SWIMRUN TO THE HILLS
“Slow down!” I bark for what feels like the hundredth time to my swimrun partner, Emily, who’s speeding ahead up the impossibly steep and endless craggy mountain pass before us.
We’re scrambling up a narrow opening in the rockface near the top of Loughrigg Fell, the highest point of the Breca Coniston swimrun. The race is traditionally run as pairs, and to stray more than 10m from your partner spells disqualification. With a mountain goat for a partner, I was understandably very worried.
All decorum lost by this point, I loudly wheeze my way over the top where we’re instantly hit by views of Windermere’s glittering waters winking away far below. Turning ahead to glance northwards, we watch the trickle of heavily laden swimrunners disperse across the boggy fell, hints of fluorescent gear bobbing in between sprawling ferns and purple heather. We slip into the throng and begin our clambering descent towards Grasmere and the finish line.
