The Shropshire Way Run Part three: the final push for that cool crisp beer

It was the same routine as the days that had gone before, but with an added element: I would have a chum to run with for the remainder of the Way.

I met Dharmesh only once before: a good friend got in touch awhile ago asking if I could host some end-to-enders (aka Land's End to John O'Groats cyclists) she knew. I said of course we could (I've received so much wonderful hospitality from strangers on my own travels, it's high time I start repaying some of that to the world!) and a friendship with Dharmesh and James was born. Dharmesh, being a keen runner, offered to support the run when I told him about it, and true to his word, he came prepared to run with plenty of good chat to keep me distracted from the growing aches and pains in my legs.

So off we went, disturbing a quiet country lane with our conversations about triathlons, compression socks, work, life, and generally putting the world to rights.

Running chum!

The major climb of the day was up to the top of the Wrekin, which was steep and unrelenting. But it was wonderful to make it up and over the rise - to finally reach the top of a hill with a full 360 degree view that could actually be seen (so many of the big climbs of the week had been shrouded in mist, with the reward of a view at the top falling short of expectations) was a real highlight of the week.

Enjoying a view at the top of the Wrekin!!

After this, the day was spent making our way north, through many a field and nettle patch.

A great advantage of having another runner (and a particularly sprightly one at that) was that he was able to film short videos of me running along the Way, so we could send something a bit more interesting to Sarah than just me and my face talking to the camera whilst very out of breath.

So there we were, jogging through an apparently empty field, Dharmesh having a whale of a time running circles around me with the camera. When he gave it back (still recording) I turned around to notice a stampede of cows heading our way.

This was when I discovered that out of the two 'fight or flight' modes, when it comes to cows, Dharmesh is definitely a 'flight' sort of person. We weren't all that far from the gate, so I slowed down to try and calm the cows (so we wouldn't give them something to chase, which is what cows generally like to do:from my own countryside experience, if there's something nippy, cows are curious and will give chase, unlike sheep, which tend to run away very quickly) all the while Dharmesh is practically skipping in his determination to get to the gate, questioning my sanity at choosing to walk rather than sprint to escape. Meanwhile an elderly lady was in her garden brandishing a stick at the cows, asking them politely to slow down and leave the crazy people alone...needless to say, we escaped the fearsome cows, and henceforth I will continue to chuckle and remind Dharmesh of this moment every time I see him.

Onwards through to High Ercall, where we paused for some lunch - dad had thought ahead, and managed to purchase more quiche, a storming idea after Thursday's monumental quiche success...alas the problem with having such a splendiferous slab of quiche the previous day, any other type of quiche was going to struggle to rise to the expectations of such quiche supremacy...it was not meant to be, the quiche was full of water and tasteless by comparison. We managed to wolf down a couple of slices each before it got to the point where it really wasn't worth the effort anymore, and instead tucked into flapjack and slurped some tea.

The afternoon was spent trying to keep cool, as the sun was really beating down on us - it truly has been a glorious Indian Summer, although maybe a tad warm for long-distance trail running (I know people do the Marathon des Sables in the desert, but I'm a natural over-heater like both of my parents, and feel far more comfortable running in wet and cold conditions).

It was a great last few miles running through fields of freshly-turned golden straw. It was decidedly less lovely running through what appeared to be a field full of nettles - I'm not joking when I say this, it was almost as though the field had been planted with nettles for a harvest crop, it was such a bizarre moment!

We were joined by my dad for the final couple of miles along green lanes, past a cottage that my family lived in for a few years when we were small, to Lee Brockhurst. The terrain being relatively easy, the day was finished fairly early for a change.

Even better, on route home, a fellow cycle tourer came into view - David Steel, a good friend from uni, was staying the night. He was in the first week of pedaling from Glasgow to The Gambia in West Africa - what an incredible journey!! I haven't seen him since graduating, so it was great to have a catch up, and to hear about all his adventures, even for just an evening.

A group of wacky adventurers - David cycling through Africa, Dharmesh the Ironman-to-be, and me :) 

We all departed for bed with tired legs, full bellies and anticipation for the next day...the final day...





I woke up tired and stiff, the joints and muscles not wanting to go, but they were dragged into running kit for one final day of roaming.

We wished David luck as he pedaled away, and headed to our own departure point. My friend Charl was taking over support crew duties for the day, and was ready to roll with dad Keith in the navigation seat. Off we jogged, with light hearts and light packs - we would not be going too far until we saw everyone again.

We made our way into Wem, and passed the Castle pub where I used to work. I hugged the landlady as we passed, and immediately bumped into my Grandpa, who wished us well on our final day of running.

