I love running trails, there is no better feeling for me than to be in the middle of nowhere, on a rough track, and surrounded by hills or lochs or forest or anything but concrete. It is running stripped back to the essentials, following paths that are man made, following routes that have been walked out of the landscape by necessity and ease of all those who have come this way before us. We are running in history, in the footsteps of previous centuries. It inspires and humbles and, I admit, frightens me too. What happens if I’m injured? How do I get home?

I was 47 miles into a 52 mile event on the West Highland Way when I couldn’t walk any further. I’d had a stress fracture in my left foot. I couldn’t put any weight on it. I was five miles from the finish line at the top of Loch Lomond. At least two miles from the nearest road.  

I could do nothing but walk. Slowly. Shuffling. Right foot out. Right foot down. Steady myself. Left foot out. Left foot down. AAAAAARRRRGHHH! Breath. Repeat for five more miles. 

Or you might worry about getting lost. I ran hills on the western side of Loch Lomond. I didn’t. I had been turned around and I was running further and further away from the car. It was only when I met someone walking in the opposite direction and we had a quick chat about where we going did I realise that they were going where I want to go: the car park.

If you’re thinking of running longer trails, then always think about running with other people or telling people where you are going and what you’re doing.