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The irony of trees

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Friday: Running on Dartmoor. Risks: Stuff to fall off, fall over, get stuck in, get lost in, get bitten by, lose my shoes in, or be arrested for being too close to. Monday: Trimming a couple of overhanging trees in the garden. Risks: A few spiky bits of branch. So if one of them was going to cause an infection and make me totally useless for 48 hours (and counting), obviously it'd be the bloody trees. The reason I am writing this at all is that I must keep my left foot above my hips, which makes life very boring. So thanks for reading this, writing it has kept me sane for a few hours at least. Right, enough whinging: Dartmoor! I'm starting to love it. I had a totally fantastic day up there during the cold weather in December and would've broken the unsupported record, but I missed one tiny Tor. Still a wonderful day though - and a lot more photogenic than this time. The 500s is a challenge which involves visiting all the Tors over 500m, as per the list in Ken Ringwood'

The full Mordor

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Cornwall's north coast is generally more rugged and spiky than it's south coast, and way out west there's a section so remote and spectacular that my friend Tom calls it Mordor. This section of spectacular beauty, despair and impending doom is the location for the Cousin Jack race. There are two races: The Classic race (St Just to St Ives) and the Ultra (St Ives to Cape Cornwall and back). Both races took place last Saturday and I was entered in the Ultra, thanks to a very kind lady called Karen who won the entry in a raffle but didn't fancy the race (whaaaaaaat?!). Greg and Phil who I'd recce'd with were in for the Classic (sadly Phil didn't start due to a hand injury) along with Ed and Connor from Falmouth. Greg and Phil on a recce I had three songs stuck in my head all day, which is an improvement on the usual one line! The first was the Arctic Monkeys -  I'm going back to 505, if it's a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive...  I don't know what