I therefore contacted the Foundation in September '15 to confirm that I was not a liability at my age (73). Having been given the all clear I commenced training that September. Initially I trained at three miles distance but over the weeks months that increased by half a mile a week until I reached in January the ten mile state. I live in a hilly area of Cornwall so choose a training course containing hills slopes grass and tarmac. Also present were fords weirs to cross. I had right knee pain and a condition called plantar fasciitis; both pains were manageable. I also talked to myself during training runs. I reckoned that if I was able to do so I was not overdoing things. The others I ran with had other ideas.

My morale was sky high and come the day of the Exmoor I was convinced that the Exmoor would be a complete doddle compared with the training I had completed in the last seven months. How wrong was I!! I started at the back on purpose being very slow and one paced and it stayed that way. My downfall was the gradients reducing my run in places to a walk. That wretched Cleeve being the worst but I did it even overtaking a few but I reckon they allowed me to as they felt sorry for me.

The chances of my returning next year are fairly slim
 
Exmoor’  Verse             
A fragment discovered in the West Buckland Archive –
Each year, in the Easter term`s ultimate week,
West Buckland can demonstrate that it`s unique.
It shuts down its lessons and stages a race
That no other school in the country would face.
West Buckland are daring, tenacious, and strong,
And no-one can live with West Buckland for long.
The wimps out at Shebbear have nothing like this,
And softies at Blundell`s all give it a miss.
The College at Petroc have turned a blind eye,
And Kingsley are too scared to give it a try.
West Buckland are up for it, eager to run,
And only feel sad when the racing is done.
And all around England, wherever one goes,
They shudder with horror and turn up their nose.
Harrow play cricket at Lord`s, if at all,
And Eton confine all their sport to a wall.
West Buckland are sportsmen, West Buckland are game,
And wonder why everyone isn`t  the same.
We`re dying to start in the hail and the sleet,
And like nothing more than two soaking wet feet.
We revel in cowpats and welcome the mud,
And cheer when we come across rivers in flood.
West Buckland, West Buckland, West Buckland are best,
So up with West Buckland and down with the rest.
We want to be so far ahead at the end,
We vanish from sight, we`re so far round the bend.
For the Headmasters` Conference says we should be
In a class on our own – and I`m sure you agree.
BC  March, 2011