Day 10: Hills, Hugs, and Heartfelt Triumphs

So, Day 10. I made it. Physically? Let’s just say my body filed a formal complaint. Sleep? Barely. The night before was a whirlwind: Durham Rugby Club (incredible), a hotel physio visit that was nothing short of miraculous, and a marathon of tidying and prepping that didn’t end until 2 a.m. Somehow, we aimed to get to the start line at 10 a.m... ambitious, but optimism is free, right?

The day started with a lovely chap joining us to ferry Joel around. Chatty, helpful, endlessly kind, but on a schedule, “lovely” can also mean “delaying survival.” Thirty minutes of heartfelt conversation later, we finally set off. I thought today would be easier than yesterday. I was very, very wrong.

From the very first hill, it was clear this was the toughest day I’ve ever had wheeling. The climbs were relentless, the inclines averaging 15–20%, and some hills stretched over 10 kilometers. Downhills, which you’d think would be a relief, were even worse, very rare, but steep, uneven, and demanding every ounce of grip, draining my forearms and sapping my energy. There was no rest, not even a pause to catch my breath or enjoy a downhill momentum.

Every stop for a “quick break” somehow stretched into half an hour of conversation. Lovely for morale, terrible for muscles. By the time we hit a big roundabout with 30 km to go and only two hours to finish, panic set in. I was dehydrated, depleted, and unable to reach my gels while climbing or descending. All I could do was put my music on, put my head down, and push forward.

Thankfully, Paul and Hallie were superheroes. They kept spirits high with jokes, spotting random hilarities, and making me laugh despite the pain. Flat surfaces were a cruel tease after the relentless hills, but at least they weren’t inclines. By the final stretches, with monstrous headwinds one way and my body screaming, I realised I was literally running on sheer willpower.

And then… the finish line. Hitting the seafront was overwhelming. Hundreds of smiling faces, cheering delegates, friends, colleagues, and the rugby family. Rugby royalty, some of our Red Roses, the RFU and RWC and World Rugby presidents, along with so many incredible players and RWC superheros. Hugs, photos, laughter, it was surreal. Last year, I crossed the finish line relieved it was over. This year? Pure joy. Exhausted, yes, but elated, loved, and deeply grateful.

Physio John deserves sainthood. After a previous day of punishing hills, I genuinely don’t know how I would have made it without him keeping me mobile and upright. The support from Cat, Theresa, Paul, Hallie, and little Nico, and the entire team made the final push possible. Their energy, care, and humour carried me through the hardest miles. Even when the Garmin insisted I’d done “only” 50 km (probably 54 in reality), it didn’t matter, the experience was monumental.

Highlights? Too many to list. Seeing Cat and the team, cheering delegates from across the country, spontaneous hugs, and laughter all the way to the finish. Feeling the collective cheer of hundreds of people as we crossed the seafront. Being reminded that even in extreme exhaustion, joy, connection, and human kindness are powerful motivators. And discovering once again that no matter how tough the day, smiles and laughter can make it not just bearable, but genuinely fun.

Day 10 was brutal, yes, but it was also ridiculously beautiful. Hills, exhaustion, laughter, cheers, hugs, and the occasional autograph request, it was everything I’d hoped this journey could be and more. Unlike last year, when I finished merely relieved it was over, this time I finished full of joy. I laughed, I cried (a little), and I marveled at the incredible people surrounding me.

Would I do it again? Absolutely, and this time, definitely with the same support team. They really are the very best 👌