If I had to pick a place to draw my last breath it would be in the mountains, preferably some nice ones and the Alps certainly ticked this box. However my method of demise would be on the top of a high peak watching a beautiful sunset over a vast mountain landscape before slowly drifting off to sleep never to wake again.

Instead I found myself in excruciating pain, battling my way through steep glacial moraine in a blizzard attempting to reach a seemingly insurmountable mountain hut on the edge of a glacier. My hands were numb with cold, I was soaked through, freezing and utterly exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to lie down on the ground and fall asleep. Thankfully I had 2 companions’ who wouldn’t allow this to happen and were frog marching me at a snails pace up the mountain. But could we really make it to the hut?

I’m lying face down in the snow …. again.

This time it is not deep snow, I am not trapped by my pulk and it is not -30 degrees.

It is however my pulk that is the cause of my current predicament. And it’s not the first time I’ve been in this situation in the race, I’ve fallen down maybe 100 times. Its death by a thousand pulk hits.

Pre-race excitement

I’m back in Sweden to once again take on the Arctic Spine, 293 miles on the Kungsleden trail, this time over 9.5 days.

I’m on the top of Snowdon - its dark, raining and very cold. I’m soaked to the skin and the wind feels like its blowing right through me. I’ve lost the path and my headtorch is failing. I feel like I’m on the brink of hypothermia.

This is how my first attempt at a Paddy Buckley Round ended 6 years ago (you can read about it here )).

I’d always intended to return for another go (I’d fast packed the round over 3 days with Katherine Davis a few years back which was a great experience), but for one reason or another I never have. Until now.

I’m lying face down on the ground under 3 feet of snow, it’s -30 degrees Celsius and I’m unable to move.

Moments before I had been descending from the Tjäktja Pass on cross country ski’s pulling a pulk behind me. I was fully in control and everything was going well .. until it wasn’t. Until I built up to a speed I wasn’t able to control, lost control and fell face forward into the deep snow.

“If you could take one source of pain away what would it be? And you can’t just say your feet it needs to be a specific part of a foot”

Danny thinks for a while before responding.

“The inside of my right foot where I have a bunion and its pressing against my shoe – what about you?”

There’s lots to choose from. First thing in the day it would have been the outside of my left foot (I thought I might have broken it at one point) but this has now been superseded by pain on the balls of my feet mainly caused by swelling. If I was forced to choose it would be the right.

What do you call a cheese that isn’t yours? Nacho cheese!

It’s around 4am in the morning and I’m trudging through the moors above Shap on a cold crisp spring night. I’ve been moving pretty much non-stop for about 20 hours. It’s the witching hours just before dawn and I’m at a low point both mentally and physically.

I have 3 companions – they are also at a low point and we are resorting to humour to attempt to lift our spirits, hence the cheese jokes (I’ll spare you the rest….).

The late cancellation of the Arctic Spine race in which I was due to participate provided an opportunity to put myself on the start line of the UK edition once again. Training had gone well and I was looking forward to toe-ing the line without the chest infection and broken ribs which had accompanied me during last year’s race.

My brother Alan very kindly drove me down to Edale for the statuary pre-race registration which consisted of preparing the runners for race conditions by making them queue outside the registration venue for over an hour in freezing conditions.

So what it all this Spine malarky all about then?

I’ve known about the Spine Race for a very long time now and have spent countless years watching the steady progress of dots moving northwards over the course of a week in January.

It’s always been a race that has terrified me.

The route follows the 268 miles of the Pennine Way over generally high exposed ground from Edale in the Peak District to Kirk Yetholm in the Scottish borders with few opportunities for shelter.

So I didn’t complete the Dragon’s Back Race this year. My main concern going into the race was my knee as I’ve been suffering from tendonitis which has curtailed my training, I barely ran for the four weeks preceding the race although I did manage to do some hiking with help of poles on the descents.

Ultimately though what stopped me was the heat and cramp.

At the start line

The cramp started kicking in after around six hours on the descent coming down to the checkpoint at Ogwen but other than that I was feeling okay.

Day 1: 19 miles, 6,640ft ascent

https://www.strava.com/activities/2752283159