MY WORDS

my view point

OI, THAT’S MINE!

I was in Maloja on the border between Switzerland and Italy, having run for 14 hours and 90km.

It was midnight on Thursday evening and I was slowly recovering my strength and nutrition plan after a massive bonk. I had arrived at the refreshment station sandwiched between Thomas (a Spaniard of very few English words), and a friendly, super-strong Swiss woman.

After eating plate after plate of pasta, I was second to leave the station a minute or two behind Thomas. I picked up my hiking poles and was surprised to find that they were not actually mine.

I assumed that the Spaniard had inadvertently taken my poles and so a chase up the 1,000m ascent out of Maloja began. I saw the lights ahead of me on the trail. I shouted “Ola Thomas” and saw the headlamp turn in my direction. It may have been fatigue induced paranoia, but it seemed that Thomas’