After I got back from Pabbay, there was only a few days before the West Highland Way race I had entered. I had spent most of the spring thinking there was no possibility whatsoever thatI’d be able to do it. My ankle had progressed a bit, then got worse, then much worse, then a bit better again. I’d get a few runs in for a couple of weeks, then have to stop for a few weeks, then attempt to start again.
The trouble with these sorts of experiences is that they are a storm in a tea cup. In one part of your mind, it's really pretty upsetting. End of a little dream and all that. But to everyone else, it's no big deal. Life goes on. Lucky to be alive after the accident anyway etc.. All true. I guess I just haven't grown up enough to deal with such little frustrations. The scary thing is, I don't always feel like I want to.
Alicia enjoying some perfect sandstone in Glen Torridon
The following day myself and Alicia toured the lovely sandstone of Torridon and worked projects in the Arisaig Cave. I went back just afterwards and found a kneebar which changed a Font 8a project into another classic 7Cish (it was pretty damp when I did it so maybe it’s be easier in fresh weather).