THE finale to the Cape Wrath Challenge is the marathon itself on the Saturday. It is regarded as one of the most challenging 26-milers in the UK with more than 2,415 feet of climb over rugged hills.

What is different about the marathon is that you get to the start from Durness by taking the ferry from Keodale to the Cape, and starting the race there, on a tough 11-mile uphill to the lighthouse by Cape Wrath, and then back down to the ferry.

The clock is stopped while you wait for the ferry to take you across the short stretch of water, and then the clock resumes for the final four mile run from Keodale to Durness.

I was sorely tempted to take part, even though I had told my girlfriend Liz that after the London Marathon that this was my final marathon. She had wagered £100 I would not keep to my bet, and the lure of running this remotest of marathons was hard to ignore.

In the end, common sense prevailed, especially the thought of any injury I might pick up which would seriously damage the challenge. So instead Liz and I teamed up with a third guy, David Stone from the Britannia Running Club, who is a regular at the Cape Wrath. Liz and I would each run an 11 mile leg of the relay, and David the four mile bit.

However all the best laid plans of mice and men went to pot when we woke on the Saturday morning. It was blowing a fair old gale outside and there was no way we were going to be able to get on the ferry to cross for the marathon.

Everyone had been allotted times for the ferry crossing - this was not a continuous relay with one runner handing over to the next, positions were based on the total time of the legs.

When I took Liz to the village hall at 7.15am for her start - I wasn't due to start until 9.15am - it was clear that a new plan had to be made.

Instead, we all returned to the hall for 9.30am. The poor marathon runners were going to run from the village hall on a 13 mile route out into the foothills and back. Worse, they would be running into a stiff headwind and with driving rain for the first half.

For the rest of us, we were taken in minibuses on a single track road out of the village, past the fery point at Keodale Pier, and along the A838 by Loch Borralie.

Some runners were doing two-person relays with two 13-mile legs, others were doing five person relays starting at the seven mile and four mile points. It was all very hectic, but well ordered.

Liz and myself were dropped off at this 11 mile point in the middle of nowhere on this remote country road. A yellow bibbed marshal stood by the side of the road. Another couple arrived moments later. We each had red cards held in waterproof jackets which were pinned to our numbers. The marshal noted the time, gave us the countdown and we were off.

Liz ran with a lady who had turned up, her partner started with me and he hared off into the distance. It was downhill with the wind and we were flying. We were flying for five miles and even with the rain lashing across our faces, this was some of the most exhilarating running I have ever done.

The first mile I reached in 5 minutes 50 seconds. That was incredible. I usually run between seven and seven and a half minutes a mile. This was the pace that the fastest club runners reach at times. I felt light and airy, my legs bounched off the asphalt, cooled by the rain, my body being pushed forward by the wind. Even when I had to clear my throat, the phlegm went for yards!

Throw in the spectacular mountain scenery, the wild countryside, and the solitude of silence with barely a vehicle on the road, and it made for perfect running.

By six miles, I spotted the first of the marathon runners. I was flying and they were struggling uphill and into the wind, with another 20 miles ahead of them. I felt sorry for them, and felt guilty for running so fast.

I had a glorious run. The rain passed and the sun shone. I maintained a good speed, which slowed only with one tough uphill stretch by the ferry, and then as we swung into Durness and headed towards the village hall, we were faced with a severe headwind which reduced you to a crawl.

But once up the top of the hill, I managed to catch some runners who I had given a four-mile start to and crossed the line in line in a time of 1hr 18min 1sec - which was quick.

Liz had a good run too and enjoyed coasting down the hills to finish in 1:43.11, while David weighed in with a good 38.16 for his 4.2 miles which gave us a combined time of 3hrs 39min and 28sec for second place.

It was a good effort. I had strapped up my toes with a couple of blister plasters and there had been no adverse affects.

It brought the curtain down on a great week of racing, great run and a wonderful way of awakening your senses.