Getting back on it in the Brecon Beacons

As is probably apparent from the gap in dates, the 2007 attempt never happened.

My knee fell apart on the Fellsman, Kev was distracted by a fair maiden and Nick hobbled off a 5-a-side pitch down-playing the effects of a nasty tackle. A few days later it was confirmed he had completely severed his cruciate ligament.

But the round is still there and Caspar made a valid point as we pulled out of the Fellsman. He said: "If we just knocked it off first time I wouldn't enjoy it as much.

"It's about spending lots and lots of time in the mountains. Getting to know them. Hurting on numerous occasions, getting lost, but ultimately becoming intimately acquainted with them and the route to the point where on a cloudless day some summer in the future you skip around with a demented smile on your face revelling in the beauty of it all and then sleeping like a king for the next 50 years."

In the summer of 2007 I moved to Cardiff and have been distracted from fell running by the surf, the football and the rugby.

Seized by happy memories trotting round the peaks though I donned my runners this christmas to meet a mate in the Brecons. He gave me a grid ref but I didn't have a map. To hell with it, I thought. If I get lost I've got my kit and it'll be better training than a simple blast up and down Pen-y-fan on my first outing in the Brecons.

Two and a half hours later I was back at the car having failed to meet up with my friends but having covered a sizeable chunk of the Brecon Beacons and with a demented grin on my face.

Game on.