Sore knees and 1,200 calorie snacks

Being a typical male and fearing the worst, I think I have developed patellofemoral syndrome, or runner's knee. Now that didn't take long, did it. The fact that it's notably most common among post-pubescent girls gives less than slight comfort to my ailing right patella. It's actually bloody sore, leaving my right leg pretty redundant when it comes to moving around. Camping in a small tent doesn't particularly lend itself to the recouperation process either. Of course, this would never had happened if I hadn't lost all the weight and decided to do things that quite simply put, "aren't normal".

It was on the upward leg of Ben Nevis when I overheard an ambling couple, who had already peaked, chatting about the virtues of hill walking. The man declared to his partner, "The whole point is that you've climbed the UK's highest mountain". She just just didn't get it, but I wasn't long enough in passing to witness the follow up discussion.

Quite frankly, on the way up, I didn't get it either, ascending for more than one hour over the massive of depressing, mist drenched mountain. Approaching the summit of Ben Nevis in cloud is much like life in the trenches as portrayed in old black and white war movies.

But the way down, oh boy! It's quite amazing how you can draw the crowd's attention when you are bounding down the hill like an escaped lunatic. I can still see each and every rain soaked, bemused and bewildered look as I elegantly and delicately slipped, slided and crashed my way down the hill at speed. I daren't even turn around to inspect the amusement adorning those who witnessed my full commando roll, the result of stumbling and losing my footing over a drainage trench. Thankfully, my half full (yes, The Editor, still half full) camel-back offered sufficient protection that I simply bounced out of the daring manoeuvre on the up-stroke and carried on. Well, I did come to a hobbling stop 50 yards later to inspect for blood, but was swiftly heading downwards again when I confirmed all the bones were still in the right place and my skin was still keeping almost everything inside. The only 'damage' of note to property was discovered at the bottom, where my spare fleece was damp and smelling decidedly orangey following a slight expression from my drinks bladder.

Having completed this weekend's training exercise, I found a particular issue with food intake. Researching dietary requirements during long distance events, a competitor can often burn over 7,000 calories during such day of training or competition. I can confirm that I have barely managed to contain my appetite, more than 24 hours after the event. After eating considerable amounts of chips, cheese, noodles, more pasta than you could imagine, crisp snacks, an entire shoulder of lamb, more cheese, a huge packet of chocolate and an entire bottle of whisky, I am barely satisfied. That doesn't even include the high calorie intake during the training either!

Current weight is 13 stones 4 pounds (186 pounds / 84.4 kg).