It was a real treat to be joined by Mike, Jo and Emma for the miles up to Grinshill. Plenty of chuckles  ensued about Mike's hangover - he's reached the ripe old age of 26, and  claims he's at the point of not being able to drink more than 3 beers without suffering...the rest of us, still sitting in the youthful 25 and under category, can otherwise enjoy copious quantities of alcohol without such repercussions....supposedly!

We made it to the top of Grinshill and celebrated heartily with tea and bacon sandwiches. Grinshill is the first place that I started running when I was six years old (I went to Clive Primary School, and enjoyed running wild on Grinshill in the cross country club for years) and it's still one of my favourite places to run even now. the Way doesn't go to the top of Grinshill, but it was well worth the short detour. It would have felt wrong to simply jog straight on through.

Still one of my favourite places to run, and just to sit and enjoy the view

A wonderful distraction for sore legs!

It was a swift run down through Grinshill and through the fields to Hadnall and then along to Astley, where we saw Charl, Keith and Sarah by the tiny toy church. We made it a brief stop: my thoughts were finally drifting towards the finish line, and the longer we delayed, the more twitchy I was becoming, and it was all the harder to get going again.

The afternoon was full of very hot running. Dharmesh was, quite rightly, enforcing regular water breaks for the sections. I was grateful that he still had plenty of energy so he could do most of the thinking for me. It left me with the task of navigating, which had become so much of a habit that running without a map in hand felt quite unnatural.

We had fantastic views of Haughmond Abbey, the remains of the Augustinian Abbey making a wonderful checkpoint for the final few miles of the Way. Then it was over the road and along a beautiful woodland track, the shade of the trees a welcome relief after so long exposed in the expansive fields.

Haughmond Abbey - the end is in sight!

The last few miles rushed by, and before I knew it, we were by the weir, with one final mile remaining.

The riverside path was a bustle of people, all enjoying the glorious September sunshine. We jogged on by, singing 'Don't stop me now' loudly and unashamedly  - however the singing led to a significant increase in pace, so we quickly became out of breath and returned back to slow plodding; it would have been quite something to burn out and dehydrate in the final mile so I couldn't finish!

Dharmesh sprinted on ahead so I could finish by myself - as I saw him bound away like a leggy gazelle, I was left with my thoughts...which I can't really put a finger on. It felt odd to have a finish that wasn't a non-entity. Every long-distance trip I've done, I've finished alone, and enjoyed a quiet ending to a spectacular journey, so to be surrounded by people I knew, to run the final few metres in the knowledge that friends and family were waiting for me with fresh clothes, water and food, and the all important celebratory beer, was exciting in itself.


It had been a whirlwind week of emotions, and exploration: I'd learnt about and discovered so much about places that I'd only heard about, finally spending some quality time experiencing the county that I've grown up in. All whilst running and pushing myself far beyond what I thought I was capable of. I suppose I simply felt lucky that my body coped so well that I could enjoy so much of the journey, and glad that I had simply taken the decision to try something that I'd never done before.

I remember trying to capture my thoughts on camera - I'm not entirely sure what I said, but I did manage a spectacular fail of dropping said camera just as I came into view of the bandstand and the gang awaiting me there...maybe having people waiting for me to finish something is not the best idea after all?! At least I didn't fall over...

And that was that! I reached the bandstand after picking up all the camera pieces, quickly whipped off my trainers, and cracked open a delicious chilled tin of Brooklyn Craft beer. That first slurp was absolute heaven. There were hugs all round, and then a swift departure to the closest pub for celebratory wine and chips in copious quantities.

It turned into a wonderfully lazy afternoon of chilled beverages by the river, with the sun slowly starting to sink, the day drawing to a relaxed end. All that awaited was a blissful hot shower to start the vain attempt to clean my filthy toenails and ease my aching muscles, and a long deep sleep.


I refer once again to that simple yet powerful quote from the awe-inspiring Terry Fox.


'I just wish people would realise that anything's possible if you try; dreams are made possible if you try'.

I feel I can comprehend this more fully even compared with my cycle across Canada - the distance I covered this week, I could have covered in just over a day on two wheels. But the challenge involved with running this distance presented a far greater test of my abilities than pedaling across the breadth of a continent. I was pushed to train, and focus my efforts in order to give myself the best possible chance of completing something that I genuinely wasn't sure I would reach the end of.

And so I can honestly say that this past week, I tried bloody hard. I sweated, I ached. bled, grunted, blistered, yelled with frustration, questioned my sanity (I'm used to other people doing this one, but not me!) dealt with the wild beasts of Shropshire (well plenty of cows, sheep, ponies and dogs) and came out the other side with a far stronger mind, and thick callouses on my feet.

It has been a week of trying, a week to be proud of.

Over and out.