When you're sitting in a damp marquee at one am crying from pure tiredness and trying to decide where the energy will come from to get you through the night walk it feels like a very big thing but here today, though it feels hard enough on my aching calves and blistered toes, it feels like a very small thing to so for those young people who would otherwise be spending a night on the streets or selling themselves just to have a bed for the night. So what I'm a bit stiff, I'll get over it I'm alive and able to take care of myself and for that I'm thankful.
I want to say a word about Linda. She tore a muscle in her back weeks before we set off and I told her I'd stick with her as far as she could walk always at her pace. I have to tell you it was a 50-50 split on the encouragement and she got me across the line as much as I did her.
What strikes me about the whole event is not the feat or the endurance but the people. It takes a special kind of person to undertake this kind of thing meaning those we met who cheered us on, shared our stories and gave each other so much. You need food? Water? Plasters? A torch, a buddy, pacemaker, company to the next rest stop? All freely given and gratefully accepted. The most commonly heard word this weekend was thanks.
Those last few metres onto the track, down a set of stairs no less, were harsh. Cruel and unusual punishment but we made it. A big thank you to our supporters for carrying our bags the last few metres, fro putting up with the swearing and staggering incoherence and for forgiving us anyway and taking us home to look after. 
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