations – even with the best planning and pre-event discussions, there was some misalignment in how we would execute the event.
• Injury and soreness. We all developed issues towards the end. We expected to of course.
• Seeing upset people. Some people had to pull out and it was painstaking to witness.
• Seeing a close friend in a terrible state. I never want to see her like that again.

Did I find myself out there?

• No. I didn’t find out anything about myself that I didn’t know before. The event was a reminder of what I can (and can’t) do under pressure.
• You do find out a lot about other people - what drives them, what they can do, what they are/aren’t good at, what is important to them.
• I did, however, feel like I wanted to dedicate this event to Ibuprofen, Paracetamol and Femfresh.
• You wonder what is next. We got the bug now.

Best weekend ever. Best event ever. Would Trailwalker again. Many many thanks to our amazing Support Crew who made this achievable with provisions, presents, advice and some little white lies that were well intended and probably necessary. They really had our back and we felt well supported all the way.