With just three miles to go and the clock ticking down I had nothing more to give, the pace I was walking at was the most I could manage. With the other boys having had their times of struggle now it was my turn.
By 53 miles blisters had eaten up Ken's feet to such an extent that he had been forced to quit but not before a titanic multi-mile effort on his part, Ken even cutting up his trainers in an attempt to alleviate the friction on his blister menagerie.
At our penultimate rest stop Ollie, who had been suffering flu for the whole trip, experienced such a rapid decline that he was making plans to call it a day and meet us with the support crew at the ascent to Carn Pica.
Grant, who had been battling with violent sickness, had announced (and been told!) that he would do one more leg of the walk and then definitely stop at Talybont Reservoir.
As it was, this "final" leg saw Grant's strength and determination return while Ollie's pride lit a fuse inside him and he persevered to the end, not wanting two Cheltenham boys to succeed where the two Gloucester boys had failed.
After the most satisfying of breaks at Talybont Reservoir where our aching muscles were treated to a quick massage and our cooling bodies were fed piping hot pasta (thanks Mel!) the four of us - Pete, Ollie, Grant and me - began the ascent towards Carn Pica. Regarding this section of walk I had earlier written that "...this is the terrain I am most comfortable on," and so it proved to be as I kept a good pace onwards and upwards.
Throughout the whole walk I had set myself mini-challenges. One was to regulate my pace with the rest of the team and another was to catch any who built a significant lead, 'reeling them in.' This was an excellent strategy as it kept my mind off any pain I was feeling and would leave a warm feeling of satisfaction every time I succeeded. The pace that Pete was setting in the hills gave me a good opportunity to try this once more. It took a lot longer than previous efforts and was a shock at just how fast Pete was moving, much faster than our average walking speed. He had the bit between his teeth by now and, with the end so close and no doubt with memories of his dad swirling round his head, he found a strength and determination that impressed me no end. In my opinion Pete had been the most improved member of the team. Stepping up from the problems of a thirty-five mile training walk to an incident-free seventy-three was remarkable.
We reached Carn Pica in an hour and a quarter, a cracking pace even if you were hitting it fresh. Then came my slump. The winds on the hills had braided the grass into many trip-wires that seemed to catch me on every step. Small drops off grassy verges sent shooting pains up both legs. It wasn't long before any shock-absorbency my legs could provide had been eroded away. Every step, particularly downhill, was now agonizingly painful. My left knee was burning, my right calf had a knot that seemed the size of a golf-ball and both my achilles had seized up. Yet the pace, dictated by Pete (I use the term 'dictated' in its strongest possible sense!), remained fast.
There was no time to stop for a break, it was now a very real possibility that we wouldn't make the top in 36 hours. A long, very painful descent was approaching and we had just hit seventy miles. Gusty tailwinds carried us forward, relieving some of the pain for half a second at a time. The path took us out of the wind. That long descent was upon us.
Every step sent shockwaves up my legs and into my chest. It felt like my muscles, ligaments and tendons had been removed and bone was left to grind against bone, or worse - bone against nerve.
After an age the path eventually lead us onto the gentle ascent around Corn Du towards Pen Y Fan. By now I was at the rear of our silent line of Summiteers, Ollie was just in front, then a gap to Grant, then another to Pete.
This can't be it, I thought. This can't be all I've got.
For the first time I couldn't willingly switch into another gear and the idea of reeling in the leader again was being rejected by my brain. I needed adrenaline. I ran, telling my body to ignore what the brain was telling it. I felt like a gazelle. I passed Ollie, then Grant. I felt strong.
As I approached Pete he turned, bearing a peculiar look on his face. I yelled, "It hurts less like this!" and carried on past him, springing off each rock and stone as if they were boiling hot. I turned as I ran and felt a warm surge of pride and adrenaline as I saw all three of my new brothers running with me.
We slowed to a walk again as the final "wall" of Pen Y Fan faced us. Our friends were at the top and time, thanks to the pace we kept from Talybont Reservoir, was once again on our side.
We climbed together, stopping whenever one of us requested. We finished together. Strongly.
Seventy-three and a half miles of tarmac, grass and stone had passed under our feet reaching this point. We just wished Ken was with us.
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