TRAIL RUNNING FESTIVAL IN EAST DEVON

A flare was lit, the pipes were played and the morning sky a brilliant crimson, 
Up above Dalwood, the mist hung low and past the first lot of race volunteers we did go, 
Down a bumpy track, meander the river and over the wobbly bridge, and on up to checkpoint 2,
The joy of forest and through the lanes of Lyme, the famous Cobb and beach huts we did roll, 
The cliff path has an alpine feel, we cast our eyes from Golden Cap to the South Hams as we weave along,
The air is sticky now, the wild jungle of the undercliffs makes us begin to wipe our brow, 
No golf today, but an estuary and plenty single track paths to play, 
but seriously is there any more hills before Blackbury Camp. 
But oh, what a sight, the biggest crowd we've seen, the 'bells in early spring bloom in the magic of the forested fort
Get the music on, the family a welcome sight, we have some road to trot along, One short glimpse of the sea again before the f#@kin ' flint track up one more hill.
Freeze pops give the sugar needed, the dingly dell (no trolls today) before the stairway to devon.
The steps are tricky now, the road a slog, no pints at the Otter Inn but encouragement once more before that one more hill. 
Egland looms, the sun is hot, the sweat is dripping, any stream will do, cool the head, control the effort, still plenty to go.
Past the rope swing, rural football, and early purples, down, down the track before one more hill.
The 'barkley' section - really I say?, the legs are acheing, the body thinks its everest but its pen point we go.
Rhododendron walk, mind your head, fallen tree, where is this Luppitt stop for me?
Wonderful friends give all they can to stoke our fires, Hartridge must be run after one more hill of fun, 
The remotest section of the day, more devon paths to follow, round the corner and up to Dumpdon, its only one more hill to go...
Family visits and voice notes cheer us as we touch the trig (placing palm on trig is mandatory don't you know?)
Thighs are acheing, waterlogged lane and idyllic village scene as one final pitstop is had
Pounding on road, get me out of Honiton quick, surely this hill can't be all that bad?
It towers above us, voices go to silent, heart rate soars, get me to that pole.
Offwell woods with rubble and mud we do roll,
The final fields, they've lit the way, the most welcoming sight of the day, 
One more hill, no sprint finish here, we fight into one more shuffle, 
For the day is done and the East Devon Round we have all won.