Well, that’s one way to spend Father’s Day.

50km across the North Yorkshire Moors, in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support, and I’m not going to pretend it was anything other than brutal. I’d trained, I’d planned, I’d told myself I knew roughly what I was in for. I didn’t.

The kit was sorted, the pack was loaded, and there’s always that odd mix of nerves and excitement the night before something like this. You tell yourself you’ve done the hard part already, just by getting to the start line. You haven’t. Not even close.

Early start, mist still sitting in the fields, that proper “this is really happening” feeling as we headed towards Whitby.

Standing at the start with a few hundred other people, all carrying their own reasons for being there. Some running, most walking, everyone with a number pinned on and a story behind it.

The first few kilometres through Whitby’s cobbled streets felt almost gentle, a false sense of security if ever there was one.

Then the moors opened up, the sky cleared, and the heat arrived. Properly arrived. Nobody had mentioned this bit.

This is where it started to bite. Mile after mile of open moorland with absolutely nowhere to escape the sun. No trees, no shade, nothing. Just heat, heather, and the next marker somewhere off in the distance.

The terrain was a different animal to what I’d expected. Constant up and down through fern-choked valleys, legs never getting a flat stretch to settle into a rhythm. Every time you thought you’d found your pace, another climb showed up.

By this point the numbers on the markers stopped meaning much. You stop counting kilometres and start counting steps to the next marker, then the next, then the next.

Somewhere in the hardest stretch, sat on a wall, someone had left a painted stone. “Don’t Quit.” No idea who left it, but it landed exactly when I needed it. That’s the bit nobody tells you about these events, it’s not really about fitness by the halfway point, it’s about whether you’ll let yourself stop.

I didn’t.

And then, somehow, there it was. The finish arch, the flags, the noise.

Legs broken, properly broken, but done.

50km, in the heat, over terrain that gave nothing away, for a charity that means a great deal. Thank you to everyone who’s sponsored, messaged, or just put up with me talking about this for months.

If you’d like to add anything to the total, the page is still open: justgiving.com/page/fatladattheback

Legs broken. Back for more.

#UltraChallenge #NorthYorksUltraChallenge #MacmillanCancerSupport #50km #FathersDay #CharityWalk #TheFortedBunker #Forted