That wonderful run a couple of weeks ago really spurred my training on. Up and out on Monday, Wednesday (before 6am!) and Friday, I ran over 30 miles in a week. Hugely impressed with my progress, I could not wait to get back out for Sunday's 12 miler.

I had not counted on two things though. One, Dan's route planning. And two, the British weather. Things didn't get off to the best start as lifts kept missing each other but we eventually got out to Bradfield cricket ground. Our first clue this was a bad idea should have been the flurry of sleet we passed on the way there. Being hardened Northerners though that was not going to put us off and so we began.

Within minutes the boys were way ahead and only Dan's florescent orange top was visible through the trees from time to time. Becky and I kept going up the relentless hills, through the blizzards and up on to the moors. Needless to say we were not happy bunnies by this point. And the disaster struck: Becky's knee went. So we were now stranded near Strines, in sodden running gear without a phone between us. I will be grateful until the end of my days for the kindly gentlemen who stopped and drove us to the pub, and to the lovely people at the Strines Inn for letting us huddle by the fire until the boys could fetch us. If that wasn't bad enough, poor Becky was hospitalised the next day after fainting in the library. We wish her a very speedy recovery and hope to see her back out training very soon!

Starting the week knowing I had to fit in a long after work run was daunting but it turned out to be a great evening, full of laughter and questionable navigation. Despite following a signposted route that Niki had completed before, our tracking on MapMyRun resembles a child's doodle. We got the 10 miles under our belt now and I felt training was a back on track.

My navigation, however, not so much. I decided it was time to try along route on my own to check my pace and to get used to running without others motivating me along the way. I planned a very hilly 11.5 miler and off I went, iPod on and powerade in hand. All going well - or as well as constant uphill can go - until I started to think I had missed my turn. A few checks of the app and a slight detour later, I was running down (at last, down!) through Wyming Brook admiring my view and yet again thanking my lucky stars that I get to live somewhere as beautiful as Sheffield.

Finally, tired, sore and desperate to collapse on the floor, I arrived back at the ranch. Slightly disappointed with my time and by just how hard the final mile had been, I checked how far I had actually gone. Turns out whilst admiring Wyming Brook I missed another turn and had actually completed a half marathon! Suddenly the pain seemed worthwhile and I was just so proud of what my little legs can achieve when pushed.

No time to rest on my laurels though - I have already planned next week's 15 mile expedition. Eeek!

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