This years race was a real pea soup fest. The clag was down so thick the quarries were somewhere over there. 17 brave souls pitted their navigation skills against this daunting white blanket. A few early starters quickly disappeared leaving the main pack to catch up as the compasses came out after Rudd Hill. Most of the races was a gamble of good & bad lines with a chance meeting of fellow runner. Most people got round in some manner with Jack Foxall emerging the winner of the trophy.

With post race beers in the Norfolk Arms and everyone getting a prize from the goodie bag we had a good banter of who went where and who saw who.

Austin